#little do you know i am on my brainwashed em roll and. i *will* use my powers for evil | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

songfell-ut · 4 years

Text

Chapter 10, one month in!

Man, I might actually finish this. Link here and @lostmypotatoes remains great.

This one mostly features Frisk having enough of everyone’s shit.

When Sans had composed himself enough to leave the wallpaper behind, he found Dr. Serif double-checking the paperwork while Frisk rustled around in her dressing room. As soon as she emerged in her black dress, the doctor said, "I have a request, Sans. When you escort Snowdrake home, I'd like you to stay in human form. Two monsters going anywhere without an owner will attract too much attention, especially near the border, and we should see whether your disguise can fool another monster. Do you think you can masquerade as a human who is using Sans' magic?"

Sans didn't like the idea – in fact, he completely hated it – but he was in the mood to think before he spoke, and the more he did, the more it made sense. "Yeah, I guess. If I told 'im who I was, he'd probably think I'd been brainwashed or somethin'. Everyone would be weird about it when I got home."

"Exactly." The royal sorcerer rolled the papers back up and placed the scroll on the edge of the table. "Does Sans need to bring the deed to the house with him in case he's questioned, my lady?"

"No, I've written a note and put my seal on it. Here's a map with the house marked, and I also have an insignia he can carry." The priestess went to a little nook by the fireplace, glanced at herself in the mirror, and opened a drawer full of odds and ends. "Where is...ah." Frisk pulled out a leather armband. "This will identify you as the High Priestess' personal agent. I don't use it often, but anyone you speak to should recognize it."

Sans had retrieved his silver chain from the bedroom. He looped it around his neck, put the smaller items in his overcoat, and accepted the armband, admiring the patterns of tiny white and red crystals worked into the leather. "Spiffy. So, if anyone asks me who I am an' where I'm takin' Snowdrake, I can tell 'em to shove it?"

"You will not tell anyone to shove it." He winced at her tone—yep, she was still mad at him. "Furthermore, please remember your fortune. No matter what happens, unless it is absolutely the only way to keep yourself and Snowdrake safe, I don't want you to kill anyone." She swept an errant lock of hair behind her ear, voice softening. "Please, Sans."

The boss monster's SOUL fluttered. He looked down at the armband, which was more of a wristband at his human size. "Fine," he said, trying to sound careless. "I'll talk first, only kill 'em if they really, really bug me."

"Sans!" He'd forgotten that Frisk had the lungs to roar like a miniature hurricane. "Do you care about anything but yourself and what you want to do? If you kill anyone and you cannot come back here and look me in the eye to tell me why it was necessary, I don't want you to come back at all! Do you understand?!"

Sans was speechless. As her echoes bounced off the corners of the room, he not only couldn't think of what to say, it felt like the magic comprising his vocal cords had evaporated.

Into the silence fell the sound of someone rapping on the double doors. Frisk whipped on her veil and headdress, allowing the bemused Dr. Serif to get up and admit two armed guards.

Between the men drooped a birdlike, half-grown monster roughly four feet tall, ice forming on the chains around its neck and feet. Without preamble, the priestess snapped her fingers at the guards and said, "Remove his bonds. Now."

The shorter guard coughed as Snowdrake shrank further back. "He is secured with the commonest type of lock. Your Ladyship will doubtless possess the key already," the guard mumbled.

Though her features were obscured by the veil, the High Priestess' body language was so expressive of absolute wrath that the men swallowed and gripped their weapons tighter. Without turning her head, she said to Sans in measured, glacial tones, "Get rid of those chains."

"As milady wishes," Sans said cheerfully, raising his left hand. The guards didn't notice the red mist surrounding the collar or shackles, but they did see the metal burst into fragments; the men nearly wet themselves as the rest of the chains fell off the startled drake.

"Leave us," ordered Frisk, and they were happy to obey, one pausing to grab the scroll and the other nearly running out the doors ahead of him.

Snowdrake's beak fluttered open, but he shut it and cringed as Frisk reached for his neck. "That's Sans' magic," whispered the young monster. "How'd you get him?"

Frisk placed her hand on his head, feeling him tremble. "He's unharmed, and he's given us his magic in order to help return you to the Underground." She brushed the last few links off his feathery neck, trying to avoid the half-healed scabs where the collar had rubbed him raw. "I am not your new owner, Snowdrake. You're going to be free."

The ice monster's eyes darted between her and the two men. "Yes, my lady," he said woodenly.

The poor kid. Sans knew exactly what it was like to be at a human witch's mercy and having to hear that kind of crap. Only the knowledge that she wasn't lying and Snowdrake would be home soon kept Sans from dropping the disguise right then and there.

"My guard will escort you as close as he can to the entrance to the Underground," Frisk told Snowdrake, then looked at Sans. "You shouldn't have trouble, but if you run into poachers, I'm giving you full authority to protect yourselves through non-lethal means. Is that understood?"

Sans nodded. To his surprise, Dr. Serif cleared his throat. "I think you had better take this as well. Consider it repayment." He produced yet another brooch from his robe, this one large and faintly pink. Sans wondered irritably how many of them he still had. "If you use this to supplement the magic you already possess, you can make the journey in a few easy stages. Pace yourself, and do not hurry back." He sat down as Sans put the brooch away. "Several people in the plot against Her Eminence have already been detained. We will maintain a watch in case anyone else involved decides to strike before they're discovered, and I will personally check on her throughout the day."

"Indeed," said Frisk. "Please take your time."

Holy shit, that hurt. The boss monster plunged his hands into his pockets to avoid breaking anything. "Breakfast should be here in a moment," the priestess went on, "and as soon as you've—" Right on cue, there was another knock at the door. "—both eaten, we'll pack something for you to take with you."

Sans tried to catch her eye, but she went back to the office as the servant unloaded the trolley. Snowdrake made no move to eat until Sans put a plate down and told him, "Go for it," at which the ice monster almost literally dove in. There was no telling the last time he'd had enough to eat, so Sans didn't ask, letting Snowdrake devour nearly everything and gulp down all the milk.

Fortunately, there was a bundle of apples and sandwiches sitting on the bottom of the trolley, along with three flasks of water and one of cider. "I ordered extra provisions. You'll need to keep your strength up," said Dr. Serif, waving away Sans' muttered thanks. He checked that Snowdrake was done, then called, "They're leaving, my lady."

Frisk reemerged, still veiled. "The best of luck to you both," she said.

Sans picked up the bundle, tucking it under his arm. "Sure, boss. See you when I get back." He jerked his head at Snowdrake, who was peering up at him, eyes half closed. "C'mon." Sans shouldered the doors open for the smaller monster to trudge through; a second later, the guard outside made a squeaky sound that indicated Sans had teleported them away.

The priestess sank into a chair, shoulders slumping as she pulled off her headdress. Dr. Serif cleared his throat. "You look as though you need more rest, Your Eminence. Unless, of course, you'd like to talk about your—"

"No. Thank you," she said, loud and sharp. Frisk picked up a fresh stack of letters, sorting them into different piles according to the wax seals or lack thereof. "I have a great deal of correspondence to catch up on, and I'll be very dull company for the next several hours. I'm sure you also have a great deal of work to do—have you started drafting your proposed specifications for the first set of solar arrays?"

"Yes, my lady. In fact, I've scheduled a meeting later this morning with several of my colleagues to discuss the matter. I'll be back this afternoon, but if you need anything at all in the meantime..."

"Thank you," she said again, a little more calmly. "I also must thank you for your help earlier with Sans. Did you figure out why he was acting so strange? I can't believe he grabbed me like that! I don't know what he could have been thinking."

The doctor made a wry face at her back. "I'm not sure how it happened, my lady. I don't believe he intended to become inebriated, but that is certainly what he was." He paused. "I will also keep you apprised of developments in Fernand's interrogation. Your Eminence will be glad to know that Lord Owen has been cleared of suspicion, more than adequately."

Frisk looked daggers at him. "Has he?"

"Indeed," he said gravely. "The moment his friend was arrested, Lord Owen volunteered to answer questions under hypnosis. He was tested beforehand for any magic with which he might have resisted or subverted the procedure, which ensured his answers were completely truthful. He is guiltless, and can offer no further information."

She nodded, returning to the next stack of letters. Why did she feel just the tiniest bit disappointed?

It was no use pretending. In her too-honest, very tired mind, she knew exactly why: it would've been the ideal excuse to reject him and find another suitor for her "adequate" future. It wasn't at all nice, but facts were facts. No matter how much she wanted to be married, having Luke as a husband would be like sleeping with her brother!

So, that just left...who?

The doctor coughed theatrically. "Before I go, my lady..."

Something made Frisk look up at him. Dr. Serif gave her a brief smile, and said with unusual delicacy, "With no intrusion intended or opinion attached, I beg that you inform me if and when you wish to safely dispose of your box. Whatever may be inside it, I assume there is magic involved, and throwing it away without the proper precautions may have consequences."

Frisk picked up an envelope and hissed between her teeth as she felt the paper slice her thumb. "I understand, Doctor. Good day to you."

He half-smiled. "And to you, my lady." When she looked up a moment later, he was already gone.

If Frisk had ever had a more miserable day as High Priestess, she didn't want to remember when. She hadn't just been trying to get rid of the royal sorcerer; she really did have a pile of mail to get through. The only attention she paid to the proposals was to make a stack of rejects, maybes, and actual prospects. Then she threw the maybes into the reject pile. Then she had to literally grab her own wrist to keep from dumping the entire basket into the fireplace—if she was destined to either marry Lord Owen or hop right into bed with someone unmarriageable, why bother wading through any of these?

A small, flat package at the bottom of the stack puzzled her until she opened it and several bookmarks fell out. Right: she'd ordered them when Sans got after her one time too many for her uncouth reading habits. She could fold all the pages she wanted today, Frisk tried to tell herself, but it just made her wish he was here to tell her to leaf them alone or mark his words. When she got another paper cut, she started to ask him to heal it for her, only to realize she was speaking to an empty room. She had to make do by washing her hands and applying tiny bits of ointment that came right off when she picked up more envelopes.

Just before lunch, Frisk told herself she'd earned a break and went in to flop on the enormous bed. Would Sans be back tonight? If he wasn't back by evening, should she go ahead and sleep in here, knowing he could come back inexplicably drunk and try to cuddle her again?

...She couldn't shake the idea. Technically, she should be scared at the idea of a ten-foot monster with no inhibitions invading her space when she was most vulnerable, but...she wasn't. Not remotely. In fact, her imagination was running with it so fast that she couldn't catch up, much less stop it. Frisk actually had to remind herself that Sans was a skeleton, only for her self to remind her that there were approximately two hundred creative ways around that particular deficit. Ah, well. It was all stupid, harmless tired-brain fantasy about someone she was comfortable with, not as if she was going to marry him or anything...

This was ridiculous. It had only been a few hours, and she was still furious with him, but she missed Sans so much that she could barely function.

There was another knock, and the priestess scowled as she got up to put on her veil and answer the outside door. To her surprise, it was Luke, holding a tiny velvet jewelry pouch out to her. "Good morning, Your Eminence," he said as she pasted on a smile. "Forgive my intrusion, but I came to return this in person."

Frisk opened the drawstrings and pulled out her pearl bracelet, the one he'd removed so the parrot wouldn't destroy it. "Oh. Thank you," she said automatically. Luke waited for more, and she glanced behind her. "I am sorry, Lord Owen, but you've caught me in the middle of decanting. The fumes will be potentially harmful once the mixture has heated, so..."

"It's quite all right. I didn't intend a long visit," he assured her. "I wanted to ask if you've had a chance to look over the contact information I forwarded to you."

Thank God she had found his note in her mail, or else she wouldn't have remembered the farmland at all. "Yes, I have, thank you," she replied. "I'll send your broker an inquiry with the name of my banker. Shall I inform you when I hear back from her?"

"If it's quite convenient, yes, please." The young lord shuffled his feet, as if he was suddenly uncomfortable about something. "Fr—Your Eminence, may I ask if any of the rumors about the All Souls festival are accurate?"

The guard at her door had been doubled, and she couldn't help noticing how both of them were waiting to hear her answer. "Forgive my bluntness, Lord Owen, but I don't know what you're talking about. I have no time for ridiculous gossip," she almost snapped.

"Yes, of course, of course. I'm the one who must beg forgiveness. I'm sure you would never..." Her stare intensified, and he hastened to say, "The last reason I've trespassed on your time is that I am preparing to visit St. Brigid's. I'll be leaving early tomorrow. May I tell Mathilda that you've been well?"

"Absolutely!" Frisk knew this was where she was supposed to ask how his sister was doing in general, how her studies were going, etc. etc., and pass along all sorts of loving messages. But somehow, with her blood still humming and her potential husband right in front of her, and Sans not there to see, she had just one thought: "Could you give her something from me?"

"Yes, of course," he said pleasantly. "What is it?"

Frisk nodded, stepped forward and gave him a quick, decisive hug, careful to get her arms all the way around him before she stepped back. "Please excuse me," she said, "but I haven't seen Mathilda since Christmas, and I miss her very much. I hope you understand."

"Uh..." Luke blinked hard. "Yes, my lady. I'll see her and give her...that. Thank very much, and a good day to you." He bowed vigorously and turned on his heel, speed-walking down the hall in flustered elation.

Ignoring the guards' smirks, the High Priestess went back inside and slammed the doors, removing her veil again. She knew she should be embarrassed or at least care what they were going to say about her, but really, half the city was probably placing bets on who she'd be sleeping with in however many days or hours, so what was one brief embrace?

It was nothing. That was what she'd felt, anyway. Part of her was surprised at her own cold-heartedness, but Frisk knew what had happened when she hugged Sans, and she was certain that no matter how long she snuggled up to Luke, it wouldn't feel remotely similar; if he had put his arm around her, it would've just annoyed her. At least she had eliminated any remaining doubt: Luke could offer her pleasant company, and that was all. Not warmth, or real companionship, or gentleness, laughter, intellectual stimulation, literal attraction...

There went her imagination again. The workroom was still cold from however long Sans had had the windows open, but she had to pick up some papers to fan herself. It was quite a relief when lunch arrived and she could eat Sans' portion to make up for missing breakfast, then retire to the bedroom.

Having spent so much of her early life on her own, Frisk had been shocked when she came to St. Brigid's and discovered that even in a convent, the primary occupation of adolescent girls seemed to be talking about boys, or sex, or any combination thereof. She understood now that they had had very little else to talk or think about, and that being in a strict religious environment meant that there were no other outlets for their perfectly normal teenage curiosity, but those first few months had been eye-opening, to say the least.

To their credit, the sisters were aware of this and knew very well that after the lights went out in the dormitory, the girls would stuff their pillows under their covers to create a laughable illusion of being in bed, crawl to the center of the floor, and whisper to each other until they forgot themselves and laughed too loud at something, which was the cue for the proctor on duty to shout "BED" and send them flying back to their cots. It was probably also why everyone had to undergo a comprehensive sexual education course when they turned fourteen, and of course, the girls who could tell penis jokes for literal hours on end felt quite differently about the matter when an eighty-year-old priestess was passing out textbooks with full-color drawings and scientific labels.

In short, Frisk knew exactly what she was feeling and why. She'd never had the nerve to try anything when she was sleeping in an open room with dozens of other girls and young women, but once she moved into these chambers and found she had nearly unlimited privacy, she had finally availed herself of the opportunity to ignore the Church's teachings on self-exploration. Then she had availed herself of the opportunity a lot, figuring that it was harming no one whatsoever, and that she wouldn't have been given those parts if she wasn't meant to use them. But she hadn't done it since Sans arrived, especially not when they were in the same bed.

Sans was not here now, and she wasted no time, pausing only to throw a quilt over herself before she moved her skirt aside and worked her hand into place. She'd never done this in the middle of the day before, but that added a little excitement; what if she was to take down the barrier against teleportation, and he happened to get back right as she was in the middle of it? That would be just awful. Would he even recognize what she was doing, or would he just—

Another knock. Another fecking knock on the outside door as she was getting this close, and she wanted to burn down the entire castle. Frisk kicked the quilt off, pulled her clothes back into place, and stomped over to her veil and circlet before she threw the doors open. This had better be worth the interruption!

Over an hour later, she came back to her rooms with her cluster of guards and, given the general trajectory of the day thus far, was not surprised to find Dr. Serif waiting next to a stack of crates. "Good afternoon," he said. "It seems as if the items you've ordered for your apprenticeship have arrived. Would you like some assistance putting them away?"

Frisk looked at them, and at him, but she could barely speak. "I am overtired, Doctor," she mumbled. "I would appreciate your help, and then I need to rest."

"Of course." The royal scientist opened the double doors and directed the guards to bring the boxes inside while she went to the bathroom to remove her veil and compose herself for a few minutes. It didn't work, but it was long enough for the guards to put everything away and leave, so she only had to worry about the doctor when she emerged.

One look at her was enough. He didn't ask if she was all right, just moved aside a respectful distance as she sat down to check the inventory sheet. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked kindly.

"No, thank you," she said, voice cracking.

"I understand." The doctor removed the lid from a long box of seedlings and began filling a vial at the sink. "They've found the guard responsible for leaving your door unattended and allowing the assassin into your room. It seems he is affiliated with a local group pushing to decriminalize the retrieval of monsters from the no-man's-land. It should be a valuable link in uncovering more conspirators."

"Excellent. I'm glad to hear it," Frisk said politely, mind still buzzing.

Dr. Serif tipped some water into each seed-bed. "If he avoids detours or anything else he is not supposed to do, Sans should be back late this evening. Don't be alarmed if he takes longer, though. I could easily see him deciding to rush back and overextending himself. He can sleep at your house tonight if need be."

The only sound was water running into the vial and being trickled onto the tiny plants. The doctor glanced at her over his shoulder. "If I may, High Priestess. Please don't go there to wait for him or try to meet him. He should—"

"Get out!"

When the doctor had obediently made himself scarce, Frisk threw her veil on the floor, stormed into the bedroom, and flung herself on the bed for a good, long cry, or at least a long one. It wasn't Dr. Serif's fault that he'd happened to visit right as she was returning from a talk with her father. She hadn't been so angry or humiliated in a long time—of all the people to drag her away from her private time to lecture her about maintaining a good reputation and not sleeping around, why the hell did he think he had the right to do it, especially based on a single stupid rumor? It'd been all she could do not to scream at him that he'd spent his youth screwing his way through most of the kingdom, left her to be neglected almost to death for ten years, and only taken an interest in any of his damn-near-orphans when his second wife died in childbirth and the midwives told him the baby might not survive! How dare he?!

The final nail in the coffin came a few hours later, when she'd finally pulled herself together enough to start writing replies to everything that needed replying to. After many more paper cuts, Frisk was almost done when she heard a knock that she hoped, for the other person's sake, was her dinner.

It was, but it was also another messenger. At least this one wasn't there to take her anywhere, merely to tell her that His Holiness had furnished the records she requested, handing over a folder roughly two inches thick.

Frisk probably should have been glad she could peruse the list of enslaved monsters without Sans hovering over her shoulder, and she was; it was just hard to be happy about much of anything when she was reading all the names and descriptions—she'd felt strongly enough about it when she wasn't remembering how completely beaten Snowdrake had looked, and wondering how many other monsters must be in similar or worse circumstances at that very moment. Her duty now was to go through the list of owners and judge which were probably the absolute worst, and organize inspections as quickly and stealthily as possible.

It all went back to her stupid fortunes. She'd half-purposely led Luke on, and her father had made it very clear that he expected her to make the respectable choice, the hypocritical old goat. The problem was that it was what everyone would expect of her; in the wee hours of the morning, it had felt daring and romantic to contemplate a future where she had a child with a not-husband, but the reality was that it would probably ruin her life, just like her mother's. Frisk was more confused than ever: how could she change the world and free monsters if she did something so socially unacceptable that no one would probably ever speak to her again? But she'd also have new parents and a huge family...how?!

Even if Sans had been a complete idiot at the fortune-teller's table, she wished more than ever that he was here to talk to. Damn Dr. Serif for reading her thoughts so easily. There was still the brooch he'd given her a couple nights ago, but she wanted to save it for a real emergency; besides, it wasn't as if she could do much to help Sans if he simply needed to rest before coming back to the castle...assuming he was coming back.

Frisk shook herself. There was no reason to believe that at all! She had to think more constructively. Wasn't there some way to communicate w—ah, yes, he was able to speak to Papyrus in dreams. She had joined him fairly easily the time she'd tried it. If she took down that barrier again...

...then the child could get in. But Sans wasn't here. Could it make her hurt him in a dream?

That was when Frisk officially gave up on thinking, or working, or doing anything else for the day. It was already after sunset, so she folded up the registry, instructed the guards not to let anyone disturb her unless something was actively on fire, and went to run a bath. Her mind didn't clear much, but it did help relax her, even if she was still too tense to pick up where she'd left off with herself. She put on her fuzziest nightgown, whisked the barrier away and built up a fire in the bedroom, then made a warm nest of blankets and settled herself to sleep, leaving her mind cautiously open.

She woke a little as the bed creaked beside her. She grumbled under her breath and turned away from him, pulling the covers up.

Undeterred, he ducked beneath the covers and draped himself over her side. His hard, smooth fingers caught on her hair as he pushed it out of the way to nuzzle her neck. It was a good start, but he must have been tipsy: she yelped as his nasal bone jabbed her. "sorry," he murmured.

That should've been that; she graciously permitted him to stroke her hair as an apology, and settled back down to sleep.

She should have known better when he started petting her back and down her side, and then rubbed her leg, knowing very well that she'd sleepily turn toward him so he could pet the other one, too. Then came a soft, warm touch on her neck, his hands sliding under her nightshirt, and her nightshirt creeping up as he eased his weight onto her.

"Really?" she tried to ask, but his mouth was in the way, and he easily caught the hand she brought up to push him off, spreading his fingers to interlace them with hers.

He would have stopped if she'd insisted. She didn't. She—

Someone was in her office.

Frisk was not afraid. She was done. She got out of bed with an ache in her groin and murderous resolve in her heart, moving silently through the bedroom and the dark workroom. There was no light showing under the office door, but she could feel ripples through the barrier over her safe as someone dug into the floor around it. With no restraint or remorse, she yanked open the doors and slammed a multi-layered barrier into the room, catching the would-be thief by surprise.

Whoever it was, they were unnaturally strong and agile, nearly catching the edge to squeeze through as it sealed itself off. But it was no use: fueled by angry determination, the barrier snapped shut into a golden sphere, trapping the person inside. The intruder struck at it several times with terrific force, but Frisk held firm until the figure staggered, then fell to its knees, wheezing.

Only then did Frisk click her tongue, dropping the layer that prevented air from getting in, and strengthening the layer that suppressed magic. "Whoever you are, you have ten seconds to explain yourself," she snarled.

A gulping breath. "Please, my lady—"

Frisk was so startled that her concentration wavered. The figure took the opportunity to hit the barrier again, and she promptly cut its air off, waiting several seconds before she allowed any back in. The priestess came forward and peered inside. "...Doctor?"

In the barrier's glow, she could see quite well, and though she knew she had him contained, Frisk felt a twinge of fear. It had sounded exactly like the royal sorcerer, but this was not Dr. Serif. It was a monster, a skeleton with a long, eerie face, much more smooth and hollow-looking than Sans or Papyrus. As it straightened, its arms stayed hidden in the folds of its long, ragged black coat, and several disembodied skeletal hands floated over its shoulders. "The man who speaks in hands," she said to herself. No wonder they were supposed to beware him!

The monster's brow creased. "The man who speaks in hands?" he repeated in Dr. Serif's whispery voice. "How very poetic." Cough. "May I ask where you—"

"You may not!" The barrier constricted, nearly brushing the top of his skull. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The skeleton visibly struggled to answer, and finally croaked, "My name is W.D. Gaster. I am a monster who has been posing as a human in order to maintain my post as the royal sorcerer." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Young lady, what...what is this?"

Frisk sat down on the couch, which had been moved aside to expose the safe. "I assume you mean the fact that you can't lie to me while you're in there. I'm not much good at truth spells, but I figured out how to incorporate one into a barrier, which I am very good at. I just don't use it very often." On some level, she wasn't surprised that Dr. Serif had been hiding something like this, but she was still afraid—had any of his help or kindness been real, or was it all for some unknown, sinister purpose? Would he try to eliminate her now that she knew what he was?

Gaster was staring at her. Above him, both pairs of hands started a slow clap. "I am extremely impressed, Your Eminence. I am also very apprehensive. As a monster, I cannot match your determination, which means you have me at a complete disadvantage. I must commend you."

The priestess was gratified, but knew better than to drop her guard; she could feel him subtly testing the weave and span of the barrier with unseen hands. "Stop that," she snapped, and he did, tilting his head to concede defeat. "Were you trying to steal my box?"

"Of course," he said. "I infer that it contains your memories, and it is now common knowledge that the future of this world hinges on what you do with it."

Frisk controlled another stab of anger, though she couldn't stop the barrier from popping and snapping like a bonfire. "And you thought you would...what? Dispose of it without asking me?"

"I don't know exactly what I was thinking," Gaster confessed. "I succumbed to intellectual curiosity as to what distilled memories look like, and whether I could view them without disturbing the physical medium. What I would do with them would depend on their contents."

The barrier was now eye-wateringly bright. "You broke into my rooms when Sans wasn't here, damaged my property, and woke me up from a very good dream because you thought you knew better than me what I should do with my life?! How dare you! How dare all of you try to decide this for me?"

"You are completely correct, my lady, and I apologize wholeheartedly." The monster placed his hand on his chest and bowed from the waist. "I swear that I will not presume to meddle any further."

It sounded sincere, but the old priestess who'd helped her develop this technique had been very emphatic: if someone promised something while under a truth spell, there was nothing to stop them from breaking it once the spell ended. "Why are you here?" she asked. "What are your intentions?"

He managed a chuckle. "As I truthfully told your apprentice earlier today, that is a large question." The monster's hands folded into pairs. "I do not believe you will derive any benefit from my entire story, and that most of it will unnecessarily disturb you. May I tell you as much as I sincerely believe will benefit you, and omit that which is not necessary?"

Frisk bit her lip. "I'd prefer to be the judge of that. Answer me, please: what are your intentions towards me, and Sans, and this kingdom in general?"

Gaster didn't reply. Frisk felt him trying to use some kind of magic similar to Sans' to slip out of the barrier, and she gave one sharp whistle; the skeleton's hand went to his throat as his magic dissolved and the air started to thin again. "Please, stop!" he rasped.

The priestess did so, feeling a tiny bit guilty. That rush of anger was starting to fade, but she knew she couldn't let him manipulate her into letting him go before she was ready. The fact that he had been manipulating her up till now was more than enough to steady her resolve. She crossed her arms and stared him down in silence.

A hand came up to massage Gaster's temple. "All right. I...do not intend to harm anyone. I came here solely as an observer, and have only remained for this length of time in order to rectify my errors." He sighed. "As is so often the case, every attempt I make only compounds the problem, and yet I cannot seem to stop."

Frisk shook her head. "I don't want vagueness or lies by omission, Dr. Gaster. Where did you come from, and on whose behalf are you observing us?"

"I came from a place similar to this one. I lived inside Mt. Ebott, which contained the Underground, home to monsters such as Sans, Papyrus, King Asgore, Queen Toriel...to my knowledge, every living monster I knew currently resides here as well."

The priestess' mouth fell open. "How...?"

He made an impatient sound. "As I said, the majority of this information is not necessary to impart. You can do nothing with the knowledge of another Underground, except for the one or two details that are relevant to you and Sans, which I will tell you if you agree to trust me that you do not need the rest. Do we have a deal?"

She exhaled. "Fine. What are you doing here now? Are you gathering information to bring back to your Underground?"

"I dearly wish that this was the case, young lady, but no. I was expelled from my home in an accident, and I no longer exist there. I have been wandering ever since, looking for another place I might settle into." Another sigh. "I know now that it was not only a vain hope, but a dangerous one."

"Dangerous? How so?"

He grimaced. "I found out the hard way, of course. I thought I was doing the right thing when I transplanted a certain monster from a dangerous environment to a safer one where he was needed. I did not know that the danger would follow."

Frisk's skin prickled. "What do you mean? Please start making more sense."

"Very well. To start at the beginning, I must tell you I am not the first W.D. Gaster to have lived in this kingdom or its Underground. Many, many years ago, when I happened upon this place, I went looking for the first item on my checklist: myself. Unfortunately, when I found him, I discovered that your Gaster was easily one of the cruelest I have seen. He conducted horrific experiments on defenseless subjects, both humans and monsters, and he created new life purely to torment it."

The chill increased as Gaster's face darkened. "I was skilled enough to observe him unseen, and his actions disgusted me. I should have left, but when I saw him murder one of his 'sons,' I grew so angry that I could not stop myself. I killed this world's Gaster, and I tried to save his other creation, but it was too late. I broke my policy of noninterference without any real benefit to anyone." He sat down inside the barrier. "Imagine my surprise when I checked the rest of the laboratory and discovered one copy of the younger skeleton ready to awaken, hardly more than a baby. There was no sign that any other creations had survived. I now had a decision to make."

"The 'younger' skeleton? You don't mean—"

"Yes. He created Sans and Papyrus, and he killed them, knowing he could replace them at any time."

The priestess had to fight the urge to be sick all over the office floor. "Couldn't you have taken his place and tried to undo the damage he caused?"

"That was a definite option, and I was tempted. But this is not my home, and I did not want to stay for much longer. I believe I made the correct choice in that respect."

Now she understood why he hadn't wanted to tell her this. Too late; she had to hear the rest of the story.

"It was quite the dilemma. I could not leave Papyrus on his own, nor could I stay here to raise him, or take him with me. He was too young, and I did not know what might happen if I brought him into another place with another Papyrus. But there was no Sans here to care for him. So..." He closed his eyes, pulling the slashes taut. "I made another well-intentioned mistake."

There was a very long pause. "There are certain variations of time and place that I have seen more frequently than others," he said slowly. "The most tragic is where a very sorrowful and angry SOUL becomes warped into a force of absolute destruction, essentially a demon, and it finds a vessel to connect it to the physical world." His eyes opened. "It kills everything, Frisk. Every monster in the Underground, every human above, until there is nothing left. But the force itself does not die. It finds another place to destroy. And another. And another. The child you have seen in your nightmares is here because it cannot bear the fact that in one place, at one time, there was one monster it failed to exterminate. It has come here looking for him."

All the hairs on Frisk's body were standing straight up. "What exactly happened?"

"I found a place where a Sans stood ready to meet the child on its way to murder Asgore and leave the Underground. He had made a promise not to harm any fallen humans, and that promise bound him until it was too late. As always, he was still going to fight it, knowing that it was futile." Gaster looked at his hands, studying the holes in the palms. "I did not speak to him, or even let him see me. I approached him from behind, rendered him unconscious, and transported him here. I had checked Snowdin and saw that the house in which they usually reside was empty, so I brought them both there, left a supply of food and money, and allowed them to live as usual."

"...But...but doesn't he—"

"This world's practice of memory excision is not a good one, in my opinion, but it gave me the idea to try to...adjust him. I did not remove his memories to save for later if he chose to revisit them: I destroyed them entirely. As far as he or anyone else knows, he has always lived here with his little brother." Gaster looked back up at her. "I wanted to give him a second chance in a place where the demon did not exist, and where circumstances were not likely to replicate its creation. I knew that he might have nightmares as echoes of his past experiences, or even glimpses of other lives, but I had no conception that the child itself would stalk him all the way here."

The barrier wavered. Gaster did not move as Frisk shook herself and hummed it back to full strength. She'd have to process all of this information properly later. For now, next question... "Why did you become the royal sorcerer? Didn't you want to leave as soon as you knew they'd be safe?"

"I did, but I came back periodically to check on them. All seemed well until one visit where I discovered that a group of humans had just visited on a diplomatic mission that ended in violent catastrophe. Imagine my surprise when I examined Dr. Alphys' records and discovered that the Sans I rescued had become a boss monster through imperfectly understood means. It was one of the most anomalous variations in his growth that I have ever observed, and it absolutely fascinated me."

His tone was a little too rapturous for her tastes. "You disguised yourself as a human and became the royal sorcerer to keep a closer eye on Sans?" she asked warily.

"Oh, no, my dear young lady. I did so in order to keep a closer eye on you." Frisk started as the skeleton slowly got to his feet. "In order to affect physical matter, even something as tenuous as a monster's body, the demon must find a host. In the course of observing Sans and his brother, I became convinced that the child was trying to reach him, but it could not attach itself to any of the monsters. Through various means, I eventually tracked it to you, just as you were being considered as a replacement for the murdered High Priestess. Not only did I feel the need to protect Sans from a danger he no longer recalled, I became curious about you."

"In what way?" Frisk couldn't help rubbing her eyes. "Why did it choose me?"

Gaster smiled thinly. "At the risk of threatening you or, even worse, stating the obvious," he said in a different tone, "I would guess that a barrier of this strength and complexity requires a great deal of power, and you are not going to be able to maintain it much longer. I will only be at your mercy for another few minutes at most, after which I could make a serious attempt to break out and potentially injure one or both of us." He took a step forward. "I propose instead that I tell you more about Sans while you still know I am being truthful, and then you release me."

He was right. "If I release you, will you attack me or take any other malicious action against me, now or in the future?" Frisk asked carefully.

"I do not intend you or Sans any type of harm whatsoever, Frisk, now or in the future. I bear you no malice, though I admittedly find being caught in this fashion very irksome."

Frisk would have to be content with that. "Done. What do you want to tell me?"

"That you did not give Sans the opportunity to apologize for his conduct at the festival or the morning after, and you said something fairly cruel before he left. I thought I made it clear that he is not stable and you must be careful how you handle him."

It took a second to recall how she'd told Sans to take his time, and his expression after she did. "I'm not his mother," she argued. "I'm sorry I hurt his feelings, and I'll apologize when he gets back, but even you said I shouldn't be held responsible for his behavior. He's been fairly good at keeping his temper, all things considered."

"He's been good at keeping his temper around you," Gaster said severely. "Did you know that monsters can see the condition of a living monster or human SOUL? I have been monitoring Sans for a long time, as you now know, and soon after he became a boss monster, his SOUL began to darken at a remarkable rate. It was natural for him to accrue EXP as he fought humans to protect his kin, but it is extremely unusual for a single monster to develop such a taste for violence when the rest of the Underground remains unaffected."

Frisk didn't know what EXP was, but she could guess, and time was running short. "What are you saying, Doctor?" she snapped.

"I am saying that I do not know exactly why he is the way he is, and I don't only mean his metamorphosis into a boss monster. No matter what kind of magic he was subjected to, and however his LV grows, it cannot explain why Sans is so very angry. It's so ingrained that it feels deliberate, which I don't understand. Is it vestigial regret from his first life? A heretofore unknown side effect of the accident that spurred his transformation? All I know is that when he was listening to your song yesterday morning, I saw him let go of his accumulated rage for the very first time. When I took another look, it seemed as though several layers of that filth have been sloughed off his SOUL since he came here, though far more remains."

The priestess flushed. It was flattering to think she could affect him that much, but...

Gaster must have seen her skepticism. He sighed so mightily that his entire body settled to the floor, as if he simply couldn't keep himself upright. "You can't seriously—you can." He drew himself back up to his full height. "You may still be hurt by having been previously abandoned by those you cared for, young lady, but what do you need to hear before you understand the current situation? That Sans is deeply in love with you? That he behaved so stupidly at the fortune-teller because he was beside himself with jealousy? That any apprehensions you may have about him deciding not to come back here are laughable at best, and you are the only one who can make him want to return to a happier state of mind and avert the possibility of him hurting innocent people?"

Frisk had specifically been taught not to do what she did next: spring to her feet and bring her fist straight down on the barrier, shattering it like paper-thin glass. "However you got in here without alerting the guards, or waking them," she added darkly, "please see yourself out the same way. Good night, Dr. Gaster!"

In the sudden blackness, his eyes showed as two tiny pinpricks, one yellow and one blue. Frisk made herself meet his terrible gaze and point at the door, and he chuckled appreciatively. "Good night, High Priestess," he murmured. There was a rush of shadow, then an empty room.

The priestess could barely move or think. She felt her knees bend and her hand grope around the space where Gaster had been tunneling into the safe. She removed the barrier, picked up the box, put the barrier back up, got to her feet. Back to the bedroom, another barrier up on the door, and a collapse into bed, pulling the blankets around her. Too tired and too troubled to remember where she had left off...what would she see the next time she dreamed?

More importantly, where was Sans?

She was walking over an expanse of sand and scrubby trees that she had never seen before but somehow knew was the no-man's-land, closer to the Underground than to human territory. Her head turned at the sound of men screaming, far off to her left. In the fading light, she saw flickers of magic, a bigger flash, and a sound more awful than screams: silence.

Not total silence. As she approached, Frisk heard a familiar chuckle, but not in a familiar way. This was not a skeleton pleased with his own stupid puns or laughing at her rage when he beat her at chess five times in a row. This was someone standing amidst a pile of broken human corpses, surveying his handiwork and enjoying it.

For a terrified moment, Frisk thought Sans was doing this in the present, or had just done it, and she wanted to scream at him—but no, he was wearing the ragged canvas garments she'd first seen him in, not the wool and linen ones she had given him. If this had ever happened – which felt likely – then he was dreaming of a time more distant than the past twenty-four hours.

She was only about fifty yards away, but he didn't seem to notice her. She tried to call out to him, only for her voice to get stuck as she looked again at the human bodies he was stepping over like rocks in his path. Gaster had been right. Sans really was capable of this, wasn't he? He wasn't the gentle, protective, sometimes-somewhat-sweet-natured skeleton she'd grown fond of. He was a killer.

No. He was gentle and sometimes somewhat sweet, and he was a killer. Frisk couldn't fall into the trap of believing that only one side of him existed, or that only one was "real"; people didn't work that way. She had to talk to the one she knew—he was there, too!

Sans was trudging away. Remembering what Gaster had said, Frisk took a big breath and whistled at him over the empty expanse, using a few bars from this morning's song—she'd often seen him stop what he was doing to listen to it.

Sure enough, he paused. He turned, and his orange eyes focused on her. The flames dimmed just a little. "Frisk?" Sans came closer, skirting the pile of bodies. "'sat really you?"

The priestess held out her hands. Sans reached out to touch her fingers, then recoiled—his hand was spattered with blood. "What are you doin' here?" he asked, voice rougher than usual. "Ya don't wanna see this!"

"No, I don't. But I wanted to see you," she said.

Sans blinked at her. He jerked his head for her to follow him, moving until the grim scene was out of her line of sight. Then he sat down, plunging his hands into the sand to scrub the blood off. "Yer an idiot. Why'd you come after me? I thought ya wanted me t'take my time gettin' back."

Frisk winced. She really had hurt his feelings. "I'm so sorry I said that. I missed you today."

The boss monster swallowed hard. "Fine. Ya saw me." He shook sand off his metacarpals, aiming it away from her. "Look, 'm sorry, too. I embarrassed the crap outta ya at the stupid festival, and I..." He shrugged elaborately. "I dunno what the hell I was doin' yesterday mornin', but whatever happened, I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Sans." Frisk folded her hands behind her back. "Did Snowdrake arrive safely?"

"Yeah. I only saw one nosy neighbor lady at the house, an' I played nice 'n let 'er see the note. She left us alone after that. Didn't see anyone else till we got close enough to the Underground t'let 'im go. Poor little bastard kept thinkin' it was some kinda trick." The skeleton brushed more sand off his femur. "I ran inta some poachers on my way back t'the city, but they didn' have any monsters with 'em, an' they just told me to get lost, so I did."

Frisk smiled. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

Sans made his usual noises, which just made her smile wider. "How was yer first day off from babysittin' me?" he asked crossly. "Good?"

"It sucked," she said, deadpan, and he snorted. "Seriously, Sans, it was awful. Everyone's heard of my fortunes already, and my father, who has had at least fifteen children that we're aware of, gave me a talking-to about my sexual mores."

The skeleton's eyes were fully alight. "Yer kiddin'. Ya haven't even done anythin'!"

There was the tiniest pause, and lest he add "...Right?" and force her to kill him, Frisk said, "Right. It just reminded me that if I open the box and end up having a child on my own, I'll be an unwed mother. Among humans, that makes you a complete outcast. I wish we were more like monsters, I really do."

Sans was very quiet, in a way that put Frisk on edge. "But, of course," she said with forced optimism, "if I don't open it, I'll get married and be completely boring and respectable for another fifty or sixty years, and just have to live with the fact that I chose not to let monsters go free." Her throat was closing up yet again, and she shook her head. "Why do I have to decide this, Sans? I'm used to being under pressure, but not like this! What am I supposed to do?!"

The boss monster edged closer as she sniffled. "Ya know what you should do?" he asked.

"What?!" It came out nearly as a shriek. "What should I do, Sans? Tell me!"

Sans remained sitting, watching her quietly as she scrubbed her face on her sleeve. "I think you should make a decision an' go for it insteada tormentin' yerself like this. Whatever ya wanna do, it'll turn out t'be the right thing. An' fer what it's worth..." He fidgeted, scowling at the ground. "Whether ya pick the bird guy or...someone else, if ya ever need help, I'll do whatever I can. Heavy lifting, beatin' people up, dumb jokes, whatever. So...quit whinin' and pick somethin'. Flip a coin if ya need to. Just stop hurtin' yerself. Okay?"

Frisk's heart stood still. She looked at him in such a way that he sat back warily. "What? What'd I say?"

"Don't say anything," she said, advancing on him. "And don't get up yet."

"Hey, hey, lady, this's a dream, remember? Ya can't touch m—"

Sans lapsed into stunned silence as Frisk's arms went around his neck and her cheek rested on his clavicle. She leaned her full weight on him and heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry to ambush you again," she said into the space between his ribs. "I just needed to see something." It was the same as before, a wonderfully tingly feeling in her chest that spread through her body until she wondered what'd happen if she moved away too fast. Frisk sighed again, trying to work up the willpower to let go. Somehow, he wasn't as uncomfortable as she would've thought, as if there was a very thin layer of something padding his bony exterior. It just made it harder to—

Sans' arms came up to hold her against him, as he had the previous morning, and neither of them cared that they were so big, they overlapped over her back. His cheekbone rested against her head, careful not to be too heavy. "Whaddya do with yer hair?" he muttered.

It was...not what she'd expected him to say. "Can you elaborate, please?" she muttered back.

"I dunno what smells are what. I think the longer I stay human, the more human-ish stuff I can do, like smell, 'n feel stuff I touch." His phalanges moved softly through her hair. "This doesn't make any sense. Yer not s'posed to be able t'interact with anyone in a dream 'less ya went ta sleep in the same room or somethin'."

"I don't know about you, Sans, but I'm sick of thinking." Frisk stared at a spot of drying blood on the ground behind him. "In fact, you're right. I'm done thinking about this." She squeezed him gently, though she knew she could use all her strength and he'd barely feel it. "Let me go, please. It's time for me to get some real sleep."

"...Nuh-uh."

Frisk laughed. "It's vanilla," she said over his shoulder.

"Hm?" Sans was absently petting her hair again. "Wha's vanilla?"

It was so nice that she wanted to fall asleep right there, somehow. When was the last time she'd felt this secure? "It's...my hair. I don't use a lot of expensive lotions, but I'll splurge on anything scented with vanilla. Do you like it?"

"Mm. 'snot as bad as most of the stuff I've smelled so far."

The priestess smiled, then reached up to touch his skull. He tensed as her fingertips encountered the wide, smooth expanse of bone. It was warmer than she'd expected, almost velvety—probably from magic, she figured. "I'm very tired, Sans, and I've used almost all of my magic already. Can you please let me go now?"

He wouldn't. The last shred of doubt in her mind disappeared, and in a surge of determination, Frisk ducked free of his arms, moving out of his reach. "I'll see you soon," she told him. "Tomorrow?"

"Uh." Sans had the oddest look on his face. It reminded her of when she'd cleaned the fork for him at their first face-to-face meeting in the bedroom. "I dunno. I might be drunk again when I wake up. It kinda feels like it."

Frisk gave a long, theatric sigh. "If you are, please sleep it off before you come back. We've gotten in the supplies I ordered, and I don't need you eating the plants or something ridiculous." She stepped back further. "Good night, Sans."

"Night," he said inaudibly, and she left.

The guards outside Frisk's doors admitted Dr. Serif after breakfast, then settled in to wait for the royal sorcerer to leave, after which they could properly nap. His morning visits were usually an hour or so, in their experience.

This time, after only five or so minutes, the doors banged open, and one guard dropped his halberd. "I wish to be very clear, Doctor," the High Priestess said, voice pitched to carry down the hall. "Do not open it, do not attempt or allow anyone to attempt to open it, and do not keep it for any reason. I want it destroyed. Will you please do so as soon as possible?"

"Of course,Your Eminence." To the guards' astonishment, the normally imperturbable doctor was frowning, and took the little rosewood box with obvious reluctance. "Good day to you."

The priestess shut the doors without another word. The guards stared at Dr. Serif, who was now scowling full-force at the box. With a glance at the doors and none at all at the two men, the doctor tried to pry the lid open, only to drop it as the box sizzled at him. "How did she put a barrier inside it?" he said to no one.

The guards could barely wait till he was gone to whisper to each other, "She threw it away! I knew she wouldn't—" "Oh, bull shit, you said she'd get knocked up by this time next w—" "No I didn't! I—"

Slam went the doors. Frisk glared at one, then the other, and waited the count of five before she slowly pulled them shut.

#songfell whoo lemme at the next one

48 notes · View notes

buckysforeverprincess · 4 years

Text

Young and Beautiful

Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Words: 2099

Warnings: Fluff and angst and a happy ending.

A/N: Look who’s posting again and another song fic. I heard “Young and Beautiful” by Lana Del Rey and bam! popped out a Stucky fic. Flasbacks are in italics and the lyrics are bolded. I hope you all like it. I appreciate all feedback, it helps keep me motivated to write more. Enjoy!

Bucky stands on the balcony, sipping on a flute of champagne, staring out at the ever changing city. The lights in the distance shine against the night sky, making him think of beautiful jewels shining brightly and on display.

He sighs and glances down at the newly placed ring on his finger. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, to be loved and claimed. Something he’d never thought was possible, but standing here, looking out at the city of his youth, his dream is finally coming true.

I've seen the world, done it all Had my cake now Diamonds, brilliant, in Bel-Air now Hot summer nights, mid July When you and I were forever wild The crazy days, city lights The way you'd play with me like a child

“What the hell, Steve?!” Bucky walks into the alleyway and sees his best friend looking worse for wear.

It’s a regular occurrence to see the scrawny blonde broken and bloody. Bucky just wished Steve would keep his mouth shut once in a while so he wouldn’t get the shit kicked outta him when he wasn’t around.

“I had ‘em on the ropes.” Steve wiped his bleeding nose on his torn and tattered shirt.

Bucky shakes his head and wraps his arms around the blond man’s shoulders. “Of course, ya did!”

Taking a sip from the glass, Bucky chuckles at the memory. Steve could never keep himself outta trouble and no matter what, Bucky was always there to help him up when he’d fall. That’s just what James Buchanan Barnes has done from the moment they met as children.

Not much has changed, the Captain always in a crusade to save the world, Bucky still by his side. Through the many years and lifetimes, the battles and wars, Hydra and his conditioning, empires crumbling, everything changing and evolving.

One thing has stayed the same. Through the vast years, the heartaches and pain, shed tears and loss. Bucky will always be there, at the ready, to protect and serve by Steve’s side. His best friend. The man he will finally get to marry and spend the rest of his days with. The man he’d be able to call his husband.

“She’s beautiful. You should ask her out.” Bucky nurses his whiskey at the bar, the Captain standing next to him, a smile on his face.

Steve shrugs. “And what about you? What’ll you do… stand there watching like I use ‘ta?”

Bucky down the rest of his drink, letting the liquor burn his throat. “Why not? It’s not every day my best guy finds the right partner.”

“Buck…”

“It’s okay, Steve. I get it…,” Bucky begins, the already consumed alcohol making his lips a little looser than normal. “...she’s perfect and everything you’ve ever wanted. You deserve your happily ever after. I can’t fault you for that.” He lowers his head, the last part coming out as a whisper.

Steve wraps his arm around the other man’s shoulder and pulls him in close, his mouth close to his ear. “You’ll always be my best guy. It’ll always be you.”

Bucky bites his bottom lip and nods his head. Steve’s words play on repeat in his head. ‘It’ll always be you.’ The ring specially crafted to fit his robotic arm is proof of that.

Growing up in Brooklyn it was always the two of them. They fought together on those streets and back alleys, Bucky protecting the man he loved. Steve in turn, fought for and found him on that table, risking his own life for that love. Their love has spanned more than one lifetime and continues to shine everyday no matter what life throws at them.

I've seen the world, lit it up As my stage now Channeling angels in a new age now Hot summer days, rock and roll The way you play for me at your show And all the ways, I got to know Your pretty face and electric soul

Bucky wakes, the space next to him as cold as the warm July weather allows. A slight breeze makes him sit up and look around the room, Steve sitting out on the fire escape.

Getting up, Bucky throws on his boxers and grabs a cigarette, lighting it and moving out to sit down next to Steve.

“How long ya been out here, punk?”

Steve shrugs, not facing Bucky, staring out into the morning sun. “Are you gonna marry Dot?”

Bucky inhales deeply around the stick in his mouth and lets it out. “Really, that’s how you wanna start the day?” He chuckles.

Steve nods his head, still avoiding contact with the brown head sitting next to him. “I just… she’s smitten, and it wouldn’t be farfetched for you to make a life with her.”

Throwing the cigarette from the balcony, Bucky sighs heavily and places his arm around the skinny man’s shoulder. “You really questioning that after last night and every other night together, Steve? You’re always gonna be my best guy, no fake marriage is gonna change that. You’re it for me. I love you, Stevie.”

Steve finally looks at Bucky, blue eyes meeting each other, tears welling up threatening to fall. “Will you love me when I’m old and gray and can barely walk?”

“Till the end of the line. You can’t ever get rid of me, punk.” Bucky leans in, kissing Steve’s cheek.

“Thanks, jerk.”

The sounds of the party bring him back from his memories, reminding him why he came out into the night air in the first place. He needed a moment to think and process, everything had become overwhelming and he just needed a moment to breathe.

Steve had taken him by surprise when he’d gotten down on one knee and asked for his hand, making their lifetime of love worth every second of living. Bucky knows he said yes, knows there was a passionate kiss and lots of cheering, knows it was real, but he needed some air. Some time to remember how they got here and what they’ve had to overcome to get to this point. He needed time to reflect on how that scrawny kid from Brooklyn still loved him after everything the world had thrown at him and would continue to love him until his last breath.

“Don’t do this, Buck… I’m begging you.” Steve’s grip on Bucky’s waist becomes tighter, not willing to accept what he’d just been told.

“Steve… it’s for the best.”

“I just got you back, how am I supposed to handle you leaving again.” Steve’s eyes begin to water, a tear falls down his cheek.

Bucky’s arms wrap around the blond as they have many times before. “I’m not leaving, you know exactly where I’ll be. Shuri and T’Challa are gonna keep me safe and when I’m better…”

“You are better. I told you before, what happened wasn’t your fault. You can’t keep blaming yourself for it.” Steve’s full on crying now.

“I still did it. No matter how brainwashed I was, it was still me. That’s not something I can ever forget.”

“But I just got you back…” Steve whispers but Bucky can still hear it through the tears.

“And you’re never gonna lose me. I promised you till the end of the line. I’ve never broken it and I don’t intend to now.”

Steve looks up at him, his face red and broken. “One day… in this new age… I’m gonna marry you.”

Bucky kisses Steve softly on his puffy lips. “Sounds like the end of the line just got a bit longer.”

The smile on his face shines, even when he finishes the last of the champagne in his glass, especially when he feels the arms wrap around his waist. A new warmth engulfs him and a blond head slots itself in the cook of his neck, kissing him softly, making Bucky hum.

“You okay?”

Bucky chuckles and moves to kiss Steve’s cheek. “Of course, punk. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been out here for a while and I was missing you. Thought I should check on my fiancé… make sure he’s okay.”

Bucky beams. ‘Fiancé’ That’s what they were, now. It only took a century to get here, but they made it. Bucky and Steve would finally get their happily ever after.

“I just needed a moment. Didn’t mean to skip out on my best guy.”

“Say it again.” Steve whispers into his ear.

“My best guy. It’s always been you.”

Dear lord, when I get to heaven Please let me bring my man When he comes tell me that you'll let him in Father tell me if you can All that grace, all that body All that face, makes me wanna party He's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds

“It’s my fault… everything that happened was my fault.” Steve lowers his head, shame and guilt coursing through him.

Bucky scoffs and shakes his head, knowing full well what Steve’s getting at.

“I made that choice. I could’ve gone home, but I stayed. What happened after was because of me.”

“No, Bucky… if I wouldn’t have gone after Schmidt…”

“You did what you thought was right. You wouldn’t be you if you hadn’t.” Bucky tried to reassure him.

“If I hadn’t… you never would’ve fallen…” Steve trails off, unable to continue.

“And if I hadn’t, I’d have died back in Brooklyn, old and gray, all while watching you stay young and beautiful. You’d have married Peggy and had a life together and I’d die just how I lived… without ever truly being with my best guy.”

Steve stares at him, his words most likely the truth and hitting too close for comfort.

“I chose to follow you, Steve. I’ve been doing it my entire life and I’ll do it until the day I die. It’s time to let go of the guilt.”

“Peggy once told me to allow you the dignity of your choice.”

“She was a smart woman.” Bucky grins.

“I think she knew. Even back then. Even though I never told her.”

“You did crash a plane even though there were other options available.” Bucky reminds him.

“I thought it was the end of the line.” Steve admits with a hushed voice.

“It’ll never be the end of our line. Our time is now.”

“Dance with me?” Steve asks, soft kisses peppering Bucky’s neck.

Bucky turns around to face the love of his life, their eyes meet like it’s the first time all over again. He’ll never get tired of it. Every time is like falling for the man. From the scrawny kid that’d never back down from a fight, to the super soldier who’d give everything to save the world. He’d fallen many times over for this man and would every day for the rest of his life.

“There’s no music, Steve.” Bucky smiles and begins to sway his hips, his fiancé following suit.

“We’ll make our own.”

Bucky moves in a circle a tune playing in his head. “We’ve always moved to the beat of our own drum.”

Steve nods in agreement. “We always will. Nothing will ever stand in our way.”

His chest swells, and his heart skips a beat. This was everything. The love between them never ending. The culmination of their entire lives leading up to this moment. A century changing and evolving, allowing two Brooklyn boys in love to finally have this life. Nothing would ever stand in their way again.

“Till the end of the line.” Bucky grins up at his fiancé, the night sky surrounding them.

“Till the end of the line, and more.”

Will you still love me When I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me When I've got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will I know that you will Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful? Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful? Will you still love me when I'm not young and beautiful?

Forever Tags:

@caplanreads @the-real-kellymonster @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @kruscht @v-2bucky @palaiasaurus64 @breezy1415 @amandaoftherosemire @sarahp879 @supernaturaldean67 @averyrogers83 @winters-beauty @scarlettsoldier @lovely-geek @titty-teetee @suz-123 @malfoysqueen14 @callmebucky-doll @ronnie248-blog @alyssaj23 @drakelover78 @thisismysecrethappyplace @geeksareunique @childishhoebinoo @thesassmisstress @brieannakeogh @peaceinourtime82 @theoneanna @leosandbuckysgirl @coal000 @the-goddess-of-mischief @mychemicalimagines @thirsty-hoes-central @awkwardfangirl2014 @strangenerdsstuff @sea040561 @marvelobsessedteen @capnbuck-tiltheend-oftheline @thefandomplace @collette04 @nishanki1 @notyourtypicalrose @jamielea81 @onebatch--twobatch @courtmr @emelody @miraclesoflove @kcd15 @clarysthing @crist1216 @yknott81 @babypink224221 @xxloki81xx @death-unbecomes-you @ellaprime68 @littlemarvelfics @thatfanficstuff @hotoffthepressfics @chuuulip @dj-lowkey @shield-agent78 @unlikelygalaxygiver @viarogers @dtftheavengers @firstangeldragonranch @southernbell91 @lancetuckershairgel

#stucky #james barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #steve rogers #steven rogers #steven grant rogers #james barnes x steve rogers #bucky x steve #song fic #young and beautiful #lana del rey #marvel #marvel writing #angst #fluff #happy ending

98 notes · View notes

imaginesfromtheupsidedown · 4 years

Text

Oldest Friend pt. 2

A TMR/TDC Gally x FEMcharacter imagine.

This is Part2 to Oldest Friend Part 1 :)

Hi:) I haven’t read Kill Order but have seen the movies and read the other 3 books, this is just a story I’ve had in my head, a character that I created, and the way I picture everything going. LMK if there’s anything you’d like to see in this, and feedback is welcomed! Reminder that this is very windy and lengthy and that’s just how I write lol.

triggers: still none that I can think of, LMK if there is anything that I should put as a trigger.

word count: 3582 (again, I’ve always written lengthy stuff and can shorten or add more to the next ones if preferred, I just always want to make sure the backstory and details that are in my head get put in)

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

He jolted awake. The sun was brighter than normal… he was late! He jumped up and started pulling on the first pair of pants he saw, running around and trying to grab a shirt, belt and shoes as fast he could. Man, his ass was grass when he got to-

“What the bloody hell are you doing, Gally.” Came a voice from behind him. Frozen in his tracks, Gally ever so slightly turned his head. Newt was propped up in his bed, staring at him. Confused, he glanced over at the clock above the door. 6:47 AM. They usually didn’t even get to the cafeteria for breakfast until about 8:30.

“The.. sun.. is bright?” he started, plopping back into bed and throwing his clothes to the ground. A glance around showed the other two boys, Ben and Minho, sound asleep in their own beds. Newt rolled his eyes at him.

“One of those wanks probably left the curtains open again.” He sighed, sinking back down into the covers. He shot Gally a smirk and gave him a quick look over.

“What…” Gally asked, scooting back and leaning against the wall.

“I’d try to get some more sleep if I were you, mate,” he teased, reaching to pull the string and close the curtains before laying back down. “all that sneaking about at all hours of the night will catch up to you eventually.” Gally about came out of his skin! Newt knew… he looked at the other two, snoozing away, wondering if they knew, too. Newt let out a laugh as if he read his mind, “Relax, Gal, they don’t have any clue. Mind telling me what’s so important to lose sleep over, though?”

“I..” he had every intention of playing as if he had no idea what he meant but Newt shot him the ‘I’m-not-stupid’ look. “met someone… who enjoys losing sleep to see me, too…” he mumbled, pulling his covers up over his chin to hide his pink cheeks.

“Ahh, well, c’mon, don’t be shy now, who is it?” Newt sat back up in his bed and crossed his legs. Gally hesitated, what if this got him in trouble? What if he got her in trouble? Newt seemed to be pretty good at that mind reading stuff. “Chill, mate, I don’t care what you do as long as your back here by morning and have a pulse.”

“It’s… a girl?’ Gally started. They gave each other a puzzled look and then burst out laughing. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well... how about the beginning then?” Newt prompted. Instead of going back to sleep, Gally spent the rest of his morning gushing over Meghan with Newt listening to every word. He didn’t give up her name and wanted to keep a good amount of what they had talked about between just them, but Newt understood. After a couple hours of spilling his guts and Newt poking fun at him, the other two guys woke up and it was time to head to breakfast. They got there a bit earlier than normal but she was still the first one at the table. He quickly gathered his food and sped to claim the seat next to her.

“Hey, Meg.” He breathed, excited to see her. Her long hair was up in a loose bun that sat at the top of her head, and it seemed she decided to wear her glasses instead of contacts. Hmm, she usually only did that when she was tired. She had just taken a big bite of her eggs and turned to hi with wide eyes.

“Heh, Guhl” she laughed, covering her mouth while she finished chewing. Shit… he thought. Why do you have to be so damn cute!! She leaned in and bumped her side into his for a second before leaning back to her seat and wiping her mouth with a napkin. “How’s your morning, Gal?”

“Umm.. well..” he gathered himself, turning pink and trying to get the guts to tell her. He couldn’t though… “So, Newt had figured out I was sneaking about… and I sort of…” he stopped and gave her a look, seeing her freeze.

“You… what?” she whispered, looking around. “Are we in trouble!”

“No! No, course not. I mean, not that I know of. I just..” he took a deep breath. “I told him I was meeting up with you. But- hey, I didn’t actually SAY it was YOU!” he ended with, seeing as her jaw dropped to the floor.

“Well!” she demanded, turning toward him and grabbing his arm, dropping her voice to a whisper again. “What did he say!”

“Meg, Gally.” The voice made them jump and she recoiled back to her own space. Newt had snuck up on them, coming up behind them to come take his seat at the table. He gave them a sly grin. “Mornin’.”

“Morning..” she mumbled, stuffing her face with food. She glanced at Newt first, then to Gally through the tops of her glasses. Newt starting laughing as he picked at his food, earning a stomp on the foot from Gally. Their table slowly filled up and started humming with conversation.

“Aye, Gally, man you ready for today? Heard we’re headed out to the desert again.” Clint said, plopping down next to Meghan and almost knocking her plate off the table. He took a piece of toast and shoved it into his mouth.

“Hopefully ya got enough sleep…” Newt mumbled before taking a sip of his orange juice, raising his eyebrows at them. Meghan started choking on her eggs and Gally went to stomp his foot again but missed, getting Clint instead.

“Ohw duhd whuht th hehl!” he yelled, food flying out of his mouth. Everyone started laughing at the chaos happening but luckily seemed to miss the big picture. Gally gave Meg a little smile from the side and jumped back into the back and forth with everyone else. She smiled big at him, happy. She couldn’t help but feel nervous though, she was so afraid of getting themselves in trouble. The last time someone got in big trouble… well… they hadn’t seen Alby since. And she really didn’t want to find out why.

She remembered it very clearly. Alby had been acting funny for days then finally, the last time they ever saw him, burst into the cafeteria screaming something about brainwashing and lies before 7 armed guards rushed in and tranquillized him. She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes before anyone could see and snapped back into reality.

And just like that they went back to their quiet life as they knew it. Newt kept their secret and they still got to meet in that dusty old storage room. They each had decided that they wanted to tell the other about what they had been feeling but every time one of them wanted to the words wouldn’t form. So, they had both been trying in subtle ways. Hugging goodnight, playful shoves when they walked, grazing hands any chance they got, literally anything to get a smile out of each other.

Of course, the next day Gally would tell Newt about the night before and complain about how he felt so stupid for not telling her how he felt. Newt would give him the best advice he could, but he also didn’t really know how to handle it; there weren’t actually any instances of romantic relationships in here that they knew of. Mainly he just sat and listened. Gally and Newt grew closer as their talks became more frequent but not necessarily just about Meg. Newt just… understood him. What it felt like to be in this place, the frustrations of not knowing what direction their lives were going. He understood why Gally risked getting in trouble to sneak out, why he clung to what he had with Meg. He even understood why Gally would pick and choose what he told him about her. I get it mate, you keep her secrets like she keeps yours. Protect her and shit. You’re a good lad, Gal.

Then came the day they all got to work together. Meg was out in the desert working on updating some program and Gally and Newt were out building those giant walls again. When the lab techs landed WCKD had the guys pair up with them to test whatever devices they had, and of course Meg made a beeline to Gally.

“Alright, everyone! Don’t touch them wires they’ve got on you, we need em to get accurate results! And keep track of the weather, them dark clouds are rollin in fast and those wires can’t get wet! You four, go back to the walls. Then you two, we need these two buildings put together. But you each do one, don’t team up. Only use what’s been put out for ya, too.” One of the white coats instructed before heading back into the burg and taking off.

“Alright, doc, what the hell is this stuff?” he teased, turning and motioning to the little suction cups and wires she had stuck to his chest and neck. She barely glanced up from her tablet to meet his eyes.

“For your vitals.” She had been acting funny. She hadn’t said a single word at breakfast, and these were the first words she had said to him out here. He walked over and pretended to look at what she was doing.

“Meg…” he started, but she reached down and squeezed his hand, not even looking at him.

“We need to talk.” She was barely audible. And just as quick as she grabbed him, she let him go. She took a few steps back and looked him up and down, making him blush. “Alright, Gally, I need you to start lifting stuff.” He shot a look to Newt, who wasn’t too far away getting ready to work on the other structure.

Newt stifled a laugh and yelled, “Aye! You heard the woman, get to work, ya wank!”

It honestly wasn’t a bad day. There wasn’t much out for him to use for this one, some wood, hammers, nails and rope. It was definitely less than he would do on a regular day, so he wasn’t going to complain too much. Not to mention he got to show off in front of her. There were a few times he could’ve sworn he had caught her looking, but when he would double check her nose was always buried back in those tablets. A few times she came over and adjust the wires on him that he wasn’t sure was really necessary for whatever was on those tablets… but again, he wasn’t going to complain.

Eventually the shed.. hut… whatever it was he built, it was done. She went around and shook it a few times but it stayed standing, so she gave him a thumbs up. She ran back over to him and had him hold one of the tablets while she worked on them both.

“So.. what exactly are you doing to me?” he asked. She was quiet for a bit before responding, furring her brows and something on the screen.

“Okay, so these wires I have on you? They’re recording your vitals: heart rate, brain patterns, anything in your system that changes and whether or not it could be from something physical or not. That goes to this tablet,” she motioned to the one in his hands, then motioned to the one she had. “and this one is hooked up to… something… somewhere. It’s a remote system that doesn’t have to be hooked up to you but still is able to monitor all your vitals but without having to have anything actually on you. But they aren’t adding up right now..” she trailed off.

He moved behind her, looking down at both the tablets. She froze for a second then leaned into him, continuing to mess with the tablets. But… he could see the screens. The numbers were identical. He blushed, realizing what she was doing. He reached around her as if he was pointing at something on the one in her hands, resting his arm around her shoulder.

“Ahh, there. I see it, that’s what isn’t matching.” He said, his heart racing as she leaned into him more. He let out a laugh when he realized the system had picked up on his pulse quickening. She looked up at him and gave him a silly face but when she looked down she let out a giggle when she saw it. She stepped away and looked back at him.

“Looks like all that lifting had loosened a wire, here, I need to get these back in sync.” She pushed a button on each screen, then reached up toward where the wires were suctioned to his neck. He tensed up for a second but then relaxed into her touch. “Just need to triple check on your pulse.” She said softly. At first she really did seem to check for a pulse, but after a few moments she cupped his face, giving him a small smile. He felt his heart jump into his throat.

And then the rain started. He felt it first, two tiny drops hitting his forehead. Then it seemed to come down in sheets. He started tearing the wires off as they ran to the hut, picking up a dry cloth once he got in there and starting to dry them off. Meg stood in the far end of it, throwing her hair into a loose bun.

“Well, at least this part was done!” she laughed, laying he tablets on the floor. She crossed the room and stared out of the doorway for a few awkward seconds before turning back to him. “Gally, can we talk?”

“Yes.” He said a little too quickly. He tossed the wires to the ground and started toward her, ready to finally get the words out. He stopped right in front of her, she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“So, I need to know…” she started, still not meeting his eyes. “Do you want the good or bad first?”

“What.” He said flatly, the question taking him off guard. “Um.. go ahead with the good. Bad is bad either way.” She looked up at him with glossy eyes, giving him a small smile and coming toward him.

“Now.. don’t be mad at me. I should’ve asked first…” she started crossing her arms. “But I stumbled into the database and didn’t know if I would be able to get back into it and-” he grabbed her on either side of her face.

“Spit it out, Meg!” He teased, dropping his hands down to her shoulders.

“Happy late birthday, Gal.” she whispered, reaching up and grabbing one of his hands. “You’re 17 now!” He gave her a blank look. He hadn’t thought of birthdays in a long time… or about how old he was. Yeah, of course, he knew he was older. But he hadn’t really thought about it in years.

“I’m 17?” he mumbled, wrapping his head around it. “Wait, how long ago?”

“About a couple weeks, they track our ages for their data. I was in there and came across mine and when I thought of yours… I just wanted to know.” In one swift movement he picked her up and spun her around, earning a laughing fit from her. He sat her down after a few spins and pulled her into a big hug.

“Thank you, Meg! When do I get to tell you happy birthday, then?” he asked, pulling back and looking at her. She laughed at that, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair, giving him goosebumps.

“About 10 months, young one. I turned 17 a couple months ago.” She teased.

“Young one!” he said, raising his eyebrows at her. “I may be young but at least I’m not short!” he winked at her. She pulled her arm back and gave her a playful smack on the chest.

“Hey! I am above average height for a girl my age!” she exclaimed, standing on the tips of her toes. Even doing that still made the top of her head come to his chin. He couldn’t help it anymore, he reached out and pulled her close, cupping her face in his hands. She seemed taken aback but didn’t pull away, instead reaching up and mirroring him. And then it happened.

Their first kiss. They both froze for a second, neither of them sure what they were doing. But then she leaned into him, pulling him as close as she could. That was all the confirmation he needed. He wrapped his arms around her and they stood locked there for who knows how long, only coming apart for air. He pushed her toward one of the walls and started to run his hands over her body while she knotted her fingers in his hair. All of a sudden she pushed him back, her face a flushed pink and hair a mess.

“Gally! We.. what.. are you?” she couldn’t get a full sentence out. She glanced toward the wide-open doorway and back to him. “That was…”

“Great.” He started, walking toward her. “Fantastic. Long overdue. Well… at least on my part it was.” He stopped in front of her, putting his hands in his pockets to stop himself from pulling her back to him. “I’m sorry… I’ve wanted to do that for a long time now an-” she cut him off, her lips crashing back into his for one long, hard kiss. She pulled back, cupping his face in her hands.

“Don’t you apologize for that again. Ever.” She dropped her hands and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. “We just… we need to be really careful from here on out, Gally.”

“Careful? He asked, wrapping his arms back around her and resting his chin atop her head.

“I.. I need to tell you the bad news now.” She locked her arms around him, not letting him go. “Is that okay?” he started running his hands up and down her back.

“Of course… are you okay?” he mumbled as he felt her start to shake.

“No.” she couldn’t keep her voice even. “Gally, I found Alby. And Nick.”

He tried to pull back from her, shocked, but she had that iron grip on him. Found them? What did she mean by ‘found them’? He relaxed back into her, waiting for what she was going to say next.

“They.. they’re in the other maze.” She whispered, finally pulling back to look up at him. “ We created the maze to put them there. And they…” she trailed off, letting her tears fall.

“What?” he asked, unable to hide the scared look on his face. “They what, Meg?” She took a deep breath and steadied her voice.

“They don’t know who they are. They know their names. But only that. Nothing of who they were before they were put in that… that prison.” She spat, breaking away from him and walking back to peer out the door.

“What do you mean… by any of this?” he slowly walked and stood next to her. He looked down at her and saw the tears running down her face.

“I… I’ve gotten in trouble. My work wasn’t what it used to be. They were holding this… project over my head. And I wanted to do it so bad, Gally.” She looked up at him. It broke his heart to see her so sad. “And I finally got to go in… but I wish I hadn’t…” she started to explain as much as she possibly could to him, scaring him bad. If what she told him was true, that means that THEY are the experiments… not animals, not other people. THEM. He didn’t want to believe it but why would she make this up? He started to tear up, too. “And… Gally..”

“Yes?” he croaked, stepping close to her.

“I think they’re killing us. I don’t know how, I don’t know if we’re just a casualty of the experiment, but… they’re just… waiting.” She whispered.

“On wha-”

“On someone to die.” She interrupted. The way she said it was so matter-of-fact. He pulled her back into him, making sure she was still looking at him.

“They won’t hurt you, Meg.” She started to interrupt him but he kept going. “Understand? I don’t know what the hell is happening or what I’m going to do but I’m going to make sure you aren’t a part of this. Not you.” He started crying too, planting one more kiss on her forehead. When they pulled apart she started rubbing her face, ridding the evidence of any crying. He did the same, walking out into the last bit of the rain and waiting on her to grab her stuff. She came out, tablets in hand.

“Ready?” she sighed. He shook his head, walking back into the hut. He came back out with the wires and handed them over to her.

“Don’t wanna lose these.” He joked. She gave him a smile and ran to catch up with Newt, who had already started toward the burg, which had apparently landed at some point during the storm. As soon as she couldn’t see him, he let his expression turn dark. It would be over his cold, dead body before he let anyone, even WCKD, harm one hair on her head.

23 notes · View notes

voltrontranscript · 3 years

Text

VForce E1: New School Defenders

Episode 1: New School Defenders

Transcript by @dragonofyang

Summary: We meet Daniel, a young Voltron fan after the Voltron Force is decommissioned, as he recounts the glory of Voltron and joins the Galaxy Alliance flight school, where he meets former pilots Lance, Pidge, and Hunk. But the Voltron Force doesn’t simply toe the line drawn by Sky Marshal Wade, and with Daniel and Vince’s help, they retrieve their lion keys.

[Google Doc]

Boy: Come on, Daniel, I dare you to do it.

Girl: Double dare you!

Boy: Do it!

Daniel: When are you guys gonna learn? It’s not a dare if I wanna do it.

[Cut between Daniel and Voltron as they chase the robeast, then return to Daniel.]

Daniel: You guys missed it! The lions just formed Voltron! Someday, that’s gonna be me. I’m gonna pilot the Black Lion.

Boy: Huh. You wish.

[Transition to Daniel’s bedroom, where Daniel narrates to the audience.]

Daniel: Yeah, I do wish. Unfortunately, it looks like that’s all it’ll ever be, now. Just a wish.

[Transition to a flashback of Planet Doom.]

Daniel: Not long after the Voltron Force wrecked shop on that robeast, they defeated Lotor and his Drule army. It was epic!

Lotor: What?

[Cut to a flash forward, where the Voltron Force celebrates their victory with the city.]

Daniel: I even got to go to the galaxy victory celebration. It was the greatest day of my life! Until… It was a disaster, but no one was hurt. That’s why I couldn’t believe how quickly everyone forgot all the good Voltron had done, as if they’d been brainwashed. The Defender of the Universe was declared a hazardous threat and decommissioned without even attempting to fix it. How shady is that? My dreams, gone. Now the only thing that excites me is going fast, really fast. So, I enrolled in the Galaxy Alliance flight academy, where things have turned out to be slow. Really slow. When’s life gonna pick up some speed? Of course, if all that wasn’t about to change, I wouldn’t be here telling you this story.

[Transition to opening sequence, with an electric guitar playing under the following lyrics.]

Woo!

One, two, three four!

Voltron’s here, kicking down your door!

Five, six, get with it.

We blaze ‘em with the sword and they can’t get away.

Seven, eight.

We’re bringing down the hurt so we’re here to stay.

Nine, ten, we here to win.

Voltron’s here, let the games begin!

Oh! (Let’s Voltron!)

Form up, let’s go!

All night! Let’s go!

Alright, we gonna rock (rock!) and roll (roll!)

Now to rock (rock!) and roll (roll!)

Oh!

[Transition to Daniel in class at the flight academy.]

Professor: ...and so the Galaxy Alliance Fractal Fighter has been Earth’s primary strike and defense weapon since… which battle, cadet Daniel?

Daniel: Huh? Um, the battle at Gemini Four?

Computer: Correct.

Professor: Commander Lance. To what do we owe the honor of a visit from the youngest head flight instructor in academy history?

Lance: I realized it was nearly the end of the first term, and I have yet to greet our first-year cadets. I wanted to get a look at the faces I’ll be seeing when they get into the cockpit in their third year.

Daniel: Ugh, third year.

Lance: So, do any of you potential pilots have any questions for me? Yes, cadet?

Daniel: Sir, with all due respect, why are you here teaching instead of defending the universe? What really happened with Voltron?

Professor: Daniel! You know mention of Voltron is forbidden by Sky Marshal Wade! There are severe consequences for violating this order. Commander Lance, I’m so sorry for--

Lance: It’s alright. I’ll speak of this once and only once. Yes, I used to be the pilot of the red Voltron lion, but after the incident, that’s something I’ve put in the past. Myself, along with tech sergeants Hunk and Pidge--formerly the yellow and green lions--are now loyal soldiers in the service of the Galaxy Alliance military. And Princess Allura, the former blue lion, is ruling on her home planet of Arus.

Daniel: What about the leader of Voltron? The black lion pilot, Commander Keith?

Lance: Ex-commander Keith is a wanted fugitive, and nobody knows his whereabouts.

[Scene change to Keith wearing shades on a beach.]

Manset: So, Commander Keith, I hear you are interested in the location of Wade’s secret base.

Keith: Your hearing is good.

Manset: Why are you seeking this base? Are you looking for trouble?

Keith: I’m looking for something Wade has that doesn’t belong to him, which may lead to trouble, but that doesn’t concern you. I paid you good money for that location, so--

Manset: Yes, well, unfortunately, some people are willing to pay more for your location. Please, do not make a big scene.

Keith: The size of the scene is up to you.

[Cut back to Daniel’s classroom.]

Daniel: How could you and the rest of the team just turn your backs on Commander Keith and Voltron?

Lance: Defending the universe is our top priority, and that’s exactly what the Galaxy Alliance is doing! Voltron was just a vehicle.

Daniel: Just a vehicle?

Lance: That’s enough. You, up. You’re coming with me. You, too.

Vince: Me? W-what’d I do?

Lance: Guilt by association.

[Cut back to Keith on the beach.]

Keith: So, this is how it’s gonna be.

Manset: At least I returned your money. You can count it. It’s all there.

Keith: Yeah, I’ll get right on that.

Masked Guard 1: Ah!

Masked Guard 2: Whoa.

Manset: A sword? Really?

Keith: It’s a weapon of honor. You wouldn’t understand.

[Cut to Lance, Vince, and Daniel entering an office.]

Wade: I assure you all, this supposed rising Drule threat is nothing but rumors to stir the masses.

Coran: But, Sky Marshal Wade, our sources have intercepted increased chatter about this mysterious commander Kala, specifically mentioning Lotor.

Wade: Lotor is dead! Furthermore, Ambassador Coran, if your sources happen to be “The Den”, you’d better think twice before quoting their intelligence to me considering they’re viewed as rebels against the Galaxy Alliance. You continually test my patience, honorable gentleman from Arus. Tread lightly. Good day. Commander Lance, these must be the cadets you called me about?

Lance: Yes, sir.

Wade: Normally I don’t like to concern myself with petty academy matters, but I take my “no Voltron” policy very seriously.

Daniel: Sir, I take full responsibility. He doesn’t belong here. I hardly know him, and he--

Wade: Do not speak, cadet, and don’t play that sickening nobility card, either. It’s a liability in combat. I need an army of obedient, ruthless, fighting machines, not some saps who are going to hesitate to consult their moral compass! Of course, this won’t be a problem for you if you violate my policy again, because a second offense would mean expulsion. However, this being your first, you are receiving the automatic sentence: latrine duty for the rest of the first term, and all of the second term, as well. I hope this teaches you to scrub Voltron from your lives completely.

Lance: I’m sure this experience will give them an entirely different perspective on Voltron, sir.

Daniel: It already has.

[Scene change to the latrines.]

Daniel: Man, I am so sorry I got you into this… mess.

Vince: Hey, you just said what I was thinking. I’m more of the non-confrontational type.

Daniel: Yeah, speaking of “type”, I’ve been meaning to thank you for helping me in class. How did you do, uh, that?

Vince: A tech-gician never reveals his tricks.

Daniel: Huh, you’re an interesting guy, um… I don’t even know your--

Vince: It’s Vince. Should I pretend I don’t know your name’s Daniel to make this less awkward for you?

Daniel: Probably. Well, I definitely owe you one, Vince.

Vince: Ah, don’t worry about it. You can just save my life sometime.

Daniel: So, Vince, what do you think of this place so far?

Vince: You mean, besides the life sentence of latrine duty, and the fact that one of our heroes turned out to be a total snart?

Daniel: Yeah, and then there’s this. I came here to fly jets, and all first-years do are stupid simulators.

Vince: Actually, I like the simulators. All the fun of flying, with none of the death.

Daniel: Unlocked?

Vince: You wanna…

Daniel: Totally.

Vince: Wait, I thought you didn’t like the simulators.

Daniel: I don’t, at least not when we’re supposed to be in them. But now, we’re like Commander Keith, rebel outlaws, operating in the shadows.

[Cut to space, where a single fighter cruises across the screen.]

Keith: I can’t believe Manset was a traitor. He was thoroughly vetted by the Den. And why’d he return my money? It just doesn’t make sense… Says the guy talking to a space mouse. Huh? The coordinates to Wade’s base? “It’s all there.” This is Stalker calling the Den. The watering hole has been located. I’m going hunting. Set course for the Tarvos moon of Saturn.

[Cut to the flight simulators in the Galaxy Alliance academy.]

Daniel: See? These simulators are way too easy. I’m ready to try this stuff pulling twelve G’s.

Vince: Alright, Whiny McGee. You want me to make this interesting for you?

Daniel: Whoa! I thought you were non-confrontational!

Vince: I am, in real life. Well, would you look here? It seems the simulator wants to feel more hurt.

Daniel: Easy pickings.

Lance: What? Can’t you boys keep up?

Daniel: Commander Lance?

Lance: You just want to get expelled, don’t you? Considering this is most likely your last act as GA cadets, let’s see what you’re made of. Hope your straps are on tight.

Daniel: Why? It’s not like these simulators are going to rocket off--woah! Whoo-hoo! Yeah!

Lance: You might want to pull your emergency brake right… now.

Vince: Y-your simulator almost killed me!

Lance: Huh, and Voltron contraband to boot. Wade would throw you in a secret holding cell to rot. Lucky for you, I’m not Wade. Boys, welcome to…

Pidge: The Den.

Lance: Cadets, I’d like you to meet--

Vince: You’re Pidge!

Daniel: The Green Lion pilot! That’s Hunk, the yellow lion!

Pidge: What are you doing? You’re not even welding anything.

Hunk: Yeah, but I wanted to make a cool entrance for these little dudes.

Lance: Mission accomplished.

Daniel: Is Keith here, too?

Lance: Always with the Keith.

[Transition to Keith breaking into a building, then back to the Den.]

Pidge: Why would you draw glasses on top of my glasses?

Daniel: Um, six eyes? I don’t know, I’m not an artist.

Hunk: Well, I’d better get back to duty, but I look forward to working with you clowns in the future.

Daniel: Huh?

Vince: Huh?

Lance: We need to keep up appearances. We’ve been pretending to be the epitome of a good soldier and loyal to Sky Marshal Wade so that he never suspects our underground activities. Pidge and Hunk have built this secret network that has access to Wade’s GA resources.

Pidge: It’s been quite useful in helping Keith on his secret mission.

Daniel: What kind of secret mission?

Lance: The kind that’s a secret.

Daniel: Okay, fine, but you still haven’t explained why we’re here. What does any of this have to do with us?

Lance: Let’s just say your talents have been noticed, and we’d like to cultivate them. In fact, how would you like to take a very cultivating course right now, taught by yours truly?

Vince: Totally! What’s the course?

Lance: Toilet Scrubbing 101. Oh, you’re right, you already have a bit of experience. We’ll call it 102.

[Cut to Keith continuing to infiltrate the building.]

Keith: Great.

Guard: All clear.

[Cut back to the Den.]

Daniel: Okay, we can tell there’s something cool going on here, but if it involves cleaning more toilets…

Lance: Look, I’m going to be asking you to do a lot of things in the future that won’t seem to make sense, but there will always be a reason. The question is, after what you’ve seen, do you trust me?

Daniel: I think so, but why won’t you just give us a straight answer about anything?

Lance: Partially because you aren’t ready to know, but mostly because it’s way more fun for me this way. So I’ll ask again: do you trust me? Because if you don’t, I can have Pidge erase this from your memory.

Daniel: Okay. We’re in.

Lance: Phew! That’s a huge relief, because we do not have a memory-erasing device. That’s science fiction.

[Cut to Keith walking through a corridor.]

Keith: What are you making, Wade?

Guard 1: Hey, you. Have you seen anyone suspicious?

Keith: Probably another false alarm set off by space mice or something.

Guard 2: Yeah, but we gotta run through the motions anyway.

Keith: Decrypt security code. Come on, come on. Shh. Shoo!

[Cut back to the Den.]

Lance: School is in session. How much do you know about Sky Marshal Wade?

Vince: He’s the head of the Galaxy Alliance’s military division.

Daniel: And a snart who hates Voltron.

Pidge: True, but it’s more complicated than that. Wade’s been wanting control of the alliance military for years, always claiming that Voltron was dangerous because the power within the lions is an ancient technology that isn’t fully understood.

Lance: Though we can’t prove it, we know he sabotaged Voltron to turn the public against it.

Daniel: I knew it!

Lance: Wade used this as an excuse to convince the Galaxy Alliance that Voltron’s power isn’t to be trusted. He got them to regulate the lions back to their storage chambers on Arus.

Pidge: However, I believe that Wade actually just wanted to study their technology.

Lance: While I believe it’s time to start your first class project. Wade is a well-decorated general, but he’s particularly proud of his four-stripe pin. Pidge has made a replica of this pin, and you boys are gonna swap this out.

Daniel: Your master revenge plan is switch out his favorite pin for a fake?

Lance: Yes. Remember our earlier conversation about trust?

Daniel: Remember you don’t have a mind-erasing device?

Lance: Touche. Let’s continue anyway, shall we? Latrine duty happens to be the only hole in Wade’s security. The toilet-cleaning cadets have pretty much unfettered access. And like all disciplined army men, Wade does everything on an air-tight schedule, and I mean everything. Now, we already know you have a talent for sneaking around, so when Wade’s coat is off for his “0600”, that’s your chance to make the swap. Should be a piece of cake.

[Transition to Daniel and Vince in Wade’s bathroom.]

Daniel: Nice.

Vince: Sweet.

Vince: I think this time he’s finished. Like us. How did you… What were you thinking?

Daniel: I didn’t think at all. Guess you’re lucky I’m impulsive.

Vince: Yeah, well, consider the “saving my life” debt paid. I was hoping to hold that over your head, but--

Wade: Look at this mess, you insufferable beast! I swear, if you chase one more mouse...

[Scene change to Keith, sneaking through the vents.]

Keith: Found you.

[Scene change back to Lance, Daniel, and Vince.]

Lance: Ah, there it is. Nice job, boys. Piece of cake, right?

Vince: More like piece of meat.

Lance: Well, you did such a good job, that I’ve decided to expel you from the academy, after all. Unless you’d rather stay and finish out your two terms of latrine. You are showing great promise in that field of study. Go on and pack your bags, boys. We’re taking a road trip.

[Scene change to space.]

Vince: This is all happening so fast.

Daniel: I often find fast is the best way.

Lance: So, I think you boys have earned the right to know a bit more about Wade’s pin. More like “pins”. And more like “keys” than “pins”.

Daniel: The keys to the lions!

Allura: Welcome to Arus, and welcome to the Castle of Lions.

Daniel: Whoa. Where’s the black key?

Lance: I assure you, it’s in good wrists.

End.

#voltron force #keith #lance #daniel #allura #manset #wade #vince #pidge #hunk #coran #transcript

3 notes · View notes

snow-lavender · 4 years

Text

The Last Day of Mediocrity

AKA, “Enter Marvin, Stage Left.”

Word count: 2382

Here’s a little ditty I like to call: Whoopsie, completely forgot to put these on Tumblr so now I’m posting three chapters in rapid succession. This is my take on Marvin’s creation, hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link Here

Marvin O’Sullivan paced around his apartment, talking animatedly on the phone. “It was great, you shoulda seen the kid’s face! I think Luke took a video of it. And we made so much cash, I’m gonna make my rent and then some this winter.”

“So what I’m hearing is ‘I had a great time, Emily, thank you for convincing me to go even though I was being a stubborn brat.” replied the phone.

Marvin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry for being a dick about it. But c’mon, cut me some slack! This was my first time leaving the country.”

“Well, that’s the kind of shit that happens when you’re homeschooled.”

“I’m not disagreeing.” Marvin snorted. He sat down on his sofa and started flipping through a book. “Really, Em, thank you for letting me take your spot.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” she said. “Gotta keep the talent fresh, am I right? Seems like it did you some good.”

“Yeah, it did. I got so inspired by the other performers there, I gotta jot some of these ideas down. Talk to you soon?”

“Sure will. Bye Marv.”

“Bye Em.”

Marvin hung up the phone and slumped back into the couch. He summoned his notebook and started writing.

quick change?

Art on stage for ambience ambiance

More riffing w/ audience

kid orented set?

balancing shit

Amethyst out of juice

Need more rosemary

Flashier teleportation: saltpeter, indigo? got a theme

buy coffee

Small flames

↑LOTS OF PRACTICE↑

Aura residue on cards

After a few minutes of brainstorming, he put down the notepad. If he was going to get

anything done, he needed to do some shopping. Which then lead to the hardest decision of any day.

What to do about his face.

He fiddled with the crude mask in his hands. Deal with disgust, or deal with disapproval? There was, of course, no good option. Either way people were going to stare at him. And normally he loved the attention. Hell, it was why he chose a career as a busker. But then, it was okay to be wearing a marker-covered mask from Poundland. At Tesco, not so much.

His hands automatically went to his cheek. Even after five years, the skin was scarred and rough. He remembered the doctor saying it would be that way for the rest of his life, never fully healing.

The flames around him grew higher as he screamed, Ma, please, help me!

He stopped that train of thought right in its tracks. He was better off now. He was a fairly successful performer, he was providing for himself. He had coworkers who respected him, and people at the local coven who said he was the most talented wizard they’d seen in years. Hell, he even went to Pride in Dublin last month! Everything in his life was flying in the face of those assholes.

He was strong. He was accomplished. He was magnificent.

“Fuck it.”, he muttered, pulling the mask over his face.

Today, he was going to be who he wanted, general public be damned.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

A few hours later, he returned to his flat, arms full of bags. He hung his mask up and shoved the door closed with his hip, making a beeline for his kitchen. The green light from the orb reflected off some of the cans and into his face, so he put those away first. Then he threw the beef in the fridge, restocked the butter, and shit, he was almost out of jam. Why didn’t he notice that this morning?

Finished with the groceries, he closed the pantry and grabbed the other bags. The more volatile plants would need to be stored carefully to prevent reactions, and he needed to grab some iron shavings for that new potion, and-

Wait.

Green glowing orb?

Marvin turned toward the TV, confused. Sure enough, there was a strange sphere floating above his sofa.

What the hell?!

He backed himself slowly into the wall. Thankfully, it didn’t react, but he still moved very carefully toward the hall. As soon as he figured he was out of its line of sight, he ran into his bedroom and slammed the door shut.

“Okay, okay, calm down.” he whispered. He couldn’t think of any recent spells that could have caused...that.

Which meant this was something else. An intruder?

He ran for his bookshelf. Panicking, he pulled out the largest book he could find and started flipping through it. “No... no...no, come on!” He dropped that one and grabbed another. Halfway through it, he found the section on wards. “Okay, okay, weak, strong, proactive.. ...reactive!”. Silently cheering, he went over the spell in his head. Nothing too complex, just some clove and mugwort. He dogeared the page, grabbed those herbs, and left his room.

The orb was still there.

Marvin cursed and laid the supplies in front of him. He opened the book and started to cast the spell.

“Cruinne beannaithe, iarr mé do chumhacht. Moladh dom neart agus rath a thabhairt dom.”

Purple energy began to swirl around him. He relaxed, but then noticed the other light source was growing brighter.

“Bacainn a chur in aghaidh olc. Cosain an teach seo ó dhaoine ar mian leo dochar a dhéanamh orm!”

His voice grew louder with fear. The things should have been weakening by now! He squinted, the light making it harder to read.

“Iarr mé go héasca-”

Just as he reached the climax of the spell, the light became overpowering. He dropped the book to cover his face, and his magic vanished. He could feel power swirling around him, foreign and uncomfortable. It grew brighter and more stifling, making him cry out, until suddenly there was a flash, and everything disappeared.

Including himself.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Several miles away, he crashed to the floor. “Shit, shit, shit.” he muttered, scrambling for his spellbook. If he was quick, he could whip up a teleport before anyone noticed he was here-

“Uhh…”

Marvin whipped around. Standing in a doorway was a dumbfounded teenager, holding a steaming mug. He froze, still on his knees, grasping the book. “Hi….?” continued the teen.

Marvin was on his feet in a second. “I don’t know who you are, but let me go, now, and no one will get hurt.” he snarled. The other guy took a step back. “What? Let you go? You’re the one who materialized in my cousin’s flat!”

Marvin lowered his hands. “You didn’t summon me here?” he asked. “Then what was that light in my living room?”

“Light?” the kid repeated. He perked up. “Like a green, glowy orb thing?”

Marvin nodded. “Okay, great!” the other said. “I mean, not super great, cause I bet you’re confused as hell, but that explains a lot!” He fished a phone out of his hoodie pocket. “I’ll text Seán. He’ll need a few minutes to stop recording, but then he can help you figure stuff out. You’re probably Marvin, right?”

Marvin bristled. “How do you know my name?” he hissed.

Kid shrugged. “It’s kinda complicated.” He held out a hand. “I’m Jackie. You want anything to drink? There’s still hot water in the kettle, I think.”

“Sure.” he replied, shaking Jackie’s hand warily. Marvin followed him into the kitchen, not wanting to let this stranger out of his sight. “You cast the spell that pulled me here, then?”

“Pfft, nah.” Jackie snorted. “I can’t do magic. Not traditionally, anyhow. That’s Seán’s scene.” He pulled another mug out of the cupboard. “Earl grey cool?”

“And Seán is your...cousin? The one who owns the flat?” Marvin guessed, leaning against the wall.

“Eehhh…”Jackie replied. “Technically no? He’s got custody of me, but we’re not...exactly...related. At all.”

“Then why..?”

“So we may have fudged the papers a bit. But hey, no harm done, right?”

Marvin stared at him. “And you’re just telling me, a random stranger, this? Not a great way to stay in his custody.”

Jackie shrugged, pouring more tea. “You’re gonna be living with us anyway, so why not?”

“Wait, what the hell?” Marvin stood up suddenly. “How did you get to that conclusion?”

“Shit.” Jackie replied. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, usually people like us stick together. I think. I’m still the first one here, but with the others, it seemed like-” he stopped. “Marvin, you okay?”

Marvin wasn’t listening. What the fuck did he mean by that? He’d said he wasn’t trapping him here! He hadn't felt any wards when he’d got here, but Jackie had acted like he wasn’t leaving. How was he so calm about this? His chest was tightening. Was it darker magic that had brought him here? Was this Seán dude a warlock, had he brainwashed this kid? He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want any exposure to corrupt magic. The last time that had happened…

What the hell are you talking about? Please, just help me!

“Hey, Marvin, dude.”

Marvin’s head snapped up. When had he sat on the floor?

Jackie knelt next to him. “You back with me?” he asked.

“Y-yeah.” Marvin stuttered, accepting Jackie’s help as he stood up.

Jackie nodded. “Great. You really spaced out there for a sec.”

Marvin rubbed at his face. “Sorry, I-” he stiffened. He didn’t have his mask.

Jackie backed up as Marvin started looking around frantically. “You need something or…”

“My mask. Did you see where it fell?”

Jackie shook his head. “I didn’t see any mask.”

“I need it.” Marvin insisted. He hated how standoffish he sounded, but this was important.

Jackie bit his lip. “I can go look, if that would help.”

“I need it.” Marvin repeated. “People are going to see.” See...see…

But Jackie had already seen his face. He hadn't been wearing it when the orb had shown up.

“Yeah, I got nothing.” Jackie said, returning to the kitchen. When had he left?

“Never mind.” Marvin said shortly.

“Are you sure? It sounded important-”

“Just drop it.” Marvin, pushing Jackie aside.

Jackie looked lost. “Oookay?” Then his phone dinged. “Oh! Seán’s finished recording. He’ll be down in a sec.”

Right. Fuck.

Marvin turned back to the living room. “So what exactly is going on?” he asked as they sat on the couch. His hands twitched, ready to cast at any moment.

“What did you need Jackie?” a new voice said.

Marvin turned. Standing in the hall was a man a few years older than him, maybe 25? He looked confused, but that changed to shock when he saw Marvin. “Oh.”

“Tada…” Jackie said, doing jazz hands in Marvin’s direction. He stopped when Marvin glared at him. “Where the hell am I?” he demanded, standing up. “He says you pulled me here. What the fuck do you want?” His hands glowed purple.

Seán raised his hands. “Calm down man. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Marvin’s eyes narrowed. “Explain. Now.”

“You know what a tulpa is?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Okay, so, as far as I can tell, sometimes the universe tries to make tulpas based on characters I do, but it gets lazy and just pulls someone similar here instead.”

Marvin stared at him in disbelief. “What?”

“Look, I don’t get it either. Jackie can vouch for me though, he got pulled here when I did a superhero character last month.” The teen waved nervously.

“What, and you think I’m like that? I’m human, not preternatural. Don’t pull that ‘magicians are a different race’ shit, that got disproven in the seventies.”

Seán pulled a face. “Hell no. I’m just trying to make an analogy. Nothing really fits with this situation.”

“Just...okay, fine, I’ll go along with this. For now.” Marvin said, rubbing at his face.

Seán stuck out a hand. “I’m Seán McLoughlin. Nice to meet you.”

Marvin shook it. “Marvin O’Sullivan.”

“Wait, wait?” Seán pulled back. “Holy shit, I haven’t seen you since we were kids! How have you been?”

“Huh?” Marvin squinted at him. Then it clicked. “Jack!?”

Seán beamed. “Yeah! Man, of all people...it’s good to see you.”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Jackie interrupted.

“The McLoughlins used to be some of the strongest magic users out there. My parents wanted connections, so we used to hang out.” Marvin explained.

“Yeah, I was the only kid in our family around his age, so we’d play together when the adults were talking.”

Marvin looked Seán up and down. He seemed to be doing pretty well for himself. He was almost as energetic and happy as he had been when they were kids. And if that hadn’t changed, well, he didn't seem like the type to deal with shady magic.

“Alright then. What was it you were saying about tulpas?”

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Marvin stared out the window of the bus. Thankfully, Seán had paid for his fare back to Galway, since he’d left his wallet in his flat. He’d be back to his place by midnight.

This was a lot to process. Meeting someone from his childhood like that, well, it had brought a lot back up. Stuff he’d rather keep buried. He’d burned most of those bridges, and the rest had been burned for him. Now, a lot of the wreckage from those fires was coming to light.

Oh yeah, and the whole “figment of the imagination” thing. That was a lot to take in too.

Still, it was nice to see Jack again.

Marvin looked down at his phone. Seán had given him his number if they needed to get back in touch.

Of all the people he used to be close to, Jack was probably the least asshole-y. Maybe talking to him more would be nice. Especially since they had similar backgrounds.

The drive to Athlone was short enough that he could travel it for a weekend.

He opened the texting app.

From: M. O’Sullivan

To: S. McLoughlin

M.O.: Hey, could I come back up in a few days? I’d like to hang out more.

A few moments later, the phone dinged with a reply.

S.M.: Sure thing! :)

#writersofjack #writers of jack #marvin the magnificent #marvin the magician #jackieboy man #jackieboyman #jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticeye egos #septic egos #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #the last day series

8 notes · View notes

bubblegumchaos · 5 years

Text

What is Bubblegum Chaos magic?

Basically, i coined the term bubblegum chaos to describe a kind of relentlessly cheerful, slapdash, anything goes kind of practice that relies a lot on modern convenience and bypassing the kind of initiatory, set paths that a lot of practices have. Essentially, i slapped a name on what i do in order to better defend it from people that were down on me. So how does it work? Everything starts and ends with three components: belief, will, and focus.

Belief is key

I know it sounds silly to say that, because of course you have to believe in what you're doing, no? But that's not what i'm saying. Belief is a tool, a power source to be tapped into and used. It genuinely doesn't matter what you believe, or even that you personally believe in it. You can use anything at all. You can tap into a construct that other people create and maintain rather than dedicating yourself to one. I use heretical xtianity, a bit of Lovecraft, tarot, and whatever else comes to hand as i need it.

Now, this is not to say go plunder closed cultures. They're closed. Don't do that.

But if it's open and freely available, grab and go. What works for you is what works. You can use ancient culture, pop culture, any culture or no culture. Just pick a structure or point of belief and mine it for power. Shiny rocks? Deities? Angels? Demons? The monsters from your favorite video game? Herbs? Candles? Emojis? Have at it! As long as there's belief in there somewhere, you have a source of power to work with.

Will

Will is, bluntly, your ability to make a think happen. Belief is the battery will is the toy car. One without the other is useless. You can have a thousand batteries but if you never put them in a vehicle to release their power, nothing will ever happen. And a vehicle without power goes nowhere.

Belief can be mined, but will is built. The most basic manifestation of will is applied want. You want a drink of the coke in front of you, so you reach for it. It's not conscious. You just do it. The stronger your will, the more you can do. Confidence comes in time, but meditation and study can help a lot. After all, the more belief you have, the easier it is to focus your will, because you already believe you can.

Focus

Speaking of focus, focus is just that. Your ability to aim your will and belief. In the toy car analogy, focus is the remote. Focus can be meditation, affirmations, a full ritual, a hand gesture with will and believe behind it, a collection of emojis that speak to you and call out for you. Whatever. If you put time and effort into it, focus will channel will effectively.

Now, this is not a knock on me and my fellow spoonies that can't focus for shit. That's what tools are for. But at the end of the day, research builds focus. Thinking closely about something builds focus. Talking about something builds focus. Writing about it, acting it out, whatever. You wanna do a spell but can't focus for more than a minute or two? Spend time here and there thinking about how to do things fast with a burst of focus and the accumulated focus can act as a foundation. By the time you actually do a spell, you already spent a bunch of time thinking over the mechanics and then you just...do it.

Why does it work that way?

Well, one of my core beliefs is that everything is sort of a vibration in a massive energy field. Vibrate one way, you get solid matter. Vibrate at a different frequency, you get a soul, lightning, a god, a demon. And that field of energy is susceptible to energetic interference. If you gather energy and release it, you send of waves, ripples, that modify what they roll over. Enough small modifications and probabilities start to change, and then things get wild. Belief is a vast, open energy that people dump countless hours, vast amounts of effort, and huge amounts if focus and will into. And you can take a piece of that and shape it and toss it out to create the ripples you want.

What can i do with it?

I tend to follow a rule of do what you want, but don't be a dick. Don't punch down. Don't push to extremes without limit or respect for consequence. I won't cast to kill and i won't engage in mind control. The first cause a) then i killed someone, and b) making them suffer is more fun, and the second because mind control, both mystical and brute force brainwashing, were used on me as a kid. But yanno. Do you. Just respect the consequences.

And i don't mean a nebulous blast back of bafmd things. You bend someone's brain, you're responsible for what happens. I have had many people ask me how to bend a brain, and i wouldn't tell em, and then a few weeks later they're back desperately trying to figure out how to take it back.

You kill someone, that's it. It's over. It's a very final solution. Be damn sure you can handle it and have nothing else going.

But at the end of the day, do what you want, and don't be a dick about it. By which i mean don't fuck people up needlessly. (Full disclosure: i was a dick for a long loooooong time. Don't be me, lol.)

The Stuff

We all like looking at pretty wands, tarot decks, rocks, herbs, pendulums, athames, chalices, all that jazz. And it is absolutely fine to use them. They act as placeholders, giving you a concrete focus for an action that relieves your mind to focus on other things, like making Janice in accounting pay for drinking your Red Bull.

But to be clear, they're just placeholders. There are beliefs around them that give them power, they point the energy well, but you don't need them. You can do everything with your mind and your will and some energy. I'm very fond of energy slinging cause it takes nothing, i always have it to hand, and i can zap people without trying too hard. Again, use them, please do, they help a looot. But they're dumbo's feather. The power, to be cliche, is you, not the shiny rock or the pretty cup. And at the end of the day, a butter knife, birthday candles, and a solo cup will do the job just as well as an athame, candles, and chalice that cost more.

But i am an ancestral witch from days of yore! No one can do the spoopy things without the genetic spoop juice!

No. Pls cease immediately.

Literally everyone can do this. The elitism of magic is in the systems and the secrets. So make your own system and keep your own secrets if you like. I have gifts, several, but they're not essential and i've taught whole rooms of aura blind people to sling energy in under an hour. There is literally no barriers to entry. You wanna do magic? Do the damn magic.

Where can i learn more?

Read a lot. If everything is useful and very little si forbidden, just start grabbing stuff that looks good and mashing it together. I read endlessly, not just magic texts, but fiction too. People but belief and focus and will into their fiction, and the ideas and systems there can inspire me. Just learn and grow in whatever directions you can and you'll be fine.

Oh and check back here now and again, i have ideas.

This has been your intro to bubblegum chaos magic. Thanks for reading!

#chaos witch #chaote #bubblegum chaos #chaos magick #chaos #witches #witch #witchcraft #witchblr #left hand path

86 notes · View notes

all-of-the-imagines-for-eve · 5 years

Text

Lonley ~ Embry Call (Part 5)

A/n: I had a few people ask me for a new part to this so I reread the series and oh my gosh yes! I've missed writing this ugh.

Word Count: 2700+

Warnings: Back lash of abuse, mostly fluff though

MASTERLIST

I was not a runner, let me say that now. Despite that, I ran a lot that day. I ran until my feet finally lost purchase in the soft dirt as the rain started to fall lightly, softening it up. I fell and lay there for a long time. I'd turned onto my back and was looking up at the sunlight coming through the trees and the clouds swirling in the sky before I closed my eyes, finally breaking down completely as I just let the rain fall and wet me.

Never in my life had I been a crier. I suffered in silent stillness. It was the only way I could get back at my mom for always wanting me to be lively and happy and perfect. A proper girl was emotional and tender and brittle so to spite her, I didn't cry when I was upset. Even as a child I threw very few fits that even others could recall. It started a whole thing, with my mom telling me no and making life even more miserable just to get me to lash out. I'd refused then as I refused now and eventually she'd given up on me. That's when abuse became more focused and direct, without censors or tricks. That's when it became tearing me down and ripping me up with words and looks and scoffs and eye rolls and mantras to remind me where I stood in the word. When she had changed as well when it came to other people. She’d gotten so good at being fake when we had guests that I felt insane for wondering if she was as terrible as I knew her to be. She broke me then made me wonder if I was just crazy or if she really was to blame. It all didnt matter though. I stuck it out. I stayed strong.

Just as I had then, I didn't cry now. I closed my eyes and let the feelings in my body explode, simply wallowing in them. I didn't do that much either but everyone needs to wallow every once in a while and right now, thinking and feeling a million things in the forrest, laying on the ground as the rain fell, I felt it was a dramatic enough setting to be edgy.

"Paul said I should leave you alone and let you brood." I sighed internally. "But Sam said that if my gut was telling me to go after you I should. So here I am."

Taking a second to collect my thoughts so I didn't say something I'd regret - whether it be rude or just cringey - I swallowed, breathing in deeply and then letting it out slowly. "Embry," I greeted evenly.

He moved closer. "I'm not going to force you to talk or touch you if you don't want. Instead, I'm just going to sit next to you so you're not alone... and so I know you're safe and so I can be here if you need me." He stopped talking and despite myself I felt the comfort of his presence. My body was less heavy, my thoughts were less dark. It felt like the weight I had been carrying my whole life was suddenly lighter and as I sat there, even though I couldn't see him, I knew it was because he was helping me hold it up.

At some point he lay down next to me and I relaxed even more. My face went smooth and my mind went blank, all the remaining emotions slipping away until I was empty. My fingers twitched, tapping briefly against his. He inched his hand closer, ghosting around mine as he debated. I stretched my fingers, touching him more firmly. I imagined his smile as he interlocked his fingers with mine. The emptiness inside of me was already different than I knew emptiness. Before, I felt like the cage that a werewolf had been held in over night- excuse the irony of the comparison. The point is, when I had my silent break downs like this, I was always left with a sort of raw, ruined feeling afterwsrf. As if my emotions had dug their claws into my ribs and muscle and dragged, ripping it up and leaving me with dull aches and a throbbing hollowness that almost made me want to break down all over again, except that I couldn't because I just didn't have the energy in me.

This emptiness though... It was easy. Peaceful. An empty schedule after a long day. Resting in a field that had no one else for miles, leaving you alone with the smell of the woods and flowers and the feeling of sunshine on your skin. This was the feeling of standing in your doorway and looking at your room as you headed off for a long trip, or were just getting back. It was familiar and comfortable, more sweet than bitter even though it did still have that mix. An empty lunchbox after you finished eating.

My eyes opened and I looked over at Embry. He was already looking at me, his gaze open and honest as he stared at me with blazing admiration. With... with an emotion I could almost name but was far too scared to approach. I cleared my throat but unlike I'd gotten used to him doing, he didn't bother to look away once I'd caught him staring. He just hummed, letting me know he was listening.

My insides warmed and softened and I noticed the ends of his hair tickling his forehead and the reflection of the green woods, discolored in his brown eyes. He was so beautiful and it wasn't the first time I was noticing this but I just couldn't comprehend... "Why me?"

His eyebrows scrunched together and he focused more on me. It wasn't an angry or severe expression, his body too relaxed to correctly apply the deep confusion he was feeling. "What do you mean?"

I hadn't meant to say it out loud but now that we were here I didn't find it fair to just stop talking. Not that he'd let me. This was Embry Call- he'd pester endlessly until I told him and eventually I'd give in because who could resist him? So I'd just skip that part. "I..." I sat up, eyebrows knitting as my inner calm was disrupted by my self hate. He recharged me so quickly, I was already feeling emotions again... "You saw it yourself. You can't have not guessed by now. I know what people on the Rez say about my mom, and they're right. She's full of herself and in the clouds and self glorifying and she loathes my dad for somehow convincing her to see the world and not just herself and then leaving her alone in a world that hated her because of how poorly she treated everyone in it. He was the only person she loved more than herself and now she's alone to face the lonely isolation she's made for herself and she hates him for it." I swallowed, feeling Embry's eyes on me. I'd pulled my fingers out of his and now the abandoned hand rubbed soothing patterns on my back. It was so hard to concentrated with him around. "She took all that fear and self hate and regret and anger and channeled it into destroying herself and anyone around her.

"Especially me." My voice broke and I closed my eyes. "I'm pretty and have a life full of possibilities and she couldn't STAND the thought that I would have a happy ending when she'd denied herself one. I- I'm years of programming and poisoning and brainwashing. Years of a- abuse-" My eyes close tighter and Embry sat up too, scooting close. My chest seized. What was going on?! "I- I'm going to be so much work, Em. You'll constantly have to remind me of things and work again and again to help me rewrite myself. I'm going to have BAD days that leave me lashing out at you or pushing you away and then being mad when you leave me alone. I'm going to have feelings I can't describe and thoughts you can't help me get rid of and so. Much. Baggage.

"You could meet someone else. You don't have to love me. Be with me. You're so young and handsome and easy going and funny and down to Earth. You bring such a light and have this life in you- it's amazing. I'm... damaged goods."

There was where I stopped. I expected him to argue with me or to yell at me or sigh and roll his eyes. I expected him to maybe pity me, his face soft and twisted in concern and that expression that let you know someone thought you were sad and just a little pathetic. I expected him to get up and leave me alone in the woods, offering awkward apologies and half efforted explanations before he told me something about how I wasn't ready to be loved and he wasn't equipped to help me heal.

None of that happened. He rubbed my back until he was sure I was done talking and then he very softly relayed, "I love you."

It wasn't too casual or at all forced. It didn't make me anxious or surprised and leave me stuttering, trying to find a way to say it back or get out if the awkward situation if I couldn't find it in me to reply. It felt so right that I opened my eyes and looked at him, trying not to fall into the ease and belief that was begging to he felt. "Do you love me because I'm your imprint?"

He sighed through his nose, thinking seriously about it before he spoke. "Maybe," he relented. "If I hadn't imprinted on you we wouldn't know each other. Bella would have kept crying about how much she missed you but you would have left that day and who would I have been to stop you?" He paused. "Or maybe Bella would finally break like she almost had so many times and just told you every thing. Maybe you'd demanded proof and eventually we would have met and very, very slowly developed a friendship." He paused again. "But you wouldn't have given me a single chance if I asked you out. If you thought I had a choice. And I mean I do have a choice for the most part. But... I don't think I'd chose anyone else. Any other way." He looked at me very seriously. "Because you're not just damaged goods. You're..." He swallowed. "Your smile is small and shy and your laugh is short and bubbly. You put your hand over your mouth when you smile like smiling is a sin and you touch me like you would a stove top- like it hurts you. But you touch me like that because I'm the only person that DOESN'T hurt you and that terrifies you. You're- you're this beautiful flower, all delicate and pretty. Except-" He struggled, trying to come up with an analogy. "Except that you're looking at all the Roses in the flower beds and you think because you're not a rose and you've been picked from the garden that you're less than but Y/n I assure you-" He leaned even closer. "You are just as stunning as any other flower. Girl. Whatever you know what I mean." We both chuckled. "When you get a bouquet you don't care which flowers made it up- they all smell good. You're special because you're mine and I love you."

I actually smiled. "I still think you deserve better." His nose brushed mine as he leaned in even closer and I gasped, only just realizing the little amount of space between us.

Friends didn't confess their love to each other while the rain was falling, making cheesy analogies to express intense feelings. Friends didn't sit close and notice how attractive the other was. Friends didn't talk about the situation and make the comparisons we just had. Friends didn't kiss.

His lips pressed against mine and I jerked forward, kissing him back as if I was an old car sputtering to life. I tried to slow down and focus on how he moved his lip, trying to mimic him and cover up the complete lack of experience I had. He chuckled, leaning back. "Let me lead." It was gentle and amused but his words reminded me of dancing and I tried to think of it that way. He kissed me again and this time I let my eyes close more softly, my body relaxing as I let my instincts half take over, following his lead. My hands moved on their own accord, fingers slipping into the short hair at the back of his neck. I pulled him harder to me and suddenly he was leaning forward. I lay back again as he followed, ending up hovering over me, his exposed torso something I'd gotten used to... except that it was very apparent to me that he was shirtless as my fingers danced along his neck.

He broke away to tap our foreheads together to allow us a second to catch our breath. Then he was back at it, pushing with his nose to go from forehead touching to kissing again.

He was warm. My hands moved from his neck down, tracing over his bare arms and pulling him closer, basking in his warmth as it rained. A raindrop hit my forehead and I gasped at how cold it was. When had it gotten so hot?

Leaning back, I looked up at him. I moved my hands to his face, thumbs tracing every line and dip and curve as I tried to memorize him, in this moment, with me. "Am I dreaming?"

Embry smiled. "Hopefully not. That would mean that I was dreaming too and I've wanted to kiss you too long to wake up and have it not be real." I was already blushing but by the way his eyes focused intently on my face, I knew that my expression had softened and warmed in that mesmerizing way his did when he was thinking about or having a gentle moment. He suddenly stood, offering me his hands. I took them and he pulled me to my feet. The rain was letting up now but we were nearly drenched all the way through. "Tonight I'll grab clothes from your room but for now I'll take you to Emily's and see if she has anything for you. If not I'll give you something." He chuckled. "Maybe she'll at least have pants or shorts or sweats or something. Then you won't have to deal with dude pants that are too big for you."

He pulled me after him and I silently followed him. I shivered again after a while and he pulled me into his side, hid warmth blocking out all of the cold. I almost wanted a piggy back ride but my jeans were wet and it would have been uncomfortable for the both of us more than it would have been soothing like if I had been in dry clothes.

I wasn't totally sure about him yet, but that emotion that had been bubbling in my chest and stomach all day had worked into my blood, rushing to my brain and changing the entire inner function of my body. I wasn't running on blood now- I was running on Embry. His smell and the feel of his lips on mine. The weight of his arm around my shoulder, his laugh, his smile, the way he looked at me like I was the most beautiful girl in the whole world. Like I was precious and special- like he was terrified to lose me because if he did it would destroy him. It didn't matter that I didn't have a single idea where I would be living now or what was coming next. In this moment it was me and Em, laughing and being close together with the memory of our first kisses between us.

And maybe... that feeling I hadn't been able to name just yet. Well maybe I loved him too. What else mattered with such distracting things in my head?

Forever Tag List: @bitchyseawitch @chipster-21 @alexa-playafricabytoto @justanotherdaydreamersoul

Story Tag List: @plantyourtrees--watchthemgrow

#Embry call #twilight #new moon #breaking dawn #eclipse #wolf pack #wolf pack x reader #wolf pack imagines #kiowa gordon #kiowa gordon imagine #kiowa gordon x reader #embry call imagine #embry call x reader #twilight imagines

168 notes · View notes

ariadnelives · 5 years

Text

Chapter 24 -- The Ethics of Killing a Mind-Controlled Person

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

“Do you ever notice how we always get captured?” Spacebreather asked Sweettalk, who was, like herself, shackled to the table in front of them.. “Like, you’d think after eight years we’d start building a rescue plan into the original plan.”

“At least it’s us who got captured,” Sweettalk said, “I’m pretty sure I can glamor us out of these handcuffs, and I know there’s not a person on this ship who can take you in a fight. Do you think Ghostrunner got off the ship?”

“I sure hope not,” Spacebreather replied, “knowing her, none of them have any idea she’s here. Having an ace in the hole isn’t a bad thing.”

“Heh,” Sweettalk chuckled.

“What?”

“Ace in the hole?” Sweettalk said expectantly. “That’s you.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I mean, we’re locked up, in a world of trouble, we’re ‘In The Hole’ if you will, and you’re kinda asexual, so… Ace in the Hole.”

Pilar let out a long angry sigh.

“You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first.”

Pilar scoffed. “See, this is why you drive me up a wall sometimes. Always so flippant, always so cocksure, even when it’s absolutely not the moment for it, you crack a joke. You can’t take anything seriously”

Sweettalk rolled her eyes. “Some people appreciate a bit of levity in dire situations.”

“Like who?”

“Like your sister.”

Pilar sighed again. “Maybe I’ve been a bit unfair to you.”

“You’re a lot harder on me than you are on any of the other Whiptails.”

“Yeah,” Pilar replied. This surprised Sweettalk, who didn’t think Pilar realized she was treating her differently. “It’s just, like, in the past few weeks I’ve done a lot of introspection, and I think I might be projecting some of my own self-esteem issues onto you.”

“I literally can’t imagine why.” Sweettalk was not being sarcastic.

“When I first found you, you were an orphan girl who’d lost everything, you were next to homeless, and you had this… fiery streak in you, this anger at the system, at cruel fate, at the childhood you’d lost. I recognized it right away. That was the same fire that consumed me. Everything I hate about myself, I saw in you, and that… wasn’t fair of me. I wanted something better for you than the path I went down, I wanted to be sure that you wouldn’t end up being anything like me. It wasn’t fair of me to dislike you… and I don’t dislike you, not really… but I totally understand why you don’t like me.”

“Respectfully?” Sweettalk snapped after a moment, “That’s a total load. Of course I was angry, but do you know where I’d be if I wasn’t on your crew? I’d either be dead in some ditch somewhere or running low-level cons like Prescott to keep a roof over my head. I was already a criminal before you found me, so if anything, you just made sure I didn’t need to be one to survive. And no one ever said I didn’t like you, in fact—”

Sweettalk stopped short.

“Go on,” Pilar said sheepishly.

“In fact, I’ve always looked up to you. You’re cool, you’re smart, you’ve mastered just about every fighting style in the system, you’ve got a great relationship with the biggest nerd I’ve ever met, you’re not cocky about any of it, and when I was a kid, you strutted into my life like a knight in shining armor and showed me that there was a place in the universe for lost girls like me. If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t give a shit about your approval.”

The room fell silent for several seconds before Spacebreather spoke. “Do you ever notice that a lot of our crew’s problems could be solved if we stopped bottling things up all the time?”

“You and Sasha are definitely sisters.”

They both chuckled, and Pilar asked, “so, do you have a plan to get us out of here?”

“My silver tongue is useless without someone to con,” Sweettalk said. “How about your muscles, can you bust out of these handcuffs?”

“Not without breaking my wrists. Makes me wish Ariadne was here, there’s not a shackle in the universe she can’t escape from.”

“Or Sasha, she could mend your wrists pretty quick if you could get loose.”

“Seems we’re at a bit of a loss without our better halves,” Spacebreather mused. “We’re gonna have to play off each other. When they come in, here’s the plan—”

The returning crew was greeted by a very surprised Alicia at the receiving pad.

“Prep a recovery team,” Ariadne said promptly, “Ghostrunner is en route with the cult’s ship. If we’re lucky, they’ll be here within three hours.”

“Are we preparing for an attack?” Alicia asked.

“No, but make sure the spiderweb is fully operational,” Ariadne explained, “we need it to disable the ship as soon as it arrives in our airspace without frying the onboard tech. We still need the coordinates from the onboard relay. Sasha!”

“Yes, cap?”

Ariadne asked, “how’s your anxiety?”

“Anxiety, cap?”

“Your girlfriend and your sister are being held captive,” Ariadne said, “they don’t get along and it’s the first time they’ve been alone together since your sister found out you were dating.”

“I’m trying not to think about it.”

“Fair course of action. Honestly, after all this time we should really just start building a rescue plan into the first plan we come up with.”

Sasha pondered this. “I wish Mingxia was here, she always knows what to say.”

“And I wish Pilar was here,” Ariadne replied, “she always makes me feel protected when we’re under fire.”

“Well, we’re at a bit of a loss without our better halves,” Sasha said, “so we’re going to have to lean on each other. Now, it might sound crazy, but I’ve got a plan. Can you still establish a remote connection to their systems through the relay?”

The red-robed Acolyte sat at the table across from Spacebreather and Sweettalk. He was a gray-haired white man whose only noteworthy feature was a prominent bushlike quality in his dark eyebrows.

“Why is it that every time the Zealot’s glorious vision is disrupted, we always trace that disruption back to the same group of teenage miscreants breaking into our compound?”

“Offense taken,” Spacebreather attempted to cross her arms before realizing her shackles would prevent her from doing so. “She’s a teenager. I’m a fully-grown miscreant.”

“I don’t care how old you are,” the Acolyte hissed. “Your little friends made off with our property, they’ve somehow taken control of this ship, and frankly, it doesn’t exactly make me want to do you any favors. So, you should know that the only reason you’re alive right now is that we need something from you.”

“Bite me,” Spacebreather replied, and the Acolyte got visibly angry.

“What she means is,” Sweettalk said calmly, “what do you need? I’m sure we’d be able to help.”

“Where have they taken our property?”

Pilar scowled at the idea of young girls being referred to as property, and promptly raised her middle finger in response.

“Spacebreather, that’s not doing us any favors. I’m sorry, sir, she’s just a bit on-edge. Talk to me, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“We know they can just brainwash us into doing whatever they want,” Pilar growled at Spacebreather, “that’s how they got this waste of a hairpiece to do their bidding, so why should we cooperate willingly?”

“I don’t particularly want to be brainwashed,” Sweettalk responded. “Just because this guy has no free will doesn’t mean I don’t value mine.”

“What are you talking about? The Zealot’s Acolytes are pure of faith. We do not require conditioning to fulfill his glorious vision.”

“Let me get this straight, you’re all totally in control of your own actions?” Sweettalk asked.

“Of course,” the Acolyte responded, and Pilar smirked, “and we won’t be forced to condition you, if you tell us what we want to know. Now. Where is our property?”

At this point, Pilar spat directly in the Acolyte’s face.

“That’s it,” the Acolyte bellowed, and called in two other large men to assist him. “You two, in here now. Take this insolent girl to the armory and execute her by firing squad.”

Pilar smiled broadly. The two men unlatched the bar that kept her cuffs secured to the table and walked her out of the room.

“Oh, you’ve done it now,” Sweettalk laughed. “I hope you’ve made peace with your god.”

“What are you talking about?” The Acolyte asked.

“You just signed the death warrant of everyone in that firing squad, and yourself,” Sweettalk explained, “that woman is a force of nature. She’s unstoppable. You’d better cherish every remaining minute of your life, I’d guess the number is already down to single-digits.”

Pilar was standing with her back to the wall of the armory.

“Last words?” She asked.

“Make ‘em quick” one of the twelve members of the firing squad said. Pilar could roughly gauge that they were standing six feet in front of her from his voice.

“You misunderstand,” said Pilar, “I am offering you your last words.”

“What?”

“Me, handcuffed, blindfolded, unarmed, up against a dozen grown men with fully loaded pulse rifles trained on me. If you went and got a few dozen more guys and some bigger guns, it might even be a fair fight. So, if any of you have any last words, now is the time to say them.”

“She’s just trying to stall,” another said. “Fire on my count. Three. Two. O—”

It was at this moment that Pilar dropped suddenly to the ground and twelve pulse rounds left scorch marks in the approximate area where her torso was just moments before.

Despite her arms and legs being shackled, she still managed to move with relative swiftness. Planting both her arms on the ground behind her, she managed to swing both of her legs around into the knees of the leftmost Acolyte, sending him toppling into the man next to him and creating a domino effect that at least managed to disorient the entire line.

Pilar took advantage of this opportunity to remove her blindfold, but didn’t have time to do much else, as the Acolytes were back on their feet.

Three of them managed to fire off their weapons but Pilar was able to avoid both shots in time, and in the same fluid motion, pulled her rear end and legs over the shackles on her arms. Her hands weren’t free, but at least they were now in front of her.

Two more Acolytes fired off shots and she dodged them as she got to her feet. She needed flawless timing if this was going to work. One of them was carefully taking aim for a headshot. She had to be faster than him, and she’d need to execute this move perfectly, or else she would be finished for sure.

One moment before he pulled the trigger, Pilar launched herself up into the air several feet and snagged her handcuff chain on an ornate light fixture hanging from the ceiling. The pulse intended for her head now fired through the space where her head had been, which was now occupied by the chain holding her legs together.

Now that her legs were free, she twisted her torso so the chandelier would spin and kicked them out, knocking five of the firing squad to the floor.

She dropped back to the ground as another Acolyte took aim at her and, thinking quickly, she swung the chain between her wrists around the neck of one of his compatriots and pulled him in front of her.

The shot landed squarely in the man’s throat, severing Pilar’s chain. He toppled to the floor, dead, but not before Pilar was able to grab his gun.

She got three shots off before anyone could realize what had happened. Three Acolytes slumped down on the ground.

Pilar now found herself in the center of the room. Five more of the armed men took aim and pulled the trigger. Pilar ducked just in time to dodge the crossfire. One shot hit a nearby munitions rack, knocking several grenades to the ground near the ankles of the three men standing furthest back, and the other four shots landed in the chests of the other four men, who’d been standing behind her before she’d ducked.

Three Acolytes were left, and her weapon was overheating. It would be unable to fire without another heat sink. One of them attempted to physically tackle her so the others could shoot her more easily, but she managed to spin her weapon around and break his nose with the butt of the rifle, knocking him back into his two peers.

With the half-second this afforded her, Pilar grabbed one of the dead Acolytes’ weapons from the ground, and took aim at the three remaining men.

“Should’ve picked better last words,” she laughed, aimed at their feet, and fired. The plasma round connected with one of the grenades, setting it off, and the explosion created a chain reaction that set off every explosive in the immediate area.

“She’s been gone for eight minutes,” Sweettalk said, “I’d say that gives you about forty five seconds to live. Are you prepared?”

“Your friend is dead,” the bushy-eyebrowed Acolyte said, “and you will be as well if you don’t cooperate soon.”

“You know, I’ve never been on the other side of good-cop-bad-cop before. I can’t believe it worked.”

“What?”

“My good cop got you to tell us that you weren’t mind-controlled, meaning my friend knew it wouldn’t be unethical to kill you in self-defense. My friend’s bad cop got you to detach her from this table and hand over twelve shmucks with guns for her to take. And in about fifteen seconds, she’ll be at the door with all twelve guns.”

“You’ve got to give up this absurd fantasy,” the man said.

“Nine… eight… seven…” Sweettalk said irreverently.

The Acolyte insisted, “your friend is dead. Just tell us wh—”

There was a knock on the door that stopped him cold. A moment later, Pilar kicked down the door with, as promised, eleven rifles, several dozen heat sinks, and a few grenades in a bag slung over her shoulder, in addition to the rifle she was aiming at the Acolyte’s head.

“Your firing squad is dead,” Pilar said. “Surrender command of the ship and I let you keep the top of your skull.”

“You can’t take all of us. If I die, you’ll die too.”

“Devotees of the Red God cult,” said a loud, clear voice suddenly coming over the loudspeaker. “This is the pirate Ariadne. I am now in command of your ship. I assume several of you have been killed or at least seriously maimed by my associate onboard. Cooperate with her directives, and you might live. Fail to cooperate and we will open the airlocks. My associates are equipped to survive this. You are not.”

“She’s bluffing,” the Acolyte said, “No way she could control the ship’s subsystems remotely.”

“And just to prove I’m not bluffing…” the voice said, “Ghostrunner, cut power to the lights.”

The lights switched off immediately.

“I’d listen to her,” Pilar said, “She won’t hesitate to space you clowns, and she sounds like a great kisser.”

The Red God sat on his fiery throne and watched on a security monitor as 437 red-robed bodies fell through the airlock and into the void of space.

“It’s only a matter of time before they find me,” the Red God said to the empty room, knowing he would be heard anyway. “All free-thinking acolytes fall back to defend the Pit of Fear.”

A gravelly voice replied, “sir, we can still access the Life Center facility from the access points on Mars. Should we activate the Thralls to go in and reclaim the ship?”

“The access points are compromised,” the Red God replied, “these meddling teenagers have set the portal device adrift in space. The only things left in the rental properties now are the information desk and the Suffering Tests. Try to go further than that and you’ll meet the same fate as the failures who couldn’t prevent a handful of misguided sorority sisters from taking my property.”

“We could redouble our efforts,” the voice said back, “We could amp up the power on the Suffering Tests. If it works, we should be able to implant the programming even without the subject’s consent.”

The Red God growled, “you couldn’t have figured that one out before letting them take my new body?”

“Sir, it’s not reliable, your transferral is too important to entrust to an emergency measure like this.”

“The Thralls will have to wait,” the Red God said, “They’ll be no use if these children find me. First, we kill them at the Pit of Fear and put my mind into its new host by any means necessary. Then there will be nothing standing in the way of a unified Martian Paradise.”

“A glorious kingdom of morally perfect servants enthralled by their king,” the Acolyte prayed reflexively.

“I’ll see you at the Pit,” the Red God said impatiently, “arm yourselves to the teeth.”

17 notes · View notes

voices-of-ether · 4 years

Text

Rules and Bios (Mobile Version)

RULES

Selective RP. Story threads are mutuals only but everyone is welcome to send in asks or submissions.

Mun is An Old aka 30+

Therefore Mun does not rp smut/sexual situations with young'uns.

As a rule I don’t do explicit smut or fetish-y stuff. I’m ace and not comfortable with it. I like writing suggestive flirting and light physical intimacy (kissing, cuddling, hugs that sort of thing) but anything more graphic than that I prefer a " fade to black " approach.

I’m cool with shipping muses (platonically and romantically) and shipping them with more than one muse I just prefer it to happen over the course of interactions and let it grow naturally. If you try to force ships or romance or smut on my muses, you’ll get ignored or blocked. Please discuss it with me first, and be considerate if I’m not feeling it

I’m generally good with crossover characters and OCs but again I am selective, please understand this.

My replies might be slow sometimes. I work a full-time job and it takes a lot out of me!

If you don’t want to continue a thread, just let me know. On the same note if I don’t want to continue a thread I will let you know.

If you have any triggers please please please let me know ok? I will tag accordingly.

MUSE BIOS

The Kid

Age: 20

Name: SP-10467 (In the dystopian universe he comes from, everyone goes by serial numbers)

Description: Fluorescent yellow hair, about 5'5 in height, skinny, body like a track runner, weight 110 pounds.

Personality: He’s a quiet guy, average intelligence, unnervingly obedient to those he feels outranks him and polite but aloof to those he considers civilians. He's been trained to stay cool and calm-headed for the most part but when thrown into a high-adrenaline or dangerous situation, he can act impulsively to the point of going batshit. He’s big on self-control and sticking to routine and he’s been ruthlessly brainwashed to regard himself as expendable and just another cog in the war machine. Self-worth? Individuality? What’s that? In his latest incarnation, his emotions are quickly becoming an unpredictable wreck, much to his distress. It’s not necessarily a bad thing however. New lives always take a bit of getting used to.

Backstory: Our boy here has been an enlisted man since the age of 14, on one side of a war that has been going on for generations now. His rank is Aerial Support/Bomber and he is a member of Sqaudron 115-D aboard Zeppelin Air Carrier Class C-Dreadnought. A skirmish with an enemy craft turned out to be an encounter with the Warlord Commander of the opposing side and he took one of the newer bombers out during the scramble, loaded with an experimental directed missile

What happened to him after that and where he is now, no one’s really sure… but he's not quite the person (or persons) he used to be...

The Angel

Age: Immortal (Ok fine he kinda lost track a few millennia back hell if he knows)

Name: He goes by Angel or Blue

Description: Black wings, casual clothes, blue goggles and blue skin, blue fire hair (literally he looks like a fucking candle) Carries a big sword that pulses with energy

Personality: He’s…well he’s an asshole but he’s a cheerful asshole. Thinks humans and everything about them and their culture is gross, squishy and kinda stupid, obviously he likes being an angel and inhuman. He’ll never admit it though but he also finds humans very interesting, the way you’d find weird little bugs interesting. He’s a cold-blooded executioner, if you’re Marked you’re as good as dead but hey, it’s just his job and he’s just an underling taking orders from the Reapers. Hell if he knows what’s going on. He’s unerringly honest, literally can’t lie, angel y'know, and blunt to the point of rudeness. He’ll piss you off and think it’s funny as hell. That Weird Murder Uncle everyone loves to hate or something.

Backstory: Honestly Angel had been having a fantastic time in the previous universe, zeroing in on those humans Marked by the Reapers and harvesting their souls to be sorted into whatever constituted for an afterlife in this flaming garbage heap of a world. Then just when he had the Warlord in his sights, timelines went screwy because of something stupid the humans did. After a brief jaunt into a dismal future, he’d thought he’d taken care of his mark only to find that idiot’s soul had gotten smashed up with the soul of some dumbfuck kid who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And now in whatever new universe the kid gets dumped in because of Time Shenanigans, Angel finds himself charged to be Guardian to this new confused bastard keeping him safe and alive…or be his Executioner and do a hard reset of the kid's soul to try again. Gods, what a headache, how many times has he done this already? Oh well. Orders are Orders.

The Librarian

Age: 40

Name: Mick Guidici

Description: 6'7 lanky. Dresses nice if not a little disheveled. Vest, tie, trousers, button up shirt with rolled up sleeves kind of guy. Nothing fancy. Dark hair, greying at the temples, grey eyes. Two stubborn cowlicks he can't seem to smooth down no matter how much hair gel he puts in 'em.

Personality: Quiet, calm and serious, hard to get to know but once you do, he's a steadfast and loyal friend with a very dry and witty sense of humor. Demisexual, panromantic. Personification of the saying " Still waters run deep. ". Sociable and polite when he needs to be, otherwise he just sort of keeps to himself. Intelligent and an Egyptology nerd. Tired a lot of times from particularly vivid lucid dreams so he's addicted to coffee and naps. Smoker.

Backstory: Still a work in progress but we'll just say he's lived a lot of different lives (and maybe isn't exactly aware of them)

Age: 25

Name: John Harkaway (an alias)

Description: 5'6 skinny, lean to the point of undernourished. Black messy curly hair a bit under shoulder length, green eyes, ruddy sunburned complexion, both ears pierced with gold earrings, classic blue-ink sailor tattoos.

Personality: John is charming, reckless and well-spoken. He very much gives off the vibes of a classic Incorrigible Rake, an image he is careful to cultivate because it's easier to pretend to be someone else. Speaks fluent Portugeuse, affects an accent around strangers that wouldn't fool a native speaker for a minute. He's intelligent, well-read in classical literature, witty and troubled, more than he'd ever admit. He suffers from strange dreams and nightmares, so his sleeping habits aren't too great. Bisexual but he tends to get very anxious and ill at ease around men that radiate a certain Vibe.

Backstory: John is a unwitting traveler out of time, born in 19th century England and through a paranormal fluke, finds himself wandering through a modern century of marvels. He doesn't care to talk about his life before...perhaps he's quite literally running from the past.

#muse bio #rules #mobile friendly version

3 notes · View notes

minaminokyoko · 6 years

Note

How about favourite captain America movies scenes?

WELL YOU ASKED FOR IT PAL.

The First Avenger

-Steve at the movie theater, telling that douche to shut up and getting his little ass kicked for his trouble. Oh, Steve. Goddammit, Steve. You are too pure and good and wonderful for all of us. I like that it’s both a good quality trait and a weakness for Steve that he can’t abide bullies and he’ll stand up to anyone even if all it means is he’ll just get the stuffing beaten out of him. Plus, Bucky stepping up to help his idiot best friend is so heartwarming it’s insane. I love that Bucky is just fucking used to Steve getting himself beaten up because he stands up to shitty men. That’s best friends for you.

-Peggy punching the bejeezus out of Whatshisface in the troops’ first scene together. Oh, dear Lord. Where do I start? First, her telling him to step forward. Second, the completely placid look before she does it. Third, the fact that she puts his bitch ass on the ground no trouble. Fourth, Steve’s appreciative smile. Fifth, the General not even blinking that she flattened that douche. It’s just brilliant.

-Steve jumping on the grenade. Standing ovation. Steve is too good and too pure a cinnamon roll for any of us.

- “Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.” This is the heart and soul of Captain America and Steve Rogers and I cannot stress enough how this is honestly probably my favorite scene of the movie. We follow this guy not because of the strength of his body, but the strength of his heart. Steve has all the heart.

-Bucky and Steve being reunited. The best bros just knock it out of the park.

-Peggy’s reaction to Steve returning with all the captured soldiers. Seriously, it is the most NC-17 thing I’ve ever seen in a PG-13 movie. That smile Steve gives her and the smile she gives him right back is 100% code for “if we weren’t in the middle of this camp right now, I would tear your clothes off and fuck you to Jupiter and back.” It’s such a pure, awesome moment of sexual tension, and it’s done in such a classy way. I love that scene to death. They eye-fucked the shit out of each other and I adore the overwhelming yet subtle acknowledgement of what’s going on between them.

-Steve having a picture of Peggy in his pocket watch, and the fact that Peggy sees this during the little film montage. I want to scream. I LOVED the General giving her an amused side eye but not actually saying anything. It was a wonderful little nod to Steve’s reciprocated feelings for her.

-Steve and Peggy’s kiss. Whyyyyyyyyyyy, Lord? Whyyyyyyyyyy? Why didn’t they get more time together?! They were so fucking cute and I know if they’d have gotten together, it’d have been amazing and wonderful and they would have been so happy. Dammit.

The Winter Soldier

Disclaimer: Legit, The Winter Soldier is arguably one of the best comic book movies ever made and it is taking so much restraint for me not to list the entire goddamn film as my favorite scene, because I love it from end to end. Gun to my head, I’d say my Top 3 MCU films would be this, Ragnarok, and either Avengers 1 or Avengers 3. It’s really hard to pick out scenes in a perfect movie.

-Sam and Steve’s introduction to each other. The sheer chemistry here is stellar. I was in stitches that Steve Rogers was just okay with teasing a total fucking stranger for no reason other than just lolz. I love that TWS starts out reminding us that Steve isn’t some humorless do gooder. He has a great sense of humor and he’s just a friendly guy in general, so they couldn’t have picked a better scenario to introduce their dynamic. I adore that opening scene, man.

-Taking back the ship. Fuck, dude. Talk about one of the best executed action scenes in the MCU. Everything from Cap racing around just laying those fucking dudes out on his own to Nat popping in to the absolutely genius execution of Cap vs. Batroc. Oh, if a film scene could get me pregnant, it’d be that one, man. I fucking love that entire damn sequence.

-Nick Fury vs. Hydra. I appreciate this simply because we saw some badass Nick Fury in Avengers, but this was a delightful addition to remind us that the man is the head of SHIELD for a reason. He is NOT to be fucked with. He is a very capable agent and held his own and it was awesome.

-The elevator fight scene. ‘Nuff said.

-Natasha confronting Steve with the flash drive. So this was the first moment where I knew I was going to ship Captasha/Romanogers until the end of time, regardless of the canon. I loved this interaction. Steve is frustrated and suspicious, and so is Nat, but they both find a common ground and realize neither one is actually the enemy. I especially love: “Bye bye, bikinis.” “Yeah, I bet you look terrible in ‘em now.” That snark tho. Cap is flawless, and there is a healthy dollop of sexual tension delightfully overlaid with this scene of him backing her up against a wall and then her showing some skin. Yas lawd.

-Steve and Nat undercover at the mall. Not only is it just funny as hell and delightfully awkward, but it really shows off the great chemistry between the two of them. You’d think that with them being polar opposites that they’d butt heads, but they actually just complement each other extremely fucking well. Then there’s the exquisite escalator kiss. I mean, mm, did that look yummy. Even Steve comes out of it like, “well, damn.”

-The car conversation on the way to Jersey. I think that I would’ve only liked this movie, not loved it, if Nat hadn’t been there. I think Nat’s presence is what helped make this one of the MCU’s best films period. The honesty between them as they have probably one of their first real conversations getting to know each other is amazing. I adore this scene. I adore seeing them bond. “That’s a tough way to live.” “Good way not to die, though.” I think that is one of the best lines in the whole MCU, personally.

-Recovering at Sam’s place. First off, the two of them sharing the guest room and bathroom says a whole lot of shit right there. It’s an implied intimacy. Then Cap walking over and just knowing in his gut that Nat isn’t okay, and just gently, gently asking her what’s wrong is so important to both of their characters. You get to see them go from coworkers to friends and from friends to good friends in such an amazingly short period of time that it’s so heartwarming. Evans and Johansson have worked on several films together, and this is definitely one of those things where they just play off each other so well from being friends in real life. I love the inflections. I love the close up on their expressions. I love how Steve is able to get Nat to lower her walls and just talk to him about how she’s feeling, and how she sincerely thanks him, and how she’s even a little scared when she asks “if it were down to me to save your life, and you be honest with me, would you trust me to do it?” and Steve emphatically answers, “I would now” and then smiles at her so sweetly and makes a little joke. I just…my heart, man. My heart. Steve and Nat’s relationship is possibly my favorite out of all the Avengers, and I should note that Chris Evans ships it and I am really happy about that fact.

-The Winter Soldier’s attack. Flawless. This fucking sequence is flawless. Getting to see everyone’s skills on display, and then capped with the emotional realization from Steve that his best friend is not only alive, but has been brainwashed and is trying to kill them, is just so great. Huge, huge kudos to Evans, Stan, Mackie, and Johansson as well as their stunt team and the choreographers, because it’s some of the most gorgeous, polished action I’ve ever laid eyes on. Especially Evans and Stan’s fight. Wow, that could not have been easy and it’s all them when there are close ups during the knife fight. I really appreciate them going HAM on that shit. It turned out beautifully.

-“But I knew him.” Yep. Let me die. Just let me die. Poor tortured Bucky’s memories surfacing at the sight of his best friend saying his name just tears me up inside. Ugh. Bury me.

-Cap remembering Bucky’s words after his mother’s funeral. Bury me again.

-Cap’s speech to SHIELD after they arrive at the HQ. Hnnnnnnngh. I would die for Steve Rogers. Without question. This speech is why. He knows that he might die trying to stop Hydra, but he gives those people the choice to do what’s right at great cost, and he believes that they will do the right thing, and he’s absolutely right. I had mentioned years ago that this is why the DCEU’s current Superman has failed; that trait, believing in people despite evidence pointing to the opposite, is what make Cap and Superman two American icons. This is why we rally behind them as characters. Because they believe in us and they believe we are worth protecting. It’s a fucking shame the DCEU writers don’t understand that and have forced a decent actor like Henry Cavill to be a morose, joyless, brooding Superman, and don’t even try to tell me they “fixed” him in the JLA movie, because they retconned it and thought that did the trick, and they were wrong. What Cap said in that speech is precisely why he is as great a man as we’ve all come to love over the years. It’s nothing short of incredible.

-The entire ending helicarrier sequence. Good to the last fucking drop, man. Everything about it is flawless. Especially “You’re my mission!” “Then finish it. ‘Cause I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.” Cue me screaming and crying and clawing down my curtains. Bucky pulling Steve from the river turns me into an absolute wreck of emotions.

Civil War

-Cap consoling Wanda after the bullshit news report. Man, fuck the whole ass world for that reaction, by the way. Wanda saved that entire marketplace full of people, but she still got blamed for intervening anyway, and we know Crossbones would’ve killed countless people if they hadn’t stopped him, so you can all fuck off. But what I really like about this scene is Cap’s almost fatherly concern for her, knowing she was still recovering from the pain of losing her twin brother not too long ago. He understands the loss and the pain she feels and knows that she has doubts about herself and he’s there to assure her he doesn’t blame her, if that is any consolation. Cap is so conscious of her needs and emotions that it’s extremely touching to see, even though the scene is brief.

-The team going over the Accords and choosing sides. This was very well done, as everyone’s reactions are very interesting. I personally don’t see how the hell anyone could be Team Iron Man, but that’s just me. I at least like that Tony’s actions are justified in that he has been trying so hard this whole time to do the right thing, but it feels like the harder he tries, the more awful things become until he’s left with no good choices at all. I feel for him. So much. I feel for Cap as well knowing that about Tony and yet being unyielding in his feelings about the Accords.

-Nat comforting Steve at Peggy’s funeral. Cue gross sobbing. Damn, this is why I ship Captasha so hard. She tells him that she’s pretty much going along with the Accords for the sake of keeping their little family together if possible, and Steve sadly tells her he can’t do it, but she already knows, and she’s just there to support him. That’s love. You can debate if it’s platonic or romantic, but that scene is just pure love between Nat and Steve. She is there for no other reason than to hug her friend and check on him and make sure he knows he is not alone in this awful time in his life. It’s by far one of the most touching scenes in the entire MCU.

-The death of T’Chaka. Oh my God. Give Chadwick Boseman all the awards. How did we become that emotionally attached to him in such a short amount of time? Wow. I mean, wow, was that powerfully acted.

-Nat warning Steve not to intervene. Again, you can’t tell me these two people don’t love each other. She’s so worried about him, and even Sam acknowledges that she’s not wrong to want them to stay out of it since they’ll now get arrested.

-Everyone chasing after Bucky. Hnnnnnngh, yes please, this shit was awesome. Especially Cap and T’Challa racing over moving fucking cars and Bucky snatching that motorcycle mid-air. I love that scene with all my heart and soul.

-”So, you like cats?”

-Bucky’s escape. Seriously, the Winter Soldier is not to be trifled with. Holy hell, does he put everyone through their paces.

-Tony recruiting Peter Parker. And now we have it, the shining crown jewel of Tony Stark’s development as a character, in the form of a tiny adorable baby he adopts to fight a ninety year old veteran. I know, right? I never expected that Tony recruiting Parker would be anything like what we got and yet it’s by far one of my favorite relationships in the MCU. It’s so genuinely cute and sweet and the word choice during that scene in Parker’s room is very important from a character standpoint. “When you can do what I can do, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen…they happen because of you.” Without saying it out loud, they were able to convey what happened to Uncle Ben, and that’s really good storytelling, man. You see this kid is hurt and blames himself and he will do anything to make up for his sins. Tony is even touched by it. Plus, the humor in that scene is awesome and it’s so warm and evident that RDJ and Tom Holland really got along and had chemistry.

-Recruiting Scott Lang. It’s so brief, but that fucking scene puts me in stitches every time, especially Paul Rudd’s improv of grabbing Chris Evans’ shoulders when he sees just how goddamn built and cut the man is. I thought that was genius. It’s so perfect.

-”Can you move your seat up?” “No.”

-The airport fight scene. Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. This is so good. For so many reasons. How it’s staged. How it starts off quiet and it slowly builds tension. How Tony is so hurt that Cap appears to be choosing Bucky over him, how Cap is protecting him, how Tony absolutely doesn’t want to fight his friend and yet they are on opposite sides anyway. “You’re gonna come with us because it’s us.” The utter desperation in Tony’s eyes when he almost begs Cap to turn himself in is so heartbreaking. It kills me, man. Emotions aside, I simply love all the fights and the various match ups. Especially Spidey versus Bucky and Sam (”Couldn’t you have done that earlier?” “I hate you.”) and Spidey versus Cap (”That thing does not obey that laws of physics at all!”) and Spidey versus Ant Man. It’s all so glorious.

-Nat stopping T’Challa from getting to Bucky and Steve. It’s raining on my face. “You’re not gonna stop.” “You know I can’t.” “I’m gonna regret this. Go.” It’s so important. It’s so important, y’all. Nat chose Steve when it mattered most and I ship them until my dying breath.

-“Vengeance has consumed you. It is consuming them.” All the awards, Chadwick. All the motherfucking awards.

-The final scene of Steve walking up to Sam’s cell. There’s just something about the playful confidence and determination in his expression that despite how sad the ending is that Tony and Cap are no longer on speaking terms that it gives you just a tiny flicker of hope that maybe things will be okay for Team Cap.

Well, there you go. Cap and Thor are currently tied for the top spot in my heart of Favorite Avenger, hence all the word vomit. Sorry, not sorry.

#Steve Rogers #Captain America #Captain America The First Avenger #The Winter Soldier #CATWS #Civil War #CACW

5 notes · View notes

softderekhale · 6 years

Text

the sterek pseudo-altered carbon au one shot no one asked for

Just kidding. I asked for this, and then I wrote it, because I’m avoiding work and I have no self control. This also kind of blended with a White Collar AU suggestion I read earlier this week. Anyway, writing this was a nice palate cleanser and maybe someone will read it! (Also, I don’t think you actually need to have watched Altered Carbon to get this; the gist is that human brains/consciousness are downloaded to and stored in these little spinal implants. When you die, if you have the money, you can be plugged [spun] into a new body. Criminals and those whose devices are in storage are “on ice.”)

“Stilinski?” Danny’s face crackled to life in the corner of Stiles’ screen.

“Yo, Danny. What’s up?” Stiles slid the call into the middle of the glass pane, minimizing the other notes and feeds crowding the space.

“Got your guy spun up. He’s ready in room 3.”

Stiles scoffed. “Took ‘em long enough. Thanks, Danny.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t particularly seem to care for resleeving. Almost knocked Finstock out cold with a supply tray before we got his sister to tell him to calm the fuck down so we could transfer him over to the precinct,” Danny said, still unflappably calm considering the unusual circumstances.

“Jesus.” Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face, took a deep breath, and grabbed his coffee as he closed out of the call and stood up. This day -- no, this month -- had been too fucking much.

***

“Derek Hale. Fifteen years for forgery, armed robbery and grand theft auto to top it off,” Stiles said by way of greeting as he stepped into the small interrogation room.

Derek remained completely silent, eerily still as he glared at Stiles from his chair.

“Detective Stiles Stilinski. Nice to meet you too,” Stiles sighed, dropping into the other chair and letting Hale’s file fall to the table with a slap.

“Why the fuck am I here?” Derek growled, voice seething with the same anger and tension that radiated from his taut, defensive posture.

Stiles rolled his eyes with a tsk. “Now, Mr. Hale, your sister paid a pretty penny to get your original sleeve back. I just have a few questions for you, and if you cooperate, we won’t have to put you back on ice for the rest of your sentence. I think it was another what -- twelve years?” Stiles hated playing the bad cop, but it wasn’t like he had a choice between this guy’s attitude and the downright shitty circumstances that had brought him here.

Derek leaned forward and stared Stiles dead in the eye. “Why the fuck am I here?”

Stiles sighed, actively trying to soften his tone and attempting not to let his shitty fucking week interfere with what was probably an equally shitty and terrifying day for the man sitting across from him.

“We know you got set up. And we know who did it,” Stiles said, pausing carefully to gauge Hale’s reaction.

Derek’s nostrils flared. His frown deepened -- which Stiles truly hadn’t thought was even possible -- but he remained silent, choosing instead to continue attempting to bore into Stiles’ skull through sheer odious willpower.

Stiles sighed again and leaned back in his chair. “Why’d you do it, Hale? Why’d you cover for Kate?”

He thought he saw Derek flinch nearly imperceptibly when he said her name. Kate Argent was one of the world’s most infamous white collar criminals, and Derek had been working as one of her close backups when he got brought in after a museum robbery in Bay City a few years back.

Derek’s gaze finally shifted. “Who… who said I covered for her?”

“The evidence. We picked her up again last week. She had her niece working with her this time. The niece took a plea bargain in exchange for all her backups of Kate’s files. We found the doctored footage, Hale. You weren’t anywhere near Bay City that night,” Stiles said, carefully noting the way Hale’s eyes fell blank as he spoke.

“So,” Stiles asked again, leaning forward. “Why did you cover for her? Cash? Dirt? Love?” The rest of the precinct had their money on the last one. Stiles didn’t.

Derek snorted. “Sure as fuck wasn’t love. But… I thought it was. She had me brainwashed. Had all of us brainwashed. When she started threatening to use my sister as leverage, I told her I was going to try and get out. She didn’t want me going to the cops, so… It was either slag me, or leave me on ice.”

“Why didn’t she slag you?” Stiles knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from Hale. He wanted to make sure he was about to make the correct decision by offering what he had in mind.

“You already know why. You know who my parents are, Detective,” Derek scoffed.

Stiles smirked. Hale had a pretty face, but he didn’t make it in as deeply as he did by being stupid.

“I do know. Not exactly sure how James and Talia Hale’s kid ends up a professional forger, but I’ve seen weirder shit on a regular Monday here.”

Derek cracked a small smile. “The kind of people we sold to had so much money, it made them stupid. You know the type,” he said with a shrug.

Stiles laughed. Yeah, he did know the type, and they were a fucking pain in the ass when they found out they’d been duped. If Stiles was being honest, art forgery was literally at the bottom of his priority list when it came to the types of crimes that went in and out of BCPD. But the Meths had the money and the time to get what they wanted -- petty revenge.

Derek finally moved, uncrossing his arms and folding his hands carefully in his lap. “Not that this hasn’t been great, Detective, but am I free to go? I have... a lot to catch up on.”

Three years on ice. For as distant as Derek had clearly become from his family, Stiles couldn’t imagine losing that much time. Derek was lucky that Kate had gotten caught as relatively early into his sentence as she had. Stiles cleared his throat and leaned back, appraising Hale before answering.

“Your pardon went through today. However, there’s still the matter of all the stuff we have evidence on you for. The backups, remember?” Stiles tried to break the news gently, still feeling sympathetic despite Hale’s demonstrated criminal streak.

Hale’s face fell so quickly that Stiles almost had to look away, until it turned back into a mask of anger and resolve.

“So you woke me up just to tell me that you’re fucking putting me back on ice for the rest of my goddamn life?” His voice was a snarl, but Stiles could hear the fear underneath the words.

“And let your sister pay for your sleeve just so we could dick you over for a few minutes? Don’t worry. Not my style,” Stiles said, watching some of the tension leave Derek’s shoulders.

“So,” he continued. “To answer your question and tell you why the fuck you’re here, as you so elegantly put it, I wanted to bring you in. Explain what’s going on. You’re pardoned for the Bay City case, since we can prove you got set up. All things being equal -- primarily, the Chief and I not giving a rat’s ass about a couple dickhead Meths getting sold some fake Picassos -- we talked the DA into reducing your sentence down to time served. There’s still the matter of your probation, though.” Stiles paused, giving Derek time to process the information.

“They were Monets, actually, but keep talking.”

“God forbid. Anyway, probation. I really don’t want to deal with the paperwork, and I’d be willing to bet a decent chunk of change that you have little to no interest in wearing an ankle monitor. If you’d even keep it on for a day without hacking it off,” Stiles replied.

“You read that in my file? I’m touched by the attention to detail,” Hale said, cocking an eyebrow.

Stiles scoffed, internally scolding himself for finding verbally sparring with an ex-con this fucking hot. It’d been a while, okay?

“Of course. I’m a cop’s kid with a contrarian streak a mile wide, and even I never managed to pull that off.” Stiles’ stomach swooped oddly as Derek laughed again.

“So here’s my offer. Work with us, and there will be no babysitters. No ankle monitors. You can walk out of this building and light a fucking joint before you’re out the door, for all I care. But you have something we can use, and we can use it to actually help people,” Stiles said, lacing his words with as much sincerity and urgency as he could. He truly believed Hale was something special, and the probation paperwork was a pain in his ass that he really didn’t need.

Derek smirked. “Seems like you get the better end of the deal, Detective. How long am I on your leash?”

“Eighteen months. Same amount of time you’d be on probation. We’ll work on a contract basis -- an honest job, with an honest salary that you can tell your parents and sister about. Eighteen months go by, and we can decide if it’s still a mutually beneficial arrangement.” Stiles didn’t like playing the sister card, but it was clearly a weak point for both siblings and for whatever reason, he really wanted Derek to take his offer. He wanted to know what made the infamous Derek Hale tick, even if was in the decidedly uptight realm of the precinct.

Derek took a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll take your offer, Detective Stilinski.”

Stiles couldn’t help his smile. He held out his hand across the table, the back of his neck tingling as Derek’s strong fingers wrapped around his. “Call me Stiles. Welcome to the team, Mr. Hale.”

#*dabs*#this may become longer in the future idk #YEET #sterek #sterek fic #sterek au #my fic

37 notes · View notes

nitewrighter · 6 years

Note

Emily meeting Sombra and Widowmaker for the first time. How does that go?

“So the situation is… complicated,” said Tracer, holding Emily’s hands in hers as the elevator descended, “And… we promised each other full disclosure.”

“The UN’s finally taking you all in?” Emily’s face paled.

Tracer shook her head, “No. They can’t sign off on us, but at this point we’re doing more against Talon than anything they can organize, so it’s mostly just… decrying us while not actually doing anything to stop us. But… well… while we’re on the subject of Talon–”

The elevator dinged and opened to the watchpoint rec room, where Widowmaker was casually reading on the couch with Sombra splayed across her lap, lazily tapping at one of her screens.

“Oh sh–” Tracer started.

Emily’s face went from white to red. “You–!” she half lunged forward but Tracer quickly blinked around her and was holding her back with her hands on Emily’s shoulders.

“Em–Em, look at me, look at–” Tracer was trying to calm Emily down.

“You murderer! You monster!” Emily apparently had no qualms with lunging at one of the world’s greatest assassins, so great was her fury. Widowmaker looked up from her book and watched calmly as Tracer struggled to hold her furious redheaded girlfriend back.

“Em!” Tracer cupped her hands to Emily’s face and Emily was forced to look at Tracer in the eyes, “Breathe–Breathe, Em.”

“She murdered Mondatta! She hurt you!” Emily’s voice was cracking with rage and heartbreak.

“I know, I know, I said it’s complicated,” said Tracer.

“Complicated!?” Emily repeated, “What exactly is complicated about-about housing a murderer like this!?”

Sombra sighed and sat up from Widowmaker’s lap, smoothing her hair a bit. “So, do we have to go into the whole tragic backstory thing or…?”

“Who is this?” said Emily, looking from Sombra to Tracer.

“That… is Sombra,” said Tracer rubbing the back of her neck, “…also ex-Talon.”

“What?!” said Emily.

“Ex-Talon! Ex!” said Tracer, “They defected–I meant to actually tell you and then have you meet them after I’d broken the news to you but… I expected them to be at the infirmary.”

“Jack did say we were allowed to freely move around certain areas of the Watchpoint,” said Widowmaker, glancing back to her book.

Tracer huffed. “And that’s worked out great,” she muttered.

“You defected,” Emily pressed her fingertips to her forehead, looking at Sombra and Widowmaker, then looking at Tracer, “And how do you know they’re actually against Talon? Just… taking them at their word?”

“If it makes it any more believable we’re mostly doing it to save our own skin,” said Sombra.

“Sombra apparently established some line of communication with Genji back during the incident at Volskaya,” said Tracer.

“We’re friends,” said Sombra.

“You EMP’d him, then threatened to give his brother’s whereabouts to assassins,” said Tracer flatly, “Not to mention what was going on with Doctor Ziegler at the time.”

“Good friends,” said Sombra.

Emily was rubbing her temples. “Wait–wait–go back, they’re here to save their own skin?”

“My body was finally deteriorating from all of Talon’s treatments,” Widowmaker said simply, “The simplest course of action for Talon would be to keep working me until I fell apart altogether while finding and conditioning a… replacement.”

“Wait–treatments? Conditioning–?” said Emily.

“She’s brainwashed,” said Tracer, “Or… was brainwashed,” she glanced over her shoulder at Widowmaker, “It’s kind of hard to tell at this point. But the point is, she never joined Talon willingly, they kidnapped her and then…” Tracer did a waving motion next to her head, “I just—I don’t like it. I hate it every bit as much as you do, believe me,” she tucked a stray bit of hair back from Emily’s face, “But… We need to give her a chance or…”

“Don’t try and feed me a ‘We’re just as bad as Talon’ line, you know you’re not,” said Emily.

“No, not just as bad as Talon, but not any better than the old Overwatch,” said Tracer.

“I am not here simply to save myself,” said Widowmaker, “I’m here to make sure what has been done to me never happens to someone else.”

Emily’s brow remained furrowed. “And you,” she looked at Sombra.

“I felt unappreciated with Talon and I’m here out of spite,” said Sombra with a smirk.

“Sombra was the first one who decided somewhere in Widowmaker was someone worth saving,” said Tracer, “She’s a nasty little liar. And blackmailer. And thief. But she never really believed in Talon’s ideals, not really. They were just a means to an end for her, until she decided she didn’t like the means.”

“You don’t see me calling you out,” muttered Sombra with an eye roll.

Emily’s lips thinned, and she took a deep breath, “Okay…” she said, furrowing her brows, “I mean… not okay, far from okay–I’m going to need a lot more time to process—” she gestured up and down at Widowmaker and Sombra, “…everything about this, but…” she looked at Tracer, “I trust you. I trust you, not them.”

“Fair,” said Sombra with a shrug.

Emily shot Sombra a glare and then looked back at Tracer. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said quietly.

“Aw come on, when do I not know what I’m doing?” said Tracer, forcing a grin.

“You don’t want me to answer that,” said Emily, managing a smile as well.

“Hmph. I like you,” said Widowmaker with a slight smile.

Emily couldn’t suppress a shudder at that.

#tracily #spiderbyte

43 notes · View notes

seven-oomen · 6 years

Text

Till the end of the line - Chapter eleven

Tony

Pain. Throbbing, pulsing pain all over his body. He tried opening his eyes but they seemed to be glued shut. At least he was laying on a comfortable surface. Probably a hospital bed. He groaned softly and moved his head to rest on the warmth on his right.

“How is he?” He knew that voice from somewhere… Was that cap?

“I think he’s waking up, he’s been stable for the last few hours. That serum they gave him is like a miracle juice.” He knew that voice too, but it wasn’t as easy to identify. Could it be Barnes? Not likely, Barnes wouldn’t dare come that close to him. Would he?

“EXTREMIS. Yeah it is. From what I’ve heard it used to be quite explosive and dangerous. Until Tony improved the formula.”

“Excuse me, what?”

Yeah he was fairly sure that was Barnes. He sounded a little agitated too.

“It’s not dangerous anymore, Buck. Tony fixed it.”

And that definitely was Cap, alright.

“You sure about that?-”

“Course he is-” Tony croaked out, coughing due to his throat feeling bone dry. “I redesigned it.”

“And that automatically means it’s safe?”

He managed to open one eye to glare at Barnes. “You doubting my intellect, Barnes?” Tony frowned and glanced around. Wait a second, what the fuck was Barnes doing in his hospital bed. “Water, please.”

He heard Steve scuffle around and soon enough a straw was offered to him. He sipped from it carefully and sighed in relief as the water re-hydrated his throat.

“What? No. I’m just worried, Tony.”

“Okay. New rule, you, plural, don’t get to call me Tony until you earned it. You will call me Anthony or Stark. Two, get the fuck out of my bed, Barnes. Three, never insult my intellect again.”

Steve spoke up. “Tony I doubt-”

“Shut up, cap.” Tony bit back.

“Hey.” Barnes gently patted the back of his hand as if the man was scolding a goddamn child. What a fucking nerve!

“One, We will call you Anthony or Tony and we will prove to you we can be trusted. Two, you practically pulled me in. Three, I wasn’t insulting you, Tony. I’m worried you’re going to get hurt again. So stop acting like a child and let’s talk about this.”

This absolutely wouldn’t do. The universe was trying to screw him over. That’s what this was. That’s why Barnes and Rogers were his soul mates. There was no other explanation. Stupid Alpha, actually making sense…

“Fine you wanna talk, let’s talk.” Tony snapped, his throat felt scratchy once more and he started coughing profusely.

“Easy, Tony.” Steve started rubbing his back and held the glass of water steady for him.

Fuck he hated this. He didn’t want to feel this dependent on these two Alphas. But his Omega was reveling in their attention. Little fucker was really enjoying their touch and presence and Tony hated that. He didn’t try to fight it though. If you can’t beat ‘em, join them. Right? He didn’t have the energy to fight the Alphas right now.

When his body was finally done coughing Steve guided the straw back to his lips and he obediently drank from it again, letting himself relax against Barnes. He wasn’t enjoying this, just for the record. He was very much against all of this.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Barnes suggested softly.

“You mean the night you killed my mother?” That was a very low blow and he knew it. But dammit the man had to pay for that. Brainwashed or not.

“Tony!” Cap sounded appropriately scandalized at least.

Barnes sighed. “No he’s right.”

Woah, wait a second, what? Did he just hear that right?

“I can’t bring her back, Tony. I can only say how incredibly sorry I am that I did that to you… I’m so sorry Tony. If I could undo what I’ve done, I would…”

Fuck, now he felt like a dick. Shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen, he wasn’t ready to accept this, not really. “I’m sure you would.”

Barnes actually looked away for a second and he could see a lonely tear roll down the assassin’s cheek.

“Buck?” Steve carefully reached out to the other Alpha.

“I’m fine, Stevie.”

He really wasn’t. That much was obvious. Goddammit.

“You want to hear about the twins?” He didn’t really want to start on what had happened in the VAULT.

He shivered a little, his left side actually started feeling a little chilly. Steve seemed to notice though and set the glass of water aside for now. The Alpha walked around the bed and sat down on Tony’s left side. “Mind if I join in?”

“Get the hell in here, I’m cold.”

It actually drew a chuckle from Barnes. “Guess that answers that question?”

Steve chuckled as well and kicked off his shoes, climbing in to carefully snuggle up against the Omega. Tony hummed in content, he was warm on all sides and the heat soothed his painful body. Not to mention that it was quite… interesting to be sandwiched in between two super soldiers.

“Anyway, twins.” Tony cleared his throat. “I first found out about them when I was thirty two…”

June 5th, 2002

“I’m sorry, mister Stark.” The doctor looked at him with great sympathy, but it barely registered in Tony’s mind. Pregnant? At thirty two years old that was no small feat…

“No, no I can’t be pregnant.” Tony muttered, shaking his head as he got up and paced through the small office.

“Tony, darling, please sit down.” Aunt Peggy gently tried to guide him back to his seat.

“No, goddammit! No! I’m not pregnant! You’re a fraud! I can’t be pregnant!”

“Tony, calm down. This isn’t good for the baby.”

“I’m not fucking pregnant!” He screamed, he could feel a vein on his forehead throbbing as anger and denial coursed through him. He felt a sharp pain in his abdomen and he doubled over in distress, clutching his stomach. It was the first time he felt fear for anything but himself. What if he was pregnant and he was losing the baby due to his stubborn nature… He couldn’t live with that.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely positive, mister Stark…”

Tony

The Omega chuckled. “That’s how I found out. Aunt Peggy wouldn’t stop fussing over me for days.”

“Did she knew them?” Steve asked softly.

“Aunt Peg?”

He felt Steve nod against his back.

“Yeah, she knew them.” He smiled sadly, “They’ve called her Nana all their lives. All of the kids. She was there when Oliver, Thea and Yalina were born. She was even there when I picked up Harvey and Laura from their foster family. Even though Uncle Dan died not hours earlier.”

He felt Barnes exhale softly before his gentle breathing resumed. “What were they like? Oliver, Thea and Yalina, you know, when they were little.”

Tony felt a flutter of warmth travel through him, though he pushed it down quickly. He was just doing this to stay warm, they weren’t bonding. Nope, no such thing. Yet he couldn’t help but smile gently.

“Oliver was so quiet, he didn’t cry when he was born. Not a single sound escaped him. Freaked everybody out with his silence. And then Maria, who screamed her head off until she was right next to her brother again. The two of them have always been inseparable. Oliver’s an artist, loves to draw, Thea doesn’t have the patience but she loves to be active. I could barely keep up with her when she was a toddler. Oliver, he was easy, I’d give him crayons and some paper and he’d be occupied for hours. But Thea?”

He chuckled.

“She made me run around the mansion and tower so many freaking times I’ve never had to visit a gym in almost fourteen years.”

Steve laughed at that. “That sounds just like you, Buck.”

“You kidding me, punk? You were more trouble than I ever was.” James grinned. “You know, I’ve been wondering. The story Rhodes told us, that you were kidnapped and inseminated… is all of that-?”

He sighed and nodded. He’d have a stern word with Rhodey after all this, but he couldn’t really blame his best friend either. Tony understood why Rhodey had broken his promise.

“As fucked up as it is, yeah, it’s all true. I was captured, released, found out I was pregnant, carried them, gave birth. Been raising them all this time. But it’s true, I was captured and inseminated… and now I know it was Ross who ordered it all.”

Both Steve and James froze up at those words. “What?”

He swallowed heavily and nodded. “Yeah, Ross told me he sanctioned the procedure. Damn bastard had it all planned out. I believe he called the twins, perfect little weapons of mass destruction. Thank god he never got to use them as such.”

“They’re not.” Steve muttered. “They never were.”

James nodded. “Steve’s right. They’ve never been weapons. You kept them from becoming that, Tony.”

It was more praise than he felt he deserved. He just raised his kids the way he thought was right.

“You want to hear about Yalina?”

James smiled a very gentle smile, which was a little weird. Did, did he feel parental over his little girl? Nah, that couldn’t be right. Alphas hardly ever felt parental over a child that wasn’t theirs. He doubted James Buchanan Barnes was any different.

“Yeah, tell us all about her.”

“It was three months before I became Iron Man. I was going through the desert of Afghanistan in a convoy, just made a major weapons deal. Next thing I know we’re attacked and I’m forced to leave cover. I hide behind this rock, try to use my phone. Then a grenade with literally my name on it lands next to me and goes off. There’s shrapnel all in my chest, I’m miles away from medical facilities and I think… this is it. I’m dying. Next thing I know I wake up in a cave with a car battery hooked up to a magnet in my chest. The Alpha doctor who saved my life is there too, he keeps me alive during the next few weeks and then one day my heat starts…”

He let those words sink in for a minute before continuing.

“I didn’t want to be raped by the Ten Rings leaders, not by terrorists… So I beg the doctor to help me through my heat. After a little while he agrees, Yinsen and I lay together and the next morning my heat’s already disappearing. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out I was pregnant. I became Iron Man while carrying his baby, after he gave his life just so I could escape Afghanistan. So in order to honor him, I named my baby Yalina. After Yinsen’s sister.”

“Jesus, Tony…” Steve wrapped his arms around him and cuddled closer, basically pressing him into James.

“I’m sorry..” James whispered, running his hand through Tony’s hair.

“I’m not. He gave me Lina, I can’t think of a better gift. I just wish I could’ve protected her brother…” A sob escaped him, causing the Alphas to cuddle closer, wrapping him in their warmth.

“Ross executed him because I refused to give up the twins’ location. In the end it didn’t matter, he still found them. Ahmed died for nothing, Yinsen’s oldest pup died for nothing.” He cried into James’s chest.

“You’re wrong.” James gently lifted Tony’s chin up. “He died protecting his sister. He died for what he believed in. Ahmed’s a hero, and he will be remembered as such. If this Yinsen is as noble as you say he was, he would’ve been proud of his son and of you. The two of you protected his little girl.”

“Buck’s right. Yinsen would’ve understood.”

He wiped away his tears and sniffled a little. He didn’t want to tell them any of these things but the words just kept coming. He shouldn’t feel this safe or comfortable around them, he shouldn’t feel any of this but he did. He did and he hated it.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts and the three of them looked up to see Coulson in the doorway.

“It’s time.”

#stuckony #mpreg #aboverse #alpha steve #alpha bucky #omega tony

5 notes · View notes

macabrecabra · 7 years

Note

Okay so I noticed that you have a few prompts with Hanzo having to impress Gabriel to date Jesse, but have you ever done the other way around?? Hanzo is probably pretty protective of his baby brother, and I can't image that he would be too happy with the literal roadkill that somehow managed to make Genji love him.

Can give a little something sure c: (Note:still not taking Overwatch writing prompts, trying to clear em out soI can focus on finishing longer fics, one-shot collections in otherfandom, and aquawatch asks c:)Title: The Reaper Never Dressesto ImpressRating: PG-13Relationship: Hanzo being protectiveolder brother and Genji being himself ; Shimada bros being bros with implied GenreaperHanzo considered himself a reasonable andpatient man when it came to the lovers his brother took.

Frankly, hehad thought he had seen the worse that could be offered in terms oflovers his brother could have had. Hanzo had been more than certainhis brother had managed to date every piece of trash that had daredto crawl its way out of the gutter.

Apparently, he had been wrong.Itseemed this time the very dead themselves were rising from the gutterto slink after his brother and somehow his brother had found thisattractive. For the first time, Hanzo felt that he shouldreally do something to step between his wayward brother and hisnewest lover and yet at the same time, he could tell Genji was happy.Truly happy. There was an honest smile on his brother's face wheneverhe spoke about the mercenary and just that little bit of a coy lookwhenever Reaper entered the room as if Genji had become some sort oflove-struck princess beholding her darling knight. It wasbaffling. As far as Hanzo could tell Reaper was....not charming. Theman had all the manners of a stray dog that was so wild andbad-tempered it may as well have rabies. He spoke rarely and he spokebluntly without any sort of filter to his language or to how he felt.Not to mention as far as mercenaries went, Reaper had a reputation ofbeing brutal and violent and lacking any sort of humor other than thedelight he took in the death of others.

More or less Hanzo was convincedthat Genji had been fooled by Reaper somehow, perhaps brainwashed ormanipulated into falling for the mercenary who was using him in somesick game. Yet at the same time, there was no way for that to betrue. Reaper, strangely enough, had a rather apparent code of ethicsand method to how he laid down his vengeance. He was systematic andcareful and more than anything, he liked to make things personal. Heliked to invoke fear and he never played around with his target. Hegot the job done straight to the point. Manipulation of themind was simply not something Reaper seemed to care for.

“How did he end up with you?”

Genji looked up from the hand-heldgame he was playing, arching an eyebrow, “Pardon?”“Howcould you let someone like Reaper capture your attention? How couldyou fall for a man like that?” Hanzo said, frustration clear in hisvoice. “He is no good. Your standards can't be that impossibly lowcan they?”Genji arched an eyebrow, his confusion a bitpuzzled before he simply shrugged and looked down at his game, “Whosaid I was the on doing the falling?”That caused Hanzo topause and stare blankly at his brother, “Come again?”Thecyborg let out a long suffering sigh, pausing his game as he satback, “Oh dearest brother of my, love is not a one-sided affair. Ifanything he fell for me first. Me and all of my charm. Heh. I flirtedwith death and death is now my boyfriend, fancy that eh?”Hanzojust continued to stare incredulously at Genji, “But you acceptedhis affections!”“I did. After some time of getting toknow each other. Did you know he is crazy about cats? Loves them topieces. He goes out and feeds stray cats all the time and keeps a fewin his house. Like a little kitty army that he takes pictures withand sends to people he works with!” Genji chuckled, shaking hishead. “You are kidding me.”“I can text you atleast twenty cat pictures with Reaper right now if you need proof.Just saying,” Genji drawled, rolling his eyes. “He isn't thatbad. He just likes to think he's that bad.”“So he isn't amurderous stalker of the battlefield, stealing the souls of innocentmen?” Hanzo asked with a growl. “Oh he is that. Just likewe are both son of a yakuza crime lord and both of us have killedinnocent men for terrible reasons. I mean, I do remember shankingsome guy for not returning my cellphone. Not my proudest moment but Ihave worked hard to make up for my ugly past and he is doing thesame,” Genji raised both his hands. “And he hasn't attempt tomurder his brother in cold blood. Just saying.”Hanzo wincedat that comment, sinking back in his seat, “But he's dead!”“Deadmen don't have a body temperature and don't get boners and trust me,when that walking grim reaper gets all worked up, his sickles is-”“I don't need to know that,” Hanzo hissed, shootinghis brother a glare. “I just think you can do better!”Genjisnorted, leaning back in his own chair, stretching out a foot tonudge Hanzo's knee playfully, “How can I do better than datingdeath itself? Not to mention how badass does that sound to tellpeople at family reunions that I can't die or be killed because deathhimself is my boyfriend and he just appears?”“We don'thave family reunions. We don't have a family to re-unite with,”Hanzo hissed. “Well if we did that would be badass,”Genji chuckled as he leaned back. “I'm happy with him. Shouldn'tthat be good enough for you Hanzo?”“It is, I mean, I amhappy for you just, he's,” Hanzo let out a frustrated sigh,shoulders slumping, “Are you sure he loves you?”

“Loves me like he loves a horde ofkittens,” Genji assured him with a nod. “Loves me like he lovesdaytime drama.”Hanzo just stared at his brother who gave ashrug, “What is that look for Hanzo? He really loves his daytimedrama. When we are going on missions, he's got like tons of episodesqueued up on his phone and Sombra and I watch with him. Antonio'sevil twin is back and trying to ruin Bella and Jesuit's secondmarriage and I'm calling it that Bella's mother is actually ladyDolores, just amnesia.”A sigh escaped the elder Shimada andhe merely shook his head, “I don't understand you.”Genjimerely chuckled in response as he rose to his feet and leaned forwardto give his brother a pat on the cheek, “No, you understand meperfectly. It is love you don't understand. Maybe if you gave it atry you would understand eh?”Hanzo swatted Genji's handaway scowling, “You are delusional.”“And you are aworry wart and social hermit,” Genji retorted, sticking his tongueout before turning to leave. “I know Symmetra has been giving youthe eyes. And McCree. Maybe should ask one of them out eh?”Thearcher rolled his eyes, scowling but held his tongue. There was nowinning against Genji in a spar of words and at the very least, hewas perhaps a bit more clear on the situation between Genji andReaper. Clear in that he saw he should probably not be askinghow Genji fell for Reaper but how someone like Reaper could ever findanything his brother did charming.

Just another mystery for the world tonever know, Hanzo supposed. Just another mystery to go unsolved.

#Overwatch #Overwatch fanfiction #Shipping Snacks for Hungry Shippers #Genreaper #Shimada bros #Genji Shimada #Hanzo Shimada #Reaper mentioned #silly #family feels #relationship building

18 notes · View notes

avanneman · 5 years

Text

Kevin Costner’s “Highwaymen”: A plateful of fascism, racism on the side

youtube

Kevin Costner? Kevin “Dances With Wolves” Costner, who defended the Lakota against the genocidal white patriarchy? Kevin “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves” Costner, who was, you know, the prince of thieves, and defied the, you know, genocidal white patriarchy? That Kevin Costner is a fascist?

Damn straight, dude. Big Daddy Kev has had with these kids, who are, it seems, nothing but a bunch of damn murderer-worshippin’ hippies, brainwashed by the damn media into turning their backs on everything that’s decent, wholesome, and capitalist in American life. It’s time to whup some sense into their damn heads, or maybe just damn kill ‘em, because, come to think of it, that would solve the problem pretty damn quick.

That seems to be the message of Kevin’s latest, Highwaymen, done for the small screen and available on Netflix. Highwaymen didn’t seem to get much press when it premiered a couple of weeks ago, either pro or con, but, as a retelling—and, basically, a point-by-point rebuttal—of Warren Beatty’s neo nouvelle vague masterpiece, Bonnie & Clyde, which hit the American movie-going public like a bomb back in 1967, made Pauline Kael famous, and (so I said in my review) allowed American movies to go up once and for all, it certainly makes a statement, which I am going to disagree with, at length.

Maybe Kevin Costner, who was all of twelve when B&C came out, couldn’t understand why Warren “Pretty Boy” Beatty was getting all his press, or maybe Kevin is just souring with age, or maybe Trumpism is catching—which God forbid—but, whatever the reason, it’s clear that Kevin decided that, 50 years after the fact, it was time to take 82-year-old Pretty Boy down a peg. Surely few films—particularly one of such expense and quality—have been so closely crafted to “refute” an earlier film. Highwaymen scarcely makes “sense” if not viewed with constant awareness of Bonnie & Clyde.1

The film is visually very well made, like Bonnie & Clyde working very hard to convey the harshness of Depression-Era Texas. The film opens by showing us an old timey car pulling up in a field and a dainty gal, obviously Bonnie because she’s packing a tommy gun,2 firing it into the air as a signal for jail break (actually a “prison fam break”) that she and Clyde are apparently coordinating. She’s deliberately shown to us in a long shot, letting us know that (probably) we won’t be getting a real look at either Bonnie or Clyde until the end, rather like Mrs. Bates in Psycho.

Afterwards, we cut to the offices of the Texas governor—canny, soulless “Ma” Ferguson (Kathy Bates). Ma’s a fraud, like all politicians, all image and no substance. She’s taking heat from the press for all this Bonnie & Clyde stuff, and it’s time to find someone to blame for her own incompetence, time to pull “legendary” Texas Ranger Frank Hamer out of retirement. Ma shut down the Rangers for some unspecified reason, but, since she’s a chick, you can bet it was some kind of chickenshit chick shit, like some little Missy got her little nose all out of joint because some dude might have given her ass a little pat. If it’s not for sale don’t advertise, sweetheart! Yeah, the gals always be whinin’, but when there’s a real job to be done, all of a sudden they’ve got to find a real man to do it.

And Frank, well, he’s a real man, living large and in charge, got a big house and fancy young society wife to run it for him. He sure don’t need no job, and no need to do Ma no favors, but Bonnie and Clyde, they’ve been killing peace officers. It’s a job that’s got to be done, and a real man don’t quit till the job’s done.

Frank sets off in the fancy new Lincoln he just gave his wife, a car whose elegant lines will be featured over and over again in the film, with near fetish-like devotion, seemingly a compulsive echo of all the gleaming thirties roadsters that Bonnie and Clyde pilfer in Beatty’s film, though none of them, I think, were luxury models like Frank’s Lincoln.3

Once Frank’s got the car, he needs a companion, and he finds one in fellow dinosaur Maney Gault (Woody Harrelson). Maney don’t look like much, and he has to pee a lot (which, when you come to think about it, is pretty damn funny), but Frank, he’s looking for guts, not glamor, and Maney’s got the real stuff in his belly.

And so off they go, taking shit from all kinds of snot-nosed fancy-pants kids in the state police and even the FBI. They got airplanes and shit, they can even listen to your telephone conversations and you can’t do anything about it! How scary is that!4

Frank and Maney, they don’t have nothin’, nothin’ but smarts, smarts and a whole shitload of automatic weapons that Frank buys, in a wet-dream gun lovers’ sequence—surely ten thousand dollars of cargo or more, practically none of which is actually used in the film.5 I would be very unsurprised to learn that Costner is a gun lover and has all of these items in his collection, weapons that he probably enjoys hefting and then throwing at his guests. What’s the matter, sissy boy? Can’t handle a piece?

For most of the rest of the film, Frank and Maney just drive around in their shiny new Lincoln, Frank raining contempt on all the punk kids in the FBI, the damn newspapers, and damn general public for making heroes out of a pair of murderous brats, while Maney has to take a leak every ten minutes. (Okay, that part’s funny.) At one point, Maney almost gets a shot at Clyde, but then he’s mobbed all these damn broads, like he’s a celebrity or something, before Maney can pull the trigger.

The film goes to absurd lengths to make Bonnie, who was not a very nice person, not merely a hardened criminal but, well, a sadistic, castrating bitch. At one point, Hamer “deduces”, from footprints at a crime scene, that Bonnie wounded a policeman, then rolled him over with her foot in order to force him to watch before she blew his brains out. But we are both told and shown that Bonnie is tiny (90 pounds) and walks with a limp.6 I’ll bet Kevin Costner couldn’t roll a 90-pound woman over with his foot, much less a 200-pound man. Women issues much, Kevin?

Finally, Frank gets a solid lead, beating the crap out of some punk to find out what Bonnie and Clyde are up to, because beating the crap out of people is pretty much the best solution to any law enforcement problem. He learns that the Barrow gang is headed to Louisiana to hole up with the father of one of the gang. Frank makes a deal with the father, as happened in real life and the Beatty film, arranging for an ambush. None of this fair play bullshit for him! He also insists that a young deputy come along with them to identify Clyde, setting up a ludicrous (and fraudulent) finale to teach the kid and the audience about “real life”—from real life actor Kevin Costner.

Naturally, the kid, being a kid, is a little squeamish about the prospect of seeing two people shot to pieces from ambush, so Maney has to explain the facts of life to the kid. (Many rather than Frank, because Frank is more or less a god, and gods don’t explain themselves. If they did, they’d lose caste.)

Maney tells the kid a story about when he was a young Texas Ranger. The Rangers have located a huge gang of Mexican desperados, but when they try to arrest them, announcing “Manos arribos” (or something like that, meaning “Hands up!”), well, instead of putting up their hands, the Mexicans start shooting. Day after day, it goes on like this, the Rangers losing a man or two every day until Frank shows up. No more “manos arribos”, motherfucker! We shoot first, and we shoot to kill! And that’s how it goes down, and Maney even blows away this innocent, unarmed, fifteen-year-old kid, who just wanted to escape, putting six slugs in the little fucker. Cause that’s what a man does! Adios, muchacho!

Uh, really? If a gang shoots a cop, the cops will come back time and time again, trying to arrest the gang peacefully? Really? They needed Frank Hamer to tell them they were doing it wrong? And, why, exactly, did Maney have to put six slugs in a non-combatant? Is this like one of those “Kill ‘em all, Let God sort ‘em out” tee-shirts you get at a gun show? In fact, of course, they didn’t need to have the kid come along in the first place. Maney knows what Clyde looks like, and was going to drop him earlier, if only he could have gotten a clean shot. The kid’s just a lazy plot device.

But the kicker comes when Frank, Maney, the kid, a couple of local police finally ambush Bonnie and Clyde, because it isn’t an ambush. Frank steps out in front of the car and gives the two a chance to surrender, just what Maney just told us ls what pussies do, and is why pussies never get the job done. Yeah, Kevin Costner wants to give us this hard-ass “moral”, that civilization depends on the occasional cold-blooded murder. But, at the same time, he wants the audience to like him. What a coward.

When I saw the 1998 Gus Van Sant shot for shot remake of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960), I walked out of theater thinking “Now he should remake it again, except this time showing us everything that Hitchcock didn’t show us!” Dunno if it would work, but maybe. ↩︎

Tommy guns, with their drum magazines, though (I’ve read, though Wikipedia says different) they often did not work very well and were not often used, were a legendary symbol of gang violence. When I was a small boy, the conclusion of the visitor’s tour of the FBI was a demonstration of a tommy gun in a special shooting range in the basement, though I don’t know if FBI agents ever used one in a fire fight. In those days the FBI had a fairly low-key building across the street from the Department of the Interior, which a had very low-budget aquarium open to the public. You could see a guy shoot up a target with a tommy gun and then walk across the street and look at the two-headed turtle (for real). ↩︎

In my original review of B&C, I remarked that all of the cars Bonnie and Clyde steal are in sparkling condition, with gleaming chrome and, often, two-tone paint jobs—just what you wouldn’t find in East Texas during the Great Depression. Beatty starred in Splendor in the Grass (1961), featuring all the polished roadsters that director Elia Kazan didn’t get to drive while working his way through Williams College back in the day. Many film directors, ranging from Jean-Luc Godard to Steven Spielberg, compulsively feature in their films the cars they didn’t get to drive when they were young. ↩︎

In the thirties, every phone call was individually placed by an operator, who could listen in if she wanted to (all telephone operators were women), though of course they weren’t supposed to. Furthermore, in rural areas, if there were phones at all, houses were connected on “party lines”. Anyone on your line could listen to your call. ↩︎

If you’re wondering, Bonnie and Clyde were killed before the National Firearms Act of 1934 was signed into law, a law that, in any event, simply put a tax on automatic weapons, so that only respectable people could buy them. ↩︎

The real Bonnie Parker, by the time of the events in the film, could not walk unassisted, after suffering third-degree burns on her leg during an automobile accident. ↩︎

#Highwaymen #Kevin Costner #Warren Beatty

0 notes