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nevermindirah · 3 years

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Yitzhak!

is a character! who Gregadiah What-Is-Math Rucka gave us almost no information about!

I've gone through Tales Through Time #6: The Bear and #1: My Mother's Axe with several magnifying glasses and done a lot of googling and taken my copy of the Tanakh off my shelf for the first time since (well, since the last time I needed to read Torah for TOG reasons, which I think was Booker Passover headcanons) and here's the best I can come up with.

In The Bear we meet someone who goes by the name Isaac Blue:

Read on for a lot of comic panel analysis and historical research and Jewish flailing!

So what do we know about this Isaac Blue person?

He's Lorge, he's got curly hair, he's basically a taller version of Joe as drawn by Leandro Fernández (ie an antisemitic stereotype why the fuck did they approve this character design?? and then why did they double down and copy-paste it to Yitzhak??):

He's got a mezuzah on the doorpost of his house in Alaska!

I screamed about the mezuzah way back in January in this post where I (very reasonably) assumed this character was Joe and spun myself a tale about how Booker is still Joe's brother so the mezuzah stays up even though Booker isn't welcome in that house for a century. Bottom line: the mezuzah is a tradition with origins in the commandment from Deuteronomy 6:9 to "write the words of G-d on the gates and doorposts of your house" and evolved over the course of the Rabbinic period into the modern mezuzah we see here.

I did unnecessary levels of google image search to glean absolutely no useful information about Yitzhak’s origins from this panel:

I've decided the variant cover of TTT 6 is Yitzhak because of a panel in My Mother’s Axe, shown here, and what's likely an unnecessarily deep reading of Exodus, discussed further down:

The person at the right of the bottom panel is wearing the same clothes as in the TTT 6 variant cover and has the same shoulder-length curly hair and hairy forearms.

Left to right, the people in this panel are Lykon (I'll never get used to him being white in the comics), Andy, Noriko (I think? why doesn't Andy mention her by name here?), and Yitzhak. Andy's robe has a stereotypically Greek design on the sleeve cuff, and I had to stop myself 10 minutes into a Wikipedia rabbit hole because Gregorforth doesn't think that deep about this shit. The solid clues as to timeline that we get in this panel are:

Andy's iron axe

the presence of Lykon, who Andy first met in 331 BCE

So all we know is that Yitzhak is an immortal, he was a contemporary of Lykon, and he's Jewish.

Isaac is the most common Anglicization of Yitzhak (which in turn is the most common Anglophone transliteration of יִצְחָק‎), and Greg always uses the (transliterated) Hebrew when he refers to this character. Yitzhak is the long-awaited child of Abraham and Sarah in Genesis, the child who G-d commanded Abraham to sacrifice but spared at the last minute. I see what you did there, Gregory.

Why Isaac Blue? This is where I pulled out my Tanakh. According to the New JPS translation, blue is the first of three colors of yarn listed in Exodus 35:6 among the gifts requested of the Israelites to construct the priestly garments for the Tabernacle and later the Temple. Then in Numbers 15:38 the Israelites are commanded to "make themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout the ages; let them attach a cord of blue to the fringe at each corner."

And now for sandbox timelines party! Gregadiah gave us ALMOST NOTHING to go on, so I'm gonna make my own fun.

I, like many modern Jews, think the stories in the Tanakh are foundational mythology that are valuable because of how they've shaped our people but that contain some fucked-up shit and either way aren't meant to be a record of historical facts. Modern scholarship generally agrees that the community we now call Jews emerged as a distinct group of Canaanites sometime in the late Bronze Age (cw this video's host says the Name of G-d aloud despite being a religious studies scholar who knows that is not a name anyone but the Temple priests are allowed to say). The first non-Biblical written record of the people Israel is from an Egyptian source c. 1200 BCE, and the Biblical kingdom of David and Solomon was probably an exaggeration of whatever really happened during the Bronze Age Collapse. We start getting into historical-fact territory a few centuries into the Iron Age:

588 BCE Solomon's Temple destroyed, Babylonian exile begins

538 BCE Cyrus of Persia allows Jews to return to Jerusalem

515 BCE Second Temple construction complete

332 BCE Alexander the Great At Something I Guess conquered Judea, beginning the Hellenistic period of Jewish history — 331 BCE Andy & Lykon find each other

167 BCE another jerkface Greek king desecrated the Temple and basically outlawed Judaism

164 BCE recapture of Jerusalem and Temple rededication during the Maccabean Revolt

70 CE destruction of the Second Temple by the Romans, beginning of the Rabbinic period of Jewish history that we're still in now

What if... and hear me out... what if immortals come in pairs, and the pairs are:

Andy & Quynh

Joe & Nicky

Booker & Nile

LYKON & YITZHAK

What if Yitzhak was a priest of the Second Temple? What if he and Lykon killed each other just like Joe and Nicky would in the same city around 1300 years later, but instead of enemies-to-lovers speedrun with an absurdly long happily-ever-after, when Lykon died permanently Yitzhak decided to separate from Andy and Noriko and become the hermit we later see in Alaska?

We don't know how old Yitzhak is compared to the others, only that he was a contemporary of Lykon at a time when Andy was using an Iron Age version of her mother's axe. Other plausible origins for him:

a Jew of the early Rabbinic period, maybe a child or grandchild of people who were still alive before the Second Temple was destroyed

a Judean of the Second Temple era under the Romans or Greeks or Persians, maybe a priest, maybe not

an exilee in Babylon, maybe of the generation who got to return, maybe of the generation who was exiled (he doesn't look like he was 50 at his first death but who knows, he could've been mortal for both)

an Israelite of the Kingdoms of Israel and Judah, maybe a priest of Solomon's Temple or again maybe not

an Israelite wandering in the desert with Moses

THEE Yitzhak, ben Avraham v'Sarah, our patriarch who was brought up for sacrifice and then spared, and then spared again, and then spared again, and again, and again...

or! he could also be a Canaanite or other Levantine who predates the people Israel, who at some point in his very long life chose to join our mixed multitude, who like Andromache before him (and like Avram and Sarai would in this case do after him) took a new name to reflect the magnitude of influence this people has had on him

Why do I keep saying Yitzhak might have been a priest? It's thanks to the one detail in the artwork I could plausibly connect to solid research without getting a PhD real quick. Take a look at the gorgeous detail on the opening of his robe in the TTT 6 cover. He's dressed in rags, holes and dirt everywhere, rough stitches probably from hasty repair work — except for the neck opening. Compare that to this description from Exodus 39:23 of the construction of the priestly garments for the Tabernacle: "The opening of the robe, in the middle of it, was like the opening of a coat of mail, with a binding around the opening, so that it would not tear."

The next verses describe the intricate designs for the hem of the priestly garment. Yitzhak's ragged garment looks like the hem was torn off entirely.

Am I overthinking this? Yes I am! You're welcome!

My friend and historical research hero @lady-writes is in a Discord server with Gregadiah and asked the man himself some questions about all this. He clearly thinks he's being sneaky?? No shit Yitzhak is Jewish, dude, I want DETAILS!

I will not be giving up my Jewish Booker headcanon, I've put too much thought into it by now, the internalized shame of antisemitism explains Booker's depression too well for me, and it just adds so much richness to Booker/Nile both being children of forced diasporas. Fortunately (for him, not me, bc I'd do it anyway!) Gregothy supports fan headcanons even when they're not in line with his own:

One last thing before I close like 100 research tabs and go back to writing historical fantasy and/or porn! I love that, despite that atrocious caricature of a face design, our canon Jew and our fanon Jew are both Lorge and Soft and Kind, flying the face of the antisemitic stereotype of Ashkenazi Jewish men as small and weak, but also not falling into the New Jew / Muscle Jew stereotype that Zionism created. (I am trying SO HARD not to talk about Israel/Palestine for once ughhhhhhhhhh) Anyway here's a (US-centric but very good) primer on both these stereotypes of Jewish masculinity. Is this why I'm forever projecting my transmasc diasporist feels onto Jewish Booker the service sub? 🤷🏻‍♂️

I’ll reblog a second version of this with full image descriptions so that there’s a version accessible for folks who need IDs as well as a version accessible for folks who get overwhelmed by walls of text.

#TOG POC Love Fest #yitzhak #jewish booker #tales through time spoilers #tales through time #tog meta #tog #jewish things #mine #antisemitism #hi i'm an antizionist jew no i don't really want to talk about it

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hollandgarden · 3 years

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Drinking Game (TH)

Description: After Tom and his girlfriend are snowed in the for evening, unable to attend Harrison’s birthday party, he comes up with a brillant game. Each rounds leaves one of them with more or less clothing. Who will be the winner of the head on surprise?

Warnings: smutty af (if you’re under 18, maybe don’t read), alcohol use, swearing, stupid sexy Tom

Word Count: 1,848

***

“Hey, babe?” I called.

Tom came swiftly down the stairs, ready to go to Harrison’s birthday party. “What?”

I shot him a nervous smile as I pulled back from the window. “The snow is coming down pretty good. News says the roads are already slick.”

“Damn, I’ll message H. We should not risk it,” he mumbled, pushing up his glasses, and crossed his arms. “No excuse to drink then.”

“You need an excuse?” I snorted. “We both know that’s not true.”

Tom tapped his chin, a subtle smirk crossing his face. “Let’s have our own drinking game.”

“What kind?”

I followed him into the squared off kitchen and watched him take out a whole twelve pack of Coors Light. This oughta be interesting.

“We’ll have six rounds. First five the loser has to remove an item of clothing. The sixth round, the loser goes down on the winner,” Tom explained.

I eyed him curiously. “Basically, we’re getting shit-faced and someone’s getting head?”

He bit his lip, then chuckled “Yeah, pretty much. Sounds good, yeah?”

The look on his face alone should’ve warned me what it actually involved. But I couldn’t argue that this wasn’t going to be better than going out with friends.

“Sounds fucking perfect. Let’s get started.”

Both of us took off our winter coats and shoes before we settled into the living room. I pulled back my hair with the tie on my wrist. Who knew how this was going to go; it was a toss up honestly. But winning the last round would be oh so fucking sweet.

“Ready?” Tom started as he popped his tab.

“Steady,” I countered, popping my own.

“Go!” we both yelled and started chugging.

Oh, boy, this first round was not going to be good for me. The bubbles running down my throat made me cringe a little and slowed me down. I went as fast as I could though, yet Tom slammed his empty on the coffee table first.

I did get better the more drunk I was. We both knew that.

“I say jumper,” he stated, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You didn’t say the winner chose the item,” I retorted, already holding back a small burp from the carbonation.

Tom fully smirked. “I’m adding it now. Come on, make it more fun, my love.”

He was right on that. I barely huffed as I pulled off the navy crew neck to reveal my black lace bra.

“Look at those,” he whistled lowly.

I rolled my eyes. “Tom, you’ve seen them before.”

“But they’re yours and I love them every time.”

I couldn’t stop the heat that filled my cheeks, and that was partly due to the one drink and heater we had going.

“Second round.”

I struggled against the same bubbly current. I chugged the liquid through the tiny hole as quickly as possible. I eyed Tom from the corner of my eye and he was doing the same; a clint of amusement sparkled. I coughed at the little bit of alcohol went down the wrong tube and I had to stop.

He threw his arms in the air. “I win!” He gestured widely at my bottoms area. “Skirt next. I want the skirt.”

“If you say so. You won’t win every round. I’ll get one and then it’s my turn to make the call.” I stood up before I reached back for the zipper of the black and white houndstooth mini. I inched it down, Tom enjoying every second until it naturally fell to the ground. I flicked it to the side with my foot. I did sway a little and after this third I would definitely be tipsy.

Tom leaned over to plant a sweet kiss on my lips. “I look forward to it.”

We cheered to start the third. The time slipped by as it had in the others. Some of the beer splashed onto my cheek, but I managed to win this one. I had found my rhythm finally. No more stuffing my cheeks as much as I could before swallowing and doing it again; I went straight for a fluid stream.

I ripped one to announce the victory. There was no way to stop the giggles that followed and I covered my mouth with the hand that held the empty to hide them. “Go ahead with... your button up.”

“Cheers, I was gett-” he lightly burped and busted out laughing. “I was getting stuffy.”

I licked my lips as he barely fumbled with the buttons. He raised his eyebrows up and down, like an idiot, as he whipped it off to reveal his beautiful chest. There was no way to not linger on the collarbone area and biceps, and I had to swallow away the sensation.

Get a hold of yourself.

I shot up and slid into the kitchen. “Eat. We need a s-snack!”

“Get the crisps!” he yelled.

I dramatically opened the cabinet doors and crawled up onto the counter, which was immensely unnecessary but so fun. Then I scrambled the three different bags into my arms and hurried back to him, tossing the bag of crisps to him. I ate out of the already opened bag of popcorn. The saltiness and slight crunch was exactly what I needed; though chicken nuggets wouldn’t be a bad idea either. This would do.

Tom leaned back against the armchair with his eyes closed and munched slowly.

“Not done already, are you?” I giggled under my breath. “I-I think… that qualifies as an automatic win for the final prize.”

“Nope!” He shot his head up. “Just resting up, darling.”

I popped another piece into my mouth. “Let me know when.”

“When.”

“Ha ha.”

He rolled up the bag and tossed it aside. “Seriously, let’s go.”

I scooted back up to the table, letting my legs sprawl underneath it and rest up against his. “Okay.”

Let me save you from the gory details of my horrid slurping. Tom won his third round. I knew the crisps would soak up some of his alcohol and sober him up enough to focus. Fuck.

Slowly, he set the can on the table and tapped his chin, “How about.... Your underwear, but leave the tights on.

I furrowed my brows. “W-why?”

He squinted an eye momentarily and shrugged. “It’s hot.”

There was no way I’d admit to him that I agreed. Though, this meant I had to go through the hassle of taking off the sheer black material and pulling them back on. I’m sure that was unattractive to watch; embarrassing for sure. He was the only one I’d ever do this for.

My vision was getting blurry, and if I attempted to use my phone it would definitely end in a disaster. But a hilarious moment in the morning. Alas, I tossed it somewhere on the couch to stop myself.

We went straight into the fifth round and I practically spilled half of the beer on my chest. Well, that was one way to win.

“Bott-ttems.” I pointed him up and down. “Take them off, Holland.”

I gazed in pure amusement as he tried to dance them off.

“You’re such a dork.”

He pointed at me abruptly with a serious look. “But you love me.”

I rolled my eyes. “I do. More snacks or should we go straight into the next?”

“Straight!” He circled his hand and plopped down to grab his last can.

I reached over for my last and it took me two tries to pick it up. I was basically drunk. If we were at a club and anyone asked, I’d try to convince them I wasn’t. I’m sure if he asked right now, I’d do the same. It wouldn’t be believable.

This final round was the one that truly counted, though I wouldn’t care who won. It was pleasurable to give and receive in my opinion.

“One,” I started.

Tom cocked a brow, bringing the can closer to his mouth. “Two.”

I also brought the cool metal to touch my lips. “Three!”

I tiled my head back as far as I could to give leverage for a smoother chug. It was by far the best I had done all the rounds, though that didn’t matter. It didn’t take a scientist to see how slow Tom was drinking.

When I finished, I slammed my empty on the table and whipped my arms out. “You cheated!”

“I cheated?” he gasped and rested a hand on his chest. “You won!”

I giggled. “You let me win.”

“I…” He held a finger up. “I did not… Y-you won fair and square, my love.”

Tom crawled his way over to my side and left small kisses on my neck. “Get up-p on the couch.”

I couldn’t stop the short giggles. But I backed my way up onto the couch. I rested my legs on his shoulders and eyed him. His lips left sweet kisses on the inner of my thighs and trailed all the way up. We were going straight for it; that was fine by me.

His mouth came close to the already throbbing at the thoughts. His breath left me cringing. The laughs couldn’t be controlled as he did a few more puffs of air on purpose. It tickled and he knew that.

“Stop that.”

Tom looked up at me for a moment with a laugh before he slid his tongue up and down. It was hot against my clit and I swallowed. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of pleasing me so soon.

“Not yet,” I mumbled, tangling my fingers in the soft, chocolate curls.

Tom licked his lips, pure determination in his eyes. His mouth disappeared and the slick warmth returned. He continued his slower teases, not missing a single area. Every inch was loved. His lightly calloused hands trailed up on my outer thighs and landed on my lips for a squeeze. It caused me to shiver.

I found myself making small pulses and moaned as I closed my eyes. His lips left sweet kisses as well. That was torturing.

His hands pulled down the tights, only halfway, and he used them to keep my legs at his sides; this was why he wanted me to leave them on, I knew that now. I whimpered as he leaned back in. His licks turned into numbing flicks on my clit. We should’ve put a towel down; this was not something I should be thinking about right now.

“More, Tom. Make me cum.”

I had to sit up a little as leverage when the burning sensation began and gasped. I gripped the throw pillow beside me with my final moans and clenched. I revelled in the following shudders. It was almost better than the actual high.

“Fuck,” I breathed. The only coherent thought I had after that drunken orgasm. “I… definitely won.”

Tom crawled his way up to give me a peck. “We both won, darling.”

I laughed. “I say we play this again next weekend.”

“I agree…. Shall we eat and binge more Teen Wolf.”

I clapped my hands. “Hell yeah!”

[Masterlist]

#probably not my best writing but aye #I was inspired by the photos hahaha #tom mf holland #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland sex #tom holland short #smut #drinking game

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voidaus · 4 years

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Final Goodbyes

Summary: Your a Youtuber and in a stream you see this pen-pal app and download it, creating an account. This all happened months ago. The guy you met on there was amazing, and you talked for months until he just... stopped.

Genre: Angst?

warnings: swearing, fighting

Requested? No

Word count: 1402

I believe everyone deserves a second chance. No matter how difficult things are. No matter how ugly things got. But maybe sometimes, the problem is that I believe too much. Seeing good in every person, while of course, some people are just... not good.

But that's not how this story goes. No, he is good. I am a hundred percent sure of that. The question is, 'is he willing to change and show that side of him?'. I guess we won't find out if I don't reach out to him huh?

The grey laptop is on my couch, still warm from the last time I used it just an hour ago. Grabbing myself some hot chocolate I lay down on the soft pillows and pull my blanket up to my chest. Whilst finally deciding I'm comfortable in this position I grab the laptop again and open it, typing in my password. The device starts up, letting me in.

"miaow" a soft purring comes from the ground. My cat, Athena, jumps on the couch as soon as I pat it. "Hey there gorgeous" I greet her. The laptop dings, making it clear that it's ready to be used. I give it my full attention again. Should I really open Zaira?

Zaira is an online penpal app where you can anonymously make friends. I signed up about 2 years ago and never really managed to find someone I really hit it off with. You know, I just couldn't find the words to talk to any of the people who messaged me. My anxiety not really helping with making friends, of course, I thought meeting them online would be easier. I was wrong.

No one understood me, which isn't really surprising. I'm a bookworm, but also a gamer. I have lots of hobbies but not quite the energy to pursue them. The only thing that still has me uploading videos and streaming is the money and my supporters. My supporters standing first on the list, of course. I upload mostly gaming videos under the name Void. I go faceless. I never really liked my appearance for that matter.

I hesitate but still open it. The familiar logo greets me and only a moment after that my only friend on the site shows up, bringing back memories.

Zaira? What's this? "An online penpal app where you can add strangers and make friends. Now free in the AppStore!" I read the description out loud for my viewers. "Should I download it guys?" I ask the live chat, hoping they would say yes. Soon enough I get the confirmation from them and I click the button, hoping it won't take too long to download. I create a profile typing in my bio: 'Bookworm, Gamer, Weeb :)' The chat confirms that that pretty much describes me making me laugh. "Perhaps we can actually meet some cool people on here guys! Who knows?""Alright." I scroll through the site, reading people's bios until one of them spots the fans' eyes. The comments are going crazy fast right now. "click them!""omg Void, you have to message Sasori!" and more comments like that. I click on the profile, reading it's bio. Their given name is Sasori Matsudo. I laugh, explaining to some of the viewers that don't watch anime that these are names from Naruto and Death Note. "I suggest you watch them. those are some good animes!".

I smile at the memories and click on his profile. "Sasori Matsudo" the name rolls off my tongue. I chuckle "not a weeb huh?" Slowly looking through the messages, the familiar empty feeling enters my body again. To be honest, it never left. Ever since the fight, it was always there, following my every step. I close my eyes, letting the painful memories flood in again.

"I just don't understand why you can't talk about it with me!" your voice is slightly raised as you hold the phone in your shaking hand. "Because I just can't, okay! I can't keep throwing all of my shit onto you. you know I could never do that!" The man you know as Corpse yells back. You're both stressed out and upset, and this is the worst fight you ever had. You had decided to message 'Sasori Matsudo' on Zaira, and you two grew close very quickly. After 4 months of chatting on the site, he gave you his number. Not long after, he told you That he's the famous Youtuber known as Corpse Husband. You began to watch his videos and enjoyed them a lot, telling him so. In the fifth month of you two knowing each other, You started to call each other once in a while. That turned into calling every day, and soon you were calling more than 4 hours a day.

Your voice softens at his upset tone, realizing you're not the only one hurt here. You give a deep sigh before talking into your phone again. "I'm always here for you Corpse. I don't care how many times you call me, even if it's in the middle of the night. You make me feel better, you make me happy, and I want to be there for you. Please don't shut me out like this." you're practically begging at this point. He can't shut you out! Not like this.

"Void... You know I love you. Please, keep doing what you're doing, keep making videos and baking, and all the little things I love about you. But I just can't continue doing this to you. I'm sorry." He speaks up. The low voice you adore so much is soft and trembling. He sounds like he could break down crying any time now. "No, please, Corpse! Please don't leav-"

your phone lets out a long beep cutting you off. Breaking down crying, you hurl your hand against your mouth, attempting to silence your sobs. On the other side of the line, the man with the curly black mop on his head is doing the same. Tears flow down both of your eyes as void fills your hearts.

It hurts, but he knows he had to do this. He was always troubling you with his feelings, and he couldn't even show you his face! What kind of friend is that? Loud sobs take over his apartment, as his heart hurts, knowing he can't talk to you again.

And he didn't.

You lay on the couch, clenching your blanket awfully hard. You don't notice the tears streaming down your face till Athena climbs onto your lap and licks them off. You cuddle her in an attempt to comfort yourself, as the dark feeling in your chest grows stronger.

You open a new tab and type in his number. All the old messages show up. He probably blocked you, but you have to try. He wanted you to be happy, but then why did he leave you?!

After that night, he never messaged you again. Did he really not want to talk to you anymore? You ask yourself.

But all Corpse has been doing is lay in bed and upload videos once in a while. His followers noticed something is off, and so has his friends. He's acting off whenever he streams and rarely jokes around anymore.

You text him a simple 'how are you' and close your laptop after. The next day you check if he's replied. Nothing. You keep checking for two weeks, but nothing comes in. It's over. He's not coming back. You begin sobbing and lift yourself from the couch, scaring a sleeping Athena. You jog to the kitchen and shove everything off the counter, breaking some cups and plates in the process. Sliding down against the sink, you put your face in your hands, letting out an ear-piercing scream. The weight of the world is crashing down on you, and all you can do is cry and scream. The daydream is finally over.

Corpse saw your message. He's tried messaging you so many times, but each time he holds himself back. All he wants is to talk to you, but he knows he shouldn't. Well, that's what he believes is best. Every day he thinks about you, thinking that you have already forgotten him, though it's the opposite. You think about him every day, remembering all of the memories.

All the laughs and all the cries. All the comforts, to final goodbyes.

Hey Guys! I hope you're okay after this lil angsty piece of crap lmao. I tried my best. Anyways, if you have any comments or feedback, I always appreciate it! Oh, and 200 notes on 'Grocery Shopping'?!!??? Y'all are crazy, thank you so much!

If you liked this, my taglist is always open and so are my requests!

@persephone-sideblog @reinyrei @cherry-piee @alienvarmint @divine-artemis @milanienne

#corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse fic #corpse imagines #corpse #x reader #Y/N #imagine #corpse husband imagine #angst #corpse angst #softboiicorpse

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obxfishon · 4 years

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Chasing Waterfalls

(this gif has my heart (LOOK AT THAT SMILE), creds to the creator)

JJ x Reader

Description: Emotions flow like the water in the waterfall.

Prompts: “I wish I had a boyfriend.” “so what do you look for in a guy?” “real stuff, like the shape of his ass” “So, I found this waterfall…”

Word Count: 1.9k (I’m slacking sry)

“BYE MOM I’LL BE HOME TOMORROW!” You scream as you run from the house.

John B’s was pretty close, and you were about to make today unforgettable. The crew had been down in the dumps thinking that there wasn’t anything new for them to do, it was just the same old same old, but you found something at work yesterday.

You work at the country club with JJ, you both applied together a few summers ago when it was becoming apparent that you needed money to go on all the adventures.

While bussing a table yesterday, the girls behind you were talking about this amazing hike that led to a waterfall that had water deep enough that you could jump off into it. You read the name from their tab and searched for her instagram, sure enough she was public and posted the pictures from the hike with a location tag.

Saving the location you texted the Pogues to meet at John B’s tomorrow with food, proper shoes and a bathing suit. You didn’t want to give too much away but they needed to be at least a little prepared for what you had planned.

Racing onto the property you see that you are the last one to arrive, the rest all sitting on the porch trying to figure out what you have planned.

“Are you all ready to have the best day of your life?” You questioned as you jumped onto the porch with them.

“C’mon (Y/n), just spill, what do you have planned?” Kie asks, excitement evident in her voice.

“So, I found this waterfall, well I actually heard about it at work yesterday, but then I found the location and we’re gonna spend the day there!” You explain, watching the smiles grow on everyone’s faces.

“It’s about an hour and a half drive, but I think it’ll be so worth it!” You finish, slightly jumping up and down.

Everyone smiled and nodded and started packing everything that would be needed for the trip.

“(Y/n),” JJ squeezed you into a tight hug and spun you in a circle, “you have saved us all from extreme boredom, so, you’ve been moved up in the rankings and have become my favorite person, John B you’re now in second.”

“HEY! I thought I was forever at first?!” John B yelled from the van.

“Well I haven’t heard you offering any fun ideas, but you do house me and drive me places, just be happy you're still towards the top.” JJ remarked and grabbed the last load of things to bring to the van, throwing a wink your way.

You met JJ and the rest of the group when you moved here a few years back, your mom ran a convenience store that kept you afloat for the most part, getting a job at the county club helped you guys have a little extra cash after the bills were paid.

You clicked with the group better than anyone thought possible, together you all formed a family and there was nothing that could wedge between you all.

—-

The drive was full of awful karaoke and dances between all of you. The energy was unmatchable, everyone just letting go of the stresses of home.

Quicker than expected you all arrived and gathered the necessary belongings into backpacks before setting off on the small hike to where the waterfall was waiting.

It was a hot day and this seemed to be a popular spot to come so there were quite a few other people when you came over the final hill and laid eyes on the waterfall.

It was beautiful, the water fell perfectly and the water was a crystal blue, speckled with a few other people enjoying the cool water.

The group set up towels and the rest of the stuff in a sunny spot before heading for the ledge that people were jumping off. Kie wasted no time in running to the ledge and jumping off, letting out a yell of pure joy as her feet left the ground, she resurfaces with the biggest smile on her face, calling for the rest of you to follow.

John B, Sarah, and Pope followed, but you hesitated due to the nerves that came out of nowhere, JJ picked up on this.

“M’lady,” JJ held out a hand, offering a little extra confidence with it, that you took before both running to the end and jumping off, not letting go of him until you had to in order to swim back to the surface.

Everyone was swimming and throwing water on eachother, occasionally getting out to jump back in again moments later.

After a good amount of time it was decided to get out and take a little snack and rest break, so the group moved to the towels and relaxed in the warm sun.

Looking out to the water again you watch as a couple clung to each other as they floated around the water, just based on the way they looked at each other you could tell they were in love. Without thinking you opened your mouth.

“Ugh, I wish I had a boyfriend,” eyes slightly widening when it came out of your mouth, but you shrugged it off, everyone wished that… right?

“You know, (y/n), I don’t think I’ve ever even known you to date, have you?” Sarah moved her head up to look at you, as well as the rest of the group now.

“Nope, it’s hard to find someone who can handle me,” you smirked.

It was true, you hadn’t really dated before, sure you had crushes and had been in that weird talking stage before, but nothing ever became official.

You were a very strong willed girl, you knew what you wanted and how you wanted to be treated, and some people just seemed to be turned off or scared of that.

You also currently had a crush so deep that it didn’t really let you see anyone else as an option. As soon as you met JJ it was hard to ignore the butterflies that came every time he brushed your shoulder or smiled so big that it reached his eyes, just the small things.

“What do you even look for in a guy?” Kie propped her head up on her hands.

“Oh you know, real stuff, like the shape of his ass.” You smirked again and looked back at the group to see them all rolling their eyes and scoffing.

“Okay but really, what would it take to sweep you off your feet?” This time John B pushed.

Realizing you weren’t gonna be able to joke your way out of this you shrugged your shoulders.

“I mean, I don’t know. I want someone strong willed like myself, someone who really cares, would be willing to drop anything in order to help someone,” sighing you continue, “he needs to be a good listener, willing to pay attention to the little things. He needs to be able to make me laugh, that’s a big one. Oh! And someone who is giving, not like buying me things, I don’t need that, but someone who is willing to give me their time and is willing to work on things together.” You nodded your head and looked at them all, just staring back at you.

“You want someone the opposite of what your dad was.” JJ locked eyes with you and you felt your smile falter a bit.

“Yeah... yeah I guess.”

Your dad was awful to your mother, always told her that he could have done better, just rude and uncaring. When you were 12 your mother caught him cheating. She packed the two of you up and you left, she didn’t have a destination in mind, just drove until she ran out of land, literally. The two of you happened to stop at a gas station by the ferry and saw a listing for the small house that you two lived in now. She paid for a hotel for the week, got things in order to buy it, and set divorce papers to your father all in that week.

After that you two had started thriving in this new house, just you and her. Of course the divorce got messy, but he gave up custody of you without a fight, so after a year the divorce was final and you and your mother never spoke of him again.

“I learned from my mother what it means to be a strong woman, she taught me what it means to love someone, how to find the attributes of that love in someone else. She also taught me about where she went wrong, I know what traits can quickly turn toxic so when I see that in someone I keep my distance.” You are looking at the ground trying to hold back the tears.

Feeling an awkward silence you stood and plastered a fake smile on.

“I don’t know about y’all but I’ve had enough rest, I’m gonna go jump in again.” Nodding you turned and quickly walked to the other side of the water where the ledge was, where you were slightly hidden from the others.

Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes and just tried to forget about the memories that we’re trying to break through, this was supposed to be a fun day, so dammit you were gonna be happy.

“Hey, (y/n), are you okay?”

Your eyes shoot open to see JJ staring back into your own.

“Uh,” you plastered the smile back on, “yeah, yeah I’m fine!”

“Bullshit,” JJ pushes your hair behind your ear and then takes you into his arms, holding you in a tight embrace, “I’m sorry I brought up your dad, I know it’s a touchy subject, I wasn’t thinking, trust me of all people in our group I understand not wanting to talking about your dad, but you know I’m here for you no matter what.”

He felt a sob shake your body in his arms and held you closer, rubbing small circles on your back, then pulling away from you to wipe your tears.

“(Y/n), I’ll give you my time, my attention, shit, I’d give my life for you,” JJ looked down at his feet then met your eyes with his own, “I hate to see you in pain, let me make you happy, okay?” He smiled at you and you felt a smile grow in your own face, nodding as he wiped the rest of your tears from your cheeks.

He pressed a short kiss to your forehead and grabbed your hand as you two walked towards the original destination.

“You know, as far as the qualities you look for in a guy, I do have to say, I DO have the best ass around,” he looked at you, causing a short giggle.

“Eh I dunno, could use some work.” You tried to hide your smile as you passed him, your hand reaching out slapping his butt as you sprinted for the ledge, hoping he wouldn’t be able to catch you.

He caught up to you at the very end, grabbing your waist before you both launched off the cliff.

After landing in the water he kept his hold on you, you both just floated together, you head resting back on his shoulder.

Maybe he would be the first boy that passed your test, the one to finally break down your walls.

Only time would tell.

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj obx #obx jj #obx imagine #obx #obx fanfiction #obxstuff #outer banks #outer banks imagine #imagine #fanfic

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

Text

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 4

A/N Oops early post. I couldn’t contain myself

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

The muffle of heavy footsteps outside the front door had Jonah and I halting our breaths in our chests in anticipation. We were expectedly on edge. Thankfully, it was just the mail delivery and the security sensor at the front step set off a little notification noise from the main monitor that was set up on the kitchen counter. When the metal mailbox closed and the footsteps faded back towards the street, I moved over to the main monitor and typed in the code and scrolled through the notification menu. The film footage from the studio was still gone but it was listed as having been deleted around 8pm the night before.

“Anything of interest?” Jonah asked.

“Not really.” I mumbled and turned back to face him. “I’m going to look around a little more.”

“Alright. I’ll look around here.” he looked me up and down, “Maybe change your clothes while you’re at it.”

I glanced down at my white hoodie and white jeans, both pieces of clothing stained dark red all up the back from where I had been laying all night and my bloody handprint was smeared over the chest of my hoodie. Good idea.

I returned to the master bedroom and set my laptop bag on the bed and let my computer turn on while I headed into the walk-in closet to find clean clothes. The two garment bags hanging on the far wall in front of the mirror had me stopping in place with my hand on the light switch. I hesitated as if not having expected them to be there; even if I had known they would be returned home by Jonah and my brother along with the wedding gifts two weeks ago. I shuffled over to unzip the first black garment bag, dragging my hand down the smooth white dress that had been hidden underneath. A few smudges of red were left behind from my touch and I pulled my hand back quickly and wiped my blood-stained fingers on my pants.

I forced myself to swallow back any feelings as I zipped the bag back up and focused my attention on pulling black jeans from the shelf and a black t-shirt from a hanger. I took them into the ensuite bathroom and closed the door behind me as if I were trying to shut out something or suddenly needed some privacy. Funny that the only invasive things in the damn house was the weird feeling of guilt and realization and utter confusion that was eating me alive.

My hands were holding myself up on the edge of the counter and I was breathing hard, staring myself in the eye through the spotless mirror. Avalon always liked things clean.

Although I had been passed out on my studio floor for God knows how long that night, I still looked like I hadn’t slept in weeks. I seemed to have a layer of drying blood all over me and it matted my dyed blonde hair down in unattractive dark clumps and stained my white clothes evilly. The dark circles under my eyes didn’t seem like they were just from the flight home and the pale complexion that stared back at me didn’t even feel like my own. I ran my hand over my face, staring at how my slightly sticky fingers tugged at my skin, drawing more attention to my eyes and dry lips…honestly, who was I? My wife was dead – her throat slit and she was left to bleed out – and I was more worried about my face in the mirror.

I could see her eyes in my mind. Those lifeless brown eyes staring at me with all the unrevealable answers to the world. And yet, only days before, she was looking up at me with those same honey brown eyes, full of love and lust, on a king size bed in Costa Rica and whispering how much she loved me.

You have to understand, dear reader, that I had no clue what I was doing or what I was feeling. So you cannot truly blame me when the only reaction to my current situation was my body sending me to my knees in front of the toilet to throw up the limited plane food in my stomach as the metallic smell of blood flooded my senses. It was all too much.

I didn’t know what we had to do next, but I knew that whatever the plan was going to be, we had to move quickly. So I stripped out of my blood-stained clothes and into the clean ones, only stopping long enough to wipe any blood from my skin with a damp cloth until I looked reasonably tame in my reflection. I wet my hair under the tap to get the worst of the blood out of it and ruffled it with a towel before saying ‘good enough’ and headed back to the bedroom.

If I was in fact a murderer, no amount of water was going to cleanse this conscious.

I sat on the edge of the bed and typed in my password to my laptop. The screen loaded and brought up the last tab that was open; the flight information home. The site had updated and stated that the plane had landed on time at LAX yesterday evening and my credit card receipt showed the taxi payment for thirty minutes later. We were home around 7:00. Other than confirming the times at which we returned home, the laptop didn’t offer much assistance.

What did I expect? The screen to read out exactly how my wife was murdered?

Jonah came into the room, “Hey. Find anything?”

I glanced up at him before looking back down at the screen, biting anxiously at my fingernail, “No. Don’t remember anything more either.”

Jonah didn’t answer, letting me have a moment to collect my thoughts. I didn’t blame him; what do you say to your best friend who possibly just murdered their wife and doesn’t remember it. I swiped my finger over the trackpad on my laptop to bring up the other window that was open; iMessage. The last conversation thread that was up was between Avalon and me. I remembered it well.

I was down at the resort bar the night before we left. Jonah had sent me a recording that he wanted my opinions on and I had a few changes I wanted to make so I took myself downstairs with my headphones and my laptop and got some work in. Cocktail in one hand and mouse in the other, I worked until the notification popped up on the bottom menu of my screen.

It would be nice if you spent our last night up here with me.

I had ignored it, huffing and rolling my eyes at her constant pestering and minimized the window again.

God…stupid me. That would have been our last night together. And she didn’t even face towards me when I finally came to bed.

“You weren’t around me!” she yelled, tapping her hand against the cup in her hand so the sound of her ring against the glass punctuated each of her words. “What person wants to spend their honeymoon alone? Of course, I wanted to go home! I was basically there by myself and I was miserable!”

“I had to get some shit done! Jonah needed me to double check a few things while we were away. It’s not the end of the world and I’m sorry if you feel that way!”

I could see her visibly tense and she turned her head so she didn’t have to look at me, jabbing under her breath, “That’s always your excuse, isn’t it? ‘Always gotta get some shit done’. Well, I’m sick and tired of coming second to your work all the time.”

I made her miserable.

“Jonah.” I breathed, turning to look at him over the top of my laptop, “What if she killed herself?”

“She didn’t seem suicidal.” Jonah said.

“Yeah.” I sighed, turning back to the screen. I let out a heavy breath and closed my laptop and tucked it back in the case. “We have to decide what to do.”

“Alright. What are you thinking?” Jonah asked.

I thought for a moment as I set my laptop bag back on top of the untouched suitcase by the wall, “I don’t know. I need time to figure out what the hell happened.”

“Do you want to head to the lodge in Utah? It will buy you a few days and maybe we can figure out what happened by then.”

I nodded, letting out a deep breath, “Yeah, okay. That probably makes the most sense.”

I walked past Jonah and out of the master bedroom, stopping shuffle through the mail that had been collected by Jonah and Christian throughout the last three weeks and placed in a decorative bowl on the front console table. I ruffled through a few bills and random mailer coupons, just to make sure I wasn’t missing anything that I might want to take with me out of state. My search stopped dry at one crisp white envelope, addressed to our house and labelled with simply Avalon with no surname. I frowned and slid my finger under the sealed flap to tear it open.

“Bro, opening other people’s mail is a federal offence.” Jonah stated as he joined me by the table.

“She’s dead, Jonah. I don’t think it really matters anymore.” I answered flatly and pulled out the folded piece of lined stationary from the envelope.

Avalon,

Things are hard right now and I get that but shutting me out isn’t going to help anyone. You can’t give up on me. I really want to see you when you get home. Please let me know when you get this. I need to make things right.

-J

My heart felt like someone was pushing it through a juicer and I frowned down at the paper as I read it a second time. The second time didn’t make it hurt any less. I rubbed my hand over my chest and then ruffled it through my damp hair.

“What the fuck is this?” I breathed. I looked at Jonah, “Who’s J? Is it you?”

“Me? Why would I write her suspicious letters when I can just text her?” Jonah replied.

“Yeah.” I sighed and looked back down at the letter. I clenched my jaw and swallowed back the hurt and strange glimmer of jealousy that was bubbling up inside my empty stomach. “Maybe there’s something on her phone.”

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee @randomlimelightxxx @stuffofseaveyy @hopinglimelight @tempus-ut-luceant @br4nd1s @xkelsev @hiya-its-amber @sexyseavey15

#🔪#daniel seavey #jonah marais #why dont we #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #why dont we fanfic #daniel seavey fanfic

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achaoticeternal · 4 years

Text

Asset Protection

Ransom Drysdale x Reader request from capshoney: Ransom with 31 and 39?

Summary: Ransom is oddly kind to you, but you always brush it off because of your closeness with his mother. Word Count: 2.4k

31) “If we’re going to keep ending up in life-or-death situations, trust that I will save you every single time.” 39) “Wait, are you saying you want to move in with me?”

“(Y/N),” You heard your name spoken with calmness, yet with authority from the black office phone that sat to the right of your Mac Desk Top. Everything was finely put in place, perfectly organized so that you could complete any task at a moment’s notice.

Currently, your eyes were fixated on the screen of the desktop, checking over the calendar for Mrs. Drysdale and various appointments she or her husband previously set so that you could coordinate a time for her to meet with a fairly new client. Your job was supposed to be centered around organizing Mrs.Drysdale’s emails, clients, and setting her calendar. Yet, your job description originally didn’t include practically becoming her personal assistant in both her workplace and life.

“(Y/N),” Mrs. Drysdale’s voice called again with just a touch of impatience.

Quickly, you picked up the phone and opened her full calendar for the month, along with opening both her husbands’ and sons’ schedules in minimized tabs.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Linda?”

“Father’s will reading shall be taking place on Saturday at 3 pm,” She promptly stopped and you quickly began typing away into Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale’s calendar.

“Aare there any arrangements you would like particularly made? Dry-cleaning? Have to cook set up a lunch or appetizers?”

“I need two items. First of all, have my pink suit pressed and dry-cleaned please,” You quickly scribbled down her request onto a post-it note, “and secondly, if you could stop by son’s little bachelor pad and ask if he plans to attend that would be phenomenal. And make sure his maid is still coming and that he hasn’t managed to scare her off yet. You can do that after your lunch break.”

“Yes ma’am, anything else?”

“Actually, if you could go now, you could pick up some lunch for him. I doubt he’s had anything besides a protein shake and who knows what else. Charge it to the VISA”

“Of course, ma’am. Have a wonderful afternoon.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

After five years, 2 years as an intern and 3 as an actual employee, you had come to know and be known by Mrs. Drysdale’s full family. They were an interesting mix of hard workers with rich kid mentalities. Well, most of them. And they were ever a loud crowd. But quite recently, her father had died from a supposed suicide. Of course, that truly wasn’t any of your own business, you just coordinated the funeral date, the invitations, the catering, and anything which the family didn’t want to settle themselves. At the end of it all, you weren’t permitted to attend the funeral which in all honesty made a fair amount of sense.

You didn’t know Harlan at all personally, but he was always kind to you and asked his daughter and her family to treat you with kindness. But two factors didn’t make sense about the funeral. Why they didn’t allow Harlan’s sweet nurse, Marta, to attend… and why Ransom Drysdale didn’t make an appearance at his beloved grandfather’s funeral?

- - -

The little doorbell camera rang as you balanced a paper sack and drink tray in one arm, and your purse and phone in the other. You waved at the camera, knowing he got humor out of watching people wait for him through his recently upgraded phone.

“Afternoon, Ransom. You know I would usually let myself in with the key above the door frame, but as you’ll notice,” you attempted to show off full your hands were, ”My hands are quite full. If you could kindly-”

The large wood door swung open into Ransom’s modern house before you could finish your sentence. And there stood Ransom in a pair of black jeans, a creme shirt, and a burgundy cardigan which you gave him for Christmas two years ago. If he had a scarf and boots on, you would’ve suspected that he just returned home from an outing.

“-open the door,” you stepped inside and made your way promptly to the kitchen, “Glad to see that you're fully awake and you didn’t leave any trash for me to pick up. How sweet. That makes what? Three months?”

“Well, it’s been four months since I brought home a pretty little thing for any bar or club,” Ransom took a seat on a stool and watched you unload your items onto the kitchen island. From the brown paper sack, you pulled two clear to-go containers; one containing Ransom’s favorite turkey and rye sandwich and a side of fruit salad, and in the other, your preferred lunch meal of choice. He threw you his signature smirk as you handed him his container, his hand soft grazing yours, “Are you proud of me, (Y/N)?”

Both his words and his actions caused your cheeks to fluster a bit. You understood how unprofessional your encounters with Mrs. Drysdale’s son were, but either she made it a point to notice or she simply didn’t care. Linda had only taken comfort in you a few times, but her frequent concern was Ransom and his future.

“Of course I am,” You smiled at him kindly, before returning back to business reaching into the bag again to obtain napkins and cutlery, “Now, your mother will pester me about this if I don’t get an answer to her in the next twenty-four hours. Do you...”

Ransom’s gaze shifted down to the pile on the counter where he noticed a napkin with black spots.

“...Do you plan to attend the reading of the will? I mean, after his birthday and not attending the funeral, I’m not sure what your p-”

“Yeah, I’ll be there, but (Y/N),” sipping your drink, you turned around to see what had captivated him, “who wrong this note?”

On the napkin was inscribed:

Does sleeping with him get you extra money from his mommy? X.

“Wh-what? I need a drink, that doesn’t even make sense. I haven’t even spent the night here, well except for when your mother left me here for four hours the night before our business trip but I’ve never even entered your room with you in there. This is just some small... little...” but the world seemed to fade quickly.

- - -

“Does she have any family?”

“Her mother and sister live in Vermont, but no one in the state. We treat her like part of our family”

The two female voices continued their conversation as you opened your eyes but quickly covered them to adjust yourself to the light. You saw Ransom sitting in one of the chairs while Linda answered any medical or personal questions.

“Where are we? Ransom- what happened?”

“Well, what’s the last thing you remember?”Ransom asked.

Telling you how proud I am of you.

“Asking about your schedule for the weekend?” From there on, things were blurry, but shapes and colors would stand. Things you might remember later.

“From your report, it seems you were drugged. Nothing heavy, but quite fast-acting. At least, you weren’t behind the wheel when this happened,” The nurse responded, “You’re free to leave, thanks to Mrs. Drysdale here.”

Linda gave the nurse the same smile she gives to every client after a sale, “Thank you, now let’s get to my car. Hugh, your father is probably waiting at the house with dinner. And you better behave, because Ms. (Y/L/N) will be our guest tonight”

- - -

The dinner table inside the Thrombey House was on the quiet side, even though the full family was in attendance. It wasn’t your first time attending such an event, but it wasn’t one you made frequent. The youth spent most of the meal on their phones while the adults chattered about various topics, and even asked you a few questions about future aspirations or opinions on the current state of something you probably couldn’t care less about tonight. Everyone tried to engage themselves in something, except for Ransom who picked at his food and made a few crass comments under his breath. You took the slight lull to speak up.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay for the evening. My car is stranded at Ransom’s and getting an Uber this late in the evening is-”

“(Y/N), you’re my go-to girl, my secretary, practically my personal assistant. I couldn’t allow for anything bad to happen to you. You’re far too... valuable to be lost,” Linda never spoke like this, unless she needs to boast about her own self-made business and image.

“In fact,” it was now Richard’s turn to begin boasting about how you were so helpful to the entire Drysdale family and coordinating the funeral and this and that and you just couldn’t comprehend why such a family always had to one-up each other. It simply had to be exhausting.

Fran then entered into the dining area and began clearing plates. You offered to assist her, but she mustered up a smile that said she could handle it by herself. When she came around to take your plate, a neatly folded piece of paper sat right underneath it. Quickly, you snatched it from its’ position, hoping to one saw the paper or your sly movements.

You thought you could get away with it until you felt a foot connect with your shin. Blue eyes met your own and you knew Ransom saw everything. He just seemed to always pay close attention to you, maybe a sign of concern or endearment. And you could tell exactly what his eyes were saying.

“Well, thank you, all of you with providing me dinner and a room for the night,” You quietly slid your chair back and stood.

“Of course, dear. Hugh,” Ransom peered to his mother as if surprised by her attention, “Please show, (Y/N), our guest room before you make your own exit for the evening.”

Ransom lead you easily up the oak staircase to the second floor where he pushed you inside what seemed to be a supply closet. A large supply closet mainly filled with old board games but still a simple closet.

“What was that paper you were so quick to hide?”

You tugged it out of your pocket and unfolded it, smoothing the creases so you could read the context better.

Asset protection is important for any and every company. X.

“This one doesn’t even make sense! How do you go from a direct attack on me to this- this load of shit!”

“Well, in my eyes a person who won’t make a better effort to threaten you or do it in a more accurate way is a piece of shit,” Ransom’s eyes skimmed over the paper, “But this time, it’s remarkably true. My parents admire your hard work for them, so you are an asset in a way.”

You felt fear knot up in your stomach, you couldn’t understand what someone could have against you. In every aspect, you were an honorable citizen who made a fair living. It just didn’t add up, “Where’s the guest room? I need to sleep.”

“Right, but I’m going to show you a different way into the guest room,” He grabbed your hand before leading you across the hall into another bedroom. The pair of you crept into the closet and Ransom kicked a panel in the wall. A door quickly slid open and the pair of you made your way up a little staircase, “Harlon just loved his hiding places”

“Ransom. If I’m in potential danger? What do I do? I don’t have to first clue in-

“Well, first of all, don’t be so damn trusting. It makes you an easier target. Second of all, find somewhere or someone you can stay with that you could seek comfort and safety in, at least until you feel safe.”

Both of you came to a stop as you made it to a small door. But a little idea popped into your head, “Well, could I stay in that big house of yours? I don’t have any family here and I refuse to go bankrupt in a motel room because of a potential stalker. I know it might be strange given our past flirtations, but I-”

“Wait, are you saying you want to move in with me?”

“Not really, move in. That would mean something completely different and- and completely out of the question because of my position in your moth-”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can stay with me. It’ll be nice to have a welcomed guest around,” Ransom pushed open the door and emerged into the guest which felt like a victorian guest suite set up, “and that’s why we came in through the back”

In the front of the door was tripwire for a possible trap unseen, but just the thought stirred you in unpleasant ways. Ransom searched the room before finding three darts ready to fire at any notice, “I’m really looking like a good guy, stopping any threats before they happen.”

“Yeah, it’s almost out of character,” You grabbed the glass of water by the nightstand.

Quickly, Ransom snatched the water from your hand, leaving you shaking, “Niether of us brought a glass up with us and I’m not going to have a repeated visit to the hospital to be asked if I gave you a date rape drug.”

He entered the attached bathroom and poured its’ contents in the sink while you sat yourself upon the bed. Thinking of the events from today. Shakily, you looked up to Ransom, “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I haven’t done anything. I-”

“Maybe someone is trying to get your attention,” He sat beside you and took your left hand into his right, using his thumb to caress the gentle skin, “And you still have me, though this is too far outside my comfort zone with any woman. If we’re going to keep ending up in life-or-death situations, trust that I will save you every single time.”

“Thank you, Ransom. For offering your assistance. For making sure I don’t get myself hurt. For not being a huge dick to me also,” you laughed.

“Well, what’s my mother’s is mine, and I happen to like her little personal assist,” before he stood from the bed, he gave your knuckles a strangely gentle kiss, “good night, (Y/N). I’ll see you at Breakfast”

Everything blurred, including Ransom’s exit, as you feel into a soft slumber.

:———————————————————————:

let me know if you think this deserves a part 2 or anything!

#knives out #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombrey #ransom thrombey smut #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans in a sweater

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winxwrites · 4 years

Text

What You Want

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral, D/S themes, workplace sex

Word count: 2k

Description: You never expected the racy texts exchanged between you and a coworker to get you in this position...

A/N: Thank you guys for all of the love you showed my first Henry fic! I hope you all enjoy this one! As always, feedback is appreciated ❀

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Startled, you looked up at the brooding man walking towards you. His presence immediately sent a shiver up your spine. You were so taken back by his entrance that you failed to close the tab on your screen. All traces of laughter were suddenly removed from your demeanor.

“Mr. Walker, I was just... I-”

“Oh save it,” he cut you off as he reached your desk. “I’ve been waiting nearly an hour for your response to my email and then I come down here to find you playing around on your laptop. You’re the last one here, what was stopping you from responding?”

You stuttered over your words attempting to string together a coherent answer that would be pleasing to your boss.

“I just had some other things to wrap up. Today’s been pretty busy I guess I got beside myself. I’ll be sure to check my emails more frequently.”

He raised an eyebrow at your flustered state. You were grateful that the screen of your MacBook had gone dark as your superior planted himself by your workspace. Your comfort was broken when he tilted his head toward the computer.

“Turn on your laptop.” That you weren’t expecting.

“I’m sorry?”

Walker laughed. “You heard me, let’s see what’s got you so distracted.”

Before you could protest the intimidating man hovered over your desk, his finger gracing across the trackpad to illuminate the screen. All you could do was sit there and pray your on shift doings wouldn’t result in the loss of your job.

Your heart leapt as he took in the sight of the tabs on the screen. Your resolve nearly crumbled when his eyes fell onto the opened messages app.

A shit eating grin was on his face as he mockingly recited the conversation you were engaging in with your coworker Harper.

August is so sexy - He made sure to draw out his words in a teasing manner.

You’re so lucky he’s your boss. If I was the one under him we wouldn’t be getting much work done.

Believe me it took everything in me not to drop to my knees the last time he called me into his office.

I bet his dick is fucking massive. God I can’t believe you haven’t fucked him.

The smirk Walker wore was the biggest you’d ever seen. He looked down at you clearly enjoying your uncomfortable state.

“Want me to read more?”

You hated that you’d been caught. You hated even more the arousal you felt as he spoke to you.

He removed his dark suit jacket and tossed it aside. He called you by your last name to address you as he rolled up his sleeves.

“Stand up.”

You quickly stood from your seated position not wanting to be in even more trouble. You were going to apologize for your indiscretion but your boss waived a dismissive hand to silence you.

He made himself comfortable in your work chair and laced his hands behind his head.

“Never been much of a people pleaser but I guess I can give you what you want.” Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I don’t think you’re going to be productive unless you get something to satiate that slutty little mind of yours.”

You bit into your lower lip as you realized what he was asking of you.

“Get on your knees.”

The timber of his voice left no room for discussion. You mindlessly lowered yourself to the floor. The cool feel of the tiled pattern the only thing able to settle the heat that rang through your body.

Your eyes widened looking up at August as you waited for his next command. He chuckled darkly at your submission.

“Go on, be a good girl for me.”

Your unsteady hands reached for the zipper of his trousers, pulling them down enough to expose his black briefs. Your nimble fingers worked to release his hardening member from the tight confines.

Confidence sprang into you as you sat back on your legs. A lewd moan slipped off your tongue as you tasted the salty precum leaking from his tip.

You wrapped your lips around the engorged tip giving a generous suck. You removed his cock from your mouth and stared up at him as you licked a long, wet stripe from his balls to the head of his dick.

His eyes glossed over as you continued to work your mouth over his generous size. Your wrists worked around his shaft as you flattened your tongue around the bulbous head.

August eagerly slid himself down your waiting throat as you gasped for air. You barely had time to adjust before he pushed you onto his thickness. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he quickly pushed you to your limit.

Your blurred vision caught sight of the smug look he wore as he watched you swallow him. You knew he was close when your nose touched the patch of hair that spread across his pelvis.

His cock twitched at the sight of seeing you take whatever he gave you. He reached down and stroked your hair out of your face as his orgasm reached its dawn. His gaze was unwavering as he drank in the image of you swallowing his cum. You tried to hide your struggle as you slurped down the liquid. A relieved sigh left his lips once he’d come down from his high. His dick was still surprisingly hard as the heavy girth weighed against your tongue.

An aggressive hand wrapped around your throat pulling you off his slick cock. A trail of drool dribbled down your chin as you disconnected with his thick member. He used the firm grip on your neck to guide you back onto your feet. You gasped a breath you didn’t realize you were holding once his thumb was removed from the column of your throat.

He shifted his grip to your waist and pressed your backside against your desk.

“August I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again. I’ll be more professional in the future, I promise!”

He released an ironic laugh. “I think you and I can both agree that we’ve clearly passed any professional boundaries that were formerly in place.”

You nodded at his reference to the events that had just occurred.

“You’re right. But August can we just-“

You were cut off. Walker ran his thumb over your chin and collected some of the spit that still resided there. He playfully rubbed the saliva over your bottom lip before popping his thumb into your waiting mouth. You felt like a whore as you sucked on the digit without objection.

“You address me as sir or Mr. Walker, are we clear?” You shook your head in agreement as he removed his thumb from your mouth. “Call me August again and you won’t be speaking at all for a while.”

He gingerly sat back in the chair. “Take off your panties.”

Your hands worked to hitch up the hem of your dress and tug the material down your parted thighs. Walker looped his finger through the flimsy lace and took in the sight of the soaked crotch.

He pressed his palms flat against your knees to part your legs even more. His middle and index finger made their way into your waiting hole. You yelped at the thick intrusions. Walker stroked his fingers back and forth inside your exposed hole. You were reduced to a moaning mess. No man had ever been able to locate your most sensitive spot so quickly.

He withdrew his fingers and wiped your glistening cum on the indigo material of your dress.

His hand reached for your wrist as he impatiently tugged you toward him. Your parted knees were on either side of the chair as you found yourself in his lap. His erection pointed callously at your waiting cunt. You gulped as you worked your hand over his cock realizing -once again- just how big he was. This didn’t go unnoticed by your boss.

“What’s the matter kitten? Are you scared?” Your breathing became uneven as he spoke the taunting words into your ear. “Don’t try and act shy now. You said you wanted this.”

Your right hand squeezed his shoulder as your left guided his thickness into your pussy. You let out an exasperated sigh as you looked down and realized he wasn’t even half way in.

Walker’s hand came up and gripped the back of your neck. He tilted your head in a way that made it impossible to look away from what he was doing to you.

“Oh no kitten, I don’t want you to miss this.” His other hand gripped your thigh and roughly pulled you onto his dick.

His pleasure came first, he made that more than clear. A cocky grin shone on his face once he bottomed out. Your body writhed from the shock of the tight fit.

Reaching between your thighs you tried to rub your clit but August quickly wrapped his hand around your wrist to stop you. A frustrated groan slipped through your lips. He was definitely going to make you work for your release.

His calloused hands dug into your sides as he pulled you deeper onto his dick. You struggled to keep up with the swift pace he’d created.

“Sir please...” you whispered in desperation.

To your surprise he moved his hand between your legs providing you some stimulation. He leaned forward and pressed sloppy kisses to your covered chest. Your eyes rolled back as you noticed the wet patches he’d left over either breast.

A relieved groan left your throat as you slumped against his toned chest. Your fingernails dug shallow crescents into his broad shoulders as you indulged in your impending orgasm.

“Walker let me cum. Oh God! Sir please!” The only sounds in the office space were your desperate moans. August took a second to look away from the place where your bodies connected.

The pattern he drew on your clit became sloppy and you knew the end was in sight for both of you. You graced his neck with kisses as you reached your peak.

A rough hand smacked your ass as you rode out your orgasm. “Look at you being a dirty little slut cumming in my lap.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks and onto his shoulder as you came down from your high.

August latched onto your collarbone and sucked brazenly as his own orgasm rang through him. You fidgeted against his thighs from the overstimulation. You knew there would be a blotchy mark left behind but you didn’t care. You were just happy you’d have something to remind you this wasn’t just some dream.

August stood up and placed you back on your desk. You felt vulnerable when you noticed his darkened eyes watching thick globs of cum drip onto the wooden surface.

Neither of you had said a word since you’d finished. You weren’t sure your brain could even fathom a coherent sentence after how hard you’d just cum.

The weight of your encounter suddenly hit you as you leaned down to retrieve your discarded panties. August lifted a heavy foot and trapped the underwear underneath his polished shoes.

“Oh no kitten. You’re gonna keep my cum in that tight little cunt of yours for the rest of the night.” You looked up at him is disbelief. “And tomorrow morning when you come in I’m gonna check and see how good you take direction.”

Lost for words you nodded in compliance.

“Yes sir.”

You slowly stood up, your legs still unsteady. Suddenly you were thankful you’d worn flats. Walker adjusted himself back into his pants and straightened his tie. You were both unsettled when your MacBook rang signifying a new text.

The illuminated screen captured both of your attentions. Of course it was from your friend Harper sending yet another raunchy message about your boss. If she only knew...

August began heading back to his own office. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the glass windows and thanked the heavens you were the only one working in the office this late.

The heavy footsteps came to a halt as your boss stopped before the elevator. He called your name in an even voice.

You looked back at him in a daze. “Hmmm?”

“Tell your friend she can be next if she’d like.”

#henry cavill #august walker #august walker smut #henry cavill x reader #august walker x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill imagine

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huntergatherercreator · 4 years

Text

The Take Down | Part Three

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective Reader

Summary: NYC has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire. You're going undercover to stop him.

Warnings: Mentions of prostitution and drugs.

Notes: All proof read but it’s been a long day so fingers crossed I haven’t missed anything obvious. The suit I’ve been picturing him in for this chapter is the grey one he wore to the Audi Polo Challenge event back in 2018, serious mob!tom vibes plus he’s just a full on snacc in it.

Enjoy! :)

Catch up here: Part One | Part Two

Part Three - 1700 Words

It was a risky decision but there wasn’t anyone I could trust more than a fellow cop. Especially one who knew what I was going through. "Zoey", as she was going by, had been under for 9 months. She was working to take down a prostitution ring. Like me, that meant immersing herself into the world. Dealing with the lowest of the low and having to contribute to the revenue to stay relevant. I knew from chatter on the streets that she was currently working out of a speakeasy in lower Manhattan. It was notorious for hosting an exclusive set of clientele and for books cleaner than a legitimate business’. We'd never been able to tie them down for any of the shady dealings rumoured to take place within its walls. If my conversation went well, then Zoey and I would be running two operations that could finally close its doors.

Staring up at the block of apartments the third floor window was open, curtains fluttering in the wind. It had just gone 7 am. Tate had cornered me earlier in the night and without a word had handed me a rucksack containing everything I needed to sell. I’d stashed it in the apartment, taking only what I needed with me to do a sweep of my new territory then set about following Zoey home from the bar. At this point I was running on fumes.

It didn’t take long for the first commuters of the morning to leave. No-one in this area knew their neighbours. No-one wanted too, so it gave me the opportunity to slip into the stairwell past a young waitress without getting a second glance. Reaching the apartment door I assessed the best way to approach her, deciding to knock and stay out of sight. It took a second before I caught soft footsteps approaching. There was a slight hesitation at the door before it cracked open. I made sure to step into view slowly.

“Hello, Zoey.”

She leaned out of the doorway, scanning the hall before stepping back. “You better come in.”

She waved to the loveseat at the window and I took a tentative seat. Her apartment appeared refreshingly tidy, but on closer inspection it was due to the lack of any personal items. There were no magazines on the coffee table. No favourite mug set next to the coffee machine. It wasn’t far off what my own must look like.

Detouring to the fridge Zoey removed two bottles of beer before joining me. I took her in as she got settled, feet tucked under her. She hadn’t got around to removing her nights make-up yet, hair still tight in dark plaits that hung to her waist.

She broke the silence first. “You look like shit.”

“I’ve been worse,” I reminded her. “You look like you’re doing well.” I watched her laugh humourlessly before taking a deep sip of her drink.

Her fingers started toying with the end of a braid. “Yeah, I’ve been having a great time.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I started to protest but she shook her head with a small smile.

“I know. It’s just been tough” Letting her braid drop she finally made eye contact with me. “I take it you’re not here to tell me I can come home.” There was no glimmer of hope in her eyes, she already knew the answer. I put my untouched bottle onto the coffee table and clasped my hands to chase away the chill it had left.

“I’m under too. I need your help.”

“I feel like I’m going to need something stronger.” Waving at me to start my story she moved to dig around in her kitchenette cupboards for a clean glass and a bottle of whiskey. I ran through what had happened, who I was after and laid out my proposition to her.

“I want to use your girls to help sell the extra supply. I’ll still be working independently each night to keep pushing to my regulars and-” Zoey was shaking her head before I could finish the sentence.

“Y/N, I’m running a brothel out of the club. I can’t be a mistress and a drug mule. It’s bad enough I can’t protect the girls when I’m stuck behind the bar all night. I can’t be keeping my eye on any users too.”

“How many girls would you let in on the deal?” I questioned, trying to work things out.

Her lips pursed as she stared into her already half empty glass. “There’s maybe five that I could trust to do it discreetly.”

“What if I agree to play security? With five girls I can make the target. If we up the price, to one more suitable for their type of clients, then I can use the profit to pay off a dealer and keep my streets covered leaving me free. The rest will be split between the girls.”

“You’d give them the profit?” Her brows had risen in surprise.

“Of course. I’m not looking to advertise that I’m making more than the required amount. Not yet anyway.” She downed what was left in her glass and held out a hand.

“You’ve got a deal, as long as you understand that if this starts to affect my investigation then I’m out and you’re on your own.”

“Understood.” I returned her handshake.

****

The first few nights of our new agreement had gone smoothly, if slowly. The girls took to selling easily in between their other activities. The issue had been convincing the men to buy, most had other sources already, but by the end of their allotted time they’d usually been won round by one of the girls. As promised I watched them every night, ensuring no-one harassed them while they worked their way around the room. The club had security guards to ensure only men on the guest list got in and break up any fights between them. They never stepped in for the girls.

Seated at the end of the bar I alternated between watching the entrance and keeping tabs on them. The main room held maybe 100 people and was already full twenty minutes after opening. The smooth gloss top of the bar ran from beside the stairwell door to the opposite wall. The back shelving was pristine glass, the upper shelves backed with mirrors while the bottom had soft looking purple velvet which matched the plush walls of the VIP area at the opposite end of the room. Instead of an obnoxiously loud DJ, soft jazz was filtered in from the ceiling speakers. Loud enough to block out conversations but not enough to disrupt them. Dimmed crystal sconces lined the walls, one over each of the eight booth seats, casting the room in a warm hazy light. With it being a Friday night every seat was taken up by a businessman of some description. All were completely indistinguishable in the sea of navy and black suits.

Zoey caught my eye across the bar; minutely tipping her head towards the VIP area that had slowly filled up. I watched one of the girls coyly drag one of the occupants out through the adjacent door that led behind the scenes. The bar was situated on the basement level of a convenience store and the restricted area extended well under the neighbouring two buildings allowing plenty of private spaces out of earshot. I threw Zoey a questioning look and she rolled her eyes before moving a hand to subtly rub her side. I snapped my eyes back to the VIP’s. It took a second for me to pick out who she was referring to as they stood just behind the curtain fringing the area. His face was shadowed as he stood stock still watching over the men around him. I’d first placed him as a newbie, unsure what his place was after being dragged along after work, suit not as expensive as the others as it was cut wrong and too bulky around the body. I’d got it wrong. I clenched my hand to stop it shaking. It wasn’t a tailoring error. It was to help conceal a weapon. I cursed myself.

I made to do a sweep of the room, get closer to properly assess him but Zoey shook her head. She was right; it was too dangerous with the club this full. I was completely off my game. I took a steadying breath and tried to focus.

As I watched, a new man entered and took a seat at the booth’s edge, hand instantly waving to get the attention of a server. My stomach tightened as I recognised him. Sam Arnold, looking as sleek and kept as he had during our first encounter relaxed into the seat and started chatting to the fellow VIP’s. I ran over the faces of his companions. Each one was nondescript. I couldn’t tell if they were associates from his business or from Hollands. My jaw clenched as I bit back my rising frustration.

I barely had time to dwell on how I’d managed to let so much slip past me before the entrance opened again. My breath caught as a figure entered donned in a long duster coat, the collar up around their face. With his head down all I could see was dark curls. A hush started, trailing around the room like smoke until everyone had stopped talking to appraise the newcomer. I tried to tell myself he wouldn’t be that brazen. He wouldn’t be caught in a public place when his weekly death toll had reached double figures.

They stopped at the VIP entrance. Shrugging his jacket off to reveal a light grey suit, he hung it over the back of the last vacant seat. I didn’t dare blink. The build, the height, those curls. My brain refused to process that he could be here. He turned then, unbuttoning his suit jacket leisurely and taking in the expanse of the room. Holland was here. My heart beat double time, my fingers itched to reach for a gun I didn’t have. He was here in my sights and I’d have to sit and do nothing.

---------

Taglist:

@spideylovin

@lukesbabylon

Part Four now up!

#mob!tom #mob!tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland

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sageblogsthings · 4 years

Photo

[image description: a map, brownish-yellow with age, fills the background. the text over the image reads “Dust, Drams, & Dragonsblades” in white all-caps font. /end id]

Dorian walked through the lower town, passing shop after shop as they closed for the night, until he finally came upon an old, seemingly abandoned shack. A rusty sign dangled by a single chain above the door, the slightest breath of wind threatening to knock it loose. Squinting, Dorian could just make out the lettering on the sign: The Culterus’ Cup. With a smile, he leaned on the door, not so much pushing it open as pushing it aside, its hinges broken long ago. Warm light from the street-lamps outside filtered through the doorway, but was immediately swallowed up by the murky interior. The smell of dust, drams, and desperation seeped through the doorway and settled around Dorian’s boots.

Ah, the smell of alcoholics in the evening, he sighed. Seem’s like nothing’s changed.

He walked into the impossibly dark building, eyes squinting through the dust and cobwebs in search of a familiar face.

“Well my eyes must be failing me in my old age, or my mind is starting to go,” the voice brought an immediate grin to Dorian’s face. He wandered vaguely towards its source, dodging tables and uprooted floorboards by memory alone.

“Matthias,” he grinned. “It’s really me, somehow I’ve managed to not get myself killed.” He finally reached the source of the voice: a stout, rounded man with crinkled grey hair and eyes. His head barely cleared the bar behind which he stood, but he emanated such an aura of authority and confidence that you barely noticed.

“Hmm, small wonder that is,” Matthias grunted. “And not bound to stay that way for long from what I hear,” he peered at Dorian over golden spectacles in a way that was part concern and part disdain.

“Ah, so you heard about that?”

“I think half the town has heard about it at this point, my boy.” Dorian winced slightly.

“I really tried to stop them from making a mess of Tov’s place, damned mercenaries.”

“Is she okay?” the man feigned disinterest, but Dorian could see his brow crease ever-so-slightly in concern.

“Yeah, she’s fine. Apparently she knew the leader from before so he left her alone, he was really just after me anyways.”

“Wait, Tov knew him? That big brute everyone is scared of now?”

“Yeah, he got a room there a few nights back. She said he seemed like he was hiding something, but also that he seemed kind, just quiet, so she didn’t push it.”

“That sounds like Tov alright,” Matthias huffed. “Always seeing the best in people even when they’re hulking mercs.”

Dorian chuckled, “I wouldn’t have it any other way. But I also don’t want her getting in trouble because of me.”

“Ah, there it is,” Matthias grinned as he polished a glass.

“There what is?” Dorian asked, confused.

“The part where you ask me for something.”

Dorian blinked. “No getting past you is there? I thought you said that your eyes and mind were going.”

“Ha!” A deep laugh shook the bar-top. “You wish, Vispillo.”

“Wow, and just when I thought we were on a first-name basis!” Dorian pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “But yes, I do need your help. Mr. Galba,” he breathed out the last part in a conspiratorial whisper.

Matthias craned his head upwards, piercing Dorian with those inscrutable grey eyes. He stayed like that for several moments, and Dorian was beginning to lose hope. Maybe I should just turn tail and leave before I embarrass myself more.

“Of course I’ll help you, foolish boy. With the tab you still owe here, there’s no way I’m letting a bounty hunter get ahold of you.”

Dorian laughed, swooping an arm over the bar to give Matthias a half-hug. “Thank you!” He beamed. “And I will pay that tab, I promise.”

“Mhm, I’ll believe it when the coin is on this bar-top. Now, what do you need?”

“I’m looking for a man.”

“Ha! Nothing’s changed with you, has it Dorian?”

Dorian groaned. “The man who attacked me, Matthias.”

“Yes, yes I know. I’m just messing with you kid. Though from what I hear the man who’s after you isn’t exactly hard to look at.” Dorian shrugged, not denying it but refusing to say more on the matter.

“Apparently I have something that he believes belongs to him, or whoever employed him I guess, and he means to take it from me by force.”

“Okay, so it seems like a pretty easy solution, yeah? Give him back what you stole.”

“See, there’s the problem. I don’t know what I stole.” Matthias blinked over his glasses, once. Twice. He exhaled slowly, his brow creasing slightly as he did so.

“How—,” he paused, rubbing his forehead. “How do you not know what you stole? Were you that drunk when you stole it?”

“No!” Dorian paused in thought. “I mean, I was likely drunk but I still remember everything I’ve stolen lately. I keep a log and everything!”

“So just show this man the log and ask what’s his, right?”

“Assuming they don’t shoot first and ask questions later that could work. But finding the object isn’t what I need help with.”

“Astralis help me,” Matthias muttered into a calloused hand. “Would you just spit it out boy?”

“I’m trying! Okay, look, the problem is this: I have no idea who this mercenary band works for, where they’re from, who their devilishly handsome leader is, or where I can find them.”

“I knew you thought he was a looker,” Matthias grinned with a wink. “But you realize none of that was a question, right? What do you want me to do?”

“Don’t be humble, Matthias. You know that most people come here for the tracking services, not the drink, right?”

Matthias stepped back from the bar at the affront to his drinks. Glancing around the bar, he saw dilapidated tables strung with cobwebs, small candles nearly burnt out, and scattered patrons meeting in corners in hushed whispers. A figure in a cloak stood near a wooden board with papers plastered across its surface. The top of the board read “Bounties & Warrants.” He turned back to Dorian to find the tiefling smirking at him.

“See? Nothing against your mead, it’s fantastic, but this is the place where criminals and lowlifes come to find out if they’re wanted yet.”

With a deep grumble, Matthias propped his arms on the bar-top. “Fine, you red demon, you’ve made your point,” the slightest glimmer in his eye told Dorian the insult was purely in jest. “So you want me to help you find this brute, then?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Fine. But only because the sooner we get them off your tail the sooner you can pay me all that gold you owe.”

“Oh come now, Matthias, you’re fond of me, just admit it.”

“You wish, devil.”

Dorian chuckled. “Here, this is all the gold I have right now. I’ll give you the rest later, I promise.” Matthias eyed the gold suspiciously, then turned his gaze upwards to the tiefling.

“Keep your gold for now. I don’t want you getting into even more trouble because you’re broke. You can pay me after we find him.”

“Aww, you big softie,” Dorian crooned, giving the top of Matthias’ head a light noogie, which earned him a deeply unsettling glare from the older man.

“Get off of me you damned tiefling. C’mon, we have work to do,” and with a huff he shuffled through a doorway behind the bar. Dorian stooped to clear it, and found himself in what seemed to be Matthias’ office. Despite how many years they had known each other, Dorian had never stepped behind the bar. He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting Matthias’ private quarters to look like, but somehow this fit. Papers scattered across every inch of the room, many of them looking important, candles burnt down to the last bit of wax decorating every available surface, maps and diagrams hanging and overlapping on even the tiniest fragments of wall space. It was chaotic, but somehow also cozy. Like Matthias, Dorian thought. Not that he would ever tell him that, at least not as long as he wanted to live.

Matthias perched behind his desk, eyes scanning back and forth across map so aged Dorian was surprised he could read it at all. Dorian perched on his tiptoes behind him, scanning the map over his shoulder.

“Could you stop that?” Matthias shot a half-hearted glare over his shoulder.

“Ah, sorry. I just — do you need help with anything?”

“No, just let me — wait,” the older man paused, scratching the salt and pepper (though mostly salt) scruff on the side of his head. “The mercenary leader, did he have any kind of crest or uniform or anything?”

Dorian inclined his head, nail pressing lightly into his temple as he tried to recall the encounter.

“No, I don’t think so. He was just wearing normal mercenary clothes I guess? He had a pretty heavy coat on though so I couldn’t see most of what was he was wearing.”

“His weapon didn’t have any embossings of a guild crest?”

“I mean I wasn’t exactly admiring the craftsmanship when he had it pressed to my jugular,” Dorian half-joked, earning a glower from Matthias. “But no—,” he coughed, “I don’t think so. Seemed like a pretty ordinary cutlass to me. And come to think of it, each of the mercs were wearing something different. Seemed like a bit of rag-tag group, didn’t think they were mercs at first honestly.”

“Hmm . . .,” Matthias trailed off in thought, glasses slipping down his nose. “That is odd. Most mercenary bands have to be approved by the Culterus’ Council. If this was just a randomly put together group, I don’t think there would be a way to track who hired them.”

“Well that’s fantastic,” Dorian huffed. “How are we—”

“I wasn’t finished yet,” Matthias waggled a finger to shush him. “If someone hired this mercenary band outside of the Culterus’ Council, they're either operating outside of the law or above it.”

“What are you suggesting, Matthias?”

“Well if they were operating outside the law they would probably be some kind of high-level criminal, a nihilimancer at worst. That seems unlikely though because hiring a mercenary band would just draw more attention to them when they could have attacked you directly.”

“So you think it’s someone operating above the law, then?”

“Likely, yes. A government official of some sort.”

Dorian’s brow furrowed heavily at this. A government official? What could he have done to piss them off?

As if reading his mind, Matthias stared up at Dorian over his glasses, grey eyes boring into golden ones. “Dorian, what the hell did you get yourself into?”

Dorian hunched over the desk, rubbing his face with both hands. “I—,” his voice cracked slightly, as though the full weight of the situation was bearing down on his throat. “I don’t know, Matthias.”

“C’mere, kid,” Matthias waved Dorian over to him and scooped an arm around his shoulder. “Listen, we’ll figure it out okay? And when we do we’re going to give those bastards what’s coming to them.” His voice was stern and gravely, but the twinkle of his eyes belied the slightest hint of compassion.

Dorian smiled lightly. “Thank you, Matthias, but —,” he paused, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “Me. Not we. I need your help finding them but I can’t ask you to come with me.”

The older man grumbled, “Dorian, if you think that you’re going alone to face an entire band of mercenaries—,” he was interrupted by Dorian vigorously shaking his head.

“I’ve handled worse. Besides, someone has to stay here and look after everything. Who’s going to help all the lowlifes and criminals find other lowlifes and criminals if you’re not here?” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t you have any Thieves Guild buddies you could ask?”

“I got kicked out of the Guild, remember? Besides, I don’t want anyone helping me with this. These mercs aren’t likely to forget a face and I’m not putting a target on anyone else’s back.” Dorian’s breath caught and he cast his eyes toward the floor. “I already hate that they know what Tov looks like.”

Matthias folded his arms over his chest. Dorian seemed determined to face this alone, but that didn’t mean he needed to face it entirely without help. “Fine. For the record though, I don’t like this at all.” Dorian seemed ready to cut him off again, but Matthias continued, “If you’re going alone, at least let me give you something that might make things a bit easier. Saved my skin a few times anyways.”

“I’ve already got a hip flask,” Dorian waved a crimson hand dismissively, but the smallest tug at the edge of his lips and the twinkle in his eye did not go unnoticed.

“Ha ha, ever the jokester. No you idiotic devil, it’s something that’s actually helpful.”

“Idiotic devil?” Dorian blinked in surprise, a grin spreading across his features. “I think that’s a new one, congratulations.”

Matthias huffed in response and crossed the room to rummage around one of the bookcases. After moving several papers, candles, and unsettlingly unidentifiable objects out of the way, he pulled a heavy leather chest from the shelf, heaving it onto the desk with a groan. Dorian peered over his shoulder as Matthias opened the chest, startled backwards a few steps when amber light poured out of the box and flooded the room around them.

“What the hell is in there?”

“You’ll see,” Matthias chuckled. He threw the lid back, completely bathing the room in the brilliant light. After muttering a soft incantation, the words of which Dorian couldn’t quite decipher, the glow died down and for the first time Dorian could see the contents of the chest. A dagger.

“That’s it? You’re giving me a tiny dagger when I have two perfectly good rapiers right here, a couple of daggers, and a handful of throwing knives already.” Matthias looked a bit unnerved at how many weapons Dorian could fit in clothing with no discernible pockets.

“Yes, it’s a dagger, but do you really think this is just a normal dagger? It’s enchanted.”

“Okay, and all of my weapons are poisoned. What’s your point?”

Matthias sighed, something he seemed to do a lot more of when Dorian was around. “You really have no knowledge of magical enchantments do you?”

“Nah, poison seems to do the job just fine so far.”

“Exactly. So far.” Matthias paused, hoping Dorian would understand the gravitas of his words. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with now, what you could be walking into. You need a weapon that will give you an edge in every situation.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll use your fancy dagger.” Dorian reached out towards the chest, then paused, curling his fingers into his palm. “Uh, what does it do exactly?”

“It is a Dragonsbane blade. They can only be forged in the dying flame of a High Dragon. The gilding is made from the precious metals found in its heart, set into the hilt by a boiling tear shed in the dragon’s final moments.”

“Ha—,” Dorian crossed his arms over his chest and threw his head back, eyebrows arching up doubtfully. “I call bullshit. You really believe all those dramatic tales, Matthias? I had you pegged for more of a skeptic than that.”

“It’s not a dramatic tale, Dorian.”

“And how, exactly, would you know that?”

“I was the one who forged it.”

“Haha very funny, of course you were,” Dorian cackled, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. When he looked back at Matthias, he saw the older man was staring straight at him, unblinking. “Wait. You’re not joking?”

“Nope. Why would I? I’ve got enough wild tales from running a bar, no point in making more of ‘em up.”

“But why —,” Dorian paused, rubbing his increasingly furrowed brow. “How — ?”

“I have a life outside of this bar, you know,” Matthias paused, then added “well, I used to anyways. But that doesn’t matter right now.”

“You can’t just drop something like that and then not tell me!” Dorian squawked. “Oh, yeah, I used to be a famous adventurer with a fancy dagger,” Dorian continued in a deep, rumbling voice, a rather terrible impersonation of Matthias. “Forged from the last breath and final fart of a dragon, but you don’t get to hear about that now, Dorian,” he scrunched his nose and pushed up an invisible pair of glasses as he finished his speech, giving Matthias the same deflated, exasperated look he often gave Dorian.

“Was that supposed to be me?”

“Who else would it be?”

“Well I don’t know but that was downright terrible. Good thing you don’t make a living doing street performances, you’d be poorer than you are now.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Dorian huffed. “Look, whatever, you can tell me about your grand adventure stories later I suppose. Now, would you please just explain why I need this dagger?”

Matthias huffed again, giving Dorian that look. Dorian had done a pretty good job of impersonating it if he did say so himself. “This dagger is incredibly powerful, I figured that much would be obvious. If —,” he paused “if this dagger tastes your attacker’s blood, its power grows stronger.”

“Okay, but what is its power? Does it suck the souls of men or something like that?”

“Now who’s the one believing dramatic tales?” Matthias smirked. “No, nothing like that. Because the blade was forged with the aid of a dragon, its power is tied to that of the dragons. In a moment of dire need, the spirit of the High Dragon from which this blade was borne will come to your aid. The more battle this dagger has seen, the more powerful of an ally you will have should you need it.”

“So you’re saying I should stab as many mercs as possible that way if I die I’ll at least have a dragon on my side?”

Matthias hung his head, rubbing his temples furiously. “Honestly, Dorian, just take one magic class. Just one.”

“Well, am I wrong?”

“Ye—,” he cut himself off. “I mean, no, not technically. The more blood the dagger collects the stronger the dragon will be. But I’m not saying that you should just stab people indiscriminately. That dagger has seen a fair amount of blood already, so if you do need the dragon to come to your aid, and I pray that it is an if, you do not need to worry about the strength it already possesses. I wouldn’t give it to you if all it would do is summon a weak dragonling spirit.”

“Wait, you’re giving this to me?”

“Lending!” Matthias spluttered, correcting himself. “Definitely lending. Please take care of it.”

“I’m messing with you, old man. But of course I’ll take care of it, thank you Matthias. I know I give you a hard time but I really do appreciate it.” A somber grin plastered itself across Dorian’s face as he spoke. “I hope that I won’t need to use this, but I do feel a bit safer knowing that I have the option.”

“Good, that’s all I wanted,” his eyes crinkled at the corners, imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know him well. “One more thing. I have some health poultices and some poisons, likely stronger than the stuff you’ve got anyways.” Before Dorian could protest, Matthias was shoving bottles, vials, and poultices of every color and size into his hands.

“Umm, Matthias?”

“Umm, Dorian?”

“Forgive me if the drink has gone to my head and I forgot this part of the conversation, but how exactly am I supposed to find this mercenary band? You’ve just given me a whole armful of supplies and nothing to find them with.”

“Oh, well I thought that part was obvioeus.”

“Obvious?” Dorian tried to gesture with his hands despite the delicate arrangement balanced on them. “Well enlighten me then, please.”

“You’re just going to wait for them to attack you again.” Matthias chuckled deeply as Dorian’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline.

“You—?” the words wouldn’t come. “You? Gave me a dagger? To defend myself with, but you want me to be a sitting duck for an entire band of mercenaries? How does that make any sense?”

“Dorian, they’re going to find you one way or another, that’s sort of their job isn’t it? If you go looking for them, you’re likely going to find them on a terrain they’re familiar with. If they come looking for you, there’s the slightest chance you’ll have the upper hand. The slightest chance that you’ll win this idiotic battle you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Oh,” Dorian breathed. “That — that actually makes sense.”

“I know. You really ought to stop underestimating me, boy.”

“Maybe after you tell me some of your tall tales I’ll take you a bit more seriously,” Dorian said with a wink.

The smallest smile pulled at Matthias’ lips. “When you bring that dagger back to me, how ‘bout that? We’ll have a pint to celebrate you not losing your life, and to commiserate you losing all your gold once you pay me back.”

“Sounds fair enough,” Dorian chuckled. “Thank you, Matthias, I really appreciate it. If I find out who hired them I’ll let you know.” Dorian began to walk out of Matthias’ office, but was stopped by a gravelly voice.

“Wait —,” Matthias fidgeted with a golden ring on his thumb. “Dorian. Please be careful.”

“Starting to sound like Tov, aren’t you?” When Matthias didn’t smile, he added, “I will. I promise.” He turned on his heel before he could change his mind, and strode towards the main entrance of the tavern, stuffing the various potions and poultices into the multitude of pockets hidden in his clothes. When he reached the door, he traced his chipped nails along its surface, hoping this wouldn’t be the last time he saw it. With a final huff, he stepped onto the lamplit street. Time to go get murdered, he thought with a forced smile, and set off across the cobblestones.

Arnora taglist:

#arnora #dorian #dust drams & dragonsblades #kit writes #the chapters in part 2 will probably all be a bit longer than those in part 1!#this is also up on my wattpad (kitwritesthings) if u prefer to read there!#i had so much fun writing this tho Dorian and Matthias' relationship is so wholesome

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symphonic--chaos · 4 years

Text

Someday Stars

Chapter 1/? Malec (Shadowhunters AU) Summary: Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane are both YouTube musicians who dream of making it big some day. When Simon Lewis and his band, Rock Solid Panda, go on tour and ask them to open for him, they both realize this could be their window to something greater.

Also here on AO3

Alec rushed around his apartment, creating a tornado's path with every step as his hands grabbed clothes as fast as they could. He knew he should have folded them after getting home from the laundromat last night. The email from Simon Lewis's management team still sat open on his laptop, which had been thrown unceremoniously to the end of his bed, the words still sitting on the screen: We will be back in New York City tonight and we would love to invite you to join our tour.If you will join us, you will be opening after Magnus Bane, and followed by Simon and the band. We will provide the bus, Simon does have room on his own. Please bring any merchandise you would like to sell. [Text from Izzy] OMG OMG OMG ARE YOU SERIOUS??????? YES, DO IT DO IT DO IT [Text from Izzy] while you're at it, get me some free tickets [Text from Mom] Oh, I'm so proud of you Alec! The book store and myself will be fine. Isabelle can help me. Go! I'm sure you'll make more money on the tour than here, anyway. We need to empty out your web store and send you with merch! [Text from Izzy] waIT I JUST SAW MAGNUS BANE IS THERE???!!!! TICKETS, BROTHER, YOU THREE ARE MY DREAM TOUR. [Text from Mom] Isabelle is screaming, I can hear her from downstairs. With each vibration Alec felt his anxiety grow, his hands shaking as he shoved the last thing he needed into the second suitcase. His eyes scanned over each text as he struggled to hold his phone, the smile growing on his face with each text they read. They lingered on the name Magnus Bane as he read Izzy's texts, he knew the name but he wasn't sure if he'd actually sat and listened to him. Both of them were musicians on YouTube aspiring to be as big as Simon had gotten, though according to Izzy, Magnus had just a slightly bigger following than Alec now because of the tour. Taking in a deep breath, Alec tilted his head back and closed his eyes, trying to focus himself on relaxing- he still had six hours until the tour reached New York City from their first shows in Boston and Hartford the previous nights.

"Alexa, start YouTube."

Alec said to the TV, releasing the button on the firestick as he moved into the kitchen. The cardboard of the pizza box he'd retrieved from within the fridge gave a dull thud as it was tossed onto the counter and a slice of cheese was taken out. "Magnus Bane," he said around a full mouth once he'd selected the search option, leaning against the counter as he watched the TV begin pulling up the search results. A few clicks had him on the fellow singers profile, his eyes scanning over the short bio on the About page. **NOW TOURING WITH ROCK SOLID PANDA** Singer/Pianist/Loverboy Web Shop Insta Twitter

Moving onto the main tab, Alec scrolled through, some of the highlighted ones being of Magnus sitting in a room decked out like a studio, or being in an actual studio. One or two was of him and a girl with a bright smile and dark eyes, her lips painted deep red and eyes with as much eyeliner as Magnus had. Alec noticed there was a trend of hearts on each video title with her in it, no doubt this was someone he liked or was dating and it came as no surprise, Alec thought as he took another bite of the pizza, Magnus was pretty attractive.

Scrolling to the top once more and finally selecting videos, he was surprised to see a video had been uploaded the day before, the preview screenshot much different than the bright, usually gold and purple themed photoshopped pictures he did in most of the videos Alec had scrolled past. This time is was Magnus illuminated on a stage by a single light from above, his head bowed as a grand piano sat at the mercy of his fingers. The picture was only titled HALLELUJAH, rather than the more descriptive titles on other videos.

Alec selected the video and moved to the couch to flop down with the pizza box. The camera shook a little, it was clear someone was holding it rather than it being on a tripod and self-shot. Alec wondered if it was someone from Simon's team or if Magnus had crew of his own- something Alec realized he didn't have any of which might create problems down the line. One of his dogs came over to the couch, a whine in her throat and vibrating against his knee as she rested her chin on him, looking longingly at the pizza in his hand as the piano started, soft and slow. Alec took a final bite before offering half of the crust to the dog, saving the other half for her brother.

Alec choked as he heard the voice come from his TV.

His whipped back to the screen as Magnus sang the first verse, his voice soft but firm like the notes being played on the piano. Despite the camera staying focused on Magnus and the piano as a whole, only moving as the person slowly circled the two, Alec couldn't stop staring at the look on Magnus's face. It didn't take a genius to know something was bothering him, that bright smile and lit up eyes from the video previews replaced by something dark, sad. His voice wasn't forced, but there was something in it that Alec knew all too well, he was singing this to someone- this upload was deliberate, a public liberation.

The camera came around to Magnus's side as he reached the second verse and once again his face was changing, sadness turning to anger and Alec could see the tears in Magnus's eyes. Alec's hand shifted on the remote, the volume on the screen going up as he leaned forward, not even noticing the other dog coming and slowly stealing the other crust half from his hand. “She tied you to her kitchen chair,” Alec could hear Magnus's voice getting louder, angrier, hearing the echo of both his singing and the piano echoing through the empty hall unveiled behind him as the person filming moved.

"And she broke your throne and she cut your hair," Magnus was hitting the keys harder. "And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah." Magnus's voice finally wavered, cracking as the pain seeped out in a moment of weakness, his fingers slammed down the final notes of the second verse before stilling. Alec's breath caught in his throat as he watched the singer take in a deep breath, the sound in the echoing silence monumental as the person filming paused, whether on purpose or a sudden feeling of remorse. "Hallelujah, hallelujah," It took a little under thirty seconds, but Magnus was playing again and this time, he was a broken man nearly whispering his lament. This was for the girl with the heart in her title. Alec finally found his breath as his lungs screamed for air, his heart pounding in his chest and, much to his surprise, his eyes stung with tears for the man on the screen. He didn't even know Magnus yet and already his heart was breaking with him as if he'd been through whatever relationship issues Magnus was having as well. Alec knew he put a lot of emotion in his music, thoughts and dreams into his lyrics, but here was someone who managed to bring him to a level he'd never reached before when listening to a performance. Whether it was the anger resurfacing or a sudden strength that Magnus had forgotten was in him, Alec came back to the moment when he heard Magnus singing the final verse of the song, his voice rising strong, normally low notes changed to high in such a beautiful time and contrast with the notes played on the piano, made his own and suddenly Alec could tell why Izzy was such a fan of the man on the screen. The final 'Hallelujah's' resonated through the hall, the camera recording him picking up each echo of the lyrics until the last note played and the echos faded away. Alec swallowed harshly, his tongue darting out over dry lips only to find everything was dry from his mouth being agape. Alec would be touring with the one who just poured his heart and soul out to not only the piano but his virtual audience. Magnus was a performer to a level that Alec wasn't sure he was ready to follow with his mellow tunes. Magnus was... amazing and Alec knew he needed to meet him. -- Simon waved Alec along behind him, his big goofy smile bright in the near darkness as the sun set behind the tall buildings in the horizon. Lights were just starting to come on and Alec had already been given a tour of Simon's bus, his bunk, and was alerted that all staff needs would be handled by Simon's staff due to the late notice in having him join the tour. It was a relief to say the least, since Alec wasn't used to any sort of tours, he was used to the safety of his recording room behind a microphone and camera with his guitar on his lap. "Come on, this is Magnus's bus. I'll introduce you to him." Simon said, not bothering to knock on the door and instead putting in the code on the door and letting himself in. It took only seconds after the door opened and they stepped up onto the stairs that a woman's harsh voice filled the bus. "You can't just tell me to leave! We've been together for years! YEARS, Magnus!" "Well maybe you should have thought of those years before you fucked two guys on the staff, Camille!" Magnus's voice snapped back, no hint of control there like he'd had in the video that was uploaded. Simon looked back at Alec, behind him on the stairs, like a deer caught in headlights. Neither wanted to move, neither wanted to say anything about them being there, purely out of fear of the repercussions. Alec shrugged and glanced behind him to see how they could back out slowly and quietly, only then noticing what looked like Magnus's staff out on the sidewalk behind them, seemingly waiting for the fight. Great of them to warn he and Simon. "It was a mistake! I had too much to drink, you know how things get!" Camille retorted, her voice going from harsh to pleading, Alec almost able to hear the tears in her voice. Cheap shot, he thought. It was Magnus's silence that had Alec peeking up slowly over the partition between the bus and the stairs, not daring to go up any higher like Simon was. Simon was actually impressed the two hadn't noticed them yet. Magnus looked done, his eyes tired and his lips void of the bright smile he had in every video; instead turned down in a deep frown. He looked thoughtfully at Camille and Alec almost wanted to tell him not to cave to guilt tactics, but this wasn't his place. He didn't know either of them, he didn't know the situation other than her cheating- he bit back the comment. "Camille, you need to leave. It's done. We're done." "Magnus, we--" "We went through this once before, two years ago, remember? You drank too much, you got loose with the wrong guy. I forgave you and said I would never do it again and now here we are, Camille. Back to this same old shit and I'm tired. I want to make something of my life and having to worry about keeping you close so you don't just fuck someone with a bottle of gin? That's not part of my life. Please get out." Magnus said finally and Alec watched him stare Camille in the eye, holding strong to his words. It was something Alec wasn't sure he could bring himself to do in a situation like this, but he felt an almost pride in Magnus for it. "No. No, Magnus, we can talk this o--" Camille started, though Simon clearing his throat caught her attention and she looked over at him, her pleading look turning into a sneer. "We're having a conversation here!" "One that it sounds like Magnus is done with. Look, this is between you two, but we have a show coming up tomorrow and I wanted to introduce Magnus to Alec..." Simon trailed off as he motioned behind him to Alec, who had ducked back down as if he wasn't there. Well, the jig was up. Alec straightened up, giving the two further in the bus a sheepish smile and a hesitant wave. "Uh, hey. I'm Alec Li--" "Lightwood." Magnus finished, sounding miserable still but Alec gave him a break on the smile he tried to force on his face. "I've seen and subscribe to you, you do great work." Alec felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn't heard of Magnus before, especially considering Magnus had at least a thousand more followers than he himself did. A hand rose to run through shaggy black hair in desperate need of a haircut, something he should of had done instead of spending hours watching Magnus's videos. Then again, he was sure Magnus probably followed a bunch of YouTube musicians, especially with a collab folder as large as he'd found under the video collections and the amount of 'Musician spotlight' shoutout videos that were also there. "It's nice to meet you, and ..." Alec looked to Camille, every bit of his willpower used to not make a face of displeasure. First impressions were important and the first of her was certainly something. "This is Camille, my ex-girlfriend. She was just leaving." The bag held towards Camille punctuated Magnus's words as he nodded towards the door. It didn't need to be said twice, Simon moved quickly out of the way and into the drivers seat area as Alec backed out of the bus to make room for her. It seemed like both men were eager to be rid of her, which Alec could only find himself mimicking to ease the moment. Camille looked between Magnus and Simon before she ripped the bag out of Magnus's hands, her eyes narrowing at him. "You'll regret this some day, Magnus. You don't know what you're losing." She spat out, her heels clicking harshly down the aisle of the bus and the stairs to follow. "You okay...?" Simon asked as he looked over to Magnus, moving further into the bus to pat his shoulder comfortingly. Alec was behind him though giving the two a bit of space, not wanting to intrude on the two friends that seemed to be having a moment. "I'm fine, thank you for stepping in. I didn't want to snap, I just..." Magnus sighed before glancing over Simon's shoulder and straightening his slumped back. "Mr. Lightwood, I'm glad you could join the tour. When Simon's manager mentioned wanting to reach out to you, I backed Simon and told her I highly recommended it. They were worried it was too last minute, but who gets a chance like this, right?" Alec found himself smiling at Magnus's smile, no matter how defeated it looked on the other man. "Yes, thank you, and thank you, Simon, for talking to her about me. Really, this is... I couldn't have even imagined I'd be here right now, much less going on a tour across the country performing for people, with other people." "Surreal, isn't it? This one is bigger than my last one, that was kind of just a small venue type thing where it was little crowds, but once we saw forums saying people were sad we were sold out, and when my manager saw people outside lined up around the block trying to get in still, they knew we had to go a little bigger this time. Really it was the last albums success, plus all the promotions and videos we threw up on YouTube that made it work for us. That last bit was at some persuasion of Magnus during one of the collabs we did of a Queen cover. Also we--" "Simon, you're rambling." Magnus chimed in, his fingers massaging his temple. Alec noticed the paint was slightly chipped, but he was sure there was more pressing things that Magnus had to worry about than that. "Oh! Oh, I am, yeah, sorry." Simon laughed and looked at the men he was basically sandwiched between. "Sooooo Alec, you should come see the venue and you can talk to my manager. Do you have a manager? They could talk about pay and stuff like that?" Simon's attention turned solely to Alec, who seemed nervous suddenly. "I... no. I mean, my mom handles a lot of my stuff like little shows around town and my sister handles my merch store but... I'm my own manager." "Nothing wrong with that, I'm my own currently as well. It's not so hard, I can show you the ropes." Magnus offered as he moved to the nearby fridge, pulling out a bottle of water and offering it out towards the two. Simon took it, Alec taking the next offered, and Magnus opened the third to take a long sip. "What order will we be doing this?" "I think you should go first to get the crowd riled up, then Alec, then me." Simon answered, his fingers fiddling with the cap of the water bottle. "Actually, I was thinking, if it's okay, if I go first and Magnus goes before you?" Alec said nervously, clearing his throat. He then looked to Magnus as he lifted a hand in defense, which had the other smirking. "Not that I want to displace you other anything, I just... you know, my stuff is kind of slower and I stand there and play my guitar. Magnus... is everywhere. I saw someone call him the next Freddie Mercury and I mean, I've been watching videos and--" "You've been watching me, Alexander?" Magnus mused, watching the faint trace of pink tint Alec's cheeks at both the comment and the name. "N-NO, I mean, yes, but-- look, what I mean is I think Magnus can get them more riled up and ready for you better than I can. He's got the energy like you, he's got an entire band to perform with, it's just me and--" "Are you torturing the new talent?" A woman's voice floated from the staircase, all three turning to look at the redhead watching them with amusement. "Ah! That's my manager. Alec, this is Jocelyn. Jocelyn, Alec. Her daughter, Clary, does the art for our flyers and shirts." Simon introduced, slipping past Alec to go over and greet the woman. "Should we show him the venue? Go over setlists?" "I think that would be the wisest decision, we don't have much time." Jocelyn nodded, smiling to Alec and Magnus before turning and moving back off the bus. "Alec, do you have a manager?" She asked as Alec came off the bus as well, followed by Magnus. "No, not yet. Just me. Magnus said he could help, though?" Jocelyn glanced past Alec to Magnus as he spoke, nodding in agreement. "I can help you out as well, we'll make you a natural. I've been teaching Simon along the way with the promise that he doesn't replace me." She winked to them and turned to lead them to the venue, the guard at the door opening it for them once he saw the badge around her neck. -- "This is..." Alec stood on the stage, looking over the rows of seating both on the floor and on the balcony above them. "Intimidating?" Simon asked. "Beautiful?" Magnus said at the same time, the two looking at each other with grins before they looked over at Alec. "Yeah," Alec answered with a breathless laugh, since both statements were pretty spot on. He'd played in coffee shops and small bookstores, but this was 10x's bigger than anything he'd been in before. It was surreal, almost so much so that he couldn't believe it was real. He was grateful for the opportunity and even more so of the moment that the two were giving him to soak it all in. Alec was sure they'd both had their own their first time, which Magnus had stated on their way in was the show they did in Boston. It apparently took him almost an hour to recover from it, and he only fully accepted it when they stepped into the Hartford venue. "You ready, big guy?" Jocelyn asked as she touched Alec's shoulder lightly, bringing him out of that moment and making him realize that Simon and Magnus had left his side and were now messing around with some of the equipment waiting for the show the next night. "Y-Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to get lost there." Alec could feel his face heating up, but Jocelyn looked plenty understanding and smiled at him, exuding the air of motherlike patience. "Hey, everyone goes there. Simon looked like a kid in a candy store his first big stage. Took me fifteen minutes to get him to stop running around with his arms up like some musical Rocky." She laughed and led him back to the others, putting a folder down on the table. "Alright guys, I think Alec was right in saying he should go first. No offense, Alec." "None taken." "Magnus you not only have energy, you're just infectious and now that ... she's gone, I think you're just free, kid. That Magnus you bottled up to keep an eye on her, let him go. Be the you we all saw on your channel, the one that we fell in love with when you came to the studio to do Killer Queen with them." Magnus's arms were crossed, his face neutral, but her pep talk seemed to bring a little bit of that light back and he couldn't stop the crook of his lips from forming a little smile. "You want me to..." "Break free." Jocelyn said with a playful wink, the two having found a bond over a shared love of Queen. "Are you guys flirting? This looks like flirting. I'm totally cool with it but like--" Simon's voice carried all the humor that Alec had expected from everything he'd seen on the RSP channel- he'd always seemed like the goofiest of the group. A shove from Magnus had Simon laughing and lifting his hands in a mock surrender. Jocelyn rolled her eyes though her smile was bright and she opened the folder, pulling out different papers and handing them to the men they belonged to respectively. "Alec, Clary and I went through your channel and we picked the videos with the most views, both covers and your originals, the same way we did with Magnus. What your homework is tonight is to go through this list and let me know if there's anything you want to add or remove. Remember that you have a 45 minute slot- so make sure the songs fit. It's okay if you go five minutes over, but we generally try to keep that to any crowd attention and loving you want to do after you perform. Magnus, you do the same, though I'm sure you want to keep your set, and Simon- anything you want to switch up?" Alec was completely baffled at the situation, he had always just assumed that artists picked out their own list of their most current music and then just random songs from different albums, but it made sense that they would go with the most popular since after all, that was what sold tickets. Simon was busy scribbling out one song and replacing it with another and Magnus---- Magnus was watching him. Alec froze, unable to tear his eyes away from the stare they'd become locked into, and it wasn't until Magnus gave a smile, a genuine one this time, that Alec was able to look away, instead focusing on the paperwork on the table. "This list is pretty good, I think I might replace two, but not too much more than that." Alec stuttered as he felt himself grow hot once more. What in the hell was going on with him? "Great, make sure you have it to me by 10 A.M tomorrow. The sound guys will need to go over everything with you and get pre-testing done, so we'll want to take care of that after to make soundcheck move smoothly tonight. Also, you're free to stay in your own place while we're in the city as long as you promise you'll be back on time, assuming you live in the city?" Jocelyn was excited herself to be near her own bed and it was very evident in her tone of voice. Looking around the table, Simon and especially Magnus looked just as relieved to be back home, even though they'd only been gone for less than a week. Alec could only imagine what it would be like in a couple weeks when they'd only be a month into the six month tour. "Yeah, I live about twenty minutes from here so I think that's great. My dogs will appreciate it." "Dogs? You have dogs? You should bring them!" Simon chirped, perking up at the mental image of having dogs with them all as stress relief. "Simon, no. There isn't enough room on the bus and we just started the tour. It's going to get crazy. Let's revisit that in a month, okay?" Jocelyn's words were only relenting at the end when Simon's smile dropped and she even noticed Magnus looked bummed. Alec smiled at the trio in front of him, feeling like they all were Jocelyn's new adopted kids. Admittedly it would be a little nice having a mom on the road, especially since this would be the first time Alec would be far from his own. There was no doubt he was a mama's boy, and there was nothing he would do to deny it if ever called out on it. As Jocelyn and Simon spoke about the setlist change once more, Alec's eyes caught Magnus's at the same time as Magnus had started looking at Alec, the two staring at each other subtly for a moment before Magnus was spoken to by Simon. This would definitely be an interesting start to a new beginning for Alec.

#someday stars #malec #au #youtube musicians #simon lewis #jocelyn fray #my fics

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ssttitdramon · 5 years

Text

The Road Trip to Florida

-IT X SSTTITD crossover-

Note: Here’s some actual crossover content, since my last post on a IT x SSTTITD crossover had very little to it and therefore, disappointing. Also, I’m placing them all in 1990, everyone is the same age as they are in their respective movies.

(Just as I was finishing this up- I finally noticed Ramón’s car has a Florida license plate- which could mean nothing, he might’ve stolen borrowed/bought a car in Florida for all we know. But since I'm taking in all the Morales crumbs they’ve dropped, Ramón is Florida Man™)

Mike mentions wanting to go to Florida and Ramón is all oh? Let's go then??

This calls for a rooooad triiip (listen, I know. But for Mike’s sake, it's happening.)

Mike, Beverly, Eddie and Chuck are buzzing around with where to stop on the way

They pull out a map and start marking up places

Immediately, Richie demands they see Times Square, "ol girl, Liberty" and the Empire State Building

To add to that, Ruth and Bill want to walk through Broadway

Stella, Chuck and Stan also want to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art

"So a whole day in New York."

Obviously you can't have twelve kids pile inside Ramón's car for a trip down the country like that

So they put their money together and rent out a van- making sure they've still got enough for gas and food

They spent their day in New York for sure

Right away, Auggie has a strict no-New-York-hot-dogs rule

And Eddie uses up all of his hand sanitizer in "Bacteria City"

Stella and Mike have the day scheduled down to where the group can go to every place everyone wants to see and can enjoy without chaos

They could've easily split into smaller groups, but these small town kids wanted to take it all in together- even with Chuck and Richie wearing those ridiculous I ❤ NY shirts

Actually, the only time they split up is in the art museum- Stan wants to avoid portraits altogether and he's joined by Ruth, Mike, Bill, Ramón and Stella

Mike's snapping a whole bunch of pictures of everyone the whole day

At first, Ruth hides from the camera, somewhat insecure about the fading scar on her face, but both Beverly and Stella give her some reassurance and slowly boost her confidence enough to let herself into some group pictures

They buy lunch and eat in Central Park- losing Auggie and Ben for 5 minutes before finding them in deep conversation with a tourist from France

*cue Stan and Eddie pretending to be French tourists for the rest of the day- and no, of course they're not a part of that obnoxious groupe*

Chuck spots the Central Park Carousel and makes everyone get on

He almost falls off his horse and nobody lets him forget about it for the rest of the day

They crawl walk up and down the Brooklyn Bridge- Stan and Ben pretend to be harsh architecture critics

That day it seemed like every cyclist was destined to almost run over Richie, so Ramón becomes the designated lookout for the boy- quick to pull him out of the way of annoyed New Yorkers

Unfortunately, they couldn't fit riding the Coney Island Cyclone into their schedule

"We'll go on our way back"

That night they stop at a campsite since no one wanted to sleep inside the van

Except Ruth and Eddie, she's afraid of getting bit by a spider and Eddie just refuses to sleep outside

The rest of them take out sleeping bags and settle down next to the van as Mike starts a fire

Bill suckers Stella into letting him read one of her stories out loud

But only if he reads one of his too

They all listen in, becoming paranoid of the darkness that surrounds them

Eventually they loosen up, but they still make Ruth and Eddie promise they won't drive off without them in the middle of the night

"Well if I wake up and see Bigfoot walking around- I give you all 10 seconds to get in."

For the whole trip: Auggie, Ramón, and Ruth are the designated drivers

Beverly, Mike and Stella alternate on keeping track of the map and making sure they don't pass by marked places they want to stop by

At some point, Bill swears up and down he can drive too, but they shut him down after hearing he's got about two hours worth of driving experience

When given the chance, Stan sits up front on the lookout for birds and sticks blue tabs inside his book for every East Coast bird he manages to spot

He reads off the description of every blue tab bird to Auggie, Ramón, and Ruth- comfortable enough to ramble on and on about why he finds them appealing

With everyone else, there are discussions about the government, aliens and milk before or after cereal…

"Guys, it's only 9 a.m. and you're alrea-"

"Hey I'm just saying, milk before cereal is absolutely barbaric. Back me up, Mike."

"Nah, I'm staying out of this one."

Their second destination is the Smithsonian’s National Zoo

“That lizard right there looks like your mom.”

"Funny, I was about to say it looked like you."

"Uh, why's the tiger staring at me like that."

"I don't know, Stan. Maybe she knows you got a B minus on the Government fi- oW OW OKAY SORRY"

Afterwards, they walk around D.C.

"They say you can see the whole monument reflected if you're at Lincoln's eyes, anyone else want to climb up there?"

"I’m fine with watching you four get arrested."

They trailed behind a random evening tour group

10 minutes in, they were asked to leave for being disruptive

“It’s not like we’re that interested in that giant dick sticking out anyway.”

They stop by a diner and they all eat “like I’ve never taken you anywhere.” (-Ramón)

Richie keeps stealing Ruth’s fries, only to flick them at Eddie

Which make the two start bickering and Ruth makes Stella sit in between the two boys

An old couple at a nearby table who have been watching the group in amusement and hear about their Florida plans- advise them to stop by the Luray Caverns the next day

Seeing that it was roughly two hours west of D.C.- they agree to it

That night they settle down at another campsite, this time Auggie makes the fire and he's damn proud of it

The next day they head to the Luray Caverns

Everyone's so mesmerized by it

Richie tries scaring Eddie, saying there are ghosts in small corners

Auggie, ever being the non-believing reasonable one, assures him there's no such thing in there with them

Chuck then joins Richie on a mission to scare Auggie and Eddie

Which didn't work and only ended up making Stella paranoid

Once they’re out, they start the 7 hour drive to Spoonauger Falls

Beverly has silently sworn off smoking while on the trip, so when she gets the occasional urge- Ben gives her gum while Stella keeps her mind busy talking about movies they've seen

Richie unsuccessfully tries to start an argument about Star Wars with them

Everyone else take naps on each other’s shoulders, dig into the book/comics boxes brought in by Ben and Chuck, or peek over Bill's shoulder as he draws

They also play cards- Ramón and Beverly have the most winning hands

Chuck tries card tricks on Auggie and Eddie

Auggie pulled 8 of Hearts while Eddie pulled King of Clubs

Asks "Are these your cards?" after pulling a Joker and 6 of Spades

"Sure, Chucks."

A flat tire leaves them stranded in a long empty road surrounded by trees

"See, this is how we all get murdered by some hitchhiker.”

“Oh shut up, you’re not helping.”

“Yeah, I can see it in the papers now. Twelve fools murdered on a road trip!”

“Ruth, please tell me there’s a spare...”

“Of course there is, it’s in the back. I checked it myself before leaving.”

After pulling over, everyone gets out to check the damage, which was just a nail that had torn through the rubber

As Ramon, Auggie and Bill replace the tire- Stella spots a figure walking towards them in the distance

“Uh guys, there’s someone walking over here.”

“Maybe he’s checking if we need help.”

“What if it’s Chuck’s killer hitchhiker?”

“Yeah well, I don’t like the way he’s walking.”

The person in question began to walk faster, their arm reaching to grab the stick poking from their back and pulling out what seemed to be an axe

“OH FUCK, WE GOTTA GO.”

They all scramble inside, nearly tripping over each other

As soon as the new wheel was secured in place, Bill rushed in carrying the jack and lug wrench as Auggie clumsily put away the flat tire in the back.

Luckily, Ramón sped off right before “Mr. Axe” got as close as 20 yards

They get to the falls at night, sleeping at a nearby campsite

Everyone was still anxious over Mr. Axe so they agreed on someone keeping watch for an hour each until morning

Which failed as soon as Bill fell asleep on his time at 3 a.m.

In the morning they walk through the trail and splash each other when they get to the water

Chuck manages to catch a spotted salamander and chases Stella and Ruth with it

Ben and Stan sit by the bank when a Carolina Wren lands by Stan’s hand

Mike manages to get a picture of the boy’s ecstatic face, eyeing down the curious bird that walked around him and flew off to a nearby branch, already harmonizing with other birds

Auggie gets completely soaked by Richie and Beverly

The three of them chase down Ramón for laughing too hard, so now you’ve got two completely soaked bois

From there to Florida, Ramón and Auggie sleep the entire way burrito-wrapped in towels

The next morning they get to Honeymoon Island State Park, an island recommended by Ramón himself- as it’s quite close to home

Mike is the first to get out when they reach the beach, he’s got the biggest smile just feeling the sand under his feet and runs into the waves

#scary stories to tell in the dark #ssttitd #it #it: chapter two #the losers club #it x ssttitd #mine #sir these are my emotional support fictional characters #y'all have been super nice in the tags/notes lately btw- thank you so much :)#someone actually thanked me for writing ready to hear it? how cool is that??#google probably thinks i'm planning a trip with all the research i've done

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justkending · 5 years

Text

Used to Be Overlooked. Chapter 26.

Series Summary: Steve Rogers was walking down the streets of Brooklyn after finishing a mission. The goal was just to take some time to clear his mind along the city streets, but when he runs into a gorgeous young lady that looks extremely familiar… How can he go about moving on? Who is she? What does he know her from? Was that memory even from this decade?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Rosalyn Ember/ Y/N Erskine)

Word Count: 3100+

Series Masterlist

Chapter 26:

“I’m ready.”

You walked over to the door with determination taking control of your actions and thoughts. You heard the click that unlocked the giant metal door to the holding room. Taking another deep breath you wrapped your hand around the handle and pulled it open.

You could feel everyone's eyes on you as it shut behind you. Leaving just Garrison, a guard in the corner, and you in the room. The only thing separating you from the rest of the team was the thick metal wall and the double sided mirror that acted as a window for everyone else.

You turned your body seeing Garrison leaned back in his chair smugly, and his hands crossed in his lap. He had an eat-shit-grin on his face, and you could tell he was enjoying how uneasy you were right now.

You quickly shook off any remaining nerves you felt and straighten your posture coming to sit in the seat directly across from him. Forget being scared. This piece of crap deserved to hear what you had to say. You were going to let him have it…

But first some answers.

“Awe, hello doll-face,” he hummed your old nickname. “You look amazing considering-”

“Cut the shit Garrison. What was the serum you put in me?” you said sternly cutting him off and not breaking your stoic face.

“Wow. Straight and to the point, huh? I see that time has helped you grow into the independent woman you always were,” he said moving forward and placing his interlaced, handcuffed hands on top of the table. “You know with the whole ‘women run the world’ and ‘are the boss’ crap nowadays. Got to say, I don’t like it on most women, but you? You can pull it off,” he said with devil laced smirk.

“What was the serum you put in me?” you asked again.

“Really? No small talk? No, ‘how have you been all these years?’ Just stupid questions about-”

“You kidnapped me. Beat me. Tied me to a metal table. Injected me with mystery liquid, and you think I want to ask how you’ve been all these years?” you said harshly. You let out an angry chuckle before leaning forward like him and giving him a deadly glare. “Answer my question Bates. What. Was. The serum. You. Put. In. Me?”

He looked you up and down with a smirk still evident on his face. He liked this side of you. It was making him think old thoughts even if he wasn’t supposed to.

“Huh,” he laughed out. “Ok, fine. We’ll skip the small talk. You want to know what was in the injection?” he asked clearly just to get you to talk again. You didn’t budge though and kept your face deadly. “Ok, ok. Not that you don’t already know, but it slowed down your healing.”

“Be more descriptive.”

“What more do you want me to tell you? It seems with how well you’re getting around, it didn’t have any of the bad side effects it could have,” he shrugged.

“What side effects?” you said furrowing your eyebrows more.

“Not healing. Getting worse. Fatigue. Throwing up your insides. Fainting. Coughing up blood. You know, the usual stuff,” he said no-big-deal like and leaning back in his chair in a more comfortable way.

“Usual stuff?” You paused putting together what he was meaning. “Did you do this to other people, Garrison?” you questioned. He just looked at you with no expression. “Garrison!”

“It started with lab rats, but then…” he paused.

“Then what?” you gritted.

“People volunteered.”

“No, you-”

“They thought they were getting a new way to become more like you. And I wasn’t fully lying about that, but,” he shrugged. “I figured I try some things on them before doing it to myself.”

“How many?” you said feeling sick that you were the cause of this. “How many people did you do this too?”

“Eh, lost track. I’m sure if you get a hold of Edgar he could give you an exact number.”

“Then give me a fucking ball park Garrison! How many did you hurt?” you shouted placing your hands on both sides of you on the table to steady your anger.

Steve was watching closely on the other side. He was feeling just as sick and angry as you, but he knew he couldn’t march in there guns a blazing just to defend you. You could handle yourself and you needed this more than him. It wasn’t until he mentioned experimenting on others that he was about to step in.

He took a small step to the locked door unconsciously, but Bucky already had a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Don’t. Let her do it,” Bucky whispered to his heated friend.

Steve stayed back fighting every urge to go in there and save you. He knew they needed the information though. He had to fight it.

“Language my dear.” Garrison eased. “Wow. Where did your mannerism go? You’re just as bad as the gorilla man in there you’re supposedly dating,” he huffed in annoyance.

“Garrison-”

“About 120. We experimented on about 120,” he rolled his eyes.

You took a second to breath. 120 hurt, poked, and prodded just so he could make himself more like you. This was all your fault. No one could tell you otherwise.

“How- How many are-” you started getting choked up.

“About 5 made it out. They didn’t change completely, and lost everything they gained about a week later. The rest didn’t get past the final stages. They weren’t as strong as you dollface. You and me are the only two who are functioning as well as us.” he said proudly.

What kind of sick person-

“You absolute piece of shit!” you shouted lunging over the table in fury. You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. This man deserves the worse, and you were going to be the first to help him get there.

You landed a few punches that he took without a fight. You were on top of him while he fell back in his chair in the ground. You were sending punch after punch not caring that the pain in your ribs and fist were radiating through your body. A little pain is nothing compared to the hundreds he killed.

Seconds after you delivered the 6th-7th punch, you felt hands wrap around your middle. You thought it was the guard from across the room, but when they pulled you up and distanced you from Garrison, they turned you to face their owners. You saw the blonde hair and the bright blue eyes of Steve as he held you close scared that you were going to pull away and finish the job. Not that he would be mad about it, but it was best you didn’t beat Garrison to a pulp just yet.

You couldn’t hear anything outside of the raging thoughts in your head. It was muffled, and you just saw Steve mouthing what looked like your name.

As if in slow motion, you turned back seeing Bucky and the guard from earlier picking up Garrison from his chair and sitting him up straight. His nose was gushing, and you had managed to split his eyebrow and lip. You knew how to land a punch that was for sure, and you were definitely letting your training be used on the piece of trash.

Slowly, you heard Steve’s voice finally start to cut through.

“Y/N? Hey, look at me!” he said gently but assertively. “Hey, hey. Look at me ok?”

You turned back with his hand guiding your face to him. He cupped your cheeks and looked back and forth between your eyes trying to get a read on you.

“Y/N, talk to me.” he said unsure what to do to help calm you.

“I-I-” you started, but you felt that queasy uneasy feeling in your gut start to come back now that the adrenaline was cutting back.

Feeling sick all of a sudden, you pushed away from Steve as best you could and bolted for the door. You quickly ran to the closest trashcan and emptied out your stomach. You felt small hands that you guessed were Wanda’s come and pull your hair out of the way.

She confirmed it was her once she started speaking calming reassurance in your ear. She rubbed a hand up and down your back. They were quickly replaced by the larger hands of a man, and you could see Steve lean down beside you as you threw up the last bit. Such a nice sight, right?

Once you had nothing left to get out. You pulled back catching your breath and slumped on the wall. Steve had been there next to you the whole time, and already had a tissue as well as water ready for you. You wiped your face, and guzzled down the water to get rid of the vomit taste in your mouth as best as you could.

You looked up seeing the door to Garrison shut, and Tony, Bucky, and Wanda standing in front of you waiting to see your next move. They were concerned and weren’t pushing their limits, but you couldn’t take it anymore.

You turned into Steve and started to cry in his shirt. Without a second thought, he wrapped his arms around you while you two sat on the floor, and he consoled you as you let it out. He knew you were feeling guilty and hurt by the things Garrison said, and he knew you just needed to let it out. He was more than happy to be the person that you wrapped yourself into.

Wanda saw that you two needed a moment, and motioned for the other guys to move somewhere else.

After about 5 minutes, you pulled back and sniffled the last tears. Steve had brought the whole tissue box, and handed it to you.

Lucky for you, you weren’t wearing any makeup, so you didn’t have to worry about black mascara running down your cheeks, or marking Steve’s shirt.

“Sorry, I-”

“Hey, hey,” Steve said pulling you back in and placing a soft kiss on your head. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. None of this is your fault.”

You let out a fake laugh.

“Agree to disagree,” you mumbled.

“Y/N-”

“Don’t. Don’t try to make me the hero in this because I don’t want to be. I-I just want answers,” you said pushing away slightly.

“Ok, maybe we should come back tomorrow-”

“No. It needs to be done now,” you said sternly standing up and brushing your clothes off.

“Y/N, you just threw yourself across that table to attack him. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for you to-”

“I don’t care. I need answers, and I need them now,” you never turned to Steve. Instead you were staring down the window where Garrison was wrinkling his nose after your hit. “Wanda,” you shouted.

“Yeah?” she said coming up to you.

“I need you to come in there and watch me,” you said crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I can-”

“Y/N, think about this. Are you in the right mindset to do this?” Steve said coming and standing in front of you so that you were looking right at him.

“No, but neither was he when he tortured me,” you said going back into boss mode. “Wanda will keep tabs on me. If I get worked up again, she can pull me back.”

“Why don’t I-” Steve started.

“No. You stay here. You’re too close to this.”

By that, you knew he would launch himself at Garrison if he so much as sent you a grin. It was best to keep only one hot head in there at a time.

“She’s not wrong Steve. Wanda can handle it,” Tony stepped in.

“Ok, and what about her mental state? She just had a breakdown not 10 minutes ago, and you want to throw her back in the ring?” Steve said angrily.

“I believe in her. If she says she can do it. She can do it,” Tony argued.

“Tony, you don’t know-”

“Stop.” You effectively cut the two off. “I’m going back in no matter what any of you say. Either you can help, or you can bicker. Either way I’m going. Wanda, let’s go.”

They watched as you walked to the door, and it opened instantly. You paused before looking back at Wanda who nodded and followed behind you. Steve was about to come in too, but the door shut, and Bucky pulled him back.

“Let her go Steve. She needs this, and you know it.”

Steve let out an annoyed huff before shaking his head and moving to the window. You were too hard headed for your own good, but there wasn’t much that could stop you. He just had to let you do your thing no matter how much he hated it.

“Back for more?” Garrison coughed. “Got to say, you got a mean right hook. Have you been training?”

“When you had an abusive ex? Yeah, you learn how to throw a solid punch eventually,” you huffed.

Steve heard that and wanted to throw his fist in the window and crawl through it right there knowing that you were talking about Garrison. He knew you had been hurt, but now he knew exactly how and by who.

“Steve. Don’t,” Bucky said cutting off the path to the door if it came to it.

“I’m going to kill him,” Steve gritted through his teeth.

“Ok, but how about after we get the answers.”

Steve sent Bucky a death glare before turning back to watch you.

“Well, I have to say, you’ve got a lot more muscle now than back then,” Garrison continued.

“The serum. Tell us what you did,” Wanda spoke up to get you two back on track.

“Aren’t you that witch that has those weird red things-”

“Answer her question,” you said cutting him off harshly.

“Fine! As long as you don’t punch me again. Remember? I don’t heal as fast as you,” he winked like the prick he was. “So, as you already know, I was able to make a small formula that helped me stay young like you. It all helped when we got your blood back in the 50’s or 60’s. I lose track of the decade,” he laughed getting stern looks in return. “Anyway, we ran out of blood to test after you left.”

“I ran away because you were holding me captive and torturing me for information,” you corrected him with venom lacing your words.

“Sure, if that’s how you want to see it,” he rolled his eyes. “So, after we unsuccessfully tracked you down all these years, I started doing different equations and formulas based on the information I had. Thus bringing us to the 120 that I worked with.” The sick feeling came back as he continued. “But because their were side effects I didn’t want it taking a toll on me, I tried it on them hoping that one would take off and get to where you are.”

“It never worked,” you stated.

“No, unfortunately, and whatever is keeping me young I haven’t been able to reciprocate it. I’m just glad it’s gotten me this far.” he said raising his hands. “I mean, I would love to be where you’re at, what? 26? 27? Instead, I’m in my forties. I mean technically 80’s but look like my forties.”

“The serum you put in me. It’s different though, right?” you said ignoring his rant.

“If you mean did I insert something different than I did in them? Yes. I twinged the recipe.”

“How?”

“Modified it to instead of change you, to just slow you. Quite simple. Just had to change a few elements here and there.”

“There’s more to it than that. You never finished the transfusion. It wasn’t done doing it’s job. What was it supposed to do at it’s full extent?”

“Look at you smarty pants. Do you really want to know?” he said leaning forward with that damn evil grin. You sent him a glare showing you weren’t playing around. “Truly. It was supposed to just slow you down while I had you. Then… After a day or two you were just supposed to get worse. Never heal. Eventually just crumble until your memory had faded, and you were a vegetable.”

You sucked in a breath. You were supposed to be dead. He tried killing you. The bastard tried killing you and turning you into his own personal lab rat.

“You-”

Wanda grabbed your hand and a calm vibration went through your body. The anger and despise was brought down from it’s boiling point, and you held yourself from lungeing at him again.

“Yes, I know. It’s bad. Me trying to wipe your memory and basically keep you as my own blood bag. But you left me no choice Y/N. You were always on the run. Could never catch you. I figured if, I did... Well, might as well make it impossible for you to ever run again,” he said completely unbothered by his thoughts.

“You were going to let me go brain dead and use my blood so that you could come close to immortality?” you asked choking up a bit again.

“If you put it that way, I sound like a bad guy.”

“Are you supposed to be something else? Cause all I see in front of me is a pathetic excuse of a man, that has no life other than chasing down a dream he’ll never achieve because he’s too incompetent to get to the answers,” you laughed harshly. “Well, I hate to break it to you Garrison, but you lose. You’re stuck and will never get to experience any form of life, or even see the damn sunlight again if I have anything to do with it.” You stood from your chair and leaned over to him so that he looked right in your Y/E/C eyes. “I hope you have a great time rotting in jail for the next 100 years. Thanks to my blood, you’ll probably make it that long and you’ll hate every second of it. I’m glad you got what you asked for.” You looked him up and down with a small victorious smile. “Have a horrible fucking life Bates. You deserve it.”

With that, you stood up and walked out of the room with Wanda right behind you. Last thing you heard was the bastard shouting profanities at you about how you didn’t win, and he would ruin your life.

Chapter 27

Used to be Overlooked Tag:

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If I tagged you and you aren’t normally on my tag list, I thought you would enjoy the story. Fair warning, it is a slow burn so we will get to the bottom of the issue later, but the burn is what makes it soooooo sweet. I’m really excited for this series, and would love your feedback:) Thank you!

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norcumii · 5 years

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Reblogged from the prior tumbl, originally posted 02/04/2016. Question submitted by @makiruz. Slightly reformatted to avoid a readmore cut and whatnot.

In Full of Sith, they always ask new guests how they got into Star Wars. And you know? That's a good question, how did you got into Star Wars?

HEH. Oooh, that’s a bit of a loaded question. So I’ll give you the short answer, which I suspect would fit the thing you mentioned what I haven’t heard of; and then because I’m a wordy bastard what overshares, the long answer which is more accurate and has content warnings for self harm and suicide.

SHORT ANSWER

It was the 80’s. I was young, in single digits, though I couldn’t tell you exactly what age. I was already dealing with an irregular sleep cycle, though all I knew was I had a flashlight, a pile of books near/on my bed, and a thick pound puppies duvet to read under.

I don’t know if I was in my room or on my way to/from the bathroom, but I could hear my parents watching something downstairs. Swooshy noises, a shrill screee, and some thwoom bzzts.

Of course I went downstairs.

I don’t know if it was episode 5 or 6. I’ve a fondness for 6, but carbonite left a HUGE fucking impression on me, and my parents have always approved of muppets, so Yoda.

I knew I loved it. I didn’t have any toys, though I think somewhere there was a print edition of A New Hope running around. I do recall multiple sleepovers at my grandmother’s place – a tiny house on acres and acres of woods – and she’d sometimes pull out Return of the Jedi and we’d watch it together on her tiny TV. Later on I’d be in bed, staring out at woods and trees that I knew, but seemed huge to a little kid, and I’d dream of Ewoks.

RotJ was Gram’s favorite, and for many years mine, too.

I like Ewoks.

VERY LONG ANSWER

TW: mental illness, depression, self harm, suicide, abuse

In late elementary, early middle school, my brother and I were basically reading ANYTHING we could get our hands on. He sometimes dove into books that didn’t interest me, so I’d read the first of something and then be bored and he’d keep going.

Star Wars EU was one of those. It was too grim for me. I think I didn’t run into any of the really good writers. It was all Han and Luke and Leia on the covers, so take that for what you will. There also was no Wookiepeia, so I was depending heavily on the writers’ abilities to convey things to someone very visual, yet pretty impatient with descriptions, so it never took.

I was in high school when The Phantom Menace came out. Mine honorable brother was off at college, so it was with great excitement on my part, and bemused tolerance on my parents’, that they and I went off to the theater.

On the one hand, I was dazzled.

On the other, there was Jar Jar. There was the fact that I hadn’t been impressed with the re-release of the OT – Han shot first. FITE ME. There was the fact that TPM didn’t feel like Star Wars, which was darker and grittier and…simpler to me.

So I wrote it off. Packed Star Wars away as “one of those things” that I’d been into, but felt like I was moving past. I was obsessed with Gargoyles, I was looking at going to college, and I would keep m’damn ewoks without needing to try to extend that vision with gungans.

College sucked. I went in, not sure if I wanted to go into English, for writing, or Psych, because I had always been what I’d now call The Mom Friend. I met a nice guy who tried, but things never really clicked between us, and there was an interesting bit that he was mad about Star Wars and insisted that I read the Rogue Squadron books.

That was a Good Decision. Dating him, not so much.

I had a huge assortment of Life Issues. Got into an abusive relationship that would end up lasting 14 years. Transferred schools. Got the fucking Psych degree, though literally only by the grace of a professor who didn’t want to see the kid not graduate just ‘cause she couldn’t numbers and I did go in and try. Talked to him and still couldn’t with the maths but the effort was there to bump me a few points above failing.

I was burnt out. I was depressed. I tried killing myself a few times – not very good at it, as you can see. Took up self-harm as a coping mechanism. Failed in the still never successful search for a decent therapist in Pittsburgh. Got a job slinging food, because needed some kind of income, and people without pressure was nice. The keeping on a schedule thing failed, leading to an average of 4 hours sleep a night. Losing contact with family and friends because I couldn’t stand the pressure of “how are you?” and “what’s going on in your life?” Clinging to Warcraft because repetitively farming was better than clawing open my back or neck again, and the people there were ok with some rando dropping out of sight on a dime, and only a persistent few had the grace and spirit to make it past some serious defensive issues of mine.

I stopped writing. Stopped caring about Gargoyles, stopped being able to see into that AU I’d made for myself of a crazy clan and the weird human who survived cancer with them.

Stopped going on IM, for the same reasons I stopped talking to people.

I still kept track of some folks via LiveJournal. A handful of the Gargoyles folks who were determined, gods know why and thank you, since I know several are here on the tumbles and I genuinely love you to bits.

I quit my job after five years, because enough was enough between the fact that it had all the hallmarks of an abusive relationship and I was fucking tired of being a manager without any actual authority, and the endless hamster wheel of hiring and people quitting because it was a nice, but highly dysfunctional place.

I missed the customers, though. Several of them are here too, and it’s kinda funny ‘cause I know in at least one case I talked to them about Star Wars. I still hope they’re not too shellshocked that I kinda went down the rabbit hole pretty deep.

Started getting more sleep. Not less anxiety, not less depressed. Tried out a few depression medications, with very mixed results.

Then one day @dogmatix came into the LJ area I still hung out in. Enthusiastically recommending to all and sundry that if there is even a shred of interest in Star Wars, THERE IS THIS THING YOU SHOULD READ.

She drew a Wookiee. That was a character?

I’d always liked Wookiees.

And I needed something to read.

Star Wars was one of those things, from back in the day before things went to shit. Low investment, since if I didn’t like it or didn’t care, then eh. Whatevs. Dogmatix was one of the Gargs holdouts still in my circle (or whatever it is that I was hovering at the edges of), and in the past I’d liked her recommendations more often than I disliked them.

I’m also endlessly weak to her art.

Wookiee.

So I did that thing. That so many of us here have done. It took me about 2 weeks to get through Re-Entry. It had trouble taking root in the depression, but Obi-Wan going crackers was something I could empathize with and appreciate.

There was the hope that had been missing from the EU novels I’d tried reading back in the day.

There was Wookieepedia, which meant I could stop and see what a Nautolan was. I had tabs open for DAYS so when someone named Adi or Gallia who were apparently the same person? I could see who that was. I got stupidly distressed that Abella didn’t have an entry, until I twigged and checked for a Chitanook, and holy shit I could never tell what character was going to crop up as canon, obscure EU character, or home brewed.

I honestly expected to set it aside, get updates as they happened, and gradually step away because that’s how things were going at the time.

But I still needed something to read, to stave off empty hours when my brain was too full of screaming.

On Ebon Wings. I’d loved The Crow when I’d seen it back in high school, and that story tapped into the powerful visuals and the lovely message I’d adored and in ways I still don’t quite understand it somehow validated that I could be mad and still be ok. Maybe. Maybe not now, but someday.

Maybe.

So I gave in and got a Tumbl. I’d been a stubborn holdout, regularly checking the same half dozen feeds daily because dammit, I don’t wanna go through the trouble and I was close to giving up on LJ and another journaly thing? That was stupid. But I wanted to follow Flamethrower and Dogmatix, and it made it infinitely easier to follow several blogs (and oh GODS one of those is a mutual and holy fuck I swear I screamed the day that happened and it’s still a high to realize).

Dogmatix wrote Möbius and Accidental Timeshare, wherein Venge goes universe hopping. That’s also a weakness of mine.

I’d been kvetching IRL about the treadmill and wanting something to watch, and someone mentioned in Dogmatix’s feed The Clone Wars – which conveniently was on Netflix. So I figured what the hell. I was disinclined to like clones – ‘cause yeesh, they’re the reason the Jedi all died, and yeah, ok, the Order was SERIOUSLY FUCKED UP, but.

I still had never seen Episodes 2 or 3.

I turned on the Clone Wars movie, and within ten minutes I nearly fell off the back of the treadmill due to crying.

THIS was the Star Wars of my youth. THIS was what I remembered. A little grim. Lots of quips.

That sound. Lightsabers igniting. A-wings rumbling overhead. Blasterfire, and that music.

I had to stop and calm down and for the first time in ages WRITE [, because I just had to ramble about how it all hit me in the feels]. I had no idea I’d missed this.

By the end of the movie I’d decided ok, I wanted more. Wasn’t sold on these clone fellas, and damned if I could tell one set of armor from another (this is ALSO due to the treadmill screen being calibrated to be a compromise of a very short person – me – and a very tall person, which means neither person gets a decent view but that’s not what the treadmill tv is for).

I’d been told there was an order to the episodes, but I didn’t care. Continuity is for those who think about the future, and I was still regularly suicidal.

So the first episode I watched was Yoda romping around a planet, playing with droids while three clone troopers tried to babysit his mad little ass.

They had me, all in one episode. I loved these guys. They had individuality, I could tell them apart by the voices (which is sometimes just as important to me as visuals) even if I couldn’t name them, and the personalities –

They were loyal. Their primary concern was old batty Yoda which I had adored as a child because MUPPETS. They were willing to die to keep him safe and there was this lovely reciprocity in taking care of each other and all of them, clones and Jedi alike were doomed to extinction and I don’t think I knew yet HOW the clones were except they weren’t in the OT so there was shit going down.

Tragic figures, loyal found family, incredible voice acting, Batty Old Yoda who OH YEAH FUCKING KICKED SO MUCH ASS I COULD NEVER GET ENOUGH.

I wanted to keep those three clones. I was willing to keep them all.

Final blow, that knocked me into the fandom so hard I’ll be surprised if I ever leave?

THIS.

The origins of Balance. This is the post that started a simple notion, to try to write something when I’d gone….anywhere from 7 to 10 years of not writing A SINGLE. DAMNED. THING of substance – and that was after thinking I might try to get a degree related to it.

Darth Wraith was a tentative idea. I was scared @deadcatwithaflamethrower would be irked I wanted to play in her sandbox (oh my gods I was inserting myself into a conversation with her this amazing person who wrote blindingly well and so damn much and how the FUCK was I daring to speak up about a silly half DREAM I’d had because once again I couldn’t sleep).

Then, because I was trying to break out of the depression, the cycles of mental ill health, and if I was on this tumbls thing, fuck it, I’d try the IM thing again.

I’d been gone long enough that pretty much no one on my contact list was still there. That…was ok. There wasn’t the pressure.

And Dogmatix popped on, asking if I wanted to share details about this Sith Qui-Gon thing.

I had A SCENE. ONE. SCENE. And she was spinning it off into this EPIC, which at first I was gleeful because she had neat ideas and I couldn’t wait to see what she would do with it and then wait, she’s not talking about writing it herself, this is more about something WE could work on.

Thank gods it was IM, because I had a little panic about commitment to a project when I regularly was sure I wasn’t going to see tomorrow and if I didn’t wake up one morning that’d be MORE than ok.

Still. There was that itch. The visuals in my brain. The characters I’d started to like in Flamethrower’s universe, which had formed my mental voices for them.

The only sound in my head for so long was just screaming.

Writing down that scene in Knock On Effect, where Venge meets Wraith – that felt good. It never changed much from the first draft to what was posted. The rest grew, and quickly. It was clear if we were doing this, then there were multiple stories, spanning in universe years.

And then there were spinoffs. Wonderful ideas and plots spiraling away from this one notion, and gods I wanted to write about those glorious clones.

How’d I get into Star Wars?

Chance. One strange little step at a time, and a bunch of miracles and horrors that kept me bleeding but not dying. Damn good fic. The kindness of friends. The generosity of strangers.

The tragedy of a once great order of space monks, and their allies-forced-to-be-betrayers clones.

One little picture, of Qui-Gon Jinn with Sith eyes.

#tumblageddon #reviving from the purge #star wars #tw #self harm #suicide #depression #mental illness #abuse #emotional #Norcumi has Opinions again #deadcatwithaflamethrower #dogmatix #i did not expect to cry when writing this #star wars saved my life #literally

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braindamageforbeginners · 5 years

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Q: Can I pray for you?

Yes, Godsdammit, go ahead and pray for me. I get that people don’t want to be weird, and, for some inexplicable internet reason, I’m rapidly becoming some weird brain cancer idol/shrine on Facebook and Instagram (which would explain the creepy robo-prayer calls I occasionally get from :prayer centers” (I’m also old enough to remember when “prayer centers” were called “churches” and/or “temples”). So, here’s the deal: even though I consider myself resourceful, lucky (in a weird way), and cunning, there is literally no way I would know whether you’re praying for me unless you specifically ask or tell me. I appreciate consent, but, really, just go ahead and pray. Unless God is like a special delivery by UPS, and I have to be home at a certain hour to take delivery (again, theologically, that would explain an awful lot). My apologies for running roughshod over a good-hearted request and all that, but your own Holy Book* actually has something applicable: “ And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites. are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and. in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men “ One almost feels a screenwriting possibility...

EXT. GOLGOTHA - DAY - In the background, the followers of Brian are singing an unorthodox but merry song. A crowd gathers around one of the crosses. CHRIST: Why hast thou forsaken me?! CHRISTIAN 1: We haven’t forsaken you, dude. We’re just waiting for the “Kickstarter”pledges to reach the stretch goals before we save you. You okay, Jesus? CHRIST: Oh, rather.** I was wondering, if it wouldn’t be too much to ask for some pliers and a step-stool. CHRISTIAN 1: Yes, since they haven’t been invented, yet. But you seem like you got this. CHRIST: Hang on... CHRISTIAN: See you in three days, dude

I mean, I get that the LDS got into trouble for baptizing Anne Frank, and I’m not advocating that anyone do a post-mortem baptism, unless they can rig me up like “Weekend at Bernie’s,” but, at the same time, Anne probably has bigger, more pressing issues than what is or isn’t being done in her name (especially since we’re still hostile, as a nation, toward refugees and immigrants, which is what the Frank family hoped to be... before the US denied them travel visas). i can only base that on my own experience, but I feel it’d be faster and easier to get forgiveness than permission. I could be wrong, but I’ve never heard of anyone in dire straits getting angry, post-facto, at being prayed for.

So, today marks the second-to-last infusion before, in an ideal world, the Warlocks cut me loose for observation. Again, it’s been an utterly miserable year, but, at the same time, I do feel almost as if I’ll be adrift. When you put every last scrap of energy and potential into a task like this (not dying a horrible death), suddenly having time or energy to do things like carve out a career (or at least make some sort of money on this blog)(again, you guys are only getting a thin dribble of output; there was literally a brief time in my life where had three modes: writing, sleeping, and library).. At the same time, not aggressively and preemptively treating a cancer that is infamous for coming back, is somewhat scary, although I know unending chemo will eventually kill me.

Which brings me to today’s topic, body horror. This is the broad trope/genre of biology horror, usually best-seen in David Croenenberg’s films. It’s not an uncommon sensation for cancer patients to have some distal clump of cells come alive and attack. For most patients, however, that story usually ends with, “And then me arse fell off, and the doctors knew what it was!”(Reminder to self: schedule colonoscopy and/or other recommended preventive/screening procedures, ASAP). For neurosurgery patients - those lucky enough to end the story with, “And then I had neurosurgery,” It’s a slightly different story. For the first few months post-surgery, your sutures hurt like hell - like any major surgery would, I’d imagine. Then comes the longer phase, when they have an odd, itching/stinging sensation. For everyone keeping track, that’s not a continuous sensation - it’ll be maybe a minute or two out of every week, and, when you reach up to scratch, the pain receptors in your scalp will slap you away. After that, you enter the body horror part of neurosurgery, the itchy phase. This is the shortest of the three, and I will admit, horrifying dander is one of the less-offputting aspects of it (you don’t know what relief is until you scratch out self-dissolving stitches). I apologize for that graphic description, but it’s important. So, on November 1 of last year - er, 2017 - I had my most recent neurosurgery (that’s #3, for those keeping track at home). And then, as expected (There’s a reason I started the blog well before any treatment), everything in my life went into hyperdrive, and I didn’t have time to keep track of my new scars (and, really, once handfuls of hair start coming out in the shower, you’re disinclined to investigate further). So, it wasn’t until very, very recently that I realized how very itchy the right side of my head is. Which bodes well for the time frame of entering the recovery period shortly.

I mentioned in a previous post that I never got a PICC or CVS - which are semi-permanent venous access devices - because I had a shunt in my skull last year (2017), and one opening for opportunistic infections every election cycle seems a more-than-generous opportunity. In a year of chemo, that’s generally seemed like the better bet (for me, anyway), even though I have a blood draw every week. Today was the one time I’ve faltered in that decision. I have mentioned that I am notoriously hard to install in IV in - it’s a horrible feeling when you’re on a first-name basis with all the nurses in the chemo ward; it’s dwarfed when not only can you recognise everyone, but the nurse at your station not only recognizes you, she literally ducks out on-sight and calls Alex over)(the nurse on shift today gets full marks for listening to me complain about Alex - “He’s not terribly affable or gentle, and way too fast” - and retorting, “Well, that’s men.”). My previous find-a-vein record is seven. I don’t know if that record was achieved today, I stopped counting after four However, eventually an IV was installed and Keith Richards’ essence distilled into my circulatory system. Then, the second hour, we all waited for my heart to explode (yes, that is exactly what they do, although they have an automated blood pressure cuff to aid their measurements). Then, oddly enough, I encountered a friend from a support group, Which wouldn’t normally be worthy of comment, except she’s a fan (hey, Sarah!), and, based the latest data, the folks who actually use social media and/or social publishing to keep tabs on me/read my stuff are: 1. Close friends and family that are legally obligated to do so

2. Distant friends and family that I probably haven’t thought about in years (hey guys)(if you’re worried that you’re “distant friends and family,” I’ll pray for you)

3. Inhabitants of Narnia or the Hundred-Acre Wood (or wherever people on the Internet live

4. Racing in or out of parking lots as I am leaving

The bad news for today - hopefully - is that this infusion is going to be a bad one, based on how sore I already am, just 3 hours post-infusion. The good news is, I’ve got an Advent Calendar of assorted mostly-legal substances to help my battered psyche onward, I mean, drugs are bad, kids, unless directly monitored and prescribed by a physician.*** Anyway, next week will be the last infusion, hopefully, and, even more hopefully it’ll be followed by a long, uneventful life. That would be ideal, for me; however, since my life is run on the principle of, “What would make the most interesting narrative” I’m going with, “Even odds I’ll come down with Ebola before Monday.”

*My Holy Book is, of course, Dolly Parton’s autobiography. **In this adaptation, Jesus is played by Hugh Laurie, circa 1993 ***Odd final thought of the day: gateway drugs are real, and they serve as the way out of some amazingly awful other drugs.

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50shadesofmittens · 6 years

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Completely fucking unfinished but I wanted something from this AU to make it online

…/…/…/…/…/…|…\…\…\…\…\…

Millennium 42, unknown restaurant

…/…/…/…/…/…|…\…\…\…\…\…

There is something very pertinent about anticipation.

Some would think that minutes were nothing in the life of an eternal, but there are certain things that can only occur on small time scales. There’s a certain mix of terror, doubt, and a conviction one struggles to maintain, and this mixture can only be experienced in the handful of minutes that it lasts. Time seems to stretch out and the feeling weighs on a person even once the wait is over, but mere days later that terror is forgotten. People remember the way they botched their audition or stumbled during their interview, but no longer can they remember why.

I spotted her on the catwalk wearing a nice dress and a headscarf. Even her satchel looked like something a local woman would keep, and at a distance I wasn’t sure if she’d dressed up the bag she always kept at hand or splurged and got a new one from a local shop. It was certainly fancy enough for her to pass as someone who had access or gifts from my own funds, with my silk jacket and gold-woven cravat.

I flagged her down. She smiled at me and left to maneuver her way over. Ringing a bell summoned the waiter, and I gave the man a brief description of my ‘young lady friend.’ The server smiled and promised they’d send in the right girl.

Sure enough, when the knock came and the door opened, she was right behind the waiter. Before we were even alone she leapt onto the plush sofa to embrace me.

“Oh my darling, it’s been so long! Oh, we have so much to talk about, so much to do! Mwah!” She cried with all the drama of a rapturous preacher as she planted a kiss on my cheek.

The waiter bowed swiftly and closed the door, leaving the two occupants alone for our ‘reunion.’ She remained enthusiastic in her hugging, and so I told her;

“You know jumping on me disturbs the displacer field. The waiter might’ve noticed.”

“But he didn’t.” A snicker echoed through the small dining room, and she pulled back with a shit-eating grin. “A man like that knows full well to look the other way as soon as a young, pretty thing moves in to greet her host. You wouldn’t have picked this place without checking every security detail and privacy guarantee. You always read the fine print.”

“It’s still an unnecessary risk you created.”

“I know, darling.” She kissed me again, still leaning on my arm. “But if you’re going to go through all the trouble of setting me up as your quote-unquote mistress, it’s only polite that I give them a show. To respect the effort you’ve put in, I mean.”

“Ana-” I said, trying and failing to be annoyed by her antics.

“.” Ana said, finally leaning back and doing her best impression of my “Ana-be-serious” face. “Is there something I’ve done wrong?”

I didn’t answer, knowing this game all too well. “Is the planet about to be exterminatus’d? Is my better half about to find me?” Ana continued, “Is one of my brothers about to jump out from behind that curtain and drag me, kicking and screaming, all the way home so he can cut off my head in front of billions of onlookers?”

“No. None of those things are about to happen.”

“Then you can stop looking so dour and glum.” Ana flicked my nose, before settling a bit farther away on the couch. “Now, I’m sure you’ve got some terrible news about Angelos or Cadia or something, but it’s been too long and I want to mooch off your funding. Let’s get lunch first and catch up on the non-apocalyptic news- however scarce it may be these days- and then you can fill me in on who’s killing who.”

“Ana-” I sighed. “please keep it at a reasonable amount.”

“Perks of being my parole officer; every lunch meeting is a feast.”

“You know we’re supposed to be mortals.”

Ana grinned. “Ah, but what rich young man takes his mistress out and doesn’t spoil her with more than she needs?”

“They might notice when we order seven pounds of food and they get back empty plates.”

“So we order fourteen pounds and eat seven. It’s fiiine. You worry too much.” She grinned. “Besides. It really has been too long. You still seeing that one girl?”

She grimaced. “Urk, never mind. Y’know breaking the furniture like that is just as unusual as my appetite, right?”

I unclenched my hand from the edge of the table. Ana was right, there were handprint-shaped indents in the iron surface. Handprints that reflected the true size of my hands.

I pressed my elbow into the table, rolling it back and forth to conceal the pattern in a smoother dent. “I’m fine.” I said. “I’ve been studying lately, so there’s not much to report.”

“If you say so.” Ana said. “Alright then, I know what I want to order. Let’s get some food, and then I can tell you what I’ve been up to.”

“You haven’t even looked at the menu.”

“I got a glance of one open on a table I passed on my way to you.” With that she leaned over me and pulled the bell-string.

I didn’t pay much attention while Ana ordered. When the waiter turned to me I pasted on a smile and said, “I trust she’s got enough food for us to share.”

“I see, sir. Are you happy with Miss V’neer’s customizations?”

“Missus, actually. And it’s pronounced ‘veh-near,’ not ‘van-ear.’” Ana said.

“Apologies, Madame.” I was a little impressed the waiter didn’t even flinch, even though Ana’s clothes were nowhere near expensive enough for her to pass as my wife.

“I trust her taste.” I said.

The waiter left with a bow, and Ana turned back to me. “You feeling a little better?”

I opened my fists. Only a little bit of blood, and most of it dried by now. “Well enough.” I said.

“Remind me to never bang you.”

“Remind me to never get insensate around you.”

“HA!” Ana laughed. “Wouldn’t stop me from robbing you blind, kitty-cat. I don’t need to pick your pocket, all I gotta do is get you to buy me lunch.”

“So true.” I said. “Pity. I can only flinch so much before it starts gets noticed.”

“Bull. You’re the only one there who pays attention. Everyone else lives in their own little bubbles of their obsessions and duties.”

“The Ecclisiarchy is surprisingly rational, these days.” I said. “The ones who make it to the palace are all true believers, at least.”

“I sincerely doubt your perception isn’t skewed by all the madness in that place.” Ana sighed. “Well, the preachers are less crazy than the Inquisition, I’ll give you that.”

Our food arrived. I looked out the window as Ana cooed over the food and asked questions to the waiter. All the people in the city, each with their own lives and dreams and fears and aspirations. How pitifully beautiful.

Finally the waiter left, and Ana dug in. I’m not sure which of us was giving the other space, but I felt indebted to her all the same.

“That isn’t a promise.” Ana said, eyes glued to the reflection in her cup. “For all you know He just wants to kill me.”

“Nonetheless, there’s a good chance I’ll be hosting you. Ana. I need to know more about what I’m getting into. I need to know how much danger we’re going to be in.”

“Do I still confuse you?” She smirked. “It’s not that hard. I in the whole sense am a fractured being. Just because I in the personal sense have multiple aspects to myself doesn’t mean I’m any less than a fragment of a human.”

“Yet you still show traits outside of your base drives.”

“Mm.” She took another sip. “Humans weren’t made to be two-dimensional caricatures. If I have a thought that would better suit a me who isn’t me personally, then I simply won’t think that thought. It’ll be thought by that me.

”Kleptomania, Anima, self-analysis, insufferable love of gene-dad-jokes, love of the Sapphic-” She grinned, “obviously, and a few others- all those are mine and mine alone.”

“But how does it work.”

“Well, occasionally I start thinking very, very hard about two or more beautiful women and/or daemonettes flicking each other, so presumably the rest of me has no appreciation for yuri and the associated genres.”

“So it works like intrusive thoughts? If, say, you got into a barfight ‘cause you stole some bloke’s purse and banged his wife, and he said something dumb and you reallywanted to punch him, that desire to punch a man would go to the Crimson King?”

“You’re focusing very hard on this ‘guest’ thing.” Ana pouted. “I mean, what red-blooded pansexual doesn’tget distracted by the thought of two birds getting it on?”

“A) one who also has a healthy dose of self-control and self-restraint, and B) has that everworked on me?”

“Point. But seriously, you’re unusually on edge. Usually that would get you to crack a smile-”

“I’ve got an unstoppable daemon primarch about to arrive in the holiest place in the galaxy.”

“You need to calm down, Amon. You’re too wound up, you’re not thinking clearly-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Xanalyse. Damn fuckin right I’m tense, I’m about to be the only person standing between the Emperor and oblivion!And I’m all alone because everyone under my command either hates my guts or doesn’t listen to a word I say, and you won’t help me redeem yourself!” He stood, throwing his hands up in exasperation. They got caught under the edge of the table and overcame the strength of the bolts securing it to the floor, flipping the entire table over and spilling food across the room.

They both stared, neither one having expected such a reaction. For a moment the room was quiet but for Amon’s heavy breathing. Ana waited until his breath evened out, or he started up again. He did not.

“… It’s flattering that you think I could destroy Father.” She said, bitter smile on her face. “And… you’re right. I haven’t been very helpful. Maybe it’s time I learned to live with myself.”

“Ana…”

“Delusion. Self-hatred. Wrath. Whoever else you haven’t told me about.” “They may be me, yet I still fear them. And can you blame me? Delusion so powerful it bends reality itself and destroyed all rationality is insanity. If I am wrong, then I must be mad to fear being swallowed up in it.”

“Ana I didn’t-”

She continued. “Self-hatred so strong it lashes out into the warp, psyker powers no longer at the beck and call of the psyker but instead summoning daemons and incurring hatred. Self-fladgillation so extreme it destroys everything and everyone around the poor boy.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Wrath so powerful that the desire to destroy becomes the only known goal of the man. That pursuit of revenge becomes an obsession, stripping away all other goals. To the point that he’d rather be a slave to an uncaring god than let ancient war crimes be forgiven.”

She shook her head. “I must be the stupidest bitch in the galaxy if I’m not desperate to feel that! Tell me, Amon, have you faced down all the ugliest parts of your own heart?”

“…I’m sorry.” Amon said. “That was insensitive of me.” He sighed, and flopped down to the couch.

“…I know that there’s no avoiding myself forever.” She whispered. “But at the same time, I know I’m not strong enough to overcome myself. In the end, it’ll be Reveul’s partner and the King. Billy and me, we’re good as gone.”

She looked Amon head-on. “It’s a bitter loop of growth and despair. I go out, face some unimaginable horror, and I survive because I’m me. I stay unchanged, because either I turn my trauma into rage at the monster, or I lie to myself about how much danger I was in. Except I can’t think those thoughts, and they go to another me. Then that me gets a little stronger, ‘cause there’s more of me personally contributing to his identity.

“You want to know how to fight the King? Then know this; we’re still connected to each other. Every time I meet someone so monstrous I want to destroy that person completely, he feels it for me. And every time he wants to nick someone’s shit, I feel it for him. I am still one person, even if different parts of me control different aspects. If I start changing, if I become a more aggressive person, then that part of me gets stronger.

“That’s why I can give a damn about my sons. That part of me died ten thousand years ago, but that just means any thoughts about them aren’t limited to just one of me. I rebuilt that part of myself from the ground up over these millennia. I’ve changed, and…

“I don’t know how much of me is someone I want to be. If insanity overpowers honor, rage overpowers curiosity, and guilt overpowers innocence I just… I don’t know if I’m someone I can love anymore.”

Amon didn’t know what to say. Perhaps there was nothing to say. Nothing that would make the galaxy they lived in any less of the shit-storm it was.

“I have honor, but not personally.”

#wip #headlock au #au #abandoned wip #tts

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