#the sheer hatred i feel for that woman is INSANE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

futureplayboibunnie · 2 years

Text

‘Miscommunication.’

Dr Strange x Avenger! fem! reader

this is so fucking loooong. i apologize but the ending is so worth it jesus. i lowkey got the thought by looking at random listings of famous PR relationships, this is all just word vomit.

SMUT, TEENY BIT OF ANGST, FLUFF. the big 3 yay.

summary (because this is deadass so long it deserves a summary): You and Stephen hated each other, it was old news to anybody but what happens when that hatred is being put to the test when Tony and Steve ask you to pull a PR stunt and fake a relationship in order to win over the media? The fine line between hatred and desire is tested as you and Stephen had to play house for a big check. But it was just another mission…Right?

'What the fuck is wrong with you?' You seethed at Tony, your heart in your throat as rage turned to scalding hot steam and you could feel it stew out of your ears.

The tips of your ear cartilage were hot to the touch your skin was becoming uncomfortable to inhibit after every passing second of this conversation. Heat started coating the back of your neck and you felt the need to flee such a scene.

'You're insane.' Stephen stated all blunt and deadpan as usual until he instantly got up and headed for the door to leave Tony's palace of an office and rid himself of the Avengers Compound and head back to the Sanctum Sanctorum.

He thought the word vomit Tony and Steve sprayed out of their mouths was nauseating and quite frankly ridiculous, plus the idea was completely unnecessary. Pacifying and manipulating crowds upon crowds of general public for the sake of a faux facade. In sharp contrast, however, he was ultimately more nervous and embarrassed if anything. Stephen thought you were a stubborn, headstrong woman with a quick wit and an impossibly dry sense of humour and he absolutely despised you for it...he hated the way you would never listen to directions only for you to wander aimlessly and do you're own thing, he hated the way you backed talked and cussed out everyone...and mostly he hated the way you had this magnetic and hypnotising effect on him. You were too damned attractive. It was like he was hanging on by an invidible thread at every word you strung together, he detestes the way it made him feel so powerless, helpless.

You were praying on the downfall of his arrogance and he would rather die than let that happen, especially since you were the causality of such a devastation. Stephen had to hate you, it was his only defence mechanism; if he hated you then he wouldn't be able to admit that he wanted you.. SO... so badly it was starting to physically wound him.

'Sit down, Stephen. Let us finish before you storm off.' Steve attempted to call him back, Stephen let out an exasperated and prolonged exhale at such a request, he might as well let them both finish even though the plan bordered the line of incurable insanity. He sat back down next to you in Tony's office, it was like he was being reprimanded and berated in the principle's office at high school. You rolled your eyes instinctively at his unsavoury and bitter disposition.

You, on the other hand, were completely charmed at his beguilingly intelligent persona when you first met Stephen. You deemed it inspiring and to add further excellence to his temperament, he was visually striking to look at. Even an idiot wouldn't be able to admit otherwise: the curve of his hair, the greying temples and the powder blue of such guileless glassy eyes had you drowning, and you were desperate for air.

Well, thats how the dreaminess of his nature started anyway... but now you were repelled by him to say the least. He started to show symptoms of his hatred to you and you were not going to just sit back and take it like some pussy, you only mirrored his inhospitable ministrations. Fighting fire with fire. If he hated you, you automatically hated him back. It was unusual, Stephen was the man you would have internally praised and secretly admired, only to worship the sheer ground he walked on to now feeling a bitter disgust whenever he was mentioned and whenever he was around. It made your heart wilt a little at the beginning but now you had grown into it.

'The general populous have come out with some incessant drivel and conspiracy about you both, and I'll make it short and sweet. The tabloids and pap hate us, that we all know but ever since that photo of you two came out, there's been a craze that we can't ignore considering how much it could help our image.' Tony attempted his hand at remaining civil and explaining it in a way that two dizzy five year olds would be able to understand. Steve's eyes look defeated as if this was the last hope to build a somewhat good reputable image of the Avengers team.

'That photo was taken out of context.' You delcared almost instantly, you were defensive about 'photogate' and reminded them of the truth.

'And I don't care. I don't care what you were both doing, fighting, fucking whatever. It was enough to cause a spark with the media.’

'We were fighting not fu-.' He screwed his eyes shut and trailed off embarrassed at such a vulgar reflection. He would never ever be able to get to do that with you. Ever. Only in his dreams maybe.

'They're obsessed with you both within 24 hours of that picture being leaked, and I know it sounds a little iffy but if you were to both fake date, go to a few suit and tie events holding hands, you'll be able to woo the media with such delectable charms and get us back in their good graces.’

Your mouth fell open in pure unbridled shock. The gall Tony had was beyond you and it made your blood burn through the humming of your heart. Imagine the embarrassment you would feel if your suppressed feelings for Stephen would come back to the surface during all of this.

'Why the hell do you both care about something as stupid as image?' You retaliated annoyed, completely mind boggled at the fact that they would care about something so useless and unnecesary.

'That's beyond your paygrade.' Steve replied with his arms across his chest.

'My paygrade?' Your sarcastic dry laugh wasn't lost on them, the sardonic pettiness just radiating off of you as always.

'This was my last resort and I'm using it anyway since neither of you can follow the most basic of instructions because you both have gigantic sticks up your asses. I'll pay you. That's how badly we need this and you gave us an opening, now you need to frolick around and give it to them.’

'I'm already rich thanks.' Stephen smiled sarcastically.

'Fine.' You snarled abruptly, you finally agreed in a frantic brash frenzy. Just so you could get up and drag yourself to your room and sleep such a weird day off. Also to secretly pretend to feel like his for a little while, just to keep your fantasises at bay.

'What?' Stephen's eyes looked up and met yours whilst they were widening by the mere moment. He couldn't believe you were agreeing to such absurdity and the fact that you did made his jaw tick slightly. Internally, he was partially glad you did because he just wanted to be able to just gawk and analyze your picturesque features without looking like a creep.

‘What choice do we have Stephen? This isn't going to go away anytime soon, might as well marvel at the publicity and make it a PR stunt.' You sighed out. Stephen froze for a moment before ultimately taking the bait and agreeing to their plan.

'Fine, what do we do?' He groaned alogside the signature roll of his eyes, those crystal sucker punch eyes.

"There's a suit and tie red carpet event tomorrow evening, a charity award ball thing. If you guys could just go to it, and be all sappy but not overly sappy in front of the paparazzi then thats the starting line.' Steve replied.

Your face couldn't contain the sheer terror you were feeling right now, a red carpet? Really? You needed to walk down a red carpet with Stephen of all people, the man who hates you yet plagues all of your dreams like the dim fog of a black starless night. You were really about to come to terms with your feelings for Stephen now and it petrified the daylights out of you; you're going to need to try to keep those feelings buried and not recucitate them during all of this.

'Oh Jesus.' Stephen concealed his nervousness as he buried his face in his hands and moaned into his skin. Going to an event with you as his date? He never thought he'd live to see such a day; you pretending to be his. He thought you were an angel made out of carnal fiery passion, how could he not fall for you? He was biting at the inside of his cheek to distract himself of the fact that he knows his feelings for you were going to grow exponentially and his mask of hating you will slowly begin to slip off. Something he wasn't ready to confront yet.

—

The realization of the night you were dreading was here began to dawn on you as you had to choose a dress to showcase tonight. You had just hopped out the shower as you concealed yourself in a short silk babydoll robe with your hair still dripping. All you thought about in the shower was Stephen and all the things he did earlier today.

You took it upon yourself to get a head start with this secret PR scheme and asked Strange to go get food with you, somewhere public before the event to kind of ease into such an environment. He thought it was an astute and smart play so he agreed and let you decide on where you should go to eat.

You suggested a dessert place first as chocolate covered strawberries had such cliche and romantic connotations but Stephen said no which was jarring to you. He thought that it would be deemed as too try hard and in your face, and quite frankly fake so he suggested pizza as it was 'easy going.' Too tired and nervous to argue, you agreed and went to the nearest pizza place.

Although it wasn't too crowded in the pizza place, it was public enough that the paperazzi would be able to be tipped off that you were both here and able to take photos invading your privacy. You and Stephen sat in the booth at the corner, it was both quiet and visible at the same time, you remarked that he was wearing normal clothes, a brown leather jacket and a tight fitted black tee and some jeans. He looked good. Really good yet a little bit dishevelled due to the strands of hair that separated and stuck to his forehead; it was as if he was carding his fingers through his hair in frustration.

You ordered some pizza and before you knew it the paperazzi were here, flicking and clicking away at something extremely unimportant to feed back into the public's meaningless lives. You could feel Stephen's eyes bore into your face but all you could sense was that the pizza looked delicious.

'You're staring at me for a lot longer than you should." You remarked while still looking at the pizza to not seem suspicious.

'I'm gazing at you lovingly like the hopeless romantic of a boyfriend I am, now lean into me.' He whispered and as you turned to connect your eyes with him all you could feel was the bright palpable look in his eye, he really does look all loved up gawking at a supposed girlfriend but you had to remind yourself it was all fake.

You leaned into him a lot more than you should of and grabbed at his thigh with your palm and Stephen let out a shuddered gasp at the contact and prayed you couldn't hear over him past the flashes and clicks of the incessant cameras. He wrapped his arm around your waist as you both ate at the pizza, fake smiling at each other and putting on the show of your lives. Stephen's heart felt like it was breaking piece by piece because of the sheer fact that this was all it was: a show.

You groaned as you flicked through the number of dresses you laid out onto your bed, they were all pretty but you just didn't have a desicive bone in your body about these sorts of things. A knock on your bedroom door kicked you out of your daze.

'Come in.' You squeaked.

You were surprised when you found that it was Stephen who opened the door and entered into your room, your sacred space and now you are sharing the same sacred space with him. Just you and him. You became increasingly aware of how short and thin your robe was, he couldn't help but cast his gaze down to your chest and legs and he was perked up to find that your nipples were staining against the fabric and your legs were long, smooth and glowing. Cute. You observed that he wasn't in a suit yet, he was still in the black t shirt he wore to the restaurant. He slowly made his way over to you to take note of the dresses strewn on your bed that you were considering to wear alongside him. The choices were between a red dress, a navy dress and a black dress.

'What are you wearing tonight?' He asked softly, it was strange to you due to your consecutive acknowledgement of his usual gruff, stoic persona.

'Uhm. ..I'm not sure yet. I can't decide.' You looked down at your palms and they were sweating, the man hasn't even done anything and he had you sweating. Probably because of the personality shift, the sweet selfless Dr Stephen Strange you first saw through, the one you fell for.

'Red matches my cloak, the media could always find that kind of connection or whatever.’

'Yeah, I didn't even consider that.' You lied. Of course you took that into account, red really was his colour, maybe you'd surprise him with red lingerie.

You kicked yourself at such a thought.

'Well, I need to you know...get changed.' You let out a nervous laugh.

'Oh! Yeah, sorry...I'll leave you.' He panicked. He walked out of the room and shut your door.

—

It took you a while to get ready. Stephen texted you to meet him downstairs by the grand marble staircase and you were dripping with nerves. Nerves you've never had like this before.

Once you had finished putting your strappy heels on you click clacked your way to the staircase only to find Stephen was waiting at the bottom, in a delicious black tux. His grey streaks shone in the dim chandelier light and his bow tie was knotted to perfection and his eyes were encased in a warm ocean blue in your light. He looked magnificent, an Adonis and you were enamoured by the near presence of him which made you all the more anxious to walk down those stairs. You wouldn't be surprised if you tripped down those stairs in front of them because of you insanely high heels.

Stephen gazed up and there he found you, treading down the stairs ever so delicately. You were wearing the long silk dress that framed your curves softly as if you were an Old Hollywood movie star, your hair was loosely curled and bounced as you went down each fated step. His eyes were growing wider ever step you took down on the marble floor. Your makeup was sleek, not too much, gloss encasing your already kissable lips and what really did him in was the small half smile you were wearing, and in a few moments you were right infront of him. He looked at you up and down and he found your skyscrapers, he let out a dry nervous breath.

"Uhm, beautiful. But I wouldn't expect anything other than that.' His lips pulling at the corners of his mouth to play as a small weak smile. You tucked your hair behind your ear bashfully because you weren't sure if the fine line between real and fake was being broken here but you felt that he was being sincere.

'You clean up extremely well Doctor.' You studied him and his astounding phsyique. Even with heels he's still taller than you. Jesus.

He offered his arm and you took it way too hastily to the car that was waiting outside of the Avengers Compound. This is going to shape up to be a night to never forget.

You rode to the venue in an unusually comfortable silence, you decided to take a chance and graze your fingers onto his ever so lightly. He knew what you were attempting to do and it made him fall that much harder for you. Without warning, he he put his hand over your before he could try to intertwine his fingers with yours. A gasp was stuck in your throat as you continued to look outside of the window. Tired of the antics, you tangled your hands together and as if it was fate, they meld perfectly into each other. Stephen smirked into his car window.

You arrived and you already clocked the telltale sound of a camera clicking. The chauffer opened the door for you both and you felt the lingering loss of Stephen’s hands locking with yours, your heart dropped slightly. However, as you began walking through the welcoming carpet, he reached for your hand again and held onto it in an iron like grip. It felt so good to just have this bodily contact with him even though it was all pretend, you felt slightly elated and that was apparent on your face. What you were most dreading was the main red carpet where you had to pose for the cameras, you chest felt heavy just thinking about it and its mental ramifications.

When the flashes piled up and had the spotlight just on you two, he let go of your hand and wrapped it around your waist tenderly, drawling little incoherent shapes with the pads of his scarred calloused fingers. It felt heavenly. You both played house and smiled at the cameras as his grip onto your waist became stronger and stronger. You didn't notice but there were intervals in which he would just gape at you, tonight was such a stepback from your usual headstrong persona. It was different, heartfelt. Real. Your face was becoming more and more stunning to look at and he couldn't control himself. It wasn't just an act for the media or the paparazzi...it was all for him. For his personal fulfillment. To just gawk at you and revel in your effortless glamour.

He rotated his head to look at you again and whispered a soft 'are you okay?' and it quite literally made your insides liquidate, it was such an adorable sentiment and it was something he had never asked you before. You nodded and to top it all off, he leaned in to place a soft but chaste kiss on your temple only to quickly whisk you away down the carpet. He needed to push the envelope a little more and a quick, 'everyday' kiss did that.

Stephen thought he would regret it later, and that it was a spur of the moment thing but actually he didn't; it felt good. Too good, too real. He rapidly took you down the avenue and into the theatre in which the charity ball was taking place.

You found your designated seat and Stephen, like the gentleman he is, pulled out your chair for you and tucked you in. You gave him a small weak smile, eyes alight with a starstruck twinkle. He noticed the change in your demeanour and as he sat down he placed his hand on top of yours once again. You felt like you were sitting next to your school girl crush.

The night was flowing smoothly, million dollar smiles and gold on every single picturesque finger and slim collarbone. Awards being shot out and the conglomerate of thank you's and I love you's, cameras were dotted around you and you again played for them. He kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear, hot breath tickling the tips of your ears.

'You sure you're okay?'

'Yeah, really. If anything I'm enjoying myself.' You quipped, dropping yourself into his blazing intense eyes.

'Good, good.' he states simply but you felt the need to clarify it further, risking your cover you take a shaky breath.

'What I mean is, I'm enjoying myself…with you.' You lingered a look at him, hoping he'd get such an obvious hint. A gleam of playfulness and sencerity encompasing your eyes. His face went blank with surprise, uncertainty etched on his finely crafted features. A smile tugged at his lips, a little half smirk. He was beaming at such an admission, even if you were just playing along.

‘Yeah, me too.' Although he wasn't facing you, you couldn't help but admire his side profile and with that the click of the camera caught such a profound moment.

A little while passed and what brought you out of your mindless daydreaming was the anouncement of the dance they were conducting. A ball in which the gentleman woos his fine lady through a dance, you perked up at the thought, idly staring at Stephen in hopes he would ask you to dance.

Stephen's nerves were racking his brain, his tongue turning to mush as he tried to muster up the courage to ask you to dance with him. Here you were, waiting and so incredibly willing to be close to him, to be romantic with him. Your bright inquisitive eyes just attempting to egg him on and push him further to the edge. As the couples made their way hand in hand to the dance floor, he knew his window of opportunity was closing.

'Do you wana maybe…’ He threw his head in the direction of the dance floor to signal what he was trailing off to. His heart was jumped into the base of his throat and was humming relentlessly, like an itch that can't be scratched.

'Yes. I mean...yeah.' You replied way too hastily, slightly embarrassed at your eagerness.

Stephen stood up and perching his arm out to you for you to take it, revived by your cute bashfulness and confused at how something so soft can leave him so energized.

You took his arm and he escorted you onto the couple strewn dancefloor, and you and Stephen had a small fleeting chance of feeling like one of those couples.

You sensed that Stephen was a pro the way he palmed at your waist instantly, his large scarred hands placing them on your hips and you could aready feel yourself melt into him. You slung your hands around his neck, stifling the urge to card your fingers through his hair and mess up his streaks. You liked his hair messy, it really suits him. Stephen kicked himself for placing his hands on the thin string of where your panties sat, he could feel it through the fabric and he couldn't help be let out an exhale. As the slow cinematic strings of the violins started plucking, you and Stephen swayed to the delicate notes of the music as did everyone else.

You both danced in silence for a while and you could feel his grip on your waist getting tighter and tighter. He hated the flash of the cameras intruding on such a moment, the moment in which he could truly immerse himself in you.

"You look breathtaking.' He confessed without thinking, he just had to tell you again.

'I hate admitting that you are intensely attractive, it feels wrong telling you.' You smirked as you arched a perfect, knowing brow.

'Of course, of course.' He let out a low sardonic laugh at your unfiltered honesty.

You grazed the tips of your fingers through the lower levels of his hair, and he prayed that you didn't notice his reaction at your small ministrations.

A desperate need to close the proximity, you removed your right hands from his hair and grabbed his other hand that rested on your waist and threaded it with yours. It felt like something out if a magical fairytale, something you wouldn't have able to conjure up in your most elaborate fantasies. Stephen, similarly, ogled at you like a horny fucking teenager. He wasn't sure if you meant it or if it wasn't intentional, but you were constantly giving him fuck me eyes the entire night and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to contain.

Your daydreaming ended as the dance did and subsequently the night event finished up, a few more camera clicks of you two holding hands leading you both to the car you had arrived in; the chauffer already waiting to drop Stephen back at the Sanctum and you off to the Avengers Compound. As the background of your window kept moving and you and Stephen gazed at your own respectable windows, your hands weirdly remained intertwined. It was unusally comfortable, without all the white hot flashes. It was quiet, serene.

You were shocked at how quickly you had arrived at the Sanctum to drop Stephen off, you were saddened at how lightning swift the night had passed by. As if a switch had been flipped off in Stephen's mind, he suddenly went cold and briskly let go of your hand as his lips formed into a thin line and his brow creased as if he was wincing.

Mirroring his action, you let go of him too. You shook off vour feelings and surpressed them once again, buring it as quickly as they came. Reminding yourself that all of this wasn't real, it was just a PR stunt for the greater good, another payday by Tony. You gulped and adjusted your posture, tying to contain your unwelcoming nature. Reminding yourself that Stephen hated you and you hated him, but you couldn't hide how aroused this evening had made you and it all started with that swift temple kiss and the soft fleeting touches. Especially the way his hands landed atop of the fabric of your literal underwear. You wondered if he would rip them off with his teeth.

You both sat in silence for a little and you were becoming increasingly embarrassed and humilated. You kept staring outside of the window to analyze the exterior of the Sanctum Sactorum. He turned his head to survey you and just look at you one more time tonight, he casted his gaze down at your thighs as you ran your slender hands up and down them...as if you were nervous, hungry and may he be so brave to think that you were...aroused? Your breathing became more shallow.

Incautiously, he raised his hand and stroke at the sleekness of your hair in a sort of weird sense of comfort. Your eyes instinctively closed at the contact and breathed out a prolonged breath.

"You wanna come inside? Who knows who'll be following us.' He said senselessly.

'What's the point Stephen? The nights done." You mumbled annoyed as you crossed your arms over your chest, accentuating your already perfect tits that much more and Stephen was deadset. He wanted you, real or not. He wanted to feel you, touch you. Make you cry as you cum. He didn't care if it was just for one night.

'You're right but just in case, we need to make it believable. I don't want to do this either.' He lied, and he thought you could see right through his lies but his face remained hard and blank. Irrationally, he grabbed at your wrist and placed it infront of him to leave a kiss on it.

You stared at him, gobsmacked. But you couldn't resist such a proposition, he was here asking you to come inside with him, alone. Just the two of you for real this time.

'Fine.' You quicked fired at him rapidly, giving in way to fast.

Stephen walked you into the Sanctum and you sat yourself down into one of the antique sofas in the artifact adorned foyer, crossing your legs and chest, radiating a sour energy in the process. Stephen had enough of this tiptoeing, he stood there like an idiot and put his calloused hands in his suit pockets.

'What are you doing?' He asked lowly.

'What am I doing?'

'Yeah.’

'I'm doing what Tony asked me to do because I want to get paid..?'

'No, no. Not that, don't lie, no one's here to hear you lie anymore. Just be honest for once.’

'Honest?' You chortled.

"You're so strived to keep hating me, aren't you?' He asked knowingly, as if he could see your true feelings for him and it made you turn your head to look into his eyes.

'Only because you are.' You retaliated

'You're kidding right?' He mocked.

'Well, you've made your distaste for me extremely clear Stephen, I'm not going to embarrass myself for you.' You planted your heels to the ground and stood up only to hear the clack of your heels as you swiftly made your way to face him and leer into his oceanic eyes.

'So you're telling me all of tonight was just us being incredibly good actors?’

"Yes.’

'That's not what I saw in the fucking car.' He gritted.

'What are you saying Stephen? You want me to admit what you probably already know, embarrass me further, rub salt into the wound for your own personal satisfaction? I never knew you were a masochist.' You huffed out, avoiding eye contact to retain your already fleeting dignity.

The silence was pregnant and you were seriously about to erupt into a puddle of tears.

'I want you.' He gaped at you as he let out his prolonged statement. Something he’s been killing himself over to admit.

You shot a perplexed look at Strange, thinking it must have been your brain and ears malfunctioning at hearing such an absurd thing. You thought the air was becoming increasingly thick and unbreathable. Intoxicatingly humid at such a thing being said by such a human.

'What?'

'I want you, so much it hurts.’ He closed the gap between you just enough to sense his hot breath fanning the skin of your face. Your mouth went dry.

'Can I kiss you?' He asked softly as his lips traveled to whisper in your ear. You hated the fact that you closed your eyes and melted into him with such ease.

'Yes.' You said in an instant and he was stunned at such a response, your pretty plump lips parted for him just begging him for a simple touch of his lips on yours. Your chest rising and falling due to the pure nervousness he bestows onto you with just his words. You were exhausted waiting for him to make the first move, your eyelashes fluttered as he finally placed his hands on the place where he did earlier tonight, the fabric ontop of where your panties were sitting. You let out a stifled wimper as he finally pressed his mouth to yours.

It was delicate at first screwing his eyes shut in the process, flesh kissing flesh whilst you put your hands in his hair again and messing it up like you've always wanted to. His hands mindlessly travelled to your ass and squeezed illiciting a moan from you which caused you to open your mouth and like a viper he slid his tongue into the fruit of your sweet wet mouth. You tasted even better than he had imagined and he had imagined an…array.

You tugged on his scalp that much harder as he began nipping at your lips with his teeth before ultimately biting at your lip. Stephen's hands travelled up and down the expanse of your back, feeling at your smooth unblemished skin only to leave goosebumps in their wake. They then travelled to cradle at your face to brush the pads of his thumbsto the blossoming muted blush of the apples of your cheeks. He perked up at the fact you were trembling at such small actions from him. He ripped his lips away from yours to bore his eyes ino your gorgeous face.

‘Take me to bed.’ You whispered against his skin whilst kissing at his neck.

He didn’t need to be asked again.

Lips fastened together once again, more needy and desperate this time around, he hoisted you and you wrapped your legs around his waist and held you as if you weighed nothing and walked you to the stairs and carried you up them. Your mouth was something he was already addicted to with just a little hit, like a potent drug and he craved more. Your ruffled his hair more than you ought to.

He kicked open his bedroom door and closed it back, the door probably cost more than the Avengers Compound itself. He toppled you onto his large bed and he shook off his tux jacket whilst you pulled on his bow tie to keep him from disappearing, to keep his mouth on yours. If he was on you then it just proves that none of this was a dream. You went to pop the buttons of his crisp white suit jacket but he halted you in your tracks as he ripped open your dress as if you were an animal. Your tits were remarkable but again, he didn’t expect anything less. He was damn near salivating.

‘You’re a fucking tease, you know that?’ He growled into your cleavage lowly, kissing and sucking at your tits in the process.

‘Me? You’re the one that started all this, you could have fucked me nice a while back and we wouldn’t even have to do all of this.’ You retorted with a hush to your cadence whilst clawing at his back, attempting to get his shirt off. Your astute reasoning caught him off guard and he hated it.

‘Keep this up and I’ll edge you for a week.’ Stephen leaned up and ripped off his shirt only to fawn over you and leave a trail of kisses and bite marks meandering down your neck.

You whimpered at such a punishment, God you would kill for that.

‘Stephen!’ You whined at him to do something, anything to your sobbing cunt. A touch, a lick, anything.

He finally stripped you of your dress as the silk was being pulled down your legs only to be discarded to the other side of the room. All that you had left on was your heels and the thong that barely covered your modesty. Your hair spilled over the duvet and he thought if he were to frame such a scene forever, he would remain happy for the rest of his days.

‘Red panties too?’ His head trailed down to your cunt whilst remarking such an erotic thing.

‘Mhm.’

‘So this is what I kept feeling under your little dress. I would’ve finger fucked you under the table if I felt at it one more time tonight.’ He gritted through clenched teeth and the admission sent your mind reeling. In public? How rough is this man?

Without caution or warning, he ripped your panties off with his teeth just like you imagined him to. This man was literally tailored to your ever taste. He thought your pussy was so…fuckable and pretty. You were so fucking wet it was like a Slip n Slide just for him to play with.

He lifted his hand and slipped a long scarred finger into your already glistening cunt, witnessing firsthand at how greedy your pussy was. Your loud moan echoed through the large room, only for him to hear and savour. And with that he added another finger, stretching you out so deliciously whilst feeling at your insides.

‘So greedy…but taking it so well. The burn hurts doesn’t it, sweetheart? But it just feels too good, right?’

‘Yes! So good.’ You gasped at his filthy words.

Retracting his fingers, he immediately stuffed them in your mouth to make you taste your wetness off of his fingers. You licked and sucked at the pads of his fingers so obediently.

‘Good girl.’ He praised within a whisper and you felt like you were about to rocket into the sky. He watched your face contort as your eyebrows knitted together in such tense pleasure, you were barely holding on and he didn’t even do much yet. A wicked smile plastered his face. He pulled his hands from out of your mouth as his head payed all of his attention to your pussy.

‘Stephen! Please- I’m begging.’ You cried and just hearing you beg made him want to give you all the pleasure in the world.

He dived facefirst into your pussy, licking and slightly suckling on the wet flesh. Flicking his tongue on your swollen clit which only made your body convulse at such a technique, the prickle of his beard only spurred you on. Your breathy moans and cries were like music to his ears. As he continued, his hands reached up and played with your tits; twisting and flicking the nipples every now and then, shooting pleasure straight down to your cunt and all you could do was whimper. You wanted to desperately tug at his hair but you couldn’t.

‘Stephen! You’re…I’m gonna..I’m gonna cum.’ You finally mustered out as you could feel electricity shooting down your thighs.

When he heard you say that, he immediately stopped and you wanted to slap the smug look off of his face. He fawned over your body like he did before and fastened his lips to yours once more, giving you a little taste of the sweetness he got to devour. You could quite literally taste yourself off his tongue, Stephen let out a gutteral moan. He kicked his pants and boxers off and all you could view was his well endowed cock. He was absolutely… You were speechless at the sheer size of him. It could quite literally split you in half.

‘I’ve been half hard since I saw you.’ He muttered as he began to slot himself between your thighs once more.

‘I’ve never been this wet before. You make me this wet.’ You whispered into his neck and he let out a growl.

‘Oh fuck.’ He rolled his eyes slightly at the mere look of you, strewn on the bed, waiting for him to fill you up, fuck you so stupid that you forget your own name.

‘I swear to god if you’re not in me right no-.’ He didn’t give you a chance to finish as he began rutting his hips into yours, one hand placed on the curve of your hip and the other cradling your face so he could lift it up and bite down on your neck. God those bites alone could make you cum.

He was going deeper, harder, faster, sharper than anyone else ever did, every thrust just hit that right spot that made you see nothing but him. Your hands clawed at his back like an animal as your tongues intertwined in a bruising kiss. Nothing about any of it was gentle and it inticed you even more, it was needy an desperate. Months of pent up frustration being let out on one fateful night. His thrusts were rough; pistoning his cock in and out of you felt hypnotizing. Watching it appear and disappear into your greedy cunt lit a fire within him.

He was going so deep, hard and fast all at once it felt like the moment was on loop forever.

‘You’re taking me so well.’

And that just did you in. You came earth shatteringly hard as heated lightning coursed through your nervous system and fried the remaining remenants of your brain. You bit at his earlobe trying to conceal your pornographic gratification and that just caused him to finish as well. He pulled his cock out of you which was already coated with your cum and he released thick milky white ropes of himself onto your tits. He leaned back and took a look at his handiwork: he thought you looked magnificent.

He rolled over to lay next to you on his bed, panting and gasping at the carnal passion you had both bestowed upon each other.

‘I’m…I.’ You were quite literally at a loss for words, you had never been fucked this good and this well before.

‘You’re even better than what I’ve been imagining for months. ‘ He replied as sweat dripped from his brow.

‘Fucking pussy, could’ve fucked, spanked and punished the attitude out of me months ago and I would have been waiting, ready and willing.’ You insulted truthfully.

‘Don’t be a cunt, continue like this and I will.’ He warned sternly.

‘I’d like it.’ You bit your lip bashfully.

Silence fell through the atmosphere.

‘Miscommunication.’ You said.

‘Miscommunication.’ He repeated, he knew it already.

—

i got lazy by the end i’m sorryyyy

#dr stephen strange #dr strange fluff #dr strange angst #dr strange x fem!reader #stephen strange smut #dr strange x y/n #stephen strange #dr strange smut

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dcwnthercbbithcle · 4 months

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“plots please” 👀

send me “plots please” and I’ll respond with 3 (or more) interesting plots / relationships / connections I can think of for our muses! | ACCEPTING

HIIIIII BROZI 👀👀👀 Thank you for sending this in! I won't lie to you when I saw this was so hard to narrow down based on the sheer number of compatible interactions we would have for our characters!!

BECAUSE LIKE, the impulse monkey on my shoulder is telling me to throw EVERYTHING down to see which one of our blorbos maul each other like rabid animals and which ones get along nicely! Haha

ALSO SORRY IN ADVANCE FOR THE WALL OF TEXT, I don't know how it got this long and frankly I'm a little terrified!

POTENTIAL INTERACTION COMBINATIONS / INTERESTING DYNAMIC IDEAS

I spent a long time trying to hash out how to rank these, but please bare with me! I think ANY combination of muses could be fascinating to analyze given the sheer personality differences between muses.

In total my muses that have DBD centered AUs are: Sally Smithson / The Nurse (default verse), Evan Macmillan / The Trapper (default verse), Doe (default verse, original character), The Green Maiden (AU verse, original character), Jesse Cromeans / Chromeskull (AU verse)

So any of them would work with most of your muses! Though I will say Doe, my original character, additionally has verses for the TCM franchise, F13 & more general horror which could be fun to play with for your Thomas Hewitt, Bubba and or Jason muses!

It all, ultimately, depends on the sort of thread you're going for/dynamics you want to play with!

Sally is dread, she is sardonic, powerful and hateful. She's EXACTLY who you picture when you think of a 100+ year old ghost sealed away in the tomb of an old asylum that was host to insurmountable pain and exploitation. She's kind of death embodied to an extent, but that's a different conversation! There are moments of intense apathy, cruelty and hatred, it's not sadism but its more a thing she feels is justice. But there are equally moments of intense kindness and compassion as well.

Think of it like this, let's say Bubba got completely overwhelmed after a trial, snowballs thrown at him, stabbed by the survivors, flashbanged, just completely attacked on all angles. Sally would be a killer who would stop in an attempt to help him ground himself and calm down without hurting him any further. BUT at the same time, Sally is the sort of woman who would realize Dwight is hiding in a locker, and strangle one of his teammates outside of the door in his line of sight as a direct 'you deserve to see what your cowardice caused, I gave this one a clean death, I won't give you that,'

As a person, I would recommend Sally in threads with characters like Frank, Dwight, the Chainsaw bros or Mikey. I think she could be kind to Bubba and Tommy, but like, enemy on first sight with Michael and with Dwight and Frank, let's just say her bitterness would shiiiiine baybeee.

Evan, he's a funny guy, kind of an inverse of a character like Jason. He's big, strong, caked up brick wall of a man who is extremely intimidating. Rough, a bit coarse, abrupt and to the point, and aggressive but he's one of my more lighthearted characters. He really doesn't give a single solitary shit about the Entity and playing by her games, he's out here for him, so he's doing what he must to survive and overcome the trauma that's left him a shell of a person. He's good in action and aggression threads, he's not INSANELY powerful, but he's more willing to goof around than Sally with the big caveat that he's unwilling/unable to give those brief moments of intense compassion and care that Sally is.

Evan is a guy I would recommend for a thread with Frank, Mike, maybe Tommy and/or Jason. A thread between them could be a bit chaotic with the differing personalities but that's not a bad thing! It's interesting! Even though I think Evan may end up throwing Frank through a window at some point! Haha

And Doe, well, she's my token survivor character, but don't take that to mean she isn't developed and doesn't have a full personality of her own! Haha. Doe excels in many things, she's resourceful, clever, fox-like, sly & sweet. She wears her heart on her sleeve and feels with every fiber of her person. Really she's a scream queen in every respect. But her big thing is that she is COWARDLY, she is cowardly, shaped by her fear and all of her perks and even her backstory hinged on this.

She was relatively normal growing, born into a small family in Vancouver, but faced terrifying visions of her many, many gruesome deaths from an early age. Traumatized her, anxiety disorder, but as always she ran away from it mentally, repressing it. Grew up, aspirations to be one of the big names on the cusp of the computer age. Extremely into programming and engineering, wanted to be a pioneer and a business woman but you need money to do that. Got a dead end job at a mall and finished one evening, went outside, became involved in a murder. Saw everything, cowardice took over and she left the victim to their fate and fled. Victim went missing, her trying to tell authorities did nothing, guilt and a mental breakdown from the repressed trauma came back. She ran away, terrified she would be killed next. Got killed, lost her name, most of her memories & in a cosmic punishment is now trapped in the hell she witnessed premonitions of throughout her childhood. Now forever running in place, fighting to survive, not knowing she's already dead, nameless and largely forgotten and facing all the deaths that kept her up at night.

Despite this doom and gloom, she's actually one of my lightest, funnest characters! She's a freak (affectionate) and a weirdo (loving), she's eccentric and a little off center but she hates her cowardice. She wants to live not shaped by her terror and to OWN her deaths, y'know? Like, she'll die anyways, she wants to be in control of the show and when she bows out. For this reason I consider her a bit more of a long haul / plot driven character that's great for slow burn character changing plot! But given she's 80s, bubbly, scream queen weirdo, she'd be just as fun in one offs too!

I also have like,,, 500 different verses for her too, so she could easily be slotted in ANYWHERE with any of your characters, but she is, uhhh, she is a lot and a bit more sad than my other characters!

PLOTS

I WON'T LIE TO YOU BROZI, there are so many potential plots it's not even funny. Modern AU for Sally has a bit of a crossover with Frank (albeit centered around Frank when I played him) WHICH I WOULD LOVE TO EXPLORE. Something about Sally and Mikey as they have very similar yet such very very different backgrounds, etc. Evan and Jason forming the 'complex feelings about all feelings of friendship being corrupted by cruelty and weird feelings about not having present familial figures' etc etc.

It might be a bit better to message me directly about certain character combinations for ideas! Haha. I'd feel terrible if I dumped more walls of text on top of you! OH ALSO!! Even though it's unpolished, I'd love to burst out Doe's carrd so you could look over the different verses to see if you'd like to play around with any of them!! Either way, don't hesitate to hit me up and don't be a stranger! I am bursting with ideas!!

RELATIONSHIPS + CONNECTIONS

OOOOOOOH, not to be too presumptuous but I've love to play with some of the canon dynamics, if it'd be alright with you!

For instance, Trapper and the dislike of all Dwights, which was made canon in the Hooked On You game which is allowed... sometimes! It's hit and miss with me and I can't forgive the fact they haven't given us the swimsuit skin for Trapper yet! Haha.

But also some more theoretical ones, things like potential uneasiness on Dwight's account given the fact Doe spent so long as a theoretical person, running from the other survivors as though they were killers. Stuff like that!! You certainly don't have to BUT I LIVE FOR PRIOR CONNECTIONS AND PLOTTED SHIPS, romantic and otherwise!

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dimitrscu · 8 months

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I feel like Malenia is proof the fandom at large isn't as progressive as it thinks. I say this because every time I see or get into a discussion about how the fandom treats her, without fail someone will say, "But people like X female character. It's not sexism." And I'm like, "I'm describing the disproportionate rage towards Malenia, visible double standards, bewildering character assassination. And you're here giving me the 'I have a black friend' defense for fictional characters? Fucking A."

They always tend to use Maria in that argument like come on now, just because one character doesn’t get that treatment doesn’t mean it isn’t happening to another. People who straight up deny this shit goes on when there are some, like fan artists, who have had to deal with these toxic fans, and have even spoken out about it only to get shut down and told that they're making it up lmao people were so fucking annoying about it I swear. There are artists on twitter who have even said they just don’t like to draw Malenia because they don’t want to deal with the shitty fans. And then things only got worse when LMSH became a thing because then all the rape comments and gross porn was everywhere. Legit can't look at that guy the same way after seeing all the vile shit people say about him and her. It’s not the guys fault of course, he seems pretty chill. But some fans thought they’d use him as an excuse to vent their hate towards Malenia. There’s this weird group of fans who like to think their hatred for her isn’t fuelled by misogyny because they’ll say things like “Nah, I just hate her because she nuked Caelid and hurt my boy Chadahn.” And I’m like okay I would believe that if it weren’t for the fact you like to make/like/comment on content of her getting assaulted. Some people say they hate her yet are obsessed with porn of her. Specifically rape porn. Kind of makes me think that part of your problem is in fact her gender. They could be normal about it and just hate her for what she did, but no it has to be about “putting that woman in her place” all the time.

But the sheer level of hate she gets for the most ridiculous things is honestly just insane. There ought to be a character study on these fans because I get that Malenia is a difficult boss for a lot of players, but holy shit the reaction to her was so over the top. And the fact they still can’t shut up about it too. She unfortunately got it from both angles because people either rant about her boss fight, or go on about the lore and her fight with Radahn. Or both. Girlie stood no chance when you think about it. People who use the excuse that her boss fight is hard and therefore the hate is justified. Yeah like I said, I would believe that more so if all the hate wasn’t centred around wanting to physically assault her and "put her in her place". Souls games have always had hard bosses and I’m sure the next game they make will have something harder than she is, but I can’t honestly say I’ve ever seen people act like this about Nameless King or Gael or Isshin or Orphan before. I mean I wonder why, right? It’s just kind of exhausting at this point and I don’t doubt it will all come back once the DLC drops. This is actually why I’d be quite happy if we don’t see her again in any way. The odd reference in an item description or something would be fine but please don’t bring her back just for us to fight again, I can’t be dealing with all this a second time around.

#anonymous #answered #under a readmore for sa mention #don't really want to put that on blast for everyone to see

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matsuropalette · 1 year

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ive had this thought on my mind since last night but anyways I simply feel like the sheer amount of trans guys and mascs with the experience of "I decided to live in denial of myself and my own happiness for an insanely long time because of the queer communities hatred of men and masculinity" should maybe force you to consider that your all men are evil patriarchs who oppress every single person who is not a man and have so much bigotry to unlearn rhetoric is actually not progressive, hurts more people than it helps, and primarily helps terfs, youve just convinced yourself that because you dont consider out and transitioning trans women men (and notice that I say out and transitioning! because if a trans woman isnt out and reasonably passing i have Bad News about who your anti men rhetoric is ALSO hurting) you're highly progressive

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ramblingnerdsposts · 1 year

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First rambling of account! This will be about one of the D&D campaigns I am currently in, a Curse of Strahd game. I am just super excited about it, with the character drama and development possible! Before I go further with the rambling, let me present the cast of this campaign really quickly: we have our DM, my character, the walking Castlevania reference known as Adelhelm Van Helsing, a Hexblade Warlock, an anthropologist wizard called Cassini, an excitable but naive tiefling, our bard Eri, a young woman with mysterious origins and a peculiar way of seeing the world, the human fighter Sarrith, a gruff woman haunted by a mysterious shadow, a Kender cleric named Hope Lost, a cynical woman who only has her faith to rely on, and the dhampir rogue Deryth, a professional conman that is really hard to read. (This is my reading of the characters, so if you find another description of them it might differ).

Anyway, for this ramble I’ll talk about my boy Adelhelm. He’s a bit of a complicated guy. His family, the Van Helsing, have made a deal with the Raven Queen generations ago to become monster hunters. It’s the family business to hunt vampires, liches, fiends and demons. It’s pretty much all he knows too, and because of this he lacked friends growing up, only having his family as people he cared about. Then, one night, he comes back home to find most of his family massacred, his sister and father gone, the library containing the knowledge of hundreds of his ancestors now turned to ash. He learns with the help of his family’s employees that vampires attacked and that Strahd was likely the one behind it. He is now in Barovia, trying to put an end to Strahd and avenge his family, while also trying to find where his sister and father ended up.

So, in terms of psychology, Adelhelm feels insane pressure to carry on his family’s legacy, as he’s pretty much the only one left who can do it, while also grieving the loss of the only people he has ever cared for and feeling guilt for his absence during the massacre. In short, Adelhelm is not exactly happy, and he’s more kept alive through sheer hatred and drive than anything else. He also has a really hard time really opening up to anybody, preferring to take on his problems by himself.

Now, for recent events, the party has fought a bunch of living trees and kicked their asses, and they slept under Leomund’s tiny hut with a new person that Adelhelm doesn’t trust very much. During the night, Sarrith took Deryth’s coat from him and ended up keeping it for a while, hinting at feelings between the two, while Adelhelm got cuddled by Cassini during the night (the wholesome kind of cuddles). And he actually liked the physical contact. So he’s confused, he’s developing feelings for Cassini, though even with prodding from Eri he didn’t admit to it. He was awkward for a bit and tried to keep his distance, but eventually with convincing from the bard, he decided to apologize for staying away from Cassini, which she accepted, then he said in an indirect manner that he wouldn’t mind it happening again. You know, romance subplot stuff.

But in Adelhelm’s mind, a lot was going on. He realized through the night that despite his annoyances with her (she tends to ask a LOT of questions), he cares for her. A lot. More than a friend. And he also realized he cares about the others. And he is TERRIFIED by that prospect. Getting close to people again is a risk. A risk that what he went through with his family’s death could happen again. And he does not want that. So now Adelhelm is torn and has a choice to make. He either pushes them away and becomes alone again, to wallow in his own misery, or he tries to open up to them and make new friends and maybe find love, but takes the risk of Strahd or another undead taking these people away from him too. And he does not know what to do.

If you stayed until the end, thanks for reading my rambling! There will be more in the future, on both this campaign, the other one and stuff like video games and anime I enjoy. Until then, later!

#dungeons and dragons #curse of strahd #my characters #character development #ramblings #romance #Adelhelm Van Helsing #ttrpg #storytelling #story time #monster hunters #castlevania #A whole lot of castlevania stuff #nerdlife #nerd explains #nerd rambling

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theskyexists · 2 years

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Oof. At least now I know that actual professional DND players (cr) can also get low energy unfocused bleed type sessions - and it's not pretty either.

But goddammit. All the viewers who hate on Marisha. I recognise the shape of that hatred....it's irrational, it's instinctive, it's automatic...it's disgust. It's a fascinating response, it's also deeply....irritating, and baffling, and infuriating. It inherently flows from some kind of double standard. Marisha has to better than everyone else, she can't be cringe, not one second. Her character cannot be played as abrasive or flawed (even though I find it often brilliantly done, and always clearly deliberately done.) Marisha carries SO MANY SCENES, improves SO MANY CHARACTERS AROUND HER. Out of all the roleplayers at the table only Laura does better in that sense.

But I understand the shape of that hatred, because I felt the beginnings of that for Taliesin when he was playing Molly. Because quite clearly he could not manage to play the character. I did not hate him, because I chose to see that that is a ridiculous idiotic and caveman response. I cringed - by god did I cringe, (the cringe is a mirror of your worst social fears is it not) but I did not accuse him of being a brainless dumb bitch for always failing at everything in-game.

Back to the hatred for Marisha. It cannot be anything but misogyny. But what does that mean. Why does she push people's buttons? I cannot relate at all, because I think Beau's generally the most sensible person in the room when it comes to strategy or tactics, and her communication goofs are generally for character or comedy sake. What is it that makes people hallucinate that she's super dumb and self-righteous. That's it. They don't believe she has a right to exist this way, and there's always this conflation between Beau and Marisha. Like Beau should have know better because Marisha should have know better and because Beau didn't, she's dumb and so Marisha's dumb. If something goes wrong, it's not just a game, a play, a scene, it's a crime. But thing is, what do these people fear in Beau and Marisha? The cringe getting stuck and exploding and turning into sheer hatred must be because of what she represents. Also a kind of failure. She's cant be a woman like this and a failure, she doesn't deserve to exist as she does (bold, abrasive) if she's a failure. She should pay for her daring to be as she is with being loveable, and when she isn't.... To me, Beau is deeply loveable. I wonder what these people see or feel when she makes hilarious jokes or does really cool insane monk shit and saves everybody, or facilitates incredible roleplay. Did they enjoy the whole thing with Keg? Which was both hilarious and quite sweet? Do they turn on her only when she doesn't quite hit every beat right, or is nothing she does quite as it should for them?

#that magic tower attempt ....hm #my stuff #personal #vidi #cr #i imagine much better treatises on this treeatment must have been written

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keysmashingfantasies · 3 years

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Bloody Comfort

pre borderlands!Niragi x fem!reader / Niragi x fem!reader

A/N: i feel like i only post Marvel on this blog and i missed my show so here it is, finally an AiB fic! :D also, minigame: how many alice in wonderland references can you spot? also also, bloody comfort is an awesome name for a band and if you do name your band that, i want my money. enjoy the fic! also also also i didn’t proofread SHIT so sorry for any grammar mistakes.

trigger warning: bullying, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic, i think but beware nonetheless), death (graphic. i mean, i’m not that good of a writer but still, beware), very slight mentions of nsfw, especially torwards the end, niragi (HE’S A WARNING OK), niragi having disturbing thoughts (what else is new. but fr, ok), sliiiiiight yandere niragi torwards the end. (also I tried not to describe in too much detail the bullying that niragi and the reader suffer in the fic so it wouldn’t be too sad).

@dreamingofanisland here it is bestie!

Niragi couldn’t pinpoint when he stopped being sad and when he started getting angry. From a suffocating hopelessness came a desperation he could only describe as feral. He often fantasized about just jumping over his desk and strangling each one of them to death but his thoughts quickly ended with Niragi envisioning himself being overpowered and beaten. He started to not only get angry at his bullies, but people in general. Things. Life.

How could so many people turn a blind eye? How could life be so unfair to give people like this the upperhand and not him? Not him that clearly deserved it? This world was backwards.

He knew he was fucked when he saw the bat, and although he braced for the impact he couldn’t help but fall to his knees and wince at the sickening sound that the baseball did in contact with his nose.

He just sat there and while all he wanted to do was to rip their throats with his teeth all he did was to endure a few more punches before they left with a promise that there would be more. He sat there trying not to cry with sheer frustration. His papers were scattered around, the left arm of his glasses was broken and his pristine black outfit was now covered in dust from the gravel, his hands scratched. He could taste blood on his tongue and he felt a sick satisfaction, pretending for one moment that it was another person’s blood he was tasting.

“Do you need help?”, a voice woke him from his violent daydreams. Suddenly everything boiled over and he felt an overwhelming anger rise inside of him. In a blink of an eye he was standing up, yelling at a somewhat blurry image of a girl who he towered over, even more as she shrunk under his anger. If he wouldn’t be so busy screaming profanities, he would be madly aroused.

“WHAT, HUH? CAME TO SEE THE SHOW? TO LAUGH AT ME?”, he was furious, and as he approached her, she proceeded to walk back.

“No. I just wanted to help”, she said. It seemed another flash and suddenly he could see a bit clearer. Although startled, she didn’t seem afraid of him, and was extending him a tissue. “Your nose is bleeding”, she said, and Niragi wanted to scoff at her for stating the obvious. But she was being kind. And as angry as he was, kindness wasn’t something that he could say no to. He tried his best to control his shaky hands as he took the tissue from her hands and carefully dabbed his nose, as she ducked to collect his papers, and tuck them back into his bag.

“Saw what they did to you. ‘m sorry”, she mumbled. Niragi wanted to strangle her out of sheer embarrassment.

“And you just took some popcorn and enjoyed the spectacle?”, he spat.

“I wanted to help but I wasn’t sure what to do. Would you rather if I had called someone?”, she asked. He breathed once, twice. She wasn’t mocking him, but was unnervingly calm. Something about her being calm while he was practically foaming at the mouth had him seeing red and suddenly he regret having wiped the blood off of his lips.

“No”, he said, calmly. “No, I wouldn’t. Sorry. I have to go”, he said, ripping his bag from her hands with such force that he tugged her arm with it.

“Wait! I mean what I said! I want to help!”

“You, help me? What are you going to do, huh? Be my bodyguard?”, he mocked her one more time. He couldn’t help himself, his brain got used to this. Fight or flight. His adrenaline was pumping and everytime he was around school grounds he looked over his shoulder.

“Hmmm, sorta? Not exactly but I could show you a place. A safe place”, she said. He just looked at her.

“If we get there and it’s a prank of some sort I’ll let you punch me. Square in the face”, she said.

“Are you insane? You just go around letting people punch you in the face?”, his mouth was quicker than his brains and suddenly he felt his face grow hot at the irony of what he had said. But if she noticed it, she didn’t mention.

“Let me help you”, she said.

And he did.

He followed her through a wooded area near the school grounds after walking through a hole in a fence.

He was getting ready to beat you to the punch and hit you so hard that you’d bleed as hard as he did, until you stopped until you reached a very underwhelming toolshed with a padlock.

“We’re here”, you said, and he realized that she sounded different. All this time she was on edge. ‘Of course, Suguru, you threatened the girl like, 3 times’, said the voice in the back of his head. She pulled a key from her bag and the padlock opened easily and they heavy chains fell to the ground and she pushed open the door, going inside. He hesitantly followed.

The inside is nothing as he thought it would be. For starters, it was surprisingly clean and it didn’t smell bad. And instead of tools and brooms and leafblowers, it had bean bags, blankets, a table with a radio full of knickknacks in the corner and a chair that had clearly seen better days but looked comfortable none the less. The girl walked to a corner of the room and his eyes followed her as she closed the door, which had small sharpie drawings on it. She reached for a white box and settled it on the floor between the two bean bags, and reached inside a very small thermos to pull out an artificially blue isotonic drink and settled it down too. Then from the plastic bag he previously assumed was trash, she pulled a bag of chips.

She then patted the bean bag next to hers. “Welcome to my clinic”, she said, placing the white box on her lap.

After an entire afternoon of bonding over unhealthy food and an impromptu first aid rescue, Niragi learned that her name was Y/N, she was a year below and that this little world she created was her refuge from the girls in her class that picked on her.

“I found this and decided that it would be nice. No one’s using it, it’s far from everything. It’s on the Beheaded Woman’s territory”.

Niragi heard the rumors through his bullies. “One day we’ll drag you to the Beheaded Woman’s woods and fucking kill you”. After further investigation, he learned that allegedly a girl was dragged through the woods and beheaded with a blunt axe.

“I made the rumors up. I had to make sure no one would find my safe haven”, she explained. “And once you write something in the girls’ bathroom stall, there’s no turning back. It’s out there and it’s truth”, she sighed. “I would know”.

He wasn’t the most up to date in all the gossip but she told him her story. The rumors they spread, the things they did to her. She almost seemed amused. He in turn told her his story. By the end of it, he could kill someone. She then offered him the other key to her safe haven.

“You can decorate it too. Don’t tell anyone else and make sure to lock it after you use it. Use it as much as you want, just make sure they don’t follow you, okay?”

He took the keys with shakey hands, a knot on his throat. Another type of adrenaline was pumping through his veins. When a few moments ago there were a fast white heat, coursing through him like an electric current, this was slow and almost overwhelmingly warm, like molten lava.

“Why are you doing this? Being so nice to me?”, he whispered as if it was a secret, as if this moment was another fantasy, a deer that’s easily spooked. He had fantasized about this too. A safe haven, an ally. A friend.

“Because we’re the same, you and I”.

You hated him. You hated him with a burning passion. What was at first an act of pity, born from the empathy you felt by seeing someone go through what you did, quickly became a friendship and like a disease, it spread to beyond your safe haven. You would spend your free time together, walk home together. You became friends. And what did he do? Exactly what he told you he would.

“Sometimes don’t you wish to disappear?”, he whispered to you once.

“Yeah. Like, run away? Yeah, I do”, you replied agreeing with him.

‘You’re the only one that understands me. We really are the same’, he would say. What at the beginning of your budding crush on him gave you butterflies on the stomach now made you want to throw up.

You lost your only friend. You despised the sound of music now, because every single song you heard, you shared with him. For the same reason, you didn’t enjoy your favorite movies anymore. Your bullies banded together to target you. And the worst part of all, is that you couldn’t even care. There was no silver lining anymore.

“Don’t you get furious?! Don’t you want to hurt them, make them pay?”, he said as he watched you apply concealer to a bruised cheek.

“I mean, I get angry but I try my best to not let it get to me. It’s what they want. I despise those people, I can’t get in a funk because of them”, you said nonchalantly.

But you had loved him. And now you felt like even moving around was an herculean task, like you were almost dead trying to get to safety. But there was no safety anymore.

Ironically, you started to understand him more and more after he disappeared. The anger, the hatred. How could anyone just follow their lives? When there’s people like you just suffering through yours?

Suguru Niragi was an illness, a parasite. He carved his way under your skin and into your heart, laid eggs of his hate on your veins and sucked you dry of your life’s essence. Then, after you were a shell of a human, he disappeared out of thin air, leaving you alone. Leaving you with those people. Leaving you to die.

And you were still in love with him.

You thought you were finally insane when it happened.

The streets were empty. Absolutely no one. You wondered for a moment if you felt so alone that your mind convinced itself that that’s exactly what had happened, if any moment now you would be locked in an insane asylum for running around and screaming until you throat got raw.

It took you two games to understand what was going on. You made sure to change clothes. Running shoes, leggings and a warm hoodie that you never let the hood down. You decided to significantly shorten your hair after you saw a man pull a young girl by the ponytail in a spades game. You loaded a backpack with food and bottles of water, anything you could find. And an axe that you took from an emergency box from the building you slept in.

It was on your 5th game that it happened. You saw people die in these games, but none of it was hands on for you. You just watched your back and hoped to win and let whoever was running this show take care of the rest. Honestly, you didn’t even wait to know if anyone even survived. You were done doing that.

When you got there, there were five people already. They banded together and whispered amongst themselves as you passed them by and grabbed a phone. Probably just a group of friends that got stranded at the same time and decided to stay together. You clutched you axe harder.

You didn’t even realize that you had zoned out until you heard hollering and four guys heavily armed walked you by. Where the fuck did they get guns? One of them let out a boisterous laugh that reminded you of someone that you wanted desperately to forget. You couldn’t even get over him during fucking Saw? That sound made your skin crawl.

Registration closed, said the mechanic voice. Difficulty: 8 of clubs. The first 5 players will be the first team and the last 5 players will be the second. One team must eliminate the others without losing any players. Both teams will be identified by the color of your screen, and will have one minute to hide.

You saw the armed guys’ screens light up red. You sighed in relief as yours did too. You made sure to keep your head down and thank whoever that not killing teammates was a part of the rules. They seemed amused and absolutely calm, and the guy with the rifle laughed again. You were shaking by now.

When the minute started, everyone bolted in different directions. You didn’t even look back to see if your teammates had accompanied you but by the sound of your footsteps crushing leaves, you were alone. You decided to go back after a while, looking around. A lamppost. Huh, lamppost it is. You leaned against the cool metal and focused on the silence. The minute had ended but they were still hunting. You didn’t come across anyone, which was good. After a while, all you could hear were distant gunshots.

You looked to the floor, only to see a shadow approaching you quick. You barely had time to dodge before a man hit you behind the head with a rock. You reacting made him lose his balance, falling to the floor and letting go of the rock. You looked at him. It was one of the boys from the other team. He had on a white button up blouse and a black hoodie. His hair had fallen over his brown eyes and he looked so scared and so alone.

This will have to do.

You didn’t stop, suddenly lifting the axe and bringing it down was like an automatic thing.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME? AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU! YOU ABANDONED ME IN A MINUTE, LEFT ME ALONE IN THAT HELL!”

You didn’t stop when he started praying and then screaming. You didn’t stop when he started bleeding profusely or when the strength of your movements made your hood slide down from your head. You didn’t stop when his head got detached from his body and if you weren’t so angry, you would’ve listened tfootsteps. You didn’t stop until you had made mincemeat out of his face. Just for the sheer audacity of reminding you of him.

He looked at you from afar while you looked at the body of the boy whose skull you just had destroyed, a maniac, victorious smile on your face. You were pretending the boy was him. You really thought he had abandoned you? He would be absolutely heartbroken if he wasn’t so aroused. That’s what he always wanted to see, the instincts that you tried to push down. You were right, you were both the same. He wanted to lick that blood off of you, use it as lube to take you right there. When he first arrived at the Borderlands, when he first killed someone and liked it, he thought you would be disgusted by him. But look at you now. You were here, perfect for him, soaked in blood, feral. He’s never been so hard.

“Y/N”, he said.

“Niragi?,” you said. He ran to you, held you even when you fought back, even when you screamed bloody murder that you were going insane, begging to die already, even when you passed out on his arms. He licked a drop of blood from your neck.

“Let me take you to our safe haven”, he whispered against your skin.

#niragi loving hours in this mf house #niragi x reader #niragi fic #niragi suguru #suguru niragi #niragi imagine #alice in boderland x reader #alice in borderland fic #niragi suguru x reader #suguru niragi x reader

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iamanartichoke · 3 years

Text

I wrote a Thing. It’s extremely long. I’d prefer it not be reblogged; I wrote this for my own catharsis and would prefer it not be circulated, bc of Reasons.

I changed my mind, okay to reblog. <3

Under a cut for (extreme, did I mention?) length.

So I got about 12 minutes of sleep last night, as you do, and around 3am or so I found myself - out of sheer curiosity - going down a meta hole of Ragnarok discourse, trying to figure out where this "satisfying redemption arc" for Loki happened. (I mean, there's a lot of things I would like to figure out, but I started there.) Because I could.

Basically I was looking for meta that went into detail about how Loki was redeemed in a satisfactory way. The ‘satisfactory’ is an important word here bc there is a redemption arc in the film, in that Loki starts off the film as an antagonist (kinda) to Thor and he ends the film as an ally to Thor, standing at Thor's side. In that sense, yes, there's a redemption arc. I didn't find much (and I had no idea how much people just despise Ragnarok "antis" [I really dislike that word] but that's another topic [that I don't particularly want to get into, tbh]) but I did find some. I read what I could find, and I read it open-mindedly, and overall I came away feeling like, okay, there are some valid points being made here and I can kinda see where they're coming from.

But it was a bit (a lot) like -- flat. Idk. The best comparison I can think of is that it’s like if a literature class read, I don't know, The Yellow Wallpaper for an assignment, and some of the students came away from it feeling like it was a creepy story about a woman slowly driving herself insane, and the other students came away from it incensed at the oppression and infantilization of women in the late 19th century -

- and neither side is wrong, but the former is a very surface-level reading and the latter isn't (bc it stems from looking at why she drives herself insane, why she was prescribed 'rest' in the first place, the context of what women could and couldn't do back then, etc; basically, a bit more work has to go into it).

[Note: I am not disparaging the quality of The Yellow Wallpaper. At all. It’s just the first relatively well-known story that popped into my head.]

In this sense, I can see the argument for Loki's redemption arc, but I don't think it's a very good argument. Not invalid, but not great.

I mean, for example, I think the most consistent argument I found variations of re: Loki's redemption is that Ragnarok shows Loki finally taking responsibility for his bad behaviour and misdeeds. This includes recognizing that his actions were fueled from a place of self-hatred and a desire to self-destruct in addition to bringing destruction on others. That he probably feels awkward and regretful of these things and doesn't know how to act around Thor, but he figures it out by the end, and decides that returning to Asgard is the best way to show that he's ready to make amends. His act of bringing the Statesman to Asgard is an apology. He allies himself with Thor and ends up in a better place, both narratively (united with Thor once again) and mentally (having taken responsibility and made amends for his past).

And setting aside that he had already made amends by sacrificing his life in TDW (and also setting aside that the argument is made that Loki redeems himself in IW by sacrificing himself to Thanos but if that's the case, wouldn't that imply that he hadn't achieved redemption in Ragnarok or else there would be no need to achieve it again in IW? Or, if you think he did achieve redemption in Ragnarok, then what the fuck did he give his life in IW for? What was his motivation there, and why did the narrative not make it clearer? I digress.)

- setting aside those two factors, I think this is a very fair argument. Loki is fueled by self-hatred, and he does want to self-destruct, and he does want to inflict that pain on others as well (particularly Thor). No lies detected here.

However, I also need to know where that self-hatred and desire for destruction (toward himself and others) comes from and for that, we need to go back to Thor 1.

Thor 1.

Loki starts Thor 1 out as "a clenched fist with hair," to borrow a quote from the Haunting of Hill House (that I tucked away in my mental box of Lovely Things bc it says so much so very simply). He's very used to bottling everything up, pushing it down; he slinks around behind the scenes, pulling the strings to this plot or that. He's "always been one for mischief," but the narrative implies that the coronation incident is the first time Loki's done anything truly terrible. And it all immediately pretty much goes to shit, so Loki spends the rest of the movie frantically juggling all these moving pieces while trying to seem as if he's got it all under control, every step of the way. That's how I view his actions.

But I always come back to that quote where Kenneth Branaugh tells Tom, of the scene in the vault, "This is where the thin steel rod that's been holding your mind together snaps." In other words this is where Loki discovering he's Jotun is just one thing too many. He can't take it. But though the rod snaps, his descent isn't a nosedive. It's a tumble. As the story progresses, the clenched fist starts to loosen, the muscles are flexed in unfamiliar ways (that feel kinda good, after being stiff for so long), and it culminates with the hand opening completely and shaking itself out. All of that repression, that self-hatred, that rage and jealousy just explodes so that, by the time the bifrost scene happens, Loki's already hit bottom. It's not just about proving his worthiness to Odin. He wants to hurt Thor, too; he, essentially, throws a tantrum. (That's right, I said tantrum.)

(Note: The word 'tantrum’ has negative connotations bc we normally equate it with a toddler stamping their feet and screaming in the aisle when their parent won't buy them the toy they want. But in itself, the word tantrum isn't infantalizing. It's an "emotional outburst, an uncontrolled explosion of anger and frustration" [paraphrasing from dictionary.com]. That's exactly what happens here [and why Tom called Loki's actions a massive tantrum, but people took that to mean Tom agreed it was childish whereas I doubt Tom meant it that way]).

He's been pushed past his limit, and he does bad things. He does really shitty things. He hurts Thor, he hurts his family. I'm pretty sure he knows this all along so this isn't, like, some revelation further down the line that "hey, those things I did were probably kinda bad." He got the memo already.

Ragnarok

Fast forward to Ragnarok, and we're introduced to a version of Loki who's had 4ish years to sit with everything that's happened. To sit with it and not do much else. The rawness of it has faded, and now it seems as though it's just become a thing, like when you move through life aware of your childhood traumas and have more or less just accepted them (and you probably share a lot of really funny depression memes on Facebook, which is kinda the equivalent of Loki's play, but that's probably just me).

Loki has, more or less, chilled out. He seems more bored than anything else; he's been masquerading as Odin for longer than he ever planned or intended to, so he's more or less ended up hanging out, letting Asgard mind its own business, and entertaining himself with silly plays. This is the version that starts out the movie as an antagonist to Thor - a version that is, arguably, in a much different place [and is a much milder threat] than the version who originally did those Bad Things.

And of course Thor is still mad at him, and of course they're going to butt heads, because that's what they do (and Thor's grievances are genuine, I’ll add, bc it's not really his fault he assumed Loki faked his death, nor can he be blamed for being pissed about Odin).

One argument framed this version of Loki as being a person who is facing the awkwardness of coming out of a dark place, which is fair. If we're going to frame his actions in Thor 1 as a tantrum, then Ragnarok would be the part where the toddler has been taken home, possibly has had some lunch and a juice box, and is now watching cartoons. They're over the tantrum, and would probably feel pretty silly about it if they weren't, yknow, toddlers. They probably can't remember why they even wanted that toy so badly. If they're a little older and self-aware, they might even be embarrassed for having melted down.

Like the word tantrum, this feeling isn't a thing limited to toddlers. I know I've had a few epic meltdowns as a grown ass adult, and I know I always feel deeply embarrassed afterwards - like, want to crawl into a hole and die. I've said things I can't take back. Adolescents and teenagers throw tantrums, mentally ill people throw tantrums, adults throw tantrums (I mean, my god, look at all the videos of Karens having screaming meltdowns - screaming! - over having to wear masks in order to shop at stores). Humans throw tantrums. And usually, after the feelings have been let out and the tantrum has passed, humans feel pretty regretful and awkward and embarrassed about whatever they did and said in the midst of their meltdown.

I get all of that and agree it's valid and that Loki probably feels it. By the time Ragnarok happens, Loki's had some time to reflect and think hmm, yeah, probably could've handled that one a lot better. The argument further goes that in order to navigate this awkward period, Loki must come to terms with what he's done, acknowledge that some things can't be unsaid or undone, and begin to make amends. Supposedly, some people feel that Loki becomes a better person because he does "own" everything he did wrong and, even though he feels like a jackass (paraphrasing), he sets that aside to become a become a better person by choosing to help Thor and Asgard at the end.

Thus, the overall arc goes like this. Loki, Thor's jealous little brother,

throws a tantrum of epic proportions bc Reasons

continues to act badly and make things even worse (Avengers)

has to face consequences for his actions (prison sentence)

ends up with a stretch of time in which he's free to contemplate and chill out

feels embarrassed and awkward about how he's behaved

sees an opportunity to make up for it and decides to take it

helps Thor, saves the day, and ends the film a better person.

Redemption achieved.

None of this is wrong. The film supports it. It's a fair interpretation. But it leaves. out. so. much.

To circle all the way back around Loki being "a clenched fist with hair," and his actions stemming from his self-hatred, you have to ask - how did he get that way? He didn't end up with all this self-hatred on accident. Generally, one isn't born despising themselves, it's a learned behavior. (I realize chemical imbalances are a thing, obviously, as I have Mental Shit myself, but for argument's sake I'm assuming that's not the case with Loki [at this point in time]).

Where did Loki learn it? From his family, from his surroundings, from his culture. We see examples of these microaggressions in the first, like, twenty minutes of the movie - a guard openly laughs at Loki's magic after Thor makes a joke about it (the tone of the conversation implies that Thor "jokes" like this often) and though Loki does the snake thing, the guard faces no real consequences. Thor doesn't acknowledge that anything went amiss. Not much later, on their way to Jotunheim, Loki's barely gotten two words out to Heimdall before Thor cuts him off, steps in front of him, and takes charge. Loki doesn't look annoyed at this; he looks resigned.

Then, for absolutely no reason at all, Volstagg decides to make a jab at Loki ("silver tongue turned to lead?") just because he can. The ease with which he makes this comment and the way that no one else blinks an eye at it implies that this isn't out of the norm. And Loki doesn't react, not really. In the deleted version, he delivers a particularly nasty comeback but he delivers it under his breath, without intending Volstagg to hear it. In the final version, he simply says nothing, though his expression can be read as hurt or stung. Either way, the audience sees an example of Loki being walked all over by Thor and his friends and bottling up his reactions instead of standing up for himself.

Microaggressions matter. They are mentally and emotionally damaging. They hurt. The implication that this is not unusual treatment for Loki means that Loki's probably gone through this for most of his life. It's like the equivalent of being, I don't know, twenty two and you're the friend who has to walk behind the others when the sidewalk isn't wide enough, and it's been that way since the first day of kindergarten. At this point, you're used to it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less when the jabs come seemingly out of nowhere, for no reason other than to make you feel bad.

(I personally identify a lot with this bc I experienced passive bullying in social settings for years. I was the 'doesn't fit on the sidewalk' friend; I hung around with people who'd pretend to be my friend and would be more or less nice to my face, but would laugh at me and make fun of me behind my back for whatever reasons. And often there'd be the random jabs at me, things that would come out of nowhere to smack me in the face, followed by the fake laugh and “just kidding!" so that I couldn't even get upset without being made to feel like I was overreacting and couldn't take a joke. I'd deal with this socially, particularly in middle school when girls are their most vicious, and then I'd go home and, because I was the only girl with a lot of brothers and because boys are mean and because I am who I am, the dynamic was that my brothers would just endlessly roast me to my face and sometimes it was a "just kidding!" thing, where I was the only one not laughing. But that’s beside the point; my point is that microaggressions, passive bullying, and consistent invalidation are harmful and that shit stays with you into adulthood.)

So, yes, Loki needs to be held responsible for his misdeeds, and it's valid to say that he recognizes those misdeeds and wants to make amends. I have never disagreed with that. But the problem with this interpretation is that it lets every single other character who contributed to Loki's self-hatred and mental breakdown (let's just call a spade a spade here, that's what it was; he was broken psychologically) get off scot-free.

First of all,

Odin is not held accountable for instilling in the princes a mentality of Asgard first, everyone is beneath us but Jotuns are benath us the most, they are literal monsters. He is not held accountable for pitting his sons against one another (even if it was unintentional, he still did it) with "you were both born to be kings but only one of you can rule" being the general tone of their upbringing. He's not held accountable for his favoritism toward Thor.

Frigga is not held accountable for deferring to Odin both in supporting the above things and in keeping the truth of Loki's origins a secret while doing nothing to discourage the "monsters" narrative.

Thor is not held accountable for his own tendency of taking Loki for granted (he assumes Loki will come to Jotunheim, he oversteps Loki constantly, “know your place,” etc.. He grants his implicit permission for Loki to be treated as the sidewalk friend in their “group,” a group which is loyal to and takes their cues from Thor as Thor continues to do nothing in his brother's defense).

[Note: Wanting Thor to be held accountable for things he's done wrong isn't vilifying him. Acknowledging that Thor benefited from Odin's favoritism and his own place as Crown Prince doesn't negate Thor also being raised in an abusive environment. I don't think anyone's saying that or, if they have, it's not something I agree with.]

Furthermore,

Odin is not held accountable for his cruelty in disowning Loki (”your birthright was to die” is never going to be forgotten, speaking of people saying things that can't be unsaid or taken back) and in sentencing Loki to a severe prison sentence (life! only bc Frigga wouldn't let him execute Loki) for crimes that are no worse than what Odin himself has committed (around which the entire plot of Ragnarok revolves! Colonialism (and subjugation) is wrong is, like, a major theme [that people rush to praise, even] here).

Thor is also never held accountable for not trying harder to understand what made Loki snap (fair enough, he didn't have a ton of time after returning from Earth, but certainly he had lots of time to sit around reflecting while Loki was being tortured by Thanos for a year). He knows Loki is "not himself" and "beyond reason" and accepts it at face value; he questions it once and then lets it go. He's fine with assuming Loki's just lost his mind, and isn't that a shame. (I realize I'm simplifying Thor's emotions but my point is that Thor could've tried harder to figure out that Loki was being influenced and/or not acting completely autonomously.)

Thor is also never held accountable for - if not facing consequences for his own slaughter of Jotuns - then at least addressing why Loki can't kill an entire race even though Thor tried to do that, like, two days ago. (Granted, it’s difficult to understand how Thor got from Point A ("let's finish them together, Father!") to Point B (this is wrong!), but that failing belongs to Thor 1 (which is not, by the way, a perfect movie).

The interpretation that Loki is fully redeemed because he took responsibility for his actions, returned to Asgard, and allied himself with Thor to save their people is all well and good - but, why is Loki the only one here who has to take responsibility for their actions?

What about all the loose threads in his story?

For example, how did he get from:

Point A (believing himself a literal monster, having a complete mental breakdown, getting tortured and further traumatized after that, etc)

Point B (Hey, yknow what would be fun? I'm going to write and direct a play about how I heroically died to save Thor and Jane, and I'll go ahead and have Odin say he accepts me and has always loved me. I'm going to do these things because Odin never said this in real life and instead of acknowledging my sacrifice, Thor left my body in the dirt, so someone has to validate what I've done right and that someone might as well be me. And hey, while I'm at it, I'm going to control the narrative on revealing myself as Jotun to Asgard, instead of living in fear of it being found out, and I'm going to do it in a way that they have to sympathize with me and revere me in death, bc they never bothered to do so when I was alive. And Matt Damon should play me, also.)

Point C (Yeah, I guess I feel kinda awkward about that whole tantrum thing, also I should help Thor and support him being king.)

The answers to these questions are handwaved and the audience takes that to mean they don't matter. Furthermore, framing Loki's redemption around an act of service (more or less) to Thor makes Loki's redemption about Thor. Does Loki make this decision for the sake of Thor and of Asgard, or does he make it for himself? It's not super clear to me, and I think arguments can be made for both. Which, again, is fine, but - whatever.

If we're going to collectively agree, as a fandom, that Loki is complex, that he's morally gray, that he's worthy of redemption and therefore arguably a good person who's done bad things, then why is it asking too much to have it acknowledged that Thor (also a good person who's done bad things) played a part in Loki's downfall and has shit to apologize for, too? Bc one can only assume the reason is that you're taking a very gray concept and making it black and white by saying Loki has to apologize and make amends because he is the villain, and Thor doesn't because he is the hero (and it's his movie). And it's lazy.

This is where the crux of the issue lands. There's more than one valid interpretation, yes. And no two people (or groups of people, or whatever) are going to consume and therefore interpret or analyze the source material in the same way. I think I saw a post recently about how studies have been done on this, in fact. But, there is a lot going on under the surface that tends to get overlooked when exploring Loki's redemption arc in Ragnarok, as far as I can see, and that’s why I don’t consider it satisfactory.

[I did read similar arguments regarding other issues that are often debated ('debated'), like Loki's magic and/or being underpowered, whether or not Loki's betrayal of Thor was the natural outcome of the situation on Sakaar or not, whether Thor actually gets closure with Odin [if he does, how does he reconcile the father he's idolized with the imperialistic conqueror he's discovered? Why doesn't he hold Odin responsible for covering up Hela's existence and the threat of her return, especially as he knew he was nearing the end of his life? Is Thor's "I'm not as strong as you" meant to imply that he acknowledges those shortcomings of Odin's and that he's okay with them, or that he's just overlooking them, or is he not okay with them but didn't have the chance to get into it bc he was in the middle of battle? T'Challa confronted his father on his wrongdoings in Black Panther; could Thor not have had at least one line that was confrontational enough to establish where he stands as opposed to this gray middle? Can someone explain to me how any of this equates to Thor gaining closure? Please?) but obviously I'm not going to go into all of them (well, I tried not to), bc this mammoth post has gone on long enough (I may not even post this tbh)]

- but my overall point to this entire thing is that when I say I'm critical of Ragnarok bc it's flawed, that Loki's arc was neither complete nor satisfactory, that many things went unaddressed and, due to all of these things, I do not think Ragnarok is a very good movie nor a very cohesive movie, this is where I'm coming from. I have not seen anything to change my mind to the contrary.

But I am not saying that anyone satisfied with it is wrong, or shouldn't have the interpretation that they do. I'm not vilifying Thor in order to lift Loki up, just acknowledging that Thor is arguably just as flawed as Loki without the stigma of being Designated Villain. I think a lot of these arguments get overlooked or dismissed, and that's fine, but it doesn't make the people who do engage with them hateful, or bitter, or trying to excuse Loki's crimes, or feeling like redemption means that Loki's crimes should be erased rather than reconciled.

And sure, yes, perhaps we are expecting too much and exploring all of these themes (or wanting them explored) means that somehow we think it should be Loki's movie (we don't). Loki is a supporting character, but he's still a character. And the movie itself doesn't have to delve into all these things - no one's saying that. (At least, I'm not.) We just want acknowledgement, from the narrative, that this stuff was an Issue.

This could have been accomplished with -

Some dialogue closer to the novelization (and original script), like Thor and Loki both acknowledging the harm they've done one another and their kingdom due to their Feels.

A single line of Thor confronting Odin, or even asking "Why?"

A narrative acknowledgement that Odin did both Thor and Loki dirty (”I love you, my sons” isn't an apology, because it doesn't acknowledge either that there's been wrong-doing or express regret for having done the wrong in the first place).

A little bit more nuance in the way Loki treats his own past (ie, instead of flippantly telling the story of his suicide attempt, maybe - if it must be flippant - talk about getting blasted in the face with Hawkeye's arrow or sailing through to Svartalfheim [And in that moment, I sang ta-daaaa!]) or whatever.

I recognize that wanting full, in-depth exploration on all of these issues regarding a supporting character is probably too much to ask or expect - but, I also feel like, if you're going to be professionally writing a narrative (or rewriting/improvising, as it were), it's not too much to ask that a little more care be taken in regards to all of the layers that have contributed to said supporting character's downfall and subsequent redemption arc. I don't think that's an unreasonable thing to want.

And maybe if there had been more nuance and continuity in how these things were portrayed on screen (ie, if TW had actually done as good a job as his stans think he did), the fandom wouldn't have divided and conquered itself over which "version" of the same character is more valid and whether or not the film did its best to close out a trilogy (not start a new one), to the point where everyone in this fandom space makes navigating it feel like walking through a minefield.

But, I mean

(Again, please don’t reblog if possible.)

Edit: Okay to reblog. <3

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liddolwhynot2000 · 3 years

Text

Reminisce

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Summary: So he demoted you. In mere seconds, you went from being the person who owned his heart, to another replaceable soldier.

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Pairings: Erwin/Reader

Genre: Angst, Death, Why am I not nice to Erwin, regrets

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It's night time, with a full moon and peaceful sky. The stars are sparkling a little, accompanied by a peaceful silence Erwin hasn't experience in a while. If he was still a cadet, he would grab a beer and sit on the roof, maybe with some of his friends, and bask in the view.

But alas, his cadet days are long over. Now, he's the Commander of The Survey Corps. His own wants and needs are at the bottom of the priority list, his work comes first, which is why he's in his cramped office, mind on the next expedition and it's requirements.

Erwin sits in his office, dimly lit by a few candles. His hands don't stop as they continue to write, scribbling on the pages without pause. He looks like his usual self; the untouchable, always composed commander.

Nothing can get past him, nothing can make him panic. It's well known that hardly anything has ever phased him, even since before he became the commander. It's why he's considered to be the best at his job.

But there are signs, signs of a weary man. Someone struggling to keep it all in, to not let out how awful he's feeling. Erwin knows himself well enough, he knows when he exhibits those signs. It's usually on nights like these that he has no choice but to acknowledge the overwhelming guilt he feels and give in to the urge to reminisce.

His hands are trembling a little as they write, his hair is slightly messy, from his running his hands through it so much. His foot lightly taps against the wood of the desk, and his face is more grim then neutral. If anyone who truly knew him took a closer look, they would see that he wasn't doing well.

Erwin sighs, putting the pen down. He knows no one is near by, no one who can see him break down a little. So he allows himself to lower his walls, and bury his head in his arms. He welcomes the darkness and drifts off in his thoughts.

He met you three years ago, an aspiring soldier. Strong, witty, reliable and all the things one needed in a capable solider. He had appreciated you, your never ending strength and ability to turn every bad situation beneficial for them. Even at the cost of your own self.

He recalls how badly you would get injured in your attempts at saving lives, how you would selflessly give you up your gas to Levi, knowing he would use it better, while completely ignoring the danger you put yourself in. He remembers how you never hesitated even then, going as far as to call titans to you by yelling, in hopes that your comrades could attack them in their distraction.

What an honourable soldier you had been, having devoted everything to your duty. You had easily attracted him to you with those traits.

Initally, it had only been comraderie. But then it had evolved, growing beyond what two people who work together should be like. The two of you struck up a quiet friendship, often spending time with each other outside of work. It had genuinely been to dicuss work, at the start, but then months in, he found himself embracing you the way a lover would, not how a friend should.

There were parts of you that only Erwin learned about, and there were parts of Erwin only you knew and got to keep to yourself. No one else would ever know the secrets between the two of you, the laughs, the jokes, the moments where you could only see each other.

Those were things you had taken to your grave, and Erwin had locked up in the darkest parts of his heart and mind. He would never let anyone know of them. After all, it was the least he could do, even though he knows that you would rather he forget them all, rather then reminisce about them.

Erwin is too selfish to honour that last, unsaid request of yours. He has to at least cling to your memory, for it's the only thing keeping him from driving himself to the brink of insanity.

No one ever knew about your relationship, and the two of you had been fine that way. Spending time with each other under the guise of work, sneaking kisses after lights out, all of it had been enjoyable. A relationship he hadn't thought possible had blossomed, one that stuck to him with every thought.

He used to drift off to thoughts of your sweet smile during casual meetings, to the point Levi would threaten to throw him out the window for it. He would plan secret dates, often pretending he was taking you along for work, and take you to nice restaurants. Almost every moment of his spare time had been devoted to you, to enjoy your presence and bask in how you make him feel.

Back then, he had been so lovestruck, so spoiled by your affections, that not a day went by where he could help thinking of you. Not a day went by where he didn't fall for you more. The warm feeling in his chest at the mere sight of you was love, and he knows that he'll never experience it for someone else again.

Not a day goes by where Erwin doesn't miss you. But he also knows that he has no right to, not when he's the one who got you killed.

Erwin shut his eyes tight, to the point they hurt, as he tries to bury his head in to his arms even further. He wishes there was a way for him to become one with darkness, to never have to open his eyes again and acknowledge that he lives in a world where you don't exist.

And it's all because of him.

It had been such a simple mission, an expedition solely to set up check points. They were expecting minimal losses, considering how short the mission would be. There shouldn't have been anything that went wrong, beyond the usual.

But then there was.

In a spur of the moment deicison, Hange had decided she wanted to try capturing a titan, all on her own. She had run off, with her gas not even half full, towards a 7 meter abnormal titan. He had been about to send Levi after her, only to remember that Levi was in the left flank that day, not the central like usual.

Hange had ended up being surrounded by multiple titans in her chase, and had gotten knocked out. She had hung from a tree, surrounded by titans. At that point, he only had your squad available to help.

It had been a tough decision, he had known. Anyone he sent there was going to die saving Hange, and any sane person wouldn't bother with saving Hange after that. But, he had been forced to pick.

You were a reliable soldier, but Hange was too brilliant. He had a gut feeling that they would need Hange and her brain more in the future, and Erwin wasn't one to not follow his instinct. A cold hard fact was that they needed her more then you.

So he demoted you. In mere seconds, you went from being the person who owned his heart, to another replaceable soldier.

He had seen the anguish in your eyes, the absolute hurt. You had known you were going off to your death, and that the man you were in love with was sending you there for his own goals. But you didn't argue.

You could have said that Hange wasn't worth an eight person squad of skilled soldiers. That Hange had gotten herself in this mess on her own and she was unreliable because of it. But you didn't make any of those valid points, knowing that Erwin wouldn't give a damn.

Instead, you took a off, only turning back once to glance at him.

You shot him a look, a sight he had yet to forget. The sheer hatred in your eyes, the betrayal, it had given away how much he had fucked up. It often haunts him in his dreams, knowing he deserves it.

The sight of you getting mauled to death by titans was even worse. It had been the one expedition where he had actually needed to throw up upon getting back to headquarters.

Erwin sits back up, leaning against the chair, his eyes full of an unusual amount of sorrow. He gazes out the window, feeling even worse.

You had loved the full moon, often dragging him out to watch it with you. You would bring snacks, and tea, and just lean against him. The serenity he had felt with you was out of his reach nowt was what made it more painful for him, knowing that he had hand delivered you into the arms of death.

The sight of the full moon reminds him of you, of what he's lost. He can't even complain, or curse you out for haunting him like this in death. He did this, he robbed you of your life, robbed himself of a chance at happiness, for his own selfish goals.

He can only reminisce about you, think about the good times he shared with you. But he can never have you back. He can never turn back time and win back the woman who's one smile made him weak at the knees. Who knew how to make just the right tea he needed to calm down from a frustrated mood. Who could sass Levi to hell and back and not bat an eyelash at the grump man's violence.

With a deep breath, he forces his himself to pick up the pen again, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in his chest. He begins to write again, resigned to his loneliness and regrets.

Maybe you'll forgive him once he starts his time in hell. Then again, a devil like him, who sarcficed others for himself, wasn't even worth forgiveness. Let alone worth you.

____________________________________

A/N: Heyooo. So, I know I'm too mean to Erwin, and I have no excuse for it. I might write some fluff for him now. I initally thought of a part 2 from readers point of view, but I don't know if that's something anyone would read. Do tell if you liked this!

#Attack on titan #Erwin X reader #Erwin/reader #Erwin Smith #Angst #Death #Soldier! Reader #I know I'm too mean to Erwin #Regrets

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maribabyart · 3 years

Note

Do you have any Demon Martha headcanons? How do you think her reunion with Mrs. Mayberry (The teacher who paid for her assassination) in hell would go?

OK YES I HAVE HEADCANONS FOR THIS HERE WE GO --

MARTHA HEADCANONS <3

So, I’m gonna start with her before she died so I can fully get into why every part of her is the way she is as a demon.

Martha is light skinned Latina woman with family coming from Venezuela. Her mother has a much darker skin tone than her, but her father is far more light-skinned, where she gets her complexion from. While she was raised in America, her parents were immigrants. She was born at home, and she didn’t get a birth certificate until she was four, the year before she started schooling.

She has three older brothers. They were very rambunctious with Martha as a child, pulling pranks on her/with her, taking her hunting, etc.

She was raised out on a farm in the middle of a forested area in Kentucky. They raised cattle, sheep, chickens, and horses. Martha’s main job on the farm was to groom/ride horses and feed chickens.

She learned her sharp-shooter skills in a more intense version of something like 4H unique to her area. She was fantastic with a bow and arrow, and even better with her firearms.

Cannibalism was normalized in Martha’s life from a young age. She knew that it must be kept secret from the outside world, and that it wasn’t accepted. However, it wasn’t something she found to be horrid.

Her family -- and their close friends -- came from a long lineage of Satanic cultists that practiced cannibalism to purge any bit of, “soul” remaining in the corpses of their sacrifices. Due to this, Martha had evolved to be able to be immune to the ill side effects of cannibalism, along with the ability to not feel repulsed by the idea of eating human meat.

Her favorite part of the body growing up was the brain, and it still is to this day. She loves the frontal lobe slathered in spices and hot sauce.

She began her cultish killings at age fourteen, when she officially joined the cult of her family’s descent -- Compañerismo de la Fruta Prohibida (Fellowship of the Forbidden Fruit, a refrence to their following of Lucifer)

Martha didn’t love Raphael Peterson, or, “Ralphie”. She was married of to him at age sixteen, when she became a, “Woman” in the cult’s eyes. They were both meant to appear as an ideal couple so that people wouldn’t suspect them, as their parents before them have.

Ralph and Martha always saw each other as friends with benefits.

They moved to Dayton, Tennessee to start their family when they turned eighteen.

In Nashville, Martha started singing to music her husband played in Taverns. Think Dolly Parton style music. She sounded a lot like that.

Their first child was born when Martha was eighteen: Their daughter, Jolene Peterson. Two years later, they had their son, Beau Peterson.

Martha was always really involved with her kids’ school activities, and she was always volunteering to work events, and her kids were in every activity they could be.

She used her physical attractiveness to seduce and kill men.

While sex favorable, Martha is on the aspec -- greysexual (sexual pleasure is irrelevant to her, and she only engages in it to appease her partner generally. She only finds sexual attraction in people while in the act.) Because of this fact, Martha only has affairs for the sake of gaining trust to bring the men home so they can be killed and eaten.

When Martha was shot, the community villainized Mrs. Mayberry because the town darling, Martha Jane Nunez Robles-Peterson, would NEVER cheat, right? The situation was misread: Martha was just talking to Jarold Mayberry that night about t-ball-related things, right? He WAS the the little league captain for her 6-year-old-son’s league, wasn’t he?

Martha was gifted millions by the community, and people were insanely supportive of her. They wanted the sweet Martha they, “knew” to get better soon. They loved her so -- such a darling woman!

Her music became more well known, and soon, Martha was all over TV. Her big musical break came from when she auditioned for American Idol and made it. Her sob-story propelled her, and she eventually won.

Martha was a hero to everyone around her -- surviving a traumatic event that was uncalled for, while also being so damn chipper and kind.

Hell, did you guys see the background in one of those scenes?! Martha was canonly proclaimed a SAINT! People loved her that much.

She used the public trust to lure in more victims and never be suspected.

Martha was 28 when she died. Ralphie was 28 as well. Jolene was 10, and Beau was 8.

Ralphie managed to survive the explosion, albeit he was completely paralyzed, and the two children went to heaven. Ralphie repented during his last month alive, and confessed to his crimes. He was sent to heaven as well.

Martha and the children were declared to have died in a bear attack, as Compañerismo de la Fruta Prohibida covered up their true demise with ease.

People were heart broken -- Martha’s music was used in sad collages on Youtube, Tik Toks had Martha’s face in them for memorials.

No one ever realized her crimes.

Now! As a demon....

In hell, Martha picked up the alias Hero -- it’s what she was in life, right? I’ll be calling her Hero from now on.

Hero is both different and similar to how she was when she was alive. She’s still the got her kind-hearted, southern mama vibe going for her: She tends to be able to fit into any demonic crowd well, either by attractiveness or by sheer, overwhelming allure -- she’s a very magnetic personality.

As far as powers go, Hero’s are mostly related to firearms. She’s acquired these powers through deal making and soul dealing, as most demons do. Her charming aura very quickly lure people into thinking she’s naive or really just being honest with them.

Her nails can peel back to allow her to shoot from, “finger guns”. Each finger is a different gun, besides her middle and index fingers. They are both shotguns. Together, they make a double barrel shotgun.

When in full demonic form, Hero’s bandages become sentient. They peel away from her wound, revealing a minigun like weapon in the hole in her head. This can rapid fire while the bandages can grab onto things or hoist Hero up. She can make this last for five minutes -- ten at the longest -- before she gives out to sheer exhaustion and needs to eat demon meat to replenish herself.

Within her first week in hell, she was known to be powerful. Not quite an overlord, but powerful enough to hang around overlords.

She hit overlord status three months later, during the terf war seen in Hazbin Hotel’s pilot: She took several areas of land, and was seen to have several lesser demons flocking to be on her good side.

Hero used her land to build up a bar and grill that serves strictly demon meat and blood, where demons can play music and dance. It’s like a fucked up country dinner. It’s an insanely popular addition to Cannibal Colony, where she lives.

The place is called La Cocina de la Calle Kuru (The Kuru Street Kitchen)

Hero REALLY wants to get her hands on exterminator tools, but she’s not really a fan of black market deals -- it’s too “trashy” for her.

Hero knows Alastor pretty well, as he’s came in for meat and to watch the music. They’ve had pretty decent conversations while she was on break, seeing as they were both influential southern, cannibalistic serial killers. It’s a running gag between them where they jokingly talk about who was more iconic -- “I bet I took out more belles in a lifetime than you could in your entire afterlife!” “Well hon, at least I could eat the brains without gettin’ Kuru!”

She talks to Rosie a lot about business, and has met Niffty and Mimzy before. (Al hooked a bitch up with some friends lmao)

She REALLY likes Mimzy. She reminds her of Ralphie, and they became super fast friends.

Vox and Hero have a confusing sort of friendship, as neither really wants to be seen with the other -- In his case, because she’s much lower on the overlord spectrum than him, and in her case, because she’s no stranger to Alastor and Vox’s hatred for one another. However, she often finds herself consoling Vox on sleepless nights after closing up the bar, trying to convince him that Valentino is NOT worth his time. Beyond that and him occasionally paying her back in tech at random hours of the morning, they don’t talk often.

Hero LOVES dancing! Like, a lot.

She’s seen Charlie’s ad for the Happy Hotel. Her and Mimzy watched it, and they both thought it was the stupidest damn thing they’d ever seen. However, Hero said she was happy Charlie got up there, because she was just, “Cute as a button, that lil’ sweatpea was!”

Hero’s best friends are Mimzy and an unnamed demon who specializes in black market, extermination tool selling (the one seen in in Addict -- Cherri Bomb’s former lover).

These two people, and these two people alone, can call her “Martha”

Hero cooks whenever she’s stressed. She also adores sewing and binging soap operas and reality shows on Voxflix.

Hero’s Instagram would be, “HeroicMelodies” in reference to her music career and name.

Hero gets hit on A LOT, and she despises it. She doesn’t need to seduce people anymore to get away with murder, and she doesn’t want to. She dresses the way she does because she LIKES that clothing. People can fuck off.

The reason Hero is white and pink is to show how innocent she looks. Her pitch-black eyes show her dark soul.

Hero sings in Spanish to herself when cleaning up.

Sometimes, Hero and Rosie spend holidays going around with ground demon meat to throw to the hell crows and other critters. They find it peaceful.

Hero, shockingly, holds no hatred for I.M.P., and commonly jokes about how the I.M.P.’s, “Did her a favor” by sending her somewhere she can actually be her. She has no idea who called for the hit, though.

Hero finds Blitzo’s Instagram posts being poorly spelled to be, “Damn near precious”.

She thinks he’s a teenager, and probably would think it less adorable if she knew he was a grown man with a grown kid.

Hero doesn’t care about Mrs. Mayberry at all. Like, at all. She honestly assumes the woman is in heaven. She knew Mayberry wasn’t bad -- she probably wouldn’t care if she was in hell, though. Oh well. Sucks to suck, bitch.

Husk frequents La Cocina de la Calle Kuru to drink and engage in the gambling scene. Hero finds him trashy, but can’t say she hates him. She finds him funny as hell, and enjoys the business. Just not someone she’d personally hang out with.

#Helluva Boss #Hazbin Hotel #Martha #Demon! Martha #Hero #Alastor #Vox #Rosie #Husk #Niffty #Mimzy #Headcanons #Head canons #AU #Sort off?#Hell #Mrs. Mayberry #Ralphie #Murder Family

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mochikeiji · 4 years

Text

[Sir. S] Tendou Satori

Pairing: Tendou Satori x Reader

Genre: Kinda Abusive, Mafia!(+ Joker&Harley relationship)

GIF is not mine!

a/n: really love the idea how twisted and crazy Tendou could be “ψ(｀∇´)ψ so why not?

Was it because of the toxic waste that made you insane? Was it because of the excruciating abuse you have gone through to think this monster loves you? What was to be blamed. When you desired this ever since you got hypnotized by his own lies.

"Such an angel."

His fingers would trace your hair locks slowly, you would grin at everything he would do to you. Even if it was suppose to make you cry in pain.

"My angel."

His hand would curl on top of your head, gripping, and pulling on the roots of your hair. He'd force your head up to meet with his face, you'd be giggling like a mad woman, wanting nothing more than to have his bloodstained lips against yours. Wanting his abnormally sharp teeth bite your lower lips, your tongue. It wasn't a surprise that soon you'd become addicted to the metallic scent and taste of eachothers blood. Not when you seem to have a crack on your brain that will forever be damaged in complete sanity.

No one dared to mess with him. If there was, they have his consent. Guys like Ushijima, the guy who he admired, and followed in his footsteps. Except he was more dangerous, and menacing than the rest of the members in Shiratorizawa. Some say he's been like that since he was shut a child. Always enjoying people who get hurt. Even the way he sings his song, the meaning behind was much more deadly according to Semi. Having to experience killing someone with him as he sang that song.

And then there was you.

His Queen.

No woman was as broken in the head as you were. You were more terrifying than your boyfriend was. Ushijima pitied you deep inside, but he didn't utter a question on how the used to be sweet, and loving classmate of theirs grew up to be the only woman in Tokyo to be the deadliest. Kiyoko couldn't match your abilities, your risks. You were the embodiment of ride or die. The perfect match for Tendou.

And no one messes with his Queen. Until now.

"You know you're fucked."

They hated your face. Hated how you taunted them with your smiles. They hated the way you didn't show any cooperation despite having multiple death threats, and your skin being cut deeply with a knife as you were cuffed on a chair.

"Sugawara, quiet her down."

He was kneeling beside you, cringing at the sound of your laughter getting louder as the knife neared your arm.

"Come on, pumpkin. Do it!"

Able to atleast lift the chair a little, you jolted your own arm up, letting the knife stab in before he could even try. You bit your lip at the sight of your blood oozing out of your skin. Sugawara felt a sweat slide from his forehead witnessing your reactions.

"Scary."

"She's more messed up than he was indeed."

You can hear the two rival members talk with eachother. You were excited to hear that Ushijima found some new rivals to play with, but didn't expect them to capture one of Shiratorizawa's defense. Which was you. But that didn't mean you weren't anticipating the next scene to be unfold soon enough.

"You are soooo screwed once Sir S comes here."

"Sir S?"

"What the hell—"

Laughing loudly with your head thrown behind. Weren't they warned? Didn't they just have two of their members, the orange and blue hatred male spy on your territory one time?

Weren't they aware of the death threat they've played upon themselves?

"So gullible. You two are adorable, birdies."

Giggling, the two shared a look at eachother before nodding. Daichi fishes his phone out of his pocket, dialing Hinata's number. Leaving Sugawara to interrogate you on who the person you were talking about. All details must be taken seriously if they wanted to get out of this alive.

"Are you talking about Ushijima?"

"What? Big Wakachan? Hell no. I'm talking about my sweeeeeet victory boy!"

Sighing dreamily. This always happens at the sheer mention of Tendou, you'd find yourself wetting your own panties or gushing over your man. It was like he's God, and you're a follower. He's the vodka you're willing to get drunk, and never get tired of drinking.

"You're so stupid to think you've captured Shiratorizawa's greatest defense!"

"GET OUT OF THERE, DAICHI! IT WAS A MISTAKE! WE DIDN'T KNOW—" Hinata's voice was booming against his phone, Sugawara can feel himself shaking a little. He never yelled like that. He's never heard his members feel so scared before. His wide eyes find your features, almost looking like a bloodlust creature.

"When you haven't even captured their monster yet~"

"SUGA—"

The roof above your heads came crashing down. A big hole can be seen as if someone had landed in front of you. The two males coughed the dust away, waiting for the smoke to clear out to get a better look a what has came. It was a matter of seconds before that happened, Daichi had managed to pull Sugawara to his side. Otherwise he would've been crushed by the weight of the concrete, and that person.

"Ara ara, lookie what I found."

For other people, they would be frozen as they stood on thin ice whenever they hear his voice. But for you, you were giggling in excitement, hands balling into a fist. You couldn't wait to be freed.

"I see you've got yourself in a tight situation, (Y/n)."

You tried to look innocent for him. In a way, it was working. He just grins behind him. "What kind of foreplay is this? You didn't tell me you were slutting around, and oh—"

Pretending to be surprised, he raises his hands in defense, looking baffled at Daichi and Sugawara crouching on the floor boards.

"And two?" he gasps exasperatingly, "Why, angel, I am offended. You didn't invite me to your threesome party." The tension was building up. Daichi couldn't think straight of a plan to escape when Tendou had this strange are editing from him. If he makes a moves, he can almost feel his body being pierced into a big hole by a knife or a gun.

"No no no! It's not what it seems Sir! They captured me! They think I'm a monster. See, they even scarred me."

Trying to push the chair slightly into the light, Tendou can make out the slashes of the knife, and the fresh wound on your arm. His eyes darkened before facing the two males again.

"Oh? So I see you've had your fun with my Queen. That must've been very enjoyable, don't you think, Daichi chan?"

No one answers.

Daichi remembers the last thing Hinata had yelled at him before everything went into a mess, "Don't ever get close to him! Just get out of there!" and the last being,

"Once he starts singing, make a run for it! He's got a machete!"

"Hey, (Y/n). Let's sing our little friends a song, hm? The tension is killing me."

Oh this was the part you were waiting for. It was even more fun to be singing a song, and watch him slowly grab the weapon behind this back. Secretly you had managed to uncuffed yourself earlier before this was about to happen. You could've escaped, but.

You weren't going to miss out another one of Tendou's play dates.

"Baki baki—"

"DAICHI!"

"I KNOW!"

Immediately, they draw their guns out, firing aimlessly around you and Tendou. Yelling out a curse, you covered yourself by the table as Tendou ran on the other side. Clearing a path, the two Karasuno members sprinted out. Not daring to look back at the room. Outside was Asahi, Tanaka and Nishinoya, waiting for them in their vehicle on guard.

Meanwhile back in the war looking room, Tendou got out of his hiding spot, and went over to you. Hissing at the stinging that was now kicking in all over your scarred limbs, he kneels down and examines you. Tracing has fingers softly on your arms with sadness in his eyes.

"Oh, my poor angel." cooing, he places a small kiss on each scar. Shivering at his addicting affections, you let out a whimper. "You must've been so scared, huh? Letting some scoundrels take you, and hurt you." his face was getting closer to yours, when his forehead was leaned against yours, the hand that was cradling your scarred arm suddenly grips onto your fresh wound. Biting your tongue from the pain, and holding back your tears.

"Only I am the person you are allowed to be scared." You can see his knuckles turn white. He was seething in rage, possessiveness.

"And only I—" biting on your lips, giving you one of his mouth sucking kiss. One where you have to push yourself away in order to breathe, "Only I can do this to you."

Instead of screaming when his nails found their way on your scar and digging them in. You giggled madly, tears falling from you eyes in which you call them your happy tears. Because he was here, Tendou was here. He came to save you.

And it was out of love.

It was out of love, you think.

"Yes, Sir S."

No sane person could handle what you were going through. To those who once did, has died gruesomely before. But you, oh you were a treat for Tendou. Being a sick freak he was, he was still being loved by a freakier person. And hearing you submit yourself to him, just drives him even more mad as the building was being set on fire, with both of your sinister laughter echoing.

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ask-crimson-weaver · 3 years

Text

Dangerous Waters

Melly still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened. Well, perhaps some part of her did, but with the scattered state of her thoughts, it was nigh impossible for her to think back over and string things together in any meaningful order.

She remembered showing up to Fort Tilden with the Cobwebs, and she had sensed Oliver as they approached, along with four other sources of danger. They had moved in, and a fight had started, with her facing off against Oliver. But at some point… her memory lost focus. That crawling, writhing sensation had wormed its way back into her mind-- hadn’t they undone that spell?-- and her coordination had slipped. At the time, she had had enough sense to try and retreat, but with her steps unbalanced, he had caught up quickly, catching her and dragging her down into the dark of… wherever they were.

She could tell that she was in a small room now, dank and cold air filling the underground space. At this point, the name wasn’t important anymore, seeing as her mind’s focus was drawn to other things. Every dark corner had the potential to hide danger, and every crack and chip in the concrete walls was just another space for some twisted, unfathomable thing to stretch outwards from. The paranoia from before had been straining, though manageable, but this time she felt like it was completely overwhelming her. On top of that, her spider-sense kept going off at unknown things as she had been dragged past them, and now its scream of warning was focused on the figure of green energy and metal that had a clawed arm clamped around her.

“You still think you can get out of this?” Oliver said, a smirk on his face as he watched Melly kick at the air with her still-free legs. “It’s admirable, if not pointless. I mean… all that work, all that searching and fighting… and look where you are now. At my complete mercy. And my associate’s, I suppose. I’m looking forward to watching you as she… feeds you to her Patron or whatever. In any case, it will be one less little Spider that I have to deal with.”

Melly only really took in about half of what he had said, the induced fear and confusion driving most of her thoughts. She could feel it drawing out her spider instincts, which urged her to escape and hide, and for once, she was inclined to do just that exact thing, though the former would have to be done before the latter of the two. She stared back at Oliver with glowing red eyes-- her mask had come off early on, back when she had still been near the others-- and she began to grunt and hiss in her frantic, paranoia-fueled attempt to break free. Where she felt her own strength make headway against Oliver’s arms, more green-tinted metal crept up to mend and reinforce it.

“I suppose it’s sad, in a way,” Oliver continued. “You and your ‘friends’ always talked about all of the great things you had done with your Shard… and even with that, here you are, writhing like a child with a tantrum. Honestly, I could just-- oops!”

The claw of Oliver’s arm suddenly opened, and gravity jerked Melly downwards, causing her to smack into the floor. Not a moment later, though, she had scrambled up onto her hands and knees, making a break for the nearest wall in an attempt to scale it. She’d only made it a handhold or two upwards when Oliver’s tentacle darted out again, clamping down on her leg and pulling her back over. There was a loud crack as two fist-sized chunks of the wall were pulled along after her, dropping off of where they had stuck to her hands.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Oliver said, sarcastic and unapologetic. “I just get butterfingers sometimes, that’s all.”

He’d pulled Melly off the ground again at this point, though this time she hung upside-down by the leg Oliver had grabbed. He lifted her higher, so that her face was just about level with his.

“Now, where were we?” Oliver said. “Ah! I was just about to further emphasize the true depths of your--”

He found himself cut off as Melly’s hand swung up, launching a spray of webbing directly at Oliver’s face that soon solidified from its glowing state into an angry red color. Oliver stumbled back, growling as his eyes flashed green with a surge of rage. The arm holding Melly snapped to one side, releasing her and sending her flying through the air. The far wall cracked as she collided with it, knocking her breath out of her as she dropped to the ground-- it hadn’t been enough to hurt her significantly, with her energy welling up to help her take the blow, but it still hurt.

“You think that was funny, Spider?” Oliver hissed at her, bolts of metal from his assimilated mass curving up to cut the webbing away. “You think that you’re still able to--”

At that moment, Melly could feel a different arm wrap around her and yank her away off the ground. Even in her state of mind, this tendril that held her in the air was definitely not one that belonged to Oliver. It was far more slimy… with that distinctive energy of the Writhing One spiking all around her. She managed to catch a glimpse of Oliver’s associate: it was the exact same woman she saw in her mind.

“Juice Man, remember what we agreed on? I’d like our dear Weaver here to stay alive for the time being,” Odyssia sighed as her other tentacles undulated in the air, “I know she’s a Spider and all and she could probably take a lot more punishment than your average Joe, but I’d like to keep her just functional enough so I can properly study her.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t intending to kill her before you had your chance to do your research, if that was your concern.”

He re-oriented himself, lifting himself off the ground with his tentacles.

“I suppose there will be more time to gloat later-- do what you want,” he added, waving one of his upper arms dismissively. “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting another Octavius’ studies without good reason.”

“Right,” she replied, before turning to face Melly with a fascinated smile, “While I may have learned a lot from information that I’ve kindly been given access to… there is nothing like being there to study something up close and personal.”

With that, she swiftly took Melly away with her into a new room somewhere deep in the bunker. From what Melly could barely make out, this room looked like a makeshift laboratory that didn’t look out of place in a horror movie. Strange organs and other loose body parts were compartmentalized in various containers. Tables covered in glassware and arcane books, drawers filled with various equipment, several aquarium tanks filled with unfamiliar sea life… coupled with the darkness, the debris that speckled the floor, and the cold, musty air, this place hardly looked sterile in any way.

Odyssia brought her over to a stolen hospital gurney and laid her down onto it, using her tendrils to hold her down as her human hands began to strap her down with the restraints.

“You know, you’re pretty lucky as far as my test subjects go,” Odyssia rattled off to her. “Between you and me, most people who get this treatment from me personally are looking at a new, monstrous form in their future. But, you… I’m having a feeling that you’re definitely not a lobbyist who tries to shut down environmental protections for their down lines… or some fuckwit politician who spews misinformation to spark irrational fear or hatred in people… or some idiot who doesn’t ‘believe’ in science and would much rather trust in some pseudoscientific homemade ‘remedies’.”

Odyssia snorted at the thought.

“You know, Weaver, we never really spoke to each other in person, but I know you are brilliant in your own right,” she continued as she tightened the restraints, “It’s a real shame, though. Your Shard is an incredible source of power. And such power rightfully belongs in the hands of the Writhing One. Unlike Juice Man, this isn’t personal for me.”

Melly had kept up her kicking and fighting all down the hallway, and as Odyssia tightened the restraints of the gurney, she kept straining against them with as much force as she could muster. This room was full of danger-- spider-sense easily told her that-- but as the hallucinations made the dark corners deeper and the creatures and scattered parts more monstrous, a swarm of paranoid thoughts started to close in on her.

She’s going to hurt you. She’s going to make you writhe and bleed like all the others. She wants to take what is yours, and what is you.

Somewhere, deep in Melly’s mind, her coherent self managed to reach through, and she renewed her effort to fight the spell’s effects and push back against the mental flood of the Writhing One’s influence. Her brow furrowed, and her glowing eyes started to flicker to and from an even stronger crimson hue as she made her effort.

“Get… it… out…” she managed to mutter, voice strained through both panic and effort.

Odyssia adjusted her glasses, examining the glow of her eyes with increased interest.

“Well, if I did that you’d fight back. Besides, seeing you manage to power through this from sheer force of willpower is something I’m far more invested in. If this is what one Shard is capable of… I wonder what an entire Prism could accomplish,” Odyssia mused, her demeanor going still to aid in her observations. “Not many people can just power through my spells like you’re doing right now. Not only does that require an insane amount of mental resilience but the magical prowess to accomplish this is just as an extraordinary feat.”

Odyssia, of course, already knew where such mental prowess and willpower had come from-- at least, it was easy to assume from the memories she had gleaned from Melly. Her soul torn out, fighting for control of a body that wasn’t hers. Both mind and soul shattered by a creature of dreams, pulled back together by both Shard and friends. Her fights against Brevi’s control, her mother’s attempt to change her memories again, even against the toxic shards that had leaked from Itzi’s blade, poisoning her all those months ago. She had fought hard to keep herself her, and she would certainly defend it with all of her strength.

Melly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the twisting room around her as she pushed harder and harder to bring herself back, each push feeling like she was dragging her mind through thick ink. A few flickers of red light raced upwards along her neck, fading just as quickly as they had appeared.

“Get… out,” she repeated, voice a bit stronger. “Get. Out. Of. My. Head.”

Once again, as Odyssia allowed herself to dive deeper into her pursuit of knowledge, that one memory of Melly’s mother kept nagging at her. She furrowed her brow in frustration, this time having her tentacles come in to hold Melly down further.

“I can’t! I-I won’t! This is my breakthrough! This is for the Writhing One,” Odyssia hissed at her. “Don’t make me make this have to hurt.”

“You’ll... hurt me. Either way,” Melly mumbled out. “Change my head. I can’t… I won’t… let her. You. Anyone. Break me again.”

Odyssia grimaced slightly as she stared down at her.

Go on. Why aren’t you choking her or something? She’s not going down without a fight, Odyssia was starting to wrestle with herself. Prove her wrong. You’re smarter than her. Don’t let her win.

Unconsciously, a tentacle began to entertain the idea of wrapping around Melly’s neck. Just as it was about to constrict her, Odyssia realized what was happening and quickly pulled it back from her neck. A sinking feeling in her stomach began to take hold as the internal debate within her mind set in.

Why did I do that? I’m not supposed to kill her!

“... T-This is my last warning, Weaver. You need to understand that I’m being far nicer than I could be. I could be breaking you right fucking now but guess what? I’m holding back on you! Want to know what breaking you could look like? I could’ve turned you a monster, make you feel what it’s like to be at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, or take you apart and dissect you but no, I’m giving you the chance to make this easy. Don’t throw it away,”

Melly was quiet for a moment. Realistically, there wasn’t much she could do in her current condition to fight back against anything worse than what she was dealing with now… but to stop fighting would be to spit in the face of all her prior triumphs of self. Her thoughts were still jumbled, but if there was a way to get things to where they could talk.

Melly’s head turned towards Odyssia slightly, eyes opening to look directly at her.

“...all of that… is that really what you want to do?”

Odyssia froze, for the briefest of moments. She turned away from Melly, running her hand over her face.

This is what you want to do.

But why was she still fighting herself on this? She forcefully pounded her fist onto the gurney, cursing underneath her breath.

“Of course it’s what I want to fucking do… Why would I continue to do this if I didn’t?” Odyssia mutters although her tone suggested that she was beginning to struggle.

“Want...” Melly said, pausing for a moment as she tried to put a solid thought together. “We want… things. You want things from me. I want to stay me. There’s want… but there’s need too. All of the hurting… is that what you need to do?”

“You… Y-you’re just saying that to get out of this,” Odyssia replies as she shuts her eyes, still refusing to look at her, “Why would my needs matter to you?”

“Because if you need it… and you can choose it… you will. Would’ve.” Melly said. “I can’t make you do anything. Can’t make you…” Melly trailed off for a moment, shutting her eyes for a moment as she had to pull her focus back in. “But… I can fight. Or I can talk. And you… do you need… want to fight? Or do you want to talk? Which will get… what you need?”

“Alright, alright, stop right there. I… I cannot continue this if you're going to talk to me like that. I am barely getting by with following this conversation,” Odyssia groaned as she runs her hands in her messy hair. She turned to face Melly, making direct eye contact with her before continuing, much more quietly, “Tell you what: if I… lessen… the spell’s effects to at least let you speak coherently, you’re going to stay right there and not move. Then I’ll let you talk. If you try to pull the wool over my eyes, I will get mean. Got it?”

Well, though Melly certainly couldn’t make any guarantees that she wouldn’t eventually try to escape… for now, it was the only break she was probably gonna get, and her own mental resistance would only get her so far before exhaustion won out.

“...I understand.” she said.

Odyssia rubbed her forehead, already feeling a headache coming on from the tension in her body. Slowly releasing a deep breath, she closed her eyes to focus on something.

As she did so, Melly began to feel that Eldritch presence dwindled… not enough to release her from paranoia or the sickness she had felt, it was just enough for her to at least think a bit more clearly. Melly let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding as the strain on her mind lessened, and took a moment to recollect herself-- man, it was good to be able to think mostly clearly again. The observing Odyssia would be able to see the red glow in her eyes recede, and though it was still present it no longer burned with as much intensity as it had been.

“You wanted to talk? Then talk,” Odyssia said coldly, although there was a slight hint of wanting to know what Melly was going to tell her.

“Look…” Melly began, “this whole thing with the Shards… What exactly is your end goal for all this? And you mentioned the Prism too… if you’ve been in my mind, you know that I’ve already done the rounds with someone who wanted to do the exact same thing you mentioned. And you know what happened to him when he tried it.”

Odyssia would indeed know who Melly was talking about-- Alexander Hobbs, aka the Beholder. She knew he had tried to control the Shards in a bid to access their combined energy… and she knew that it was what had ultimately killed him, the energy he sought burning him away to nothing.

“The Shards aren’t for me to use. I told you, this is for the Writhing One. I know those Shards are clearly not meant for a mere mortal to use. That’s why I’m giving it to my Patron. They don’t abide to human limitations,” Odyssia said, “I devote myself to the glorious Writhing One. Without it, I’d go back to being some repressed, pathetic shrinking violet who can’t fucking stand up for herself or the causes she cares about. So to show my gratitude, I must give back.”

Melly was taken a bit aback by some of what Odyssia had said-- it seemed that there was some baggage behind what course she had chosen to take. Even with it catching her notice, though, she wasn’t sure how Odyssia would react to having it be brought up here and now.

“How do you know if it can use them?” Melly asked. “With all due respect to the power and influence they do have in this world-- which, as you’re aware, I’m currently the subject of-- how do you know that they’ll be able to harness the energy of the Shards. Energy Weaver said they couldn’t alter or control it. The Being said it was out of their jurisdiction. The Palpitors-- they were willing to kill us when we encountered them. Wouldn’t it have been easier for them to just kill a wielder, take their Shard so that one of their Nobles would have access to an unlimited amount of energy? Why else would they have not done that, if not because they couldn’t claim it? Look, what I’m saying is that there’s things about the Shards and how they work that neither of us know. Would you take the risk of sending a Shard to your Patron without knowing what effect it might have? How would they react if what you gave it harmed them?”

“...To act like I know everything regarding my Patron’s full capabilities is to indulge in pointless hubris,” she scoffed, “And either way, you grossly misunderstand how Patrons operate. Patrons—unless some astronomically universal level apocalyptic circumstances occur—never leave their realm of magic. If they did, there wouldn’t be a need for them to bestow an incredibly tiny fraction of their power to mortals like me to do their bidding, right? If they want something, they’ll have people like me to accomplish what they need us to do. This is something they’ve been interested in for a while now. And who am I to object to the Writhing One’s wishes? While I can’t pretend to know how exactly they will deal with whatever a Shard brings… what I can tell you is that they’re approaching this with curiosity and they know the risk; after all, they know what I know.”

“And what you know is what I know-- I’m presuming that’s why you went rooting around in my mind in the first place,” Melly countered. She thought for a moment, deciding that pushing that point further wouldn’t do any good. “Okay… new question. If they never leave their realm of magic, how exactly are they planning on using my Shard? Are you intending to magically mail me to where they are so they can get at it or something?”

Odyssia chuckled at that, “That’s a very crass way of putting it but, essentially, you’re right. I am going to send the Shard directly to them.”

“‘The Shard’,” Melly repeated. “The way you say that has a very conspicuous lack of me included in it.”

“What? You want me to send you in there as well? I highly doubt that you’d be interested in being in the grand presence of the Writhing One. Honestly, I thought the way I planned was more humane, not subjecting you to such unspeakable terrors,” Odyssia laughed.

“And your plan is… to kill me?” Melly asked. “Or try and remove it yourself? Because I have experience with that second option, and I’ve gotta say… hard pass.”

“It’s worth a try,” Odyssia sighed, coming down from her brief amusement, “And if I can’t remove it without killing you, well… I suppose that doesn’t leave many options for me, unfortunately..”

“Well, even if you do get it out without killing me... I’m still gonna get a one-on-one with the Writhing One,” Melly said. “The whole soul thing, remember? You pull out the Shard, and my soul comes with it. The whole point of sparing me is kind of moot there-- doubly so, considering that Ollie would have no problem killing me without the Shard there to do its thing. And obviously, you don’t seem inclined to kill me if you can help it… which I appreciate, even given my currently unfavorable circumstances. Other than that…”

Melly did think of a third option, but even thinking about it made her blood run cold. One of the Writhing One’s things was manipulating minds, right? If so… what was stopping them from just brainwashing her, or something similar, to try and control the Shard through her?

In a nervous gulp, she swallowed her words, glancing away from Odyssia as she hastily tried to think of any alternative thing to propose-- the more time an option gave her, the better.

“... Were you going to say something there?” Odyssia asked, “And before you do, I’d like to at least thank you for being appreciative. At least you’re more engaging to speak to than any of the previous people who once were strapped in here just like you. I generally hear the same boring, mundane things from people who end up here… In a strange way, I’m almost glad that I gave you the chance to talk,”

Gee, I wonder why everyone else was less engaging, Melly thought to herself, not thinking further on that. Better to keep those mental images at bay.

“Have to appreciate the little victories, I suppose,” she said, words both sarcastic and sincere. “Punching and the like isn’t always the best way to solve things in the hero biz-- sometimes trying to talk through things first can go a long way. Never hurts to try, I suppose.”

Melly went quiet, debating whether to bring up what she had meant to say. Odyssia had clearly heard her odd pause, and she wasn’t fully sure whether or not she would be able to tell if she was lying or not.

“And… yeah, guess I thought I had something to say,” she said. “Wasn’t anything good, though.”

“... Yes,” Odyssia muttered.

… Why did she sound so much like Amari just now? Nononono, I can’t let myself think like that. I can’t let myself see her in the Weaver or I’ll really be in shit, Odyssia thought to herself, now actually beginning to feel worried, Goddamnit, Odyssia, stop this right now. You can’t afford to do this.

“... And what makes you think that?’ Odyssia said, trying to avoid thinking further on her realization.

“Because it’s something I’ve had people try to do to me before, in one way or another,” Melly said. “And I doubt I’d be able to do much about it if it’s what you or your Patron decide to do to me, hence my aversion to bring it up.”

“...Let me take a wild guess,” Odyssia began, if a bit hesitant herself, “Are you trying to appeal to my humanity in some way? As if you knew anything about me? I mean, you’re welcome to try it. I will at least humor you.”

“Wasn’t really expecting it to be an appeal-- in the regard of me getting out of this, at least,” Melly said. “You don’t seem like the type to be easily convinced to change your mind when you commit to something-- Ollie was the same way. The point being-- seeing as I’d rather not go through something involving that again, I’m refraining from bringing it up as an option at all.”

Melly wasn’t sure how many of her non-Shard memories Odyssia had gleaned, or if she had come to the conclusion of what she was meaning by her words-- it was entirely possible that she’d be able to put the pieces together if she had all of them. For now, though, she sat tight and hoped that that would satisfy her.

“... Fair enough,” Odyssia replied, although something about the way she said this made her tone waver a bit. “I have been described as ‘ride or die’, I suppose. But make no mistake—and don’t tell Juice about this—I’ve come to understand that aside from tenacious tendencies… we don’t really have much in common. Consider this food for thought.”

“Juice?” Melly said, amused by the apparent nickname. “And… yeah, I think I’ve noticed that— and that’s coming from someone that knew him before all of this Shard business.”

“Long story,” Odyssia replied cheekily, “In the nicest way possible… did he always have a stick up his ass? Was he born with it? Because I’ve worked with many people and I have to be honest, he’s not the most fun person to be around.”

“Well…” Melly said, thinking of where to start. “He was always a bit stuck-up, but he knew his tech stuff— was in classes with someone I know. I think he’d been doing the Ock stuff behind the scenes for a while… not that I ever picked up on it. Kept that hidden up until I had already handed the Green Shard over for him to claim. Was originally hoping that he’d be a part of our team, but, well… you’ve seen where he’s ended up in that regard. In hindsight… it was pretty dumb of me to hand it over to anyone, whether or not I trust them. I was new to the hero stuff, and definitely more naive than I am now with a few more years under my belt. Sure, I may wield a Shard, but after that, I don’t think I’m qualified to be the one that decides who stuff like that gets handed out to.”

“Hmm. Sounds like someone I know,” Odyssia commented to herself before replying to Melly. “I suppose I could relate to you hoping someone you care about would join you.. but that’s besides the point. Probably wasn’t anything like what you went through anyhow, considering that the one I’m talking about is… a much different person from him, let’s say.”

“That’s fair,” Melly said. “Even with the similarities… there’s plenty of differences more often than not, especially between dimensions. I guess the whole mess— the Shards getting involved and all— sort of make ours a bit of a unique case, at any rate.”

Melly paused, thinking something over.

“You know… how did you and Oliver end up coming across one another anyway?”

Odyssia chuckled at that. “It is in my best interest not to be a snitch. I might be more amicable towards you than most people that find themselves on this gurney, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll spill everything about myself or my whereabouts. Nice try, though.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot,” Melly said, shrugging. “Guess you’ve got to be an Ock to get in on all the secret Ock meetings… or however else you two ended up meeting.”

“Well, I’m sure you can come up with your own conclusions, considering that you somehow managed to start working with Spider-Glass,” she sighed as a tentacle of her stretches out to reach a clipboard and a pen on her desk.

“I suppose I can, yes,” Melly replied-- like Odyssia, it was probably in her or the other Spiders’ best interest not to go into detail on how that came about. Her eyes followed Odyssia’s tentacle as it reached over to the desk. Despite all of the pleasant conversation, she had to remind herself that she was on borrowed time. The Spiders would probably come after her eventually, but without a solid sense of how long it had been since was brought down here, she couldn’t be sure how much longer it would be before the others returned. The longer it took, the more time there would be for Odyssia to start trying things.

Odyssia, while not wanting to press further on how the two met, there was something on her mind in regards to her own spider. She took the clipboard and pen and began writing her observations on Melly down as she continues to speak.

“Speaking of… what are your thoughts on her, exactly?” she sincerely asked with no trace of joking around or cheekiness to her tone.

“What?” Melly said, admittedly caught a bit off-guard by the question. “She’s, uh… nice? Good teammate, good… all-around person?” She wasn’t exactly sure what Odyssia was trying to get at with that question, but knew it was better not to give specifics away freely.

Odyssia considered what Melly said for a moment. There was a gleam in her eye and a satisfied smile crossed her face as a subtle sense of pride exuded from her.

“Yes, she always was… I don’t expect anything less from her…” she muttered to herself, “You’re not alone in that assessment, Weaver. Many will agree with you on that front.”

“As I’ve seen-- and met,” Melly said. The way Odyssia had said that… she knew a bit about Amari and Odyssia’s history. Whatever connection they had outside of the hero stuff, in some regard she could still say that it was a good one.

“Yes… I suppose that’s one thing that me and old Juice Man can’t really relate to each other on,” Odyssia sighed.

Before either of them could say anything else, the tell-tale sound of metal stomping on concrete echoed down the corridor that Odyssia had brought Melly down. Feeling him approaching, Melly went still, keeping her head facing away from the door-- hopefully, she could avoid having Oliver know that she was more coherent than before. A moment later, Oliver entered the room, looking rather annoyed. His eyes scanned the room for a moment before locking on Odyssia.

Speak of the Devil, Odyssia thought to herself as she looked back at him.

“So… What is it this time, Oliver?” she asked, putting the clipboard and pen down on the gurney’s surface.

“Your… pet keeps bothering me,” he said with contempt. “I’m trying to review the notes on the Shards that you took from the Weaver, but I can’t focus with that thing constantly trying to pester me!”

Odyssia grimaced a bit, shifting her weight as she stepped closer to him. Upon doing so, she noticed Adorabilis, now clinging onto his leg with her tentacles.

“I see,” she said, nodding tightly, “Let me get her off you.”

Oliver let out a huff in an expression of ‘finally’, holding out his leg and shaking it impatiently.

“Hold still, Juice Man,” she sighed, “You don’t need to shake her around like that.”

Odyssia gently coaxed Adorabilis with her tentacles, using them to remove her off of Oliver’s leg. Oliver could feel the sensation of suction cups being pulled off of him as she was taken away into Odyssia’s arms.

“Alright, alright, you’re free now,” Odyssia said to Oliver as she heads over to one of the tanks. She opens it up to gently place the flapjack octopus inside.

“It’s appreciated,” Oliver said, reaching up to straighten the collar of his shirt with a punchy tug. “While I’m here… I might as well ask. How has your research gone, thus far? Anything… interesting?”

“Sure thing,” she replies casually as she shuts the tank’s lid tight, “I suppose, but this was more me wanting a closer look at her and her Shard’s energy.”

“You ‘suppose’?” Oliver said, raising an eyebrow. “And have you been able to glean anything from that as of yet?”

“I will have to make some minor adjustments on my method of offering the Shard to the Writhing One but otherwise, I’m sure you already know enough extensive information from that mind retrieval that I did,” Odyssia replied coolly.

“Indeed,” Oliver said, sounding mildly disappointed. “Speaking of which-- perhaps I should get back to reviewing that information. Perhaps she knows more about the pesky inhibiting devices that she’s used in our past few encounters. Quite fortunate that she had some spares on her this time around-- they usually burn out and damage themselves before I have the chance to inspect them more closely.”

“Sounds good to me,” Odyssia replied. “I will keep an eye on our guest here and make said adjustments to the plan.”

“And as I said before, I am quite looking forward to seeing the results,” Oliver said. Without another word, he turned, moving quickly out of the room back the way he had come.

As soon as he was gone, Odyssia groaned a little.

“Man, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve believed he was an energy vampire or something,” she muttered underneath her breath.

“Of the metaphorical sort, I’m assuming,” Melly said once she was sure Oliver was out of earshot. “I’ve met some actual energy vampires, and they tend to be a bit more direct with their energy-taking intentions.”

“Of course,” Odyssia chuckled, “A strange little man, he is.”

She picked up her clipboard and continues writing things down.

“... Now listen,” she muttered, recalling something, “I hate to admit it but I prefer you like this over when you could barely speak a coherent sentence. I… know that we really couldn’t be all that friendly after what I did to your mind and what I’m planning on doing. But even so, I feel like I should at least let you know this: Spider-Glass is… someone who is this very smart, very capable young lady. I know full well she’s going to show up eventually. Should she inevitably come to set you free just at the nick of time, promise me one thing: keep her safe. Her survival is… important to me.”

Melly stayed silent for a moment, taking in Odyssia’s words. It felt a bit strange, hearing that from someone with the intent to harm her… but she could tell that the Ock’s words were genuine.

“Us Spiders… we protect each other,” Melly said. “If she needs my help, if she ends up in danger… I’ll do what I can to make sure she’s safe at the end of things.”

There was a slight flicker of red in Melly’s eyes as she spoke-- a spark of determination and resolution, one could say. It was only there for a moment, though, before fading back to their usual crimson hue.

Odyssia smiled at that. Whether it was due to Melly’s promise, the brief glimmer of red, or a mixture of both, it was hard to say.

Both knew it was only a matter of time until Spider-Glass would return. Until then, Odyssia resolved herself to scribbling down what she had learned from her talk from Melly that she had neglected to inform Oliver about. And Melly, biding her time until the others returned, resigned herself to wait.

#At the Shores of Madness #spidersona #marvelsona #marvel oc #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spidersonas #marvel au #spider-man au #doc ock #marvel fanfiction #marvel character #spidersona oc #injury cw #cw injury #Melly | Crimson Weaver #Odyssia Octavius #Oliver Octavius

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