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evien-stark · 4 years

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✧I Need You✧ Chapter 143

After shutting the outer door of Kilgrave’s cell you made a stamping march towards the back of the room- at least you would have, had Jessica not grabbed your arm in a literal bruising grip. “We’re not finished here.”

Jeri waved her arm loosely at Kilgrave, who was now cowering in the corner of his cell, arms wrapped around his knees with his head tucked between them. “What did you do to him?” A very pointed and purposeful question.

You ignored her in favor of keeping your sights on Jessica. The reason you were here. “I’m done. I have to go. This is over. You’ll never get him this way and we both know it. He knows it. Leave him in here, because I’ll be back.” Letting her know with less words your burning intent. Kilgrave was going to die. And the longer you stayed here probably determined what manner it was going to be in.

She narrowed her eyes at you, but it was Trish that started arguing. “So you just get to decide when to walk away- or what goes-”

The fire in your heart, partially siphoned from Jessica was raging. “What do you want me to say? I’m pulling rank? Fine. Want me to declare this official Avengers business? It is now.” With your free hand you reached up to double tap the Heart Reactor and then yanked your arm away from Jessica’s iron grip. “You keep him here until I get back.”

To say that Jessica was a little stunned in her light numbness that you’d imparted to her would be putting it mildly. And she seemed very unused to the feeling. Running with so much for so long, suddenly faced with a sad emptiness that had been forced on her- “You think you can just leave?” Clawing desperately to try and make you do what she wanted. To make Kilgrave do what she wanted. Because her life was so out of control now. And the only way she knew to get it back was force.

It was just unfortunate for her that you were more experienced in this type of war. “I am leaving. And he better be here when I get back.”

“So you can murder him? Is that what he was saying?” Jeri crossed her arms, sizing you up.

You stared right back at her, frightening her a little. “So I can end this.” With that you reached up to press on your ear cuffs to active the helmet and took off down the hallway. That was already too much time spent. You pulled over the banister and jumped down to the ground floor, opened the door and then took off. It clearly no longer mattered who saw you going where.

You were headed to the Tower from Brooklyn in a hurry. In your suit. And all of New York City could gossip about why. As long as it meant something.

“LUNA where is JARVIS?” The Tower was already locked on your center display. The jets weren’t going fast enough.

“He’s been deactivated under prime executive order. I cannot access him.”

“Can you get me a live feed in the penthouse?” You needed some sort of eyes on this situation before going there. At least that’s what you wanted, but…

“Everything has been disabled. Under Mr. Stark’s orders.”

Frustration flared. “Can I get around him?” There had to be some sort of secondary back up, didn’t there? What was the point of all of this if you couldn’t watch each other’s backs? If he could just lock you out-

“You just need to give me the authorization, ma’am.”

You’d land on the penthouse deck in a matter of moments. Yet still, because you could, “Authorization code 4-6-9.”

“Booting.”

The security cameras in the penthouse flooded the corner of your HUD. The place was a terrible mess. Furniture upended, things broken, and Tony- kneeling behind the turned over dining table, eyes closed, holding his side- and Happy approaching in a steady walk, hands steady with his gun.

Happy. How had he gotten Happy? How had it come to this?

JARVIS’ voice pinged your communications. “Ma’am I’m deploying security measures.”

You found your feet on the balcony and shunted the door aside. “I’ve got this, JARVIS. Just call ahead to the hospital.”

“Yes, ma’am.” “Locate Dvahli for me.” Another innocent in all this. At least you were allowed one single sense of relief when he answered. “Dvahli is on the upper balcony, unharmed.”

Despite the inherent danger that Happy clearly posed now tight in that control- how had he gotten Happy?- you deactivated your helmet and entered around the side, through the kitchen and then into the dining room. He was still making a slow advance and was too far away for you to rush up without being noticed. So instead with a quick boosted jump you made your way to him in one single bound.

He half turned, intent obvious, but you put your hand on his shoulder. And as his eyes leveled with yours, you found it so easy- much easier than before. Not like with… with the woman you’d failed, not like with Steve- you looked into him. Deep into Happy and shattered that hold Kilgrave had over him, rendering out those vile purple hues until it was just Happy again. In control of himself.

It was just a look. Just a gaze between the two of you. And then his empty eyes filled with realization. Terrified of what he’d just done. The gun fell from his hands first before he put them straight up. “I didn’t- I don’t- oh my god-”

It was easy to make all the commands here. “Sit. Now. Just sit down and breathe, okay?” He crumbled underneath you, falling to a heavy heap, arching forward to set his face in his palms. With him down, you rushed over the rest of the room, coming to a halt just around the corner of the table, lurching forward to a stop on your knees. “Tony…”

His eyes fluttered open. He was covered in sweat and blood. A blow to his temple, a cut to his cheek, lip busted open. Breathing uneven. But he smiled in a wash of relief seeing you there. “Hey, honey… sorry about the mess. I’ll get it cleaned up.”

“LUNA-” Reaching first just to deploy your visor so you could see, and then gently easing his hands away from his side. He’d been shot, so her scan was running- four times. Right shoulder, left bicep, left side, right thigh. Once you had enough data, you put his hand back over the wound on his side. “I’m so sorry, Tony…” Because this was your fault. As it always was.

The weak grin he shined up your way only pushed your feelings of guilt. “My fault. I thought I could take our head of security. Guess he’s a better shot than I remember.” His consciousness fluttered briefly, with a drop of his head, a heave of breath, a close of his eyes. His laugh was wet with blood. “Guess that’s why he’s head of security-”

“Just take it easy.” You poised your hands on his shoulders just to keep him from lurching forward. “Stay with me.”

With his trembling free hand he reached up just to hold on to you. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

It was too much to ask to bite back your tears. He was losing a lot of blood. But he’d be alright. You just had to move. He was in too delicate a situation to blast into the night air in your arms, though that would have been the fastest. Shifting your weight, you put one arm around his back and the other underneath him, picking him up. Once at a full stand, you came over to Happy, still sitting in his shame. His disbelief and horror. That had to end, now. “Happy.” Calling to him in as firm and steady a tone as you could make. When he looked up, “I need you to take us to the hospital.”

He knew these streets better than anyone. He also knew how to speed through them. With a direction to focus on he pulled himself together, although you sensed it was only temporary. “Yeah- let’s- let’s go-”

In that moment, Happy showed incredible strength, being able to prioritize what needed to be done at the exact right moment. He had to put aside everything he was feeling. Everything he’d done. Because you and Tony needed help. And he needed to move. It made it easier for you to do your job, too. “JARVIS, push the lobby clear. Have a car brought up. I want a small security detail and a moving deadzone.” This was already a mess. No need for it to be more of one.

Barking commands made it easier to focus and not slip into a black hole of guilt. You assumed it was the same for Happy. And that the both of you were eagerly ignoring, for this small moment in time, anything that you needed to feel out in favor of just… helping Tony. But. While he was still conscious, thankfully, just as you got him down into the lobby, he found a thought. “Not even one camera? I don’t mind being caught carried around.” His energy was waning. Fading away with every moment.

You waited until you had him loaded in the backseat, still in your arms to answer him. “We’ll schedule a photoshoot later.”

His eyes were closed while he smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

---

The hospital was not far- by design. You’d long ago held a short staff from Damage Control and siphoned off SHIELD medics (once you got your hands on them, anyway) to serve as an Avengers med base. Staff was waiting outside around back at a private entrance as Happy pulled up. As soon as you were out of the car they came up with a stretcher and your weakness filtered in heavily. Something about seeing Tony, barely there, with doctors crawling all over him, rushing him in…

“He’s lost a lot of blood- he’s A-positive- and his heart-” Babbling useless things. Personal things that a significant other should be babbling at hospital staff taking in a critically wounded patient.

But one of the nurses just set a hand on your arm and urged you to stop with a, “We know, ma’am.” JARVIS had called ahead. He’d probably informed them of everything they needed to know. They had a file with all his important medical documents. They knew. But… where did that leave you?

Trailing after him as long as you could until they disappeared behind the doors leading to the surgery wing. He’d be alright. They just had to… they just had to stop the bleeding. Take the bullets out- if they thought it was necessary- and… patch him up- make sure there wasn’t any internal damage-

Happy’s hand on your shoulder stopped your mindless pacing in front of doors you weren’t allowed to go past. “Come on. Let’s get a coffee.” It was late. The cafeteria in the hospital probably wouldn’t be too full. The coffee wouldn’t be too good either. You just didn’t want to go. His poor attempt at humor finally knocked some sense into you. “You’re spooking the staff. Might be a good time to try and pretend to be normal.”

Scaring them? Blinking up at Happy before realizing. Realizing you’d just brought Iron Man into the private wing of the Avengers hospital- and you were still mostly suited up, too. They were expecting big news somewhere, probably. An attack. A bomb. Aliens again- who even knew. And this had been… such an isolated incident. You tapped the Reactor to relinquish the suit. It almost felt like the rest of your energy went with it. “Sorry.” Apologizing to nobody with how quiet you’d said it. “I- yeah- let’s get some coffee.” Knowing the both of you needed to sit down.

And talk.

Except not much talking happened. The two of you sat in extremely uneasy and terrible silence for at least an hour. Maybe two. Your sense of time was not really working. Everything in that cafeteria was made to allow you to slip into a haze. Barren, beige walls. Listless employees. Murmurs just barely above silence. The coffee had gone cold a long time ago, not that either of you had been drinking it. You couldn’t stop thinking about Tony. How he was always caught up in something- always in danger- because of you.

How had it come to that? Sure, this was the life he had chosen, and you by extension at first, for deciding to stick by his side. No matter how tough it got. Or how awful. Or dangerous. But… this was a level of unfairness that you weren’t sure you could look away from. Or defend. Or-

“That guy walked up to me- when I was getting lunch, almost a month back- the cart on 55th street.” Happy’s sudden talking startled you, but you were just glad you were present enough to hear it.

There was no hiding the sadness of your smile as you dropped your head. “In front of the Love statue?” He really liked that art piece, you had no idea why. Tony had caught him taking pictures in front of it at one point. Such a simple thing…

“Yeah.” He was turning his hands over and over. Thinking. “He asked me what you were doing. And then told me to meet him there an hour earlier tomorrow.” It was too much to ask of you right then that this should shock you. That Kilgrave had been spying on you for such a long time. “The day you asked me to leave- we talked- and he said… don’t let her make you leave.”

God damn it all. The day he’d also commanded Pepper to drop you a message. He’d known you’d send Happy away, next. And he hadn’t let it happen. If you’d just looked at Happy a little more that day- where would you be now? Tony wouldn’t be in surgery. That was for sure. You always tried to do your due diligence yet just never enough of it.

“He asked me for your schedule. And mine. And we met. Every day. And…” He was holding himself so tight in his seat that he’d started shaking a little. Struggling intensely. Because he was letting you know all the wrongs he thought he’d committed for such a long time. He was debriefing you. Probably thinking it was right to be fired after this. “-and when we left he always said… if I don’t see you tomorrow…” In your weakness you couldn’t look at him then. To no one’s surprise, certainly not yours, you’d started crying.

But it was Happy’s gulped back tears that really hurt. He clutched tight and powered through, “He said if I don’t see you tomorrow I want you to take Stark at gunpoint up to the roof and wait for her. Have him deactivate all his security protocols and any way to contact her. And if he fights back, end him.”

Kilgrave had intended to make a public spectacle of you. Of Tony. Of Happy. Stark Industries. The Avengers. The Tower. All of it. Because if your head of security snatched Tony Stark and held him with a gun to his head on the roof of your building, news helicopters would have been all over it. Where would it have ended? What was the finale? Maybe that Happy would let him go, and, as he kept saying, you’d realize where your place was and go back to Kilgrave to make it all stop.

Tony must have realized this, too. Because he had fought back. He clearly would not let Happy march him up into a media circus that might hurt the both of you. He hadn’t given in- to make it easier for you to not give in to Kilgrave. And he was paying the price now. A more pointed sob slipped out of you as you put your face in your hands. It was just all too much. To think he’d been watching that long. Planning that long. Waiting. Waiting for you.

There was a noise at Happy’s side of the table. He got up halfway, probably with the mind to sit next to you. With the intent to comfort you, but he realized he could no longer do that. Because of what he did. So he sat back down instead and stewed in discontent and such a dizzying fog of heartache. “I’m gonna… my gun’s in your dining room. But. I’ll hand it in. And my badge. And-”

Somehow you broke free of your own cloud to lay your hands atop his and look at him through your tears. “This was not your fault. And you can’t leave.”

“How could this not be my fault?” A little riled, perhaps easier to latch on to that than feeling anything else as terribly unpleasant as personal betrayal. That had been going around lately. “I let that guy-”

“That guy does whatever he wants. He’s dangerous. He did the same thing to me. And to Pepper. And Steve. Listen to me, Happy.” Holding his hands just a little tighter. “I need you. Tony needs you. You can’t leave.”

He shook his head, looking a little lost. “But I… I hurt him- I almost killed him-”

“But you didn’t.”

“What if I had?” A sharper sense of focus zeroing in on you just then. Searching your eyes for answers.

You had none for him. You only had what you knew. “You didn’t.” There was not enough room in you to think about the what-if. If Happy had killed Tony… where would that leave you? Or him? What would you do then? You could only be grateful you didn’t have to know. “And… anyway…” Weakly shrugging back from that conversation. It was too real and too close right then. You just… wanted nothing to do with it. Weak. “He was probably going easy on you.”

Tony had deactivated JARVIS, which was why he hadn’t called for a suit- but he could have found a way around it. If he really had wanted to. Tony would never have allowed himself to die in the penthouse like that. You were sure of it. You had to be. “Don’t do that. Don’t joke right now.” But the very thought seemed to upset Happy.

“No- you’re right-” Finally lifting your hands away from his so you could wipe your tears away. “Tony was pretty impressed with your gun skills.”

“I take my job pretty seriously, you know.” Flatly. Resisting so hard. Not wanting to give in to the comfort of anything else than what had just happened. His eyes dropped. Focusing on a piece of the table just to have something to look at. “I didn’t wanna- ...obviously I didn’t-” Struggling again.

You knew you could end this for him. End his emotional turmoil. Give him something else a little more pleasant to wade in. Help him move on. But… that was not your call to make. It would be easy, maybe, to reach out and soothe him. But that wouldn’t heal his heartache. Only push it somewhere else. And that wasn’t fair. ...even if you desperately wanted to. Just so he could stop hurting.

“I know, Happy.” Reaching out again. Waiting for him to look at you again. And when he did, “I know you didn’t want to hurt Tony. Tony knows that, too. Steve didn’t want to hurt me. I didn’t- …” You had to do this. You had to share this with him now. To let him know that you were the same. To help him. “I didn’t want to hurt people, either. But that’s what he makes you do. This is my fault. You got caught up in this because of me.”

There was a tense silence that fell between the two of you. You had to wait for him to process all of this. To think about what he wanted to do or say next. Eventually he shook his head. “I never thought this was what the job would be.” Surely not, you supposed. He and Tony had been inseparable for years, back when the weapons business was booming- even further back than that. Back then it was usually just- drive him around, screen women for him, part crowds for him.

Now it was completely different. Insanely different. And… unfair. “If you want to leave-” You couldn’t imagine a life without Happy. Honest and truly. It would be emptier. And sadder.

It was why you tried not to feel very selfish when he stopped you. “Never. I don’t want to. But. After what I did- maybe it’s better.” Still not forgiving himself.

You couldn’t blame him. You still hadn’t forgiven yourself, either. “I don’t think so. I still want you around. I still need you around.” Trying for him. Trying to smile. “So that’s half the vote. When Tony is up to it, you two should talk. Wait for him. Okay?”

“Yeah.” His answer was weak as he lowered his head again. “Yeah, okay.” It felt like this was the end and another long silence was about to overtake the both of you as you still waited for news. But he still had one thing left in him. “Just- just so you know- I don’t blame you. This wasn’t your fault. That guy- that’s not your fault.”

It was probably unfair to Happy, but you couldn’t help the roll of your eyes and the dismissive shake of your head. You were dead set here. You knew this was your fault. “How could it not be.” Not really a question.

“It’s just part of the job.” You weren’t sure why this unearthed a soft surprise within you. But you felt a little more centered as you looked at Happy again. “You’re not responsible for what enemies of the Avengers do- or your own. Whatever. Facing them and handling them it’s… it’s just part of what we do.”

Perhaps the last new development of the night. Harold Joseph Hogan was now an official Avenger. ...at least in your heart.

---

The sun had long since come up by the time somebody on staff came to get the both of you. Even though Happy walked up with you to Tony’s private room, his nervousness and shame turned him away from the door. He excused himself, almost quite literally. Telling you that you should get some time in with him first. And that he’d talk to Tony later. When he was better. There really wasn’t much you could do. But before you let him go- “If you’re heading back home can you check on Dvahli, please? Maybe see if you can sneak her here?” She needed company. Same as Tony. And to be cared for. ...same as Tony. So maybe it would be good to get her out of there, too.

He just nodded tiredly. “Yeah, sure. I’ll make sure everything’s okay.” And just like that he turned around and left.

Despite your immense appreciation for Happy… it was too hard for you to not go into that room and be glad that it was just the two of you as you pulled a chair up to Tony’s bedside, put your hand in his, and just crumpled inward, laying your head on the bed. He was still unconscious. Sleeping the anesthesia off. Would be for a while.

The doctor came and talked to you for a little bit. Eventually. The surgery went fine. He would be okay. As you suspected. No bullets went near anything fatal. No organs had to be rearranged. Tony just needed to rest. Which would be hard for him. But as of that moment he was doing a good job.

Around noon you started pacing his room. Wondering where your efforts should really be focused. Kilgrave was locked up- you didn’t have to immediately go back. And to go back and do what you had to do, you needed more strength than you had at the moment. Tony needed you here. Needed a face he could trust when he woozily came out of it. This was the excuse you made for yourself. Happy’s had sent him away. Yours had planted you there.

So the universe had to remind you, as it always did, that playing favorites caused failure.

Tony was just groggily calling out for you when your phone rang. It was a little after three PM. Your attention went first to him, sliding your hand into his, fingers locking. He held on as tight as he could, which was a weak grip still, but the relief that eased his suddenly frantic heart made you feel better about deciding to stay. Your presence seemed to soothe him. As it always did.

But when the first call missed turned into another call right after, you answered with your free hand. Trish’s voice on the other end was pitched and littered with heavy breathing. “Jess didn’t want me to call.” Tony’s eyes were barely open as you gazed at him. Pained. Because you knew what was coming. “Kilgrave got out. Hours ago. His parents- god his mother is dead-” She was weeping.

You made sure to keep your voice very level. Tony was in too delicate a state to get wound up right now. “Walk me through everything.”

“Jess thinks Jeri- Jeri had some arrangement with him and- we got his parents because Jess thought that would finally make him snap- it did- and now his mother is dead and he’s gone and- I don’t know what to do-”

The pieces were there. Putting them together… alright. Jessica had gone to find Kilgrave’s parents- and they were… in the city? How fucking fortuitous. Okay. So she found them. Maybe they were keeping tabs on Kilgrave the whole time. So- the people from the video, who experimented on their son. That was Jessica’s big play. And Jeri- what did she do? It sounded like she let Kilgrave out or at the very least was somehow responsible for him getting away- and Kilgrave had murdered his mother. No mention of the father. Gone, you assumed.

You took a deep, deep breath. Internally panicking but otherwise stone faced. Tony was watching you. And he’d been through enough. Once you were sure your voice wouldn’t collapse in on itself you started working. “I’ll have Damage Control come clean the area up. I’ll put a ping out for Jeri.” Maybe Kilgrave was with her, if she’d arranged for his escape. It was the only lead you had. “Stay where you are.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Sniffling from the other end of the line. “He said-” Her voice wavered. It was unfortunate she was still talking. You had wanted to hang up. “They were all talking about it- are you really gonna kill him?”

“Yeah. I am.” Certain of nothing else save that. You knew that for sure. And with that last line of thought you hung up.

Tony’s cognizance was returning in bits and pieces. His hand held tighter to yours. A knowing glance passed between the two of you. “Duty calls so soon?”

Leaning over after slipping your phone back in your pocket, you brushed the backs of your fingers across his forehead, easing him away from that understanding edge. His eyes closed for a moment. “Not yet.” There was no point in going on a wild goose chase. Kilgrave would find you. He would come for you. So… “I’m here with you.”

He lifted your joined hands, resting them over his heart. “I love you, you know.” His smile was dazed when he found it again. “I had the strangest dream while I was under.”

You scooted your chair closer to his bed. “Tell me about it.” Desperately clinging to him whether he knew it or not. Because you just needed this. This little pocket of space. Of warmth and comfort and just… time with Tony. You needed to balance yourself out.

Because once it was over, you were going to go and end a human life. And you needed immense strength to do it.

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Forty Three #Jessica Jones Spoilers

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every1studio · 6 years

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REQUESTED: “why can’t I not fall for you?” [jbj: kenta]

genre: FLUFF

ficstyle: bulletpoints

anon asked: “ How are you doing? I saw that you wanted to write for less requested members, so may I request a Takada Kenta scenario when you two are in Japan and he takes you to the arcade and shops kind of like in the Just Be Joyful reality show? “

note: I am doing well, kinda stressed that spring term is starting but all is good~ thank you for requesting for our fluffy boy, Kenta, hope you like it~

you were actually a DIngo producer; in charge of the series where people’s favorite idols will go on dates with them and you have to portray as the viewers

this episode; you were going to Japan with JBJ’s Takada Kenta

you’ve always thought he was the cutest boy ever but those feelings had to be PARTIALLY kept away for the purpose of the show

“where are you going today Kenta?”

through the camera, it showed the both of you walking into the airport

he’s just happily skipping about

“hint: it rhymes with Mary Anne”

you dramatically gasped

“Japan?”

“DING DING DING, YOU ARE CORRECT~ now let’s go or we’ll be late for our flight”

Kenta grabs your hand and drags you to the designated area

once you both get on the plane, Kenta secretly pulls out a bag of snacks

“airplane snacks are so expensive~ so I grabbed your favorite!”

it was a bag of wasabi potato chips

you took it from his hands

“babe...I can’t really handle wasabi”

his eyes widened..

“I grabbed the wrong one..”

you both just laugh it off and tried to get soda to deal with the burning hell in your guys’ mouth

you shot an angle of the view outside your little window, then move it over to catch Kenta slipping into La La Land

at that moment, he slides and lands on your shoulder

you quickly turned off the camera and tried to be as still and quiet as you could

the plane landed and Kenta still wasn’t waking up

you flipped on your camera

“Kenta..we’re here...”

he grumbles, “5 more minutes, honey..”

to cover up from actually being a blushing mess, you shook him up

“KENTA WE ARE HERE!!”

“HAI!” he sprung up and everyone was just looking at him

you couldn’t help but snicker

between you and Kenta, there were lots of inside jokes

the first thing you both wanted to do was eat authentic ramen

you were amazed by everything and Kenta was just being a sweetheart

telling you all you need to know and even teaching you a few words in Japanese

“ai~shi~te~ru~”

you repeated after him

“what does that mean?” you asked

he beamed as he leaned in to whisper to the camera

“I. love. you.”

you tried to refrain from fangirling by telling him how cheesy he was

he almost lost the card to the hotel and you were just giving him a hard time because you took it from him when you guys went to eat

after dropping the stuff off at the hotel, he wanted to take you to a little street that had an old-fashioned candy shop and an arcade

it was a beautiful street that made you feel at home

(the viewers are going to love this~)

to your surprise, Kenta pulled you into his chest

you both watched as the car drove by

“be careful okay?”

he looked into the camera as he said it but he really meant it for you

even though, you guys just seemed like a couple to random people, he knew how to keep it professional

he showed you how to play the taiko drum machine and you ended up being better than him

actually you end up being better then him in most games

to his last resort, he went to the claw machine and successfully got you a HUGE corgi butt plushie

he whispered into your ear to close the camera and you did

“let’s get Purikura~”

he pulls you into the photo booth and although you were still unable to comprehend anything

you took 5 set of different photos with him

you both had fun decorating the photos afterwards

“I had fun with you today, y/n...”

you tried really hard to keep it professional

“you should say that again to the camera!”

you pulled it out and he said it again as happily as he did when he told you first

but he couldn’t help but feel a little sad that this was all just a business trip to you

then into the night, he led you to the food stalls of Tokyo

fun little busker performances

viewing the lights of the city night

you took a photo for the JBJ instagram page

“can I get one with just you?” he asks

you started to look weary; you didn’t want to get caught on the job for being lovey-dovey

“it’ll only be for my eyes...”

you nodded; how could you say no to your ultimate bias?

click

he snapped a polaroid and shoved it into his phone case

you walked away to get back to the hotel but he pulled you back

“let’s take another one!”

click

the photo had you looking at Kenta wide-eyed as he was holding you into his body tightly

“I think I like this one better..” but he lets you choose between the two

you chose the one where you were actually looking at the camera because you thought it was too embarrassing to see yourself gaze into your bias’ eyes

you both had separate rooms and bid each other good night

the both of you could barely sleep a wink that night

even though the day was a physically tiring one

in the morning, you both got some fluffy hotcakes down the street from the hotel and left to go back to Korea

the ride back was just the two of you sleeping since you guys didn’t sleep last night

“excuse me~ you’ve arrived to Korea~”

both of you were woken up by the flight attendant

you were on Kenta’s shoulder and he was resting his cheek on the top of your head

the both of you pulled away from being embarrassed

before you left, you pulled out the camera again

“thank you for showing me around Tokyo~”

he comes up to the camera and caresses it

“next time, let’s go to Fujioka~”

and sends the video off with a wink

you waved to Kenta as his manager came to pick him up

when he left, you shoved your hands into your pocket

“what’s this?”

you pulled out the polaroid of you and him.. with a sticky note attached to it

“let me know if YOU want to on another date sometime~ TK”

and there it was

his phone number

END

[masterlist + guidelines]

#yenni writes #yenni posts #jbj #jbj scenarios #jbj imagines #jbj reactions #jbj fluff #jbj x reader #jbj takada kenta #jbj kenta #takada kenta #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kenta fluff

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alltheshadesoftruth-blog1 · 6 years

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On Warging in GOT: What Could Have Been

Spoiler alert: I hate the show. I hate it with a passion. But, it was not ever thus: I loved series 1, and I found series 2…tolerable. I was at most disappointed with series 3. Series 4 was where the show started to actively anger me: the reduction of the Dornish to their “exoticism” and their sexuality; taking away Sansa’s agency in her plans to flee King’s Landing; the presentation of magical elements.

In view of my hatred, I thought I’d engage in an experiment: how would I present the first instance of skinchanging? Skinchanging is one of the key magical elements of the series (with some theorising about its connection to the Others and its role in the wars to come), and it has been chronically mishandled in the show so far.

So, assuming that we have, up until this point, had an accurate and adequate adaptation of how Bran is exploring his powers (seeded in series 2/3/4, ideally, also through Jon and Arya’s storylines), I would kick off whatever episode Bran first wargs into Walder (in the alternate reality where I am running GOT) thusly.

A couple of disclaimers: 1) I am by no means a screenwriter. 2) I realise this does not necessarily fit exactly with the continuity of the show - that would be because I hate the continuity of the show: it prioritises the wrong things, wouldn’t know a theme if one kicked it in the face and exists primarily so D&D can spoil endings etc. for book readers. So there. 3) We won’t have the gratuitous stuff with Locke et al, so the first time Bran would be warging into Walder would be in the cave with Bloodraven turning a blind eye. 4) I hate “Hold the Door”. My brother is mentally disabled in a similar way to Walder, albeit with more speech, and this episode sickens me on so many levels. 5) As you may have noticed, I will be referring to “Hodor” as Walder, since that is his name, rather than an ableist nickname to which he did not consent.

Now, I’m not a fan of “cold opens”, but I promise it would make more sense and be less jarring in this version of the show because we would have spent more time with the wildlings as characters, rather than as a monolith, in Jon’s arc.

We are in a snowy landscape - it’s not clear whether it’s North or South of the Wall until an eagle screams by the camera. We follow it with swooping angles and fast cuts until it lands on Varamyr (it’s not necessary to explain that it was Orell’s eagle, but you get bonus Book Points if you do - give the eagle a memorable scar, or have it wearing a coloured sash or something). We then go to what Varamyr describes in ADWD as his life before allying with Mance Rayder - dominion over the village and coercing the women into his hall so he can have sex with them. We would have one example of this happening as “”normal””, maybe a montage of women going in and out at day and night, but then the last one changes things.

Have Thistle come in dressed as a Spearwife (scarred, braids, leathers and furs, have her still be armed because Varamyr has become arrogant and doesn’t think any woman will fight back and resist him): either because he likes the challenge, or because she tries to physically fight him; Varamyr tries to warg into Thistle. Cue psychedelia.

*Quick aside*

My main problems with Bran’s storyline in the cave with Max von Bloodraven are that a) the parameters of skinchanging aren’t really properly explained (e.g. the show has it so that Bran can affect the past, as in Hold the Door, the books state that the Weirwoods only provide a looking glass) and b) we do not have enough weirdness. Thinking about the first point: we are supposed to realise that skinchanging into other people is wrong - this is not just something you can do and get away with it. There should be and are consequences, one way or another, for the powerful attempting to subjugate the weak in this way. The show presented how Bran warging into Walder would look from the outside, and what effect it would have on the plot (which is all they seem able to understand), but they do not show what is happening on the inside, aside from showing that Walder is clearly confused and upset by what Bran makes him do to Locke, for example (such as when he looks at his bloodied hands).

As for the second point: this is a 128-year-old sorcerer who is tutoring a 9-year-old boy in how to become a God. I don’t want stationary, realistic shots. I want dreamscapes, cosmic weirdness, the curtain of light at the end of the world. I wanted the show to have taken the opportunity to show us Asshai and Wyverns and Sothoryos, since we will likely never see it in the books, and for a show that prides itself on bringing the spectacle of cinema into people’s living rooms, the mystic side of the show has been...well...boring.

With that in mind, I want everything about this scene to be jarring: sound, lights, camera movement, colour distribution (remember: whoever looked at ASOIAF and thought “You know what we need? Grayscale” should never be allowed near a camera or screenplay again). I want us to practically feel the psychological damage this is doing to Thistle, while seeing what she does in the books, clawing at her face. (I also think that the white eye thing should be used more sparingly, as a sign that the skinchanger is “clocking in and out”: for reasons that will become clear in a second). I realise this seems to contradict criticisms of gratuitousness etc., but this violence would be for a specific purpose: we are supposed to identify with Thistle, not Varamyr, in the book, and we are supposed to feel an instinctual revulsion at what he is doing; and we are going to make this immediately relevant to the “main arc” with literally five more seconds of screentime.

So we’re immersed in Thistle and Varamyr, and at a moment where, in this version where we’re using more of a dreamscape approach, both of their faces are on-screen, terrified and driven mad by the pain and the violation and exulting in their power and domination respectively...

...their faces warp into Walder and Bran, we continue to see Walder’s pain (mirroring Thistle’s both to humanise him, since dialogue apparently can’t, although Guardians of the Galaxy managed with Groot, and make her more relatable to audience that has, at this stage, been with Walder for 4/5 seasons), and then a scene continues (in the cold light of GOT-style grayscale, since in this case it would actually aid contrast between the magical and the mundane) with Bran-as-Walder, Meera and Jojen in their own cave, where we learn that Bran has been with Bloodraven for three days – Meera is worried, Jojen is cryptic and Bran-as-Walder is just sitting there, with the occasional flash of the white eye effect as Bran reasserts control over Walder.

…ok, hear me out.

I can understand why Bran does what he does: he is a nine-year-old boy from a noble family who was traumatically crippled, bringing an end to his dreams of becoming a knight and being “taunted” by the image of Walder, a "simpleminded giant” in Bran’s own words (AGOT Bran IV), being able to physically achieve anything; since being crippled, he has unlocked the potential for vast powers for which he is barely given any guidance as to their use. I understand. But understanding does not make this right. I find it shocking how many people are willing to label Arya, a child soldier who regularly shows empathy to others while still doing awful things, a psychopath while not giving Bran’s actions the least bit of scrutiny. Bran knows that what he is doing is wrong: he actively thinks about it, in ways that reveal a lot about Bran and his mental interactions with Walder and what he thinks they mean.

The big stableboy no longer fought him as he had the first time, back in the lake tower during the storm. Like a dog who has had all the fight whipped out of him, Hodor would curl up and hide whenever Bran reached out for him. His hiding place was somewhere deep within him, a pit where not even Bran could touch him. No one wants to hurt you, Hodor, he said silently, to the child-man whose flesh he'd taken. I just want to be strong again for a while. I'll give it back, the way I always do. (ADWD Bran III)

This is wrong.

Now let’s look at why.

“Like a dog who has had all the fight whipped out of him”.

Setting aside, for one moment, the rampant dehumanisation of the mentally disabled in Westeros (seen with Walder, Lollys, countless others who remain unnamed and unremembered): whipping the fight out of a dog takes sustained cruelty and many attempts. Whipping the fight out of a dog is a waiting game, designed to achieve the outcome you want at the expense of the dog’s wellbeing, and designed to suppress any personality or will in the dog. The trainer knows this, before, during and after the act. Bran knew what he was doing, every one of the apparently many times that Bran has forced himself into Walder.

“Hodor would curl up and hide whenever Bran reached out for him”

A shownly tried to tell me, about a week after “Hold the Door” aired, that Hodor would have done it willingly for Bran, and that “Hodor”, essentially, was more useful when being controlled by an able-minded individual: that he was “asking to be used like that”. This individual has, you will be pleased to know, been cut out of my life entirely: someone who thinks that the privileged in society have the right--nay, the obligation--to use those socially inferior to them for their own ends is clearly a fucking psychopath. In the books, Walder curls up and hides. This is not the action of someone who consents. This sign alone should be enough to convince Bran that, actually, forcing yourself into someone else’s mind to stalk your crush and your bezzie mate (unbeknownst to them, which is weird in itself) is an abomination.

“the child-man whose flesh he'd taken”

This frankly gruesome description of Bran’s violation of Walder shows, without doubt, that Bran knows what he is doing. He knows that it is wrong and, more to the point, he feels the barest amount of remorse. He feels enough pity for Walder to pathetically attempt to reassure the man whose mind he is raping, but not enough to ever stop. The description of Walder as a “child-man” is, in this context, therefore, particularly horrifying. But it is Bran’s attempt to reassure himself that it is Walder’s “flesh” that he is taking that is the most disquieting thing for me: because it isn’t. That is the effect, certainly: Bran only notices that he is taking Walder’s “flesh”, since it is the only thing about Walder that interests him. However, we can see from this passage that Bran is taking so much more from Walder than his “flesh” (such a gross way of referring to someone’s body, while we’re on the subject – more animal than human, akin to “horseflesh”): Walder, someone with a limited understanding of the world who has, among other things, been attacked by literal zombies and subject to mental abuse, does not feel safe in his own mind. That is, and should always be, horrifying.

“I just want to be strong again for a while. I'll give it back, the way I always do.”

It’s the “just” here that is the most sickening part. Because what Bran wants is so pathetically simple (again, I understand that he is suffering as well: but we are witnessing him mentally raping someone weaker than himself, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t show my usual empathy): he wants to be physically able, and is willing to dehumanise and violate someone else to get that feeling for a few hours. The casualness of “the way I always do” speaks to a flippancy surrounding the violation, similar to what we see earlier during the wight attack: “He wondered what Meera would think if he should suddenly tell her that he loved her.” (ADWD Bran II)

What this means for the show.

The show has made clear, from the moment they added in Kristian Nairn’s naked body into the bathing scene in the Godswood, that they do not view Hodor—Walder—as a person. They view him as a literal joke, and as much of an object as the women whose naked, unnamed bodies they paraded around in Littelfinger’s brothel scene or in the scene where Ramsay taunts Theon with beautiful women. Hodor is an object to them: a means by which they can move their able-minded, therefore more important, character from one point to the next. D&D’s fixation on plot has meant that the subtleties of Bran’s ADWD Chapters have been lost in favour of exposition dumps, seeking to spitefully spoil surprises for readers of the books. This fixation has also meant that they have focused on the outward effects of this warging, without appropriate consideration being afforded to anything else: instead of looking at the previous passage, they focused on the second part of this quote: “Deep inside he could hear poor Hodor whimpering still, but outside he was seven feet of fury with old iron in his hand.” (ADWD Bran II) In failing to humanise Walder, in failing to treat him as more than a prop or a plot device, we have been robbed of a kind and gentle man who feels no ill-will toward anyone.

"Hodor!" the stableboy announced, as was his custom, smiling hugely at them all. (AGOT Bran IV)

Hodor hummed tunelessly as he carried Bran down the steps and through the gallery (AGOT Bran IV)

Hodor washed the sweat from him with a warm, damp cloth and dressed him with deft and gentle hands. (AGOT Bran IV)

And it perhaps Bran’s chapters at the beginning of AGOT that can prepare us for this warping of Bran’s character, which will hopefully be addressed by some form of confrontation with Euron, as they battle for dominion of the Westerosi astral plan: “It felt queer to look down on him this way, when he'd spent his whole life looking up at him, but when you sat on Hodor's back you looked down on everyone.” (AGOT Bran VI, emphasis mine)

#asoiaf meta #got meta #anti got #ableism tw #rape tw #i hate the show i can't teLL YOU HOW MUCH I HATE IT

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omgnsfwisnsfw-blog · 5 years

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NSFW #15: Melon’s Creed

The Carmel Bunkers on Turó de la Rovir. Stone barriers overlook the great city of Barcelona. John Bishop Church quietly admired the breathtaking view on this day just on the precipice of the sun setting. He leaned over the wall and seemed oblivious to the camera filming him. He had the hood of his light grey jacket up. His boots and the bottoms of his blue jeans were covered in dirt from the hike to this locale. He spoke out into the ether. “Hey.” He spoke in a conversational tone and let that set in before continuing. “This whole thing has been a humbling experience. In this last year, I’ve had the privilege to do what I’ve always wanted to do. And to enter into a partnership that has been absolutely exhilarating to be a part of. Since NSFW’s humble roots, we have scraped and clawed our way to the top. There has been a common thread throughout. Somebody somewhere has claimed that they do what they do for a divine purpose.” He scoffed. “Whether it be the megalomaniacal ramblings of a prophet, the dissidents of chaos …” John sighed, perhaps perturbed at the mere mention of this. “...or the machinations of the melon gods. Such grand proclamations are fruitless in the face of the golden standard of tag team wrestling. Now, Mike …” There was a pause. He pushed off of the wall and turned around - looking to the stairs that descend down the hill. “Mike?” “Dude!” The redhead, backpack over her shoulders and clad in a grey unzipped hoodie over a Carlos Ruiz t-shirt, appeared over the crest of the hill a moment after her name was mentioned, puffing a bit as if she’d started running as soon as she realized how far she’d fallen behind her partner. “My legs don’t know how to be as long as yours, man. Phew…” Catching her breath, the Bronx brawler raised a hand, wiping some sweat off her brow. “Besides, I kinda got distracted. You won’t believe what I found. It’s full of so much crazy shit, I dunno if I can look at the world the same fuckin’ way again.” Reaching back, Mike unzipped her pack and pulled out a large, dirty, ancient looking book, fraying at the corners and tops of the spine. Embossed on the cover, with traces of nearly worn away gilding, are the words ‘ARCANA CUCUMIS’. “What?” Coming the rest of the way up and leaning against one of the curved concrete walls, Mike flipped the book open with care, as not to jar any of the yellowed pages loose. Shifting a bit, she beckons her partner over, holds the tome up, and points at one of the pictures within. “I found this in the catacombs when we split away from the tour group to… when we split away from the tour group. Look at this shit. It’s like, all of the Melon Club’s fuckin’ secrets. I had no idea they went this far back and had their nasty vines stuck in so much stuff.” “Oh no.” John placed a hand on the page, obscuring its contents. He looked at his friend with concern. “This is Leviathan all over again.” “Nah man. This is worse. They’ve been in all of humanity’s fuckin’ key institutions. Look at this for example.” “These fuckers killed JESUS, man. I mean, according to the text here, fuckin’ Judas served him that melon, ironically enough, right before the big J.C. said one of his people was gonna betray him.” John gave the warped portrayal of the Last Supper a once over. “So Judas was part of the Melon Club.” His tone was deadpan and in no way inquisitive. “Exactly. But it doesn’t stop there. Look here.” “This guy, I’m sure you know, is L. Ron Fuckin’ Hubbard, the nutball behind Scientology. According to the book, people have been misunderstanding his writings all this time because of an elaborate cover up. See, Hubbard didn’t really mean Xenu. He meant…” She jabbed her finger at a specific spot on the image. “...honeydew.” John was exasperated in his own diminutive way. “The Melon Club are pulling the strings of the billion dollar multinational religion because?” Mike shrugged. “Power. Control. Y’know, all that shadow ops supervillain shit. And it’s not just the major stuff either. I mean, take a look here. I really feel bad about this one considering week before last…” She flipped a few pages, landing on a classical Grecian image. “The Eternal Circle are unknowing followers of the melon gods.” “Exactly. Sad, but true. I guess they gotta come to terms with that now.” ”Mike.” It was like a plea to come back to reality. “Look. Religious iconography has been changed to suit the needs of whoever used it. I’ve never been much a believer. I mean, maybe something exists. But all along its been the melon gods?” His fingers gestured dismissively at the book. “This … doesn’t make any sense.” “Yeah, I mean, I guess that’s true. But the thing is, it’s not just religion that these fucks have been manipulating. See? I mean, I know you for one are gonna be seriously pissed at this one. See, it looks like around 48 BC, the ancient Roman scholars were on the tail of uncovering the whole Melon conspiracy before it overwhelmed everyone. Luckily for them, no less than the Roman emperor, Julius Caesar, was a devotee and he made sure to have the entire library burned to the ground before anybody could find out the truth.” John’s bottom lip quivered slightly upon looking at the image. “All of that knowledge.” But he shook his head. “No. So next thing you’re going to tell me that his assassination was ordered when the Melon Club had no further use for him.” Mike snapped the fingers of her free hand. “YES. Exactly that. And it’s not the only assassination they’ve indulged in either. I mean, Arya herself’s a trained killer, it shouldn’t be that big of a shock that these people have bumped off anyone who was a threat to their fucking organization.” Mike grimaced as she flipped the page again. “They never did figure out who Oswald was working with. Or for. And that one picture of him, people always thought it was altered in some way. Well it fucking was. See?” “The Melon Club assassinated JFK.” “It’s the only thing that makes fucking sense. I mean all this time. All these theories and debates and discussions. The Zapruder film analyzed frame by fuckin’ frame. And all this time, Oswald was a lone gunman cuz only a Melon Club trained assassin could pull off a ricocheting shot like that.” “But… why?” Mike exhaled, then drew a breath in. “Because they fuckin’ can. Because Kennedy’s embargo on goods from Cuba was hurting the fuckin’ melon industry and that’s how they spread their fuckin’ propoganda. All those sweet, juicy cantaloupes, canaries, and watermelons that people gobble up without a second thought, not knowing every last bite is only serving the forces that control their entire fucking lives.” “Mike. I don’t know what to say. Maybe we’ve been lied to.” “You don’t know the half of it. It’s to the point now that they’re just meddling in things just to make everyone miserable. The Super Bowl a couple seasons back. Patriots vs. Falcons. The Falcons had the Pats dead to fucking rights. Brady was getting his stupid handsome face shoved in it and it was glorious. But then after the half they mounted this miraculous comeback that by all fucking rights shouldn’t even have been fucking possible. How? I stayed up fucking nights, man. I had no idea how the rug got yanked out from under the Falcons so utterly. But now. NOW I know. Look at this. The absolute bastards.” “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” “Oh yeah. You probably didn’t see it. Trust me, you’re better for it. It fucking sucked. Tom Brady is an asshole. He’s the absolute fucking worst human being ever shat out onto this sorry planet and the sooner everybody realizes what an overrated piece of crap he is the better.” John closed the book. The pages gave off a fine poof of dust as they slammed together. “Okay. So The Melon Club are zealots who throughout time have manipulated the world in every which way possible.” And then he pointed to Mike and himself. “And acquiring our tag team championships are now part of that great design?” “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be? They have their claws in everything else. Why else would people trained in the fucking deadly arts be getting in the ring with us?” “And so we are the only people standing in the way of a new dark age?” “I mean, I found this thing in a crypt if that tells you anything. We know too much. They’rereally gonna want to take us out now, cuz we know how dangerous they are and we’re telling the whole fucking world so.” Mike glanced at the camera, brows knit in a very concerned fashion. Her fingers twiddled nervously between each other. “They’ve been here for months. Walter and Arya Melon. Mixed results. Between the bouts of tedium and fruit puns, I’ve inclined to tune them out. They win one tag match. Against two teams that chose to not take them seriously.” He placed a hand on the book. “We’re taking the Melon Club serious.” John joined Mike in looking directly at the camera. “Dead serious.” “To be frank, I underestimated you guys. My partner didn’t cuz he’s smarter than I am, but I looked at that three-way and you were the last fucking people I thought we’d wind up fighting. Shit, I’d already done some studying and had to throw it all out the window. The fact you pulled that shit out is proof you shouldn’t be taken lightly, whether or not you guys are part of a giant all consuming conspiracy wrapping the world in melony dominance.” “I thought we were going to have a viking problem on our hands. But instead, two cunning opportunists came away with the victory. And speaking of opportunities, it’s clear that through the facade, you two are students of the game. We know what you see as an opening.” Mike gave a firm nod, reaching up with her left hand. Her fingers were free, but the palm and wrist were done up in a cast, by now liberally covered with the signatures of friend and fan alike. “I’m not gonna pretend to know what you think of us. It’s probably better for everybody’s fuckin’ sanity that there’s no telling what’s going on in those, heh, melons of yours. But like my partner said, I know, we know, what you may be thinking about doing. Let me tell you for one, this hand? It ain’t gonna be a fuckin’ issue. Better people in this business than me have defended titles with far worse fuckin’ damage. It ain’t gonna slow me down.” She twiddled her fingers and then balled them up tight, forming a fist around the covered palm of her left hand. “Yeah. We’re not mind readers but we know what you want. And there is no fucking way in seven hells that you’re gonna get it, not at WrestleFest and not ever. You’re welcome to give it a shot, but a lot of teams have tried, and they’ve all met the same fuckin’ end.” The plaster casted fist slammed into the opposite palm. “Knocked for Six, kneed in the face, Cherry Bombed, put to sleep, and checked by the Bishop and the Queen.” “That’s not arrogance on our part. That’s just what happens. What will happen. And I get it. You two think you have divine providence on your side. What bounty have the melon gods gifted your little club? A middle in the pack finish in the Rumble. Trading victories with Frankie Romono. And now this. An opportunity.” He reached behind him and shoved the book out of the sight of the camera. The focus was solely on Bishop Church, Mike McGuire, NSFW, the EWC World Tag Team Champions. A leveled gaze from Church was directed to the challengers. “An opportunity to be a footnote in our history.” Folding her arms as best she can, Mike gave a firm nod. “We’ve worked too hard and come too far to have it end here and now. Nobody’s found a way to fuckin’ kill us yet and neither will you. No assassins, no kooked out religions, and No Schemes of Fucking Watermelons are going to take us down. But if you really think you can?” Her grim expression melted into a smirk, a brief ‘heh’ slipping from her lips. “Come and get it, ya fuckin’ fruits.” John looked at his partner, eyebrows raised. “Wait, what?”

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