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love-takes-work · 3 years

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Steven Universe: End of an Era: Outline & Review

I wrote this review in October but never got around to posting it here

Steven Universe: End of an Era is far more than an art book–it’s also a collection of behind-the-scenes material, stories about the experience of working on the show, planning documents and associated background info, and both older versions of developed concepts AND concepts that never made it into the show. It's a huge fusion of all those elements, and it's definitely an experience!

Some low-quality images are included with my review just to give you an idea of what’s there--it’s not a good substitute for getting your own copy, but here’s a tour!

Like the previous concept art book, Art and Origins, I'll be giving you a description of the structure and overview, while also collecting notable information for fans. Obviously just about everything is "notable" once again, but I'll aim for unique insight or perspective on the main source material, keeping the screaming about everything new to a minimum so you can also enjoy something for yourself if you pick it up. My low-quality photos should prevent people from feeling like I'm reproducing the book in any capacity. Please grab one while you can and have your own experience!

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

OVERVIEW

The book is titled "End of an Era" for a couple reasons--obviously because it is released after the show has wrapped, but also because Gem history recently ended its "Era 2" and began Era 3--an age of prosperity and peace. The author--the person in charge of adapting all of this information into this slick, readable package--is Chris McDonnell, whose work was previously applied on the Art and Origins book.

The foreword is by N.K. Jemisin, a well-known science fiction author who's a huge fan of the show (and wrote a really excellent series that also has a weird geological connection, by the way).

And the cover, like its predecessor, is shiny and decorated with a beach scene featuring minimalistic characters--this time it's the Gems at night in front of the Temple, and on the back cover is a big pink leg ship in a cross-legged pose.

The interior covers are decorated with tons of amazing sketches of Steven and Connie on the front, and a bunch of Gem sketches on the back. Every interior page that most would leave blank is highlighted with some kind of sketch art or character exercise--it's so much to look at, so much to absorb.

The book is dedicated "For Eddie."

Its organization is different from the previous book in that it shares applicable work in chunks associated with groups of episodes rather than pertaining to different aspects of building the show.

FOREWORD

N.K. Jemisin gives us such a great introduction to the book--apparently understanding very well that the audience of this book is full of animation enthusiasts and adult fans more than it is full of kids, and explaining that bewildering journey some adults had from blowing this show off as a silly kid thing to falling in love with it hard and fast.

The important thing, Jemisin says, is being able to trust a storyteller with your heart. And it was clear to her that Rebecca Sugar knew what she was talking about and was saying important things about identity and the radical power that comes with accepting it and demanding respect.

Important also is how we handle heroes and who gets to be one in fantasy. That's part of the reason Steven Universe speaks to so many--because we see ourselves here, and know stories can be about us. Acknowledging the power we all have to MAKE THINGS BETTER with what we fight for is so important--especially if we're going to speaking to the next generation about it.

Highlighting Rose Quartz as a "born leader" who failed and Steven as a relatable scamp who did what she couldn't, Jemisin asserts that we can save the world.

1. END OF AN ERA

We start with an appeal to the audience to think about identity and the formative parts of our childhood--and how different it is if who you are and who you become is restricted, mocked, erased, or Not Allowed. Most people, if not ALL people, can relate to this, but for those of us with a special relationship with Steven Universe because of queer identity, this hits hard.

But it doesn't have to be anything grand to be something we respect--this show's authenticity comes largely from how personal everything is, drawn from real-life experiences and incidental truths from each artist's perspective, leaning hard on childhood and formative experiences.

Rebecca Sugar offers some interview bits to discuss writing philosophy and why "writing female characters" was difficult for a nonbinary person who'd been socialized as a girl and a woman. Rebecca has spoken before about how frustrating it is that marketing for cartoons was SO gendered when she was growing up (and to some extent still is).

The Gems in the story are all "she/her," but on their planet they're defined by their work, not by emotion or relationships (unlike women in our society), so having them be socialized opposite to how she was and be able to claim those emotions through choice and NOT as just an expectation "as women" was revolutionary. Rebecca wants her show to tell all marginalized people that they don't deserve to be in the margins.

Weighing in on other aspects of the show were Ian Jones-Quartey, Joe Johnston, and Miki Brewster. Ian describes feeling like at first doing SU was a thrill ride that meant they'd finally get to do all the cool stuff, but it quickly became a responsibility that he took very seriously--the need to tell a good story now that he'd been given a megaphone.

Promotional art, planning documents, character sketches, and concept art from the lighthearted to the stone serious is included, along with some very cool (sort of famous) timeline charts that track major characters' developments. It's emphasized by Rebecca that the developmental materials ARE NOT CANON (and especially are not MORE canon) compared the final show.

There are concept sketches alongside final art for Aquamarine and Topaz in "Wanted" (with Topaz labeled "Imperial Topaz"), the Zircons in "The Trial," Blue and Yellow Diamond, and the Off Colors (including Pink Lars).

And there's also a spread of "the two sides of Steven's life: Gem Magic and Rock N Roll" featuring Sadie Killer and the Suspects (referred to as "Buck's band")--as well as a cool "Crew Cameos" key and some concepts for short-haired Connie.

And then there's some more "finished" art with stills alongside concepts, including some background art, revision, and really cool "fairytale" art from some of the shadowplay storytelling bits. We get "Lars of the Stars," "Jungle Moon," and "Can't Go Back."

2. THE BEGINNING OF THE END: A SINGLE PALE ROSE

In discussing the huge reveals and Gem mysteries in the show, the pacing is examined, and emphasis is put on the intended "slow burn." One of the most difficult things in the show was to strategize so that every piece that was needed to support another piece in the future was placed properly to seed what it was supposed to.

Some of the ideas they developed were more of a group effort and were fit together collaboratively (like Amethyst's being younger than the other Gems and Jasper being from Earth), while others were intended from the beginning based on Rebecca's vision (the fundamental idea of Pink Diamond's true identity, for instance, as well as Obsidian's design and sword and our Pearl not being Pink's first).

The writing process gets a great deep dive here, including fun tidbits like how the orb in the moon base was inserted by Joe Johnston and they literally had no idea what it was for when they wrote the episode. They repurposed it when they figured out what they needed.

Rebecca credits her detailed timelines for helping keep the order straight, and discusses how other artists are sometimes flabbergasted that a storyboard-driven show can have this much detail and continuity and yet not get wrecked by the free non-scripted boarding process. But Rebecca and the Crew valued that approach and loved the way fresh eyes would handle an idea, making it come back alive, entertaining, vivid.

Several Crew members weigh in on the writing process. Lauren Hecht refers to making lots of incorrect guesses despite being on the inside. Joe Johnston recalled getting briefed on his first day and getting so excited to start working on this massive project.

Miki Brewster remembered being told Rose Quartz is Pink Diamond and being shocked--and also confused about why Ruby and Sapphire would need to be married if they're already basically married. Drew Green talks about being brought in late and getting to watch unaired episodes and a rough of the movie while eating cereal.

Ian Jones-Quartey complains about Pink Diamond's real jester-like form being leaked to the internet through a Hot Topic shirt. Rebecca piggybacks on that and says it was upsetting that the wedding was leaked because of toy fair keychains featuring Ruby and Sapphire in wedding attire. They'd always be worried about leaks, and sometimes Rebecca struggled not to talk about the reality of Pink Diamond before the reveal because she knew it would make so much more sense once the truth was out. And everything associated with Rose makes more sense once you know she's Pink--especially what happened with Bismuth, considering what we know about how Pink Diamond has a habit of treating anyone who no longer serves her interests.

When it comes to visual cues, Rebecca also talks about intentional designs to create a feeling of unity between concepts, like the flower shapes on Pink Diamond's palanquin lining up with the poofs of Steven's hair and the star imagery of the series. Steven Sugar and Mary Nash discuss how the Human Zoo incorporated this imagery, trying to look like Homeworld with a Pink Diamond touch.

Steven Sugar, as a game nerd, liked to throw in video game references from old and modern stuff to feel like he's inserting what he's enjoying and who he is from moment to moment, while Mary Nash, who related to Sadie as a basement-dwelling young person with cult interests, liked to include stuff from MST3K and cult movies. Pearl's hand gestures get a spotlight too--her reflex to cover her mouth when Pink Diamond was being discussed was analyzed here.

A "Top Secret Visual Timeline" from 2016 is included which tells us some Diamond history. It has an earlier version of Pink Pearl's fate and does not include Spinel since the movie hadn't been greenlit. The timeline includes the birth of the Diamonds, the emergence and major story beats for each major character, and some philosophy of the driving force behind each.

We're told that Pink Diamond straightened up, behavior-wise, after she lost her first Pearl, and that Yellow and Blue wanted to give her a planet but White only agreed to it to prove she would fail at managing a colony. Pearl, meanwhile, is so confused to have a Diamond who keeps asking her what she thinks when she doesn't believe she should have opinions.

And when Pink moonlighted as Rose to start conflict, she found herself leading an army to fight Pink's troops--then Yellow's, and eventually Blue's too. Lapis is said to be waiting for the conflict to end on Earth so she can terraform, but she gets trapped instead.

Pearl's love story with Rose is described as "an endless honeymoon" where she's free to love her, while Rose's is more like "I'm now the head of the family and I'm going to give everyone what they never had, so everyone is super special!"

Jasper is described as "adopted" into Yellow's army as the only successful Beta Quartz. And White Diamond knew that Pink Diamond was not dead--she thought she was just running away from home like a brat and would eventually be back.

3. THE HEART OF THE CRYSTAL GEMS

Now we discuss Rose Quartz--the original Pink Diamond. How she was selfish and selfless, never enough and always too much, and how Greg was her first partner who "challenged her" to be an equal. Rebecca describes Rose as being delighted by the idea that both she and Greg reinvented themselves, but when that leads her to want to share her past, Greg isn't interested--he only wants to know who she is now, and doesn't consider the old her to be her.

Rebecca likes Carl Jung's concept of "enantiodromia," which is the idea that extremes lead to their extreme opposite. This is demonstrated in all of the Diamonds. This narrative is interspersed with drawings of Greg and Rose being cute.

But another "heart" of the Crystal Gems is its relationships--particularly, Garnet, the fairy tale romance embodied. More psychological theories are discussed with regard to differentiation in a relationship making the relationship stronger, and how they made sure that happened for Garnet during the appropriate arc. Rebecca has struggled with the idea that she, like Ruby, went straight from a "family" group to a living-with-others situation and never lived by herself. But she also learned that you can in fact develop as a person in the context of a relationship--you don't have to be alone to do it. Ruby learned that too, and chose on her own terms to be with Sapphire.

The wedding made so much sense to Rebecca and the crew that they couldn't imagine a wholesome couple like Ruby and Sapphire not having a wedding episode. They wanted it for years: The wedding concepts always included the tuxedo for Sapphire and the wedding dress for Ruby.

But pushback (often blamed on the conservative standards of the international market) led to negotiations trying to keep Ruby and Sapphire's relationship from being explicit. Rebecca and the Crew were very tired of this double standard, and they were especially irritated by attempts to claim a wedding wouldn't be well received by a core demographic or wouldn't make sense for Steven's character. But other shows had done weddings and Steven had been established to love weddings already.

Rebecca kept adding more elements to the wedding episode to answer all the concerns, but she didn't want to back down from explicit marriage between these characters. They deserved it. And the audience deserved to see this as wholesome, like any other cartoon wedding. Eventually they got their way and were allowed to have the wedding. But the ordered episodes were also coming to a close without promise of more, so Rebecca had to request more episodes to be able to wrap up the storyline!

And of course, there is Steven, the true heart of the team. A very interesting aside discusses Garnet's leadership and how the network pushed the Crewniverse to acknowledge Steven as the leader. This was successfully resisted throughout as well--because Garnet is the leader (unless she's incapacitated, of course). It's fantastic that this concept was preserved because too often a young male chosen one is elevated above people with more experience and knowledge because of that chosen one tradition, so it's really nice to have a show acknowledge that team leadership is more appropriate for an adult.

4. ERA 3

Beginning with a discussion of the Diamonds, this chapter deconstructs the dysfunctional "family" of the Diamonds (who are said to be based on tropes about evil stepmothers and stepsisters), with the thread of dysfunction originating with White Diamond.

Yellow is physical, Blue is emotional, White is judgmental, and Pink is impulsive. Some philosophy on why Pink is naturally manipulative and why she clashes so much with White is offered.

White believes her identity is to be imposed on all because she is the pinnacle of what should be--and therefore, she has the right to make decisions and statements about and on behalf of everyone. But her secret is that she can't do what the others do--act or feel or want. In trying to be everyone, she is no one.

And this becomes very important when she confronts Steven about his identity and turns out to be wrong. The triumph of Steven being totally, fully himself is a beautiful, simple revelation that's described as far more satisfying than the theories about Pink living inside him or Rose returning from his Gem.

Also discussed is Gem architecture. A lot went into this idea, and Steven Sugar weighs in to say he had to think of what it would mean for a world to have buildings but serve no human needs. That's why it's mostly focused on transport and storage. Even the broken planet is meant to indicate a place stripped for its resources, and everything serves a function that is meant to avoid looking like the human equivalents.

And there's another layer, too: a difference between Era 1 and Era 2. Era 2 became more functional to hide Era 1's broken bits, and older Homeworld buildings still have some "ornate and ancient" feel to them. And the fact that props, tools, and even walls and doors could be living was taken from a concept Rebecca thought was horrible from old Busby Berkeley movies, where people were inanimate objects and it was portrayed as lovely. Tom Herpich helped conceptualize these living objects.

Steven dealing with "princess tropes" is discussed here too. The Pebbles (worked on with Pendleton Ward) were sort of his Cinderella's mice, and all the locked-in-a-tower, having supportive tiny friends help you, getting princess clothes made, attending a ball, having to mind your manners stuff was intentionally related to fairy tales.

The point of doing that (besides fun) was to easily invoke the feeling that Steven was being made to be someone he's not, and that he was being treated like THIS is who he really is when it isn't. White Diamond as the "evil stepmother" is discussed with regard to her detailed features and massive scale. They generally didn't put fingernails and eyelashes on characters (especially not to indicate that they were women or girls!), but they decided White would get all of these feminine markers for tradition's sake.

Rebecca also invokes several other references that were included and describes the princess tropes as "chipping away at his integrity" setting him up for the final challenge with White.

There is again tons of concept art: Homeworld architecture, Pebbles, Diamond diagrams, background Jades and Lemon Jade Fusion, Comby, Diamond extraction chambers, and White Diamond.

5. CHANGE YOUR MIND

Now we finally begin to discuss Steven's identity. The "Perfect Steven," discussed in several interviews before this book's release, was an idea back in 2013; the "ultimate Steven," beefed up and shonen-looking, was far from perfect because OUR Steven is perfect, while this alpha hero Steven idea (used in Steven Universe Future) didn't belong being idolized in such a show.

They thought about having Steven fall apart into organic half and Gem half early in the show (during "Giant Woman" after a successful fusion and unfusion, even!), but they didn't try the concept until the last episode. They didn't want the "Pink" Steven to be portrayed as "better" even though he would be more powerful, so they decided he isn't whole without his organic self and he's just as much of a shell as the organic half. They absolutely did not want any ending that required Rose to be inside him or waiting to come back. But the debates were fierce--what DOES it mean to have Rose's Gem?

Ian Jones-Quartey brings in an anecdote about his own family to emphasize some of the immigrant themes that inspired aspects of the show. He had a brother who reinvented himself elsewhere away from family without resolving issues, and all the ramifications of that were explored in the show through Rose Quartz. (He is careful to say he doesn't think his immigrant experience is like being from another planet!) But he did say you can hurt your old family even if they were toxic or didn't know the real you, and you can hurt your new family by hiding your past. The Pizza family of course was also a more direct reference to Ian's Ghanaian family.

In talking about the new Fusions from this episode, Sunstone is largely described by Miki, who also got to board the Sunstone section. Sunstone was described as a cool 1990s character and the evolution just continued into making them a fourth-wall-breaking PSA dispenser. Obsidian is also discussed, with their sword being an early concept. Steven Sugar said they totally knew it would be forged in action. Obsidian being similar to the Temple design is of course another very early detail.

The story of how James Baxter got involved with one of the final scenes (Organic Steven and Pink Steven fusing in front of White Diamond) was shared. His family was fans of the show and Rebecca Sugar took the time to drive to a birthday party for his daughter and give her a drawing. He then owed her a favor, and this was it.

Concept art is again included, this time with sample boards, promo images, a Diamond fight concept, costume design changes for the Gems, new Fusions, the so-called "Mega Diamond" ship conglomerate, some scenes from the White Diamond confrontation, Pink Steven, multiple pages of James Baxter animation, corrupted Gems and their healed selves, and photos from the "Change Your Mind" premiere and some awards. The show has won one design-related Emmy, a Peabody Award, and a GLAAD award.

6. STEVEN UNIVERSE FUTURE

The book doesn't cover the movie because it got its own book, but dives right into Future. Ian Jones-Quartey emphasizes that the movie and Future are separate and different from the original show, which ENDED. After all, after that, Steven has a neck!

Some new names are invoked now: new writers Kate Tsang, Jack Pendarvis, and Taneka Stotts. They were excited to have Steven make HIS OWN mistakes instead of trying to clean up someone else's! Now, instead of doing the usual shonen anime thing and having the final battle be a big physical rumble, Steven has to make peace with himself and take an active role in coping with what all the fighting has done to him and what effect it's had on who he is (and who he wants to be). There is no sudden "I love myself!" answer, either. It's always a process.

Drew Green and Maya Petersen, who came on board as storyboarders officially in Future, also weighed in on writing for a "mature" show, how to deal with Steven being a "moral compass" while being sort of unreliable, and what they learned as Crew that they didn't know as fans. Drew didn't know Garnet never asks questions. Jack didn't realize the show never deviated from Steven's point of view. Taneka was nervous but excited to collaborate. Kate was worried about how established the show was and what to do as a new writer to contribute appropriately.

Maya was on the old Crew but not as a storyboarder, so felt like some of the "old" ideas ended up not being appropriate for the "new" Future in an embarrassing way--and dreaded the idea of dealing with Steven's emotional problems when they were similar to stuff she'd been through. She also was personally behind the idea of Steven wanting to dump his problems by becoming Stevonnie, and got to work with Etienne Guignard on inventing the Pearl creation backstory with Volleyball.

There's some discussion of "depression hobbies," stress, and the show's pacing. And they say Etienne was entertaining at pitches. There's even some discussion of how Greg is taken off a bit of a pedestal because his terrible restrictive life in the suburbs sounded wholesome to Steven and Greg presented it negatively.

And then there is some information about how the Crew felt behind the scenes due to fan reactions and negative press. Ian discusses feeling offended when the Black characters are described as bad examples, as if their cartoonized but realistic-in-context features are automatically caricatures.

Rebecca Sugar felt beaten down by some of these narratives and began to access mental health services, inspiring some of the content of "Mindful Education." A long reflection from Rebecca discusses people's infighting about her show and what she had a responsibility to show or not show in the story. She learned a lot about bullying from Cartoon Network's anti-bullying program and learned that bullies thrive on whatever attention you give them--unless it is made clear to them by a peer group that no one is impressed by their cruel actions. Also, not all negative feedback is bullying. Constructive criticism is different. Self-awareness can help you avoid internalizing what bullies might do or say to you.

Segueing from the discussion of how people are affected by and connect with the show, we then discuss how they chose as a team what should be covered as the show came to a close. They didn't have time to do quite a few stories they wanted time for, like a Rhodonite story, a Lars side story, and Diamond "prehistory" and religion; all of it was put aside for the main arc with Steven.

They thought people would find those stories about Homeworld and Off Color history very interesting, but so much of the show had been about Steven's Gem adventures, so keeping him mostly on Earth seemed appropriate. The acknowledgment of his battle damage, of his trauma, was necessary and real, and helpful in an important way to the core audience.

Oh, and there was some stuff about a cheeseburger tree. Don't ask.

In discussing the "reverse escapism" of the original show (Gem aliens are intrigued by everyday human culture, and realism is necessary), Rebecca says her views have changed on escapism and gets why some people want a soothing feel-better show. She acknowledged also that her own escapist dreams-come-true fulfilled in the show didn't feel like escapism because they were givens to the majority of mainstream culture, but were never guaranteed to marginalized people.

Rebecca ties in her several-times-told story about "Love Like You" and how the middle bit was when she didn't feel she was worth looking up to, and the realizations she had to tie the beginning to the end. Feeling like someone will like you less if they know you more is terrible. So sometimes a show like this can be helpful in telling people that they belong when their fantasies are things like "I want to be loved" and "I want to know I exist."

In Future, Steven has to connect to who he is and love that person--and understand that person enough to finally feel that even if he's not fixing their problems or saving their world right this second, Steven deserves his family's love and support, and they WANT to give it to him.

There's a huge amount of supplemental material in this section so there's no way I could name it all. The charts for Future's timeline are pretty straightforward, though a few episodes like "A Very Special Episode," "Why So Blue," "In Dreams," and "Bismuth Casual" aren't specifically represented and a couple are in a different order ("Prickly Pair" was conceived as happening after "Fragments" and "Homeworld Bound").

Steven feeling like a monster, having intrusive thoughts, having not forgiven the Diamonds, and getting help/moving on--it's all there.

We have keys, color scripts, and boards for the new opening and some various backgrounds and storyboard art from episodes. Model sheets for Shep, Nice Lapis and Mean Lapis, Jasper, Steven Tag Gems, Pink Steven Powers, Monster Steven. New house concepts, Era 3 Homeworld concept art for the Diamond environments, and background art for the Reef.

New Connie and Greg designs. Concepts for Mega Pearl, the Rose Quartzes, Bluebird, and Morganite (who didn't get used). And there are some photos from recording and the conference room. There are even some extras from "Crossover Nexus," the crossover with OK K.O.!--including an unused cut scene that included Ruby and Sapphire fighting. The rest of the book is a bunch of adorable Crewniverse art--extras, blog drawings, promos, and gifts to each other.

NOTABLE

The first timeline chart in the book features a cool sketch of the original Off Colors, which at the time this planning document was drafted included unused Off Colors Flint and Chert.

We knew of their existence already because of an episode of the podcast, but these two unexpectedly appeared as incidental characters in the Steven Universe Future episode "Homeworld Bound," identified only in the credits. Sad to think that instead of banding with the Off Colors, these two were probably shattered for their crime (being Quartzes who don't want to fight) and that's why we see them being repaired in this episode. Later, there's some brainstorming for types of Off Colors and "a Ruby that wants to wear limb enhancers" is mentioned as well.

It looks like there was also originally more juice to the story of tracking down the events of the war culminating in Pink Diamond's assassination.

One of the timelines talks about Steven thinking it makes sense that Pearl can't talk about her involvement because she might have been a double agent, explaining why Rose Quartz always knew what Pink Diamond was doing. It seems like that bit was supposed to be included in Garnet's version of the story she believed in "Your Mother and Mine." Seems like they originally conceived Garnet's story to inspire the Off Colors to become pirates and freedom fighters, though in the show's canon this storytelling happened after Lars had already reinvented himself the way he did.

Sadie was also supposed to be sending letters to Lars via Steven, which is funny since the "Letters to Lars" episode is just a montage Steven letter. And of course it's specified that Steven was supposed to get Pink Diamond flashbacks by going to the Palace on Homeworld.

The second chart in the book makes references to Sadie's reinvention of herself as a parallel to Lars, Greg, and Pink Diamond all doing the same thing, and how positive it is to embrace such a thing--a version of yourself that YOU create.

I love that Yellow Diamond's arm ship arm-wrestling the Cluster was always part of the plan.

There's some more explicit direction to have Connie help Steven understand the Diamonds as "strict parents," and a lot more emphasis on everyone realizing Rose had been inspired by THEM rather than them all following her.

White Diamond is presented here as if she thinks of Pink Diamond as a "daughter" (whom she now understands she has "lost"). There are notes on how the Diamonds have a responsibility to their children and should attend to it before just continuing to make more.

One of the concept art images for the Off Colors features Rhodonite crouching by Padparadscha saying "Don't worry, I won't let them hurt you." It's very interesting because she DOES seem to protect Padparadscha in the show, but doesn't seem confident about it in her final version, even though it does seem like she'd be "programmed" to guard aristocratic Gems because of her Ruby and Pearl makeup. Cool.

A "Crew Cameos" spread was included, which is of great interest to some of us who loved seeing the Crew insert themselves into the show. Not every SU Crew person who's been represented in a crowd was there, but this crowd included Amish Kumar, Kat Morris, Amanda Winterstein, Angie Wang, Lamar Abrams, Emily Walus, Mary Nash, Joe Johnston, Christy Cohen, Danny Cragg, Hilary Florido, Danny Hynes, Matt Burnett, Ben Levin, Elle Michalka.

The official national flower of South Korea, Hibiscus syriacus, is the name of Pink Diamond's flower.

One of Steven Sugar's comments about the silhouette difference between humans and Gems points out that humans have ears. This seems to be pretty good confirmation that they are not supposed to have ears, despite that sometimes we'll see ears drawn on them in some frames.

Rose Quartz/Pink Diamond is characterized in this book as "self-hating" in a really interesting way, saying that because she believed she was not capable of compassion, she practically worshiped those who demonstrated that ability and thought they were so much better than her--which is described as "intoxicating" and resulted in others being drawn to her. How interesting is that!

Timelines reveal that early plans for Pink Diamond's first Pearl originally had her getting destroyed by Pink during a game, and then her destruction was rewritten as a punishment from the Diamonds after Pink Pearl defended Pink Diamond to the other Diamonds. They went back to the idea of her getting hurt by Pink for the final version, though the cracked face and control by White Diamond was not on the agenda until they started writing "Change Your Mind."

10.

The approximate ages of the major characters, based on emergence, are revealed on these timelines. It begins with a cracked-planet-looking graphic depicting four tiny Diamonds emerging at 20,000 years ago. Some suspicious "blacked out" redacting surrounds a long timeline tail that goes back before that, which may mean there are secrets they still don't want to reveal. But the dates go like this:

20,000 years ago: The Diamonds emerge.

11,000 years ago: Pearl is custom-made for Pink Diamond.

8,000 years ago: Sapphire emerges (on Homeworld).

6,000 years ago: Ruby emerges (on a colony).

5,750 years ago: Garnet is formed.

5,600 years ago: Lapis is poofed and put in the mirror.

5,200 years ago: Jasper emerges (on Earth).

5,050 years ago: The Cluster is planted.

5,000 years ago: Amethyst emerges (on Earth).

4,500 years ago: The Crystal Gems found Amethyst.

3,000 years ago: Peridot emerges (on Homeworld).

40 years ago: Pearl found Lapis's mirror at the Galaxy Warp.

And of course we know 14 years ago Steven is born!

11.

Originally the Diamonds were based on a quartet of themes: Love, Fear, Pride, and Sorrow. It got too complicated to keep and it was abandoned, with Pink's identification of "love" being described as "particularly outdated."

12.

Notes on a sketch say that Pearl was inspired to become bold and unashamed because Pink's questions drove her to have opinions, and it's said that Rose "fell in love" with her boldness.

13.

Rebecca tells the story of driving off a ridge and getting stuck in the desert, comparing this to Ruby's tumble during her Wild West adventure and using it as inspiration. She's told this story before but here it is in print. She also included the story about using the flowers from a friend's wedding to put in Ruby's hair.

14.

Rebecca describes having to "fight" notes she was given when it had to do with Ruby and Sapphire's relationship. One she describes as NOT fighting was for a signing card depicting Ruby and Sapphire dancing. It was called "too romantic" and she decided not to worry about it since it wasn't the actual show content.

She was also scolded over her book The Answer because the powers that be expected her to downplay that relationship. She always argued that queer youth deserved these things.

15.

Tom Herpich describes being inspired to name Blue Diamond's comb "Comby" because he was watching the news about Comey getting fired from the FBI. It's also a mineral-related term and I always assumed that reference was intentional, but maybe it's not and this is the only intended significance to Comby's name?

16.

Rainbow Quartz 2.0's design is not discussed, though the other two new Fusions from "Change Your Mind" (Sunstone and Obsidian) were. RQ2 has some sketches included, but no accompanying narrative in the text.

17.

A sheet of corrupted Gems and their healed selves is offered, though it doesn't appear to be final. The obelisk in "Serious Steven" is labeled Albite. The unnamed Worm Monster, Desert Glass, and Watermelon Tourmaline are included. An unnamed birdlike Gem represents the Big Bird monster from "Giant Woman." The crab monster from "Arcade Mania" is labeled Blue Chalcedony. The Tongue Monster is drawn uncorrupted but not named. The Flower Monster from "Back to the Kindergarten" is labeled Grossular Diopside or Titanite. The invisible monster from "Island Adventure" is labeled Moonstone. The Lighthouse Gem is labeled White Topaz. A form for Larimar that was used in "Change Your Mind" but changed in Future is there. The Slinker is listed as Chrysocolla. And the Crab Monster is listed as Aventurine.

On the next page, this is changed to Bixbite (as it was in Steven Universe Future), and we then also have Lace Amethyst, Blue Lace Agate, Crazy Lace Agate (Fusion), Ocean Jasper, the Mother Centipeetle Nephrite (Facet 413 Cabochon 12) and three other Nephrites, Angel Aura Quartz, a hooded Jasper, Zebra Jasper, Biggs Jasper, Watermelon Tourmaline (labeled as Fusion of Gem * Onion--huh?), Snowflake Obsidian, "Little" Larimar, and Orange Spodumene (who was the Worm).

18.

The Rhodonite side story would have been about the love story of a Ruby and a Pearl working for Morganite. Images of Morganite and her servants, unfused, are in the book. We do not get this additional information, but Rebecca said in a panel shortly before the book's release that Rhodonite's story would have been about finding out that she had been Rejuvenated 17 times because her components kept falling in love and needing to be reset.

19.

Referring to the Diamonds on one of the charts, Steven's perspective is "I can't believe I helped these" and then there's a censor bar. Welp.

20.

Some included art by Hilary Florido features Kevin with a souped-up Koala Princess car and another where Kevin is staring at himself in the mirror in front of an altar to himself.

21.

Rebecca's sweater collection is included in the Crew art.

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

#steven universe #steven universe end of an era #su spoilers #long post #su merch #myblog

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cassyapper · 3 years

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jotaro kujo song analysis: “eight” by sleeping at last

i could not figure out what the fuck to title this for a long time. please forgive me ik it’s awkward but it’s the best i got

anyway the song “eight” by sleeping at last made me mentally ill so let’s get into why <3

here’s a link to the song: https://youtu.be/obi4KCh6eHQ

here’s a link to the lyrics i referenced: https://genius.com/Sleeping-at-last-eight-lyrics

be warned there are part 3, part 4, part 5, and part 6 spoilers in this

with that let’s begin.

“I remember the minute;/it was like a switch was flipped --/i was just a kid who grew up strong enough/to pick this armor up,/and suddenly it fit” Lengthy first line to start this on i know but cutting it up didn’t make sense so please forgive me… Alright let’s get to the meat of this hm? This line is about when jotaro first manifested star platinum. “I remember the minute, it was like a switch was flipped” fits perfectly with how suddenly and obviously star platinum became known to its user, as jotaro first manifests it when he’s in the middle of a fight, a fight star platinum ends very quickly and brutally. The “i was just a kid who grew up strong enough to pick this armor up” is about jotaro having the willpower to control a stand such as star platinum and not get ill over it. He “grew up strong enough to pick this armor up”, this armor being star platinum (which, yes, star platinum is armor more than a weapon because its strength is used to protect. This is stated explicitly in the jin hashimoto song “star platinum” which was written specifically with jotaro/star platinum in mind, as the title suggests). It also shows how young jotaro was re the “kid” description; he was only 17, the youngest jojo up to that point. the “and suddenly it fit” also mixes with how suddenly star platinum manifested, particularly how jotaro gained passable control over it very quickly

“God, that was so long ago, long ago, long ago…/I was little, I was weak, I was perfectly naive,/and I grew up too quick.” Another long line im sorry it just doesnt make sense to cut it up 😭 Anyway this is part 6 jotaro reflecting on his past self, PARTICULARLY part 3 jotaro, which explains the “god, that was so long ago, long ago, long ago…” segment “I was little, i was weak, i was perfectly naive” is kinda gold coming from part 6 jotaro cause end of part 3 jotaro is canonically when he’s at his strongest but i dont think part 6 jotaro is talking about star platinum in this line. He’s talking about jotaro being tactless and rude and pushing away his loved aways in a disillusioned attempt to keep them safe. By part 6, jotaro has to have known his coping mechanism of self-imposed isolation wasnt fair to his loved ones/himself and it clearly didnt WORK as evidenced by jolyne’s situation, so he’s cursing his younger self for it here. Hence, the calling of part 3 jotaro “little, weak, perfectly naive.” part 3 jotaro starts making the bed that part 6 jotaro ends up having to lay in and he hates him for it. The “and I grew up too quick” part is jotaro acknowledging his trauma. Even before part 3 started jotaro clearly had issues and they just kept building and building and building from part 3 and on. Combined with his self-imposed isolation, jotaro had to grow up quick to survive, and this line is part 6 jotaro reflecting on that

“Now you won’t see all that i have to lose,/all i’ve lost in the fight to protect it.” Remember the self-imposed isolation i mentioned in the last line? This line is about why jotaro does that. He hates being vulnerable. He hates relying on others. We only see him comfortable trusting others to take care of things ONCE the entire series, during the steely dan arc, when he believes in kakyoin’s abilities to keep joseph safe and get the lovers out of him safely. ONCE out of the four parts he’s featured in, out of the three he’s prominent in. jotaro does this, as i previously mentioned, out of a disillusioned attempt to keep those he loves safe, hence the “now you won’t see all that i have to lose” line. This behavior is solidified in jotaro at the end of stardust crusaders, when the two final times he tried to trust that others would handle it resulted in the deaths of over of half those he cared the most about (he may have gotten joseph back, but don’t forget that joseph did actually die). Thus, this decisive night ties into the “all i’ve lost in the fight to protect it” line. He’s lost loved ones but he won’t lose them again, not in the same way at least. Ironically, the self-imposed isolation only puts his loved ones and himself in danger, but i can get into that later.

“I won’t let you in, i swore never again --/i can’t afford, no, i refuse to be rejected” This line kinda ties back with what i was mentioning in the last line, but it hones it a bit more on jotaro’s complete denial of being vulnerable rather than how he acts to ensure he isnt such. “I wont let you in, i swore never again” is a direct tie-in for how jotaro feels after stardust crusaders; he is never going to get as close to anyone or anything the way he was close to the crusaders ever again. Nothing is ever going to matter to him the same way and he is going to make sure of that, as the “swore never again” implies, because he is certain, at least at first, that this will keep others safe. The “i can’t afford, no, i refuse to be rejected” part goes into how selfish and arrogant jotaro’s mentality is. Don’t get me wrong, jotaro’s self-imposed isolation can be seen as selfless, especially because the main driving force behind it is to keep others safe -- but it’s not the only force driving it. Like i said, jotaro doesn’t want to be vulnerable, and to be sure he doesnt feel that way, he needs to ensure he won’t be hurt. Can’t be sad when people die if you were never close to them, right? So as much as it is to protect others, he also is protecting himself by closing off from others. It’s also arrogant of jotaro to assume he is the deciding factor of who lives and dies, that he gets to choose/manipulate the cycle of life and death by deciding on if he opens up to others. Jotaro had this mentality of being a “deciding factor” shoved into his head during the journey to egypt, and that kinda warps his worldview as a result; everything must be his fault. Things go bad surely because he let them somehow. And it’s not jotaro’s fault he’s ill in the head like this but it is still arrogant, and the “i can’t afford, no, i refuse to be rejected” line attests to this.

“I want to break these bones until theyre better/i want to break them right and feel alive” Oh jotaro you have the shittiest fuckign coping mechanisms Alright. “I want to break these bones until theyre better” ties into jotaro throwing himself into dangerous situations alone. He’s just so so damn convinced he can handle everything himself -- bc again, he is led to believe he is the deciding factor of life and death -- he just has to try. If things go wrong, it’s bc he didn’t try hard enough, hence the “break these bones until theyre better”; jotaro will hurt himself and will be convinced he deserved it until he “learns” how to be perfect like he’s “supposed” to be. But being perfect isnt something you can learn, you mentally ill motherfucker jotaro. anyway “I want to break them right and feel alive” ties into the fact jotaro would rather break his body over and over and over rather than tell his loved ones he cares. The only right way to be hurt to him is taking a hit that was meant for those he loves. Jotaro is very much a man of action rather than a man of word, and this line is about his rather unique way of acting (that is, getting beat the fuck up over and over) Basically jotaro can’t tell the people he loves that he, well, loves them, unless he is literally dying. Examples of what i mean: jotaro preferred going on a perilous, 50-day journey to just telling holly he loved her; jotaro preferred getting beat over the head with a rock in the lovers arc rather than risk hurting joseph; jotaro preferred to literally get blown up by sheer heart attack rather than tell koichi to his face he is a good kid; jotaro stepped knowingly into a trap for jolyne and had to literally believe he was in fact saying his last words before he uttered “i’ve always cherished you.”

“You were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong --/my healing needed more than time” Oh my GODDDddDDDdcdd im sobbing as i type jotaro your head is so so damn ill Okay so i see him spitting this line towards joseph. Let me explain Joseph would no doubt pick up on jotaro’s ptsd and he’ll do his best to console jotaro over the deaths of their friends. But see joseph is ALSO an ill in the head idiot whose idea of therapy is electroshock and who calls ptsd “shell shock”. So all he can offer to jotaro is “youll feel better in time” because that was kinda true for him; he managed to move on in time. What joseph fails to realize is what made him feel better was not time, but the support of those remaining in his life (lisa lisa, suziq, erina, smokey). But jotaro listens and tries to give it time but the thing with jotaro is he just gets worse and worse as time wears on because he deliberately cut himself off from anyone who could console him (as well as got continually traumatized throughout his life), so time never helped but actually made things worse. Thus jotaro spitting “you were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong, my healing needed more than time”. In terms of timeline, probably happens right after part 5 jotaro stares longingly at the crusaders picture

“When i see fragile things, helpless things, broken things/i see the familiar” Im sorry every new line i start to analyze i begin crying so im just letting you all know incase the coherency takes a dip (as if this was coherent in the first place lmfao) Anyway so this line in relation to Jotaro is about how he projects HARD on the new generation. We see this w his interactions w josuke and koichi, the “fragile things” (there is no way he didnt see koichi as a filler for kakyoin im sorry. Also he just wants josuke safe with his friends like how he wished he was safe with his own friends as a teenager), how he was wary of giorno, “the helpless things” (jotaro is scared he’ll be similar to his dad, just like jotaro is similar enough to dio to share the same stand power…), and his interactions w jolyne, “the broken things” (angry teen in a prison? Come now).

“I was little, i was weak, i was perfect too/now i’m a broken mirror” Throwback to the second line. Once again part 6 jotaro is reflecting but the difference here is that part 3 was when jotaro was last unashamedly happy, but more than that, part 3 jotaro was on his way to healing before everything went to shit. like i mentioned earlier, jotaro only relies on someone else completely once, and that happens in part 3. Jotaro is finally able to trust in someone else’s capabilities, which is what he needed to do before he could allow anyone to help him with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Hence, why part 6 jotaro would describe him as “perfect”; because he would’ve been perfect enough if he could just trust in others like that again But as the line suggests, that went wrong. Jotaro is now a “broken mirror,” which alludes to the fact that while he projects onto the kids, the kids (the ones that know him at least) project onto him as well, especially jolyne, because in part 6 she finally figures out her dad’s thought processes, as she is experiencing those patterns of thinking too. Jotaro is a role model for them in the sense of “see him? Do the opposite of what he did” KJ;DNJ;DN;SN

“But i can’t let you see all that i have to lose/all that i’ve lost in the fight to protect it” Same meaning as before mostly but the repetition is important me thinks because it mimics jotaro like frantically trying to remind himself why he must be distant when all he wanted to do was go home to jolyne and be her father

“I can’t let you in --/ i swore never again,/ i can’t afford to let myself be blindsided” This means roughly the same thing as the previous line that’s similar to this, but the “i can’t afford to let myself be blindsided” is less about jotaro’s selfishness/arrogance and more about how he believes enemies will use his loved ones against him and how goddamn, it would work, it would work so well because jotaro loves so, so damn much It’s a shame distancing himself didn’t work the way he wanted it to and ended up making his loved ones even more vulnerable than they would have been otherwise

“I’m standing guard,/i’m falling apart/and all i want to do is to trust you” (Begins screaming and doesn’t stop) okay so this line is about jotaro and jolyne during the beginning of stone ocean “Im standing guard” alludes to the fact that jotaro is still desperately trying to appear distant and uninterested even as he attempts to break his fucking daughter out of prison “I’m falling apart” ties into jotaro failing miserably at remaining cold towards jolyne, how he eventually caves in and tells her he loves her in addition to taking a literal bullet for her, using time stop to ensure he can make it to her to do so. and also this line ties into how he is literally physically shot and how his memories and stand are taken from him “And all i want to do is to trust you” is directed towards jolyne of course. God his whole “i’ve always cherished you” ties in with this line; like i mentioned earlier, jotaro by part 6 knows his self-imposed isolation is useless, but old habits die hard and also he was in very deep by the time he accepted there was no reason to go in the first place at all. So he doesn’t know how to change, he doesn’t know how to trust jolyne, it’d been 20ish years since he last trusted someone completely, but god he wants to. He wants to trust her. It’s all he wants to do hence this line

“Show me how to lay my sword down/for long enough to let you through” So continuing from the last line, jotaro just wants to let jolyne in. he wants to learn how to do that. I think this line is actually directed towards his younger self; 17 year old jotaro managed to let in a person once, after all (more than one person in fact, but all the crusaders). This would also make more sense w my interpretation of how part 6 jotaro calls part 3 jotaro “perfect” in this regard Essentially it’s jotaro thumbing through his memories to figure out how his past self gathered the security to trust in someone else wholeheartedly...which makes the fact that pucci steals his memories particularly fucked up in this context

“Here i am, pry me open/what do you want to know?” Another line directed toward jolyne. “Here i am, pry me open” refers to how after jotaro tells jolyne he cherishes her, all cards are on the table. He’s shown vulnerability, might as well go full throttle. So, he’s willing to talk to jolyne for the first time ever, especially because she’s a stand user now “What do you want to know?” ties into jotaro being willing to open up, but also the fact that jolyne doesnt really know her dad ):

“I’m just a kid who grew up scared enough/to hold the door shut/and bury my innocence” Hhnghg begins wailing this line is again about post-egypt jotaro. A lot of jotaro’s like...emotional maturation (and even some physical) occurred during the trip to egypt and immediately afterward. he’s in pain and desperately trying to rationalize a way he can be in control of never letting something like what happened in egypt happen again, hence the “im just a kid who grew up scared enough” “To hold the door shut” refers to how jotaro cut off other people, even the people who used to know him very well, like joseph and polnareff and holly “And bury my innocence” i mentioned this in another line but this bit also refers to how jotaro had to grow up quickly to survive, considering his self-imposed isolation and his life path of chasing down dio’s remnants

“But here’s a map, here’s a shovel/here’s my Achilles’ heel” This line is SUPPOSED to be directed toward jolyne but inadvertently it is also directed toward pucci. When jotaro says fuck it and gives up on his pretense of disinterest in jolyne, finally letting her know he loves her, he’s finally building the frame of a bridge to jolyne; he’s ready to do what he’s wanted to for so long, no matter how vulnerable it makes him, and that is to be jolyne’s father. However, pucci takes note of this; he knows to aim for jolyne in the final battle because of jotaro’s earlier actions when he tries breaking jolyne out of prison. It really is a shame how the narrative keeps fucking enforcing jotaro’s shitty self-imposed isolation

“I’m all in, palms out, i’m at your mercy now and i’m ready to begin/i am strong, i am strong, i am strong enough to let you in” Hmm i imagine this line being when jotaro meets back up with jolyne after he gets his memory disk back. The first thing he does is hug her and cradle her close to him, showing off to the world, right in front of pucci, how much his daughter means to him. But jotaro, at least for the moment, is not scared to be vulnerable anymore. Ever since he decided to give up his cold facade, he was ready to let jolyne in, and he finally has the chance to do that at least a little right before the final battle, which is what this line is about

“I’ll shake the ground with all my might/i will pull my whole heart up to the surface” Final battle in stone ocean,,, What the “i’ll shake the ground will all my might” line refers to is jotaro’s willingness to use star platinum the world during the battle. He’s ready to go all in to save the world, and most importantly, save jolyne, even if he has to use the source of his greatest trauma to do it. Jotaro’s a key player and he knows it, has known it for a long time, and this time he’s going to use that for his happy ending. And well, as i mentioned in the last line, jotaro’s done with the self-isolation and throws himself into the role of jolyne’s father, at least as much as he has the right to throw himself into. This is mostly what the “i will pull my whole heart up to the surface” line refers to

“For the innocent, for the vulnerable/i’ll show up to the frontlines with a purpose” More stone ocean final battle. The “innocent and vulnerable” jotaro is showing up for are jolyne, namely, but also hermes and emporio, and beyond that, the world. Jotaro understands how serious this is and he’s always been a force meant for protection, so he is here to do just that, which is what the “i’ll show up to the frontlines with a purpose” line refers to. Jotaro doesnt believe he’s a good person -- and he might not be, in the grand scheme of things -- but he does fight for what he believes is right, he always has, he mentions this way back in stardust crusaders during his fight with kakyoin. He’s never going to let injustice stand, especially not when he knows he’s such a key player

“And i’ll give all i have, i’ll give my blood, give my sweat --/an ocean of tears will spill for what is broken” This line actually applies to all the “final battles” jotaro has been involved in; part 3, part 4, and part 6. Jotaro, as i mentioned in the last line, has a strong sense of justice and is a force that first and foremost tries to protect, which the “i’ll give all i have, i’’l give my blood, give my sweat” part of this line refers to. Jotaro gives his all, has given his all, to rid the world of dio’s influence, he ruined his entire fucking life to do so, and this line gives credence to that. “An ocean of tears will spill for what is broken” refers to jotaro mourning all the what-ifs in his life, which are all tied with how the outcomes of these final battles go. If part 3 didnt end the way it did, jotaro would know how to trust still, he wouldve been happy even, maybe he wouldnt have had to sacrifice the rest of his life to dio; if part 4 didn’t end the way it did, maybe jotaro couldve gone home to his daughter, maybe he couldve been a bit of a better dad (this is because kids were involved in part 4 even if they didn’t try to because stand users attract stand users, and jotaro couldnt risk doing that to his daughter, so he ends up never coming home); and now for part 6, jotaro hopes that if it ends just a little better than the previous two, jotaro could at least died a satisfying death of sacrificing himself for jolyne, or maybe even got a chance to try mending his relationship with jolyne if they both survive

“I’m shattered porcelain, glued back together again” So this line speaks to both physical and emotional states Jotaro was physically “shattered porcelain” when he lost his stand and memory and also was shot, and he was “glued back together again” when he got medical attention and jolyne got back his disks Jotaro was emotionally “shattered porcelain” due to the fact he couldnt trust anyone completely since he was 17 goddamn years old but he’s “glued back together again” in the sense he’s ready to finally, finally try and be vulnerable in order to save his relationship with jolyne

“Invincible like i’ve never been” This line hurts so fucking much because i believe jotaro was optimistic, all things considered, at the beginning of the final fight in stone ocean. After all, he knows he’s an important figure in all this, he has his stand disk and memories back, he and jolyne and the others have a plan, and he has a future he wants to fight for in addition to the world’s continued functioning So he feels “invincible” like he’s never felt before because not even during the part 3 final battle with dio did he have the hope for the future he has now. But then. Then pucci brings out the knives. And the man who could control time never had enough in the end. He dies and cant even save jolyne with his death. The world ends. He failed. I think this is perfectly represented with how suddenly the song ends. It just perfectly encapsulates the tragedy that is jotaro kujo and i cant stop fucking thinking about it

thanks for reading all this if you did. jotaro kujo makes me feel mentally ill

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wherevermyway · 3 years

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bittersweet lullabies // binchan // oneshot // 16+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

pairing: bang chan x seo changbin rating: mature! 16+ warnings/tags: angst, friends-to-enemies, enemies-to-lovers, symphony AU, implied sexual content (seriously, it’s barely even there and probably very easily missable), alcohol, referenced underage drinking, past seo changbin x jung wooyoung (ateez). word count: 15,000 also on AO3

originally posted: 07 february 2021

Several years ago, Bang Chan and Seo Changbin were best friends in middle school. They quickly became rivals in high school, starting not long after Changbin got the lead first chair for the viola section, something Chan had also been vying for. When Changbin became valedictorian, they got into a heated argument and Changbin swore he would never talk to Chan again.

After university, they both received offers to work in the same symphonic orchestra. When they run into each other for the first time in four years, conflicting emotions bloom, tensions arise, and it all comes to an apex when Changbin storms off into the Seattle rain, and Chan can’t let him go, not after the guilt he had after all of these years.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

“I earned this, Chan!” A voice shouted in a cold, empty hallway. “Do you understand how many sleepless nights I pulled to get here? The sacrifices I’ve made?” There was a loud clattering against metal lockers that echoed against the linoleum flooring and the bland drywall. Papers fell, scattering about the floor as the overhead lighting flickered, illuminating two young men dangerously close to one another.

A scoff came from the slightly taller, blonde man. “Do you think I didn’t work hard?” He slapped his hand against the metal locker behind the brunette man leaning up against them. “I tried so hard, had the same grades as you, the same SAT score, and yet you somehow got valedictorian? What’s your secret, Changbin?”

“Can you leave me alone, dude?” The smaller man gave the blonde a shove, and attempted to storm away, before he was tugged back by the wrist. “Come on, man, they could only pick one person for valedictorian. You still get a speech, now let me leave. I’ve got stuff to take care of.”

Chan, the blonde, shook his head, looking down to the floor. “You really think I only want a stupid fucking speech? I didn’t want to be salutatorian; I don’t want to play second fiddle to you for one more goddamned thing.” He looked back up to the brunette, Changbin, and his eyes were glistening and tinted red. “I just wanted this one thing, to be better than you at something for once. You got lead first chair for orchestra. You got lead tenor for All-State. You’ve always been better than me, and this just proves it and it hurts.”

The two of them exchanged a painful glance, but said nothing. Changbin tugged his arm away, glaring at the other man, pity hidden behind his stare. If this were some sort of coming-of-age, poorly-written Hollywood dramedy, this would be the part where they would make out against the lockers. He would ruffle his hands through Chan’s hair, tell him some cheesy line, like “fuck what everyone else thinks, I may be valedictorian, but you’re the top of the class in my heart”.

However, this was real life. Nothing worked like the movies.

“What’s done is done, Chan,” the brunette sighed, rubbing his wrist. “Grow up and get over it. I’m tired of doing this shit with you every time I earn something and you throw a fucking fit and get jealous.” Changbin turned away, stepping on some of the discarded papers as he quickly walked away, down the corridor. “Don’t ever talk to me again,” he shouted, his voice firm and bouncing against the hard surfaces, echoing loudly in the emptiness.

Chan shook his head and let a tear slide down his face. “I miss the old us.” He remorsefully whispered to himself, dropping to his knees and collecting up the papers he dropped when he shoved the younger man into the lockers. He missed his former best friend, lamenting over how much he let his competitive nature ruin their friendship, the only friendship that really mattered to him.

Four years after Chan and Changbin graduated high school, they still found themselves thinking about each other as they graduated from university. Changbin had somehow completed a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree in four years during his time at Yale, and Chan finally got his coveted valedictorian title at Dartmouth. They may have hated each other, not speaking at all in four years, but they were polite enough to give each other half-hearted congratulatory messages on social media for university graduation.

Everyone did it, right? It was the thing to do for birthdays and graduations, like some unspoken rule. Perhaps it would bring them closer, start the path of building up the bridge back to friendship that they had burned years ago. It was unlikely, but he’d never know if he never tried.

Chan wondered how much Changbin had changed in the previous four years. He had typed up an apology that spanned several pages of text, had it saved in his message drafts for weeks, but never built up the courage to send it. The overwhelming guilt and shame for treating his former best friend so poorly would never allow him to send that message.

Changbin appeared to be happy for once, losing himself in his studies and performances, happy and in love with his fiancé Jung Wooyoung, a classmate of theirs that also ended up at Yale. Everything seemed to be going well for him; Changbin had just accepted a job with some renowned symphonic orchestra that he was moving cross-country for.

Perhaps they would never mend, and this was fate telling Chan to move on.

Changbin saw Chan’s polite “congrats, man” timeline post, and couldn’t help but scoff at how insincere it came off to him. He had stalked Chan’s profile for the entire four years they didn’t speak to each other, seeing some bad drunken frat party photos, reading interesting concepts he proposed about the transformational theories in music, and watched a couple of short-lived relationships bloom and subsequently fizzle out within only a couple of months. Chan was always chaotic, and Changbin kind of missed that unpredictable nature about him. Someday he’d reach out, he figured, but that day wasn’t today.

It had been a couple of months since graduation. Changbin had a stressful time planning a move cross-country that his now former fiancé didn’t support. Fuck it, he figured, a career with the symphonic orchestra in Seattle was worth it. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, something that was incredibly selective, that he was invited to be a part of, and he deserved it. Wooyoung was halfway out of the door, anyway. They were always picture-perfect online, but Wooyoung stopped putting in any effort into the relationship well over a year ago, something about “focusing” on some technical project that he’d likely never complete.

Wooyoung never completed anything, and when Changbin broke off their engagement, the younger man simply shrugged it off.

It didn’t matter. Out with the old, in with the new. Whatever it took to convince Changbin to stay sane, to feel like he hadn’t wasted three years on someone not worth his time. He didn’t resent Wooyoung, but their relationship felt like it was lacking from beginning to end. Maybe he would find someone that would light a spark within him on the other side of the continent.

From the week he spent in Seattle during his interview and audition, Changbin deemed that Seattle was far superior to Connecticut, anyways: something about its dreamy, rainy, “chronically sipping lukewarm earl grey tea while listening to chill synthwave” vibe excited him. It was something completely different than what he was used to, and it was going to be drastically different than the uptight nature that the east coast gave off.

Connecticut was vivacissimo. Seattle was andante . It was time for something calming and slow paced for once in his life.

It only took Changbin an hour to bring in everything from his car and settle into his new apartment. The human resources team was kind enough to help him find a cozy, furnished apartment that was a short walk away from work. It was nestled in the bustling Capitol Hill neighbourhood, and he knew he was going to love sitting inside and watching people scurry about from his third-floor balcony. He had a few days to settle in before he would show up for orientation, and he couldn’t wait to explore the area.

For now, though, he would unpack a bit, then sleep. A week and a half of driving cross-country, while beautiful, was exhausting. Three thousand miles. Constant playlist shuffling. Talk radio while driving through Illinois and Wisconsin to hear asinine political commentary. Getting carsick and vomiting where I-90 met I-35 in Minnesota. Nearly breaking down close to Mount Rushmore in South Dakota. Almost hitting a coyote in Montana. Seeing the sunrise as he drove over a mountain pass as he approached the Idaho state border. The thrill of finally approaching Seattle and getting lost as he made a wrong turn, somehow ending up in Tacoma. It was an adventurous trip, but it sapped the life from him.

There was one thing, however, he could rely upon to restore his drained energy: his viola.

He took his prized, cherished viola out of its well-maintained case, running his thumb over the chip under his chin rest, and Changbin felt like he could finally breathe a sigh of relief. This viola got him through so many hard times in life, keeping him grounded and sane regardless of how hectic his schedule was from the last half of high school and all throughout university. If he was stressed, he would simply take the viola out of its case and let something flow from him.

As he brought the viola up to his chin, strategically placing his fingers at the end of his bow, he looked out the window taking in the view of the sunset, and aimlessly started playing something. It somehow slowly blended into his part from Lament, which was a duet that he and Chan had performed their junior year of high school.

Perhaps it was because Chan had been invading his thoughts lately, but his improvised practices always turned into Lament . It was a beautiful duet; they had won first place at the state competition for it, earning a perfect score, which was something that was incredibly rare; it helped them pad their resumes to get into Ivy League universities. They practiced for months, starting the summer before their junior year, because they wanted to actually take home an award for it. “We’ll show them,” Chan arrogantly smirked as he puffed out his chest. “We’re better than just some deeper violins stuck in the middle of the orchestra. That’ll teach them all for making fun of us.”

Changbin remembered being nervous about it. The sweat beading on his palms as they waited in the wings of the stage prior to their performance, the pounding of his heart against his ribcage, the sound of the blood rushing between his ears. He was so nervous that he would trip, or he would drop his viola, maybe that everything would go impossibly wrong. However, the minute he and Chan looked at each other as they prepared to start their duet, a sense of calm overtook him, and he lost himself within the music.

Somehow, they managed to make it through the entire performance without faltering. As soon as they were hidden behind the black curtains of the stage, Chan gave Changbin the closest, warmest hug he had ever received in his life.

“I told you we’d do it, man!” Chan excitedly whispered into Changbin’s ear. “You fucking killed it!”

“You did really well, too,” Changbin had shyly whispered back, offering a couple of nervous pats in between Chan’s shoulder blades. He remembered feeling lucky that the backstage area was so dark, because it was very obviously apparent that he was blushing.

He pulled himself from the memory, unable to finish playing his part from the duet, the notes sounding correct, yet feeling dissonant in his heart as he played. His shoulders drooped as he stared off into the skyscrapers far off in the distance. Sure, the relationship he had with Wooyoung was tumultuous, but Changbin wasn’t entirely innocent, either, often daydreaming about Chan during the most inopportune times.

When Wooyoung would dance his fingers against Changbin’s bare flesh in the darkness of their room, he was guilty of letting his mind wander to the what-ifs: what if Chan were there? Would Chan nip at Changbin’s neck with the same passion? How warm would Chan’s breath feel against his earlobe as his teeth dug into the tender flesh? Would he take Changbin in his arms and pepper his skin with soft kisses and haphazard ‘I love you’s as they tangled themselves up in each other?

It was insufferably suffocating, being weighed down by the ghosts of his past as he tried to move forward with his life.

For a long time, Changbin was infatuated with Chan. Starting in seventh grade, he wanted to spend time with only Chan; they would spend their weekends and summer vacations together, text each other until they fell asleep, and they were a part of all of the same extracurricular activities. To most people, all the way up until their junior year, they were essentially brothers that weren’t related by blood.

Nobody could have been closer than them.

One night, not long after they received the results that they had gotten a perfect score on their duet, Chan invited Changbin to a party at their friend’s house. Changbin, being the shy introvert that he was, would have said no otherwise, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no to Chan. There was nothing special or memorable about the house party itself, not until they both drunkenly stumbled into an empty bed together.

They had slept next to each other several times, but this was different. Changbin wrapped his arm around Chan’s chest, tucking his head underneath the elder’s chin, letting himself get lost in the warmth of their embrace. The alcohol convinced him it was a great time to be honest — perhaps a bit too honest.

“Chan,” Changbin had slurred out in a near-whisper. “Can I, uh, tell you something?”

“What’s up, dude?” Chan responded, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

Changbin took in a deep breath, and sat up, staring down at Chan in the dark. “I think…” his voice trailed off and he swallowed audibly, “I think I kinda like you?”

Chan just laughed, patting Changbin’s thigh. “I like you too, dude. It’s why we’re friends.”

“Nah,” the brunette huffed, smelling the stale, cheap beer on his breath and shuddering as he shook his head. “Not like that.”

“What do you mean, then?”

“Like,” a moment passed and Changbin recoiled into himself. “I like you, dude. I wanna take this to the next level. I dunno, man, this shit’s awkward and hard to admit.”

The two of them sat in silence for a while, until Chan sat up and leaned in close to Changbin. “Bin,” he sighed, firmly gripping his junior’s thigh, “I like you, too, but I don’t know. We could, like, seriously fuck up our friendship. I mean, you saw what Seonghwa did to Hongjoong when they went from friends to boyfriends.” He hiccupped and awkwardly chuckled to ease the tension blooming between them. “I don’t wanna ruin what we’ve got, since we’re basically brothers and shit.”

Changbin shook his head. It really was stupid, after all. The alcohol, however, gave him confidence that he didn’t ask for and didn’t need right now. He batted his eyelashes and brought his face in, up close to Chan. “Can I at least kiss you to see how it feels?”

Chan giggled, likely out of nervousness and drunkenness. “I mean, I don’t see why not. But neither you nor I have kissed anyone, ’s probably gonna be weird.”

“I don’t care.” The words left Changbin’s lips as he boldly reached up to Chan’s neck, pulling them closer to each other. It was awkward, painfully obvious that they really didn’t know what they were doing. Their lips were a little too dry for it to feel as magical as Changbin expected. Still, they continued; a tiny spark igniting between the two of them. It may have been awkward, but it didn’t feel wrong.

Chan brought his hand up to Changbin’s soft, brown hair, letting his fingers grip the strands gently. He brought his other hand up to the small of the brunette’s back, pulling him in. They couldn’t quite figure out which side their noses should be on, and when they opened their mouths to let their tongues adventure around, they clashed their teeth together one too many times, causing pain to echo throughout their heads.

Regardless of the awkward nature of their kiss, it was perfect for them. It felt like they kissed each other for hours, eventually rolling around the sheets, fingers skirting around on warm, flushed skin. Changbin didn’t even remember falling asleep, just the comfort of losing himself in Chan’s touch.

The next morning, however, was far from perfect. They were both grossly hungover, and Chan was oddly distant. “I dunno, dude,” he had sleepily grumbled, avoiding looking at Changbin at all, “I still don’t know if this is right.”

Chan was going to say more, but Changbin waved him off in a panic with feigned confidence. “Nah, dude, it was just us being drunk.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry for being weird, I guess I was just a little too curious to have a kiss. Shame our first kisses were while we were drunk, huh?”

“Yeah,” Chan awkwardly smiled, “little weird, but whatever.”

Unsurprisingly, they started having problems not long after that. Chan had started getting irritated with Changbin putting more and more focus into his studies, starting to surpass him academically. Then, Changbin got first chair for the violas in orchestra. He beat out two seniors, and Chan was right behind him. Chan was always right behind him in everything. They were so close, they were like minor seconds in a chord: just two notes right next to each other that sounded uncomfortably dissonant when played together.

When Changbin got stressed, he focused. Conversely, when Chan stressed, he brooded.

“Come on, man,” Chan had whined right after practice one day, “you and I both got that perfect score on our duet. How’d you get lead first chair over me?”

The annoyance of Chan’s constant negative behaviour was draining on Changbin, causing the younger man to grow more and more irritated by the second. “I don’t fucking know, okay?” He snapped while opening his viola’s case. “Someone had to get it, and it was me. Stop taking out your shit on me, man, it’s exhausting.”

Chan frowned in response. “I’m not taking it out on you,” he huffed, “you’re just getting a lot of good shit lately, and it’s not fair.”

“You should have fucking tried harder, then!” Changbin shouted, taking a step towards Chan, clutching the neck of his viola tightly. “You know what’s not fair? What’s not fair is the fact that you’re being a broody sack of shit at me because you’re just not practicing as hard or studying as hard and that’s not my goddamned fault! You need to grow the fuck up, dude.”

Chan scowled and shoved Changbin back in anger, harder than he anticipated. He didn’t expect it to be such a rough shove, but Changbin didn’t always have a good sense of balance. The younger man tumbled backwards, and his viola hit the ground with a thud, a discordant twang coming from the delicate instrument and echoing throughout the room.

The silence that followed the scuffle was deafening. Chan tried to apologize, knowing just how important Changbin’s viola was to him, but he just incoherently sputtered and panicked. Changbin stared up at Chan in horror, blinking away tears that were budding up in his eyelids.

“How could you?”

It was the last thing that Changbin said to Chan for months.

The memories flooding up in Changbin’s head caused a gnawing pain to bloom within his stomach as he stared out the window, the sky now a deep shade of indigo. He sighed, then put his viola back into its case. He thought playing it would make him happy, more comfortable in his new apartment in a new town, but it just made him feel cold and alone. It felt like there was nothing but dissonant chords reverberating inside of him.

Changbin stared down at his viola, hesitating to close the case. The chip from the day it collided against the ground was still there, glaringly obvious as the memory burned itself into his head. He recalled that the musician that repaired his viola offered to fix it up, even though it was just a surface blemish and wouldn’t cause any musical problems. “No,” Changbin had told the man, “it’s right under the chin rest, so I’ll see it every time I go to play it. It’ll remind me to be more cautious.”

Cautious of his instrument, that’s probably what it sounded like to the musician. What Changbin really meant, however, was how he’d be cautious of letting anyone close to him in the future, no matter who it was.

Uncertainty rushed over him, but Changbin was certain of one thing: he needed to get Chan out of his head. Sooner, rather than later. He couldn’t afford to be distracted when he started with the symphony.

Maybe he’d be alone forever.

Monday came quickly, and Changbin was running early. He had left far too early, showing up nearly an hour before he needed to be at the practice hall. He shrugged the nervousness from his shoulders as he made his way to a nearby cafe to grab something caffeinated to help perk him up. Seven in the morning was far too early for his schedule after all of this time off from university.

It was a brief walk, maybe only a couple of minutes to the cafe down the street. Changbin opened the door, inanely scrolling through his emails as he walked through the front door and got in line. There was one email from the conductor, Lee Minho, sent out to everyone earlier that morning, welcoming the new members of the orchestra. Names, ages, instruments, and where they were from.

“What can I get for you?” The barista at the counter politely asked, causing Changbin to look up from his phone, his face flushing in embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry,” he whispered, locking his phone, sliding it into his pocket. “I’ll take a shot in the dark, medium, three shots, please.”

“Your name?”

“Changbin.” He was curious to see how terribly the barista would butcher his name as he tapped his card against the payment terminal. A minute later, he stepped off to the side, grabbing his phone to scroll through the email again. Since he was early, he might as well try and learn who was who and where they sat, what they played.

The wind and brass instruments were first. A new French horn player, a new trombonist, a new bassoonist, a new flautist. He was about to scroll through the percussion and string players when the second barista mumbled something that sounded kind of like his name. He walked up and grabbed the paper cup that was placed on the countertop, eyeing the scribble on the cup that barely resembled his name, rolling his eyes at the attempt.

Changbin took a cautious sip of the hot liquid as he made his way towards the front of the cafe, taking a seat at the window bar, placing his viola case down on the ground and his cup on the table, looking through his email. He didn’t care about the percussion section, but when he got to the strings, he perked up a bit. Two new violinists, two new violists, and a new cellist.

There was another new violist along with him, and Changbin bit his lip in excitement. He wondered who they were, where they were from. Then he saw the name, right under his. He stopped tapping his toes in excitement and his jaw dropped. If he was holding his coffee cup, he would have dropped it in shock.

Viola: Changbin S., 22, Connecticut. B.A., M.M., Music: Yale University.

Viola: Chan B., 23, New Hampshire. B.A., Music Performance: Dartmouth University.

“Holy shit,” Changbin whispered as all of the colour drained from his face. He had to have been hallucinating. There was no way that Chan was actually in Seattle. There had to have been another Chan from Dartmouth that was coming all the way here, right? That it wasn't just some crazy fever dream that Changbin was having?

He sat and stared at the email on his phone until the screen automatically turned off from inactivity. If Chan was seriously going to be in the symphonic orchestra with him, right next to him, what was he going to do? The two of them hadn't said anything more than polite passing phrases over their birthdays or for their graduations over social media, for fuck's sake. What the hell was going to happen when — no, if, it had to stay as an if — the two of them met?

The soft bell of the front door opening made Changbin shake his head, crashing back to reality. He turned his phone over, putting it down on the counter so he didn't have to look at it, and brought his cup back up to his lips. The coffee in the cup was nice, a bit more mellow and mild compared to the coffee he was used to on the east coast, like this was brewed with care and love, not in a hurry for someone just trying to get their fix.

“That's the third symphony,” a quiet voice came up behind Changbin, his ears twitching a bit as he heard something related to music. Perhaps this person was another musician, part of the orchestra? Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he turned his head over his shoulder and actually dropped his cup, spilling the warm liquid all over the table and into his lap. In a rush, he grabbed his phone as he stood and let out a crisp, sharp interjection.

As the coffee cooled in his lap and the barista from earlier approached him with a towel, his brain caught up to the realization that his former best friend-turned-rival, Chan, was right behind him. Before he could fully process what that meant, Changbin found himself madly dashing back to his apartment, phone in one hand, viola case in the other. Reality hit him in the face and burned as much as his scorched legs as he collided into the door of his apartment.

This wasn't a dream.

Changbin was thankful that he was always early to things. After rushing to apply some burn cream to his legs and change into a fresh outfit, he had somehow made it back to the concert hall with fifteen minutes to spare. He gripped the handle to his viola's case tightly, palms sweating as he tried so hard not to panic. Beyond the doors of the practice hall, he knew that Chan was going to be there. Nothing he did could prepare him for that, and he knew it.

He took in a deep breath, and let off a quick exhale as he pushed the door open. The crowd of other players was massive — there had to be nearly a hundred people crowded up in small circles. The newer people were very obvious, awkwardly off to the side in their respective sections. Some people were off in random seats, tuning their instruments. Then, in the middle of the room, he saw someone seated, alone, anxiously scrolling through his phone. It was the same brassy blonde that was in the cafe.

Chan.

Almost as if the energy in the room cooled as Changbin entered, Chan shifted in his seat and aimlessly scanned the room, looking at the other members, until his eyes landed on Changbin, and his lips parted. They stared at each other, seemingly like they were frozen in space and time, that there was no one else around. A conflicting rush of warmth, excitement, and terror washed over Changbin all at once as he stared at his former best friend.

Changbin shook his head, letting his eyes fall to the floor for a moment. “This is going to be fine,” he quietly reassured himself as he walked towards the middle of the room. “You two don't have to look at each other, speak to each other, just be civil. If you're lucky, you won't even have to interact much. Hopefully.”

That was a boldfaced lie, but it helped reassure Changbin in the slightest way possible.

“Hi,” Chan awkwardly whispered as Changbin got close. “Long time, no see, huh?”

He simply couldn't resist looking up at Chan and somehow wrinkling his face up into an uncomfortable grin. “Hi, Chan.” His tone was a bit cold, but what else could he do? They left each other on horrible terms, not even speaking to each other during their high school graduation ceremony. Changbin had given his valedictorian speech, and remembered Chan walking up to the podium, giving him a pitiful expression as they crossed paths.

“Looks like your assigned seat is right next to me.” There's a tapping noise as Chan's fingernail repeatedly strikes the plastic seat next to him. A large, black binder sat atop the chair, with "Changbin S., Viola’ emblazoned on the top of it in silver, serif lettering.

Fate was a cruel bastard.

Changbin stifled a sigh under his breath, placing his viola's case underneath the chair as he grabbed the binder. He sat down in his seat, pretending to rifle through the paperwork. There was simply no way that he could focus, knowing that Chan was right next to him. It was completely awkward and uncomfortable. Changbin could practically feel the warmth of the blonde sitting next to him, even though they were about a foot away from each other.

“We're gonna pretend like all that time together never happened, huh?” Chan's voice was cold, and he tsked as he brought his phone back up to his face. “I really thought four years would've changed you, Bin.”

Changbin slammed the binder shut and leaned into Chan's face. His eyes darted around, knowing that he was getting some strange glances from people that weren't preoccupied, but it didn't matter. “You're the one that refused to grow up and handle things responsibly like an adult. I don't want to hear another fucking passive aggressive word about this from you.” His tone was hushed, but venomous and seething. “You had all this time to apologize, but you never did. I sincerely hope we don't have to interact much, because this two year contract is going to be hell on me if you're here.”

Chan scoffed. “Whatever, dude,” he shook his head and looked back to his phone. “I just wanted to try and be civil, but if you wanna play that game, then you can. Go right ahead.”

This was outrageous. Changbin opened his mouth to say something, but a man with a calm demeanour walked into the room, his presence demanding attention from everyone as they scattered to their seats.

“Good morning, everyone,” his voice boomed throughout the corridor. It was soft, inviting. “Welcome to your first day of the season. If you would kindly find your seats, we'll get started in a few moments.”

Changbin awkwardly fumbled with his binder, resting it on the music stand in front of him, then bent down to pick up his viola's case. He undid the latches, and pulled out the instrument, his eyes fixated on that damned chip under the chin rest. Naturally, after he stared at the chip for longer than necessary, he lifted his eyes up to Chan, who was rubbing his bow against the brick of resin in his hand.

Chan was always delicate with his instrument. He put in so much love when he polished his viola prior to competitions and performances, always lovingly eyed the hairs of his bow as he carefully watched the resin coat each strand. Typically, he would hum some inane melody to himself as he got lost in the process, in the care of what he did.

Today, Chan wasn't humming.

It felt like the energy around him had gone from its usual bright cheerfulness, and turned into a dark, gloomy cloud.

“Please,” the instructor spoke yet again, looking up from his stack of paperwork on the podium, “if you haven't done so, begin tuning your instruments. Hopefully they're all tuned up, but I'm sure some of you have been slacking since we last practiced together, hmm?”

Changbin didn't need to tune his viola, since he tuned it last night in anticipation, but he went along and pretended to tune it with his plastic electric tuner. The light shone green as he kept strumming against the C string. Changbin tried to stare at the light, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Chan. While he wasn't humming, the elder still put in so much tender energy while he cared for his viola.

It had been all this time, but Changbin still felt his abdomen and chest light up with fire when he saw Chan, no matter how much it hurt. It was apparent that Changbin was still so madly in love with him, even after all of these years and all of the emotional torment they had put each other through.

This man was going to be the death of him.

The beginning of the first day with the symphony wasn't eventful. There were some warm-ups and some scales practice, but that was simply to get everyone prepared for the performance season. After all of that, the conductor, Minho, went through each section and asked the new members to introduce themselves. Percussion went first, then woodwinds, brass, strings. Second-to-last was the viola group, and Chan went first.

“Chan,” he said with a smile, his dimple prominently on display, “I'm 23, originally from New York, but I've been in New Hampshire for the past four years thanks to university. I recently graduated, with honours, top of my class, from the music performance faculty at Dartmouth. I hope we all get along well and you'll treat me kindly. Let's have a great season!” He sat down, and his smile faded as Changbin rose.

“Yeah, uh, hello,” Changbin awkwardly stuttered, folding his hands together behind his back. “I'm Changbin, 22, also originally from New York, but I've been in Connecticut for the last four years where I matriculated at Yale. I have a bachelor's and master's in music, specifically: music performance for viola and piano. I've been playing the viola for most of my life, and I hope I will serve everyone well here. Uh,” he paused, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “Thanks.”

There were a couple of polite chuckles as Changbin sat down. Despite having a penchant for giving well-manicured speeches, he hated giving unprepared introductions. He felt tense enough already, knowing that Chan was right next to him, making him all the more uncomfortable.

The new violinists introduced themselves, and Minho clapped once. “Excellent,” he praised. “Now that introductions are out of the way, please split off into your respective subsections until I'm able to get to each individual group and assess your skills for placements. Those of you that have finished by your lunch break are welcome to leave, unless your principal seat deems otherwise.”

A couple of musicians groaned.

“It's nearly autumn,” Minho said with a soft smile as he adjusted his necktie, “you all know that placement seats, other than principal seats, aren't guaranteed.”

Changbin nervously swallowed. He knew that placements were, yet again, going to be a source of contention for both of them. Chan was top of his class at Dartmouth; Changbin was top of his class at Yale. Both of them were going to be a force to be reckoned with, especially up against other top-class talent.

This orchestra recorded for multiple high-budget films and would perform in the pits of renowned theatrical performances. There were just over a hundred seats in the orchestra, but thousands applied for open spots after contracts ended and spots opened up. It was nerve-wracking, and Changbin wasn't confident that he, for the first time since high school, would be placed in one of the first viola chairs.

“Hey,” a voice perked up as everyone started to shift around and break off into their own groups. “I'm Seungmin,” a young man stood in front of Chan and Changbin, probably about the same age as them. “I'm the principal chair for the viola section. Changbin and Chan, right?” Both of them silently nodded once in affirmation. “Nice, Ivy Leaguers like me. Cornell, graduated last year. Anyway, don't worry too much about placements. Not much you can do until you actually have to perform, and Minho is pretty great about making you feel comfortable if you're nervous. Why not come meet everyone in the section?”

There were polite greetings and less-formal introductions shared, a couple of people made jokes to ease the tension, as to be expected. Seungmin discussed the projected schedule for the season, going over some of the pieces that they would need to practice together and individually. They went over all of the general housekeeping, discussed the placement procedures, and that they were free to go after they were done, since there was no real point in sticking around for the rest of the day.

“Alright, well,” Seungmin stood up as his alarm went off, “lunch starts now, so I'm gonna head off. See ya in an hour; just meet up here and don't be late. For strings, the violin section goes first, then us.”

Changbin looked down to the floor, an uneasy pit growing in his stomach. Part of him knew he should stay and practice, just to get his mind in the right order, but he couldn't pull himself away from the fact that Chan was still there, right next to him.

“Get up,” Chan muttered, lightly tapping Changbin's chair with his foot, startling the brunette to attention. “Look, dude,” he tucked his hands into his pockets and huffed with discontent, “I know we haven't spoken in years, but there's some things I wanna talk to you about before we go in and compete against each other for yet another stupid thing. Come grab lunch with me, alright?”

“I'm not hungry.” Changbin's eyes darted to the side, furrowing his brows in frustration. He just wanted to focus on practicing his piece for placements; there was no time to worry about eating at a time like this.

“No,” an exasperated sigh came from Chan as he folded his arms and rolled his eyes. “You're just nervous and you don't wanna talk to me. Unless you've drastically changed, you do this shit before performances, too. Just come on, it's not gonna be that bad, I promise.”

Changbin wasn't sure why he agreed to this. The two of them sat at a table in the hipster pho shop next to the cafe, awkwardly poking at their warm bowls of noodles and broth as they sat in silence for at least a good five minutes. “So,” the younger man sighed, “what did you want to talk about?”

The blonde sucked his lips in between his teeth and chewed on them for a second before he set his chopsticks down into the bowl and looked up, meeting Changbin's gaze with a hint of nervousness behind his eyes. “Changbin,” he huffed, tilting his head to the side, “all those years ago, I was horrible to you.”

“I know.” The brunette abruptly cut him off, seething through his teeth while he sat back in his chair.

“Bin,” the older man shook his head, his eyes wincing with pain, “dude, I had this big ass draft saved in my messages that I wanted to send to you after we graduated.” He brought an elbow to the table and nestled his head into his palm. “For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to ever send it. I don't know why; it was probably out of embarrassment and cowardice. The way I treated you all that time, over some stupid competitive shit, I'm sorry, Changbin. Honestly, I'm so sorry.”

A tsk left Changbin's lips as he rolled his eyes away, looking at the wall to his side, just for a moment. He leaned in, pressing his arm into the table, mere inches away from Chan. “Yeah, you did a lot of shit, and yeah, I know you’re sorry or whatever. But you know what hurts me the most, Chan?”

Chan nervously swallowed and bit his lip.

“You did all of this shit to me after I kissed you. None of this started until then.” Changbin shook his head in disappointment. “I'm not upset about the way you reacted, not really, at least, but I am upset over the fact that you kissed me back so hard, like you actually wanted me as more than a friend. After all that, you started treating me so horribly, like you had to prove that you were better than me. Like our years of friendship suddenly didn’t matter anymore.”

“Changbin, I just couldn’t—” Chan started, but Changbin sat back and shook his head, speaking up and cutting off the blonde.

“You hurt me.” There were tears budding up in the brunette's eyes. “It's taken you four and a half years to apologize. Chan, I’ve waited for fucking years for this. I wish you would have sent me some bullshit, half-assed stupid text message apology that summer. It would have hurt less than this. All of this time, I thought you hated me. That my best friend wanted nothing to do with me. Nothing else hurts more than that, to have your favourite person in the entire world suddenly hate you, and it’s all because you thought he had feelings for you, too, but he just threw them back in your face and laughed at your pain.”

Changbin stood up and grabbed his phone from off of the table. “I'm not ready to forgive you, Chan. Not after all of this shit. So, please,” a couple of tears rolled down his face as he bit his bottom lip, “just respect me enough to leave me alone for a little while. I need to think about this, about us.”

He stormed off before Chan could attempt to stop him. An overwhelming fear of nervousness took over: partially due to the unsteady ground their relationship was on, and partially due to the fact that his placement exam was going to take place soon, and Changbin was nowhere near the right mental capacity for that.

“Shouldn’t have done this,” Changbin whispered to himself as he wiped the tears from his face, his footsteps hard and heavy against the concrete sidewalk. “Fuck you, Chan.”

“Capriccio,” Minho smiled, his face relaxed and expression warm. He held his clipboard in hand as Changbin eyed the sheets of music in front of him. “Composed by Vieuxtemps. I picked this as the sight reading for today’s placement exams.” The conductor was welcoming enough, but his calm demeanour didn’t ease the nervousness vibrating throughout Changbin’s body.

All those years ago, I was horrible to you. Chan’s apology still sounded so clear in his head, Changbin constantly replaying the memory unwillingly as the notes on the sheet music danced around, tangling itself up into an unintelligible mess.

“Changbin?”

I’m so sorry, Changbin. He was so angry: at Chan, at himself, at the fact that he ran away, that he couldn’t concentrate on the important task at hand in front of him.

“Hey,” Minho’s voice was layered with concern as it pulled Changbin from his thoughts. “Are you feeling alright? It’s just a standard placement exam, nothing to be too nervous over.”

Changbin stood in the empty office, viola carefully cradled in his hands as he blinked his way back into focus, the sheet music suddenly becoming clear and normal. “Sorry,” he shook his head, trying to rid Chan’s voice from the depths of his ears, “I guess I’m just nervous.” Capriccio. It was a piece Changbin had heard, but he had never played it before, as to be expected for sight reading, but the anxiousness in his stomach blossomed like a large black lily of doubt, poking its petals at his ribcage. “How long do I have to look at this?”

“I’ll give you two minutes to look over it,” Minho leaned against the back of his chair and rubbed his chin with his thumb. “Once you’re ready to start playing, I’ll take notes. We’ll do the scales exercise before that, as well as a piece of your choosing. Are you sure you’re ready, Changbin?”

“I’ll be fine,” Changbin huffed, trying to calm the nerves inside of him as he readied his viola. He had to be fine, he had to beat out Chan with this. “Let’s do the scales, then.”

Changbin kept telling himself that had to beat Chan, but he didn’t know exactly why.

“Hey, man!” Seungmin said with excitement as he patted Changbin on the back, right outside of the practice room. “How'd it go?”

Changbin groaned and rolled his eyes, gripping the neck of his viola a bit tighter. “It was alright,” he grumbled, walking to where his case laid on his chair. Chan had gone before him, and was deliberately looking away from Changbin as he approached. As soon as he started shuffling with his case, Chan got up with an exasperated sigh and walked away.

“Are you two,” Seungmin pressed, lowering his voice as he approached Changbin, “do you know each other or something? I'm getting some weird vibes from you both.”

The brunette gritted his teeth as his bottom eyelid twitched. “We were classmates, yeah,” he admits, “back in high school.”

“Oh! That's exciting!”

“No,” Changbin sighed, “I wish it was more interesting than that, but we stopped talking after we both got into different universities”. It wasn't a complete lie, yet it wasn't a complete truth, either. Changbin quickly weighed the options of being honest with Seungmin about how strained their relationship was, and chose to just fake it for the greater morale of the group. They were both too new to start something so petty so early on in the season.

Seungmin grinned as Changbin turned around. “Well, hey,” he bopped his head back and forth to the side, humming a bit, “it's kinda cool when you've got people that know each other and work well together in the same group. Maybe the violas will be a bit stronger this year.”

“We'll see,” Changbin said with a fake smile. Whether he was talking about the group or about his relationship with Chan was uncertain.

It was nearly a full day until placement results were revealed. Both Changbin and Chan got first chair, but they were at the bottom of five. What stung the most, however, was that Chan had beaten Changbin, likely due to nerves.

Changbin was at the bottom of something for the first time in his life, and he didn't know how to handle the whirlwind of emotions raging inside of him.

“Sorry,” Chan whispered as they both stared at the sheet. “At least we're both first chairs, not second, though, yeah?”

He shouldn't have been upset, because these were some of the best performers in the entire country, but Changbin was seething. Fists clenched, teeth gritting, and he was sweating with how infuriated he was at being in the bottom for the first time. Ever. Seos were never anything but first, and this was going to eat at him from the inside out for a long time, especially since he was beaten out by Chan of all people.

“Hey, guys,” Seungmin leaned up against the wall, causing them both to break their gaze at the sheet of paper for a moment. “Congratulations on getting first chairs during your first contract year. Not many people get that.”

Changbin didn't care if “many people” got first chair or not, he was still fixated on the fact that he got beaten out by Chan. He wanted the assistant principal seat, but wasn’t even remotely close to it. So, he determined he’d have to work harder, to set his eyes on the principal seat when placements opened. This step backwards could cost him that opportunity when it came up in the spring, and he hated it.

Chan elbowed Changbin in the side, causing the brunette to snap back to reality.

“What?” The younger man bit back, viscerally reacting as his eyes widened and he bared his teeth. He wanted so desperately to throw Chan up against the wall and yell at him for distracting him right before his placement exam, when he knew he should have just stayed back and practiced. Chan broke his routine and all Changbin could think about during the exam was how angry he was at his former best friend.

“Chill out,” Chan sighed, eyes widening for a brief moment in shock. “Seungmin just asked if the two of us had any plans after practice.”

Seungmin shook his head. “It's cool if you do,” he smiled awkwardly, sensing the tension blooming around them, “a bunch of us, including most of the newbies, are all going out to Vivace. It’s that little bar down the street. Could be a good chance for everyone to get to know each other a bit better. Seems like you two have a head start on that, but now it's time for us to get to know you.”

His voice was sickeningly optimistic. Changbin gritted his teeth together under pursed lips and was about to decline, until Chan spoke up for both of them. “Yeah,” he said in a fake pleasant voice, “Changbin and I are down for that.”

“Don't speak for me,” Changbin said through his teeth, but Chan turned to look at him and frowned.

“Team morale. Be a good player, dude.”

Brooding. Failure. Fucking failure.

Changbin never was one to brood, but he was never one to fail, either. Today was a day of firsts, none of them good. He frowned as he leaned over his glass of warmed cognac, staring down into it in disgust at his reflection. The entire group was bonding with each other, smiling and laughing without a care in the world, and he was being the awkward loner in the corner again, silent and reserved.

“That didn't seriously happen,” a young man with short platinum blonde hair drunkenly giggled. Felix, probably. That's the name that Changbin thought he heard him mention when they all introduced themselves. He was the new French horn player. “Hyunjin, dude, you've gotta stop it with picking up random people in clubs.”

“It's Cap Hill, baby,” the man with long, black hair half-heartedly whined, martini against his lips. Hyunjin. Second chair cellist. “Sometimes you see someone hot, and you just gotta take them home, y’know? Of course you don’t, you’re too prudish to get fucking laid.”

A laugh bubbled up from the group, but both Chan and Changbin were staying relatively quiet. “Hey,” Chan said in a low voice, leaning against the table that Changbin was resting his elbows on. “You should come participate with everyone.”

“Why?” Changbin rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Nobody here really cares about each other. It's all polite bullshit anyways.”

“Seriously, would you just fucking stop with this mopey shit, dude?” Chan tried to keep his voice down, setting his pint of stout on the table. “Come on, you're not a kid anymore.”

Changbin tilted his head back and sighed. “I never lose, man,” he brought his head back upright, staring down Chan as the alcohol loosened his lips. “You know I've never come in second, much less last, for anything. Let me just be down for once.”

As Chan opened his mouth to retort, another short, young man came up to the table. Jisung, the lead second chair violinist slammed his lager on the table with a wide grin. “What’s up, newbies? We're doing shots. Team bonding, yeah?”

Changbin's lip curled up in disgust, already annoyed by how chipper the other man was. “I don't do shots,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung dismissively waved his hand in the air and scoffed. “We get it, you’re pretentious and better than us or whatever. You're doing a shot with us anyways, a'ight? If you're drinking, it ain't optional.”

Seungmin, Felix, and a quiet brunette carried a few small glasses of amber liquid, setting the tiny shot glasses down on the table. “I don't know why you recommended Fireball for this, dude,” Hyunjin grumbled as he shook his head, taking a shot glass from the table and stepping right behind Jisung.

“It's good!” The smaller black-haired man shouted with a wide smile. “I've met nobody that doesn't like this stuff.”

“I hate it,” Changbin grumbled in protest, vaguely recalling memories of getting hammered on the foul liquid during a house party his sophomore year of college. A layer of regret gripped at his ribcage, thinking of the way Wooyoung’s boozy breath lingered on his lips as they made out on the patio of some stranger’s house. The regret clawed at him while he recalled how he looked up at the stars and wished that it was Chan there instead of Wooyoung. “I hate it a lot,” he repeated, unsure if he was still talking about the liquor or if he was talking about the memory creeping into his head.

His quip earned him a finger in the face from the loud young man, pulling him from his lamenting. “Not tonight, you don't. You can hate it after our fifth shot of it. Hate it tomorrow morning. Yeah?”

Everyone grabbed a shot glass, several reaching out in reluctance, and Seungmin puffed his chest out. “Alright,” he proudly said with a triumphant grin, holding his glass in the air, “we're gonna have a great year. Newbies and violists may be outcasts, but we're all a family. Yeah?”

The group let out an affirmative, albeit jumbled, noise.

“On three,” Jisung said with a smirk, then counted to three. All of the men lifted their glasses to their lips and chugged down the cloyingly sweet and uncomfortably spicy cinnamon-flavoured liquor.

“Oh, that's horrid,” Changbin shuddered, nearly dropping the shot glass as he recoiled. Chan nodded his head as he hissed, while Seungmin and Felix scrunched their faces in discomfort.

“You're disgusting, Ji. Let's get more!” The brunette from earlier perked up, the first time Changbin caught him speaking during the gathering. “It's not a good night unless someone pukes before we leave, yeah?”

Jisung slapped his hand on the table and collected the empty glasses from everyone. “Hell yeah, Jeongin, that's my dude!”

It wasn’t until the cool, late summer breeze hit Changbin as he stumbled outside that he realized that that fifth shot of Fireball that Jisung convinced everyone to take was, in fact, not a good idea. He groaned to himself as the cool air gradually revitalized him. “That shit was horrible.”

“Yeah,” Chan's aching voice slurred up from behind him. “You gonna be good getting home, Bin?”

Changbin wouldn't have responded if he was sober. He would have, and should have, just walked away, waved Chan off with an insincerely polite farewell, but the alcohol gave him a slight boost of confidence. He shrugged and sighed. “Probably. I live just down the street, uh,” he brought one hand to his temple as he blinked, eyeing his surroundings, eventually slinging his right arm up and pointed lazily towards the right, “that way. Somewhere.”

“You've never been a good drunk, have you?” Chan sighed, walking up to Changbin and interlocking his arm with the younger man’s, gently pulling him towards the direction he pointed in.

The brunette shook his head a few times and whined. “What're you doing?”

“Making sure you get home in one piece.”

“You dunno where I live, man.”

Chan tugged Changbin’s arm a bit and sighed. “You said this way, so I'm making sure you go that way. Besides, I live over here, too. It's on the way.”

“The Bushnell Apartments.”

The blonde stopped in his tracks and stared down at his drunken compatriot in shock. “How'd you know?”

“What?” The younger man lazily lifted his head up and knitted his brows together in confusion.

“That's where I live, dude.”

“No,” Changbin scoffed, “you big dummy, that's where I live.”

“Wait a minute,” Chan chuckled inwardly, “you live in the same complex as me?”

“Sounds like it, yeah,” Changbin nodded once, bringing his free arm up to rub the back of his neck, “third floor, room 325.”

“Holy shit. I'm in 324. I wondered who was playing music a few weeks ago when I was moving my stuff in.”

Changbin laughed nervously as the realization that Chan lived so close to him, not only in the same apartment complex, but right next door to him, slapped him in the face. “Fate's a real bastard, innit?”

“What?”

As much as Changbin wanted to say something, a look of discomfort quickly washed over his face. “Oh shit,” came out instead of the quip he was planning on, and he quickly, awkwardly dashed to the curb of the sidewalk, violently emptying the contents of his stomach all over the pavement instead.

A drunken laugh came up from behind him as Chan cackled maniacally. “I knew you were a lightweight.”

The next morning, Changbin woke up and even the most ambient of sounds were painfully louder, every light was uncomfortably brighter. He let out a weak whimper, and curled into himself as the world spun around him. “Goddammit,” he grumbled. “Fuck Jisung and fuck last night. I'm never drinking again.”

As if fate was teasing him, taunting him with how unfair it truly was, there was a knock against the door, the faint rapping pulling him out of his daze. He sighed heavily, rolling over onto his back, coming to terms with the fact that he was going to have to get up in a moment. “Be there in a sec,” he attempted to shout in the most decent, cognizant way possible.

It took Changbin a few moments to reorient himself as the walls spun around him. He stumbled his way through his bedroom, out to the front door, not bothering to look through the peephole. Changbin fumbled with his deadbolt for a moment, scolding himself as he realized he forgot to do the chain-link before he passed out at some point earlier that morning. He pulled the door open, instantly regretting leaving his bed as he saw the man at his door.

“Chan?” He rubbed his eyes and grumbled. “How'd you find out where I live?”

“You told me last night, dude.” The taller man offered a plastic bag around his finger, almost as if it were some sort of physical apology. “Figured you could use some of this, especially since you don't remember all of last night, do you?”

Changbin stepped back, opening his door wide. There was no way he had the energy to yell at Chan, not when the man had brought him food as a peace offering. “I'm still upset with you, you know.”

“You told me last night,” Chan shook his head, tutting in feigned irritation as he took a couple of steps into Changbin’s apartment. “Several times, actually.”

The two of them sat on the couch in awkward silence as they ate their lukewarm, greasy diner takeout. Changbin curled up into a ball, clutching his sports drink to his chest as he rolled his face into the couch cushion. “God, I feel like shit,” he whined. “How are you so okay after all of that? You ended up drinking more than me.”

Chan chuckled. “I was part of a frat, dude,” he took a sip of water from his glass, then set it back down on the table. “Beer was an acceptable substitute for water in Sig Ep. Practically its own food group. Ah,” he stuck a finger in the air and his face turned stoic, “unofficially, of course.”

In all honesty, Changbin never realized that Chan had become such a different person after he went to university. He was still caring and kind, but to picture him as a typical frat boy was jarring. “You still got honours and valedictorian after all that shit?”

“Yep,” the older man clasped his hands together, bringing them behind his head as he leaned back into the couch. “Don't know how I did it, though. Talent probably got me far enough.”

“You were always really good at playing the viola, dude.” The compliment was sincere, Changbin rolling his eyes up to catch the profile of his best friend, staring longer than he should’ve.

Chan turned slightly, sucking in some air through his teeth as he looked at Changbin. “Never as good as you.” His voice was low, like there was something hidden deep under his words.

The two of them were quiet again. Changbin couldn’t help but ruminate on Chan’s words, memories of their constant rivalries and the night of their drunken kiss violently replaying over and over in his head. Chan always wanted to beat Changbin out on one thing, and Changbin was afraid it would cause Chan to look down on him as somehow lesser than.

Oh.

A sour, queasy feeling rolled up the back of Changbin’s neck as he realized he had probably treated Chan poorly in everything they competed for when he beat him out. How could he have treated his childhood friend so terribly for something so petty and trivial? Changbin had no other friends, not since he and Wooyoung split up, and the loneliness he felt bubbled up in his chest, commingling with how horrible he felt for the way he had treated Chan after all this time.

He should have apologized, too.

“Hey, Bin,” Chan leaned further into the back of the couch, drawing his arm out against the frame and he stared down at his sickly junior. “If I had reached out to you and apologized, do you think you would’ve forgiven me? We said some horrible shit to each other and, honestly, I never thought we’d see each other again. I’m glad we got to see each other after all this time, but I can’t help but think we’d never talk to each other otherwise.”

Changbin couldn’t help but look away, staring off into the tiny chip on his wall next to his calendar. He chewed on his teeth, unable to resist thinking about all of the stupid, petulant rage he felt over their trivial fights. He brought his thumbnail to his teeth and anxiously nibbled at it, honestly unsure if he would’ve forgiven Chan if they didn’t end up in Seattle together after all this time. “I dunno,” he muttered, words coming out with a slight lisp against his nail. “I think you’re probably right. I mean, we hadn’t talked in four years, why start now? What’s the point of resurfacing old wounds just to tear into them?”

A heavy sigh came from Chan as he looked up towards the ceiling. “I guess you’re right. I figured you had everything going perfectly for you. You graduated with a bachelor’s and a master’s degree, were happily engaged, and had just accepted some prestigious job somewhere. You were succeeding and surpassing me in so many ways yet again, and I couldn’t even come to terms with the fact that I—” Chan quickly cut himself off.

Changbin lifted one of his eyebrows at the sudden silence, turning to look at Chan in confusion. “The fact that you what?”

The blonde shook his head, quickly standing up and brushing his shirt off. “I-it’s nothing.”

“Wait,” Changbin reached out to grab Chan’s arm without thinking, loosely grasping at his thin wrist. “Chan, I know it’s been years, but you can tell me anything.”

“No,” Chan shook his head, refusing to look at Changbin. “I promise, it’s not that important right now.” Almost as if he could sense Changbin opening his mouth to protest, Chan spoke up again. “Look, eat the rest of your food and drink a lot of fluids. We can talk about this all later, I just,” Chan offered a quick smile over his shoulder before he tugged his wrist free of Changbin’s grasp and made his way towards the door, “I can’t talk about it right now. Sorry, man.”

Changbin cursed himself for drinking so much the night prior, his hangover preventing him from chasing after Chan. As much as he wanted to know what Chan was about to say, he figured he would just drop it for now, then press for more information later.

Chan’s ‘talk about all of this later’ turned into a lot longer than Changbin expected.

It should have been days, weeks at the most. However, the end of summer resigned itself to Seattle’s torrential autumn rains, the symphony’s first performance of the season came and went, they all worked through their planned Thanksgiving break to finish recording a score for a film with an unbelievably large budget. All of that came and went, and there was still no conversation broader than casual discussion between the two of them.

Every time they passed each other, Changbin’s eyes lingered on the blonde. What was Chan thinking? What was he going to say that caused the energy between them to shift so drastically?

There were polite conversations in passing between Chan and Changbin off and on. Occasionally, they would walk to the practice hall together, but it was by sheer accident, only because they had left their apartments at the same time. Every interaction between them seemed accidental, too pleasantly sterile for what had to have been harbouring beneath the surface.

Autumn bled into winter. Rain turned to sleet, which morphed into snow a few times during January and February. February blended into March. March blossomed into April. More performances, more anxiety, more productions, more nervousness, more expectations, more, more, more. More from the symphony, and less, less, less from Chan.

The sleepless nights brought on by extensive late-night practices were tolerable; tired mornings after these were easily remedied with a few cups of coffee. Conversely, the few times Changbin had gone to bed at a reasonable hour, he found himself tossing and turning, restlessly thinking about Chan, unable to sleep. His heart pounded with nervousness, Changbin swearing he could hear his heartbeat echoing against the beige drywall of his bedroom. He reached his fingertips up and brushed them against the wall behind him, where he assumed Chan was laying on the opposite side, peacefully slumbering away.

So close. So far away. Chan was always right there, but so far out of reach.

I couldn’t even come to terms with the fact that I—

What exactly was Chan going to say on that day? Months had passed, but Changbin could still hear every syllable that came from Chan’s lips, the way that his tongue punctuated each hard consonant with a staccato against his teeth, haunting his dreams. He could picture the moment that Chan’s expression changed, shifted from ease to uncertainty, how his eyelashes twitched when his eyes went wide with fear.

Late one sleepless April night, Changbin had found himself staring upwards yet again, lost in the grooves and valleys of stucco against his ceiling. His nervousness of the upcoming principal seat exam weighed him down, forcing him to sink further and further into his mattress, heavy with doubt. Earlier that day, Chan stepped back, saying he wasn’t interested in fighting for the position, which Changbin read as neither truth nor fiction.

“I just want you to have the best chance possible,” Chan had told him with a seemingly fake smile. “You’re so incredibly talented, Bin. You’ve got the leadership skills, and I support you all the way.”

No. Something about that wasn’t right.

Changbin frowned, knitting his eyebrows together as he bit down on his lips. He tried to recall exactly what the expression was on Chan’s face while he said those words with a layer of insincerity. The insincerity was juxtaposed with honesty and pain, so many conflicting and contrasting things said without words.

Then, it hit him.

You’re so incredibly talented. It sounded so familiar, the layered pain and genuine jealousy.

Never as good as you.

It had been months since Chan told him that, when they were sitting on the couch nursing their hangovers at the beginning of the season. Months had passed, but the words were suddenly so crisp and clear, as if Changbin was right in that moment again.

It wasn’t jealousy. No, it was never jealousy.

In a near panic, Changbin reached out for his phone on his nightstand, bringing it up to his face. The bright light burned his retinas, but it didn’t matter. He started scrolling through Chan’s social media page, down countless months and years, endless photos that started with him in various spots in Seattle, then to his graduation, followed by various frat gatherings and university happenings.

It was like Changbin was travelling backwards in time, seeing several familiar names and faces pop up, partially reliving the moments he had spent over the years angrily scrolling through his timeline on the nights he where Wooyoung was sleeping soundly next to him. Names that caused Changbin’s stomach to tense with varying degrees of jealousy started popping up with each season he travelled through.

Senior year: Son Chaeyoung, five months.

Junior year: Minatozaki Sana, seven months.

Sophomore year: Im Naeyon, three months. Hirai Momo, two months.

Freshman year: Park Jihyo, two months. Yoo Jeongyeon, two months.

Changbin recalled all of the people — all of them women — that Chan had dated, how none of them really seemed like they were serious relationships, that they were maybe friends with benefits at most. The photos Chan had taken with them were all stiff and felt rushed, like he was putting on a show that he was happy with them, when he clearly wasn’t genuinely happy.

It wasn’t jealousy. Of course it wasn’t jealousy.

Chan was hiding something, and Changbin’s heart sunk into his stomach as he found himself staring at the ceiling yet again. All he could find himself thinking about now was a single word ruminating, burning into his head.

Why?

Changbin made sure to leave well in advance prior to the start of the day. He didn’t want to risk running into Chan, not when the principal seat exam was today. He had spent too much time ruminating and worrying over Chan and the what-ifs the night prior, his lack of sleep apparent as his limbs ached with fatigue.

The walk to the practice hall was uneventful; drizzle had languidly fallen from the sky, embedding itself into Changbin’s jacket, temporarily turning the crimson fabric just a few shades darker. After several months, Changbin had gotten used to the nonstop Seattle rain, varying from drizzle to torrential downpours with occasional reprieves of sunshine peppered in throughout the year.

In a way, it was oddly calming. The rain kept people from lingering in the streets too long to chatter, but there was also a stubborn resiliency as people just accepted the downpours. Umbrellas and ponchos were only seen with tourists, people that seemed afraid that the slightest bit of drizzle would cause them to melt. There was an influx of tourists in March, when the cheap cruises up along the coast to Alaska started. With the influx of tourists, there were more and more performances that were crammed into Changbin’s schedule.

Honestly, the transition from March to April seemed so minute, like the drizzle turning to heavy droplets of rain, the rainstorm he constantly found himself in. It was a beautiful time of year, and Changbin hadn’t ever truly appreciated the fact that there were so many varying shades of grey along the spectrum of white to black.

The transition from August to April seemed to be so subtle, too. Within a few months, the barista at the cafe got better with his name, eventually able to speak it with confidence at about February. Changbin assumed she was flirting with him a few times when she passed his cup to him with various doodles and scribbles on them, but he shrugged it off.

Today’s cup holding his shot in the dark had a heart next nestled up to his name. Perhaps it would bring good luck for the principal seat exam.

Practice was uneventful, since the entire group was only together for the first half of the day. As the group disbanded into its respective sections for individualized practice, nerves bubbled up in Changbin’s veins as he steeled himself in preparation for the principal seat exam. Seungmin had wished him the most polite “good luck, man,” he could muster, even though they were both competing against each other.

Changbin had been in the middle of practicing his solo piece when a familiar voice pulled him from his concentration.

“Fantasia Cromatica?” The voice was layered with nervousness and anticipation.

The brunette sighed, trying to bite back his irritation at the loss of his focus. “Yeah,” he turned his head over his shoulder, eyeing the man that approached him. “Surprised you recognized it, Chan.”

Chan’s hand twitched as he lifted it for a brief second, like he was about to reach out to Changbin. “I’ve eyed that piece several times,” he brought his hand up to the back of his neck, awkwardly chuckling as he stood a respectable distance away from the brunette, “it’s intimidating, but it’s such a well-known viola solo. I guess I’m not surprised you picked something without accompaniment with how independent you are.”

It was supposed to be a compliment, but Chan’s words struck a sour chord within Changbin. The younger man shook his head once, eyeing the floor before he turned to look at the blonde. “I’m trying to practice,” his voice came off harsher than he had meant it to. Chan’s expression fell from nervously optimistic to slightly hurt, and Changbin rolled his eyes with a huff as he tried to pedal backwards. “Look,” he started, making awkward eye contact with Chan for a brief moment, “after I’m done with all of this, can we talk? I’ve got some stuff on my mind I wanna discuss with you.”

Chan looked excited for a moment as he nodded rapidly. “Sure,” he bit back a smile, “yeah, I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” Changbin half-smiled as he turned back to his sheet music.

“Good luck, Changbin,” Chan brought his hand up to the brunette’s shoulder, offering a quick, warm squeeze that didn’t last nearly long enough. The slight touch caused Changbin’s breath to hitch in his throat, all of the air around him turning cool as Chan left.

Somehow, the younger man felt revitalized with the well wishes of his friend still lingering on his shoulder and dancing in his ears.

“So,” Minho greeted Changbin with a warm smile as the brunette entered the room. “You’ve decided to audition for the principal viola seat. After the initial chair placements, I didn’t think you would try, in all honesty.” The auburn-haired man smiled, tipping his wire-rimmed frames down his nose slightly, red pen in his hand.

Shit. Nerves lit up all over Changbin as he started to doubt himself, like he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“I’m glad you did.” Almost as if he could sense Changbin’s nervousness, Minho offered kind words in his usual soft, gentle voice. “Listen, I should be clear about something. I specifically sought out both you and Chan, as well as a few others, for this year’s contract placements. I don’t think you recognized me during the interview process, and I’m surprised you didn’t notice after the season started.”

“What?” The brunette cocked his head to the side, eyelids squinting upward in confusion.

Minho set the clipboard down on his desk, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on the table. He interlaced his fingers together and rested his chin on the backs of his hands. “I used to live on the east coast. I was in New Jersey for a while until I moved to Seattle a couple of years ago for this job. You and Chan performed Lament at the state competition in New York a few years ago. I believe you were both juniors back then, correct?”

Changbin’s throat went dry as he recognized Minho from so long ago, feeling somewhat dumb for not realizing it sooner. All those years ago, he was sitting in between two other judges, wearing the same wire-rimmed glasses as he wore today. “Y-yeah,” he stuttered. “That’s right.”

A smile crept up Minho’s face. “You both earned a perfect score, which was a rarity in and of itself, but what really captured me was how well both of you worked, the way you both blended together so naturally, beaming with raw, unadulterated talent. Such balance can’t be taught, only naturally weaved together by fate.”

Uneasiness came over Changbin in waves, like he was about to be judged far more critically than he anticipated.

“Anyway,” Minho brought his hands to his desk and sat back a bit. “The details of it all aren’t important. Just know that I’m happy that you’re both here. I’ll admit, however, that I was disappointed when Chan told me that he wasn’t interested in auditioning for the principal seat.”

A jolt surged up against the length of Changbin’s spine. “What?” He pressed, taken aback, unsure if what he just heard was accurate. “Chan told you he wasn’t interested?”

Minho nodded once. “He told me that, if given the opportunity, you deserved it more than he did, that he believed you were more talented and had the right leadership skills for the position.”

Changbin knitted his brows together. Nervousness had been replaced with a rush of anger. He initially found it odd that Chan wasn’t going to audition for the seat placement, sure, but the fact that he deliberately told Minho that Changbin was more talented and deserved it? That they didn’t even get to have a fair chance of competition between the two of them?

He felt strangely hurt, like Chan had somehow betrayed him. All for what, a seat placement? Something so trivial, after all these years?

His eyes looked down at his viola, eyeing that familiar chip one more time. The familiar word that echoed against Changbin’s head the night prior was so loud yet again.

Why?

Chan was pacing in the hallway when Changbin emerged from Minho’s office. “Hey!” He perked up with a smile on his face. “How’d it go, dude?”

Changbin shook his head, unable to look at Chan. A scowl curled up his lips as he bared his teeth, briskly walking to where his viola’s case rested. Practice was supposed to be for another hour, but he couldn’t bear another minute of being under the same roof as Chan, in the same claustrophobic space as him, not when he was seething with anger.

“Changbin?” Chan’s voice was closer, but quieter than before. “Was it that bad?”

The brunette’s fingers trembled as he shakily rested his viola in its case, eyeing the chip one last time before he slammed his case shut. He didn’t say anything as he made his way over to the instrument lockers, deciding to leave his viola in the practice hall overnight. Chan trailed behind him, his voice growing more and more concerned as Changbin paced away.

“Dude,” Chan pressed, reaching out to grab Changbin’s wrist as he slammed his locker door shut. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

“Why?” Changbin wanted to say so much more, but the single syllable was all he could muster.

Chan winced, shaking his head in confusion. “What are you talking—”

“Why didn’t you audition for the principal seat?” His voice was terse, yet was still draped in a layer of fragility. “No, why did you tell Minho you didn’t deserve it? We’re supposed to be rivals, right? Push each other and make ourselves better, like when we were kids. What the fuck happened?”

“Changbin,” the blonde’s composure dropped with his shoulders, a look of pity washing over his face. “I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I just… I didn’t want you to worry about it.”

“Tch, typical. You know, Chan,” the younger man scoffed, rolling his eyes before he stared down the blonde, “I don’t understand you. I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be protected, not by anyone, not by you. I deserved a fair shot at the principal seat placement, I deserved to compete against you, and you just insult me like I had no chance if you competed.”

Chan curled into himself slightly, hurt by Changbin’s words. “I didn’t realize—”

“Of course you didn’t.” Changbin shook his head and spun on his heel, padding off towards the exit in anger.

After a moment, Chan heard the downpour come through the door as Changbin ran off. He rushed to his locker, grabbing his jacket and his umbrella. “Changbin, wait!”

Seattle rain was never forgiving, especially during spring. The precipitation clattered against the ground at near-torrential speeds, the heavy noise only amplified as it reverberated against the concrete and the walls of nearby buildings.

“Changbin, please,” Chan shouted as the younger man stormed out of the practice hall and into the downpour that enveloped Capitol Hill in a dark haze. He took a few long strides as he chased after the seething brunette.

Changbin spun on his heel, shouting at the top of his lungs as he stared down Chan with wild eyes, his voice barely carrying along the heavy pattering of rain against concrete. “I don’t understand why you keep hiding, Chan! Why did you turn me down all those years ago?”

Chan shook his head, avoiding eye contact as he motioned for Changbin to come back. “Come here, Changbin, get under my umbrella before you get sick.”

“No!” Changbin shrieked in anger, tears streaming down his face as all of the emotions he had bottled up over the years suddenly erupted all at once. “Do you not understand how much I’ve loved you all these years? Ever since we were kids?”

“Bin, please, I—” The blonde’s shoulders sunk down as he recoiled into himself, eyes darting around as he was frozen in place.

“Everything! Everything I did was because of you, Chan!” The words burned as they came up from Changbin’s chest, the black lily of nervousness entangling its petals in between the empty spaces of his ribcage. “I put myself through hell to distract me from you, to get all of these thoughts out of my head, to stop fucking thinking about you for once!”

Chan was quiet, lips parted as he stared at Changbin in disbelief, tears unknowingly spilling from his eyelids.

The brunette refused to relent, shouting over the Seattle rain. “You were the only person that believed in me. You pushed us to do that duet, even though I thought it was stupid. You’re the reason we got the perfect score. You keep saying that I’m so much more talented than you, that you’d never be as good at me, but you’ve always been the one that’s naturally better at all of this.”

A beat passed between them before Changbin let out an anguished, angry shout. He was so tired of all of the pain and anguish he had felt over the years, and letting it all finally explode after so long, like a rubber band wound up too tightly, felt unnaturally liberating. Regardless of how Chan felt about Changbin after all of these years, he could finally let go of his agony, which was equal parts terrifying and relieving.

“Why? Why the fuck did you never apologize to your best friend, Chan? I have been in absolute fucking misery since you and I kissed so long ago and I don’t think you understand how much I wanted you to be there. How you kept creeping into my thoughts, even after all of these years, all I could think about was you.”

The blonde advanced, his face pulled into a downward scowl as his footsteps were heavy against the slick concrete. “It’s because I didn’t want to admit something,” Chan spoke in as low of a voice as he could while he pulled Changbin to his chest. “When you kissed me all those years ago, I was terrified about all of the what-ifs that started rushing around in my head. Like, what if I ruin my friendship? What if you’re not actually into me? What happens when I’m not good enough for you? What if I was actually straight and I was going to cause you nothing but pain after all this time?”

“Chan, stop.” Changbin shook his head, bringing his damp hands to Chan’s clammy face, rubbing away the tears that started spilled over, down his chilled cheeks. “You’re always good enough for me. You’re the only one that’s good enough for me; the only one I ever wanted.”

“What?”

“Listen,” the brunette sighed heavily, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved Wooyoung, but, the thing is…”

Chan watched the expressions on Changbin’s face cross a spectrum from confusion, to anguish, to regret.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, as horrible as it sounds. Sure, we were drunk when we had that one kiss, but it was the best kiss of my life. Hell,” he hiccuped, trying to swallow back tears, “I thought I lost my chance with you forever after high school. So, I settled. Wooyoung was the only other friend I had, and he was interested in me. I took a shot with him and, yeah, we were fine, but it wasn’t anything spectacular. I was ready to settle for a life of mediocrity until he decided he didn’t want to come to Seattle with me. I was finally free of both of you when I got here. I could leave you both behind.”

Changbin brought his forehead down to Chan’s wet shoulder, the fabric squishing against his skin as he rolled around and sighed. “It’s horrible,” he dropped his hands and clutched at the lapels of the blonde’s jacket, pulling himself closer into the older man’s embrace. “I was so glad to be free of both Wooyoung and the ghost of you. So, when I saw you that day at the cafe, it was like all hell had broken loose; everything came rushing back and I was overwhelmed by the weight of my past. I was forced to reconcile with the one person I hurt the most, the one who hurt me the most, and the one I never thought I would be able to forgive.”

A soft chuckle echoed around Chan’s chest as he rested his cheekbone against Changbin’s sopping wet brown hair. “We can’t escape each other.”

“I guess not,” Changbin quietly relented, releasing Chan’s jacket from his grasp, his arms languidly falling to his side in exhaustion. He was tired of being angry for so long, for harbouring such a deep-seated resentment against his best friend, for being mad at himself for never forgiving Chan after all this time over something so minor. So fucking tired. “I’m sorry, Chan. For all of this shit.”

The tapping of Seattle rain against Chan’s umbrella seemed so muted as the men stood up against each other, lost in their little bubble as the world disappeared around them. Nothing else mattered but being warmed by each other. Chan dropped his hand from Changbin’s back for a moment, then brought his fingers up to the underside of Changbin’s chin.

“Changbin,” his voice was timid as he tilted the younger man’s chin upward, both of them making awkward eye contact for a moment. A few drops of rain fell from Changbin’s hair, mingling against the tears that were rolling down his face, the droplets joining to become something greater, a small river down the valley of his cheek. “Even if you don’t forgive me after all this time, I forgive you. We were both idiots back then. What matters is that we’re here now. We can leave everything behind and move forward — together.”

“Together.” Changbin repeated, his voice cracking in between the syllables. He hated feeling so weak, but he couldn’t help it. All of the emotions from the past few years coming up, burning in his chest as the realization that what he yearned for all this time settled. After all this time, he was finally where he felt comfortable, secure, happy, with no strings attached.

Chan.

His arms were warm, a shelter to protect him from the weakness he was feeling. The happiness in his eyes and the bright smile on his face was Changbin’s sunshine during the overcast, dreary Seattle days.

Chan was home. His home.

The pattering of rain against Chan’s umbrella was suddenly so quiet, a rush of warmth blossomed up from Changbin’s cheeks to the tips of his ears. The black lily of anxiety that rested in between the spaces of his ribcage blossomed from black, to crimson, to a vibrant pink. All of his feelings for Chan became crystal clear, and he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

There was nothing left to lose.

“I love you. Still, after all of this time. I love you so much, Chan.” The words left his lips before he crashed them against Chan’s, much less awkwardly than their kiss so many years ago. His hands reached up to Chan’s blonde locks with a sudden renewed, yearning energy, grasping at the strands and tugging at them as if he would sink into the ground if he let go.

Rain came pouring down all around them as Chan dropped his umbrella, bringing one of his hands down to the small of Changbin’s back, the other hand softly cupping the younger man’s face. “I love you too, Changbin,” he whispered breathlessly as he pulled back for just a split second. Chan brought the brunette closer into his grasp, droplets of rain falling between them, rolling down their faces and in between their lips.

Like Connecticut, Changbin was vivacissimo, as wild as the hustle and bustle of the east coast. Like Seattle, Chan was andante, languid and calming.

Chan was his home, where Changbin belonged all along.

#bittersweet lullabies #skz fics #binchan #bang chan x seo changbin #seo changbin x bang chan #chan x changbin #changbin x chan #wherevermyway

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Atlas: Space, Sun

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 1/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album.

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

As far as warnings go, some language, terrible writing, and just general awkwardness because I love it. Warnings will be chapter by chapter basis.

Chapter 1: Sun

Summary: Tony begs Rebecca to come with the team on mission and Loki is a surprisingly thoughtful mission companion.

“For the sake of all of us, I need you to suit up.”

That was the climax of her morning, she would say. Or, at least, the turning point of her day… her life… and the reason why she, a weapons development technician with bare minimum battle training ended up, smack dab in the middle of a firefight.

With golden string

Our universe was clothed in light

Pulling at the seams

Our once barren world now brims with life

It was a morning same as any other. The weapons lab was calm and quiet, save for the white noise hum of robots moving and instrumentation chugging along without supervision. Crisp, white sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, negating the need for any of the harsh fluorescents overhead to be turned on. This was how she had fallen in love with the lab–in the early hours before anyone turned on the tinting of the windows and blasted Black Sabbath for no reason other than to drown their own thoughts. Essentially, any time before Tony started his insane experiments was wonderful and full of meditative peace.

Despite the fact that it was only seven in the morning, Rebecca Brun had already put in four hours of work. One of the side-effects of working in Stark industries was that she often forgot what hours normal people usually kept. A lot of missions were at night, and she needed to be awake to outfit the team before it was time for wheel’s up on the Quinjet. More recently, her shift in schedule was mostly attributed to Loki’s inability to maintain normal hours, as well. And he dared say he had nothing in common with Tony. You know, besides the fact that the two of them had somehow roped her into friendship (though in Loki’s case, she would admit it was her fault).

Her zen moment of peace was about to be shattered as she watched her boss stride into the lab. Tony looked pensive, which was never a good sign. Their conversation had been a blur–something about needing a technician on hand to sustain any on-field repairs and how that would ensure that they could bring everyone home alive. Another comment about her being the very best, second only to himself. More importantly, there was the voice in her head that spoke of purpose. She always knew her work made a difference, but she would have never dreamed that she could make a difference. She could be a hero in her own right. She could keep them safe.

“Fine. I’m in.”

–

I guess space and time

takes violent things, angry things

and makes them kind.

Loki watched from the shadows as Stark rounded up everyone who was to go on mission that day. There were nearly two dozen, in total, between heroes and agents. And Becca. Who was shaking like a leaf in her tactical gear, matching the rest of the crew. The gear suited her, he thought wryly, gaze skimming the curves of her hips and thighs as she shifted her weight from one leg to another. He then felt a little disappointed in himself, scolding his primitive thoughts when his friend was in clear distress. He hated admitting it, but he was fond of the mortal. She was clever, quiet, and quick-witted–all things he… liked? Admired? Suffice to say, he didn’t wish her dead.

He moved like death, silent and furtive, until he sidled up to her. She didn’t seem surprised when she glanced up and gave him a smile that looked a little closer to a wince. He returned a small one of his own before fidgeting with his armor. Becca made a noise like a whine and with a chuckle, he placed his hand on her shoulder and gave a quick squeeze. He meant to reassure her, but his brain also whispered guiltily that it was giving him an excuse for contact. They were firmly just friends, but every now and then the baser part of his brain longed for a lingering touch or, heavens forbid, a hug.

“We are the dust of dust”

“We are the apple of God’s eye”

“We are infinite as the Universe we hold inside”

“Folks, listen,” Stark started, standing on a box of ammunition to look over the crowd. “This is the big one and I’m sure that your team leaders have driven home the importance of getting in, doing our job, and getting out. I know that for some of you, this is your first mission. Others don’t even want to be here. I appreciate all of you coming aboard, anyway. Because, whether we like it or not, we are the only thing between the world and those who intend to destroy it. You’re all heroes. Let’s go show them who they’re dealing with.”

Becca squeezed her eyes shut, trying to quell the feeling of nausea rising through her. They had gotten into the jet and were flying to some undisclosed location where bullets were already flying, courtesy of the advanced guard. She had fitted everyone in their armor and left instructions on how and when to double back for assistance. One of the agents had then offered her the handle of a gun and more than a handful of cartridges of bullets before exiting the Quinjet and into a very noisy battlefield. It was then that she realized she would be on her own from there on out. That didn’t sit in her stomach very well, either.

“Hey.” Becca looked up rather anxiously. Loki was stood in full armor, golden horns and all. He looked just south of fidgety and was eager to jump into the fray. The only reason he deigned to stop and check in was the annoying sinking feeling he got when he noticed her take the clip out of her gun and count bullets for a sixth time in as many minutes. “Well, you’ve taken to battle rather well,” he teased, nudging her foot with his.

“Shut it or I’ll throw up on you,” she groused, and the green tinge in her complexion assured him of the truth behind her words.

He laughed boisterously, though there seemed to be no malice in his actions. “Midgardians, scared of a little fight. Precious, really.”

“What part of I’ll throw up on you did you not understand?” Her voice sounded rough, as if she really was fighting the bile from rising up her throat.

“You’re going to be fine.” Loki laughed again, a little less effusively. For a second he hesitated in his movement, before his resolve steeled, reaching up and tugging on a golden horn to slide the helmet from his head. “If I remember correctly, you’re well-acquainted with these. How about you keep them until I circle back, hmm?” They were placed on her head before she had even had time to argue, feeling snug and secure. Long fingers felt cool against her flushed skin as he lifted her chin to look at him. “There. Fit to be a shield maiden.” The heat in her cheeks only intensified. “Stay in the jet. And if you need to barricade the doors, regardless of what side of them we happen to be on, do it.” He stared her down until she nodded.

Before he disappeared out the hold doors, he turned his head and winked at her over his shoulder. Oddly enough, it settled her stomach to see his cocky confidence.

The one thing Becca was not prepared for, ironically, was the wait.

The jet had been empty for several hours and only Bucky had come to get some gravel out of the hydraulic gaps of his metal arm. The rest of the time, she spied outside the one-way glass at the battle ahead. It was a terrible hobby to have when you knew half of the players, but it was like watching a train wreck. You know you shouldn’t watch, but…

A flash of red caught her eye, at once. Peter had just been flung aside by some Hydra agent in a bulky exosuit. In a flash of green, Loki cut in and deliver a blow to protect the kid. Loki would never admit it aloud, but he had a soft spot for the teenager–partly because he was a child, mostly because he would bring Loki chocolate chip cookies every time he went to see him. Regardless of the reason, the maneuver had ended with Loki becoming the new favorite target of all the Hydra personnel around the pair.

She shouldn’t have watched the fight.

And she certainly shouldn’t have opened the hold doors and run straight into its center.

Becca had the advantage that she was swift on her feet from years of track and field. She could outrun nearly everyone, except for Steve and sometimes Bucky. And being a hurdler, she could clear obstacles in her path as easily as breathing. Instantly, the sound of gunfire made her regret leaving her safe, warm little workstation on the jet. It certainly was a bad place to contemplate her mortality, and a stranger place still to pray for the very first time.

Let there be light, let there be light, let me be alright.

With shaky hands, she lifted her pistol and took aim. Tony made everyone take basic gun training and get certified at the gun range–this wasn’t a new experience for her. Having buildings shudder and rumble, screams fill the air, and explosions happen less than thirty meters off–that was a new experience. And it made it a hell of a lot harder to aim at areas that were not covered by a bulletproof vest or part of her friend.

Loki started as the body trying to wrestle him down shuddered and slumped to the floor. He turned round in a neat circle and glared. “I told you to stay in the jet!”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve circled back earlier, then!” She screamed back, flinching her eyes closed with every thundering bullet leaving her gun.

“Tell me you’re not closing your eyes every time you shoot!” He had closed the distance between them and had joined his back to hers.

“Fine. I won’t tell you.”

“You could’ve shot me in the head!”

“You should have taken your damn helmet, then!” Her voice was near a shriek, another three bullets ringing through the air before she realized she had to change the clip.

Except she forgot them.

On the jet.

Did she mention she had no real battle experience?

“Loki,” her voice trembled, barely audible over the scuffle even to her own ears, “do you have bullets on you?”

He snorted. “Do I look like I have a gun, Rebecca?” He glanced over his shoulder at her and did a double-take before the information clicked. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t!” She didn’t answer, instead drawing a knife sheathed in a strap on her thigh and holding it in front of her. It shuddered in time with the tremors in her hand. She couldn’t stay here and she couldn’t make it back on her own. And for some reason, after over a millenium, his conscience decided this was the day to make an appearance. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He growled. “If I die getting you back to safety, I’m going to be so damn cross!”

Before she could offer a retort, he grabbed the back of her suit, pulling her away from incoming threats. Every now and again, they’d stop, fight hand to hand, or rather, Loki fought while constantly pushing her behind him. Becca felt like a ragdoll, though she never thought she was being flung carelessly or without any sort of poise. It was a carefully calculated and perfectly executed dance of which she was a participant with no say on the steps.

The Quinjet doors were just a few meters away. They were almost there. Another three Hydra agents had closed in on them, trying to cut off their escape. The next minute was hazy in her mind. She could remember, as clearly as if she were seeing it right then, as a gun barrel aimed for her head and the rumble of gunpowder deafened her a second later. And then there was darkness.

With golden string

Our universe was brought to life

That we may fall in love

Every time we open up our eyes

“Becca.” The voice was soft, as were the thumbs brushing her cheekbones, though the pounding in her head was certainly not. She blinked her eyes open to find two blue orbs of concern watching her. “Oh, thank the gods. You’re alright.”

“My head is killing me.” She winced at the echo of her own voice.

“Yeah. A bullet to the skull will do that,” he said, smirking. He had yet to let her head go.

They were on the floor of the jet, and he was on his knees. Beside him, his horns sat with a splotch of blood marring the very edge of the face opening and the metal bent slightly out of shape.

“You’re lucky I left you my helm. Not so much for the man who shot you. The ricochet was nasty.”

“The ricochet killed him?” She frowned, trying to think of the physics that would make such a thing possible.

“No, I killed him. The ricochet left him blind in the left eye, though,” he retorted matter-of-factly, smiling. He finally let go and sat back on his heels, his fingers came away red, but a cursory check with her own showed the blood was not hers. The thought did not reassure her. “I should go back, keep the Spiderboy out of trouble.” He stood and cracked his neck, squaring his shoulders to prepare himself for more gore. “Are you OK?”

She nodded. “I’m OK. I’ll just stay put.”

He snorted. “I doubt that. At least I already stuffed all the bullets I could find into your pockets. Don’t need a repeat of this fiasco.” He stepped lightly to the hold doors, as he had done earlier. This time, he turned around completely, walking backwards out of the open doors. “Maybe keep the helmet on, for now, and try not to get shot in the head again."

For a long moment she looked between the cushioned seats and the hold doors, deciding the best course of action–back to her work table, safe, or…

Just beyond the doors, Loki sunk a dagger into the stomach of a HYDRA agent and kicked them back. As if sensing her gaze, he glanced back at jet and smirked, turning away only to dodge a punch. Becca took a swig of water, grabbed her gun, and ran back into the fire just as the horns settled onto her skull. Loki gave her a knowing smile before pressing his back to hers and finishing their mission.

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 1/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album. https://imagine-loki.tumblr.com/post/623647803992899584/imagine-narrating-episodes-of-lokis-life-with-the

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for but my brain insists.

As far as warnings go, some language, terrible writing, and just general awkwardness because I love it. Warnings will be chapter by chapter basis.

Chapter 1: Sun

Summary: Tony begs Rebecca to come with the team on mission and Loki is a surprisingly thoughtful mission companion.

"For the sake of all of us, I need you to suit up.”

With golden string

Our universe was clothed in light

Pulling at the seams

Our once barren world now brims with life

“Fine. I’m in.”

–

I guess space and time

takes violent things, angry things

and makes them kind.

“We are the dust of dust”

“We are the apple of God’s eye”

“We are infinite as the Universe we hold inside”

“Folks, listen,” Stark started, standing on a box of ammunition to look over the crowd. “This is the big one and I’m sure that your team leaders have driven home the importance of getting in, doing our job, and getting out. I know that for some of you, this is your first mission. Others don’t even want to be here. I appreciate all of you coming aboard. Because, whether we like it or not, we are the only thing between the world and those who intend to destroy it. Let’s go show them who they’re dealing with.”

Becca squeezed her eyes shut, trying to quell the feeling of nausea rising through her. They had gotten into the jet and were flying to some undisclosed location. She had fitted everyone in their armor and left instructions on how and when to double back for assistance. One of the agents had then offered her the handle of a gun and more than a handful of cartridges of bullets before exiting the Quinjet and into a very noisy battlefield. It was then that she realized she would be on her own from there on out.

“Hey.” Becca looked up rather anxiously. Loki was stood in full armor, golden horns and all. He looked just south of fidgety and was eager to jump into the fray. Still, he made it a point to stop and check in when he noticed her take the clip out of her gun and count bullets for a sixth time. “Well, you’ve taken to battle rather well,” he teased, nudging her foot with his.

“Shut it or I’ll throw up on you,” she groused, and the green tinge in her complexion assured him of the truth behind her words.

He laughed boisterously, though there seemed to be no malice in his actions. “Midgardians, scared of a little fight. Precious, really.”

“What part of I’ll throw up on you did you not understand?” Her voice sounded rough, as if she really was fighting the bile from rising up her throat.

“You’re going to be fine.” Loki laughed again, a little less effusively. For a second he hesitated in his movement, before his resolve steeled, reaching up and tugging on a golden horn to slide the helmet from his head. “If I remember correctly, you’re well-acquainted with these. How about you keep them until I circle back, hmm?” They were placed on her head before she had even had time to argue, feeling snug and secure. Long fingers felt cool against her flushed skin as he lifted her chin to look at him. “There. Fit to battle the enemy.” The heat in her cheeks only intensified. “Stay in the jet. And if you need to barricade the doors, regardless of what side of them we happen to be on, do it.” He stared her down until she nodded.

Before he disappeared out the hold doors, he turned his head and winked at her over his shoulder. Oddly enough, it settled her stomach to see his cocky confidence.

The one thing Becca was not prepared for, ironically, was the wait. The jet had been empty for several hours and only Bucky had come to get some gravel out of the hydraulic gaps of his metal arm. The rest of the time, she spied outside the one-way glass at the battle ahead. It was a terrible hobby to have when you knew half of the players, but it was like watching a train wreck. You know you shouldn’t watch, but…

A flash of red caught her eye, at once. Peter had just been flung aside by some Hydra agent in a bulky exosuit. In a flash of green, Loki cut in and deliver a blow to protect the kid. Loki would never admit it aloud, but he had a soft spot for the teenager–partly because he was a child, mostly because he would bring Loki chocolate chip cookies every time he went to see him. Regardless of the reason, the maneuver had ended with Loki becoming a favorite target of all the Hydra personnel around the pair.

Loki yelled something she couldn’t make out, and Peter began to climb upwards to get a better (and safer) vantage point. More agents converged on the Asgardian and Becca found herself chanting no’s under her breath. This was a bad idea. She shouldn’t have watched the fight. And she certainly shouldn’t have opened the hold doors and run straight into its center.

Let there be light, let there be light, let me be alright.

With shaky hands, she lifted her pistol and took aim. Tony made everyone take basic gun training and get certified at the gun range. This wasn’t a new experience for her. Having buildings shudder and rumble, screams fill the air, and explosions happen less than thirty meters off–that was a new experience. And it made it a hell of a lot harder to aim at areas that were not covered by a bulletproof vest or part of her friend.

Loki started as the body trying to wrestle him down shuddered and slumped to the floor. He turned round in a neat circle and glared. “I told you to stay in the jet!”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve circled back earlier, then!” She screamed back, flinching her eyes closed with every thundering bullet leaving her gun.

“Tell me you’re not closing your eyes every time you shoot!” He had closed the distance between them and had joined his back to hers.

“Fine. I won’t tell you.”

“You could’ve shot me in the head!”

“You should have taken your damn helmet, then!” Her voice was near a shriek, another three bullets ringing through the air before she realized she had to change the clip.

Except she forgot them.

On the jet.

Did she mention she had no real battle experience?

“Loki,” her voice trembled, barely audible over the scuffle even to her own ears, “do you have bullets on you?”

He snorted. “Do I look like I have a gun, Rebecca?” He glanced over his shoulder at her and did a double-take before the information clicked. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t!” She didn’t answer, instead drawing a knife sheathed in a strap on her thigh and holding it in front of her. It shuddered in time with the tremors in her hand. She couldn’t stay here and she couldn’t make it back on her own. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He growled. “If I die getting you back to safety, I’m going to be so damn cross!”

With golden string

Our universe was brought to life

That we may fall in love

Every time we open up our eyes

“My head is killing me.”

“Yeah. A bullet to the skull will do that,” he said, smirking. He had yet to let her head go.

They were on the floor of the jet, and he was on his knees. Beside him, his horns sat with a splotch of blood marring the very edge of the face opening and the metal bent slightly out of shape.

“You’re lucky I left you my helm. Not so much for the man who shot you. The ricochet was nasty.”

“The ricochet killed him?” She frowned, trying to think of the physics that would make such a thing possible.

She nodded. “I’m OK. I’ll just stay put.”

For a long moment she looked between the cushioned seats and the hold doors, deciding the best course of action–back to her table, safe, or… Just beyond the doors, Loki sunk a dagger into the stomach of a HYDRA agent and kicked them back. As if sensing her gaze, he glanced back at jet and smirked, turning away only to dodge a punch. Becca took a swig of water, grabbed her gun, and ran back into the fire just as the horns settled onto her skull.

#Loki #Others #Submitted fic #submission #atlas space #Fanfictrashdump #sun #chapter 1

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fanworks-library · 3 years

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summary: youre just a completely ordinary college student living in a post monster world

pairing: dr w,d gaster/reader

tags: reader-insert, reader with a vag, noncon

You had never been very lucky in life. Some days, frankly, you wanted to give up. But you had determination and held on.

Recently, you were starting to feel like your determination was finally, finally paying off.

Even though you had bottom barrel grades and a shitty attendance record all throughout high school, you had gotten into your first choice university. On top of that, you had got a full scholarship that included room and board. You were sure there had been some mistake but you weren’t about to pursue that line inquiry.

Even this dorm of yours was a dream come true.

You had applied for a single person room; on a whim, really. There was no way someone like you would get it. But just a week before the move-in date, you received a letter from the school saying that under recommendation of your doctor a single person room was needed for you and your request was approved.

Well, you didn’t have a doctor. Like, maybe you needed one; sure, but you sure as heck couldn’t afford one.

You were benefiting from someone’s mistakes and it took you a few weeks to be okay with that.

While you had never been to the city the university was in before your move-in day, you had for, some reason, always wanted to live there. Your inexplicable feeling was right; you absolutely loved it. Not that you got out much, but you loved every quaint small business and aged building fronts. You loved the ancient trees, the fields of flowers and the cobblestone roads. It was like traveling back in time and made you feel, for once in your life, at home.

This was an opportunity of a lifetime and…

You were on the precipice of fucking it completely up every single day.

You had absolutely no idea what to major in so you applied under Undeclared. You had until the end of Sophomore year to make a declaration but you were already feeling like trash about it. Everyone else in your class had drive, had goals; knew exactly who they were and what they wanted to do. Except you.

You’d tell anyone who asked that you just wanted to get all the electives and gen ed courses out of the way, to which you often got mummers of support and “Good idea, I should have done that,” but you were fairly certain that your lie was transparent and others were mocking you with fake sympathy. You hated it.

Your classes were simultaneously overwhelming and under stimulating. You were struggling keeping all your grades above failing. Well, all except for one;

This semester you were taking Introduction to Monster History as an elective.

The speed which the overworld had gotten use to the monsters being back was nothing short of incredible. It was like they never left. By the end of the week, it was old news.

Especially in the city you were in. It was the first one monsters reached when they came down from the Mount Ebott. The outskirts of the city wrapped around the mountains base; civilization petered out, the last road turned into a dirt path that led to the woods that went all the way to the top.

You knew because you had walked it before. The barrier may have been broken but a fall like that sounded pretty good at the time. Last semester’s finals had been particularly killer on your self esteem.

But now, you finally had a class you were actually good at.

Even on your very worst days, you still dragged yourself to this class. You weren’t afraid to be called on randomly, to raise your hand or just blurt an answer out.

Sometimes, when you did your reading assignment, it felt like you had read them before. And even when you winged a test you basically got everything right.

Was this what it was like to be good at something? You were sure you had never felt happier in your entire life.

But you were still, unfortunately, you; so when the final project was assigned you waited the last minute to do anything about it. The final was in three parts; part one was your typical test, part two and three went hand in hand. You had to write a research paper and do an interview with a monster that later had to be quoted in your paper with proper citations.

At first that third part sounded pretty impossible but many of your classmates were monsters and most of them were really eager to share about their lives in the underground.

The professor had kindly set up a suggestion board for theses. But, as aforementioned, since you waited until the last moment, every last one of them was gone. That’s when you panicked and realized you better kicked it into high gear.

So, you spent the rest of the week pouring over your class books. Then over books in the library that were written by monsters (you were surprised how unorthodox and laid back the nonfiction books were written).

The more and more you read, the more you realized how absolutely in love with monster history you were.

You had to write a paper that would blow your teacher away. If you got a good grade on this…yes, if you get a good grade on this you would absolutely declare your major to History with a focus on Monsterkind!

You exhausted the library’s resources with speed that surprised you. You scourged the internet. Your interests jumped from one topic to another. Your notebook was filled with notes and thesis ideas. Many you deemed too boring after an hour of reading up on it.

You needed a way to narrow everything down and make a choice. So, you decided to make a timeline with different color highlighters, each color representing an important monster to their culture and then in their colors you’d highlight your notes and the one that monster or that time period had the most interesting facts you would write about.

Maybe something even ridiculously specific, like trade of monsterfood during such and such time. You didn’t know what you were looking for until the third or fourth time you had to start the timeline over.

You had been, up until that point, ripping out the notebook pages, crumpling them up and tossing them on the floor because you had believed you were messing up.

But it wasn’t you that was messing it up (for once), it was something about the source material that was messed up.

Dates weren’t lining up right. Birth dates, death dates, dates of important events. Your yellow highlighter was frequently going over the purple one. And there there were gaps that none of the highlighters could fill.

You knew what your paper was going to be about.

Going back through all the books you had taken from the library and all the books you had for your class, you went through the text with laser focus. You returned to the internet until you were on the tenth O in the google.

Due to how long monsters lived and how peaceful they were, they didn’t really have that much history to get all tangled up in, it wasn’t like it was with humans. Everything flowed smoothly from one year to another, a clear and easy to see timeline like a 12 piece puzzle, except…except for one thing.

One piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit into any of the groves right yet came in the box with the others.

Armed with actual notecards and a notebook filled with actual honest to god research for once you were ready to start your paper at the final hour.

The blank word doc started at you and you back at it.

You attempted to pluck out some kind of a title:

Who is W.D Gaster? (You deleted it.)

Where is W.D Gaster? (You deleted it.)

When is W.D Gaster? (You deleted it.)

Your eyes were feeling kinda heavy. When was the last time you slept? Days likely but you couldn’t sleep yet not now that you were actually working on something. You still had to interview someone and this thing was due on Monday at 12:00 am on the dot and it was Friday.

Maybe it was time for a change of music, you thought but forgot what you were doing after opening the tab.

Time to throw in the town for today, there was no way you could work like this. You still had two full days to do this which was one day extra than your usual poor planning cram sessions. So, instead of whatever screaming metal you were going to turn on, you turned a nature sound generator on instead.

(You set it to rain on roof at 79%, wind in leaves at 62%, thunder at 100% with the second option in the green bar drop down menu) and forest ambience at 79%)

Your muscles relaxed the moment you hit the bed, falling back on it with a triumphant umph. Lulled by the sounds coming from your computer, you fell asleep before you could even get under the covers.

Something woke you up.

Your computer which should have been emitting the soothing sounds of a rain storm was now making an awful garbled static. It had cut through the quiet of your dorm so suddenly and loudly that it had woken you up. There was a strange rattling sound you recognized but you knew you shouldn’t be hearing. Your brain was too tired to worry too much about any of this.

It was dark outside, dark in your room. You didn’t bother looking at your clock to see what time it was.

You didn’t feel like getting up and investigating that strange sound, or fixing the awful sound coming from your computer. You were so tired that the discordant sounds couldn’t stop you from closing your eyes and getting back to sleep.

Something grazed your cheek gently and in your half asleep state you reflectively leaned into that something without a thought. Whatever was touching you gave off the feeling of being shocked, like static electricity; only low and cold and constant. It wasn’t entire unpleasant. And the feeling of deja vu rattled in your sleepy head. Was this a dream?

Maybe one you’ve had before?

And then you felt your hair get mossed about, which caused you to open your eyes. You didn’t turn the ceiling fan on before you went to bed, there wasn’t like a breeze or anything in your room.

You felt it again, more distinct this time, like someone running their fingers through your hair.

Startled, you went to get up as quick as possible. You mind rationally jumped to There Is A Massive Spider In My Hair. And you were going to get it out, only—

Your movement was met with resistance. Your shoulders weren’t even a half an inch off the bed before you found yourself pushed back down. Pinned.

There was that rattling sound again.

You attempted to move your legs. You could wiggle them a bit but not get them up. The same with your arms. What…? What was this!? Was this sleep paralysis?

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the room felt big and dizzy. The static from your computer was barely audible over the pounding of your own heartbeat in your ear drum.

There was another noise, that weird rattling sound again.

It clicked in your brain finally. It was the sound of your keyboard. It was missing a leg so it hopped up and down, rattling against your desk, when being typed on.

You had just seen the screen of your desktop for a half of a second when you had jolted up. Just enough time to see a line of new type on it before you had been pinned down to the bed.

Something brushed against your neck causing you to yelp. You turned your head even though there was no way you could angle your face to see what it was.

Outside the corner of your eye, you could see another line being added to your semi-blank word doc. From your bed you couldn’t make it out but it didn’t exactly look like letters. You could see a third line start just as something that most definitely felt like hand push your head so that you were looking at the ceiling.

You heard your keyboard rattle again.

You tried to jerk your head out of the invisible grasp but it held firm, the feeling of large unseen fingers dug into your jawline.

Another invisible hand settled around your throat, this one squeeze for a second and you panicked. Maybe you were having a stroke, people choke to death then don’t they? You were having some kind of strange stroke and you were going to suffocate on your own organs.

The pressure on your neck grew tighter and tighter while was felt unmistakably like hands ran across your chest. It then let up completely, suddenly, while the hands on your chest explored your shape. You gasped for breath.

While you were busy getting air in your lungs the hands left your chest and started to navigate south. They ran along your sides, stretching down to your stomach.

With what limited movement you had, you struggled against whatever force was keeping you on the bed. It was moving under the shirt now, you tried to get a look at it but you couldn’t get your head out of the vice grip.

Struggling only made the unseen force hold onto you tighter.

When what felt very much like hands reach your bare skin again you gasped, the touch was cold yet electric and you could feel goosebumps being raised. And you could feel two new hands run down the sides of your hips to your legs.

They just barely touched your thighs as they rans down your legs, finger tips spidering over your skin. Harder, they pressed against your calves and then again up to your thighs, on the inside now before pulling your legs farther apart.

You were starfished; pinned on your bed like a frog waiting to be dissected.

What felt unmistakably like a finger pressed itself against your lips as the sensation of hands returned to your chest, this time under your clothes. You weren’t going to let whatever this was in your mouth. You kept your lips such even as the fingers were massaging your chest, roughly then softly, pulling and digging in.

The energy they were giving up almost had you gasping but you kept your lips good and shut, that is; until whatever this was pressed down on your clit,phasing right through your clothes.

The sudden shock made you gasp and the fingers invaded your mouth. You gagged against the intrusion, attempting to push what really felt like two large fingers from going farther into your mouth, your tongue was overpowered and they slid down with ease, pushing to the back of your throat, where you started gagging anew, just when you thought you were going to throw up the fingers moved back. Your face was already beginning to feel sore from how stretched your lips were across the fingers.

The tip of an unseen finger was rubbing circles against your clit at a painfully slow pace, the movement felt almost mechanical; lacking any sort of variation.

The low static hum being pulsed into you from the touch caused your hips to buck and you were mortified at yourself, trying to gain purchase, trying to urge whatever was happening to you to happen harder and faster.

This hallucination, this nightmare, took the hint and picked up speed. You whined, your steadily heavy growing breath muffled by the fingers that were running the length of your mouth. Drool was slipping passed your lips, being pushed out by the friction of the fingers, running down to your chin.

You hips were jerking, everything was so overwhelming, hands were at your side running slow, tips of fingers barely grazing your skin, hands ran from your neck over to your chest, giving you the vague sense that your pulse and heart beat were being checked upon continuously.

Your hair was being touched; gently. Lovingly. Your checks being brushed upon by backs of invisible hands, and just when you thought you were at your limit, a finger was running the length of your vagina.

Only now did you realize how wet you were, feeling your own fluid being rubbed against your folds.

You were attempting to mentally ready yourself for what was going to happen next. You knew it was coming. The finger pushed itself to what you assumed was the knuckle on the single go, the length filling your limit. It knocked the wind out of you. The silent moan was caught in your throat and the force of the entry caused your upper half to lift up, braced against the hands that were holding your shoulders down.

You fell back on the bed and bucked your hips, which pushed the massive finger further in. You had thought there was no way that there was more to it, but you were wrong. It hit up against the farthest part of you and freed the muted cry.

Your moan was muffled by the fingers pumping away in the same slow mechanical pacing.

You were focusing now on keeping your body as still as possible but you were shaking. The feeling of electricity ran through your cunt and you couldn’t take it.

Another finger joined in and, as wet as you were, you were feeling uncomfortably stretched. What was being inserted into you felt like burning against your clenching walls.

The fingers curled, keeping their steady pace. You sobbed against the fingers that were once again pushing the limits of your gag reflexes.

You heard your keyboard rattle again.

Losing yourself now, your hips rose and fell; desperate for more speed so you could just finish already.

A new set of hands held your hips firmly in place while the fingers worked. This time your movements didn’t prompt them to work faster.

You let out a panicked cry when your lower half was suddenly lifted up. You were being supported and your mind was scrambling for logical explanations.

None came to mind.

Two hands were gently spreading your ass and you gave a half-hearted struggle, you didn’t hand the grip to tighten but you wanted out of this. You could barely form complete thoughts at this point and you were dizzy from trying to make sense of what was happening.

The two fingers cried out and, despite yourself, you cried out at the loss in desperation. One of the two fingers pushed into your anus completely, your own fluids weren’t enough to make that entry comfortable. If you weren’t being muffled you were sure your dorm neighbor would have heard the noise you made.

The finger was slowly working in and out of you, just like it had in your pussy a moment ago.

A new finger had replace the two that had left and started at a sudden, quick pace, curling just right against your g spot. The pace was unbearable and the fingers holding you in place were gripping hard as your body attempted to curl up on itself.

The finger on your clit was coming down hard on you now. You could feel it bruising already and yet it wasn’t enough. You weren’t surprised to feel tears running down your face but you couldn’t remember when you had started crying. Your choked sobs and moans were muffled by the fingers in your mouth. Your were just barely aware of the keyboard rattling.

You were so close to cumming, so close, so close…!

You knew a flood of feelings would hit you. Fear, shame…satisfaction, but for this moment your mind was blank as your own liquid ran hot down your ass. You heard yourself drip on your bed and the first thought you had when your mind returned was what a pain the laundry would be.

As you came, one of the hands on your chest travelled to your centre. You were still being held up by the hands which you had hoped without reason would just vanish after you came. You had your entire weight on them, limp and a final moan was shaking from your throat.

The hand at your middle pushed into you. The horrible sensation of been punched through like a fork stabbing through the plastic in a microwaved meal. Your moan turned into a scream.

The sensation not necessarily painful but frightening and wrong.

There’s a squeezing pressure all around your chest, all around your entire self. Were you dying!? Was this dying!?

You feel yourself lose consciousness.

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steve0discusses · 4 years

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Yugioh S4 Ep 23: Roland Freaks Out for 25 Straight Minutes

Oh man, took a break from the blog for a bit there because I gave myself a project to do that is 160ish color panels to draw by June 30th and um...it takes a while to do that, it turns out. Every time I’m like “wow I actually have enough time to make a buffer for the blog” I get so distracted.

But anyways, I started having some issues with my wacom tablet, my mouse is a nightmare, and so...I’m just gonna look the other way and write a recap and unplug all of the wacom stuff and just stay the hell away from whatever happened to that...tablet.

maybe It’ll be fine tomorrow?

*sweats nervously*

Thank God I didn’t buy a cintique, that’s all I’ll say.

Anyway, lets go back to Yugioh. Where were we?

That’s right. Mokuba is checking in with my favorite Kaiba, Roland, who is currently just trying to keep the company running while the official Kaibas are flying to California.

And I’ll be honest, as I was typing this I thought “and why are they going to California again?” and it took me like...10 minutes to remember that Seto dropped absolutely everything and jumped on this massive plane in order to beat Rafael at cards to win the title “King of Games” which...Yugi had already lost to Rebecca about 2 years ago prior, but don’t tell that to Seto. Or Rebecca.

Also don’t tell Seto that the “King of Games” title originally comes from being possessed by a very emo ghost that has a tendency to set people on fire with Russian whiskey and has nothing to do with whatever shenanigans went down with Pegasus.

Honestly, I like to think that in the modern version of this show, Pegasus threw the “King of Games” line out there as like a corny joke, and when the teenagers started latching onto it like it was real, he was like “Oh what?” and left it alone because he just got his left eye ripped out of his face and was very distracted by the large amount of cultists in his basement that he suddenly needed to let go.

But youknow it’s the end of the world, Kaiba’s company is being bought out by a competitor, one of Dartz’ assassins are trying to kill both him and his brother, but he has to go to California immediately to play Rafael while he has the chance. Not sure how Alister got the tip-off that Kaiba would be flying back to California so quickly, but knowing the Kaibas, they probably jump on a plane several times a week.

I’m just still baffled that Mokuba’s doing this over a cell phone. That he was like “I better call someone.” and instead of calling the Airline or the Coastguard he’s like “I’ll call Roland💗”

I’m pretty sure Roland saw that phone ringing with Mokuba in the callerID and was like “NO NO NO NO NO”

(read more under the cut)

Luckily for Roland, everyone at Kaiba corp has to learn how to fly planes in order to pass the entry exam.

For reals though, that plane just casually bumped off a mountain like it’s in Diddy Kong Racing.

There’s a lot of levels of brother’s saving brothers in this episode. You have Seto who thinks he’s saving Mokuba, but in fact it is Mokuba saving Seto by keeping this plane afloat. And then in reality, you can take another brother step backward and say it was Roland who was saving Mokuba who was saving Seto by giving the phone to that rando, and take even another step backward and say it was this Random Guy who was saving Roland who was saving Mokuba who was saving Seto.

So in reality, no brothers were really able to save eachother, it was actually that one secretary at the desk who screamed “JUST PULL THE LEVER HARDER, I DUNNO” until it worked.

But just remember that the theme of this episode is brothers saving brothers, although Mokuba is too small to really fly this plane, and Seto is too crazy to stop this duel and Roland is not really the secret inept heir of the Kaiba bloodline, and only in my little headcanon.

And also, I just have no idea who that random secretary is.

Anyways, Alister made this thing happen on the field.

Hey guys?

How many guns do you need on a tank?

Like I...

That is a hilarious amount of guns on this tank.

Like every character designer part of me is dying right now. It’s when you’re learning Maya, and you finally figure out the duplicate tool, and you just--you just strap a billion guns on a spaceship. We’ve all done this.

But like...this gunship has a face, and that face has it’s own tiny Oricalchos.

All I’m saying is that Alister is having a hell of a time in his Maya 101 class he takes at the local community college when he’s not busy working for Kaiba Corp Airlines or busy killing people for Dartz. I want to know what grade he got on this project, because in my Maya classes the only people who were this dedicated were building weird ass warships for their games or building intense 3D My Little Pony fanfic.

Here’s a list I can think of from the top of my head of challenges Seto Kaiba either quit or completely failed outright (basically the times Seto has NOPEd out or been forcibly kicked out):

-Joey Wheeler’s many challenges and also Spanish Class (as mentioned above)

-Beating Yugi in a card game

-Not joining Pegasus’ tourney initially so he could go on a vacation.

-We’ll just assume he’s only taken like a bunch of random college classes but only got an honorary degree

-Chess (like he was a Grand Master at one point but wtv, cards exist now)

-Didn’t arrest the Big Five or remove them from his mmo so they freakin died in there.

-Being the actual owner of the Millennium Rod

-Every time Yami tells him that they should be friends

-That whole story line where he was dating a dragon in a past life

-fulfilling that prophecy of killing Yami in the present timeline to end the world

-attempting to blow up his own battle city tournament before it was over because he didn’t win

-Getting all 3 Godcards

-When a possessed Tristan appeared over a mountain top to duel everyone and Seto just went “I’m out” and simply walked away

-Flying a blimp from point A to point B without it setting on fire

-Getting his Dad to build an amusement park

-Just anything to do with Noah

-the existence of magic in general

-every attempt he’s had to rebrand Kaiba Corp as “funtime games inc I swear we don't make tanks anymore, stop looking at all the tanks”

-Seto Kaiba’s entire Destiny storyline this season that he has gone way out of his way to get away from.

And like I’m sure there’s more, but I feel like half of Kaiba’s MO is that he is either Too Good To Bother With This or he has Lost Everything Very Dramatically. Mokuba at least has the right idea, by being one of the few people who has beaten Yugi Muto by peacing out halfway through the duel and stealing all Yugi’s stuff off of Yugi’s side of the table.

Anyway, despite it being like...5 seconds since we saw Roland in a weird cyber room in what I assume was Japan, we now see him with his head pressed against the glass of this helicopter being like “BOYS NO NOT AGAIN WHY”

And youknow, Roland was just trying to do the right thing, but he accidentally made things a million times worse by just showing up.

And so Alister was like “well I better crash the plane now with this gust of green energy that destroys all mechanical equipment.”

Really not sure how Alister was planning to leave this plane after this duel was over. I don’t know if he thinks that far ahead.

this isn’t even a joke I made up, Roland really did run up to the pilot and was like “Just throw down some ladders! That should work!” and it’s like...Do you not see the giant ship covered in a thousand guns right now, Roland?

And then Alister and Seto decide to have a fight about ethics where they’re both pretty wrong.

I mean it’s not the exact line but yes this is basically what Seto said, point blank, and I was like “well...at least he owns it.”

So cards happen, dragons get played (so MANY dragons) and because we had to end this arc, Alister loses the duel as we kind of knew he would.

And then Mokuba, because he knows no other life, sees an asshole older brother in pain and just wants to adopt him.

Enjoy that trauma tossed onto your already megalith sized trauma pile, Mokuba.

Elsewhere, the legendary dragons have started syncing again, which is a weird thing that they can do that none of these guys have any control of.

Mostly it just irritates whoever is holding these cards at the time.

But behold! the glory!

The glory of three tubby dragons wielding a plane!

It’s what Kaiba always wanted but he had absolutely no idea he was doing it. Will anyone tell him that he managed to summon three dragons to fly him around the sky like a mamma bird? No. No one bothers to tell him that his wildest dreams just came true.

FYI There were other stills of more of the dragons and the plane, but I kept pausing on instances where it kinda looked like they were humping the plane so I gave up.

But, at least we all get to meet up, around the smoke coming out the back of this giant plane that now...will just sit here...until someone sues KaibaCorp over it, I guess.

Like a soccermom, now Roland gets to give the whole frenemy crew a ride with...copters or whatever.

I dont’ know how Roland got here, y’all.

This happens a lot with animated shows, youknow, there’s a lot of plot threads, a lot of scenes and episodes that get freelanced out and outsourced, and people who make these shows aren’t working on the whole thing at once, they’re just going off of director notes--so there’s a good chance they had no idea that Roland...just shouldn’t be here.

But it’s OK, I enjoy whenever Roland is panicking in the background. He’s good set dressing.

Seto does not give any more explanation of this corpse.

And then, sprinting as fast as he could out of his copter comes Roland, who does what Roland does best. It’s this moment where you would usually see a parental figure reveal how much they care and adore their little children. But because it’s Roland, and these are the Kaibas, he instead takes this moment to reveal exactly how inept he is at the very last second.

Never change, Roland. I love this massive green haired disappointment.

Anyway, I’m not sure when I’ll get the next update out, since I’ll be knee deep in drawing art I don’t need to draw, but just know I’m not dead. Usually I post fanart or whatever, but all I have is this Dartz I started drawing but he just has so much hair that I don’t think that one will ever get even remotely finished.

But anyway, if you just got here, this is a link to read these from the start.

#Yugioh #ygo #seto kaiba #mokuba #roland #yami muto #joey wheeler #tristan taylor #alister #tea gardner #S4 #Ep23 #episode recap #photo recap

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writingquestionsanswered · 5 years

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Hiya! I'm a new writer, aside from an odd bit of fanfiction here and there. I'd like to finally begin an original story. What are your initial actions when beginning a new work? Aside from that, do you have any more tips for me to adhere to? I'm not looking to publish or anything, this is purely for fun.

Guide: Starting a New (Long Fiction) Story

Whether you’re writing for practice, publication, or fun, the process for writing a new original story is different for everyone and often depends on the project itself. Here are some things to consider as you start to prepare and get started on your new story.

1. To plot or not to plot?

The first thing you’ll want to do is decide how much you want to plot out the story before you start writing. Some writers are avid plotters, planning out every detail of their story before they begin. Other writers prefer to take an idea and wing it, and some people plot as they go. At the very least, it’s a good idea to make sure you know the following before you start writing:

Who is your protagonist? What do they want, why do they want it, and how are they going to get it?

When and where is the story set? What parts of this setting will play the biggest role in the story and how?

Who or what is the antagonistic force? Every protagonist needs an antagonist to work against them, creating obstacles they must overcome as they try to reach their goal. An antagonistic force is anyone or anything that creates those obstacles, whether a super villain, overbearing but well-meaning parents, a disease, a natural disaster, or a plague of zombies.

Know your beginning, middle, and end. Before you start writing, it’s a good idea to have a mental picture of how the story starts (your character’s normal life before everything turns upside down), what’s happening at the midpoint (what happens to raise the stakes and give the protagonist a big push toward the “final showdown” with the antagonist), and how the story ends (does your character defeat/survive the antagonistic force? Do they reach their goal? How does your character or their world change as a result?)

2. Research and Inspiration...

Whether or not you decide to plot, you will probably want to spend a little time doing some research and looking for information. If you are choosing to plot, you may want to do this afterward or during your plotting phase. Ultimately, you’ll want to consider whether there are any elements in your story that you need to know more about before writing them. This might include things like learning what it’s like to be deaf, how castles are laid out, or what kinds of plants and flowers typically grow in forests. If you’re setting your story in a real place, or are using a real place as inspiration, you may want to learn more about that place. If your story takes place in a particular era or involves a particular event or type of event, you will want to research those. For inspiration, you may want to look for pictures of everything from characters and clothing to buildings and places. Some writers enjoy putting together pinterest or tumblr galleries to house inspiring pictures. You may also want to put together character, setting, and story aesthetics (collages), put together a writing playlist that has the right feel for your story, or even travel to places or do activities that are related to your story.

3. Planning, preparation, and organization.

If you’re going to wing it, you’re pretty much ready to get started with writing now. However, if you’re going to plot your story, this is the point where you might want to do a little more planning and preparation before you start writing, and depending on how much stuff you accumulate through these early stages, you’ll probably want to do a little organization, too.

When I start a new story, I always do three things:

-- purchase a three-ring binder and dividers for keeping track of my story plans-- set up a story specific folder on my desktop with necessary subfolders-- set up a story specific folder in my browser with necessary subfolders

I like to decorate my binder with a printed out aesthetic picture and a pretty title on the side. The divider tabs for my binders usually contain sections like: characters, setting, outline/scene list, notes, rough draft, etc. If there is more than one major setting, sometimes I’ll give each setting their own divider. It really just depends on the needs of my story, and sometimes I re-organize my dividers as the story progresses and my needs evolve.

My desktop folder usually contains the following subfolders: drafts, storage, notes-ideas, character stuff, setting stuff, inspiration, and then sometimes I do additional subfolders... like my “character stuff” subfolder might have subfolders for each character or characters in each specific setting.

My browser folder is usually kind of a mess. I will sometimes do subject-specfic subfolders, but usually I just bookmark whatever I need to and make sure the bookmarks I access the most are at the top of the list.

Again, you will probably add to all of this as you actually get into the plotting phase. I consider this phase and the plotting phase to go hand-in-hand. This is really just about getting everything set up and ready to go.

This is also a good time to figure out things like a writing schedule (if you need to set one), daily or weekly word count goals, and get your writing space organized if you have one.

4. Plotting...

There are many different ways you can plot your story, all depending on what works best for you and the needs of your story. Some writers simply like to come up with an exhaustive summary of events from beginning to end. Others like to do some sort of outline. You may want to do a timeline and a scene list as well. My post how to outline a plot will walk you through some of the different options, and my plot and structure master list has lots of other posts that may be useful to you during this time.

5. Start writing!

Once you’ve gotten your story plotted out (or not, if you’re choosing not to plot), it’s time to sit down and start writing. Here are some things to keep in mind:

-- This is the very first draft of your story and it’s going to be ROUGH, which is why it’s often referred to as the “rough draft” or “zero draft.” This draft isn’t going to be perfect. It’s going to be messy, ugly, meandering, and kind of awful, and THAT’S FINE!!! This is just the rough sketch or mockup. You’re going to improve upon it later.

-- Because this is the first draft, now is not the time to worry about word choice, sentence structure, word play, grammar and punctuation, flawless story structure, etc. Just get the story down to the best of your ability. You’re going to make it pretty in the later drafts.

-- Also, because this is the first draft, don’t be afraid to go a little hog wild. You don’t have to worry about word count and having a tight story now. Feel free to go off on tangents, delve into fluffy scenes, and follow weird threads. Dive in and explore your world and its characters. This exploratory process allows you to kind of throw everything at the wall and see what sticks. A lot of the time you’ll end up discovering gems you hadn’t considered initially. Again, you can figure out what to cut out later on.

-- AGAIN... DO NOT EDIT AS YOU GO. I mean, look... sometimes, more experienced writers develop a process where they do edit as they go, and that’s fine. But until you’ve written enough stories from beginning to end to know what works for you, don’t trouble yourself with editing as you go. The most important thing right now is to write this story from beginning to end. Once you get to the end, you can go back and make it pretty.

-- It’s okay to feel frustrated and have days where you need to take a break. You may have days where you just want to delete the story and move on, but don’t do that. If you need to, walk away from it for a few days or a week and come back to it later. If the story still isn’t working for you, save everything and start on a new project, but never delete what you have no matter how much you feel like you hate it now. You never know when inspiration will strike and you’ll decide to go back to an old project.

Good luck with your story!

#writing tips #writing advice #wqaadvice #wqaguide

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1985music · 4 years

Text

Assembly of the Gods

Twon, If you're reading this it's too late my G.

I'm never sure where to begin with these stories. Y'all remember when Nas spit a whole story backwards? Nevermind forget it.

The year is 2013, I believe, and it's a rainy night in the fall. My boy Robbie Maxx drags my wife and I to a Meek Mill show in Teaneck NJ, just to peep the scene. The parking lot is a mad house of course. We had to wait in line and shit, which wasn't the vibe. We finally get in the spot, it's already packed and the opening acts are doing their thing. This one performer caught my attention. This short, energetic kid with his squad on stage with him screaming, "UPPERCLASS!". The young boy with the name "TWON" gleaming off his hat was spitting some fire with no fear or nervousness to a sold-out crowd in his hometown. Pretty dope performance overall. Soon after his exit from the stage Meek would come out and make is presence known. I knew that wasn't the last time I'd see or hear from that Twon guy.

Some months later Maxx would headline a show at this spot called Mexicali Live (Debonair Lounge) and guess who he throws on the bill? You guessed it, TWONDON. It had been a while since I last saw the kid and this go-around the music was a bit different. He performed and did his thing much like the first time I saw him. He was chopping it up with his fans/supporters after his performance, so I had to wait to talk to him. I hate that sh*t. I was able to properly introduce myself and extend the invitation to collab. I'll admit our first encounter wasn't the greatest. It's always weird when a ni**a that doesn't know you tries to strike a conversation. He'll tell you. Although he knew of me as being Maxx's producer/engineer up until this point we hadn't had any extensive interaction. We exchanged info and that was that. He wasn't trying to hear anything I had to say that night though.

Now it's 2014, I was floating around to different events in NYC. One in particular was a private album release party for Mobb Deep (RIP Prodigy). I want to say it was their last album, "The Infamous Mobb Deep." I'm coolin' in the spot for a little bit and guess who I bump in to? Of course, Twondon. The first thing he says to me is, "Damn B, you get around". At this point this ni**a finally realizes he can't escape the God. This time we got a chance to really chop it up. He mentioned to me he was looking for a new spot to record and a good engineer. I had to get my boy right. The first track we recorded together was, "Life's a Bitch" featuring AZ. I remember Twon asking me, "Yo B, can you somehow scratch in the Acapella of AZ from Nas' "Life's a Bitch"?” and explained how he wanted it to cut in and out of the hook. I remember thinking to myself, "This ni**a has no clue this my f**king BAG." To make a long story short my execution of what he requested was flawless. In past interviews Twon has mentioned that "Life's a Bitch" was when he found "His sound."

Soon after Twon would make 1985 Sound Studio in Belleville, NJ his new home for recording. By this time I had already mixed a few singles for him including "4th and Inches" and "Run It" featuring Bizzy Crook and slew of others. There's this on-going thing where he'll say some sh*t like "Yo B, make me sound icy" and somehow I know what he means everytime. He also connected me with a few artists he knew including a young lyricist by the name of Dolla $ign Dunn who I continue to help with developing his sound as well. In the early stages of creating with Twon he had already had a lot of his beats picked out so he didn't really need me for production. I was just helping to cultivate that Upperclass sound through my mixing and mastering techniques. It wasn't until mid 2015 that discussions of his debut EP "Stay Golden" began to take shape.

After a session one day Twon asked me about a beat I was creating on my ipad that I previewed on Instagram I think. No stories back then this was all timeline action. He said "That beat sound like me."

I didn't think anything of it, I looped up the beat, added a few more elements to it and gave it up. No charge. That was the birth of the first single "Too Committed". He sat on the beat for a short time and came back to the studio and laid the 1st verse and the hook. Later on he told me that Smoke DZA would be blessing the record and executive producing the album "Stay Golden."

"TWON!!? Antwon!! Wake your black ass up it's 1 in the afternoon..." -Gloria's Intro (Mama Twondon)

Twondon's “Stay Golden” album was released December 8, 2015, a day after my 30th Birthday. I was in Vegas my ni**a. The project was well received. The song "Million Dollar Babies" off that project racked up 600,000+ streams on Spotify alone. The whole roll-out for that project was dope. I go back and listen to that project sometimes and I love the way it sounds. It sounds just like the title, "Golden." So much work went into it and I enjoyed every minute of it. There are 10 mixes on "Too Committed" alone. Occasionally I will hear my wife bumping "All the Above." She's also partially responsible for placing "Too Committed" in the Indie film "King of Newark" (2016)

After the success of that project we continued to create and build. The last few years I've watched Twondon evolve from rapper/lyricist to clothing designer to all-around entrepreneur. Yeah man, my boy was making clothes. I had to support him because the Upperclass Intl. collections were dope, simple as that. Every collection is limited pieces, so if you miss it for the week it's available it's over. His system is untouchable to say the least. He'll give you some dope music and then turn around and give you some fresh clothes. Young Nipsey traits for sure. The one piece I missed out on was this navy blue Upperclass hoodie he dropped. Still salty about that. He know.

The inception of "God Complex"

Summer of 2016 I locked in with my brother Josh. He would come to the crib on random days and cook up. Lay hooks, make beats etc. One of the hooks he laid was on "F**k What They Tryna Say," we both knew it was special. He laid it down and we never revisted it. Typical Josh sh*t. He's just a legendary soul. He's different.

2017 I relocated to Atlanta. Twondon and I would maintain our working relationship and brother-hood from a far. We would send sessions back and forth, long ass facetime calls and sh*t. I would send beats sometimes and I stumbled across that joint "F**k What They Tryna Say" again, so I sent it to him. He didn't have anything in his catalog like it at the time. He wrote to it in about 45 minutes maybe less and sent me voice notes of the verses he had. Just undeniable flame. Since he didn't have a studio to record in at the time, I arranged to shoot back to Jersey to handle some business and record his verses. We linked up at a Sheraton I was staying at in Weehawken NJ overlooking New York City. I set up my laptop and microphone, we had some "God-Talk" and we got to work. Needless to say this record "Fuck What They Tryna Say" is about to be 4 years old by the time you guys hear it. Timeless vibes. Around the time we recorded that song I was still dealing with the indelible aftermath of my own personal police misconduct situation. It's documented that US Police had already shot and killed 72+ unarmed black males from 2015-2017. The numbers continue to rise. The message in that song is powerful, heavy and very clear, Fuck what they tryna say. We're not naive to what's happening in our communities, but as you can see we still thrive anyway. So we dont give a f**k what yall talking about. Plain and simple.

"The skeletons in the closet is rising, the truth is louder than ever they kill us and televise it..." "FWTTS" - Twondon (feat Josh.GLPA)

These last few years have made me realize how important the artist-engineer and artist-producer relationship really is. We've gotten so good at separating our business and personal lives that when this guy hits my line and simply says, "Mr. Ross," my response is normaly "Mr. Gibbs?”, I know something is coming. Would you believe we've spent the last 7 years developing his sound to what you hear today? I've mixed and mastered over 30 songs, 3 albums and 3 EPs for Twondon thus far. So many email threads, text messages, phone calls and overtime to bring to life that Upperclass sound you know him for. “God Complex” is just a cornerstone of what we've been able to build together on this journey of ours. Songs like “199$” and “Trips Up North,” are the creative by-product of our extensive conversations about life, man-hood, spirituality and how we are limitless in our thinking and resilient in what we pursue. We are Gods in our own right. Like Ye said, "I just told you who I thought I was, a God". Just respect it. Hope you enjoy this masterpiece. More music on the way. It's Upperclass ̡

Written by Brandon "Plan B '85" Ross 1985 Music

Stream/Buy God Complex NOW

http://smarturl.it/GODCOMPLEXPACK

#twondon #spotify #tidal #applemusic #plan b '85 #god complex #new music #youtube #1985music

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classified-bluerose · 5 years

Text

put me back together vi || quentin beck x reader

chapter six: cut me open, take my heart

a/n: chapter title from ‘’when you walk away’’ by 5sos. i may be taking a short break from this while i figure out where to go from here. i don’t have an exact ending in mind- should it be sad, or happy? or somewhere in between? who knows? not i.

warnings: manipulation, mentions of character death, quentin being a lil bitch, sad mcu scenes mentioned, also (almost) changes to the main plot of the mcu lol that i can’t say here w/out spoiling it. hope ya’ll enjoy.

a/n 2: major liberties taken with the timeline in ffh, the chain of events in ffh, and astral projection. (you’ll see).

—

(GIF is not mine)

—

stephen answers the phone on the final ring, just before it cuts to voicemail.

‘’ yes? ‘’

‘’ i need to astral project. ‘’

‘’ or hello, as people used to say, ‘’ the sorceror replies drily.

‘’ i don’t have time for pleasantries. this is urgent. how can i do it on my own? ‘’

on the other end of the phone, strange sighs. ‘’ i suppose warning you against it due to the potential dangers of the act is pointless? ‘’

‘’ yep, ‘’ you respond, popping the p.

‘’ and asking you why you need to astral project? ‘’

‘’ i don’t have time. ‘’

‘’ of course you don’t, ‘’ he mutters under his breath, before releasing a breath and turning serious. ‘’ okay. listen carefully, and follow these instructions exactly as i lay them out. ‘’

within thirty minutes, you’re set up and ready to go. taking some steadying breaths you lay in the rectangle of lit candles and close your eyes. focusing on where you want to go.

how long it takes, you can’t be sure. maybe seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours. eventually, the familiar floating sensation overwhelms your senses and when you reopen your eyes, you look down at your prone form on the ground. weird, you think, never getting used to it no matter how many times you do it.

right. you haven’t got long. ten minutes or less, any longer and the more difficult it will be for you to return to your physical form. you focus on the image of quentin in your mind; sparkling eyes, razorblade smile, smooth charm, slick hair. green smoke and fishbowl helmet, thick armour, flowing cape.

you drift through the plane and find yourself in a nondescript building, worn down and aging badly. quentin’s voice reaches your ears, loud and irritated.

‘’ what do you mean a drone was damaged? why didn’t you go and get it? ‘’

a man, bespectacled, behind a mass of computers. ‘’ it won’t matter, mr.beck, the loss won’t be noticable. ‘’

‘’ except, ‘’ the man himself, centre stage, through gritted teeth, ‘’ that peter parker has found that drone and will figure out the truth. ‘’

a cold breeze shifts around you; no. no. no.

‘’ when i have to kill that kid, his blood will be on your hands! ‘’

quentin roars, gone is the soft tenderness you experienced only hours ago, here is pure rage. this is a tantrum in a man, a storm of pure emotion.

‘’ kill that kid. ‘’

peter.

fuck.

you close your eyes and focus on getting back to yourself. the fear and panic creates obstacles, when you return, night has fallen outside - to your horror.

‘’ shit. shit. shit! ‘’

—

how many times can i screw up? you think to yourself, as you wait for quentin in your hotel room.

how many more people can i hurt, by not realising things until it’s too late? you close your eyes as a montage of painful memories plays across the screen of your mind.

steve’s secrets, tony, broken and alone in siberia. stephen and peter, the guardians, fading away to dust in front of your eyes. natasha’s hand slipping from yours on vormir; tony with the gauntlet and the stones swallowing him up in an easy gulp.

your hands start to shake. peter. please be okay. peter has to be okay.

‘’ honey? what’s going on? ‘’

you hadn’t even heard him arriving. you don’t look up, too fearful of what you may see in his face. too fearful of what he may see in your own.

he calls your name softly, worry in his tone. angry voices bite inside you. liar. falsehoods. trickster.

his footsteps grow closer and you raise your head, never opening your eyes.

this is where your illusion shatters. this is where his begins.

—

‘’ quentin beck - formerly employed by tony stark, under the illusion technology department. ‘’

quentin’s blood runs cold.

‘’ fired in 2014, due to instability and potential to become a danger to those around him. ‘’

his jaw clenches tight enough to ache. no. no. he will not let tony stark ruin this for him.

‘’ following beck’s departure from stark industries, tony stark unveils a new therapuetic technique, named BARF - binarily augmented retroframing. ‘’

your eyes open to meet his. brutal, unforgiving, a fire of ice blazing. mouth a harsh snarl, a far cry from the usual kind expression he sees.

‘’ listen to me. i can explain. ‘’

you don’t let him.

‘’ so, hang on. let me see if i’ve got this right, ‘’ you start, ‘’ you work for tony for years. you give your blood, sweat, and tears to a project that is more like, say, your baby, than a project. that’s right, yeah? ‘’

quentin tries to steady his breathing. ‘’ please, just - ‘’

‘’ so, tony fires you. right after you’ve made a big break in your work. cites the reason that you’re not stable enough to keep working on this project. you want to weaponise it. tony doesn’t, having shut down manufacturing of weapons years before. so ... what? you spend the next ten years working on this revenge plot? ‘’

you cock your head to the side and narrow your eyes. ‘’ or do you wait until he’s dead? because you know you can’t actually pull this shit off with him around. that he would figure it out in a nanosecond. because you can just about compete with a child? ‘’

he yells your name, reaching his breaking point.

you ignore him but match the volume. ‘’ did i i get it right, mr. beck? have i missed anything out? ‘’

‘’ you don’t understand and now you won’t listen! ‘’

‘’ i have heard enough from you! ‘’ you laugh, rolling like thunder, low and dangerous. you sober up suddenly. ‘’ the only thing i want you to say? where. is. peter. ‘’

quentin falls silent. you can hear your own heartbeat as he refuses to meet your eyes.

‘’ where is he? ‘’ your tone, edged with desperation, grows aggressive, causing quentin to nearly wince away.

‘’ he had to be dealt with. ‘’ (quentin hopes he sounds more confident than he feels.)

you laugh again, no mirth, just sharp edges. ‘’ don’t. don’t you dare- quentin, where is peter? ‘’

he looks at you with sorrow weighing down his handsome features; features that you now want to punch, hard.

‘’ i’m sorry. it wasn’t supposed to go this way. ‘’

like ice water flooding your veins, everything around you freezes. you shake your head, words failing you.

‘’ you can’t have - you can’t - ‘’

quentin holds up his hands and slowly walks up to you. ‘’ i’m so sorry, ‘’ he repeats, and you’d almost believe him, if you could process anything in this moment.

peter. dead?

you let him down - again.

a ragged breath rips its way from your chest, knees buckling.

‘’ please, let me - ‘’

you rear back when quentin comes close enough to touch. ‘’ no. no. don’t. don’t you fucking - don’t you put a hand on me. you liar. liar. cheat. evil, manipulative, lying- ‘’

‘’ now, now, ‘’ quentin chides, almost hurt, ‘’ that’s not very nice. hmm? like i said - it wasn’t supposed to go like this. poor peter, he just - i tried to get him out of the way but he just. kept. interfering. ‘’ quentin chuckles, in a way that says ‘’i mean, what else was i to do? ‘’

you stare, swallowing down tears.

‘’ it’s a shame, ‘’ quentin sighs, ‘’ because i liked the kid. really, i did, ‘’ he insists, searching your face for something that will let him know you believe his words. ‘’ but, casualties happen. ‘’ he says it so matter-of-factly, you can’t even stop yourself.

he’s lying on his back and your knuckles are burning in the blink of an eye; it’s a good thing for quentin that your powers aren’t on full blast, otherwise the blow most likely would have killed him.

as it is, when he sits back up, stunned, his nose is crooked, streaming blood. he winces furiously when he touches two fingers to the swollen appendage, and then tilts his head and clicks his tongue against his teeth.

‘’ i really wish you hadn’t done that. ‘’

you open your mouth to speak - just as the room falls away beneath you. leaving you stranded in a black box. empty. vacant.

‘’ quentin? ‘’ you call out, trying to keep the anger in your voice. ‘’ quentin, don’t. ‘’ the warning comes as more of a plea and you hate that.

‘’ it’s gonna be okay, honey, ‘’ his voices comes from everywhere and no-where at the same time, disorientating as you get to your feet and stumble around the space. ‘’ don’t worry. you’ll see, soon. you’ll understand. ‘’

a low buzzing begins in the distance. your heart hammers against your chest, panic tightening your throat as breathing grows more and more difficult. ‘’ quentin, please- ‘’ you whisper, brokenly, and he almost wants to cut the scene. end the illusion. have you in his arms again, feel you kiss him, touch him, smile at him.

the buzzing grows louder and he watches you spin around and around as you try to make sense of your surroundings.

you don’t understand, not yet - he has to make you understand.

‘’ it’s gonna be okay, honey, ‘’ he promises a second time, sad and hopeless.

a swarm of wasps descend upon you, you shriek and slap them away, more appearing out of thin air. quentin tries to block out your yells of fear and pleas, ‘’ quentin, stop - stop it! please, stop it! ‘’

it’s okay, he whispers to himself, it’s gonna be okay. he draws out a syringe from a pocket on his hip, approaching you quietly.

you punch the air and twist and turn. trying to escape the flurry of buzzing wings swallowing you whole. one of them stings you, a pinch in your neck. dizziness warps your vision, loosens your limbs, throws the world up in the air.

you drift away into nothingness, peter’s face the last thing you see, in your mind.

quentin’s voice the last thing that you hear. whispering in your ear.

‘’ we’ll get through this, honey. don’t worry. i’m gonna keep you safe. ‘’

—

tag list: @djjffkd @kellzogg @bucky4cap45 @tuliptx @evee550 @stargeek727 @hrrykim @angeli-fucking-cat @glitter-rian

#personall~#quentin beck x reader #quentin beck imagine #mysterio x reader #mysterio imagine #jake gyllenhaal #spiderman #spiderman ffh #tom holland #peter parker #qb:pbmt

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zen3to5 · 4 years

Text

J/H 4-09: Donna’s Story

Season 4's been a tougher nut to crack for this project than the back half of Season 3 was; a lot goes on in this season, Hyde's in the background for most of it, Jackie and Kelso have their issues, and finding openings to throw in some Zen without taking away from other characters' development hasn't been easy. This was one of the few easy spots to pick, but rewriting it in a way that didn't shortchange Fez and Kelso, or go way over the length limit for a 22-minute episode, was tough. For all it took to pull off, I hope you enjoy it.

(Following production order, we assume that episodes 4-07 and 4-08, "Uncomfortable Ball Stuff" and "The Forgotten Son," remain the same in this timeline.)

(And, housekeeping note: this has been my primary writing outlet for over a month now, and I'm pretty much finished with everything through Season 5. So I've decided to change the release schedule to every Monday and Thursday.)

FF.Net AO3

---

We open on a unique title card: “Ye Olde ‘70s Show,” printed across a book. It opens, and we cut to: EXT. MOORS – NIGHT A bleak English moor, a long time ago. In the midst of the fog and the rocks stand ERIC and DONNA in a passionate embrace, looking out over the moor. Only not Eric and Donna; Eric has the outfit and mutton chops of a Byronic hero, while Donna is in the garb of a scullery maid. These are DEREK and WANDA. DEREK: Oh, Wanda. WANDA: Oh, Derek. DEREK: Oh, Wanda. WANDA: Yes, Derek? DEREK: You’re not just my next-door neighbor. You’re also the love of my life. WANDA: Derek, I, too, have strong feelings of love for you. But I have to give back this promise ball and chain. She breaks their embrace and hands Derek a shackle, chain, and iron ball. WANDA (cont’d): I must leave Point Upon the Place and explore the world with my trusty cat named Sir Bonkers. She begins to walk away, but Derek pulls her back into his arms. DEREK: No. I’ll never let you go. Wanda pulls away as lightning flashes and thunder crashes. WANDA: You can’t make me stay. She moves to slap him, but Derek catches her wrist. DEREK: Oh, no? Well, what if I told you that I’ve run over the cat named Sir Bonkers and the cat names Sir Bonkers is no more? Now submit and be my wife! WANDA: Derek, once you were a kind, peaceful man. But love has made you wicked. DEREK: Oh, I am wicked. And until you agree to be my wife, I will scour the earth in search of cats named Sir Bonkers, and I will kill them all, or at very least, spray them with water, which everyone knows they hate. He being to laugh, lowly at first but building to a mad crescendo as we crane back. CUT TO: EXT. SCHOOL PARKING LOT - DAY School has just let out. The real Eric and FEZ lean against the hood of the Vista Cruiser, reading the school newspaper. Eric, for one, is greatly offended. ERIC: I can’t believe Donna would publish this in the school paper. FEZ: I know. This could be in Reader’s Digest. It’s that good. ERIC: Oh, this is the worst short story by an ex-girlfriend in the school newspaper ever. He folds the paper up and pouts.

MAIN CREDITS BUMPER EXT. SCHOOL PARKING LOT - DAY Moments later. Eric and Fez are still on the hood of the Vista Cruiser as HYDE comes out from school and makes a beeline for them. HYDE: (to Eric) Well, if it isn’t Playboy reading, panty-loving, cat-killing Derek. ERIC: I know. How could Donna write this? FEZ: (to Eric) Why are you upset? It’s this Derek guy who really gets the shaft. ERIC: Fez, I am Derek. FEZ: Everything always has to be about you. HYDE: Fez, man, think about it. Eric killed Donna’s cat. Derek killed Wanda’s cat. Donna found panties in Eric’s Vista Cruiser. Wanda found a chastity belt in Derek’s Vista Carriage. DONNA comes out from the school, joins them by the Vista Cruiser. Eric stands up straight to meet her. ERIC: Oh, well, if it isn’t the wielder of the poison pen. DONNA: Didn’t you like my story? ERIC: No. No, I didn’t. That’s why I said “poison pen,” not... “marshmallow pen.” DONNA: (laughing) What? ERIC: This story is about us. DONNA: No, it’s not. ERIC: You took stuff from our life and put them in your story. Like the time you found those Playboys under my bed. Donna considers this, and we cut back to: EXT. MOOR – NIGHT DONNA’S STORY. Derek, boasting a massive drinking tankard, tosses his grog over his shoulder. We hear a cat shriek, and Derek grins. DEREK: (chuckling) Begone, Sir Bonkers. Wanda enters, a roll of parchment clutched in her fist. WANDA: Derek, look what I found under your bed. Lewd renderings of naked serving wenches. Did you commission these? DEREK: So what if I did? I have needs, woman. Now, ready thyself. On this night, we fornicate. CUT TO: EXT. SCHOOL PARKING LOT – DAY Donna gives Eric a conceding nod. DONNA: Okay, well, maybe there are some similarities. But that’s what writers do. I mean, we take stuff from our lives. ERIC: Yeah, but you made me mean all the time and that’s mean. DONNA: Okay, maybe I exaggerate some stuff. ‘Cause, you know, I’m writing this for stupid high school girls. The school doors open, and out flies JACKIE, a copy of the school newspaper in hand. JACKIE: (to Donna) Oh, my God! Great story! Donna grins, indicates Jackie to an unconvinced Eric. BUMPER MUSIC NOTE: “I Gotcha” by Joe Tex. INT. HUB – DAY One drive later to a modest afternoon at the Hub. “I Gotcha” plays on the jukebox. The gang, minus Eric and Kelso, are at the wall table. Donna and Fez sit in the chairs, while Hyde and Jackie share the booth seat. Everyone but Jackie has food in front of them. DONNA: Jackie, you’re not eating? JACKIE: No, I left my checkbook at home and I’m out of cash. My dad cut my allowance back to 50 dollars a month, and Michael borrowed it to buy me a dress. DONNA: Why’d your dad cut your allowance? JACKIE: Oh, he’s mad because he let me use his credit card on our weekend in Milwaukee. I maxed it out on the Gloria Vanderbilt collection. KELSO enters, heads straight for their table. KELSO: Hey, guys, who’s up for pinball? He indicates the pinball machine in the corner. HYDE: Nah, man, I’m done with pinball. KELSO: Done with it or ready for more? HYDE: Done with it. KELSO: Or ready for more? When no one moves to play, he groans. KELSO (cont’d): Come on, guys. I bought a half stake in this machine, so I need people to play so I can make some money. DONNA: You bought a half stake? How much was that? KELSO: Fifty bucks. Jackie’s head snaps up. JACKIE: And where did you get the fifty dollars, Michael? KELSO: From - He cuts himself off; he knows he’s been caught. JACKIE: You spent my fifty dollars on that stupid machine? Michael, you lied to me! KELSO: Jackie, listen. There’s an old saying: you buy a girl a dress, and she looks pretty for one night. But you buy her boyfriend a pinball machine, and she looks pretty for life. Jackie opens her mouth to protest, but stops: Hyde is watching her. Seeing this, she closes her mouth, folds her hands in her lap, and turns her nose up at Kelso. JACKIE: Fine, Michael. KELSO: (beat) Wait, really? All right, I got off pretty easy on that one! Let’s celebrate with a round of pinball! Come on! He gives a hearty wave toward the pinball machine as Jackie pouts, Hyde thinks, and Donna and Fez laugh. CUT TO: EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY – DAY Later that afternoon. RED and KITTY exit from the house and start across the drive. KITTY: Come on, Red. Bob really wants us to meet his new lady friend. RED: (stops) Now, think about it, Kitty. She likes Bob. I have a hard time believing this woman even exists. We’re gonna get over there, Bob’s gonna be sitting in a rocker with a lady’s wig on. (looks to his left) “You look lovely tonight, Bob.” (looks to his right) “So do you. Bob.” KITTY: (frowns) You’ve been working on that all day, haven’t you. RED: (smiles) Yeah. And off they go. CUT TO: EXT. PINCIOTTI BACKYARD - DAY Later that afternoon. BOB and JOANNE tend to the set-up in the yard – grill, meat, lawn chairs, table. Kitty and Red come around the house. Kitty is leading a clearly reluctant Red by the arm. Bob smiles as they approach. BOB: Red, Kitty, I’d like you to meet a very special lady: Joanne. Joanne offers a hand, and Kitty shakes it. KITTY: Well, Joanne, it is so nice to meet you. Right, Red? RED: We can’t stay long. JOANNE: Ah, Red. Bob warned me you can be a pain in the ass. She, Bob, and Kitty laugh; Red scowls. JOANNE: Well, I’ll tell you what. We’ll just have dinner, and if it turns out you don’t like me, we’ll never invite you over again. RED: Really? I like you already. Well, let’s get this barbecue started. Bob, grab that meat. He gestures to the chicken on the table and makes for the grill, but it’s Joanne who picks up the chicken. JOANNE: Oh, I got it, Red. Why don’t you fellas make a salad? RED: (laughs) Salad. (beat) Oh, you’re serious. No. See, Bob and I do the grilling. JOANNE: Not this time. Kitty, you wanna give me a hand? KITTY/RED: Well, I’d love to./Oh, I don’t think that - They cut each other off and look to one another. RED: But, Kitty, you might... set your lovely hair on fire. KITTY: Well, it can’t be that hard. You do it. She and Joanne laugh and head to the grill with the meat. Bob shrugs and crosses to the table, Red following. RED: Bob, what the hell’s going on here? BOB: Look, Red, I really like this woman. So please, for today, just shut it. RED: “Shut it?” Good God, Bob! Is she teaching you to stand up for yourself? BOB: (beat) Yes. RED: Well, cut it out! They stare each other down, Bob for once having the upper hand. BUMPER MUSIC NOTE: “Light Up by Styx. INT. HUB – DAY A little later still in the day. “Light Up” by Styx plays on the jukebox. Eric has joined the gang, and they’ve moved to a table closer to the pinball machine. Kelso, Hyde, and Fez cluster around it while Eric and Jackie sit at the table. Eric’s nose is back in the school newspaper while Jackie glares at Kelso. JACKIE: God, I cannot believe Michael. No one plays that pinball game anymore. He’s never going to get that money back. And that means I’m never going to get that money back! ERIC: (reading) “And lo, Derek did then proceed to confer with his simple-minded drinking companions whether ‘twould be appropriate for his and Wanda’s first fornication to be in the back of the bumpkin Milo’s wagon.” JACKIE: Eric, you’re not even listening to me. ERIC: (looks up) What’d you expect? Jackie scowls, slaps him in the shoulder. Eric points over to Hyde. ERIC (cont’d): Jackie, I’m having a hard time with this Derek and Wanda thing, and Hyde’s right there, so... JACKIE: No, I can’t talk to Steven about Michael anymore. ERIC: (beat) What? Of course you can. That’s like – that’s part of the group dynamic. When Kelso goes too far or too stupid, you get help from Hyde. It’s like Looney Tunes. Hyde’s that big Marc Anthony dog and you’re the bitchy little kitten that claws onto his back. JACKIE: Look, when I told Steven I wanted to get back together with Michael, he got really upset and told me that if I ever had another problem with Michael, I should go to someone else. He’s so damaged on trust, and with everything Michael and I have been through, I think he was disappointed in me. ERIC: (under his breath) Yeah, that was it. (to Jackie) But he got you and Kelso back together. He’s gotta be over that by now. And, if he’s not - he said “someone else,” he didn’t say me. Jackie slaps his shoulder again. Over at the pinball, Kelso looks around the Hub, searching for players. FEZ: (to Kelso) So how does this 50-dollar investment in pinball work? KELSO: Well, I bought a half stake, so for every quarter that goes in, I get half. So, the more people play, the more half-quarters I get until I’ve got a buttload of half-quarters. I start putting those half-quarters together, and I’m rollin’ in it! Fez looks the machine over, nods. FEZ: I would like to buy a half stake. KELSO: No, that’s a bad idea, Fez. Remember, you’re a foreigner. You’re not used to our capitalist system. We’re dealing with quarters here, not frogs or chickens. FEZ: (beat) Well, I’m not going to dignify that with a response. Because I can’t think of one. But when I do, a good day to you. KELSO: All right, Fez - FEZ: I said, kiss my ass! He turns away, fuming. Hyde pats him on the back. Donna enters. Eric stands to meet her. DONNA: So, you still mad? ERIC: No. No reason to be mad. Your story is just a pathetic attempt to rewrite history, make yourself look good. I’m pretty sure everyone’s gonna know who the dill-hole is here. DONNA: Eric, it’s just a story. No one’s gonna think anybody’s a dill-hole. Two girls, a BLONDE and BRUNETTE, stomp over and glare at Eric. BLONDE: Cat killer. BRUNETTE: Bastard. BLONDE: Porn freak. They scoff and disappear into the bathroom. DONNA: (beat) Okay, they could be talking about anybody. Hyde crosses over from the pinball, takes Eric’s vacant seat at the table. HYDE: Hey, we’re all porn-freak bastards, but he’s the only one who killed a cat. ERIC: Okay, okay. This school obviously needs to hear the Eric Forman version of things, a.k.a. the truth. So I’m gonna write my own story. (to Donna) Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. I’m throwing down the gauntlet, baby. DONNA: Really? Okay, smarty, what’s a gauntlet? ERIC: (scoffs) A gauntlet? What’s a gauntlet? (beat) What’s a gauntlet? (beat) I don’t know, but it’s down, lady! He storms out of the Hub. Donna laughs, shakes her head, and sits down by Jackie. CUT TO: EXT. PINCIOTTI BACKYARD – EVENING The adults are sat down to an outdoor dinner – with a salad. Everyone but Red is enjoying the meal. BOB: (to Joanne) Boy, this chicken’s delish. What a chef. KITTY: You really know your way around a grill, Joanne. She and Joanne chuckle. RED: Mine’s dry. KITTY: (to Red) No it isn’t. It’s tender and delicious. RED: (to Joanne) Maybe if I chewed it with some water. JOANNE: Well, there’s the hose. She nods to it, chuckles, and she and Bob enter the house. RED: (to Kitty) I don’t like her anymore. KITTY: Well, I do. RED: Kitty, I’m chopping vegetables, Bob’s telling me to shut it, you’re over there grilling with Susan B. Damn Anthony. KITTY: Well, fine, Red. If it bothers you, we can invite them over, and you can do the grilling. But for now, I’d really appreciate it if you’d just shut it. RED: If one more person tells me to shut it - KITTY: What? You might actually shut it? They glare at each other across the table. CUT TO: EXT. MOORS – NIGHT Another story excerpt – but not from Donna’s this time. Derek is tied to a large wooden stake stuck into the moor as Wanda, in a witch’s robe and hat, stirs a cauldron. DEREK: Please, Wanda, you don’t have to boil me alive. Killing your cat was just a horrible accident. WANDA: I know, but I’m a witch. Cue the lightning and thunder. DEREK: Dear God, why is a nice, sensitive guy like me dating a lying, manipulative witch like you? WANDA: Well, maybe it’s because even witches have itches. She whips her hat off and shrugs out of her robe, revealing a sexy red lingerie with black lace. DEREK: All is forgiven! Wanda dances her way over to Derek as bad porno music plays, and they begin to kiss. CUT TO: INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – NIGHT Eric and Fez sit on the couch. Eric tears the page he was working on from his notebook and crumbles it up. ERIC: God, why do all my stories end like that? FEZ: Don’t stop. I like where you were going. Eric shrugs and resumes writing. FADE TO BLACK COMMERCIAL BUMPER INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY The next day, afternoon. Hyde is in his chair, Fez is on one end of the couch, and Eric sits on the armrest of the other. He hands a stack of papers to Hyde. ERIC: So, guys, check out my story. I passed out a bunch of copies at lunch today. HYDE: Oh, Forman, this kind of thing always blows up in your face. Don’t ever stop doing it. The basement door opens and Donna storms in, stack of papers in hand. DONNA: What the hell is this? ERIC: Oh, you didn’t like my story? DONNA: Oh, yeah, I loved it. Especially this part. She flips a few pages, and we cut to: EXT. MOORS – NIGHT ERIC’S STORY. Derek sits on a rock, next to Wanda in an ornate armchair. DEREK: Wanda, I have performed every task thou hath asketh of me. Please, can we finally consummate our love? I beseech you. He places a hand on her cheek. WANDA: Well, I said I would – so I won’t. She slaps his hand away. DEREK: But I beseeched you. WANDA: Okay, let’s consummate. DEREK: Really? WANDA: No. DEREK: Please. I beseech you. WANDA: Okay! DEREK: Really? WANDA: No. Now, rub my enormous feet. A footrest has conveniently appeared before her chair, and she puts up two feet the size of her torso. CUT TO: INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY Donna looks up from the story to glare at Eric. Fez and Hyde, who have been reading along, look up as well. FEZ: Um, guys? I don’t understand. What does “consummate” mean? HYDE: It means to have sex. FEZ: Really? Now I have two words for that. DONNA: Eric, you just wrote this to hurt me. ERIC: What? I did not. And – hey, so did you. DONNA: Look, when I wrote my story, I just sat down and that’s what came out. I didn’t, like, plan it or anything. And besides – no, you know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you. She turns and exits. FEZ: Okay, I’d like someone to explain it to me. HYDE: Well, that’s easy, Fez. See, Donna, as an artist, wrote her story to get some perspective on her life. Forman, as a vindictive ass, wrote his story to be a vindictive ass. FEZ: Oof, Eric. I think you just consummated yourself. He and Hyde crack up as Eric thinks on that. INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - EVENING Kitty’s suggestion put into action: Bob and Joanne are over for dinner. They sit with Kitty at the table as Red enters from outside and sits down. RED: Well, steaks are a-cookin’. What should we have to go with dinner? (to Joanne) Oh, I know. How about a salad? Say, Joanne, why don’t you make the salad? JOANNE: (beat) No thanks. RED: Aww... make the salad. Unless you don’t like to do lady jobs. Kitty grabs a roll and holds it in front of Red. KITTY: Red, put this in your mouth. BOB: Okay, you know what? I’ll make the salad. He stands. RED & JOANNE: Sit down, Bob. He sits. JOANNE: (to Red) I’d love to make a salad. RED: Great! JOANNE: As soon as Red admits he’s not asking me to make a salad, he’s trying to put me in my place. RED: (beat) You are woman. I hear you roar. JOANNE: (shakes her head) I can’t believe you’re so threatened by something as trivial as me grilling chicken. RED: It’s not trivial. Men grill. It’s been that way since the first caveman bonked a wooly mammoth on the head and threw it on the barbecue. And his cave wife made the salad! Bob sniffs the air. BOB: I smell something burning. RED: Oh! He scrambles out of his chair and bolts to the patio door. JUMP CUT: Moments later. Red sets down a pile of burned steaks. Refusing to concede defeat, Red takes one and sets it on his plate. RED: (to Joanne) Well, if you didn’t want it well-done, you should have said something. Alone, he starts to eat. CUT TO: INT. HUB - DAY The next day, afternoon again. The Hub is packed, and it’s easy to see why: a new arcade game is in the building, SPACE INVADERS. And it just so happens to be in the spot where the pinball used to be. Kelso and Jackie make their way through the crowd gathered around the game to see Fez going at it. KELSO: What the hell? Where’s my pinball machine? Fez turns around and smiles at Kelso. FEZ: Oh, where, indeed? Oh, I remember – I convinced the owner that pinball was out and Space Invaders was in. Oh, and did I mention... He pauses as the OWNER, a portly fellow, stops by long enough to press a thick wad of bills into Fez’s hands. Fez, very deliberately, waves the bills under his nose. FEZ (cont’d): I bought a half stake in the machine. KELSO: (gasps) What? But – but the deal on my half stake was that if the owner ever sold the pinball machine, I’d get my half back. FEZ: Yes, unless someone and his partner bought out your half stake and invested it in the new Space Invaders. KELSO: You? (Fez nods) But who’s your partner? Hyde, who has been by the counter this whole time, passes through the crowd to Fez’s side. He puts his arm around Fez’s shoulders as Fez passes half the wad of bills into Hyde’s free hand. KELSO (cont’d): Guys, why would you stab me in the back like this? FEZ: Well, rest assured, Kelso, your “frogs and chickens” comment had nothing to do with it. HYDE: (shrugs) I just couldn’t pass up this nice of a burn. Kelso gasps again and looks to Jackie for sympathy. She has none. JACKIE: You know, Michael, there’s an old saying: you’re dumb as dirt. He pouts and storms off. Jackie shakes her head and crosses to the booth seat. Hyde follows and sits next to her. Checking that Fez is preoccupied with Space Invaders, he counts out some bills and throws them on the table in front of Jackie. HYDE: Here. Jackie looks from him to the bills. JACKIE: What’s this? HYDE: Just – He gestures for her to take the money. Slowly, she picks it up and counts it. JACKIE: Steven, this is 50 dollars. (beat) Did you go in with Fez on that game to get my money back? HYDE: Hey, don’t start getting gushy about this. You’re only getting that so I can shut Forman up. It’s bad enough I gotta listen to all the crap with him and Donna, now I gotta hear what’s going on with you through him? Babbling about group dynamics and Looney Tunes? If I wanna hear about your little cheerleader problems, I’ll get it from you. He crosses his arms and turns his back to her. She keeps looking at him anyway; slowly, she realizes what he’s really saying. JACKIE: Okay. Well, then, I’m not paying for lunch to say “thank you.” I’m doing it because this Space Invaders business is the first time in your life that you’ve had real money, and you probably don’t know what to do with it. HYDE: Ah, bite me. JACKIE: (smiling) You’re welcome. Hyde turns around and gives her a small smirk back. They stand together and cross to the counter. Eric enters. The blonde and brunette from earlier, who are reading school newspapers near the door, move to meet him. BLONDE: Hey, Eric. We’re sorry we called you a cat-killer bastard porn-freak. ERIC: Oh. So, you read my story, huh? BRUNETTE: No, we read Part Two of Donna’s story. The ending is so beautiful. The blonde gives Eric her copy, and they walk off. ERIC: Part... huh? Beauti... what? Jackie and Hyde, now each carrying a basket with a hot dog, cross to Eric as he looks down at the paper. ERIC: (reading) “And as Wanda walked away, she knew in her heart she would never stop loving Derek.” HYDE: Wow, that’s good writing. It’s emotional and it screws you. He and Jackie head back to their seat as Eric beings to read Part Two from the beginning. BUMPER INT. PINCIOTTI KITCHEN – DAY A short time later. Donna is at the kitchen island, making a sandwich. Eric enters from outside. ERIC: Hey. Hey, so, uh, funny thing. Um, your story had a second part, huh? DONNA: Yeah. The paper broke it in half because it was too long. ERIC: Oh. (beat) Well, uh, you know – maybe my story has a second part, too. DONNA: Eric, your story ended with “and he never saw that crazy bitch again.” She crosses to the fridge for peanut butter. ERIC: Well, you know, that was just a... prequel. To a story entitled, uh, “he did see that crazy bitch again, and she was a delight.” (beat) Okay, I was... I was pretty mad when I wrote that. DONNA: Eric, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. But, I mean, I guess I was mad when I wrote mine too. At least when I started. But once I got all that stuff off my chest... I mean, I felt better about us. More like the second half of my story. She crosses back to the island. ERIC: So, uh, so what happens to Derek and Wanda? DONNA: Well, in the story, they went off on their own adventures. ERIC: Yeah. Yeah, I mean, that’s probably good for them. DONNA: Yeah. It’s probably time they moved on. ERIC: Sure. Derek’s gonna be fine. He’s a smart guy. The wenches love him. DONNA: Yeah, well, Wanda’s gonna do great too. ERIC: Oh, yeah, sure. And she’ll get all the wenches she wants. Oh, my God, Donna, there’s your story: “Wanda and the Dirty Wenches.” DONNA: (laughing) Shut up. ERIC: I know, I know. Donna gathers her sandwich, and they both sit at the kitchen table. ERIC (cont’d): That’s a movie. He smiles, and Donna cracks up again. FADE TO BLACK CREDITS INT. HUB - DAY A (seemingly) empty Hub, except for Donna at the jukebox and Jackie at a table. When the door opens, and Fez enters, they rush to embrace him. DONNA: Oh, Fez! I can’t hold my feelings inside any longer. JACKIE: Yes, we must finally tell you how much we desire you! And it’s not just us, Fez. The blonde and brunette who confronted Eric before sweep in and embrace Fez from the front and back. Fez smiles up at the ceiling in ecstasy. FEZ: Oh, I knew it all along. Now – let’s consummate me! CUT TO: INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY Fez sits alone on the couch, a pen and notebook in hand. He looks up at the ceiling with the same sort of joyous face as he had in his story. FEZ: Ah, old boy, this is the best story ever! And with that, he goes back to work. END.

#z's fics #that 70s show #zenmasters #jackie x hyde #zen3to5 #fan fiction #fan script

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jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets · 5 years

Text

The Way We Were Supposed To Be - Ch Two

HUGE ENDGAME SPOILERS!!!!!

Title: The Way We Were Supposed To Be

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Stucky

Rating: Lemon

Tags: minor character death, there will be smut, slow burn… I think that’s it really.

Summary:

Two years after defeating Thanos, Steve finds himself faced with a harsh reality. Because of his decision to stay in the past with Peggy and finally give himself the life he thought he had always wanted, Nick Fury returns to face him with a daunting truth. With the world’s timeline in disarray, it’s up to Steve to return to the past and restore the world to its natural order. Unfortunately it means that the all American hero has to sacrifice his heart and soul to save the world once again. And although Steve thinks that his one chance at a happy life had passed, who knows what the new future holds, perhaps… everything he had been searching for was right there all along.

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A/N: Soooooo yeah, like it says at the top, HUGE ENDGAME SPOILERS!!! So if you haven’t seen the movie yet turn back now and read this later!!

And for those of you that have seen the movie already and who are reading this, you're awesome and I hope you like it. This is just my way of getting the satisfying stucky ending that I was really hoping for that the movie didn’t quite deliver for me.

So yeah, if you do like this I would be so so so grateful if you gave this a reblog or even a comment, and if you want to be tagged for this or future works let me know!! Love you guys and enjoy <3 <3 <3

Chapter two:

Not exactly knowing where to go, Steve drove aimlessly through the streets of New York, eventually finding himself making the all too familiar hike down to Washington. By mid day he made it to the bustling city and parked his car in a mostly empty parking lot. Following the path up the small hill, he weaved his way through the seemingly endless grave stones before coming to the one he was looking for. For the second time in three days he was staring down at Peggy’s grave.

“Oh, Peggy,” he whispered into the breeze now picking up, “I'm sorry we could never truly be together, but it has to be this way. I couldn’t let the world run an unnatural course and I know that if you knew the consequences you would have done the same.”

The wind chose that moment to blow through at a fierce strength and he smiled to himself as he continued, “Exactly what I thought.” He knelt down and placed a hand on the stone, closing his eyes for a moment before whispering, “I wish with everything I have that I could have kept that life with you, Peggy. It’s the only thing I have ever wanted, but I know that you had a happy life with your husband, and your kids, and I can only hope that someday I’ll find that happiness too. I know it’s what you’d want me to do, to move on. And maybe Fury’s right, maybe I’ll find happily ever after this time around. Third times the charm, right?”

Steve laughed wholeheartedly this time as the wind blew through the cemetery again, this time hard enough to slightly push him off balance and away from Peggy's grave. “Alright, I'm going!” He stood and gave her grave one last look, “But no matter what, Peggy, don’t you forget that I’ll always love you no matter what.”

Before he left he blew a kiss to her grave and followed the now gentle breeze out of the cemetery and got back in his car.

~~~~~~~~~~~ With no where else to go Steve made the trek back to New York and eventually made it to the compound gates. It took a year after Thanos destroyed it for the land to be levelled out and the building to be rebuilt, all thanks to Pepper who funded it all in Tony's honour. “He would have wanted it this way,” she had said back then, “for you all to have a place to call home no matter what. This was always his dream, and I want to make sure it stays alive.”

For the year while the compound was being rebuilt, Bruce was working on a different project of his own, rebuilding the time travel device. And for that year while Steve waited, he and Bucky had rented a two bedroom apartment downtown. At this point, he wasn’t quite sure where he belonged right now. Since he changed the time line and now changed it back his house with Peggy no longer belonged to him, and he wasn’t sure if he still had a place with Bucky after leaving him behind for another life. Till the end of the line had once seemed so true and so final to them both, yet Steve was realizing now that he had been quick to throw it away, without even considering Bucky’s feelings on the matter. Steve couldn’t exactly expect Bucky to welcome him back with open arms. And as for the compound, he wasn’t sure if he would even be granted access after two years away, but what else could he do.

When he pulled up to the security pad by the gates, he held his breath, and reached a hand out his window. Luckily his prints seemed to still be in the database and the gates opened letting him inside. He parked in his old space and walked inside. It was quiet, he seemed to be the only one there. He walked through, peeking into the rooms he knew some of his fellow Avengers had once occupied, and it seemed as though they hadn’t been lived in for a long time. Dust had settled in most of the rooms and some seemed to have even been emptied of all personal belongings.

Wandering a bit further in he finds himself in the main control room. He slips himself behind the desk and pulls up a screen in front of him. He taps on the light blue hologram a few times and eventually finds what he wants. He's happy on one hand to see that the avengers still check in with updates on their GPS locations, but on the other hand is also quiet disappointed to see that over the last two years everyone seems to have once again gone their separate ways.

Clint remains on his family farm, though that one doesn’t surprise him. Wanda seemed to have made her way into Europe, Banner was still at his lab, the kid was back in Queens, T’Challa home in Wakanda, Thor wasn’t even on the map, Sam still remained close to the compound, but the one person he wanted to find he can’t. Bucky has no location on the map, and even searching his name brings up nothing on the screens.

With a hard sigh Steve pushes back in the chair running a hand through his hair. How could he blame him though? Steve left. He left Bucky without so much as a warning or a promise to return. Steve remembered how he had felt back in their time when Bucky was leaving for the war. He knew there was always a chance Bucky wouldn’t come back, but there was always the promise and the hope of a safe return for his best friend. He hadn’t even granted Bucky that much when he decided stay back with Peggy. So, if Bucky had gone off the rails and erased himself from the grid once again, Steve would only have himself to blame for that.

Not wanting anymore disappointment for the day he turns the screens off and leaves the room. He heads out to the common room and sits himself on the couch in front of the TV. He takes up the remote and absently thinks to himself that he's alone here, no one lives here or has lived here in a long time, so at the very least he should be fine to stay since he currently has no where else to go. The place belongs to Pepper now anyways, so if anyone does show up and has a problem he can always talk to her. And if she decides that it’s time for him to move on, then so be it, he did this to himself after all.

Trying to push the idea of loneliness out of his mind for the time being he decides to just watch a movie, but before he can turn the TV on he hears the whoosh of the front doors and a familiar excited voice travelling through the halls.

With a slight burst of excitement rushing through his chest at the possibility of maybe not being so alone after all, he pushes himself off the couch and rushes to the front doors, and his eyes widen as he sees who just walked in.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Man, that assassin didn’t know what hit him!”

Sam was nearly bouncing as he followed Bucky back into the compound. When the doors closed behind them Sam jumped forwards and shook Bucky’s shoulders, “Come on, Bucky, at least show a little emotion here. We just saved the god damn president.”

“Did you properly park the jet this time?” he instead asked Sam without looking at him.

“You know I did,” he answered as he released his shoulders, “it was one time man, and I only ruined one flower bed before we stopped it.”

Bucky managed to let go a small almost inaudible chuckle, “Yeah, and when Pepper got the alert she nearly killed you. Quite frankly I'm surprised she didn’t.”

“Yeah, me too…” he cringed thinking back to the pure rage on her face, then took a few quick steps to catch up to Bucky, “Where you going? Wanna hit the gym and burn off some of this adrenaline?”

“Naw,” he still refused to turn back, “I'm going to bed. Wake me up if someone else is about to die.”

With a sigh and a shake of his head Sam decided enough was enough. This had been going on for too long and he had already vowed to himself that he would not lose another friend. “Bucky, stop!” He did, but remained still with his back to Sam, “When is this gunna end man? You sleep all day, barely come out of your room except for an emergency, I don’t think you're eating… he's been gone for two years Bucky. He wouldn’t want this from you-”

Sam’s stopped dead when Bucky suddenly turned and violently stormed into his space, gritting through clenched teeth, “Shut up! You have no idea! You have no idea how this feels, what I’ve lost!”

“I think I know more then you think I do,” Sam answers with a sad knowing look.

“Then you know I can’t just move on like you did!” Bucky backs up slightly, out of his face, “After everything we’ve been through now he's just gone, lived a life without me and I can’t ever get him back. It wasn’t the job, it wasn’t death that took him from me, it was worse, it was time and age. There’s a lifetime between us now and I wasn’t in it!”

“Bucky…” Sam breathes.

“Just stop,” Bucky shakes his head, “I just… I can’t do this without Steve. I want him back but I can’t… I can’t have that.”

“I'm sorry man,” Sam sighs, knowing there’s really nothing he can do or say to help.

“Whatever, I'm going to bed, so just leave me alone.”

Sam watches as Bucky turns slowly with his eyes glued to the ground at his feet before something catches his eye. The shape of a man coming around the corner, and at the thought of the compound being empty for nearly a year and a half now, he instinctively reaches for his gun but stops when he sees who it is.

“Bucky!” he calls out.

“I said let me go, Sam.”

“No, Bucky stop!” he calls with more desperation this time.

Bucky stops and turns on his heel, annoyance etched clearly on his face when he looks up at Sam and shouts, “What, Sam?!”

Sam shoots him a winning smile which confuses the hell out of Bucky, and if anything else makes him more angry. He's about to completely snap when Sam just looks around him. Bucky scrunches his brow at the odd movement but slowly follows Sam’s eyes as he turns, stopping dead when they land on the target.

He feels like his whole world has stopped spinning, his hears are ringing, and his eyes are so watery he can barely see. He wants to move his feet and surge forwards but he can’t, they suddenly feel like lead bricks weighing him down, and his voice seems to have suddenly betrayed him too.

It feels like a lifetime of standing there before he's finally able to croak out one single word past the extremely large lump in his throat, “Steve…” barely comes out in a whisper.

It seemed that Steve was having the same symptoms as Bucky since all he could do was nod, eyes just as wide and wet as his own. But that simple gesture seemed to awaken something in Bucky, as if the response was proof that this wasn’t another dream turned nightmare when he woke up and realized Steve wasn’t really there. But when Steve answered him, even though no words were exchanged, it was enough for Bucky to finally move his shaking legs and run full speed the rest of the way down the hall, a desperate, “Steve!” leaving his lips as Steve too began to run at him.

The two crashed together where they met in the middle of the hallway, both immediately tucking their heads into the others shoulder. When he finally had his arms around him, pressing him as tightly to his body as he could no matter how much it hurt, Bucky knew this was real. Steve was here, in his arms, back where he belonged. And when Steve was finally able to whisper into his ear, “Bucky,” he closed his eyes and sobbed into Steve's shoulder.

Sam watched it all unfold before his eyes and couldn’t express in words how truly happy he was in that moment. Steve was back, he didn’t know how and quite frankly didn’t really care at the moment, but he was back and he knew that Bucky would finally be okay. He was grateful for that. This would be the end of his worrying over his friend, the last one he really had left after everything went down, and as a plus he got Steve back as well.

When he realized the two weren’t going to let go of one another any time soon, he gave a nod and started walking past them. He stopped briefly to give Steve's shoulder a pat, Steve's arm reaching out briefly to grab at his as well, before it was quickly returned to Bucky’s back, Steve not wanting to let him go any time soon. With one last look at them, Sam continued into the compound and towards his room, leaving them in the privacy they deserved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: So thats chapter two, finally we see Bucky!! More to come, let me know what you think XD

Tags: @goingknowherewastaken @kdcollinsauthor @pessoaslily @tiffyfromtw @acrushedrosestillwins @wizzardhowl @buckybarnes-is-my-child-help-him @julie130201 @kittycattycatherine @meanoldmomma @fabinapercabeth4179 @butterflymess @lucaimboreddd

If any one else wants to be tagged just let me know!!

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k-thequeen-writings · 5 years

Text

Fandom Quest ch 7 (LONG)

Marvelous

“Nat, you need to kick higher if you’re ever going to decapitate a man,” Katy lectured the redhead assassin.

Clint was taking a break on the bench and chuckling at the women. During the past year in this fictional universe, Katy had begun to settle down in New York and work with SHIELD until Kate called her back.

“You’re kidding, right?” Natasha was panting at this point. For a kid, she had some stamina, along with a higher rank than herself, for some strange reason. “Ya know, you’ve barely worked with Clint this whole day. I think we should switch for a little.” Natasha smirked at her friend on the bench who quickly lost his own smirk.

Katy chuckled at the comment, glancing to Clint who seemed like he was trying to plan an escape. “Okay okay. Just one more kick try, then you’re done for the day,” Katy crossed her arms and took a step back, allowing the assassin the room she needed.

Natasha took a breath, trying not to groan as she prepared herself. That would be like showing weakness, besides, it was her last try. One last kick was all she needed to do. When she did, she kicked the head of the dummy off and across the room, a smile on her face when she saw what she had done. “Holy shit, I didn’t know I could do that!” Natasha exclaimed as Clint’s jaw dropped.

“The perks even a little bit of super-soldier serum. See you tomorrow.” With the praise and dismissal, Natasha set off in high spirits. “Okay, Clint. It’s your tu-” when Katy turned, she barely glimpsed the figure of a man running out of the room. She sighed, seemingly teleporting in front of Clint with her arms crossed. “Hey Clinty.”

The man staggered backwards, mumbling curse words and then smiling at Katy once he got his balance back again “I uh, was going to get a snack! Want anything?”

“Sure you were.” Katy grinned and patted his back before leading him back into the training room, “It’s not that bad, Clint! You only have like-” She looked down to her watch, noticing the date before the time. She hesitated to finish her sentence, obviously she was thinking about something. “Actually, I gotta go. You’re done for the day,” Katy said before rushing out of the room, leaving Clint no time to ask questions.

“Fury I-”

“God dammit Katy! How many times have I told you not to do your little teleporting thing directly into my office?” The man groaned, a hand on his chest as he calmed himself. He glared at the being in front of him.

Katy chuckled, slightly surprised she actually scared him. “I think this is the first time actually. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I’ll be gone for a few months. Page me if you need me earlier than my return date.”

“Months? When will you be back?”

Katy just smiled as she stood in the doorway, already halfway out. “When you need me.” Then she was gone and off to her apartment. A spring was in her step as she made her way home, it was almost time. Before she even reached the building, her expected phone call came, bringing a small smile to her face as she answered, “Your Majesty! Good to hear from you.”

Kate grinned on the other end of the phone, having missed the woman’s personality over this past year, “Hi Katy. I wanted to call and apologize for what happened last ti-”

“No need for that, Kate. You were understandably upset.”

“So you’re gonna come back?” She seemed excited and hopeful, mainly because she had a job for the “young” girl. But it was mostly because she was missing her friend, and over the time that had passed she’d forgiven Katy. It was at that moment Katy appeared in front of Kate who was working at her desk in the castle like she normally did.

Katy chuckled at the look on her friend’s face as she put her phone away, sighing with delight. “Of course. I’d never leave you for good. Oh! And congrats on the family.”

“You knew about that?” Kate didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, a soft smile on her face, “Of course you did, you know everything that happens.”

“Not everything to everyone, just my closest friends,” she winked, still standing in the room. Katy knew these friends in particular, Kate was her OC after all, and she did write the timeline. Chuck interfering and throwing in the Winchester’s parents was a surprise though. And so was the reason Castiel was the way he was. “You gonna ask your question?”

“Do I even have to?”

“Nope! My answer is yes, surprise surprise,” Katy said giddily.

Kate shook her head as she stood, giving Katy a quick hug then they walked out. “To the base it is, Sergeant Major,” both girls grinned at the title, one Katy would have for a while.

They got to the base and Kate made an announcement that Katy would be the new Sergeant Major of all the military forces, of course everyone listened. They all heard the story that Katy was the mastermind that freed them from their last ruler, and they all greatly respected her for doing so. The next few months consisted of Katy laying out rules approved by Kate, starting a few classified projects, and brutal training for everyone. Katy also got a new house close to the castle and close to the base. Somehow she was made a board member for Kate’s government, but no one objected to the motion.

“Sergeant Major?” Joe, Katy’s second in command spoke softly to the women as he stood at attention in front of her desk. He had gotten updates on a couple of Katy’s projects, and knew she’d want to see for herself. “Sergeant Major!” he raised his voice to get her attention, the women jumping out of her train of thought and looking wide-eyed at her friend.

“Sorry! I was thinking about something important,” she chuckled awkwardly, a light blush appearing on her face as she stood from her desk. “What is it?”

“Obviously,” he mumbled, a small smile on his face as he shook his head. “According to the officers working on the project, the first egg should be hatching soon,”

Katy’s eyes lit up, her smile showing how excited she was. To be professional, she cleared her throat, calmed her facial features, and straightened out the white coat of her uniform, “Fantastic. Let’s go see.” The women quickly left her office, Joe hot on her heels. The blue cape over her shoulder flew gently behind her as she walked and her boots thudded with each step, drawing attention to the pair as they walked down the halls.

“Did they say which breed was hatching first?”

“No Ma’am, they did not.”

“We’ll find out soon enough, then,” she sighed softly as they walked up to the lab, the two guards standing at attention and saluting to Katy before opening the doors before she had a chance to ask.

“Sergeant Major! Good to see you,” the head scientist smiled brightly at the girl, Katy responding the same smile.

“You too, Christine. Which egg was I informed about?”

The women’s eyes brightened, quickly leading her Sergeant Major to the incubator, if that’s what you’d call it. Off topic, that was exactly what the machine was called. “This one, ma’am.”

“Fantastic!” Katy clapped her hands together, biting her lip to hold back a smile. “Would you mind stepping out for a moment?” Katy looked behind her shoulder, all the workers patiently waiting for the first egg to hatch, “Like, now?”

“Of course,” Joe and Christine spoke in unison, the man glaring for a moment before ushering everyone out.

Katy sighed softly, taking off her gloves as the egg began to crack. “I can’t believe it worked,” she whispered to herself, the small smile appearing back on her face as black scales began to show. “Hey, little guy.”

Her smile widened as the baby dragon slowly broke out of the egg. She held her hands out, letting it sniff them for a moment, the dragon blowing flames onto one of her hands as she sucked in a breath as she pulled her hand away, shaking away the pain as it healed, leaving a mark on her palm. Katy grinned a little more, patting the Dragon on its head. It crooned at the soothing motion and Katy lowered her stature to look it in the eye.

“Good Night Fury,” she chuckled softly as the dragon leapt onto her shoulder, rubbing on her head and making a cute little noise. “How about I name you Hestia?” she suggested, waiting for an answer from the young dragon, not even noticing the door slowly open and heads peek through. Katy chuckled patting the little dragon’s head again, “Don’t worry, we’ll talk soon.”

“They talk?” Christine exclaimed as she pushed the door all the way open, scaring the baby with her excitement. “That is so amazing! How can they do that? Can I study them?”

Katy gently shushed the dragon, moving her so she was on her forearm. “Christine, you scared her,” she scolded, cradling the dragon.

“The Night Fury is a she? I thought they all used to be males and the Light Furies are female?” Christine questioned, admiring the dragon as she spoke.

“Nope, that was just because the two I told you about were the last of their kind. In all technicalities, I think the two were of different species that could interact whenever. I think there were males and females for both Light and Night Fury’s. How else could they just be one solid color? But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is we succeeded!” Katy patted the woman on her shoulder. “Why don’t y’all take the rest of the day off. Especially you, my little Hange,” Katy grinned, walking out of the lab with the dragon back on her shoulder, and Joe by her side.

“Sergeant Major, I’ve told you before that I don’t know who that is!” Christine called, sighing when she didn’t receive an answer. “Well, you heard the lady. Let’s go party! Drinks are on me!” she cheered, all of her subordinates following her out of the lab.

Further down the hall Katy slowly ran her hand down the baby dragon’s back. It purred in contentment. “What was the other project, Joe?” Katy asked, her mind straying from project to project.

Joe looked at her in confusement, they had a good many that they worked on. So he took a guess. “The um… portal? They needed to confirm the order of a couple of parts for it,” the man explained as the walked, eyeing the dragon the whole time. Katy nodded in response. “Other than that the building has gone well and the parts should be in later today.”

A bit more walking later, they reached the other lab, which was mainly outdoors in case the portal did something weird. Like shorting out, exploding or sucking up a bunch of shit like a black hole to who knows where. All three were highly unlikely options, but still possible. They came upon one of their youngest recruits, a young man by the name of Kyoya Ootori. He was in Othos under a foreign exchange program for college students. Katy and Joe knew he came from a wealthy family of doctors who were well-known in Japan and other countries.

Kyoya was studying business in Othos when he obtained an eye for science and what the researchers of the ruling family were doing. Katy found him doing projects here and there quietly until they allowed the man to become an intern of sorts. Those quiet projects turned into huge things when Katy suggested the idea of cloning dragons and portals to other worlds.

At the moment, Kyoya was staring at the surrounding men while cataloguing something in that book he always kept around. Even being some sort of astral being Katy found it hard to even get close enough to the book to read it. Joe and Katy stepped further into the lab which gained his attention.

“Kyoya,” Katy grinned in greeting. Normally she would wave but her arms were full of dragon. “How goes the portal?”

“As well as can be expected, I suppose,” Kyoya answered, adjusting his glasses. He wrote a few lines in the notebook and closed it. “It should be finished by October, but that’s still eight months away. After that we’ll be ready for testing.”

Kyoya glanced down at the black bundle in Katy’s arms and stared as the thing blinked at him. He looked to Katy and Joe for an explanation. Katy laughed and held out Hestia like one does a kitten when reenacting the beginning of Lion King.

“This is Hestia, our newest dragon,” she proclaimed proudly.

Kyoya nodded in understanding. Truthfully, he never thought the project would work considering that there were about half a dozen movies saying why it shouldn’t. Nevermind the fact that there were no samples of dragon blood to have ever been discovered.

“Ah, so project Hatchling worked then.”

Joe nodded and the two watched as Katy stroked the dragons scales. “Yeah,” he said. “I don’t know how but yeah. The thing-”

“Hestia.”

“- Hestia,” Joe corrected himself, “has only been out of the shell for a few hours.”

Concern flashed across Kyoya’s face. “Shouldn’t Christina watch over her until we know she can survive being out of the incubator.”

Katy scoffed, nuzzling her newest friend. “Hange can deal with it. Hestia will live, I know she will.”

“Sergeant Major? Please focus on the task at hand. You have a board meeting in a couple hours.” Joe leaned in, hopefully getting Katy’s attention. It was a usual thing for her to keep getting distracted, which was kind of surprising for someone who’s supposed to be all powerful and scary.

“Oh! Yes, you’re right. My apologies,” she smiled up at the man, moving the dragon to her shoulder so she could do her work. “Alright, Kyoya. What did you need my help with on the portal?”

“Yes, I apologize for the distraction.” Kyoya bowed his head slightly before walking to his makeshift desk and picking up a list then handing it back to Katy. His voice changed from the polite tone they knew and to an annoyed one. “Please tell me ma’am, where the hell am I supposed to find these pieces?”

Katy chuckled at the boy’s language, “Ooh, someone’s feisty.”

“Katy!” Joe scolded, slightly flicking her head.

Katy groaned at the feeling, sticking her tongue out at her subordinate. Katy could practically see the nonexistent anime sweatdrop from both men, making her laugh again at the irony. “Okay okay, serious again.” Taking a pen out of Kyoya’s lab coat pocket, she wrote an address on the back of the paper, “Here. This place will have the pieces you need.”

“England? Just for the pieces? And what’s up with the three quarters?” Kyoya stared at Katy skeptically and Joe shared the sentiment when he saw what was needed. How on Earth was England of all places supposed to have pieces like that?

“Don’t worry about it. Two brothers, the Weasleys, will be waiting to take you where you need to go. I’ve worked with them on many occasions, their work is top-notch.” Katy winked as she placed the pen back in his coat before turning around and walking out, shouting over her shoulder and waving as she left, “Have fun, Kyoya!”

Kyoya couldn’t get a word out before she was gone and he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Superior or not, she was too sporadic for his liking. Luckily he had practice with people like her due to his time spent with Tamaki and the rest of the Host Club at Ouran. Joe followed Katy out of the lab with an apologetic glance at Kyoya who waved him off with no more than… well a wave. Unfortunately, Katy was always blunt and in a rush. Rumor had it, Katy couldn’t focus on one thing at a time for long which was why she was always everywhere.

“Where to now, Ma’am?”

“You said I have a board meeting?” At his nod Katy continued, “You’re in charge until I get back.”

“Want me to take the dragon?”

Katy scoffed, placing a hand on her chest in mock offense at the idea of being separated from her new friend. “Of course not. She’ll be coming with me!” She cooed the dragon, scratching its chin as she walked out to the car waiting for her, “Bye Joe, see ya later.” Shutting the car door behind her Katy sank into the seat with a sigh.

“Long day, miss?” the driver asked, looking into the rear view mirror. He started up the car and the two, three if you included Hestia the dragon, were headed to the castle.

“Not yet,” she responded, popping her back before snapping her fingers, her outfit changing to a more professional and ladylike look.

The style bothered her, as she was used to her military uniform. The uniform itself was white and blue, traditional colors for Othos. Her pants, shirt, and military jacket were white, while the blue came from the cape that hung off of her left shoulder and reached just inches above the ground. As the Sergeant Major, she was required to wear the uniform and while it didn’t bother her too much, she only ever wore it because she loved the cape. Which Katy would never admit aloud.

The car pulled up to the castle and a guard opened the car door for Katy, “Welcome back, M’Lady.” He bowed his head in respect as Katy stepped out of the car, her tall heels clicking as they made contact with the stone.

“Hello Gavin, good to see you too. How’s the new addition?” Her smile lit up her face and the small breeze blew her curled hair a little as she and the guard walked towards the castle.

The man, Gavin, blushed softly at her question, making him feel a bit more important and noticed. “She’s fantastic, M’lady! Has my mother’s eyes,” he cooed as the other guards opened the front door for her. He couldn’t help the swell of pride he felt at the thought of his newborn daughter.

Katy hummed with delight at the man’s response. He was calmer and collected, but he reminded her of a certain Lieutenant Colonel that she held dear. “That’s fantastic, Gavin. Say hello to your wife for me.” She waved again as she walked inside, the doors closing behind her. The dragon was practically glued to her shoulder, causing whispers and stares around the room.

The castle was almost silent as she walked up the stairs. The only sound was of shoes hitting the ground from different places, once pair were her heels, the pace quickening as she hurried to the meeting room.

Once she got to the room, Kate immediately turned around, a smile on her face as her friend came through the door, then she noticed the baby dragon. “Um, Katy? I think you have a stalker,” Kate chuckled awkwardly, keeping her distance from the woman and her dragon since she had her baby daughter in her arms.

Katy huffed at the comment, glancing over at the dragon. “Sorry, she just hatched today and kind of chose me, so I didn’t want to make her leave,” the girl explained as she walked to her seat. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes! Of course,” Kate snapped out of her protective glare at the pair, handing the baby over to Sam’s mom and then went to sit down herself. The dragon was distracting most of the time, but everyone got used to her at the tail end. The meeting was mainly just an update on what things have been going on, Katy informing the group on her projects’ updates, and letting them know that she would be leaving again after the meeting, causing a small stir that Kate had to calm down.

“What are you going to do with Hestia while you’re gone?” Kate questioned as she, Layla, and Katy walked out of the meeting room.

Katy smirked and wiggled her eyebrows towards Layla who narrowed her own before understanding what she meant. She blanched and immediately began shaking her head. “No! I’m not taking her!”

The girl now groaned, hugging the little dragon who let out a small puff of smoke when she was squeezed, causing the other two girls to step back. “Come on, Layla! You can show her how to hunt while I’m gone. I promise she won’t be much trouble.”

Layla sighed, looking between the two women and the small dragon, thinking on the request for a couple of minutes. Finally, she groaned and gave in to the look that Hestia was giving her. Honestly she had no idea how to teach a dragon to hunt. It’s not like there was a guide book, and she doubted vampire tactics would work well with the creature. “Fine! I’ll watch her for you, but you owe me big time for this!”

Katy giggled, almost wickedly as she handed the baby to her friend. “Thank you! I’ll see you guys soon, I promise.”

The second Katy was gone Layla stared at the spot where she had disappeared. A feeling of annoyance slowly filled her, but she pushed it away. Katy was always like this, and besides, Layla mused, she had a dragon to influence now. Her mind filled with all the different ways to teach a dragon how to flip a person off, if it was possible anyway.

Oblivious to Layla’s not-very-traitorous plans, Katy was slipping between time and space to get to her next destination. The place she arrived was very familiar and she grinned at the feeling of the hum coming from the turbines holding the helicarrier up. As she walked through the hallway paying no mind to the surrounding security, Katy’s suit slowly morphed into what the untrained eye would call Asgardian-esque armor. A tan corset revealed itself and turned black when it reached the area above her breasts. There were shoulder guards in place but her forearms were left bare, and yet Katy still wore black gloves with silver trim. From the corset going down there were black tights which led to knee-high black boots. To complete her ensemble Katy wore a short cape over her left shoulder bathed in a deep, navy blue with silver seams. Her hair was now sat in a fishtail braid, swinging with each step she took down the corridor.

Then she walked into a room with many people walking and talking around. Her focus wasn’t on the agents, rather on the special people seated around a table. Natasha glanced at her trainer before looking back to her superior. None of the others noticed her entrance.

“Sorry I was gone for so long,” Katy announced herself, smiling at the group.

Steve quickly turned his attention to the girl who just walked in the room, instantly mesmerized with her. Her stance was strong and confident, which confused and intrigued him simultaneously. Aside from her manners, he couldn’t deny that she was beautiful. And while he knew she looked to be in her young twenties, just like him, Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman was much older than what she seemed. Which was also like him.

Thor, who was seated next to Steve, sensed that there was something ethereal about her which set him on edge. The woman was not what she appeared to be, and he had not seen anything like her in all his travels. However, Thor knew the importance of not judging too quickly. That did not mean that he wouldn’t be cautious around the woman, but he also wouldn’t accuse her of being an enemy just from how little he knew her.

Tony, while he thought the woman was attractive, he could clearly see how young she looked. Even he had a no-fly zone when it came to women. Aside from that, her attire and sudden appearance surprised him, especially since JARVIS told him that she had pretty much appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the ship. Intriguing as it was, Tony told the AI to keep an eye on the cameras like he had been doing only moments ago.

“It’s about damn time! Do you even know what’s going on right now?” Fury scolded, tossing his hands in the air as he spoke, crossing them shortly after.

She shrugged as a response to his first question, walking towards the table and sitting on the edge. “Yes, I do. You have Thor’s brother in the glass cage, am I wrong?”

The Avengers sitting at the table all looked to one another then to Fury in hopes of an answer as to how she knew this. And moreover, who the mysterious woman was.

Fury glared at the women. Normally he would find her amusing, but right now she was just damn annoying. “Katy, I swear-”

In a flash she stood from the table, her eyes changing to blood red as she approached the man. Natasha straightened in her chair, her hand rested on the gun at her waist ready to defend her leader. “What, Fury?” Katy snarled. “You think I am only here to serve you and your men? I do have a life that I’m trying to get settled,” she growled, leaning in towards the man in front of her who backed away ever so slightly, his eye staring warily at the woman.

The whole room was silent, staring at the seemingly crazy female as she faced down their “leader”. The Avengers even stood, just in case they were needed to stop a fight or alike.

Fury sighed, placing his hands on her shoulders. As she looked to his hands, her eyes changed back to the Caribbean green, her gaze going back to Fury as he spoke. “I’m only going to say this once,” he whispered, “I’m sorry. Now please step back.”

Katy grinned a bit, pleased with the man’s response. “Yes sir,” she winked, stepping back to the meeting table and looking at the standing heroes. “You can sit back down now. I’m not going to be doing anything.”

“Are you seriously saying that it’s not you we should be worried about?” Tony raised an eyebrow as the women spoke. “Who are you anyway?”

“Oh! How rude of me!” Katy stood, walking up to the famous man and holding out her hand for him to shake, their heights matched. “My name is Katy, it’s nice to meet you Tony,” her smile lit up the room.

After the women and a couple others left to go to Loki’s cell - Tony went to the lab to visit Bruce, one of the SHIELD agents had looked up something on his computer and just about fell out of the chair. “My god,” the man mumbled, stumbling from the seat and rushing to Fury. Steve and Thor seemed intrigued by the conversation and listened in. “Sir! Sir you need to see this,” the man seemed frantic. Fury narrowed his eyebrows for a moment as he looked the young man up and down before signaling him to continue. “Well to start off, I studied mythology as my undergrad, and my focuses were on Norse and Greek mythology.”

“What does this have to do with what I need to see?”

“Well, I recognized the girl that was just in here. You really need to see this,” he then rushed back to his desk, making sure the page was still pulled up. Fury, Steve, and Thor followed. “I recognized her because I had studied her in school. This is the statue from ancient Greece I studied.”

The statue itself was in the middle of a park in what anyone could assume was somewhere in Greece. There were children gathered around for the picture but that didn’t interest anyone in the least. Upon a pedestal stood a woman with long hair, a flowery crown resting on her head that brushed back strands that would’ve most certainly gotten in the way of her vision. The woman wore an outfit similar to the one Katy was wearing, save for the cloak. While Katy’s was thrown over her shoulder and short, the one the statue wore was more like a cloak that reached the ground behind her. In the folds of the cloak one could see swirls and pictures of animals and planets and stars and mythical creatures. One of her gloved hands was pointed toward the sky while the other was down by her side holding onto the hand of a small child, a look of wonder was permanently resting on his face as he looked up at whatever the woman was pointing at.

“That looks almost exactly like her,” Steve mumbled, eyeing the statue. “What’s the name of the woman?” Steve asked, looking to the agent then back at the statue. He figured Katy was old, but not this old. It was impossible, she couldn’t possibly be that old. It was a coincidence.

“Iro, the Goddess of Imagination,” the agent said.

While Steve slowly started to believe that the two were one and the same, Fury and Thor had no doubts. The womans face solidified it in their minds that the person the statue was modeled after and Katy were indeed the same person. Every detail was the same, right down to the kindness in her eyes as she looked down at the small boy who was attached to her. Thor knew very well that a person could live so long, it was a normal age range for many of the races he knew. Fury, while the appearance of a Greek goddess was new, he would treat her like he had been doing already. With caution and no hostility, almost like they did with Thor. His brothers actions aside.

“Yeah. That’s her,” Fury commented once he heard the name. Somehow it fit Katy just fine. “Don’t share this with anyone except for Coulson, Hill, and the rest of the Avengers. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Steve and the agent said in unison. Thor gave a nod of agreement.

“Have you talked to him yet?” Katy looked to Nat as they walked down the long corridor, her cape flowing slightly.

“No Ma’am. I was going to now, actually.”

“Good. I’ll talk to him after you,” Katy pat her friends shoulder just before they walked in the room. As the doors closed behind them, it drew the attention of their godly friend.

“Well well, if it isn’t the assassin,” he turned around with a smirk on his face that quickly faded when he saw Katy’s blank face. “Isn’t this a surprise. How would an assassin like you know her?”

Natasha narrowed her eyebrows for a moment, glancing between Katy who had her arms crossed and a smirk on her face as she set the other god on edge, and back to the Asgardian in a cage. “She’s my trainer? Does that matter?”

“That woman you call your trainer is more than you think she is. She’s a Goddess,” Loki smirked back to the assassin, then glanced to Katy. Just revealing her identity should create a rift between the two he could exploit.

“Aw, thank you! I think it’s probably the skin and hair. I’ve always tried to make them look nice,” Katy teased, causing the god to blush in embarrassment and anger.

“I’m not complimenting your complexion, strange woman!” Loki snapped, looking away from the two to regain his composure. Not even a minute in and he was already getting a headache. “Iro, if you’d be so kind as to leave so I can talk to the assassin in peace, that would please me.” He plastered his usual smirk back onto his face as he spoke, only to frown as Katy disappeared from his sight the moment he locked eyes on her.

“Now why would I do that? I’m here to help. Them, not you, in case there’s any confusion.” Her voice echoed around the chamber from an unidentifiable source. Then she appeared out of the shadows that melded into her shadow. She was lent against the glass as she spoke, Loki had yet to realize she was behind him. “So I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon unless I need to,” Katy matched the man’s facial expression, even the false kindness hiding the death glare in their eyes.

Loki whirled around and scowled at the woman who taunted him beyond the safety of the glass. Normally he would taunt her about not confronting him without the barrier between them, but something told him that the woman would take him up on the challenge and get in and get out with no problems. Before he could process his thoughts Katy appeared on the other side the glass, on his side, and stared at the God of Mischief. Once more she leant against the glass, ignoring the way Natasha almost seemed alarmed.

“How did you get in here?” Loki sounded surprised as he spoke. His eyes were wide as he took a step away from the girl.

She shrugged, walking towards Loki. With each step forward, Loki took a step back and away from her. “What’s the matter, Loki? Scared of a girl?” Katy’s smirk grew slightly as they walked around in the glass cage, her eyes changing to violet. Loki could only assume that the changing of eye color meant different moods, much like a Midgardian mood ring.

“I wouldn’t say scared,” Loki said. Katy kept trying to get near him but all he did was walk away. The two looked much like circling lions.

“What would you say then?”

“Cautious,” he said immediately, as if it were the only plausible answer. “I don’t know you, I don’t know your power, and you can come and go from this cage easily unlike me. I’d say it is wise to keep my distance.”

She hummed with delight, keeping her pace. Loki was smart then, it would keep him alive. Steve and Thor were the next two to walk in the room, neither party within the cage noticed. “Is that so? Well, you’re smart after all.”

The two paused in shock and Steve turned to Natasha, Thor didn’t take his eyes off Loki and Katy. “Natasha? What is Katy doing in the cage?” Steve asked, worried for the girl’s safety even after he had just learned she was an ancient Greek Goddess.

“Are you worried about her, Captain United States?” Loki questioned before Natasha could answer, tilting his head slightly. “It isn’t her you should be worried about. She’s not the only monster you’ve brought.” He chuckled under his breath.

Katy quickly turned her head to face her student. “Natasha, go get Bruce.”

“Got it,” Natasha had already caught on too, rushing off to the lab to find Bruce. She talked into her comm device and asked for someone to send Thor to the lab.

“You shouldn’t take your eyes off of me, child,” Loki growled, charging to tackle the women but she was already out of the cage, Steve holding onto her. The god groaned as he hit the ground, throwing his head up to look at the pair on the other side of the glass.

“Sorry about that, Steve,” Katy grinned up at the man who had caught her when she tripped backwards on the stair.

“Don’t worry about it.” He steadied her and let go of her arm before giving a quick glance at Loki.

Suddenly Loki’s words registered in her mind. She scowled, “Who are you calling child? I’m older than you, Loki.” Katy spat the words out of her mouth like they were poison. Then she stuck her tongue out at the god as she stood back on her own two feet. “Come on, Steve. We gotta go.” She quickly took his hand and drug him out of the room and towards the lab, worried she might have messed up the timeline even more than she already had.

The two quickly made their way from the room, Katy teleporting them the moment the door closed. She didn’t see the satisfied look on Loki’s face as they left. Tony and Bruce were standing and looking at monitors. Katy went to open her mouth but Fury walked in and cut her off.

“What are you doing, Mr. Stark?” Nick asked. Hill had sent him here when they learned about their security breach. And while that wasn’t unusual for Tony to break in to their files, he hated when he did it. And now all Fury could see was the two scientists he assigned to a job, not doing their job.

“Uh...kind of been wondering the same thing about you,” Tony said, taking note of the other two occupants of the room.

“You’re supposed to be locating the Tesseract.”

“We are,” Bruce interjected. “The model's locked and we're sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile.”

Tony nodded. “And you'll get your cube back, no muss, no fuss.” Katy watched as the monitor in front of Tony’s cleared itself of all running programs, another one popping up. ‘Phase 2 Classified’ it read. Tony tilted his head. “What is Phase 2?”

Katy scowled. Steve hadn’t been able to go searching for anything related to the tesseract because he had been too focused on her. So she held her head high and prepared herself to stare down any in the room who would dare oppose her. “Phase 2 is SHIELD uses the cube to make weapons.” She turned and stared at Nick unapologetically. “Sorry Nick, but I’ve seen the plans and the prototypes.”

Steve glared at Fury. “Is this true?”

“Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract. This does not mean that we're-”

“I'm sorry, Nick,” Tony said loudly, cutting off Fury. Tony turned the monitor screen toward Fury, Katy, and Steve, which showed blueprints of the weapons. “What were you lying?”

Steve scoffed and shook his head. “I was wrong, director. The world hasn't changed a bit.”

At that moment, Thor and Natasha walked into the lab. Natasha kept her eyes on Banner but she did notice her trainer and Steve had gotten there before her. Banner turned to her, and boy did he not look happy.

“Did you know about this?” he demanded.

Natasha ignored the question. “You wanna think about removing yourself from this environment, doctor?”

“I was in Calcutta, I was pretty well removed.”

“Loki's manipulating you.”

“And you've been doing what exactly?”

“You didn't come here because I bat my eyelashes at you.”

“Yes, and I'm not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy. I'd like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction.”

The room quieted as they all turned to Fury for answers. Fury sighed and pointed at Thor. “It’s because of him.”

Thor was stunned. He pointed at himself in confusion. “Me?” he asked, wanting clarification.

“Last year earth had a visitor from another world who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned.”

Katy rolled her eyes at Fury’s reason for creating such terrible weapons. She couldn’t exactly fault him for wanting to protect the human race, she just hated the way he went about it.

“My people want nothing but peace with your planet,” Thor said.

“But you're not the only people out there, are you? And, you're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched, they can't be controlled.”

Katy laughed harshly and glared at the leader of SHIELD, gaining attention. “You can’t try to control every race you come across Nick. Like you people are doing so well with mutants already,” she snarked. “You shouldn’t mess with things you don’t understand.”

“You're work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies,” Thor agreed. “It is the signal to all the realms that the earth is ready for a higher form of war.”

“A higher form?” Steve questioned.

“You forced our hand. We had to come up with something.”

“A nuclear deterrent. ‘Cause that always calms everything right down.”

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?”

Katy rubbed her forehead as a migraine worked its way around her brain. She glared heatedly at the scepter and her migraine increased as if it sensed her glare. The force increased and Katy shut her eyes tight, trying to focus on the surrounding conversation. It had dropped off the soundbar and the more she focused the better she could hear, but the migraine only got worse. She opened her eyes and blinked blearily at the team.

“You know damn well why! Back off!” Steve said, pushing Tony’s arm off his shoulder like it offended him.

“Oh, I'm starting to want you to make me,” Tony challenged.

Never one to back away from a challenge, Steve slowly circled Tony. “Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist,” he answered without hesitation. Natasha nodded as if he had a point.

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. Yeah, I've seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”

“I think I would just cut the wire.”

Steve smiled and glanced at Bruce who was watching them warily. As were the rest of the occupants of the room. His eyes briefly glazed over Katy in concern but he looked back at Tony. “Always a way out... You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero? Like you? You're a lab rat, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle!”

“Put on the suit, let's go a few rounds,” Steve growled.

Katy went to say something but another wave of pain came over her and she was silenced by her migraine.

Thor laughed at the squabble Steve and Tony were in. “You people are so petty... and tiny.”

Bruce gave a small laugh, “Yeah, this is a team.”

“Agent Romanoff,” Fury said. “Would you escort Dr. Banner back to his-”

“Where?” Bruce asked. “You rented my room.”

“The cell was just in case-”

“In case you needed to kill me, but you can't! I know! I tried!”

If the room wasn’t quiet before, it was then. Every occupant of the room stared at Bruce, some in shock, others in horror.

“Bruce,” Katy squeaked. It went unnoticed.

“I got low. I didn't see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out! So I moved on. I focused on helping other people. I was good, until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk!” Bruce slowly began to get upset as he went on with his story. Then he looked at Natasha, who almost looked unnerved under his gaze. “You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanoff? You wanna know how I stay calm?”

“Doctor Banner... put down the scepter,” Steve said, noticing how Fury and Natasha slowly unbuckled their guns.

Bruce and Katy both notice how Bruce held the scepter. Shock seeped into her bones as she realized she had missed it. A monitor beeping broke some of the tension in the room and Bruce set down the scepter. He walked across the room to the montor.

“Sorry, kids. You don't get to see my little party trick after all,” he mumbled.

“You’ve located the Tesseract?” Thor asked.

“I can get there faster,” Tony said, not even glancing at the monitor.

Katy shook her head and spoke up before Thor. “The Tesseract belongs on Asgard.”

Thor nodded his head in thanks of her support. “No human is a match for it.”

Tony turned to leave, but Steve stopped him by grabbing his arm. “You're not going alone.”

Tony immediately slapped his hand away. “You gonna stop me?”

“Put on the suit, let's find out.”

“I'm not afraid to hit an old man.”

“Put on the suit,” Steve glared.

Steve and Tony stared one another down and Bruce, who had been looking over the monitor, looked up at Tony in horror. The location…

“Oh my god,” Bruce said.

A bomb goes off and everyone is thrown in every direction. Steve, Fury, Thor, Katy, and Tony are thrown into walls while Natasha and Bruce were tossed down into the lower equipment room. Katy felt her breath leave her lungs as she was slammed into a wall behind a counter. She went to stand up but a piece of debris collided with her head, forcing her into unconsciousness.

Marvelous: Part 2

The captain groaned as he pushed himself off the ground, looking around him at all the damage in alarm. He and Tony shared a look. “Put on the suit.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, bolting out of the room. Steve was hot on his heels.

Alarms blared and agents grabbed guns in case they came in contact with the intruders. Some agents grabbed fire extinguishers and put out the fires that had erupted from computers or stray wiring hanging from the ceiling. Inside the lab, Fury sat up with a slouch, he may or may not have a bruised or broken rib.

“Hill?” Fury asked, tapping his comm.

There was no reply other than what Hill was doing on the bridge. “Turn up that engine! Number three engine is down! Can we get a run in?” She jogged over to the Galaga player. “Talk to me.”

“Turbine’s loose. It’s mostly intact,” the man pointed to the monitor which showed the damage and debris, “but it’s impossible to get out there and make repairs while we’re in the air.”

“We lose one more engine and we won’t be. Somebody’s gotta get in there and patch that engine.”

“Stark, you copy that?” Fury asked.

“I’m on it,” came the quick reply.

“Coulson! Initiate official lockdown in the detention section then get to the armory!” Fury began to make his way out of the lab. “Romanoff?”

“I’m here. Bruce and I are okay.”

“Hart?” There was nothing but silence from Katy’s end. “Hart, do you copy?”

Fury cursed and started looking around the room. Debris and smoke clouded his vision so he couldn’t see too well, but thankfully the light shining in provided some clearance in the dark. He hurried around the lab, not finding a hint of Katy anywhere until he happened to glimpse a pair of legs sticking out behind a counter, part of the ceiling covering the rest of her body. Fury rushed over and removed the debris, noticing how her arm was bent at an awkward angle and a large gash made its way across her forehead.

“I need a medical team in lab number two,” Fury ordered. “Hart is down.”

When Katy woke up she had a raging headache and the bright lights weren’t making it any better. She did her best to sit up and when Katy could clearly see, she noticed that she seemed to be in a medical bay. A nurse came rushing forward, startling Katy, and began asking questions while flashing a light in her eyes.

“Can you tell me your name? When were you born? Can you see clearly or is anything fuzzy?”

“What?” Katy mumbled.

“You may have a concussion, please answer the questions.”

“I have many names, I was born, I think, over five thousand years ago. I can see just fine, thank you.” Katy stood from the bed with a small groan, picking up her shoes from under the bed and putting them back on. She glanced around and grabbed the small comm device from a nearby table and put it in her ear. The nurse sputtered and tried to get her back into bed but it was useless. “Have they left yet? Captain America, Iron Man, and the others?”

The nurse nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Have a nice day!” she smiled, opening the window - that really shouldn’t have been able to be opened - and jumping out. She could barely hear the nurses scream of horror before the sound of rushing wind drowned out any other sounds.

Katy focused on the one place in New York she would be needed; Stark Tower.

“Seems you’re making a habit of this, Loki,” Katy gently placed her feet on the circular platform made for Tony.

The God of Mischief glared at her as he distanced himself on the platform outside. He’d only just sent Stark careening out the window only to have the man shoot at him with a blast from his suit. And then to make matters worse, that woman was becoming troublesome by making her presence known. “What business does the Goddess Iro have with these mortals?”

Katy’s eyes darkened to red and she teleported behind Loki. Quicker than the Flash she had her sword blade to his neck and her other arm holding his behind his back. “Don’t talk about my people like that Loki,” she growled, as the man’s eyes widened slightly with surprise. He had no idea she could move that fast. The position she held him in made him feel strange, but he didn’t know if it was irritation, or something else. “And the name is Katy. Only the greek gods, and those who worship me are allowed to call me Iro.”

Loki narrowed his eyes and threw his head back, hitting Katy in the head and nicking his neck on the blade. The women stumbled back, placing a hand over her throbbing forehead. “Loki, you won’t win. Might as well give up now,” Katy finally got her bearings, but by the time she did, Loki was already prepared for a fight.

The god lunged forward, his scepter and Katy’s sword clashing as she defended herself, “Stark said the same. I shall tell you this but once, you mewling quim-” Loki thrusted his scepter in a motion that left Katy wide open, the man taking the opportunity to throw her through the glass and into the building. “I shall not surrender to the likes of you. This world belongs to me,” he leapt to the room, swinging his scepter down at Katy but she quickly blocked.

“Bad answer,” she groaned as she kicked the man away, hopping back to her feet and sliding into a fighting position. Katy was holding her own, but the one time she moved just a little too slow gave Loki the chance to cut her. The woman screamed as she stepped back and covered her bleeding face, blood trickling down her hand from her right eye. “You’re going to regret that, bastard.”

That seemed to strike a nerve.

Loki’s eyes darkened as he growled, charging towards her. Without hesitation - or removing her hand from her eye - Katy dropped her sword, grabbed the man and flipped him onto his back, cracking and leaving a small indent on the floor. She finally removed her hand from her face and the wound was healed, but a scar was left behind. The vision from her right eye was no longer obscured, and she wiped the smeared blood from her face.

“If you can heal your own wounds, why leave any trace of it once being there?” Loki narrowed his eyes in confusion as he studied her features, unaware of this additional power of hers.

It was Katy’s turn to look confused. “What do you mean? There’s no trace.”

“A scar, you imbecile. You left it, why?”

Katy’s confusion turned to shock and she picked up her sword to look at her reflection. Low-and-behold, there was a scar. She felt her face and felt the slight roughness the cut left behind. Loki had just given her the first scar she couldn’t cover. Something was up, she felt it in her bones.

While the girl was lost in thought and shock, Loki took the opportunity to grab his scepter and blast her out of the tower; the girl shouting as she plummeted towards the concrete below her.

“Katy!” Steve shouted as he saw her get blown out of the tower. The man quickly leaped from car to car, catching her in the nick of time, the two groaning in pain as they hit the concrete. “You okay?” the man was out of breath as he held her to his chest, an arm still wrapped around her waist. Surprise flitted through him as he took in her face. He was sure she didn’t have a scar earlier that day, or did he not notice?

Katy nodded, giving the star-spangled man a small smile, “I’m fine, thank you.” It finally clicked that he had caught her mid-fall and her eyes filled with worry as she pushed herself away from him. “Steve are you okay? How do you feel? I can heal you if I need to,” she spoke quickly as she observed him, checking him over for wounds.

Steve couldn’t help but grin at her alarm over his well being, even with a battle brewing a couple blocks away. Pulling both of them to their feet, he shook his head at her questions, “I’m alright, but we need to continue with the fighting. We need to figure out a way to close that portal.” He pointed up at the giant rip in space. “Are you up for it?”

Katy’s eyes turned to purple as a grin crept onto her face and she cracked her knuckles, her sword returning to its proper place on her hip from where it had landed far away. “Lucky for you, I’m working on my own portal. Leave it to the girls, Cap. We’ll have it done in no time,” she winked playfully at the man.

Katy turned to leave but Steve caught her arm. “Be careful.”

She smiled and leaned up on her tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I will.”

What they didn’t know was that the God of Mischief was watching above. He hadn’t remembered the Captain, or Iro, being involved with someone, at the very least one another. As far as he could remember, they’d only just met. Clint hadn’t mentioned anything when Loki had him under his mind control. Of course, Loki hadn’t asked about personal relations.

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll have that drink now,” Loki’s eyes wandered on all of the Avengers prepared to fight him, Hawkeye in the middle with an arrow pointed at him, and Katy towards the back with her arms crossed and the new scar drawing attention to her face.

Once everything was settled, SHIELD agents came to get the scepter leaving in the elevator. Katy didn’t seem interested in the whole situation, having taken to standing in the corner with a brooding facade. After thousands of years of fighting, why had Loki of all people been the first one to leave a mark on her skin?

“On my way down to coordinate search and rescue.” The sound of Steve’s voice snapped Katy out of her thoughts as she watched a very American ass walk out of the room for a moment, passing right by Loki.

“‘On my way down to coordinate search and rescue,’” Loki mocked as he cast an illusion on himself to look like Steve.

Immediately, Katy burst out laughing at the action. Even while being a smartass about it, Loki actually did a decent job at playing Steve. As soon as Loki changed back to himself, Thor put a gag on him so he couldn’t say much else. Loki threw an annoyed look at Thor for having ruined his fun.

“Aw come on, Thor! That’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all day!” she protested to no avail.

After the whole ordeal and after lunch, the group gave their ‘farewells’ to Thor. While the rest of the Avengers bid the Asgardian goodbye, Katy ignored him completely and instead gave Loki a thumbs up and a grin while commending his antics at the top of Stark Tower. The action struck the surrounding people and they stared in shock, Loki included. Had he not just scarred this woman for life? Quite literally as well.

She leaned forward and whispered in a low voice. “See you later, Ass-gardian.”

Katy stepped back with a smirk and backed was a few steps as Loki did his best to strangle her. Thor didn’t allow it. Once they had used the cube to leave, there was a sigh of relief to be rid of the god and his mischievous brother.

“What will you do now?” Steve and Katy sat on the edge of a fountain. Both were sitting forward to the point where they had to let their arms rest on their legs to keep from toppling over. It was nice to be enjoying each other’s company for a bit.

“Well, I have to go back to my other, more important job, and also go home for a bit.”

“More important job? Then what is your job with SHIELD?” Steve huffed a laugh at the comment, assuming this was the life she had talked about settling.

Katy grinned back, sighing as she stood up, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. “You, and SHIELD, don’t really need me. It’s more of a fun side-job if I’m being honest.”

“I’d prefer if you don’t speak on my behalf with that comment, Katy.”

It was her turn to huff a laugh, “Well if you need me, or just want to come visit, ask Fury for my number.”

Tony looked over his shoulder and called out, “I’m pretty sure you referenced Nanny McPhee wrong!”

Katy rolled her eyes. “See you later, Spangled Pants.” And in the blink of an eye, she was gone and back to Othos before Steve could say anything else on the subject.

Back in New York, the team stared at the spot Katy had vacated. It was silent for a moment.

“What were the chances she could have just dropped them off at Asgard?” Clint asked.

No one answered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Katy got back she immediately went to the base to check on her dragon first. When she found her, Layla had been teaching the dragon how to hunt a fox, for some undisclosed reason, just off the base’s grounds.

“Uh, Layla? Can I have Hestia back, please?”

The dragon, who had now grown a little, was more than ecstatic to see her rider back home and safe; leaping into Katy’s arms and ignoring Layla’s pleading to return to ‘training’.

“Hey Katy, what happened to your eye?” Now out of her hunting mode, Layla wasted no time in asking about the new look Katy sported. Sadly for Katy, this would be something almost everyone would bring up.

“I just got in a fight, no big deal. I’ll see you later, I have important business to check up on,” Katy waved as she walked off to find wherever the exchange student had gone to.

It took a lot of asking around but she eventually made her way to the lab, Hestia taking up residence as her second shadow. Many people stared as she walked by, no longer fazed by the dragon but rather the scar marring Katy’s face. No one made a move to ask the origins. Yet anyway.

“Kyoya, my boy! Good to see ya. Are you done with the portal yet?” The girl bounced on her heel as she came into the lab, the young dragon right beside her. It chirped as if it had repeated the question.

As soon as Kyoya heard her voice, a headache began to form, but he powered through and gave her a small grin; she was his boss after all. Though she wasn’t as bad as others he knew, she could give them a run for their money. “Welcome back, Sergeant Major. As a matter of fact, I finished this morning.” He straightened his posture, a bit proud of his achievement.

She gasped and stared with wide eyes, glancing between the portal and Kyoya. “You’re serious?” she screeched.

“Very.”

Katy’s happy-go-lucky attitude quickly shifted into something serious and her eyes darkened as she eyed the portal across the room. “Fantastic. Get it up and running.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hello, my friends! So sorry for taking over a month on this second part. Finals had gotten busy, then I went on a trip, and now I’m back home and job hunting, sadly. Chapter 8 will be up much quicker! I promise!

~ K-the-Queen

Honestly, I had the same stuff but there was a lot less motivation on my part. Apologies. Quick note though, you guys are in for a huge surprise. I say no more, and will see you next time!

~ Minecraftian1213

Forgot to mention! You guys should go check out Minecraftian’s writings! Especially the ones whose initials spell SKOMO :p

~ K-The-Queen

It’s just “Soldier Keep On Marching On”, don’t make it so hard. It’s on Wattpad and Fanfiction.net.

~ Minecraftian1213

#mavel #avenegers #iron man #loki #captain america #thor #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #au #oc #fandom quest

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