#You worried about fucking CHILDE but not the actual CHILDREN we got in prison?????????????
Text
just went through the second part of the AQ and to put it mildly, im not handling these sad Victorian children well
#By not handling it well i mean im crying#LUMINE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU#You worried about fucking CHILDE but not the actual CHILDREN we got in prison?????????????#Who cares if childe is dead or not freminet the actual child nearly got dissolved like mentos in coke!#Who cares about childe here??? Lynette nearly had her ptsd triggered lyney DEFINITELY got at least a panic attack#THEY ARE AT THE FUCKING PRISON WOMAN GET IT TOGETHER#also why are we having visions about childe ew and why are they fully cinematic?? Who is filming???#Like childe funny as a meme to observe but don’t actually get him that close don’t test me know ur place#When did we even become that close with childe??? Im sorry what???#I can’t keep seeing them kids in life threatening situations on trial then this????#Arlecchino you are on a THIN FUCKING ICE#Im watching you!! Im watching you you better not turn into an abuser by actual standards#*break into genshin codes* stay right were you are sweetie im coming rn im going to get you out of this game into a loving family#Im not handling this well#genshin impact#freminet#lyney#lynette#yes I know im the last human on earth to do the quest leave me alone it been a busy time#Im going to kill anyone that get between me and the safety of these kids CHILDE GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY PLOT YOU ARE MAKING THIS TAKE TIME
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
love how bob seems to be completely out of it for this entire episode. like gene and tina are barely following along with linda and louise's insane reverse psychology game but bob is GONE like he's not present at the dinner table he isnt even part of the family. he just grumbles when linda tells him to but he isn't saying shit 😭😭
TINA AND GENE ARE SO SILLY IN THIS EPISODE LMAOO head empty zero thoughts. they are nothing more than pawns in louise's game
bob is correct for wanting to bribe them with candy that would literally work. like they are simple people
WHAT IF THEY TURN INTO LITTLE DELINQUENTS WHO DONT LISTEN TO AUTHORITY??? linda do you know who your kids are they are already WELL past that point especially louise. kinda funny that linda in this episode has the exact opposite viewpoint to how she was w/ louise in amelia. not a criticism of the episode its just ironic
BLACKMAIL
ARE YOU GONNA KILL US LMFAO
gene is SO BABY in this scene im gonna need to take screenshots later bcuz he is the smallest boy. in the world or maybe ever
back when we were children?? says the nine year old child
love how this episode is told through a bedtime story its very creative formatting and kinda unique feeling compared to the three story type of episode :)
MR FISCHOEDER APPEARANCE thank god we always need more fischoeder in our lives. i was worried we would have to wait weeks or even months to see him again
love big g. is that perhaps Grandma or Gloria
ZEKE AND JIMMY JR this is the big win for people who like seeing secondary characters. this episode already has more of them than like the Entirety of season 13 zeke and gene are so cute. their friendship is everything
THEY SEEM NICE TO ME AND LOVING I WANNA SAY AND WISE LIKE THEYVE GOT ALL THIS WISDOM TO PASS ON ABOUT LIFE AND THE WORLD 😭😭😭 lmao zeke saying that bob and linda are loving and kind is kinda sweet even though i know its technically bob and linda saying that about themselves. i do think zeke has a positive view of bob and linda Tbh
YOU GUYS SEEM LIKE YOU WORK SO HARD ALL THE TIME AND YOURE DELIGHTFUL........
new jimmy jr lore: he has a small bladder?
BOB AND LINDA GIVING EACH OTHER PIGGYBACK RIDES <3 so cute
rudy AND jessica spotted
AAWWWW ITS OUR JOB TO PROTECT YOU they love their kids so much :(
MARSHMALLOW APPEARANCE WTF??? new voice actor too :D i thought if she was gonna be in any episode it would be the bachlorette episode but its kinda funny she's just randomly in a western. its where she belongs
wait did i die?? no you were just being dramatic :/
I DONT KNOW WHY I THOUGHY MR FISCHOEDER WAS GONNA SERIOUSLY SUGGEST TO USE REAL BULLETS mf just shoots a bunch of kids. i mean he would do that honestly
AWW BOB SPECIAL INTEREST MOMENT he likes cooking ^_^
everything i do i do it for you 😭😭💕
LINDA ACTUALLY CRYING THIS IS GONNA BREAK MY HEART wtf i wasn't expecting this episode to actually get sad. what the hell </3 louise making her mom cry.....
"even though its really cool for moms to get angry and frustrated and cry in front of their kids"
this is weirdly reminding me of mother daughter lazor razor?? linda saying that she wished louise liked her and then louise saying wait you think i dont like you. their relationship is so weird and complicated but louise DOES love and respect linda and thinks she's really cool and fun!!! i wont hear otherwise idc
ONE OF OUR CHORES WAS TO LIGHT GRANDPAS CIGARS LIKE IN OUR MOUTHS??? LMAO WHAT THE FUCK LINDA why is this getting like weirdly serious is every episode gonna be like this now. are they just a little bit traumatic to watch every single time (also john roberts did A GREAT job voicing in this episode especially this ending scene)
MOSTLY BECAUSE OF TINA RIGHT AND GENE why did i literally start laughing loudly when she said that. god i love louise so much
aww they're babies <3 their relationship is the sweetest. you'll the toughest little cutie in prison
LIKE I SAID CANDY WAS LITERALLY THE SOLUTION those kids will do anything for some candy we all know this. we've seen the show before
gene its not even a question you WILL play coachella someday baby boy. you could probably do anything you wanted
GLORIA APPEARANCE i mean i dont like her but its been a few seasons since she was around. hello gloria is al dead
wait why does gloria have big ass badonkadonks..what who said that
aww the babies all asleep <3 little sweethearts
THIS EPISODE WAS SO FUN AND CUTE??? like genuinely a great episode that was heartfelt AND funny and had a really interesting story element to it as well. louise and linda episodes are always great and i love linda talking about how hard it is to raise good people and how much pressure is on them (and it makes sense that she would be more stressed about making them do chores vs bob because it was her mom who was pressuring her. big bob doesnt give a FUCK) a very fun start to hopefully a great season!!!!
#NOW TO GO TO MY TOTALLY LEGAL PIRATING SITES AND GRAB SCREENSHOTS FROM THIS EPISODE.......#txt#bob's burgers#episode review
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay so like: seclusion rooms. Social isolation rooms. "SI" rooms. Whatever. Uhm. Right, yeah. Things as they are now are the epitome of "simplicity" for us and people who haven't been McFuckedUp don't necessarily get what that actually means.
So, things we were taught between second and fifth grade because if how fucked up the US education, psychiatric, and prison systems are, using only our time at Hillcrest Family Servcies and not including the stepmother, the mother (minus one example where it is about Hillcrest but took place at the home we were in at the time), our time at Unified Therapy, or the number of times we confronted the family once we got to university and/or moved out of [REDACTED]:
A Haitian kid schooled us about the fact not all Black people are African, actually. This was while we both sat amongst the walls of the very same place that traumatized our system as it existed at that time. And we like, didn't see her very often since, so while we didn't have the words for it, we definitely saw racism at work. Like. We hope she is doing okay now but we have our doubts/worries, especially since this was before 2015 at the most. Great thing to learn when you're an elementary/middle schooler, not a great context/situation to be learning the thing. She like, really didn't have an obligation to do that in any way yk? so we owe her a lot.
They. Really don't actually care about Disabled or Neurodivergent people, they're state-sanctioned abusers who will hide their abuse from the touring parents even for their day schools. And then on top of gaslighting the students, they'll gaslight the parents too! If our "bahaviors" like saying crap, interrupting the teacher, or even just having an opinion are not allowed, then everyone in these normal public schools should also be in these "day schools" because they're even worse than we were. We were like. Literal angels compared to some of these children, how about you start beating them up psychologically as well?
Speaking of angels, this place was pretty christian, which we cannot be surprised about. Arson would probably be a good answer to this problem (systemic abuse perpetuated by smiling, religious faces) but society somehow sees nothing wrong with the double standards. Please, lord, we need other people who agree with us that child abuse is not okay even if it is a Disabled or Neurodivergent child.
As it is related to Hillcrest and around the same time period: the cops took a visit to our house for a different reason, but there was A Discussion where we suggested calling Child Protection Services on them, too. They, supposedly, did not like Hillcrest Family Servcies either. So we asked them one word: why? They simply. Did not respond. One of them looked quite heartbroken but that really seems more like lipservice lol. "It's their job to respond to calls and enforce the law!!" you say — and we say that's bullshit. Anyone who holds significantly more power than the average human being, including the cops, is much more obligated to stand up to literal oppressors. They could simply walk away. If every single cop walked away and never helped Hillcrest Family Servcies perpetuate their abuse of children, even if the abuse was legal, then it would all be good! We care much less about the very miniscule possibility that things would turn into lawless chaos (as opposed to lawless order — ffs please use the word anarchy correctly if you're gonna use it) and much more about the fact you could actually be making the world a better place. In fact, protests generally depend on making things less convenient to promote a change. If the cops' job was to actually protect its citizens they would have walked out and never helped Hillcrest Family Servcies, ever, and reported them to CPS. Instead, they did the opposite of their supposed jobs, which reveals their true nature, we guess.
Fuck them and the eugenicist hate group they keep supporting. Autism Speaks is a hate group. If the abusers are supporting the eugenicists (or is anyone is supporting the eugenicists, even if they are not abusers) you should be taking a closer look at those people.
They never called it ABA, but it was ABA.
They never called it ABA, but it was ABA.
They never called it ABA, but it was ABA.
Abusing the identity out of Autistic children is applied behavioral analysis (ABA), also known as conversion therapy. Conversion therapy is not just for queer children, it is any abuse-based practice that is meant to abuse the identity out of someone.
#applied behavioral analysis#autism awareness#abuse#psychology#social justice#we think those are the tags with people that need to hear this?#cn // abuse#cn // applied behavioral analysis#conversion therapy#cn // conversion therapy#seclusion rooms#cn // seclusion rooms#cn // Hillcrest Family Servcies#Hillcrest Family Servcies#(we're tagging those on the VERY VERY IMPOSSIBLY SMALL CHANCES that someone else knows what we are talking about that sees this post)#cn // SI rooms#SI rooms#cn // social isolation rooms#social isolation rooms
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Why Smart People Believe Stupid Things
If you’ve been paying attention for the last couple of years, you might have noticed that the world has a bit of a misinformation problem.
The problem isn’t just with the recent election conspiracies, either. The last couple of years has brought us the rise (and occasionally fall) of misinformation-based movements like:
Sandy Hook conspiracies
Gamergate
Pizzagate
The MRA/incel/MGTOW movements
anti-vaxxers
flat-earthers
the birther movement
the Illuminati
climate change denial
Spygate
Holocaust denial
COVID-19 denial
5G panic
QAnon
But why do people believe this stuff?
It would be easy - too easy - to say that people fall for this stuff because they’re stupid. We all want to believe that smart people like us are immune from being taken in by deranged conspiracies. But it’s just not that simple. People from all walks of life are going down these rabbit holes - people with degrees and professional careers and rich lives have fallen for these theories, leaving their loved ones baffled. Decades-long relationships have splintered this year, as the number of people flocking to these conspiracies out of nowhere reaches a fever pitch.
So why do smart people start believing some incredibly stupid things? It’s because:
Our brains are built to identify patterns.
Our brains fucking love puzzles and patterns. This is a well-known phenomenon called apophenia, and at one point, it was probably helpful for our survival - the prehistoric human who noticed patterns in things like animal migration, plant life cycles and the movement of the stars was probably a lot more likely to survive than the human who couldn’t figure out how to use natural clues to navigate or find food.
The problem, though, is that we can’t really turn this off. Even when we’re presented with completely random data, we’ll see patterns. We see patterns in everything, even when there’s no pattern there. This is why people see Jesus in a burnt piece of toast or get superstitious about hockey playoffs or insist on always playing at a certain slot machine - our brains look for patterns in the constant barrage of random information in our daily lives, and insist that those patterns are really there, even when they’re completely imagined.
A lot of conspiracy theories have their roots in people making connections between things that aren’t really connected. The belief that “vaccines cause autism” was bolstered by the fact that the first recognizable symptoms of autism happen to appear at roughly the same time that children receive one of their rounds of childhood immunizations - the two things are completely unconnected, but our brains have a hard time letting go of the pattern they see there. Likewise, many people were quick to latch on to the fact that early maps of COVID infections were extremely similar to maps of 5G coverage - the fact that there’s a reasonable explanation for this (major cities are more likely to have both high COVID cases AND 5G networks) doesn’t change the fact that our brains just really, really want to see a connection there.
Our brains love proportionality.
Specifically, our brains like effects to be directly proportional to their causes - in other words, we like it when big events have big causes, and small causes only lead to small events. It’s uncomfortable for us when the reverse is true. And so anytime we feel like a “big” event (celebrity death, global pandemic, your precious child is diagnosed with autism) has a small or unsatisfying cause (car accident, pandemics just sort of happen every few decades, people just get autism sometimes), we sometimes feel the need to start looking around for the bigger, more sinister, “true” cause of that event.
Consider, for instance, the attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II. In 1981, Pope John Paul II was shot four times by a Turkish member of a known Italian paramilitary secret society who’d recently escaped from prison - on the surface, it seems like the sort of thing conspiracy theorists salivate over, seeing how it was an actual multinational conspiracy. But they never had much interest in the assassination attempt. Why? Because the Pope didn’t die. He recovered from his injuries and went right back to Pope-ing. The event didn’t have a serious outcome, and so people are content with the idea that one extremist carried it out. The death of Princess Diana, however, has been fertile ground for conspiracy theories; even though a woman dying in a car accident is less weird than a man being shot four times by a paid political assassin, her death has attracted more conspiracy theories because it had a bigger outcome. A princess dying in a car accident doesn’t feel big enough. It’s unsatisfying. We want such a monumentous moment in history to have a bigger, more interesting cause.
These theories prey on pre-existing fear and anger.
Are you a terrified new parent who wants the best for their child and feels anxious about having them injected with a substance you don’t totally understand? Congrats, you’re a prime target for the anti-vaccine movement. Are you a young white male who doesn’t like seeing more and more games aimed at women and minorities, and is worried that “your” gaming culture is being stolen from you? You might have been very interested in something called Gamergate. Are you a right-wing white person who worries that “your” country and way of life is being stolen by immigrants, non-Christians and coastal liberals? You’re going to love the “all left-wingers are Satantic pedo baby-eaters” messaging of QAnon.
Misinformation and conspiracy theories are often aimed strategically at the anxieties and fears that people are already experiencing. No one likes being told that their fears are insane or irrational; it’s not hard to see why people gravitate towards communities that say “yes, you were right all along, and everyone who told you that you were nuts to be worried about this is just a dumb sheep. We believe you, and we have evidence that you were right along, right here.” Fear is a powerful motivator, and you can make people believe and do some pretty extreme things if you just keep telling them “yes, that thing you’re afraid of is true, but also it’s way worse than you could have ever imagined.”
Real information is often complicated, hard to understand, and inherently unsatisfying.
The information that comes from the scientific community is often very frustrating for a layperson; we want science to have hard-and-fast answers, but it doesn’t. The closest you get to a straight answer is often “it depends” or “we don’t know, but we think X might be likely”. Understanding the results of a scientific study with any confidence requires knowing about sampling practices, error types, effect sizes, confidence intervals and publishing biases. Even asking a simple question like “is X bad for my child” will usually get you a complicated, uncertain answer - in most cases, it really just depends. Not understanding complex topics makes people afraid - it makes it hard to trust that they’re being given the right information, and that they’re making the right choices.
Conspiracy theories and misinformation, on the other hand, are often simple, and they are certain. Vaccines bad. Natural things good. 5G bad. Organic food good. The reason girls won’t date you isn’t a complex combination of your social skills, hygiene, appearance, projected values, personal circumstances, degree of extroversion, luck and life phase - girls won’t date you because feminism is bad, and if we got rid of feminism you’d have a girlfriend. The reason Donald Trump was an unpopular president wasn’t a complex combination of his public bigotry, lack of decorum, lack of qualifications, open incompetence, nepotism, corruption, loss of soft power, refusal to uphold the basic responsibilities of his position or his constant lying - they hated him because he was fighting a secret sex cult and they’re all in it.
Instead of making you feel stupid because you’re overwhelmed with complex information, expert opinions and uncertain advice, conspiracy theories make you feel smart - smarter, in fact, than everyone who doesn’t believe in them. And that’s a powerful thing for people living in a credential-heavy world.
Many conspiracy theories are unfalsifiable.
It is very difficult to prove a negative. If I tell you, for instance, that there’s no such thing as a purple swan, it would be very difficult for me to actually prove that to you - I could spend the rest of my life photographing swans and looking for swans and talking to people who know a lot about swans, and yet the slim possibility would still exist that there was a purple swan out there somewhere that I just hadn’t found yet. That’s why, in most circumstances, the burden of proof lies with the person making the extraordinary claim - if you tell me that purple swans exist, we should continue to assume that they don’t until you actually produce a purple swan.
Conspiracy theories, however, are built so that it’s nearly impossible to “prove” them wrong. Is there any proof that the world’s top-ranking politicians and celebrities are all in a giant child sex trafficking cult? No. But can you prove that they aren’t in a child sex-trafficking cult? No, not really. Even if I, again, spent the rest of my life investigating celebrities and following celebrities and talking to people who know celebrities, I still couldn’t definitely prove that this cult doesn’t exist - there’s always a chance that the specific celebrities I’ve investigated just aren’t in the cult (but other ones are!) or that they’re hiding evidence of the cult even better than we think. Lack of evidence for a conspiracy theory is always treated as more evidence for the theory - we can’t find anything because this goes even higher up than we think! They’re even more sophisticated at hiding this than we thought! People deeply entrenched in these theories don’t even realize that they are stuck in a circular loop where everything seems to prove their theory right - they just see a mountain of “evidence” for their side.
Our brains are very attached to information that we “learned” by ourselves.
Learning accurate information is not a particularly interactive or exciting experience. An expert or reliable source just presents the information to you in its entirety, you read or watch the information, and that’s the end of it. You can look for more information or look for clarification of something, but it’s a one-way street - the information is just laid out for you, you take what you need, end of story.
Conspiracy theories, on the other hand, almost never show their hand all at once. They drop little breadcrumbs of information that slowly lead you where they want you to go. This is why conspiracy theorists are forever telling you to “do your research” - they know that if they tell you everything at once, you won’t believe them. Instead, they want you to indoctrinate yourself slowly over time, by taking the little hints they give you and running off to find or invent evidence that matches that clue. If I tell you that celebrities often wear symbols that identify them as part of a cult and that you should “do your research” about it, you can absolutely find evidence that substantiates my claim - there are literally millions of photos of celebrities out there, and anyone who looks hard enough is guaranteed to find common shapes, poses and themes that might just mean something (they don’t - eyes and triangles are incredibly common design elements, and if I took enough pictures of you, I could also “prove” that you also clearly display symbols that signal you’re in the cult).
The fact that you “found” the evidence on your own, however, makes it more meaningful to you. We trust ourselves, and we trust that the patterns we uncover by ourselves are true. It doesn’t feel like you’re being fed misinformation - it feels like you’ve discovered an important truth that “they” didn’t want you to find, and you’ll hang onto that for dear life.
Older people have not learned to be media-literate in a digital world.
Fifty years ago, not just anyone could access popular media. All of this stuff had a huge barrier to entry - if you wanted to be on TV or be in the papers or have a radio show, you had to be a professional affiliated with a major media brand. Consumers didn’t have easy access to niche communities or alternative information - your sources of information were basically your local paper, the nightly news, and your morning radio show, and they all more or less agreed on the same set of facts. For decades, if it looked official and it appeared in print, you could probably trust that it was true.
Of course, we live in a very different world today - today, any asshole can accumulate an audience of millions, even if they have no credentials and nothing they say is actually true (like “The Food Babe”, a blogger with no credentials in medicine, nutrition, health sciences, biology or chemistry who peddles health misinformation to the 3 million people who visit her blog every month). It’s very tough for older people (and some younger people) to get their heads around the fact that it’s very easy to create an “official-looking” news source, and that they can’t necessarily trust everything they find on the internet. When you combine that with a tendency toward “clickbait headlines” that often misrepresent the information in the article, you have a generation struggling to determine who they can trust in a media landscape that doesn’t at all resemble the media landscape they once knew.
These beliefs become a part of someone’s identity.
A person doesn’t tell you that they believe in anti-vaxx information - they tell you that they ARE an anti-vaxxer. Likewise, people will tell you that they ARE a flat-earther, a birther, or a Gamergater. By design, these beliefs are not meant to be something you have a casual relationship with, like your opinion of pizza toppings or how much you trust local weather forecasts - they are meant to form a core part of your identity.
And once something becomes a core part of your identity, trying to make you stop believing it becomes almost impossible. Once we’ve formed an initial impression of something, facts just don’t change our minds. If you identify as an antivaxxer and I present evidence that disproves your beliefs, in your mind, I’m not correcting inaccurate information - I am launching a very personal attack against a core part of who you are. In fact, the more evidence I present, the more you will burrow down into your antivaxx beliefs, more confident than ever that you are right. Admitting that you are wrong about something that is important to you is painful, and your brain would prefer to simply deflect conflicting information rather than subject you to that pain.
We can see this at work with something called the confirmation bias. Simply put, once we believe something, our brains hold on to all evidence that that belief is true, and ignore evidence that it’s false. If I show you 100 articles that disprove your pet theory and 3 articles that confirm it, you’ll cling to those 3 articles and forget about the rest. Even if I show you nothing but articles that disprove your theory, you’ll likely go through them and pick out any ambiguous or conflicting information as evidence for “your side”, even if the conclusion of the article shows that you are wrong - our brains simply care about feeling right more than they care about what is actually true.
There is a strong community aspect to these theories.
There is no one quite as supportive or as understanding as a conspiracy theorist - provided, of course, that you believe in the same conspiracy theories that they do. People who start looking into these conspiracy theories are told that they aren’t crazy, and that their fears are totally valid. They’re told that the people in their lives who doubted them were just brainwashed sheep, but that they’ve finally found a community of people who get where they’re coming from. Whenever they report back to the group with the “evidence” they’ve found or the new elaborations on the conspiracy theory that they’ve been thinking of (“what if it’s even worse than we thought??”), they are given praise for their valuable contributions. These conspiracy groups often become important parts of people’s social networks - they can spend hours every day talking with like-minded people from these communities and sharing their ideas.
Of course, the flipside of this is that anyone who starts to doubt or move away from the conspiracy immediately loses that community and social support. People who have broken away from antivaxx and QAnon often say that the hardest part of leaving was losing the community and friendships they’d built - not necessarily giving up on the theory itself. Many people are rejected by their real-life friends and family once they start to get entrenched in conspiracy theories; the friendships they build online in the course of researching these theories often become the only social supports they have left, and losing those supports means having no one to turn to at all. This is by design - the threat of losing your community has kept people trapped in abusive religious sects and cults for as long as those things have existed.
12K notes
·
View notes
Text
Your Touch
TFATWS EPISODE 4 SPOILERS
Pairing: Helmut Zemo x f!reader
Summary: Y/n was dragged along Sam and Bucky’s “Zemo mission” by Bucky. She’s a mutant herself, an empath to be exact. After the blip, Bucky became her new neighbor. They became good friends, and got to know each other, and he offered to teach her self defense. When he asked for her help, she never knew she’d catch feelings for a criminal.
Warnings: Language, angst, soft!zemo, fluff, and h*nd h*lding
Word count: 2.3k+
A/N: I know I know I posted a screenshot of this days ago but I’ve been really busy at the barn lately and I always have to go to bed before midnight and I’m typically busy until 8pm so I’ve been really meaning to finish this!!
AO3 link
(not my gif)
The new plan was for Sam to try and talk to Karli. Of course, Y/n didn’t expect Zemo to actually go through with that. Zemo called Karli a supremacist, which just about earned him a punch across the nose from her, but she held herself back - more like Bucky caught what she was about to do and he grabbed her by the elbow to drag her away like a child.
Y/n wore gloves nearly all the time, in all weather. With her empathic powers, and no one to guide her with them, she didn’t know how to control them or contain them, so she resulted in wearing gloves instead. Sure, it sucked when summer came, but in her mind it was worth it in the end.
Of course, John Walker himself had to butt in. The four of them (Sam, Bucky, Zemo, and Y/n) were on their way to Donya’s funeral, and low and behold John Walker’s been tracking them down. “Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.”
“Ah great - How’d you find us now?” Bucky immediately spoke up when they rounded the corner to fully see John and Lemar.
“Come on, man, you really think two avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Started Lemar, but then John butted in. “No more keeping us in the dark. You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.”
“Technically speaking, he did that himself-” Y/n started, but John cut her off.
“And who the hell is she?” He turned, looking at Sam and Bucky while jabbing a thumb in her direction.
“She can very well speak for herself, off-brand Captain America.” She said with her arms going over her chest. She couldn’t stand the guy already. Her and Bucky were together to watch his little football game thing, and she could practically see the steam coming out of Bucky’s ears. She could feel the anger, too. “I’m simply an acquaintance helping my friends, none of your concern.”
“None of my-” “Yes, none of your business. I know where Karli is.” Zemo interrupted him, starting to push past John, but he stopped him. “Well where?” Sam spoke up for Zemo, “All we know is, it’s a memorial, so we’re gonna intercept her there.” Lemar said something about being careful due to civilians, but Zemo, Y/n, and Bucky were already starting to walk off.
John tried explaining his quote on quote plan and that of course led to bickering between him, Sam, and Lemar. All Y/n could do was roll her eyes and earned a small chuckle from Zemo beside her. “What?” “Oh, nothing, it is just entertaining is all.” “What? Me getting frustrated or them bickering like children?” Zemo paused. “Both.”
John, yet again, tried stopping them, and having already been around their bickering, Y/n was getting fed up. This time, it was Zemo who held her back. He gently wrapped his hand around her elbow before she could speak up, and she reluctantly listened to him, letting the rest of them deal with his bullshit.
“I’ll deal with you later.” John pointed at Zemo. “Yeah, sure you will.” She mumbled, and before John could snap back, Zemo spoke up. “My associate is just up ahead.” And with that, they were finally moving again. Y/n figured there would be a trick or two up Zemo’s sleeve, but using a child to show him to the funeral was the last thing she expected him to do. As he gave her the money, she couldn’t help but smile a little. It was nice to see a man that looked extremely closed-off do something good. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.
Before Zemo could even speak, John cuffed him to a piece of machinery. “You’ve got ten minutes, then we’re doing things my way.” He told Sam over his shoulder after cuffing Zemo.
“Aggressive. But I get it.” In all honesty, Y/n wasn’t against this. More often than not her gut feelings were correct, and she certainly had a gut feeling that Zemo was going to do something either stupid or bad within the next hour or so.
Y/n sat down beside Lemar, bringing one knee up to her chest and letting her other leg hang off the edge of this machinery. She didn’t hate Lemar the way she hated John. Lemar seemed to have a good heart, one that was set in the right way and that wouldn’t change no matter what. He wasn’t like his associate, and Y/n could feel it. John had an aggressive and arrogant type of energy, meanwhile Lemar had a passionate and determined energy. There wasn’t a dangerous edge to the man.
The entire ten minutes - well, at this point it hadn’t even been eight let alone ten -, John paced nonstop and was driving her and Bucky insane. Her and Bucky seemed to make eye contact out of frustration nearly every time John would pace. And Zemo just stood with a grimace on his face the entire time. “Do you ever stop?” She finally said. “Stop what?” “Trying so fucking hard to be the hero of every situation.” “Excuse me?” That seemed to irritate him because he stopped pacing and came up to her, barely leaving much space between them.
“Y/n.” Bucky spoke, his tone a warning. “Leave it be.”
“No, I’m not going to leave it be. Not when I can’t hear my own thoughts over this guy making a trench in the concrete.” She sat up as she defended herself, not even bothering to look up at John when she talked to Bucky. “You try so hard to be the good guy. You have this mindset that you’re in control of everything just because you gave yourself the label Captain America. You think just because you’ve been labeled as Captain America, you can just go about bossing everyone around. You’re a spitting image of your average American, however.” With that, she got to her feet. She was smaller than him, but that didn’t stop her from continuing. “You’re a rich white man with beautiful blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, but you think because you’re a rich white man that you can control everything. You’re one spitting image of the American Government: Fucked up and corrupt.”
You could hear a pin drop. It was so silent. Y/n could feel the pure anger in John begin to bubble up, and right when she thought he was going to hit her, all he said was “I’m going in.” She was left standing there as Lemar jogged after John, just her and Zemo being the only ones left in the room.
“That was… Impressive.” Zemo ended up speaking first. Y/n snapped her head over at him, and there were tears welling up in her eyes. She didn’t normally get like this. The energy in the room was tense and her emotions got caught in the tension. “It wasn’t.” She mumbled, a sniffle following her words as she made her way over to Zemo. “I don’t exactly trust you but,” She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair. “This is a bit much.” It took her a second, but she was able to unlock the handcuffs.
Zemo seemed to stare at the cuffs for a moment while he rubbed his wrist, his eyes meeting her own. “Thank you.” “It’s nothing. Just go do your thing and I’ll be your babysitter.”
-
The large metal door slammed before Y/n could follow Zemo into the boiling room, and she heard him shove things in front of the door. “Zemo?” Silence. “Zemo what the fuck, let me in!” She shoved her shoulder against the door, but it didn’t budge. “It’s for your own safety.” She scoffed. “My safety? You better be worried about your own safety if I get my fucking hands on you after this, open the door.” She heard his footsteps retreating and she slammed her fist against the door out of anger, probably bruising her hand in the process because god that hurt.
Gunshots went off. She didn’t want to leave the spot in fear of getting lost, and within minutes Bucky was jogging down the hallway. “Zemo locked me out and I just heard gunshots-” Before she could continue, bucky managed to get the door open by kicking it, then he just had to push it open. By the time they got in the room, Lemar entered from across the room and upon looking down, Zemo’s unconscious body was in the center of the room while John stood some feet away from him. “What the hell happened-?” Y/n breathed out, running down the stairs and dropping to her knees by Zemo’s body, her fingers instantly going to his pulse beneath his jaw. There was a very obvious pulse, but she was still shaken up.
Why was she shaken up? He was a bad man. He was a criminal. He used Bucky to destroy people’s lives. He was supposed to be her enemy, so why was she worried about whether or not he had a pulse?
“Karli got him.” John came up behind her, but she stood up immediately. “Would you just back the fuck off? You don’t need to butt in on everything or be involved in everything. Get it through your stupid fucking helmet to your brain.” He started talking but she turned around and got back to Zemo’s side. She lightly hit his cheek with her gloved hand, and when he didn’t budge for a moment, she muttered a sorry before slapping him. That seemed to wake him up. His head lifted off the concrete, and his eyes fluttered open to meet her own.
“Oh, good, you’re alive. Let’s go back to your home now. Bucky?” She looked up at him, a soft pleading look in her eyes that said help. Reluctantly, he wandered over and helped her get Zemo to his feet.
-
Bucky and Sam had left to find somewhere for food, and left Y/n alone with Zemo in his home. She didn’t mind, if anything it was her suggestion. While the pair left the building, she guided him to his couch. He originally sat up but she put a hand on his chest and gently put pressure on his chest to ease him into a lying position. “I’ll get you some ice.” She quietly said, making her way to the kitchen.
“A cold cloth, please. Not a fan of ice over my eyes.” Zemo managed to speak up, his voice drifting to the kitchen. “As long as you’re sure.” She answered, grabbing a washcloth from one of the many drawers of his kitchen.
Quietly, Y/n stepped into the living room. “Lift your head.” She ordered. “Feisty.” Was his response. She rolled her eyes and sat where he had lifted his head. “Lay back.” She ordered again. Reluctantly, he lowered the back of his head onto her lap. “Close your eyes.” “I like the sound of that.” He muttered, his lips forming into a smirk. “Keep it up and I’ll make your headache ten times worse.” She quipped, gently laying the cloth over his closed eyes. “Now open your hand for a glass.” And she gently placed a shot glass of one of his strongest alcohols in his hand. “Do you want any pain meds or anything?” She asked, looking down at him. “Your touch would be enough, mein liebling.” His voice was quiet.
Of course, Y/n wore gloves solely to not have any physical contact with anyone. She feared feeling others’ emotions, seeing as she didn’t have a clue of how to control them. She’d told Zemo that she just had sensitive skin to certain material, which she figured he didn’t buy it, but he never said anything else.
With hesitation, she removed her gloves and placed them on the coffee table to her left. “Alright.” She spoke, her voice barely above a whisper as she reached for his right hand with her own. When she placed her hand in his, she felt him flinch. “You didn’t have to take your gloves off if you didn’t want to-” She cut him off. “It’s okay, Zemo.” “Helmut.” “Pardon?” “Call me Helmut. It’s my first name. Zemo isn’t my first.” Her brows raised in surprise, but she nodded.
Within moments of her slipping her hand in his, he intertwined his fingers with her own. A soft shade of pink settled onto her cheeks, and she was thankful that he couldn’t see her.
Surprisingly, she didn’t feel anything she’d feared when she touched his skin. She could feel faint pain and sadness from the past, but she also felt kindness. “You have a kind heart, you know. You put on a stone cold expression, but you’re kind.. I can feel it.”
With that, he placed his glass on the table and very quickly removed the cloth from his eyes, even though it hurt him to move his head too much. “I knew it.” She looked at him, a brow raised to toy with him. “Knew what?” “You’re an empath.” There it was. She knew he knew. “I am.”
“Am I… Hurting you?” Her heart nearly exploded at how soft his voice was. Very quickly, she shook her head. “No, no you’re not. I promise.” She smiled down at him and her eyes softened when she saw that look on his face. He was like a completely different person. He was touch starved. It was clearer than a crystal.
“Rest, Helmut… You need it.” She whispered, leaning over to gently press a kiss to his now cold forehead.
“You don’t need to tell me twice when you’re lulling me to sleep.” He snuck a smirk in before she laughed softly and covered his eyes with the cloth once more.
#helmut zemo/reader#zemo/reader#helmut zemo x reader#zemo x reader#helmut zemo x y/n#helmut zemo x you#zemo x y/n#zemo x you#marvel#mcu#tfatws#tfatws spoilers#the falcon and the winter soldier#baron helmut zemo#helmut zemo#zemo#daniel bruhl
286 notes
·
View notes
Text
BnHA Chapter 303: And What, Pray Tell, Is a “One For All”
Previously on BnHA: The Todorokis (really just Enji) looked at their children and went “how can we screw up all four of them in uniquely different ways” and proceeded to do just that. Touya was all “just because practicing how to set myself on fire better hasn’t worked to win my dad’s affections YET doesn’t mean it will NEVER work”, because child logic. Turns out setting oneself on fire real hard isn’t so effective at winning affections, but is actually incredibly effective when it comes to burning oneself to death, so there’s that. Back in the present day, the Todorokis basked in their various misplaced (again, except for Enji) feelings of guilt, and were all “anyway but get over yourself already Enji, you still have to do something to stop this kid”, and Shouto was all “I’ll help too”, and Enji was all “(╥_╥)”, and Hawks and Jeanist were all “[surreptitiously listening in from outside the door]”, and that’s basically where we left off.
Today on BnHA: Hawks and Jeanist are all “mind if we join you on this family journey?” and proceed to stroll in uninvited with their puns and their perceptive insights. Hawks is all “so to sum everything up, we’re fucked, but at least you have us here to help you out! by the way, no clue why I’m the first person to ask this in three hundred chapters, but wtf is One For All.” We then cut to Deku, who’s still all “[(－－)]z”, and All Might, who is all “I’m just going to ignore the extremely loud racket going on right outside this room.” Which, btw, is happening on account of Bakugou, who is all “(╬◣Д◢)” as Satou, Tsuyu, and Mineta cart him away. Anyway so that’s a lot of antics, and also it looks like Hawks has gotten tired of the Todorokis refusing to put the pieces together on their own about OFA and so he is fast-tracking that shit. And meanwhile Deku is chatting it up with the Vestiges exactly like we all thought. And now we have to wait another whole week for updates on all of this. This really is not fair.
omfg lol
“our bad, we were kind of accidentally listening in on purpose.” like I said last week guys, no fuss. it’s a tradition
OMG
I am absolutely fucking floored. Hawks literally said that so casually that it’s impossible for me to rewrite it so as to be even more casual. that’s literally what I would write in the “today on bnha” section. in fact I probably will write that
(ETA: just for laughs I tried it and it really worked.)
a couple more things to point out about this panel:
“TOP 3” omg yes. more like “top only” at this point, honestly. interested to see how that goes
Hawks’s phone is freaking the fuck out about something, calm down there
I know this is a standard Jeanist hair-fixing gesture that he does all the time, but I can’t help but form hypotheses about this being a stress reaction because Hawks’s hair is making him internally freak out. Hawks, if this man tries to get you alone with him and some hairspray and a comb, please for the love of god do not listen to him. get out of there and call the authorities
omg Shouto’s face
okay confession, I wasn’t really sold on the whole “Shouto has a schoolboy crush on Hawks” thing until exactly now, when I became 100% sold on it. that is adorable
and heck with it, gotta show Enji and Rei’s reactions here as well because lol
“omg my son who’s not my son, and he just overheard everything about me being a terrible shitty father and person overall, oh and plus my actual-son set him on fire and called him out on a national broadcast. I’m just gonna stare at him baffledly.” versus Rei, who is all “hmm, who are these people”
so Hawks is all “I got released from the hospital after one day for some reason so I made Jeanist drive me around places while we talked about life” but uh, heyyyyy, what’s Rei doing
okay, uh
SO FUCKING FORMAL OMFG. “SORRY MY KID TRIED TO BURN YOU TO DEATH, APPARENTLY HE DOES THAT” REI NO IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT
HAWKS IS ALL “I’M JUST GONNA LAUGH SINCE THAT’S MY DEFAULT RESPONSE TO BEING PROFOUNDLY UNCOMFORTABLE”
let me tell you a secret Hawks, it’s my default response too. ahahahahahahaha oh thank god Jeanist is helping her up -- AND MAKING A JEANS PUN, OF COURSE. IT’S BEEN ALMOST THIRTY SECONDS. MY MAN WAS DYING
“WTF IS ILLEGAL DENIM” he’s talking ‘bout them counterfeit jeans, Rei. Antoine Bugleboy knows
THANK YOU JEANIST!! OUT HERE ASKING THE RELEVANT QUESTIONS
damn straight. we’re not gonna sit around waiting another 300 chapters for this information on this man’s watch
now Hawks is telling Endeavor he used to watch videos of him all the time, and calling him his “childhood obsession” I can’t
OH MY SWEET STARS AND MOONS
1000% CANON. “SO CLOSE...” ARE YOU SERIOUS. YOU REALLY PUT THAT THOUGHT BUBBLE THERE AND EVERYTHING. “GOOD MORNING EVERYONE, SO JUST IN CASE YOU WEREN’T ALREADY AWARE, TODOROKI SHOUTO IS NOT ACTUALLY STRAIGHT.” HORIKOSHI KOUHEI I AM LITERALLY DUMBFOUNDED. THIS IS AMAZING
and meanwhile that look on Hawks’s face while he casually-but-not-really-casually-at-all asks this question. that phone app better be using his actual voice. I’m not sure I could take this scene in the anime at this point if it was like Alexa talking or something
that look in his eyes is basically saying that so far, based on the information he has absorbed up until this point, Hawks is prepared to view his former childhood obsession as a flawed but changed man. however I get the distinct feeling that depending on Endeavor’s answer now, he would be willing to drastically shift some of his opinions on him
(ETA: this is maybe my favorite panel in the entire chapter. the fact that his question isn’t addressed to anyone in particular, but his eyes are zeroing on on Endeavor. and the way his leaning-on-Shouto pose manages to be simultaneously nonchalant and yet ever-so-slightly protective. there’s so much going on in this one question and gesture and I’m mildly obsessed with it.)
however, Rei is all “that was me” and ONCE AGAIN WITH THE FACES IN THIS CHAPTER holy shit
Hawks definitely did not see that one coming sob. it’s so fun watching him frantically recalculate his ideas about this family every two seconds
DAMN IT HORIKOSHI I UNDERSTOOD THE PARALLELS ALREADY, YOU REALLY DIDN’T HAVE TO DO THIS
yes, Hawks, you get it. it’s not exactly the same, but it’s close enough. though unlike your shitty parents, Rei and Enji are at least trying
OKAY I SERIOUSLY CANNOT WITH ALL OF THIS
fljkdlaskfjlwkjl okay we’re doing the bullet-points breakdown here
first of all, the fact that poor little Shouto’s heart is still thumping away at this proximity and all he can think is “CLOSE” all intelligently as he stares at him with that face omg
and meanwhile Horikoshi has these STRATEGIC BANDAGES WRAPPED AROUND HIS CHEEKS TO HIDE ALL OF HIS SHOUJO BLUSHING omfg. SENPAI NOTICED YOU SWEETIE!!!
HAWKS YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY ZERO OBLIGATION TO WASTE ANOTHER SECOND OF YOUR LIFE WORRYING ABOUT THESE TWO ASSHOLES WHO NEVER SPARED YOU THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF REGARD OR CONCERN IN THEIR ENTIRE LIVES. THE NICEST THING YOUR MOM EVER DID FOR YOU WAS BUY YOU A $2 ENDEAVOR PLUSH FROM THE DISCOUNT BIN TO KEEP YOU QUIET, AND YOU WERE SO AWED BY THAT ONE ACT OF SORTA KINDA APPROXIMATE KINDNESS THAT YOU SHAPED YOUR ENTIRE WORLDVIEW AROUND IT. PLEASE LET ME PICK YOU UP IN A BIG HUG FOR JUST A SEC, YOU DESERVE THE WORLD AND YOU WERE ONE THOUSAND PERCENT JUSTIFIED IN LEAVING THEM IN THE DUST THE SECOND THAT YOU COULD
but all that said, he immediately recognizes that Shouto would also have had cause to do the same in his situation, and yet hasn’t. and so he has that much more admiration for him all of a sudden, which is just super sweet, and fully appropriate. Shouto does deserve props. I’m choosing to take this as an “it takes a lot of strength to be able to forgive, and people who choose to do that even though they’re not obligated to are really amazing" type of thing, as opposed to “people who don’t forgive other people who severely wronged them are bad.” and if I’m wrong and Hawks’s line here is meant to be seen as actual failing on his part, well then fuck that, but we’ll move on
SO NOW, DOWN TO BUSINESS!
I am so, so curious as to what kind of strategy Hawks has for this (if he even has any), so I’ll just be quiet now and read
so Hawks is summing up basically what we already knew -- that Tomura and his inner circle (curious that there’s no mention of AFO, because if Hawks doesn’t know about him, that implies almost no one does) are still on the lam with a few PLF stragglers and some High Ends; that a bunch of prisons have been “liberated” (I assume this means all of the inmates escaped, so if that’s the case then where’s Kurogiri??); that the HPSC is fucked; and that heroes are resigning all over the place, and so civilians are taking matters into their own hands
OH DAMN!?
does this mean we’ll actually see some international heroes?? I will LOSE MY DAMN SHIT omg
(ETA: apparently people who paid more attention to the first BnHA movie than I did recognized the silhouettes as belonging to some background characters from Two Heroes. so maybe they were just cameos and they’re not actually new characters who are soon to join us lol. oh well.)
anyway so Hawks agrees with the other Todorokis that Endeavor has no choice but to fight
awww
DON’T WORRY ENJI THEY’VE GOT YOUR BACK. WITH YOUR FLAMES, AND JEANIST’S PUNS, AND HAWKS’S BOYISHLY GOOD LOOKS, THE THREE OF YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU SET YOUR MINDS TO
so Enji is very pertinently asking why they’re standing by him in spite of the... [gestures vaguely to everything]
oh my lordy lord
Shouto you had better do something to combat this soon, or this man will sneak past you on my favorite character ranking after all. his face. his cheeky lil finger gun. the fact that he sums it up so fucking simply. “if someone is trying to do the right thing, I want to support them.” exactly. exactly
(ETA: and one last thing I love but forgot to mention, which is the fact that Hawks calls it a team-up despite the fact that he is clearly in charge.)
meanwhile Jeanist is all “as for me, at this point I just straight up don’t give a fuck”
I can’t handle how fucking cool this chapter is you guys
so Hawks is all “you good?” at Enji. and Enji...
if anyone needs me, I will be building myself a discourse-proof fort made entirely out of problematic characters. I don’t even care. I will go on living my life very happily in here
lol at Natsu being all “BUT DON’T THINK THIS MAKES US FRIENDS”
I’m living for this weird and no-doubt entirely unintended implication that Natsu and them all are gonna join in the fight with the rest of them. I mean, they do presumably all have very powerful ice quirks. and Natsu has medical training on top of that, and Fuyu is skilled at getting eight-year-olds to behave which could be a useful talent for dealing with Tomura hahaha I kid, but I’M JUST SAYING. who needs hero licenses anyway
OH SHIT FINALLY SOME DISCUSSION OF AN ACTUAL STRATEGY. even if it’s just a PR strategy
WHAKLHL
and now for some reason we’re flashing back to Natsu and Fuyu’s attempts to navigate through the media crowd outside the hospital
well I guess this is why I’m not the mangaka. if I were writing this I would have done something trite and predictable like using that “One for All” line as an excuse to cut to Deku!! as opposed to this entirely unrelated scene!!
seriously though why do we need to see this lol
no one in this crowd has ever heard of Alexander Dumas huh. or even the popular 2007 Disney Channel original movie, High School Musical 2
so now there’s an entire page of Hawks saying they need to know what One for All is, and Endeavor having one of those patented Todoroki WHOOSH realizations lmao look at this
just wait until this man figures out that one of the scrappy new interns he took on three months ago was actually the main character all along
SKDFIOHWIERLKSJGLWLK!!
NOW IS PROBABLY A GOOD TIME TO ASK MYSELF WHY I CHOSE THIS CHARACTER WHO KEEPS DISAPPEARING FOR SIX OR TWELVE OR FORTY CHAPTERS AT A TIME TO BE MY FUCKING FAVORITE. WELCOME BACK SON PLEASE DON’T SCREAM YOURSELF TO DEATH YOU STILL HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
(ETA: can we just take a moment to appreciate how Bakugou even got so close to Deku’s room in the first place though. in this giant hospital with no idea of where to even go. does he have Deku Radar or something.)
YOU SIX ARE OFFICIALLY ON MY HIT LIST!! SPARE ME YOUR GOOD INTENTIONS!! MY BAKUDEKU REUNION KEEPS GETTING POSTPONED WEEK AFTER WEEK!! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE HEROES WHERE IS YOUR CONCEPT OF MERCY
(ETA: btw just to be clear, I’m not actually angry lol; it makes total sense that they don’t want this rampaging feral toddler who was still in his own coma all of fifteen minutes ago to come and start screaming at the other coma child until he tears all his stitches out. if there’s anything we Bakugou fans should be familiar with by now, it’s being patient.)
also, Tsuyu wrapping her tongue around Bakugou’s still-healing torso wound absolutely can’t be hygienic at all. also wait is that Inko??
(ETA: pretty sure it is her. she got all of one line smdh.)
Iida is all “thank god Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight pulled through, I thought for sure he was a goner back there”
for the record this is actually really sweet to see how relieved he is. he’s one of the few people who saw the original injury close up, back when he was still at the battlefield and unconscious, so I imagine it really did freak him out quite a bit
JIROUUUUUU
“sometimes I just like to stand here and tug on my imaginary suspenders, what of it”
how come you guys get to loiter around Deku’s room but Kacchan doesn’t. god fucking dammit. AND WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN
I BET KACCHAN COULD WAKE HIM UP FROM HIS COMA WITH THE POWER OF RIVAL INTENSITY!! BUT NOOOOOOOO, [is dragged away back to my fort]
OH MY GOD!?!
"this seems to be an entirely normal and above-board situation that we have just stumbled onto”
I see Jeanist comes from the Iida Tenya school of respectfully using people’s full names
Jeanist becoming one of the main characters is the best thing to ever happen to this series
EXCUSE YOU, IIDA
BUT I’M SURE HE’D MAKE AN EXCEPTION FOR KACCHAN THOUGH!! [elbowing my way back out of the fort] HAWKS, PLEASE --
DON’T GO ALL OMINIOUSLY PUTTING THE PIECES TOGETHER ALL ON YOUR OWN GODDAMMIT
“there’s absolutely no way this angry wriggling shoulder burrito kid here could answer literally all of my questions, so I’ll just ignore him”
OH MY GOD WE’RE FINALLY CUTTING BACK TO HIM BUT THE CHAPTER IS ENDING
[jumps up, throws a folding chair at Iida and the rest of the gang, and then runs]
oh my god. actually this chapter was awesome. but I’m so fucking mad at this cliffhanger though lol
at least we got a couple of answers! and some hints and teases! poor Deku looks so worn out even though he’s asleep dlwkjl my little green baby. and is it just me or is his quirk activated?? All Might’s all “I can feel it” as if it isn’t obvious just looking at him, why are you trying to be all mysterious dude
anyway! so at least we finally have confirmation and a date for those vestige antics at long last. looking forward to meeting Mister The Fourth next week so we can finally ask him “hey dude, what the fuck”
#bnha 303#takami keigo#hawks#todoroki shouto#todoroki enji#endeavor#best jeanist#todofam#bakugou katsuki#class 1-a#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha
281 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ivory Runs Red: 5/6
First off, massive thanks to the @cssns, my beta @demisexualemmaswan, and my artist @cocohook38. Cocohook created this amazing cover art, and she is working on something else too to go with this story. The rough sketch made my jaw drop, so I can’t wait for ya’ll to see it!
This part is going to be a little long, but I need to address something that I got multiple comments about. Just bear with me; this is the only way I can think to clear things up. I was really surprised to see that some people were angry at David and Mary Margaret for not doing anything to find Emma and/or "allowing" her relationship with Neal. Others simply expressed things along the lines of "I hope you explain what David and Mary Margaret did about all this." The reason this reaction surprised me so much is because I thought it was clear that they HAD done something. Why would the Golds need to get rid of police files if the Swans never reported Emma missing? Why would issues of the newspaper be missing from the library if Emma's disappearance wasn't reported on? Obviously, David and Mary Margaret did something! As for Neal, they had no idea Emma was seeing him. If you'll recall, in a previous chapter, Emma told Killian she had to sneak out at night to meet Neal. So that wasn't Snowing's fault either. Also, how would any of these characters know what David and Mary Margaret did or didn't do for their daughter? This is almost a hundred years later, and Emma's memories are dulled from being a ghost for so long. The only way I could spell out clearly how Snowing handled their daughter's disappearance would be some sort of convoluted info-dump, and I didn't want to destroy the tone and mood of the story to do that. But just so everyone knows: Yes, Emma's parents were devastated. They did everything in their power to find her, never giving up hope (which is so in character for them!). They died still believing she was either still out there or that crimes against her had gone unpunished. It broke their hearts. The Golds spread rumors that Emma was some kind of slut who ran away with a guy, and the people of Storybrooke overall thought the Swans had gone crazy. So there it is, that's the back story that I just couldn't figure out how to fit in the story, lol.
I'm not mad at the questions, to be clear. I was just surprised by them. I guess I blame the show for ruining these two as parents the last couple of seasons. Maybe that's why everyone jumped on them so fast. I was also honestly worried that ya'll would be upset with me for not addressing the topic, hence this long explanation! No one was rude by any means, so don't go trying to defend me from nonexistent trolls, lol! My feelings have NOT been hurt. I simply wanted to address the questions that were asked and the misplaced anger toward Snowing. (Not anger towards me - but fictional characters!)
Okay, now that I've cleared all THAT up, let's get on with the next chapter, shall we? And I'll go ahead and warn you: this is gonna hurt . . .
Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …
Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)
Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four
Also on Ao3
Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @xhookswenchx @let-it-raines @bethacaciakay @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @spartanguard @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @ohmakemeahercules @carpedzem @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @itsfabianadocarmo @lassluna @distant-rose @courtorderedcake @winterbythesea @thesschesthair @killian-whump @thisonesatellite @batana54 @it-meant-something @xsajx @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling
Chapter Five: Run
“You’ve got to tell them what you saw - what you’ve learned,” Killian pleaded.
Graham shook his head, his curly hair falling in his eyes as he stared at the slender hands he clasped in his. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw sported far more facial hair than it normally did, and Killian didn’t have to ask if he’d slept in the past forty-eight hours.
“They won’t believe me.”
Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “But if I saw Emma, and you saw her, then maybe they’ll believe -”
“That Belle saw a ghost push Mike Gaston off the troll bridge? They’ll believe that? Really?” Graham let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “You really are just a naive kid if that’s what you're thinking.”
“But you’re a cop!”
“I’m still only nineteen! They’ll think we’re just over-imaginative teenagers.” Graham paused, reaching up with one hand to trace the curve of Belle’s cheek as she slept in her drug-induced prison. “That will land us in rooms just down the hall with our own IV full of an antipsychotic cocktail. How will I help her then?”
“You’ve fallen in love with her.” It wasn’t a question.
Graham sighed. “How could I not? And how could he -” He broke off, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. If I’d been there and saw him hurt her -”
“Shh, I wouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”
Killian’s gaze fell to the bruises around Belle’s neck, and he didn’t blame Graham at all. It terrified him to think what could have happened if Emma hadn’t shown up.
“History repeats itself,” he murmured under his breath.
*************************************************
Killian had scarcely arrived at the bridge when headlights blinded him. He turned away, blinking, stumbling, refusing to be stopped.
“Emma! Emma!” he shouted. He tripped and dropped his flashlight. It broke as it hit the ground, rolling to the edge of the bridge. Now all he could see was ebony before him and radiant luminescence behind him.
His palms scraped against the asphalt as Liam hauled him to his feet. His brother gripped his upper arms so tightly it was almost painful, and he gave him a brief shake.
“You’ve got to stop this!”
Killian fought him. “I have to see her!”
Liam had always been broader than Killian with an unfair advantage in all their childhood tussles. Even now, Killian was no match for him as he lifted him bodily with one arm and hauled him over to his car.
“You need help!” Liam literally tossed him into the backseat.
“I’m not going home!” Killian tried to scramble out, but Liam just shoved him back inside.
“Good, because I’m not taking you home.”
*******************************************************
“Why won’t you be straight with us, kid?”
Killian glared at the detective with a cynical sneer. The psychiatrist on the cop’s left frowned at Killian’s attitude. The choice of words was cruel considering he was in a literal straightjacket. His vision of the two men was obscured by the long strands of dark hair before his eyes. Haircuts were apparently seen as a luxury on the psych ward.
“I’ve answered all your questions,” Killian finally told them wearily, “you just don’t like what I had to say.”
“Because we want the truth,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Archie Hopper, said gently. He was clearly playing the part of “good cop.” Or “good doctor.” Whatever.
“I told you the truth.”
“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
Killian snorted a laugh. “Tell that to Mike Gaston.”
The detective’s voice took on a harsh, warning tone. “Mike Gaston was the victim of murder.”
“The victim!” Killian cried, his voice snapping up. “What about the bruises he put on Belle? Or the fact that I nearly died when he tied me to that bridge!”
The detective’s lips curled up in a lewd sneer as he lit a cigarette. “If some horny teenager likes it a bit rough, that’s none of my business.”
Killian fought his bonds, his jaw clenching at the detective’s insinuation. He was as bad as Neal Gold, maybe worse. He had to be pushing fifty at least, and a pot belly strained at his button up shirt. His eyes widened as Killian raged.
“Bothers you though, I see.” He leaned forward. “Nobody blames you for wanting her, kid. Nobody blames you for being jealous. But murder? That’s a different story.”
“I told you I had nothing to do with that!”
The detective glanced at Dr. Hopper, and the soft spoken psychiatrist took over. “Killian, start at the beginning for us. What did Belle say when she called you that night?”
“I’m telling you, she didn’t call me, she didn’t come to my house. I saw her early that afternoon at the library. That was it. Then my brother got a phone call that there had been an accident, and we came to the hospital.”
“You and Belle were at the library together a lot,” Hopper said softly, “what did you two do there?”
Killian rolled his eyes. He hated the patronizing way the man asked the question. “We studied. Did our homework. We were friends.”
The detective snorted again, and Killian wanted to scream. “Drop the act, kid. You really expect us to believe that you spent all that time with her, all that time with a hot chick, and you never fucked her?”
Dr. Hopper recoiled at the foul language, and Killian thought his own jaw might actually break.
“You’re just as much a misogynistic, narrow-minded, neanderthal as Mike Gaston.”
The detective grinned and slapped Dr. Hopper on the knee. “You were right, shrink, this kid’s smart.” He took another puff of his cigarette as he eyed Killian. “Smart enough to plan an elaborate murder with your knocked-up girlfriend?”
“That’s the most ridiculous - wait - did you say knocked up?”
“Hm,” the detective mused, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his five o’clock shadow. “You didn’t know?”
Killian was horrified when a laugh slipped past his lips. Another bitter laugh followed, then another, until before he knew it, he was shaking with them. He was laughing hysterically while wearing a straightjacket. That thought made him laugh even more, and if he didn’t seem like a lunatic before, he sure as hell did now.
“What the hell is so funny?” thundered the detective.
Killian’s laughter stopped abruptly and he leveled the man with an intense stare. “History repeating itself. That’s what’s so funny.”
A smile that he knew bordered on manic curled his lips. Yes, history had repeated itself, and this time, Emma Swan had won.
************************************************************
They didn’t have enough to charge him, or Belle, or anyone else really with Gaston’s murder. It was officially declared an accident, and theoretically, Belle French and Killian Jones were free to move on.
Killian wouldn’t say it was easy for Belle. She had severe trauma from that terrifying night, and she ended up losing the baby because of it. Nevertheless, she had Dr. Hopper’s patient help, her father’s support, and Graham’s unwavering devotion. Soon, though it would be a long time before she was truly healed, she was able to go home.
Killian, on the other hand, didn’t really want to go home. For one, he, unlike Belle and Graham, refused to stop talking about Emma - refused to lie and say he made it up. He didn’t fault his friends for it; didn’t take it as a betrayal. He even understood their reasoning when they begged him to do the same and just play along, damn it. He simply couldn’t do it. Emma was too real, too precious. He knew her in a way they never would. He knew the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that go.
The psych ward wasn’t so bad. The drugs numbed him to the point that he sailed on a sea of oblivion half the time. He’d stopped fighting, so there was no more straight jacket, no more bed straps.
And she came to him. Sometimes the drugs meant he wasn’t lucid enough to really carry on a conversation. On those nights, she curled up next to him on the bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheeks. She pressed kisses to his lips, and sometimes he could respond in kind.
Other times, though admittedly rare, they would talk. About everything and nothing at all. One night, they talked about their dreams for later, after high school, and suddenly Emma began to weep.
“I know,” he soothed, brushing her forehead with a kiss, “you fear you can never have that. But maybe we can figure it out. If we somehow get the truth out. About your murder -”
Emma silenced him with a finger to his lips. “That isn’t it, Killian. It’s you. I have no more tomorrows but you can.”
His brow furrowed, and she sighed and soothed the lines away with the pad of her thumb.
“But not if you keep holding onto me.”
His arms instinctively pulled her closer. “I’ll never let you go.”
She sighed, and sadness filled her eyes. She slipped out of his embrace and rose from the bed. Her skin grew white, her gown floated in an ethereal way at her feet. He frowned and scrambled to a sitting position.
“I have to say goodbye,” she told him. She said it with an edge of discovery in her voice. Her lips turned up in a soft smile even as a tear slipped down her cheek.
He shook his head and tried to reach for her, to leave the bed, but he had just enough drugs in his system to make his movements sluggish and ineffectual.
“I won’t let you see me again.”
“No, Emma, please! I love you!”
“And I love you. That’s why I have to do this.”
She was already fading away. Killian made a fist and slammed it into his thigh. Tears stung his eyes.
“Be happy,” she told him, “for me.”
Then she was gone.
#cs ff#captain swan ff#cssns21#captain swan supernatural summer#ghost story#horror#strange lieutenant duckling#lol trust me#happy ending of sorts
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay fine we're doing this. I havent read the books and I'm probably not going to I've only seen the movies so I'm sorry if anything I say is contradictory or has already been stated.
So! Descendants 3 was kinda shit and I dont like it but especially because of the ending because everybody was like "oh yeah island is open and we're all happy with no worries or implications about free villains or people being spiteful about being imprisoned for years!" In fact if anything they joked about those things.
The island is basically its own culture, I can't say how long it's been around, long enough for some almost adult kids to be about and to develop a kind of community.
The Isle is a place of poverty, people are dirty and on the street, eveyone steals from each other and most people don't put much effort into appearance upkeep (personal or of the sourounding area) not because of laziness or being "evil" but because they clearly don't have time or luxury to do such things or possibly even the clean water. Does the Isle have clean water?? How to they get electricity??? Someone tell me!
Another thing that I've noticed is easy to see but is not much explicitly said is the unique style of those on the Isle. As previously stated they don't have much but those who have the most "power" and such on the Isle are the best example of this As they have the most colourful outfits. However these outfits are often made out of patches and ripped things put together, even salvaged things like nets and chains as we can see on thing like Uma and Harry's outfits in D3 they make the best of what they've got and they do fantastic because their outfits are intricate and detailed and just tell you everything you need to know about them. Which is why it's a damn s h a m e when the original VK's ajust their style to be more like Auradon's. That's not an improvement! Be proud of where you came from!! It's like they forgot what it was like being on the Isle in D3!
Moving on, here's something that was touched on in D2 but not enough. Equality. On the Isle there is basically equal opportunity as in saying everything is shit and nome cares what gender and presumably what sexuality you are as long as you can work. Sexism is shown to be almost casual in aurodon from the looks of it, Chad makes sexist comments and litterally none else says anything or seems to see anything wrong with it except Jay who caves to pressure from peers and expectations. He does redeem himself because he's from the isle and he knows you shouldn't give a shit about anyone's gender or anything. If they can do something and ask to be included you give them that opportunity. The sexism is also implied in the way that the rule book has men written specifically in the first place and that it has taken until then for anyone but boys to be allowed on any kind of sports team. We never see it! It seems to be the hetronormative veiw where the boys do sport and girls do cheerleeding and other genders? What other genders? Never heard of that? BAD AURADON!! I bet there's so many trans folk on the island just living their lives, thinking Aurodon is the better place and not knowing that it's a cis het filled nightmare.
Okay no I'm headcannoning now, if their are now a bunch of Isle kids at auradon prep they find it fucking aweful the way all these preppy royals are treating them and make the first LGBT club in Auradon. There is lots of pushback and they get bullied a fuck ton for making themselves the most prominent queer folk in the school until a fight breaks out and the club demand that they should be treated better, taking all the evidence to fairy godmother who is very hesitant because COME ON she's never been that great she is biased to Auradon kids and if putting away those in the Isle is brought up she is all on it, she is jelly spined about doing anything against the royal kids. So the kids are like "Fine, if you won't help us we'll take this to the King himself!" Well mainly the queer mom's of the group (you know the ones I'm talking about) who lead the others and protect the anxious queers as they storm to Ben at his fucking locker and demand an audience because they are being harassed and bullied and none is doing anything. Ben had no idea there was even a LGBT club (too busy ig) and is gassed there is one for a moment before he's like "wait people are harassing you?" So Bisexual King Ben gets his lovely Bi wife and they start coming to club meetings and investing in the pins and stuff the club makes. Most club members are pleased but the queer mom's are apprehensive that this will help until some assholes come to the club to do their usual bullying only to find King and Queen Beast themselves siting there with rainbow bracelets and bi pins and all trying to have a nice old time eating their fucking cupcakes what the fuck are yall doing? The bullying dies down quick once they realise it ain't gonna fly, the other OG VK's that hear about this become members and very protective over their queer children. Did I mention Dizzy and Ceila are a part of the club? They're girlfriend's. Celia is one of the queer moms. Harry becomes one of the biggest protectors over the group as the pan dad. He's been going around snogging everyone and anyone wholl snog him everyone already knew he was queer they just didn't have the balls to try and bully him over it as much as they bullied the lil club members. But now Harry can often be seen in jackets and shit with pan and general queer patches and pins and running around with his gay children yelling "MOVE WE'RE GAY!!" He totally calls them his queer crew. Anyway as a result lots of queer royals start coming out of the woodwork, obvs Lonnie is one of them, and the club eventually serves to bring members of Auradon and the Isle close together.
Where was I? Yada yada auradon expects girls to be pretty princesses and boys to be brave knights or dashing princes. It's shit and should stop being portrayed as good. Moving on!
Food! One of the things we'll established in all movies is that the food of the Isle is shit compared to food of Auradon. The Isle has no fresh fruit which likely means its almost impossible for things to grow there which is fair because again there doesn't seem to be much fresh water and there are always clouds overhead so no sun. Maybe there is some people trying really hard to grow stuff but the general attitude of the Isle seems to be "there is no time for that" and fruits are forgotten so much that the VK's litterally don't knownwhat they are when they come across them. That and anything containing sugar. Actually it's mention by Dizzy and Celia that they enjoy the fact that the cake dosent have dirt or flies so basically food there is terrible. We don't see much food on the Isle but what we do see seems to be beans, eggs, chips and shellfish. Basically protine and carbs that can be easily stored and produced. To be fair beans are kidna good for you but they're likely a sign that if they get any imports from the mainland it is canned stuff. Prison food. There's probably some chef villain that is trying their best to make good food out of the shit but honestly the Isle dwellers should be angry that they've been deprived of good food for so long not happy they're finally been given decency.
Moving on, music! Auradon dosent have nearly as many musical numbers it seems, the Isle songs have a distinct style, to them, the villains that basically "founded" the place were masters of the dramatic songs (with backup or solo) so banging music is basically ingrained in the music's culture, even for battle as we see with the fight between Mal and Uma in D3. Meanwhile Auradon seems to have mainly romance and "I want" songs. Even Audrey's villain song is basically an I want song.
Okay let's talk about the Villains. We've established that the VK's are not inherently bad. However not all of them can be totally good and there are legit OG Villains just kinda chillin on the Isle. They've obviously lost quite a bit of their power, motivation and sanity (isolation will do that to ya as they lost everything and the VKs know no different) but deadass? They were bad guys. You can try to rehabilitate them sure but you've basically just let them free roam, they could make a runner and you wouldn't get the chance. They were also shitty patents which is brushed over/joked about in the interaction between Carlos and...man I feel bad I forgot her name deadass their relationship seemed to come out of nowhere in the second film she didn't seem interested in them at all and friendzoned them multiple times I'm pretty sure Disney did that becaue queer kids were relating to Carlos and headcanoning them as queer (which they deffinatly are) but deadass their mom is an attempted animal murderer and has hurt her child as we can see from how they're afraid of her and her rhetoric and yet it's "haha I'm afraid to meet your ma!" "Me too cus im a dog! Lol!" Fuuuuck offfffff
I think I'm running out of thoughts so here's a last one for now; with the magical barrier down a bunch of magical Villains kids should be coming out for the woodwork. We know Mal has magic basically stored in her so it's is possible, she technically doesn't need the spellbook to do magic it is just inherent to her. So with the diverse range of people from the isle there are deffinatly magic folk in there. Actually if we're following Disney movie law I saw something mentioning Jay being half Genie and yeah! He should be half Genie! Jafar got turned into a Genie he's probably only human because of the barrier! Oh also Ben should be able to go beast on command as long as he had a better beast form than he did in the movies. And give him back the beard and fangs like fuck you he looked so much better
Okay I'm done for now
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
Behave, Majesty
There was a reason he was assigned to be the head of your security. He was the fiercest warrior your father could find, which meant you- the heir to the throne and the most wanted marriage match between the three largest kingdoms of the land- would be safe against any reckless nobles who resorted to more desperate means to take your hand by force.
When you met he was still in his full armor, and he held his helmet impatiently in his hand, allowing you to see the mess of pale gold strands of his hair. You descended the stairs leading into the main audience room, the gossamer layers of both your cape and your dress- designed to highlight the generous curves of your body and show off your desirability to potential suitors- a soft rose that complimented the dusky shade of your skin, and made your dark areolas and nipples stand out. It was also thin enough that Bakugou could see the shadow of hair that covered your pussy. You weren't sure if he wanted to fuck you or kill you based on the way he was taking in your official royal attire.
You always felt ridiculous in these outfits, like a show pony, but somehow when it was his gaze taking you in like it was his right- you felt powerful. Desired.
Introductions were long and ornate and boring, and somehow you were relieved by your new head guard's rude interruption-
"Bakugou, your Majesty. Can we skip the formalities? I'm sure the heir to the throne has more interesting things to do." He almost sneered at you, as if he knew most of your life was preparing to be the trophy of the most politically beneficial suitor.
"Yes, I have an appointment with the master of the baths this afternoon in preparation for the suitor ball in a fortnight." You returned evenly, but your narrowed eyes and cuttingly dry tone just made your new guard grin with a sharp fierceness that made your stomach clench.
"I'll keep you safe while you're getting pretty Majesty."
Having Bakugou as a guard was.. interesting. He was always alert and prepared for all threats, and he saved you from many attempted kidnappings. Every time he put you to bed after an attempt he'd stay the night with you, sitting in a chair by the door while he sharpened his knives.
You loved these nights, because you never felt safer than when you called out to him in the low light of the room, only able to see him in his poet shirt because of the candle he used to see his blades and wetstone, and he grunted at you, "I'm here Majesty. I'm not leaving your side. Now go to sleep."
Having Bakugou as a guard meant getting lectured the first moment you're alone.
"My job, Majesty, is to keep you safe. That means you have to behave. You have to obey every order I give, when I give it, because your obedience can mean life or death in a moment of danger. Do you understand?" He was crass and abrasive around others, even your father the King, but when it was just the two of you he was focused and straightforward. Determined. A conquerer, if you'd ever seen one. Whatever he set his mind to he'd accomplish, you were sure. What would it be like to be the focus of such relentless intent?
"Focus, Majesty. I asked you a question." His words were sharp, making you guess he'd called out to you more than once when you were lost in thought. You blushed furiously but nodded, and if your voice shook at least only he was here to witness it.
"Y-yes, I need to behave for you and be obedient to ensure my safety." His eyes seemed darker for a moment, watching the way your tongue swiped over your bottom lip. With a sharp nod he ended the conversation, and retreated to be a protective shadow like he was assigned to be.
Having Bakugou as a guard means through all the would be suitors, the balls, the brunches, luncheons, court audiences, he was by your side. Rolling his eyes when you couldn't at the ridiculous promises suitors made you, and holding his hand while you lean on him to take your painfully ornate shoes off for just a moment before your next appointment.
Having Bakugou as a guard means seeing the way he slowly starts to show his respect for the work you do for those in your kingdom you claim your father's infrastructure has failed. He follows you day after day going around the kingdom's orphanages and poor houses, bringing your maids in waiting to carry more baskets of food and blankets and medical supplies. He helped carry the heaviest supplies, his red eyes following you as you sit and talk with the children while your aids distribute the food and blankets (because as much as you'd like to you're not allowed to actually do any of the cooking and preparations yourself as another ridiculous limit because of your royal blood.)
But then your father tells you he's found a suitor, that he's tired of your arguments for not marrying the decent, perfectly acceptable matches he's put forth, and that you're to be married within the year.
Having Bakugou as your guard as a betrothed royal is hell. He sneers more often than not when mentioning anything about "Prince Izuku, the Compassionate" your soon to be husband if your father has his way. And after meeting your betrothed you found he was a perfectly kind man, with an honest heart and a genuine desire to do what was best for his people.
But he didn't make snide jokes with you about the gilded trappings of the upper class that felt like a prison, he didn't sit with you to ward off nightmares of men coming to take you simply because of who you were born to, and he didn't make the vow to keep you safe- willing to lay down his life to make sure you kept your freedom.
Having Bakugou as a guard means finding the most inconspicuous time to have a moment alone to tell him-
"I don't want to marry Prince Izuku." Your handmaids were dismissed for the night, and you had claimed you were fearful of nightmares to get Bakugou to stay the night with you.
You were in your bed, the sheets long since turned into a tangled heap, and you leaned against the ornately carved wood of the bedframe's canopy as you made you declaration.
The nightgown you wore was, like most of your clothes, more gossamer threads than anything substantial. And in the candlelight of your royal bedchamber the champagne fabric made your skin shimmer like bronze. Bakugou's heart clenched at your words and he hoped so brightly for a moment it took a viscous amount of self control to wait, hear everything you had to say.
You stood and walked over to him, barefoot, a vision that was begging to be claimed.
The doors were locked, and no one but the man you wanted was able to see the way you knelt before him- a royal showing such an act of loyalty and submission was unheard of. But Bakugou could see that you were genuine in the way you bowed your head to him for a moment, and the longing in your gaze when you finally looked up at him.
"I want you. You swore to always keep me safe, do so by taking me for yourself. You'd protect me.. and you'd protect any heirs we may be blessed with.." You murmured your reasonings softly, your hands resting on his knees as you spoke. You saw the hardness between his strong thighs and you took a risk that had your face flushing red-
"I'd have to obey you, as my husband. But I always obey you don't I? Give me a command. Let me show you how well I can obey."
Bakugou cupped your cheek and brushed his thumb over your lips, bitten red with your worrying.
"Such sweet lips saying such tempting things. You'd give up the throne to two kingdoms to be tied to a simple knight?" His question was quiet, but the weight of it hung between you two heavily.
"I'd give up everything to be by your side for the rest of my days. I'm not afraid, I'm never afraid because.. I know you'll protect me. That's all I need." You'd thought this through. You were prepared to present your father with an alternative form of union between the two kingdoms, or runaway if need be. You also had a plan, one that was crazy, reckless, desperate. But if there was no other way to make sure you were his.. You too, could be relentless in pursuing what you wanted. Maybe your love for him gave you that drive.
"And you want to give me children?" The way his voice grew rough as he asked it let you know this question affected him just as much as it effected you. Your thighs clenched together, and that heat that always lingered in your belly in his presence seemed to be ignited by the thought of what he was going to say to your reply.
"I want to behave for you as any good royal should, and provide my husband with as many heirs as he desires." You met his eyes seriously, and you didn't when his hand lowered to wrap around your throat. You leaned into his grasp, breathing in sharply when his grip tightened briefly at your blatant trust and submission to him.
"Your father may not allow it." It was as if you scented blood in the water, if he was coming up with reasons you shouldn't it meant he was in favor of it. You would have him, because no one else could ever compare to the brightness of him that exploded in your life and didn't leave a single thing the same.
"If I'm already with child when we present our argument, he won't have a choice but to give you my hand in marriage." You blurted out, your one ace card. The way Bakugou's jaw clenched and his grip on your throat tightened enough that you got light headed made you squirm.
"Are you truly so desperate for me that you'd allow me to put my seed in your belly? Tonight?" All it took was a nod, and he was hauling you into his arms. Your legs went around his waist without hesitation, and he carried you back to your bed.
Stripping you of your close was easy, especially compared to your lover's brute strength- the gossamer silk fabric didn't stand a chance. You were bare before him in moments, and he shouldered his way in between your lush thighs to he could finally get his tongue in your pussy like he'd been dreaming of doing for months.
You were biting your lip and trying to hold in your moans, because you couldn't get caught. Not yet. Not until you were sure his seed had taken root in your womb.
"Not a sound, Majesty. We are not going to be interrupted until you are leaking my seed." The low, growled words made you whimper, and you pushed your hand against your mouth to try to obey him. Because you would always behave for him. Your Knight.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou#happy birthday bakugou#i have a thing for knights#and royalty#tw: dubcon#tw: duboius consent#tw: dark content#tw: kink
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rangers, Lead The Way - Chapter 3 - Kenny with Maggie
written by @anotheronechicagobog
warnings: swearing, nudity, profanity, mention of school shooting, guns, weapons, I’m pro gun control (even though I’m Canadian) and this kinda reflects that, mention of PTSD, child neglect, also I fucking hate nazis
When someone called before seven in the morning it was work, a death notification, or one of his fellow trio of lovestruck fools. So when the annoying ringtone Hana installed as a prank and he couldn’t figure out how to remove started blasting on his nightstand at 2:17 in the morning, he was more annoyed than apprehensive. “Crosby.”
“Hey man, sorry to call you so late, but it’s about Maggie.”
“What’s going on?”
“One of her first arrests as an FBI agent just broke out of prison, and she’s been temporarily assigned to the unit being tasked with finding him. Yours. I expect you’ll be getting a call in the next five minutes or so. Maggie can take care of herself, I know that, but...”
“It’s hard when you’re not there to watch her back. Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”
“Thank you. So much. I appreciate this, so, so much.”
“Hey, a couple of months ago I was you. I feel you man, don’t worry. She’ll be fine. Listen, I’d love to keep talking but I’ve got another call coming in and it looks like that work call you were warning about. Talk to you later.”
“See you on the flip side, man.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jess stood in front of everyone with that look on his face that vaguely reminded Kenny of his stern ex-navy fourth-grade teacher. “Everyone, this is special agent Maggie Bell, you may remember her from when we worked with her unit on a couple of cases, but this time it’s just her joining us. Is there anything you’d like to add, Bell?”
“I’m excited to work with you all, but please, call me Maggie.”
“Alright, let’s get to work, then. Maggie, Jason Anderson was one of your first arrests with the bureau, can you brief us on that case and highlight any details you think may be pertinent?”
“Definitely. Well for starters, Anderson is a cheating scumbag and it only gets worse from there.” Maggie’s bluntness broke through the formality that was stifling the bus, smirks and chuckles abound, and it seemed that only he didn’t have the sense to at least try and hid his amusement. An understanding but disapproving look had Kenny composing himself to speak up. “Well then, let’s jump down this rabbit hole.”
Maggie was sitting next to Hana, giving details about the fugitive they were currently after. He was one of Maggie’s first arrests as an FBI agent, so the bureau thought it would be beneficial to have her work with the team. So here she was, dressed in jeans and a sweater as opposed to her usual suits, combining her razor-sharp intelligence with Hana’s. They’d commandeered the top floor of a police station in Boston and were relying on Maggie and Hana’s wit to find out where he was. Jason Anderson, 42, was an illegal weapons dealer. He’d previously been put in prison for distribution and possession of prohibited firearms, and for giving an AK-47 to a school shooter. He was being transferred to a higher security prison because it came to light that he was continuing his business from behind bars, but the security team had been too small and unprepared for the escape plan pulled off by a team of eight. Those eight men were their biggest clue oddly enough, as they’d been dropping like flies since the escape. Michael Howard, 40, was Anderson’s ex-brother-in-law. And the connection between all the, now dead, prison breakers. Unfortunately, Howard’s sister, and Anderson’s ex-wife, had cut contact with both of them along with the rest of their families after Howard introduced Anderson to his mistress and encouraged an affair that created two children. The mistress, Bethany Karnstein, had gone AWOL hours ago when she left her job in the middle of her shift and didn’t pick her kids up from school.
The kids were safe with Anderson’s parents, but they couldn’t answer their questions when they asked where their mother was. The kids did identify Michael Howard as one of their mom’s friends though, he’d come to watch them while their mother was in the hospital about six months prior. They didn’t look shocked that FBI agents were asking about their parents, but they still didn’t know anything.
At the moment, they were splitting up. Jess and Barnes were headed to follow up with Bethany’s clueless boss, he and Clinton were about to go follow up on a possible sighting, and Hana and Maggie were staying on the bus. Thankfully, since Kenny was stressed out enough at the prospect of having to watch out for Maggie on top of worrying about Hana, them being assigned together eased his mind.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was around midnight when he and Clinton were finally able to rendezvous with the rest of the team. There was no sighting, Bethany had one of her affair partners call in a false tip, and when he and Clinton had quickly sussed that out it lead to a shootout and car chase. Jason, the dumbass stupid enough to commit six different felonies for a woman who has two kids with a violent arms dealer, was lying in a heavily guarded ICU bed. They’d managed to get his cell phone but he was beyond unconscious when they’d finally managed to get him to stop shooting at them. “Hey Hana, I brought you something.”
“Jason’s cell?”
“That too, but I was actually talking about this.” He held out a large coffee that she desperately needed if the way her eyes lit up was any indication. “Thank you.” Hana let out an over-dramatic groan as she downed the first sip. “Hey Crosby, thanks for my coffee too.” He looked at Maggie sheepishly, realizing that he’d only gotten two, one for himself and the other for Hana. “I was the one who drove to and then parked in front of the coffee shop while he went and got those, how do you think I feel?” Clinton’s playful jab caused a round of giggles but the knowing look from the older man made Crosby a little nervous. He was sure his feelings towards Hana weren’t super well-hidden, but he really didn’t need anyone on the team tipping Hana off. “Anyway, here’s Jason’s cell. Do you think you can crack it?”
“Normally with this many characters I’d say no... But, his password is seven characters long and his lock screen is Bethany, so... There we go, unlocked.”
“... That was a really poor choice of password.”
“And girlfriend.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After working for fourteen hours straight they were all spent and headed to the hotel that the FBI had secured rooms at for them. Jess, Barnes and Clinton were all in one car that was headed straight to the hotel to get everyone checked in. Kenny, Hana, and Maggie were in the other car that was making a detour on the way to pick up Thai food. Hana and Maggie were chatting amongst themselves, but Kenny was still kicking himself for the slip-up he’d made while placing the order over the phone.
“Hi, can I place an order for pickup? Great. The name’s Kenny and the phone number is 123-456-7890. Okay, I’ll get two orders of shrimp rolls, one vegetable pad Thai, one pork Mee Khob, one chicken pad Keeng, and two orders of chicken Kao pad puk, hold on one second- Maggie you want green curry, right?”
“... Yeah, how did you know?” I’ve heard your partner talk about you almost non-stop since he met you because he’s head over heels in love with you, but I can’t say that, can? Especially because you, Hana, and Hailey don’t know that OA, Jya, and I know each other... For some reason, so sorry Maggie, Hana but I’m going to have to lie my ass off here. “Uh, sorry, I thought I heard you mention it earlier, plus you look like a green curry kind of person.”
“Ha, alright, yes I’d like some, thanks.”
“- Sorry about keeping you on hold, I’ll add one green curry to that order. Do you want me to pay over the phone or is it okay if I pay when I get there?”
“Kenny!”
“Sorry, what’s up?”
“Our exit is coming up in... 150 metres, you need to turn right.”
“Shit, thanks, Hana.”
“Are you okay? You seemed like you were in your own world there.”
“I’m fine, I was just thinking. Where do I go next?”
“Go straight for another 700 metres, it’ll be on the right.”
“Got it.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Alright everyone, the food’s here!” They’d all decided to gather in one of the meeting rooms the hotel had to the left of the lobby, Kenny had admittedly bellowed a little loud, but it brought all of his straggling coworkers into the room from their various spots in and around the lobby.
“Finally, what took you guys so long?” He knew that Jess was just hangry, and frustrated that they hadn’t caught the fugitive yet, so he let the snappy comment slide.
“Crosby almost missed the turn.”
“You let Crosby drive? Rookie mistake” He gave Hana a teasing look of betrayal before turning to Clinton. “I’ll have you know I am an excellent driver.”
“You’ve driven into a lake.”
“That was one time three years ago! And we were in a high-speed chase with a guy on a BMX bike who made a sharp turn near a kid’s birthday party, I didn’t exactly have many options.” He sounded more upset than he actually was. Moments like these were nice, where they got to hang around each other and just be friends, and Maggie was fitting in wonderfully with everyone but especially Hana, who sat in between him and Maggie as she started telling a story about OA with her face absolutely glowing.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jason’s cell proved to be far more useful than he was. Bethany had been texting him from a rural address that turned out to be a cottage rental that was supposed to be vacant. The owners had a basic security system that had alerted them that someone was in their cottage, when the local LEOs investigated they immediately recognized the suspect but were able to play it off as having gotten a noise complaint, before going back to their vehicle and calling the FBI, while hiding their vehicle so that they could keep watch over the cottage. There was always a tense atmosphere when people were getting greedy for a raid, Kenny supposed the fresh air and appealing scent of pine trees eases tensions slightly, but not by much. Everyone knew that the worst could happen. That their loved ones could get an overly formal call at an unholy hour, telling them that the worst would happen. Everyone always did their best to try and prevent that, but there was only so much that they could keep out of fate’s unforgiving hands. His heartstrings pulled slightly as he flicked his eyes over to Hana. She was his special someone, even if she didn’t know it, and for a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like for her if he- No. Nope. You can’t think like that, especially not before a raid, and especially not about a woman who was only supposed to be your friend. The final preparations were complete and they were getting in position to breach. Hana still hadn’t been cleared for the field yet, so in the back of his mind, he was appreciative that there was one less person to worry about, with her wirelessly monitoring their body cams and coms. Although that was kind of moot point honestly, because Maggie was with them, in fact, Maggie had taken Hana’s position behind him. “You ready Maggie?” She put her hand on the back of his vest as the SWAT leader started counting down. “Always.”
The door was busted down and all the FBI and SWAT agents funnelled into the house through the three entrances. The sliding glass back door was where Jess was entering, the side door was for Clinton and Barnes, and He and Maggie were going through the front door. The front door went straight into the family room to the right, the eat-in kitchen was on the left, and directly across from the sliding glass door. Flashbangs went off as everyone started shouting, announcing themselves. There were screams and cries of panic, something not unusual in their line of work, what was also not unusual was finding Bethany naked on her knees with Michael Howard standing in front of her dressed in the same manner. Michael’s eyes went wide, and his thought process played out like an open book.
Shit. Feds.
Get gun.
... Gun is not in my holster because I’m not wearing clothes.
Run.
... Can’t run cause Bethany is clinging to my legs.
Kenny had to give the guy props for trying to tackle him linebacker style naked as the day he was born as he stood firm and checked him, sending him flying onto the ground. “Turn onto your stomach, now!”
He writhed around, trying to resist arrest, shouting “SUCK MY DICK YOU PIGS!” And trying to thrust his bare nether regions at everyone, Kenny in particular. “Howard Michael, you are under arrest, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you acknowledge that your rights have been read to you?”
“FUCK YOU!”
“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” One of the SWAT officers approached them with an itchy-looking wool blanket and took their suspect into custody. Maggie and Kenny shared a look before making their way to the two bedrooms that were to the left of the kitchen, they hadn’t been cleared yet and now they were trying to move fast to make sure that no other accomplices got away. Kenny took the right door, Maggie, to the left. “FBI! Freeze!” Kenny was met with the disturbing sight of a dead body on the bed. His throat and wrists had been slit and he was surrounded by lumped together blood-soaked sheets. He immediately recognized the dead body as the last remaining accomplice in the breakout. “Hey, Crosby? I need your help in here.”
“What’s up Maggie?” When he entered her room he stopped in his tracks. There wasn’t a bed, instead, there were two cribs for two babies, both of whom were in an equally freaked-out Maggie’s arms. “Here, let me help you.” Kenny helped lighten her load by taking a baby in his arms. “Hi sweetheart, what’s your name?”
“Kenny, these babies can’t be older than six months, you know she can’t respond to you, right?”
“I know, but they’re so little and scared, I want to at least try to comfort them.” The little girl hard curled up into his chest and nestled her face into his neck. “It looks like you’re doing a great job to me.”
“Who’s kids even are these?”
“I’m really trying not to think about it.”
“I’m praying to every deity there is that they’re not Bethany and Howard’s kids.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There had to be thousands of deities, gods, godlings, divine beings, and not one of them could come through for those poor kids? The six-month-old twins Baxter and Hazel were the children of Bethany Karnstein and Michael Howard, who had murdered a man in the room next to their children’s room. The social services department where they were was basically non-existent, so while they waited for a social worker to drive from four and a half hours away they were watching the babies at the local police station while Jess and Clinton were questioning Michael. Baxter was much more social, jumping between the FBI agents, SWAT, and local LEOs, but he was now babbling quite happily on Maggie’s lap, whereas Hazel had immediately taken to Hana and refused to be held by anyone but her and Kenny. He looked at her fondly, Hana was holding the baby close to her chest and humming the tune to a melodic song he couldn’t remember the name of. Hazel looked up at Hana with wide, enchanted, trusting eyes, and all Kenny could do was feel his heart melt. A stray thought placed itself at the forefront of his mind and before he could stop it, he was picturing Hana as a mom, and as captivating as that thought was Kenny had to shake his head to stop it from going too far, they were just friends, it wasn’t Hana’s fault that he’s in love with her. I need to look somewhere else, anywhere else.
His eye-line shifted to Maggie and watching as she bounced an absolutely delighted Baxter on her lap. He knew that OA wanted a family, wanted a wife and a couple of kids, and looking at the tender way Maggie was holding and entertaining Baxter, he could see her being a mom too. Man, if OA saw this he’d have a heart attack, it’s his dream come true.
Kenny saw Hana shift positions out of his peripheral vision and turned to look at her and was immediately concerned. She had a look of discomfort on her face. “Hana? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her tone was tense and Hazel immediately picked up on it and made a scared noise. “Are your arms tired? Do you want me to take her?”
“No. We’re fine. Maybe you should hold Baxter instead.” She snapped and finally looked him in the eyes, she was clearly angry and upset, but she seemed betrayed as well. Kenny leaned back into his chair his shoulders sinking in tandem. He was silently thankful that since everyone was milling about and talking it didn’t seem that anyone heard the exchange, though Maggie did look at him with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged his shoulders in response, completely bewildered. Maggie shook her head sharply, rolled her eyes, and scoffed. ‘Men.’ She mouthed. Kenny was completely clueless, had either of them noticed him watching them at they were offended at that? He watches Hana work away on her computer all the time and it’s never been an issue, but then again that was always subject to change. His inner ramblings were cut off when Jess and Clinton came back from the interrogation room. “Michael didn’t talk much, but Hana decrypted his cell and he has incoming and outgoing calls to a recluse retiree Evan DeLuca who lives forty minutes from here. Crosby, Bell go check it out, Clinton and I are going to take a break from interrogating Michael for an hour or so, Gibson and Barnes, you two can interrogate Karnstein, see how much she knows and just how involved is she in all of this. We can watch the babies while you’re in there...”
“Admit it, boss, you want a break just cause you two want to hold the babies.”
“Get moving Crosby, Barnes is already out the door.”
“You got it.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They were twenty minutes into the tense car ride when Maggie finally spoke up. “Just so you know, you’re an idiot.” Flabbergasted Kenny let his mouth fall open and close a couple of times before tightening his grip on the steering wheel only to release it after taking a breath. “You’re probably right, but can you please tell me why I’m an idiot? What did I do wrong?”
“Can’t tell you that.”
“Why not? You were the one who brought it up.”
“Just... Focus more on Hana, okay?”
“Are you sure? I mean, I thought about it, and maybe that’s the issue?”
“Trust me, it’s not. Just focus on her, got it?”
“Okay... I’m confused as hell, but okay.”
“Isn’t that your usual state of mind?” He didn’t have to look over to see the teasing grin, he could feel it. “Woah, low blow, Maggie, low blow.”
“If you want to hear about a low blow, you should hear about how OA and I had to chase a clown fairy princess twelve blocks at two in the morning.”
“Please, go on.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well. That went terribly wrong. As much as Kenny could appreciate the peace and aesthetic of small towns and cottage areas, he hated working in them because there was never any backup! Forty minutes may not seem like a lot of time, but when you’re in a firefight against a man who has access to a seemly endless supply of weapons of war, that was an eternity. He’d literally fired a bazooka at them, how in the fuck did he get a bazooka?! So, the good news about this situation? They’d found Jason Anderson. Bad news? They’d found Jason Anderson with an arsenal large enough and powerful enough to take down a small army. They’d managed to take cover, but Anderson clearly had night-vision goggles because, despite the fact that it was past eleven and pitch black, he always knew where they were. Oh, and Evan DeLuca was probably a dead retiree, not a recluse. That’s just great, another body to add to Anderson’s growing total. Now, all that he and Maggie had to do was not become part of that number. If only it were that easy. They’d managed to get around the side of the house where there were only two medium-sized windows on side of the house facing them instead of a large doorway like at the front and, presumably, the back.
When Kenny got Jess on the phone it was nothing but panicked observations, and the notification that they’d found Anderson, as he and Maggie ran for cover. His phone wasn’t even near his face when he made the call, so he’s not quite sure what all made it through, only that they were still thirty minutes away from the address.
“We need a plan.”
“He can see our movements so we’re going to have to be sneaky about it.”
“I’ll fire on him, cause a diversion, do you think you can try to sneak around back?”
“Are you crazy?! We didn’t have time to grab our vests, that’s suicide. Besides, how many rounds do you even have left?”
“I’ve got a mag and a half.”
“Really? I thought you fired a bunch of shots at him earlier.”
“I did, but I’ve been carrying extra ammo for this case, I figured I’d need it at some point considering we’re going up against a weapons dealer.”
“Smart-” She was cut off by another several hundred rounds being fired at the, thankfully incredibly thick, tree they were hiding behind. “We don’t have much of a choice Maggie. Head around back, I’ll try to distract him and not get shot.” He knew she’d argue with him, so he didn’t give her the chance to. He ran out from behind the tree and fired through the only window of the two that was open. There wasn’t any light on in the house, so Kenny really wasn’t sure what he was aiming for. After the sixth shot he heard “fuck! Fucking fuck!” And felt a wave of relief; he’d hit Anderson. Hopefully enough to keep him subdued. He ran around to the front of the house only to be met with the sight of Anderson pulling the pin out of a grenade. He ran back out faster than he entered and hugged the outside of the entrance just outside of the doorframe. “GRENADE!” The explosion went off where he’d been standing when he burst through the front door, shrapnel from the grenade exploded through the doorway seconds after he’d gotten out and he could hear some of it embed itself in the interior of the wall behind him.
When Kenny entered through the doorway, they were face to face. Kenny's gun was raised aimed at his forehead, and Anderson stood there weaponless. Pulling the trigger, Kenny made the mistake of thinking that it was over, that Anderson was done for. Click. Horror and vindication simultaneously coursed through Crosby and Anderson. The gun was empty. He'd spent all the rounds. Before he could lower his useless gun Anderson was on him like a feral animal. Despite the gunshot wound to Anderson’s right shoulder, he was just as lethal without a weapon as was when he had one. Anderson had him by the throat up against the wall and was pressing his thumbs into Kenny’s throat. Kenny threw two quick punches to Anderson’s jaw, releasing him and making them stumble away from each other. It quickly turned into a fight on the floor. They were biting, kicking, hitting each other, trying to get the upper hand. Kenny managed to land a solid elbow to Anderson’s head but that seemed to be the tipping point that only enraged him. The next thing Kenny knew Anderon had pushed him up and smacked him on the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs, and started to choke him again. Kenny tried to lay in a punch like the first time, but Anderson saw that coming, just dodged away from the fist and started pushing his thumbs into the centre of Kenny’s neck harder.
“FBI! Put up your hands!” Anderson growled but did as he was told. Kenny lay there gasping for breath knowing that it was too easy, Anderson had another trick up his sleeve, and Maggie was too smart not to know it too. She stepped closer, her gun pointed to the back of Anderson’s head, one hand reaching to her waist to grab her cuffs... That’s when Anderson made his move, spinning around and grabbing her by the waist, Anderson pulled her to the ground, the force caused her to let go of her gun. She tried to reach for it but Anderson pulled her towards him by her hair and put her in a chokeholdJaytill hazy from the lack of air Kenny grappled at him from behind. Trying to do something, anything, to save Maggie. Whatever he did worked because Anderson turned back to face him only now he had a bruise on the side of his face that was already swollen. Anderson tried grabbing Kenny by the neck again, but it was clear he was low on energy and just trying to fight until his last breath. Too bad for Anderson that Maggie wasn’t going to let that happen.
Crack.
And then Anderson was unconscious, lying on top of him, and Kenny barely had the strength to move the gun dealing scumbag off of him. “You good?”
“Yeah, thanks.” He looked at the gun in Maggie’s hand and Anderson on the ground. She was holding her gun by the barrel and there was some blood on the handle. “You cold-cocked him?”
“Yeah, I tried shooting him, but I mistook my gun for yours. I told you that you wouldn’t have enough ammo.”
“That you did. Thanks again, for saving my ass.”
“Any time.”
“I’m gonna call the team and let them know they don’t have to come in guns blazing... Especially because we are surrounded by improperly stored weapons and ammo. I’ll probably call for an ambulance too, to come to check you out.”
“What? Me?”
“Yeah, he had you in that chokehold pretty hard.”
“He strangled you, twice!”
“Three times actually, you weren’t here for the first one.”
“Even if you have to be dragged over by the ear, you will be getting checked out by the ambulance too.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I’m going to preface this by saying Maggie’s fine, she doesn’t even have a concussion.”
“... That was the absolute worst way to start this call. Are you aware of that? Oh the heart attack you’re giving me? What the fuck happened?”
“Long story short, we found Jason Anderson and he tried to kill us.”
“And the long version? Actually, wait do I even want to know?”
“Probably not, but you want to know anyway because you think it will make you worry less, even though we both know it won’t, don’t you?”
“... Yes.”
“We got shot at a lot, got pinned down behind one of the massive trees they have out here, split up with me providing the distraction, I almost got blown up, my magazine was empty from providing cover so we went hand-to-hand, the door at the back was blocked by crates of uzis so it took her a while to get back, I got strangled three separate times, managed to land good hits, so did he, he threw Maggie on the ground when she showed up and she hit her head, he put her in a chokehold, I got her out of it by pinching his armpits really hard after punching wasn’t working, he tried to strangle me for the third time and Maggie cold-cocked him with my empty gun cause she couldn’t find hers. The paramedics cleared her, she’ll be fine. I think that Hana’s gonna try to drag us to the local clinic when we get back to town.”
“She’s okay?”
“Completely, she doesn’t even have a headache or sore throat, and she really saved my ass back there. She’s good. She’s with Hana right now actually. Hana was really off when everyone showed up, she’s been pretty worried and she won’t believe me when I say I’m okay but she’ll believe Maggie. You know you could probably call her, check up on her yourself? We were talking with the paramedics and she kept talking about this halal burger place you brought her to and she’d do anything for one of those right now... But from the look on her face when she brought you up, I’d wager she was actually talking about you. She misses you, even spent an hour talking about you when we all got Thai food in Boston.”
“Alright, thanks, man. I don’t know what I’d do if she wasn’t okay.”
“Gee, thanks for showing your concern for me. You know, your brother in arms-”
“Alright-”
“Fellow ex-ranger-”
“Okay-”
“Favourite blonde-”
“I’m glad you’re alright Kenny. I just can’t believe you two went up against Jason Anderson and walked away unscathed.”
“Actually my throat is pretty sore and the paramedics found some shrapnel in my right leg, all of it was shallow but some of it got pushed in deeper during the fight.”
“... Just go to a hospital, man. Seriously. Also, Hailey is my favourite blonde now. Sorry.”
“What?!”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“We have a problem.”
“What kind of problem, Hana?” Jess may have sounded cool, calm, and collected, but anyone who knew him was able to tell it was the opposite. Jess LaCroix likes for things to get done and stay done, according to Tali that’s why he hates doing the dishes, and this threw a serious wrench in everyone’s plans to escort the culprits, and children because children’s aid still hasn’t shown up, back to Boston and then go home to New York.
“Anderson’s set up a buy, a big one. Everything in that house except for two AK-47’s, ten grenades, and eight rounds of ammo for the AK-47, is for a single buyer, they’re meeting at the base of a hiking trail in two days.”
“Fuck. There were uzis and bazookas, who the hell are these guys.” Anderson was just a weapons dealer, and he was dangerous enough, Kenny really wasn’t looking forward to meeting whoever the buyer was. “I don’t know, I couldn’t find out, but there is some, I guess, good news. They think that he blew up an FBI agent and that that’s who’s in the hospital under armed guard. They think he got away, want to do the exchange earlier than planned, they want to meet in two hours, the same location.”
“Hana, we have the opportunity to also take down some pretty dangerous buyers too, that’s great news, why don’t you think so?”
“Kenny, they don’t know his exact face but they have a description. Six feet tall, blonde, blue eyes, muscular-”
“You think I have muscles?” Kenny realized his attempt at lightening the mood wasn’t welcome when no one chuckled along with him, muttering a quick apology before looking back at Hana, whose face displaced what he could only describe as contained distress. “Kenny, you’re pretty banged up, you shouldn’t be going out there.”
“Hana, I’ll be fine. Everything’s mostly superficial, SWAT hasn’t gone back to Boston yet, and we may not get another chance to get these guys. It has to be done, and quickly. I’ll be okay.” She took a deep breath and looked down at the papers on the table in front of her. She did not like it, that much was very obvious, but she looked frustrated that his logic was right, and that they’d have to go through with his, admittedly not very well thought out, plan. “Alright, I guess I’ll go and get the tech set up.” Jess coughed to draw attention to himself, along with everyone else in the room they’d been ignoring, and Kenny felt his cheeks heat up. “Sorry, is this the plan we’re going through with and should I get the tech together?”
“While I get the local LEO’s to give us some info on the terrain?” Jess looked them both over before nodding. “Sounds like that’s what we’re doing, thanks for doing all the planning guys, everyone, go get prepared.”
“Kenny, can you come and find me after you’re done talking to the LEO’s? I’d like to talk for a sec.”
“Sure thing Maggie.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His talk with Maggie ended up just being a quick, and confusing, talk.
“I know that it’s been a rough couple of days, but I’m still you really need to be careful.”
“I know, it won’t be like back at the house, there’ll be back up this time, and I’ll have ammo in my gun this time.”
“This isn’t the time to joke but... Okay. And one more thing, be nice to Hana.”
“Aren’t I always nice to Hana? I feel like she’s upset with me but I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.” Maggie sighed before giving him a long look and was clearly debating whether or not to say something. “It’s not that you’ve done anything wrong, it’s just that... current circumstances have been stressing her out. Like me being your partner right now, it’s thrown her off a bit. And she said you’ve been acting strange so she’s worried about you for that on top of your physical safety, and Zadie has been calling and texting her quite a bit asking for updates about you, and it’s just been a lot for her.”
“Why didn’t she tell me any of this?”
“Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who isn’t directly involved in the issue. Look, all I’m saying is that you need to be careful, and maybe tell Zadie to not ask about you while you and Hana are working.”
“I didn’t even know she’s been doing that, it doesn’t matter that Hana isn’t in the field, her work is still crucial and she can’t afford to be distracted. Are we good?”
“Yeah, we’re good.”
“Good.”
Maggie was still pretty vague, but when Hana was wiring him up, he promised her he would be careful and cautious, that he was sorry if he worried her, the relief on her face made his heart twinge. He hadn’t meant to make her so concerned.
Two sets of headlights drove up the gravel road that leads to town, bring Kenny back to the present. Two men stepped out of each car and he immediately had to stifle a groan. He was now standing alone in a hiking trail parking lot alone, but with back up hiding in the trees, with four nazis. They were all in their fifties wearing blatant white supremacist clothes. He counted a trump shirt, a confederate flag, an all lives matter shirt, and a swastika shirt. “You Jason Anderson?” Confederate spoke first, and his voice was so loud and boisterous it shook his beer belly. “I am.”
“Is that FBI agent you blew up dead yet?”
“I really didn’t come here, when the feds are really pissed and packing heat, to make small talk. Are you buying or not? I’ve got them all loaded up in the back.”
“Can we see them first?”
“After I see the cash.” Trump shirt looked at confederate for confirmation before walking to the second pick-up truck, because of course, and returned with two stuffed duffle bags. Kenny unzipped them the second they were in front of him, and sure enough, stacks of $100 bills shoved inside in a disorderly fashion. Kenny pretended to count but he was really biding his time, trying to find ways to get them to spill their guts. “What do you guys want with this much firepower, anyway? It’s a bit much for hunting.”
“There’s an abortion clinic a couple of hours away in Boston, we’re going to teach those whores to respect life.” And here I was thinking that these scumbags couldn’t get any worse. Kenny sighed and popped the trunk, revealing the crates of guns, that all had the firing pins removed making them useless, but assholes one through four didn’t need to know that. “Alright, take a look. What do you think?”
“I think... That we just got an arsenal for FREE!” All four aimed their newly attained weapons and... Didn’t fire. “Really? Did you honestly think I’d put ammo in there? Whatever, FBI YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!” They didn’t even have time to start running before the most wanted unit, Maggie, SWAT, and LEO’s had burst out of the trees, guns raised.
Fucking morons.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Hey man, how’d the bust go?”
“Great, we arrested the head of the local faction of the KKK and his minions, apparently. You know, the second the guns were in their hands they tried to blow me to pieces. They thought we, or Anderson rather, would have them all loaded up for them so they could make away with the guns and the cash. You should’ve seen them when they were arrested, they were genuinely surprised that their plan didn’t work, and that no one wanted to hear their bigoted crap. And Anderson’s ex-wife decided to take in all four of Karnstein’s kids, those he had with her husband and brother, which is great because we were worried about what was going to happen to them, but she said she just wants to keep all the siblings together and that’s an example of sainthood if I ever saw one. And before you ask, yes, Maggie’s fine.”
“I’m getting a little predictable when it comes to her, aren’t I?”
“A bit, yeah- hold on one second... I’m back.”
“What was that?”
“I got another call.”
“From who?”
“Zadie.”
“The girl you’re dating who happens to be the roommate of your best friend and the girl you’re in love with?”
“... Shut up.”
“Hahaha no. Look, we’re both idiots, all three of us were until Halstead figured out how to get off. I can’t talk to Maggie about how I feel, not yet and maybe not ever. Losing her husband left horrendous scars and she needs me to be her partner and her friend, she doesn’t need to deal with how I feel. But you and Hana? You could happen, you could talk to her, I know that you spoke with her about your PTSD and she’s told you about serious things in her life and herself. Both of you have a trust and bond that doesn’t need to be tested. It’s tried and true. You don’t deserve to be miserable, drowning yourself in distractions and being a distraction. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
“Okay, I will. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you and Maggie are as far away from each other as you think. She talks about you all the time, she told me so many stories about you two in the field. She trusts you implicitly, and the face she makes when she talks about you... There’s nothing platonic about that. So you need to think about talking to your girl and moving forward too, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Am I really not your favourite blonde anymore?”
“Haha, no you’re not, sorry.”
“You knew her for like three days!”
“Eh, still.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“... No, I don’t. But... Maggie told me about the clown fairy princess and I’m gonna tell Halstead about it the next time I call him, which we’ll be in an hour cause I want to catch him before he goes to work. So, HA!”
“Crosby!”
#fbi cbs#FBI Most Wanted#Maggie Bell#hana gibson#oa zidan x maggie bell#maggie x oa#hana gibson x kenny crosby#kenny x hana#OA Zidan#Kenny Crosby#clinton skye#jess lacroix#jay halstead#hailey upton#upstead#zibell#sheryll barnes#One Chicago#Chicago PD
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Mandalorian Chapter 15 reactions; *nobby nobbs voice* ‘s all gone a bit percychological, sir
- so from both chapter 6 and now this: rick famuyiwa is incredible at portraying prolonged discomfort and tension (and also at getting din’s endless love for that baby across through the stress of being separated from him. this is the very first episode with no baby in it at all, isn’t it? wow that’s a heartbreaking milestone to reach im crying)
I liked this episode SO MUCH but I had to pause it pretty often and take a breather because it all made me so viscerally uncomfortable on din’s behalf -- not just the armour and having to take the helmet off and be seen for the (almost, ilu IG-11) first time in decades, people keep touching him in this episode when he clearly doesn’t want them to but can’t stop it and it makes me want to claw my own skin off in sympathy, it’s so awful. that’s really neat film making to manage to keep that tension steady almost all the way through!!!
honestly this episode felt a little bit like psychological horror, with the cheering storm troopers and din in the wrong armour and clearly not digging it and there’s the palpable absence of baby and that ever present dread of being Perceived when you’re not ready for it; everything’s turned upside down from how it should be. and it’s playing with that discomfort both in the main character and in us, the audience, in having the familiar be made unfamiliar and also introducing these questions that shake up everything (that feeling you get of ‘but... if it’s not the helmet, and not the armour, but there’s his face, but we’ve only seen that face once before so it’s still basically new to us, is this... is this still him. is this still Dad’ (oooh I wonder if we’re... sort of getting some of the ??? the baby would be feeling about it too?) we’ve all imprinted on that t-shaped visor like little baby birds, and this was a very clever episode to break us out of that and start to really get used to the thought of him having several faces that are real simultaneously, in a way, and not just a voice. it’s all very smart and interesting and I’m sure I’ll have a lot of incoherent thoughts about this in the weeks to come lol)
- the actual reason din can’t take off the helmet is that if people were able to see his wide confused puppy eyes they would no longer find it in themselves to send him on long arduous side missions and would help him immediately just so he’d feel better, and that would rob us of like 80% of the content for this show
mayfeld in this episode: clearly a casualty of this. he literally sees one glimpse of the vulnerability there and then within five seconds goes on to materialize a few redeeming character traits after being a complete jackass for an episode and a half. (I mean. he was 100% still an imperial so I’m a bit ‘hm.’ about how easily especially cara let him off the hook, but with the way it was set up I guess it would have been quite shitty of them to just throw him back in prison so I mean I GUESS. I would be endlessly grateful someone got my awkward bff out of there alive and well too I suppose)
- I actually think din’s sense/integrity of self has gotten so much stronger and more resilient (though probably still quite fragile pls handle with care precious cargo within); if this had happened in the first season I think it might honestly just have killed him (and if it weren’t for IG-11 it probably would have lol)
- can you beLIEVE din is so bad at lying that they literally should plan for contingencies over it fjkasdlhfskajdhfsdj
- very grateful for the scene with the spear throw that’s basically there to reassure us ‘uh-huh, he absolutely knows how to use it, don’t worry about that part at least’
I want to make a whole post about that fight scene, though, it’s just so GOOD! there’s so much storytelling and characterization in it! even out of the armour din has some real hand to hand MOVES!! he clearly came out of that aching all over, he can barely get back in his seat!!!
- so what I’m mainly taking away from this is that din absolutely cuts his own hair and you know what? he does a good job considering the conditions he has to work under, I love him
I still find it so goddamn darling that he meticulously maintains that little mustache/stubble combo under there even when there’s every reason to believe no one will ever see it
I suppose we can also gather that he did not ask cobb about whatever insane feat of magic he’s come up with to avoid helmet hair, but I don’t care looking a bit frazzled and tousled is exactly right for him (he’s so put together when he’s in the armour and a MESS when he’s out of it and I l o v e it)
- boba fett is honestly so fucking hot in this I don’t know what to do with myself haha. he’s so CALM and CALCULATED and COLLECTED in his newly painted armour and he’s GOT THIS and he made that ‘I’ve got one of those faces. one of jango’s many, many, many faces’ joke and he’s so thicc now, he looks like he could easily lift me over his head with one hand and he’s just quietly steady and undramatically supportive and sdalfhsdjhfsa
- ...din does know who the clone troopers were, right. I mean of course he does. he has to. but does he though. I’m sure he does and just wasn’t thinking.
- no matter how stressful it was I’m still really grateful that in the end taking the helmet off was something din got to do himself -- it’s under some duress, but it’s still his choice and for the sake of the baby, and almost in two more manageable steps between putting on the storm trooper gear for a different helmet before taking it off altogether. it’s not something done to him by gideon, for example, that would be. so much yuckier and worse. he still has that control and agency intact, even if it’s been tested really hard, and now gideon doing that doesn’t hold the exact same nightmarish power anymore because there’s already a little space opened in din’s mind for different things it can mean, if you see what I mean. I’m not sure I see what I mean actually I just have a lot of feelings haha. so I guess thank you mayfeld for being decent about it and helping him towards that realization that he can still be himself outside these really really inflexible structures he’s set up around himself for like. stability and keeping himself upright for a really long time, and that even someone halfway decent won’t disrespect the boundaries he still has about it at any given moment. man there’s a lot in this episode isn’t there
- the sigh din gave when he saw even more pirates coming and knew he had to get back up... never has a single moment in cinema better captured how I feel about being alive. most relatable man in the world din djarin
- it was really cruel of them to make me listen to din’s dead bleak voice say ‘the child is gone’ again, it wrecks my heart every goddamn time
- again... I wish carano wasn’t Like That in real life because the cara & fennec scenes should have been everything I could ever dream. ah well fennec was still wonderful and if I just allow myself to think in-universe for a few seconds it was really touching that din would entrust cara with his entire armour, that’s some prime BrOTP energy right there
I love that we got two female characters who were just allies and working together, no competition or nothin’. listen the bar is low but it’s nice to see something actually leap gracefully over it as well lol
- this was one of those with some pretty big open plot holes (why, exactly, would a scan of a completely unknown face be helpful to get into this classified system lol), but a) I don’t care, the emotional storyline was so sound it doesn’t really matter and b) eh handwave handwave let’s say mayfeld programmed that little stick with the good shit and overrode the code saying there needed to be an identity match within the system, it’s all fine
- I know I joke a lot about this but din really is one of the most relatable characters I’ve ever had. just watching him struggle with eye contact and going pretty much nonverbal under enough stress is like. wow a bit close to home there could we, perhaps, nOT?? (honestly though these are trauma/anxiety things I really don’t see portrayed a lot, especially in protagonists, it’s so odd but healing to see it in a character I love and who’s EXTREMELY competent in many other settings)
- din repeating gideon’s speech back to him word for word (except for the crucial detail that he calls grogu ‘him’ instead of ‘it’ 😭😭😭) and saying nothing else is truly Everything. I’ve said some stuff about din’s deliberate and thoughtful relationship to language in the past and this is such an amazing example of it; he’s remembered that pitch perfect all this time, he’s kept it around in his head and mulled it over and then redeployed it to change the meaning of it completely from dehumanization to love. can you. can you even imagine. and it’s yet another example of his hilarious wonderful petty streak and I can never get enough of it fasjhdfkjalhs
- din always noticing the children first and foremost Y_______Y (the kids running by is the only thing you see him sort of acknowledge when he’s walking into the covert in season 1 too)
- please... please I just need him to be able to hold that baby against his chest all safe and sound and okay again I can’t it’s........ hh
NO SEASON END CLIFF HANGER ON THIS I AM B E G G I N G YOU
- I would be having some thoughts about how much space there actually is on slave 1 and what that might mean (do not kill boba again please don’t kill him again), but honestly there’s only ‘GET BABY’ hours in here now, I can’t speculate about anything
#star wars#the mandalorian#the mandalorian spoilers#the mandalorian meta#this is an episode in the 'wow that was awesome but I need to go lie down in a quiet room for a while afterwards' tradition lol
78 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pairings: Past Aizawa/Mandalay
Word Count: 1,9218 Words
Summary: The Sports Festival, part 1.
Warnings: Food Mention, Death Mention, Caps, Cursing, Teen Pregnancy, Fighting Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.
Usernames: Existence Is A Prison Aizawa: feral cat dad, Aoyama: gay salt, Hagakure: ranch flavored jello, Tokoyami: foil-mecha, Shinsou: farmer toshi, Kuroiro: life is a nightmare, Shiozaki: saviour, Tsunotori: schrodinger better run, Honenuki: pure, Monoma: nat20, Yamada: President Megaphone, Bakugou: deku-deck-you
Aizawa, We Agreed No More Cats: Chapter 8
7:00 AM
Existence Is A Prison
gay salt: Tokoyami, I know it's the sports festival and all today, but you didn't need to bring everyone sandos and sports drinks again.
foil-mecha: Thing is, I didn't.
farmer toshi: No, no, because my whole class has sandos and sports drinks on their desks too. And I heard the other Gen Ed classes causing a ruckus over them too. Seems like someone put sando throughout the whole school.
feral cat dad: That would be me. I'm not letting any of you kids go without eating during a major sports event where you'll likely get injured and your bodies need fuel to fight and I won't let you not eat.
feral cat dad: My old Gen Ed teacher, Miss Rin, began this tradition of giving out sandos and water at the gate to students on the day of the Sports Festival. Nezu sanctioned of course, since he refused to allow her to pay for it herself. And now it's carried on through me since she passed on a few years ago.
ranch flavored jello: That's actually really sweet, Dad.
feral cat dad: If you tell anyone it was me who put them out, I'll make you clean the roof level.
ranch flavored jello: We have a roof level?
feral cat dad: You guys didn't know the dorms have roof access?
ranch flavored jello: Well, now we do. Where even are the stairs to it?
feral cat dad: Literally next to my room, I don't know how you haven't found them.
deku deck-you: It's the door next to his room, Toru. Even I found it. You've been here five more days than me.
ranch flavored jello: I THOUGHT THAT WAS A BROOM CLOSET!
feral cat dad: Oh my gods, these kids will be the end of me.
8:30 AM
Existence Is A Prison
feral cat dad: God help me being alone with this idiot.
feral cat dad: I'm using this chat for extra commentary because there are things I can't say on live national television commentary so they'll all be said here.
feral cat dad: Oh god, Katsuki, no. Don't slander our name.
feral cat dad: Please.
feral cat dad: GOD DAMMIT
feral cat dad: Obstacle Course? Fuck.
feral cat dad: Most proud of my son managing to evade Todoroki's ice despite never dealing with it before.
feral cat dad: Also, Todoroki, who hurt you as a child? That was purposeful so nobody could catch up!
feral cat dad: Get it, Pikachu.
feral cat dad: I'm proud of my gremlin children.
feral cat dad: I'm not paid enough to make commentary on this obstacle.
feral cat dad: Except for my son. I care about my ground-bound son getting across the pit to Tartarus shit.
feral cat dad: Gods, mines. I remember those landmines. I hate those things. They almost made me temporarily blind during my second year Sports Festival.
feral cat dad: What the FUCK Midoriya!?
8:45 AM
Existence Is A Prison
feral cat dad: Alright you're probably in the break room for the twenty five minute break by now. Katsuki, what's wrong with your arms? You were holding them.
deku deck-you: Just a lot of work. Overworking. I guess it can't be helped, this is why I have so much wrist support in my hero costume, to help keep my hands from feeling cramped from the explosions.
feral cat dad: Come up to the box, I'll shut old parakeet up if he tries to speak.
deku deck-you: Why?
feral cat dad: I have some ibuprofen, come take two, it should help the pain at least.
deku deck-you: Thank you.
9:00 AM
Existence Is A Prison
feral cat dad: Am I allowed to ask why Vlad King is taking care of a small child when he, in fact, doesn't have children?
feral cat dad: Just realized I won't get an answer because you all made it to the next round. I'm so proud but dammit, now I'm curious.
9:20 AM
Existence Is A Prison
feral cat dad: I...What?
feral cad dad; I hate the cavalry battle, that was difficult to keep track of. I don't know how Hizashi does it.
schrodinger better run: Obviously, the answer is very carefully.
feral cat dad: I'm sorry you didn't make it through, Pony. I have candy if you want some.
schrodinger better run: Thank you! I'll stop by and grab it on my way to lunch.
feral cat dad: If you're going to meet back up with your class, text me why there's a child.
schrodinger better run: There's a child?
feral cat dad: smallchildinvladkingsarms.jpg
schrodinger better run: He looks a lot like Tokage.
9:30 AM
Existence Is A Prison
ranch flavored jello: Mr. Aizawa, this is Mina, Toru's busy crying so she asked me to ask you. Mineta and Kaminari are telling us 1a girls that you instructed we wear the cheerleader uniforms for the afternoon. What should we tell them?
feral cat dad: Tell them they have three weeks of detention each to look forward to and don't wear those fucking uniforms.
schrodinger better run: Okay, so apparently the kid's here because Tokage brought him in? I still don't have a full explanation, but his name is Mitsu and he's 2 years old.
feral cat dad: Okay. So Tokage brought her little brother or something?
nat20: I'm not so sure about that. He just called her Mama.
feral cat dad: So Tokage has a son?
nat20: It seems like it.
feral cat dad: Oh, Nezu won't be happy about this. He wanted any young parents to report to him after the opening ceremony and alert him if they had any children so they would stay in the dorms.
nat20: To be fair, it would seem Tokage would be the only one out of all the first year classes, so it might have been too much pressure to fit in. Or she may even just has help enough at home that she didn't feel she needed to tell anyone.
feral cat dad: He'll still be mad. Believe me, he'll at least force her to accept a UA fund card so she doesn't need to work to support the baby.
saviour: We got to talking and, apparently, she gives him to a daycare while she's at school and she picks him up when she leaves school.
feral cat dad: Yup, she'll probably be moved on campus if she's not having her family take care of the baby during the day. Nezu's very adamant that his students have help if they're struggling.
10:45 AM
Existence Is A Prison
feral cat dad: Alright, so Shinsou against Rikamaru Kana from the Support Course. I don't know if this will be easy for him.
nat20: I am offended Kendo thinks so little of me.
feral cat dad: Why?
nat20: She said I'm perverse! And, when I asked her about it after, she said it's because I wear the girls' uniform sometimes. She thinks I'm some pervert trying to invade the girl's bathroom to creep on them.
nat20: I swear I haven't, Mr. Aizawa, I've never even gone into the girls restrooms, I use the men's or the one in Recovery Girl's office. And I change in the men's locker room. Tetsutetsu will tell you, he's guarded me before when I was uncomfortable changing.
feral cat dad: Don't worry, kid, I believe you. Come up to the box, you need a hug. I'll talk to Kendo if you want.
nat20: Please.
10:50 AM
Existence Is A Prison
feral cat dad: Oh my god, he actually did it. I'm so proud, Shinsou.
schrodinger better run: Shinsou fucking yeeted her.
life is a nightmare: Equal opportunity yeeting.
feral cat dad: Next up is Hatsume vs Tokoyami.
nat20: I hope Tokoyami does well next.
11:00 AM
Existence Is A Prison
feral cat dad: Tokoyami, I'm proud of you for being a good sport and helping her up after.
foil-mecha: I'm nothing if not a gentleman. Plus, when she fell down, she sprained her ankle. It's the least I can do to help her to Recovery Girl.
farmer toshi: I'm betting a grocery shop tonight that Ashido's going to win against Midoriya next.
feral cat dad: Be careful kid, you might eat those words.
11:10 AM
Existence Is A Prison
farmer toshi: Fine, I guess I'm getting dinner. And I'm also very happy Toru won against Iida.
feral cat dad: That's if you don't get injured. Remember, there's now two people you know against you.
ranch flavored jello: I still can't believe I won against Iida, honestly.
feral cat dad: Well, Shiozaki is against Shizuka Inei next. A Gen Ed Course student.
nat20: Do you know him, Hitoshi?
farmer toshi: Kind of hard to miss someone when they're that fucking loud all the time.
foil-mecha: Is that son of a bitch harassing Ibara?
nat20: I have lost faith in humanity. How dare a peasant's filthy hands touch our Ibara.
farmer toshi: Yeah, I'd defend my classmate in it being an accident if I didn't know that Shizuka is a blatant misogynists.
feral cat dad: I'll fight him. Disgusting little trash.
life is a nightmare: And HE gets to advance while our Ibara loses? Unacceptable.
feral cat dad: The Min*ta of class 1c.
11:25 AM
Existence Is A Prison
nat20: Thank goodness Kiyomi's advancing. I do feel bad she'll be fighting a misogynist though.
pure: I felt kind of bad about it, I didn't really want to fight our Akari!
nat20: I'm sure Akari understands and also didn't want to fight you either, but you two can't just refuse to fight because you're friends or you'd both be either disqualified or forced to fight by now.
gay salt: No ill will is held on my end, Kiyomi! I think our fight was rather fun!
pure: Okay, as long as you promise you're not mad.
gay salt: I'm not, I'm proud of you, mon amor.
nat20: Any bets on Kaminari here?
farmer toshi: I'll bet on Pikachu winning.
schrodinger better run: I'll bet a grocery trip that Fujioka wins.
life is a nightmare: That would be the furthest a Business Course student would have gotten in the Sports Festival.
schrodinger better run: I'll still bet on him.
feral cat dad: Well, you were wrong, Pony.
schrodinger better run: All as well. I didn't expect Fujioka to have an equip quirk, to be fair.
feral cat dad: Next is Tokage vs Fukumura from General Studies.
saviour: Let's go Tokage!
11:30 AM
Existence Is A Prison
deku deck-you: Is Tokage okay? I heard she passed out.
feral cat dad: She's overworked and malnourished from what Recovery Girl will tell me when I ask and Nezu is speaking with Tokage and asking her what got her to this.
feral cat dad: I
feral cat dad: I don't think I'm at liberty to discuss her tragic backstory with you guys, sadly. But she'll tell you when she moves into the dorms tonight.
11:35 AM
Existence Is A Prison
farmer toshi: Todoroki, aka Mr. Overboard. Poor Sero.
farmer toshi: Oh god, I might need to fight Mr. Daddy Issues.
farmer toshi: Gods help me.
foil-mecha: To be fair, he'd have to get through three brackets to get to you and he'd be fighting you in the three-way fight.
ranch flavored jello: He'd have to get past Katsuki too.
deku deck-you: He won't.
feral cat dad: Alright then, Mr. Overconfident.
Taglist: @everythingisstardust
#mha#bnha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#aoyama yuuga#fumikage tokoyami#shinsou hitoshi#aizawa shouta#hagakure tooru#katsuki bakugou#pony tsunotori#monoma neito#ibara shiozaki#kuroiro shihai#juzo honenuki#snoweywrites#aizawa we agreed no more cats au
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Illicio 19/?
Part 18
CWs for this chapter:
-Depression
-Parental neglect
-Past implied suicidal ideation
(These are present in the very first POV, and are related to Martin's past. Please feel free to skip it if the topics make you uncomfortable)
-Canon character death
----
Gerry's never been to the Lonely before, though he's felt its grip on him many times in his life.
It has loomed over him ever since he was a child, alone and confused and fearing and craving his mother's hugs in equal measure. Back when he first started learning about the fears he did wonder why it never struck, why it never pulled him in to devour him whole. It was only later that he understood what made him so resistant to this particular fear.
You defeat the Lonely with love, and Gerry has never been short of that.
XIX
Martin is seven years old the first time he realizes how utterly and completely alone he is. Back then he still goes by a name that isn't his, and he doesn't yet have the words to describe why it feels wrong.
He looks around at all the children in his classroom; their clothes look clean and smell good, and their mothers not only pick them up from school, but they look happy when doing so. He asks mum once why she never smiles, does something hurt? Maybe the doctor can give her more pills?
Mum doesn't respond. She merely gives Martin that long, serious look that always makes Martin think he said something dumb, and goes to her room, leaving Martin alone with his cold supper and a slow gathering fog that he can't see.
Martin is fourteen years old when he first understands he's unwanted. He's begun to figure out who he is, and his clothes are ill-fitting, just like he himself is, bouncing around between groups of people that aren't really his peers, and merely accept his presence like one would any other part of the scenery.
Mum is no longer subtle, and the look isn't serious as much as it is distasteful, no matter how hard Martin tries. He would like to tell someone about this, but when he thinks of reaching out he remembers the only messages in his old school notebooks are those of well-meaning teachers, wishing him luck and praising a potential that Martin knows isn't there.
He's sixteen years old, when Martin comes to the conclusion that he's perhaps meant to be alone forever. Mum's illness has gotten so bad that Martin has to drop off school to work and care for her. She doesn't look at him anymore, not even when Martin finally shows up looking like he's always wanted to. He doesn't know exactly how to feel about this, because as much as he didn't want a fight, it's yet another proof that his existence is irrelevant in her life.
He tries to tell himself this is just his poor self esteem. Of course his mother loves him, she's his mother. She kept him alive, she cared for him, she's just... ill. And she's always been strong-willed. To a child it might've looked like irritation, but Martin is an adult now and he's learned life is not at all like in Hallmark movies, and if he sat down to cry every time mum didn't say 'I love you' back, he'd seldom have time to do anything else.
Martin is twenty two when he accepts he's exhausted. Of this life, of his mother, of himself. He wants to do something about it, but the pill bottles behind the bathroom mirror scare him just as much as the University pamphlets he hides under his pillow.
He strides up to the imposing looking building by the river with his forged CV in hand because he doesn't know what else to do. He gets the job, but as the Head of the Institute shakes his hand to dismiss him, Martin looks at Elias Bouchard's bright green eyes, and knows that he knows. That somehow this man has realized he's an impostor, that he's gotten this far only by convincing people he's far more capable than he actually is.
But he needs the money, and this job is far less demanding than anything else he could've gotten with his lack of credentials. He signs the contract, and he doesn't notice the jealous cling of the fog around him, as the Eye turns its gaze on him.
------------------------------------------
"What is this place?" Tim asks when they come into the cavernous chamber.
Basira looks around, nailed in place by the unsettling feeling of relief she's experiencing. The cells are empty behind their rusted bars, but Basira can See the outlines of the prisoners where they died when they were Known by a power they couldn't even begin to understand.
"It's- it's a place of Beholding," she mutters. She hates it here, hates how comfortable she feels in this place that's so permeated with death. It's another reminder of what she is, of all the shit she let pass; it's a bit of a bad joke, that after looking the other way for so long she's now become something that can't look away. "Jon's up there. And Martin too."
"What about Gerry?" Tim asks.
"I dropped him there. Not sure where he went after." They whip around at the new voice, and sure enough the entrance to the passageway they came through is now a very large version of Helen's door, with the Distortion herself swinging too-long legs as she sits on an enlarged doorknob. "He was in quite a fit about Martin, though."
"Well, better late than never, I guess." Tim grunts.
Basira rolls her eyes, because of course Tim has been so lost on his personal drama of whether or not he wants to forgive Jon that he hasn't noticed anything else. Still, her mouth twitches; it's a good distraction from the constant wondering about Daisy. She cups her hands around her mouth, taking a tentative step forward.
"Jon? Did you find them?" she calls out. No one responds, and Basira gets a muted pang of surprise at the way her stomach drops with worry. Maybe she did care after all. "Get ready. Elias was here. And Lukas too."
"That's comforting," she hears Tim grumble behind her as he follows her lead. It feels... it's different.
It's not Daisy. It will probably never be Daisy again, but it feels good to have a team at her back.
------------------------------------------
The Lonely smells like tears.
It's a deceptively simple smell, building up like bad memories and a knot at the back of your throat.
Much like in the Dark, there's no colors here. Unlike the Dark, there is nothing here, not even fear, or the certainty that there is something waiting for you to give up and consume you.
The Lonely doesn't care about you.
No one does, or you wouldn't have ended here. Do you care about this? You have always cared so much. It was exhausting, and it did nothing but cause trouble to you and the ones you thought you loved.
Isn't this a lot easier? You don't have to feel anything, here. You can't hurt anyone here.
"-on? Can you hear me?"
The scent of lavender hits softly like a memory, and Jon blinks until he can distinguish between the cold inside him and the cold around him.
"Gerry?" he asks, but his hand closes around nothing.
"-m here." Gerry's voice reaches him from far away, even though Jon is sure they were holding on to each other when they entered.
"I- I can't see you."
"-ou feel me?"
He can, Jon finds. A thread of white-hot steel pulling at the left side of his chest, the ghastly feeling of lips on his own.
"Yes. Yes, I can." A love that is felt but not seen, just like-
"-ind Martin," Gerry says from his corner of the Lonely, which could be an inch or a mile away. "-ocus on that."
That- that makes sense. Martin is still human, he's the most at risk here. Once they find him, they can get out, and the other will follow. Should follow.
"Okay, I- be careful." Jon tries to add something else, but the words that Gerry uttered so easily on the kitchen floor that night feel impossible to push out.
"-ove you," Gerry whispers, before his presence fades away.
'Me too,' Jon thinks fiercely, desperately and futilely. 'Me too, and I will find the two of you if I have to Know every inch of the Lonely, until it can't keep you from me.'
The Beholding purrs in delight at the declaration. It doesn't care why the Archivist uses it as long as he does. Jon should probably care about that a little more than he does, but the only thing in his mind now is Martin, and the need to get him out of here before he can't distinguish between it and himself.
------------------------------------------
"Can you see the entry?" Tim asks, stepping away from the dry corpse in the center of the room.
"Not really," Basira shrugs. "I can see where their trails end, but- we can't go in, Tim."
And that's that, he supposes. She says it with such finality, with such certainty, that Tim has no choice but to accept it as fact.
Martin is gone.
Martin, the last of them, the only one untouched by all this shit. Martin who brewed them tea and pretended he wasn't making cow eyes at Jon even though he behaved like an absolute ass. Martin who found Tim at his living room with fire in his veins and offered him the same unconditional friendship they'd shared before everything began to go south.
He warned them about this. He warned both of them and the worst part is he can't even be angry at Jon about it, because Jon is gone too, and because he himself wasn't able to keep Martin here, he wasn't enough.
This is- he's the only one left. They're all gone, and they slipped through his fingers even after he got a second chance, one after the other, Danny, Sasha, J-
"I wouldn't touch him right now if I were you," Helen says somewhere in the room, and it's only when he opens them that Tim realizes he's shut his eyes; he looks in time to see Basira's hand retreating from his shoulder, as Helen speaks again. "Should I go get Melanie?"
"No," Basira says immediately. "She's out. We don't- we don't go to Melanie unless there's no other choice. We have to-"
"We have to what?" Tim snaps. He's so tired of this, of losing people- he liked it much better when he'd just woken up and all he could feel was rage. "Let's just pop your eyes out too, so I can blow the fucking place up." And himself too, if he's lucky.
"Could you stop moping around already?!" Basira whips around to face him. Her eyes are burning with intensity, and her fists are clenched and shaking by her sides. "You've seen him walk from worse, you've walked from worse. Now- now we have to- I don't know what happened here, but if Elias walked out of jail exactly today, then it's got to have something to do with Martin, or-"
"Or Jon's marks." The answer hits Tim like a slap to the face.
'You're just missing one, aren't you?'
'The Lonely, yes.'
'How convenient isn't it? Martin's sudden promotion.'
'I'm well aware it's my fault, Tim, thank you.'
What else could it be? Whatever Elias is planning-
He turns to her, and in her eyes he finds the same understanding, the same clicking of pieces he just went through. The fourteen marks were deliberate, orchestrated; Annabelle Cane's statement was nothing short of a confession.
It doesn't change anything, not really, everything that happened, everything Jon did is still there, a wound that scarred badly and that still aches when pulled at, but-
"We have to get them away," Basira says.
But at least for now, Tim has a purpose again.
------------------------------------------
Gerry's never been to the Lonely before, though he's felt its grip on him many times in his life.
It has loomed over him ever since he was a child, alone and confused and fearing and craving his mother's hugs in equal measure. Back when he first started learning about the fears he did wonder why it never struck, why it never pulled him in to devour him whole. It was only later that he understood what made him so resistant to this particular fear.
You defeat the Lonely with love, and Gerry has never been short of that.
Whether or not it's been paid in kind is another matter entirely, but he loved his mother, and he loved Gertrude, and he loved every soul he helped save from a fate worse than death. It has to be enough now, and if it isn't... well, Gerry's always been good at making round pegs fit into square holes, and this won't be the exception. He won't let Martin be the exception.
He wanders across the Lonely for what feels like hours, when he spies a figure hunched on the floor. There's no heart to race in his chest, but Gerry hurries his steps when he recognizes the muted black of Martin's hair, the tired curve to his shoulders.
"Martin? Martin!" Gerry exclaims, falling to his knees across from him, and swatting away at the thick fog that lays around the man like a cloak. "Fuck, I- it's so good to see you. What the hell were you thinking?!"
Martin doesn't look at him, doesn't even look up, and when Gerry lays his hands on his shoulders there's a thin layer of cool dampness that he wipes away hurriedly.
"Huh. I didn't expect you'd be here," Martin's voice echoes oddly, like it's carrying across water. "I thought they'd stop if I let them put me here. Did they send you here too?"
"I- n- no, Martin." Gerry tries to crouch lower to enter his field of vision, before he carefully lays a hand on Martin's round cheek to softly pull his face up. "No, we- Jon brought me in. We came here for you.
"Jon." Martin's grey eyed focus on him, and Gerry feels like he's been punched in the gut. He can't taste the emotion in Martin's voice like he can with Jon's, but he doesn't need to. He's heard the kind of sorrow poured in those three letters.
"Yes, he- he's here too. Now that I got you, we just need to-"
"You should go to him."
"I mean, yes, we both need to-"
"I think it's better if I stay here, Gerry."
"...What?" Gerry scowls, then feels his eyes widening in terror when his hand starts going through Martin's cheek. "Shit- Martin no! We need-"
"I really loved him, you know?" Martin's silhouette is growing harder to see, like a mirror fogging up.
"Of course I know, you- Martin you pretty much only tolerated me because of him, I know you love him."
Martin lets out a chuckle; it's a low, sad sound that makes Gerry's stomach churn.
"At first, I suppose." He shrugs, and his contour grows a bit fainter. The only thing Gerry can see clearly is his sad little smile, like some twisted version of the Cheshire cat. "I was sad at first that you- but you turned out to be so amazing, in the end. I was happy he found you."
Fuck. Fuck, fuck- Gerry tries to grab at him again, but his hand just goes clean through.
"Martin, it's- it's not over. We're not done, he wants you, he still-"
"I think it's time to go now-"
"Martin Blackwood you're not going anywhere," Gerry snaps. This can't- this is not going to end like this. He won't let it. They were supposed to sit down and talk about the future, there was going to be a future to talk about, for fuck's sake! "I will follow you to the end of the Lonely if I have to, you're not going to shake me off this easily."
"I really liked that about you too. You made me feel wanted."
"That's because I do, you idiot!"
------------------------------------------
"They're safe, see? At least for now." The voice is insidious, frustrating. It gives off the feeling of practiced politeness, empty pleasantries that mean even less than cold, uncaring silence. "It's very heartwarming, if ultimately futile, of course."
"I take it you're the reason I can't reach them?" Jon asks coldly. He can feel the Forsaken rearranging itself as they speak, the space between his and the two silhouettes hunched over in the distance growing wider and wider, so that every step he takes towards then moves him ten steps back.
"Does it really matter?" Peter asks. "They don't need you there, and it's only a matter of time before they give up."
"I will find them first," Jon says simply; there is no other choice, no scenario where they don't come out of this together. He'll make sure of it.
Peter laughs, and the sound echoes oddly around Jon, like only the ghost of it was reaching his ears.
"I doubt so. But you're welcome to keep trying."
"Why don't you come speak face to face, Lukas?" The fog around him takes on a sickly green hue where the glow of his eyes illuminate it, and the Lonely curls more thickly around him, hiding Peter from his Sight, from his reach. "Afraid of being seen?"
"I've dealt with your kind before, Archivist."
"So that's a yes, then."
"Fooling around with that toy of yours really have you some undeserved bravado, didn't it?" He sounds a bit disgruntled now, Jon notices with a muted, dark amusement. "Since he's not human, I'm not sure if he can even be consumed here, you know? I wonder if he'll just walk around forever until he shuts down."
"I'm not his only anchor," Jon scowls. That much is true, isn't it? Melanie-
"Please. Do you really believe he'll walk away without you? Both of you? Anchors are very effective, Archivist, as long as you aren't tied to a sinking one." Peter's smirk is palpable in his voice, and Jon grits his teeth. That's- it's not entirely wrong. Gerry's far too selfless, far too dedicated to putting others before himself.
"He'll do it for Martin," Jon says with far more vigour than he feels. That was the plan, and Gerry's not stupid in the least. Out of the three of them, Jon's the one that has a highest chance of survival here. If he has a chance to at least pull Martin out-
"Oh, but Martin doesn't want to go." Peter chuckles. "You let him fly too close, Archivist. This is his place now."
Silence stretches over them for a moment, the echo of Jon's breathing the only sound for miles.
"...You brought him in here, though." That's what Gerry said, what the Eye confirmed. Martin chose to come willingly, but it was Peter who opened the door. "You can kick him out. Both of them."
Peter doesn't respond immediately, and Jon focuses on the two silhouettes that he can see, but will never reach, not as long as the Lonely keeps pushing them apart.
"I could. For a price."
------------------------------------------
It feels like his words resonate around them for an eternity, before the odd dissonance of the Lonely takes it away completely.
Martin is still there, barely visible and barely tangible under his bruising grip, the only sound between them is Gerry's agitated breathing.
"Martin?" Gerry asks carefully. While Martin has stopped fading away into the fog, he doesn't seem to be getting better either. But if his words kept him here, then- then maybe there's still a chance. "I'm- I know I'm not Jon, but- but I came here for you, alright? I wanted to come for you."
But it doesn't work that way, does it? You can be the most desired, the most loved person in the world and still be alone.
"Why?" Martin asks. His eyes fix on Gerry's, grey and empty of any and all emotion, but it has to mean something, that he hasn't left, that he still wants to know.
"We need you," Gerry answers truthfully. He doesn't know too well what it means, but it's been a while since this was just about Jon.
"You know that's a lie, Gerry." The corner of Martin's lips twitches into a humorless smile.
"It's not, it's-"
"I think I want to stay. Nothing hurts in here. It feels... quiet. We can all be happy, like this." There's a longing in his voice when he says it, a soft wistfulness that Gerry doesn't trust right now.
"Martin, I'm- listen to me," Gerry asks, nearly begs. He shouldn't have been the one to find him, he realizes with a start. It has to be someone he loves, he remembers telling Melanie so long ago. And still the fact remains that Gerry's the only one here, and if he's not enough, then he'll have to remind him of the one who might just be. "Think of why you did this, think-
"...What?"
"Martin, who is your reason?"
------------------------------------------
"You want me to stay in their place." Jon says quietly, clenching a fist in the fabric of his jumper as the realization dawns on him. "Why?"
Peter stalks around him, watching him under the cover provided by his patron. He can feel the Eye searching for him, but its intensity is growing fainter by the second, as the Archivist begins to bend under the weight of his own doubt.
"Trust me, Jon, the Eye has given me plenty of reasons. But I must admit I'm simply not too happy with Elias at the moment and I'm very curious to see what he'll do if you don't make it out of here." Bit of an understatement, honestly.
"I-"
"That's the offer," Peter interrupts. "What do you say, Archivist?"
The desolate questioning in Jon's face is an absolute delight to behold.
"Take your time. Though I feel like the choice should be easy. Or are you hesitating because your pet undead will die without you anyways? You can't have everything, Jon." Peter tuts consolingly. "Either he dies out there, or the three of you stay in here."
"You said- you know Elias is planning something. He-"
"Oh, he'll try to get you back of course." Too much invested in this one, years of orchestrating his marks and survival. Elias won't just start over, Peter isn't even sure he could start over, without the Mother's webs that drape over this one's shoulder as a blessing. "Granted, I'm not sure how much of you there'll be left by the time he works his way back into my good graces.But that's not necessarily a bad thing in your books, is it?"
"...It isn't." The thrum of the Eye in the air fades a little more, when Jon lets his head drop.
Peter isn't terribly surprised. He might not be Martin, whose entire core calls to the Forsaken like they are one and the same, bit Jonathan Sims is still am incredibly lonely man.
It's about regret, in his case. Peter can feel all the mistimed connections that haunt him, when he reached out only to find it was far too late and he'd pushed way too far. The memory of waking up alone in a hospital room, and knowing he was neither expected nor wanted back.
"I thought so. Your friends will be much safer without you, Jon. You know that." He's not sure how much more convincing Jon actually needs, but it can't hurt to double down, he decides as he stops his pacing by his side and leans in to whisper in his ear. "You can't hurt anyone here."
"I... I suppose so."
"You know so." And Peter does too. Won't it be poetic, to keep Elias' pet in here as revenge for his own sabotaged ritual? Not much he can do, if there's no one to wear the crown. "It's all up to you, Jon. What do you want?"
Peter has dealt with beholders before, far more than he should, actually. He knows how they work, how for all they preach omniscience, they home in on a purpose, and become blind to everything else. Gertrude wanted war, Elias wants power, and this sad, broken man wishes uselessly for redemption, and if he can't have it, he'll have immolation.
"So? What will it be?" he asks.
Jon's head tilts up slowly, and Peter freezes at the intense neon green of his eyes, and the downward curve of his tightly pressed lips.
"A statement, I think," he says, and all around him the Watcher's eyes burn holes through the fog, pinning Peter in place like stakes, their focus so heavy it stings.
He tries to remain calm, to keep his fear from the Eye. This is his domain, and he can't be harmed here, not even by Elias' trained dog-
"Peter Lukas, you will give me your story."
------------------------------------------
His reason.
Did he have one?
Was it saving the world, or did he just want to look good while killing himself? Was it revenge against these things that took all the ones he loved, or spite at not being taken himself?
This place makes it hard to think. All you can do is sit and feel the emptiness inside you, smell the tears and listen to the silence. Was that his reason, finding a place to escape to? Maybe he just wanted to rest, for once, forever.
He's so tired.
There's a man before him. His hands are heavy on Martin's shoulder and face, but so careful, like he's made of glass or secrets. The man's eyes are beautiful, desperate mix of greens and blues, and his lips curl around words that barely reach him, words Martin doesn't know if he wants to hear.
He did have a reason, didn't he? It had a name and a face, a lopsided smile and eyes swimming with sadness.
Didn't he hate Martin? That's what they had in common, isn't it? Before the worms, before the fear.
Where is he now?
Martin remembers him, dead in all but name, laid on a hospital bed like a broken doll. His hand is limp in Martin's own, l and every time he presses it to his lips Martin swears it's grown colder.
Was that his reason? What was he more afraid back then, the thought that he wouldn't wake up, or that he might?
The man before him speaks again, and his hands on him feel heavier, warmer.
He doesn't like him, Martin remembers. How easily he stepped into the Archives, how well they fit together. Martin looks at him, and he doesn't know if he wants to tell him to go away or ask him what took him so long, why couldn't he have come before Martin gave up on his future for a chance at saving Jon's?
Martin tries to recall the man's name; maybe it'll help him figure out why he's here. It's a good name, he's sure, because he's a good man. A simple name, the kind you say with a smile. An incredibly, absolutely, undeniably mulish and irritating name, what on Earth is he doing here?!
Martin came here to keep him safe, because even knowing this was a trap for Jon, it was the only way to get Elias to stop hurting him, why would this idiot follow him in?!
Now all the work he did will be for nothing, because Martin knows as sure as the sky is blue that Gerry won't go away, won't let him fade into the grey. He'll find Martin again and again and again, until he answers his question, or the Lonely consumes them both.
This was a gamble he took to try and protect him, and now both of them are here and Jon is lost in here too, and Martin wants to scream at the absurdity of it all.
------------------------------------------
"Did you pack-"
"I packed the first things I saw, Basira, if they don't like it they're going to have to suck it up."
"That's fair."
"Where are they going?"
"North. Daisy had- she has a place. A cottage on the countryside."
"Oh, Martin will eat that stuff right up."
------------------------------------------
"-tin come on." Gerry tries again. Martin is still there, still tangible under his hands, but he still won't talk, won't look at him, the only sign of life to him is the slight furrowing of his brow. "Think- think of him, he's coming for you, we both did. Tim would've come too if he'd been there I'm sure, he's a prick but he loves you. So many people care, Martin, but we need you to care too, we-"
It's alright, he tells himself with just the slightest edge of panic. He's got time, and he'll keep going until the Lonely steals his last breath from his lungs, they are not going to lose Martin.
"Just- you have to- Martin I know you have what you need to break it, but you need to remember it yourself. You need-"
"I need you-" Martin's voice rings out clear and firm, without the ringing of the Lonely, and Gerry freezes. Martin's eyes are bright and green and burning with righteous indignation as he scowls down at him. "-to stop being so incredibly infuriating!"
And then Martin is collapsing against him, and it's all Gerry can do to hold him steady as a wave of relief washes over him.
"I'm- sorry?" He asks, his voice tinged with confusion.
"No you're not," comes Martin's sullen voice, muffled against his shoulder.
Gerry lets out a bark of somewhat hysterical laughter, tightening his grip around Martin's frame. He feels solid, and growing warmer by the second, and Gerry feels a little like he did when Jon opened his eyes after so much begging.
"No, I'm not."
------------------------------------------
The man gasps in exhaustion and pain, as the last of his tale tumbles out of his lips.
The Archivist watches, adds the story to his archive with the same delight with which one would enjoy a feast.
It's a pathetic, hilarious joke that Peter Lukas ultimately dies protecting the Pupil's secrets, when the Archivist demands the truth.
The Eye hums in delight, and the Forsaken shies away from its unblinking gaze, from the power of its chosen, from the future this promises.
It knows with glorious certainty that when the Archive speaks next, the world will listen.
------------------------------------------
Martin feels the Lonely break around them like something being ripped from his chest.
He misses it immediately, the pungent smell of salt and humidity, and the emptiness inside him. The arms around his shoulders, the scent of lavender and ink under his nose, the warmth of another body pressed tightly against his is overwhelming.
"-'re back!" He hears Basira scream somewhere, and the sound of echoing steps coming closer.
"Hey there," Gerry whispers somewhere close to his ear. "I have someone for you."
And Martin's heart drops, because he knows who that is, and he knows what he said the last time he saw him. How could he forgive him for that? For turning him away when he came to him with a promise of freedom, of a future together? Of-
"Martin?" Jon says his name like a prayer, like he doesn't know if he's more afraid of his silence or his response, and when Martin lifts his face from Gerry's shoulder, he finds that he looks much the same, his teeth worrying nervously at his bottom lip as his dark eyes search Martin's face for... for what?
"Jon." Martin's own voice is a pitiful, exhausted thing, but the name sounds just right in his lips, like a memory, like an answer to a question he can't bear to think right now.
It's like Jon's strings have been cut, and he goes down on his knees by their side, slotting himself right under the arm Gerry lifts for him. Martin has a spare second to think of how well they fit together, before Jon buries his face in his chest and it hits Martin that he's here too, held between them like he belongs, like they were waiting for him.
"I'm sorry I didn't find you," Jon whispers into his chest. He feels nothing like Martin imagined, and is somehow much more real for that. "I'm sorry I let it get this far."
What could he possibly say to that? That it's not Jon's fault that Martin wanted to die? That he's sorry too, because now Jon has all the marks and nobody knows what that means, but it can't be good?
Objectively speaking, Martin knows it would've been much better for them -maybe even for the whole world, who knows what Elias is thinking?- if they'd let him in the Lonely.
It's tough to voice that aloud however, with Gerry's arms around him and Jon tucked so perfectly under his chin. Their presence hurts, but Martin hasn't felt this much like himself ever since Tim first came, and he knows he needs them here precisely for this reason. Without the Lonely's overbearing, suffocating presence all around him, it's all too easy to see just how close he came to losing himself.
"...I've missed you," Martin says in the end, probably long past the time they've stopped waiting for an answer. Still, it's the truth, and Martin's spent so long denying it that it feels almost like another lie. He tightens his arms around Jon, partly to check if he's allowed, but mostly to confirm he's actually real and there.
Gerry clears his throat a little. "Would you like me to leave you two alone?" he asks quietly.
'You found me,' Martin wants to say. 'You found me, and you didn't let go, why would I want you to leave?'
Words are still difficult though, especially with the fog still trying to pull at him, yelling at him from all sides that he doesn't matter, that they saved him out of some misguided sense of heroism, and not any particular interest for him. That it is he who is intruding, that they could've lost each other, and it would've been his fault.
Martin shakes his head and shifts to lean a bit more comfortably on his shoulder. His neck is already starting to smart from bending down, but even the pain is a blessing, a reminder that he's alive, that he's human and can feel things, good and bad.
The faint scent of lavender drifting up from Gerry's hair and Jon's comforting weight in his arms are grounding. Soothing.
"Martin?!" Tim's arrival is heralded by the room growing warmer, as if to chase away the remnants of the fog that clings to Martin's tired bones. "Fuck. You're- are you alright?"
"Right as rain," Martin rasps out, cracking an eye open -when did he close them?- to look up at him. Even splashed in blood and dirt, Tim's a sight for sore eyes, the concern in his gaze so simple and sincere not even the Lonely can twist it into loathing. "What are the bags for?"
"Management said you had too many vacation days saved up," Tim croaks with a laugh just this side of hysterical. "We booked you a holiday."
And Martin would like to respond to the joke, he really would, but his eyelids are growing heavy with exhaustion, and it's all he can do to aim a smile -who knew he could still do that?- his way, before he lets go.
"You have to get away before he comes back-" is the last he hears Basira say.
It's not over, he remembers, they're not done. But for the time being, they're all together and they're safe, and Martin is here because they want him to; it still feels like a lie, but nothing else makes sense and he has to allow the tentative, absurd hope that it might be true.
Martin decides that, maybe for once, the rest can wait.
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Many More To Die, Chapter 5
TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 5)
FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)
SUMMARY:
Lord Janus is a man with a past--and a drake with a treasure to protect.
Meanwhile, Logan fades in and out of consciousness while the king and his compatriots sort some things out--including the mysterious cadet's true identity.
Something is happening in Logan's mind, magic that he can't understand at his fingertips...and the palace dungeon master is hell bent on stopping it at all costs.
SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and future Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)
WARNINGS: more blatant violence against children, but nothing graphic. Also, I rewrote this bastard SIX TIMES and I’m still not happy with it, but it’s a long, meaty chapter.
Also, no betas, we die like men.
NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD
Also located at AO3 over here.
1025, A.A.
“...are you an angel?”
Janus turned sharply at the sound of the tiny, awestruck little voice. He finally pinned it to a dungeon cell across from the shadowy corner where he'd just sold his father's favorite pocket watch in exchange for information on Corporal Mori—a guard that had a nasty habit of roughing up some of the younger prisoners of the palace dungeons.
Janus was a liar, a cheat, and a thief—but he had no stomach for bastards like that. And anyway, he was well aware the corporal was responsible for wrenching Logan Berry's shoulder out of the socket. Janus liked Logan—he was far too straight laced to be anything but forthright and fair in his dealings.
It was the main reason Janus let him get away with the lies he did tell. If Logan believed you were dealing with him in the same fashion, he'd sell out his own mother. Janus respected that, and he looked after the few people he respected.
Hence digging up blackmail on the corporal—until the boy in the cell piped up with something so ridiculous it actually made Janus laugh.
“Angels don't have scales, kid.” he sneered, pocketing the letters he'd been given before he ambled closer to the cell. The kid couldn't have been more than twelve, with a mop of dark curls and lapis blue eyes that were currently so wide with fascination they looked fit to pop out of his head.
“Have you ever seen one?” the boy asked.
Janus hesitated, then found himself laughing again. “You got me there.”
The boy beamed—absolutely beamed, smile full of all kinds of sickening things like sunshine and rainbows. Ridiculous...yet it tugged at something in Janus's chest.
“Then you don't know.” the boy continued. “You've gotta have the prettiest face I've ever seen.”
Stepping right up to the door of his cell, Janus bared his teeth, his too sharp top and bottom canines on full display.
“There's nothing pretty about me. You'd do well to remember that.” he warned, all cold venom and as much menace as he could muster to shake the weird, squirmy feeling behind his breastbone that was only growing stronger the longer this kid looked at him like...like that.
“Is that why you're tryin' to prove Corproral Mori is havin' an affair with the captain of the guard's wife?”
Janus froze, suddenly vaguely uncomfortable with the fact that he might have to kill a child.
“You heard that?” he asked as lightly as he could manage.
The boy lowered his gaze, finally showing signs of fear—shoulders hunching, breath quickening. Good.
Then he wrapped one hand around his opposite wrist, wringing lightly at it and retreating a little further into himself.
“Yeah.” he admitted softly. “I...I hate it, I hate that I'm like this, but...I hope you do prove it.”
Janus didn't need much more to connect the dots, knowing what he did about the corporal.
“Did he hurt you?”
The boy looked up sharply, eyes too wide—only this time, not with awe. He remained silent, but Janus didn't need more than that look to know, or to see red with a swell of rage that took him by surprise.
“What's your name, kid?” he asked quietly.
“Patton.” the boy replied, looking even more scared as he lowered his head again. “I...don't have a Name.”
Another child necromancer. Of course he was afraid of admitting that—Janus knew what he was expecting. Fear, hatred, revulsion.
The fact that this kid didn't get that Janus understood that...
“Show me your wrist.” he instructed. “The one he broke.”
Patton looked up again, eyes still wide—this time with confusion, did this kid have any other setting besides doe-eyed cherub?--but did as he was told.
Making a fist, Janus took a breath and called on what little magic he had. When he felt the heat bleeding into his fingers, saw the ripple of heat in the air and the coal red shimmer of energy, he extended his fist and opened his fingers. The energy fled his grip and laid over Patton's arm, glowing bright before going swiftly dark again.
“It shouldn't bother you again.” he explained when Patton withdrew his arm back into his cell and ran his fingers over it in fascination.
Looking back up at Janus, his smile was softer this time, his expression so intense and...adoring that he couldn't breathe under the weight of it.
“I'm Janus.” he said, by way of responding to that...expression before he turned around and fled the scene like a coward.
********
Two Weeks Later
“...Hart.”
“That...works surprisingly well. You'll get your books. I always pay my debts.”
“Past performance indicates this is an accurate assessment. Hence my request.”
“Oh...go back to bed.”
“Gladly.”
Janus stepped back into the shadows as Logan turned and promptly settled back down on his pallet to sleep. Much as he respected him, sometimes he simply could not stand the elitist little shit. He was still waiting for some parting jab over his shoulder for Janus's obvious display of weakness...but the longer he waited, the less he worried.
He stayed long enough to watch Logan drift off again, remaining in the shadows beyond his line of sight. He stayed, forced himself to stay, so that he didn't make an ass of himself or tip his hand to anyone that might be watching—if living in the palace had taught him nothing else, it had taught him to assume that he was never alone.
Once Logan started to snore, Janus finally let himself take off, flying through the dungeon halls that were his home—literally, as he hit the home stretch, taking advantage of his dragon heritage to propel himself forward with just a little more force and speed, letting him eat up stretches of corridor in half the time of a full blooded human.
He stopped just short of the cell he was looking for—the same one he'd visited nearly every single day since he'd met the angelic little necromancer that had managed to ignite every single protective instinct Janus had ever denied having. He hated it, hated to admit that he identified with any part of his dragon heritage, but Patton was, without question, a bright and golden thing amidst all the darkness that lived below the royal palace.
Janus had found him. Now, he belonged to Janus—and no dragon worth their weight could resist the overwhelming primal urge to jealously protect and hoard their treasure.
“Patton!”
The cot, a recent addition Janus had seen to obtaining for him, jolted with the force of a lump bolting upright, revealing a sleepy, tousled Patton blinking into the dim light of the hall.
“Janny? That you?” He hissed into the dark.
Rolling his eyes, Janus finally revealed himself, stepping right up to the cell bars. “No, it's the Animator.”
“I told you not to joke about that!” Patton admonished, flinging himself out of bed and stomping up to the bars with a scowl. “I'm twelve, I can't hear that stuff!”
“You've never quite explained that.”
Patton blinked, then scrubbed his hands over his face to banish the sleep before raking them back through his curls.
“'Cause...I can't.” he admitted. “It's...it's hard to explain? The Cleansing took my Name, but there's all kinds of little crumbs that sometimes roll through my head.”
Janus made a face at the mention of the Cleansing—the ritual used to strip a necromancer of their Name. It was horrific, painful, and it always made Janus a little bit sick.
He'd seen one take place in his life. It was one time too many.
“And that's one of those...what you said?” Janus asked.
Patton nodded so enthusiastically his curls bounced, tousling and forcing him to run his fingers through them again to sweep them from his eyes. “It's...there's something important about being twelve among the Necromata—and something bad about bad-talking the Animator. I think they might be connected, but I could be wrong.”
Janus felt his chest squeeze painfully as Patton spoke, free as a bird—like this information couldn't be used against him, like he had no idea.
“You shouldn't talk to me about that stuff.” he reminded him. “My father's the captain of the guard.”
Patton just rolled his eyes with a grin. “You won't tell him, I know that—that's why I tell you stuff! It helps you, and I know you won't use it to hurt me.”
“No, you don't.”
“Uh huh! You're way nicer than you think you are, Mister Dragon.”
“I'm a drake.”
“You're pretty.”
Patton did this every time. Every single time, and Janus...he was not capable of blushing. He did not blush, he would not blush.
“I know it's late, but I have something for you.” he blurted instead of responding, or blushing, watching as Patton's eyes widened, his smile growing impossibly brighter.
“No foolin'? What is it?”
Janus took a deep breath, warring with himself. He'd believed the stories for a long time—the evil of necromancers, that they had no souls, no morals, power hungry and constantly thirsting for fresh blood...
Then he met one. Then he was disfigured...then he met Logan, and now he had this fucking urchin that had latched onto him with perfect faith and trust, and he was so fucked up over it that he was willing to empower him. At least, if he was right and this worked.
Patton just waited. Janus lost his hesitation.
“Heart.”
The boy blinked, brow furrowing curiously.
“Heart?”
Janus nodded. “Patton Heart. They took your Name...I thought you might feel better with a new one. Something to be called, at least.”
The little pout his mouth formed had Janus's heart sinking. It was a stupid idea, he didn't like it, and it damn sure wouldn't work--
Patton's breath hitched, and Janus's attention narrowed to the boy.
His dark blue eyes were shiny with unshed tears...but he was grinning. So bright, so painfully bright that Janus had to bite the inside of his cheek to resist the urge to rip the cell door off its hinges, grab the little bastard, and hide him somewhere deeper and darker where no one else could touch him or even look at him. His treasure, his gold...
Suddenly, Patton stuck his hand out through the bars.
“Pleased to meetcha, Mister Dragon...I'm Patton Heart.”
Cursing under his breath in annoyance—not with a smile, he was not smiling—Janus reached out to shake his hand.
“Likewise—Patton?”
Patton was staring at their hands, features ashen. He was clutching Janus's hand hard enough to bruise—and he was absolutely trembling.
“Patton?...Patton, what happened? What's the matter?”
Was it his wrist? It should have been fine—if Mori came after him again...
“Janus, I...I can feel your hand.”
********
1033, A.A.
Janus was not okay—and for the first time in his life, it was a good thing.
The north wing of the palace was reserved for ambassadors and other dignitaries—a good choice to keep prisoners, as it was well guarded and the guest suites arranged with a lack of accessible windows or too many entrances to reduce the access for assassins and spies. It was also lavish, with a spacious garden area that had high walls and sprawling lawns.
Watching Patton as Janus led him into the suite he'd selected among those available for the two prisoners to share, something restless and angry that had lingered in his gut for the last eight years finally began to relax, at least a little. Here, in the north wing, cut off from other prisoners, from cruel guards and the dungeon master, now Colonel Mori...
His treasure was finally shuttered away, locked up and safe. The dragon that took up entirely too much space in his skin was settling, knowing that his hoard was safe.
Leaning against the doorway, Janus glanced over his shoulder and dismissed the guard that had been dispatched there, content to watch over Patton himself for a short while before he would have to return to the king's side.
Patton shuffled deeper and deeper into the suite's main living area, as if frightened his steps would be too loud or possibly shatter something. His eyes were wide as ever, taking everything in—occasionally blinking hard and fast when the bright light he was no longer used to made them sting or water.
The part of Janus that had secretly grown to look at Patton like the little brother he never had was very satisfied...but the part of him that had been growing stronger over the last couple of years, the one that was haunted by those deep blue eyes and the greedy way he stole the tiniest touches from Janus through the bars of his cell...
The one that had woken up the first time he allowed Patton to touch his face, his scales...that part of him was keenly aware of the fact that they were alone, and that Patton had no fucking clue that Janus had been all but crippled by his pure heart and beautiful eyes.
“Janny?”
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Janus regarded Patton coolly. “What?”
Patton was in the middle of the room, facing him with a strange look that Janus couldn't parse. He was either distraught or...not...distraught. Whatever it was, the emotion was intense, making his eyes water and his lips quiver, and Janus was caught between bloodlust and the tender, aching thing that tortured him these days with every single second he spent in Patton's presence.
“You remember your promise?”
Janus had to think for a second, but he finally remembered the one promise he'd made to Patton that could apply to this situation.
“...one thing, Janny. Anything in the world you could have, what would it be?”
“Swear to me you won't tell a soul.”
“Pinky promise!”
“...pure blood. Dragon, not human. For the wings.”
“Oooooh, that's a good one!”
“What...nevermind.”
“What about me? That what you were gonna ask?”
“Fine, yes! Happy?”
“Yes—'cause I'd want to get out of this cell so I could give you a big ol' hug.”
“...Seven Hells, Pat...”
“Would you give it to me?”
“No.”
“Second chance?”
“...yes.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“I remember, Pat.”
Patton just stared at him, wrapping his arms around himself—tight enough that he was shaking.
With a sigh, Janus crossed over to him and, with a glance over his shoulder to make sure they were alone, opened his arms.
Patton all but flew into them, pressing his face against the scales running down Janus's throat. Janus held him lightly, carefully—they'd never been able to do much through the bars of Patton's cell, but Patton had an easier time of acclimating to touch with Janus thanks to the fact that he ran cooler than a human or a dragon. Drakes tended to run cold, courtesy of their magic.
“Thanks, Janny.” Patton sighed after a few minutes, relaxing in small measures the longer Janus held him.
Janus made a noncommittal sound, even if he was rubbing Patton's back gently, feeling like he was stealing something by holding him like this. It was perfectly innocent...but it was Patton. Pure, good, secretly conniving Patton, and he was letting Janus hold him like he was something equally good and pure and safe.
It was just more proof that Janus was a terrible person, because he didn't give a shit.
“Happy?” he asked after a moment.
Patton smiled, and Janus had to supress the urge to shiver when he felt Patton's lips curling up against his neck.
“Yes.” he whispered, just before he burst into quiet tears, falling apart for the first time in eight years while he let Janus hold his broken pieces together in comfortable silence.
********
“...sten here, you little brat, you may be waiting for the crown, but I've known you since—”
“I repeat: I know where the guillotine is. We can even slap him after! He won't feel it, but he'll flinch!”
“Remus, please!”
“What? He's basically calling the king a snot nosed child! Am I wrong?”
...voices. Voices, buzzing at the edges of Logan's self awareness, but only just...
“He is a snot-nosed child, and a conduit to boot! You can't trust the gifted—not the useless conduits, not the lying mages or the spineless Sensitives—and you damn sure can't trust a godsdamned necromancer! Now, can we please stop talking about this thing like he's remotely human, finish the damn Cleansing properly this time, and get my prisoner back into his cell?”
“Or, here's an idea—you could...say...shut the fuck up and listen to the king?”
Itchy. Everything itched. Why was he so godsdamned itchy?...
...threads. Everywhere, all over, there were dangling threads. The colors were innumerable, all glowing with varying levels of light. It was a mess...it was a massacre.
Something had been torn away, and all that was left were these threads, some long and frayed, others short and thick. All of them were brushing every part of him—soft, barely there, and absolutely maddening.
“...compulsion to simply stop living. Imagine—imagine the way you feel as you breathe. You don't think about it, it just happens. Now reverse that. To stop, to let go, to fall...that became the natural instinct. My father succumbed to the same insidious magic, I know it.”
“With all due respect, Majesty, it was clearly the necromancer. He's got power he's been hiding, and at the end of the day? That's what they do, they kill.”
“Eh, sounds like bullshit. No necromancer's ever killed anyone before.”
“You're lying. There's thousands of cases, tens of thousands over a thousand years—I've studied it! Graduated the Academy top of my class.”
“So did I—first in my class, actually, and Prince Remus is right.”
“Shut your mouth, Cadet.”
“When the Seven Hells freeze over. Read the military's historical records: they show every combat death, but none of them involved magic. Want proof? It's in the the Tomes, you'll see. Any sorcerer can show you.”
“No offense, toy soldier—I mean, you're cute as the Seven Hells, but you don't strike me as the kind of guy who can speak any of the Ethereal tongues needed to read the magicians' histories.”
“I can't speak them, not really—but I can read them.”
“How?”
“...I'm a Sensitive.”
“Well, Colonel Mori—I guess you just made yourself a new best friend. Besides me, of course...”
“...Remus, get your spitty finger out of the colonel's ear!”
“Eat my thick and juicy co...”
Warm. Logan was warm, a warmth he knew and understood—and being weighed down by something, a steady and evenly distributed weight that was foreign, but not so alien he wasn't familiar with the feel of pressure, from neck to foot.
...threads, more threads, reaching out from the source of heat and heft, tickling at the surface of his consciousness—all so itchy. He had to scratch, couldn't scratch...couldn't escape, couldn't...
Wait. The colors...that one thread, rippling with gray and white, silver and lightning...there was a matching one inside his head...
“...the plan, then?”
“The plan is, we get the necromancer healthy, and have him recall the king to life...Master Picani?”
“Emile, please.”
“--Emile, then—you were in the crowd today, with the rest of the palace mages—what do the people know?”
“The king was seen collapsing. I can tell you that I haven't heard any announcements being made...but the chit chat I picked up on as I was on my way here? Well, word has likely already been leaked from somewhere.”
“Damn it! Then the coronation will have to be arranged...and then voided once my father has been resurrected.”
“You know there is no guarantee it can be done, Majesty.”
“I do...but I have faith...”
...these threads weren't long enough. He knew where they connected to, but there just wasn't enough slack to reach the tattered edges inside his head.
He reached out, leaned out, tried to follow them back to the source—something inside, tucked neatly into the warmth and the weight pressing, cradling, pulling him back into his prison of broken threads and torn scraps...
These threads were attached to something—something whole, not the entire tapestry but a piece of the picture.
“This man is a murderer! He's a demon, a killer--”
“...King Roman? A word?...”
“Of course, Mast—er, Emile. Master Somnum?”
“It's Remy, gurl.”
“Remy—keep an eye on Colonel Mori. Help the cadet subdue him if he does anything stupid.”
“Only if I can get out of prison mage detail. Being the boss is cool? But I hate this asshole.”
“I'll see what I can do.”
“On it, Boss.”
...it was him. There was no question: it was him.
He reached into the source of heat and pulled the fragment out.
“--spineless, useless Sensitives!”
“You wanna see how spineless I am? Take another step, Colonel. I fucking dare you.”
“Oooh, catfight!”
“More like a two hit fight: I'll hit him, he hits the floor.”
“Disrespecting a superior officer? I'll have you court-martialed! Or put into the dungeons...you're too damn close to the Necromata, anyway.”
“We can't use magic, idiot stick, we can only sense or enhance it.”
“So maybe you helped the necromancer kill the king, eh?”
“Oh-kay, Colonel Morose. Back off.”
...this was going to be incredibly difficult. Reconnecting these shorter threads, weaving the ones together in a way that made sense...it was next to impossible....
“...your name, Cadet?”
“Virgil Storm, Majesty.”
“Master Somnum?”
“...he's lying.”
Just a few quick knots on this edge to hold it in place—but it wouldn't stick without...
...there. A shuttle, knotted to the corner of the scrap, carrying a heavy length of glimmering silk.
“...Seven Hells is happening?”
“Oh, well—hello there.”
“Emile? What's happening?”
“It appears that the prisoner is...chanelling.”
“I thought channeling was used to heal?”
“It is—among other things, so don't fucking touch him.”
“Cadet, shut the--”
“Colonel Mori, quiet. Virgil—what's going on? Why can't I touch him?”
“...'cause you're a conduit. You have a ton of magic and no ability to use it, so it's all pent up and shit. Touch him, and you could interfere with what's happening. Your magic, I mean...it can leak out and wreck everything.”
“Is there a spell on this blanket you brought for him?”
“Sort of.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing I'm willing to share with an outsider. It's sacred knowledge.”
“Oh, for the love of...”
...the work was fast, he could finish this edge swiftly—the shuttle was liquid lightning, his fingers moving of their own accord...
“..for not even an hour, and there's a jailbreak in progress?!?...”
“I...Lord Janus...how did you even--”
“I joined the assassin's corps when I was eighteen, and I killed the captain when I was nineteen to take his place. I make it a point to know everythng that happens in this castle.”
“Relax, Lord Janus—I have this in hand. Virgil.”
“What?”
“I swear, on the Spider's Thread, that you can trust me.”
“...Majesty?...”
“...Janus, Remy, get Colonel Mori out of the room.”
...it was done. It was...perfect.
It was...
“--get that thing away from him if I--”
“Colonel, stop!”
...oh, shit...
Sudden lightness. Cold, cold, cold.
The shuttle slipped through his fingers.
Pain, searing pain from head to toe.
If he lost it, he couldn't finish, he had to finish or it would slip away.
Sound, fury, crushing weight--
Fingers in his hair. Gentle pressure on his scalp.
A hand in his.
Hold on. Do not let go.
I never have. I never will.
“Loganberry?...”
The shuttle landed in the palm of his hand. He grabbed on tight--
--and opened his eyes.
#sanders sides#logince#moceit#ts logic#ts creativity#ts anxiety#ts deceit#ts dark creativity#fic#logan sanders#patton sanders#janus sanders#remus sanders#roman sanders#virgil sanders#no betas we die like men#this is all the artist's fault i'm just a hapless writer that stumbled across it#i don't even know what i'm saying anymore#my name is liz and i swear to god i will fic again
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
5 Years. Part 3
Harry Potter AU
Pairings: Sirius Black x Reader
Link to Chapter 2
Rating: M- smut
______
“I forgot how beautiful you were.”
Sirius said with a smirk as he ran a hand down your shoulder. You lay sprawled across his chest. Poking your head up, you smiled down at him. You wanted to spend the next, however long you could, just looking at Sirius’ face. All of the years apart was enough to make you want to memorize everything, in case the two of you were separated again.
“You’re such a tease.”
You said with a smile. Sirius took your hand in his to press a series of kisses to the inside of your wrist. He stopped the moment that he saw a huge scar.
“What happened here?”
You quickly pulled your hand away and shoved it under the pillow.
“Let's not talk about it.”
Sirius frowned. He had a feeling about what happened and he was not about to let it go.
“Did my mother do that?”
You pressed your lips together and nodded. Sirius rolled his eyes before automatically sitting up. He pulled you along with him as he looked down the expanse of your body.
“What else did she do to you?”
You sighed. This wasn’t the conversation that you really wanted to be having after making love for the first time in years.
“Sirius, can we not talk about this right now?”
He shook his head.
“No, we are talking about it. What did that vile toad of a woman do to you.”
“Sirius, she only got violent when she drank. Your mother is a raging alcoholic, did you know that?”
Sirius wanted to laugh. Everyone in his fucking family was an alcoholic...for good reason.
“Y/n, my family consists of functioning alcoholics. You aren’t answering my questions.”
“Fine, Sirius, I didn’t want to tell you because I don’t want you going back to Grimmauld Place to fight your mother or family. Yes, your mother was abusive. I was a week late giving birth to Juliet. She thought that it was a good idea to use the cruciatus curse on me until I went into labor. When I was in labor, there wasn’t any pain medicine allowed because I earned this by sleeping with you. The psycho wouldn’t even let me go to a hospital. She made me have the baby there. If it wasn’t for your aunt Druella showing up to help deliver Juliet, I probably would have died.”
Sirius didn’t say anything for a moment. He sat with his mouth open. He couldn’t talk due to shock. His mother actually used the cruciatus curse to make you go into labor. What kind of shit was that? What if she hurt Juliet in the process? Neither of you deserved that kind of pain!
“I’m going to kill her.”
He snapped. You shook your head.
“No, you are going to stay home and be a good father. You aren’t going to get yourself taken away from Juliet and me again. We need you. That is in the past. Before you go blaming yourself, it wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you.”
Sirius put his face in his hands. This was the most heartbreaking news that could have possibly received. All that Sirius could think about was you on the floor of Grimmauld Place screaming for him and he had no idea.
“Your family was decent to me though. They have all been really good to Juliet. In fact, they adore her. Druella babies her senseless. Andromeda is the same way...of course, that is outside of the family. She has helped me more than anyone.”
Sirius smiled at that. Of all people, he knew that he could count on Andromeda. Druella was a bit of a surprise. Sirius didn’t expect much out of his aunt.
“Regulus adores her too.”
You said, softly. Sirius looked up at his brother’s name.
“Idiot.”
“You would actually be proud of your brother. Regulus protected me from your mother a lot.”
Sirius sighed.
“I’m surprised that he actually did anything to step out against my mother.”
You quickly crawled on Sirius’ lap. At the moment, you wanted to get off of the topic of his family.
“We can be happy now.”
You said before pressing a kiss to his lips. Sirius’ eyes fluttered open as he wrapped his arms around you.
“We can be very happy.”
“Make love to me again?”
You requested. Sirius smiled. He could go for that request any time that you wanted.
“Lay on your side.”
He said, gently wiggling out from underneath you. You quickly lay on your side as Sirius’ hard body pressed against you from behind. He slipped his hand around your thigh and lifted your leg over his hip.
“I like this position. I can whisper things in your ear that makes you come without me touching you.”
You smiled, wrapping your arm around his as Sirius pushed back inside of you. The bad seemed to vanish as soon as his hips started moving.
“I’m never letting you go, love. My goddess…”
Sirius grunted in your ear as he increased his pace enough to cause your eyes to snap closed in ecstasy. He slowly let go of the breast that you were holding and brought his index finger to his mouth. You whimpered watching as Sirius sucked his finger for a moment before reaching between your legs to play with your clit.
“So tight, baby.”
Sirius moaned, letting his finger fall to your union. Feeling how wet his cock was from being inside of you was more than a turn on.
“Sirius quit playing around and come already.”
Sirius smirked and returned his mouth to your ear. He nibbled down on your earlobe earning a moan.
“Our quickies have always been quality. Come on, sugar.”
It took a final shove before you were falling apart in his arms. The sound of the door closing made the two of you freeze.
“Mummy! Daddy! I’m back! Uncle Remus where are they?”
The two of you froze like guilty children before Sirius’ eyes rolled to you.
“I guess sex anytime is postponed for a bit?”
You nodded as he pulled out of you with a wince.
“Unfortunately. We have a needy four-year-old who is about to be the no sex police. I’ll take care of you later.”
Sirius was quickly pulling his pants up and gave you a wink.
“She has to go to sleep sometime.”
(2 weeks later)
“Mummy! It's my birthday!”
Both Sirius and yourself groaned as the sound of little feet running down the hall woke the two of you up. Sirius looked down at his watch.
“She’s your kid. It's too early.”
You shook your head.
“Nope. She’s yours too, daddy.”
Sirius yawned, waiting for the bedroom door to fling open and Juliet to pounce on the bed. That had been the routine for the past few weeks and he wasn’t complaining. Even though he wasn’t a morning person, getting to see his daughter (even if it was 6 am when normal people should be sleeping) every day.
Keeping his hands off of you when Juliet was around was turning out to be harder than Sirius expected. It seemed like the moment that the two of you started to kiss Juliet would pop up. The night before, for example, Sirius had you in his arms for a quick snog session.
“When you kiss, where do you put your noses?”
Sirius had never dropped his hold on you so fast.
As soon as the door opened, you winced as Juliet landed on top of your feet.
“I know you are both awake. I heard talking.”
Juliet quickly crawled in between Sirius and yourself and laid down. She was quiet for a few moments giving the two of you the idea that she was going back to sleep.
“I’m still here and it's still my birthday.”
Sirius chuckled as Juliet turned and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Did you go tell your uncle Remus? I bet he would love to know.”
Juliet’s head popped up as she threw her leg over her father to slide out of the bed and run out of the room.
You slowly sat up with a rested yawn.
“Good idea. I might as well get up. I have a cake to fix.”
Sirius nodded, realizing any hope of sleeping in was now over. His mind went automatically to his mother. Sirius had been worried for the past two days about Walburga showing up on Juliet’s birthday.
Meanwhile, you had turned your attention back to Sirius. He was frowning as he pulled a shirt over his head.
“Are you worried about what I think that you are worried about?”
Sirius glanced in your direction.
“You know me well.”
You took a breath before turning and wrapping your arms around his waist. Sirius pressed a kiss to the top of your head before speaking again.
“She won’t show. She knows that I won’t play nice with her but my family is a bunch of idiots so...you never know.”
(A few hours later)
“Mummy, doorbell!”
Juliet yelled from the living room. Sirius’ eyes rolled up to yours. You hadn’t mentioned visitors. He had been just fine with the idea of spending Juliet’s birthday with just the two of you (and Remus).
“I don’t think you have to be ready to fight yet.”
You said, gently. The only people that you planned on dropping by were Andromeda, Druella, and maybe (if he was back in town) Regulus. That was going to be awkward enough if he did show up. You knew that Sirius still hadn’t really accepted the fact that his brother may actually be a good guy.
Putting down the spatula that you were holding, you tried to ignore Sirius’ scowl. You were trying to ignore the nagging feeling that you had about Sirius changing. He was still as funny as he was before but you could see subtle differences. Prison changes people...you thought sadly. Sirius would be no exception to that rule.
Opening the door, you smiled seeing Andromeda and Druella on the other side. Both women smiled before Andromeda wrapped her arms around you.
“Y/n! Sweetheart, you look so good!”
“Aunty!”
Juliet squealed, you turned as Sirius stepped in with the little girl in his arms. You knew without saying it that he was worried about the person on the other side of the door being Walburga.
Sirius sat the squirming child down as Andromeda knelt down to scoop Juliet up.
“Happy birthday, darling! Look at you! I think you have grown two wee little inches.”
“I did! Mummy measured me. Daddy got me a puppy..”
Andromeda smirked at the scowl that you were giving Sirius. Clearly, the two of you were not on the same page about that particular present.
“What did you name it?”
“Muffin!”
Juliet squeaked.
“Shall I go get him?”
Druella stepped in.
“Not until you give aunty her kiss.”
Andromeda held the little girl over to her mother so Juliet could press a kiss to the older woman’s cheek before sitting her down. Juliet took off up the stairs as Druella closed the door behind her.
“Such a darling little girl. Looks so much like her father and there he is.”
Sirius tensed up a bit as his aunt awkwardly kissed his cheek.
“Five years in that hell pit and you are still as handsome as you were before you were thrown in there. I’m glad that miserable little bastard that got you locked up is in there now.”
Sirius was busy looking at his aunt making sure that this actually was Druella.
“Uh, yeah...um...how are you?”
Druella smirked. She knew how uncomfortable Sirius had to be.
“Don’t worry, dear. Your dingbat mother isn’t with me. Walburga is a lot of things and a mother isn’t one of them. Y/n, I smell tea.”
“Come with me.”
When you had escorted the older woman into the kitchen, Andromeda met Sirius’ confused gaze.
“What the hell is going on around here?”
He asked as Andromeda hugged him.
“Mum is starting to see how crazy our family really is. She is out of the family like we are now. How are you?”
Sirius shrugged.
“I’m making it. I’m still getting used to everything again.”
Andromeda’s smile faded. This was what she worried about. She had been worried about how Azkaban would affect her favorite cousin. Andromeda pulled Sirius into another hug.
“At least you’re out and where you should be. Juliet is an adorable little girl. She reminds me a lot of you at that age just with Regulus’ curly hair.”
Andromeda was relieved when Sirius smiled. Sirius had to agree on that one. Juliet had her uncle’s wild curls.
“I just feel guilty that I have missed as much time as I did.”
Andromeda patted his shoulder.
“You’re here now. That’s what matters. So what’s the deal with this puppy?”
Sirius smirked. He knew that you weren’t thrilled about the puppy and that's what made the whole thing even more amusing.
“He’s less of a dog and more of a throw pillow. Its little white poof that’s small enough for Juliet to carry around. Poor thing is sexually confused because it's named Muffin.”
Druella stepped back into the room with her fourth cup of tea for the day.
“Handsome get in here. We need to catch up.”
(20 minutes later)
You sat beside Sirius as Druella held Juliet and her new puppy. The doorbell ringing again got your attention. Sirius leaned over to you with a frown.
“Here we go.”
The two of you stood up and went back into the living room with Juliet on your hills. Sirius quickly turned and picked her up before reaching for the door handle. If it was his mother, he was ready to hex her back to hell where she belonged.
When the door opened, he froze as he came eye to eye with Regulus. Sirius didn’t move for a moment as he stared at his brother for the first time in almost 6 years. Regulus was clearly as shocked to see Sirius.
“Sirius…”
He stuttered as Juliet started reaching out with a wide smile on her little face.
“Uncle Reggie!”
Sirius reluctantly let regulus take the little girl from him before backing up to where you stood. You sighed at the expression on his face. That wasn’t a Sirius Black happy face. That was more of a Sirius Black ready to fight face.
Andromeda motioned you back to her.
“Here we go.”
_________
@brokencasbutt67-writer
@authoressskr
@fandom-trash-worth-it
@hankypranky
@summer-novak
@li0nh34rt
@tas898
@shitfaceddaniel
@emiwrites3reads
@marichromatic
@maggioli-m
@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts
@knight-of-gleefulness
@stuckinsaudi1
@wontlookaway
@mycuddlycorner
@shaylybaby2032
@deanwherescas
@sprnaturallover
#Sirius Black#Regulus Black#Sirius x Reader#Harry Potter AU#Remus#James Potter#Lily Evans Potter#sirius black au#walburga black#orion black#sirius orion black#the noble and most ancient house of black#ben barnes as sirius black#andrew garfield as remus lupin#5 Years#5 Years Update
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Evander Wade Hate AU - Chapter 4
MasterList for Evander Wade Hate AU
Word Count: 3260
This is an au where Evander Wade is secretly a villain solely because I hate him and also I fix most of the major problems with cannon.
WARNING FOR SUPERNOVA SPOILERS
TRIGGER WARNING FOR DISCUSSION ABOUT PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL ABUSE
Please reblog as always. Reblogs and comments >>> likes.
-------------
The next morning, Nova didn't show up at Headquarters, still calling in sick. Once his shift was over he went over to her house, saying that he was going to check in on her to see if she was feeling any better. But the reality was that he needed to talk to her about her being Nightmare.
He knocked on the door and she let him in, taking him up to her room where they sat on the rickety iron twin bed with a worn mattress that she had probably never even used. Nova was sitting on her knees, picking at the old comforter.
"We need to talk," Adrian said.
"I figured," Nova sighed. Danna must have given her a warning as she seemed very calm about everything.
"So you're Nightmare."
"Yeah," she said, running a hand through her hair. "But even if you still hate me by the end of this, I just want you to know that my feelings for you were real. Are real."
"I don't hate you. Danna informed me ahead of time so I had time to process it all. I just want you to explain a few things to me."
"Well what do you want to know?" Nova asked.
"Did they hurt you growing up?"
She seemed stunned that he asked that first. It only upset him more. He didn't want her to have been hurt and it made it seem like no one ever had cared about her well being until she met Adrian and the others. But despite all, her safety should have been first and foremost.
Before you interviewed criminals they got medical assistance. Before people were put in prison they got medical assistance. Crime or not no one deserved to be treated as sub-human with their health disregarded.
"Emotionally or physically because I'm only now realizing the emotional damage," Nova pointed out.
It wasn't a response that made him feel any better about the situation and it certainly didn't reassure him that the answers he'd be receiving would have any positive effects on him. But Adrian needed to know whether or not they hurt her growing up to see how deep all of this ran.
"Tell me about both," he requested softly, squeezing her hand.
"Well I sort of now figured out that other 17 year old kids aren't continuously guilt tripped by full grown adults with the death of their parents in order to get them to kill people," Nova said.
Adrian grimaced. It made things more clear and her actions more clear. He knew she had felt guilt over the death of her parents but she was a child. She still wasn't an adult yet. Neither of them were. She shouldn't have felt guilty about it and Adrian assumed she didn't have much of an outlet to talk about it.
"And there were some other things but I found out recently that a group of adults trying to create a child soldier is apparently messed up which is something the Renegades certainly have a problem with too. In all fairness why the fuck are so many minors involved in all this stuff?"
"That's..... that's actually a fair point," Adrian admitted. It didn't make much sense that there were a lot of underaged people, including him and all his friends, involved in fighting crime.
"But besides all that.... I did get hurt a lot physically growing up. I mean it wasn't intentional. It was from being trained but I still got hurt often even though no one could take me to a doctor or anything like that because we didn't have money or food or anything and if we did the Renegades would take it away. The Anarchists shouldn't have trained me as a child soldier and the Renegades shouldn't have constantly taken away our bare essentials."
Nova kept going and he listened the whole time. She had a lot of valid criticisms for both sides and the more Adrian thought about it, the more he understood her actions and that the Renegades really weren't a great alternative to the Anarchists.
The Anarchists may have abused and manipulated Nova her entire life, but the Renegades allowed that and made the situation worse by depriving them of basic necessities. Adrian wasn't sure if after Ace took her if they ever looked for what happened to Nova, but they certainly must have thought she was dead if they did and that wasn't a mistake a government should have been making. They didn't let the Anarchists have anything but the tunnels and when teams like Genissa's came and destroyed all their resources. She didn't know the Anarchists were bad because she was a child and raised by them and because she was trapped with them thanks to the Renegade's policies, she had no one to tell her otherwise. If she did escape, not many people would help Ace Anarchy's niece, even if she was just a child.
"Nova you have every right to be upset with everyone," Adrian admitted. Every adult in her life had failed her and the systems put in place to protect vulnerable children only harmed her even more. She saw and experienced the flaws of both sides first hand and deserved to be angry about it. Her entire life had been ripped away and no one bothered to give it back.
"I didn't even know that what I was doing was wrong," Nova sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I mean my whole life all these bad things happened to me because of the Renegades and it just made me more eager to listen to the Anarchists because they were the only ones that bothered to take care of me. All I saw was that the Renegades were bad and needed to be gone but now I don't think that the Anarchists are right either."
"I see where you're coming from. I mean I always thought that the Anarchists were terrible and the Renegades were great because I was raised by them but I understand what you mean by the fact that neither side is doing the right thing."
"Yeah," Nova said. "I mean at first I hated everyone and I hated you and I didn't understand how you were one of them. You and the whole team and Callum too. All of you were so nice and sweet and caring and different compared to what I was told you were life and it made me question whether the Anarchists were actually right."
"Well I don't think the Renegades are right either. I mean I saw Genissa kill Hawthorne and then her team ransacked the tunnels because they could," Adrian said. "I mean I saw the problems before which was why I became the Sentinel but it's become more obvious as time has gone on."
Her eyes widened. Adrian had forgotten that he hadn't told her that and based off her hate for him, which he was understanding now because she was Nightmare, it was a large shock and she would need a moment to process it like he needed some time to process that she was Nightmare.
Nova did her best to hide it though. He could tell as he expression of surprise was gone in a split second but it remained in her eyes.
"I can't even be mad at you for that," Nova said. "I mean I'm Nightmare. It's not like I'm much better in terms of secret identities. I honestly shouldn't be surprised."
He raised a brow. "What do you mean by that?"
"Of course you're the Sentinel. Of course this is how it played out. You always want to do the right thing no matter what so of course you would break the rules to do so," she laughed. "However, how did you get all those powers?"
"Tattoos."
"Tattoos? Adrian, that's genius. Show me!" Her praise was quickly overrun by her own horror. "Sweet rot I fucking shot you! Adrian I'm so sorry I didn't know it was you."
"Nova," Adrian said gently, taking her hands in his. "It's alright."
She cupped his face.
"How?" She asked. "How are you so nice and kind and gentle to me after everything I've done to you."
"Because whether you knew it or not, what you've done was more or less forced upon you."
"That doesn't mean I'm a good person."
"Well you regret those choices and you don't want to be an Anarchist any more so that's a good start. I think you can make it to a point where everyone else will know you're a good person too."
"I still don't get how you can believe in me so much."
"It's because I care about you Nova. And besides. What's left to hide? You're Nightmare. I'm the Sentinel. We've both gone after each other and hurt one another and somehow I still want to kiss you."
"Really?" She asked, breath hitching while her eyes lit up.
"Really," Adrian said. "Everyone has a nightmare. Maybe I want you to be mine."
She snorted and then he kissed her.
This time, when they kissed, it felt so different then before. There were no more secrets and there was nothing stopping them. They could just be a boy and a girl who were dating and stealing kisses and cuddling and being normal.
"Wait," Nova breathed, pulling away. "Show me your tattoos."
Adrian had a feeling that she either hadn't guessed that they were on his chest or that she was well aware of where they were and didn't care much at all about that.
It must have been the first option because when he peeled off his shirt to show her, she diverted her eyes with a faint blush rising up her neck and face.
Instead of noticing the tattoos first, she found the bandages around his middle, eyes filled with concern.
"Adrian what happened?" Nova asked softly, worried.
"Genissa," Adrian explained. "Tried to keep her and her team from killing Hawthorne but got this instead."
She frowned and then lifted up her own shirt, showing a healing patch of skin at her side to match his. It must have been from when Genissa threw the pike at her. It was mostly healed now and Adrian realized that she must have taken the Vitality Charm and used it that night which explained why it was missing and why Nightmare wasn't stopped by Agent N.
"I guess that makes two of us," she laughed before dropping the hem of her shirt.
"As smart as it was for you to take the vitality charm I'm going to need it back," Adrian told her.
"I think I can manage that. I can give it back to you and you can act like you found it on the ground somewhere in your house," she suggested.
She reached out and traced over the lines of a tattoo on his bicep.
"Do any of that tattoos allow for the tattoos to be hidden?" She asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Have you considered making a tattoo that makes you able to make your body look like you have no tattoos. They're still there but... invisible. It could be helpful. If we need proof for some reason that you're not the Sentinel or maybe if you get hurt or just don't feel like having them visible," Nova explained.
Adrian grinned. It was a brilliant idea. He'd have to figure out what tattoo would represent that, maybe a little ghost or something, but it was doable.
"Have I ever told you how incredibly genius you are?" Adrian asked.
"You could mention it a little more," Nova said, grinning.
Her fingers were still running along the art on his body, following the curves and lines repeatedly like she was trying to memorize them. She then paused, her fingers spread out, and her hand slid up to the back of his neck.
She pushed herself up on her knees so she was eye level and then kissed him. Adrian wrapped his arms around her, holding her tighter and pulling her onto his lap, her legs falling to his sides.
"Hey Nova," he muttered against her mouth. "You're a genius."
Her lips curved into a smile. She kissed him harder and he moaned softly. Adrian's mouth slid down her neck and she gasped lightly, tilting her head back. He nipped at the hollow of her neck and very much enjoyed the whimper that came out of her mouth.
It seemed Nova was feeling even more daring then before as she pulled Adrian down on her. It took him by surprise but he wasn't complaining.
He sunk into it and so did she, one of his hands buried in her hair and the other at her ribs. The feeling of their bare skin colliding, the heat of their bodies against another, and the softness of her lips were a good mix.
Nova brought his mouth back to hers, slipping her tongue in slowly which was another thing that surprised him but he wasn't upset about. Her hands slid up his stomach and chest, up to his shoulders where one fell down to his bicep, holding it tightly, and the other reaching behind him to his back. Nova's nails dug into his skin. It hurt but not enough to care though he had a feeling that there might be nail marks later as she was clutching him like he was the only thing in the world left.
Adrian then dared to move his hands, placing them on her thighs and sliding up so his fingers were under her shorts. He held her gently, drawing small circles on her skin while he told her words of affection.
He wanted to show her how much he cared about her, how precious she was to him, how happy she made him feel. But he wasn't going to push.
Over the course of their few months of dating, having gotten together after the fight at the Cosmopolis Park, they had definitely kissed a lot and not even when they kissed on his couch before the Gala compared to this. It might have had she not knocked him out, as he was now sure that's why he fell asleep, but it was still different. There was far more physical connection happening then they had ever had and it was different emotionally. Everything was wholly unguarded. There were no more lies and secrets holding them back anymore. It was slow and gentle and sweet and not rushed like they were trying to make the most of a relationship they both thought was going to fall apart eventually.
Nova was quivering beneath him and while she was still kissing him and holding him, he couldn't tell if she truly wanted this or not. Adrian contemplated if she was just trying to please him and go along with him kissing her because she didn't know much else but doing what others wanted or if she was overwhelmed by her own decision, either by making it or the results.
Either way Adrian pulled away, settling at her side while she continued to lie down, tilting her head to face him. Nova looked disappointed that he pulled away but he could tell she was trying to hide it, almost as if she was ashamed of it.
"Are you okay? You're shaking," he pointed out. "We can stop if it's too much for you."
Adrian remembered her telling him at the Gala that if he did something that she didn't like or didn't want happening to her, she'd stop him. Still, he didn't take her quaking body as a good sign and he didn't want her to feel like she had to do anything with him for whatever reason she may have had.
"No it's fine," she breathed, smiling. "I'm just not used to so much physical contact in a positive way."
His heart sank.
"Nova it's perfectly alright to take your time with this and let yourself get used to smaller acts of physical affection before we move on to bigger things," Adrian said, reaching out and pushing back a strand of her hair. "You're always allowed to tell me no. I'm never going to be upset with you for it."
"Okay," she said, nodding and slipping her hand into his.
She wasn't shaking as much but she was still breathing heavily like she was overwhelmed. It would probably be some time before she was more comfortable getting physical but he was willing to wait. They had been together for a few months and were taking things slow anyways.
Nova was stunning laid out beside him, her hair splayed around her like a halo and her dark brown eyes shimmering in the dim light of the room. She was gorgeous just like she was when he ran into her at the parade, just like when she had kicked Gargoyle's ass, and just like at the gala and every other day. He wasn't sure if Nova was aware or not but a lot of Renegades their age had crushes on her, boys and girls alike. It was hard not to when she was beautiful, strong, and had put the Gargoyle in his place. Everyone liked her after that and part of him was thankful that Nova had needed him for whatever plot the Anarchists dragged her into or else someone might have beaten him to dating her.
Adrian leaned down and kissed her forehead before Nova pulled him back over top of her, this time resting her head on his shoulder. She had one of her hands in his hair and the other drawing circles on his spine.
"It's weird," Nova whispered. "I never liked the Renegades, and I still don't like the Renegades now just to be clear, but you're still a damn good superhero. You certainly helped save me after all."
Adrian smiled. "All in a day's work right?"
Nova snorted and then pressed a kiss to his neck, holding him tighter like he was safety, some sort of protector for her. He didn't blame her for latching on.
Everyone in her life had failed to protect her, whether they tried to or not. The Anarchists certainly didn't keep her safe after all they had put her through and neither had the Renegades as their mistakes had put her in the situation in the first place and made her stay there.
Nova certainly could hold her own and when it came to fights she didn't need protection. She could kick anyone's ass including his but there were some things everyone needed protection for and for Nova that was the Anarchists and even the Renegades possibly.
Adrian wanted to protect her. And he was going to follow through with it. He was one of the first people in ten years to genuinely protect and care about Nova and he wasn't going to mess it up. And that meant fixing the whole situation even if it would be incredibly difficult.
They still had yet to figure out how Nova was even supposed to leave the grasp of the Anarchists. It couldn't have been that simple. It was down to just Queen Bee and Cyanide and as far as he recalled, they were the nicer Anarchists out of the ones that lived in the tunnels. That didn't mean either of them were going to give up their hold and power over Nova anytime soon though.
Adrian just prayed that he could get her to a safe place and soon.
---------------
Tag List:
@thepurpledragon4444 @nova-artino @nova-mclain @narcissacronin @princessselene126 @my-littlenightmare @anarchists-87 @riptide-the-mighty-pen @plain-jane-mclain @thecaptainsdamsel @novas-bitch @renegadesnet @itsalittlebitchilly @justsomerandomficsforrenegades @jacihayle @rubyytucker @creampuffqueen @alecjamesartino @blueraspberry-official @ruby-tucker @imnotfluffy
Also posting new fics and chapters, for this series and others I have, might slow down a lot in the upcoming month because I’m sort of in this zone where I can’t write and also I won’t have wifi for a week in august
#tw abuse#tw emotional abuse#tw physical abuse#nevada fanfiction#nova artino#adrian everhart#nodrian#renegays#renegades#archenemies#supernova#supernova spoilers#renegades trilogy#this is how it should have been
56 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
hi-i-think-knowledge-is-power
Knowledge Is Power
chemixpharmaceuticals
Untitled
ajmodeworld
AJ mode
hopecrested
𝐊𝐀𝐋-𝐄𝐋