#plus it may not live in my title anymore but i am and remain the god of losleep . ignore the fact this fic is 75% virgil-logan bickering
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The Hazards of Living with Remy Holmes
Ao3
Summary: In general, Logan found living with Remy to be manageable, if occasionally annoying and/or nonsensical. Logan would appreciate, however, if their sibling could stop breaking into their apartment while Logan was there.
Content: Sherlock Holmes AU; bickering, deductions, listen this is mostly logan and virgil verbally sparring while everyone flexes their low-level deduction muscles
Pairings: Logan & Remy (future QPR), Remy & Virgil (siblings), Logan & Virgil (forced to put up with each other because of Remy)
Notes: Hello TS fandom of 2024. How's it been
~
“Remy? Remy, have you seen my jacket?” Logan called out in his still fairly new apartment, halfway down the hall between his room and the apartment’s main sitting area as he spoke. His still fairly new roommate had been out the past few hours, but Logan had heard the door open while he had been shuffling through his closet for the fourth time that day. Normally, Logan would simply assume he had left his jacket at work- a not terribly uncommon occurrence, especially when he worked later shifts- but living with Remy came with a unique set of risk factors Logan had to keep a constant eye on. Case in point: “I swear, if you’ve got it wrapped around another ham-”
Reaching the end of the hallway, Logan cut himself off as he realized who was actually in the sitting area, frowning. “Ah. Virgil. I apologize, I didn’t realize we had been broken into.”
Virgil, sitting in one of the apartment’s armchairs like he belonged there, just smirked at Logan’s dry tone. “Not breaking in if I have a key, doc.”
“It is if we didn’t give you that key.” Logan countered, wrinkling his nose at the nickname. “And please, call me Dr. Watson. I’d hate for us to get friendly.”
Virgil chuckled. “Still holding a grudge, are we?”
“You kidnapped me, threatened me, and accused me of having homicidal intentions. I believe I have the right to a grudge.”
“Shouldn’t that be water under the bridge by now? I said sorry, didn’t I?”
“It’s been two months.” Logan reminded, crossing his arms. “And no, you haven’t.”
“Well, I’m sorry.” Virgil said, sounding about as apologetic as Logan had when he had greeted the intruder. “Better now?”
“Apology not accepted.” Logan answered flatly. “Might I ask why you have decided to darken my apartment?”
“Is visiting my sibling not a good enough reason for me to want to stop by?”
“Not dressed like that it isn’t.” Logan nodded at Virgil’s outfit, a well-fitted suit that would put the MIB’s to shame. Virgil did, occasionally, drop by just for the sake of a visit, but he arrived informally in those instances, imitating the mundane lives of civilians by doing things such as ‘wearing hoodies’ and ‘knocking on the door.’
Virgil glanced down at himself, as if he might have forgotten what he arrived. He tugged on his dark purple tie, the only hint of colour he allowed his formal wear, straightening it incrementally before looking back up at Logan. “You caught me. I have a case for Remy of… some governmental importance. Nothing dire, but important enough we want to ensure it’s handled properly.”
“You have a case for us, then.” Logan corrected, the statement petty, entirely for the sake of drawing a reaction. Logan was dragged alongside Remy to every case the unofficial detective worked, whether he liked it or not, and Virgil knew that perfectly well. It made no meaningful difference to Logan whether or not Virgil acknowledged that, but, as established, he was still holding a grudge over their first meeting. “That’s what you meant to say, correct?”
The annoyance that entered Virgil’s expression was slight, but Logan considered it a major success on his part.
Before Virgil could choose his response, the doorknob of the front door began to jiggle slightly, shaken by the motion of someone inserting their key. Both him and Logan turned to watch as the door was unlocked and pushed open as Remy entered, taking a moment to fully remove their key before closing the door behind them.
“I’m back, babes!” Remy greeted the apartment automatically as they dropped their keychain onto the shelf mounted above the sitting room’s lightswitch, flashing Logan a smile when they realized he was right in front of them. Their motions remained fairly routine up until they spotted Virgil, looking surprised by his presence but not as upset as Logan had been (and was). “Well this is unexpected.”
“I know I didn’t mention I’d be dropping in-”
Remy waved Virgil off before he could finish his sentence. “No, not that. I’d be more surprised if you gave me a heads up before swinging by, to be honest. I just can’t believe you and Lo managed to occupy the same room, alone, without killing each other.”
“As if your doctor could kill me.”
“The restraint I have showcased so far is not insubstantial.”
Logan and Virgil shot twin glares at each other as their replies overlapped, Remy laughing at the show. “Alright, girls, you’re both pretty. No need to start a fight now.”
“I would hardly-” Logan trailed off as he looked back towards Remy, paying more attention to the details of his appearance at the second glance than he had the first (more occupied then with the relief Remy’s company would provide). Specifically, he was paying more attention to the dark blue leather that was draped over them. “...Is that my jacket?”
Between their sunglasses and generally relaxed attitude, it wasn’t always the easiest thing to follow Remy’s thoughts, but Logan was still able to catch the quick twitch of their face. “Ah… is it? Could’ve sworn it was one of mine.”
In the peripheral of his vision, Logan watched Virgil raise an eyebrow. “It’s a size too big for you, Rem.”
Remy raised the hand holding their coffee cup in mock surrender. “Ok, you caught me. I was in a rush this morning, I wasn’t thinking and grabbed the first jacket I saw. Not my fault you left yours in the kitchen, hun.”
Logan sighed, though the sound wasn’t as annoyed as it probably should have been. Really, in the grand scheme of living-with-Remy things, his jacket getting accidentally commandeered was relatively harmless. “How far your brilliant deductive reasoning skills get you.”
Remy grinned at the (admittedly) heatless jab. From where he was still relegated to the corner of Logan’s vision, Virgil frowned, expression twisting into a more severe version of the one Remy wore when they were working out a particularly complicated puzzle.
Thankfully, he chose not to comment on whatever observation he had pulled out of thin air, instead clearing his throat to call back the room’s attention. “Yeah, speaking up your skills-”
“Let me guess: you’ve got a case for us.” Remy finished for him, missing the smug look Logan shot Virgil as they took a sip of their coffee. “Alright then, lay it on me. Since I know you won’t leave me alone ‘til it’s handled.”
“And this is the part where I step out.” Logan said before Virgil could begin, not in the mood to go through their usual song and dance of Virgil telling Remy the bare minimum of case-related information while making it very clear that Logan was the one with the lowest level of ‘need-to-know’ clearance. He moved across the sitting area, passing Remy to slip on the shoes he kept by the door. “You didn’t get the mail from Patton as you came up, did you?”
“I didn’t, no.”
“Then I shall use that as my excuse. I’m sure he’ll be happy to entertain me for at least five minutes.” Logan grabbed his keys from the shelf, aware he didn’t truly need them but wanting to have them nonetheless, and pulled open the door. “Remy, I trust you’ll fill me in on what I miss.”
“Yeah, of course, babes- but, wait a sec.” Logan paused in the doorway, turning his body around to face Remy once more. “You sure Pat’s going to be there? Today’s when he usually has his baking class.”
To the outside onlooker, Remy’s comment would have been perceived as nothing more than an innocent, and reasonable, observation. Patton’s baking classes were held twice weekly, Patton went to them consistently, and Logan had no direct reason to believe Patton would have skipped that day’s class for no reason.
Logan, however, was not the outside onlooker, and over the tops of Remy’s sunglasses, he could see the way their eyes glinted with a completely different question, one Logan was happy to answer.
“I’m certain he will be. His class was cancelled.”
“Oh yeah?” Remy prompted, grinning as he set Logan up. To the side, Virgil shifted in his seat, likely having picked up on the fact that Remy was building the conversation up to something. “How’d you know that?”
The corner of his mouth tipping up into a self-satisfied smile, Logan turned towards Virgil. “Because Virgil styled his hair.” He answered simply, taking a moment to appreciate as Virgil’s expression morphed from suspicion into outrage before he breezed out the door, shutting it behind him. The last thing he heard was Remy, laughing like the two of them had just told the funniest joke in the world.
Yes, living with Remy came with a unique set of challenges. But Logan found that, for Remy, he could be adaptable.
#ok my tags . uh#ts sides#sanders sides#ts logan#ts virgil#ts remy#platonic losleep#sibling sleepxiety#fanfic#is that all of them . sure probably maybe#anyways hey y'all yeah i didnt think id be writing this either#but the night hours are a strange thing and ive Really been in a holmes mood recently#plus it may not live in my title anymore but i am and remain the god of losleep . ignore the fact this fic is 75% virgil-logan bickering#losleep sh au you will never see your full potential but for a moment you can be real
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Am I What I Am?
How often do you feel “Imposter Syndrome”?
Imposter Syndrome is that feeling like you’re somehow not qualified for what you’re doing.
That even though you’ve been invited into a space, you somehow don’t belong there.
Like you’ve tricked everyone into thinking that you’re, say, a public historian, and now they’re just letting you design an entire exhibit!
Okay, so by now you can probably tell this is personal (lol).
My last post definitely gave away some of this brewing self-doubt, but I remained positive. However, I had one day where it all overwhelmed me at once.
That happens as students with everything going on PLUS school. As a student living with disabilities, I carry the extra load of the maintenance work that comes with chronic health conditions, and this was just one of those weeks when I had to balance my academic responsibilities with a wad of follow-up appointments and testing!
So, it all just felt like too much for a day and the imposter syndrome sunk in as I was preparing for the meeting with the Board. It was so bad that I questioned whether I even wanted to keep pursuing public history anymore! The field I have been actively building relationships and experience in for over 2 years now!
I know I’m not the only one who has been there, though. If you’re doing things right, you’re frequently entering spaces where you question your place until it becomes familiar.
Well, you can imagine my relief when I met the rest of the board, and they were incredibly warm and inviting. And to top it off, they were all very excited about what I brought to the table! They gave great feedback and suggestions giving me direction as I transition into the writing and design process.
The pressure I have felt this semester to impress is all my own because everyone around me has only been happy with my work and encouraging about my ideas.
After reflecting, I found that as an Interdisciplinary Studies major, I find it intimidating speaking to fellow students or professors who’ve specialized in History for years (or literally any of the disciplines I’ve covered in my degree program like sociology and anthropology, or humanities and Latin American Studies.)
And so there I was, in a room with incredibly smart and experienced individuals, most of whom I’d never met, about to present my research and exhibit idea for the first time. You hear the word “Board” and titles like “Doctor” and as a student, you can feel so inexperienced in just the worst ways.
However, something to remember in moments like these is that sometimes we build others up in our heads as figures to look up to. And yes, they may be accomplished and admirable people; And yes, we should respect them, but they are just people.
I think if we try to reframe these “figures” in our lives - humanize them, remembering that although they are professionally your superior, they’re normal people too – we can overcome some of that imposter syndrome.
They were in your shoes once, just starting their career and perhaps with less ground under their feet.
They can be just as endeared by your accomplishments as you are by theirs.
So, the next time you’re nervous about meeting with that potential mentor whose positive reputation and track record overwhelm you with excitement and anxiety, remember: They also misplace their files; their emails also get stuck in their outbox/drafts; They also fumble with their materials; They also forget that one very important thing they needed today.
So, claim your place and remember you are where you’re meant to be!
Thanks for following along 😊
#internship blog#history student#history intern blog#public history intern blog#public history internship#internship#museum internship#student internship#Student blog#college student#college life#university life#undergraduate
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Even If You Stumble A Step, You’re Still Moving Forward
Summary: TK and Carlos move into their new home post-finale and TK doesn't exactly make the best first impression on their new neighbors...
Notes: this was like a fever dream i had a few months ago and then i stopped writing but decided to revive it last night so... here we are. also title creds (and emotional support creds) to jillian @marjansmarwani because this fic wouldn’t exist without her. and also s/o to brit @moviegeek03 for being extra supportive of yet another fic where [spoiler] tk falls down the stairs again :/
read on ao3
TK shuffles through the maze of boxes stacked several feet high throughout their new home. The scene shouldn’t surprise him considering it was only a few months ago he was moving his own boxes into their old home. However it feels different knowing that most of this stuff isn’t actually theirs.
Well, it is theirs now he figures. But the fact remains that most of the stuff filling the space was either given to them by various members of the extended 126 family, or was recently purchased by TK or Carlos on one of their many trips to Bed Bath and Beyond.
They had taken their time searching for a new place to live. Owen had made it clear that they were both welcome to stay with him (and Mateo) for as long as they needed, but TK had known it was time.
So when a townhome popped up on Zillow that met all their criteria, they wasted no time booking an appointment with the realtor. They both had instantly fallen in love with the open floor plan and deck out back. Plus they knew the extra bedrooms upstairs may come in handy someday.
While they knew the vertical layout of the home itself wasn’t the best, having more stairs than either of them were used to, it checked every other box and was right in their price range so they had wasted no time signing the lease.
A few days had passed since settlement and now most of their days were spent trying to unpack and make this new house into a home. It would never replace the one they had lost, but it had been exciting to build this new home together.
Though on this particular day, TK found himself alone in trying to get settled in since Carlos had a shift. With the 126 still out of commission, possibly forever, and the department not having any openings for paramedics, most of the unpacking was left for TK.
After getting a good chunk of the living room done, he checks the time and decides to go out and see if the mail has come yet. Not that he’s expecting anything with their address still being so new, and not getting much physical mail anyway to begin with. But it still provided a good excuse to take a break.
TK opens the front door and starts to make his way down the set of stairs leading down.
He makes it about halfway before his attention is caught by one of his new next door neighbors, Mr. Martin- if he remembers correctly, exiting at the same time. Mr. Martin gives a friendly wave and TK goes to return the gesture.
Except, he’s not paying attention when he takes the next step, and he misses, his heel just barely hitting the edge of the step before he starts to go down. He tumbles until he comes to a hard stop at the bottom, with most of his weight coming down on his right knee, sending shooting pains up and down his leg.
The rest of his body is sore, and by the time his ears stop ringing, he can just barely make out a new female voice asking “Sir, are you okay?”
He opens his eyes, which he had not even realized he had squeezed shut at some point, to see his neighbor, Mrs. Bailey- his brain supplies, from across the street making her way over to check on him, worried lines painting across her forehead.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m fine,” he grimaces while pushing himself up to a seated position. He tries to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. Not the best way to make a good first impression on his neighbors.
“Are you sure, son? We can call for help if you need it. Someone you know, or 9-1-1?” Mr. Martin joins in the conversation.
“No!” TK interjects too quickly, startling both neighbors. He panics for a moment when the weight of the predicament settles in. He meets the gaze of both figures still staring at him, clearly concerned and waiting for him to say something. “I mean, I’m a paramedic. I’m fine. Or I will be fine. Thank you,” he flashes them both a quick smile before pushing himself up off the ground, ignoring the sharp pains that radiate from his knee when he tries to put any weight on it.
Getting back up the stairs is no easy feat, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know that both Mr. Martin and Mrs. Bailey are still watching him, concerned. Fortunately, they don’t know him well enough to try and follow or help. He’s not sure he would feel comfortable enough receiving help from some strangers. Half the time he doesn’t even feel comfortable receiving help from the people he does know.
He leans heavily on the railing, refusing to turn around out of fear of further mortification. Once he’s inside the home, he collapses right inside the hall, unable to go any further since his knee decided to stop cooperating.
A few tears pool in his eyes, and he’s unsure if that’s due to the pain or embarrassment. Not knowing what else to do, he takes out his phone and shoots a quick text to Carlos.
TK: we have to move
It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for the three dots to pop up before being replaced by Carlos’ response.
Carlos: ???
TK sighs and rubs his face, trying to figure out the best way to explain the situation.
TK: i feel down the stairs out front and all the neighbors saw
Carlos: Holy shit, are you okay??
He lets out a puff of air at that.
TK: you mean besides my bruised ego?
TK: no, i hurt my knee but i’m fine. that’s not the issue here.
Carlos: Okay, I’ll be home in an hour and you can let me be the judge of that. If I see any swelling, we’re going to the doctor.”
He rolls his eyes at Carlos’ worry. At worst, it’s a bad sprain, nothing that can’t be fixed with some icing and wrapping. But there are other things they need to worry about.
TK: you’re missing the point, carlos. the entire neighborhood thinks i’m an idiot. we can’t live here anymore.
TK knows he’s being dramatic, but the more he thinks about it, the more embarrassed he gets. The idea that these are people he’s going to have to continue to face everyday for the foreseeable future. And that now all they’ll be able to think about when they do see him. Now he’ll just be known as the guy who can’t walk down stairs.
Carlos: Relax, TK. I’ll be home soon.
TK: you mean our temporary place of residence which we will soon be moving out of
He doesn’t get a response after that.
His mind continues to spiral while he waits for Carlos to arrive. He knows the other man is likely climbing the walls trying to leave his shift early but it would still be awhile before he could be allowed to leave.
Left alone with his thoughts, his mind keeps playing out the series of events that happened minutes ago. He can't help but beat himself up over embarrassing himself like that. Ironically enough, it’s not even the first time he’s fallen down stairs, having taken a tumble down the stairs in Carlos’ place a few months back. And of course he would manage to injure himself that time, and this time as well.
He should at least try to get up so he can find an ice pack to lessen the swelling. Sitting on the floor up against the wall can’t be doing his knee any favors. Yet he can’t bring himself to move, instead resting his head back against the wall and sighing.
TK pulls out his phone again, cycling through the apps until he hears the tell-tale keys jingling in the already unlocked door.
As soon as Carlos steps through the door, he nearly trips over TK in the doorway. “Woah, hey! TK, are you okay?” he crouches down to TK’s level.
TK shrugs. Now that he’s face to face with Carlos, he can’t help but feel suffocated by another person judging him, even if Carlos’ worry comes from a place of concern.
“Can I take a look at your knee?”
TK nods, allowing Carlos to gently inspect his swollen joint. He winces as Carlos traces his hand around his kneecap.
“This doesn’t look good, babe. I think we need to go to the hospital.”
“No, it’s fine,” he quickly shakes his head. The worried look in Carlos’ eyes only makes his heart ache, and he can only try to find ways to make it go away. “Just help me up and we can ice it. It will look better once the swelling goes down a bit.”
Carlos gives him a look that screams I don’t believe you but sighs. “Fine, but if it doesn’t…”
“I know, I know. You’ll drag my ass to the emergency room,” TK gives him a reassuring smile.
Carlos returns the smile, and extends a hand to help TK up. TK accepts, and allows Carlos to take on most of his weight once he’s standing. They slowly make their way over to the living room, with Carlos softly depositing TK onto the sofa. He then disappears into the kitchen before returning with an ice pack in hand.
“Thanks,” TK smiles, trying to mask the wince as Carlos places the pack onto his knee.
“Do you want to watch an episode of The Office?” Carlos asks, picking up the remote and settling in the spot next to TK.
TK shrugs, knowing that Carlos is just trying to appeal to him by offering to put on his favorite show. The other man doesn’t even like the show that much, often finding the humor dry and tasteless, but TK thinks he just doesn’t get it.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
There it is.
“I just can’t believe I did that in front of our new neighbors. They probably think I’m an idiot.”
“I’m sure no one thinks you’re an idiot, TK,” Carlos gently reassures him.
“Yeah all the neighbors saw me make an idiot of myself,” TK sighs exasperatedly. “God, how am I supposed to face these people everyday now?”
“Hate to break it to you babe, but this is not a valid reason for us to move.”
“I know,” he sighs again.
“Besides,” Carlos continues. “If your track record has proven anything, it’s that this won’t be the last medical emergency at our new home. It’s good that the neighbors are getting used to it now.”
TK gives him a pointed look.
“I’m pretty sure this is the second time you’ve fallen down the stairs since we’ve started dating,” Carlos says with a light chuckle.
“Whatever,” TK scoffs. “At least the other time it wasn’t in front of total strangers.”
Carlos softens. “That’s true. But I’m sure the neighbors just care about you. I don’t think this is that big of a deal, TK.”
“You weren’t there though. It was mortifying.”
“What did they say, exactly?”
TK nervously looks down. “They asked if I was okay. And if I needed any help.”
Carlos raises his eyebrow, waiting to see if TK continues.
“They offered to call for help but I said no and went back inside.”
“See? They just care about you TK. I haven’t really talked to anyone yet but they seem like nice people.”
“I guess,” TK shrugs.
“I know, you’re still embarrassed. But if nothing else, they’ll probably forget about it by the next time we see them.”
“You don’t think I’ll be known as the ‘clumsy neighbor who can’t walk down stairs’?”
“Maybe the ‘cute clumsy neighbor that can’t walk down stairs,’” Carlos says with a smirk. “But we could always change that.”
TK cocks his head to the side.
“You think our new neighbors might enjoy some peach scones when we go over and have a proper introduction?”
“You really plan to charm our new neighbors with your baking?”
“You think it will work?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then yes, I do,” Carlos grins proudly. He then leans over and gently removes the ice pack from TK’s knee, grimacing at what he sees. “This still looks pretty swollen, babe. I think we need to go to the hospital.”
TK gives him a pained smile. “You sure I can’t talk my way out of this?”
“Nope,” Carlos says, popping the p. He stands up before extending his hand to help TK do the same.
TK accepts, shifting his weight and leaning into Carlos once he’s fully upright.
“You know, I think you may have a paramedic blindspot when it comes to your own health.”
TK lets out a light laugh. “Yeah, I’ve been told.”
A week later, Carlos softly knocks on the door of Mrs. Bailey’s home across the street with one hand and a plate of peach scones in the other. TK had offered to hold the scones but when they went over to Mr. Martin's home earlier in the day, it was quickly discovered it was too difficult for him to manage getting up the stairs and holding the plate.
So he settles for letting Carlos do most of the work while he awkwardly limps up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing to keep some pressure off his knee.
After their quick trip to the emergency room, it had been determined that TK’s initial assessment was right and it was just a bad sprain. He was given a brace to help reduce the pain and a pair of crutches, which (much to Carlos’ dismay) he abandoned after only two days, citing that they only made it harder to get around their home which he can now say for certain has too many damn stairs.
A problem which seems to follow him as he also has to get up the stairs to greet his neighbors.
“Maybe we should have moved to a neighborhood of single level homes,” he states with a wince as he joins Carlos at the front door.
Carlos snorts. “We can take it into consideration if we ever have to move again.”
“God, please don’t say that. I don’t want to think about moving ever again.”
“Good,” Carlos gives him a soft smile. “Because I’m planning on staying here for the long run.”
“Me too,” TK returns the smile just as Mrs. Bailey opens the door.
“What a lovely surprise!” she exclaims taking in the sight of the two men.
“Hello ma’am,” Carlos says with a polite smile.
“We brought you some scones,” TK adds, gesturing to the plate in Carlos’ hands.
“Oh how thoughtful of you. Please come in. How are you doing?” she asks, turning to TK. “I’ve been worried.”
He exchanges a look with Carlos, the other man's face clearly saying I told you she cares, before turning back to Mrs. Bailey.
“I’m fine, ma’am. Thank you for asking. It’s just a bad sprain. But I do appreciate your concern, especially the other week.”
“Oh, of course dear,” she says with a warm smile. “Now, you boys aren’t going to make me eat these scones all by myself are you?”
They both let out a light chuckle and exchange another glance before following their new neighbor, and friend inside.
#i've posted too much today#but i need share before i end up deleting it#but actually if it flops i may just delete anyway#whatever at this point#911 lone star#911lonestarfic#tarlosfic#my fic#usersaaya#userbones#reyeslonestartag#pragmaticoptimist34#tuserpaige
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An analysis on Ranboo’s lore playlist
okay y’all first of all, ranboo has a killer taste, i love him, and second, i couldn’t resist. i’m an analyst by nature. am i looking too deep into some things? did ranboo maybe choose some songs purely for the vibe? perhaps. do i care? no. let me have my fun.
I’m gonna drop my own analysis/interpretation based on these songs but feel free do use this yourself if you want!! And also feel free to disagree/correct me on anything!! I’m not a professional musical analyst lol and I did take some inspiration from already existing interpretations for the more lyrical songs.
here’s the playlist btw
“Introduction to the Snow”—introduction to the album. Fitting for the playlist’s beginning, seeing the tone. It’s mostly referencing (self-imposed) isolation.
“Dream Sweet in Sea Major”—this Miracle Music’s whole album is about dreams and reality, how they clash, loneliness and the wish to be close to someone, yet still remaining isolated. Very whimsical, metaphorical, melodic, and it has this vibe as if on the edge of consciousness. I’d say it fits quite well with c!Ranboo’s general vibe. This song in particular deals with sleepwalking(ha)/being in a dreamlike state, the line between what’s real and what’s not blurred.
“The Mind Electric”—oh this one fits Ranboo extremely well. First part is in reverse, the second in normal (mirroring), and it can get quite unsettling. Like you’re not sure what’s happening with the instrumentals, many different voices. Again, very metaphorical, but to put it shortly, the protagonist is being judged for a crime they’ve committed and, in their defence, they say: “Father, your honor, may I explain, my brain has claimed its glory over me; I’ve a good heart albeit insane”. They get “condemned to the infirmary” for that, where electric shock is used on them as a form of “therapy”. As a result, the protagonist loses grip on reality and themselves and truly does go insane. They beg for mercy and sympathy, but there’s no one to help them. “Someone help me; Understand what's going on inside my mind; Doctor I can't tell if I'm not me”—need I say more, really?
“Live and Let Die”—the phrase “live and let die” means to live your life how you wish and let others live how they wish without interfering. At first, you live by the phrase “live and let live”, meaning you have your ideals and you try to change the lives of others according to them, but as life progresses, you stop caring as much/try to distance yourself from others’ business.
“Turn the Lights Off”—dreams and nightmares. Mildly foreboding yet energetic. The actual meaning is about growing up (transition from childhood to adulthood), but we can take some other interpretations that’d fit with Ranboo’s character better. This Tally Hall’s album deals with differences, black and white, and how there shouldn’t be a divide between them. In this song, there are some noteworthy lines that I’d like to mention:
- “Bend the nightmare, you control it; Artful dodger, easy does it”—lucid dreaming, you have to be careful with it so as to not lose control.
- “Shut the closet, get under the covers”—you’re afraid of something and instead of facing it and seeing whether there even is something to be afraid of, you hide.
- “Turn the lights off”—confront your fears. It can also mean that in the dark, there’s no differences between people, going back to the album’s meaning.
- “And everybody wants to get evil tonight; But all good devils masquerade under the light”—this could mean that everyone has a darker part of themselves but those who actually indulge in their dark tendencies do so in plain sight by pretending to be someone else.
“Ruler of Everything”—the main theme here is time and how it’s the “ruler of everything”; time doesn’t matter about where it goes, and it will never stop. The second verse is most interesting to me—there are two singers, man and time, but for the sake of interpretation let’s just see it as two voices. One is obsessed about being liked, fitting in, constantly asking for reaffirmation (“Do you like how I walk? Do you like how I talk?”), while the second criticizes the first (“You practice your mannerisms into the wall”). They argue—”I’ve been you, I know you, your facade is scam; You know you’re making me cry, this is the way that I am”. The second is calling out the first for not being honest to himself. Tone is lighthearted but with an edge of unease.
“Merry-Go-Round of Life”—from Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack. The title’s self-explanatory, I’d say.
“Killer Queen”—this one’s a harder one to interpret in regards to Ranboo lol. The song is about, based on an interview with Mercury, a high class woman that likes to indulge in her various desires (mostly sexual). I would doubt that’s what Ranboo was going for, so! Perhaps about a person that has no regards for their reputation and instead does whatever they feel like it? They have a certain image but still act however they like. Yeah, not too sure about this one :’) But that’s what I’ll go with for my later analysis.
“Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked”—quite straightforward. A person that performs bad deeds has reasons for them. Not excuses, but explanations, and you can sympathize with it. We all do “bad” things for one reason or the other, and, in the end, we’re all just trying to get by. Once again, plays into the theme of there not being a clear distinction between good and bad.
“The Bidding”—another harder one to interpret. On the surface, it’s about an auction where men are trying to sell themselves to women. They all present themselves in different images, and it’s remarked that the women care less about the date and more about the prospect of it, the pretty words. The date, actually, ends up being disappointing. Could be about expectations. Some men outright admit they’re assholes so whoever chooses them should know that. People can tell you what their intentions are from the start so if you end up hurt, you have no one else to blame but yourself.
“A Mask of My Own Face”—another interesting one! Unusual instruments, strong beat. They’re singing about how they have a desire to pretend to be someone else while secretly still being themselves. “I’d rob my own apartment and I wouldn’t give a damn; I’d blame it on the person that nobody knows I am”—implying they have no regard for their own livelihood and are just out to have some fun. Plus, that no one would be aware it’s all an act. “I'd wear it on Thanksgiving and I'd laugh in the parade; At all the people hissing, knowing I'm the one they hate”—they take delight in the idea of upsetting others and them not knowing it’s actually the singer that they should be hissing. “And at the big finale I would tear my face away; And smile as they grip their own and try to do the same”—everyone wears masks, and this person implies that their mask and their true self is not different from each other while others’ are.
“Stardust Crusaders”—soundtrack from Jojo. Action-packed? idk never seen it sorry lol
“I Can’t Decide”—oh, this one’s a doozy! One of the ones that do not fit c!Ranboo at all, but that’s what makes it interesting. A classic, the singer is out to have fun, very lighthearted and yet they’re singing about murder. The protagonist here is clearly mentally unwell and they’re indecisive whether they should let their enemy/toy/(up to interpretation) live or not. Some curious lines:
- “It’s not easy having yourself a good time”—in the context of the song, that “good time” implies something wicked.
- “I’m not a gangster tonight, don’t wanna be the bad guy, I’m just a loner, baby, and now you’ve got in my way”—they don’t view themselves as “bad”, however, the next two lines are paradoxal—the singer says they’re alone and yet decide to “mess around” with whoever comes up in their life.
- “No wonder why my heart feels dead inside, it’s hard and cold and petrified”—signifying lack of empathy.
- “It’s a bitch convincing people to like you”—they don’t actually want to do that and see it as a bother.
“Stranded Lullaby”—back to Miracle Musical, back to the theme of isolation. Super lyrical, super musical. They talk about how their memories float around aimlessly in their head, a sea, and may sometimes get lost. The protagonist, a sailor, is losing touch with reality and can’t tell apart what’s a dream anymore and what’s not. They question what they’re going through and why.
“Hidden In The Sand”—a song about longing, in my eyes. The protagonist sings about how “you” love things and how he wishes to love the same things, in the end admitting that “all I’ve wanted was you”. They don’t wish to be separated, they wish to have someone in their life that they could love.
“Now I’m Here”—euphoric. They sing about how they’re alive again, thanks to one specific person. I’m not gonna go too much into this one (partly because it’s a more difficult one for me again, partly because it’s Queen and I don’t wanna uhh talk nonsense on accident lol), but what I got from it is that when one one else saw them, someone did, and they made them “live again”, and now as a result the protagonist is devoted to them.
“&”—really highlights Tally Hall’s album’s theme of black and white and that there shouldn’t be a divide. The repetition of comparing opposites is present throughout the entire song (Weak & Strong & Wet & Dry…) and it’s heavily implied we should “say goodnight” to this mindset. But people love to choose sides, put things into good or bad categories. By the line “They took a lesson from their fathers” it’s implied that people don’t develop this mindset by themselves and are rather influenced by others around them. The whole album is titled “Good & Evil” and Tally Hall examines and criticizes this idea. If we keep dividing people into good and bad, eventually, we’ll all destroy ourselves.
“I’m Gonna Win”—a song about someone who’s struggling to get by. “Sometimes it can seem like a merciless dream”—life can get really hard and the protagonist wonders “what’s really worthwhile”. In the chorus, whoever, they declare that they’re “gonna win” no matter what. They might get “bloody and bruised” but they won’t give up until they “won’t be abused” and until they’re “laughing alone”. No matter how hard life/others kick them down, they’ll keep going. By the lines “It’s hard to be charming and smart and disarming; It’s hard to pretend you’re the best; It’s hard to fulfill everyone’s expectations; It’s hard to keep up with the rest” it’s implied that they find it tiresome to keep up appearances and be liked. It’s challenging to always fit everyone’s expectations, but they’ll continue doing whatever they have to to “win”.
if ranboo ever adds more songs to his playlist, i may add them here too :)
#dsmp#ranboo#dream smp analysis#ranboo analysis#song analysis#my analysis#ranboo ily ur taste is amazing brrr#this was a lot of fun but took so long rip#i knew like 90% of these lol
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Black Sails fic recs
Working titles: 12 fics for christmas? 12 days of ficmas? 12 fics none of which actually have anything to do with christmas?
OKAY, so I love nothing more than a fic rec post, and I’ve seen a few Black Sails rec posts floating around but they mostly seem to be a couple of years old and they all recommend a similar bunch of fics (and deservedly so! they are all amazing!). But I thought I would make one to highlight some newer or less shouted-about fics, because I may have only been here for a couple of months but jfc there is so much talent in this fandom and more of it deserves to be hyped.
So, here are 12 of my favourite fics for the 12 days of christmas! (i.e. an excuse to put an arbitrary number cap on the list or we’d be here all day)
The majority of these are Silver/Flint and the ones that aren’t still all feature Silver prominently because that boy owns my soul, sorry for who I am as a person.
we should rip it straight out by minormendings
45K (Silver/Madi, Silver/Flint, Flint/Thomas)
Madi has always wondered if Silver understands what is between him and Flint as well as she. To her, it has always been obvious, from the way the two of them had fit together, had worried about each other, had acted as one. She had tried to bring it up with Silver back when they were together. But Silver had shaken her off, too enmired in the idea that he or Flint would prove each other’s downfall. Or perhaps just unwilling to open his eyes to the fact that he had loved Flint.
It was, unfortunately for the both of them, even more obvious after the thing between them had broken. Just as Silver had thrown away the war out of love for her, Flint had let Silver take away the war rather than kill him.
God. What a group the three of them were, showing love by betrayal.
Post-canon. Madi and Flint find their way back to Silver.
This fic diverges from canon right at the end of the 4x10; Silver has Flint held in a cell in Port Royal and Thomas delivered to him rather than taking him straight to the plantation. It is a BEAUTIFUL character study of how Flint and Madi could both come to forgive Silver, and has a great FlintMadi dynamic too. It also centres Madi’s struggle between wanting to provide for her people and wanting to experience the freedom of piracy, and fleshes out Julius’ character in a way the show never did.
we can lose and call it living by I_wouldnt_be_one_of_them
31K (Silver/Flint/Thomas, Silver/Flint, Flint/Thomas)
It's been twelve years since everything fell apart, and John Silver is settled in New England. He has a nice house and a job he likes, and he's gotten used to the loneliness. It's a good life, he thinks, but of course that's cast into doubt when James Flint and Thomas Hamilton show up to find closure and, apparently, to see whether he's happy.
This is an inverse of the ‘silver arrives on flint and thomas’ doorstep’ trope and has Flint and Thomas instead being the ones to interrupt Silver, who is living a sad and lonely existence post-series. I love the ThomasSilver dynamic here. And this Silver feels so true to canon he makes me want to WEEP.
Tell me we're dead and I'll love you even more by Craftnarok
21K (Silver/Flint)
In the year 1725, or thereabouts, John Silver finds himself driven by a storm into an inconsequential little port town, barely a speck on any civilised map. Returned to the life of a drifter, tired and rough around the edges, he is resigned to waiting for the weather to pass before he can sail on again to the next town, and the next, and the next. That is until he overhears a conversation in the inn about a local fisherman, one Captain Barlow, and his tall tales of tempests and becalmings, devils and sharks, and Silver finds a new future opening up to him, haunted by the spectres of his past.
All of Craftnarok’s fics are amazing but I am particularly drawn to this one; it’s set 10 years post-series and is a delightfully angsty exploration of how Flint and Silver could find their way back to each other in a scenario in which Thomas wasn’t at the plantation. It doesn’t let Silver off easy and I love that.
armed with the past and the will by whimsicalimages
3K (Silver/Madi, Madi & Julius)
The language of winning and losing, this language that men favor – Madi can speak this language, though she disagrees with its precepts. Success takes different forms, and failing once does not mean failing forever. It does not even mean failing the next time.
Post-series, Julius teaches Madi how to fight. This fic is BEAUTIFUL - give me anything that centres Madi post-canon - and it explores Madi’s relationship with both Julius and Silver so well in so few words.
Always In Season by mycapeisplaid
60K (Silver/Flint, past Flint/Thomas, past Silver/Madi)
Towering sand dunes, crystal-clear water, miles of forest, vineyards, orchards, and very spotty cellular service -- John Silver finds himself in a part of the state he's never been before and decides to take on seasonal work. Meanwhile, back from his yearly wintering in Florida, James Flint thinks that perhaps he'll take on a new business venture, even though it means he might have to interact with people other than his two close friends. Their summer employment fosters a friendship that could become something more. Like construction season in Michigan, the two must navigate through their own obstacles in order to seek an alternative route toward happiness.
This is an AU and so much fun!! Silver finds himself in Michigan and takes on some seasonal work at Guthrie Dunes. The whole cast features and the setting just WORKS SO WELL. And this Flint feels brilliantly in character despite the difference in setting.
to make a life by gone_girl
53K (Max/Anne, Max & Silver)
“What am I going to do with your name?” Max asks, a little incredulous.
“Whatever you want,” the salesman says. “Didn’t you want something real?”
Max heard a story once about the importance of answering questions like that carefully. If something emerges from the forest and asks for your name, don’t give it up, the story went. Offer only what you know you can live without. She’s never heard a story that tells her what to do when something emerges from the forest and offers its name to you.
I literally only finished this this morning but holy shit this fic is amazing, it’s a Max-centric AU set in Missouri the early 00s and it’s all about found family and building community and platonic love and it has a brilliant SilverMadi dynamic. And there just aren’t enough fics out there that focus on Max & Silver!!
the straight walk home by vowelinthug
73K (Silver/Flint)
Let me tell you a story, about a vaquero named Vasquez…
Obviously vowelinthug’s fics are recc’d all the time and rightly so as they are AMAZING, but one that I don’t see featured as often as the more prominent ones is this incredible Western!AU. It’s 73K guys!! It adapts the canon narrative into the Western setting SO well!! It has background Vane/Billy which I was not at all sure about going in but just WORKS!! Go read it.
The Truth about Eros by Aisalynn
21K (Silver/Flint, Silver/Madi, Flint/Thomas)
Silver understood one thing very well.
Being Fated did not mean you were safe.
It did not mean you were loved.
This one is hot off the press! I am not normally a fan of soulmate AUs but this is such an interesting take on the trope, and the world building fits around the polyamory theme of the show really effectively! And it is SO well written.
With Nothing on My Tongue by RosieTwiggs
13K (Silver/Flint, Silver/Madi)
"Silver thinks: Maybe God likes it when I fight with him.
He wonders now, whether he’s been playing into God’s plan all along. Because no matter how angry he gets, how defensive, how many “fuck you”s he flings to the heaven, isn’t it all just proof that he still believes God is there, despite it all?
Silver doesn’t know how to counter that.
Maybe he doesn’t want to anymore."
An incredibly well written (and angsty! read the tags!) Jewish!Silver character study. This one has really stayed with me.
Maybe in Another Life by samedifference61
31K (Silver/Flint/Madi, Flint/Madi, Silver/Flint, Silver/Madi)
At the rail of a ship James doesn’t command, they stand shoulder to shoulder.
“John still thinks you’re dead,” James states, because it’s something that needs to be said aloud before they continue.
With eyes unblinking toward the rolling sea, Madi says, “And he still thinks you should be dead.”
James’ lip curls in anger. The wounds of betrayal are too fresh for either to say anymore.
Canon-divergent from 4x09, this is a brilliant MadiFlint centric fic exploring their relationship post Silver’s betrayal, and how he could find his way back to them both whilst acknowledging the weight of his actions.
in a vault of starlight by whimsicalimages
7K (Silver/Madi/Flint/Thomas)
The distance between Nassau and Savannah can be measured as: six hundred and thirteen nautical miles, five thousand pounds’ worth of pearls, or four extraordinary lifetimes.
Alternatively: in the aftermath, Madi writes her own story.
There aren’t enough Madi centric fics out there! This one is a lovely extension of canon with a great MadiSilver dynamic in particular.
the aftershocks remain by pdameron
31K (Silver & Miranda, Silver/Flint)
For as long as he can remember, John Silver has been able to see ghosts. He has no trouble keeping this secret from Flint - until Charlestown. Until Miranda.
Again all of pdameron’s fics are brilliant but I loooove this SilverMiranda centric one, plus who doesn’t love a ghost!au.
#Black Sails#black sails fanfic#black sails fic recs#silverflint#silvermadi#john silver#james flint#12 days of ficmas#obviously this only scratches the surface of the many amazing fics in this fandom#i might do another one of these after christmas i just love making lists#enjoy!
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TITLE : hit the pause button, we’re all that matters .
PAIRINGS : poly!dean x reader x cas .
REQUEST : Cas + dean + reader all doing a self care day (at readers request) and have it involve fluffy stuff like putting mud masks on each other
NOTE : with me making this a series, i decided to focus on the mud mask part for now ! the bath part of the request will turn up at some point on the blog though <3
INSPO : and you can tell everybody this is your song, it may be quite simple but now that it's done : i hope you don't mind, i hope you don't mind that i put down in words how wonderful life is while you're in the world.
IT TOOK A GOOD COUPLE OF DAYS OF PESTERING . cas and dean were not only two of the most stubborn people on the planet, but they were also major workaholics that never truly knew when to lay weapons down and call it a day . certainly a deadly and highly frustrating combo, though you weren’t the one to point fingers... couldn’t just blame them for it, you were the same in that regard - but at least you took off the rose tinted glasses every so often, seeing that what you were all doing was utterly exhausting, dragging each of you down in such a way that you felt not only yourself, but your two boyfriends changing . you noticed how cas begins to act like the serious angel that first stepped foot on earth, how his eyes hardened and began to cut jokes short and patience run thin . how dean never seemed to come to bed anymore, how the bags under his eyes got deeper and there isn’t much spare beer in he fridge . you began to feel lonely, the work effecting you in a way that just made you quiet and less responsive . getting involved had to happen sooner or later ( you’ll beat yourself up over this, it should’ve been sooner, you left it too late this time . )
SO IT STARTED BY HINTING AT THEM TO TAKE A BREAK, an attempt to try and get them to admit how exhausted they were, how everything seemed to just ware them down . at first, dean just pressed a barely there kiss to your lips “ we need to get this done, baby “ then, castiel wrapped his arms around your shoulders and burying his face into your hair with a sigh “ dean is right, we must focus on the task at hand, our enemies do not sleep “ you just bit your lip, nodding weakly and allowing them to continue . but you were persistent, a quality that your boys absolutely worshiped in you and at times, hated .
IT’S WHEN YOUR HINTING BECAME POINTLESS DID YOU TAKE ACTION, you knew the cold shoulders weren’t on purpose, that the world should come first ... and while its selfish to ask... why is that ? you’re certainly not against stopping the impending doom, but why should you all work yourselves to death, why should the three of you not stop to breathe and remember that they need to save the world, not for everyone else, but for yourselves ? so you had bought a spa kit, not the cheap kind, the kind where you winced at the receipt and instantly threw it away ( along with tearing price tags off of items ) - it’s not the type of money you had, but you knew the long run would be worth far more than an extra digit .
PULLING IT OFF WAS EASIER THAN YOU PLANNED . you had never seen them so out of it to not notice you up to something, you remember when you were planning on stealing deans plaid shirt for the day and he had noticed how fidgety you were, he had wasted no time calling you out with a big grin on his face - for you to be sneaking around, walking up and down and not really talking to them, and for them to say nothing ? you knew it was bad, and this idea couldn’t have come quick enough . you had everything set up in a few hours, making face masks, cutting cucumbers, setting up a movie marathon, this was going to be the best, most relaxing night ever, you were going to make sure of it .
“ RIGHT BOYS “ hands clapping loudly and entering the main room where cas and dean were, holding some comfortable clothes under your arms for them to get changed into, you yourself was dressed in a old button up of castiels topped of with some fuzzy slippers . dean had just entered the room with a beer in hand, his only form of break he understands, castiel then placed the book down on the table delicately to give you his attention “ WE NEED A BREAK, i’m not giving you an option - i don’t think you both realize how much... this is getting to us all “ you tried your best to remain excited, ignoring how sad you sounded towards the end, dean opened his mouth to speak and you could already predicted the protest “ ah ah ah , mr. i haven’t slept in the same bed as my girlfriend and boyfriend in four weeks, you definitely don’t get a say ! “ you placed the clothes on the table, pushing castiel clothes to him and skipping towards dean to hand them over “ CHANGE, NOW “
“ I LOVE IT when you get all bossy “ dean muttered, you couldn’t hold back the laugh and the eye roll as you walked away .
---
THAT WAS AN HOUR AGO . a western played softly in the background as you finally convinced castiel to put the face mask on, surprisingly enough you had thought dean would protest the idea but he was onboard the minute you brought out the bowl, castiel however was very much wary - it took a while of pestering on both your part and deans, but eventually he caved, allowing you to sit on his lap as dean cuddled against his side .
“ THIS IS A WEIRD SENSATION “ castiel mumbled, one hand reaching over to hold dean and the other under your ( his ) shirt and tracing idle patterns into your hip “ this is mud, i fail to see where the relaxation comes into it “
“ IT’S NOT ACTUALLY MUD “ dean grins, pressing a kiss to his neck, resisting the urge to nuzzle into the skin as to avoid ruining his own face “ plus, you have to actually relax for it to work “
“ HA, like you’d know anything about relaxing ! “ smile is splitting face, for the first time in a while you feel utterly carefree, you’d missed this - missed them “ i can see the knots in your shoulder from here “ there’s some quick fire retaliation, both in scoffing and dean ungracefully shoving his hand in the bowl and swiping more of the pack across your face, at the show castiel couldn’t help but just sit back and watch with a gentle smile on his face, blue hues bright with utter adoration for the two humans . he never thought he’d be here, sure the life they were living was both dangerous and unpredictable, but for the first time in his life he’s never felt more at ease, felt belonging . just like a million times before, he can’t help but inwardly promise himself, he would do anything to protect his two humans . anything . oh, how dangerous was that ?
“ SHUT UP, i’m trying to watch the movie ! “
“ you STARTED it, you cowboy loving - “
CASTIEL SUDDENLY MAKES A PANICKED NOISE, feeling the layer of crap on his face harden the longer he sits there, stopping the ever escalating fight of both of yours and deans “ the mud is hardening, this is not relaxing, is it meant to do this ? “ you and dean instantly tried not to laugh at the angel, dean failing of cause .
“ OKAY, LETS TRY THIS - “ dean grinned, waving you off of castiel as he gently forced cas to lay back further, picking up two slices cucumbers from the plate on the table “ close your eyes, feathers “ castiel squints at him at first, but eventually agrees and body jolting at the cold slices on lids “ EASY, just let yourself, feel it - “ you grin, instantly picking up on deans idea as you slide into the other side of cas, hand gently rubbing his shoulder as dean followed suit - it was an awkward position for the both of you, but the angel soon managed to melt into into the touches, a small sigh passing lips “ are you feeling it ? “
“ I UH ... I THINK I AM, the mask is still uncomfortable for me . but i think i am more feeling the presence of you both, it has been ... a long time it feels since we’ve been like this “ at his words, you visibly melted, a love struck face instantly taking over - dean couldn’t help the gentle smile, no edge, no teasing ... he thinks... no, knows cas is right “ this was a good idea, y/n. we should certainly do this more often “
“ WE COULD DO DATE NIGHTS... again, maybe once a week ? every three if we have to make it more flexible... with everything going on “ your words unsure, almost shy, it had dean raising his free hand to gently cup your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb .
“ WE CAN DO THAT... i’m sorry i haven’t been around you guys much “ his own heart beats a little faster as you lean into his palm, kissing it with a smile . though the mood is broken the minute dean drops his touch, leaning onto cas’ face and picking up the cucumber slice off of his lids with his teeth, looking oh so accomplished .
“ HM. that’s the first time i’ve seen you eat healthy, dean ... is that truly the only way we can get you to stop killing your insides ? eating greens off of me ? “ deans face flushes bright, stuttering through a come back, the snort of laughter you make is the most embarrassing noise you’ve ever made .
#🛁 anon#a tag for the one whose making this series possible....... i see you <3#im lowkey worried abt this so i used this as a practice to write a poly ship#im one of those where i write tht stuff in drafts#so any feedback about this is v much appreciated !#im so excited for this series i have. ideas. angst n fluff#ALL THE IDEAS LADS#cas x reader x dean#dean x reader x cas#fic#spnxreaders#spn x reader#supernatural x reader#castiel x reader#dean winchester x reader
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Prince of Nothing I
~ Part One of Five ~
Release Date: March 19th, 2020 @ 9 p.m.
Word Count: 6,608
Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything except for you…
Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything: heaven, hell, and everything in between. His family was an enigma who came to power under mysterious circumstances and had managed to retain hold over the kingdom for centuries - even if no one knew how. There was one thing that Jungkook wanted though, something that could never be his: you. A nobody. A girl with no title. No land. Just money and a pure soul to your name. Jeon Jungkook would’ve never spared a look your way, had that incident not occurred. Now you find yourself the target of his affection and the most hated woman in all the land. Which will kill you first?
Trigger Warning: The following story contains mentions of manipulation, abuse, and vivid, as well as implied, descriptions of abusive acts. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~
“YN, please listen to me,” Hyunshik spoke a frown etched into his pale face. From where he was standing YN could see how his leg twitched anxiously. Hyunshik wasn’t the type of individual to be easily stressed, in fact, the man had a perpetual optimism that often irked his sister. Which is why her brother’s sudden switch unnerved YN. “Shik, what’s going on?”
Hyunshik had suggested a holiday for the two of them. Though the way he shaped his words, YN wondered if it was less of a ‘holiday’ and more of an escape. From what exactly she didn’t know. YN shook her head, she didn’t understand where all this was coming from. Things had been going well for the siblings as of late: their house was small but quaint enough for them to live comfortably. While Hyunshik had been employed in Mistress Eun’s manor since he was sixteen, YN had recently been employed in a small shop in the town square. Her employer was a bit strict but well-meaning. Is it Mistress Eun? YN had heard enough around town to know that she wasn’t a kind woman - often barking orders and treating her staff like scum beneath her feet. Hyunshik though simply cleaned, he wasn’t in high enough of a standing to be able to communicate much less see her.
YN stopped organizing the different fabrics on the shelf and walked towards her brother. “Talk to me. Did something happen?” In her eyes, there were unspoken words - one that Hyunshik could easily understand. Did she do something to you? Though Hyunshik was always happy, he wasn’t naive about the cruelty of the world. Something his sister had yet to experience fully, so for her sake he smiled. “Nah, work has just been piling up recently and I thought the two of us could use a break you know. Maybe go to the seaside and enjoy the ocean for a bit.” YN smiled though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I just started working silly. Maybe we can go for the solstice? That way we can actually enjoy the sea. It’s far too cold now.”
Hyunshik gave an exaggerated sigh, “Fine but don’t complain to me later on,” his finger came up and gently massaged the space between YN’s brows. “Stop frowning, it’s unladylike and makes you look like a hag.” YN scoffed, “Rude. Plus, I am hardly a lady.” She returned to the counter and began organizing the small intricacies placed there. Hyunshik rolled his eyes, “Please my sister is the fairest maiden in all the land. I have to fight off suitors every day.” His tone became a strong bravado as he flexed his arms.
“Don’t lie to yourself, if anything I fight off my suitors every day. You couldn’t harm a fly.”
YN and Hyunshik had moved to their current home when the latter was sixteen years old. Their parents had just passed shortly before and they couldn’t afford to live in the city anymore, despite them living in the slums; which only grew worse over time. Slavers often went around picking up orphaned children to either sell or trade, so Hyunshik sought to get both of them as far away as he could. In desperate times came desperate measures, but Hyunshik had always stayed on the right side of things. Even when doing the wrong thing would have provided an easy out to all their hardships, he wasn’t that type of man. YN knew this deep down in her bones. So, when she saw a detained poster pierced to her front door with Hyunshik’s name under it she knew it had been a mistake.
Soojin knew this was a part of her role, didn’t mean she hated it any less. Soojin had woken up that morning to the advisor telling her that the King had relayed his duties of standing council to Jungkook, and Jungkook to her. She didn’t have to do it - not really but it wouldn’t bode well. Even if these were technically not her people, they would be someday and it would be better to win their favor than their apathy. Soojin was meant to be the velvet to the Jeon's leather and she would play her role well. So she had sat in that wretched chair that seemed to wrap around her, tightening every second she sat upon it. It wasn’t too difficult, most of the cases were simple cases. As she was not a princess by blood, she couldn’t make any impactful decisions but it was a bit fun nonetheless to have people look up at her in the opal throne, fear in their eyes. It sent a tingle down her spine.
Still the sensation would fade quickly as the black mamba kept coiling around her form; a reminder that it was not her throne - not yet. “Princess Soojin, the next case.” Soojin felt her eyes roll to the back of her head as she looked down upon Joo Eun feeling nothing but disgust crawl up her throat. The lady was Yoongi’s latest fling, but she felt the need to parade that around the entire court. Though one could tell just by looking at her attire that modesty and sensibility wasn’t something she knew. “What seems to be the problem?” Before Eun could speak a younger girl stepped forward, her attire worn but pleasant. Her eyes were red and brimming with unspilt tears, but somehow the girl’s head remained held high.
“Good Morning your highness, I am here on behalf of my brother to ask that he is released as I believe there may have been a mistake.” The commoner kept her head low as she spoke, body angled in a bow. It wasn’t until she finished speaking that she looked up and Soojin’s eyes met hers. When she gazed into her eyes a weird sense of Jamais Vu consumed Soojin. What? “Why that’s just ridiculous. Why would I lie?” Eun’s voice was a high shrill, too high to be genuine. “I know my brother, he would never steal or harm anyone. Even if they tried to harm him.” The girl pleaded. She never once looked at Eun, perhaps knowing that would be a lost cause. No, all her words were directed towards the princess sitting on the throne. “Are you implying something?! Look at these people, we give them everything. Allow them to live under us, yet they bite the hand that feeds them.”
Soojin would’ve normally agreed with Eun’s statement, but her attention was focused on the girl. She knew her from somewhere but it almost felt like what she was seeing wasn’t real. An illusion. A vision. “There are no witnesses. My brother doesn’t even have access upstairs. How would he steal?” It seems that Eun hadn’t thought out her plan to incriminate the boy or she hadn’t expected that he would have someone come to bat for him. Nonetheless, it seemed this case was a simple one. Soojin raised her hand to signal her decision, about to wave in the direction of the village girl until -
“He assaulted me! He asked me to bed him and when I refused he threatened to kill me.” Ah, so that’s what had happened. Poor boy had refused Eun’s advancements and now he was paying the price. “Do you have any proof of this statement Mistress Eun?” She didn’t need proof, Soojin knew that. Just her words were enough to condemn him. No one would ever dare question a noble - their words were gold. Still, Soojin felt pity for the girl. “He took that necklace off of me.” Eun pointed towards the girl’s neck.
“No, this is my mother’s. She left it to me when she passed.”
“Liar. As if a vermin as yourself could afford something like that.”
“Please Mistress Eun. Please, Your Highness.”
Soojin was beginning to get a headache with all the back and forth. She rubbed her temples slowly. Just let Jungkook deal with this when he gets back. For some reason, something twisted in her gut when she had that thought but she ignored it. Soojin leaned back, feeling more claustrophobic by the second. A sigh left her lips, “The prince will deal with this when he returns. Take her to the dungeons.”
YN couldn’t stop the tears flowing from her eyes even if she wanted to. She’d long given up on holding in the sobs that racked through her body as her brother’s fate dawned on her. Hyunshik...we should’ve run away. There was a time for should've. If only she could’ve gone back and recognized the absolute terror in her brother’s eyes. The dread. Please. Please. Please. Please. I’ll do anything. It seems someone had heard her pleas for YN felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand, goosebumps rising beneath her clothes. YN turned to look past the iron gate, she saw nothing but pure darkness - but she could feel it. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. She was hesitating, afraid of what would occur next. Unsure if she was prepared for it.
“Who are you?” She heard a slight snicker back. YN jumped off the slab of metal she was previously sitting on. Her eyes pierced into the dark abyss trying to find something, but she came out empty-handed.
“Someone.” It was curt, monotone in its nature. Not giving much away except that it was a man.
“Why are you here?” The question was echoed back at her. YN stepped forward heart wavering, but her voice was strong. “You know why.” It seems he didn’t have a remark for that. Something inside YN told her to keep her guard up, she had only ever felt like that when she was younger and living in the slums. Life had been a tightrope walk without a safety net and YN felt transported back to her youth.
“Tell me YN, if you had to choose, would you rather be the fool or the one doing the fooling?”
“Does it matter?” YN didn’t see where he was taking this conversation.
“Better to be the fooler than the one being fooled.” The smugness seeping from his tone was palpable.
“I disagree.”
“Oh?” His voice seemed closer now, though she still couldn’t tell which direction it came from.
YN stepped forward once again, “I’d rather trust blindly, stupidly, and be fooled than be the one doing the fooling.”
“Why?” The voice was even closer now, YN threaded carefully still uneasy about not knowing who this mysterious man was. There was something familiar about his tone, though she couldn’t quite place it.
“Because the world needs more of it...hope I mean.”
“I don’t think that is what it comes down to.” YN could feel his disappointment, but she didn’t care. The man seemed to want to converse in circles and she wasn’t in the mood to entertain whims.
“Doesn’t it? I would rather live a life full of hope that the world out there is good and pure, even if it is a short one. It would be worse to live a long life without hope where I rob others of it.” There was a strong silence that followed. As if the man was mulling over her words, then suddenly there was a shift in the air: it became lighter. Pushing all the warnings aside YN took one last step until she was mere inches from the metallic rods that imprisoned her in the cell.
“I can save your brother.” YN felt disoriented as if the air had been robbed from her lungs before she even knew it. Happiness swelled in her. Hope-filled her, but - “Did you not just confess to fooling others?” YN knew better than to trust the words of a mysterious stranger lurking in the shadows. It seemed the man was aware of this for he finally stepped out of the shadows and into the light, his body inches from the door.
Jeon Jungkook, the prince, stood in front of YN with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was a cocky smile, the type that alluded to an inside joke or something ironic. “Did you not just confess to trusting blindly?” YN peered into his eyes trying to decipher what he wanted. Though YN was trustful, she wasn’t a fool to the way things worked. The only time a man in a position of power like Jungkook offered something to someone like her - is because he wanted something in return. The devil is in the details. YN had heard enough stories about the Jeon family growing up to know they gave the devil a run for his money. ”What do you want?”
“Hm,” Jungkook seemed to actually think this over as he glanced away from her and towards the long dark corridor. He’s trying to play it off. “Your highness?” At this, his attention returned to the woman in front of him. “Yes?” Jungkook whispered, his eyebrow quirking.
“What would your highness like in return for helping my brother?” YN had tossed caution out the window, the second she realized it was the prince she was speaking to. Not that royalty could be trusted - no - but he was the only person who could aid her. Besides Princess Soojin, who threw me here in the first place. The princess had appeared to be on YN’s side only for her to throw her in a dark cell the second her patience wore out. If she treated her subjects like nuisances rather than people, it seemed she wasn’t the good well-mannered princess the media portrayed her to be. Just another spoke in the wheel.
Jungkook could see the wheels turning behind her eyes and spoke quickly, “I am lonely and require stimulation...of the intellectual kind, of course.”
This dazed YN for a bit, “You wish to debate?!” At this the prince shook his head, “I wish to converse. It’s not often I get to speak with my subjects, especially not ones as well-versed as yourself.” That was a back-handed compliment if there ever was one.
“Perhaps if you did, your highness, you would find that many of your subjects are as well-versed as I am. Some even more. It’s a survival tactic, not a skill.” Hyunshik had always said that tongue of hers would only get her into trouble. Considering how intrigued Jungkook looked by her response, he was right.
“How so?”
“It's a dog eat dog world out there.” More like a snake eat snake.
“And yet you trust blindly, stupidly even and hope.”
YN had no response for that so she chose to change the subject, “When do you wish for this to happen?” Jungkook chuckled, stepping closer to the iron bars. YN could faintly feel his breath and he hers. “I’ll send a guard to escort you.” YN didn’t respond, something in the back of her mind warned her against this. Told her to turn her back at the extended hand, to bite it, spit at it, and never accept it. However, to do so would mean losing her brother; the only thing she had left in this life. As if sensing her reluctance Jungkook gave that final nudge, the one that would send her tumbling down the rabbit hole.
“What would you do to save your brother?”
“Anything.”
Yoongi had never excelled at pleasantries or small talk, he preferred standing in the corner and merely observing everyone else. His father used to joke that it would’ve been better if he was born in the lower class, that way he could live his life unnoticed and unbothered. Still, there were definite benefits to being in his position and Yoongi had long taken advantage of them. Plus, the food wasn’t too bad. Although having to sit in awkward lunches such as this one often turned any delicacies in his mouth to ash. He picked up on the discussion between his two patrons, but when the subject of Eun came up Yoongi scowled. Yoongi had taken her as a Mistress simply to entertain him. She wasn’t too bad to look at and did decently in bed.
Her blowjobs, though, we're out of this world. Still, she proved too difficult to handle and had been bragging nonstop about being a Duke’s lover. While normally Yoongi wouldn’t care, it would only cause trouble at home and Yoongi already caused enough of it all by himself. Deciding it better not to dwell on those thoughts in public, especially in front of them, Yoongi’s attention returned to the Prince and Princess. Why the hell am I here?!
Yoongi had been resting in his room when he’d been informed that he'd been invited to a private lunch with the Prince. Though gauging from how out of it the young man seemed, especially whenever his lover spoke to him Yoongi was only more confused as to why he was here. Yoongi was in a high standing position, but there were definitely others who outranked him. Other’s that made for much more interesting players in the Jeon’s chess game, but it seemed the younger had a soft spot for him. It wasn’t the first time the prince had shown him a kindness he reserved for those closest to him. Maybe it meant he liked him? Or maybe he sees me as easy prey? Actually the more he focused on the young prince, the more it dawned on him that Jungkook was daydreaming - he was thinking.
“My mother has called and requested I visit her, says it’s an emergency. I’ll be leaving right after lunch and should return the day after tomorrow.”
Jungkook’s entire aura had shifted, a gleeful look now in his eyes. “Is that so?” pondered the young man, with an exaggerated pout on his lips. Yoongi had fallen victim to that trick so often he now recognized it, but it seems the Princess was none the wiser. “Don’t miss me too much,” Soojin replied, a smile on her face. Yoongi was often confused by the dynamic between the two of them. They didn’t act like lovers - no it was as if they were both pretending to be lovers and just happened to be really good at it. Or at least that’s how it should’ve been. For when Soojin stared at Jungkook for too long, her mask began to slip and Yoongi could see traces of affection and admiration in her eyes. Jungkook’s, however, remained forever blank and cold.
Their relationship reminded him of his own. “Tell me Yoongi, how has Jisoo been doing?” Shit, he wasn’t prepared for the cards to turn on him. Now both of them gazed at him with unrecognizable looks in their eyes. The masks are back on. “She’s well. Resting at home and tending to my mother.” Yoongi grumbled, he didn’t like being asked about his wife. It only served as a reminder to him and everyone else how undeserving he was of her. Thankfully the conversation had strayed away from him again onto some random girl. Yoongi let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in. I need a break. Well, he had been taking a break he hadn’t seen his wife or lover in weeks, but now he needed a break from his break. Yoongi was getting angsty again and there was only one person who could fix that for him.
“If the two of you would excuse me, I’ll be going now.”
Before Yoongi could even blink, Soojin had left the room; left him alone with Jeon Jungkook. Those sharp snake-like eyes trailed over him like a beast assessing its prey. Any second now Jeon would strike, Yoongi could feel it. “Say Yoongi, your little songbird, does he still sing?” Yoongi was frozen in shock. H-how does he know? Jungkook had his head resting casually on his hand with an almost unamused look on his face, though Yoongi could see the wickedness gleaming in his eyes.
There was no point in denying the accusation, Yoongi knew, but perhaps to agree would cause so much more harm. “Not anymore, your highness.”
At this, the man sighed, “What a shame. I was in need of his services.” Jungkook was baiting him, Yoongi was too much of a coward not to bite.
“Services for what?”
“Nothing too major, just information.”
Information Yoongi could deal with, but there was something about the dark look in the Prince’s eyes that unnerved him. Still, this was a test, Yoongi would lose far too much if he failed it. God bless the poor soul. “Who?”
Yoongi didn’t miss the way a grin spread Jungkook’s lips apart.
It was hours later that a guard did appear, his jaw sharp and nose held up high as if she were scum. YN was used to nobility treating people like her as if they were inferior, but a guard? YN smiled a bit which only seemed to upset the man more, for he practically dragged her out of her cell before threading through the dark corridors of the dungeons. The castle was beautiful - there was no denying that. Exorbitant and excessive in only the way the rich could be, still the palette of the castles were mostly shades of blacks, greys, and muted whites so it didn’t appear as if Midas had gone mad. It was a fairly long walk until they reached what she assumed were the apartments. The room they seemed to be heading for was the one at the end of the hall, whose doors stood taller and prouder than those around it.
YN did note how she hadn’t seen many nobles loitering around and decided it must be offseason. Why else would they let me into a room? The doors slid open before either the guard or YN could even touch them, which confused her. The guard wasted no time in pushing her inside and gesturing towards the bed, “Twenty minutes.” He stated before slamming the doors shut. For her to say the room wasn’t beautiful would be a lie, it was so unlike everything else the palace was: simple and almost vacant. Though what definitely stood out the most were the tall rounded stained glass doors that led out onto a balcony. There was something so beautiful about the way the moonlight streamed into the room, creating a beautiful highlight that contrasted all the darkness in the room. YN found herself walking towards the doors, drawn in by the moonlight.
When was the last time she’d seen the moon? Surely, it couldn’t have been so long ago? Her hands reached out towards the handles, as she pondered if the moon would look that much beautiful up close. It must. All beautiful things look better upon closer inspection. She was so close - STOP! YN jumped back and looked around the room, catching sight of the dress on the bed. It was a black embroidered gown, from just putting it on YN was sure it was worth more than her life. She assumed she should be using this time to make herself look presentable to the prince, but all she really did was try to smooth down her hair and calm her heart. It wasn’t long until there was a harsh knock on the door before the guard from before threw the door open.
YN assumed they were heading down towards one of the dining rooms or maybe a parlor, but instead they continued to climb upwards until they reached the top floor. Where the guard made a sharp left turn they were met with large opal doors with the Jeon’s crest embedded in it. “I thought we were having dinner.” The guard smirked, raising his fists to knock. The doors opened to Jungkook sitting at the head of a table with an elaborate feast in front of him, whilst he sipped on a glass of wine. “Thank you, Jinyoung. You’re excused.” Jinyoung smiled and bowed, before pushing YN into the room.
YN lingered by the door, her focus lay entirely on the man ahead and now that she was in his presence without a barrier to separate them - she realized how threatening he was. Almost as if the cell was keeping him out. The room itself screams Jeon in every sense of the word, it's dark colors accented with green, silvers, and golds. It must’ve been the largest room in the castle save for the king’s - a penthouse in a way. “Come, sit. I don’t bite.” Somehow she doubted that. YN walked towards Jungkook counting the steps as she gazed straight ahead, she wanted to sit away from the prince but he had other plans as the chair to his left was the only one not tucked in. It was once she sat that he finally looked at her, trailed his eyes delicately across her body.
YN shifted uncomfortably aware that the evening dress, though long, still accentuated her figure in a way she wasn’t used to. YN cleared her throat, “I thought we were going to have dinner.” He seemed to understand what she was implying but played coy nonetheless.
“Is this not dinner?” Jungkook gestured to the row of dishes in front of them. Not when it’s served in your bedroom it isn’t.
YN surmises all of this was supposed to impress her, but all it truly did was make her annoyed at the prince. There was a clear disconnect between the palace and the world that existed outside the tall metallic gates. If the prince was willing to spend all this for a simple village girl, what might he do for someone of actual ranking and value? Then again he was a Jeon and their reputation precedes them, the image they conjured up wasn’t of ‘for the people’ but rather ‘for themselves.’
“You don’t seem impressed.” The prince leaned forward, eyes piercing into hers.
“I am…”
“Please, don’t hold back on my account.” Jungkook leaned back, resting on his chair. One of his legs was perched up and his hand resting on it, as the wine inside the glass swirled around. His eyebrow quirked, indicating he was waiting for a response and YN thought it best to simply give him what he wanted. After all, hadn’t he asked her not to hold back?
“It just seems like a gluttonous amount of food for two people.” She remarked looking at it.
Jungkook chuckled, “Gluttonous that’s a big word.” The stare that YN sent him had him laughing. She was taken aback by it, his laugh: the way his crinkled eyes shined and the melodic airiness of it. “Sorry but you are quite amusing. Telling the prince off for ordering too much food.”
YN’s eyes widened and she was quick to apologize, biting the inside at her cheek while she scolded herself for forgetting her place. Jungkook dismisses her apology, waving her off. “It’s refreshing.” For a second, YN felt comfortable around him. Truly comfortable, as if they were young acquaintances - not a prince and his subject. Someone next in line for the throne while YN was fighting to prove her brother’s innocence. Things would’ve been different. Things could have turned out different for the two of them, were they in another world and another time. Or maybe they were always destined to bring nothing but pain and suffering into each other’s lives. It’s easy to wonder and pretend, but fate is cruel and has a twisted sense of humor. Still, YN wondered if in another world Jungkook and her could’ve become friends. Maybe.
“Tell me about yourself.” It wasn’t a suggestion, more of a statement really. YN places the knife down pausing cutting the steak as she looks up to meet Jungkook’s eyes. There was something lurking in them. “Why?” The prince shrugged as if he was simply trying to make small talk. It didn’t go unnoticed by her how throughout the course of their meal he had gotten closer to her: his chair was tilted towards her, his feet were outstretched so they occasionally brushed hers, and he stared at her as if he were trying to pierce into her soul.
“My mother and father died when I was fairly young, so it has been my brother and I for a while. My brother has been working since he was eleven and I’ve managed to get a job recently,” she moved around the food on her plate. “I haven’t had an easy life, but I don’t have room to complain when there are others who have had it far worse.” YN’s early life hadn’t been easy and she still didn’t know how she got out. Still, there was always someone who had it worse and she had her brother, a good home, a sense of security. Jeon Jungkook might seem polite, or at least he’s good at pretending he is, but he would never understand what it’s like. YN doesn’t want to bother educating him, so the sugar-coated version of her life is better.
YN heard a chair screech and suddenly Jungkook was incredibly close to her, sitting at the edge of his seat. “No, I want to know you. All the little things about you.” The change in his attitude almost gave her whiplash, he was whining now. Like a child that didn’t get what he asked for. That sense of unease crept back into her system as she leaned back trying to get as much distance between the prince and her. “I’m sorry, but why?” It wasn’t a ridiculous question to ask, but the way Jungkook was looking at her made her feel like it was. “Why not?” His dark coal eyes boring into hers were almost predatorial.
Goosebumps began to rise throughout her body the longer the silence prevailed. YN didn’t feel safe anymore, Jungkook looked just about ready to strike at her but instead, he simply smiled. “Why were your parents killed?” What? “Why did you run away from the slums? Why did you move into Giihan? Why were you never engaged?” YN’s jaw slackened as she sat there unable to comprehend how he knew all of this. Finally, Jungkook paused, seeming to deliberate on whether or not he should ask his final question. “Don’t you think it’s inappropriate to live with a man with no blood relation to you?”
YN was frozen with fear, she saw at that moment a brief glimpse of Jeon. What he was capable of. “H-how...” How does he know all those things? How does he know Hyungshik and I aren’t related?
“I had to make sure I wasn’t being fooled.”
Rage. That’s what began to rise inside her, though it was mainly at herself still it was a cruel reminder that to him this was all just a game. Something to entertain him because he was bored. YN grips the chair handles to stand up but freezes when she feels something slither across her neck. Her ears picking up on slight hissing. Jungkook grinned, “Ah yes, that’s Morte. Don’t worry he’s harmless just try not to make any sudden movements.” His eyes were alight with humor, finding the entire situation funny.
The snake settled comfortably on YN’s shoulders and the girl willed herself not to cry. It would only further wound her pride and it might startle the snake. Jungkook reaches over to the wine bottle and pours himself another glass, “By the way, I spoke to Eun. She admitted to having a fancy on the boy and getting upset when he rejected her so blatantly. It’s his fault really if he had gone along with it none of this would have happened.” That wasn’t true if Hyunshik had been caught in an affair with Mistress Eun his corpse would be hanging from the gallows.
“Thank you, your highness. May I see my brother now?”
“Oh, he’s still imprisoned and awaiting trial.”
“...what?” YN couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. He had said, he had agreed. A sudden flashback of the first words Jungkook had ever spoken to her, “would you rather be the fool or the one doing the fooling? Better to be the fooler than the one being fooled.” It wasn’t until she felt the tears rolling down her face that YN realized she was crying. The next words were the ones that solidified how naive she’d been. “I only agreed that I could save your brother if you had dinner with me, not that I would.” YN felt her entire world begin to crumble. Here she was playing dress-up, feasting with the prince, trusting him, while her brother was about to be imprisoned for the rest of his mortal life. She should feel upset, disappointed, enraged, but all she felt was a cold apathy overtakes her as it finally dawned on her why she was here.
She was a nobody and yet the prince had visited her, dolled her up, and had her delivered straight to his bedroom. There was only one way to save her brother.
“What would it take for you to save my brother?”
“From imprisonment?”
“Yes.”
“A kiss...just one.”
“Do you swear on your life?”
Jungkook laughed, “I swear on the life of everyone in this kingdom, save for yourself of course.”
It was sudden really how she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, tears still trailing down her face. It was so sudden in fact that it startled the snake, who sank its fangs straight into her neck.
Yoongi had barely the night before images of his loved ones massacred while a snake suffocated him plagued his mind. It had been months since Yoongi had been home, but he had this urgent need to return; to make sure everything was okay. His current definition of okay meant that everyone was alive and not dead by the hand of some psychotic prince who had recently found himself a new toy to play with. It was quite ironic how much Yoongi felt the need to criticize Jungkook, considering he too had fallen victim to the same type of infatuation. He would never dare recognize it as such though, no, what they had was different. No one understood him like he did. No one would ever love him as much as Yoongi did. J-
“Duke Min?” Yoongi spun around and was greeted with the sight of a young girl. There was a sense of urgency, need, in her eyes and Yoongi thought she looked familiar. “Pardon, but I must be getting somewhere.” Yoongi spun back around but was halted when she gripped the sleeve of his jacket. “Please sir, it’s regarding Mistress Eun.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and proceeded to walk away, Eun was clearly too much of a hassle and he would get rid of her as soon as he could. “Whatever issues you may have with Mistress Eun have nothing to do with me, take it up with her or the king for all I care,” Yoongi grumbled, speeding up trying to get away from the girl but she chased after him. There was something about her that made him nervous.
The girl took off in a sprint and managed to get ahead enough to block him, “Please. Mistress Eun has accused my brother of stealing and he is to stand trial today,” Yoongi tried to push past her but the girl wouldn’t budge. “The prince has already promised his help but if you could just -” No wonder she looked so familiar. Yoongi’s widened eyes cast downward, truly taking in the girl for the first time. Fuck. It was her. Yoongi felt a deep sense of remorse crawling up his throat, it practically choked him as he saw the desperation in the girl’s eyes. “- just get her to drop the charges then the entire trial could be avoided. Please I’ll do anything.” No, it wasn’t because of her picture that she was familiar to him it was her expression. That was the exact same expression his songbird had when Yoongi had first laid eyes on him.
“How many lives will you ruin all to satisfy your needs?!” As many as it took, Min Yoongi was not a good man. He would never be. He’d been raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and the world handed to him on a silver platter like it was his to play with. Yoongi only really took advantage of it when he saw something he wanted and now he’s willing to risk everything to make sure it is forever in his hold. Even the life of the poor girl staring up at him as if he was her last hope.
“I’ll get Mistress Eun to drop the charges. You have my word.” Words are empty. It is actions that truly speak. Yet when Yoongi saw her smile, the way her eyes filled with hope, he realized that he had a lot more in common with Jeon Jungkook than he previously thought.
YN waited among the crowd, her hood up to shield her from the downpour of rain that fell. Person after person had stood trial with whipping, banishment, imprisonment, and other methods of torture being the most common sentence. Death was rarely ruled as most of the cases were light criminal offenses. She thanked the gods, as YN didn’t think she could stomach seeing a man being hanged. Still, she knew some of the people around her begged to differ, they would scream and curse at the men on the wooden stand begging for blood and pain. It was moments like these that reminded her that although the nobility was cruel, sometimes they were no better.
“Kim Hyunshik.”
YN saw as her brother stepped up the stairs and into the stand. His clothes were dirty and full of grime, his lip was cut, and the bottom of his eye had begun to swell. It hadn’t even been forty-eight hours, yet he still looked like he’d been through hell and back. Her heart pounded in her chest as she willed herself to calm down. Hyunshik’s eyes darted all over the crowd and YN knew he was looking for her, yet he would have difficulty finding her in this heavy rain. The guard pulled out a paper, beginning to read the offenses and the verdict. YN held her breath.
“Kim Hyunshik stands accused of thievery, disrespecting a commanding officer, and assault.” The crowd began to spew insults at him, some going as far as spitting. “The court finds the defendant...not guilty.” Oh, thank god. YN almost cries of happiness. Hyunshik seems to visibly relax too, thankful that he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life behind bars.
“Kim Hyunshik also stands accused of plotting, assaulting a member of the court, and conspiring against the crown.” What? No. The crowd became louder, venom spewing out their mouths towards Hyunshik as YN stood in shock. This can’t be happening. “The court finds the defendant guilty and sentenced him to...death.” No. No. No. No. NO! The crowd goes into a frenzy with jovial shouts as Hyunshik is dragged away to the post by the left of the stage. YN tries to fight against the crowd to make her way to her brother, desperate to reach him. “Hyunshik! Hyunshik!” Her brother looks around panicked, begging for mercy as he is placed on the false bottom and the noose is placed around his neck. It is then that their eyes finally meet, Hyunshik staring straight into YN’s eyes, his mouth moving gently as he stares at her with nothing but affection. ‘I love you.’ He mouths.
The lever is pulled.
#yandere bts#yandere jungkook x reader#yandere bts x reader#yandere jeon jungkook x reader#yandere jeon jungkook#yandere jungkook#bts x reader#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x reader#bts jungkook#prince of nothing#girlmeetsliv3#bangtanarmynet#prince of nothing masterpost#pon
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Hiya Honeybee...
Werebear!Dean x femReader
A/N’s. This is my contribution to the awesome @deanwanddamons 1st blogversary and 2K followers challenge. My quote was Gone with the Wind’s - “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” Well, here goes nothing!
Extra author’s note. I had to reblog this again “cuz I did the tagging in the author’s notes wrong...sigh...I hate tumblr sometimes...
Summary. For a little context, Dean, instead of dying in the finale, is bit by a were-bear( think Beorn the Shapeshifter from The Hobbit.) And he decides to move to southern Yukon. He’s not so much dangerous as peculiar I guess, and a bit understandably awkward around crowds. The only specifics for Reader is: female, likes living in the woods, likes honey, and is relatively capable of long walks. That’s it. Oh and cooking/baking. So if you ain’t good at that, pretend you are for the sake of the oneshot. ;)
Warnings are as follows. Dean is a bear. Dean is a woodcutter. One f-bomb. One damn. A lot of fluff. A lot of cozy things mentioned. One kiss... plus another one! There is no weird bestiality/exophilia stuff going on, despite the title.
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Dean remembers the day he met her. The sun shone down thru the trees like a blasting fireball, the birds were a chirpin' like mad and there were a lot of bees. Probably a bajillion more than he's ever seen in these parts at one time. In hindsight, the bees were definitely all her fault. That's why he calls her his Honeybee...
He was walking towards the glade of trees on the edge of his property where he sources the wood for his carvings. As he neared his destination, he heard soft, hummed notes traversing the wind from a tiny, dandelion wrought meadow just to his right. He stopped and turned his head. Through the rows of birch and juniper trees, he caught sight of a beautiful, barefoot woman happily constructing a straw bee skep. In the middle of a field of bee hives and bee skeps. She hummed oldies as she concentrated on her task, sunlight gleaming off her gorgeous hair. A shiver had coursed through his spine, giving Dean the impression that he was trespassing on a moment not meant for him. Then the woman lifted her head, her eyes captured his and she'd smiled. The rest as they say, was history.
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She remembers the day Dean told her of his past. They'd gotten close over the course of about 7 months. Then, one night as they walked hand in hand under the aurora borealis in the dead of winter, she'd held her breath, pulled him in by the nape of his neck and thoroughly kissed him. Cold noses, frosted eyelashes, bulky wool toques and all. The next morning, he'd knocked on her door, a thermos of hot coffee in hand and a slightly worried frown gracing his features.
"We need to talk." He whispered.
Sitting down in front of the lit fireplace on a pile of old wool and flannel blankets, he'd told her everything. His rough childhood, life as a monster hunter, a passing comment was made towards stopping an apocalypse or ten. And how, on his very last hunt, he'd been bit by a fucking were-bear. Something neither he nor his brother even knew existed. That was why he'd moved to the Yukon, not a lot of people to be bothered by him. Lots of wilderness to hide in when he feels the need to shift into a bear. She'd sat there, unsure how to respond, confusion and tears marring her eyes. When he finished, she wiped her face clean with the long, cotton sleeves of her shirt. She lifted her eyes to level with his.
'Dean isn't lying to me.' The thought was at the forefront of her mind.
Eventually, after some thinking and a bit of hugging, she'd asked Dean for a little time and space. She needed to get her thoughts and feelings together. Go over all he'd told her. Dean seemed hurt, but he left before she could properly clarify her need.
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Two days later, she made up her mind. Dean wasn't dangerous, merely uncomfortable around large amounts of people. Dean would never hurt her, he himself told her he's basically a domestic bear. So, she decided to keep him. To love him. To cherish him. And she knew just what to do to let him know.
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The moose and the fish burgers were staying warm in the cast iron dutch oven by the fire, the lingonberry and blueberry pie resting on the stone floor beside it and finishing the party was the hot mulled cider in the cowboy coffee pot swinging over the flames. VHS copies of old time movies lay strewn in front of the antique tv nestled away in the corner. Now all she needed was her man. To whom she owed a tiny explanation.
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The walk to Dean's cabin is spiked by the chill in the air, only marginally softened by the meagre warmth from the setting sun. She isn't sure if it helps or hinders her rapid beating heart.
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Dean isn't too difficult to find. Especially since he's in bear form, all sandy brown with sun-kissed tips. Staring at the setting sun.
"Dean." She calls out.
He gently turns towards her.
" I made supper. Want some?"
The tall, tawny bear lumbered over to her. He sat down before her, more like a dog than a 13 ft bear, and lifted his head. She saw that this truly is Dean, for even if the rest of his appearances changed, his eyes remain the same.
" I want you to." She whispered. Then added a smile, just for Dean.
He nods, and walks into the cabin.
She's left confused for a minute. Before seeing Dean in human form saunter from the cabin's front porch all bundled up and ready to go.
She can't help herself anymore and throws all caution to the wind...and herself in Dean's arms. The kiss that immediately follows may be taking a little longer than appropriate, but she knows that neither one of them minds in the slightest.
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"I am so sorry if I hurt you. With the way that I reacted to your revelation. I just needed some time to think, that's all! Please, forgive me." She sighs and buries her nose in his coat, gripping his shoulders for dear life and clinging to his woodsy scent.
" I don't think I can live without my heart." She croaks out , barely above a whisper.
Dean tightens his hold on her. His nose snuffling her honey-scented hair, he gently replies. " Course I forgive you Honeybee. 'Cuz I can't live without mine either."
She makes a noise which is something between a sob, a breathless laugh and a thank-you all at once.
And promptly starts coughing after she inhales one of Dean's bear hairs.
Dean chuckles for a moment or two. " You all good there Honeybee? Can't have you passing out on me!"
"Well it feels like I inhaled a fur ball so I might need a minute!"
He sombres up.
"Sorry 'bout all the hair you're gonna have to deal with." He grins. "Especially since you're stuck with me now!"
She snorts. Then sweetly kisses his nose.
"Frankly, my dear," she hovers over his lips," I don't give a damn."
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester lives in the woods#werebear!dean#deanwanddamons2kcelebration
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Chapter 1 is out! Already working on chapter 2 but it may be a while. If you wish to reupload my work then please contact me first for my consent.
Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32206135/chapters/79807672
Chapter below the cut for readers who don’t use Ao3:
The days ticked by, at a rate humans can't understand, all they know is that it's slow. But compared to the time other days tick by as, it is short, which no one can seem to get a grasp on. As the sun was ticking down, a group of four individuals, all connected by a large, officially interspatial, crime group, slowly walked up the large mountain, praying the days had ticked at a satisfactory rate, for them to reach the location of their desire.
"So I was thinking...to spice things up a bit-" the oddly bobbing ghost started, before being cut off by their white-haired companion.
"For the last time, I'm happy with how everything is going. Now shut up!"
"Henry, you don't need to be so rude, I was just asking if you wanted to set up camp since sleeping beauty can't walk by himself anymore" Ellie chimed in.
"Uh, shucks, sorry Elles, I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to...a figment of my imagination, camp sounds great, we could use some rest!" Henry said apologetically, glancing at the air next to him when he said 'imagination'. Ellie chuckled and nodded as she spun around, somehow still walking, to speak up.
"Hear that boss? Someone actually agrees saying that we should rest!" She mocked as Right Hand Man's expression went from his usual scowl to a sour and bitter frown.
"I'm jus' saying! We're already close! It's not 'at further!" He barked back, still dragging his feet behind as he carried a half asleep Reginald on his back.
"Tell that to princess sleepy head!" The red-headed woman laughed in return. Roughly 18 minutes ago, Reginald was in a state of nearly passing out from exhaustion so his right hand man logically thought to carry him until reaching the cave they were meant to go to was impossible in that day's time frame. The unfortunate part was that their two underlings kept teasing Right's actions as though they are similar to what prince charming would do in fairy tales. But Right was not taking any of that bullshit, what he was doing was completely normal between two friends.
“Right...we’re all tired, just put me down and let’s set up camp” Reginald tiredly chimed in. Right sighed and gave a low "fine…" before setting down the brunette. After taking a moment to regain his footing, Reginald stretched his arms before promptly asking, "So where shall we set up?"
"I think we should look for some sort of open area and just lay down some….." Henry began before cutting himself off.
"What? What's wrong?" Ellie asked before Henry stopped her from going any further.
"Do you hear that?" Everyone froze, listening closely to what sounded like talking. It seemed like it was coming from just a bit further up the mountain, where the group was aiming to get to.
"Permission to look ahead and potentially dispose of threats?" The ghost chimed in with a non-existent grin.
"Let's all go ahead together, stay close, and stay alert" Henry quietly told the others, ignoring the ghost's request. The group moved forward slowly, careful to not alert the people ahead.
~~~
The surface was great, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and on days like these, kids aged around 10 would be playing outside in the garden or at a friend's house, but frisk was not like other kids, while other kids were playing cops and robbers, frisk was saving monster society. It hadn't even been 20 minutes when the ambassador came across their first issue,
Where would the monsters stay before they could join the humans in towns and cities?
The idea that first came to mind was that until a place was established to be available for monsters, they would remain underground. It wasn't the best idea, but it was better than just letting them fend for themselves on the surface, plus, it would only be worse when other humans got involved. For now, the main issue was dealing with lodging for their friends that came with them in the first place.
And that is what they were doing. Right now the young child was sitting in front of the underground's exit, talking with Asgore, the king of the underground, and Dr. Alphys, the head royal scientist. They were mainly discussing how to proceed with getting the monsters a way to live with humans, with alphys there to bring in human facts that she knew (mainly from anime) on how they would react to such sudden actions. It seemed to be going…. neutral, no good ideas, and no bad truths. But logically, the lovely sunset ahead was rushing the discussion into being about setting up some sort of camp, which they neither had the materials for, nor the means to get some. It would be difficult to go back down to get supplies while having a logical enough excuse for others on why going to the surface is going to take longer. Regardless, those of Frisk’s new friends who had seen the surface would probably be against the idea of going underground again for a presumably long while, since it was at this point obvious that getting the monsters their own place on the surface would take months and months.
“Dang, only a miracle could be able to fix this, and what’s worse is the town of ebott is known for being a super anti-monster.” Chara stated while hovering next to Frisk. Frisk thought for a moment, a miracle could happen. Frisk knew it, something would happen. They were DETERMINED.
File Saved.
“Y’know, that’s not always gonna work Frisk, it was cute the first time, but now it’s-” Chara started, but as if on queue, there was the sound of something slipping on rock, a yelp, and a few loose rocks dropping down the mountain. Frisk, Chara, Asgore and Alphys immediately turned around to see 4 people, all with shocked and scared expressions on their faces.
“N-no way...it can’t be” Ellie said, staring in awe at the group. “I thought it was just legends, stories to scare kids who don’t behave…..”
“Ellie? What do you mean? Do you know something?” Henry asked, pulling his gaze away and towards his friend. She sighed and lowered her head.
“It’s long to explain but… I used to live in this town and there was a legend about monsters living under the mountain, I never knew it was real.” She explained.
“Well, it seems you all don’t mind that much.” Asgore chuckled.
“Don’t get used to it Mr. Asgore, not all humans act friendly at first.” Frisk chimed in.
“Eh, you all don’t seem like a threat, I don’t mind bein’ hospitable” Right Hand Man casually mentioned. This statement led to Henry and Ellie sarcastically gasping and giggling as they knew that Right was never the ‘hospitable’ type.
“Neither do I, I am Asgore the king of the monsters, and this is our ambassador, Frisk” Asgore said, gesturing to the young child. “And this is our royal scientist, Alphys.” Alphys gave a nervous wave.
“Pleasure to meet you, your highness. I am Reginald Copperbottom, leader of the Toppat clan. These are my employees, my Right Hand Man, Ellie Rose and Henry Stickmin.” Reginald introduced while bowing slightly (As a way of respect? Henry was puzzled by this, but the chief always had a tendency to be dramatic, so he shrugged it off).
“Please Mr. Copperbottom, no need to be so formal, I understand the title is grand but it doesn’t suit me.” Asgore said with a soft voice.
“Of course, apologies, I normally default to being proper with new people.” Reginald corrected himself.
“It’s no issue, it’s very welcoming to see such wonderful humans, even after my past opinions.”
While the two leaders were busy discussing formality, Henry took it upon himself to chat with the ambassador. He walked over and sat down next to Frisk giving a calm smile before seeing a red glow behind the child. He looked and saw a ghost, a child whose appearance was similar to Frisk’s, with a few changes.
“Who’s that?” He asked, directing his gaze at the idling bobbing ghost, who was only paying attention once Henry pointed them out.
“You...can see them?” Frisk asked, shocked as no one else had been able to hear or see them.
“Yeah? Wait...did they die and through strong determination they’re now stuck to you?” Henry asked.
“Yeah! I was dead until I met Frisk!” Chara responded. Frisk nodded frantically, showing off their red soul. “How did you know this?!”
“I’m in a similar boat myself” Henry responded, slowing his words. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his own ghostly companion fluttering about like mad, shouting silently with their non-existent mouth. Henry stood up and walked to where the ghost was dramatically pointing at, only to be greeted by three familiar figures, dressed in their military best. They hadn’t noticed him, thank god, but this was still bad. His throat grew tight as it normally did under stress, he figured it was best in multiple cases to just sign. He picked up a rock and threw it at Reginald which hit the brunette with slight force. The chief turned around to see Henry frantically signing and gesturing around the curve that the group had originally taken. It took a minute but, after a few loops of the same signs he recognised, they were in danger.
“Ellie, Right, Henry is calling a code green, get your weapons drawn and stay quiet. Henry, I’m trusting you to keep the king, ambassador and doctor safe. Got it?” Reginald commanded in a whisper shout, pulling out the revolver he kept under his hats. The three nodded in response, each pulling out their own weapon, with Henry also rushing their new friends into the cave for cover. With a few skids of rocks from the government soldiers rounding the corner, it had begun, the fight that would set where the ending would start. The government may have had strong JUSTICE, KINDNESS and BRAVERY. The toppats would fight their hardest with the PATIENCE, PERSEVERANCE and DETERMINATION they had.
~~~
Mr. Williams sat there, staring at his mirror. He brushed his soft hand over the blue gems, chipped and shattered, yet still retaining their natural beauty. He smiled softly as he pulled his dark chocolate hair back into its usual ponytail before placing the mirror back on its wall. Walking over to the door, he smiled, he could tell from the graying clouds crossing past the mountain it was going to rain. He liked the rain, always so peaceful for a nice book and a cup of tea. He was in an earl grey mood, but he was also tempted to have some coffee.
~~~
It seemed easy enough, the toppats had been practising soul magic for a while at this point, and they had the advantage in numbers. But, the government came prepared with better weapons, especially made with intent on doing damage to souls. That fight had been going on for about 15 minutes at this point with neither side taking major damage. At this point something in the fight needed to change or it would be a will of who gave up first. The government’s side had a secret advantage that was making things easier for them, and that was Charles Calvin, a KINDNESS soul who has rather low level healing magic, but healing magic non the same. That was what was making things so difficult, until Ellie used her own magic and COORDINATED a plan.
“Aim for Calvin, right on the top of his headphones, that’ll distract Galeforce and the other one and I’ll get a clean shot” She whispered to Reginald, as both were ducked behind a rock that had fallen during the chaos. Her boss nodded and sat up aiming for the center of Charles’s headphone, perched exactly above his blonde hair. It felt like time was slowed, as he pulled the trigger, sending a bullet speeding ahead, grazing the red artificial leather on top. As the bullet raced by it grabbed the attention of the three soldiers, as well as Right Hand Man, distracting them long enough so Ellie could make her move. She pulled out her own gun and shot at Rupert, managing to hit him just below the liver a few times. He let out a loud yelp as he fell over and clutched his side. With a sorrowful expression the general declared,
“You won’t get away with it next time!” He shouted as he picked up his subordinate. Ellie and Reginald rose from their spots and walked forward, watching in a sort of victory as the pilot helped the general pick up their wounded comrade.
“Hell yeah we will! You’re just lucky you chose to run!” Ellie cheerfully yelled out in response to the general’s statement.
“Still don’ see why we have to spare ‘em. Would’ve been more beneficial to just end ‘em.” Right Hand Man mentioned to Reginald. “Seriously, we’re jus’ gettin ourselves into a bigger mess, an them bastards aren’t worth pissin on to put out fire on ‘em.”
“Righty, it’s only fair that we spare them, none of us got hurt.” Reginald spoke in response. Rupert turned his head to stare at the criminal brunette, who dared to pity them after nearly shooting one of their best pilots. With what little strength he could, he gripped his pistol, and raised his arm.
“That’s…..what you thought...asshole,”
#fanfic#shattered mirror#undertale#thsc#toppat recruits#crossover#the henry stickmin collection#fanfiction#inspired#post-pacifist ending#wooooop
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The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 45
TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 45
PAIRING: No Pairing
RATING: T
CHAPTER: 45/?
SUMMARY: Elise Smith is now a teenaged Timelord. In addition to losing the Ponds, the fields of Trenzalore are calling. But first they have to figure out exactly who Clara Oswald is.
[A/N -This one is a bit longer because I couldn’t find a good enough place to split it. I got a few more surprises planned for the last chapter is next and then we move into the Christmas special! I can’t believe we (and Elise) have come this far.]
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the priest said.
Clara cheered.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Elizabeth grabbed Ten’s face and kissed him.
“Is there a lot of this in the future?” the older Doctor asked.
“It does start to happen, yeah,” the Doctor told him.
“God speed, my love,” Elizabeth told Ten.
“I will be right back.”
They all ran into the TARDIS and Ten started her up.
“Right then, back to the future,” the Doctor said.
Elise looked around the control room and smiled.
“You've let this place go a bit,” the older Doctor said.
“Ah, it's his grunge phase. He grows out of it,” the Doctor said.
Elise hit him on the arm. “I happen to like it.”
“Yeah, you always did.”
“Don't you listen to them,” Ten told the console.
An alarm started going off and the console shocked him as the console room changed again. This time to a room with white walls.
“The desktop is glitching,” Ten said.
“Three of us from different time zones. It's trying to compensate,” the older Doctor told him.
“Hey, look. The round things,” the Doctor said to his younger incarnation.
“I love the round things.”
“What are the round things?”
“No idea.”
“Oh dear, the friction contrafibulator.” The Doctor ran to the console and flipped a switch. “Ha! There, stabilized.”
They were standing in the console room that Elise and Clara were used to.
“Oh, you've redecorated. I don't like it,” Ten told the Doctor.
“Oh. Oh yeah? Oh, you never do.”
Ten frowned.
“Listen, we're going to the National Gallery. The Zygons are underneath it.”
“No, UNIT HQ. They followed us there in the Black Archive,” Clara told them.
All three Doctors looked at her.
“Okay, so you've heard of that, then.”
“Lucky for us, I have a way to contact the Black Archive.” He pressed a few buttons and they heard Kate’s voice. “You really think so? Somewhere in your memory is a man called Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge Stewart. I am his daughter.”
“Science leads, Kate. Is that what you meant? Is that what your father meant?” the Doctor asked her.
“Doctor?”
“Space-Time Telegraph, Kate. A gift from me to your father, hotline straight to the TARDIS. I know about the Black Archive and I know about the security protocol. Kate, please. Please tell me you are not about to do something unbelievably stupid.”
“I'm sorry, Doctor. Switch it off.”
“Not as sorry as you will be. This is not a decision you will ever be able to live with,” Ten told her.
“Please listen to them, Kate!” Elise begged. She’d seen the damage the decision had done to her father.
The TARDIS lurched.
“Kate, we're trying to bring the TARDIS in. Why can't we land?” the Doctor asked.
“I said, switch it off,” Kate said.
“No, Kate, please. Just listen to me!”
The telegraph cut off.
“The Tower of London, totally TARDIS-proof,” Ten said.
“How can they do that?” Clara asked.
“Alien technology plus human stupidity. Trust me, it's unbeatable,” the Doctor told her.
The older Doctor looked at the stasis cube sitting on the console. “We don't need to land.”
“Yeah, we do. A tiny bit. Try and keep up,” Ten said.
“No, we don't. We don't. There is another way.” He picked up the stasis cube. “Cup-a-soup. What is cup-a-soup?”
The Doctor smiled and ran for the front door as Ten and Elise flew the TARDIS.
“Next time,” she muttered, “Next time you redesign the desktop, there better be a phone connected to the console!”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ten said.
Elise blushed.
The Doctor came back to the console. “It’s all taken care of.”
They placed their hands on the stasis cube. When Elise opened her eyes, they were in Gallifrey Falls.
Her hearts started beating quickly as memories bombarded her. Memories she thought she had forgotten. Of the screaming and the smell of death.
She fell to her knees with her hands on her head. Ten helped her up and she wrapped her arms around him, his scent calming her. She remembered clinging to him as the Timelords were sucked back into the Time War just leaving him and her and Wilf in the mansion. She remembered how scared she was and how gently he tucked her into bed that night.
He’d been dying, but he cared for her as best he could.
“Exterminate!”
The three Doctors turned to the Dalek with their sonic screwdrivers. It went crashing out of the painting into the Black Archive.
The Timelords stepped out and Elise fell to her knees again.
Clara wrapped her arm around the girl.
“Hello,” the older Doctor said.
“I'm the Doctor,” Ten told them.
“Sorry about the Dalek,” the Doctor said.
“Also the showing off,” Clara added.
The Doctor stalked up to Kate. “Kate Lethbridge Stewart, what in the name of sanity are you doing?”
“The countdown can only be halted at my personal command. There's nothing you can do,” Kate told them.
“Except make you both agree to halt it,” Ten said.
“Not even for three of you.”
“You're about to murder millions of people,” the older Doctor said.
“To save billions. How many times have you made that calculation?”
1:36 remained on the clock.
“Once. Turned me into the man I am now. I'm not even sure who that is any more,” the Doctor told her.
“You tell yourself it's justified, but it's a lie. Because what I did that day was wrong. Just wrong,” Ten said.
“And, because I got it wrong, I'm going to make you get it right.”
The two Doctors pulled up a set of chairs and sat down, putting their feet up on the table.
“How?” Kate asked.
“Any second now, you're going to stop that countdown. Both of you, together,” Ten said.
“Then you're going to negotiate the most perfect treaty of all time,” the Doctor added.
“Safeguards all round, completely fair on both sides.”
“And the key to perfect negotiation?”
“Not knowing what side you're on.”
They both stood up and took out their sonic screwdrivers.
“So, for the next few hours, until we decide to let you out…”
“No one in this room will be able to remember if they're human…”
“Or Zygon.”
“Whoops a daisy.”
Ten jumped onto the table, the Doctor following. They all soniced the memory filter in the ceiling.
The countdown now said 7.
“Cancel the detonation!” both Kate’s yelled.
“Peace in our time,” the Doctor said.
They jumped down and the two Kate’s discussed the treaty while Elise looked around the Black Archive.
“I’ve missed you.”
Elise jumped and saw her father’s previous incarnation standing beside her. “How can you miss me? You don’t even know who I am!”
“I know your favorite flowers are sunflowers. You’re constantly reading books, but you also love to paint and draw. You rarely sleep anymore because of nightmares and I know that underneath all your attitude is a scared little girl. You just don’t want him to know.”
Elise looked over at her father, standing with the Kate’s.
“I know so much about you. You’re my best friend and I miss you.”
Elise felt her hearts break. His brown eyes were so sad when he looked at her. Just like in the Naismith Mansion. Before he regenerated.
Clara ran over to the Doctor. “He’s gone. I think he’s going to do it. We have to stop him.”
Elise started to walk to her TARDIS, but Ten grabbed her wrist.
“Please. One more time.”
Elise had never met this Doctor before today, but he clearly needed this so she went with him into his TARDIS.
He put her in flight and she swayed and lurched.
“You are a worse driver than my father!” Elise yelled.
“You love it!”
The TARDIS landed and the two were thrown to the floor.
Elise started laughing and Ten helped her up.
“Thank you,” he told her.
Elise smiled at him. “No, thank you.” She’d never really gotten the chance to get to know him and as much as this day had been taxing on her, she was glad she got to meet him. And it was obvious that she met him some time in her future.
They stepped out of the TARDIS and saw the older Doctor standing there in front of a big red button.
“I told you. He hasn’t done it yet,” Clara said.
Elise looked around. “It’s the barn. The barn you told me about as a child.”
“Go away now, all of you. This is for me,” the older Doctor said.
“These events should be time-locked. We shouldn't even be here,” Ten said.
“Well by that logic, I shouldn’t be here and yet here I am,” Elise told him.
“So something let us through,” the Doctor said.
“Go back. Go back to your lives. Go and be the Doctor that I could never be. Make it worthwhile,” the older Doctor said. He placed his hand on the button.
“All those years, burying you in my memory,” Ten said.
“Pretending you didn't exist. Keeping you a secret, even from myself,” the Doctor added.
“Pretending you weren't the Doctor, when you were the Doctor more than anybody else.”
“You were the Doctor on the day it wasn't possible to get it right.”
They approached him.
“But this time…”
“You don't have to do it alone.”
They put their hands on the button.
“Thank you,” the older Doctor said.
“What we do today is not out of fear or hatred. It is done because there is no other way,” Ten said.
“And it is done in the name of the many live we are failing to save,” the Doctor said. He looked at Clara, who was shaking her head.
Elise stood there with tears in her eyes but like when they lost the Ponds, she wasn’t crying.
“Clara? What? What is it? What?” the Doctor asked her.
“Nothing.”
“No, it's something. Tell me.”
“You told me you wiped out your own people. I just. I never pictured you doing it, that's all.”
The barn around them went dark and they were standing in the Time War. The buildings were burning and families were screaming.
Elise felt like she was a child again and the dam burst. Tears flowed down her cheeks and she let out a scream.
The Doctor rushed to her side and he wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his forehead to her temple and he saw the Elise he’d rescued. The one with the big fearful blue eyes. This Elise clung to him like she had in the Naismith Mansion.
Her fingernails dug into his coat as she rocked back and forth. It’d been a while since she’d had a meltdown and today was just much for her to handle.
“What's happening?” Clara asked.
“Nothing. It's a projection,” the older Doctor said.
“These are the people you're going to burn?”
“There isn't anything we can do,” Ten said, looking at Elise crying uncontrollably in her father’s arms. He walked over to them and took Elise from the Doctor as he stood up.
The Doctor turned to Clara. “He’s right. There isn't another way. There never was. Either I destroy my own people or let the universe burn.”
“Look at you. The three of you. The warrior, the hero, and you.”
“And what am I?”
“Have you really forgotten?”
“Yes. Maybe, yes.”
“We've got enough warriors. Any old idiot can be a hero.”
“Then what do I do?”
“Be a Doctor.” He turned around and saw Elise standing. She wiped at her eyes, while Ten rubbed her back. “When I was younger, she said the name you choose is a promise. What was it?”
“Never cruel or cowardly,” Ten said.
“Never give up, never give in,” the older Doctor added.
The images around them faded and they were standing back in the barn.
“You're not actually suggesting that we change our own personal history?” Ten asked.
“We change history all the time. I'm suggesting far worse,” the Doctor said.
“What, exactly?” the older Doctor asked.
“Gentlemen, I have had four hundred years to think about this. I've changed my mind.” The Doctor soniced the red button back into the box.
“There's still a billion billion Daleks up there, attacking,” the older Doctor said.
“Yeah, there is. There is.”
“But there's something those billion billion Daleks don't know,” Ten told him.
“Because if they did, they'd probably send for reinforcements,” the Doctor added.
“What? What don't they know?” Clara asked.
“This time, there's three of us.”
“Oh! Oh, yes, that is good. That is brilliant!” the older Doctor said.
“Oh, oh, oh, I'm getting that too! That is brilliant!” Ten said, catching onto the plan.
“Ha, ha, ha! I've been thinking about it for centuries,” the Doctor told them.
“She didn't just show me any old future, she showed me exactly the future I needed to see,” the older Doctor cried.
“Eh? Who did?” the Doctor asked.
“Oh, Bad Wolf girl, I could kiss you!”
“Sorry, did you just say Bad Wolf?” Ten asked.
“So what are we doing? What's the plan?” Clara asked.
“The Dalek fleets are surrounding Gallifrey, firing on it constantly,” the older Doctor said.
“The Sky Trench is holding, but what if the whole planet just disappeared?” Ten asked.
“Tiny bit of an ask,” Clara said.
“I’m sorry. Wait. Back up. What do you mean disappear?” Elise asked.
“The Daleks would be firing on each other. They'd destroy themselves in their own crossfire,” Ten explained.
“Gallifrey would be gone, the Daleks would be destroyed, and it would look to the rest of the universe as if they'd annihilated each other,” the older Doctor said.
“But where would Gallifrey be?” Clara asked.
“Frozen. Frozen in an instant of time, safe and hidden away,” Ten said.
“Exactly,” the Doctor said.
It finally hit Elise. “Like a painting.”
#eleventh doctor#eleventh doctor imagines#eleventh doctor fanfiction#Tenth Doctor#tenth doctor imagine#war doctor#war doctor imagine#doctor who#Doctor Who fanfiction#doctor who imagine#Kate Lethbridge-Stewart#clara oswald#clara oswald imagine#the littlest timelord#the littlest timelord: the fall of the eleventh#day of the doctor
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Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite)
TITLE: Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite)
CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 4/?
AUTHOR: nekoamamori
ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one of the fae has been helping the Avengers, jumping in to help them on missions and vanishing before Shield can bring her in. Loki joins the team and convinces her to come talk to the team and consider joining before Shield takes more drastic measures.
RATING: M
NOTES/WARNINGS: This is a rewrite of the original work of the same name. Also on AO3 here
Even though the hug felt like home, it eventually had to end. Neither of them wanted it to end, they wanted to stay in each other’s arms forever, to not lose that feeling of home that they’d both so desperately been looking for.
Loki eventually seemed to remember his propriety and his grip on Sigyn loosened as he took a step back. Even Thor could see just how much effort it took and how much he just wanted to hug her again, to hold her in his arms so he wouldn’t have to risk losing her again.
“What does this mean for my future?” Sigyn asked them warily when she’d taken a step back, when she’d shaken off the feeling of home and comfort of being in Loki’s arms. She knew they weren’t just going to let her leave, especially not Loki, especially not now that he was so overly excited to have his best friend back from the dead. She didn’t blame him. she barely remembered and she couldn’t help feeling ecstatic to have him back too.
She didn’t want to leave them. Not really, but she still had to know what they intended for her.
“You do not have to change anything, unless you so wish. You may do as you please. Though I am sure there are people who miss you back on Asgard. You would be welcome there,” Loki told her, his voice gentle and caring, though he still seemed in shock that she was back from the dead.
Sigyn rolled her eyes and huffed at him. That seemed familiar too, such a usual gesture of annoyance at him. “You already brought me here to change my life, remember?” she reminded him with a bit of temper in her voice. They had dragged her here and her life was going to change, whether she wanted it to or not. They wanted something from her. No matter what the Lord of Lies said, she wasn’t free to do as she pleased.
Loki inclined his head. “At the very least, you do need to speak with the team. Thor will go with you… they do not exactly like nor trust me,” he said a bit sheepishly, as if he felt bad about that now. “After that, you decisions are you own. They will not force you to do anything. I will not allow it,” he told her firmly. He would protect her, despite any consequences to himself.
Sigyn gave him a disbelieving look. “Didn’t you say that they’re making you work for them?” she asked him, wary of the whole situation she found herself in.
He sighed and inclined his head. “As retribution. I don’t exactly have a choice in the matter. Besides, it was the Allfather who forced me, not the team here,” he explained. That made sense, then. The Allfather was way more powerful that these Midgardians, though if he didn’t have a choice, she didn’t see how she’d have much of one either. Not really.
Sig jumped when the rest of the team came into the room. On instinct, she had automatically summoned a blade as long as her forearm in one hand and a purple bolt of magic in the other. Loki placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder to calm her. “Stand down, Lady Fae. They will not harm you. They would not, but even if they were to try, they cannot do anything to hurt you as long as I am here,” he told her gently. “You’re under my protection,” he reassured her, pleadingly.
She was still wary, still afraid, but she vanished her blade and bolt of magic and turned to face the rest of the team. It was Cap who greeted her, who introduced the team officially. He also asked her for her story and she couldn’t see a good way or reason to avoid telling them, so she shyly told them about the fae taking her as a child. She told them how they tried to turn her fae and had succeeded at least partly. She didn’t realize she had absently tucked her hair behind her ears as she was talking, letting them see her pointed ears, sidhe-red hair, and tri-colored eyes clearly. She conveniently left out her newfound revelations about her heritage. They didn’t need to know about that yet, or possibly ever.
As she was telling her story, she unconsciously took a step closer to Loki, nearly tucking herself against his side as if he would protect her from the others. She was under his protection, but it felt like more than that.
When she finished sharing as much as she was willing at that time, Cap spoke again. “We have a choice for you, and I’m afraid it’s not a good one, but SHIELD isn’t giving any of us much of a choice,” he paused before he continued. He didn’t want to say this any more than Sig inevitably didn’t want to hear it. “You can either stay here with the team, move into the tower, become an Avenger if you so desire. You can live your life, make your own choices, and have our safety and protection,” he paused yet again. “Or you can leave and SHIELD will come find you and it will be much less comfortable in their care…”
Ah. That was the part he hadn’t wanted to say.
She was being forced after all.
Loki rolled his eyes and Sig heard his huff of exasperation, could practically feel his anger. “I should have known you would force her to remain here. She just escaped captivity, you expect her to willingly join another prison?” Loki snarled at the team.
Stark glared at him and Sigyn took another step closer to Loki afraid of the angry men. “This isn’t a prison,” Stark insisted. “She’s free to come and go as she wishes, just as you are, by the way. And the living arrangements are way better than the shithole apartment she’s currently living in. And we’re not asking anything of her besides that she doesn’t try to take over the Earth!” Stark told him firmly.
Loki’s glare hardened when Stark brought up the incident with the alien invasion. The annoying puny mortal knew that it wasn’t Loki’s fault what had happened. “It was not my decision to be here. I was dragged here by my brother at the Allfather’s orders. She might enjoy the life she is living. It is not for you to decide what life she wishes to have,”
“No,” she said softly, gently, knowing instinctively the tone she needed to cool Loki’s rage and temper. “The life I’ve built has been better than what I had among the fae, but it’s no life, not really.” Seriously, even with all her power, she was only just surviving. It wasn’t a life. Living here would be better than what she had and way better than being hunted down by SHIELD. “I-I can try staying here,” she told them a bit warily and very shyly. At least she wouldn’t go hungry here, not with Tony Stark and a crazy government organization paying for this endeavor. “I’ll return after I go to my apartment and get my things…” she said it partially as a test to see if they would let her leave.
“Not everything revolves around this team. She should be allowed to do as she pleases without the threat of SHIELD,” Loki protested again, wanting to protect his oldest and best friend.
Nat gave him a kind look. “As should we all, but SHIELD keeps a close eye on anyone who might be a threat. She’s safer here with us than out on her own. There are plenty of people who would love to use someone with as much power as she has and an individual can be taken much easier than a group. She’s done nothing but help us, and I for one want nothing more than to make sure she’s safe and happy too.” Sigyn realized that Nat was too observant and it hadn’t escaped her notice that all of her things were second hand and she was too thin.
Sig really was just surviving.
Loki sighed and finally relented. He turned to Sig, blatantly ignoring the others. “Would she like me to accompany you to collect you things, Lady Fae?” He asked her kindly.
“No need to go out of her way for me…” she told him quickly, embarrassed and shy. She looked up at Loki and tried to ignore that the team was staring at the pair, surprised that Loki was even offering to help her. "I… don’t have much. It won’t take very long,” she tried to reassure him.
“It would not be a bother. Plus, it would give me some time away from this lot,” he added with a smirk. She could hear the annoyance in his tone at the rest of the team. He always had been a bit of a loner and around so many people his introvert batteries were sure to be drained.
“A-alright,” she said softly, still shy and wary. She walked with him to the elevator while everyone else was still staring openly. “Though you’re not going to like my apartment…” she added even more softly. Loki didn’t both responding to that. She wouldn’t be living there anymore.
The pair left the tower together and Sig led Loki on the short walk to her apartment building. “I’m sorry you’re being dragged into this, Sigyn,” Loki finally said as they were strolling together to her apartment.
“It’s alright,” she replied with a tentative smile. “It’s actually probably a blessing in disguise. You’ll understand when you see my place…” It didn’t take them long to get to the run-down apartment building. She only lived a few blocks from the Avenger’s tower. She walked up the stairs to her tiny, dingy apartment. It was only one room besides the bathroom and kitchen and she had next to nothing in it, besides a mattress on the floor for a bed and a scavenged dresser. She flushed in embarrassment. “I know, it’s not much…”
“You live here? Why?” Loki asked as he looked around the tiny space horrified. “I know you have enough magic to have a much better life…” Of course he knew how much power she had. He’d trained alongside her when they were. She should have been able to create a much better life for herself than this.
Sig shook her head and looked sad and weary. “The fae are hunting me and until recently I couldn’t risk using my powers without risking them finding me. So I had to make do with what I could get on my own…” she explained. Though she didn’t tell him why she was suddenly able to use her powers more openly.
“Sigyn, I’m so sorry…” he said softly and she could see the hurt in his eyes and knew that he was feeling terrible about how she’d been living when he was a literal prince. He would have come to help her had he known she was alive. He would have done anything to get her back.
She shook her head again. “It’s not your fault and things will be different now,” she told him with a smile and summoned a cardboard box to empty the contents of her dresser into quickly. Really, there wasn’t much besides a few changes of clothes and a couple of books. She’d really only come to make sure the team would let her leave.
Loki took the box out of her hands while she was throwing her few things into it. She tried to protest, but she saw the look in his eyes that he wouldn’t listen, so she let him hold the box. “Why help me?” she asked him.
“Sigyn, I know you don’t remember, but you and I were very close when we were younger. You were my best friend,” he told her earnestly. He wanted so badly for her to remember. He knew it would take time for her memories to come back, but he still hoped.
“Mama Frigga taught us magic,” she replied softly, remembering bits and pieces. She’d have to undo the blocks she’d placed on her memories soon. As soon as she got time. “So why are you forced for work with them, Lokes?” she asked. She noted how he stiffened at the nickname and she blushed. “Sorry, habit. Where I was… raised… it is incredibly rude to call friends or allies by name, especially where it can be overheard. There is power in the name of things. I can explain it better at the tower…” she told him quickly before he could demand an explanation.
He nodded, accepting her explanation, and the nickname if he had to put up with it. “There was an incident… Have you ever heard of the battle of New York?” He asked and she could hear the embarrassment in his tone, see it in his expression.
“The alien attack?”
He nodded. “I was the one who led the attack, though it was against my will; I was being controlled. The Allfather has decreed that I live on Midgard with Thor and aid the team as retribution for my role in the attack,” he explained.
Sig consider that and nodded. His story was true. She’d be able to tell if it wasn’t. “And they don’t believe that you were being controlled?” she guessed based on his tone and body language. She finished throwing her things in the box he was holding and grabbed the box to take it from him.
He smirked at her as he moved the box out of her reach. “Exactly. Though, I have not exactly gone out of my way to try to befriend them. They have already decided how they wish to see me. There is very little I can do to change their minds at this juncture,”
“Maybe they’ll come around someday,” she suggested hopefully. She liked the trickster and didn’t like seeing him so sad. She glared at the box he was holding out of her reach. “Now if she’ll just hand that over we can get out of here…”
His smirk only grew. Smug bastard. “I am perfectly capable of carrying your things for you, Lady Fae,” he told her pleasantly.
She huffed, puffing up in grumpiness as she always had as a child. "You’re wearing a full suit and you’re a prince. There is no reason for you to carry my grubby box of things,” she replied grumpily.
He held the box more securely, refusing to return it to her. “Shall we return to the tower? I’m sure there is more the team wishes to speak with you about.”
She groaned at that. She didn’t want to answer more questions from the team. Though she knew they had to be curious about her. Knowledge about the fae was rare, especially true knowledge, not just fairy tales. She did however recognize a lost cause and gave up on getting the box from Loki without a real fight. And it wasn’t worth a real fight. Not when he was just being a gentleman. “Alright, Lokes,” she replied with a smirk and started to lead him from her pathetic little apartment.
He followed right behind her. “I could easily just teleport the two of us back to the tower?” He reminded her, though made it a question of whether she wanted him to or not.
“If you’d prefer,” she replied with a shrug. “You’re the one who wanted to escape the others for awhile…” she reminded him. “Though I’m sure you have questions for me too, which will be easier to answer in private…” she placed her hand tentatively on his arm. She had a feeling he didn’t like physical contact very much, but it was required for him to teleport a passenger. Plus her hand was on his suit jacket instead of his bare skin.
He nodded and teleported she both back to the common room of the tower. she dropped Loki’s arm as soon as she reappeared. He hadn’t seemed upset about being touched, but she had the feeling he didn’t generally like it. “I’m sure Stark already has a room picked out for you,” Loki told her.
“I do in fact have a room picked out for her, Reindeer Games,” Stark replied as he looked up from the blue screen he was working on. “Thor decided which of the free rooms were best. He’s taken an interest in you for some reason,” he added with a shrug, though clearly wondered why both Asgardians were taking an interest in the fae. He smirked at Loki. “She got you to carry her things, Reindeer Games?” He teased, clearly enjoying antagonizing Loki.
Loki glared at Stark. “I volunteered, you imbecile. It is called being a gentleman. Look it up.” After one more glare at Stark, he turned his attention back to Sig. “Lady Fae, would you wish for me to escort you to your room?”
She nodded, if only to keep Loki from killing Stark. “That would be appreciated,” she told Loki pleasantly.
Stark’s smirk remained in place. “Her room is on five,” he told Loki.
Loki’s eyes narrowed at Stark, but his expression softened when he offered her his arm to take so he could escort her to her room. She placed her hand on his arm and while nothing appeared to have changed about her, she suddenly had the air of a court lady, which she was. Stark just didn’t know that.
She followed Loki up to her new room and looked over the simple room appreciatively once she had arrived. It had a real bed, dresser, bookshelf, and it’s own bathroom. It was much nicer than anywhere she’d stayed in a long, long time. It wasn’t decorated yet, but she had a feeling that would change. Loki had set her box next to the dresser while she checked out the room.
She sat cross-legged on her bed and gestured in invitation for him to sit with her. He sat at the foot of the bed. She tucked her hair behind her pointed ears. “You look like you have a million questions, Lokes,” she started with a smirk. “Where would you like to start?”
“With anything you are willing to tell me. I do not wish to pry into anything you are not willing to reveal yet,” he told her politely, though she could hear the effort it took not to just demand answers to the questions that were killing him.
“Well that’s exceedingly unhelpful,” she teased, sticking her tongue out at him and in that instant sounding and acting so much like the girl he knew. “By the way, you owe me my ring back. I kept up my end of the bargain,” she informed him, holding her hand out for said ring. He removed it from his hand and handed it back to her without complaint or argument. She slipped it back onto her finger with a small smile for him. “Thanks,” she told him warmly and considered what he might want to know. “I did promise to tell you why it’s rude to address your friends by name in the land of the fae,” she started. He inclined his head to indicate he was interested, so she continued. “There’s power in the name of things.” That wasn’t the full explanation, but it was a good place start.
Loki nodded, following along with her so far. “And why is that?”
She gave him an appraising look. “To have a being’s full name is to have some level of control over that being,” she explained, but she saw the disbelief in his eyes. He wouldn’t believe she until she showed him, so with a small apologetic look she continued: “I name you, Loptr Laufeyson, called Loki Odinson, adopted son of Odin, brother of Thor, master magician of Odin’s court, god of Mischief, Chaos, Lies, and Stories…” as she spoke, his Asgardian form shattered, leaving him in Jotun form with his beautiful patterned sapphire skin and scarlet eyes.
She thought him absolutely stunning and gorgeous, with his true form laid bare for her.
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DESPAIR
SPOILERS BELOW / tw suicide sort of
ah the title really does sum this up. I am filled with such dread going in. I know cas gets sent to super hell, I know the destiel shippers are declaring it canon (but then, when haven't they), and I've heard from a reliable source that the show officially as of just now is queerbaiting for real by making it vague and easy to ignore it instead of actually confirming anything. plus nobody seems to give a fuck about jack, as usual, and sam didn't get to say goodbye? god how can this get better???? I hope buckleming got to fucking murder castiel! that would really improve this for me!!! the cherry on the shit sundae for real
so okay here goes. ugh. I have this angel's envy bourbon at 1PM, oops. I feel like I will need it for this one more than the others
I also am ensconced in my castiel trenchcoat + "be super good" shirt, and cas, crowley, and sam the q-pals are joining me. dean is banished to remain in the tote bag they live in.
god I want to scream. this fucking synopsis "With the plan in full motion, Sam, Dean, Castiel and Jack fight for the good for the common goal." oh the plan to use Jack as a suicide bomb???? great idea. lol I hate this. whose "common good"????????? ah but yes dean runs a dictatorship right. no wonder chuck butts heads with him
dean looks so fucking smug in the amazon prime video app, hovering over the episode where cas will die horribly. fuck. there is nothing that can emotionally prepare me for this episode
the show is going to end with sam and dean because it started with sam and dean and chuck/the IRL writers are bitter about it I guess??? delete fucking everything
god, very fucking cute of dean to be like WE GOTTA DO SOMETHING!!! you fucking piece of shit you forcememed this to go as quickly as possible because you want Jack fucking dead, don't pretend you care
god. fuck. jack apologizing for dying, to the empty. I hate everything so much
ah, so that's why the opening title screen has been that. gross. horrible. a jack singularity
is that it? really? jack's dead? just like that. okay. awful.
oh he's MAYBE dead. reassuring.
I see that briana buckmaster and jim beaver will be joining us
my cat is sitting in front of the TV trying to prevent me from watching this, trying to save me from myself
oh and felicia day
oh this one's written by robert berens, I mostly trust him I think
sam should've photocopied the book first
oh hey RSJ directed this one
I'm glad to have rachel miner back in any capacity
that's... alpha/omega on the side there? makes sense
I hope it's a fake book
god I love sam sitting on the like. what is that, weird equipment panels? more confirmation sam is queer, you heard it here
what leverage does dean even think he has
cool jack's just getting tortured now
"the boy is still useful" at least billie isn't pretending to care about him.
oh she left the book
thank fuck cas goes to him right away, please hug this child
alcohol is not gonna help you guys sleep
oh here's dean's half-assed apology. "sorry not sorry that I just couldn't stop, I couldn't help it, I just wanted to get what I wanted, and now that I didn't get what I wanted, sowwy uwu I guess"
"you've snapped me out of worse" yeah don't minimize this, sam
oh yeah michael exists. I notice dean refers to him as michael and not including adam. way to go
I notice that sam does not drink right away "to somehow"
those eggs look great
"no guns at the table" is a solid rule not only for how miserable that is, but because everything surrounding firearms is a carcinogen and doesn't need to be near food
please love yourself charlie please eat good eggs
am I supposed to know stevie, was she part of the alternate universe, I still like never watched most of 10-13
oh we're gonna kill MULTIPLE queer characters in this episode, awesome. we gonna kill charlie AGAIN??????? we brought her back just to kill her off, AGAIN? LIKE KEVIN? and bobby I guess??
can I just say how much I hate the concept of a "final boss fight" like why is it always ending in a fight, why is violence always the answer, and why do we feel like one final violent action will solve all the problems huh
charlie's shirt looks like a tycho album cover
okay so I didn't forget stevie, she was brand new? maybe?
I love cas and jack :(
feels strange because this all sucks
there's no such thing as destiny, jack
don't fucking die for sam and dean and 'the world'
damn right, cas, he doesn't need "absolution"
well that's true for you, cas, you care because he's him. dean just wants to use him
cas and jack are good.
charlie this was so not your fault. as usual this is the winchesters' fault.
tell 'em charlie!!! get 'em!!!
you're not sorry, dean.
"What now?" is a huge fucking mood, dean
oh, greg! our old friend! greg was a real one (but not anymore)
yeah eileen's screwed. this includes sam too. and dean i guess.
sam is a good person who cares about people despite dean's best efforts to stop him
I can't see who he's texting. are cas and jack in the back?
poor eileen :(
god poor sam having to basically get eileen in front of eyewitnesses who can attest that she disappeared
cas and jack are in the backseat yeah
I wish he'd tell her
she's never gonna reply now
yeah she's gone.
interesting use of technology that they couldn't've done earlier in the series, to show she was typing but then stopped
god that's awful. fuck.
"If I let myself go then I'll lose my mind. I can't, right now." that's a huge fucking mood sam let's just postpone all that grief for later. gotta shove it down. huge fucking mood. god I'm so sorry
somewhere central... the... bunker?
don't split everyone up dean, fuck
yes revenge is definitely the answer. killing things is the answer. "not having a choice" is obviously the answer. you fucker
we get a sam and dean hug but where's the one for cas.
you can like... see it in sam and jack's eyes that they are worried they're never gonna see them again.
I'm horrified that cas isn't getting to say goodbye to jack nor sam. I can't handle this.
I guess this scene is where they took that last group photo that misha posted back in march? RIP :(
oh hey donna
jack, that feeling is TheDepression
oh gas-n-sip
sam's sweet to try to give jack some autonomy here instead of having him just... being shuffled around like baggage.
is that eileen's car then
this music is intense
don't burn the fucking library
also wow dean with the reaper blade again is oof. wow. yikes. dean is become death, destroyer of worlds for real. jesus that is fucking horrifying to see. aren't you, dean? aren't you a bringer of death. remember when you hated doing that back in season... 4? 5? later?
dean has learned nothing.
sam's been trapped in a silo before hasn't he. or that panic room or something.
donna is sweet. jack is good. jack deserves better.
sam :(
donna is very kind
I like hearing jody and garth mentioned even if they're not in this episode (?)
oh hey charlie
sam at least knows how you feel, charlie
I like this set
god I've missed jim beaver
is jack going around with spraypaint? I'm like oh god there's no ventilation. I guess it's a paint bucket but still the fumes are bad. better than being evaporated though I guess
big man on campus. RIP stanford sam
at least there's a bucket.
praeses magna. "president large"?
thinking about how it would be impossible to have extras for episodes 19 and 20
I like watching jack paint
RIP that plant. apparently he has his powers
dean walks around way too comfortably with the reaper scythe.
oh but the plan has changed. did billie leave that book and nobody read it??????
dean you don't have friends, bud.
yeah how did you tink you would even stand a chance, dean. this is the worst plan ever
I'm so tired of seeing cas get tortured. I don't want to see billie get hurt either.
is "billie" actually the empty or something
"Has virtutes conliga. Eas integra. Eas firma. Nos omnes serva."
=
"These virtues bind. Those infected. These are strong. We keep them all."
idk google translate, I feel like that may not be "infected" but more like integrity
I like the effects they did on the wardings there
yeah pretty much you can't stop god
oh I'm real sad about that couple who vanished together
:( bye charlie
bye bobby. :(
bye donna???
oh that like gold paint gossamer looking shit going on with billie's arm is cool
god I'm glad billie smacked him in the face, dean deserves it. I just rewound it to see dean get clocked again, it's so worth it
so they went back to the bunker... for what? billie can just go there.
sam and jack are gonna have such a rough fucking day.
all those double cheeseburgers are back for revenge on dean
billie's right actually. dean always thinks the rules don't apply to him because he thinks he should be making the rules. castiel should be with jack, not with dean. fuck.
can't cas still heal people
the scythe on the wall is a good visual.
I really like lisa berry, she does an amazing job
is this the same room with the ma'lak box
always happy to bleed for the winchesters. christ. fuck. even with dean's pocketknife. cas I'm so sorry. sweetheart you don't deserve this.
7B? so Jack was trapped in 5B, this is a different room but probably the same actual setpiece just rearranged
do you just... have to wait her out yeah
yeah dean you suck.
correct, you never should've left sam and jack.
wow I feel zero sympathy for dean at all.
you do it to yourselllllf you do, that's what really hurts.
oh baby don't summon the empty please :(
I'm so glad to know that cas never told them about how he saved jack, it's none of their business
yeah it would be with jack, cas. you should be with him
man this is shitty.
this is like a bad fanfic for real.
wow these shots are like, when it cuts between them it's so obvious these were not the same camera lmao fuck. how many takes was this
god i hate dean.
he has not done this for love. dean is a spiteful person.
"you're the most caring man on earth" literally kill me. I want to die. jesus fuck. i want to be dead
this is awful
this sucks
this actually really hurts. this sucks so much. dean you squandered this angel's life. now jack has no father. i hate you dean winchester. i hate you. you don't deserve cas loving you
jack knows, jack can feel it.
I hate hate hate hate hate hate that jack is left alone with the winchesters. i hate this. jesus fuck i hate this so much i hate this
jack sweetheart I'm so sorry
dean you fucking ass please pick up the fucking phone. please answer sam. i hate you
god dean i hate you fuck
dean you are the worst. fuck my life. fuck all this. fuck this show. i'm so angry
castiel deserves so much better than this. fuck i'm so mad. why wasn't his moment of happiness knowing that JACK WASN'T GOING TO DIE.
i hate this. I'm so upset. fucking shit-ass writing.
and it's still not fucking canon you morons
at least uh they don't have to have extras for the last two episodes? did they add that footage after? is that what got changed up? everyone's gone huh.
god just. dump the show right into the trash. bye.
also for fuck's sake nobody gives a fuck about jack like I didn't even know he survived. nobody cares. "sam didn't get to say goodbye" FUCKING JACK DIDN'T GET TO SAY GOODBYE fuck this so much.
fuck, is dean just chuck's OC? made in his image and furious that his mini-me isn't acting the way he wants? is that why he gets exonerated at every turn? "all the evil shit you did is fine dean you're the MOST LOVING AND THE BESTEST EVER!!!" fuuuuuck
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challenge #5 (part 2)
aka fireworks (aka clownery and delusions luv)
a/n: i jwu after 3 hours of sleep and edited this. this is a particularly spicy one featuring Felicity and Arin. Full disclosure, I needed a drink to write like half of this RP AHAHHDKJNKD #dumbbitchjuice Thank you @arin-schreave and @/felicity-graham aka Anna for these RPs. I love you ma’m you’re doing amazing. Link is in the aka title as usual for the doc for easier reading. Enjoy the clownery of part 2 of the ball and keep your eyes peeled for part 3 (5845 words)
I give my laptop’s camera another twirl, seeing my Mama and Grammy’s jaws drop as I feel the weight of my gown catch what little air it could.
“Prettier than an orange blossom in your Papaw’s Orchard.” My Grammy’s voice rings from the speaker, her expression looking quite pleased with my dress.
I actually got ready faster than I thought it was gonna take me, my maids having done amazing fast work with my hair and make up. After they finished and fixed what they needed to fix, I had asked my maids for a moment to myself so I can videocall my family for this.
It was the first look anyone’s got of me in my dress, and I can’t help but smile at how beautiful it was.
“Blue really is your color darlin’.”
Blue, almost Lilac.
“You look every bit a princess should look.” My mama says as she seems to be leaning closer to their computer screen, probably to get a closer look.
When my name was announced a couple of months ago, I think the only person more excited than I was about the Selection was my Mama. It made her so proud that I had a chance of being a Princess, she told everyone in her circle of friends 5 minutes after I was called and was running around the house.
It reminded me of the days when I did those little pageants in Orleans. Mama was always so supportive with the dresses she made for me, teaching me how to walk and curtsey. She had dreams for me, that’s a fact I’ve known since I was tiny. Part of those dreams before was to settle down early before. Now I think she just wants me married.
“I was just talking with Betty, ya know your Aunt Betty, right honey? Anywhos, I was just talking with her about you and she was telling me how lovely you looked in your Selected pictures.” I hear Mama talk, going onto sharing how she was sharing with her friends about my experiences in the Selection—how far I’ve made it through. Saying that the prince must have definitely taken a liking to me.
Sometimes I wish I had the heart to tell her the truth.
Sometimes I worried about how she’d react if she found out that I cried after my first date with the prince, or what she’d say that I’ve only gone on one other date besides it.
I smile to her, smoothing down the embroidered blue fabric of my skirt, trying to play it coy.
Maybe it’s too early to tell her all of that.
“Well, Mama, I’m always trying to put my best foot forward.”
Not all hope was lost, things were progressing well with Arin at least. He wasn’t actually half-bad, if not just a little too serious. I was willing to wait and see this through, and I wasn’t going to give up on my chances with Arin or my chances of a fairytale.
“As you should! Oh honey, you’re never giving me all the details I wanna hear!” My Mama says before Grammy seems to push her to the side, which makes me giggle at the sight.
Grammy’s expression is a little funnier to see onscreen. “Oh, hush Caroline! Let the girl have a little privacy. She’s not 14 anymore, and you can’t spy on her from the living room window no more.”
I blink to the screen as I take a seat on my vanity, shaking my head at that memory.
I feel a small lump in my throat at another reminder that memory brings.
A day in the Spring, hot as ever in Orleans. 14 and feeling light as air as Daniel walked me back home from school, him holding a jacket over me to shield me from the sun and the heat— catching my mother’s eyes peaking through the curtains of one of windows.
“I digress, I digress. Can’t blame a mother being just a little curious with what her daughter’s been up to all the way in Angeles.” My mother says in her defense, and I force a smile onto my face again—swallowing that lump and pushing that memory to the back of my mind, putting it back in an imaginary box with Daniel’s name on it.
“A good southern woman doesn’t kiss and tell.” I reply before giving myself one last look into my mirror, smoothing my hair down and applying some perfume to my wrists, the scent of daisies filling the room. I tried to remain conscious of the time and my laptop’s clock was telling me that it time for me to make a move.
“Best think I should be heading down now. Wouldn’t wanna be fashionably late for the dinner.” I say to the camera, my eyes moving from my mirror to my screen to my mother and grandmother’s faces. Gosh, I still wish they were here with me right now.
“Be sure to smile for the cameras! Ah, I can’t wait to see all the pictures!”
“Don’t waltz all those boys into a stuper, Missy dear.” Grammy gives me a wink as she waves to the camera.
The corners of my mouth tilts up at the thought of dancing.
“I’ll call y’all tomorrow about what happens tonight. Give Daddy all my love when he gets home. Good night Mama, Good night Grammy!” I say as my hand moves along the mouse pad to end the call, and I close my laptop. Turning my head as I hear a knock on my door.
Perfect timing.
My hand reaches to check my dress’ pocket if my emergency kit was inside and I feel the rectangular case in it already. Never gonna know what I’m going to need tonight.
I push my seat away from the desk and stand, walking over to my door opening it to find my escort on the other side of the door.
The walk to the Great Hall was actually quite exciting, my escort was a nice young fella named Phillip. Apparently, all the Selected ladies had a guard as their escort for the night—a welcomed part of the job according to him.
We converse a bit as we walk down and I hold onto his arm like any girl with an escort should. It actually reminded me of all the debuts and cotillions I attended and planned—even my own cotillion when I was 18. Those dances and events needed an escort too, and mine was always… the same person.
A small crowd started to form outside the dining hall, everyone looking finely dressed in their gowns and tuxedos. Some Selected girls, others were probably guests of the Royal Family.
I look around the crowd as my guard guides me close to the entrance, scanning for familiar faces amongst it.
We stop close to the entrance. Phillip says that he’ll be right back for me saying that he’ll just be double checking with another guard about the events of tonight and what time they’d start letting everyone into the hall for dinner. I give him a quick smile, nodding and still scanning the room.
Everyone looked so beautiful tonight. It made me want to sigh—this Ball was grander than anything I’ve ever attended or planned in the past. Oh gosh, I wonder what the Great Hall looked like right now since it was the night time.
As I look around, I realize the closest person to me was familiar.
Felicity Graham.
Her dark hair was up in a gorgeous bun. Her ecrue off-the-shoulder dress looked something straight out of a runway. She looked like she stepped off a runway, what with being so statuesque. She was rocking on her heels, glancing around every few seconds or so.
I debate with myself for half a second if I should talk to her. There really wasn’t any harm in doing so. She couldn’t be as bad as the whispers I’ve heard about her. Plus she was Jackson’s sister. No harm in giving her a complimenting, right?
I smile in her direction and say to her, “You look pretty as a Magnolia in May, Miss Felicity.”
“I’m sorry?” is the first thing she says as she looks to me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I try to maintain my smile as I watch as she relaxes a bit. “Oh, it’s you.”
She gives me a onceover before she meets my eyes again.
I clasp my hands in front of me and her response makes me think that she might not know who I am, which is reasonable. I don’t think I would… research on any girl linked to my ex.
I decide to introduce myself, knowing fully well that we’ve never really spoken to each other in the past.
“I’m Missy, from Orleans.” I say, trying to channel my friendliest smile. “You look great! I love how the fabric of your dress looks like it can catch the wind just right.”
Her dress indeed was a gorgeous one, the kind that moved just right when someone walked.
“I know who you are, Missy.” Felicity replies before glancing down at her dress, then looking back up at the hint of a smile on her lips. “Are you sure you don’t have the wrong Graham?”
The wrong Graham?
I blink at her statement, a tad confused. But I still feel myself smile just a bit, remembering my conversation with Jackson earlier today.
“Is there a right or wrong Graham I should be speaking with?” I ask.
“You’re already speaking to her.” Felicity’s eyes flit away for a moment again, before she asks me “So… How have you and Arin been getting on?” the amusement in her tone was kind of clear.
“Oh,” a small laugh that sounded more awkward than I liked escapes me. I don’t quite know how to answer Felicity correctly. Partly because of Arin, partly because I didn’t want to say anything that could offend her.
I, of all people, should know the right etiquette for treating ex-fiancées. I wanted to say something that wouldn’t let in too much but I also didn’t want to lie about my less than ideal position in the Selection.
I find myself nodding once. “He kind of grows on you, to be honest.” I lift a shoulder up. “Guess I still wanna get to know him better though.”
I wasn’t lying. I was quite interested in getting to know better. Maybe tonight I’d have the chance to. I can only hope my answer satisfies Felicity’s curiosity.
She looks like she’s holding back a smirk.
“Right… Arin. Yes, he does.” Felicity rocks on her heels again, she seems anxious about something. “So, how do you feel about other people you’ve met so far?”
Her question makes me scan the area again, hoping to ground my answer onto someone, maybe even see a particular person’s face but I don’t really catch anyone familiar save for some of the other Selected girls.
“It's been lovely meeting everyone here. The girls are sweetest, it's kind of like having sisters I've never had. Have you gotten to talk to the other girls?”
Felicity looks around, surveying the girls around us and lets out a sigh. I’m not sure if it was a sigh of disappointment or something else.
“I’ve talked to a few of them. None too noteworthy…” she says before her smile returns to her face. “What about Wylan… or say Jackson? I imagine you must have run into him by now.”
“Wylan, I think I've only met him during his birthday party a few days back.” I tilt my head, trying to sum up all the good things about Jackson—especially since I was talking to his sister.
“I've run into Jackson plenty of times actually. It's been nice to talk to him whenever he drops by here.” I feel my smile soften at thought of all the kindness he’s shown to me lately. “He's been such a huge help with the community engagement project I proposed too.”
Felicity nods, “So he’s only helpful?”
“Oh no, not just that!” I shake my head immediately. I didn’t want Felicity to think that I thought her brother was just helpful. No, Jackson was caring and had the biggest heart around here, plus he has a voice I could listen to all day.
The song he sang earlier in my head rings in my head. Maybe the night holds a little hope for us dear.
Um, nope. I didn’t want to say any of that out loud.
When I think I had the right description, I still find myself tripping over my own words.
“He’s been nothing but genuinely sweet and kind to me! I like to think that he’s one of my closest friends here.” I punctuate the end of that with a little laugh, aware that I wasn’t doing a very good job describing him.
She seems to look at the floor, a small smile on her face as she nods before taking a deep breath. “Good.”
Gosh, why was I so bad at this? Still, I can’t help but think again to the soundcheck earlier today.
I think Jackson’s real performance later was something I couldn’t wait to happen.
“Can’t wait to hear him play something later. He already sounded really great a while ago.” I say before I take another glance, wondering where Jackson was before looking back to Felicity. She looked like something was troubling her. I felt compelled to ask her, wondering if my gut feeling was right.
“You okay, Miss Felicity?”
A big smile appears on her face as she answers me.
“Of course I am. It’s just the jitters.” Her smile doesn’t falter.
Something I learned here in the palace was to never pry to deep, so I simply smile back at Felicity—trying my best to give her a reassuring look.
“Now don’t let those jitters scare you too much!” My left hand goes over looking for my Grammy’s ring on my right. Only remembering that I wasn’t wearing it tonight. Maybe for the better. My left hand settles with fiddling with my bracelet on my wrist. “I hope you enjoy yourself tonight, it is Independence Day after all.”
She nods, “Happy Independence Day, Missy. I hope it’s everything you imagined it would be.”
I suddenly hear my name being called, and see my guard coming up to my side telling me that we were starting to head in two minutes. I give him a friendly nod and a thank you before turning back to Felicity.
“You too Miss Ma’m! It was very nice talking to you. Again, I love your dress.” I gesture to her dress again—maybe wanting to ask my maids for a dress similar to it—then my guard clears his throat to remind me that we should get going, which earns him a nod from me.
Phillip starts to lead me away, but I give Felicity one last smile. “Have fun!”
-------
The night moves faster than I realize it does.
The last time I danced this much was back in my 18 Roses on my 18th birthday party, back then dancing with 18 personally picked men who each gave me a rose and a dance each. The first rose back then was obviously my Daddy, and I don’t think I’d ever forget the look on his face when we were dancing to Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You.
Both occasions still left me feeling more than just a little tired.
Maybe it was all the dancing I’ve done with who knows how many people, maybe it was the waiting at the sides as I occasionally checked the stage and looked around if Jackson was about to start setting up.
I wanted to wait and standby so I could catch his song again, wanting to hear him singing it again.
Maybe the night holds a little hope for us.
The chorus of the song not leaving my head even if I tried to forget it. It wasn’t the only thing I couldn’t get out of my head.
So I waited.
And danced with some more people who asked me to dance when they approached me. I had no complaints about it, I missed dancing actually.
I also did the Toktik Savage dance routine with a younger guest at the party who was just as excited as I was when it started playing on the speakers.
I’m a savage, classy boujee ratchet—the whole routine.
By the end of that, I was in need of a touch up so I decided to leave the Great Hall for five minutes, hoping that I wouldn’t miss Jackson’s ((👀)) performance while I was gone.
I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t actually speed walk to the nearest powder room.
I take a minute to pat my forehead with my emergency kit’s blotting paper and dust myself with a little powder to get the shine off, dab a bit of the rouge from the pan to brighten up my complexion.
Once I’m satisfied, I give myself a final onceover with the powder room’s mirror.
Why was I in such a rush to get back?
I sigh to myself and press the heel of my palm against my forehead.
I must have really just wanted to get back to dancing, that’s it.
I look at the tiny little compact case in my hands and close it, ready to go back.
The music from the Great Hall was playing faintly as I go through the powder room’s door and I breathe a sigh of relief when the song playing doesn’t sound like Jackson’s song.
I probably should get back soon if I didn’t wanna miss it.
I take a few steps down the hallway, Jackson’s song playing over and over in my head as I walk.
I don’t expect to bump into someone else as I make my way back, most especially that someone being Arin Schreave.
“Hi Arin.” I greet him with a smile, knowing fully well we haven’t spoken since our date at the pool where he taught me how to swim. Since then I haven’t had the chance to talk to him.
Maybe this was my chance to… get to know him better. I mean, I was here to do that, right?
He seems distracted as I greet him, only responding half a second late that someone was talking to him. Arin looks up to me.
“Oh, Missy. Hi.”
I take in his appearance, realizing that he looked, for lack of better word, disheveled.
His hair was roughed up and his bow tie looked almost undone. I’m not sure if I should comment on any of that.
Instead, I clasp my hands in front of me and ask, “Having a nice night so far?”
That seemed like a good way to ask him if he was alright.
The hallway wasn’t the best lit place, but I swear I could catch a blush on his face which only confuses me even more.
Arin then swallows.
“It’s going well enough.” He glances around the empty hallway. “How’s your night going?”
I maintain my smile. “Nothing but good times rolling for the whole night. Dancing is quite fun, ain’t it?”
Arin’s disheveled appearance still is something I wonder if I should bring up.
I wonder if he knows… if he looks like this right now. I try to test the waters by making a light remark about his undone bow tie.
“Guess you’ve had enough fun to almost undo your bow tie.”
He blinks in surprise, and my hunch appears to be right. He didn’t know. His eyes attempt to glance down.
“Oh… I’m not sure how that happened.” He says before he reaches his hands up to his bow tie.
“If you don’t mind, I think I have a hack or two to make sure your tie doesn’t become undone for the rest of night.” I point to his bow tie, as I offer him my friendliest expression. “Only if you let me, of course.”
I loved helping tie bow ties. It was a fun little thing I did whenever a groomsman struggled with his tie for a ceremony. A wedding proof bow tie knot was something most, if not all, wedding planners should know by heart.
Arin seems to pull his hands back and nods. “Sure…” He takes a deep breath and grimaces. “How bad does my hair look?”
I give him a quick smile at his agreement, stepping up to fully undo his bow tie and start from the beginning, talking as I started adjusting the ends.
“Well, it has seen better days. I can help you with that too in a bit.” I laugh a bit, glancing to his hair. I make sure to put my thumb between the knot and his throat—making sure that it was going to be a comfortable fit.
That earns me a grown from Arin as I watch him reach up and pat down his hair. “Thank you for doing this, Missy.” He glances down to me.
His groan makes me laugh and I tilt my head in amusement.
“It’s the least I could do.” I reply, focusing more on the specific knot I had in mind. I cross and tug the ends making sure things would be properly spaced. “Lots of photographers back in the Great Hall, wouldn't want them getting any bad pictures of you.”
He glances down to his watch. “Thankfully they should be clearing out here pretty soon. Then we can get to the fun dancing.”
“Fun dancing, now I can get behind that very much.” I grin up to him, tugging at the last end I needed to pull at and gesturing to it when I’m satisfied. “One twisted knot with an extra back end to prevent any unwanted loose bows. Adds dimension but the most dance-proof knot. If you wanna take it off later, just pull at the back fold over here.”
I had to hand it to myself, I did a pretty good job with his tie. It’s been a while since I tied one those, but I’m glad that I still remembered how to.
“Oh. Thank you.” He reaches up to touch his bow tie. “I’ll keep that in mind for any more.. dancing I do tonight.”
“Best to keep that in mind indeed.” I nod before I turn my attention to his hair, putting my hand on my chin.
“As for your hair…” I shake my head as I look down the hallway for any mirrors close by so he could see for himself. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any nearby mirrors—and the powder room wasn’t close by anymore. “Do you know if there are any rooms with mirrors ‘round here?”
“Uh, I think the sitting room has one.” Arin glances down the hallway before looking back at me with a confused expression. “Why?”
I blink, forgetting that idea. Being alone with him in a room didn’t sound quite right.
“Just thought you’d wanna see the finished product with a much much bigger mirror.” I reply before reaching into my dress’ pocket and pull out my emergency kit, a small case that to Arin probably looked like a pocket mirror except when I open it, it has everything you’d ever need for a party or a wedding emergency: powder, blush, blotting paper, a band air, some thread and needles stuck to it, tiny scissors… and lastly a tiny tiny comb.
“It’s a good thing I brought the emergency kit then.” I smile down on it.
Arin lets out what seemingly is a genuine laugh. “Are you always this prepared?”
“You don’t have to get ready if you stay ready.” I laugh before taking the comb out and placing the kit back in my pocket. “I've planned over a hundred events, trust me-- this emergency kit is nothing. Never know when a dress rips or someone needs a little touch up in between pictures.”
In fact the kit I had was only a scaled down version of my fanny pack of emergency tools for weddings. Oh gosh, weddings were disasters waiting to happen.
Arin chuckles, “Well, I guess if anyone ever actually tries to make it down the aisle with me I know who to call.”
I think this is the first time I’ve ever heard Arin bring up weddings on his own. It was actually quite amusing to me that he said so. Oh gosh, I can’t believe I was actually having a nice conversation with him.
“I'm sure a lucky girl is going to want to make it down the aisle with you.” I giggle as I reach up with the comb and fix a couple of strands of his hair. As I work on his hair, I can’t help but feel like it’s hard for myself to imagine myself in that position—at least not yet, but progress was being made that made me hopeful that I still had a chance with Arin.
“Do I keep the side part dominantly on the left side?”
“Left side.” He answers, smiling at me.
I nod, returning a similar smile. “You got it, Mr. Schreave.” I go back to work, easily able to reach up to his hair with my heels on. I still really wonder how his hair got to this.
“Is it okay to ask why you look like you just walked through a hurricane?”
Arin clears his throat. “I’ve just had a lot of running around… there’s a lot of people I’ve had to see.”
Ooooo, must have been a lot of running and meeting people then.
I hum at that as I smooth his side part down. “Of course. Big party with all these guests and well… us girls. Everyone would wanna get a piece of that action.”
The comb runs through a few more strands of his hair, which admittedly was the first thing I noticed when we first met. He did have nice hair.
I pat his hair lightly when I get his hair to look just right, like the way I’ve noticed he’s worn it before.
“And…” I give his hair a last minute pat, then meet his eyes. “your hair is read for the cameras again.”
Arin groans again. “If I never saw another camera again, I’d be a happy man.”
“Hey,” I laugh, amused as ever with his sentiments against cameras. I put the comb back in my emergency kit and close it with an audible click. “You can be a happy man even with cameras around. On the bright side, there'll be lots of pictures to remember stories from tonight.”
He seems to grimace at that, but he suddenly reaches up and I feel his hand push some strands of my hair behind my ear. I guess I didn’t notice that earlier.
I curl my lips in at that contact, suddenly feeling all the more conscious that we were alone in the hallway together.
Still, I wasn’t going to let this opportunity go. This was still my chance with Arin.
I thought my dream of this Selection being a fairytale with a prince were ruined back during our first date but—maybe I was wrong.
I offer Arin a small smile and a “Thank you.”
He doesn’t pull his hand back from my ear, his eyes looking me over.
I feel more conscious now more than ever with his hand still there.
What was he doing?
No, what was I doing?
Still, it felt nice. It felt familiar.
Like something I haven’t felt ever since Daniel and I were still together, like the weird little feeling in your chest when you’re 14 and unsure of what to do next after an accidental brush of hands.
It’s been so long since then.
And it feels like one of those scenes in the movies, right before the couple did some grand old romantic gesture where the princess’ foot would pop or there’d be butterflies in the main character’s stomach.
Could this be it for me?
It has to be. It just has to be.
I find myself leaning closer to Arin.
“I think I want to kiss you.” He murmurs as I feel his hand go to my cheek.
My eyes widen at him saying it out loud.
I wasn’t used to this with other people, but I was in the Selection for this very reason.
I had to start somewhere.
I wanted to fall in love here.
This was a start.
This could be the start of something I’ve wanted back for so long, at least prove to myself that after all this time I wasn’t broken after what happened with Daniel.
I find myself nodding and leaning closer to Arin, wanting him to close the gap.
“Is that okay?” he breaths out, and his eyes seem to study me. I can’t believe he’s still asking.
My face flushes the longer we stay this close and wait for something to happen—nerves I didn’t know existed making themselves known now.
I remind myself of my Mama’s hopes that I’d end up falling in love with a prince…
I remind myself of why else would I be here in the first place if not to get a fairytale romance with a prince…
…because I don’t think I’ve ever come close to that with Arin until now.
Maybe this will convince me that I actually like Arin this way and erase all my doubts.
A kiss is all it could take to realize the truth. Please work.
So I manage to softly say a “yes”.
It’s the kind of scene in the movies when you should feel fireworks go from your stomach to your heart— bathing you in a warm feeling like how when you see fireworks light up the sky on New Year’s Day.
It should feel like fireworks.
That’s how you know things are going to work.
Daniel felt like fireworks.
When Arin leans in closer, I reach up to hold his face too— then I feel him press his lips to mine.
It should feel like fireworks.
But it doesn’t.
I don’t feel anything.
I try to wait for a beat and see, maybe it just needs some time to kick in?
And I’m not sure if I imagine it, but I think I can hear the music in the Great Hall from a distance.
Maybe the night holds a little hope for us, dear.
Jackson.
That thought is something I push to the back of my mind as I pull away from Arin, reaching up to gently remove his hand from my face.
“I'm... uh— I'm sorry. That—” I cut myself off, trying to process what just happened. It felt like everything was crashing down onto me.
Arin wasn’t the one for me.
“Was that... Did that feel... um..? Weird for you?” I try to manage out a coherent thought, while trying my best to not make Arin angry or upset.
Arin takes a step away from me and clears his throat.
“I— I’m sorry.” He says before chuckling nervously. Well, at least he didn’t seem upset either. “Missy, you’re great. I just.... I don’t think we need to do that again.”
OH THANK GOD.
I blush from the embarrassment of this entire situation but nod my head a couple of times in agreement. It was stupid of me to keep on pushing the idea that Arin and I were going to work out that way.
“No, I don’t think we’d need a repeat of that... for... like, ever.” I blink, hearing myself say that out loud. My voice suddenly goes up an awkward octave trying to damage control that.
“NOT—” I catch my tone as my hands go up, modulating my voice and remain calm in this situation. “Not that I don’t think you’re great. In fact, I really do hope at least one of the girls here makes you very happy! I think I’m just not one of ‘em.”
I could let the ground swallow me whole, and I’d thank it. But Arin was still a friend, and well he seemed like he needed more friends now more than ever.
Arin’s expression seems sympathetic, like he gets the situation.
He holds his hands up. “No- I get it. I really do. You’re wonderful but I’m not sure we would be wonderful together.” He glances towards the doors that lead into the ballroom. “I think we should pretend this didn’t happen…”
Now that’s something I can get behind.
“Agreed. I completely agree.” I make a swiping motion over my forehead, trying to not let the disappointment ruin this moment. I try to smile. “Consider it memory-wiped buddy.”
No matter how uneasy I felt about myself right now—I wasn’t going to ruin it.
“You go back first or me?” I ask.
He lets out a nervous laugh, “I think there’s no harm in us walking back together.”
I snap a finger and finger gun point to him, “Sure, do I still have to hold your arm?”
The joke sounds like a sad attempt of me trying to get my mind off my ruined hopes for this Selection, which honestly it is.
That seems to make Arin frown a little.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“Don’t worry, I want to. It’s the proper Belt Belle thing to do, afterall.” I tilt my head to the door, trying to not be sad and enjoy this new discovery. I wasn’t going to cut ties with Arin just because I know he wasn’t boyfriend material for me. “Shall we?”
He chuckles at that then answers me in possibly the worst attempt of a southern accent I’ve ever heard.
“Yes ma’am.” He says as he holds out his arm for me to take and we walk back to the Great Hall together.
Once we get back, Arin and I part ways with a shared laugh, and it’s a nice consolation to know that at least we could still be friends despite everything that just happened.
I couldn’t stop the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach though. As much as I wanted to stay in the Great Hall and enjoy the party—I couldn’t stop the wave of emotions that I was trying to process right now.
To my right was a glass door opened for everyone to go through if they wanted to go through the gardens—and I needed as much space from people as I could right now.
I didn’t want anyone see me like this right now. I just needed five minutes to myself.
So I manage to go through the door and try my very best to keep it together as I picked up a part of my dress’ skirt off the ground to move faster to the gardens.
There was only one place I know no one would be, close enough for me to sort through this lump of emotions.
The greenhouse.
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156 - The Trouble with Time
‘tis better to have loved and lost
Than to be slowly eaten whilst still alive.
There are, on the whole,
Many things worse than having loved and lost.
Welcome to Night Vale.
Well, listeners, we have all been grappling with the same problem. Time has become normal in Night Vale, or as normal as time ever is. Time is pretty weird everywhere.
As a result of this shift in our experience of time, none of us are remaining the same age for centuries anymore. We are aging one year per year, one month per month, one second per precious second. Every moment that passes our skin is less supple. Our mind is less pliant. Our joints ache just a little more.
The entire town is in an uproar, as we are all coming to terms with the idea of getting older. Gym memberships have soared. Everyone is talking at the same time and they’re all recommending green juice diets to each other. The City Council has tried to make ageing illegal, but it turns out this would be unconstitutional as the Supreme Court decided that slow deterioration of the mind and body is an American right.
I myself am not immune to these worries. When I think about what my life would be like after Carlos or, what his life would be like after me… These are the kinds of fears that can’t be shaken off by the light of day. That linger, even after all the shadows of evening have faded. Is love a gift in a finite world? I’d like to think so, but oh, my stomach is in knots. I’m sure your sis too.
And now a word from our sponsors. Afraid of ageing? Terrified of the tides of time? Spooked by the sequential nature of existence? Stop looking at the calendar and moaning. Sure, it may be cathartic to start every morning by picking up your alarm clock and shouting: “You are a murderer! Your numbers are murder weapons! I am the murder victim!”
But it’s not helping you out. Instead, try lotion.
Just lotion those limbs. Lotion that face. Got any other parts? Lotion them too.
Rubbing lotion on yourself won’t stop time. It won’t end the inevitability of death. But when you die, you will be silky smooth, and folks will whispers: “Why, it doesn’t look like they’ve aged a single day.”
Buy lotion now and we will send you a box of other things that will not stop you from dying, but will make you feel a little better on your way out the door. Such as fish oil pills, a pair of running shoes, and books with titles like “Get Happy Now, or Else”.
Lotion – you can’t stop ageing, so settle on mitigating the surface appearance of ageing.
And this has been ma word from our sponsors.
In a new press release, Night Vale resident Leah Shapiro announces the Mariam McDonald memoriam fund. This fund, in honor of the recently deceased Mariam, will be used to finally fulfil Mariam’s lifelong dream, a dream she did not live long enough to see come to fruition: the removal of all sand from the Sand Wastes. Mariam hated the sand, thought it looked frightfully untidy, and that it made a bad first impression for folks just coming to town. She could often be seen when she was alive out with her broom, dutifully sweeping the dunes into her dustpan, and depositing the result into a black trashbag. Obviously, this was slow going, but Leah has vowed to continue Mariam’s quest.
“It’s a stupid wish, a real dumb one,” said Leah. “I hate it! I hate it so much, but I don’t know, it’s what Mariam wanted. And so I feel obligated for some reason to keep after it. God, this sucks!” Leah concluded.
According to the press release, the Mariam McDonald Memorial Fund currently contains 3 dollars, and is not taking donations.
Well, isn’t that the feelgood story of the year? Good luck, Leah. I do hope you get rid of all that sand. Mariam was right, sand is very untidy.
And now for the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.
So today, we will be discussing how to tell whether something is a person. Here are simple tests that can be done at home with whatever you find in your parents’ cabinets when they don’t know you’re looking.
Does it grow? It’s a person.
Does it bend? It’s a person.
Is it square or similar to a square? That’s a person.
Nodes or nodules? Person.
A frank and enticing laugh? Person.
Can it hold liquid? Person.
Is it a dog? Yup, that’s a person too.
That ooze at the back of your closet? Not a person. We don’t know what hat is, best not to touch it, best not to think on it. Perhaps it is the thinking that gives it its power.
This has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.
In response to the current “time is normal” crisis, many companies are moving in to offer services to alleviate ageing. Arby’s is suggesting that a regular diet of roast beef has been shown to extend life expectancy by up to 20 years. When they were asked who showed that and how they did so, Arby’s kind of mumbled and sad that they would have those sources for us soon, but in the meantime, come on down and buy yourself a meal.
A number of new gyms have opened up in town, promising advanced workouts that will keep the body and mind tiptop. There is an LA Fitness, also a 26 Hour Fitness, which promises workouts at any time day or night, plus two bonus hours every day that are only experienced by members. And local legend Louie Blasko has started what he calls a Crossfit gym, but it appears to be just the burned out remains of his old music store, untouched since the night of the fire.
“Oh yeah,” Louie said. “You can really get a good workout in here, believe me.” His eyes flicked back and forth nervously.
A different angle is being taken by newcomer to town, Casper Rhodes. Casper says that he has conquered the ultimate obstacle: death itself. He does this by freezing the brain upon death until it can be resuscitated by advanced technologies of the future.
“Cryogenics means never having to say ‘I’m dead’,” Casper declared, whirling around the red cape he wears and wiggling his eyebrows. “Oh yes, this is a completely real technology. Once you die, we simply and safely remove your bran and freeze it in here.” He indicated the disused grain silo on the edge of town. “That thing is full of brains,” he said. “And each of those brains will be reanimated to a bright and beautiful future hundreds of years from now, and you can too, for a mere 10,000 dollars. Payable upfront, no refunds offered.”
Suspicious journalists asked if they could take a peek in the grain silo and see if it was actually full of brains. But Mr. Rhodes blocked the door with his body. “Uh oh uh,” he said. “Opening the door would mess up the, uh, freezing process. Uh, wouldn’t want that to happen. You just have to trust us.”
Hmmmmm.
And now traffic.
It’s looking pretty clear on the roads right now. There isn’t a single car to be seen. The parking lots are barren, the highways are mere doodles of the gods without the roaring machines that give them purpose. Where did every car disappear to? We wonder this as we walk to work. Walk to school. Learning the limits and the capacity of our own legs, magnificent machines attached to our own bodies that we had long ago discounted, but now can only propel ourselves by the length of them. And then again and again, one after another. The hours pass and we gradually pass through them, and where are the cars? Did they ever exist?
The factories where cars once were built are now full of robots with no purpose, arms ending in specialized tools and drills, all designed to construct a thing that no longer is there to be constructed. And so they bob and weave for nothing. In this way, perhaps, it could be said that they are dancing. To take purpose from a movement is to suggest the possibility of art within it, that perhaps the movement could have meaning merely for itself, but I ask again: where are the cars? Where did they go? Every other form of transportation still exists. Planes still claw their way into the stratosphere, while boats wobble on churning seas. Motorcycles even, given the compete freedom of the highway, tearing into the turns and straightaways at dangerous speeds, but no cars.
Was it something we did? Is this our fault?
At least there’s no traffic, I guess, and we’re all getting a little more time outdoors which is nice and, oh –
Nevermind. The cars are back, all of them. Aaaall at once, driverless and speeding.
Well, it’s nice to have them back.
This has been traffic.
And now for corrections.
In a previous editorial aired on this station, a reporter indicated his belief that peanut butter is a type of rock. That reporter sincerely believed, based on a half remembered lesson from elementary school that he now realizes might have actually been a cartoon he watched, that peanut butter along with sedimentary, metamorphic, and ignius was in fact one of the main types of rock. This reported harbored no ill intent when he lectured for what may or may not have been two hours about his belief that peanut butter was a type of rock. This well meaning reporter may have ignored several calls from his scientist husband, who was trying to get through to correct this completely understandable mistake. But the reporter was on such a roll that he didn’t even notice the calls coming in. Which could happen to anyone.
The reporter may have even printed up posters for local schools showing the types of rock, with peanut butter prominently included. If that is the case, these schools should feel free to return the erroneous posters, or keep them, if they feel it might be in some way educational.
In any case, the reporter in question regrets the error and now amidst that maybe, peanut butter isn’t a type of rock. Maybe that’s true. Decide for yourself.
This has been corrections.
Casper Rhodes and his Quality Cryogenics Corporation continue to advertise their dubious service all over town. He has bought a billboard next to the Waterfront Recreation Area declaring: “A new life awaits you in the future”, with a picture of a disembodied brain that is somehow both smiling an giving a thumbs up, despite its lack of hands and mouth. The Quality Cryogenics Corporation strung a banner along the top of the disused grain silo on the edge of town saying the name of the company. Except the word “quality” has been misspelled, as has “corporation”.
Listeners, I am not one to editorialize, not after the recent peanut butter debacle we’ve heard so much about. But it does not seem to me that this Mr. Rhodes is on the up and up. Nothing about this strikes me as a scientific operation, and trust me, I know from scientific operations. Despite these warning signs, a few people have in fact taken them up on their offer, including weekday shift managers at the Ralphs, Charlie Bear, whose lifetime ambition of becoming a ghost has recently curdled into a frantic fear of death.
“I thought we had eternity. Now every minute spent is a minute lost,” Charlie said to me when I asked him if they had any more cilantro. So that was a bummer on my afternoon.
I must warn everyone not to buy into this Casper charlatan’s lies. Cryogenically freezing brains is not going to save you. In fact, it is time for me to bust this scam wide open. I will sneak into the disused grain silo, and I will tel you what is inside. Then all of us will know the truth.
As I head over there,
Let’s all head over
To the weather.
[“Revolution Lover” by Left At London http://leftatlondon.com]
OK, listeners I’m.. hold on. This portable recording rig is just a little heavy. Whoo! I have got to get back to my weight training. I was deadlifting as much as 15 pounds, and now look at me.
OK, I am looking up at the towering disused grain silo on the edge of town. The silo that one Casper Rhodes would claim contains cryogenically frozen brains, destined to be reawakened in the future. Well, I’m sure Mr. Rhodes, but allow me to just check in on it myself.
The door to the silo is locked with a padlock and heavy chain. Fortunately, I don’t go anywhere without my Special Reporter’s welding torch. It comes in handy more than you’d think. [welding noises] And off it goes. Another win for the first amendment.
Listeners, I am opening the heavy metal doors [creaking], and inside it is dark even in this late afternoon sun. I am stepping in.
[voice echoing] My eyes are adjusting and oh my god! Listeners, oh my god! The tanks are full, frozen intact human brains, attached to various support equipment, it is all completely clean and seemingly running well, this – this isn’t a scam! The great Casper Rhodes is telling the truth! Death is now voluntary, aging is meaningless! We will all see the future! We will ALL see the future!
Listeners, I must go, I must talk to my husband. We could be together forever, don’t you see? A new world awaits us in the future! I must talk to Carlos, I must! [equipment drops]
Today’s proverb: On one hand, you have skin. On the other hand, you don’t- oh man, what happened to that hand?!!
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First Friday
I am jobless. By choice. You see, a month ago I ended my employment as a technical writer at a biotech company. It wasn’t exactly a rash decision. I had been contemplating this imminent separation since probably last December.
Prior to this job, I was employed as a Captionist at a local technical university. That lasted all of two months. They could see that all the training in the world wasn’t going to help me learn on the job and so they told me to stop clutching onto the banister I was dangling from and, for all of our sakes, let go. The job required expert listening, near perfect accuracy capturing speech and translating it into electronic shorthand and lightning bolt typing speed. It was humbling to know that I possessed only one out of the three, at varying times, and, honestly, was fair to mediocre in demonstrating either of them consistently.
Like now, back then when I turned in my work laptop and its corresponding rolling suitcase to the office I contemplated my essential worth to society. As has been written countless times and is known to virtually everyone around the world, having an occupation not only allows you to accumulate capital, but it also invests a person with a sense of belonging and dignity. It provides a sense of worth in the eyes of one’s family, peers, loved ones and, most importantly, oneself. It’s an easy calculation to make, but I seem to be the only one in my immediate surroundings who can’t seem to come up with the correct change.
Thus, it was with much fanfare that I welcomed the decision of the aforementioned biotech company to bring me aboard as its newest technical writer last July. After several months of searching and one extensive and effectual in-person interview later, I had accomplished a professional aspiration I had of being a technical writer. What I didn’t let on was that I had only brushed shoulders with technical writers and had never written a proper technical document up until my hiring. In actuality, through word-of-mouth and first-person accounts I only lived the job vicariously through a number of technical writers with whom I was coworkers or friends. The fact that I had never held the title or had actually done any such writing previously was to be my ultimate undoing. But I charged ahead anyway because, to be completely honest, I needed the money and security of the benefits that a full-time job guaranteed. Even so, I was still confident in my intelligence and capacity to learn through touch and sight how to become a technical writer. I was fully prepared to make technical writing my career of choice.
Reality, though, has the unique talent of cutting you off at the knees if you dare ride into a situation with such sugar plum delusions dancing in your head. Landing the job of technical writer, I soon learned, was not that much of a hurdle. The seemingly insurmountable difficulties occurred when I tried navigating the pre-existing dynamic that had already been baked inside the “team” at the company. I know that it takes a while for me to warm up to new people and situations, but I always felt I compensated for my initial stiffness by keeping my eyes and ears open and holding out the hope that I would eventually learn my way around any obstacles and redeem myself with my coworkers by becoming more familiar with and sympathetic to their little quirks. That’s the same attitude I carried with me into the technical writer position to this new team. However, it didn’t serve me well this time because I couldn’t learn the basics and intricacies of the job as fast as the boss and coworkers expected me to.
It didn’t help that my boss had spread her attention and energy thin by accepting a new supervisory position for a different department within the company shortly before she hired me. She ostensibly was going to have to do double-duty in order to juggle her oversight responsibilities for two departments. On my first day in the office, my boss had already packed up most of her office items and was transitioning to her new office in a different part of the office building. So within a couple weeks of me starting she was out of pocket and already assuming the duties of her new role. That left limited facetime between us and wasn’t especially conducive to getting to know each other better and attempting to be in sync. Perhaps it’s a mistake on my part to think I need a lot of personal attention to place things in order and put all my effort into learning the ins-and-outs of a job. Given my years of experience in the workforce, maybe I shouldn’t be so unnerved by the feeling of being left to fend for myself and just jump into the stream of work before me.
Suffice it to say, the limited attentiveness of the boss left my two other beleaguered coworkers to pick up the slack and take on the majority of my training. All I can say is that they did the best they could, given the timing and circumstances. But when the more senior medical writer decided to quit several months after I arrived, in October 2018, leaving the junior technical writer to deal with me plus another recently hired technical writer that’s when, I feel, my tenure at the company became more and more tenuous. The pressure to “get it right the first time” and perform like a veteran technical writer were implicit points made to me by the supervisor in her office during our one-one-one meeting a few days prior to the senior medical writer leaving for good. Of course, I readily conceded to her demands because I needed the job, considering I had been jobless for over a year after leaving Seattle, then the short stint of playing Captionist and finally a return to an uncertain job search before landing the technical writer job. If I had been completely honest, for both of our sakes, and told her that it was going to take a considerable amount of time for me to perform at the level she expected of me, then I would’ve rendered my usefulness to the team moot. In hindsight, I did myself a disservice by believing I had to cling to this one particular job instead of cutting my losses, once again, and find myself something more fitting.
So I bit my lip and continued to rough it through the thicket of a subject field I realize now I had no business being in. By the end of 2018, with three new writers installed, we became a team of five. And I was the only male. Regardless, I had been in numerous work situations where I was the only man and had no trouble fitting in and actually forming some strong bonds of friendship with my female counterparts. So it was all the more curious and a bit humiliating to be gradually ostracized by the newest recruits. No matter what effort I made in the beginning to chat with them and become familiar with their personalities, they eventually coalesced into an inviolable clique. As the months warmed up, I noticed these three would go for walks during lunchtime and not invite me. Then, eventually, they didn’t invite me into their casual conversations anymore. I guess the increasingly humiliating part for me was that they would commiserate around the near vicinity of my desk and act as if I weren’t sitting just a few feet away. From my vantage point, it had gotten to the point that each and every day they were giving me the brush-off, sans any rationale, and I just had to take it. It wasn’t as if I could argue back, since all three of them had stopped talking to me, thus leaving me nothing to work with. This untenable situation became more acute when the junior technical writer went on maternity leave at the end of May 2019. There I was, the guy none of his teammates talked to and whose boss came by once in a while to check up on me. Isolated. Plus, I was given fewer and fewer assignments as the weeks and months rolled by.
After my first annual performance review, I could tell the boss was slow-motion demoting me. Due to a combination of factors, including, admittedly, a fair number of unforced errors on my part, my boss noted that the quality of my work was subpar. She went through the motions of advising me how I could improve and letting me know that she appreciated my willingness to learn from past mistakes. In my head, I wanted to ask her, “Why are you keeping me on? Why waste your and my time any longer?” It got to the point where I would just sit at my desk each day and pretend to be busy. You would think fake working would be rather easy. However, when you’re a man of conscience and pride, like I am, it was actually a numbing and increasingly resentful experience. The fact is, I really wanted to be a valuable contributor and demonstrate my hard work ethic. But there was going to be no path forward for me when my position was continually being undercut and my workload, for months, had been dwindling to virtually just one project. I really stopped caring. I had no backers, I had no moral support and the point of it all seemed to be getting more and more pointless.
Without acknowledging the obvious tension and remaining silent about the inevitable parting-of-the-ways between she and me, my supervisor emanated professional antagonism toward me every day that I persisted in showing up at the office. So after taking a week-long vacation toward the end of September, I went to my computer and typed up a brief, to-the-point resignation letter and handed it in to my supervisor on a Monday morning. The look on her face and her body language told me immediately she had been looking forward to this moment just as much as I.
Although I feel like I’m in more limbo now than ever, to be honest, I also feel freer than I’ve ever felt in the last year and a half. But this also means I have plenty of free time to second-guess myself and wonder what was it all for. I guess that’s what’s called “being human”.
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Poison ( IV )
Villain’s are people too, are they not? (Y/N) is taking the “home grown” terror title a little too seriously. You’re really really bad, until you meet a certain super soldier who makes you consider a career change. It’s a lengthy process, but you’re willing if it’s for the right reasons. Maybe you’re not so bad after all?
//basically poison ivy and a little bit of bane but with marvel characters?? I’d be original but I love her and them so much so sorry. also some changes, idk I’m making them my own but completely based of the DC characters SNS. Nickname Ivy, real name, yours duh!//
***this is my first attempt at fanfic so any feedback is welcome! I love all these characters dearly so, here goes nothing! Hope you enjoy***
A/N: Violence, language, crime. Mentions of domestic violence and sexual assault(no details or descriptions) I’ll update these as the chapters come out
recap: the team has been desperately searching for you, but you’ve never been a predictable catch.
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Months of searching, months. They knocked on every door of every person on the list, tracked every donation, stood on every street corner, and found nothing helpful.
"I don't know who donated that, we're very thankful, so if you do find her, tell her we are so very blessed by her loving deed." The receptionists were too nice, they definitely knew something, they had to, right?
"You think even if I knew her name that I'd give it to you? My child, and a a lot of these children were able to eat because of her. Medical bills, education, groceries she just comes, knocks on our doors and hands us the money. I hope you never find her."
"Yeah, I know who you're talking about. Ivy's not her real name, but that's all we ever get. She gives us what we need to be safe, clean needles, condoms, ways to defend ourselves. She bailed Mary over there out of jail a week ago, totally unfair the way she got arrested. I doubt you'll get much more out of anybody else. We know she's not an Avenger like you guys or anything, but knowing she's around, and cares, makes life out here a lil easier."
These were the responses they got from everyone they questioned. Nobody was willing to give them anymore information than they already knew. You were smart enough to transfer the money through various account trails, all leading to different banks in different countries the US wasn't allowed to have access to, so that was a dead end too.
"Who the hell is this chick? She's poisoned multiple people out of cold blood, stolen millions upon millions of dollars from various organizations and people, and just gives it away? What kind of threat are we dealing with here? What makes her charities different than the ones she's stealing from? Why these families, why these street corners?" Tony was in overload, something that started out so simple spiraled way the hell out of control. He knew chasing a criminal was going to be a challenge, it always was. However, you gave them the leads, and still, not an ounce of information was given.
"I'm thinking the same thing, Stark. We're missing something here, it's not adding up right." Steve glanced over to his friend, everyone was consumed in confusion, but Bucky, he had no idea what to think. Why had she given him the information, what did she mean by she liked him, why did she trust him of all people?
Buried in thought, the team returned to the compound exhausted from another day with no new leads. As they entered the building, soft laughter broke the silence of the semi-defeated heroes. Immediately refreshing the team, all thoughts of a good night's sleep escaped into the wind along with Peter's soft laugh. Tony, who had left Peter at the compound to finish homework, took the lead due to his imminent worry for Peter's safety above everything else.
"Kid, you doing alright in there?" He yelled out into the living area where he last saw Peter. He could hear a feminine laugh along with Peter's, did he have the balls to invite a girl over while they were gone? No, not Petey, there was no way, plus they were so far away from his school..
"Yes Mr. Stark! Mr. Banner's niece stopped by while you guys were gone so we've been hanging out waiting for you guys to get back!" He heard papers rustling and a chair scooting. Tony's hair stood up on end, his muscles clenched, and his heart rate accelerated as the adrenaline rushed throughout his body.
Banner doesn't HAVE a niece.
And if he did, he surely would've shared that she was coming to visit. Tony walked out into the living area, trying to remain as calm as possible to gauge what exactly they were up against. Natasha and Clint headed for higher ground, hoping to gain the upper hand in whatever was about to go down. The rest of the team followed Tony, all to be entirely taken aback.
There you were, the woman they'd been trying to find for way too long, sitting in the living room of one of the most state of the art buildings with a whole ass teenager. You were in a leather jacket, a "Save the Fucking Planet" t-shirt, bell-bottom jeans, and converse, casually talking to Peter. Your red hair was unmistakable, and for Bucky, your piercing (Y/E/C) eyes solidified the fact that it was you.
"Let's not make this awkward, shall we? I know Widow and Bird boy number one are a floor above with their sights locked, bird boy number two probably went around back and is coming from that direction to try and capture me. Well, I have no intention of being thrown in jail, so, if you'd like to avoid a very unnecessary conflict I suggest everybody calm the hell down and chill the fuck out." Nobody moved a muscle. They weren't going to negotiate with a criminal, not in their own house. You groaned, tired of fighting everybody you ever came into contact with, and rolled your exhausted eyes. "Are y'all always this prejudice? I came here, and hung out with your kid, who's probably one of the coolest teens I've ever met, just a by the way. If I wanted to harm you, I would have started with the youngling and picked you guys off as you entered the building, not helped the spider-kid with his homework." Still nothing. Good intentions pave the way to hell, and nobody, especially Tony, was going to risk dropping his guard because a terrorist said so. "Okay fine, we can do this the hard way." As you spoke your last word Natasha and Clint were ripped from the top floor, a thick, green vine had wrapped around their ankles and torn them off their feet. Plummeting them down a story, stopping only an inch short of the ground where they now hung upside down. Tony readied the blasters, Rhodey secured his mask, Steve's shield was in his hand in less than a second, and Bucky was hesitant, but ready to fight. Thor glanced around the room, his kingly intuition analyzing the scene in front of him, anxiously weighing his options, would this be worth the risk? You weren't engaged in battle until you were forced, you posed no threat to the most vulnerable, and even Banner wasn't hulked out.
"WAIT!" Thor yelled to his colleagues. "Wait just a damn minute! Are we willing to risk injury and destruction to our dwelling, to fight a woman whom we've just spent hours looking for, and who was with the child of spiders for Odin knows how many hours? Are you unharmed, son of Tony?" He looked at Peter, who was red in the face, scared, and embarrassed that he'd let a bad guy into the actual Avengers compound. Peter shook his head, he was having the worst anxiety attack of his life being in the middle of all this, but he was physically intact.
"Hey, Petey" You moved closer to him, making him flinch, but fear kept him relatively close. "I know this is a lot for you right now, all of us pointing things at each other, but if you want to go over towards Tony and the rest of your family I won't hurt you." You gave a reassuring forearm squeeze and shifted you full attention on Peter. You now had your back to the team completely vulnrable, looking Peter dead in the eyes with a caring, strong, and kind demeanor that confused the other half of the room while reminding Peter of his Aunt May. Natasha was trying her hardest to free herself from the vined-snare, they just kept growing back anytime she made progress.
"No, I think I'll stay where I am if you don't mind."
"Of course not, love. I don't think it's the safest option for you, but you won't have to listen to me yell at you later." You winked at Peter, who was now completely carefree with his position. Thor had a point, all you had to do was drug him or something and he'd have been dead by the time they'd gotten back, but instead you'd helped him with his advanced biochemistry homework. "If you change your mind let me know, there's no need for you to get hurt in all this, okay?" Another reassuring smile, as your gaze shifted Peter could see your demeanor change, you were fierce, and tense and ready for anything. He knew it was wrong, but Peter kind of liked you. He admired the strong, and if you're ballsy enough to face the entire Avengers team by yourself, that was a pretty strong feat to even try.
Tony hated it, but he was going to entertain the idea, if Peter wouldn't come over to him so he could blast this bitch into mulch then he'd have to play it safe for Peter's sake, who was in so much trouble Tony couldn't think about what to do with him.
"Fine. We'll sit, but the second something sounds or looks funny I'm arresting you, release my assassin's." And you did, they dropped with a thunk, and the guns and weapons they had on their possession were confiscated into the new plant life that enveloped the living room. The team reluctantly sat along the three long couches in the room after what felt like an hour of disarming everybody in the room except Thor and Banner. With the couches full and you standing, they all began to worry about an off guard attack, but just as Tony wiggled out his hands, you GREW a fucking throne made entirely out of a tree that spouted in the middle of their hardwood floor.
"So. You've heard, and seen a lot of me over the past weeks. Lots of stolen things, maybe a hundred bodies, and large amounts of money. All of that ring a bell, yes?" The team, still reserved and hypervigilant slowly nodded, never taking their eyes off of you. "Well, first of all I want you guys to relax, you're not in any danger unless you want to be. I, am Ivy, obviously, and you've all met Viktor, who is not here fyi, and I'm an advocate for plant and human rights. The media still thinks I'm a man of great brute strength and blah blah blah. So. I have a preposition for you."
"And why would we listen to anything you have to say, murderer?"
"Ooh, talk about your cold shoulder." The corners of your mouth turned down, revealing a frown, with absolutely no real emotion behind it. "You know," As you spoke, a very large very frightening thing grew next to you. "I always wondered how many people died in that alien attack however many years ago, or that robot escapade across the world, or even that DC disaster not too long ago? Anybody? Death toll counts? Start at what, at least a couple hundred thousand?" You sat and waited, nobody was going to throw stones at you, especially not when they lived in glass houses. Absolute silence filled the room, tension spreading thick through the air like the plague.
The Avengers were collectively pissed, and rightfully so. This Villainess walks into their home, converts THEIR spider-kid, and is now throwing this in their faces? The only thing keeping any of them going was knowing you'd be arrested in about half an hour. Tony couldn't think of enough ways to broadcast your arrest, would he be the one to escort you to that max security prison in the middle of the ocean? He sure hoped so.
"So, everybody here has killed somebody, yes? Except for you Petey, I know you wouldn't hurt a fly." You flashed him what seemed like a genuine smile. Peter knew the death left after the Avengers battles weighed heavily on Mr. Stark, and none of them were on purpose, he wasn't a bad guy at all, he was just doing his job and the bad guys were the ones who hurt all those people.
You didn't want to re-traumatize the avengers, you knew they were just good people attempting to help a vulnerable world. But they were already looking down on you, thinking of you as a lesser, evil being. Maybe a little sadistic, but evil? Certainly not.
"Not on purpose, not through poisoning, not slowly and painfully how you do it."
"Oh Sammy dear, I think internal bleeding after a buildings fallen on you is a pretty slow and painful death, wouldn't you say?" Another smart-ass smile.
"We never killed on purpose. Innocents have died yes, but never on purpose, and always with a large emotional toll on all of us. You kill on purpose, you take people out one by one. The media may not be on to you, but we know the call signs." So noble, thinking death in any way is better than another.
"Aw Stevie, I'm sure your thoughts and prayers really mean a lot to the families whose loved ones were taken away and never mentioned because the rest of this city was too busy sucking your dicks to care." You shook your head in disbelief, they really didn't know? These "great guys" that wound up dead, they thought THEY were innocent. Good lord, for a unit ran by an intelligence agency, they were fucking idiots. "Do you guys even know the targets I took out? What their skeletons in the closet were? What they did in their spare time? I could name chilling details about every single man and woman I've killed, and trust me I remember all of them." You waited again, you knew you didn't have to explain yourself, but you needed them to trust you if you were to get what you wanted.
"Chad Emerson. Great guy, faithfully married, donated millions to orphanages around the globe, adopted and raised children who weren't adopted before the age of 16. You poisoned him in his penthouse suite, leaving a single black rose behind. What could have been so wrong with that guy?"
"Chad Emerson? That's who you picked for your first option, as if the red flags weren't big enough with him. Try twenty-four charges for sexual assault of a minor that were all dropped due to the fact that he had money, and 'provided them with a better life'. Try embezzling money from his wifes non-profit, and using that to participate in sex trafficking of, you guessed it, MINORS. Any more questions?" Keep 'em coming, You going to rip the roof of off the rich guy ring of corruption.
"Brandon Wilfred. Again, faithfully married, raised two brilliant children, lives quietly with his wife in the middle of nowhere, and occasionally donates to wildlife and ocean preservation organizations. You strangled this one with a plastic garrote in his living room, again leaving behind a single black rose." Ugh, again with the faithfulness, is monogamy held that high in society that not cheating on your partner made you a saint? It's boring how low the standards are.
"Wilfred, he was a fun one actually. Yes because he not only cheated on his wife any second he got a chance, but also beat the living hell out of her if she said anything about it. I'm not even talking about confronting him, just asking him to wash the sheets afterwards, or at least telling her to leave before fucking his twenty-three year old mistress on the kitchen table. She's had more ER visits within the past year than some of you have had all your life. Oh and the donations? Just a cover to hide the fact that his factories and businesses have been ruining my planet's seas and poisoning her skies with toxic waste and mass amounts of CO2 production. Conservation? All that man knew how to do was exploit and ruin."
This went on for some time, each person they named worse than the last, all violent, corrupt, and some down right evil, not a single one of them were anything like what they presented. The harsh justice you gave them made the Avengers very uncomfortable. You were killing them, ending their lives for good, and didn't care because what they had done had evened out your sin of murder. It was a wicked way to think, terrifying at the least for anybody around you.
"Okay, we get it, every rich man or woman with the white picket fence is a corrupt asshole who abuses their partners and children and animals and steals and lies and cheats and steals. Why are you here, and why should it matter to us?" Tony was not falling for this bullshit. He understood that they deserved punishment, but actually killing in cold blood was wrong.
"Because I want to make a deal. You bring me onto the team, provide legal support for the women, children, and families affected by this cities corruption, and I'll stop killing, and become a full forced good guy." You knew this would be a tough sell, however, you had a slight feeling that things might go her way.
"That's it? You'll stop killing, and we're supposed to just welcome you to the team? You lie, and cheat, and steal-"
"And give the money back to the people! The people you seem to deem unimportant and forgettable!" You were on your feet now. "You say you care about this city but I never see any one of you volunteering in low income neighborhoods. I don't see you providing care for the homeless and the prostitutes. Thousands of people are starving and freezing to death on these very streets. You say you protect this city, but suddenly that protection stops once you hit a certain tax bracket."
**6 Months later**
After a very heated argument, long talks, a contract, extensive fingerprinting, DNA samples, and blood draws, you were allowed to be trained. Your only drawback was that you refused to give them your real name. You'd deleted your true identity years ago, they couldn't trace your DNA to anything or anyone even if they tried. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) did not exist anymore, you'd buried her a long time ago, and refused to share that intangible information with the team, only giving them Ivy, or Poison. You weren't trained as a member of the team, but at the very bottom of the totem pole. You were taught how to punch, how to kick, and how to defend yourself from a thirteen year old with no previous fighting experience. It was awful, but you knew deep down you needed another way to provide for your loved ones. You weren't trained with the other entry level recruits, which was nice; however, one on ones with various members of the team wasn't all that great either. They would either keep it at a beginner level, or use their time to try and kill you. Natasha was your favorite person to train with solely because she never went easy on you. Sure, waking up with two swollen eyes, a busted lip and a fucked up shoulder wasn't your favorite way to start your mornings, but after a while it turned into one black eye, then none, then just shoulder pain, and eventually just busted up knuckles.
The team hated you, or at least they wanted to. After spending time with you for six months they couldn't deny you weren't too terrible of a person. You spent a lot of time by yourself, but the conversations you did have with them were either insanely intelligent or outrageously hilarious. They would get all wrapped up in the conversation and forget they were talking with a confessed serial murderer. You had multiple PhD's, making you one of the most educated members on the team, spoke twelve different languages(Including Russian which really shocked the hell out of Bucky and Natasha one morning), and were tech-savy. You were helpful with chores, cooking(which always made everybody very nervous, you WERE poisonous), rarely complained, and spent your free time in the med bay helping injured recruits.
You, however did complain a lot, to yourself at least. You were not used to rules and regulations, strict training schedules, and intense security. You were forced to sign a log telling FRIDAY when and where you were going, how long you estimated you'd be there, and tracker installed into your phone (which you were very capable of disabling, but that wouldn't be a very good way to build trust, would it?). You were still allowed to help your people out, Tony was more than willing to help provide for the less fortunate, especially if it meant people stopped dying on both sides, and even started mapping out a Stark refuge for the struggling and homeless. He said it would include a food pantry, basic necessities, shelter, and healthcare.
It was a Friday night when the team finally started to warm up to you. Game night to be exact. The team had mandatory bonding time every great once in a while to ground themselves from the busy day to day of tracking hostile threats. You had just gotten back from a twelve hour shift at the hospital (Twelve PhD's were paid for by a Nursing career((and stolen money from now-dead men but shh))) and were walking past the living room to the kitchen when a drunk Natasha invited you to come relax with them for the night. You froze, not knowing whether this was a trick or a joke.
"I'm being serious P, we're being normal people for once and I think there's more to you than we know and we have WINE!" Okay, you can either run away screaming and potentially murder your chances at these people actually accepting you, or you can take a deep breath, make your way over to the group of people that have kicked your ass for the past six months and deal with whatever repercussions come later. The second one was less humiliating... and it did give you a chance to build rapport.
**2 hours later**
They had drank their way through seven bottles of wine, a large flask of Asgardian mead, two bottles of whiskey, and a very miniscule amount of water. The team was crying laughing and playing truth or dare, each answer seemingly getting more and more detailed.
"Truth." Natasha said, slurring the entire word.
"Uhhh, if you had to sleep with anybody here, who would it be and why?" Tony always went for the sexual ones. Shocking
"OH OH OH!!! I, It would have to be, hm, UH, fuck, uhhhh. Wanda." Cue intense laughter from all the females. "The rest of you are unnaturally greasy and she's the only one I'd be okay with seeing me naked." The men were appalled, however you, Nat, and Wanda were laying face down on the ground shaking with laughter.
"Okayokayokay, Ivy, you know the question, pick!" Though Wanda was sitting on the ground, she swayed with every word and ended up leaning on you as she yelled.
"Truuuuth. Y'all ain't gettin me to do nothin." Giggling filled the room again, You couldn't tell if it was just the girls that were drunk or if everybody else was as trashed and you were. It didn't really matter though, you were actually having fun with these people and you'd do anything to keep it going.
"What actually ARE your powers? Are you just a really good gardener or what?" Oh shit, she wanted to get personal.
"I, can do lots of things, growing scary plants, I can make this thing that makes everybody become like super duper high, uh, I'm immune to all poison, duh, I can charm snakes, I can do a lot of things, mostly plant ssstuff though." You were trashed, swaying, slurring, giggling, the whole nine, and nothing, absolutely nothing could get you to stop staring at Bucky. He was so stunning, even as he sat there and pretended he didn't notice you glancing at him the entire night. He was so off, so unique, an emotionally vulnerable man who truthfully wanted nothing more than to be happy again. You could just eat him up, honesty in men was, in your experience, very hard to come by. (Unless you have them dangled over a balcony but shh)
Bucky watched on as the group became more and more drunk, his eyes never leaving the cold blooded woman beside Natasha. He barely spoke to you the entire time you were around the team. How do you say "Hey you tried to kill me and knocked me out every time we met but I can't stop thinking about you for some reason and I'd like to know why." without sounding like a freak? You were smart and funny and kind of a bitch but in a good way? You had to be messing with him, or up to something entirely. You were slipping your drug into his coffee or blowing it into his air vents, he couldn't be this invested in somebody with a wrap sheet like yours. but here he was. Something about you made him crazy, he hated it, and it wasn't exactly something he could share with his teammates.
"She's actually pretty hot huh tin man?" Sam fucking wilson nudged Bucky as the inner circle kept going with truth or dare.
"She killed people, for sport, Sam." Bucky shot him a death stare, yes, watching you interact was enough to get Bucky to think about an unwholesome thing or two.. He was NOT sharing that with Falcon of all people.
"Yeah but that adds to it, the dark, secret, mysterious 'I could stab you and make you say thank you' vibe's kinda hot." Bucky rolled his eyes, feeling his facial expressions reacting to Sam's shallow statement before his mouth even had time to speak. "That's fine if you don't think so, Cap obviously does." Whiplash. Bucky had turned towards his best friend so fast he was sure his brain slammed into the bones of his skull. Bucky had hoped Sam was teasing to get a reaction out of him, but Steve really was close to you.
"So you can just touch somebody and poison them?" Steve slowly moved closer to you as you answered him. He wanted to know how, somebody as innocent looking as you could kill a person simply by placing your soft hand on their shoulder. You seemed sweet enough, but that's probably why you were so good at your job. OLD job, Steve corrected himself.
"Well kindaaaaa, it's whatever I feel like at the moment." Your body shook slightly as you giggled, causing you to just barely lean into Steve as you spoke. "Like when I met you and Bucky for the first time, instead of poisoning you I just made you really really angry and full of lust." Steve lowered his voice and drunkenly whispered into your ear.
"Are you doing that to me now?" Steve had searched his brain for months trying to find a reason why he found you attractive, not just physically, but as a person you were intense. You never took no for an answer, rarely compromised, were tough as nails, and never backed down from a fight. Your intelligence took the whole team by surprise, you were almost always right and rarely bragged about it. Steve loved all those things, but Natasha was the same way and he didn't feel like this around her. He chalked it up to the alcohol and decided to let the conversation go wherever it was supposed to.
"Are you angry right now? Cause that might be because you suck at this game." Smirking, you winked at the drunk Captain. People were so predictable when they drank. You couldn't deny how handsome he was though. His muscles, the golden boy reputation, his undying loyalty to the people, it was all very enticing... You tilted the amber whiskey bottle back, a little to forcefully and fell backwards pulling Natasha with You.
"Dammit Ivy!" You yelled at yourself, they were all sitting down so it's not like you were in any pain, just embarrassed at how clumsy you never failed to be. Natasha looked over to you, she really was enjoying hanging out with you, and you really liked being liked. The girls were both laughing as you handed Natasha the whiskey bottle. "Apparently I've had too much."
Bucky loved watching you, but watching Steve flirt with you heated his blood to a not so safe level. His super-soldier hearing didn't help much either, the circle might not have heard Steve's flirty whisper, but Bucky sure had.
"I think it's time for me to go to bed, one of you are going to wake me up at the ass-crack of dawn to fuck me up." You tried to stand, but your legs were numb from sitting so long, and the alcohol hadn't helped either. The girls all laughed daintily as you tried to stand straight, you were wobbly, and your steps, when you finally did get up, were crooked and stumbled. You thought you had finally gotten the hang of it when you tripped over your feet, bracing for impact you tensed up, only to be caught by the one and only Bruce Banner. Steve wasn't far behind, and Bucky had shot straight up out of his chair when he saw her trip, much to Sam's amusement, but Banner had gotten there first.
"Thanks, Bruce. I don't understand how my own two feet can plot against me like this." You smiled weakly, embarrassed again by your own clumsiness.
"Self-sabotage, the worst kind. Let me walk you up, if FRIDAY wakes Tony that you're passed out on the floor he might have flashbacks." Looking at Bruce's soft features made it so obvious as to why Banner was your favorite. He was the only person that never treated you too much like a villain. He was always asking you questions about your research, if you'd read a new article that had come out about microbiology, your day. He was like the cool brother you'd never had, and that made you open up as much as you could with Bruce. You took his arm and followed him to the elevator and all the way to your room.
"I appreciate you Bruce, I knows it's a lot of gross emotion but, you're family to me now. Jus figured you sould know." Drunk, blurry vision, barely able to stand, and now you were professing emotion? You needed to stay far away from the liquor with these people for sure. YOu were sure it would have weirded the always quiet Bruce out, but he cracked a faint smile, kissed you on the forehead and spoke.
"Welcome to the team, Ivy."
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// How’s it doing so far?? I’m really liking how it’s all going so far! P.S. if you guys want to throw random vocab words at me I’ll try and find a way to incorporate them and tag you! Thanks for reading! May Odin bless you! //
#marvel#bucky#buckybarnes#james buchanan barnes#captain america#Steve Rogers#buckyxyou#bucky x reader#bucky x you#captain america x you#steve x you#avengers#poison#redhead#bucky fanfic#fanfiction#winter soldier#stevie#james barnes#winter soldier x you
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