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c-is-for-circinate · 3 years

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As promised: let's talk Hades, and how acts of abuse can create toxic environments for everyone around them, and also how people react to those environments--and to them being disrupted.

(For reference, I have just kicked Theseus's ass for the first time, it was exactly as satisfying as it was intended to be, and then I got predictably slaughtered a couple of chambers into Styx. Spoilers for everything through that point, but please no spoilers in reblogs/comments for anything after that!) Also, TW for a whole lot of discussion of abuse, particularly verbal and emotional abuse, and abusive familyworkplace dynamics.

Okay, so. To start out with, Hades is an abusive parent. He engages in innumerable acts of verbal and emotional abuse towards his son, because yep, that's what you call it when a parent constantly berates and belittles their kid for every perceived failure, including the ones the parent themselves could have prevented. Sometimes especially the ones the parent could have prevented. Zagreus failed at his office clerk job because Hades refused to teach him how to do it and then blamed him for not already knowing how. Cerberus tore up the lounge because Hades, who was actually there, chose not to stop him. Hades created, possibly deliberately, and then took full advantage of every opportunity he saw to insult and demean his kid, and the clerk job flashback shows us that he was doing so even before the escape attempts started. I'm pretty sure we're all on the same page here, but: yep, that all constitutes abuse, even if they're gods. Even if Hades has reasons for Being Like That. Even if you think Zagreus seems okay and unharmed by it (which: repeatedly throwing yourself into a gauntlet of violence that inevitably ends in your own pain and death because you're so desperate to escape home, not actually an indicator of someone who's okay). We all good on that?

Cool. Because I'm not really here to talk about how Hades' abuse directly impacts Zagreus right now (although there's for sure an essay in that too). I'm thinking about how it impacts everybody else.

Hades isn't as obviously unreasonable with anybody else in his kingdom the way he is with his kid. When we see him lecture somebody else, it's usually for an actual failure to do their job: Hypnos for literally falling asleep on the job and not doing anything that was assigned to him, Megaera for letting us past her so many time, Orpheus for being a court bard who refuses to sing. His attitude is super confrontational and unpleasant, but on the surface it doesn't necessarily look as fucked-up. Thing is, though, whether any individual act of aggression towards an employee/family member is justified or not (I would generally argue 'not', because aggression towards employees/family members is, y'know, not justifiable)--it's not about the individual acts. It's about the entire cultivated atmosphere of toxicity and abuse.

One of the very first things Meg ever says to us is, "I'd rather be on your bad side than his." Up until that point, we've got no reason to believe Meg has any history whatsoever of fucking up at her job. In fact, we've got plenty of reason to believe she's good at it. She's fiercely proud of it, she's frequently Employee Of The [Time Period], and we've apparently never even met her sisters because she handles her shit herself. But she's still scared of Hades. Dusa, who is an anxious wreck at all times because oh god what if she gets fired what if she gets fired what if she gets fired, in spite of apparently being absolutely exemplary at her job, is scared of Hades. Every single shade in the Hall is clearly terrified of Hades, and it's not because of what he's done to each of them. It's what they've seen him do to other people.

Which is how toxic environments work, whether they're work environments or families. The Court of Hades is of course both, always, with the bonus hell layer of you can't quit even if you DIE. An abuser in authority doesn't have to target you in order to make you feel scared, cowed, and desperate to please them. Humans (and gods who are basically extra-powerful humans) are good at learning by example. The residents of the Court get the picture.

So this Court is a minefield--and everyone except Zagreus is very good at tiptoeing around mines. We see it in Meg, so desperate to do her job well. We see that Hypnos very clearly does not give a shit about anything, but he still makes sure to have a list of excuses ready if/when Hades ever confronts him about failure to do his job, just in case. We see it when Achilles tells us that my ability to help you is constrained by the authority your father gives me, or whatever the line was sixty runs ago when he couldn't let me into locked chambers. The system, such as it is, works, and if Nyx talks to Hades as little as possible, if Thanatos avoids the Court entirely, if Achilles treads very carefully and knows how to keep his head down--well that's just the system, right? That's just how things are.

Even Zagreus seems to have had a role in that system as the court fuckup. He's the kid who didn't have a real job or purpose. He could take the focus of Hades' generalized, day-to-day ire off of everyone else, without triggering some of the more direct and violent ire because the work he was doing didn't really matter (a LOT of Hades' rage-triggers seem to be related to job performance, which means that the people with real jobs are of course the most at risk). And he could do so "safely" (big emphasis on the quotation marks there) because he alone of the court is Hades' actual kid, who's Prince of the Underworld no matter how much he fucks up. If one of Nyx's other kids gets something really really wrong, she might be able to protect them from some consequences, but Hades doesn't have any layer of supposed parental affection holding him back from getting violently furious about it. Zagreus gets a nice bedroom and the abuse is limited to words rather than divine power, and Hades is a dick to everyone but he only occasionally condemns people to eternities of torture, and only for good reasons like refusing to sing when your job is to be court bard, so it's fine, everybody's fine, everything's totally fine, right?

Except it's not fine when everybody is so clearly worried about anything going wrong. And it's especially not fine for Zagreus, who's the person to finally say no. He's leaving, for his own sake, because he deserves better and he's finally convinced he can have it. And that turns the whole system into disarray.

I am endlessly fascinated by the ways this game portrays different characters reacting to this upheaval in their carefully-mapped minefield. It's different for authority figures and peers and servants, different based on how people are positioned in the house under Hades' rule, and it's so spot-on and I love it.

Nyx, for instance, is absolutely calm about the whole thing, because Nyx has power. Hades can't hurt her. Hades can't even really do much against her children, not when Hypnos and Thanatos are gods in their own right. Yes, Hades rules the kingdom, but Nyx owns the land, and she gives no shits about his rages. And it's interesting, too, to see the lines she doesn't draw. The deal seems to be that Hades doesn't fuck with her, and doesn't outright threaten her kids (because Hypnos is bad at his job, demonstrably so, and Hades hasn't ruined him yet), and she doesn't interfere with the way he treats the people around him. She gives Zagreus advice and support and the mirror, but she also doesn't take a direct stand against Hades. He can't hurt her, but he could make life...difficult. She's protected, her position in the minefield is more of a safe viewing platform than slogging through the middle of it, but the mines are still there.

And then we have Achilles, who is one of my favorite characters in the whole game because of how he reacts to this whole situation. Achilles, like Nyx, is so supportive. Every single time you see him he has something encouraging to say. He gives us his Codex, secretly finds us weapons, trained us for years, clearly wants us to succeed. And still he's limited, not necessarily out of fear for himself (though he has to be scared for himself, he knows what Hades does to people who anger him), but out of concern that if he gives Zagreus too much help in one way, he won't be able to provide help at all later. He's still so careful.

Achilles and Nyx are so fucking important to this story because they're the only authority figures Zagreus really has in his life except for his father, and they are so supportive. They're what keep this story from being a nightmare of psychological horror and depression. They can't stop the pressure from Hades and this life in his house being miserable for Zag, but they can give us hope, remind us that Zagreus is still loved. And they have such an incredibly important role when it comes to guilt, which is one of the biggest ways toxic systems maintain themselves.

If Zagreus leaves, what happens to everybody else? Who takes Hades' wrath then? Who becomes court scapegoat if he's not there, and also, who gets punished for his escape? These questions matter, and we see him worry about it! He asks Nyx and Achilles both, is it going to be okay that you're helping me, are you going to be alright, will my father hurt you for this? And they are both so firm about telling him no. No, I will be fine. See, here's the list of reasons about why I'm going to be fine, why my position in this minefield is secure. They make a point of telling us that it's fine, that we do not need to hold ourself back from getting out of this abusive situation for their sake. That is instrumental in Zagreus's ability to keep making these escape attempts without feeling too guilty and worried and selfish to go on. (Another thing that's actually really important in setting up that dynamic--we see that Hades cares about Cerberus, even if he's using him as a pawn against us, and Cerberus seems to be the one figure in court who Hades doesn't get mad at. The dog isn't at risk, and that is really essential in keeping the story from getting too grim.) These people who we care about refuse to let themselves be held hostage to secure our good behavior.

It's also really useful for raising the stakes later in the story--we see Hades arguing with Nyx once or twice, and we see Zagreus feeling guilty about it, but it's also a sign that we're making enough progress to piss him off. After I finally made it out of Elysium on my last run, I came home to find him furious with Achilles in a way that actually makes me nervous, because Achilles does not have nearly as much security in his position as he says he does. (Achilles is such a good teacher/authority figure, because he knows goddamn well what Hades could do to him, and still refuses to let fear for his own situation stop him from helping the abused kid under his care escape his. And no, not everybody has the capacity to do that, but it matters so much coming from the guy who helped raise us. It matters so much. I do not even have the words for how much.)

It's also no mistake that many of the people we find supporting us along our journey are either the people with the most power in their immediate environment, or the least. Sisyphus helps us because what more could they do to me than this? Orpheus is a little wild around the eyes and somewhat disconnected from reality, and he wishes us the best because someone should get what they want and also he no longer gives a single fuck what happens to him. Eurydice has her own cozy little corner of Asphodel, as safe from Hades' rage as anybody anywhere in his realm because she's tucked in such an out-of-the-way middle place she's outside his notice. Dusa is so scared of everything anyway that, crush aside, she isn't any more threatened by us escaping than she is just by her everyday life here. Charon is unfathomable and unstoppable; Skelly literally exists to be a punching bag, and yet he also seems basically immune to pain, no matter what we do to him. There's no threat from Hades there.

So the people most at risk when I flip the world on its ear are the ones who have so much standing that they have something to lose, but not enough to protect them from losing it. Which of course brings us to Than and Meg--who are, of course, the two people who also seem by far the most upset by my attempts to leave.

As authority figures, Nyx and Achilles are constantly reinforcing the message that it's Hades' fault, not ours, if they or anybody else get caught in the crossfire of his wrath. I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing, and it's not my guilt to bear. From Megaera and Thanatos, we get the opposite message--I am fucking with things, I am hurting people, and I need to stop. Zagreus isn't just abandoning them, as a friend or brother or lover or all of the above they're Greek gods who even knows. He's betraying them. They were in this together, as friends or lovers or whatever, but now Zagreus is sending earthquakes through the minefield they both still have to stand in. He is about to capsize this boat in the middle of a thunderstorm, he is fucking with the system, and they're the ones who are going to get most hurt.

I'm so curious how this is going to work for Than, who out of everyone we meet holds the closest role to Nyx's in terms of being sheltered from Hades' wrath. He's the guy who gets to leave, after all, even though he always has to come back. I've seen the least of him out of anybody so far because it took forever for me to get to Elysium, but two things really stand out and I'm so interested to see where they go. One, he really genuinely does care about Zagreus. He wants us safe, he wants us unhurt, the accessory he gives us only grants its bonus if we clear a room without taking injury, he keeps showing up to help. And two, he wants us to give up and go back and recognize how good we had it. Which is SO fucking interesting, considering how miserable Zagreus so clearly was, and how legitimate his reasons for being miserable were.

It makes me wonder so much about Than's standards for comparison. Does he know something we don't about what's waiting for us on the surface, something that might theoretically hurt Zagreus even more than staying down below? Has his life, which apparently allows him more freedom than anybody else in the Court, sucked horribly in ways we haven't seen, and that's why he spends so little time there in the first place? Either of those things is plausible, both of those things are plausible, and yet either one leads to this sense of patronizing, because he refuses to simply tell us. If something terrible is awaiting us, don't give us vague warnings, tell us what it is and let us decide for ourself! If you're fucking jealous because we might get out entirely and you're still stuck coming back here, say so. If you're worried about your mom--and he does bring her up, how could Zagreus turn his back on her like that, does seem to worry for her--then let's have an actual conversation about how many times she has insisted I do this and also how much I love her.

And, right, it's clear that a lot of Thanatos being upset is simply, you were going to leave me without even saying goodbye, you want to leave ME, which is understandable! But, like, he is demonstrably the one god who gets to visit the surface. He's the one person we actually COULD expect to see again. And he is absolutely also upset because there's an Order To Things, and we're fucking it up. We used to be his careless callow reckless friend who could talk back to Hades and get away with it, and now we're not, and everything is changing and we might leave him altogether, and we might leave him alone in that court without us, and he hates it.

Is it a short-sighted, selfish fear on his part? Yes, absolutely. Even if he's not scared of Hades on his own behalf, he is still frightened by what happens if we upset this system--and maybe it's the sanctity of a much bigger system than the Underworld that he's worried about! Maybe it's the whole divine and cosmic order. Whatever system he wants so badly to protect is enabling the abuse Zagreus has been dealing with for however-long he's been alive. Whatever system he wants so badly to protect OUGHT to be overturned, or at least shaken up. But this is what toxic systems DO. They convince the people within them that they have to be maintained, that a broken system that hurts the people within it is far better than no system at all, that changing the world is too scary and too dangerous. And Thanatos wants his whatever-Zagreus-is-to-him to be there, because he loves him and also because that's how the world works, and those things are all tangled up in one another, and that is how relationships are in a messed-up family like this so therefore I love it.

And Meg. Meg, the best for last, my dear, beautiful, furious, bitter, scared angry tired girl. I adore her. I am absolutely never going to date her, because the thing Zagreus needs most in his life hurts her, more directly than anybody else in the story, and that sucks, and it's not Zag's fault but they still shouldn't be together. Meg has taken more injury from this situation than anyone, quite literally as well as metaphorically, and it's not her fault any more than it's ours, but oh boy it has made her lash out and it's awful and it's perfect.

Meg's place in the Court of Hades is unique because she's not dead, not a mortal, not anything other than a god--but she's also not family. Nyx is not her mother. She's very much part of this system, she and her two sisters belong to Hades-the-realm and therefore also Hades-the-king, she can't leave, but she also doesn't have that protection of Nyx watching out for her in the same way. She's not royalty. She and her sisters (if you ask Hesiod instead of Virgil, which seems to be the interpretation the game's going with here) sprang from the blood of maimed Uranus at the same time as Aphrodite, but fuck knows Aphrodite isn't claiming them as siblings. And she can't be fired, exactly, but she sure can be demoted, and she sure can be made miserable in her job. Meg is vulnerable in a way very few people in Hades' employ are. She's a lot harder to do away with than any one random shade, but she's also a lot harder to miss blending in with a crowd.

What's more, she's the one person in this whole mess who is specifically tasked with stopping us from leaving. Hypnos isn't ordered to put us to sleep and keep us in our room. Thanatos can't be compelled or punished if he doesn't hunt us down. Achilles isn't told to lock us up and keep the keys. Meg is the one stationed at the doorway to Tartarus to keep us in. Meg is the one who gets in trouble when we leave. Meg (who Hades knows goddamn well Zagreus cares for, or cared for, who he absolutely knows we used to date) is the one who has to fight us again and again and again. And she's the one who keeps dying.

Again, it's this incredibly fucked-up guilt/hostage situation deliberately designed to keep people from fleeing abusive situations. Meg's insistence on fighting us now puts Zagreus in the position of having to hurt her himself again and again. Now suddenly we're the ones sticking a sword in our ex-girlfriend. Now suddenly someone can point to our desire to leave, to flee, to escape, and say, how selfish. How cruel. How terrible of us to want to go, when we're even willing to hurt the people we love to do it.

Except, right: Hades is the one who demands Meg stand there and stop us. Hades is the one who puts both of us in that position. Meg is also in an abusive situation, and she's willing to hurt us to protect herself. "I'd rather be on your bad side than your father's." It's easy to blame her at the start for being complicit, for being a tool of our father's abuse, for being on his side. It gets harder as the game goes on. I've killed her so many times. There's no way for her to beat me. She knows at this point that she can't beat me. She still fights, every single time, still throws herself upon that spike, not because she thinks she has any chance of stopping me but because she is so damn scared of what will happen if she doesn't try.

In fact, Meg's the one person we have actually seen face consequences for our actions so far, instead of just facing the threat of them. Her sisters are here. Her sisters, who she clearly does not want here, who are wild and violent and who she does not want in her life or anywhere near her, let alone near the job she takes so much pride in. She gets to deal with them now. (Hades doesn't have to deal with them. They're still not allowed in his court. But Meg does.) She gets stabbed, and bludgeoned, and shot, and lightning-struck, and poisoned, and every other thing we do to her. Thanatos doesn't. Nyx and Achilles and Hypnos don't. Bug Meg? Oh yes. Meg pays.

And yes, ok, she is complicit in this system. Everybody is complicit in this system. Zagreus who's trying to escape on his own behalf instead of overthrowing his father for the sake of everyone he'd otherwise be leaving behind is complicit in this system. Pointing fingers and pulling strings of who's more at fault? and who do we blame for this? is exactly how this sort of system perpetuates itself. Your sister always talked back at the dinner table and put everyone in an even worse and more violent mood. Your coworker refuses to work more than forty hours a week so now you have to take overtime to pick up their slack. You're enabling your dad by asking your sister to shut up, you're enabling your employer by working as hard as you do so you don't get fired, everyone's at fault, everyone's to blame, everyone is--

It's not everyone. It's Hades. It's Hades at the root of everything, and probably something big and institutional and fucked-up even beyond him. But even if everyone down in this Underworld does have to be trapped here forever, even if he's trapped here forever, Hades is neither challenging the system that put them here nor trying to make that fate better for anyone else stuck with him. He's just created an entire kingdom of backbiting and misery and people who can either go along with his whims or suffer the consequences.

At this point in the game, Meg is so fucking tired. Every time we run into her in the lounge, hunched over a table, the venom in her voice when she tells us "Do I look like I have anything to say to you?" is so bitter and so exhausted. There was a system, and she knew her place in the system, and it was a system divinely ordered by the gods themselves, and sure it was cruel but that's the literal will of the universe as far as she knows it. She had a role, and her role was vengeance and punishment and violence against those who'd committed the most egregious of sins in life, and there was a point to it, she was the divine deterrent to convince people not to do those things, and that was just, and that was right. The GODS THEMSELVES said so. How do you argue with that? You can't possibly argue with that!

And Zagreus is arguing with that. In trying to leave, he's questioning the unbreakable rule that nothing in the Underworld ever gets to leave it. In disobeying his father to do so, he's questioning the unbreakable rule that what the gods say is LAW. He's breaking everything.

And of course he's not trying to do any of that. He's not trying to destabilize the system at all. He's just trying to get himself out of it, to a place where he feels like he belongs and maybe a parent who's slightly nicer to him than this one. But toxic systems like this one break when the people within them have access to another option. When the kids find a way to actually leave, and not answer the phone, and not come home for holidays, and not deal with it any more. When the employees have the economic freedom to quit. When opportunities granted by education, money, social support, etc etc etc, show up and give people a choice. Even if the option is only ever for Zagreus--he's demonstrating that an option exists. Which is, of course, the one thing the system cannot ever allow.

I really like this game.

#hades game #hades spoilers #C plays stuff #driveby meta attack

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topazy · 3 years

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Inside, outisde

Pairing: 10k x reader, Addy Carver sister!reader

Warnings: Blood, swearing

Chapter: 1.02

Slowly, you open your eyes, feeling the sweat sticking to your clothes as your eyes adjust to daylight. Groaning, you looked up to see 10k standing next to you. He was keeping watch with his hand wrapped securely around his gun.

Leaning forward, you noticed the cars had stopped moving. "What’s going on?"

"Ohh she finally wakes," Addy teases. "Warren has run out of gas."

As you jumped out the back of the truck, Mack motioned for you to get back. "Heads up," he pointed to the left. "We got company."

The group waited in silence as two men on motorbikes approached.

"That's right," Warren said quietly as she stared at them as they rode past. "Keep rolling and we all live to see another day."

The men started revving their engines before speeding off. Your eyes stayed glued to Casandra, who was trying to stay completely out of sight of them. You weren’t sure why, but something about that was off.

"We ran over some fun stuff," Doc chuckled, before Warren stabbed the z that was trapped underneath the wheel of her.

Warren turned and looked back at the town your group was leaving. "Even after all this, it's still beautiful. Take a good look. Might not be back for a while."

Addy let out a deep sigh, "so long New York. See ya in the next life."

—

Addy continued to take pictures and videos of the dead to document what was happening, while Warren and Garnet tried to figure out the group's next move.

You began scavenging for anything that could be useful in old cars. It was sad seeing all the belongings left behind, knowing all the owners were dead. You just hoped that somebody had granted them mercy. You felt slightly distracted from the task at hand when you overheard the conversation next to you.

"So what's your name, kid?"

"Ten Thousand."

"That is not a name," Doc laughed before pointing towards you. "It's a number. It’s almost as mad as her name."

"It's my name. I made it up myself."

Doc nodded, "Well I suppose you'd have to. Does it mean anything?"

10k just shrugged, "That's how many zombies I'm going to kill."

"How many have you killed?" You asked while looking through a kid's backpack.

"Already on 1,055."

Wow. That was impressive.

"So what happens when you get to 10,000?"

"Change my name."

For the short time that you’ve known him, 10k didn’t tend to speak much. His answers were usually short, and you got the impression he didn’t want to get too close to anyone.

"To what? Twenty thousand?" The older man laughed.

"Jeff."

Doc pulled a funny facial expression at you. Why Jeff? You wanted to know what his real name was, but decided against asking him at that moment. You were sure he wouldn’t appreciate any more questions.

You smiled at 10k, "I like that name."

Warren stepped down from the car roof she was standing on. She looked worried. "Where did everybody go? I haven't seen a survivor except for those two bikers."

"Black Summer," You eyed Cassandra carefully as she spoke, "Everybody starved to death."

"But you survived." You and Addy shared a look, "how did you survive?"

"Did what I had to do," Cassandra answered bluntly.

Frowning, you handed the bag with bottles of water you found to Mack before heading in the other direction to look some more. After a few moments, you heard a commotion, followed by a voice you didn’t recognize. You readied your bow and arrow as you walked back towards your group. One of the scruffy looking bikers from before was standing between Garnet and Warren. "I see you're scrounging for gas. You know, like we used to say, ass, gas or grass."

Murphy looked the man up and down, "Nobody rides for free."

The stranger looked smug, "I know where you could fill up."

"Now would be the time to share that information," Warren said, stepping closer to him.

"Place called Jersey Devil Refinery, maybe five miles off, just off the turnpike."

"How do you know there's gas there?" You asked, unsure whether to believe him or not.

"Got overrun day number one," he answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "All the tanks are still full, just rusting away."

"All right, take us to this refinery," Warren replied. "And if there's gas there like you say, you can ride with us to the next outpost."

The man grinned, "you won't be sorry."

Garnett looked unsure but went along with it anyway. "Let's get out of here. I'll be riding with Warren and a new guy. Everybody else load up in the truck."

Murphy groaned. "So are we just gonna pick up every sketchy loser at every place we stop?"

You scoffed, "well we brought you along, didn't we?"

Once you got into the back of the trunk, 10k leaned in to you and whispered. "You don’t trust him, do you?"

"There’s a lot of people here I don’t trust."

—

When you reached your destination, Murphy scrunched up his face as Addy parked the car.. "What’s that smell?"

"The undead and gasoline."

The group discussed the best way to draw the Z’s attention away from the pump that was drawing them in. Eventually, Cassandra pulled out a necklace that had a music box built inside it.

"That's great," Warren nodded. "You're our decoy."

"I'll go with her," the sketchy guy said.

"I’ll come too," you volunteered. Your gut instinct was telling you to not trust the two of them together.

Cassandra glared at you. "I don't need his help, or hers."

"No, you need cover. Take them." Warren paused and looked around before letting out a deep sigh. "Where'd that kid go?"

"He was here a minute ago," Doc said with a shrug.

You added, "His name is Ten Thousand."

"Well, he'd better be back by the time we're ready to go," the older woman frowned. "Change of plan. Astra, I need you to stay here with Doc, and Murphy." You opened your mouth to protest, but Warren cut you off. "No arguments."

—

"Wonder how it's going?" Doc asked. "I haven't heard anything blow up."

"Yet."

You kicked Murphy lightly in the thigh for his insensitive answer. "Don’t be such a negative jackass."

After watching Murphy and Doc play cards for a while, you turn to face the ‘saviour’ of the world. "How'd you get to be the savior of the human race?"

He let out a grunt, "you really wanna know?"

"Yeah."

"Truth is for a guy who's been wrongly convicted, I'm actually very civic-minded. I volunteered."

"So the doctors gave you the vaccine, and then they let the zombies bite you?" He nodded. You didn’t like him, but nobody deserves to have that happen to him. "How many times?"

"Eight."

You sighed, "I’m sorry that happened to you. It must have been awful."

He shrugged, "I blacked out."

"Shut up, you two," Doc said quietly. "We have some nosey neighbors."

As soon as you noticed the group of zombies that were starting to walk past the truck, you shuffled down in your seat, but Murphy started frantically yelling. "Call the others! Get us out of here!"

"Stop yelling." You frowned, "you're attracting them to us."

"Astra, keep him inside," Doc instructed you. "I’m going to draw them away."

"Wait, it’s too dangerous to go out there yourself!" You pointed out, "I’ll come with you."

The older man shook his head. "He might be our last chance. Whatever happens, keep him alive."

You watched as Doc disappeared into the crowd of Z’s. You just hoped he would come back.

—

You tried to try and calm Murphy, who was panicking loudly. The occasional zombie would bang into the car, but as long as you stayed out of sight and quiet they would hopefully pass by.

"Get us out of here!" Murphy yelled as the car began to move slightly.

"Stop being so loud, you're attracting them."

When a Z managed to get its finger through a crack in one of the windows, you leaped forward and cut its finger off, causing blood to spray onto the seats, and Murphy to be even louder.

Oh fuck. We are screwed.

In the distance, you could hear Doc shouting. "Ten thousand! Cover the car! Murphy and Astra are trapped inside."

Gunshots filled the air as the dead began to fall to the ground. You let out a sigh of relief. 10k, and Doc had your back.

"Hey, it's going!" you exclaimed, only to be cut off by the so-called saviour, who shoved you to the side and jumped into the driver's seat. You jolted back when he slammed his foot down. "Where the hell are we going!"

Losing control of the car, Murphy crashed into a wall. You let out a scream as you felt something cutting into your skin, before blood began dripping from your hand. "You stupid son of a bitch! You almost got me killed!"

The door to the truck swung open as Warren helped you out. You were vaguely aware of somebody helping Murphy to get away as well. You knew from the snarling noises coming from behind that the Z’s weren’t far behind. You made it back to the others just in time, as the truck you were just in exploded. At least it’s taken out some of the dead.

Warren raised her hand for everyone to be quiet. There was a ringing noise coming from a phone box. Garnett, who was the closest, answered it.

"Sergeant Charlie Garnett," he paused before continuing. "Please tell us where to drop him off - California? Hold on - That's not gonna happen," he turned back to face the group. "We need to go somewhere closer."

"Closer?" You asked questions.

What in the world have you gotten yourself into?

Shaking your head, you turned to face the other way. "Oh shit. Dead, coming right at us."

Addy and Mac held off the dead while the rest of you ran towards the only vehicle your group had left. "Wait, we can’t leave. We aren’t all here."

Doc looked around worried until he spotted 10k running. "Wait! Here comes the kid!"

"Found these."

You smiled as he handed Warren the small gas tanks he’d found.

As the group rode off, 10k’s smile fell from his face, and was quickly replaced by a frown. "What happened to you?"

You glared at Murphy. "I cut my hand with my blade when we crashed. I have some bandages in my bag, I’ll be fine."

Without saying anything, 10k began rummaging in your backpack and pulled out a first aid kit. He bandaged up your hand before returning the kit to you.

"Thanks."

He shrugged, "no problem."

You shifted awkwardly. You wanted to talk to him, but weren’t sure what to say.

10k took you by surprise when he leaned into you, and spoke quietly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Uh, yeah."

"What does Astra mean?"

A warm feeling spreads through you, "well…"

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Text

Christmas Figurines and Mistletoe | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.4k

✦ request — Could you write something about being caught under the mistletoe with Damian Wayne? Fluffy and really mutty.

✦ warnings — nsfw, reader has a vagina, making out, vaginal sex, pouty Damian, jealousy if you squint, fluff.

✦ author’s note — I assumed anon meant smutty instead of mutty.

════════════════════════

Damian was driving you crazy. And not the good kind of crazy. You were regretting staying at Titan Tower instead of going Christmas shopping with your friends.

You had assumed they would need the bonding moment on their own. They would spend Christmas at the tower while you would do so at home, it was only fair.

The problem was that you didn’t think Damian would come to the tower so early. He had said he’d come by that evening to make sure everything was perfect for the Christmas party you all convinced him to throw.

He hated almost everything. And you were terrified of showing him the Christmas tree because it was... a lot.

Explaining to him that Christmas was supposed to be colorful and that meant things looking tacky here and there would be pointless. He had been clear on what he didn’t want to see.

Damian clenched his jaw as he stood in front of the tree. “Why are the lights off?”

“The Tower’s empty.”

“You are here,” he said drily. “What did you do?”

You immediately defended yourself, “I didn’t do anything! I wasn’t here when the tree was decorated. You sent Jon and me on that quick mission, remember?”

Damian grunted, nodding. To your horror, he lit the tree up himself. A strange sound spluttered from his throat, and he turned to look at you with narrowed eyes.

“Damian, come on! It’s cheerful.”

“Who was the genius who decided that colorful lights and colorful ornaments were a good look?”

“I don’t know... Christmas trees come from a German tradition, and—“

He interrupted you, exasperated, “This specific tree!”

You shrugged. The tree had already been decorated when you came back, just like the kitchen.

Oh, the kitchen. Damian hated it, it looked cluttered according to him.

He picked a ceramic figurine and examined it. “This is the sloppiest paint job I’ve ever seen.”

“Most figurines come like that. Or with deformed faces.”

He placed it back in its place, turning around to examine you. “I find it interesting,” he mused, dragging his eyes to the microwave which was decorated by a Christmas themed microwave cover, “that you seem to know a lot about figurines and their flaws.”

“I didn’t buy them if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You bought Christmas mugs for everybody.”

“Yes, but I didn’t buy those!” Seeing him incredulously lift his eyebrows, you groaned. “Look, those figurines are common in most households. My mom loves them. That’s it, that’s how I know how flawed the come.”

“What will you do if I inspect your bedroom and more of those ugly things are there?”

You slanted your head, making a motion for him to exit the kitchen with you. “Come. Inspect it.”

You lead the way, more relieved than exasperated. He would drop it once he realized you didn’t have anything to do with it, he always did.

Before he could cross the kitchen’s doorway, Damian halted his steps behind you, grasping your hips and pulling you closer to him. You turned around, now confused.

He looked up to the top of the doorframe. His eyes stayed there and he remained silent which prompted you to look up too.

You shifted as mistletoe came to view. “I— I didn’t put that there... I didn’t even know somebody had bought it!” You attempted to move, hoping he would drop his hands. When he didn’t, you said, “I’ll get it off.”

Damian’s grip on your hips tightened. “Not following the tradition would bring us bad luck,” he explained with ease.

Your stomach flipped. Damian wasn’t superstitious.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “you’re right.”

You half-expected a comment along the lines of ‘I’m always right,’ but instead, he slowly leaned in. You did the same, meeting him in the middle. His lashes brushed your skin when his eyes lidded closed, prompting yours to flutter.

He kissed you softly, taking his time to map your lips with his own, somewhat afraid of kissing you wrong. You tentatively placed your hands on his arms, ever so slightly tilting your head.

Pulling away, you nervously watched him. Damian slowly opened his eyes, not helping your case and making you feel giddy as he gazed at you.

He brought you in for another kiss, resting his lower back against the counter. Damian swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, and you eagerly opened your mouth for him.

His pleased hum sent shivers down your spine. As if it wasn’t enough to have you breathless, his hands lightly wandered to your back. His touch and kiss didn’t match in rhythm, and it only drove you crazier.

One of his hands fell onto your ass, then the other. You instinctively pushed your hips forward, hands flying to his shoulders. He grasped your asscheeks in both hands and pulled your hips flush against his.

A low whimper left your mouth, going directly down his throat as he swallowed it by kissing you harder.

He pushed you back. Assuming he needed space, you withdrew your hands from his shoulders. Damian briefly frowned, yet his grip tightened on you as he tried a different approach by walking you backward instead of pushing you.

“I still need to inspect your room,” he said, voice low as he analyzed your reaction.

You didn’t trust your voice so you merely nodded. It would have been easier to walk to your room by yourself, or with his hands still on you but actually looking where you were stepping.

The thought of walking slowly so you could savor the weight of his hands on your body was tempting. But Damian hated wasting time. And slow walkers.

Your room was underwhelming in comparison to your teammates’, in part because you didn’t have time to decorate and in part because you didn’t know what to do with the empty wall near the window therefore you couldn’t make up your mind about anything else.

“You can open any drawer you want,” you told him, ready to put the moment you had just shared to the side.

Damian gave you an incredulous look upon realizing you were being serious.

His eyes were as green as ever, watching you carefully as though he expected you to read his mind. Not for the first time, you wished you could.

His hands twitched on your ass. One of them softly caressed the area, drawing random patterns on your clothed asscheek.

“You can’t possibly think I brought you here to look for a stupid Christmas ornament.”

“So you brought me to my bedroom just to make out?”

”Let’s go with that,” he conceded. “I didn’t want us to be interrupted.”

“Can’t let the team know about your crush on me?” you teased him before you could fully realize what you were saying. It was fun banter, meaningless.

Damian turned serious. “I’m certain they know by now, but I would rather not get caught groping your ass in the middle of the kitchen.”

“Wait... so you hung the mistletoe?”

“No. But I’m not above admitting I should thank whoever did it.” He firmly rested his hands on your ass, pushing his hips against yours. “Now, can we stop talking?”

“Sure.” You kissed him this time, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Soon, he had you on his lap as he sat on your bed, humping him while he kissed your neck. He inched your sweater up, brushing your belly with his fingertips.

“I want you,” you whined, aware that he would leave marks on your neck.

“I’m here,” he deadpanned, nipping at your throat as he continued lifting your sweater.

You stopped moving your hips, lightly shifting on his lap in order for your hands to reach his belt. He didn’t stop you, so you went on and unbuckled his belt before undoing his pants.

Damian made you stand up, not for a moment taking his hands off you. In contrast, your neck already missed his plump lips.

He undid your jeans in a hurry, lowering them down your knees along with your panties.

Bluntly, he asked, “You need me to finger you first?”

Feeling your face heat up as he intensely gazed at you in expectancy of an answer, you pulled one of your hands off his body and parted your folds.

You found embarrassing how wet he made you. Only able to shake your head, you avoided looking at him directly.

“Use your words,” he commanded softly.

“No,” you whispered. He shuffled, lifting his hips to get rid of his pants and boxers. The gesture made your skin tingle, and as you kicked your shoes and jeans off, you added, “I don’t need you to finger me.”

Hissing, Damian held his cock for you, looking down as you placed your palm on top of the back of his hand. Your hand replaced his, and you softly caressed his cock.

“Condom?”

He stretched his arm, slanting his body to the side as he reached for his wallet. He handed the condom to you without a word, throwing his wallet onto the floor.

Once you had rolled the condom down his cock, his gaze lifted. You straddled him again, slowly gliding down. A groan spurted from within him as you took your time to push inch after inch of his cock inside you.

Damian’s eyes were on your face, refusing to lose any detail of your reaction as he entered you for the first time.

You moaned, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. He held you by the waist, holding his breath as you ever so slightly drove your hips forward.

The more you moved, the less he cared about whether he was loud or not. There hadn’t been signs of the team coming back, but you were certain Damian wouldn’t have cared either way.

He began moving his hips at your rhythm, only prompting you to roll your hips more enthusiastically as you sucked on his neck.

You tried to push him to lay down on the bed, but he stopped you, speaking softly. “Wait. It’s hot in here.”

Feeling empty as you moved away from his lap in order to get rid of your remaining clothes, you entertained yourself by admiring his body as he did the same.

Damian grabbed your hand, bringing you on top of him as he laid on his back. He kissed you, holding the back of your head with a hand as the other rested on your lower back.

Such placement made it extremely easy for him to roll you over so he could be on top, and the distraction his lips bestowed upon you a calculated move.

“Meanie,” you lightheartedly panted on his mouth.

He huffed a laugh, giving you a short kiss. “You seem to like it.” Damian dragged the tip of his cock along your folds, briefly teasing you before shoving it inside you.

He caressed your thighs as he started to thrust in slow strokes, teasing you some more as he controlled his breath.

Bottoming out, Damian tightened his grip on your thighs. He rolled his hips, and by your request started going faster.

You dropped your head onto the pillow, whimpering freely. This time you were the one who didn’t care if the tower was still empty.

His mouth hovered over yours. You were struggling to keep your eyes open, and by the way he was smiling at you, he surely knew.

“You look so beautiful right now,” he told you, lips brushing against yours. “Even more beautiful than in my imagination.”

You canted your hips up, desperate for more. More of him, of his voice, of everything he was willing to give.

And he granted you such wishes, picking up his pace, kissing you, gripping your thighs just the way you liked it even though he had no way to know.

Your nails dug into his back as you attempted to have him closer. It was impossible to do so, yet you had to give it a try.

“You’re gonna make me come,” you announced.

As though your words had been a demand for him to make you come already, he pressed his fingers on your clit and started rubbing as he thrust inside you.

Tired and spent, you felt his weight fall on top of your front. Damian kissed the side of your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily.

Eventually, you softly pushed him off you and begrudgingly left the bed in direction to the bathroom.

You were washing your legs with the showerhead when Damian entered the bathroom. “There are clean towels in the second drawer if you also want to wash yourself,” you informed him.

He opened said drawer as you shut the water. He didn��t make any move for a moment, but he took a clean towel nonetheless.

You patted your skin dry, moving out of his way so he could use the shower.

“You had condoms here,” he observed.

“Well, I didn’t know which type of condom you preferred...”

“Oh, are those somebody else’s preferred ones?”

You slipped a clean pair of panties on. He watched you. “Please tell me you’re not actually angry because of this.”

“Your shower gel smells nice,” he opted for saying.

You hummed. “It’s new. I got tired of the blue one.”

Giving him privacy, you exited the bathroom and decided to check the mattress in case you needed to change the bedding.

Back in your bedroom, Damian silently put his boxers back on. He didn’t bother with his pants nor his shirt.

“I’m not angry,” he finally stopped avoiding the subject.

You tried not to frown. “You’re pouting.”

His expression turned blank. “I don’t pout.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Come to the Christmas party with me.”

“I’ll be at the party either way.”

“Yes,” he gritted before inhaling deeply. “But I want you to be with me. As my date.”

“What would the difference be?” You didn’t understand why it was such a big deal. “We know everybody already.”

“For one, it would help me sleep at night.” He took you by the face with one hand, looking straight into your eyes. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Your voice sounded weird due to the pressure of his fingers on your cheeks

Damian gave you a sweet kiss, loosening his grip on your face to cup your cheek. You softly placed your hand on the back of his head, giving him another kiss. And another, and another, until you lost count.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #damian wayne smut #damian wayne

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cinnamon-bebe · 3 years

Text

Chemtrails (Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader)

Chemtrails (Pedro Pascal X Fem!Reader)

Summary: "If you died today, would you be happy with the life you've lived?" What happens when you've sacrificed your love for fame and fortune? Despite the glitz and glamour, the Reader is all Pedro can think about. The stars have never been on your side but can you rewrite the plans they have for you?

Warning: Angst, Fluff, Occasional Cursing

Inspired by the song Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey

"I'm on the run with you, my sweet love

There's nothing wrong contemplating God

Under the chemtrails over the country club"

"Baby what's your sign?"

"You're in the wind, I'm in the water

Nobody's son, nobody's daughter

Watching the chemtrails over the country club"

Pedro's POV

The chatter of a hundred people and yet I still only hear your voice. Memories of your words, from years past.

You asked me what my sign was, I told you I was an Aries. You laughed and told me we shouldn't be friends, the stars say so. The stars say we're incompatible, we'd be at each other's throats. I'm a fire sign and you didn't need any more drama. I kissed you for the first time and told you I'd prove you wrong, you simply smiled and looked off to the chemtrails that flew over us.

Memories from years past.

I didn't have much to offer you but I told you that you could take my word. At that time, it was worth more than anything I could have given you.

"You want me to defy the stars?" You raised an eyebrow, a smile teasing your face.

"The stars can go fuck themselves." I told you and kissed you again.

We were so young. We were nobodies. Running through the concrete jungle, with your hand in mine. Sun dress and kisses at midnight convenience stores, splitting a hot dog on a summer day because we needed money for the show at 7.

We used to contemplate the meaning of life over a bottle on our little balcony. I asked you if you were happy and you smiled but did not reply.

"If you died today, would you be happy with the life you've lived?" You asked me instead.

"No." I told you. "There's so much more I want to do. I want to be somebody."

I didn't know it then but that was the moment I started to lose you.

Memories from years past.

I find myself sitting at a restaurant now, with more money to line my pockets, pats on the back from strangers. People know my name and it comes out in whispers, as they stare over their expensive plate, getting cold just to catch a glimpse of me.

A beautiful woman sits across from me. As if a movie star isn't a big enough draw, a woman like her only invites more gazes. She looks like she'd just stepped off a screen herself. She gives me all her attention, so much so that she does not register the envious stares from the others around her.

Her lips are moving, perhaps a funny anecdote came to mind or is she telling me about her sister's wedding again that she mentioned before? I cannot tell you, for my mind is elsewhere, with someone else.

"So would you like to come?" She smiles brightly at me, her perfect teeth sitting between her lips, painted in a dusty pink.

"Huh?" I snap out of my daze, embarrassed that I was clearly not paying attention.

"Jule's wedding, did you...want to be my date for the day?" She blushes, hopeful.

"Oh. I...uh. I don't know Kate. I have a pretty packed schedule coming up, I don't know if I'll have time." I try to make up an excuse.

"It's too early isn't?" She bites her lip sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I know we've only been dating for a few weeks, I shouldn't have sprung this up on you so fast."

"No no, please don't be silly. I love weddings!" I try to laugh it off. "It's just that, with the new movie coming up, I need to start preparing before we go into production."

"I understand." She nods with a smile, "Comes with the territory when you're dating a big movie star I guess." She looks at me, I'm not sure if she's anticipating a response but I reciprocate with a grin and wave at the waiter for another drink.

Soon enough, she excuses herself from the table to go to the ladies room and I'm left sitting alone at our spot. I grow tiresome of the incessant chattering from the tables around me and I massage the temples of head, wishing I was at home in the comfort of my bed with just the company of my television.

I see glances from a small table to the side of me, a group of young women clearly too shy to ask for a photograph, egging each other on to make the first move over to me. Their hopes quickly dashed as I feel a firm hand on my shoulder, turning me around.

"Pedro?" A familiar voice calls my name.

"Anthony! Fancy seeing you here!" My eyes widen as I pull an old friend down for a hug.

"It's my anniversary with Charlize, we're just celebrating! God I haven't seen you for so long!" He shakes his head, slowly looking me up and down, examining my so-called transformation. I've aged so much since we last we saw each.

"How long have you been here?" I ask.

"A couple of hours, I actually saw you before but I..uh...I didn't want to interrupt your date."

Date? I swallow the word whole.

"You lucky man. She's very pretty." He comments.

"Yeah, she is."

"You could seem a bit more interested though but those are Charlize's words, not mine." He raises his hands up, letting his wife take the blame.

"I must seem like an ass, don't I?" Poor Kate, how spoilt am I to show a woman like her so little interest. "I haven't dated for so long, it's just hard getting back into the scene that's all."

Anthony let's out an inaudible "oh" and I know he's thinking the same thing, I can practically hear the name sitting on his tongue, desperately wanting to come out.

"How is Y/N?" I break the ice, allowing the elephant in the room an escape before he suffocates along with me.

"She's good, very good actually. She's a documentary film maker now. Her work is amazing, you'd love it." Anthony couldn't help his excitement when speaking about you and I feel an intense pang of sadness and jealousy seeing his eyes light up. To see you, celebrate you. I wonder if you've aged like me or do you still look the same as how I remember. Do you still crinkle your nose every time you hear a bad joke? Do your eyes still get red and glassy when you look at the sky because you're wondering if anyone's looking down on you? I wish I knew.

"Listen, I have to go." Anthony looks back at his wife who gives me a polite wave from a distance.

"It was really good seeing you Anthony, I'm sorry we haven't spoken all these years. It's just with work..." I recycle that old excuse again.

"Don't worry about it...you made it! I know you worked really hard to get where you are now. I know you had to make a lot of sacrifices..." The last sentence, spoken so softly, it was almost drowned out. "I'm genuinely happy for you."

I nod, giving my friend one last hug before I ready for him to turn and leave, instead he hesitates and looks at me.

"Hey Pedro?"

"Yeah?"

"She still lives in the neighbourhood." He looks down at the scarf in his hand before patting me on my arm. "Just so you know."

With that, he waves me goodbye. Walking back to his wife, who he wraps his arm around. The way she naturally rests into him and slips her hand into his coat pocket as they exit the restaurant, I wonder if I'd ever have that level of intimacy with Kate.

__________________________________________________

I sent her home in a taxi. "I have an early morning and need to prep for some meetings", my excuse for her this time. Kate's disappointed expression, as I gave her a kiss on the cheek is the last thing on my mind.

Scuffing the cap of my leather shoes, I kick at the pavement. The world moves past me as I hide myself in the bubble of my thoughts. I have no sense of direction, my legs taking me to no intended destination, only letting the neon lights around guide me to where it desires.

Anthony's words were still ringing in my ears.

Would you want to see me?

My mind reminds me of the last time we were together.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this, if I don't leave the city now, I may never get my chanc-"

"Get your chance to do what? Be a star?" You were sat deep in the corner of the sofa, far from me. Your voice calm and monotonous as you watched me pace up and down our tiny apartment. I couldn't decipher your expression, it was as if you knew what I was going to say.

"I want to make something out of my life! I want to prove to everyone and myself that I can make it Y/N. I don't want to waste my life away." I moved towards you, our presence separated by the little vintage coffee table I hated but still bought home because you loved it so much.

"Well then go, I don't want to hold you back from chasing your dreams."

"Y/N-"

"No. It's okay Pedro. I understand...I really do. I don't want to stop you from pursuing what you love." You got up from your spot, you seemed so small to me as you closed the gap between us. Your hand felt so light against my face, like you were disappearing before me. "Don't live in regret because of me."

"Y/N come wi-" I tried to hold you, hold you before you evaporated.

"No. My place is here." You took your hand away, moved back, the space between us grew more and more distant. "I don't have big dreams like you do. I like normality. I like living my life however I want it, do whatever I want, whenever I want. You asked me if I was happy...and I am."

"Would you still be happy without me?"

I stared at you. My gut sank because I already knew this was the end. You didn't have to tell me.

"I don't know..." You managed to smile, even through the gentle tears that formed in your eyes. "But I know you would be without me."

"That's not true." I tried to reach for you but you pulled away.

"We're very different people Pedro...I told you, we're incompatible. It's time we listened to the stars."

My thoughts are suddenly interrupted as I feel a hand rest softly on the small of my back.

"Hello sir, would you like to buy a rose?" An elderly woman smiles up at me. A child stands obediently nearby, holding a bouquet of individually wrapped stems, clearly past his bedtime but still helping Grandma late at night. The child looks tired, sad. Judging by the number of roses still in his hands, they must have had an unlucky day.

"How much for one?" I return her kind smile, taking out my wallet.

"$2. Thank you, thank you so much sir." The old woman sighs in relief calling the child over to bring the flowers for me to pick. Each stem had a handwritten tag with various cheesy sentiments adorned.

....A kiss in exchange for a rose...

...You're more beautiful than any flower but here's one to show you my love anyway...

....Would you be my Valentine?...

....Please forgive me, I was an idiot.

I chuckle at the last one before picking a rose at random.

I take out $100 and watch the old lady's eyes panic as she reaches in her purse to find change. Taking her hand firmly in mine, I assure her it wasn't necessary.

"I'll take one rose for the $100. You keep the rest of the flowers and have a good night okay?"

The woman looks at the child with her mouth agape and then back at me, clearly taken aback by the gesture.

"Sir, are you sure?"

"Yes, take the kid home and get some rest. This one rose itself is worth every dollar." I pat her hand which trembles in mine.

"Thank you! Thank you! Bless you and the woman who receives your rose!"

Taking the child's hand they quickly walk away, whispering to each other and disappearing into the night.

I stare at the flower in my hand and bring it closer to my face, studying the message on the tag.

...Let's defy the stars and write our own destiny.

I stand in the dark of night, illuminated only by the cafe lights ready to turn off for the day. My hand grips the stem as if it weighed a hundred tons yet afraid it would float away like a feather. The frantic honking of the traffic seems to taunt me, the laughter from the bars nearby seem to be mocking this idiot of a man standing in the middle of the streets, holding a flower he paid $100 for.

"Just do it!" I hear a young boy shout at his friend attempting a skateboard trick up the block.

Just do it. I repeat to myself. Just fucking do it.

"Taxi!"

_________________________________________________

I remember these steps, we used to sit here with the neighbours' kids. Charlie, I think that was his name? I remember little Charlie proposing to you with a plastic ring and threatening to get his kindergarten buddies on me, simply for existing. I can't help but laugh at that memory.

Everyone was in love with you, the young, the old. They couldn't help but fall for your charms, your kindness, the way you'd smile at them even if you've never spoken a word to each other. Everyone was under your spell, including me.

You told me you loved me on these steps.

I had gotten back from a bad audition and couldn't bear to go home to you. I sat here for hours until you saw me from the balcony and came down. You didn't ask me anything. You just sat with me as we watched the kids run up and down the block, racing each other, teasing each other. I looked at you and you gave me a kiss on the nose.

"I love you."

You said it so quietly at first that I pretended I didn't I understand.

You rolled your eyes and pulled my face into yours, telling me you loved me over and over again as you smothered me with your kisses.

That was one of the happiest moments of my life.

Walking past our faded figures, I enter the building and see that nothing has changed.

The walls were the same duck egg green. The bulletin board covered in layers of flyers and advertisement, some new, with plenty dated months back. I wouldn't be surprised if the audition ads I tried out for from years ago were still there.

The smell of various cuisines mingle together to form its own unique indecipherable aroma.

A comforting aroma.

I look to the elevator, still out of order. Obviously.

We only lived on the third floor, the stairs will be fine.

I prepare myself for the incline when a voice calls out to me.

"Where are you going?"

I turn around and see our old building superintendent, decked out in his uniform. Stanley.

"Stan! It's me Pedro! Wow, you're still here!" I walk to him.

"Who?" He looks me up and down, completely confused as to who the hell I am.

"Pedro from 3B upstairs? I used to live with Y/N...maybe you don't remember me because of the moustache." I rub the bottom of my nose sheepishly.

"No...I don't remember you."

Old Stanley, perhaps age is catching up to him.

"I'm just going to see Y/N." I try to resume my journey but he stops me once more.

"No entry into the building if you're not a resident!" He points to the sign on the wall.

"Since when was that a rule?" I throw my hand in the air.

"Since today. We have too many unsavoury men try to come into the building, how do I know if you really know Miss Y/L/N? I'm not letting any potential predators or burglars into the building."

"But Stan she-"

Pointing to the sign on the wall again, he raises an angry brow. Not wishing a full body beat down by ol' Stan, I take myself back out the building like a bad dog.

I sit on the steps, sighing in defeat. I try to convince myself that coming here is a mistake.

"Defy the stars...pfft! You've been in way too many movies Pedro." I mumble to myself, as I dig my thumb nail into the stem of the rose.

Perhaps we're only given the choice to rewrite our destiny but it doesn't mean destiny would just sit idly by and let you do whatever you want. It's probably for the best. What would I say anyway?

Running my hand through my hair, I get up to leave. The adrenaline from earlier had drained so quickly out of me, that its left me a fatigued mess. Move on Pedro, it's time to go home.

"Hey movie star." A voice calls from above. "You looking for me?"

Your hair falls past your face as you lean over the balcony and in that moment I feel my heart break into a million pieces.

There you are.

Standing before me, even more beautiful than when you left, if that is even possible.

You're wearing a simple white vest and grey shorts, one leg rubbing softly against the other. Your skin bears the warm orange glow reflected from the lights inside your apartment.

You look so raw, so delicate.

Every pulse in my body aches seeing you again.

"Wow." I breathe. "You look..."

You hide your laugh and I can see you blushing from behind your hand.

"Thanks. You look great too. I'm like the...um..." You rub under your nose with your finger.

"Thank you, I grew it out for a role but now people tell me I look like their grandma without it." I shrug, much to your amusement.

"What are you doing here?" You speak, more softly, more seriously.

How do I even respond to this question? I was out on a date with another woman but I bumped into our old friend who told me I should find you? Or should I go with I met an old woman and her kid, who I'm pretty sure were cupid's little minions, sent down to earth to give me a rose and to fuck with me?

"I was just in the neighbourhood. I wanted to see if you wanted to um...go out for a coffee?" I lie.

You look at me incredulously, clearly seeing through my bullshit.

"Everything is shut by now." You simply respond.

"Oh...well maybe we can just talk then?"

You tap the metal rails, where you lay your arms. Are you contemplating whether to come down or throw a bucket of water over me? I guess I'll have to wait and see.

Without saying a word, you disappear out of sight. The lights in your apartment switches off.

What does this mean? Are you off to bed?

Before I could ruminate any more, the doors open from behind me and you slip through.

God, you look even better up close.

My hands instinctively reach out to touch you but I withdraw quickly before you could see. You had wrapped yourself in a fleecy blanket, the threads a deep purple.

Without saying a word, you sit down on the step and I can only follow suit, my mind can no longer make decisions for itself it seems.

You smell the same, that same soft floral scent I used to love. The one I used to breathe in when I'd hold you close to me in bed because I didn't want you to leave for work.

Our knees are so close, they almost touch.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

For a minute I don't know how to respond, I just don't want to stop looking at you.

"I was...I was wondering if you were thinking about me?"

You laugh, I laugh too. Of course you weren't.

"I think about you all the time." You tell me so casually, it catches me off guard.

"You do?" I whisper in disbelief.

"It's hard not to when you're on every other billboard in the city."

Oh.

"I think about you all the time too Y/N."

You smile and look up at the sky. The night is aligned with many stars tonight and they all call for your attention but mine. I feel greedy staring at you but I'm simply making up for all the nights that I was alone without you, all those kisses I've shared with women that weren't you.

"What do you think the stars are telling us tonight?" I ask.

You grin and without looking back at me, you say "I think the stars are laughing at us."

"Do you think the stars have changed their mind about us?"

You finally turn to me, your eyes drop. "I don't think that's how it works Pedro."

"If this is the life the stars have planned for me, a life without you, then I don't want it Y/N."

"Pedro-"

"I thought if I made a name for myself, if people knew who I was, then I'd be sure of who I am...but who I'm meant to be, who I want to be...is to be with you." Your eyes meet mine, coloured with emotions you are scared to express. "I look for you everywhere I go Y/N, in every women I meet but you are always a world away."

"We don't even know each other anymore Pedro."

"You are the only one who has always known who I am, even before me Y/N. I'm still as strange and as wild as I have always been. I'm still as messy and as clumsy as I was before. I still love cheap corner store liquor and dancing terribly in public. I still look at chemtrails whenever they past me...because they remind me of you."

"Chemtrails are bad for you, they say they're chemicals." You tell me, your voice low and expressionless.

"If I die with you as my last thought, it won't be so bad."

I finally find the courage to reach for you and you don't recoil from me, you let me gently run my finger against the hair that falls down past your face. You close your eyes and I selfishly take you, pulling you towards me.

I rest my forehead against yours and I savour this moment where I can be close to you and not let it be a memory.

"What if I've changed?" You whisper.

"Well then I'll spend the rest of my life getting to know you again."

"If I told you to run away with me tonight, would you?" You open your eyes to see me, your expression as serious as ever.

"You're my home Y/N. I'll go wherever you go. Even if it's to another galaxy, we'll drive a little red Corvette into space together and leave this all behind."

You smile and tug on the bottom of your lip. "You think the stars would still allow us to go to space?"

"Fuck the stars." I say as I take your lips.

Oh, how I've missed the sweetness of your taste; in this moment you are spoiling me rotten. You wrap your arms around me and allow the blanket to drop from your shoulders. The only stars that mattered now are those in our eyes. They're telling me the future and it's you. It's always been you.

The sirens of the city and the plane overhead may be loud but I hear nothing over the sound of your heart beat.

You pull away and we both laugh.

In this moment, we are perfect. I am no longer the famous celebrity that belonged to everyone. I am not a son and you are no one's daughter.

We only belong to each other.

I see you shiver and look towards the door.

"Let's go inside." You get up and take my hand, guiding me back to our home. The one I've longed for ever since I left.

The building is quiet, everyone asleep by this hour but old Stan at his desk. I try to shuffle past as inconspicuously as I could, my hand entwine with yours.

"Welcome back Mr Pascal." Stanley greets us as clear as day, his head not even looking up from above his phone.

"Wha- so you do remember me!"

Sly old dog.

Stanley doesn't respond and concentrates on his screen instead.

You shake your head and pull me up the steps but not before I set down my lucky rose on the desk.

"Good night Stan."

I call out before I chase my love up the stairs, both of us ready to write our next chapter together. I don't know what it will entail but I know if you're in it, it will be the greatest adventure I'll ever take.

"Kids these days." Stan sighs, closing the article on his phone and clicking on a familiar app. Putting his feet up, he relaxes with a smile on his face as the Mandalorian theme song begins to play.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #javier pena #pedro pascal x reader #narcos #ww1984 #maxwell lord #oberyn martell #game of thrones #frankie morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal imagine #fanfiction #chemtrails #lana del rey

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kaepop-trash · 3 years

Note

hello hello! i am immediately dropping an ask after reading your message. ;; i really loved unintended consequences! like that is sooo 10/10! may i ask for a sequel please? i am willing to wait. please don't feel pressured and take your time!! write it whenever you are ready. i have subscribed to you so i could just keep myself updated if you have posted it!

So I might not be able to squeeze a full-fledged sequel in. But I had an idea I found interesting enough to pursue and it will go under the miscellaneous tag. I don't usually write domestic AUs but seemingly this one writes itself a little too effortlessly. At 4k words, this one is hardly a drabble at this point. So I'm hoping this satisfies you. If I get more asks, I'll keep writing more "snippets" like this.

I hope you like this.

It was Friday.

Friday meant spending the weekend with Johnny. Friday meant a slightly better passage of time compared to the weekdays.

Johnny would wake up early, coaxing her awake with him to spend the morning drinking a cup of coffee till it was cold and talking about the week. Every achievement and frustration shared as the other listened and acknowledged every little detail.

Weekends were always a welcome relief, but with Johnny they were like a haven.

"I've had a fuck all day." Johnny groaned as he walked into her room. It was his turn to come to her apartment this week.

He walked in, roughly tugging his tie like it suffocated him. When his eyes landed on the bed he stopped his struggle.

(Y/N) lay on her stomach on her bed, in a t-shirt that belonged to him once upon a time. Her thighs remained bare, the rhythmic kicking of her legs making her ass bounce.

Johnny thought he would lose his mind.

"What happened?" She mumbled. Scrolling through her phone, her voice was distracted.

Johnny swallowed, the air in his throat suddenly too thick. He forced himself to look away, "A client messed up some paperwork and I lost a lot of money because of it." His jaw clamped tight at the memory again.

She put her phone down, turning over and sitting up. "Shit." She grimaced, looking up at him with careful eyes.

"Exactly." He groaned, running a hand through his hair.

He looked back at her after a moment, eyes raking over her frame, "When did you steal that?" He pointed to her chest, at the navy blue t-shirt he actually really liked.

"At some point." She shrugged. "Want it back?" She batted her lashes at him.

Johnny smirked, aware that she asked knowing what his answer would be. "Keep it." He scoffed, giving in. "It looks better on you anyway." He laughed when her lips stretched into a smile.

Johnny sighed, his smile faltering again.

"Want to eat something?" She questioned.

Johnny turned back to her, her knees digging into the mattress as she looked at him with soft eyes. He gave her a slow nod.

"There's some pasta leftover in the fridge. Unless you want something else. We can always order." She turned back to pick up her phone.

Johnny groaned, the sound making her turn back to him, surprised. He slid closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He raised a meaningful brow at her, rewarded by the tantalizing red her cheeks flushed with.

He waited patiently; she gave him a nod, her eyes fluttering down. Johnny smirked, it was a shy mood today it seemed. Something he would enjoy like any other mood she had.

"Lie down." He said softly, releasing his hold on her hips. She pushed back up the mattress, reaching up just enough for her calves to hang over the edge.

She kept his eyes on him as he pulled his tie off over his head and while he took his jacket off. Slowly, he folded the sleeves of his shirt. She bit her lip at the sight, leaving Johnny to revel. He knew she liked it when he did that.

"You better not be wearing a bra under that, baby." He walked up closer.

She slowly shook her head and Johnny felt all the blood in his body rush to his dick.

He groaned, "You like that don't you? My shirt brushing over your naked tits." When she nodded he felt himself twitch. "Words." He demanded.

"Of course I do." It was a simple declaration.

It drove him wild.

Almost too slowly, Johnny sat down on his knees. This was his favourite thing, he had realised over the course of the year and some they had been together. Being on his knees in front of her was something he could do every living hour of every day and still not get enough of it. He loved taking his time enjoying the view.

But today, Johnny was pissed. He wanted to hear her moans, he wanted to make her come undone fast and dirty so he could relish in the idea of it.

He hooked his fingers under the band of her panty, pulling it off swiftly.

"Somebody's uncharacteristically eager today." Her soft voice contrasted the jest of her sentence.

"What was it last time?" He questioned, earning her eyes on him. "Fastest I made you cum." He clarified, tilting his head to catch her eyes.

She bit her lip, chewing on the flesh before releasing it with a soft flick. "Ten minutes." She informed him.

"We'll do seven today. Set the timer." He ordered. Quickly she reached for her phone, doing what she was told. Johnny bit back a smile.

"If you lose you're buying dinner. I want Sushi." She pointed her phone at him.

A laugh left his chest— a breathless release. "Wretched girl." He huffed. "Fine. You have a deal."

"Go." She put her phone down. Head falling back immediately as he plunged two fingers into her without missing a beat.

"Always so wet for me, princess. You are always spoiling me." He hummed.

He reached down to flick his tongue against her clit, earning a moan from her. "And forever eager." He spoke against her clit, making her hips buck up and her hand fly to his hair. She gripped his root tightly, he groaned. She stuttered at the sensation.

Johnny wasted no time picking up pace. His tongue lapped at her bundle of nerves while he added a third finger, his rhythm brutal.

"Fuck, Johnny." She screamed, a rare occurrence that filled Johnny with so much pride that he only increased his persistence. When he grazed his teeth against her clit her legs started shaking, a string of his name leaving her lips as her back arched. When her fist loosened on his scalp, he sat back and reached for her phone.

"Six minutes forty-eight seconds." He beamed. "You owe me sushi." He dropped the phone back onto the bed.

"After that I'll get you the most expensive one." She spoke between gasping for air. Johnny chuckled, wiping his chin on the back of his hand and standing up to get rid of his clothes.

"Ready for more?" He questioned.

"Am I ever, Mr. Suh." Her chest heaved.

Johnny gazed down at her body; tracing the sight of the t-shirt raised till her neck, her skin covered in sweat and a single breast out from no doubt being inside her own palm moments ago. Johnny bit his lip.

"Sit up." His voice dropped so impossibly low. She turned her head to look at him, still heaving from his previous efforts.

She sat up, knees digging into the mattress. He came closer, peeling his t-shirt off her while he kept his eyes glued on hers. The next moment, her arms were wrapped around his neck and her lips were on his.

He put his palm on her back to steady the both of them, slowly pushing her back down on her back onto the mattress and hovering over her.

She swirled her tongue in his mouth, enjoying taking control of the kiss while his hands roamed over her body. When he pinched her nipple she gasped in his mouth.

Johnny didn't miss the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth this time, softly pushing her tongue back so he could do his own exploring. She let him, focusing her hands in his hair instead and drawing her nails down the back of his neck— something she knew he liked a little too much.

The sound of her phone ringing made her yank her head back so fast that her neck audibly cracked. She massaged her the muscle with one hand while she used the other to push him back.

"Leave it." His voice was breathless.

"That's the ringtone I have for my mother." She groaned, equally breathless herself. "She hardly calls. It could be an emergency." She sighed.

Reluctantly, Johnny moved back. She reached over to grab her phone as he lay his head on a pillow.

"Hello?" She questioned once she put the phone to her ear. "Yeah?" She answered some question on the line. Johnny put his arms under his head, amusement dancing in his eyes as he heard her try to slow her breathing from his craved pace. "You what?" She sat up straight. A quizzical furrow formed on Johnny's brow. "No of course I don't mind. It's just so sudden. How long?" She turned back to Johnny, giving him an urgent look and gesturing to get out of bed. He raised a brow but complied. "Alright. See you." Her voice was too cheerful.

When she hung up she sprung out of bed herself. "Get dressed!" She looked around the floor frantically. "My mother is in a cab ten minutes away." She whined.

For a second Johnny was too dumbstruck to move. When she threw his shirt at his face, he recovered, picking up the rest of his clothes.

"What's happening?" He asked calmly, hoping his demeanor would calm her down as well.

"I don't know. Jesus! She's so outrageous!" (Y/N) groaned. "She called me to tell me that she's going to Texas to meet that aunt of mine." She paused, looking up as she slid her t-shirt back on. "You know the one who's always sending me pictures of pregnant girls my age on Facebook?"

Johnny nodded.

"Yeah. That bitch." She groaned. Johnny bit back a smile. "So she's flying to Austin and her layover happened to be New York and it's 12 hours long so she decided to surprise me, apparently." She sighed. "Fuck." She groaned. "I can't believe this is actually happening right now." She groaned the second time.

"Okay." Johnny said. "I should go take a shower." He nodded.

She stared at him, blinking like a lost lamb. "You want to stay?" She questioned.

"Of course." He furrowed his brows, "Are you hiding me from her or something?" He joked.

"No." She said too soon, pausing. "Kind of." She winced.

Johnny seemed taken aback.

"It's not what you think!" She walked over to him. "I'm not, like, embarrassed of you."

"That sounds reassuring, (Y/N)." He scoffed.

"Hear me out!" She urged, "My mother cannot know I'm having sex outside the bond of marriage. She doesn't even believe in casual dating." Johnny gave her a questioning look.

She sighed, "She's the 'satisfied with nothing but the best for her children' kind of mom. She means well but she will make you uncomfortable if she sees you at my house at eleven at night. She's very reserved and it comes off as rude at times." She warned, speaking too fast— clearly nervous.

Johnny shrugged, raising two fingers to tug on her nose. "I can handle it. She's your mother after all."

"Johnny." She urged.

"Do you not want me to meet your mother?" He questioned bluntly.

"You know that isn't it." She sighed.

"Then I can handle it." He assured her again.

She was still reeling over the moment her mother walked into her apartment, the look in Johnny's eyes when she turned and introduced him as her 'friend' and the look in her mother's eyes when she noted her daughter's hesitation before she blurted the vague label out. If either of them had any reservations, they did not voice it.

That was how she ended up sitting at her dining table with Johnny beside her and her mother opposite them. Her mother gave him occasional glances, but to her credit stayed quiet.

"So, Mrs. (Y/L/N). I've heard that you're a fan of travelling. (Y/N) is always talking about the places you visit."

"Yes. Since my children are all grown up now, I'm trying to live a little before heaven calls." She told him. Johnny was caught off-guard by the response, so he blinked and gave her a nod. (Y/N) put a hand on her forehead.

Her mother put her cutlery down on the table, earning both (Y/N) and Johnny's attention. "What do you do, young man?"

"If you're going to ask him personal questions at least use his name." (Y/N) groaned at her mother.

"I'm an investment banker." Johnny sounded unfazed.

Her mother lifted a towel to wipe her lip, "So I have you to blame for all the money I lost last year?"

"If you would have asked me, maybe you'd have me to thank for all the money you made." Johnny gave her a grin.

He acquired his first pleasant smile from her mother, "In that case you must be good at what you do. How much do you make?" She questioned with a tone that one would use to ask about the weather.

"Mom!" (Y/N) exasperated.

"What?" Her mother turned to her with a non-committal glance. "If you're telling your friend about my travels then I'm sure you are close enough for me to ask that." She clicked her tongue at her daughter. "Isn't that so, Johnny?" She turned to him.

Yet again, he remained calm. "I make enough, Mrs. (Y/L/N). Especially to take care of the people I intend to and save some for the future." He reached for his glass of water, putting a hand on her thigh under the table.

To add to the impossible situation, her heart and her core both reacted. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

She kept her eyes on her mother as Johnny began tracing his thumb in slow strokes across her thigh, pushing under her shorts just enough. Then she saw it, the click of approval in her mother's eyes that seemed to make her chest relax from a hold she didn't realise she had till the moment.

"Not that your daughter needs anybody to take care of her." He glanced towards her, humour in his eyes that felt misplaced till he squeezed her thigh. She bit down on her lip. He seemed pleased, "She's quite capable of taking care of herself, as she insists." He turned away from her glare, back to face her mother, "Speaking as a friend, of course." He smiled politely.

Her mother glanced over towards (Y/N) and the paranoid side in her— the one only reserved for one's parents— wondered if there was even the tiniest chance that her mother could see under the table.

"And how long have you known each other?" Her mother continued her interrogation.

"We met at Sooyoung's wedding." (Y/N) added, needing to distract herself from the warmth of Johnny's hand. "Johnny is Doyoung's friend."

Her mother nodded, adsorbing the knowledge. She turned back to Johnny, bringing her elbows to the table and threading her fingers together thoughtfully. "And how long do you intend to be my daughter's friend?" She said as blatantly as she could.

The question was as thinly veiled as she no doubt intended. Her mother was, after all, the person she learned to be good with words from.

Johnny's hand slipped between her thighs and this time she almost jumped in her chair. "For as long as she'll have me. Longer if I can convince her otherwise." His words made (Y/N) turn to him, emotions bubbling up to her eyes. He turned to her, his own eyes full of meaning. For a second she forgot her mother was sitting across from them.

Her mother, on the other hand, watched the interaction with a keen gaze.

Johnny's hand left her thigh to find her hand, squeezing it with that gentle yet firm touch that never failed to reassure her about anything.

She turned to face her mom, "I love him." She confessed softly. Her mother's eyes seemed to go wide for a moment before she sat back.

"Good. I was starting to think you wouldn't give me any grandchildren. You're my oldest! I want to see them before I die!" She scolded her.

(Y/N) blushed, "Mom!" She stuttered. "Don't say that, oh my god!" She groaned.

Johnny watched the exchange with amusement.

"At least you should have sense." Her mother turned to Johnny, "I'm not getting any younger." She shook her head, clicking her tongue.

"I will keep your criticism in mind, Mrs (Y/L/N)." He laughed.

"For fuck's sake." She turned her neck to Johnny, giving him an embarrassed frown.

"Don't curse (Y/N) (Y/L/N)! That isn't how I raised you." Her mother scolded her again, making her nod reluctantly.

"The mouth on this one, Mrs. (Y/L/N). Sometimes I'm surprised!" Johnny clicked his tongue with mock exasperation. She shoved his rib, making Johnny chuckle as he grabbed the table to not fall.

Johnny dutifully took the couch.

Despite her mother taking the guest room, he insisted.

(Y/N) lay awake on her bed, alternating between staring at the ceiling and scrolling through her emails. Her mother was set to leave at 6am. She lifted her phone to check the time: 4am. She groaned.

Getting out of bed was the only thing left to do after trying so long to fall asleep unsuccessfully. She padded her feet across the living room softly towards the kitchen. Johnny mumbled her name in his sleepy voice, making (Y/N) jump.

"Why aren't you asleep?" She whispered. When she turned to him, she had her answer. He was lying on his back, the end of his legs dangling over the armrest. She came closer, "I told you to sleep in bed." She sighed.

Johnny sat up, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Why are you awake?"

"Can't sleep."

"So you came to check up on me?" He tilted his head to look up at her.

"No. I was going to the kitchen because I finished my water." She rattled the container in her hand. It was the partial truth, she did intend to see what he was doing as well.

When Johnny pouted a breathy chuckle left her. She ran a hand through his messy hair affectionately, heart tugging when his eyes fluttered shut and he nuzzled into her touch.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" She questioned. Johnny opened his eyes and nodded eagerly.

They sat in the kitchen with tired eyes, silently sipping their own cups. Once over, she picked them up to wash them up.

"I can't believe you actually got my mom to like you." She chuckled as she scrubbed the used cups. She heard him slip off his chair and walk up behind her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"I'm a very likable person." He mumbled, leaving a soft kiss behind her ear.

She hummed, "That is true." His lips wrapped around the shell of her ear— an odd gesture that she had come to find arousing as he kept doing it over time. "You got Sooyoung and my mother to like you. Undoubtedly, two of the most difficult women to please in my life." She distracted herself, laughing at her own words as she placed the last cup in the rack and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel.

Johnny let her go only to hold her again after she turned around, giving her a teasing grin.

"I got you to like me." He kissed her forehead, "After that the rest were easy."

Her skeptical hum made him laugh, brushing his lips against her temple.

She pouted, "I'm a little bummed that Friday is gone. I only get to really see you on the weekends." Tracing a finger over his chest, she tried to swallow her disappointment. Reminding herself that her that she hadn't seen her mother in a while.

"What are you talking about? We meet for lunch at least twice a week." He laughed.

"You know what I mean." She huffed, looking up to give him a meaningful look.

Johnny smirked, "Do I?" He tightened his hold on her waist, lifting her to the counter. "What do you mean, (Y/N)?" He hummed, standing between her legs. He stroked his thumb inside her thigh slowly.

She gave him a shake of her head.

Then a thought came to her at his words, making her frown.

"Were you mad today?" She knit her brows together.

Johnny cocked his head to the side, confused by the sudden question. "Why would I be mad?" His hand, much to her disappointment, stilled.

She blinked, lips slowly parting. "I called you my friend." She winced, shaking her head slightly like the memory was something she wanted removed.

He thought about it for a moment. "Initially, yes. I think more than mad, I just felt out of depth."

"You don't like feeling out of depth." She looked at him carefully.

"Very true. But I've come to accept it as a given with you, even enjoy the feeling sometimes." He smiled, his thumb restarting it's previous ministrations.

Johnny paused, his eyes dancing with a sudden delight that slowly seeped into his lips.

"You told your mom you loved me." He grinned, his tone sing-song and dripping with taunt.

"I do love you."

"Good. I deserve it," He licked his lips, "As your best friend." He earned the smack on his shoulder. He winced playfully.

"My real best friends will do worse if they find out you said that." She snorted. "How would Mark feel?" She clicked her tongue in jest, resting her arms on his shoulders.

"Please Don't talk about Mark while I'm standing between your legs." He groaned, her head falling back to laugh at the distress on his face. He leaned closer to her with a soft smile, "I love when you laugh like that. Like you really don't want to but it's funny anyway." He kissed the corner of her lip.

"That's exactly how I feel everytime you try to be funny, Johnny." She giggled.

He kissed her chin. "Please. I'm hilarious and you know it." He spoke against her lips. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"If you say so." She mumbled before he kissed her.

Like all kisses with Johnny, it got heated fast. His tongue tugged on hers and his hand reached into her t-shirt to fondle her breast. It gave her a sense of victory, knowing that at least in a small capacity, he was also dying to touch her.

The weekdays without him was one thing, work had the terrible quality of keeping one's mind off most things. But to spend the Friday evening left high-strung was unacceptable.

She hooked her finger into the band of his sweatpants, pulling him closer. Johnny left her lips to journey down her throat with sensual licks.

"It's early Saturday and I still haven't been inside you." He mumbled against her throat. A mewl left her lips, a wordless acknowledgement of his observation. "We need to do something about this 'just weekends' thing." Johnny groaned.

She was too focused on the sensation of his thumb rubbing circles on her nipple to pay attention, giving him an unfocused nod. He kissed up her jaw to her ear, nibbling on the cartilage.

"Are you even listening to me?" He whispered into her ear.

"Of course." She said too quickly.

Johnny chuckled, an unconvinced hum leaving his lips and tickling her neck. The nerves of that side, from her neck to her leg jittered at the sensation. He hummed again just to feel it under his palm on her waist.

The sound of a door creaking open made him push back from her. Both of them breathing ravenously.

Johnny turned away, running a hand through his hair. She looked up at the clock in the kitchen, the arms telling her that it was six in the morning. She bit her lip, getting off the counter.

When (Y/N)'s mother entered the kitchen, Johnny was washing his face at the sink.

"Good morning." He said with a pleasant smile, "Would you like some coffee?"

Kisass, she thought.

(Y/N) scoffed, "You make me coffee, I'll make her tea." She cradled her face in her palm.

"You're up early." Her mother looked between them.

Their eyes met for a second.

Johnny turned back to her mother in a beat, "We were planning on dropping you to the airport." He leaned against the counter, nonchalant.

"Oh you don't have to do that!" Her mother laughed.

"I want to." He gave her a convincing smile.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes.

Unintended Consequences

#nct johnny #nct #nct scenarios #johnny scenarios #johnny smut #miscellaneous #unintended consequences #nct 127

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neon-junkie · 4 years

Text

Yes, Mr. Bell - Male Reader

Summary: Your camp member with benefits, Micah, confesses his darker kinks to you, and for some reason, you decide to let him have his way with you.

Pairing: Micah Bell x m!Reader

Word Count: 3835

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Gunplay, Gun kink, Object insertion, Bondage, BDSM, dom!Micah, sub!Reader, Slapping, Spanking, Slight humiliation, Spit, BJ’s, Creampie, Fingering, Choking, Breath play.

Notes: Finally, the gunkink fic. I’ve always wanted to write this but never had any requests for it. I was gonna do it anyway, but when I re-opened my requests I had like 5 ppl ask for it, so here it is!!!

Female Version is in my masterlist!

How did you end up in this mess? You're not quite sure. Well, you know how you ended up here, but at the same time, you don't. Out of all the camp members that you could have picked out, you'd somehow tripped over and fallen into sleeping with this mess of a man, Micah Bell himself. Just like the rest of the camp, he'd flirted every so often with you and you got a satisfying itch out of flirting back with him, seeing his face turn red as he realized that for once, somebody was actually paying attention to him. Only the more you flirted, the more Micah began to chase after you, his attention fading from the other camp members and turning all his focus onto you. He'd managed to catch a moment alone with you on the outskirts of camp at Sean's return party, leading to you being pinned against a tree as his lips finally met yours, and yes, running your tongue along his chin scar and slipping it into his mouth did spark a fire inside of him, just as you thought it would.

This man had continued to surprise you as he seemed to actually be more than satisfying in bed, but the more you slept with him, the more his... interesting kinks came out. There was the stuff you viewed as somewhat generic, like being blindfolded or tied down to the bed, but Micah had confessed a handful of darker kinks that he'd always been itching to try one night when he was drunk with you sprawled over his lap. Micah almost picked you up and carried you off to bed when you replied that you'd be down for it, but you hushed him and told him to wait until he's sober, to which he agreed and spent the rest of the night making out with you instead. You weren't surprised when a few days later, Micah had told you to pack your bags and saddle up your horse, taking you away from camp for a few days. He'd lead you to an abandoned cabin that was surprisingly in good shape. Of course, you questioned how Micah had found the cabin, but he assured you that he found it like this and the owner hadn't been seen for quite a while, so you believed him and decided not to question it anymore. So, that was how you ended up in this mess, watching as Micah finishes up tying your other ankle to your thigh, keeping your legs bent whilst bound. He grins at the sight as he finishes the final knot, spreading your legs apart however he pleases, his eyes flicking up to check on the ropes that are securing your wrists to the bedpost. At least he was generous enough to place the pillow beneath your head, keeping you comfortable whilst restrained and helpless. If someone had told you a few months back when Micah first joined the gang that you would eventually allow this man to tie you to the bed whilst licking his lips at you as if you were a piece of meat, then you would have laughed at them. But you're here, your mind coming back to reality as Micah lands a harsh slap to your ass. "If only you could see yourself, sweetheart. All bound up for me. Prettiest thing I've ever seen," Micah tells you as he rubs over your cheeks, calming the sting from his slap. "Now, I've got a few rules for ya', alright?" Micah asks. "Mhmm," you say with a nod, watching as Micah sits back on his knees on the bed. "Firstly, you've gotta refer to me as Mr. Bell. Secondly, you do what I tell you to, whenever I tell you. And thirdly, if you want me to stop then just say it, alright, darlin'?" he questions. "Alright," you say with a nod. "Mr. Bell," you quickly add on. "Good boy. Fast learner, ain'tcha?" Micah grins, spreading your legs far apart as he speaks. He keeps one hand on your leg, the other moving up to press two fingers against your lips. "You know what to do, darlin'," he instructs you. Your mouth falls open and your tongue flattens out, drawing Micahs fingers in and sucking on them. He lets out a pleasing hum as you slick his fingers up, his eyes locked onto yours, his other hand trailing up and down your thigh, often fiddling with the ropes as he admires his handiwork. When he's satisfied with how damp his fingers are, he pulls them from your mouth, moving his hand down and slipping them into your hole. Micah knows you can take it, and although there is a slight squeeze, he pushes both of his fingers in, turning them over and curling them as he looks for that spot inside of you. You let out a moan, your eyes trailing down to watch Micahs fingers disappear inside of you. He's slow at first, clearly teasing you, beginning to test your patience and limits. Micah finally picks up the pace once he does find your prostate. He tuts at the way you move your legs, trying to bridge the gap and squeeze your thighs together, but Micah pushes them apart as she shakes his head disapprovingly. "Be good," is all he tells you, flashing you a disapproving look before moving his attention back to your ass. You can already hear how wet you are as Micah curls his fingers even more and begins to fuck you aggressively with them, knowing exactly how to turn you into a whimpering mess. Another finger is pushed into you, and Micah lets out a "good boy," as he watches his third finger disappear inside of you. Micahs other hand moves off your thigh to begin playing with your balls, massaging them a lot gentler than you imagined. Once he's satisfied with how prepped you are, he pulls his fingers from you, wiping them off on his white jeans. Micah unbuttons his shirt, leaving it to hang open, then undoes his pants. He pulls out his cock, already hard and throbbing, eager to be inside of you. He positions himself comfortably whilst stroking his cock, and finally slides into you, pushing himself all the way in as he lets out a satisfied sigh. "Three fingers inside of you and you're still tight," Micah comments as he draws his cock most of the way out, only to slam it inside of you a few seconds later. Micah quickly tucks his hair behind his ears before moving his hands to settle on your legs, holding them apart as he begins to roll his hips. Within a few minutes, Micahs picked up his pace and is now slamming into you, panting through gritted teeth, his eyes flicking between watching your expressions and watching his cock disappear inside of you. One hand moves off your leg to grip onto the bedpost above your head, his body towering over you. Somehow, the slightly changed position seems to make Micahs cock go even deeper inside of you, the tip hitting your core, making your head spin. You're already a moaning mess and he's barely even started, though you can tell from the way his cock begins to throb inside of you that he's close. His other hand finds its way to your throat and begins to squeeze, but not hard enough to make your head spin heavily. It's almost as if he was teasing you, knowing damn well how much you enjoy a firm hand around your neck. Your eyes flick down to watch Micahs cock disappear inside of you. "Eyes on me, sweetheart," Micah tells you with a sudden slap to your cheek, holding your face afterward, squishing your cheeks together as he tilts your head up to look at him, his hand no longer around your throat. Your eyes meet Micahs, and he grins from ear to ear at the sight of you. "I like this side of you, you know," Micah begins. "So submissive, in the nude and lettin' me do whatever I want to you, whilst I'm still here in my clothes," he says with a chuckle. "Whos this ass belong to, sweetheart?" Micah asks. "You, Mr. Bell," you inform him, your eyes fixated on his. "Go on, say it again, but tell me this time," Micah orders again. "My ass belongs to you, Mr. Bell," you tell him. Micah grins again as he moves his hand from your cheeks back onto your throat, giving you a pleasant squeeze. "Good boy," Micah replies, drawing out his words. "And Micahs gonna use it however he wants, ain't he?" Micah asks. "Yes, Mr. Bell," you say with a nod. "And to think, I thought I was gonna have to train you. Seems you're just the naturally submissive type, ain'tcha?" Micah coos, giving your throat a tighter squeeze. His grip is too tight for a verbal response, so you nod in agreement as your lips part, your head beginning to spin as it rolls back against the pillow. Micah turns his attention back to thrusting into you, and within a few thrusts, his balls begin to feel heavy again. Suddenly, he slips his cock from you and lifts his hand off your throat. Micah shuffles about on the bed so he can bring his cock to your mouth instead, slipping into it despite the slightly awkward position. He places one hand on the back of your head and holds you still, thrusting his hips into you, refusing to stop despite your gagging and the drool running from the corners of your mouth. He lets out a whimper as he cums down your throat, his cock twitching as you choke on him. He's considerate enough to quickly pull out, letting you swallow most of his load and catch your breath, the rest of it trickling down your chin and settling on your chest. Micah shuffles off the bed and admires the state you're already in as he kicks off his pants, leaving them inside out on the floor. Once you've composed yourself, you watch as Micah turns his attention away and picks up his gunbelt, pulling out one of his customized revolvers. You watch as he unloads it, leaving the bullets on the table, and flicks it shut. There's a grin on his face as he turns back to you, and you tilt your head in confusion, though you have a rough idea of what he plans to do with it. Micah shuffles back onto the bed, settling below your legs, his eyes locked onto yours. "You gonna let me do it?" he asks. "Yeah," you say with a nod, making Micah grin even more. "Now, just for your sanity, I'll show you that it's empty," Micah says as he flicks the cylinder open and shows you clearly that there are no bullets inside. Micah shuts it and points it to the roof, pulling the trigger more than a handful of times. Obviously, nothing fires. "I'll even put the safety lock on for you," he says as he does it. You hear a click as he locks it. "How sweet of you," you say with a smirk. Micah shakes his head at you as he says "shame on me for tryna reassure you." "I'm just playin'. I appreciate the reassurance," you reply. "Good," Micah says. "Now, where were we?" Micah places his revolver on your stomach, moving his hand to slip two fingers back into your hole, still dripping wet from moments ago. He lets out an "ooh" as he pumps his fingers into you a few times before pulling them out. He shuffles back a pace or two so he can lie on his side, propping himself up on one elbow, looking rather comfortable whilst you're still bound to the bed. Micah picks up his revolver and holds it by the barrel. He presses the base of the handle against your ass and slowly circles your hole, slicking his gun up with your juices. "Shit," Micah sighs, his cock beginning to get hard again. "I ain't even pushed it into you yet and I'm already losing myself at the sight," Micah compliments as he continues to rut the base against your hole, his cock growing harder by the second. Finally, Micah tilts his gun slightly, making it easier to slip into you. He takes his time, slowly inserting the handle, watching as the grip disappears inside of you. He lets out a sigh as it finally sinks all the way inside, a stranger and foreign feeling, but a welcome one. Micah begins to fuck you with his gun, making you roll your head back against the pillow as a string of moans escape your lips. "So pretty," Micah sighs as he hungrily watches one of the few things he cares about sink inside of you. He continues to fuck you with the handle, loving the way your thigh muscles begin to shake. "Keep them legs spread," Micah orders you and you try your hardest to keep them open, your knees beginning to ache from being bound for so long. You're surprised when Micah tilts his gun slightly to the side, giving him some space to he can dip his head down and pop one of your balls into his mouth. His facial hair brushes nicely against the base of your cock, his tongue lapping over your sack as he moves back and forth between them, his gun still fucking you. The urge to reach down and push Micahs face down onto your cock is strong, though he's bound you far too well and you're unable to break free. So, you watch through half-lidded eyes as he plays with them, neglecting your cock because you don't deserve that pleasure. "Come on, sweetheart. Cum on my gun, won'tcha?" Micah asks, though you know it's an order. "Can't wait to use that thing knowing that you've cum from it," Micah says with a chuckle, his laughter moving to the back of his throat as he moves his mouth back onto your balls. Another few thrusts and flicks of his tongue and you're cumming. You clench tightly around Micahs revolver, soaking the rest of the handle, your legs struggling to stay apart as your body shakes. You're surprised he's managed to make you cum without actually touching your cock, your seed pooling on your stomach and chest. Micah, the asshole that he is, continues to flick his tongue over your overly-stimulated balls, making you whimper and whine as he drags out your orgasm. "Micah," you sigh, though his mouth refuses to move away from you. "Mr. Bell," you correct yourself, and Micahs eyes flick up to yours, though his tongue doesn't stop its attack. "Much better," Micah tells you as he finally lifts his head up, shuffling up onto his knees. He slips his gun from you and gazes over it, admiring how soaked you'd left his firearm. "Open up and hold it," Micah orders you as he brings the gun to your mouth, making you bite down on the handle. The flavour of yourself surrounds your mouth, dancing on your tongue and trailing over your lips. Micah moves his hand away and you have to hold the gun a little firmer, almost accidentally dropping the firearm but managing to keep it firmly in your mouth. Micah can't help but grin at the sight of you, still bound with your ankles against your thighs and your hands to the bedposts. The sight of his gun wedged between your lips makes his cock throb, precum dripping from the tip which he uses to slick himself up before pushing back into you. The sensation of Micah re-entering you when you've barely recovered from your climax is enough to start you up again, whimpering against the handle of his revolver as he begins to thrust into you. "Give," Micah says as he puts his hand out, letting you drop his gun into his palm. He wipes your spit off on his shirt and takes hold of his revolver, his finger ghosting over the trigger but nowhere near it, despite it being empty with the safety lock on. "Open that mouth of yours," Micah orders as he taps the barrel against your cheek. You do so, your tongue sticking out in the process, awaiting another order. He lets out a chuckle as his other hand takes a hold of your cheeks, squishing them ever so slightly but not enough to shut your mouth. Micah leans over you, pushing his cock deep inside of you in the process, and spits into your mouth. Most of his spit hits your tongue, but a small trail runs across your cheek. "Thank you, Mr. Bell," you say as Micah removes his hand, swallowing his spit as you keep eye contact with him. You notice the way Micah shivers at the sight, watching you lick your lips after you swallowed without him ordering you to. He shakes his head a little to help bring his focus back to fucking you, starting up his thrusts again. "You missed a bit," Micah tells you. He uses the end of the gun's barrel to wipe the small trail of spit from your cheek, presenting it over to your mouth. You part your lips and allow Micah to push the gun into your mouth, only an inch deep so you can swirl your tongue around it and lick off Micah's spit. Micah has to stop thrusting again because his mind is so focused on you, almost drooling as he watches you suck the barrel of his revolver, the taste of smoke and gunpowder becoming heavy on your tongue. You open your mouth again, moving your head back so his gun slips from your mouth. "Something a matter, Mr. Bell?" you ask, before sliding your tongue out and letting the tip of the barrel rest against it. Micah snaps out of another gaze, realizing he's been so focused on the sight of your mouth playing with his precious gun that he let his guard down. "Don't get smart with me, boy," Micah replies as he lands a harsh slap on your ass, your cheek stinging a little from the contact. Micah begins to fuck you again, a lot rougher this time, and keeps the barrel of his gun pressed against your tongue. He's rolling his hips perfectly, brushing against that spot inside of you. There's another harsh slap to your ass, making you whimper against the barrel. Micah grins and does it again, over and over until your cheeks begin to sting. "Stop tryna close them legs," he orders you, moving his hand from your ass to push your legs apart. "Sorry, Mr. Bell," you reply, your lips brushing against the barrel. Micah moves his gun from your lips, placing it on the bedside table and using the same hand, he grips hold of your throat, hitting those spots under your jawline oh-so-perfectly. He's squeezing a lot harder than earlier, admitting the way your eyes roll shut and your head thuds against the pillow. Micahs other hand moves to your cock, lazily stroking you, his grip barely tight enough to satisfy you. The sensation of blood rushing around your brain gets heavier and heavier but Micah keeps his grip firm, watching your chest rise and fall as he continues to fuck you. He lets go at just the right time, grinning as you gulp down a load of air, your mind slowly becoming clear as you come back to reality. "That always makes your ass tight," Micah tells you with a laugh. "Come on, boy. Need you that tight around me again so I can finish," he informs you. Micah quickly finds the perfect balance, jerking your cock as he thrusts his cock into you. He knows your orgasm is near from the way your muscles begin to shake, your body trembling beneath him. "Go on, cum for me, sweetheart," Micah coos, watching patiently and finally letting out a satisfied hum as you tighten around his cock, moaning away as your orgasm takes you, more of your own cum spurting over your chest. Micah thrusts into you a few more times, letting out a "shit!" as he empties his balls deep inside of you. His breathing becomes heavy, panting as he tries to catch his breath from however long the two of you had been at it. Once he's caught most of his breath, he dips his head down to steal a quick kiss from you, pulling a face at the taste of gunpowder that his revolver had left on you. You watch as Micah slips out of you, shuffling up to his feet and heading over to his gunbelt on the dining table. He pulls his knife from it and gently cuts away at your binds, finally freeing you from the bed. You let out a satisfied sigh, standing up and stretching, though no matter how much you stretch, you can't quite shake the numbness from your joints. Micah puts his knife away and begins to clean himself up, passing you the rag so you can sort yourself out. He peels off his shirt, leaving him nude, and scurries into bed, fluffing up the pillows and waiting for you to join him. After a much-needed drink, though it doesn't quite remove the taste of his gun from your lips, you join him in bed, still stretching your limbs every so often. "Need a hand?" Micah asks as you fidget again. "How can you help?" you ask. "Could give you a massage," he replies. You pull an odd face, but Micah assures you that he knows what he's doing, and to your surprise, he does. His hands knead nicely at the parts that ache, and once you're satisfied, he lies back down and pulls you against his chest. "Did you enjoy that?" Micah asks. "I did. I didn't realize you knew how to give massages," you say as you shut your eyes. "I ain't on about that." "I enjoyed fucking your gun, yes," you reply. "If they ever go missing, you'll know who has them," you say with a laugh. "Let me do it for you," he says with a kiss to your forehead. "Oh, I will. I saw the way you were drooling at that sight, Micah," you tease. "Can you blame me? Pretty boy clenching around my revolver, how could I not drool at that?" Micah replies, trying his best not to sound too defensive. "Fair point," you say with a laugh, burying your head into the curve of Micahs neck a little more. Micah pulls the blankets up even more, ensuring you're comfortably tucked under them, before tightening his grip on you. His cheek rests against the top of your head, and within minutes, the two of you are sound asleep, looking a lot more peaceful than you were not too long ago.

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emu-lumberjack · 4 years

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Don’t Answer the Phone tired Part 3

Damian’s left at the mercy of his brothers, and he really needs to start paying attention.

-----------------------------

Hi guys, I’ve had probably too much caffiene late at night but heres the next part to Don’t Answer the Phone Tired. Some backstory and croissants are in order. I promise next time more Marinette. also as a side note, the Kipo soundtrack is amazing to write too.

Part one

Part two

Part four

part five

“Since you pricks are insistent on being social, tell me how Gotham is.” Damian asked his brothers, downing a swig of coffee.

“Oh you know dark, gloomy, and full of rouges.” Dick said “But enough about Gotham. Tell us about Paris, specifically a special somebody.”

“No.” The voice he used was cold and curt. “Where do you want to eat.”

“I think there's a bakery nearby.” Jason said with a grin, the exhausted Damian didn’t put two and two together until they were at the door of the Dupain-Cheng bakery. “Shit.” Damian turned around to leave, only for Jason to pick him by his hood and look him straight in the eyes.

“Now listen here Demon spawn. We’re hungry and poor Timmy over there is freezing cold after the nice little ice bath you gave him.” A glance over to Tim saw the poor boy shivering in his still wet clothes. “So we are gonna go in there and grab some nice warm pastries. Unless there's a reason we shouldn’t, but I couldn’t think of one could you?” Damian silently cursed his mother for teaching Jason to be such an ass, more so than he normally was. He kept his mouth shut knowing it would be worse for him to say that this was Marinette's bakery.

The party walked there normal mismatch of aesthetics. The bakery smelled like warm bread and freshly baked cookies. Like Marinette. It was enough for Damian to temporarily relax and let loose a breath he’d been holding for the last hour. This change in demeanor wasn’t missed by Dick but the elder boy chose not to comment.

“Hello and welcome to the Dupain-Cheng Bake…… Oh Damian it’s you. Wait, why aren’t you at school? Is Marinette alright?” Sabine came out from behind the counter, turning off her customer service voice the minute she saw it was Damian.

“Yes Sabine she’s completely fine. In fact she made sure I got up in time.” He motioned with his coffee mug. “A real lifesaver. The reason I’m not there now is because my brothers decided they just needed to come visit me in Paris so my dad called me out for the day.” Sabiene looked at the 3 other men in the room before responding,

“Oh how delightful, you never speak of your family. I was starting to think you just hatched out of an egg somewhere.” A snicker from the boys in the back, “well no matter we must sit down and talk, I’d love to get to know them!” it was then that she noticed Tim in all of his drenched glory, “I can also lend you some of Tom’s old clothes while yours dry.”

“Oh if that wouldn’t be too much of a bother, someone thought they were funny and tried to get me up in a not so polite manner.” He glared at Damian, the latter pointedly ignoring him.

Sabine caught on to his meaning quickly and stifled a laugh “Oh it's no problem at all, they might be a bit big though.”

Ten minutes later they were situated around the table on the upper level, hot coffee in front of Jason, Tim, and Damian while Sabine and Dick both had tea. The boys had chosen different pastries. Dick went with a blueberry scone, Tim who was now sitting in a much too big white shirt and comically oversized pants for his frame had a classic butter croissant and Jason went with a pain au lait. Damian having already eaten just sat sipping his coffee.

“So Ms. Dupain-Cheng..” Dick Began.

“Oh please just call me Sabiene” She interrupted.

“Alright Sabine, Damian’s been less than forthcoming about his time here in Paris, would you be able to fill in some gaps? Like how he and Marinette met.” Damian kicked Dick from underneath the table.

“Oh I’d be happy too! It’s actually a rather cute story. Damian had just moved to Paris and was having trouble making any friends, Marinette had taken note of that and asked me and Tom, he’s my husband you’d meet him but he’s out of town right now, so she asked Tom and me to help make this boy in her class some macaroons to help him get more accustomed to Paris. We thought to remind him of Gotham so we made them Batman and Robin themed. We actually probably have a picture of them around here somewhere.” She mumbled the last bit to herself as Damian steadily slunk down in his chair attempting to hide from looks his brothers would throw his way. “Well anyway the next day they were in class, and since they sat next to each other she tried to offer him the macaroons then, but Damian being Damian didn’t want to take them. Something about not liking sweets. Instead of shying away she just split one in half and asked him to just try that.”

“I can take it from here Sabine.” Damian's voice surprised even him, but the boy knew what was coming next and it would be less embarrassing if he said it.

“Of course, you were there so you probably know it better anyway.”

Three predatory gazes settled on Damian taking note of everything he said to rely to Bruce, Damian took a breath and continued, “I took the half she offered me out of politeness, after all Sabine you and Tom worked very hard on them. They were probably some of the best Macaroons I’d ever had. Marinette left the box between the two of us on our desk and went back to her school work. When she wasn’t looking I took another one, I hadn’t eaten breakfast and it was a very nice gesture.” Damian looked up to see Dick holding his hand over his mouth, concealing a squeal most likely. Todd was looking at him with laughter in his eyes, and even Drake had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Anyway I ended up eating the entire thing, after class Marinette and I started talking more, and eventually we just ended up hanging out outside of class playing video games and the like.”

“Oh my Gosh that is so adorable.” Grayson was the first to speak after Damian finished. “Damian I never knew you could be so… so…”

“Nice?” Tim supplied.

“Yes nice!”

“I’m mainly focusing on the fact that Damian was kind enough to actually have her keep up conversation after the first one.” Jason was looking at Damian incredulously.

“Ah I see his prickly attitude is not a recent development.” Sabine said, taking a sip of her tea.

“That would be an understatement. Although believe it or not he’s actually a lot better then when we first met him.” Dick said politely.

The five of them sat quietly trading stories of Gotham and Paris, Damian firmly keeping them off the topic of him and Marinette. Cups of tea and coffee came and went until a cheerful voice called from the foyer “Mamman I’m home!” Damian immediately sprinted downstairs and tackled Marinette in a bearhug.

“Please never leave me alone with them again.”

She just laughed and said “Was it really that bad Dames?” Tim who had just walked downstairs startled chuckling.

“What’s so funny Drake?” Damian said icily.

“The fact she called you Dames! Last time I think someone tried to do that you had a katana at their throat and they were found hanging upside down from one of the gargoyles at Gotham academy.”

“Did you seriously do that Damian?” Marinette focused her gaze on him.

“Ok in my defense it’s also because he wouldn’t stop coming onto me even though I had said no. I mean he wasn’t even my type.”

“Oh and what is your type then?” She asked.

“Blue hair with gorgeous blue eyes. A complete klutz half the time, while still somehow managing to keep seven layer cakes from falling down. Someone who will draw and sketch to their heart's content, while simultaneously dealing with a dumbass. Also doesn’t hurt if they can make the most beautiful clothes.” He planted a small kiss on Marinette's cheek just to emphasize.

“Seriously, how did you do that.” Tim’s voice cut through the moment, Damian turned towards him annoyed.

“Now that is a story for after lunch. How bout we go grab some sushi and we’ll tell you.”

Not again.

Tag list (I’m assuming if you wanted to be tagged in part two you want to be tagged here, if not: welp you are anyway):

@ur-average-reader @kristycocopop @k-laconia-bug1 @smolplantmum @dast218 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @acoursedprophetwithasmothie @g-arya @loysydark @mewwitch @itsemeanne @hauntedstudent99 @shippernaturalsanderspjoandscifi @purplesundaze

general writing tag:

@clumsy-owl-4178

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous x dc #Damianette #damianxmarinette #Sabiene duping-cheng #ml #ml xdc #maribat #miraculous ladybug Au #marinette dupain cheng #damienette

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365days365movies · 3 years

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January 16, 2021: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2014)

I am a massive comic book nerd. Not unusual these days, to be fair. But I’m definitely up there, as far as my obsession with Marvel and DC go. And, yeah, I stick mostly to those two houses, and their various imprints.

Why do I bring this up? Well...remember this movie?

Kick-Ass was a pretty big deal when it came out in 2010, as it was a Marvel Comics movie that was completely unrelated to the relatively new Marvel Cinematic Universe. Based of a 2008 comic book written by Mark Millar and drawn by John Romita Jr., the film was directed by Matthew Vaughn, and featured a more realistic take on how real-world superheroes would actually work.

Vaughn and Millar by this point at least, were friends. Around 2012, they’re getting drunk at a pub together, and talking movies. The topic of spy movies come up, and how there hasn’t really been a good, non-parody, fun spy movie, and that there should be. And that was the bulk of their conversation.

Enter Dave Gibbons, a legendary comic book artist, whom you may know from drawing the comic book that was turned into this:

Oh yeah, he’s a big deal. Gibbons and Millar end up getting together to write a fun spy comic book based on this idea. Vaughn, meanwhile, is getting ready to direct X-Men: Days of Future Past, the sequel to X-Men: First Class, which Vaughn directed. That’s a good movie, by the way, even if I have...issues...with the treatment of the X-Men in film. Maybe one day I’ll get into that, we’ll see what happens. Ask me about it if you’re curious.

Anyway, Millar goes to Vaughn with this script, and Vaughan looks at it and realizes that he needs to direct this movie before somebody else makes it. So he leaves Days of Future Past, and he signs on to...

I feel like it’s an obligation, as a comic book dude, to watch this film. I should also read the book, but I didn’t do that with Kick-Ass, so to hell with it! Let’s get this recap started! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Starting off with some Money for Nothing, and somewhere in the Middle East, 1997! We go into a stone temple, where some kind of mission is taking place. A surprise grenade causes the loss of one of the agents. The surviving agents are Merlin (Mark Strong), Lancelot AKA James Spencer (Jack Davenport), and Galahad, AKA Harry Hart (Colin Firth).

Hart, feeling guilty over the death of this agent, tells his wife, Michelle (Samantha Womack) and child Eggsy (yes, Eggsy) of his sacrifice, and gives Eggsy a medal.

From there, we jump forward 17 years, to Argentina where...Mark Hamill?

Holy shit, it’s Mark Hamill! Apparently, he’s playing Professor James Arnold, and being held hostage by a group of mysterious men. Just then, he’s rescued by Lancelot, showing up with some classic James Bond-style swagger and asking for a cup of sugar, sardonically.

He kicks the asses of these guys, but is SLICED IN HALF BY A MAN WITH SWORD LEGS WHAT THE FUCK????

I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was watching the best thing I’ve ever goddamn seen. And as if that weren’t enough, she’s working for Samuel L. “Motherfucker” Jackson, playing Richmond Valentine. I am...I am so pleased.

We go to the Kingsmen headquarters, where Lancelot is being mourned by the Kingmen and their leader MICHAEL CAINE, REALLY, HOLY SHIT

Ahem. Sorry, uh...the star-studded cast has basically caused me to have a minor aneurysm. Caine plays Arthur, the leader of the Kingsmen. Get it? I can dig it, I’m a sucker for a good Arthurian reference. Anyway, now that Lancelot’s dead, it’s time to find a new candidate. Apparently, the man that died 17 years ago was part of an “experiment” by Hart, which Arthur says has failed. Galahad calls Arthur a snob, and says that they need to evolve with the times. \

Speaking of that former candidate, how’s his son doing?

Not stellar, it seems. His mom is dating a very unsavory gentleman, and not really taking good care of her youngest daughter. Eggsy (Taron Egerton), on the other hand, is a carefree delinquent. After engaging in an entertaining backwards car chase with the police (it’s cool), he gets arrested. He refuses to give up his friends, and he instead asks for a phone call.He looks at the medallion around his neck, and remembers that he can use the number of the back to contact someone for help. He uses a specific code phrase, but it appears not to have worked. But then, Eggsy is turned loose with little more than a phone call. That’s when Eggsy meets Hart.

We find out that Eggsy has a high IQ and Olympic-level athletics, but has dropped out of the Marines, and has been arrested for drugs and other illegal activities. After being read out by Hart, Eggsy goes on an anger-filled diatribe about the differences in privilege between the two of them. Although it’s short, it’s a powerful speech.

But that speech is interrupted by the owner of the car that Eggsy stole the previous night, as well as his gang. They’re yearning for a fight with Eggsy, and they threaten Hart. He doesn’t take that well, as he shuts the doors and windoes to the pub. Time to teach a lesson.

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Yup, I’m giving this fight the posted video award. It might be short, but it’s also one of the best and coolest sequences I’ve ever seen in a spy movie. And OH, it’s giving me that gadget shit I was missing from the Bond movies.

After one of the most enjoyable fight sequences I’ve seen in a while, Eggsy’s understandably stunned. So is his stepfather Dean (Geoff Bell), the leader of the gang that Hart beat up in the pub. He’s not happy, and he beats Eggsy in their apartment, and that scene is...WHOOF. Much to their surprise, however, Hart’s left a device on Eggsy’s back. He threatens Dean through the device, and tells Eggsy to meet him at a tailor that he’d mentioned.

Once Eggsy escapes from Dean and the gang via nest parkour tricks, he makes his way to the tailor, where Hart officially brings him into the fold, giving him the opportunity to become a Kingsman. He exposits the history of the agency as a private group of spies, meant to protect the world while not bowing to the bureaucracy that plagues government-affiliated spy institutions.

We get to go to Kingsman Headquarters proper, and yeah...yeah, it’s cool. As compared to the other recruits, Eggsy’s pretty obviously out of place. This, of course, is part of the point, as Hart believes the Kingsmen could use someone with different life experiences and background. That would be the experiment mentioned earlier.

Eggsy’s competitors include Roxy (Sophie Cookson), who appears to actually be polite to him, unlike most of the potentials. They settle in for the night...but not for long. Their quarters fills with water, as the entirety of the Kingsmen head towards the showerheads and toilets for air. While they all succeed, Eggsy is the one who actually gets everyone out, by literally punching the window.

Unfortunately, for one of the candidates...it’s too late. These candidates could die in the hiring process. Rough.

Sadly, Mark Hamill also doesn’t quite make it, as Hart finds him, surprisingly freed from Valentine’s capture. As he’s questioned, Valentine is forced to kill him via Suicide Squad implant, and barely escaped from his men. Valentine and his henchwoman, Gazelle (Sofia Boutella) are trying to figure out who the Kingsmen are, to no avail at the moment.

Back with Merlin, who’s training the Kingsman candidates! They’re all told to get a puppy! Aw. Eggsy chooses J.B. a pug, under the mistaken impression that it’s a bulldog. And I’m not a pug person...but that puppy is cute as shit.

Time marches on, and the Kingsmen continue their training. Eggsy’s colleagues continue to discriminate against him, especially Charlie (Edward Holcroft). Hart, who was knocked out by the explosion, eventually wakes up. Valentine goes around to political leaders and proposes his plan to “save the world,” whatever that’s about to mean. Apparently, that includes giving the King of Sweden a surgical implant of some kind. Huh.

This, of course includes some, uh...conflict with Gazelle.

Awesome.

Eggsy’s in the final 6! As Hart congratulates him over this, we finally get some exposition on Richmond Valentine’s plan. See, that implant is the Suicide Squad bomb that killed Hamill, and Gazelle also has one. Additionally, he’s released a plan to the world that will provide free internet and phone data...forever. Not ominous at all, that.

After a cool skydiving training sequence, only three candidates are left. Hart, meanwhile, poses as a wealthy philanthropist, donating to Valentine’s cause. As a result, he’s treated to an extravagant dinner...of McDonald’s. Yes, it is the best product placement I’ve seen in a while, in case you were wondering. That reveal was hilarious.

Anyway, their conversation turns from talking about climate change studies and concerns, to their opinion of James Bond movies, in a lovely little piece of meta flavor. At this point, they would appear to understand each other’s role in the play, as it were. Forgot to mention, Valentine’s been kidnapping anyone who disagrees with his goals, while also distributing his free internet cards. So, there’s that. But he’s also trying to figure out what exactly the “Kingsmen” are. Speaking of...

Our three remaining Kingsman candidates are assigned a mission to seduce a young dignitary. However, all three of them make a mistake, and allow themselves to get drugged at a party, by someone wanting to know who Hart and Kingsmen are. When Eggsy wakes up, he’s been strapped to train tracks. Uh oh.

Despite an oncoming train, Eggsy doesn’t give the man any formation. Which, of course, was the point. It’s Hart, helping to give the Kingsman candidates a little loyalty test, which both Eggsy and Roxy pass with flying colors. But Charlie...Charlie’s a coward who immediately gives everything up, including Arthur himself.

Eggsy gets to spend 24 hours with Hart, before being thrown headfirst into a mission. Hart explains that being a Kingsman means being a gentleman, which Eggsy isn’t. Hart, of course, plans to fix that.

They head to the tailor, and check out some spy gadgets. And much to their surprise, Valentine is also there, under the guise of getting a suit. Hart takes the opportunity to recommend a hatter, who gives him a top hat with built in listening devices. I love it.

Eggsy, meanwhile, speaks with Arthur at Kingsman HQ. He’s commanded to perform one final test: kill his pug, J.B. Which...yeah, damn, that sucks. He doesn’t do it, understandably. Unfortunately...Roxy does kill her dog. She succeeds...and Eggsy’s kicked out of the Kingsman candidacy. Which feels like a bullshit play, if I’m honest.

Eggsy steals Arthur’s car, then goes back home. As he’s about to confront his stepfather, Hart brings back the car via remote access, then explains to Eggsy that the gun was filled with blanks, and that Eggsy ended up giving up his shot. He also reveals that the first candidate to die...didn’t actually die! It’s been a ruse all along, meant to test the candidates under the strictest of conditions. Which sucks, obviously, because Eggsy’s out of the program.

And at that point, Valentine says something of note, revealing that he plans to go to a hate church in Kentucky to begin his master plan. Hart heads there, and tells Eggsy to stay put.

We get treated to just...just the loveliest of sermons. Disgusting. But then...

...that’s the point, isn’t it?

Because Valentine uses the SIM cards to create a signal that drives the parishioners crazy. Hart’s also in the church, however, and he also starts going crazy. Which leaves the question: what happens when a highly trained spy goes up against untrained civilians, has a bunch of gadgets...and has absolutely no restraint whatsoever?

A MASSACRE, THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS. And most surprisingly, it’s a massacre that we actually SEE. Hart basically kills almost EVERYBODY in the church. I’ll put the video up, but...y’know, be warned here. It ain’t pretty.

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Hart comes to, and realizes exactly what he’s done. He leaves, only to be confronted by Valentine and his men. The Bond metaphor finally comes full-circle, explained directly by Valentine. But instead of explaining his whole plan and devising some complicated way to kill Hart that he’ll inevitably escape from...

He just shoots Hart in the head. Holy shit. And this is while Merlin, Arthur, and yes, Eggsy watch on through Hart’s home feed. Looks like a new Kingsman is needed.

Arthur tells Merlin to assemble the Kingsmen. But Eggsy...Eggsy has other plans. Thinking on Hart’s words about wanting to do something good with his life. He goes to Arthur to talk to him about Hart’s death. Arthur invites him in for brandy. And that’s...when my mind exploded.

HE’S FUCKING IN ON IT?!? Michael Caine, NOOOO! Turns out that Valentine’s convinced Arthur of his true plan: a culling. He believes that the Earth’s temperature because there’s simply too much humanity, like a body trying to kill a virus. And so...he’s going to make the virus exterminate itself. And that argument’s enough to win Caine over.

Turns out that the implant is meant to protect those individuals against a neurological signal emitted by the SIM cards, the same one that went off in the church. Arthur, realizing that Eggsy understands exactly what’s going on, poisons him, then asks if he would like to join them. Eggsy refuses...and Arthur sets off the remote poison to kill him.

But NOPE! EGGSY SWITCHED THE FUCKIN’ GLASSES! I love this movie. Arthur dies, and Eggsy uses the opportunity to dig the implant from his neck. He takes that and Arthur’s phone to Merlin and Lancelot, who realize that they can’t trust anyone at this point. And so, the three of them - yes, the three of them - go to stop Valentine.

And, yeah...I can dig it. OH HOW I CAN DIG it.

Roxy goes up in an experimental vehicle to bring down the satellite, Merlin is flying the plane, and Eggsy...Eggsy’s the one going in disguised as Arthur, in order to infiltrate the mountain lair of Valentine. Here, he and the other beneficiaries wait it out, while the world literally tears itself apart. Now wearing a bespoke suit and playing the role of a gentleman, Eggsy enters the lion’s den.

But as expected, it’s time to hit some snags. Roxy waits juuuuuust a little too long, and one of the balloons in her craft pops. As for Eggsy, he meets an old “friend” of his in the form of Charlie, who’s now working for Valentine.

The missile’s fired just in time, as Charlie’s taken out and Eggsy runs for the plane. AWESOME climax here as Eggsy escapes. I mean it; it is VERY cool. They succeed JUST in time, and the satellite is destroyed. However, Valentine’s still managed to partially start the process, and they can’t do anything about that.

Eggsy’s gotta go BACK in, before Valentine gets another satellite to trigger the signal worldwide. Now armed with Hart’s AWESOME umbrella, he makes his way there under heavy gunshot. They’re also teaming up against Merlin in the plane, so he’s not doing great. And that when Eggsy has the idea...to turn the implants on. ALL of them.

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It’s amazing. Violence in fireworks. So, it’s too bad that it doesn’t stop the signal. It works, and people start to tear each other apart all across the world. But only for was long as Valentine has his hands on the desk. Eggsy manages to stop that by laying down some suppressive fire.

That provokes a response.

..This movie is, for lack of a better term, fucking rad.

Gazelle and Eggsy have an awesome fight, worthy of any James Bond movie, seriously. I really want to give it the video post honor, but I’ve done that too much already. For god’s sake, I literally JUST did that.

Gazelle dies (it’s kinda goofy how she dies, if I’m honest), and Eggsy kills Valentine with her prosthetic leg. It’s over, as the signal ends, and Eggsy even gets the girl. Not Roxy, the Princess of Sweden. Not going into it, but it’s funny.

And that’s Kingsman: The Secret Service! Honestly, I gotta say, that was a rad-as-shit movie, and...

Ooh, a mid-credits scene! Eggsy goes back home, to the pub, where his stepfather and mom are hanging out with the gang. And let’s just say...Dean’s gonna get a little comeuppance. Manners, after all, maketh man.

OK, THAT’S Kingsman: The Secret Service! And that, again, was pretty rad. See you in the Epilogue in a few!

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sortasirius · 5 years

Text

“Last Call” and Canon Bi Dean

This is going to be very long, very rambly, and very emotional.

Really though, I had high expectations going into this, and quite honestly? Jeremy Adams blew me away.

This episode is about Dean’s growth, it’s about who he was to Lee, and who he is now, about overcoming his own desire to just stop caring and keep on fighting for the innocent. But most importantly to me? This episode canonized bi Dean.

So let’s just get right into it, we know from the beginning that we’re meeting Lee, Dean’s old friend that Sam doesn’t really know or isn’t really close with, but the way Dean leaves? He doesn’t want to bring down the mood of Sam and Eileen in his post breakup depression funk? Good grief.

The bar is cool and right up Dean’s alley, and right out of the gate we get the promo scene with the waitress that we were all wigging out about. And my hunch was right, Dean just kinda rolls right by, which man, Dean from season 1? Hell no. She’s just his type, clearly into him, and yet, Dean’s world literally falls away when he sees Lee Webb singing onstage.

You can’t really do justice to the way with words to the way that Dean looks when he sees Lee and realizes who he is, Jensen and Christian have so much NUANCE in their scenes together, and the history behind them is palpable, even though we don’t know the extent of it. And Lee is just the same way, looking Dean up and down and “Dean Winchester,” just to hammer home that something is going on here and we should not ignore it.

“You got time?” “Always.” Bruh. There are so many details that we can pick up on about them, their relationship, who they were to each other. Even Dean’s little “you sound good,” come on guys, what the fuck?

That’s another thing: why don’t we know the history? Why do they shy away from talking about why they split apart? Dean is clearly upset when Lee mentions Arizona, what happened? Why did John and Dean never mention Lee? And obviously Lee knows John, hell he seems more sorry than Dean does that John’s dead, but then again, the Dean that Lee remembers idolized John, so that’s definitely a big change for Lee, because Dean clearly doesn’t idolize John anymore.

I just want to hear about everything that’s mentioned in the episode in more detail: Lee and Dean went hunting together, presumably alone, since John caught them drunk on a hunt. What went on? I think we know. How often did they hunt together? How long had they known each other? D E T A I L S please Jeremy Adams!!!

“I don’t think I have seen you since Sammy was in college.”

“Right.”

“I mean, hell, I thought you were-”

“Dead?”

Also Lee does this little teasing laugh and everything about them is soft and my chest hurts.

“I mean, that’s usually how this ends, isn’t it?”

And what I want to talk about here is Lee’s reaction, because he doesn’t shrug and do the usual “so it goes” that so many hunters do, he looks at Dean, like really looks at him, he sighs and says a simple “yeah” with this look that’s so soft and so full of something and Dean looks away (doing his eye motion thing he does with Cas) and Lee breaks contact too and looks down and smiles and oh my god. I told yall this was going to be rambly but I didn’t draw breath while typing that lmao.

I wanna know about the Arizona thing, I want to know why it made Dean uncomfortable when Lee mentioned it, and I want to know why it’s glossed over. These two were like best friends, you can tell, and for them to just stop talking? Hm.

They swap tales, talking about the triplets that they “split em up fair and square” even though that’s not possible and they had an orgy obviously. Dean has this look with the waitress again and you can tell he appreciates it but like? That’s the end of it? In the next scene she’s gone and it’s just Lee and Dean talking, Dean making Lee laugh and enjoying it, it’s just so...romantic?

And even though, the second that Lee doesn’t recognize someone he should puts all of us, as the audience on alert, it doesn’t even cross Dean’s mind that Lee is doing something wrong, it’s not even on his radar.

“There’s nothing you can’t have, man.”

“Then who’s gonna kill the bad guys?”

“Somebody else.”

And Dean looks away, because it’s clear what Lee is asking. He’s asking for Dean to stay.

When Lee starts up the band, I was just struck by how much they look at each other, getting in each other’s space, Lee leaning forward, Dean watching him walk away. Guys. This happened in front of our faces on screen.

“Can’t sit around lip syncing ‘Eye of the Tiger’ when no one’s watching.”

This is a callback to the ghost sickness episode, but also an intimate moment that no one gets to see of Dean. Sam catches him in the act of it on that episode, so how does Lee know he does this?

And then, let’s get to the singing. Dean’s always postured to Sam that he can’t sing (which we all know Jensen has the voice of an angel) and the buildup to him actually singing was so beautiful, because Lee knows he can, he teases him with the “Eye of the Tiger” thing, winks at him, keeps trying to pull him onstage, stands there and bites his lip when Dean’s singing. I mean. I’m at a loss to what else you would think about them, it’s just plain as day: they were together.

The whole thing is just so playful, and we never see playful like this from Dean. It’s flirty and funny and sweet and just such a nice change of pace, so good for Dean to be with someone that clearly wants to be with him, who he has history with (amidst the divorce he’s currently in w Cas). Even when they sing together they can’t keep their eyes off of each other and the whole thing is honestly too much it’s so fanfic-y and I can’t handle it.

And then, the big thing, Lee slaps Dean’s ass in the middle of the song, and Dean doesn’t blush, he doesn’t stand up straighter like that’s weird or wrong, he grins this huge amazing beautiful grin and says “you son of a bitch.” What else are we looking for here? He’s bi. He’s bi. With the lighting behind him and the bar named Swayze’s and Lee staring holes through him, we finally saw onscreen, canonical proof that he’s bi. Sure, it’s been hella subtextual before, but this is text, and no one can ignore it.

At the end of the song, one of Lee’s hands is gripping Dean’s shoulder, and Dean’s arm is around Lee’s waist?????????? Help??????

They round it all out with kicking some gross guys out of Lee’s bar, and Lee stares at Dean and says “still got it.” I mean....I’m running out of ways to say the same thing over and over.

“Best friend’s don’t just leave without saying goodbye.”

“They do if they deserve it.”

Hmmmmmmmm, something to think about with these lines.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on okay, but this is not you.”

Compare that with:

“Cas, this isn’t you, this isn’t you.”

Cool. Fine. I want to die.

Lee became the monster because he thought there was no point in being a good person anymore. You can’t stave them off so you might as well “have a little fun.” Which I think is interesting because of how apathetic and hopeless Dean’s been since Chuck, since Jack, since Mary, since Rowena, but when it comes down to it, he’s always going to care, which is why we love him.

But what I really want to talk about is the way Dean’s face twists when Lee touches him, he turns his head away, his face contorts, like he wanted Lee to touch him, but not like this. We’ve seen Dean’s heart break so much in this show, he’s lost so much and so many, but this is something so different. It’s not only betrayal, or a realization that he has to kill Lee, it’s the loss of what he had with Lee, what he felt for him. It hurts to watch as an audience member, and I can’t imagine how it is for Dean.

Dean’s voice also breaks when he tries to call Lee back, in case you still had any tears left to cry.

The gunfight is intense, but not nearly as intense as what’s coming.

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t Dean? I am you. I’m just you that woke up and saw that the world was broken.”

“Then you fix it. You don’t walk away, you fight for it!”

No double meanings in this episode are there? Perhaps this is a little bit of what happened between them all those years ago bubbling to the surface?

And then we get one of the best fight scenes in the show, and you know when Dean gets that cue stick, that it’s game over for Lee, but what I wasn’t expecting is the sheer heartbreak on Dean’s face. They both look down at the wound, like they’re both surprised, and Lee holds Dean, he fucking holds him, and this fucking piano music plays when Lee says “okay” and drops to the floor, and Dean leans against the pool table because fuck, how much more can he lose?

And because not even THAT is enough, ten seconds of divorced Destiel distress? Where Dean clearly wants to talk to Cas but Cas is still giving him the cold shoulder and it breaks Dean’s heart but he doesn’t know how to fix it????

There’s just so much to unpack here, the show is teaching us new things about Sam and Dean and Cas all the time, and yet I feel like I really know Dean know, I;ve seen a little bit of him that I had never seen before, and I’m just grateful. I’m grateful for Dean, grateful for these writers, grateful for his growth. I’m grateful for the angst and the happiness he had with Lee, however fleeting, and I’m grateful that I get to leave this episode with the fact that Dean is oncreen bi. Sure, it can be up to interpretation, he didn’t come out and say it, but that’s because he didn’t have to. Lee knew, so we knew, and that was all that mattered.

This silly, weird show is important to me for so many reasons, (clearly, since I talk about it all the damn time), but Dean especially is so important to me, I see so much of myself in him, and him being allowed to be him, without some grand coming out scene is even better than I could have ever hoped for. So thank you, Jeremy Adams, for giving us bi Dean, and one of my absolute all time favorite episodes in the show.

#supernatural #dean winchester #bi dean #dean #supernatural meta #spoilers #spn 15x07 #this is SO LONG!!#lee webb #meta #my meta #writing #i cried writing this and i am unashamed

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

Please do share your feelings on how the OG fandom interacts with lgbtqa+ relationships. If you do not want to get into it because it might cause drama I completely understand as sometimes people tend to take opinions very personally and make unnecessary attacks.

What exactly about LS do you love? For me, firstly the characters are great. Like someone was like let there be Grace Ryder, Carlos Reyes, Marjan Marwani etc! The power they all hold and I love how they are such complex characters and we still have so much to find out about all of them. Why does Mateo seem to be grounded in religion, how did TK get into substance abuse, how does Paul do his "thing" and how was Chicago for him (thinking back to him talking to Owen about skin care), why does Carlos always take on the world's burdens and sometimes disregard his own feelings so that he always maintains this strong persona, getting to really know Nancy as there seems to be a vulnerability to her etc etc etc. The way these characters all gel together. The found family trope is *chef's kiss*, the portrayal of healthy, loving, intimate relationships is beautiful. And throw in some kick ass rescues. So much potential for the show to be super great. This was longgggg but LS really does have a lot of potential and I hope season 3 brings the goods.

okay before i get into this please know this is coming from an outsider who doesn’t watch the show and i’m not trying to start any drama — this is just my point of view, please don’t come for me

so. god. how do i word this in a way that won’t get me killed.

there are two canon lgbtq+ couple in 911 (that i’m aware of) - both of which are between two characters of colour. one of these couples is comprised of two women who have kids, which, personally, i see as a rarity in tv. i’ve also been lead to believe that one of the men in the other couple is bi which is fantastic if true but i don’t know.

here’s where the issue comes in for me — i didn’t know about hen and karen until just before the crossover ep and i didn’t hear about david and michael (are those the rights names?) until several weeks later. maybe not unusual for somebody who doesn’t watch the show, but at that point i had several mutuals who watch the show and i saw plenty about so i pretty much knew what was going on anyway.

except everything was always about buck and eddie. so much so that i genuinely didn’t realise they weren’t canon for a long time. i get it — a relationship like that, fandom are bound to want it as canon. but being so loud about it in a way that actually hides the real, canonical lgbt+ relationships in the show doesn’t sit right with me, especially not when a) they’re between poc and b) one of said couples is a non-sexualised, happy lesbian couple

that got longer than intended and i’m so sorry — i would put a cut but i am on mobile. this is in no way a call out to any one person and i’m not saying shipping buddie is a bad thing. i am not in the fandom so i don’t really have the authority to speak on them but that is my perception, i’m sorry if i’ve got it wrong, and please tell me if i’ve caused offence.

to answer the second part of your question — the immediate draw for me was the frankly immaculate whump lone star gives us. top tier 10/10 the only thing i would change is the instant recovery thing they’ve got going on because that’s frustrating as fuck.

i also really love the characters! i’d even enjoy owen’s if the writer deigned to actually delve into his trauma as a legitimate thing instead of focusing on his hero complex every single episode. these characters all have the potential to be so deep and i’m hoping, now that the show has firmly established itself, that we’ll start to get some much needed backstory. we got flashes of them all in s2 so here’s hoping this trend continues into s3, especially wrt characters like mateo and carlos and nancy and paul and marjan.

and ugh, god, the found family 💚 perfect wonderful showstopping. i love them all. also, this may not be a popular opinion, but i don’t give a shit about how ‘unrealistic’ the emergencies are. they’re fun to watch and i enjoy it. sure, a filler episode would be nice every now and then, but volcanoes? wildfires? dust storms? kidnappings?? bring it. the angst is glorious and i want more.

#sorry this is so long!!!!#and sorry if it doesn’t make sense — it’s gone midnight but i had to answer this ask now else i’d be thinking about it all night rip #holly answers things #anonymous

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chibimyumi · 4 years

Note

Hi Chibi! I’m kind of obsessed with your blog. I’ve loved Kuro for a long time so it’s nice to see someone make very thoughtful posts about it. I was reading some of your posts about the kuro anime and was wondering. What is your opinion of the season 2 OVA The story of Will the reaper? I love the reapers so getting to know about their world is great, but will kicking grell’s ass was not great 😖.

【Response to: “are there any S1 or S2 OVAs you enjoyed?”】

Dear Dagonl,

Thank you very much for your interest! I’m happy you like my content, and it’s always nice to hear that somebody is interested in long-winded posts deep-analyses! ^^

Short answer:

As for my opinion on ‘The story of Will the Reaper’: as I said in the original post, in my opinion “[a]ll OVAs for the second season were (almost) as awful as the season itself, save for ‘The Making of [Kuroshitsuji]’.” Though, ‘the story of Will the reaper’ is actually the one that made me add the ‘almost’ in the previous sentence, meaning that it’s marginally better than the rest.

Click for Full Answer: The good things and the... awful things.

1. The good things

The reason I found this OVA marginally better is because I do respect the ambition and (attempt at) creativity the makers have shown. At the time of release the manga had not revealed anything yet about reaper origins. So I guess they could be forgiven for their artistic liberties (unlike the spoiler-revelation of Undertaker’s nature that ruined his big revelation in the manga.)

1.1. Fair world-building

The world-building works well with the idea of Yana’s satire on the Japanese Salaryman through William. As William is something of a self-proclaimed ‘model’ and so unforgivingly rigid, it gives us reason to believe the Reaper Dispatch Society is built on this type of ideal; aka the Japanese office environment. We have also seen that the technology of the Death Scythes is a century more advanced than Kuroshitsuji’s contemporaries, so the 1980s setting was well done in my opinion.

1.2. Fair reflection on reaper/Salaryman doctrine

The biggest critique on Salaryman culture is the robotic attitude employers demand. The Japanese Salaryman™ is expected to be no more than silent executors of the will from above. As explained by William, reapers don’t actually do all that much; all they do is meaningless double-checking JUST IN CASE something might be off.

As a satire this OVA is not ‘complete’ because you do need the information from the manga that came out many years later to understand why the reaper world is a satire in the first place for the actual punch. But in the very least the OVA pays adequate lip-service and does not disrespect the satirical origins of Yana’s design.

One thing this OVA does arguably better than even Yana is showing that most reapers are robotic work zombies like Will, rather than that the Dispatch Office is filled with eccentric youngsters as the named reapers of the series might suggest. (Though there is a downside that I will discuss in section 2.2.)

2. The awful things

So, to me this OVA has two good things, but they are insignificant in the face of the awful things that’s the rest of this OVA.

2.1. Raging homo and transphobia, etc.

This OVA handles Grell extremely poorly. First of all, this OVA makes it explicit that Grell is a homosexual man, blatantly defying both canon and Yana’s explicit statement of her female gender. Why? Because the most obnoxious shippers want their Yaoi, and this sells. This one literally needed to sell because it’s an OVA.

As explained in more detail in this post, Grell was called a man and she eagerly responded “oh, yes”, and later she herself confirms this statement by making it explicit that she dreams of herself in a m/m relationship. (Yes, these subs are accurately translated. Click the link for a Japanese to English breakdown).

Some fans have explained this as Grell’s words before she realised her own identity, and I understand why. We all want something to not be this gross and try to make sense of the nonsensical, and some actual identity discovering journey would have been nice. For Grell as a character however, it only serves to give Man!Grellers more ammo (even though they have the destructive power of cotton wads).

As I said in the post linked above, “[if this statement] used to be [Grell’s] thoughts that are no longer relevant in present time, the script should have addressed that in present-timeline of the story. As it is now, it is clear as day that the writer Nemoto Toshizou did not take that into inconsideration.”

Secondly, this OVA is desperately trying to cater to Grelliam shippers. Fans have always come up with different reasons to ship this, but this OVA had to choose the most toxic one to capitalise on. Why make Grell so shitty to Will for no reason? Being degrading to him is one thing, but Grell was outright deadly violent to William for trying to do his job. And then Grell only stopped being so hostile because she got beaten back and therefore fell in love?

Yes, people justify this by saying that it’s charming to Grell because she’s a masochist, “whatever”. This however, paints a very askew image of real people who enjoy masochism as a kink. Any responsible adult in the SM community would tell you how painfully shallow Grell’s masochism is portrayed as, and how this portrayal takes away all accountability from someone who harms a kink-masochist if something went wrong.

This OVA would ironically have been more effective as an anti-Grelliam story, except that it sells itself as the opposite. With just the manga, people could just say: “oh, Grell doesn’t respect William’s personal boundaries, and William is very aggressive to Grell, but they can sort that out...eventually.” Add this OVA however, suddenly William is an indisputable abuse victim, and Grell is just an “in your face gay” (as the gay stereotype dictates...)

2.2. Contradicting Canon

I am actually not all that harsh about this OVA contradicting canon history because at the time of release nothing about the reapers had been revealed yet. Like I said above, I even respect the creativity to some extent. The only real problem is because this fandom tends to conflate canon with anime information by using cross-media information to understand Kuroshitsuji.

As discussed in section 1.2., the glimpses of the Reaper office are interesting, but the downside to this is that it suggests reapers are a race one is born into because all newbies are approximately the same age. Without the manga, this information in a vacuum is fine. Later however, Yana reveals that all reapers are suicides and are being punished for this sin. If a fan accepts both pieces of information and tries to piece them together, then suddenly this bit of creativity becomes a totalitarian nightmare.

People of all ages commit suicide. If a fan were to try shoehorn the OVA info into canon material (for lack of more stories), then we get: 1. reapers are suicides who get punished, and 2. all reaper newbies are approximately the same age and able bodied. The only conclusion we can draw then is that only able-bodied suicides who fit the ‘newbie age’ are punished. What happens to people who fall outside this norm? Is becoming a reaper and ‘paying off’ your sin the only way to “serve your term”? If so, then do suicides who fall outside this norm never get a chance to redeem themselves?😱 Or...... do only able-bodied youngsters get punished for committing suicide because they still had “societal value” but wasted it? Either way would be f*cked up!

But again, none of this is a real problem as long as a fan can distinguish canon from non-canon information ^^ So, moving on

2.3. Are reapers God Almighty?

Unlike the second, the third issue I have with the OVA is actually something I am quite harsh on. In this OVA we see that even trainees like William and Grell have apparent power to judge over somebody’s life and death based on their intellectual value. However, this begs for an urgent question!

Under section 3 of this post I discussed whether the law of “a human dies because a reaper says so” according to Grell would be feasible. It’s a relatively long discussion, so please click the link if you’re interested in the details. If you just want it to be quick then just ask the following question: “why give trainees/reapers with human subjectivity an almighty God’s** power to decide over life and death of others?” If we then add the manga’s canon information that reapers are being punished for having committed suicide, then why give people whose sin was ‘deciding over life and death wrongly FOR THEMSELVES’ the power to do so for OTHERS????

Still, even if we disregard the manga and view this OVA in a vacuum, it is still VERY alarming that trainees are given this power. Perhaps if a trainee misjudges there will be due consequences from above, but why give a trainee this power in the first place? Are human lives just test objects to this “reaper race”?

This third issue is so awful to me because it shows how little the OVA creators thought through matters and just wanted a quick money grab by selling the most toxic version of the Grelliam ship.

**TLN: A ‘shinigami’ is Japanese for ‘Death (shini) God (gami/kami)’, but please note that in Japanese definitions, a ‘kami’ is not ‘god’ in the same way it is in the Abrahamic sense. A ‘kami’ is more similar to a ‘spirit’, and is therefore not a supreme being. Entirely accurately, a ‘shinigami’ would be more similar to ‘death angel’ or ‘death spirit’.

Why would Sascha have committed suicide? Rutger, Will and the JP Salaryman

How does a scythe kill a reaper? A discussion of MBD musical’s horrible writing of universe laws, and canon reaper laws

Can reapers teleport?

A reaper’s dormitory

#Shinigami #reapers #reaper #Grell Sutcliff #William T. Spears #William #Shinigami Will's story #The story of Will the Reaper #OVA #Kuroshitsuji 2 #Season 2 #Black Butler OVA

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champagne-bucky · 5 years

Text

I.O.U.: II

Summary: Bucky is tired of the youngest Avenger having all of Steve's attention.

Warnings: age gap (reader is of age), smut, dub/non con, dark!Bucky

Notes: Here’s part 2!! I hope you enjoy it! Please reblog, like, comment, and follow me for more :)

You awoke to the sunlight peeking through. The sheets wrapped securely around your body. Stretching, you made your way to get dressed for another day of recon.

Making your way to the bathroom, you brushed your teeth and fixed your hair before heading to the lobby to take advantage of the free breakfast and coffee. Just then you hear someone groan.

“Wakey, wakey, sleepyheads. Gotta whole day of recon ahead of us.” You cheerfully said as you walked downstairs.

You decided you weren’t going to let Bucky seeing your body ruin this mission. Every one has a body, it’s just you put yours out on fully display for the person who hates you the most. Running back to the room, both boys were up and ready to get going.

“How was breakfast, did they have your favorite apple juice.” Bucky teased again. He honestly has no right to be talking to you like that considering a mere few hours ago he was jerking off to your ass and pussy.

“Ha ha very funny Barnes, should’ve been a comedian instead of a soldier.” You jabbed back while heading to the car.

—

Today was more serious, you were posted back on on your usual spot just waiting for any suspicious activity, but nothing. Until, you see a man giving the infamous Hydra gesture to a woman running a bakery.

That’s odd.

You figure you might as well call it in. At least Sam and Bucky can track someone down.

Sam and Bucky were posted outside the bakery waiting for their guy to come out. They knew that one slip up would be enough to take the agents out. It was basically confirmed that this was Hydra territory.

“You wanna do the honors or should I?” Bucky asks Sam.

“Please, after me.” Sam get up and busts through the door.

Fucking show off.

Bucky cocks his gun ready to fight.

—

You lay on the grassy hills in shock watching the scene unfold. Bucky and Sam managed to take out a full building of Hydra agents and you were just sitting like a duck. The village was starting to become more vacant as people were clearing the streets and hiding out.

“Hey Y/N, we need back up. Nows your time to shine.” Sam called.

You raced down the hills and stealthily made your way through the village. You hadn’t used you powers since the Thanos fight, so you may be a little rusty. However, you proved yourself wrong and began blasting agents left and right. It seemed like there were so many occupying this area.

Meanwhile, Bucky and Sam were clearing another building to get the files. Once Bucky has them uploaded they began to make their way out. That is until a bomb decided to go off.

You heard the explosion coming from the distance and levitated you way over. Assessing the damage, unwanted anger rose within you. Bucky and Sam were probably in there. Why else did Hydra choose to bomb this building? Just then the sound of a gun clicking behind your head draws your attention.

“Now, now, little one. Just come with us and we can help you. We don’t want to hurt you.” An agent looked at you with a smirk.

Tears started forming in your eyes. Sam and Bucky. They were gone, or at least, suffocating under the buildings rubble. You didn’t know what happened you just snapped. They’ve been through way too much to die like this. You were fuming and the aura around your body was turning bright blue. Then, you blinked.

You don't know what you did. All you know is that there was tons of dead bodies surround you. It looked as if a bigger bomb went off.

"Sam? Bucky?" You yelled out as you began to move chunks of the building away.

Suddenly, you saw Bucky's metal hand beneath the rubble. You levitated the crumbled concrete off of them and freed them. They staggered out clearly hurt, various bruises and trickles of blood all over their bodies.

"Kid," Sam looked around at the scene, “ what did you do?”

Finally being able to look around at the damage, you couldn’t help but gasp. Hundreds upon hundreds of bodies laid on the ground, motionless. You stood frozen, tears threatening to spill.

I killed all these people.

While some were Hydra agents you knew you killed innocent civilians as well. You didn’t even realize the gravel shifting below your knees and the hand on your shoulder until it pulled you up.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” Sam ushered you to the car.

—

Bucky was throughly impressed. He always underestimated you, but this time you proved yourself beyond worthy regarding your place on the team. However, you didn’t think so.

Boarding the jet, you sat in the back, knees up to your chest, emotionless. So many bodies littered throughout that village, and they just left them there to rot. Well, they wouldn’t rot, surely the government or S.H.I.E.L.D were notified to take care of the problem.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night. You were tossing and turning so much that Bucky yelled at you to pipe down, stupid enhanced hearing. The boys on the other hand didn’t seemed phased at all. They’ve both seen worse, it’s just that they never thought you were strong enough to wipe out a whole village.

When the jet made its way back to the compound, you attempted to run and hide to your room before Sam caught you.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up. Listen, kid, you did what you had to do. It’s not your fault. You actually saved us a lot of trouble. So don’t lose any sleep over what happened. Bucky and I have seen and done much worse trust me.” Sam offered you a kind smile before letting you go.

—

Turns out, Steve was held up for a few more days, meaning you were living in a constant state of anxiety. Steve would be beyond pissed when he found out what happened. He’d probably even kick you off the team.

Bucky realized this and the wheels in his head started turning. Ever since that night he couldn’t get you off his mind. The person he hated the most became his new guilty pleasure. Over the next few days at the compound, he would secretly be following you around. He knew your routine down pat by now, although knowing how much honey you put in your tea isn’t exactly something he cared to know about you. No, Bucky wanted more. He wanted to see your body again, wanted to undress it, kiss it, play with it. He wanted you under him withering and begging for more. Bucky wouldn’t say he had a crush on you, he still is mad that you garner all of Steve’s attention, he just wants you body sexually and nothing more.

He needed a plan. He needed you, craved for you, but how would he get you? Drunken one nights stands weren’t exactly your thing, hell he’s pretty sure he’s never seen you touch a bottle. Friends with benefits? Nah, you gotta be friends first before that happens. Bucky became obsessed with you more and more as the hours passed.

On laundry day, he was trying to dry his clothes when he saw that somebody, you, never came back down to get your stuff.

Just a little peak won’t hurt anybody right?

Like a madman, Bucky started to dig through your garments. Bras, shorts, shirts, and then he found them, panties. He pick them out and laid them on top of the dryer. Inspecting each one.

Looks like we have a naughty little thing on our hands don’t we?

Bucky chuckles darkly and he picks up your deep red lace thong. He smiles and takes a deep long whiff. He wants you to be wearing these when he fucks you for the first time. He imagines you right now: ass up, breast hanging, your tight little pussy begging to be pounded.

I’ll start off slow. Feel her up a little, get her all nice and wet for me. Fuckkkk she’s gonna be a mess. A few spanks here and there, maybe fill her mouth up, then the show begins.

Bucky subconsciously put his hand with the panties in his pants and started to jerk off. He’s thinking again. Thinking of all the things he’s do.

I’m gonna ruin that brat. Gonna show her she’s nothing more than my whore. Gonna show Steve his innocent baby is a filthy cock slut. Gonna tie her down, blindfold her, spank her, fuck I’m gonna make her feel me till the day she dies.

Bucky came again. Hard. He came through his pants and dirtied the clean underwear.

“Well, that’s going back in the hamper.”

Bucky chuckles before stuffing the panties in his pocket

—

Sleep doesn’t come easy to you anymore. You lay awake at night, tossing and turning, every time you shut your eyes the dead bodies are there. A killer, murderer, monster, you can see all the headlines now.

AVENGER SLAUGHTERS HUNDREDS IN FRANCE.

How were you ever to face Steve and tell him? You can’t imagine his face, he’s gonna be fuming. What will the team think of you? I’m sure Tony will try and lock you away, maybe they’ll stabilize you powers like they did to you and Wanda. God that hurt. You were born with your powers so stabilizing that part of your body is basically like half of your body dying.

You were a mess. Bags under your eyes constantly, sleep deprived, you missed about all of your schedule training sessions with Sam. Sam understood though, he knows being surrounded by all that death and gore takes a toll on a person one way or another, he just didn’t think you would take it so hard considering the circumstances.

Bucky was getting antsy. He would see you leave you room less and less. Surely you has been skipping some meals, you looked weak and pale. In that moment Bucky actually has sympathy for you. When he was the soldier he was constantly axing people off left and right. He remembers the screams, cries, blood, he shivers at the thought and pushes them back in his mind. He need to make his move, fast. You haven’t noticed the missing panties yet, not that you would be able to recognize them now.

Bucky thought about sneaking into your room while you were asleep. Maybe grab himself a fresh pair of panties and jack off to your unconscious body, but you don’t sleep anymore. He would walk past your room at night and try to find out if you were awake, he would hear your soft cries and the bed moving every second. He knows you need this, something to take the edge off.

—-

“Alright kid, you’ve wallowed long enough. I’m tired of you dodging our training sessions. If you expect to be pulling your own on this team then I suggest you get your ass down to the training room in 5 minutes.” Sam yelled at you.

Sam has enough of your despair. You didn’t understand why. People died and you were the cause of it all. Bucky watched your altercation with Sam. He didn’t understand either. He guessed you were afraid of how Steve would react. To be fair, Steve didn’t want you out on the field in combat, so maybe she’s worried he’ll get mad at her for that.

Bucky saw you slump on couch, sulking. He decided to talk to you. This was just an opportunity for him to get close to you, he really couldn’t care less about hearing what you had to say.

“What’s you problem.” He asks.

“I killed them,” tears are starting to form again, “all those innocent people are dead because of me.”

Innocent?

Then, something clicked in Bucky’s head. It was evil sure, but he need to feel something with you again.

“Steve’s going to kill me, Bucky. He’s gonna kick me off the team for sure.” You start crying.

“Steve’s not gonna kill you, because he’s not gonna find out.” Bucky finally spoke.

“Huh?”

“I’ll do you a favor. I’ll tell Stevie you were an angel the whole time. I’ll tell him I ordered you to do the strike. You didn’t want to, got it? In return you gotta do something for me okay?”

You eyes lit up. Bucky’s showing you actual kindness, a hint of friendship even?

“Yes, yes, Bucky, thank you! I’ll do anything for you I swear, whatever you want!” You smiled and hugged Bucky. He got a little hard when you tits pressed against his chest.

You walked down to the training room. Bucky knew what he was doing. It was awful, but it would be worth it in the end. You both needed this. You both wanted it, even if you didn’t admit it.

You thought those people were innocent? I guess that falls on Bucky. He remembered when he got back to his room after France. That lone mission report he was suppose to give you, he forgot. He’s glad he did though. Bucky didn’t have the guts to tell you that they weren’t innocent people. You single handily wiped out an entire village full of Hydra agents in disguise. That was one less base to worry about. Really saved them months of work trying to tear it down. Of course he was gonna tell Steve. It would get out eventually when it makes national news. However, Bucky would never tell you that.

tags: reblog to be added!!

@lacontroller1991 @ladifreakingda @chipilerendi @crookedlymassivecrown

#dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 265: Tamaki What Did You Eat

Previously on BnHA: The heroes began their invasion of the Ol’ Villain Marriott. Down in the basement, Re-Destro was all “what’s going my fresh villain citizens, what a beautiful day, well I guess we should start that meeting” and they were all “WE’RE UNDER FUCKING ATTACK” and he made a face and I laughed. Class 1-B, Edgeshot, and Midnight then jovially killed some people, and then we cut to Dabi and Hawks! Hawks was all “sorry it has to be this way Bubaigawara but I’m gonna have to arrest you” and Twice got all Harry Potter in that one scene from the Prisoner of Azkaban movie, and then he did the thing, and fucking Hawks just fucking stood there and DID NOTHING. So now he’s gonna have to fight 100,000 Twices I guess, and meanwhile Dabi is running up the stairs on his way to intervene and somehow make things even more chaotic. Also either Hawks or Dabi thinks heroes are scum, and I’m still not clear on which. But basically it’s safe to say that angst is on the way, friends.

Today on BnHA: Tamaki turns into a horse. I have questions. Dark Shadow fights fucking Re-Destro and fucking destroys him in like two seconds flat, like holy shit whaaaaat. Then Tokoyami just hops on inside of Fatgum like a goddamn marsupial, and spends several pages like this, during which I completely can’t focus the entire time but I do remember that we learned that Machia won’t be joining the fight because he apparently only listens to Tomura, so that’s convenient I guess. Then we cut to Twice and Hawks (I literally typed out “Dabi and Hawks” just now and had to go back and change it, so you can see where my mind is at), and Hawks defeats Twice and is all “guess I’ve got no choice” and is seriously going to kill him (hahaha what the fuck), but then DABI FUCKING BURNS THE ENTIRE ROOM DOWN WITH EVERYONE IN IT WHILE LAUGHING AND THEN THE CHAPTER JUST ENDS. I feel like I just got slapped in the face.

so before we start, let me just mention that I got a ton of asks and messages about the whole “HERO SCUM” line, and I appreciate everyone keeping me up to date on the twists and turns of our wild little fandom lol. so as you all probably know, in Viz’s translation of the last page they had Dabi saying the line (“Twice, this isn’t your fault. as always... scummy heroes are to blame”). so naturally everyone was either like “whaaaaat!” or “I KNEW IT!!”, but then Caleb went and deleted his original tweet saying that it was Dabi, and replaced it with a new tweet, the gist of which was basically “I don’t fucking know either” and admitting he wasn’t an authority on the matter. so to sum everything up, we basically don’t know and will never know until the anime airs this in about three years’ time, or until the only man who can actually clear this up decides to stop drawing weird mushroom men for five goddamn minutes so he can clarify for us

anyway, so in the meantime it’s time to see who’s having angst this week! probably everybody! let’s just assume it’s everybody and save some time

ohooo so we finally get to see why they had Tamaki and Tokoyami in the vanguard, eh?

(ETA: gotta say, “you” is an awfully impersonal way to address someone whose entire body you are shortly going to stuff inside your little quirk papoose and tote around like a fanny pack.)

honestly this isn’t much of a mystery though lol. Tokoyami is obvious, and with Tamaki it’s probably because of his kraken thing if I had to guess

...excuse me sir is this leading where I think it’s leading

sir. Mister Gum, sir. please do not tell me you are actually about to lead these children into the building and down into the basement. first of all the thought of you and Tamaki in yet another basement is already giving me PTSD so no thanks. and second of all, ???!?!?!?!?! [gestures incredulously to the two children] ?!?!?!???? [emphatically taps my computer screen with the wiki page showing their respective ages] ???!?!?!?!?!?! [gestures wildly toward a picture of Gigantomachia I pulled up just now in a google search. yeah that’s right. Gigantomachia!! you all forgot about him didn’t you!! well guess who didn’t forget about him?? that’s right. so you’d better explain yourself right the fuck now, Fatgum. oh wait I’m still talking in action brackets whoops]

holy crap is Tokoyami giving orders lmao

well look at you. a general, huh? somebody must’ve told them about his little maneuver at the Battle of Taanab

so now some generic villain guys are all “HOW’D THEY FIND OUR SECRET PATH” and “WE MUST DEFEND IT” and I sure can’t wait to watch them get their asses kicked three panels from now

OH LORDY

EVERYONE TAMAKI HAS JUST TURNED INTO A HORSE. I IMMEDIATELY HAVE SEVERAL QUESTIONS, THE MOST PRESSING OF WHICH ARE (1) WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO HIS PANTS, AND (2) DOES THIS MEAN TAMAKI ATE A FUCKING HORSE. PLEASE STAY TUNED AS WE URGENTLY INVESTIGATE THESE NEW DEVELOPMENTS

lol and the cow horns too. why though. just completes the look I guess

loooooool he’s all “apologies, but please remain still” who are you, Tuxedo Mask??

LOOOOOOL

by the way, I almost skipped right past this, but the text says Tamaki will be a sidekick at the Fatgum agency starting “next year”, which presumably means “in a couple of weeks because the school year is about to end.” our boy is graduating! I’m so proud, and also really pissed off about Mirio all of a sudden, just throwing that out there. how much longer must his dreams be put on hold. where is the justice. man I need a minute

okay! anyway so now Tokoyami is just running into the basement alone!! hooooo boy. I know it’s dark down there and that’s presumably why they’re sending him of all people, but still. hooooooooo boy

ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS NO WAY

IS TOKOYAMI GOING TO TAKE ON FUCKING RE-DESTRO AND IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING AND WHY THE FUCK IS NIGHT ON BALD MOUNTAIN SUDDENLY PLAYING

KDSFLK;L’LLL

AM I IN THE RIGHT MANGA. DID DARK SHADOW REALLY JUST GROW NINETY FEET TALL AND START WRESTLING THE SAME FUCKING GUY WHO ALMOST* BROUGHT DOWN THE ENTIRE LEAGUE OF FUCKING VILLAINS

*except he didn’t, let’s be real. didn’t even come close. but still, on paper the hype looks real good!!

AND DO RE-DESTRO’S ROBOT LEGS SOMEHOW FUCKING CHANGE SIZE ALONG WITH HIM. CHALK ANOTHER ONE UP FOR THE MYSTERY BASKET. PUT YOU RIGHT NEXT TO “BUT FOR REAL THOUGH DID TAMAKI ACTUALLY EAT A FUCKING HORSE”

OOOOOF

LOL DETNERAT’S MERCHANDISE REALLY IS TOTAL SHIT. CAN’T EVEN HANDLE A LITTLE CLASH WITH A GIGANTIC SHADOW DEMON

by the way, check out that one guy in the bottom right corner who just totally doesn’t give the least of fucks. he’s fresh out. he wants to know how much longer this is gonna last so he can go home and get back to playing the new Animal Crossing. did you know they added a new crafting feature. can’t believe he’s stuck here at this boring meeting. this man genuinely doesn’t seem to be at all aware of anything that is currently happening around him and it’s amazing. added to the box of questions

oh man. I don’t quite understand what is happening now but I keep expecting Gigantomachia to just pop up out of nowhere any second and I can’t fucking stand it. Horikoshi please stop showing us these close-ups of destroyed walls

OH GOD OH GOD!!!

(ETA: what a casual fucking line implying that Tokoyami genuinely believed that there was nobody in THE ENTIRE LEAGUE OF PLIFF who stood a chance against his latest super move. don’t mind him everyone, he’s just been lowkey biding his time to become the strongest member of class 1-A offscreen while his loser classmates were having dramatic family dinners. how many High Ends could Dark Shadow take out I wonder. why did I suddenly get a mental image of Toko losing an arm only to sigh and nonsensically quote Shakespeare or some shit before wrapping Dark Shadow around the stump and getting back to the asskicking.)

NO TOKO NOT THE ANGRY BALD MAN, HE’S TALKING ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE!! OH FUCK OH FUCK

LMAO

:) :) :) can we maybe get my solemn bird son out of this fucking DEATH BASEMENT right the fuck now. can we do that, please

holy shit!?

:) :) :) I can’t decide whether I trust these panels or not. why is he so confident. does this mean Machia really will be sitting out the arc, or is a trap. help

(ETA: I guess it’s okay for now. ... dammit I’m still suspicious sob.)

also, Tokoyami’s “?!” face is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen though. the fact that he’s physically incapable of altering his expressions no matter what is true comedy gold here

NEVER MIND, THOSE WERE THE WORDS OF A CALLOW YOUTH WHO KNEW NOTHING OF TRUE COMEDY GOLD

WHAT A FOOL I WAS. PLEASE PARDON MY IGNORANCE. SO HERE WE HAVE TOKOYAMI’S MONOEXPRESSION BIRD HEAD STICKING OUT OF FATGUM’S JOLLY BELLY FOR NO REASON, WHILE FATGUM IS ALL “DON’T YOU FEEL LIKE WE’RE KICKING TOO MUCH ASS AND SOMETHING TERRIBLE IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN”, AND SOME OTHER POOR GUY WITH SCISSORS HANDS IS JUST LYING THERE DEAD IN THE BACKGROUND. MY GOD. I’M IN AWE OF THIS

dfkjkjk oh noooo

“does this young man amuse you,” Horikoshi says as he darkly pencils in the disturbingly concave shadows of Fatgum’s ridiculous fucking quirk. “are his ‘magnificent fellow’ bird antics pleasing for you to watch. I guess it sure would be a shame if I gave him some... angst”

but for real y’all I genuinely can’t take this at all seriously when Tokoyami’s head is still stubbornly and persistently poking its way out of Fatgum like a goddamn baby kangaroo in every fucking panel

we are entering another Tokoyami+Hawks mentor flashback and this is still all I can think about. why is he even in there. why is any of this happening. Tokoyami really just flung Re-Destro into a wall and then climbed inside of Fatgum feet-first so they could run along to freedom. just fucking ensconced himself. do you think it’s cozy in there. do you think Aizawa would fall asleep

hey Toko please stop having ominous thoughts about my other bird son

have you ever heard of an announcer jinx. “now here’s a guy who the fans have loved since the moment he was first introduced. and if you look at the stats, fourth place in his first popularity poll, which was taken only ten chapters after his introduction. heck, he’s so popular they even went and gave him a role in the second movie even before he appeared in the anime! it’s undeniable that this young man has a bright future ahead of him, Al.” now you listen here. I don’t at all like where this is headed and it needs to stop right now

anyway so of course on that note we are cutting back to Hawks

so we’ve confirmed that Hawks has his hands full just melting all of the new clones as they come, and doesn’t have the speed or the excess feathers (or the conviction? :|) to go after the original and put a stop to all this

or you could just ignore everything I say ever because immediately on the next page Horikoshi is all “actually he’s winning lol”

anyway but it sure would be a shame if someone were to run in and set you on fire right about now. that probably sounds sarcastic but it actually would be really bad lol please don’t set Hawks on fire

(ETA: motherfucker. goddamn. fucking --)

and now Hawks is making clones of his fellow League buddies oh shit!! but right when I was about to scroll down I noticed that Hawks is carrying some sort of recording device?? or communications device?? in his hand very conspicuously in that last panel? and so what is going on here, exactly?

oh shit and never mind about those LoV clones

that’s all well and good Hawks, but I need you to please just be very cautious and aware and proactive about not catching on fire okay. watch your six

oh my god oh my god

“now here’s a guy whose rise in popularity was unexpected but just a real pleasure to watch. he just really cares about his friends.” “you said it; he really came into his own a couple arcs back. twenty-third in the most recent poll, and the fans all love him.” fffffff Hawks isn’t a killer Hawks isn’t a killer, I can’t hear you lalala

LA LA LA

maybe... he’ll just... punch a small hole through one of his lungs... ...

...

or... a large hole... ... ,,,

oh THANK GOD he’s jumping on top of him. so clearly he’s fine because Shounen Rules. that’s right, this is a manga where Toga survived blowing up from the inside out and Jeanist survived being murdered and stuffed into a tote bag. (right??) why am I so tense I hate this!!

HEY WHAT IS THIS

or you could just KNOCK HIM OUT??? ?????!??! did they not teach you that in peewee assassin league?! Hawks

I DON’T LIKE THIS I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS!!

STOP SHOWING US TWICE’S SAD THOUGHTS YOU BASTARD NO I DON’T LIKE THIS YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE ME CRY SO STOP!!

GODDAMMIT HORIKOSHI I FUCKING HATE YOU

“HERE’S A SERIES OF PANELS WITH TWICE CRYING AND THINKING ABOUT TOGA WHILE HAWKS HOLDS A FUCKING KNIFE RIGHT ABOVE HIS EYE,” HORIKOSHI SAYS WHILE IGNORING EVERYTHING I SAY AND DISABLING ALL COMMENTS ON HIS TWITTER, PROBABLY. WOW I JUST LOOKED IT UP AND APPARENTLY YOU CAN’T DO THAT? DAMN, TWITTER REALLY SUCKS, BUT ANYWAY

FINE THEN DABI YOU CAN SET HIM ON FIRE!!

JOKE’S ON YOU ASSHOLES, YOU CAN’T HURT ME IF I CAN’T SEE THE LAST PAGE OF THE CHAPTER THROUGH ALL MY TEARS

FUCK

[SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] THE FUCK WAS THAT

DON’T YOU EVEN DARE, HORIKOSHI. I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANY “BUT YOU GAVE HIM PERMISSION”, COME THE FUCK ON, YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT DIDN’T MEAN SHIT AND I WAS LIABLE TO CHANGE MY MIND YET AGAIN ONLY A PAGE LATER AS PER USUAL! WHAT SORT OF TWISTED MIND WOULD DECIDE THAT THE ONLY WAY TO SAVE TWICE WAS TO SET THE ENTIRE ROOM ABLAZE AND THEN HAVE DABI GLEEFULLY STOMP ON HAWKS’S FACE. WHAT KIND OF SICK MONSTER WOULD DREAM THIS UP. THIS ISN’T HOT AT ALL. HOW DARE YOU

ALSO WTF DABI, “HERE I COME TO RESCUE TWICE” WHILE BURNING HIM ALIVE AS WELL, JESUS CHRIST THESE FUCKING TODOROKIS I SWEAR TO GOD. DID YOUR BRAIN CELLS CATCH FIRE TOO

I CAN’T BELIEVE I WAITED ALL WEEK IN A FUCKING LOCKDOWN FOR THIS SHIT. THIS CHAPTER WAS A FUCKING TRAIN WRECK, AND I DON’T KNOW IF I WANT TO THANK ITS STUPID CONDUCTOR, OR PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE. it’s not the manga we need, but it’s the one we deserve. I guess

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

Text

Sure I Would Kiss You

Fem! Ivar+Fem! Reader (Modern AU)

(A/N): Hello there lovelies!

So not too long ago, @flowers-in-your-hayr created a beautiful moodboard HERE and talking with her I low key had an idea for a female Ivar fic, which I hope you’ll like!

Also if you want more please let me know, so that I’ll do something more about this lovely lady (and yeah I used Katie McGrath, because she is my kind of female Ivar, but you can imagine her as you prefer).

And last but not least: feedback helps a lot us writers, if you want to share this stories or leave a comment, I’ll love you with my very very anxious heart!

And if you want to support my writing there comes my KO-FI

WARNINGS: Girls Like Girls, Light Homophobia, Bisexual! Reader, Loss of Virginity, Talk of Blood and Loss of Virginity, Consumption of Alcohol and Slight Bullying.

You heard the door closing behind your meek roommate.

She tried her best not to be loud, but you had been feeling too shitty to properly sleep, hence you had sat yourself on the sofa with an art documentary, as you tried to shift your mind from the harsh day you had had.

You hadn’t been able to fall asleep, although the late hour, still.

Ivar, still, tiptoed in the kitchen, mindful of your ‘sleep’, opening the fridge searching the bottle of wine you kept stashed there, in order for it to be fresh and ready for when you chose to drink it, but she found nothing, since you had finished it before she could get her hands on.

And from the fact that she didn’t search for beer but straight up went for the strongest alcohol, you knew it had been a hard day also for her.

You peaked your head to look at whether she had started raiding in the alcohol cabinet yet and caught her face drenched with tears.

And, catching your gaze, she almost stumbled in her own feet for the scare, making the vodka bottle almost fall to the ground, catching it at last, as you moved yourself to rush in, worried for the expensive alcohol, a ‘gift’ you had stolen from Olga’s party.

That Russian beauty certainly knew a thing or two about alcohol.

“Fucking fuck!” she screamed loudly as she backed to ease out of her body the scare, balancing herself on her crutch as you took in her appearance, finding her clad in the typical punk rock fashion she wore whenever she had to visit her sisters’ parties.

Leather pants that gave her an ass you’d have gladly paid to own (all thank to the squat she’d do right in front of your breakfast, having woken up early just to exercise, something which she had convinced you to try once, just to tell you to stop and return to bed, since you were too distracting) and a ripped shirt that would showcase her black studded bra.

It was all matched with a ‘barely-there’ make-up, since she didn’t need much.

Her blue eyes would attract with pure animal magnetism any boy she wanted, and it’d work, till they took a good look at her legs.

Or at least that’s what Ivar always said,

What you knew was that she had never taken a boy back, to your dorm.

Although there was quite the crowd behind her for that.

And this had made you question some things, that you hadn’t dared asking aloud, not only because your roommate was extremely dangerous when angered (which usually happened when you probed the beast), but also because…

…you honestly couldn’t blame her for not wanting a quick fuck with a frat boy.

“… do you want to do shots?” you asked, as you thought that the headache you had in your head wouldn’t get any better, and you wouldn’t be having lesson on Saturday, although maybe… you should have woken up early… to study, the following day.

But after the horrible day you had been having, you honestly very much thought about dropping out of college and starting your own museum at home, as you tried to become famous through the universal tool of YouTube.

“I want to drink in peace” mumbled Ivar, a clear sign that you weren’t invited to the ‘pity party’.

“Ok, roomie” you replied, not daring to ask more because you already knew that probing wouldn’t make Ivar talk, you’d just have to let her handle her own problems, realize she couldn’t and then come to you.

It never failed and neither this time she denied a small visit to your room, as you set everything to go to bed, having changed in your pajama, a small pair of booty short in satin, and a mismatched oversize t-shirt you had been wearing since you had started college.

She looked at you blushing always at unease with you in any undressed state, although she had lived with four sisters.

‘It is different!’ she had once protested ‘… they are family!’.

And as you pretended not to hear it, you had heard clearly ‘… and you are prettier’.

And you couldn’t deny your own attraction to Ivar.

Still it was something for which you had thought it wasn’t worthy ruining the slowly budding friendship that was growing between you two, but the more you knew about Ivar and how she had overcame years of bullying and physical therapy, the more you found yourself to liking her more than a friend.

Hence that was why it mattered to you so much to see her sad.

You slowly lead her to bed, completely taking advantage of the small touch of her hands against yours, as she sat down, with her back against the wall, in order for her to sit up straight, as she stammered, about ‘you having stolen all the glass for the shots’.

“They are actually mine, little thief” you teased her, and she blushed even more, making you almost want to softly push your fingers in her cheeks, probing them till you made her laugh, but you thought that as she looked, so grim and tired, it’d just make her run away.

You waited for a shot to be in your body, before you tried to spur her on talking about that night.

“I shouldn’t have gone” she mumbled with decision, and you didn’t dare to ask more, looking at her as she lightly made the vodka turn in the shot glass “… but Hvitta told me that she’d have some of the good stuff, and Ubrie told me that he’d… he wouldn’t be there”.

And you immediately understood who she meant.

Marco, Ubrie and Hvitta’s shared boyfriend, the exact definition of frat boy, a fucker who had tried to ask Ivar and you if you wanted to have a threesome, since they seemed his specialty.

You had just denied him annoyed, but you had seen the interest in Ivar’s eyes, mostly her willingness to lose the virginity she took with herself everywhere she went.

She had confessed to you once after a few too many drinks, how awful it felt for her to still be a virgin, mostly due to her lack of security in herself, set by her disability, which had made her always feel beneath others.

‘Who would like to fuck somebody who isn’t even able to walk properly’ she had asked you, before proceeding to puke onto your booties.

Well you’d have fucked her for a start.

“… maybe they didn’t know” the parties the Lothbrock visited were the chaotic ones where nobody knew who the others truly were.

“Siggy knew” she spoke, as if the taste of her sister’s name left a bad taste “… she fucking invited him, over”.

Oh, that was bad.

You knew it all about the sisterly hatred between the two since Ivar at least one time a day would talk it all with about the way Siggy teased her, with simply existing.

“That is fucked up” you mumbled, as you took in another shot, starting to definitely feel lightly dizzy, mostly because the two glasses of wine weren’t exactly out of your system, and you knew what alcohol made you do.

“…I know” mumbled Ivar, gently moving her long and luxurious blackish mane, off her front and behind her shoulders, as a few strands lightly tickled your face in the movement “… but the worst part was that… he… he fucking…”.

She was so angry that her hands started trembling and one of yours immediately moved to grab them softly, as you took the shot of vodka out of of them, setting it onto your bedside table, to avoid spilling some of it on your sheets, not wanting to clean them tomorrow, from the atrocious smell of alcohol.

“I’ll kick that idiot in the groin tomorrow” you mumbled softly as you adjusted yourself to gently make your roommate shift closer to your chest, as she snuggled clumsily, more than glad to hide her face.

“You barely arrive at his crotch with your head” she replied, sassily, as you circled her back with your arms, gently caressing it.

“I am planning revenge for you and you insult me!” you huffed out, making her finally giggle, although you could feel your t-shit getting dirty with a mix of tears and ‘barely there’ mascara.

“Gosh, you shouldn’t honestly be allowed to even think of anything violent” replied Ivar, as she moved away from you swiftly to take a good look at your body “… this body isn’t made for violence”.

“I am a lover not a fighter” you smirked, making her blush, as she laughed off the embarrassment “… but if you want to talk about Marco, and draw a few dicks and an horrible moustache on his photos I am here”.

She nodded, but the mention of Marco’s name had brought her to slowly drift away from you and you could feel it, grabbing her attention as you pinched her wrist to bring her back to earth, gaining a slightly angered look, as she fell with her back against your ruined mattress.

“I just wish I was normal” she let out, almost as low as a breath, but you still caught it, and mimicked her falling to her side.

“Nobody wants to be normal” you replied “… we all want to be the cute and cool girl who doesn’t follow society and all that bullshit”.

“You know what I mean” and you didn’t even have to look at her to know that she was looking at her legs.

It had happened once, on your first year together, you had barged in her without her pants, because you had been worried of having left the hair straightener on in the bathroom, just to catch a barely panty-clad Ivar who had closed the door in your face.

She hadn’t talked to you for an entire week.

And although you hadn’t seen much, it certainly wasn’t as bad as Ivar made it seem.

It wasn’t certainly perfect but people also had legs with stretch marks and evident scars, and that didn’t certainly make them the horrifying monsters Ivar thought she was, even more when you saw the desperate strength she put in doing everything.

You honestly could just linger in bed all day, whereas she would have exercised her ass, gotten a degree and found the solution to world hunger, in a few days.

She was certainly much better than many people you knew.

Certainly better than you.

“… I think that you are the only one who thinks you aren’t normal” you let out, as she turned to you surprised, you hadn’t tried any sarcastic remark, before her eyes found again the roof of your small bedroom.

“Marco thinks that I am a freak” she mumbled, as if it costed her truly everything to say what she had to say.

“Why?” you were seriously going to kick in the groins that asshole.

Ivar’s cheeks became flushed, and she still refused to look at you in the eyes, but she slowly started talking.

“Do you remember that party at Kelly’s house?” you nodded, remembering it being extremely boring, mostly because Ivar had ditched you and you knew nobody there, you had spent it trying to figure out whether Kelly was the blonde girl or the brunette one.

Turns out she was the red-haired one.

“… well, when I disappeared, I was with Marco” and you sent her an extremely surprised look “… I wanted to get over with the entire virginity thing, and we did it”.

Oh, that was… traumatizing.

And your small lovesick heart.

You kept yourself in a minute of silence, as she moved to your side, finally delivering a small look at you.

“… are you judging me?”.

Because she had chosen to lose her virginity to a frat boy? No, she would never.

But it still hurt, although you had long since accepted the fact that Ivar Lothbrock didn’t swing that way.

You were such a loser.

“… no”.

“Good, because I did judge myself” she spoke, as she made you immediately to turn to her “… because it fucking sucked, it just hurt and I couldn’t, I told him to stop…”.

“Did he?” because if he hadn’t heard ‘no’, you would have also fractured his awful face.

“Yeah yeah, he did, but…” she seemed honestly ashamed of continuing and you lightly turned, although you kept your hands linked, to give her some privacy “… but he told me that I was fucking strange and tonight, he… he made fun of me, for not having been able to… you know… he said that I have something wrong inside”.

You were seriously going to smash his head.

“Ivar, it hurts the first time… most of the time, you have nothing wrong, and if you didn’t feel comfortable…” you explained to her softly.

“Yeah, but I am used to pain… I live with it, each day… but this one…” a look of uneasiness showed on her face “… what if I have something? I googled some stuff…”.

“You googled some stuff” you replied tightly, hissing through your teeth “Ivar, you are smarter”.

“No no, there is this sickness… it is very…”.

You stopped her, moving on top of her, physically overpowering her, to make her listen to you, aware that she’d just continue talking shit about herself, and you honestly couldn’t take it anymore…

… no matter the fact that you lost any ability to talk as you saw her under you, long black hair contrasting against your orange comforter, as she stared into you with those intense blue eyes.

“… did you feel comfortable with Marco?” you asked softly, as you tried to move your head away from the thought of kissing those plump lips.

“… why does it matter?”.

“It does”.

“You are still a virgin” she protested, as if because of that you had no right to talk.

“Well, I am a virgin who is smarter than you” you retorted as you blocked her from trying to escape your grasp “… if you didn’t feel comfortable, it is obvious that you didn’t feel well”.

“… yeah yeah, but it was…”.

“Has he prepped you?” you asked softly, as you leaned down “… used his fingers or tongue? Because you might not have been wet enough”.

Ivar seemed to think about it for a minute, before shyness crept over her face, and you thought that you had gone too far, which you did, slowly dismounting and pushing yourself back against the mattress.

“… he didn’t do neither of those things”.

“Well he should have” you mumbled “… I might not have done the entire deed, but … I have fooled around.

“And did it feel good with the guy you tried?” she asked, honest curiousness in her face.

“It wasn’t a guy…” Gosh, the vodka and wine had made your tongue loose and you didn’t have to turn to know that Ivar has all his attention focused on you “… I… swing both ways, ok?”.

“O… ok” mumbled Ivar beside you, and you thought this couldn’t get worse, so ushered to close the discourse.

“He was a twat and there isn’t anything wrong with you, Ivar…” you reassured her tightly “…you just need to find the right one”.

“As if anybody would like to fuck me” she uttered turning on her side and you weren’t able to stop yourself from uttering.

“I’d fuck you” it just slipped your mouth, before you could take it back, and everything in you froze.

Fucking God was this alcohol or the Veritaserum?

You just hoped you had whispered it low enough that Ivar hadn’t heard it.

But she did.

And she turned to you, with a questioning gaze.

“… are you serious?”.

“I have drunk too much” you tried to use it as an excuse, as the warmth of her body came closer to you.

Your body was too tired to fight your messy words.

“You haven’t” she spoke lowly, as she kept her eyes trained on you “… I have seen you drink much more”.

“Can we just forget my words?” you tried to protest but it didn’t work in the slightest, since Ivar was the one who pushed you to turn around to her and look at her in the eyes.

“Then I am just a fucking unfuckable cripple, also to you” she was teasing you, pushing you to react properly, telling her what you truly thought of her.

But you had enough to hear her diminish herself.

And alcohol had already ruined your relationship, it couldn’t get worse.

“I’d like to fuck you very much, but I know that you don’t swing that way”.

You knew it because although Ivar had been private about her sexuality and such, she had always been quite traditionalist, hence you had just backed off, assuming she was straighter than straight.

“Did it feel good with a girl?” she inquired as it didn’t seem to faze her in the slightest.

“Fuck off” you told her, but she dug her fingers in your ribs “… Ivar I seriously don’t want to fucking joke on this”.

“I am not” she mumbled, as she gently brought you closer and before you knew it, her hands were laced with yours, as she pushed you closer.

Taking in her disheveled and natural look, and you had enough.

You kissed her, desperately.

Nothing too aggressive, no, it was a bare kiss, on her soft and plump lips, finding them not only tasting of alcohol but also as full as you had thought they would be and it was them that pushed against yours, intensifying the kiss, as she pushed her hands in your hair, almost retracting them when she found long hair and not short ones.

Female, not male.

And you were worried.

You thought she had finally realized what she was doing.

But then she just pushed them tighter in your hair, pulling them to get you to open her mouth under her, and you couldn’t help but moan lightly, surprised by her aggressiveness, but just went along with it, as your hands tried out her uneasiness, slowly inching down her back, as you gently grazed her tight and muscly back.

And she just leaned closer to you, detaching her mouth from yours, to breath softly, but she soon attacked you again with an eagerness, that made you laugh and push her lightly back.

“Do you kiss guys like that?” you asked jokingly, as you felt her hands also exploring your body, boldly moving under your shirt.

“Yeah, why?” she retorted, again that aggressive insecurity that made you just smirk softly, as you lightly dragged her face closer, and this time it was you who led the kiss, and at first you teased softly her lips, a kiss for each lip, and then your tongue licked them, before it dipped between them, and entered her warm mouth, gently and softly licking the plate of her mouth, before it stirred awake Ivar’s tongue, who chased it.

But you abandoned her mouth, immediately, retreating yourself.

And Ivar moved forward chasing more, but you just stood straight and held yourself off, mouth lightly opened in an invitation you were offering to your roommate.

“… this is how you kiss” you mumbled softly, as you offered her a hand “… and I can teach you much more, if you are curious”.

And Ivar grasped tight your hand, rushing you towards her, with an impatience that almost made you more ditzy than the alcohol you had drunk.

“...please, I don’t think I need any teaching”.

---

@youbloodymadgenius @alexhandersenx @robinatthedisco @maggiescarborough @flowers-in-your-hayr @ littlebabybubba

#Fem! Ivar #Gender Swap #Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Ivar Reader #Ivar The Boneless Reader #ivar x reader #Ivar The Boneless x Reader #Ivar Imagine #Ivar The Boneless Imagine #Ivar Fic #Ivar The Boneless Fic #Angst #Fluff #Ivar Moodboard #Modern! Ivar #History Vikings #Vikings #Vikings Imagine

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my-brothers-corrupted · 4 years

Text

My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter Three : Section Nine : The Separated Twins

Chapter One l Chapter Two l Chapter Three

Trigger warnings for physical and emotional abuse, hallucinations, and panic attacks.

On one side of the world, Henrik is exploring what it would mean to be free of Anti – what it would be to fight. On the other, Trick does something harmless that ends with him being punished and then even deeper under Anti’s hypnosis.

The Separated Twins

Anonymous asked: I believe in you. I believe in all of you that you can help Trick see that Anti isn't good for any of you and that he should not settle for the constant abuse he suffers under him just for the occasional glimpses of affection and attention. Please Blue... You and the others have to show him, show Trick that love shouldn't be painful. It should be warm, healing, and brings you up rather than down. -🦀

“Yeah,” murmurs Blue. “Yeah, I’d like for him to know that.”

He’s lying in his and Trick’s room, picking dully at Trick’s Switch, Noodle cautiously set at the end of the mattress beside him. He looks a little better than when you last saw him a couple days ago, but he’s still so worn. At least he’s wrapped up in Trick’s warm nest and wearing comfy old clothes.

“He deserves better,” he says. “I don’t know how to show him. But I’ll love him as hard as I can, damn sure… all of them. I miss the others.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Anti, maybe if you would treat your brothers like actual brothers and go to them for comfort instead of to beat them, maybe you wouldn't be such a miserable piece of shit. Ever think of that? Mindboggling, I know.

Anti breathes out a long sigh through his nose.

He’s moving around his room, his form shifting slower than you’ve ever seen it shift before, gradually making himself look more like Red. Flowers flicker and then die around his feet. He stretches and the flame of a candle breathes hotly towards the ceiling before settling down again. His body flickers moment to moment. His room is cleaner than it was before, much of the blood stained disappeared or hidden in the brown of the carpet, but printed pictures are beginning to take up the space on his wall.

“You’re all cliches of each other,” he says finally, voice thin and irritated. His eyes, when he turns to you, are vivid blue beneath glasses that look like Dok’s. “Nothing you have said has ever convinced me, spectators. Try to be a little more entertaining. I could turn you off again at any time.”

aether-mae asked: Hey Jackie, now that you’ve got max with you to help you out, I was wondering if u were still thinking of heading back to Peru to find Doc?

Ro and JJ are still with Max two days later.

Ro is wearing his new blue hoodie. He is clean. His cheeks have more color and there’s even a bit of sun in his face. He smells like honeydew soap because he’s been having a hot shower every day. He’s shaved.

He’s cut his hair too. Just a little. There’s no more dye in his hair. It’s his hair. He cut it. Well, with Dapper’s help. And some enthusiastic compliments from Max to boost his confidence.

He looks good.

Max is on the bed with Dapper, a stack of playing cards on the sheets between them.

“Okay, then I - do I need the joker? Mate, have mercy on me, you’re signing too fast. Hey! I’m a perfectly capable learner, I’ll have you know. Fine then, wait til I kick your ass at this. Oh, what, does that mean I lost? Shit. You rigged this. Next round I got you.”

Ro laughs and comes to sit beside them. Max pauses for a moment to grin at him before going back to his card game.

“Hey,” says Red after a little while.

“Yeah?”

“I checked with Dapper last night,” says Ro. “I was wondering if your offer to take us back to Dok in Peru still stands.”

Max looks up at Ro, smiling. Dapper gives him a fair chance and then steals all his cards.

“Wh - JJ!”

“Careful, he’s merciless.”

“No joke. Deal me another round. Really, though, Ro? You’d let me drive you? We can get another hotel tonight and be there in a couple days. I’d about die to see Henrik again.”

Red nods, smiling back at him. “Yeah, I mean it. We want our Dok back. Need to see my little brother. We might not have the others right now, but we’ll figure it out once we’ve got… Henrik.”

“Jackie,” says Max, clapping his hands together. “This is the best news. I’d love to. Can’t wait to see you fidget like a maniac through hours of car time.”

“Oh, fuck, don’t remind me.”

“Hahaha. Okay, yeah! Let’s head out tomorrow first thing, then! We’ll get a rental car if we can find one or start on the bus. Have to get you lots of snacks and entertainment, I know. There was this one time you and I were on a trip and by the end of it you were just about upside down in your seat. We were visiting Ireland so you could show me some of your home…”

Max and Dapper play cards. Max talks, loud and earnest and comforting. A friend. A friend who isn’t his family, a friend who wasn’t ordered to look after him by Anti. Just somebody who likes Jackie for Jackie.

Jackie sits on the bed and listens to Max talk for hours. Tomorrow, they’ll head back towards Lima.

Anonymous asked: Hey Anti what's those pictures in your room?

Anti pauses, his eyes narrowing, but he doesn’t bother to move you from position, letting you get a look at the pictures. They’re of his brothers. No, wait - just Doktor and Red and Dapper.

There’s one where Dapper has Red over his shoulder, leading him up towards the house in Peru, where Doktor is waiting to look after him. There’s one of Doktor and Dapper asleep side by side on their mattress. There’s one of Dapper staring out a window in Norway towards the glowing lights in the sky, one of Red hiking proudly up the mountain, one of Doktor staring placidly up at Anti, slicked entirely in blood and still holding a scalpel. All of them take place from the eye of a camera. Dok petting Noodle, Trick’s shoes just visible in the corner of the shot. Dapper looking sweet in his blankets and over-sized hoodie, hugging his bear to his chest. Red like a statue in motion, wielding his fighting staff, younger than you’ve seen him since Dapper sent him to the past. Rows and rows of pictures of them.

Anti shifts unhappily around his room, his body changing slightly, slightly. His hair curls up and tinges teal at the fringe, and he runs his fingers through his own hair like he’s petting himself.

Anonymous asked: How did you get all those pictures? Do you like take snapshots with your mind or something? Or did you have an actual camera?

“What’s the difference?” he grumbles. “I’m basically a walking hard drive. With a taste for blood. And, uh. I don’t know. Sentience. Hair. A couple too many teeth. I can go back and watch anything my cameras have recorded whenever I want. Printing them out is just moving data.”

He throws a knife at the wall, burying it just above one of Dapper’s teddies on a dresser.

spicydanhowell asked: seems like you really miss them, hm anti?

“Well, they’re mine, and I’m fucking pissed they’re gone, yeah!” He buries another knife on the teddy’s outline. “The only thing I know is that they’re fucking alive and probably not in jail. But I’ll have them back soon. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. Trick’s such a little sycophant he almost makes up for the others being gone. He’ll be home soon and then I can have some goddamn rest. This is some bullshit. Tell God I want a fucking refund.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Wow, Anti. You actually miss your pets? Or do you really consider them your brothers?

“Family is a construct,” growls Anti, picking up the bear in his hands. “Dapper is a warm body. Doktor is an immune system. Red is a guard dog.”

He sighs and throws it aside.

“Fucked up, though. Used to hate how loud Red would be through the walls. Now I kind of want to hear him. What a little brat. Can’t believe he was separated from me. Bulletproof vest. Locked door. Guard dog. Safety.”

Anti puts his hands in his red hair.

Anonymous asked: Where's trick? Is he alright?

“Trick went to get some dinner and some books at the library,” Blue answers you, smiling faintly. “He really likes being allowed have some freedom. Just a bus ride and a couple errands, but he gets all proud, like he’s my breadwinner, taking care of me, haha. I love him. He’s mostly alright, but, uh. I have been noticing him acting strange.”

Blue draws his eyes away from the cartoon animal game he’s playing on Trick’s switch for a moment. “Something wrong in his head, I… I don’t know. He reacts strangely when I ask about Dok. I’m scared. I think it’s a trauma thing. He seems so spacey all the time. But he’s happy, I think? For the most part? Every now and then I wake up to him crying next to me, clutching at me, but who can blame him for that? I think I’d be more scared if he wasn’t upset that Dok was gone at all, which is… how he acts during the day. But yeah, I think he’s as okay as I could expect him to be, mostly. He plays this little thing constantly.”

Blue shakes the Switch at you for a second and the screen blacks out. Blue jolts, lifting his fingers away to see if he accidentally hit the power button.

“That’s not yours to play with,” comes a cool voice from his doorway.

Blue jumps and drops the Switch, letting out a hissing sigh through his teeth, annoyed and afraid, as he can’t help but be every time he’s in Anti’s presence these days. Every time he hears him, sees him, smells his oil smell or feels his electric sting, he is back on a Norweigan beach he barely remembers, back on the Rio Puturnayo, back in a hospital room, huddled on the floor as the blows rain down.

“Fuck off, Anti,” he spits.

Anti’s mouth curls with a snarl at him. “Poor little kitten,” he coos. “Poor stupid boy.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” says Blue.

“Or maybe I just don’t care,” answers Anti, slinking back into the living room, his eyes still on Blue as they both wait for Trick to get home.

bupine asked: why no pictures of trick or blue, anti? are you missing your boys? also, you seem to be having trouble keeping a stable form. any idea why that is?

“I have Trick and Blue,” grumbles Anti, throwing a hand up. “Don’t need to see them. Know where they are. Know that they’re safe. And I’m not - shut up!”

He glares down at his own body, flickering and flashing.

“I always glitch, that’s - I have a brand, goddammit! It’s this flesh that’s fucking horrible, I - motherfuck.”

He hisses and buries his claws in his own right arm, watching blood well up against the flesh for a second. Then the arm flickers back into incorporeality and the blood trickles onto the floor. He growls, yanking on his hair for a second, trying to keep calm.

“So infuriating,” he snarls. “I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been, but my own body rebels. Stupid fuck. Symbolic, probably, don’t you think? Even my own flesh knows I didn’t grow it myself.”

He barks out an odd laugh, shape-shifting again, that subtle, slow, constant switch. Just reassuring himself, with every moment that passes, that he can still do it. That he can still become data, immerse himself in code, travel by electricity. It’s just getting harder, that’s all.

And he is powerful. This, at least, is true. The windows of the house are blooming with flowers. The candles were Trick’s idea. Dozens of them lined around the house, constantly burning. A chance for his power to express itself instead of devouring him.

Anonymous asked: How are you feeling, Blue? It’s good to see you again!

“Thank you,” says Blue, cooling a little as Anti walks away, pulling you back to him and flopping back on the bed. “I’m feeling, well. I’ve kind of gone stagnant? Like the last couple days, I feel okay, but I’ve stopped… getting better, sort of. Just tired and kind of achey and, well, frail. Having bad headaches too, and I still, uh.”

He touches his foggy eyes.

“Tried glasses,” he says quietly. “Big thick prescription glasses. Trick called me Monty Mole for two hours without fail. But they don’t cut through much of anything. The world is a permanent blur, ha… but you know what! Otherwise, I’m okay. Just been resting. This asshole hasn’t bothered me too much.”

He lets his hand flail towards Anti irritably.

“Oh, and guess what?”

He smiles winningly at you and then -

He pushes himself to his feet without help! All the way from sitting on the mattress on the floor to standing upright.

“Tada! Thank you, thank you, that’s right, I’m Blue the Magnificent, I’ll be here all week! Oh - shit!”

He crashes back towards the wall, laughing a little from the surprise and the slight embarrassment, though he still looks pleased with himself. He snatches up a cane that’s leaning on a windowsill and steadies himself on it, smiling at you.

“Tada,” he repeats warmly, standing upright.

“Meow,” cheers Noodle.

“Thank you, my dear.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Is Noodle keeping you good company, Blue?

“Well,” sighs Blue. “The truth is I’m not really fond of cats.”

He stares down at Noodle and Noodle stares back at him.

“But after a bit of that hospital breakdown you saw, I know that Anti made me stop being fond of cats,” he adds softly. “And… killed mine.”

Noodle mewls softly, stepping forward to weave between his legs.

“So I’m trying to get used to him again!” says Blue, trying to find his cheerful voice. “Because I did like cats, I did! I don’t know what else he changed about my mind when he first took it over, but I want it back. And Anti can try to destroy me but I will keep fighting against it, even if only in these little ways.”

He summons his determination and leans down. Noodle bursts into throaty purring as Blue’s soft fingers scratch across his skull and golden kitten ears.

Anonymous asked: Hey any progress is good progress babey!! You’re doing so well! Very proud, so yes, cheers all around for Blue the Magnificent!

“I know, haha, thank you, yeah! I’m excited, I am! Like, it’s such a small step, but it’s a step, you know? It’s nice being able to get to the bathroom on my own and stuff like that. Honestly, when you’re really sick, it’s the small things that can be really demoralizing. Not that there was anything to be ashamed of! But it… felt like there was. Especially with how helpless I know I am in front of him.”

He glances over at Anti sitting in the den and he straightens his back fiercely, standing on that cane. He did good. He has to keep believing in himself. He’s making progress and Anti can’t stop him fighting.

Anonymous asked: HmmMMMM Anti it looks like your emotions are bleeding though a little bit....y’know cuz red is- yeah anyways, where did Chaser go?

“Great, great,” snaps Anti. “Yeah, I get it, betrayal of the flesh, blah blah. You know what, I already look fucking indistinguishable to the person I hate most in the world, so maybe destiny could just call that fucking good, but no, let’s add on to the discomfort of looking in a mirror.”

He kicks the stairs in the den space just for the hell of it. Stupid tangible feet.

“Not even my face,” he whispers, low and bitter. “He lives in the curves of me, in the cut of my jaw, in the way my eyes move. No matter how much I try to shape-shift. I wake up every morning looking just like him - but not like him - all over again. Bullshit. Made me a copycat and a fake at the same time. Bullshit.”

He heaves out a sigh, his black eyes stormy.

Laughter from the street interrupts his mood and he sits up a little, his face calming. He can hear Trick. Good, Anti’s sick of feeling alone. He gets up and looks through the window above the kitchen sink.

Trick must still be coming down the pavement because he can hear him talking and laughing, but he can’t see him. Who the hell is he talking to? Himself? Did his little mind finally snap? Is Anti going to have to burrow into his fleshy little head yet again?

“I’m telling you, I do like them!” he hears Trick laughing. “I do, I’m not lying, haha! It’s just I think the satay noodles are my favorite. But all the shit you guys cook is amazing, seriously. Yeah, I - no, I don’t think I have! Oh! Maybe I can try it tomorrow. Will you be there again?”

Anti stands back on his heels, frowning. His form flickers darkly.

Anonymous asked: We’re really proud of you, Blue. Really. You’ve been so strong though all of this. I’d be squishing you in a big hug rn if I could! Keep doing what you’re doing, be independent and don’t let no bitch tell you what you can’t and can do! You’ve got this :)

“Don’t let no bitch - haha, okay, thank you.” Blue laughs and sits down on the sill of his window, letting his head rest against the glass. “Hey, tell Trick to hurry up with dinner. That’ll be the real celebration. I love the hawker food he keeps bringing me. Glad I can eat for real, even if this is a little annoying.”

He takes the nasal cannula out of his nose in preparation for dinner. He’s getting better at breathing without it, even planning to try to sleep through a night without it soon. His lungs are recovering from the smoke and the burning. He breathes in deeply against the cool glass, his eyes noticing something out near the front of the house he’s never seen before, a colorful mess of cloth. Someone must have left it behind on the rusted old pole of metal that used to hold a hummingbird feeder or something. Weird.

Anonymous asked: Hey, trick! Whatcha up to?

Anti steps slightly back from the kitchen window and let his mind flood into the camera Trick carries with him.

Clothes shuffle and move around the screen. If you had to guess you would say Trick’s probably shoved the little camera in his hoodie pocket. From that one circle of light in the side of the pocket, you can see white hands with long red nails, and you can hear her tittering laugh over the sound of Trick’s almost breathless, enthusiastic talking.

“Dude, no! I’m telling you, these are for my nerd brother.”

“You’re sure? You’re sure? You’re not a secret professor of poetry, Connor?”

“Fucking look at me, do I look like a professor of anything?”

“Uh… skate-boarding?”

“Skate - ” He cuts himself off with a laugh and they both dissolve into giggles. Her hand brushes over his as they both gesticulate.

“Maybe weed?”

“I could be a professor of that, okay, you’re right. How about Minecraft?”

“Yeah, professor of Minecraft, I can see it. Kittens?”

“Now you’re just flattering me. I do love my kitten. Converse?”

“Noodle-eating?”

“Super Smash Bros.”

“America.”

“Just the whole of - hahaha!”

And they’re laughing together, there on the pavement just out of Anti’s sight as the sun glows red and pink over them. They’re laughing together and holding poetry books they picked out together at the library and take-out boxes full of hawker stand noodles and you know it’s Xin Yi, you know it is, and when there’s a soft silence and you can hear the both of them pause and look and breathe - well, then you know that he’s leaned in to press his chapped and loving mouth to her soft cheek, and that’s she smiling, and so is he.

Anti steps back again from the window.

He can hear the blood pumping loud, loud, loud through his head.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Trick! Trick! Be careful!

Trick’s still got his camera turned off.

The message goes to Blue.

You see his eyes flicker and his pupils shrink. His hands grip down tight around you.

“What?” he stammers. “What did Trick do?”

He’s on his shaky, shaky feet before you can answer. Staggering out into the den, using his cane, his oxygen strapped to his back. Trick. He has to protect Trick. That is all that matters.

“Trick?” he calls. “Amata?”

But there’s just Anti in the kitchen.

Still as can be.

The floorboards beneath his feet have burned down to the earth below.

Smoldering still.

Anonymous asked: Wait Anti don't punish Trick please! You know that he'd never leave you or doubt you or anything like that. For god's sake, he attached the collar that's traumatized him so much for you and never left your side these past days and helped you ground yourself and did those little things like the candles around the house for you. He's utterly loyal to you and he's undeniably yours, please Anti. Don't punish him for this.

“You can’t hurt him,” says Blue, over the soft hiss of the floorboards burning.

Anti doesn’t move.

“He loves you,” says Blue, louder. “Maybe more than anyone ever has. He’d do anything to make you happy. It’s horrible, but it’s true. He loves you or he thinks he does. Deeply, deeply. You can’t hurt him. They’re right. He’s done everything for you. He’d give you anything. Utterly loyal, undeniably yours. Maybe the last one of us who is. You can’t punish him for this. Just tell him no and he won’t - whatever he did, he’ll stop.”

Trick is coming up towards the door.

Anti stares at him, his eyes flickering. Black, brown, red, green, blue, white.

“Anti,” says Blue.

He is begging.

“Anti.”

spicydanhowell asked: you fucking did this though. in another world, if you were kind to them, they could have been a happy little brainwashed following for you. but you're not even kind enough to be a good tyrant... that's interesting.... you Drove them Away. they don't love you anymore. none of them

Anti can hear the words pounding through his own head.

You drove them away.

They don’t love you anymore.

None of them.

Anti has hurt, and hurt, and hurt, and hurt them.

He knows that.

But he always thought he would be enough to make it not matter.

He always thought he would be enough if he just tried.

Dapper is gone. Red’s not there to make him feel safe. Dok’s not there to help him if he’s hurt. Blue doesn’t want him. And all Anti has had for almost two weeks now is Trick.

Warm, loving Trick. The collar wrapped around his throat. His fierce blue eyes.

Anti thought he had been good to him. Kind to him. Warm to him.

And he still isn’t… he still can’t be… Trick still wants…

“Hey, Blue?” he says.

“What?”

“Why am I not angry?”

“You - are you not?”

He is paralyzed. Impaled. Petrified like a fossil.

“My chest hurts,” he says, and he leans over the silver sink of the unused home and vomits blood like a mortal.

Anonymous asked: You know he'd burn down the world for you if you asked him, would stay by your side even if you're burning in hell or lashing out at him. As Blue said, just order him or tell him that he can't do this ever again and he'll do it within a heartbeat. Please, Anti...

“Awww,” says Blue, and you can hear the cold sneer of his mouth even before you can see it. He moves on his shuddering legs to stand behind Anti, close enough that he can feel the burn of his own magic dammed up too powerfully in Anti’s chest. “Poor thing. Is my stolen magic making the little demon sick? Are you such a little virgin you get jealous of a single kiss on her cheek? What exactly are you compensating for that you can’t bear to see your fucking brother find a cute girl to hold hands with? Does that sting, Anti? Does it burn? Imagine if someone told you to hold that much power in for weeks… and weeks… and weeks… and then, after you lost control after all that obedience, they possessed you, cut you open, stole your soul, and blamed you for it. Would that hurt, do you think, little demon? Does it burn, Anti, does my magic burn?”

Anti turns like a snake striking to spit blood into Blue’s face, grabbing him by the throat and sending him crashing to the ground.

“Trick is the only one left who loves you,” cries Blue even as he scrambles away, his blue eyes flashing, his chest heaving for air. “Trick is probably the only person in the world who cares about you at all, and you’re going to hurt him because he blushed over a girl who showed him kindness? No wonder you’re so fucking miserable, you snake-faced son of a bitch. You need control so badly that you can’t even consider that we could ever love anyone other than you. How do you bear the twin system, anyway?”

“I’m the one who makes you love your twins,” hisses Anti, blood sliding out of his mouth. “You and Red could barely stand to look at each other before I wiped your minds clean.”

A burst of pain slams against Blue’s chest. “That’s not true!”

“Trust me, darling, it is, you can ask them. Red was baring his teeth at you, didn’t trust you, didn’t want you there. Then I swept it all away and told him to love you and he woke up not even knowing why he felt so fond of you. That’s what your whole relationship is based on. Just like your dislike of cats, Blue. I choose everything about who you are and you don’t even realize it.”

“Shut up!” screams Blue. “You’re a liar!”

“You’ll never be free of me. None of you will. This - this is the last straw, this and your traitorous brothers hiding away in South America. I won’t take any more of this. I will destroy this girl. Not just her but the warmth of her, the meaning of her, the need for her. Trick won’t even want anyone but me and the people I choose for him when this is over.”

“Guys?” squeaks a terrified voice at the door. “Wh - wh - what’s - ? Anti? Blue? Are you hurting each other?”

“Your fucking brother is losing his mind,” chokes Anti, turning to vomit over the sink again, fire licking across his teeth. “Shouting at me while I’m ill.”

“Don’t listen to him, Trick, he wants to hurt you for kissing that girl!”

Trick stares between the two of them, utterly flummoxed. Anti sets his gaze on him and a sudden terror rushes into his bones.

“A - Anti? Big brother?”

spicydanhowell asked: trick... sir... anti's gonna be mad at you for this???

“But - but - no,” stammers Trick, holding out his hands, confused, bewildered, terrified. “Anti, I… you’ve been so nice to me. You wouldn’t hurt me just for - she’s so nice, Anti, why can’t I - ?”

Anti’s hand draws back to strike him and Trick cowers and the blow -

The blow -

“Trick,” hisses Anti. Chokes Anti. Stammers Anti. “What - why would you - I don’t understand?”

“Anti,” says Trick, and then he starts laughing.

Anti stares at him, eyes huge. He looks down at Blue and Blue stares back at him, shaking his head.

“Anti!” Trick repeats, and grabs his shoulders. “Man, come on, what the hell!”

“Don’t laugh at me, you little brat!”

But he is, he’s laughing, and smiling at Anti, and holding his shoulders, and hugging him. “You’re so - oh, fuck’s sake, Anti. Are you jealous I kissed a girl?”

“No!”

“If you need help with girls, I could - ”

“I don’t care about girls, Trick!”

“Oh, well then maybe Blue or Red would be more help in that department, but - ”

“I’m angry at you!”

“But you wouldn’t hurt me,” says Trick softly, still smiling. “You would never hurt me.”

Blue stares up at Trick.

And he can see - oh, fuck, he can see the glaze of the hypnotism over his eyes. He can see the influence.

Trick can’t even comprehend it right now, that Anti would hurt him. Trick probably didn’t think twice about bringing Xin Yi back here.

Because Anti is his family and Anti loves him and Anti wouldn’t hurt him over a kiss on the cheek.

Right?

“Trick,” he hears himself whisper. “My little brother.”

How many times has Anti wormed inside his head today alone? How many of his thoughts are turned back towards him? How much of Trick is even still in there?

“You… didn’t even think about it, did you?” says Anti, very quiet. “How I would react to this.”

“No, I did! I want to tell you all about her, she’s so cool! Anti, she’s super cute, did you see her? And hey, I think they might have a brother, I could - ”

“Stop,” says Anti. “Stop. Let me breathe for a second.”

Trick stops immediately and fetches a towel from the bathroom, returning moments later to start wiping the blood gently from his mouth. “Poor thing,” he mumbles, touching Anti’s face without fear. “I’m sorry if I upset you, Anti. But you shouldn’t feel threatened. That’s kind of dumb, man.”

“I’m going to kill you,” growls Anti.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Trick, smiling at him.

And that’s it. It’s done. You see the moment Anti regains control.

The confusion is gone. The snake is back.

“Oh, Trick,” he soothes, reaching out to cup his face in return, and Blue gasps and hides his face as Anti’s eyes turn black and drowning. “You don’t understand, do you, little brother?”

Trick’s eyes unfocus like a blind man’s. He hums distantly, the towel pausing on Anti’s cheek.

aether-mae asked: Trick, it’s not safe to have friends outside of your family at the moment, as much as I hate to say. Anti will definitely hurt her to keep you all to himself.

“You’re going to hurt me?” asks Trick distantly, swaying slightly on his feet.

“I thought about it,” answers Anti, smiling sweetly at him, carding his hands through his hair. “It would have been so easy. Maybe I still will. Shove you in the shed and beat you til you’re sobbing for me to kill you.”

Trick’s eyes flicker, but his mouth is still smiling.

“It’s not your fault, really,” says Anti, brushing his fingers through his soft locks. “You have abandonment issues, don’t you?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You just want everybody to love you, poor thing.”

“I do,” confesses Trick, his face faltering with grief. “I do.”

“Course you fell for a sweet girl. Blue’s been useless to you. Dok’s gone. You must have been confused. But, see, you don’t know what I know, Trick.”

“What, Anti?”

Anti puts his head down on his shoulder, staring up at him, his mouth close to his ear.

“I’ve seen girls break your heart, Trick.”

“Break my heart?”

Anti runs his fingers over the scar in Trick’s head.

“She made you do this… you don’t remember. I made you stop thinking about her. I set you free from her.”

“You… you weren’t being possessive. You were trying to protect me?”

“That’s right, little brother. Besides, what do you need her for? Your family is right here, Trick. You don’t want to give our cover away, do you? They’d send you off to jail… take all your brothers away from you… take me away from you. You don’t want that, do you?”

Trick shakes his head swiftly, making himself dizzy. He clutches on to Anti for support, eyes drifting back towards his skull.

“Stop it!” screams Blue, no longer able to stand it. “Leave him alone! You’re ripping him apart every day! He doesn’t like having you in his head?”

“You want me to bind you up in your own vines and beat you til you cry again?” snaps Anti, turning to level a violent glare at him. Blue is paralyzed beneath the gaze.

Anonymous asked: We've seen old magical books, Anti. Blue's magic is going to kill you. It's adjusting your form to fit its true host and it'll keep doing it until it wastes you away or gets rid of your old incorporeality. You've made quite the big mess for yourself, haven't you? And still all you can do is boil in rage and self-righteous anger. Your rage controls you, you've never been the one in control here. That'll never change, Antisepticeye.

Anti seethes with fury, turning his venom gaze onto you, clutching Trick tighter, tighter, tighter to his chest.

“You don’t want to see that girl ever again,” hisses Anti. “Unless it’s when the two of us go to slaughter her for ever laying a hand on what belongs to me.”

“What belongs to you,” repeats Trick distantly, hiding his face against his neck and humming a song to himself.

“You didn’t like being with her. The sight of her makes your heart race. You’ll feel ill if you see her again. You’ll want to hide and come back to me. You’re terrified she’ll hurt you like the first girl did. You don’t want that. You don’t want to be with anyone anymore. Just stay here with your family, with your brothers, where it’s safe. Where no one can hurt your heart. You won’t go. You won’t want anyone other than me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“In fact,” Anti adds in a snarl, turning back to you, and this, you can hear, is your punishment. “If you ever start to think that anyone is more important to you than me, I’ll take the memory of them from you forever.”

The slightest trepidation interrupts Trick’s daze. You see the flicker of his eyes.

“H… Henrik?” he whispers.

Anti’s possessive grip on him tightens, tightens, tightens.

“Yes,” he whispers. “If you ever break the rules like this again, I will make you forget even Henrik.”

Trick seems to wilt against him, panting softly.

“I have the power. You would forget everything about him. And he would still remember you, but you would only see a stranger. Wouldn’t that be just horrible?”

He nods against Anti’s shoulder.

“Anti, I - I’m sorry. I’m sorry, forgive me.”

“Don’t worry, Trick,” Anti whispers, gripping his hair. “I will help you make this right.”

Blue stares up at him from the floor, tears in his eyes. Anti smiles viciously back. His teeth are still red.

Yes. He is in control. No one else. And maybe it feels like the others abandoned him, betrayed him, turned against him, found someone new. But no - no. Soon, soon as Blue can travel, they will go back to Peru.

And then Anti will take his family back again.

No one else will get in the way.

No one else ever could in the past. Kamenye. Brody-Chen. Deshmuhk. Sforza. Every casual hook-up Marvin was sleeping with, every idiot friend or loyal coworker. They don’t even matter now. They’re dead, or gone, or scattered like cowards in hiding across the earth.

Anti looks up Xin Yi’s last name.

Koh. Pretty.

Koh won’t matter either.

“We will make this right,” he repeats.

And he does not notice the fabric fluttering on the hummingbird feeder in his front yard.

A warning sign.

There are consequences to the blood that Anti has shed across the earth.

There are survivors.

Anonymous asked: Tell me you didn't touch Chase's family, Anti. His kids??

Anti smiles down at Trick’s dazed face.

Then he slaps him so hard Trick goes crashing to the earth, a handprint red against his skin, and Blue lets out a scream on his brother’s behalf, crawling forward to snatch him away from Anti.

“Stupid fucker,” growls Anti.

“You’re disgusting!” screams Blue, hiding Trick against his chest. “Hurting other people just so you can feel like you’re in control! It’s pathetic!”

“I am in control!” Anti screams back, jerking forward fast enough to make Blue cry out in fear, grabbing his broken nose. Anti laughs hard, throwing his head back. “I’m the pathetic one? Every one else is like a squirming rat to me! Chase’s fucking kids. You should be grateful I don’t kill children. But it doesn’t matter. Either way, it doesn’t matter. He’ll never, ever see them again. Even if he could get free of me, those little brats are so deep in hiding even Red couldn’t hunt them down.”

“He has children?” cries Blue. “You took him from his family? Trick has children?”

“He belongs to me!” screams Anti. “He was always owed to me! The children were more of an accident than I was, and that’s a fucking miracle. Now get in your room before I decide I want to see you eating through a tube for the second time this month!”

Blue grabs Trick and scrambles back towards their room, his brother barely able to cooperate.

“Fucking girl, touching what’s mine!” he hears Anti scream, his body spasming apart into a myriad of violent colors, blood weeping down his chin again, meeting the open wound in his throat. Roots tear at his feet and the candles in the room burn like fire spirits performing a ritual to a war god. “Thieves, everyone, everyone! I hate outsiders, I hate intruders, I hate them! This is our story! The six of us and him! Anyone else is a distraction, an outlier, a mistake. Anyone else who tries to intervene can die like the worms they are.”

Blue drags Trick into his room and collapses, slamming the door shut behind them.

Anonymous asked: Literally- Bitch- Anon said "you let your rage control you" and you /immediately/ let your rage control you. Jesus christ your lack of self awareness is downright hilarious at this point Anti.

Your screen-four camera goes flying across the room the moment the message reaches Anti and crashes into Blue and Trick’s door, shattering your view into static. Blue lets out a little yelp, backing away from the door.

A drawn-out yowl like a tiny tornado siren from behind the mattress indicates Noodle’s terror.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” calls Blue to the cat, panting, pulling Trick into his lap and touching his reddened face. “Oh, Trick, Trick… my love, my amata, my brother… are you alright, my heart, are you okay? Your kitten wants you, yeah? Should I get him for you?”

Trick’s eyes are screwed shut.

He is crying in silence.

“My love,” repeats Blue in a whisper, pressing their foreheads together and gathering him into his arms. “My love. Here I am. Here I am. No one will hurt you now.”

Anonymous asked: It's literally in your own best interest to give Blue's magic back, Anti. It will kill you if you don't. YOU JUST VOMITED UP BLOOD. well, it IS your choice to keep it or not, but you won't have anyone to blame but yourself if it does something irreparable to you.

You can see him from the cameras in the corner of every room.

Panting over the sink.

Face white. Image moving.

“I’m powerful,” he whispers. “I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been. Every day, my control is stronger. At the end of every day, I’m so ill I think I will die, and I bleed and shake and grow ill like men do, b-but… but the rest of the day… my strength, my strength!”

He crumples slightly over the sink, his arms trembling.

“If I could just find a way to be both tangible and incorporeal… there must be a way… there must be a way to fix this yet. And even if I wanted to, even if I wanted to…”

He stands for a long, long time shivering over the sink.

In fact, most of you will have turned your attention away by the time he speaks again.

And even if you have not, he still speaks so quietly as to barely touch the ear - a whisper to make the kitchen a confessional - a secret -

“I don’t,” his bloodied tongue confesses. “Know how.”

Anonymous asked: Stand strong Blue. Defend your baby brother. Even if he does hurt you, at least that'll prick a hole in Trick's current false reality and bring him back to earth a bit.

“Right,” whispers Blue, curled low around Trick’s body. “Yes, I have to look after him. Yes, no matter what. Trick… amata. Fuck, I used to know your name… but it doesn’t matter, I love you.”

He cards his thumb across Trick’s cheeks, brushing tears away. “It’s okay, mo deartháir. Just hold onto me. Oh… well, let me get my oxygen.”

He grabs at his chest for a second, struggling softly, trying to pull in air. Eventually he manages to pull himself across the room and put his cannula back in his nose, taking a deep breath in.

“Blue,” cries Trick softly, clutching at his shirt.

“Trick,” answers Blue, wrapping back around him. “Trick, Trick. Sh, darling, okay. Here, look, your little paper, do you want it?”

He presses the blue crinkle paper into his brother’s palm and Trick wraps his fingers around it, hiding in Blue’s stomach.

“And your cat? Come here, kitty kitty, yes, there’s a good sweet boy.”

He scoops Noodle up and places him on Trick’s chest. He’s a sweet, intelligent cat, and immediately he is banging his little head up against Trick’s chin, mewling for attention. Trick palm closes around his growing golden body. Soft as duck down.

“What happened?” sobs Trick. “I was - I was happy and then so scared and I can’t remember why… Blue, someone’s going to hurt me, don’t let them hurt me! Blue, Blue!”

“No one’s going to hurt you,” swears Blue, pulling him close. They’re warm as space heaters against each other, curled up on the floor together. “It was - Trick, it was Anti, but I won’t let him - ”

“Oh, no,” breathes Trick, looking immediately dazed again, his eyes drooping. “He protects me, he loves me, he would never…”

Distantly, he touches his stinging cheek. Blue pulls the fingers away and leans down to kiss the mark, stroking his fingers through Trick’s hair as he cries soft against his chest.

“I was so happy,” says Trick. “Where did it go? What happened? I can’t remember… I must have really fucked up, Blue, I’m such a screw-up, I ruin everything…”

“I’m so sorry, amata,” whispers Blue. “Oh, no, Trick, not for a moment. You didn’t do anything wrong at all. You didn’t do a single thing wrong. You didn’t know Xin Yi would be in danger here. You didn’t mean to make Anti angry. You didn’t do anything. You’re so sweet to me, and to him too, even though he doesn’t deserve it.”

“Who’s Xin Yi?”

Blue winces, putting his forehead down against Trick’s. “I… I…”

“Is - Blue, is Anti going to make me h-hurt someone?”

“I - I don’t know, Trick. Not if I can help it. We won’t let it happen, okay? We won’t let it happen.”

“Please hold me…”

“Here I am.”

“Blue,” whispers Trick. “I love you more than air. But I want Dok so, so much. Why isn’t he here? Why won’t he come back to me? Doesn’t he want me anymore?”

“He’s just lost, Trick,” Blue answers. “He still loves you so much. Won’t it be nice to see him again after so long?”

“I’ll hug him,” says Trick simply, his breathing beginning to calm a little. “I’ll be able to sleep again, when Dok is… when Dok is…”

His gaze drifts. He’s only allowed to think about Dok for so long. His brain no longer holds on the thought of him for more than a minute, and so, several times a day he feels a great pang of grief, and then a numb confusion as it disappears again.

“Just let me hold on to you,” says Blue. “I got you.”

“You got me,” answers Trick, smiling weakly up at him. “You’re really good to me, Blue. Love you so much.”

“I love you, Trick.”

“Ekk,” says Noodle, licking Trick’s chin. Trick hugs him close and listens to his roar of a purr.

Blue finds Dok’s shirt amid Trick’s nest. He drapes it over them both. Faintly, Trick registers the smell of him. Blue’s fingers soothe his pain and his fear away, moving through his hair and across his back. Blue is holding him. Blue loves him. No matter what. Right now, it’s all that matters.

Anonymous asked: Trick please... You don't have to change yourself or act like someone you're not for the sake of making everyone happy. They love you for you. They love Trick and not... Whoever. Just... Blue please tell him? It would mean a lot more if it came from you. -🦀

Blue softens, staring at you for a second.

Fuck, but he’s glad to have someone on his side.

“You guys and Mr. Noodle here,” he murmurs, curling low over his brother, hugging him close.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I love you just the way you are.”

Trick stares up at him, his eyes wet and his mouth smiling sorrowfully.

“Blue,” he whispers, like a single-syllable song.

“Don’t want you to think you have to change for him,” chokes Blue, kissing his cheek again.

“Who’s him?”

He can’t bear to fight with him about Anti right now. Blue puts his face down against Trick’s shoulder.

It’s Trick’s turn to run his fingers across Blue’s scalp, soothing him even as he continues to cry. Their arms wrap around each other’s shoulders and ribs like a weary twilight Pieta. Blue gives his brother time. He needs it too. A half hour, an hour. Rocking him in his arms and listening to him snuffle and cry and try to figure out what happened, his confused mind making a mess of it and leaving him exhausted in Blue’s arms. Still, he has enough presence of mind to find the most important thing to say, when finally Blue feels his heart slow against his fingertips.

“I love you too,” swears Trick. “Just the way you are.”

“Anti made me the way I am,” says Blue. “And it’s not enough to protect you.”

“It’s always enough,” Trick says, with a reverence like a prayer. “Don’t you know you make me want to love myself?”

Warm hands and bodies pressed close together. The purring of a cat and the brotherhood shared in twin eyes.

Blue knocks their foreheads softly together.

“You and me?” he whispers, settling down against their nest.

“Yes,” says Trick. “No matter what happens. I have you, Blue.”

“Amata,” says Blue, trying to make up for the times Anti has said it with his lying mouth, trying to make up for all the times Anti corrupted this one truth that still remains. “Amata. Amata. Beloved. I love you.”

The sun has come down blue as the felt between the night sky and warm on their shoulders. Trick, Blue realizes, has fallen asleep in his arms.

--------------

Anonymous asked: Hey Henrik, you should ask the magicians for some candles that you can light on the shabbats! I think finally being allowed/able to practice your culture will really help you on your journey to healing. Remember dayenu, remember the blessings and songs. You're free, dok, you can have more than just Hanukkah now.

You find Henrik sitting in that dusty library basement, surrounded by the tall shelves of the books, flipping wearily through the pages of some stiff yellow tome. He’s surrounded by books, but, for once, all on his own. He no longer feels the need to be lead around or escorted. He knows he’s not a prisoner and, what’s more, he goes where he pleases.

“Ah,” he says, pushing his glasses up on his nose and giving you a small smile. “Well… that’s very nice. And I’d like to do some of that, maybe. I remember my songs and blessings even when I’m with Anti, but I don’t always use them anyhow.”

He sighs and fiddles with the pages of the book. “It is just not that easy as jumping back into it, yeah? Like… fuck, I don’t know. Anti’s not the only thing that’s been stopping me from my practices, I guess. My relationship with my faith is… well, it’s a lot of strings to untangle. I’d like to go back to having a real community, but even if I didn’t feel like I was going back to Anti soon, I’m still not sure I feel like I… I belong, you know, I’m just…”

He trails off, pulling his book closer and shaking his head.

There’s movement on the other side of the library and he blinks, looking around, but he settles back down to his reading.

“Trying to find more info on what Anti is,” he says, changing the subject. “But no real luck. I don’t think he’s anything anyone has ever seen before.”

cest-mellow asked: hey henrik, i’m glad they took you here. it’s very pretty. but, listen, there is a way you can potentially help blue and stop anti. this is gonna sound scary, but emmanuela wants to take a little look inside your head, just to see what antis done, nothing more. she’s very warm, she doesn’t want to cause you or your brothers any sort of harm. she really will help you, and blue, and red and dapper and trick, if you trust her with this. she won’t use any of this against you, it’s only to help.

“Oh, scheisse,” groans Henrik, putting a nail between his teeth. “JP mentioned something like that at dinner. I - oh, get this! They made me eat fucking lamb’s intestines and wouldn’t tell me what it was until I was done, haha. I wanted to be pissed but, okay, listen, lamb’s intestines? Kind of good. I ate… a lot of it, haha.”

He’s a healthier person than when he came here almost two weeks ago, his face flushed with health. He’s been exercising again - turns out he’s something of a runner, which is not something he would have guessed about himself - and he eats three meals a day, every day, and sleeps in every morning.

“Wait until I get them back with something really German, then we’ll see who’s laughing. Oh my gosh, I can still feel how chewy it was! And the kids are so funny, because they will just gobble it down, they just - ”

He pauses and clears his throat. “Sorry, we were talking about Emmanuela. Yes. Um.”

He lets out a deep breath, fidgeting with his book. “I think I trust her. I know the others do and that’s about enough for me. But someone in my head is - that sounds scary, I - I don’t know. I’ve been disillusioned about so many things for so long and I’m still waking up to them. I’m scared she’ll find that there are important things I believe in that are lies too. That maybe everything is a lie. She’ll find something like Trick doesn’t love me without Anti there or Dapper is as bad as Anti or Anti is really… is really…”

He shakes his head slowly, staring down at his books.

“Is really and truly irredeemable. I don’t know that I could bear it…”

There’s movement again, closer to him. He blinks, looking up, shrinking in on himself a little. The lights flicker off on one half of the library and he jolts, staring around him, shadowed half in darkness. Footsteps and he shivers.

“Hermann?” he calls. “Nina?”

No answer from the darkness.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Henrik, maybe you should be on your guard. Where did all the others go?

“I don’t know, just hanging around,” he says, getting to his feet. “I - I’m just being paranoid. Nobody can reach me here. Nothing’s going to hurt me.”

It’s become something of a mantra for him. He whispers it to himself after nightmares and triggers, hiding away on his own, holding his own arms around his shoulders.

“Maybe I’ll go. It’s getting late anyway. I’m just being paranoid. Nobody can reach me here. Nothing’s going to hurt me.”

“Funny,” answers a voice, and Henrik shudders, backing against the shelves, his breath picking up in his chest.

This voice has the thickest Spanish accent yet, almost too heavy for Henrik to understand. The shaking of the voice - the croaking, rasping, cold hiss of the trembling voice - does not make it any easier.

“Funny,” repeats the Old Man, somewhere close by. Somewhere between the shelves of the placid, dusted old library, half-dark. “Funny, funny. A joke, almost. My son, you know, he think the same thing before your brother kill him.”

A snake longer than Henrik’s entire body comes dripping down the bookshelf in front of him, golden eyes fixed directly on him.

hurricael asked: Hey magicians, do you know if someone giving back magic has ever been recorded? And if so, how? Like, magic that was taken and then given back to that person ((I'm a little timeline-muddled so if this doesn't fit here feel free to ignore it))

“Have you been looking for answers?” asks the Old Man, and Henrik whirls as his voice seems to move, almost like Anti’s does, and Henrik feels his heart constrict. “Have you been looking for salvación for your killer family? For all the different kind of murderer you love? For the one who kill Jose, and the one who kill Christofer when he go to help you, and the one who tortures Genesis?”

Fuck. Henrik closes his eyes tight against the memories. No! He won’t be intimidated by this man. He won’t be cowed. He’s Henrik, Dok, their brother.

“You don’t understand!” he cries. “You don’t understand anything about us.”

“Everybody like to say it’s complicated when bad things happen,” answers the Old Man. “You are here, you talk about religion down here? Talk about going back to being a good Jew? It’s complicated. Nobody understand. You tell yourself. But sometimes? You were just wrong. You were just evil. And not everybody deserves salvación.”

“No,” croaks Henrik. “You can’t just - ”

“If you had wanted answers,” says the Old Man. “I am the one who know every book in this library. Here’s your answer: no, your thieving, blood-thirsty brother can’t give the magic back, or at least that is not in any of the books, in any of the history. Same way your black and white brother can’t undo the scars on Genesis, and your red brother can’t bring my child back from the dead.”

Henrik leaps the snake and races back towards the stairs. His hands are growing wet with - oh, oh, what is this? When did he begin to bleed?

“Hey!” he screams, tumbling against a bookshelf. “What are you doing? Please stop! I’m sorry about your child but I didn’t - ah!”

Blood is running down his cheeks. Down his chest. Down his arms. He screams as cuts appear, painless but weeping, across his skin. Thick, heavy scars in some places, neat little patterns in others. The same scars Anti and Dapper gave Genesis. Henrik can feel the star shape on his cheek. Chain burns redden on his shaking wrists.

“The longer you stay here,” hisses the Old Man. “The more tired I am of excuses for everything your family is done to mine. You are not worth defending if monster comes back. You were not worth Jose and Christofer. You should not be here.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: GENESIS! ANYONE! HENRIK IS IN DANGER!

Genesis gets the notification on her phone, turning you on to let you see her splayed out on her bed, eating crackers.

“What?” she says through a half-full mouth, and then the message kind of registers, and she’s scrambling to her feet, spilling crumbs everywhere. “What? Where is he? Anti can’t have gotten in here. Emmanuela!”

She races out of her room, tearing open the door to Henrik’s room, but he isn’t inside.

Anonymous asked: Genesis, the Old Man is attacking henrik, isn’t there any way for you guys to stop him??

“Motherfucker!” shouts Genesis, even louder than she called for Emmanuela, tearing down towards the stairs. “He would not! He did not! Emmanuela will eviscerate him!”

“Genesis? What’s going on?” calls one of the three children, poking their heads out of the dining room.

“Go get everyone for me, now! It’s an emergency. The Old Man’s lost it. I shouldn’t have left the medico alone!”

She’s charging down the stairs already. “Henrik!” she shouts. “It’s okay, I’m coming! It’s not real, medico!”

Henrik can’t hear her. He’s curled up in a ball, clutching at his head, your camera abandoned beside him.

“Do you remember me?” asks a voice you haven’t heard in weeks, and the heavy boots of the enormous magician who had tried to carry Trick back to the car to be with Henrik appear in your vision. Christofer leans down over Henrik and blood comes pulsing from his throat, a great dog’s-teeth wound tearing his neck into bloody shreds. “Do you remember I tried to help you?”

“Stop!” he screams. “Please, no!”

There’s another body behind him a moment later. You’ve never seen this magician before, but you know who he is. He holds the great black book that Anti stole and used to take Marvin’s magic. Red killed him.

“Is it easy?” says Jose. “To pretend all the people you hurt are just side characters, nameless, forgotten the moment you put a blade in them? How many people have you killed, medico? How many of their names do you remember now? All of them had people who loved them.”

“I never wanted to!” screams Henrik.

“But that isn’t quite true now, is it?” sneers Jose’s image, and Henrik can hear himself laughing wildly, crazed, can hear the horrible squealch of his scalpel impaling a body again and again, cackling and babbling in German, and Anti cooing in his ear:

“There’s my good Doktor. There’s my little torturer. Now, at last you can admit it - you never became a doctor to heal anybody. You always wanted to feel what it would be like to kill someone and hold their heart in your hands.”

Henrik sobs and wraps his arms around himself. “Trick!” he screams. “Trick, please!”

Anonymous asked: It’s an old man, talking about how red killed his child. They’re in the library and he’s freaking Henrik out!

Genesis bounds down the stairs and finds Henrik shaking at the bottom, curled into a ball, holding his head and babbling.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t happy. I didn’t mean to. Let me go back to Trick. I did what you asked. Let me go back to Trick. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good!”

She falls to her knees beside him and cups his face in her hands, shushing him lowly, looking over him for injuries, but, while Henrik’s camera shows you rivulets of blood and bodies standing over him and the great long body of a constrictor snake creeping along the floor towards him, there is nothing in Genesis’s phone camera except Henrik himself, whole and unharmed, rocking on the floor.

“I’ll make him stop, I’ll make him stop, it’s just an illusion,” she reassures him, leaping back to her feet. “Viejo, paras! I’ll go get him, medico, stay here!”

Almost as soon as she’s rushing down the library shelves to find the Old Man, Hermann is crashing down the stairs to fall at Henrik’s side, taking his hands in his own, his eyes looking wildly around.

Anonymous asked: There's a reason we've done away with 'an-eye-for-an-eye' punishments. It's not as simple as your family hurt mine so I get to hurt yours back. We judge based on individual actions and we learn and grow and forgive if we choose to. I get that you're mourning your family's losses, but hurting Henrik won't take away your hurt. You're just putting more hurt into the world.

“They’re right, so cut it the fuck out!” screams Genesis, rounding the corner of the bookshelves, and there, at last, you see the Old Man.

His dry mouth is twisted into a terrible snarl.

The wrinkles around his eyes are soaked in tears.

He cries in silence, glaring at nothing, his eyes glowing faintly gold from the magic he’s using on Henrik.

“Viejo,” calls Genesis, her eyes softening, though her mouth is still taut with anger for her friend. “Stop. Stop. Jose wouldn’t have wanted this.”

“It does not matter,” he mumbles in Spanish, tears splashing onto the floor. “He is not here and never will be again.”

Anonymous asked: Question old man: who the hell are you HELPING by doing this? You passed-on family is gone, and the ones who are still here are trying to help this guy sure himself out and stop a demon so he can't hurt anyone else. You're directly impeding progress on that front. You're certainly not helping yourself by debasing any trust your living family has in you.

“You can kick me out after this if you please,” he tells Genesis, slumping back in his chair, his hand limp on the table before him. “It doesn’t matter now.”

She comes to stand beside him, her eyes flickering. After a moment, she puts her hand down on his shoulder.

He reaches up and traces the scars that Anti left her, his eyes clouded with both age and misery.

“Stop,” she says. “Please, I’m asking you. Jose was not the only one who loves you. I’m ashamed of you now. Stop, for my sake. For Jose’s memory.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, but at her request, the glow in his eyes fades away.

Henrik chokes and slackens across the floor as the hallucinations fade away, still shuddering. Hermann is murmuring reassurances to him, trying to get him back to his feet. It’s best to get him out of the library before anything else happens.

Genesis and the Old Man are still together in the darkness. He stares down at the wood of the table and closes his weeping eyes.

bupine asked: old man, these men have been through so much pain. i understand you have too. but wishing more pain on them does nothing. it doesn't help you feel better, i'm sure, and it won't reverse any scars or bring any person back from the dead. i am so sorry about your son. anti has done a lot of terrible things, and his brothers have too, as a result. but they're hypnotized, they have no choice. save your rage for someone who truly deserves it.

“The medico is a good man,” whispers Genesis, leaning down to touch his hand. “You would know that if you had given him a chance.”

The Old Man shakes his head slowly, slowly.

“I mean it. He’s like me, viejo. He’s like Jose was too. How many of us have come here because people hurt us and set us down paths we never meant to go down? This is supposed to be a place to have some peace. To find yourself. Why would you do that to him? He was hypnotized. He was lost.”

The Old Man just shakes his head. Eyes still closed. “No. Hypnosis only goes so far. Maybe the demon killed Christofer. But Jose was killed by one of the servants. And he should have fought. He should have fought it. I don’t care how hard it would have been. He gave himself up to the demon and Jose died for it. If that red man ever comes near this place, I’ll show him what it feels like to watch the people you love most die around you. I’ll shatter his mind til he’s in pieces and you can call it an act of mercy, then, because the demon won’t use his hands for murder after that.”

“Stop,” snarls Genesis, shaking her head. “You stop. Don’t you dare threaten any one of them. I’m ashamed of you. I’m ashamed.”

Anonymous asked: Why did you do that? Did you hope to gain something from torturing him?

“He plans to go back to the monster,” says the Old Man. “He still loves his brothers. Maybe he should have a chance to see them for what they really are. Maybe he should see himself for what he really is. Not one monster. Six.”

Genesis draws away from him, mouth pursed. She doesn’t know what to do. She’ll leave it to Emmanuela to decide what to do with him. Her hand falls away from his shoulder.

Anonymous asked: Sir, I’m sorry that you lost your child and I can’t begin to understand how that might feel, but taking it out on Henrik will not bring him back. Henrik was brainwashed and manipulated to do what he was told by the demon he was with, and he didn’t even kill him. Your child’s blood is on the demon’s hands, not his.

Genesis draws away from him. Doesn’t have the energy or time to comfort him while Henrik’s in pain and it’s his fault. She moves back towards the stairs, leaving the Old Man behind in the darkness.

“Wasn’t the demon’s hands either,” you hear the Old Man whisper, quiet as Genesis moves away from him. “I was the one who sent him to fetch the book. My son…”

If you were seated back at the table with him for a moment, you might have seen one more illusion, one more of his magic tricks - a young man sitting there beside him, healthy and strong and beautiful, smiling at him and reaching out to hold his hand. But no matter how long the image sits so lovingly beside him, the warmth of his fingers and the touch of his skin would never come down on their father’s palm again.

Anonymous asked: You underestimate the demon’s power. They did fight, and they’re still fighting, every single minute of every single day. Some days are harder than others, scarier than other, and sometimes they have to do things that aren’t too pretty to survive. They have known nothing else but survival and their abuser. I respect the place that your opinion comes from, but it is also one of misguided anger and it is beyond wrong to trigger a victim because you are hurt. It is not your place to pass judgement.

“Come on,” murmurs Genesis, carrying you up the stairs. “Let’s not waste any more time with him. If he doesn’t see that now, words won’t make him see it. He’s in a great deal of pain. Fuck, I knew he had objected to letting the medico wander free, but I never thought…”

She shakes her head, hustling up the stairs, where she finds a panicked JP waiting for the elevator.

“Genesis! What’s going on?”

“Old Man gave Henrik Nightmares. Maybe you shouldn’t bother him right now, JP.”

“He did not.”

“He did. Come on, I can hear him crying out. I need to check he’s okay.”

JP grabs his wheels and hurries after her.

“Where’s Nina?”

“Lying down. Baby’s really hurting her.”

“Damn baby,” mumbles Genesis, and despite the situation JP snorts out a laugh, running his hands through his hair. “Hermann? Where are you?”

“We’re in Emmanuela’s office,” Hermann calls back.

Henrik grabbed you at some point and you’re clutched tight in his shaking hands, listening to him wheezing and choking out terrified German. Hermann is kneeling close beside him and Emmanuela is sitting on his left, her eyes faintly gold, trying to pull him out of the last of the illusions.

“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to! Red didn’t mean to, he didn’t want to hurt them, he didn’t want to hurt us, he just - he- I didn’t!”

“Hey, you’re safe,” Hermann whispers, squeezing his hands. “You’re safe, you’re safe.”

“I want Trick! Trick! Please, where is he?”

“I don’t know, amigo, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

spicydanhowell asked: if you wanna comfort henrik, try rubbing his back or his head. his twin used to do that a lot

“Can I touch you?” asks Hermann.

Henrik is already gripping at his hands, disoriented and lost and afraid. “Trick?” he sobs.

“It’s Hermann, medico. It’s okay.”

“I want my brother,” he chokes. “I want - I want Anti.”

There’s a slight shift in all the magicians around him, glances exchanged and mouths twisted. Emmanuela gets to her feet and begins ushering people out of the room. “Give him some space.” The children race off, followed by a more reluctant JP and Genesis. Emmanuela sits down at her desk to give him room, and Hermann shifts closer to Henrik. He reaches up to touch the back of his head and, when Henrik only falters into it, he strokes gently at his hair, still clutching his free hand.

“I’m sorry he did that to you,” says Hermann. “I meant to protect you. I’m sorry.”

“No, he was right,” sobs Henrik, clutching at his face. “I’m a murderer and a sadist, I always have been, I love the sight of blood, just a freak… my brothers have all killed people, except maybe Blue, and we do it all just because Anti tells us to, and do you know what the worst part is?”

“Medico, Henrik, sh, sh…”

“I still love him,” cries Henrik, feeling something snapping inside his chest. “I still love him! He is my brother! I know he is a monster and I still want him! The Old Man was right. I’m just a monster too, wanting to be with him, wanting to be his.”

He crumples across Hermann’s shoulders, tumbling against his chest, and Hermann just reaches out to hold him, stroking slowly at his hair.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hen.... it's okay. Yes you might have done wrong in the past, but that does NOT make you a monster. You will wee Trick soon, okay?

“I need to go back to him,” Henrik is sobbing, gripping at Hermann’s shoulders. “No, I mean it! I’ve been thinking it this whole time, I - I can’t - I’m not ready to leave Anti, or at least not leave Trick and my brothers with him.”

“Medico,” says Emmanuela.

“No, I mean it,” he repeats. “I meant to tell you - you, mostly - ” He casts you a red-eyed glance, hiccuping. “I plan to go back to Anti. I do. I’m not - I’d like to stay. I would. But I can’t leave Trick and Blue behind, or the others. I have to be there to look after them. That’s my job. I’m planning to go back to Anti. I am. You shouldn’t try to stop me.”

Emmanuela sits back in her chair, sighing. Hermann gives her a desperate glance, but she’s turned away from him.

“You can’t do that,” whispers Hermann, gripping Henrik’s head tighter. “You have to stay safe.”

“I know there’s nothing selfish about staying away from someone who’s treated you poorly. But I still… I still need to be with Anti. I feel his presence clawing at me. He’s so deep inside my head. And what’s more, I want to be with him. I can’t just give up on him, or on the others. They must be suffering so much. I have to look after Blue and protect Trick as he comes down from what Anti’s putting him through. Besides, I’ll only bring Anti here if I continue to hide. It was never feasible, me staying here. I need to go back to Anti. I want to go back to Anti. I want to go back to Trick.”

“This is horrible,” says Hermann, shaking his head. “No.”

“He’ll make his own choice,” says Emmanuela softly.

It would not be the first time she’s let people go, no matter how unwise it seemed.

“He’s an adult and a free man. He’ll make his own choice. But first he must let me make sure he sees as clearly as he can.”

She turns and levels her gaze at Henrik. He swallows shakily and stares back.

Anonymous asked: Henrik, no, it's okay. You're okay. He had such a powerful hold, it's completely understandable to still be affected by it. He changed you, and you're doing a wonderful job recovering. And remember, Henrik, he messed with your head, and if the core that's you got shaken up by it, that's okay, he meant it to do that. You're okay, buddy.

“How much of who I am is him messing with my head?” whispers Henrik, burying his face in his hands. “How much of who I am is really me and how much is him? How much of him is really a monster and how much was real in the times when he made me think he loved me? How much of any of us is real? Are we just puppets? Was the person I was anything like this at all?”

Hermann looks helplessly over at Emmanuela, who, at this point, is mostly looking sad for him. Henrik hides from her pity and pretends the warmth against him is Trick’s.

“Can I see?” she asks.

“Inside my head?”

“Yes.”

“Could you if I said no?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t.”

Henrik stares down at the floor, exhausted, his heart still pounding so hard it hurts. He chokes on a sob and tears come drizzling down his face. What a mess he is. What a mess he’s always been, long as he can remember.

“Can you help me get my memories back?” he asks in a croak.

“Maybe,” she says. “It depends on the way the monster took them.”

He looks up at her, startled.

“What, really?”

“No clue til I try.”

Hermann is rubbing soothingly at his knee. Henrik glances over at him, meeting the calm trust in his eyes. Henrik looks up at you, nervous.

“Okay,” he says softly, clutching you to his chest. “But if you try anything, they’ll tell me!”

Emmanuela chuckles, soft and low.

Hermann leaves them alone in the room. Henrik feels awkward staring up at her, and a little afraid.

“What is this going to answer for me?” he asks in a croak.

“Well,” says Emmanuela. “How much of his control was ever voluntary for you. How he got in your head, which might, in turn let us know how to get him out. How real some of the things you’ve believed are. What happened to your memories - locked away in your brain or just destroyed.”

Henrik laughs and tugs on his hair, shaking his head slowly. “Well, fuck,” he says. “That might be too many answers.”

“Just take it easy,” she says. “Close your eyes.”

“I feel very stupid,” he admits.

She laughs without mocking him. He closes his eyes.

Here are some things that are true.

Henrik von Schneeplestein did not for a moment choose Anti. He did not agree. He was not convinced. Even more so than Blue, he was shoved down this rabbit hole; he was broken in half and then rebuilt. The remnant of that time makes old scars tingle along his body, burns and cuts and bones ever-so-slightly out of place. Anti told him he didn’t know how he got them. Probably from the old master, he said. Probably from that old and painful life. Briefly, Henrik feels the ghost of a memory, staring across at Trick before he was Trick, the two of them whispering encouragement as the days went by, until at last Henrik shattered, and Trick fell down with him.

Here are some things that are true.

Anti falsified all of it in the beginning. The feeling of fondness towards him. The feeling of safety. The lie of the danger outside. There was no one coming for them, except old friends who missed them, or at least what few of their old friends who remained alive. Henrik had people he loved and he forgot them. Henrik loved Jameson and Jackie and Marvin and he forgot that too. Things changed as time went on. Dok loved Anti. Dok loves Anti.

Anti has, at moments - at small, fleeting moments, loved him too. Earnestly and truly. There is a bullet scar in Dok’s side that will never go away, but the only reason he survived it at all was because of the great black dog that guarded him from their enemies. The great black dog that took bullet after bullet for him, and saw a dozen possible futures at Dapper’s hands, and chose the one where Doktor did not die. There were moments where he would look over at him and think, at least, ‘he is something worth loving.’

Selfish love, sometimes, but at moments, present.

For the most part, however, Anti has not loved him, not slightly, not well, not enough, and that was a choice he made. Killing Henrik was an act of revenge, and from there, Dok has been tortured again and again by the hatred of the monster he came to call his brother, and it isn’t fair, and it wasn’t loving, and the brotherhood between them is, if real, a terrible, terrible curse to him, and he doesn’t deserve it.

Here are some things that are true.

Anti is jealous and Henrik’s memories are gone, permanently. Not locked away. Not hidden. Destroyed. Powerful magic. Powerful theft. Henrik will never remember that old life. Only glimpses of it, ghosts of it. Emmanuela searches and Henrik sees distant things - a house in the middle of the forest. The disappearance of a little brother. The flight from home. His brothers around him. Chase. But these are empty gaps where memories once were, not things recalled.

Here is one thing that is true.

“He’s entangled himself completely in your family,” says Emmanuela. “In your mind.”

Dok loves Anti. Henrik loves Anti. He does, he does. Despite everything. Despite the false foundation.

“He made it seem real,” she says. “Because the family between the rest of you was real. As time went on, you lost the ability to distinguish between the intruder and the reality. And he just became another brother. Flawed, maybe, but so were all of you. A bad temper, you said. You couldn’t see that he wasn’t real. Because if he wasn’t, than what does that make the rest of it? False as well? You knew it like this: ‘I love Trick and Trick loves me, truly and fully. Anti gave Trick to me. Anti must love us too, truly and fully, or wouldn’t that mean Trick didn’t love me too?’“

Henrik tries to breathe, burying his face in his hands. He did not feel her in his head, but he felt the remnants of so many things he’s forgotten or tried to forget. Grief and anger and hurt and pain and happy things, too, but less of them, not as many as there should have been.

“He is a talented manipulator,” she says. “More powerful and skilled than anyone I’ve ever come into contact with. I don’t know - Henrik, I’m sorry - I don’t know how you’ll convince yourself fully that he really is as bad as all that. No matter what I show you, no matter how much time you have, he will still be buried in there by virtue of his power. This web - I don’t know how to break it. You love your brothers and your brothers love you. Anti is caught up in the middle of that, hiding in the subconscious, unable to be ratted out without ratting the real love out too. It’s not fair. I’m sorry.”

“Maybe you’re just wrong about him,” Henrik sobs. “You have to be, if he seems so real!”

“Henrik… this is what I mean. No matter how much you cling to him, you know, logically, what’s real. You saw him hurt your magician that night. He could have killed him. You’ve seen him lock your little brother away in his room for months on end. You’ve seen him twist the others into things they never wanted to be. You’ve been hurt by him yourself, medico. You know. You know.”

“But I still love him,” says Henrik.

“Yes,” says Emmanuela, very soft. “That’s a normal part of abuse, but… I don’t think that this will go away normally.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” says Henrik.

He tries to breathe. He’s got this. He’s fine. He’s a motherfucking certified genius, he can figure this shit out.

“Here are my options,” he says. “One - I run away and I stay gone and not only does Anti hunt me for the rest of my life, but I’ll always feel attached to him as long as I’m attached to the others, who, as far as I will know, will continue to be tortured by Anti.”

Emmanuela just watches him. She will let him make his own choices.

“Or, two - I find a way to disentangle Anti from my family. Not just my image of my family, but the whole of my family. Realizing, logically, that he is a horrible son of a bitch has so far proved useless. I still know that I love the others, and they love Anti, or at least some of them do, and as long as that’s true, he’ll always be buried in there somewhere. I can’t escape him alone. None of us can. So to get away from him, I’d have to - ”

He stops short, staring at the wall.

Looking up at last.

“We’re… all going to have to turn on him together,” he says. “Aren’t we?”

Emmanuela looks at him. She has endless eyes. Her dark hair gleams.

“Yes,” she says. “I think so.”

He sits back on his chair. Staring at that wall. Stained glass windows at the side of it. Letting in the light, but letting it in blood red.

“Impossible,” he says. “Impossible.”

“No,” she says, reaching out to touch his hand. “It isn’t. It’s just a fight, Henrik. And you’re going to have to fight it. With them. Not alone anymore. With your brothers. Stop watching each other get hurt and stand together. Find your family again. The real one. You don’t have to surrender.”

Blood red streaks across him. Light and color and the blank face of the wall. The closed door waiting to be opened.

“I need to see Anti again,” he says, very soft.

“To fight?” she asks. “Or to give up?”

He doesn’t answer.

She leans back in her desk, her eyes faintly gold.

“I’ll make preparations for if you choose to leave,” she says. “I’ll give you weapons. Protection. Anything I can. It’s your choice, Henrik.”

He walks back to his room alone, and sits on the bed, and stares at the wall.

Here is a truth, a great truth, greater than anything else that he knows, great enough, he thinks, perhaps, to fight for:

He wants to be free, and bring his family with him.

But it will not be easy.

------------------

aether-mae asked: Hen, when Anti comes, I want you to keep this time in mind. Keep in mind how you are safe and happy with the magicians, and remind yourself you are bringing this contentment to trick. Bring trick away from Anti so he can enjoy this with you.

You can find him in the sunlight.

They’re playing a partnered card game that involves slapping your hand down on the cards faster than everyone else, coming up with secret signals to communicate, and a lot of wild giggling, especially from JP and Nina, losing it on his right side. He’s sitting down against the wall with one arm around her shoulders and one arm around her rounded belly and their black hair is glowing in the light. Henrik tugs you closer to him at the beeping, but he’s distracted by the chattering of Genesis and Hermann and Basilio, who is eagerly perched in Henrik’s lap, trying to slap the cards every single time a new one falls.

“You have to wait for a sandwich of cards,” laughs Henrik, dragging his little hand back again. “Like, maybe an eight and then something else and then another eight. A sandwich.”

“Que?”

“You have to - haha, you’ll learn, you’ll figure it out.”

Basilio slaps the cards again and Henrik breaks down into laughter.

Loud laughter. Loud, deep from the bottom of his chest. His head falls back and his eyes squint up and his shoulders shake with it.

And he catches your message out of the corner of his eye, and pauses to read it, and fuck, fuck.

He has to fight, doesn’t he?

He has to fight for Trick to have this.

If he’s going back -

The sun is golden on him. His skin fits him right. There is a child laughing on his lap and friends around him.

If he’s going back, he’s going back to fight.

He has to bring this joy back to his brothers.

He strokes Basilio’s dark hair and -

“Sandwich!”

- slaps the cards.

“Henrik,” groans a chorus of accented voices at him as he collects the cards he’s won, and he’s laughing again, and he’s warm, and Hermann’s hand comes down on his own just for a moment as if to say, ‘yes, brother, here we are.’

Anonymous asked: I don't think you need to figure out exactly who you were under his control, because I think the lines were blurred enough that we might never quite know. People do things they wouldn't usually to survive, and to protect themselves, and I do not think you can be faulted for things he made you do. And as you begin to come back, we can begin to figure out who you are now.

They devolve into sitting around and kicking a football around eventually, Henrik sitting on the sidelines and drinking beer with JP as Genesis and Hermann play monkey in the middle with Basilio.

“It’s kind of frightening,” he tells you, though he says it calmly. “Knowing that I have to find myself again. Knowing that I will never be that same person I was. But I think I want it. I think that’s something I want to stand up for. For my chance to be Henrik, and not just here, sheltered away from him. For my chance to be Henrik again in all things.”

“That’s the good part about it,” says Nina, turning to smile at him. “You go through so much you don’t know how to get back that person that you used to be, but then… then you get to choose the person you become. And that person becomes someone who is a survivor despite everything. A fighter despite everything. You choose strength and it shapes you.”

She smiles softly at the brick beneath her feet, turning her head to gaze at her husband, stroking her hand along her belly.

“Every day,” she says, touching Henrik’s shoulder. “We’re choosing. It’s okay to make new choices. Okay to be a different person. Every day a new person. I think that’s what’s really beautiful about being a person at all.”

aether-mae asked: Henrik! My lovely fellow. Red and Dap are on their way to you, without Anti and with no intention to return to Anti (as of yet). Is there any way you know of that could bring you to them faster or would you like to wait for them?

“What’s this? Red?”

“Hermann!”

Emmanuela’s coming up the stairs, beckoning for him. He hurries over to her and they exchange a few soft words. She presses something into his hands and leaves again.

Hermann stares down at it for a second. Holds it in his hands.

“Henrik,” he calls, trying to steady his voice, turning back towards him with a smile, holding a phone. “It’s for you.”

“It’s what?” Henrik gets onto his feet. Hermann just holds the phone out to him.

Henrik puts it to his ear.

Soft breathing, shy and nervous. Soft mumbling in the background. Soft shuffling and a deep breath.

“Dok?”

Henrik’s heart is a bird uncaged.

“Red! Oh, oh, I - I - is it you, is it? Bruder, is est du? How, how, Red, Red, I - ”

Red is stammering and babbling and stumbling just as much as he is on the other end of the line, his voice hoarse and shaking.

“We used the cameras, Max sent his phone number to them - I didn’t think it would work, thought it was a trick, fuck, Dok, is it you?”

“It’s me, it’s me! Red! I didn’t know if you were alright, I didn’t know if you were in prison… tell me something only you would know!”

“I - I, um. For Christmas this year, Trick got you coffee.”

Henrik bursts into laughter without knowing why, gripping his hair. “Red, Red!”

“Dap’s here too - he says your favorite book is the Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder and he loves you and he says you better believe it’s him, he loves you, he loves you - ”

“Oh, my little brother, is he well? Put him on the phone, I need to - no, wait - ”

It’s Red’s turn to laugh, and then they’re just having a breakdown together two countries away, listening to each other’s voices, chattering everything that comes to mind, and Henrik can hear Dapper clicking and striking his hands together at Red’s side.

“Dok, we want to come get you.”

“You want to come get me?”

“Yes. Yeah. We’ve got a car. We’re headed your way. Dok, I have to see you again. I can’t take all of us being separated anymore. I don’t know how we would have survived without the help we found.”

“Well, that I understand,” chokes out Henrik, gripping that phone like it’s keeping his head above water. “Red, yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” he says. “Yes. Come get me. I need to see you. My brothers. I love you.”

He didn’t mean to make Red’s voice shake even harder. He thinks he hears tears in his eyes. His strong older brother crying just for him.

“Where can I find you, Deutsch?”

“The market,” Henrik answers immediately. “Where we bought coffee and polar bear shirts and dog tags and rings. Red. Bruder, hermano, my friend. Come get me.”

--------------

Anonymous asked: Hold on just a while longer Blue- No, not blue, Marvin. Hold on just a little while longer. The missing brothers are free. I don't think anything anti does could convince them to come back to him at this point. Anti has enemies that will take him down in this weak state. Almost there you strong, wonderful magician. Protect Chase, protect yourself, I can't make promises but I feel the end to your pain is on the horizon. Do not go gentle. Rage against the dying of the light.

Do not go gentle. Rage against the dying of the light.

He sleeps every night now with his arms wrapped tight around Trickshot. They tangle up in blankets and brothers’ shirts and the tube for his oxygen.

The end of your pain is on the horizon.

He curls his body around Trick’s. As if he can protect him. At the least, he has to try. His fingers stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. Trick squirms closer to him in his sleep, mumbling and throwing his arms around him, entangling their legs. Noodle readjusts to sit nearly on his face.

They would not begrudge you the quick look in on them as they slept. You are, after all, a beacon of safety - for Trick, a sign that Anti watches over him; for Blue, a steady ally against everything that hurts him. A friend.

It is late, though. How long will you watch him? How many of you are looking on? Everything is still. Have you often peered at the silence of them? At the little moments, where nothing exists but the hand of their brother clasped in their own? Loyal watcher. You see things they do not always see. It is late, though. Will you go to sleep? Who taught you to watch so vigilantly? You remember the things the rest of the world has forgotten - glitches and Silent Nights and white string and comas. You remember things that never happened, because Jameson undid them.

The watchful few. The handful of you. It is late, though. Will you sleep?

Movement in their window.

A shadow, at first. Pausing. Casting a low shade of darkness over what little light comes in through their window.

The shadow shifts.

Closer.

And then there is a silhouette in their window. The silhouette of a person.

They do not know you’re there. They do not know you see.

They come close to the window. Cast that black and impenetrable shadow down over Trick and Blue, asleep on their mattress. The perfect outline of a person looking down at them. For a moment, they only stare down at them. Unmoving. Cold.

They move away again. You think they wear a cape. No. You think they have the wings of a bird. In the moonlight, a flicker of gold.

Trick and Blue sleep. Tangled up in blankets and brothers’ shirts and the tube for his oxygen.

Loyal watcher. It is late, though.

How long will you watch?

How long will the shadow?

End Section Nine of Chapter Three: The Separated Twins

#chapter three #writers of jack

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