#that lives like a second version of myself while also bleeding into the real one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clairecrive · 3 years

Note

can u make a nikolai x reader based on the song mr perfectly fine by taylor swift?

Mr Perfectly fine

A/n: Ahh, thank to you friend, I've been jamming to this song every day lmao Hope I've done it justice x Also, I've left out some parts of the lyrics to make it better fit the story.

(if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist here)

for my other masterlists, you can find them on my navigation page

Word count: more than 7K (ikik it took a life of his own, what can I say)

Warnings: bit of fluff, angst (like a lot), character's death, spoiler if you haven't read Siege and Storm

Tagging: @jupiterandbutterflies (Thank you so much for your comment! I saw it and it made my day✨)

(I don't remember where I took this from so if you know pls lmk)

Most people knew of Nikolai Lanstov. He was a prince, the second born and the most charming. Most people knew him thanks to the countless rumours that went around at court: supposedly he was not of royal blood. "Sobachka" was what they called him.

No matter how though, everyone knew of the last Lanstov prince. But very little knew him.

Meeting him wasn't difficult. Since he had been of age, Nikolai had always been out of the Grand Palace and among people. He’d also volunteered to enlist in the first army, refusing any kind of special treatment and fought beside his brothers in arms in the infantry. That was part of the reason why everyone outside the court loved him so much.

Being Grisha meant that fighting in the Second Army was mandatory. Not that you minded. There was nothing you wanted more for your people than to finally be free. Also, that Shadow Fold needed to go and as the Darkling has always said, all efforts are necessary.

That’s how you met Nikolai the first time. Generally, the First and the Second Army were stationed in different parts of the campsite. Numerous quarrels between oprichniki and Grisha had rendered the separation necessary. However, you never liked crowds much and living in the Little Palace meant that you were always surrounded by people. So, every chance you had to draw away and be by yourself for a while, you took it. Also, being a Healer meant that you’d spent more time in your assigned tent taking care of soldiers than among them.

Word had gone around that everyone in need could come to you. Usually, you had been instructed by the Darkling that your powers were reserved for Grisha. However, what good was it to have the ability to cure people and only take care of a selected few that very rarely got seriously injured? Meanwhile, soldiers of the First Army often suffered from severe injuries, fatal gunshots or knife wounds. You could help them and possibly save their lives so why shouldn’t you?

That was why Nikolai found you one night. Sure at that point it was just another nameless soldier to you. He had never been in your tent before so you had never seen his face before. The boy whose arm he had draped on his shoulders though, was a usual visitor of yours.

“Oh, Petyr, what happened this time?” gesturing to his blond friend to lay him down on the table, you started gathering everything you needed. Not that you needed much but you had found out that Petyr was absolutely incapable of bearing having his bones or injuries in general repaired without having some kind of pain reliever before.

After a few tries, you came up with a herbal composition that dulled the pain but didn’t make him unconscious. Using kvas would mean that Petyr would be knocked out for a couple of hours. That would put him in trouble with his superiors.

“He’s a fool, that’s what happened.” The explanation came from his friend after he put him down gently. Despite his words, you could hear in his tone worry and guilt?

“If saving your life makes me a fool then go ahead and call me one,” Petyr huffed in pain.

“Who knew you were so brave, uh?” After quickly shredding the herbs you needed, you poured hot water on it and brought the cup to Petyr’s lips while helping him keep his head up.

“He’s the bravest of us all,”

“If I knew it took a bullet wound to make you hand out compliments so easily, I would have done it sooner.” Scoffed Petyr after sending you a thankful look.

“See? What did I tell you? A fool,” his friend said dramatically and you smiled amused at their playful banter.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with, shall we?” You said out loud to warn both Petyr and his friend. Letting them know what was about to happen was best, your experience taught you. Both for the person on the table that could brace themselves for what was about to happen and for the person with him that was filled with worry and cautiousness. Oprichniki didn’t trust Grisha that much.

After assessing the damage, you let out a relieved sigh as the bullet had gotten through and it had not hit any major artery. It had already got infected though, so you knew it would be a painful one to treat.

“So, did you receive any letters lately, Pety?” You ask, suggestively wiggling your eyebrows while your hands cover the wound. You had your eyes closed to better focus but you were sure that he had rolled his eyes.

“Only from my mum.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t write her back,” you said, opening your eye just in time to send him a glare.

“Ugh, not this again, y/n, please. Have mercy on me, I’m bleeding all over the table.” Petyr moaned making his friend snicker.

“You’re not bleeding all over the table and if you didn’t notice, I’m already taking care of you, am I not? That doesn’t excuse you for being an idiot, though.”

“Are you two in cahoots or something? It’s not fair. Wounded man over here.”

“Oh shut up.” Both you and his blond friend said at the same time. Petyr moaned once again and you sent a little amused smile to the blondie.

“Should I leave you with a cool battle scar? Maybe acting like a war hero will give you the balls to write to her.” You harmlessly threatened him but your hands were already reconnecting the tissue of his skin without letting it scar.

“I’ve told you, y/n. She deserves better than what I can give her. I am, who knows if I even make it home? I’d be only stringing her along.” Now Petyr was dead serious. It was true, you had talked about this often since he was a regular you got to know him better and he had soon told you about his sweet Katia.

While his friend chanted “fool” like a mantra in the background, you took his bloodied hand in yours, his wound fully healed.

“Petyr, how do you think she’s gonna react when she learns that there hasn’t been any delay to her letters but you’re just ignoring her? Besides, you should let her make this decision too. Who knows, she’ll surprise you.” Squeezing his hand you turned to let your words settle and to put away your utensils. You knew you had given him so much food for thought so you didn’t address the subject anymore. His friend helped him off the table and that’s when you noticed that he was injured too. He had a pretty nasty cut on his lower lip and there was already a bruise forming on his temple.

“Petyr, you can sit on my chair while I take care of your friend. You should be fine but for at least a while don’t stress your body.”

Mentally making a list of the things you need to tend to this kind of wound and where you kept them, you started collecting before heading back to them.

Petyr had sat down but his friend was still standing.

“You don’t have to lie down if you don’t want to, but unless you don’t want me to go take a ladder or something, it would be best if you sat on the table.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you mixed the healing paste. Sometimes, men didn’t like to put themselves in a vulnerable position with someone they didn’t know and had learned to fear. He wasn’t that badly hurt and it would only take a couple of seconds to fix but not every oprichniki was comfortable with being healed by Grisha power. So the paste would do your job for you. It would take longer, sure and it would also sting a lot more but at least he’d be healed at last.

After looking at you for a little while, the blond man did as you instructed, giving you a dazzling smile in return when you settled between his legs to fix his cut.

“The name is Nikolai or handsome if you prefer.” It was not the first time a wounded soldier tried to flirt with you. IT didn’t bother you, you found them amusing more than anything and you knew it was the allure of someone taking care of them speaking more than any real interest.

“Let’s hope you won’t be around here much for me to learn your name.”

“I’ll have to find another way to make myself unforgettable then.” He winked at you before hopping off the table.

You didn’t address his words, only gave them the paste you had prepared. It would prevent any wound from being infected and would be able to cure small cuts and bruises if applied for a couple of days. With that, you sent them both on their way. Petyr waving you goodbye while Nikolai sent you another wink.

And so this was how it all started.

Mr. "Perfect face"

Mr. "Here to stay"

Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

Everything was right

Despite your fellow Grisha, military life could be a bit alienating. Which sounded like a paradox, sure, but everyone had their own way of processing trauma and emotions and of course there were plenty of those during the war. If the best way to come to terms with everything that happened was to distance yourself from others and try to find the solution in solitude, it could get to the point where you’d feel alone in a room full of people.

To get a little respite, you’d usually go on a long walk or resort to stargaze. Sometimes, depending on where you were posted, it wasn’t safe to leave the campsite. So, that’s how Nikolai found you one night. Even he had to take a breather once in a while. Being a different version of yourself based on who you’re interlocutor was must be exhausting. Of course, you didn’t know this. You knew nothing about Nikolai at that point if not that he was Petyr’s friend and a socialite, according to other soldiers.

He seemed to be at the centre of gossip no matter what group of people you found yourself with and there also seemed to be a consensus about him. Everyone liked him. Even if it was rare for some Grisha to appreciate oprichniki, you knew they somewhat respected him because if they didn’t praise him out loud, they didn’t speak ill of him either.

“Not a fan of crowds, are you?” he announced his presence before sitting down beside you.

“I love them, I really do. It’s just that sometimes it gets too much.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel.”

“You do? Everyone seems to think you’re a socialite.”

“It’s what I want them to think but alas, I enjoy being more complex and multifaceted than that.” He lightly bumped your shoulder with his, eyes aflame with mischief.

“I bet.” you simply smirked. Despite how everyone seemed to think they knew him, you got the peculiar vibe from him, like there was a lot more to him than what he let everyone see.

“No one seems to know much about you.”

“Maybe you’ve talked to the wrong people.”

“Well, then I guess it’s better if I got straight to the source, don’t you think?”

“That will surely be a better start. Not sure you’ll find what you’re looking for though.”

“We’ll see.”

That night had been the first of many. It had become a sort of an unspoken arrangement between the two of you. While it didn’t last long, you sensed that you got to know him better than everyone. There was something about late nights meetings under the stars that prompted deep and meaningful conversations. It wasn’t hard to form a solid bond with him after a few nights.

The conversations weren’t always personal in the conventional sense. You’d often stray and talk about the most bizarre things. Like why something had the name it had or how cool it’d be if it was possible to pass through surfaces, which led to imagine all the uncomfortable situations one could find themselves in if they were to simply go into a room through its wall.

Nikolai was witty, overly confident and ambitious and he knew a lot of things. You always wondered how he had learned them since he was so young and been in the army for a couple of years already. But Nikolai was never too forward on certain topics, his family and childhood being some of those. You understood, those were sore subjects for you too. So you never insisted. It was much more interesting to listen to him rumble about impossible future projects of his, like a flying ship.

"When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable." He’d say whenever you’d point it out to him. Somehow, despite the absolute absurdity of them, the sheer confidence that he seemed to constantly exude, made you consider the possibility of his success.

You got the distinct feeling that there was nothing this man couldn’t do.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart"

Mr. "Leaves me all alone," I fall apart

It takes everything in me just to get up each day

But it's wonderful to see that you're okay

But, alas, as all things do, these encounters of yours also got to an end. You knew it would happen, you were both soldiers so your lives were both heavily characterised by uncertainty after all. However, you were not prepared for it to end so abruptly though. And without an apparent reason. Because Nikolai’s unit hadn’t been posted elsewhere and he hadn’t been fatally wounded. You would have heard of it were that the case. But it wasn’t.

You thought that he had come to cherish your nightly encounters too. Some of those had been full of his promises. How he’d love for you to be around when he’d eventually find the time to work on his ideas. How you had been a nice surprise, a most interesting person among so many dull idiots you were surrounded by every day. How he’d come to value your opinions and presence in his life and that he was going to find a way to make sure that that would never change. Promises that turned to be empty.

You had never allowed yourself to fully believe him. It wasn’t the first time that a boy had made the same kind of promises but Nikolai looked sincere. Honest enough to be believable. But, of course, you had been wrong.

You didn’t realise just how much you had come to rely on him until he was gone. You tried to keep your mind off him and luckily the perfect distraction came your way. The Darkling had scheduled an attack on the enemy’s army and had posted you to be on the field to take care of everyone promptly. You had never been more grateful to the man, even after he had given her a home and a purpose.

Ever since your first encounter with Nikolai, you had thought it had been a blessing. However, you had soon changed your mind and now considered a curse more than anything. Why? Because as soon as you got to the field you couldn’t help but scour the troops for a familiar mop of blond hair. Many looked like him and being this far you couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t one of them but you certainly despised the leap your heart made every time though. That was a distraction you couldn’t afford. Besides, it wasn’t smart to let your heart get involved in times of war.

The battle began, Inferni and Squallers were working together to impair the enemy’s visual so they couldn’t shoot or use their cannons while the First Army marched after them to swap in as soon as the air cleared to catch the enemy by surprise. While your role wasn’t active per se, you were a Corporalki after all, and even if you had been specifically trained as Healer, you had also got one of your friends to teach you the basics of an Heartrender’s work. You weren’t a powerful one but you could hold your ground in a fight. Especially since they weren’t expecting you. And you were still far from any real threat.

The battle dragged on and soon there were wounded soldiers that needed your attention. You hated this kind of work, it was messy and dirty and had to be quick because spending too much time on one soldier could mean dooming another to death. You were accustomed to it by now and soon found a rhythm focusing on ensuring everyone’s survival and not bothering with the aesthetic side of healing. That could be taken care of later if they wanted to.

As soon as your eyes fell onto a crouched figure you sprinted towards them. It was dirty and you didn’t recognize them but you got the feeling it was a life or death situation. Oh, how you wanted to be wrong.

The person crouching turned out to be Nikolai and he wasn’t alone. He was kneeling beside someone, Petyr.

“Where are you hurt?” you hurriedly asked as you tried to assess the damage. His uniform was dirty and full of blood but you couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Trying to answer you, Petyr opened his mouth only to let out the most gruesome gurgling sound as his respiratory tract was flooded by blood.

“He got shot in the gut.” Nikolai offered.

“Is the bullet still inside?” Opening his uniform jacket you tore a piece from his shirt to use it to put pressure on the wound.

“It’s too late,” Nikolai uttered.

“No.” You strongly refused as you removed the cloth and focused on the wound. His heart was straightening and he had already lost a lot of blood. If the bullet was still inside that it was going to be a problem, if it wasn’t then you still had a fighting chance.

“I removed it earlier.” So that was why he had lost so much blood. Nodding your head to show that you had heard him, you set out to stop the internal bleeding. Slowing his heartbeat so that it was pumping less blood and thus eased your endeavour. You were still in the middle of the field and while you were keeping up with the warfare but in the back of your mind, you registered the sounds of screaming and of gunshots getting closer. A bullet hit you in the shoulder propelling you forward over Petyr’s body. Grisha’s kefta were bulletproof so you weren’t worried for your incolumity but for the harsh movement you had made.

Leaning back, you heard Nikolai calling for you but your eyes were trained on Petyr. You tried to listen for his heartbeat but could only hear two instead of three. Nikolai, who had never left your side, immediately understood what had happened by the fall of your shoulders and the tensing of your hands.

He kept calling for you but the only thing you could focus on was that you had let your friend down. Now there will be one more family crying for a loss, another girl mourning a lost loved one. And it was all your fault. It was because of you that Petyr wouldn’t live to see another day, to write another letter or to fight another battle. It was on you.

The details of what happened next were a bit blurred. Someway you must have found your way back to the campsite. Whether you did on your own after tending to everyone else, you didn’t know. Your memories picked up after you woke up in your tent. Someone was calling your name, saying that the Darkling wanted to see you.

Mechanically you raised and made your way to the Darkling’s tent but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts were plagued by Petyr’s face, by that godforsaken sound he made when he tried to speak. The realisation that he was gone hit you like a wall of brick that would have made you stumble if you weren't’ sat in front of the Darkling’s desk. Whether he was speaking and stopped after seeing the forlorn look in your eyes or he hadn’t been speaking at all, you didn’t realize. You did hear him say that you were going to be posted somewhere. Under different circumstances you have said something, anything to not let him send you away. Your mind immediately went to Nikolai. You’d be leaving him behind along with the campsite.

However, you now realised that you had already lost him. Losing Petyr had been the last thing that had completely severed your bond. There was no turning back now and part of you was grateful.

Hello Mr. "Perfectly fine"

How's your heart after breaking mine?

I've been Miss "Misery" since your goodbye

And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

You couldn’t know, of course, but Nikolai had left not long after you did. Albeit for a different reason. He had finally earned the Major rank and as such, he took a step back from military life deciding that his skill would be better suited for a life on the sea. Assuring Ravka the supply she needed but in ways that weren’t exactly suitable for a prince but worked just fine for a privateer. And thus Sturmhond came to life.

As for you, you kept doing your job at your new post but were relieved when a letter came from the Darkling instructing that you were needed at the Little Palace. Part of you had relegated Nikolai to that part of your mind where the unmentionable was, however, a traitor thought whispered that maybe there was a chance that you could see him at the royal grounds. Sure, the possibilities were close to zero but it was still possible, right?

No.

You already were ashamed of the fact that you’re still suffering because of him. And yes, you missed him but you weren’t going to indulge the pathetic hope of seeing him again.

He doesn’t want to see you. If he did, he would have already found you. Or write you a letter if he couldn’t, but he didn’t.

You were right. You knew you were, nonetheless, the thought only brought you a bittersweet feeling.

You found the Little Palace just how you’d left it and yet it seemed changed in a way. The insane amount of work you found there waiting for you helped you drown the feeling that it was you that had changed.

Months passed this way, sometimes the Darkling would post you with him or outside the Little Palace. All in all, you’ve kept busy. When news of the little prince leaving the Palace reached you, you let it wash over you. It wasn’t like it mattered much, whether he was a few feet away or in another nation, Nikolai wasn’t part of your life either way.

When the whole expansion of the Fold happened, you were stationed at the Little Palace. Chaos and terror ensued as soon as the news reached the capital making most of the Grisha flee. Most of them went looking for the Darkling while others simply ran away and hid. You were amongst the first group.

Soon, your life was radically changed. The shift in the Darkling was palpable and it didn’t have anything to do with the scars on his face. You had tried your best to heal them and Genya to tailor them away but somehow, they could not be removed. It was an unsettling thing to realize that they didn’t take away his beauty. One could even say that they enhanced his attractiveness.

He was certainly more powerful. None of you knew what had happened in the Fold that day, just that the Sun Summoner had fled and that there were no survivors apart from him. However, as your journey in pursuit of Alina dragged on, you were soon witnesses of his newfound power.

The nichevo’ya, he called them.

He had always been immensely powerful. One of a kind. But this- this was different. And as dread settled among your group as you watched them in action, realisation sat heavily on your shoulders.

He soon found a trail and traced Alina in Novyi Zem and set out to reach the island by hiring Sturmhond’s crew. He was a famous pirate after all and despite his unreliability, the Darkling was sure that as long as he got his money, he wouldn't be a problem.

In the round trip, you didn’t see much of the captain anyway. Some members of his crew were amiable enough, particularly the Yul-Baatar twins. You had even asked Tamar to spar with you from time to time. Your lessons with Botnik were a distant memory and you knew that mastering combat training skills could increase your chance at survival.

When Alina and Mal were held captive though, that’s when Sturmhond made an appearance. He looked younger than you’d thought and there was something oddly familiar in the way he held himself. Still, you didn't talk with him much. Your job was to take care of Alina and so you spent most of your time in her room.

It wasn’t until the Darkling asked Mal to track Rusalye and consequently spent more time with Alina that you had a chance to talk with him. It was during one of your night shifts when he approached you, the Darkling had wanted some of his to always be patrolling the ship.

“What could possibly make a little thing like you be amidst this wretched company?”

“It’s all a matter of perspective, I guess.”

“The thrill of adventure?”

“There’s plenty of it everywhere you go if you’re Grisha, even if you just go on a stroll.”

“Is that why you follow him?”

“I owe everything to him.”

“I’m sure you realize your role in this.”

“Of course I do. I’m not some naive girl who has a crush on her general.”

“Ah, so who, pray tell, do you have a crush on then, beautiful lady?”

“You’re certainly noisy for a pirate.”

“Privateer,” he corrected you, “there’s not much to do around here is it?”

“Not if you have everyone taking care of it, no.”

“Amuse me.”

“It isn’t wise to let the heart get involved in times of war.” That was all you were willing to share. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, the twinkle in his eyes was oddly familiar but he was a stranger. A dangerous one.

“Those sound like words spoken from experience.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I’d say it’s no fun to only think about war. Life is so much more.”

“Believe me, if I could, it’d be the last thing on my mind. But, alas, l don’t have the privilege to do so.”

You had already lost too much time speaking with him. If someone were to see you or tell the Darkling you’d be in trouble. And you had made it your goal to never put yourself on the path of the Darkling’s anger. So you excused yourself and went back to your rounds.

If only you had stayed and talked to him more maybe you would have understood what was about to happen. Maybe you would have had an enkindling of Sturmhond’s plans. Instead, you were taken by surprise, just like everyone in your group, when Rusalye was spot and a shot was fired. You had found yourself in the uncomfortable position of having to fight against people you had grown to like.

“I don’t want to hurt you, y/n,” Tamar warned you as you stood face to face on the sinking ship dock. Her trusted axes in her hands while your hands were raised ready to attack.

“I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Then you don’t have to. Come with us.” Her proposition made you gasp.

“That would be treason,” you whispered hoping that the Darkling wasn’t around to hear you. A shiver ran through you as you thought of the punishment he’d give you for even thinking about leaving his side.

“Then you leave me no choice.” She said lowering her arms. Was that guilt you heard in her voice?

Before you could voice your question though, she shouted for her brother and not even a second later, you felt your body grow still. Your eyebrows faltered as you felt your heartbeat slow down.

They were Grisha.

They must have seen you realise because you heard Tamar apologize before everything went black.

Mr. "Never told me why"

He goes about his day

Forgets he ever even heard my name

Well, I thought you might be different than the rest, I guess you're all the same

You didn’t stay out for long though. As soon as Sturmhond’s crew had left the Darkling’s ship and had safely made it onto the Volkvolny, the privateer had asked for you to be awakened.

There wasn’t enough light for you to realize you were on another ship, what alerted you of your new situation were your hands. They had bound them behind your back. Immediately you started to struggle, hoping to wiggle out of the restraints. To no avail though. Huffing out in frustration, you settled for looking around you and see if there was something you could use. That’s when you noticed him.

“Release me- this instant, or else-”

“Or what? You’re a Healer. Not exactly a violent job, is it?” Sturmhond interrupted you, a smirk on his face since he had the upper hand.

“I don’t need my powers to kick you in the ass, do I?” He laughed but didn’t look remotely threatened. Rather amused, actually.

“Please, you have to let me go. He’ll kill me if-” Panic started to build as you realized that there was no way you could successfully escape.

“He won’t touch you.” A solemn glow took over his eyes. “He won’t ever hurt you again, you have my word.” He promised, looking subtly at your left shoulder. You winced as you realized that he must have seen your scars. The ones left by the Darkling’s niche’voya.

“How can I know if you’re trustworthy? You don’t exactly have a good score, you know?”

“You’re going to find out soon enough. Don’t worry.”

Of course, he didn’t bother offering further explanations. He’d left it at that. You weren’t a captive per se but he left your hands bound, only freeing them when you needed to eat or relieve yourself.

Fruitless were your efforts in making you tell more. He often ate with you and would check in at least twice a day but that was it.

It wasn’t until after you had landed after that forsaken vehicle of his had gotten you through the Fold that you understood. His coming out as Nikolai Lanstov, prince and second in line for the Ravkan throne, had shaken you all to your core. However, you doubted that it had sent a pang to the others’ hearts as it did with yours.

Nikolai Lantsov. The man you had been dreaming about, the one that had left you behind without any sort of explanations, the one you missed so dearly, had been by your side all this time.

You weren’t sure how you felt. It made sense now why his eyes looked familiar and his posture. You then connected that the vehicle you had used in the Fold had been one of the many projects he used to geek about with you. It tasted a lot like betrayal. Not because he had lied to you about his name but because he had tried to get close to you again and had managed to somehow break that growing bond again.

'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl

I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her

So dignified in your well-pressed suit

So strategized, all the eyes on you

Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins"

So far above me in every sense

So far above feeling anything

Even if his secret had been outed thus causing some shift in the dynamics between Nikolai and the two new members of his crew - you suspected Mal was closer to punching him every second that passed- not much had changed for you.

On the outside, you pretty much looked like a prisoner. Albeit a very clean one. You rode with them, hands still bound, scowl ever-present on your face.

Nikolai had not come to see you ever since that night after the Fold. And now it had been almost a week since you had started your journey back to the capital. Whether this was all part of his plan to make you look the part of the captive even more or he was just gutless, you didn't know. It was working either way though.

You liked to think that his reason was simply that he didn't care. He had far too much on his plate right now as it was. Going back to court after years of absence while also making claims to the throne and trying to sway the Sun Summoner your way. It was no easy feat. But hadn't he always liked to say that impossible often meant improbable? A lot of things had changed since that night but even so, you'd still pose your bet on him that he'd be able to achieve anything he set his mind to.

It wasn't exactly that thinking this way brought you actual comfort. Of course, not. But it was better than foolishly hoping for him to still care about you the way you did for him. After all, he had sent plenty of signals that pointed in the other direction.

But then why did he kidnap you? Why take you with him? You weren't that close to the Darkling to be of any use to Nikolai in that way. And, as a matter of fact, no one had come to interrogate you regarding his plans or whereabouts. Then why?

You still couldn't figure it out.

Some days your anger shifted more to frustration and you were ounces away from asking for him yourself. Almost as if he had heard you though, he gave you the final push.

It was the usual day, Nikolai and Alina were riding in the carriage, stopping in every village we passed to meet with the locals. However, this time, before climbing back into the carriage, they kissed.

You were too far to figure out who started it and the details. The gist of it was enough though.

You most certainly were a fool. Still thinking about a guy who didn't give two shits about you, who had kidnapped you putting you in a dangerous situation and you were still wondering whether he felt something for you or not? Pathetic.

You had to do something about your situation and quickly too. Officially, you were a traitor. You had fled and joined the Darkling, that wouldn't make you look good in front of the king. He was a lousy bastard anyway and will probably sentence you to death to set an example. You hadn't survived so much shit to end up at the end of a rope.

So, even though you had initially thought against it since you were so close to home, you decided to escape. You were already headed towards certain death so what was the worst that could happen?

Your hands were left unbound when you were in your tent. One less problem to solve. Closing your eyes, you focused on listening for any nearby heartbeats. You heard two, those of the guards posted outside your tent. Maybe you could find an excuse to call them inside, put them to sleep and then slip away.

That was not exactly what your powers were for but you were desperate. You had to at least try.

And so you did. You called them in and immediately set out to slow their heartbeats. You had almost succeeded in putting them under when someone else slipped in. The last person you wanted to see.

"Am I that bad of a host?"

You didn't meet his ruse though, you knew it would make you lose focus.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you to release my soldiers." As soon as he said it though, they fell unconscious at last. Your chest was heaving by now, using so much power in such a different way was costing you. But you couldn't back down now. It was one on one and you were Grisha and a woman scorned. He stood no chance.

"Move out of my way, your highness."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"You can or I can make you. Your choice." The venom in your voice was unmistakable and it took him by surprise. He gave you a curious look tilting his head to the side like he was seeing you for the first time over again.

"I didn't realize ruthlessness was one of your personality traits."

"You know nothing about me," you seethed. The tip of your fingers flexed, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and you were already weary.

"It may have been a while y/n, but I like to think I know a good deal about you."

"And I would like to completely erase this last year but you don't hear me yap about how shitty it has been, do you?"

"You never did like opening up much."

"I'm well past the point of sentimentalism, Nikolai. It is coming far too late anyway. And whatever my feelings for you may be, I won't let you put my life on the line." Your posture straightened, stance ready for battle.

His eyes flashed, jaw clenched. His hands closed in fists and he almost looked hurt. But why would he?

"Is that what you think all of this is?" Nikolai always acted aloof. He was always composed and dignified. You had thought it was for his insane amount of self-confidence but now you understood it was for how he was raised. But you recognised the pout on his lips. It was the expression he’d always have whenever he tried to get something from getting to him. To prevent himself from showing emotions.

"You're holding me captive while you go around Ravka parading your latest conquest, flashing your return everywhere. I don't know why you're doing this but I don't care. I've stopped waiting around for you and I certainly won't let your father put me to death."

"You think I'd let him?"

"So you want to do this?" you threw your hands up in exasperation, "Fine. You really want to know what I think?"

"Be my guest."

"I think that the Nikolai I knew would have left out of the blue without so much as a letter. I think that the Nikolai I knew was ready to go to any length to achieve what he believed in. However, I thought that the Nikolai I knew cared about me and what we had but look at me now. So maybe, I know nothing at all."

"You certainly do seem to know a lot of things. But you’re not wrong."

"If this is the way you care about me," I gesture to my tent, "then I'm not sure I want this Nikolai to care for me."

“This,” he said, emulating your gesture, “is to keep you safe. This is my way to ensure that if the Darkling got news of your whereabouts, he’d be sure not to think you willingly left his side and betrayed him.”

“That’s because I didn’t!” You raised your voice in outrage. The nerve of this man.

“Spare me your indignation. I know you hate being at his beck and call, to do his dirty work and be constantly surrounded by warfare.”

“Do not presume to speak for me.” You snapped. You knew it was best to keep a cool head but his cockiness was getting on your nerves.

“Didn’t you? Hate it, I mean.”

“We’re at war, Nikolai. Being away or close to the Darkling won’t change that. At least with him, I was safe.”

“You can’t be that delusional to think that he was protecting you.” He scoffed at your words as if they were the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

“And you can’t be that delusional to think that bringing me back won’t result in your father killing me.” You fired back shifting on your feet. He winced as if you had physically hurt him.

“You have so little faith in me?” His voice was just above a whisper and you knew that your words had struck a chord.

“How can I have any, Nikolai?” your voice softened a bit. “One day you’re telling me how much you value my opinion, you promise me a future where I’d be the first to see your project come to life and then you left. You just left, Nikolai.” And when I was starting to make my peace with it that’s when you come back? Also, let’s not forget about my abduction and your flirting with Alina.”

“So yes, I don’t trust you.” You concluded, crossing your arms on your chest with finality. He just stared at you for the longest time. If someone would come in now, they’d think you were in the middle of a staring contest. Then he sighed and started talking.

“I had to go away. I had already pushed my parents’ limits when I said I wanted to be part of the infantry. So, one day I got a letter written by my father personally and I knew that my time was up. I had been Nikolai for too long, now I had to start being a Lantsov prince.” His eyes were on the ground now, shame making her way in his words.

“So that’s what I did,” he went as he started pacing,”I went to Kerch to study, just like my father wanted. I did what he asked, he couldn’t reproach me anything now. I could never stay too still though, a life of adventure was calling me and I could not ignore it. It was only then that I realized that I could do so much more than sitting in a class, to realistically help Ravka.”

“I couldn’t take you with me. You had such a larger role to play in the army and besides, there wasn’t much I could offer you. So yes, I left. I left thinking that I would find my way back to you eventually.” He had stopped by now, regret was swirling in his shining orbs as he looked at you.

“You could have told me.” You contestated, taken back by all the information he gave you. “I would have waited for you.” A whispered promise for something that would never be now.

“I was afraid, y/n. That’s not my best moment, I know and no number of apologies could ever make it right. But I was afraid of your answer. I knew I’d be asking for a lot and let’s be honest-” the desperation in his tone was evident now, he had unconsciously started to lean towards you but you knew what he was about to say.

“You weren’t sure if the future you were offering me would just end up with me being your mistress, am I right?” Your tone hardened but despite the insulting implication of what you said, you weren’t made at him.

“I’m a prince, y/n. We do not marry for love and this country cannot afford to disregard the advantages that a political union could bring.”

His honesty was as refreshing as it was unsettling. He was right. As soon as you had learned he was a prince, you realized just what kind of future you could have with him. But then he left and that problem did not exist anymore. Neither of you spoke, both of you were seizing the other. You had laid it all out, defences were down putting you both in a vulnerable position.

And someday maybe you'll miss me

“You should have talked to me, Nikolai. We could have figured it out together. If it came to being your mistress to stay with you, then that was my decision to make.” You said softly after a while. It pained for you to say this, you would have never thought that getting closure would hurt this much.

Tears streamed on both of your faces, in front of you had been laid what your future could have looked like. It was everything you had wanted, you could still do your job and have the man of your dreams. You were surprised to find that you wouldn’t mind sharing him with his supposed wife. You had been at court for enough time to know how most marriages went. If he assured you it was only a diplomatic affair but that his heart was yours, that would have been enough. Who knows, maybe she’ll get a lover too.

But now… now you didn’t know if you could ignore everything that happened. You did not trust him nor could you ignore how hurt you were by his lack of communication and thus of trust in you.

But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lanstov one shot #nikolai lanstov fic #nikolai lanstov x you #nikolai lanstov x y/n #shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lanstov angst #nikolai lanstov fluff #nikolai lanstov blurb

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keingleichgewicht · 3 years

Note

WERE YOU KIDDING ABOUT THE ASK GAME if not i dont have any specific lyrics in mind but i always thought the lyrics to the mill were so cool and maybe you could get some thoughts out of them? :0

YEAH GOD OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE MILL. LET’S TALK ABOUT UHHHHHHHHH [THROWS DARTBOARD]

this line. this MIGHT go on for a while so i will............ readmore

so the mill feels kind of notably different to the rest of the pafl songs, which tend to be unusually literal for lyric, either straightforward retellings of events (punch it, punk!) or character piece monologues set to plot visuals (strike 3) or both (all of them, but for instance particularly comfort zone, which is just dmitry’s horrible manifesto until it gets hijacked by a death sentence in the second verse.) the mill is a lot more like what we expect from poetry these days, which is to say it’s heavy on imagery, low on clarity, and fucking confusing!

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold on to your battered hand Rocked to sleep beneath the snow, she is bathed in youthful glow ‘Strong enough to let it go,’ he says, but darling, I don’t know

a lot of the mill is about circles. this is in the name: a mill is something which turns. a waterwheel is a circle, a grindstone is a circle. it’s even in the melody: the chorus is a cyclic, pentatonic four-note riff that keeps going up and down and up its own ladder, chasing its own tail, not really reaching resolution. and then it’s also in, you know, the story:

the meat grinder!!!! everyone’s favorite fucking hellhole!!!! it is only semi-explicitly identified in the song but that’s because it’s a concept from the source material - both tarkovsky’s stalker and roadside picnic feature the meat-grinder, as a location nicknamed thus by stalkers because it is even more fucking deadly than the rest of the zone, all of which is already ridiculously fucking deadly, and if you’ve seen the movie:

it is more or less instantly recognizable in the mill as well. so here we have a circle! here we have a mill (the title has about seventy double meanings but this is certainly one of them,) and as it turns out, this mill at least will absolutely kill you. and horribly too. interestingly though, in roadside picnic (the book) the meat-grinder is not a tunnel, and it’s not round - it’s just a nondescript patch of ground which will wring you out like a dishcloth and kill you extremely dead if you walk into it. on the other hand what we have in the book in terms of circles is the golden ball, which is the equivalent of the movie’s the room, which is, well,

in short both stories ultimately hinge upon the idea that there is a something in the zone which can give you your heart’s desire. anything you want. everything you want. whatever you want. it is infinitely powerful; it is infinitely capable. the catch is that it will only give you what you want. the catch is that giving you what you want is not the same as giving you what you are asking for. the other catch is that in both cases you have to get through the meat-grinder first.

(so, by the way, what the fuck, right? does pafl’s zone have a wish-granting factory? is it also behind the grinder? where were the original trio going when they got themselves fucked up? and did they get there?)

but the point is: the golden ball, the wish-granting factory, is also a circle. it’s just sort of a sphere. it’s a big round fuckin yellow thing. you know, sorta like:

which is THE ONLY TIME yellow is used in occam’s razor not counting the full-colour shots, and it drives me CRAZY, but it is also me going full conspiracy board so let’s not even worry about it. THE POINT IS.

the circle is the death-machine and the wish-machine. neither of these things are really.... very good. the circle, or at least the arc, is also very closely associated with death:

(розовая дуга предрассветного, ‘rose arc of pre-dawn’. if i’ve fucked up that nominative please feel free to stone me to death!)

in the gdoc notes to message lost ferry briefly refers to the dawn as if it were a good thing, the dawn of hope, which is a usage that sort of agrees with the desolate and deathless hope of strike 3′s ‘everything will pass / a day will come,’ but on the other hand it really is very closely associated with dying. nikolai bites it; nikita bites it; sergei and olga left significant chunks of themselves behind. and the thing about ‘this too shall pass’ is that it’s always true, as is ‘everything ends’, but of course that’s ‘cause the thing that ends might be you. and as we know

dawn is an ending. so that seems concerning!

i think the circle, the arc, the bolt falling back to the ground, is not a good thing. i am getting a little conspiracy board here in general but forgive me, i cannot make you a wholesome answer, my wit’s diseased. i think the circle is an enclosed space. it’s an unbroken cycle. it’s the grindstone. it’s the mill. it’s about what pafl’s always been about: about being trapped, about having no chances, about being bordered upon. the circle’s the geometric figure of equidistance from a given point, and you can walk on it forever, and nothing will ever change; you will never get closer, you will never get further away, you will never get out! the sun rises, the sun sets, and you are no closer to anything you wanted. it’s worth noting that anya’s borderline city, the zone-edge port town she complains is trying to crush all her dreams, her mill

is a circle. (a cog in a machine! a grind-wheel! a cage!)

and yura, whose dreams have already been burned out of him, who starts the series already resigned to never getting out of here, calls it ‘this dire deja-vu’, i am specifically resisting putting the accent marks back onto that, which is to say, it’s a repetition that haunts him. it’s going round and round and getting nowhere.

so if we bring it back around: drawing a line in the sand, as the phrase is generally used, means setting a border, means saying this far and no further. often it’s yourself you’re setting the border for. you hit some divide you can’t abide crossing so you say this stops here, it may be too early or too late, but i say it stops here. so logically: drawing a circle in the sand means you’ve locked yourself in completely.

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold your battered hand

the whole first half of this song, i think, is olga promising to grind herself down in a hundred ways if it means she won’t be left alone. how hard can it be to never let it overflow? she may feel lower than the low, she may wish she could just disappear out here, into the postindustrial rust, but though it gets harder all the time she will keep pretending. she isn’t going to burden sergei, or indeed anyone, with her problems, her fears, her scars. she is hurt, but she’s used to it, she’s gotten used to being haunted long ago. she keeps her bad eye covered. she stays within her circle she has drawn. she keeps going round and round. she will take the smallest sliver of human connection and be happy, she promises she will be happy, she promises she won’t ask for more, she will take just the ‘hello.’

but you knooooow it’s not true. you know it’s grinding her down, that she’ll be milled to nothing pretty soon, and really she knows it too.

i am perhaps seventy percent sure that this line is a reference to the windmills of your mind by michel legrande, which features such lines as

Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind

which on one hand seems sort of obscure to be a purposeful reference but on the other hand would be a hell of a coincidence if it wasn’t, wouldn’t it. either way it characterizes circles ambiguously, but definitely unsettlingly. going around in circles is chasing infinity, but what in god’s name would you do with it if you caught it? what are you even hoping to accomplish? and:

the second half of this song is bitterer, sharper - staring down the mouth of the meat-grinder she’s a little more willing to admit to herself that this is going nowhere. she is running out of cages to keep herself in. she is very tired. it’s easy to say why don’t you leave it all behind, it’s easy to say, she’s strong enough to let it go, it’s easy to say, too strong to die. it is a lot harder to actually live.

this is also where the flashbacks admit to us how badly hurt they really were - sergei with his whole side in shreds, she still hides her eye but at least we get to see it’s bleeding. this moral compass is forever misaligned, she says, so there is damage, and it is lasting. and she can’t settle for hello, she can’t live like this, she needs someone by her side. the trouble is whether she can believe she has any hope of getting that

as for who ‘her’ is, or the ‘she’ of ‘she is bathed in youthful glow’, i figure there’s two possibilities: either it’s nadya, who haunts olga too, because nikita’s abandonment of nadya represents exactly what she most fears for herself, or it’s olga’s younger, unbroken, binocular self - both of whom were so young, and so easily hurt, and are now unfindable.

and then there’s this conclusion: ‘the sun will rise, until then / i’ll be waiting for you on the other side.’ which maybe is a sort of hope after all? she’s reached no real conclusions in the zone - she knows there must be hope but she can only barely believe in it - she thinks she is destined to self-destruct. but on the other hand she still has that, a version of sergei’s own ‘a day will come’

you may be hurt, but if you can hold yourself together, you can hope for a dawn someday. an ending. a change. but the trouble’s that there’s more than one kind of ending. and there’s more than one meaning for other side. there are cages, and then there are cages. and you know what else looks like a tunnel, a circle?

staring down the barrel of the gun.

#pafl #parties are for losers #it speaks #ask #in all fairness and in my defence when i made the joke i said i would write not less than one thousand words and by fuck #this has not been less than one thousand words!#jorgyjuice #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ALSO THIS WAS REALLY FUN #and thank you VERY dearly to anyone who takes the time to read all this; you own my soul now; feel free to collect at any time #metatext

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lochsides · 3 years

Text

Yellow Metal - cathartic Review

Here’s something I did not expect to be reviewing this week but when Zayn drops a 24 minute rap track, you fall in line. I had to listen to it a couple times through before I could even begin to make sense of my thoughts because my brain sort of malfunctioned. I have never been prouder to be a Zayn fan. He’s such a nuanced songwriter and there is so much to unpack here.

I think this is the most unfiltered version of Zayn that we have ever been exposed to (and possibly will ever be). I am grateful that he said his piece in this because it needed to be said. As a brown woman, I felt so seen by this and I cannot explain what that means to me. Thank you Z, for your unvarnished truth in addressing racism and various forms of discrimination.

I’m doing a short lyrical analysis below the cut, but the TLDR is that this is a fantastic piece of art that deserves to be heard.

I wish he had released this as an EP because that would be easier to review than a single 24 minute song, structurally speaking. So instead, I have picked out some key lyrics, going from top to bottom, that really spoke to me and decided to study the song that way. His lyricism is hard-hitting in this track. It is beyond anything he has ever released before.

“The planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving until we ascend so fuck the fence.” — I have not seen this lyric being talked about in the fandom, because the lyrics that follow this steal the show, rightly so, but I wanted to give this line a moment because it’s important too. To me, this lyric speaks to where Zayn is at with his relationship with the physical world. He’s out on the farm (about which he even goes to say “tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor”) and I believe he’s happy in his space and he feels connected to nature (also see River Road). So it is a poignant and slightly jaded, but valid perspective that he shares on climate change. It’s never leaving until we ascend. The damage human beings have done to the planet won’t be undone until there are no humans left to do damage. It’s a single sentence that says so much about the depth of the climate crisis. I’m doing my PhD on urban air quality so this is something I care really deeply about and I resonated with.

“And until they stop killing colour, it’s fuck the feds.” — Yeah, agreed Zayn. The systemic racism that he calls out here is echoed throughout the song, in equal parts anger and boldness. I love that he isn’t glossing over it with metaphors, which he could easily do and it would be beautiful in a totally different way, but this makes it harder for racists to overlook. There is so much power in calling it like it is.

“Never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a Benadryl, keeping it green in general.” — It frustrates me to no end to see Zayn painted as this drug-addicted lazy musician that doesn’t care about his work, because we know how untrue that is. This narrative is tired and simply boring too, and I won’t get into the racist connotations of it when you consider it against his white colleagues who smoke as much as him but that isn’t one of their defining traits in the media.

“I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work … it was hard work that got me heard” — I love the juxtaposition in this verse. The public/media perception on his career is that Zayn doesn’t put in effort or that he doesn’t want it. This obviously stems from his leaving the band. It goes back to what I was saying before about narrative, when in reality, as Zayn has said on various occasions, he fights to make his own choices. And that doesn’t have to look the way everyone else expects it to (“I beg you, don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt”), he has his own struggles that have helped forge his path, but it is his path that he paved, himself. He works hard to be heard. He has to. It reminds me of something my parents used to tell me when I was younger about being immigrants: you have to work 10 times harder for the same opportunities just because of the colour of your skin or your name on the cv. It’s a harsh truth to grow up with but it was my reality, as it is for most POC.

“This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm you. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here ‘til they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80…” — There is something about the simplicity of these lyrics are the messaging that I love. He isn’t trying too hard to sound poetic but he still manages it perfectly.

“All I've been achieving, clocking miles in this region, moving like a legion. Promise that I made to myself, an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving? Staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving. // I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy. It’s time I grew up, a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on the mike.” — This is the only 1D-related lyric I’ll make reference to because this song is about so much more than that. That said though, we cannot overlook Zayn’s experiences in the band because that is part of his story. The tongue-in-cheek of “I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving” is hilarious to me. The line about not wanting to be his own enemy anymore and growing up from 17 reminds me of that quote Taylor (Swift) mentioned in Miss Americana about celebrities getting stuck at the age they got famous. I think this verse is similar to that. None of them ever wanted to be in the band and I don’t care what anyone says, Zayn leaving and proving success outside the band gave the rest of them the courage to follow their own solo careers. Sure there was drama surrounding the split but he did it for himself, to tell his stories the way he is now. Whatever else you have to say about him, you cannot deny his authenticity.

“I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane.” — I think this line tells us 2 things, the first being that this song was not leaked. Z knew what he was doing and his twitter likes tell us as much. He didn’t release it for any sort of attention, otherwise it would be widely available on streaming platforms and for purchase. Which leads to my second point, he released this song to get everything he talks about on the track off his chest. Its referenced in other lyrics too, like “now you see where I come from, the world don’t.” This was for whoever cared to listen, not the world. It’s inaccessible for a reason. I love that he threw those lyrics in. It makes the song feel more like a private conversation or listening to a friend rant. It creates a different form of intimacy between himself and his fans.

“Lessons that I’ve learned, I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself. So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt.” — This one is for anyone that buys into conspiracy theories surrounding Zayn’s personal life. He surrounds himself with real people, real friendships, real connections. I have never bought into the bullshit that he has zero autonomy over his personal life. I love the use of plastic melting as a metaphor for ridding his life of fakeness.

“Feeling trapped. This industry is a cage.” — Zayn is obviously not the first person to say it. Many artists talk about how suffocating the industry is ( which he further comments on in the sung portion: “I don’t wanna be, I don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, I don’t wanna be, I don’t wanna be, a part of this”). Fame is such a wild and unnatural concept and the exploitation and politics of the music industry only feed further into it. The industry being a cage makes me think of zoos and how celebrities are animals on display, when they should be free in the wild. I also really like the musical interlude following this part.

“Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views.” — Zayn toes the line between keeping to himself and speaking out on important issues, sometimes not very well. I am his biggest cheerleader, but I’m not up his ass. There have been many occasions where he could’ve done better. But I cannot fault him for being offended by the State because same, Z, same. I love that he took this song as an opportunity to real speak out, no punches pulled.

“See I’ve been facing the racists from back when I were a kiddie. Born up in 93’. Living in Bradford City, they kicked me out of the school. Said they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p***, still sit in the classroom, chilling. I’m angry now that I’m older cause I see they treat us different. Got me thinking I’m the problem ‘cause they never dealt with these issues.” — See what I meant about no punches pulled. He said that! He said it like that too. There is so much in this verse that I relate to, it hits a little too deep. I grew up as a brown in predominantly white communities where the colour of my skin was the reason I was outcasted. We know when that’s happening, clear as day. The lyric “got me thinking that I’m the problem cause they never dealt with these issues” says it all. I have many racial traumas that I’m dealing with as an adult because the adults around me when I was a child didn’t deal with racism in the classroom. They do treat us different!

“20 years later, I’m still in the same boat. Tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for. Man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil when they got me by the throat? // Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them. ‘Boy your skin is so light.’ Ok motherfucker, take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.” — Zayn talking his shit is my new favourite art form. How can I be civil when they got me by the throat? Something that I will always be enraged by is that POC are expected to de-escalate situations of racism. We have to push our feelings down, as Zayn says in the verse, because the institution is against us. All of the institutions are against us. The fact that he takes it a step farther to say that his name makes him a target for racism, even though he is half-white just nails his point home. Also, can we please quit the whole ‘Zayn is white-passing’ bullshit. He alludes to it again later in the song (“asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define”). Its not a compliment to erase someone identity in favour of white-washing them.

“My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.” — Oh, the amount of times we have heard that age old (v. racist) saying ‘{celebrity of colour} is the new [insert white celebrity here]’ as if POC aren’t allowed to succeed in their own right. It is wild to me that Zayn has to deal with this given his level of success.

“Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening. I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine.” — There is a subtle nod to racism (and Islamaphobia) in this line, because of course the brown man is a threat, but I like the way Z turns it around. I also like the rhyme scheme.

“Raised on the benefit for whose benefit? They’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.” — Okay I might be reaching here, but this is just my interpretation. We all know the benefit system in the UK sucks. Being raised on benefit implies a lack of money growing up, but the benefits aren’t really all that beneficial to the families that rely upon them.

“Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause I hit the nerve.” — Well, okay then, just call me out. It’s fine. I seriously feel like he’s talking to me directly with this line. I imagine a lot of us do. Its one of those lyrics that are a bit too honest but that why we love them.

“Cathartic, I’m an artist. Trying to put my heart in” // “Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name.” — So do we have an alternate persona for Zayn now? Alright, I’m down. I think these two lines are tied together, because both are mentioned in the song title. (I think of the song as cathartic, by Yellow Metal, aka Zayn, or Yellow Metal as the name of the EP if this was officially released). The lyrics that accompany both title lyrics, along with the subject matter of the song as a whole, suggest that his heart is in standing up against injustices. I said it earlier, this is the most unvarnished version of Z that we have ever been exposed to. Almost like the complete picture to the puzzle pieces we’ve been putting together over the years.

“They’re tryna kill us with disease.” — Why did this line scream out ‘COVID-19 outbreaks in developing countries’ to me? Again, I might be reaching, but there is a disparity between how COVID is treated amongst minorities, along with many other diseases, and not to mention rich, primarily white countries hoarding vaccine supplies while places like India (and my beautiful Bangladesh and I’m sure Pakistan too) suffer needlessly.

“Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next. Just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around ’til I’m the best.” — I think this lyric shows off Zayn’s sentimental side more than it does his ambitious side, because we know he’s in this for the long haul. Others may doubt that but his fans never have. But hearing him talk openly about being a father on a song is something else. It’s like Khai added this whole other layer of meaning and purpose to his life and it’s beautiful to watch. I’ve been here since the X-Factor auditions guys!! It makes me so emotional to witness him like this.

“Aint many of me around, p***, I’m just different. Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil, fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto.” — God, we’ve been waiting for a fuck the label moment in this house, haven’t we? I won’t get into my theories on his label or his team, but none of us deny the fact that they should be doing more for him than they are. He has the potential to be the biggest thing with the right team and promo because he has a built-in fan base that would go the mile for him. Obviously, there’s also his aversion to promo to contend with and that’s his decision. Even without it, he could shatter every ceiling. Another thing I want to mention about this verse is the nod to the complete lack of South Asian representation in contemporary Western media.

“Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse.” — I’m just putting this in here because it made giggle. Also going to take this space to say how much I love his energy in this song. He knows he’s the shit, as he should!

“Can’t be louder … so free Gaza on my banner.” // “They’re hating on Palestine ways.” — I love that Zayn has always supported this movement, years ago, before being ‘woke’ was a thing. But now, he has a daughter that has Palestinian heritage and I’m sure that makes this hit that much deeper for him, personally. The apartheid in Palestine is heart-wrenching. It’s so strange to me to watch it happen, because I never thought I would witness something like this happening in 2021, yet here we are.

“Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing. We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route. Say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown. I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.” — This verse is straight up savage and I am living for it! I find it hilarious that he called Biden a snake. This verse addresses the truth about politics, that even electing a left-wing leader doesn’t fix the system.

“I’m Tony Stark, still embarking on a dream” // “Gone green like Bruce Banner” // “He taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten.” — And to tie it all off, I wanted to take a goofy moment to mention all the superhero lyrics Z added in this song, really showing his personality because I’m such a nerd when it comes to this stuff and it makes me wish that we were friends so I could annoy him to death about it.

#reviews #zayn #yellow metal #cathartic #zayn malik

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ledbiantastic · 3 years

Text

Okay, it's time for my Harrow The Ninth read through post. Spoilers, obviously. Thanks to @shakespearerants, @irascibubble, and @mayasaura for encouraging me to keep going. Enjoy!

I am on page 33 of Harrow the Ninth and I am making a prediction. I initially thought the Body referred to the dead girl in the locked tomb, but now I think it's Gideon. We'll see if I'm right.

Page 44 says it is the dead girl in the tomb, but I'm not convinced it isn't also Gideon

Gideon must be important to have to be erased from Harrow's mind like that, right?

Did Ortus the First kill/try to kill Gideon's mom? The timeline adds up, they said he messed something up nineteen years ago, Gideon was 18 in the last book and time has passed

In the weird retconned memories, after every death, or during, someone says "is this how it happens" which makes me think it's, like, Harrow's brain asking that

Who are those notes from and to? What's up with that?

I love seeing Harrow spend time with Magnus and Abigail. I liked them

If Harrow is haunted, but this is not the real version of the past, is her mind creating the ghost? Is it Gideon? I don't think Gideon would write notes like that though...

Page 291 is Ortus talking to her like she's Gideon's mother? IS HE ASKING WHY SHE BROUGHT ALONG THE BABY?

Is Ortus' cavalier more active or something? Like he doesn't remember because she takes control?

Page 315 "he had seen me" who is he and who is me? Who is narrating this to Harrowhark? Is. It. Gideon? (Later I decide it's Palamedes seeing the Sleeper, who is also narrating and is possibly Gideon. We'll see if that's right.)

Is the poster on page 318 Gideon? Is It? IS IT? But Gideon's hair didn't go down to her shoulders. Is it her mom?

Are Camilla and Coronabeth on the side of the rebellion? BOE? Is old Harrow? I KNEW IT! But I'm sad they're on different sides.

Is Ianthe the spy? Is that how she knew Coronabeth was alive?

Does the Sleeper represent the part of Harrow and/or her brain that erased her memories and it's cleaning up the debris in her psyche? OR IS IT GIDEON? AKA the DORMANT part of Harrow-as-Lyctor? When the Sleeper is unmasked, will we see Harrow or Gideon?

Did Gideon's mother start the rebellion or something? Is that why they had a poster of her? Was she Eden?

So, Canaan house was on earth then?

Did Harrow (old Harrow) tamper with her own temporal lobe? Did Mercymorn? Ianthe?

Whose idea was it for Ortus to kill her then? John? Augustine? Mercymorn? Someone else?

Did Harrow break into the locked tomb? I want to believe she did, because I support her. But if not, who is the Body?

Shit, I can't remember what color Gideon's eyes were. Page 363 when Harrow's eyes are two different colors, black and gold

Ianthe wants to marry Harrow? Weird. I don't ship it. But I'm kind of stuck on Gideon and if I wasn't, maybe.

See a man about a queen? What does it mean? What is Ianthe doing? Also love that she cursed Harrow's hair to grow extra, just to be petty.

I'm so confused by chapter 40. What the hell is going on? Why is Harrow trying to be a cavalier? The fuck? Role swapped false memory? What is even happening?

Is Harrowhark's brain just, like, randomly spit-balling while she's dying or something? Love that Abigail and Magnus seem to be aware that it's not real.

OH OH OH THAT WAS GIDEON! SERVING THE COFFEE AND MAKING HARROW BLUSH IN THE THIRD(?) FALSE MEMORY OR DREAM OR WHATEVER! I love that Abigail is NOT having this, like, no I'm not gonna watch your romance novel version unfold.

I think I've noticed that the ones who have speaking roles the weird memories are the ones who died in the last book.

Are they all taking active part in these false scenarios? All the dead from Canaan house?

Oh my god oh my god here it is she remembers and she's so sad!

So she erased Gideon to save her soul. Nope nope nope nope nope I can't. I can't deal with these feelings. Y.Y

Who the fuck is the angry spirit?!?!

Who fucking stabbed her?

IS GIDEON DRIVING HARROW'S FUCKING BODY AROUND DURING A FIGHT? HELL YES! AND THAT MEANS I WAS RIGHT THAT SHE'S NARRATING!

OH AND I PREDICT THE GHOST IS CYTHERIA!

I'm still thinking about what Harrow did. It's so sweet and so sad and she's so lonely and she didn't even know how lonely she was.

Also I'm already excited to reread this series.

Oh yeah, this is GIDEON in here, swearing up a storm and trying to use a sword.

Okay, first I'm getting emotional just from heading Gideon's voice, then I'm emotional about what it was like for her to be in Harrow's body/mind, then I'm emotional about all the things she wanted to say but didn't have time, AND THEN I'M EMOTIONAL when Gideon says why she thinks Harrow did it and I'm like baby nooooooo it was because she loved you, not because she didn't want to rely on you! Honey, baby, no!

"Harrowhark, I gave you my whole life and you didn't even want it." HARROWHARK, I GAVE YOU MY WHOLE LIFE AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN WANT IT. 💔💔💔😟😟😟😭😭😭 Excuse me while my heart breaks.

Oh, also a bigger issue in this book is the whole concept of the afterlife? And it's messed up because of the emperor? I don't know why I wasn't prepared for that but I wasn't.

Ortus holding Harrow and pointing out that she and Gideon were neglected children is making my therapist soul ascend.

I'm such an idiot. His name wasn't Ortus, it was Gideon. He did kill Gideon's mother, that's why she shouted his name. Or they were in love? One or the other... Or both?

Harrow did a find and replace in her brain and it had unexpected consequences.

I've been leaning more and more towards the Sleeper and ghost being Cytheria.

Oh my sweet sword lesbian himbo, how I've missed you. "The sword I had to hold overhead in one hand as I used the other to keep everything inside you; stuff was coming out, Harrow, I don't know precisely what stuff because I'm not a goddamn necromancer."

Gideon is OCCUPYING HARROW'S BODY during a deadly invasion and is like, 'I'm gonna shut my eyes to reach under the shirt and get rid of encumbrances. I tried not to touch you, so don't get mad.' I feel like Harrow would be the first one to say 'do whatever you have to do to stay alive, you imbecile!'

So Mercymorn stabbed Harrow... So the heralds would eat her as a way to buy time? Was that the plan? Gideon calling her "my necromancer" made my heart do a thing.

I want to understand what she's saying about Gideon's mother. Was Gideon a science experiment? Like Kipo?

Where. THE FUCK did Cytheria get the gun?

Dulcie is *horny for revenge* Abigail is a BAMF and my new (and final?) prediction is that the Sleeper is Gideon's mom.

Gideon and Ianthe is a fun dynamic. I love how protective Gideon is, that she's mad at Ianthe for hurting Harrow's heart.

Gideon must have her mother's eyes to be freaking all the lyctors the fuck out.

"I wanted you to use me... I wanted you to live and not die... Harrow. I already gave my flesh to you, and I already gave you my end. I gave you my sword. I gave you myself. I did it while knowing I'd do it all again, without hesitation, because all I ever wanted you to do was eat me." Why am I crying? 😭😭😭😭😭 Why is this the most romantic thing when it's also full of insults and curses and is followed by a your mom joke? What a Gideon thing to do, be so romantic and gross and sassy all at once. I love her, I want to be her. Gideon forever.

Love that Ianthe also thinks Harrow got rid of Gideon because she didn't want her. /s I'm starting to worry that it's silly for me to hold onto the 'because she can't live without Gideon' explanation.'

"But Nonagesimus, you hating me always meant more than anyone else in this hot and stupid universe loving me. At least I'd had your full attention." That's why indifference is the opposite of love, hate is still passionate attention. But this also makes me feel so bad for Gideon because she deserves to be loved, dammit!

Okay, "gall on gall" is pretty hilarious. Good job Ianthe.

Love that the ghost of Matthias Nonius speaks in meter because he's been so deified by the Ninth house, and he's confused by it. It's like people in a musical being aware they're in a musical, like, why am I singing?

Ortus' poem was important after all!

Is it the sword? Does Harrow have to destroy Gideon's sword? Because that would break my heart a little.

"It bewildered her, back at Canaan House, how the whole of her always seemed to come back to Gideon. For one brief and beautiful space of time, she has welcomed it: that microcosm of eternity between forgiveness and the slow uncomprehending agony of the fall. Gideon rolling up her shirt sleeves. Gideon dappled in shadow, breaking promises. One idiot with a sword and an asymmetrical smile had proved to be Harrow's end." I just... This is so beautifully written. And describing Gideon as one idiot with a sword is so perfect and right and I just... 🖤🖤🖤😭😭😭

No no no I hate this either/or bullshit! I know I'm a sappy optimist, but I want both of them to survive, damnit! I want Harrow to be able to go back to her body without losing Gideon's soul. I want Gideon to keep existing.

What does Dulcinea know?!?!

Commander? That's Gideon's mom, right? Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity

What does that all mean? Are those Eminem lyrics? What other language is in there?

WHAT'S ALL COME OUT?

I knew she was in the sword.

Oh my god, if you need John to get in the tomb, and she was trying to get in the tomb and had something, a tool... Samples... She was armed with the baby... Is Gideon's father John? Is Gideon the fucking child of God?

She named the baby Bomb... This whole series could have been Bomb the Ninth... Bomb Nav...

Yep yep called it, child of God. The first time they put that plan in action was to get sperm to make Gideon. The second time was so Harrow could kill the first Gideon.

A dad joke?! A DAD JOKE?!

Gideon and Harrow were so cruel to each other as kids. It just makes me so sad.

Was Harrow able to get into the tomb because she made Gideon bleed?

So is Alecto John's cavalier? Annabel and Alecto... Are the same person? I'm so confused. She's the body in the locked tomb? But how is that related to her eyes being in his genes?

Wait, the eyes switched? I continue to be confused. Did he do the lyctor thing but also put a part of both him and his cavalier into the cavalier's body? But she was never human? What's going on? Why do they think she never had genes?

Oh cool, Mercy killed God and now everyone's gonna die... ... ... Ooooor not.

I love that beating up Harrow is Gideon's job AND saving Harrow is Gideon's job. Very cute.

Sooooo Gideon the OG and Pyrrha both fucked Gideon's mom... With the same body...

Gideon, such a romantic, wishing she had Harrow's name on her lips as she died. "I mean, yeah, I was thinking about you too; if I could've turned that off I would've turned it off years ago" HAHAHAHAHA You can't stop thinking about Harrow even if you want to! God, what a sweet himbo.

"Yes, well, jail for mother" says Gideon... Is she referencing Miette? Jail for mother for one thousand years!

Okay, so we have definitely confirmed that the Body is Alecto/Annabel/God's cavalier.

What did Dulcinea tell her? That Gideon is moving her body around? Doesn't she know that? Shouldn't that not be a surprise?

Okay, so, wait, what happened to Harrowhark?

ARRRRRGH I'm not smart enough for this book! Or I'm not visual enough! I know I should recognize the description of bobbed hair and "lambent" eyes but I have no idea who it is and also WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO GIDEON AND HARROWHARK?! UGH NOW I HAVE TO WAIT FOR THE NEXT BOOK AND I'M GONNA BE SO IMPATIENT AND CONFUSED!

Well that was fun to reread. Impressed I got some things right, but mostly I was very wrong.

#harrow the ninth #spoilers #locked tomb spoilers #locked tomb trilogy #doing my best #lesbians are just so good #disaster lesbian #it's me i'm the disaster lesbian here #i love this himbo #himbo gideon nav #live blogging #abigail pent #dulcinea septimus #ianthe the first #long post

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ziracona · 3 years

Text

[The Kid -- (FGO AU) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, ?]

Not surprisingly, Ritsuka doesn’t have a lot of information on the building, but she’s got more than I expect, and some pretty solid-sounding educated guesses. Mostly, I’m just worried about my end. That we might not have enough firepower to push through a bunch of mages, especially if I can’t start getting more mana from her. If I fail, and go down in there, I’m getting resummoned to living hell, and she’s probably dead. That’s about the last thing I want, so I need a good plan before going in. Lucky for me, reckless but effective underdog plans are kind of my thing.

Snacking on her rice porridge, I try and work through that while absorbing information. …Figure the first thing I should do is see if there are other servants already summoned in there. I should be able to sense that, once I’m a little less dead. If there are, freeing them would add a lot to our fighting forces—wait, no, they’ll probably be about dead, and she can’t heal them because she doesn’t know how. And she can’t anchor more than one probably, since she’s doing it totally solo. So, they’d just die and vanish... Though, she did say…

“Hey,” I say, interrupting a breakdown of personnel she knows of in R&D. She’s actually really good at this planning stuff too—drawn me a little chart and everything. Her profiles might not be the most photo-realistic, but damn if they aren’t still effective in their own way at conveying what people look like—I’ve seen some of these mages, and I can pick them out from her little doodles on sight. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a few things I want to ask—one I meant to ask a while ago; they know you did this?”

Ritsuka looks surprised, then nods, chagrined. “Yeah. I mean, probably. I was able to cause a really good distraction, but there was no way to block the cameras, and I had to use my own card and get recognized to make it in the front at all, so, they do or they will really soon. That’s why I came here, instead of my apartment,” she adds, gesturing to the motel, “I tried to pick a list of hotels and motels I wouldn’t pick from usually, and then I chose one randomly from that list, and paid in cash. I hope that’s enough to make me harder to find.”

I don’t know if it will be myself, but I’m impressed she thought that far ahead. Maybe she has a knack for life on the lamb herself. Not a bad little escape plan.

“I’m kind of worried about Mom and Dad,” she adds quietly, glancing at her hands, “I haven’t talked to them at all, because I thought it would put them in danger, but what if it does anyway?”

Oh. I watch her, and the pain and fear there she’s trying to be brave about. She…isn’t just nice, and good, and a bleeding heart; she’s sacrificed a lot personally to help me.

“Won’t happen,” I promise firmly, “We’ll take care of things before that.”

“You sure?” she asks worriedly, trying to stop her eyes from getting misty.

I nod. “Promise. They won’t go there first. They’ll be lookin’ for me, and worried about me comin back right now. Then they’ll try to locate you. Family is more useful if they can just tap the phones and see if you contact—probably won’t even risk spooking them for a while. We got some time.”

That reassures her, and she looks a lot better. Returns my nod.

“…Wait, when you said ‘distraction’ a minute ago,” I say, that little detail clicking late.

“Oh,” she says, “Yeah. Well. I needed the power to go out in the building, and people to not be guarding you so I could get in. I couldn’t bypass doors or alarms, because I don’t know magic or tech stuff, so I had to make sure the whole building was on emergency protocol to make it easy for staff to evacuate to get in there at all. I couldn’t do that any fancy trick way, so, I looked up how to make a bomb and blew up a storage wing on the second floor I knew was empty.”

Holy shit.

“I-I checked the building schematics and asked several people you had to pay online to make sure it wasn’t a big part of the structural integrity!” she defends anxiously, misreading my response, “I made sure I wasn’t gonna knock down the building or kill somebody!”

“No—I’m impressed!” I say, lighting up, “That’s genius!”

“Really?” she asks.

“Hell yeah!!” I say, “Smart to not pick ground floor either. Means they know the threat came from inside the building—it’ll throw ‘em into a panic. And taking out the power? –You taught yourself how to make a bomb?”

“It actually wasn’t that hard,” she says, flushing, “…kind of scary how easy, actually. I had to get components from all different places, and pay in cash so my bank wouldn’t get suspicious, but. It was easier than I thought.”

Damn, she does have a knack. A strong one.

“You’d’ve made a damn fine outlaw,” I say.

For a second she seems to be unsure if that’s meant as a compliment or an insult, and then she hesitantly grins back. “Yeah? Huh. I’m not used to people thinking I’m good at stuff.”

From the far-away look on her face I don’t think she really meant to say that out loud, so I grin and answer before she has a chance to realize it. “Guess you never found something that interested you before.”

She glances at me and nods. “So, what else did you want to ask about?”

“Oh—your circuits. You said you possess a lot of mana?” I ask, “You find out any more about that while doing research there?”

“I did,” she says, passing me my eighth chocolate and unwrapping one for herself and munching on it, “Basically, they told me I’m super weird, and it’s like my body is tapped into a family lineage crest with more magic than it knows what to do with. But I don’t even have a mage crest!”

Not totally sure what that means, but I nod like I do because I get most of it from context.

“So, they say it’s like if I had a connection to a big like, whole lake full of mana. Waaaay more than even mages from good bloodlines have. But my circuits aren’t designed to access it all.”

“So you can’t get at it?” I ask.

“Well, this is gonna sound stupid, but it was the version that made the most sense to me,” she replies, “One of the assistants told me it was like if you had a whole lake of mana, but you could only get any of it out with a garden hose. It’s all there, but it’s just…not designed to be used all at once. They don’t think I could probably ever throw it all into one big spell attack, even with years of training. But, I’d have the most amazing mage stamina they ever saw. They said in a Holy Grail war I might be ridiculously weak at offering any combat support, but I could support all seven servants at the same time on my own if I tried, and then some!” She flashes me a big grin, very proud of that.

Interesting. “So. It’s not tirin you out?” I ask, “Our contract?”

She shakes her head. “I can barely tell. I can’t tell at all energy-wise. I just can feel there’s a connection there, kind of like an invisible thread.”

“Wow. You know most mages can barely support a servant outside a situation with extra support like the grail offers during a war, right?” I ask her.

She blinks at me. “For real?”

I nod. “I hear it’s exhausting.”

She stares at the far wall, then extends her arms and looks at them in wonder.

“You think you could support another?”

Ritsuka glances back from her hands. “Another servant—spirit?” she corrects. It’s cute—girl keeps refusing to call us that even though I do it so automatically. I nod. She nods back. “Yeah, easy.”

“How many you think you could do at once?” I ask.

“Uhm. …I don’t know. Twelve?” she guesses. Holy shit that’s a lot. “Probably more. But definitely at least that many if they all feel like this does. Why?”

I glance down at the little hand-drawn map sitting on the bed. “Because if they already got more servants in there, and we pick ‘em up as we go, a lot of our problems with this plan go away.”

“But, I can’t really support any of them,” she says worriedly, “I’m barely giving you enough to heal you slowly. None of you will be able to use much magic to fight.”

“True,” I reply, “But one of us can do a hell of a lot even without access to a noble phantasm. And more importantly, they won’t know how limited we are. That’s an edge.”

She thinks that over. “…Yeah. I. I guess it is…It’d throw them off, and make them feel overwhelmed and probably get them to panic.”

I nod. “Only problem is healing one of us enough we can get going.”

“Oh yeah,” she says, hopeful expression falling.

“I know you don’t know that kind of spell, but if there’s somewhere we could get stuff to do it for us—some mages use Mystic Codes or enchanted objects, right? I don’t guess you know of any—”

She’s shaking her head. “I’m sorry,” she says miserably, “I don’t even know where in Ur-shanabi something like that might be stored.”

Damn. I was really hoping. …

“I’m sorry I’m useless,” she says quietly, looking down at her hands and the seals there.

“You aren’t,” I reassure her, “I’m just as useless at magecraft as you—more. You’d have been better off with a caster. They’d actually know how to help. But we’ll figure somethin’ out.”

She’s still looking at her hand. Straightens up a little and turns it to inspect, then looks over at me. “Could I heal one of you with a command spell?”

“Yeah, I think,” I say, “But only twice, before being out of ‘em for good.” Mages all consider the last one one you don’t use, anyway. It’s the safeguard—the threat you keep so if your spirit turns on you, you can put us down. The loaded gun. I don’t bring that up though, because she probably knows, and as long as I’m up, she ain’t gonna need it, even if one of the others decides to cause her trouble.

“Right, and there might be more than two in there,” she says unhappily, lowering her hand.

I’m thinking back hard as I watch her, running over everything I’ve ever heard from a mage or a caster about how any of this works. I want to help. I want this to work, but I also want to repay what little I can. I wish Geronimo was here…

“…I know there’s supposed to be ways to fix the problem you’re havin’,” I offer after a second, wishing I knew more and had more to offer, “Someone who knows magic should be able to teach you to use it better, and that’d fix the problem, but I can’t do that. …What you need is someone who can. … You got any idea how to summon one of us? I could help you find a leyline, and-”

She’s shaking her head again. “I don’t know how at all. And it’s not something I can just look up. …I could try, but. I don’t have any artifacts, or practice, or knowledge, and it would probably just be dangerous and I’d draw attention to myself.”

I think hard. “We could try.”

“How? We don’t even have a source of power? You need a lot of mana at once to try and summon a heroic spirit without something like a grail present. I saw a little part of the summon circle at Ur-shanabi once and it was HUGE. I’ve never even felt so much magic in one place—”

“Wait, all you need is a big burst of mana?” I ask, suddenly excited.

“What? Uh—yeah, but I mean big. Way big! Big like I couldn’t do—”

“—But I could!” I insist.

She stares at me. “But…how? You can’t use a noble phantasm without disappearing, because I’m bad at supplying mana.”

“No, no other spirit could use their phantasm like this. Me? I can,” I say proudly, a slow smile starting.

“What?” says Ritsuka, “How? That’s impossible—what do you mean?”

“You know, I’m starting to think this whole thing bein’ you and me was for a reason,” I say instead of answering outright, snagging another little chocolate from the tray and giving her a smile as I do, “See, I don’t really have a noble phantasm, actually.”

“Wait, what??”

“Well, I do, but only kinda,” I explain, “It’s not an object or a chant, it’s the act of me firin’ my colt a specific way, so, it’s a noble phantasm technically, but it’s technically also just a skill, and it’s more technically a skill than a phantasm.” I am so god damn proud of myself right now—the look on her face is amazing. This feels great! “Not having a traditional one ain’t always the best thing, because it means mine is a real split-second kinda deal, but it’s damn powerful for that split second. And since my phantasm is more just a part of me than a specific act or item, it costs way less mana than any other noble phantasm I ever seen—or know of.”

“Wait for real?” she asks, gaping at me as her eyes light up.

I nod. “Sure is. I think with a little more rest, I could pull it off once without exhausting my core. If you can set up a circle, you can use the quick burst of mana from it to try and summon someone else. We’ll have to practice, because it’s a split second and you’ll have to call to the throne exactly when I use it, but I think we could do it.”

“Whoa.” She says. Her eyes are shining and I see the faint trace of a smile starting to form as she looks over and meets my gaze. “That…could work. I mean—I don’t know how to summon a spirit properly, but I know in theory how it works. Do you think that’s enough? You really think we could do it?”

“Well, I don’t see a reason not to try,” I say.

“But—how will I be sure I’ll get someone who can help?” she asks.

“Well, any numbers help, and any spirit’s gonna be pretty interested in this not happening to them, so I think anybody you summon would help us. It’s more complicated than that, though. Being summoned….it works multiple ways. Most of the time, you got no choice, except if you go willingly or unwillingly—you go either way. But occasionally they’re set up so the mage and the spirit both have to agree. I’ve never been on the mage end of a summons, but on our side you can usually sense the intent of a call. Occasionally we even get to choose if we want to answer. Since you and I ain’t gonna have anything close to the power to drag a spirit from the throne, it’ll be one of those, which is great, because it means if anybody shows up, they’ll have come because they heard you and wanted to come help. Just be honest and specific in what you need, and who you are. I think you’ll get lucky. I’m pretty sure if I heard someone like you asking for help plain and simple and I could do it, I’d take the pact.”

“Really?” she asks like it means something big to her.

“Yeah,” I say, and I mean it.

She smiles at me. “Okay. Great! I guess we have nothing to lose. I’ll try to set something up, and you just focus on feeling better and getting that energy back.”

“Will do,” I agree with a smile, watching her hop up and snag all her notes and diagrams and start trying to organize them. “You’ve done a lot too, though,” I add, “Make sure to get yourself some rest as well.”

The gal glances over and returns my smile. “I will. Thanks. But I’m okay—I took an accidental power nap on the floor, so I’ve got like eight more hours in me.” She proudly makes a muscle. “You want some tea before going back to sleep?”

“Sure,” I say, bemused as she vanishes back down the little hall.

This has all gone some kind of way, but, I’m surprisingly…Hopeful.

I remember the coin then, and that feeling bottoms out. Please don’t have been summoned yet, I pray, feeling a little sick.

I want so bad to think he’s not here yet, but I got a bad feeling. Did I sense him, when I was in Ur-shanabi, and I just can’t remember because I was so weak, or am I just paranoid and afraid? I don’t know. God, I hope at least he hasn’t been there anything close to as long as me. I hope he hasn’t been summoned at all. I should be trying to guess at the others, but there’s just way too many of us could be most of them. Clay pot means older ages spirit, letter means…well, recent enough for paper to survive, and shuriken means one from the east, but the earring could be anybody, and I can’t focus on it anyway. Why did it have to be somebody I know? And like? I’m trying to remember for sure how he died.

…I’m…I’m pretty sure he was bled to death slowly by a nun that was supposed to help him.

Why did we all have to die so terribly? I don’t like to think of him like that, but in my head it’s all I can see now. That terrible workshop, with its cold metal and saturated mana in the air that makes you sick with the taste of every breath, people walking by all the time to look at you like an animal in a cage. …Bolted down to the floor and cut up everywhere, half-awake in a massive puddle of his own blood. I don’t want to see that; I don’t want it to happen; I don’t want it to happen to him. He’s been through enough shit—he’s my friend.

But I got a bad feeling.

Please don’t be here, Robin. Please, God, don’t let them have picked him to summon yet.

A really bad feeling…

#fate go AU #fate series #fate go #fate grand order #fanfic #fate fic #fgo #fate AU #fate Billy the Kid #Ritsuka Fujimaru #billy the kid #writing #The Kid #The Kid (fic)#I love that Billy’s phantasm is ranked higher in damage than an A+ Phantasm but because it’s so tied to his skill instead of deeds it costs #only about the mana of an E rank phantasm short king is right

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craziigamerchick · 4 years

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My Prediction: Grace is Alive

Unpopular opinion here I know. I know SK said she was dead and she may very well be but till I see REAL ghost Grace, her funeral, or a flashback to her dead body then nope I won’t believe it.

I didn’t actually believe she was alive till after the 5th season. But down below I’ll list the signs I’ve seen throughout the show that I think point to her not really being dead.

Grace is all over season 5 but the signs I’ve seen that point to her not being dead are in episode 4 and 5.

For starters the swans represent Grace this season as told in an article from Den of Geek. Which is a big theme for episode 4.

So episode 4 is called The Loop and there are quite of bit of things that are repeating in this episode from previous seasons. Actually I’d say this whole season feels like a loop. But anyways for the Grace clues...

We have only 2 scenes this season in the Garrison snug which are both in this episode back to back. This is also where the swans are present. So we are to be thinking of Grace during these scenes.

The first scene is with Mrs.Conners, she is there because her 3 songbirds (goldfinch’s) were killed by her husband. Now I believe the songbird represents Grace along with the swan. As she’s already been linked to the blackbird in s3 and s4 which is also a songbird. Plus one definition of songbird is: a female singer, which she is. When Mrs.Conner says “their singing was the only pretty thing in my life” it focuses on Tommy and the swans to the side of him. I’m sure he thinks the same of Grace and her singing.

Now I also think songbirds represent the Shelby’s in general or at least Goldfinch’s do. Mosley talks of Tommy being a songbird and his singing beautifully in the house and in that same scene he calls Ada a finch. Then when Tommy tells Mrs.Conner Arthur will go get her 3 new Goldfinch’s she says she’ll name them Tommy, Arthur, and Finn. So that’s all 4 siblings being linked to a finch.

Mrs.Conner leaves and here comes Brilliant Chang. Now don’t forget this happens in the room with the swans that represent Grace.

Shows Chang sitting down right where the swan is unlike Mrs.Conners. We really didn’t see the swan behind her because it wasn’t important. But I believe we saw Chang sit right where the swan was because we are to link him specifically to Grace. Just check out this dialogue:

Chang: My name is Brilliant Chang

Arthur: Brilliant Chang is dead

Chang: Perhaps. Sometimes, I wonder... Is this heaven? Doesn’t smell like heaven. So I would say I have survived.

Now that might not seem like a big deal but the real Brilliant Chang got deported in 1924 and was never thought to be dead (the year here is 1929). So they essentially just made this scenario up for the show and they decide to do it in the room that has Grace motif’s all over it. Yeah...

After Arthur thinks Finn has been shot by Chang’s accomplice he pulls a gun on him. Watch Chang stare down Arthur, it’s exactly like Grace’s with Kimber and IRA man she shot.

After this Chang puts the “purest” opium on the table. Pure truth he calls it. Which the opium also represents Grace, as you know that’s what Tommy drinks to hallucinate her and quite literally later as she takes the opium’s place on the barge in Tommy’s hallucination.

When Chang gives the Opium to Tommy as a gift, Tommy’s line is “I’ll throw it in the canal” which is just like his line to Grace in 1.06 “One day we’ll throw this gun in the canal”.

So now we have 4 things that represent Grace. The songbird, Swans, Chang, and Opium. Those will be important later.

The Next big scene we have is when Tommy hallucinates Grace in his office after Mosley leaves and she’s blaming him for her death. He can’t even look at her in this scene. It goes straight from this scene to him standing on bridge looking down, He see’s the January with Grace half covered in the coals (she’s in the spot the opium would be).

He runs to Ada to tell her about his vision (hallucination) of Grace even though it’s 2 AM. He tells Ada “Grace was there. But she was still alive. The name of the barge was the January”. Now this sticks out to me because he says she was still alive. It made no sense to me while this is the hallucination he says this about. He’s been talking to her and seeing her in other places but doesn’t say anything like that. He knows she’s not real so what gives. Then I read in the article above they originally had a swan that swimming in front of the barge but decided to cut it. So this scene was supposed to be the one you linked the swan imagery to Grace but since they cut it most people won’t know that the swan represents her through this series.

So here we have a swan in front of the barge that has Grace on it in place of the opium which Chang called “pure truth” and Tommy saying she was alive. Also, she’s not on just any barge but the January which is the boat Tommy had his healing journey on in s2. Hmm...He even says at one point to Ada “there is a part me that is unfamiliar to myself and I keep finding myself there and only the January can get me away”...Is that the shows way of saying that Grace being alive would help heal him like the January did in s2?

Now I agree with Ada that the black barge signals guilt for him too especially with Grace inside it. Even though he won’t admit it to anyone, we all know he feels guilty about her death.

Now about the Swan Lake Ballet. Polly tells Michael that Tommy want to impress someone which is Mosley this time but who is the other person he was constantly trying to impress. It’s the shows way of reminding you of her without saying her name.

When we get to the Lizzie’s party the first scene is with Michael and Gina Grey (Tommy and Grace lite lol). Tommy and Grace’s Secret Portrait are featured in most of this scene. They even focus on it at the end of their scene. Maybe the horse was named Grace’s Secret because her secret is she’s alive. The paintings are supposed to have a storyline of their own but we’ve never actually seen it. That portrait is the portrait we’ve seen every season (or a version of it) so it’s important. SK already had the series mapped out by s2 just hadn’t written it yet so it wouldn’t surprise me.

Now another thing that caught my attention, when Gina is telling Michael he’ll be replacing Tommy and he asks where Tommy will be she replies “where he wants to go to most”. We all think of that as death but let’s be honest, it’s with Grace. That’s what tips him over the edge every time to actually try to commit suicide (to be with her). So if she’s dead that’s where but if she’s not then it’s wherever she is.

On to another scene, in the scene between Mosley and Tommy having a brandy before the play we see pictures on the table with the liquor. There’s quite a few on there but Grace’s is the lightest one on the table and the one our eyes are drawn to. It’s a way to remind us of her again and look it’s her undercover picture.

Now we have the Swan Lake ballet. @korinthya has an exceptional analysis on this and what it means for the Peaky universe. So I’d go check it out if you’re interested.

We only see the swan dancing and not much of the story but as she’s dancing, Linda rolls up in her car and when she gets out she’s wearing a dress with songbirds on it!

She gets shot the exact same time as the Swan does. It looks like both Linda and the swan are dead (just Like Grace) but at the last second it makes a point to show the swan open her eyes. No need to do that unless it was important to the narrative because there is no other scene connected to that shot. Also, normally the swan dies by drowning not getting shot, so they changed that specifically to mirror Grace.

Once the next episode starts (ep5) we see that Linda has not died (the songbird lives). She was just shot in the arm, the same side as Grace (which is funny because Aberama and Finn were shot in the almost exact same spots this season and lived too). Now this scene could be a retelling of what sort of happened with Grace, not exact of course. Think about it, this whole season has been a loop of events. Working with the Chinese, the white flag truce, the bartender is a spy, there is a singer in the bar, Tommy shooting a horse, him doing his arm gesture in 5x01 like he did 3x01 with the no f’ fighting scene, ect. There’s so much more if you look.

So lets look at the key things from this scene with Linda and see what could have happened after Grace got shot.. Tommy is pulling Arthur away and telling him to go outside till it’s done (Linda getting the bullet out), which if you remember in 4x01 he told Polly to let the nurses and doctors do their job too. So it’s not out of the realm of impossibility that he let the doctors work on Grace and him not be in the room (she was still moving by the end of 3x02 so I don’t doubt she was alive when an ambulance got there). Tommy also says the bullet is still in there, it’s above the bone which could also be what happened to Grace. Don’t forget it looks like she got shot right on her collarbone not under it. This is part is important and can be a big clue as to how someone could pass her off as dead, Tommy sends Arthur out to get some Opium for Linda but Polly has some of her own and so Tommy gives it to Linda while Arthur is still out of the room. She passes out and then Arthur comes in the room and thinks she’s dead. He doesn’t even realize she’s alive until Tommy tells him that she’s ok and he gave her something to knock her out.

That could easily be what happened to Grace. Tommy might have let the doctors do their work, someone slipped her something (maybe section D, they did say they can get to anyone anywhere and they were there at the party) and when Tommy came back in it looked like she was dead. He might not have been able to handle looking at her like that and left. Remember in his hallucination in his office where she is holding the stone, bleeding and accusing him of her death he can’t look at her once. It might have been the same way in the hospital.

We also have another loop in this scene. Arthur is saying that Polly should have let him take the bullet (the original bullet was meant for Arthur but Polly stepped in and saved him) and it’s a repeat of the original bullet that Grace took was meant for Tommy. So the brothers were supposed to take a bullet but nope the wife ended up getting it. It doesn’t stop there during this scene either. We have another loop. Polly tells Arthur, Aberama wants him as his best man at their wedding just like Tommy wanted him as his best man at his wedding in 3x01.

Seriously just watch this season over and see how many loops there are. There is so many it’s unreal.

In the next scene with Linda and Arthur, she leaves him. which is essentially what Grace did with Tommy (voluntary or not it happened).

Then there is Ben Younger which is also some of a loop. He’s a British intelligence officer like Grace was. He’s having threats made to him by Section D because of Tommy (don’t forget they threatened Tommy’s family). He even brings up Section D’s history with Tommy. Tommy tells Ada “he pushed him to report on the Fascists” which is a loop of him telling the Gypsy lady “he pushed some people to far” (about the Italians). Saying he is guilty of both their death’s. He tells Ada that Section D or the intelligence branch had him killed (the loop here is that is who could have took Grace). Then some other things that connect younger to Grace also, Tommy said his death would go down as “an IRA assassination of a British Military Officer” which is what happened to Grace’s father. Then we see neither Grace’s or Ben’s dead bodies or funerals. Plenty of loops here. I do think Ben is dead though. The loop with Grace for him is the connections to section D and maybe the excuse to as how she died. I bet they didn’t say she was shot by an Italian in revenge. The ladies at the institute know of her death and aren’t afraid of Tommy so I bet they had a good cover.

Back to Chang, in his next scene we have talk of the police, Irish, and Opium. Which can be associated with Grace. He also talks about the Uncles being mad. That is the part that caught my attention. It was just a quick one liner that didn’t make much sense but remember the only family member we seen of Grace is her uncle and he was not happy about the marriage.

Arthur then says “F’ your uncles. And your aunts, your cousins, all of them Right?” which reminds me of Tatiana’s line in s3 “Brothers gave sisters, aunts gave uncles, fathers gave daughter and servants”. The deliveries were identical. So another loop.

Now I Think that’s most of the symbolism in S5.

Before I end this post I want to talk about SK saying Grace is dead. He’s probably not lying but it doesn’t have to mean dead like we think. Look at both Alfie in season 5 and Polly in s4, both say they died (when they had an attempt on their life) but are actually still alive. I mean even Aberama calls Polly a ghost in their kissing scene in s4. So I could see the same thing happening to Grace. She is dead like them but also still alive.

I mean isn’t that Tommy’s thing? He died in the war but he’s still here. Aren’t him and Grace the same but also mirrors? So who she was when she shot could very well be dead and a different Grace (maybe even different name if undercover) emerged and SK could still say she’s dead because hey guess what in context of the show she is, just like Polly, Alfie, Tommy, Danny Whizzbang(was), Chang, and Arthur (his fake out in s4).

If she does come back I don’t see it happening until maybe 11 years have passed. 11 seems to be the special number between Tommy and her. When Tommy has his soldiers minute in s1 the time on the watch is 11. Then before they sleep together in s2 Grace tells Tommy “it’s too late” and he says “Grace it’s 11:00″ and her replay is no “no I mean it’s too late”. So it’s not about time at all. I could see her coming back 11 years later and her telling Tommy it’s too late.

Now while I don’t think she is dead (final) after watching season 5 and going back through the seasons if I ever do see real ghostGrace I will hang up that theory. But the more I pay attention the more I see that something is amiss.

Ok, I’m done now. I may do a post about s3 and s4 and the signs there but this post is long enough as it is.

#peaky blinders #grace burgess #tommy x grace

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dagirllizzy · 3 years

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Guys and girls! I have just found out something insane.

I was listening to music when it hit me.

AMATEUR SURGEON AND TRAUMA CENTER ARE IN THE SAME WORLD!

Let me defend myself.

1.) In Trauma Center the antibiotic gel is green. What a rather odd color wouldn't you agree? Well, what color is the stabilizer? Huh? It's also green? Well, what color is Dr. Bleed's Pain Away Gel? Green. There is one thing about both gels that made me dig deeper. They can help increase the patient's pulse. Yes some IRL can but those two little details just rubbed me the wrong way.

1.5.) Warning from now on there will be spoilers for the Amateur Surgeon and Trauma Center games now on.

2.) In Amateur Surgeon 3 there is a terrorist group called Useful Brotherhood. They are using insects and poison to harm others. In Trauma Center there is a bioterrorist group called Delphi that tries to kill people with GUILT. One thing I would like to point out is that according to the Trauma Center wiki GUILT is based on real-life parasites.

3.) In both games there is an old surgeon that stopped doing surgery because a patient died. Oddly similar no? Not to mention they both go by Dr then their last name. Yes that is normal but I feel like it adds more to this theory. These two older men also get infected by a parasite near the game's end. Dr. Bleed gets infected by the poison that killed his patients and Dr. Hoffman gets infected by GUILT.

4.) There is only one character in Amateur Surgeon with a version of the Healing Touch. Mr. Giblets can lick away wounds or increase heart rate depending on the version you play. However, if you play Tag Team Trauma then you get upgrades that are eerily similar to this Healing Touch. They slow down time if you are using the chainsaw or if you are healing wounds rather fast.

5.) Now let us look at a supporting character you perform surgery on. Adel Tulba and Dr. Rashid Scratch both are similar in their own ways. First, they are supporting characters. Second, they are characters you perform surgery on. Third, they became doctors to help others. Fourth they both are honored to be in the presence of the MC. Fifth they are in areas that require a lot of medical help. (A war-stricken part of Africa and at undisclosed places doing quick time surgeries) (fun fact I thought Adel was a girl for a short while.) They both are also of color and jealous of the MC.

6.) Now let us examine Alan Probe and Derek Stiles. One thing I want to bring to your attention right away is something big. Both of them perform surgery on someone in a car crash. Now you may be wondering why I bring that up. Well, Alan Probe becomes an amateur surgeon because he saved Dr. Bleed's life after he jumped in front of his pizza truck in hopes of dying. Derek performs surgery on someone who was in a car crash because no one at Hope's Hospital could save them in time. Dr. Derek also had a patient that was suicidal due to her being infected with GUILT. Later on, she wants to live. This matches Dr. Bleed. Just replace GUILT with his past. There is one more thing about them that sick out to me. Alan Probe's name is most likely a pun based off of anal probe. Derek Stiles' could be a joke based on the Nintendo DS.

7.) Both Ophelia Payne and Angela Thompson are blonde females that have an interest in the medical field because of an absent family member. With Angela, it is her dad, and with Ophelia, it is her granduncle.

8.) There are similar surgeries. Now I'm not talking about something like "oh in both games are operations on the brain" or something like that. I'm talking about eerily similar things. Like doing surgery in the dark with only a small flash/penlight. Performing surgery on a bomb (it's a very long story). Using surgery tools to open a door (once again long story). Doing surgery on a cat (like before it's a long story).

9.) There are alternative universes in the Amateur Surgeon cannon. So Trauma Center is either in the same ultra universe of the Amateur Surgeon games

#gaming #therory #get Matt Pat on this #amateursurgeon #trauma center #tw surgery #tw suicide mention #spoliers

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morkofday · 3 years

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thank you once again @yibobibo for tagging me ♥ even if, like I said, this is pure torture. I have so many sons that I’ve given up on counting them sigh but here goes.

favourite male fictional characters.

I took it that this meant ten so am going with that (tho am not gonna try and put them into order). am also sticking to all the characters I loved this year. and gonna ramble and add gifs so cutting it here.

1. Liu Sang

The Lost Tomb Reboot/Reunion: The Sound of The Providence

I have so much love for this boy it’s not even healthy. it’s a bit funny tho bc once I started tltr, I didn’t really like him and almost forgot about him as the first season ended. he just felt so annoying and bitter in what I saw him, even if I did get that he had a Tragic BackstoryTM (I felt for him but well. tltr really made him hard to like at first). but then they brought him back in the second season with his sad puppy eyes and inability to handle his thoughts on wu xie and being all touch-starved and pitiful and whatnot and baam, I had the adoption papers ready. he’s wonderful and so strong and so smart and amazing. and liu chang as his actor has been wonderful (and he’s so pretty my god, have you seen him??)

2. Shen Wei

Guardian

never did I expect to just. fall into this hole after a year? I remember what a mess I was when I first watched guardian over a year ago, right after finishing the untamed. I was in shambles even as I knew how it would end. and now I’ve done this all again while also reading the novel and. my love for shen wei, especially bc it’s zhu yilong acting as shen wei? astronomical. I want to write poetry about him and his stupid responsibilities that he chooses to carry silently and his devotion to zhao yunlan and his love for his ppl and his didi and. I hope that one day I manage to write weilan bc I have this one idea and you can come pry it from my cold, dead fingers if it doesn’t get out there (am also super happy about the edit I made bc my god does he deserve at least that)

3. Cloud Strife

Final Fantasy VII

ok so stepping into the video games territory now. I was waiting for the remake like crazy and it was everything to me once the quarantine hit during spring. the game is so beautiful and I felt like I looked at this gorgeous boy once and was ready to give him my heart (tbh am quite sure he owned my heart before I even learned to know him). he is tragic in so many ways (I’ve only scratched the surface of all of his pain I know) and I wish I could just. hug him a lot. he is kind and cares very deeply even if he hates to show it and I love it how remake showed him also just being a human disaster (some of his scenes are just. peak comedy). I would kill for his smile (I have already cried for it a dozen)

4. Geralt of Rivia

The Witcher (The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt)

if there’s one grumpy, brickwall of a man I love, it’s geralt. I affectionately call him “papa wolf” while playing witcher 3 and his voice in it does things to me (I am just so fond of him ok, begone you dirty fuckers). I got introduced to him through the books and adored him in them bc he is so prickly and sarcastic and still so full of love even if he will never admit to it. he is the father figure I wish I could have in real life. (and yes, I’ve seen the tv series (or at least a couple of the first episodes) and it looks stunning but. this is my version of geralt and that’s the hill I will die on)

5. Xiaoge

Zhang Qiling, Daomu Biji (The Lost Tomb 2)

(wow finding a gif for him was a pain, apparently I gotta learn how to gif or?) ah, my dear boy who I’ve ended up just calling xiaoge bc he seems to prefer it over his real name/title/whatever zhang qiling really is. I got introduced to him through tltr where we really didn’t get to know that much about him bc he was just... there. huang junjie was absolutely stunning tho and his soft smiles made me super fond, but only in the lost tomb 2 did I really fall in love with xiaoge as a character. I was surprised tbh bc I didn’t expect it to be this drama? I had so many doubts about the cast in tlt2 but they all delivered! and I think cheng yi’s xiaoge is now my favorite bc he somehow captured that softness and the pain of him? (and we do not talk about that buxun storyline tyvm) tho now that ultimate note is on the way, I gotta say that xiao yuliang does a wonderful job as xiaoge too!

6. Wu Xie

Daomu Biji (Ultimate Note)

(sorry we have to go with a pingxie gif now but maybe it’s only fitting) tbh it’s hard to choose my favorite version of wu xie. I think all of the actors for him have done amazing job showing wu xie in different parts of his life (all of them are very distinct but still feel like the same person) but currently zheng shunxi takes the lead. I really wanted to put the reboot version of him here (bc I love that mature, relaxed and somehow very soft version of him and the angst is phenomenal and the thoughts he has about death... yeah) but I already have zhu yilong’s face here once so :’D wu xie is just one of those characters you cannot not like. he is so strong, so kind, so stubborn, so wonderfully stupid sometimes and in need of careful protection. I also adore it how smart he is and I could listen to him spew history facts for 10 hours straight (even if it was in a tomb full of blood zombies) ♥

7. Jiang Cheng

Jiang Wanyin, The Untamed

my darling boy! my beautiful angry grape! I love him beyond words. I love him in all of his raging, misunderstood, stupid, sassy, constipated, abused, tragic, bitter, big hearted glory. I could write novels about him (and I did and am still writing oh boy) and his love for ppl and his inability to show that love and his loneliness and his issues. I could also write another novel for all of his outfits etc. bc damn, what a fashion king. he is just so great. he owns my soul. he deserves happiness and in this essay I will

8. Isana Yashiro

Adolf K. Weismann, K Project

I rewatched k project this spring bc a) it’s one of my favorite animes ever (it just looks stunning with all the colors) and b) I love yashiro to bits. I remember falling in love with him when I first watched k project many years ago bc he was just so kind and bright. this time though, I ended up seeing another side of him and my god did I cry. he is... so sweet. he cares for others so deeply and is ready to sacrifice so much for them and his love for his two clansmen... yeah. I think I finally saw the tragedy of him too, all the pain and loneliness and insecurity he decides to hide behind his smile and obnoxious personality. he reminded me a lot of myself and watching him made my heart bleed in a good way

9. Qi Tiezui

Ba Ye, The Mystic Nine

(wow am going to riot for the lack of all the gifs hhh) yes, we’re continuing with the dmbj universe that sucked me in big time this year. the drama of the mystic nine wasn’t probably that earth shattering for me as it somehow got boring more than once but I did love ba ye to bits. he was just... so nice? I got it that he was somehow this “comedic relief” in the drama with all of his funny scenes and ridiculous mannerisms but I could see the brilliance of him. he is warm and smart and kind of a romantic too and he cares for all of his friends so deeply? it was also sweet how protective of him his two zhangs were (does that run in the family? the tendency to imprint into one smart but disastrous man and keep him safe? maybe) and I really hope I knew more about him bc he seemed to have a lot of knowledge and a lot of impact to ppl’s lives (I yelled when they mentioned him in ultimate note, I miss him ;;)

10. Dorian Pavus

Dragon Age Inquisition

(yes I’ve been replaying DA:I this year, this counts!) another darling boy! my lovely sass master son! I have so much love for him and his story in DA:I. he is my favorite companion (and his romance is my favorite too, probably obvious in the way am currently romancing him for the third time) and he has given me a lot of strength. the way he stands up against his father, how he’s ready to reform his homeland instead of walking away, how he’s so caring for those he sees struggling... it’s very warming and I feel like I’m safe with him. it feels a bit silly to say that but he really is that comfort character I will seek out when I just want to know am doing fine :’) (and I am so excited to see him again in DA4! probably?)

+ 11. Li Cu

Tomb of the Sea

yes I cheated a bit (with my own rules lol) to fit li cu here. I didn’t really expect to like him or tomb of the sea as much as I did once I started it? I’ve seen leo wu elsewhere before this (battle through the heavens, nirvana in fire) and his face always makes me think about a sad puppy so maybe I just grew fond over li cu instantly bc he was... so hurt? the first episode really slaps you in the face with all of it, showing him being abused, wounded, kidnapped, tortured, used and then just very, very scared and broken. he continues being that throughout the whole drama and I feel like tomb of the sea (or sand sea or sha hai idk) is the darkest and angstiest story in the dmbj universe. I know it deserves to be bc this is a dark time for wu xie but... my darling li cu. I wish him only happiness ;; he was so strong and smart and wonderful in this and it was just so amazing to watch him grow and find his own place in the world just bc he did something himself (even when he got dragged into all of this bc of wu xie) also I support the wu xie adopts li cu -agenda

Honorary mentions:

Zhang Rishan, Xie Yuchen and Hei Xiazi from DMBJ universe. The Twin Jades of Gusu and Ouyang Zizhen from The Untamed. The Iron Bull and Fenris from Dragon Age games. Thane Krios, Kaidan Alenko and Jaal from Mass Effect games. The whole lot of Assassin’s Creed protagonists (especially Ezio Auditore and Shay Cormac). Adam Parrish and Ronan Lynch from The Raven Cycle. Neil Josten from All For The Game. Eduon and March from The Smoke Thieves. Qiling from L.O.R.D. Critical World. Luo Fei from Detective L (played by Bai Yu).

well, with this I can really see that I have a thing for those who are tragic :’D I have a thing for grumpy, prickly and antisocial guys or those who hide their pain behind a smile. maybe it’s bc I am somehow both, even if I can’t show my anger or be mean to others and even if I feel like my smile never sticks either. I just find kinship in all of the characters who are on this list. and I feel like I aspire to be as strong and as kind and as loving despite all the pain I’ve been put through.

thank you, this was so much fun! and sorry I made this so long and so complicated ^^’ but well, there are just way too many male characters I love haha

at the end I want to tag @i-am-just-a-kiddo @ashenwren @kholran @tiesanjiao @lan-xichens @aheartfullofjolllly @manhasetardis and @lzswy ♥ feel free to do this in your own way or not at all! and thank you if you managed to read through my rambling :’D

#tag game #wow this was something #i've been waiting for one #bc there is so much love in me #and this year i've discovered so many #new characters to just gush over #about me #random #edit: added a few characters #and tagged some more ppl sorry #also mobile tumblr wouldnt let me edit so lol

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minsimagines · 4 years

Text

green malice | chapter 7

Summary: Y/N is an avenger, and she can’t stand Steve Rogers. A powerful mage, able to conjure green deadly mists to use as she wishes. The public is horrified by her, so her private life is hidden by the name they gave her: The Green Malice.

Follow her as she tries to fulfill her destiny; to find both her place in the world and maybe love on the way there.

Characters: Y/N Y/LN / Green Malice. Steve Rogers. The Avengers. Warnings: Swear words, voilence, mentions of torture, general action. Words: 3.4k A/N: gifs and images are not mine, credit to owners!! There will be action in this post and the next, just so you’re aware, hehe.

Parts: MASTERLIST | last - next

«You know, when they took you from us… I was actually very sad,” Alexander said in Russian, the nasty smile on his face was gone as he looked at you from across the room.

Looking at his face was like a punch in the gut. Your heart clenched.

“Yeah? I wasn’t,” you whispered, glare hardening. You were terrified. You thought everyone from your old facility was dead. You thought he was dead.

“Of course, you were,” he chuckled, taking a step around the living room. “I remember you screaming my name as the uh, Avengers dragged you out.”

“I thought they were going to kill me.”

“And here we are – they might as well have killed you. This… is far below your potential,” he said, turning his body towards you. His buzzcut was the same as it had always been. His posture, his smirk. His intense eyes, that always seemed to soften ever so slightly when looking at you.

“I’m a human being, Alex, I am not a weapon,” you frowned.

“You’re about as human as a snake, Y/N,” he said, taking a step closer to you. “Say… you still like to bleed on people, hm? Watch them squirm?”

“I-” the memories of screaming faces flashed before your eyes as you took a step back. “I never wanted that.”

“No? You seemed to enjoy it.”

“I wasn’t myself.”

“You still aren’t,” he said, his brows raised. “You meet The Asset out here? On your little trip overseas.”

“It’s not a little trip, I’m here to stay!”

“So, you did meet him,” he chuckled. “He’s outdated now, you know. We’ve all had an upgrade since then. He couldn’t beat us even if he tried.”

“He’s not interested in beating you, he wants nothing to do with you. Just like me.”

“Now, that is a lie. I remember the nights Y/N, when you’d crawl out of your cell and come to me,” he said, a small smirk on his lips.

“You don’t-”

“Oh, come on Y/N! We spent 10 years together, I know you,” he chuckled, throwing his hands out to the side. “I know all of you. I know you better than you know yourself.”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” he smiled, stepping closer. “Let me prove it to you.”

Alexander moved to lean on the back of the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. The super soldier studied you for a few seconds.

“I bet – that you would gladly leave with me, if I asked you.”

“I would never,” You hissed, your body shaking in anger and adrenaline. You would have used your powers on him, had they worked. You were useless against Alexander.

“Even if I told you we’d kill your friends if you don’t?”

Your face fell, your eyes flickering across his face – looking for signs of lies. There were none. And you knew he was serious – or, as serious as Alexander ever took anything. He liked playing games with people’s emotions, he always had. You knew he would kill someone if he said so.

“I don’t have friends,” you tried, your voice low. Alexander cooed at you, mocking you, as he stood and stepped closer to you, his tall frame looming over your shorter one.

“That is so cute… you think you can lie to me,” he said, with a fake pout. It wasn’t a complete lie; you didn’t consider anyone your friend – though your chest ached at the thought of Steve being hurt. You hoped he was strong enough to take on these guys, though you didn’t know. You really didn’t know.

“What do you want?” You hissed, glaring up at him.

“I want you to come with me, to unleash your potential,” he explained, his face twisting into a smile. It disgusted you.

“I’m not going to work for you.”

“No, you’re going to work with me, or else I’ll have to kill someone.”

“Killing is always your solution to everything.”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “Yes, it is.

“Why? Cause you don’t have balls enough to face issues for longer than a minute at a time?” You asked, your glare hardening. You were afraid, but you were also pissed. Ever since you’d stepped foot outside of the cells, you knew your life had been a lie. A horrible, painful lie. And it was HYDRA’s fault – all of them. You had made bad decisions, you wouldn’t deny that, but you were trying to make up for them; you wanted to do good now. You wanted to be a real person, and you wanted a life. A real life.

“Always had such a sharp tongue,” he said quietly as he leaned close. Too close. He was angry now, you could tell. Others might not, but you knew.

“I don’t want anything to do with you fucking psychopaths,” you sneered, taking a step back.

“You might have to,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. “If you want your little boy toy to live another day.”

Steve.

“What boy toy?” You lied. You were surprised by how easily you lied this time. Was the anger you were feeling taking over the fear?

“The one who just left you out here all alone,” Alexander said, his voice was unnerving. Cold and calculated.

“If you know me so well, you should know I wouldn’t care,” you said. You couldn’t let him know you cared. You didn’t know if it gave more of a chance, but you would try.

“What? All that kissing and hugging was just a bit of fun?” He asked, his brow twitching.

“Yes.”

“Then I might as well put him out of his misery right away, or else he’ll be heartbroken,” he laughed, turning to walk out of the cabin. Your eyes quickly scanned the area around you, and they landed on your phone on the counter. As fast and quietly as you could, you sent a text to Tony. You didn’t like the guy, but he liked Steve and that would hopefully give Steve a chance.

“So, what then?” you called after Alexander, following him outside. “You think you can just threaten to kill a guy and I’ll come back to you, and everything will be like it was?”

“Yes, after all, I’m not just anyone,” he smirked, turning his head to look at you.

“No, you’re not,” you began, tears pushing at your eyes. He seemed to sense the shift in your mood, and you could see he was trying to hide his worry – he’d always worried about you. He always cared. “You were the only thing keeping me from going insane. Of course, I came to you when they pumped poison into my blood.”

You stepped closer to him.

“I thought you would save me. But it was all a lie. Everything they said. A fucking lie. And you’re just too brainwashed to see it,” you hissed. Alexander gripped your throat in a tight grasp, squeezing just enough so you couldn’t breathe properly. He was furious. You’d hit just the nerve you were going for.

“I cared about you,” you whispered, your voice scratchy by the lack of air. “And I thought you cared about me. But you let them do that to me.”

“I-” he was breathing heavily, seemingly struggling to not choke you to death, so you would stop making him feel things. You knew that was his weakness. Feeling things. It pissed him off to a point of absolutely no return. That’s why he always killed everyone – he couldn’t stand the chance of anyone making him feel something. But you had made him feel things. You, the one person he couldn’t get himself to kill.

“And I hate you. I hate you so much,” you breathed, a hot and angry tear rolling down your cheek. His grip tightened around your throat and for a second you were actually doubting he would stop himself. All the things you said, while you said them to push his buttons, they were all true. You had cared for him, and you had thought he was going to have your back. But you needed to stall any time you could, hoping that Tony got your message and would maybe show up, or at least help Steve before Alexander could send someone after him.

“Did you… enjoy watching them hur- uh, hurt me?” You struggled, your hands gripping at his wrist.

He didn’t answer.

“You’re a pussy.”

His grip tightened so hard; you couldn’t get a single wheeze out of your throat. The air was completely cut off, and you felt your head go lighter. You struggled against his grip, your nails clawing at his arm. Your knees grew weak, but he held you up your throat. The world was turning black around you, your mind not able to form a single clear thought anymore. As you were about to go unconscious in his hands, he leaned closer to you.

“No, you don’t get to sleep yet,” he hissed in your ear as he released his grip.

You gasped for air and fell to your knees, your hands touching the tender skin on your throat. You coughed, your lungs screaming for too much air at once. Alexander crouched in front of you, and reached around you to grab your braid, tugging your head back to look at him. You groaned, your teeth clenching.

“I’m going to kill your little boyfriend,” he whispered, darkly. “And I’m going to take my sweet time doing it. And you, are going to watch the whole thing.”

“But, before I do that, I’m going to break his heart. I’m going to make sure he knows what you really think about him,” he chuckled, though his eyes held no humor. He had snapped over to the darker side of him. And this version of him… death was mercy in his eyes. “I’m going to make sure he knows what you are… what you’ve done. You may be pretty,” he smirked, “But you’re not nice. You don’t do nice, remember?”

You spat in his face. He shoved you to the ground and you grunted at the force. You pushed yourself of the ground and wiped your now muddy hands on your pants. Footsteps to your right caught both of your attention and your head snapped to the side of the house. It was Steve. Your eyes widened as they landed on him, more tears welling in your eyes. Your bottom lip trembled. He couldn’t be there, what was he doing there? He was wearing his suit, where had he gotten the suit from? Where was Tony?

“Y/N!” He yelled, his eyes landing on the weapon Alexander had around his torso. Steve’s eyes were wide with rage as he looked at the man.

“Steve, get out of here!” You yelled, switching over to English again. You ran towards him, but Alexander grabbed you by the neck, yanking you backwards. You cried in pain, tears pushing their way out of your eyes His arm wound around your torso, holding your arms tight against your body. You could barely move.

“Don’t listen to him Steve, don’t-”

You were cut off by Alexanders free hand over your mouth.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret, captain,” Alexander hissed as Steve ran towards you, his. “Be nice, and I might not hurt you again,” he whispered in your ear, in Russian.

“Who are you?” Steve yelled; his frown was deep. He was scared. His eyes flickered from yours to Alexander.

“An old friend,” Alexander chuckled.

“Let her go,” Steve said. “No one needs to get hurt.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears streaming down your cheeks. He was so good. So good. Always doing all he could to make sure no one would get hurt. It hurt your heart. And you wanted him to save you, you wanted him. You needed him to save you, you needed him alive. You wanted him to run away and let you die so he could live. He was good.

“You care about her, no?” Alexander asked, his voice dark.

“Just, let her go,” Steve said, his voice calm as he took a slow step forward, holding his hands out.

“Something tells me you don’t know that much about her,” Alexander laughed. “You wouldn’t care about her if you did.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Steve said, looking at you, his eyes sincere. Your tears wouldn’t stop, your sight was blurry.

“One of you has to die,” Alexander said, and you screeched against his hand. “The other one,” he grunted, gripping onto your mouth harder, “Gets to come work with me.” He laughed darkly. “We wouldn’t mind Captain America on our team.”

A sob shook through your body.

“You know, it’s amazing to see her like this,” Alexander whispered, using his hand on your face to push your head back against his shoulder. You closed your eyes, another sob leaving your throat, and struggled against his grip. His breath tickled over your exposed neck. “She’s never cried for anyone before.”

You could hear movement around you, and for a second you thought it might be Tony, but there were too many pairs of footsteps. As Alexander spoke to them in Russian, you realized they were HYDRA. You couldn’t understand what he was telling them, he spoke in codes, and no codes you were familiar with.

“We,” Alexander said, his attention turning back to you, “Are going to play a little game of truth or dare.”

You pushed your body against his, trying to knock him off balance, but he just squeezed you harder. You grunted in pain, and quietly sobbed into his hand.

“I’m going to say a few things about Y/N, and you, Captain, are going to guess if they are true,” Alexander said, his voice laced with malice. You looked at Steve with wide eyes and violently shook your head, but Alexander held it in place with his tight grip. You let out a muffled cry.

“If you get them right, she lives!” Alexander chuckled darkly. “If you get them wrong, she dies.”

You knew what he was doing. He was trying to put you against each other, he knew what a good guy Steve was, and he was going to ruin your relationship with him. You looked at Steve with desperation.

“Got it?” Alexander asked Steve. You violently shook your head again, and Alexanders grip slipped slightly, giving you room to bite his hand. He hissed and pulled his hand away.

“Steve, go! Don’t listen to him!”

Alexander grabbed a hold of you again and pushed you to your knees. You saw Steve move towards you, but he froze in his steps. You were about to move as well, when you felt Alexanders gun against the back of your head.

“Let’s start off with a bang,” Alexander said, breathing heavily. He was angry. “Y/N used her acid blood to torture civilians, truth or false?”

Steve looked at you both. He was frustrated and scared. You could see this was driving him wild even if he was calm on the outside, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have any weapons, and there were HYDRA guards everywhere – and you were held at gunpoint. He could only stand there and play along.

You sobbed as you hung your head, both in shame and fear. You hated this; it was all your fault. Had you just run away, then Steve wouldn’t have been there. Had you told him he should leave the first day, Steve wouldn’t be there now. He wouldn’t have had to do this, he wouldn’t have had to look at this, listen to it.

“Do I need to set a time limit?” Alexander asked, pushing the barrel of the gun harder into the back of your head.

“True,” Steve whispered. Your eyes shut, as a wave of nausea ran through your body.

“Very good,” Alexander laughed. “Now, second one,” he said, and you could hear the smile on his face. You hated it. You hated him. You hated him with all your might.

“She loved it,” Alexander said, his voice low. “Truth or dare?”

Your body contracted in a sob. You felt so bad. You felt so evil. You had never felt so horrible in your life.

“Listen pal,” Steve said. You opened your eyes and looked up at him. What was he doing?

“I know what you’re doing, and I could play this game all day long – she has a file, I know what she’s done,” he said, his voice hard and deep. Your bottom lips shook as you felt another wave of shame rush over you. “But we’re not going to play your games anymore, you are going to get your fucking hands off of her, and I’ll consider letting you live.”

You gaped at him. Who was this person? This was not your sweet, good by all means, Captain America. The rage in his eyes, the possessive streak in his voice. You felt safe. You felt secure.

“Now,” Steve said, his hand to his ear, and a squeal left your throat as the massive bushes to your left exploded. Your body flinched to the right, falling to the ground. You crawled away from Alexander, but he grabbed at your feet. There were screams, fire and ringing in your ears as you turned to look at him and kick him in the face. You kicked with all your might, and even if he was a super soldier, it would hurt.

You were lifted from the ground, and pulled up, far above the ground. You screamed and struggled against the grip around your body, your feet kicking hard against the air.

“It’s me,” Sam yelled, and you shuddered in relief, another sob leaving your body, as you held onto his arms. They had come. They were saving you.

Steve.

“Where’s Steve!?” You screeched as Sam flew down low, landing in the woods. You pushed his arms off you and ran towards the huge flames in the distance.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sam said, grabbing a hold of your arm before you could run of. “We’re taking care of this.”

“Sam, if you don’t get your hands off of me, I will rip your arm off. I’m not letting you fight my battles for me,” I seethed, stepping up to his face. He was quiet for a few seconds.

“Why didn’t you use your venom on them?” He asked and you clenched your jaw in anger. You were wasting time.

“Because he’s a super soldier, like Steve, it can’t hurt them like it can hurt others,” you said quickly, moving to run off again, but his hand was still on you.

“Y/N, if you can’t use your powers, then you’re a civilian; I ain’t sending in a civilian.”

“Sam, I’m going to give you one chance to prove to me that you really thought of me as a teammate,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “Teammates don’t leave each other.”

Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Please. Let me show what I can do. I might not be able to take Alexander, but I can take the others, they’re not super soldiers.”

“Y/N-”

“I’ll survive. I promise. I always do.”

“He’s gonna have my head for it.”

“I’m not gonna let him,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Fine,” he shook his head, though he couldn’t hide the smile on his face. You couldn’t explain the change in feelings towards him, you had always appreciated his company – well, most of the time, but your general hate for people didn’t seem to go for him anymore.

You ran towards the house again, your heart hammering in your chest. You had to see him, you had to make sure he was okay. You slowed when you came to the edge of the woods, keeping hidden between the trees, you both tried to make out where everyone was. The whole area of bushes next to the house was lit on fire, and there was shooting, and you could hear Iron Man, and there was just complete chaos. The whole grounds of your cabin had turned to a war zone.

You could see Steve, he had gotten his shield, and he was fighting Alexander with James. You covered your mouth as you saw he could hold both of them back.

taglist: @itsallyscorner @pieofawkwardness @captain-winny @sarahschance @midnighttt-train @iamthescarlettwitch @adolescentpleasure @mikariell95

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years

Text

Dark Stars {Part 7}

*Loki x OFC*

Part: 7/10

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: none, for once

Summary: ~Loki could just let her die here and now. His problems would be solved and he could go back to his usual ways. But then he would forever be left with an unsolved mystery and he hated the prospect of that even more than the fear of what would happen if she lived.~

A story of what happens when Loki stumbles upon someone who is like him in every way. Only better. Oh, and they just happen save Asgard too.

A.N.: To celebrate over 1000 people following me (how insane is that?!), I decided to share the newly edited version of the very first Loki fanfiction I ever wrote! Enjoy the mischief 💚

All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

______________________________

It was still dark when she found herself standing on one of the palace's balconies. Quietly, she walked through the open window into the dark room, and straight towards the sleeping figure on the bed. Before she could say a single word however, a hand with a knife shot up from the bed, aiming for her throat. Yet, it went right through her body, the illusion only weavering slightly under the brutal attack. She inwardly thanked herself for remembering this trick from Loki's memories.

The man jumped out of the bed, looking at the illusion in confusion.

"Loki?!" He asked quietly.

"Hello Thor." Ivy said gently, letting the illusion slip and now stepping into the open room herself.

"Who are you? What do you want?" He asked immediately, reaching for his hammer.

"Please, I mean no harm to you. I came here seeking help." She answered calmly, trying to put up her best facade. "My name is Ivy. I'm Loki's… friend."

"My brother has no friends." Thor answered, staring at Ivy from a few feet away, taking in every detail about her in the deepest suspicion. "Why do you wear his shirt?"

"Look, we really don't have time for this right now. Loki is dying and I need your help"

"What? Where is he?" He frowned, concerned but still watchful. "And why should I believe you in the first place?"

"He's safe. Far away from here..." She answered, searching for Thor's eyes in the dark. "And you will have to trust me for a second and come here."

Ivy held out her hand to him, palm facing upwards. She was prepared for this. She had known she needed proof.

"What are you doing?" Thor asked a little warily as Ivy stepped towards him. He rose his weapon, ready to defend himself, but before he could hit her, Ivy had placed her hand on his chest.

In an instant, Thor saw images of his own childhood. Memories of him and Loki, causing mayhem around the palace. Images of their mother, their father and their friends. Little moments of his past he had long forgotten about. He smiled at the sighed, but before he could really grasp any of the memories, they were gone again.

"How did you do that?" He asked quietly, letting his arms drop to his side. Somehow he was very certain of the fact now that she wasn't a threat to him, and most likely telling the truth even.

"Loki showed me. And now I show you, because you know your brother well and you know that he would not share these memories with me if he didn't trust me."

Thor nodded. She had a point there; Loki didn't open up to anyone. Ever. The girl in front of him must truly be special to his brother if he allowed her into his head. But that also meant that she spoke the utmost truth, that Loki was dying. For real this time.

"How can I help?" He finally asked, and Ivy went on to explain her plan.

"We're looking for a book Loki has read." She started, and Thor let out a groan, rolling his eyes.

"He has probably read every single book in the whole palace. Twice."

"We're looking for a very specific book, from Midgard." Ivy ignored his pessimism. "It should be in his room, but it would take me ages to find."

"Yeah, he has hundreds of books in there."

"And that's why I need your help. We need to find that damn book as fast as possible, or there won't be any helping him anymore."

"You can help him with a book from Midgard…? Why didn't you just ask him what's in the book?" Thor questioned, earning himself an eye-roll from Ivy. Geez, she got now why Loki was constantly annoyed with Thor. He wasn't really the smartest hen in the pen.

"We must go now." She simply stated, grabbing Thor's wrist and bringing them into Loki's room.

"Wow, how did you do that!?" He asked in bewilderment, looking around himself frantically before he realized where he was.

"It's called magic, Thor… honestly, didn't you pay any attention to your brother?" She huffed, starting to dig through the books immediately.

"Uuhhh, I have an idea! Wait here!" Thor said excitedly and hurried out of the room before Ivy could complain. If he was getting the guards, Ivy would totally stab him. Wow. That was so very Loki… She smiled sadly to herself.

Loki owned all kinds of books, but nothing about plants would surface even from the dustiest of corners. A few minutes later, Ivy heard voices outside Loki's bedroom.

"Is she the girl who killed the guards in the forest?" A man asked.

"And who almost killed another dozen in the city?" Another added.

"And she stole my clothes." The woman's voice Ivy recognized.

"You do realize I can hear you, right?" Ivy said loudly, though not taking her eyes off the books. "You can just as well talk about me once you're in here, searching."

The door opened and Thor entered, behind him following three men and the lady Loki had called Sif.

"Ivy, these are my friends." Thor introduced awkwardly. "Guys, this is Ivy. She's with Loki!"

Ivy turned around for a second, flashing a badly feigned smile. "Great. Now search, will you?"

Thor rolled his eyes but started picking up books to identify their content, motioning for his friends to do the same.

"Geez, she is just as ill-humored as Loki himself." One of the men said under his breath, and Ivy could also feel the other three staring holes into her back. Only Thor seemed rather at ease now, with his friends around.

"You can talk to me, you know.." Ivy finally said, having enough of the silent judgement thrown at her.

"Why did you kill the guards in the forest?" One man asked immediately, not even bothering to pretend he wasn't curious. He was huge, all muscles and good nutrition, and had red hair and a thick beard.

"Because I felt like it. " She answered sarcastically and rolled her eyes to herself, but then decided for honesty. "They were chasing me. I had done no harm, and I was merely walking through the woods when they attacked me. Probably out of boredom, or the desire for my body… who knows. One stabbed me in the shoulder without reason and I felt the need to defend myself."

Silence followed for a while. Then the same man spoke up again. "But why would they just attack you if you hadn't done anything?"

"I can hardly ask them now, can I? They are your guards, not mine." She answered coldly.

"She really is so much like Loki, it's disgusting…" Sif grumbled.

"Why thank you!" Ivy responded in an exaggeratedly high pitched voice, laced with feigned happiness.

"That was no compliment." Sighed Sif, throwing a book into the nearest corner of the room.

"Why do you help me then, if you despise Loki so much?" Ivy asked out of honest interest for once, while she quickly flipped through a huge book with a blank cover.

"We are helping Thor, not Loki. Because he is our prince, and our friend." Another man with blonde hair answered. The other three made noises of agreement.

"And I help you because you care about my brother as much as I do." Thor finally said. "And to be honest with you, I never quite understood why Loki was arrested with you in the first place. I mean, you killed our people… But he didn't help you with that, did he?"

Ivy sighed, growing more nervous by the second as still no one had found the book she was looking for. "No, he had nothing to do with that. He only healed me when I was dying from poison."

"There have been quite many incidents of poisoning in the city, and also around the palace, actually…" The man with the fuzzy beard answered. "I just overheard a few guards talk about it today. They think it's mere coincidence, and they don't know what kind of poison is used anyway, as everyone who has died of it wasn't worth an autopsy."

"What? Why has no one told me about this?!" Thor's voice thundered through the room and Ivy actually flinched at the sudden loudness.

"They think they can get it under control before anyone important gets hurt." Beard guy said quietly, obviously feeling ashamed for not sharing this piece of information any sooner.

"Is that what happened to Loki?" Thor asked, concern filling his voice now. Ivy didn't answer, but simply nodded. Not that those idiots would consider him an important person anyway… But to Ivy, Loki was important. Maybe to Thor as well. There was no time discussing this right now.

"Hey, I found something! It has pictures of plants in it, but I can't read what the cover says…" Blonde guy finally said, and Ivy brought herself across the room to stand directly in front of him in an instant, harshly grabbing the book from his hands, and thus making him take a step backwards.

"Wow, she's hot and knows how to handle herself…" Blonde guy remarked, rising his eyebrows, but Ivy was too busy finding the right page to care about him.

"At least she's not stabbing anyone." Beard guy sighed.

"Not yet anyway..." Blonde guy smirked. "Maybe I'll stab her with something entirely different tonight…"

Without as much as looking up from the book, Ivy threw a heavy punch at his face, causing his nose to bleed like mad. Sif only snorted at him from a few feet away, as did Thor.

"Here, I found the plant!" Ivy stated. "Atropa Belladonna…"

"What? Is that what poisoned Loki, seriously?" Blonde guy asked through his hand, with which he was still holding his bleeding nose.

"Here it says that one has to get something called 'carbo medicinalis' and dissolve it in water, then get the poisoned person to drink it." She summarized. "Brilliant! Now I only need to find some."

"Carbo what?" Thor asked with a deep frown, looking to Ivy for an explanation.

"That's activated charcoal. It binds the toxins and prevents them from killing a person." Ivy responded quickly and in easy words for them to understand, turning to Thor as well. "Do you have something like that here?"

"We can go to the healers, they will know." He said with a shrug, and then hurried out of the room with Ivy following closely behind, shoving the book into her bag quickly.

"Should we come along?" Beard guy asked after a while of silence.

"Yes!" Blonde guy said. "I need to get my nose checked!"

Sif only rolled her eyes at him and they went to follow the other two.

"We need carbo… medi… midi…" Thor tried once he and Ivy came storming into the healer's rooms.

"Carbo medicinalis." Ivy quickly said, turning to the surprised woman in front of them. "Charcoal."

"Well, what…" She tried, but Ivy cut her off by stepping right in front her, giving her a death glare. "There's no time for interrogations, do you have it or not?"

The poor healer looked to Thor for help, but he didn't make any move to stop this mad raven woman from threatening her with her glares.

"We… There must be some with the substances from other realms." She said and quickly scurried towards a cupboard in the far back of the room.

Meanwhile Ivy grabbed a cup and shoved it into her bag, before she followed the healer.

"How much do you need?" The healer asked quietly.

"Everything you have." Ivy answered quickly and took the palm-sized bundle from the healer, then turning to Thor once more, as he stood helplessly in the middle of the room.

"Tell your father about the incidents in the city. And tell him I'm going to deal with it, as his guards are obviously unable to do so." Without waiting for an answer, Ivy disappeared just in the same moment when Sif and the others entered the room.

"You just let her go?!" Sif asked incredulously.

"She will save Loki. Of course I let her go!" Thor returned with a deep frown.

"If she hurts people again, you will know whose fault it is."

_______________

Once back at the opening, Ivy quickly filled the cup with water and dissolved the black powder in it. Now she only needed to get him to drink it… Only…

Hurriedly, she knelt down next to him, checking once more if his heart was still beating before she sat him up against her own frame and rather roughly forced the black liquid down his throat. Then, she waited. After a while his body got rather heavy, resting against her own with his full weight, and she leaned back against the stone wall behind her for support while moving Loki's head to lay in her lap. Hopefully this was going to work…

After a little while of inner debate, she carefully pushed Loki's hair out of his face, gently brushing through it with her fingers. He most certainly would never allow this if he was awake, but after all the trouble, she needed a little comfort and this was just able to do it for her. A few moments later, her eyes fluttered shut and she fell into a restless, but much needed sleep.

"Ivy." She heard her name, but her mind wasn't quite there yet.

"Ivy." It echoed through her head once more, louder this time, and she started to wake up. "IVY!"

She startled awake, looking into concerned green eyes shortly above her. She needed a second, but then, without thinking, she threw herself at Loki, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. The impact caused him to lose his balance, and he fell onto his back with a loud thud. Luckily, he had only been kneeling above her.

Despite the short fall, Ivy refused to let go and buried her face in his neck.

"Well, ouch…" He commented quietly, but unable to hide a slight touch of amusement from his voice as finally he also wrapped his arms around her waist, and held her tightly against him.

For the longest while, neither dared to say another word, afraid to break the precious moment between them. The sun was already rising, bringing light to the little opening.

"You did it." Loki finally said, his head leaned against hers. He could feel her hot breath brushing against his neck, and her heartbeat echoing in his chest. "You used you magic to save someone."

He felt her stiffen in his arms, before she lifted her head up just enough to look at him.

"Yeah, no." She said quietly, looking almost sad, before she lifted herself off him, sitting back against the stone wall. Loki immediately missed her warmth and the comfort of her body against his, but he mimicked her actions, sitting down next to her.

"I didn't use magic." She finally said, and it only came out as a whisper. "I couldn't do it." Her face fell in disappointment with herself.

"But you saved me nonetheless, which makes it even more impressive." He smiled at her as reassuringly as he could... She really shouldn't feel bad for doing something good and selfless.

"I had help." She stated calmly, but avoided his eyes. "From your brother."

"You asked THOR for help, out of all people?" Loki looked at her incredulously. "How could he have been of any help?"

Ivy let out a snort. "To be honest, I now totally understand your desire to stab the man. And all the eye-rolling… He is very special." She laughed to herself. "But he loves you dearly, he really does."

"I know." Loki sighed. "But that's his own fault!" He chuckled and watched Ivy from the corner of his eye. She seemed exhausted… But he was curious now.

"So, how was he of any help to you? And how did you get him to help in the first place? He's not really easy to argue with…" He asked curiously, his face now fully turned to her.

"Well, he tried to cut my throat while still sleeping, I assume…" Ivy laughed lightly, but continued as she saw Loki's jaw clench. "He didn't hurt me! I did that thing you do with him, you know, the illusion."

That brought a smile to Loki's face. "Oh really? How did you know you needed to do that?"

"Well, it's not quite that different to the illusions I usually do. It wasn't very difficult, but a very clever idea." She sighed and brought her knees up to her chest, enjoying the warmth of Loki's side resting against her own. "Well, then I showed him some of the memories you shared with me. And before you kill me, I only showed him memories the two of you shared in your childhood. No feelings, nothing that came after. It served to assure him that you trust me, since you showed your memories to me."

"I trust you more than anyone." He stated as a matter of fact, eyeing her curiously.

"Yeah, and that got him to help me. And the fact that he didn't want you to die." She winked at him and smiled. "He also got a few of his friends to help us. They were not quite happy with the fact that they helped to prevent your death, but they probably helped for Thor's sake."

Loki rolled his eyes. Of course they wouldn't help Ivy for her own sake. "Were they rude to you?"

"Yeah, actually. But I could very well ignore that after I punched the blond man in the face." She smiled to herself at the memory, looking down at her bruised knuckles. There hadn't been any time to heal it yet.

"May I?" Loki asked and gently took her wounded hand in his. In less than a minute, it was perfectly healed and the pain was gone.

"I could've done that myself, you know…" Ivy smiled at him.

"I know." He replied, smiling back just the same. Her hand remained in his though.

"So, why did you punch Fandral in the face?" He asked with amusement, even though he was quite sure to know the answer to that already.

"He said he wanted to stab me." Ivy said equally amused, making sure to remember the name Loki had just given blonde guy.

Loki frowned, having expected a different answer. "Literally?"

"Nah… He probably just wanted to have his own ways with me, in his bed." She laughed. It was something she had gotten quite used to, men trying to get her into their beds… It still disgusted her, but it didn't really surprise nor frighten her anymore. The guards in the city had been an exception, as they had insulted Loki. She couldn't possibly have let that slip.

Loki's face on the other hand fell at her words. "He shouldn't have done that." His voice was low and almost had a dangerous touch to it now. "No one shall speak about you like that. You're mine and mine alone."

"You're being quite possessive over someone you hated just a few days back." Ivy chuckled, but on the inside she felt as though lightning had struck her to the very core. Her heart beat too fast against her chest, her skin tingled as if electrified, and a hot and yet cold shiver ran down her back.

"I've never hated you, Ivy…" He said in a quiet voice that was equally husky as it was deep. "I only hated myself for liking you."

His voice did inexplicable things to her, and Ivy had to fight for her eyes to stay open and locked with his. "You like me?"

"More than I should."

"How much more?"

He only shook his head to himself and smiled for a moment, looking down to the ground. "A lot more."

"Oh." She breathed, unsure of whether she had made him uncomfortable by her inquiry or simply amused him.

But then he looked up into her eyes once more, and Ivy could see everything he could not say out loud. She didn't know whether it was because he was afraid of it, or because he just didn't know how, but if he wasn't going to do something about it, then she would have to do it herself. So she looked back into his eyes with everything she felt but couldn't properly express, with every emotion, every ounce of doubt and every spark of hope. They stayed like that for a while, drinking in the other's emotions until everything was said, without as much as a word.

"How did you do that?" He finally asked, his brows furrowing.

"How did I do what?" Ivy asked, seemingly just as confused just as him.

"I could hear your thoughts in my mind." He leaned his head to the side and a slow smile played on his lips. "I'm very flattered by the way."

Now, this was one of the rare occasions when Ivy felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and she indeed blushed furiously.

"Don't be embarrassed, my sweet." He whispered, as he gently pushed her hair from her shoulder and leaned so close that his lips were brushing against Ivy's neck. "I feel just the same about you." Then he pressed a small kiss to the sensitive spot where Ivy's neck connected with her shoulder, making her shudder pleasantly.

Ivy only blushed even more as she felt the goosebumps run all over her skin… She hadn't known that a simple and oh so gentle kiss could set her whole body on fire and make her long for more. So much more…

"Ivy?" Loki's voice snapped her out of her daydream and back into reality. He was sitting so close to her, her shoulder touched his arm and their thighs were only an inch apart, which she immediately closed before she could stop herself. But she wanted to feel more of his body against hers.

"How did you do that?" He asked once more, eyes locking with hers. "How did you speak to me in my mind?"

"I didn't know I was doing that…" She answered honestly, still a little dazed from the rather titillating thoughts she had let herself indulge in for the shortest moment.

Loki frowned, placing his hand on her knee and drawing circles with his thumb. He enjoyed touching her, not only because it made her all flustered, but also because he could be sure that she was still there with him, alive and well. Now that he had let himself get this attached to someone, he was not going to lose her. He would make sure of that.

In the shortest time, she had become his anchor, the focus point his universe orbited around, the one thing he couldn't live without. The suddenness of his feelings for her scared him, but he also couldn't bring himself to really care, nor to fight it anymore. He wasn't one to fall easily, but if he did fall, he did with everything he had.

"Maybe I could try again? You know, to talk to you without words?" Now it was Ivy's turn to pull him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, do that…" He answered, still caressing her knee. "I'm curious."

Ivy closed her eyes and tried to think of something to say. She let her mind wander to what she had done before, how she had gotten into his mind.

'I enjoy that.' Her voice echoed through his mind.

"You enjoy what?" He asked with a smirk, making Ivy look at him.

"It worked?!" She smiled brightly, her eyes shining with excitement. "I meant I... enjoyed trying this mind thing."

"Are you sure?" He murmured, letting his hand wander from her knee to her inner thigh, drawing lazy lines so softly it annoyed her.

A small sigh escaped her lips and her head fell back against the stone wall behind her. Loki relished the sight, a small smirk playing on his lips as he couldn't stop teasing her.

"Stop that…" She breathed, 'Don't stop.' Her mind responded and Loki couldn't help himself but laugh out loud.

Ivy sat up straight immediately, and frowned at him in the cutest embarrassment. "Stop laughing!"

"But it's adorable to see you try to resist your own mind." He grinned at her.

"It would surprise me if you did any better!" She replied, but decided to validate it at a different time. Instead she scooted a few feet away from him, earning a small noise of disapproval which made her smirk even more.

She retrieved the book of plants from her bag and threw it over to Loki who caught it with one hand and flipped it open with a smile. "That's how you saved me?"

"Yup…" Ivy answered, making a popping noise on the 'p' before she sat down cross-legged, facing Loki this time. That way they could have a serious conversation without getting distracted yet again.

"We searched for that damn book forever. Took six people to find it in time." Ivy explained.

"I hate that I'll have to thank them for helping you…" Loki sighed.

"I wouldn't thank them if I were you. They kept complaining about me, about something that's yours…" Ivy grinned, earning an eye-roll from Loki.

"What did they say?" He asked curiously though.

"Oh, just how much I reminded them of you, and how utterly and terribly that disgusted them." Ivy laughed, remembering their annoyed faces.

"I would've assumed it was a compliment."

"So did I!" They both laughed, shaking their heads at the bunch of people who once were Loki's friends.

Then, Ivy remembered what beard guy had said. "Loki, the man with the huge beard…"

"Volstagg." Loki commented in between.

"Well, Volstagg said that there have been quite a few incidents of poisoning in the city. They can't figure out who does it, nor how to help the victims, since they seem to be unable to identify the poison in the first place."

Loki averted his eyes, but listened carefully to every word Ivy was saying.

"They think it's coincidence, but I came to believe otherwise. I mean, we both have been unlucky enough to be poisoned, and both times they used Midgardian plants!" Ivy said with an odd excitement in her voice, clearly engrossed in her thoughts. "How could there possibly be such a coincidence? It's a different plant every time and the poison is spread randomly around the city. I mean, at first I thought it was only an attack on the royal family. A one-time thing I happened to stumble into. But then, with all the other incidents… I mean I'm not the kind of person who is selfless enough to save the people of Asgard from poisoning just because it's the right thing to do."

That statement made Loki snort, but Ivy continued anyway.

"I want to stop the person who does this. I have to. Not because it's the right thing to do, but because they hurt you." She said and nudged his leg with hers.

"I…" Loki started with a small smile, touched by her words. "You can't possibly punish everyone who ever hurt me."

"But I can try nonetheless. And I most definitely will." She smiled brightly at him, nudging his leg yet again.

"They also poisoned you, does that mean I also have to end them?" He asked with a small laugh, amused by her eagerness to do 'the right thing'.

"Of course! I'm surprised you haven't come up with that before." Ivy grinned and once more nudged his leg.

"If you do that just one more time, I will have to stop you… and you won't enjoy that." He growled, but something in his voice told her that she would indeed enjoy it very much. But now wasn't the time to find out. Unfortunately.

"I have thought of ending the person who did that to you every second since I first got word that you were hurt in my prison cell." He said calmly, yet without the previous flirtatious undertone.

"Your cell?" Ivy questioned.

"Yes, my cell. It's where they lock me up every time they feel like it. The barrier is slightly different than the other cells. The magic, you know…" He trailed off. "It's not of much importance. But yes indeed, I have had the thought quite a lot. Only that until now, there was no indication as for where to look."

"Great. Let's go." Ivy said and nudged him in the leg once more, just to annoy him. Then she got up and turned her back to him, slowly walking towards the middle of the opening. She could hear him getting up as well, his quiet footsteps following closely behind her. Once she stopped in the middle of the opening, he was right behind her the next second.

"I told you not to do that." He whispered in her ear, leaning close to her from behind.

"And I never said I wouldn't." Ivy smirked, preparing herself for whatever was about to happen. But for what happened next, she was not prepared at all.

_____________________________

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justjessame · 3 years

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Babysitting Butcher Chapter 33

I talked my options over with the medical professionals that seemed to come and go like waves. The bulking machine that was being used to clean my blood of the impurity of whatever variation was added to me without my permission wasn’t something I planned on installing in my house, or any home I ended up in. Since my specialty wasn’t in physical medicine, I asked, hoping against hope that there was a portable option. One that would allow me to have a life, maybe not the one I’d gotten used to, but one that I could settle into and live a life that was my own, at least until the inevitable.

Billy had gone, once he realized that I was certain of the outcome and of my answer to it. It hurt worse to see the pain on his face, than it did to know that I was right about what I told him. To see how hard he took the idea that I knew how he felt about supes, regardless of their origin, wasn’t something I took pleasure in. I wished- No, I couldn’t do that, dwell on what could have been.

Instead, I spoke to the doctors and lab rats. How could I get back to the real world, but keep the possible fallout of my new additions at bay? They tossed out ideas, having tried a few times to see how long I could go without my blood being cleansed on a constant loop. The longest, and it was touch and go, was twenty-four hours. Then the fever hit hard and fast, the vertigo came rushing over me, and the spots in my vision made me almost wish for blindness. I even began bleeding again, but not from the same place that erupted in my former office. Knowing this particular weakness, and the possibility that it wouldn’t end well for me or anyone near me, they discussed it for days and then came back with an option, but one I would have to test in the clinic first.

There were two forms of more portable, so to speak, dialysis. Both meant that I would have to learn to be hands on, literally, in my own treatment and both used my own body as part of it. They warned that given how my body reacted to attempts to neutralize the foreign agent that had been introduced either could be a long shot. After all, one of them reminded me, my own body seemed focused on destroying itself.

Both utilized a catheter, much like one that I already had, but while one necessitated me using gravity to push a fluid that would do basically the same work as the huge machine that I was rarely allowed a break from, the other was a machine version, smaller but same principal. Both were contingent on my participation and both required me being on a strict schedule, stricter than a usual patient of either form.

I agreed to try both, but there was another issue. Even with the pull of being home, they wanted me to understand that I’d still need to come into one of the Vought labs for treatment. The goal remained to neutralize if not remove the dangerous mixture from me, and that wouldn’t change when I left. Telling them I understood had two doctors exchanging a look which I asked about.

“Do you know how far this clinic is from your home?” I shook my head, feeling a wave of nerves. When they told me I nearly fell over to cry, too far of a commute, especially if I had to keep the blood cleanse going on such a strict schedule. “It’s the closest, but there is another option.” They told me about a community, NOT the same as where Becca had raised Ryan, but an actual regular community that happened to be close. I nodded, it was another thing to consider. “Let’s do this a step at a time. We’ll schedule a test for each of the portable dialysis options, then we’ll discuss the next step if it’s something viable.” Another nod from me and they offered one more thing to think about, “there are medical detection dogs, with the signs that occur before you become less stable, that might me something we’ll have to discuss further as well.”

With food for thought, I sat down with a book instead of my laptop. While I tried to get comfortable and push the idea that I was planning on leaving the care of round the clock health professionals and worse turn my back on everything I’d worked so hard for, it wasn’t nearly as simple as when Sherlock Holmes worked through a mystery.

What would anyone else do if they were sure that they were looking at limited time, not only because of a condition that didn’t seem to be fixable, but because they weren’t completely sure that they could trust the person they loved to NOT help the end along?

Billy came back the next day, and I felt my heart skip a beat when he ignored the doctors and rushed to me to kiss me completely senseless. “You listen to me, Veronica Taylor,” his breath was hot against my damp lips. “I fucking love you and I could give a shit what’s swimming around in your fucking bloodstream. I could give a fuck if you develop laser eyes and can lift my fucking car with your pinkie.” I swallowed at how fierce he sounded. “I told you before, Ronnie, I CAN’T lose you and I fucking won’t.” And then his lips met mine again, and instead of the hot hunger he started with, this time it was such a slow sweet kiss that I felt like my heart stopped, and when the beeping of the machine took a pause I realized it had, but then the beep returned, strong and steady, just like Billy fucking Butcher.

He held me, fully clothed of course, in my hospital bed and we talked about the options I’d discussed with the doctors. He listened, his fingers idly stroking my arms while his arms were cradling me to his chest.

“I want to be here when you try it,” I started to remind him of work, but he shushed me. “If one works, Ronnie, I want to know how to do it too, that way I can pick up the slack and it won’t all be on you.” I smiled, feeling a peace that hadn’t come for too long. “And a dog?” I nodded and could tell he was excited, since he had his own dog out there somewhere. “What kind?”

We got my laptop out, and unlike the hopelessness I’d given in to the day before, we searched the internet for more information on dogs who were medically trained to detect chronic illness symptoms, nipping the likelihood of further trauma or worse case scenario in the bud with their ability to alert patient or caretaker to a problem before it got out of hand.

“They’re a bit bigger than Terror,” his dog, I remembered him telling me about him. His lips pressed against my temple as he reached down and used the touchpad to scroll down. “If they can help me keep you healthy, Ronnie, I think we should put in a request.” I smiled, his fingers hitting the contact button on the site we’d found for a group closeby. “Give ‘em a bit of time to make sure they can train it up for your particular needs.”

I put in the information requested and hit send, while reminding Billy that it was all contingent on the treatment from home option working. And he smiled and turned me carefully so our faces were close enough for our noses to touch.

“You are one of the strongest women I’ve EVER met, Veronica,” his hands cupped my face so carefully that I felt more fragile than the thinnest glass. “If anyone can make this work, it’s you.”

The doctors scheduled my next experiment with Billy’s request to be present in mind. Over the weekend, with a cot in my room just for the man who kept surprising me to use while he both learned along with me and watched me like a hawk to be sure I was alright, we began. I held his hand while they walked us through the first option. The non-machine one, since it was the lowest tech version, and smiled when I saw how intensely he was watching them walk us through the steps.

“The three step process,” our instructor explained, “ takes around thirty to thirty-five minutes total and you’ll have to do it throughout the day. If this option is viable for you, then you’ll also have to wake up to perform it, or it can be paired with the second treatment. How long between treatments will be something we have to work on as well, but first let’s see if it works?”

Billy stopped the doctor before we could get started by asking questions I forgot or missed in my yearning to go home. How would the supplies need to be kept? What were the worst case scenarios if something went wrong while we were home? How long did he have to get me help if the treatment stopped working? Would it be more dangerous for me, to my health, to do this rather than keep coming in for the treatment that I was doing now?

Once his concerns were addressed, in complete detail, the doctor then took me off the whirling machine that I only had minimal breaks from, telling me that unlike someone on dialysis for kidney issues or failure, since mine was simply to circulate and cleanse the blood to keep the foreign bodies at bay and ineffective, that made my complete focus necessary. He didn’t just mean that he wanted to me to learn the steps, he meant that I had to focus on precisely how my body felt. All those questions I hated to answer daily? Those were my gauge for how I was supposed to determine if the treatment was working or not. Whether I felt my temperature going up, the spots returned to my vision, or the vertigo hit me at the wrong moment, it would be up to me to know whether this was still working or not. And it was paramount, given how my body could go supernova and kill not just myself, but who knew how many others, since the range of my area of destruction couldn’t be measured without it happening.

Taking a deep breath and nodding, we got to take a break before the first round of my possible path to escaping the room I’d spent far more time in than I cared to think about. While we waited, Billy asked me if I thought my mom should learn how to perform the treatment too, and like she’d been conjured, she was in the doorway smiling at the two of us.

“You’re not hooked up to that dreadful machine,” her eyes widened with hope, but I shook my head causing her smile to drop and fear to replace her joy. “It’s not-”

Billy told her to take a seat and explained that I hadn’t been cured, but that we were trying something new to see if I could go home. He didn’t mention, and neither did I, that home might be further from the city, and closer to the clinic. One thing at a time.

“Of course I want to learn,” she set her purse down and folded her hands in her lap before she seemed to remember something. “Your father is parking the car,” she sighed, knowing that it was already hard for him to see me sick, but she took a deep breath and straightened her spine and I knew she was about to assert her will. “He should learn too, just in case.”

“And what am I learning, precisely?” My father walked into the room and this time, instead of Billy, Mom explained what was coming.

My parents and Billy watched as the doctor, hours later when I felt the first twinge that my body was rebelling against me, walked me through the first trial. The bag of fluid, the connection to the accessory that Billy’s agreement during my unconsciousness had given me, and the power of gravity while my family watched and took notes, both mental and physical.

The first trial, actually walking me through it and showing me how to hold the bag up and wait while it utilized gravity to work its medical magic, took longer than it would if it became the option that I’d use at home the doctor promised.

“First time is always longer,” she smiled, reassuring me as the fluid dripped into me. “We chose the lighter, more flexible catheter hoping it wouldn’t be permanent, which makes this transition easier.” My mom and dad asked their own questions, knowing that Billy wouldn’t be available constantly, even if he wanted to since I would push him back to work. As the doctor answered, showing them step by step again, while Billy took the bag from my hand to give my arm a rest.

“You’re doing great, Ronnie,” he whispered, giving me a soft kiss. “Just think, this could be our new foreplay.” He was teasing and I knew it.

“Gotta say, Butcher, this is a very fucked up way to get me wet.” I winked at him as he chuckled quietly. “I love you, and I’m sorry about-”

“Nothing to be sorry for, love.” Our eyes met and everyone heard the change in my heart rhythm. We ignored the soft laughter of our audience, so focused on our little bubble. “You wrote the book on me, Ronnie, but you missed a chapter.” I raised my eyebrow, knowing I was wrong, so wrong about his love for me, but I was curious as to what I’d missed. “You missed the part where I am single fucking minded in my love for you. Not a moment goes by that I want whatever that caped cunt forced into your body purged, but never a thought of destroying YOU or your body.” He sounded as fierce as I knew he was and I felt far more confident in him and us. “Until you get sick of me.”

“Never,” I promised, and we kissed again, less soft and sweet and more hungry that we’d allowed ourselves since I woke up from the first hit of the second phase of Homelander’s interference.

It turned out, after two weekends of further trial and error, that I would be doing a combined effort with peritoneal dialysis. Both the manual and the machine, and as an added bonus I’d get to make at least two trips to the clinic a week for further testing and at least one date with my favorite machine. My parents had come to every single training exercise, shocking me with their commitment to keeping me healthy and when Billy and I, more certain that going home was possible told them that we’d have to move, they took that in stride as well.

“I can hire movers and have them pack up the house,” Mom offered, knowing that Billy would rather be at my side than dealing with those details. “And, if you’d like, I could take a look at that community they told you about-”

The uncertainty in her voice made me realize how much our relationship had changed. Before, she would have gone and chosen the house, put the down payment down and had the paperwork ready before I’d fully made the choice to move. Now she was asking permission. Wow.

“What if we went together?” I think I surprised her as much as she did me. “The doctors have been talking to me about more trials, shorter but to make sure that I can handle it on my own, why not a trip out to have a look? It would make me feel more productive-” I sighed, and Billy’s fingers linked with mine.

“You are productive,” his lips were against my temple in the soothing gesture that he knew helped me the most. “Told you that the others have nearly cleared the list of unknowns. Done more sit downs with supes than I ever wanted to contend with, and you were there virtually for most of them.”

I’d started, once I was feeling more hopeful about getting released back to some normalcy, joining Billy during his meetings with supes via video chat. While the supes didn’t see me, I didn’t feel up to fixing myself up to that point while wearing my attractive nightgowns, Billy could and I kept him even keeled and soothed the more frazzled nerves of some of those supes that hadn’t wanted to be found. And I’d gone back to researching both Homelander’s misdeeds, and the mysterious head popper’s true identity.

“Of course you are,” my dad kicked in. “You’re still the head of that office, Veronica, this is all just a little hiccup.” His reassurance was welcome and just as shocking as my mom’s uncertainty in helping us relocate. Who knew it would take the possibility of dying to bring us all together?

#Billy Butcher x ofc #angst #fluff #the boys #alternate universe

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adventuresloane · 4 years

Text

We Do Have Reputations

Pairing: Hurley/Sloane

Words: 3.7k

Rating: T (for suggestive language and description of injuries)

Light Angst/Hurt and Comfort

Read on AO3

((Imma keep it real with you chief, this is just an edited/expanded version of the fic I wrote for that ask meme lol))

Hurley rounded the corner into the alley and saw the blood black and bright as motor oil in the nighttime. She had been expecting and dreading it.

"Shit, Sloane." She didn't remember until a moment later about using real names out in public, and she couldn't bring herself to care even after she did. She ran forward to where Sloane sat slumped against the wall and slid to a stop on her bare knees.

Underneath the black, beaked racing helmet, her breathing came out ragged. She brushed away Hurley's hand when she carefully tried to lift the bird mask away. "Alright, Curls, I'd say you're the healer of our team, yeah?" Her hand rested on her belly, over the spot where the thin wooden shaft stuck out of her. "Do I leave this in me or pull it out now?"

"Sloane, you need a fucking hospital," she hissed. "I'm taking you."

"Oh, and you're going to check me in there, Lieutenant? That'll look good."

"I'll just drop you off and go if that's what you want! I'll be anonymous."

"No. They could still figure out who I am there, even without the mask." She pushed herself up slowly against the brick wall with one hand. "Besides, I'm not even that bad."

"Sloane..."

"I'm not! Just..." Behind the helmet's dark visor, it was difficult to tell whether she was making eye contact. But she turned fully toward Hurley for the first time all night. "Just help me out a little now, alright? Then I'll take care of myself afterward, I promise."

She tried to give Sloane a glare that she couldn't sustain for long. In the dark, it would be hard to see her disapproval anyway. Hurley finally relented and let out her held breath, though it left her feeling no more relieved. Drops still fell from Sloane's stomach now and again. "If you're going to run, you should take the bolt out. You might bleed more, but it's better than risking more internal damage while you're moving around," she murmured. Then she paused and placed a hand over Sloane's, where it rested over her gut. "Would you...would you rather do it yourself or should I..."

"Could you?"

For a long time, Hurley took in the cold air and just kept taking it in. It made her shiver as she wrapped her hand firmly around the tail end of the crossbow bolt. She kissed the only exposed part of Sloane's skin that she could reach, where her neck met her collarbone, and then she pressed her forehead gently against her chest there, mingling their cooled sweat. Then she removed the serrated arrowhead the only way that one could when one was without magic-induced anesthesia, surgical tools, and time.

Sloane barely kept herself from screaming. As it was, the sound strangled halfway up her throat and the air came out as a gasp. "Sorry, sorry, shh..." At once, Hurley tore the fabric from the bottom of her gi--first-aid kit wasn't as easy to reach--and started to press it against the wound. She imbued it with what healing ki she could, but a few seconds of contact would never be enough. Harm was an instance; mending was a process.

Sloane was almost doubled over, coiling her body around the wound like she were shielding a child in her lap. Briefly, she shook against Hurley but still stood. She shouldn't have had to. It might have been absurd, but she wanted Sloane collapsing into her, wanted to take on all her weight. "I know it hurts. I'm sorry. I'm..." She swallowed hard. "I'm so sorry..."

"No, it's fine," she croaked. "I asked you to do it."

"Well, you didn't ask for this! I'll kick their asses for you, alright? They're not getting away with this."

Sloane simply took the fabric from her hands and pressed it to her own stomach as she began to move away. "We'll talk later, okay? I'll get--shit."

Hurley heard it, too, a second later. The click of crossbows being cocked and footsteps rushing down the street. Without another word, Sloane took off running and disappeared around the bend.

That left her to turn around and face her troop of fellow officers as they came into view before her--bows drawn, and by the gods, she was going to report every one of them later for aiming a weapon without a target in sight. "Hold your fire!" she blurted.

Only when they all stopped and stared at her blankly did she realize that she should probably justify that, along with the panic that pitched her voice upward.

"Ah...these are apartments along this alley. All of them, I think. I'm not going to have stray bolts going into folks' homes while they sleep!"

It wasn't a good lie. She would've known that even if she hadn't seen the confused glances they gave each other. There was a reason she liked to leave the lying to Sloane when they were on the verge of being discovered. But anyway, her officers were meant to listen to her whether they believed her or not. "The Raven's still running. Took off down Hoopoe Street in the direction of Town Hall. You both, head west and see if you can cut her off!" And like that, she sent them off in different directions, none of them the way in which Sloane had gone. Later, they'd talk around the water cooler at the office about how the thief had slipped off again, how they'd practically had her in the bag before she'd just vanished like shadow passing into darkness.

Hurley followed them, but she wasn't with them. She thought of Sloane running on rooftops, stark black up against the moon, hair waving behind her. For a moment, she thought, again, of saying, Fuck every last one of you. Or else saying nothing to them, ever again. She considered how easy it would be to slip away herself, just to fall back from the group until the darkness took her away from them entirely, to leave her badge on the militia's doorstep and become a second silhouette coursing alongside the Raven, in the moonlight for all to see. And then she stopped, because if she thought too hard about it, she'd think of all the reasons it wouldn't work, and she didn't want the fantasy to deflate just yet.

She couldn't, however, make herself stop thinking of the possibility that Sloane was not running now, could not run now.

It was difficult, when she got back to the office in the wee hours of the morning, to convince her superiors that she was simultaneously too hurt to perform the rest of her shift and not hurt enough to be immediately sent to an ER. The signs of a scuffle with the Raven helped, though--she hadn't even thought to point out her torn clothes until someone mentioned it. Maybe they saw the worry showing through her shaken, shaking self and mistook it for a rare bout of concern for her own safety. That probably helped, too.

While she filled out the most perfunctory of reports, she attempted to put some of her training to use by looking at the situation for what it was. She had once watched Sloane walk off the racetrack with shrapnel in one thigh and a burn on the other, giving the crowd an overdone bow on the way out. She was no stranger to this. At this point, neither of them were. True, at the races, medical help was usually nearby, because it had to be. Sometimes it was very close indeed. Nobody had seen it, but after the Raven had walked away under her own power, she had gotten to a quiet place out of the sun and leaned on the Ram, who got to work on the gashes. The Ram wasn’t there now.

The safehouse that Sloane had set up for herself sat on the second floor of an empty apartment building that had been slated for demolition for three years. It was after moonset and not nearly soon enough that Hurley made it to the paint-chipped door on foot, having stepped around the places where she knew the invisible Alarm spells had been set, and rapped out the special, encoded knock signaling that it was her.

There was silence from the other side. She began to wonder whether Sloane had gone elsewhere, or whether she had been able to go anywhere. Both her actual apartment and the garage they shared were much farther away from the spot where everything had happened last night, so it wouldn’t have made sense for her to run there, but then, almost half a night had gone by. Already, Hurley had wasted so much time trying to get the militia off her back without them suspecting how urgent it was. She might not have been quick enough.

She was just preparing to knock again when she heard shuffling from deep inside. It must have gone on for a couple of minutes before the door finally creaked open. Through the crack slipped a hand clutching the shining, gold-painted horn of her familiar ram mask.

She blinked at it. "Why--"

"Just put it on!" Sloane's voice hissed from inside.

Hurley obliged and stepped through to see—thank the gods—Sloane, standing, still in the helmet that enclosed her whole head. She opened her mouth to speak, but she didn’t have the chance to get out a sound. Without a word, and without allowing for a chance to ask how she was feeling, Sloane turned. Hurley had come with the energy of Healing Hands tingling in her palms in case she needed it, but Sloane seemed to be walking better already, upright if a little slow and limping. She was walking away just fine.

Sloane was a good actress, Hurley reminded herself. She was pretending not to care. That didn't mean she might not have also been angry about being shot by people under Hurley's command.

"You know, Raven, I think I recall you being the one who wanted to keep this on the down-low." The call came from the living room, slathered in mock-sympathy. "Just between us and all that. Wouldn't want word getting back to the other racers that you weren't in top shape."

"Yeah, well, you're shit out of luck, because it's no one you can gossip with here. It's just my partner."

That word again. It was the only one she had ever heard Sloane use to refer to her, at least in front of anyone else. "Racing partner" is what she meant, of course. Hurley wasn't sure if she intended for the plausible deniability about what sort of "partners" they were aside from that. But no other word like "girlfriend" or "lover" had been used by either of them, not out loud. The question had been, after maybe the third instance of supposedly "no-strings-attached" sex, Hey, so is this just what we’re doing now? and the answer had been, Looks like it. It had seemed simple and natural. They hadn't been any more specific about what “this” was at the time.

"Oh, I know who it is."

Hurley pushed past the old woven rug that hung in the doorway to come face-to-face with someone who looked as though every part of them had been stretched out. They were human, tall and narrow as the gap between jail bars, with long arms full of measly muscles and straight hair down to their knees. There was smile on their face and a shine in their eye. "Well, hello, Ram! You clean up alright. I'm used to seeing you covered in dirt." They said this as Sloane sat down in front of them. They laid hands back on her bared belly, where the wound had begun to close up and her muscles looked tense.

Hurley took one look at Crane and then glanced back Sloane's way. "Raven, seriously?"

"What? They know what they're doing!"

"Why, thank you! I’m extremely talented," said the person who, though they hadn’t won a race in months, could easily clinch the award for Shadiest Cleric on the Racetrack, and Most Likely All of Goldcliff. (Honestly, maybe they were lying. They could have been some bizarre kind of warlock.)

"They're going to bleed you dry at best and might make it even worse if it suits them. You know that, right?"

"Excuse me? I think you'll find that I'm doing a fine job stopping her bleeding, no thanks to you. And it’d be bad for business if word got around I was hurting people who paid me."

"Hey, I didn't ask you to come and watch," Sloane said with a half-shrug, as though entirely unbothered one way or the other.

She was a good actress. But that, quite frankly, was a little much. Hurley chewed on the tip of her tongue until it just barely began to hurt. It was bad enough, she thought, that she wasn't the one doing the healing right now, that someone else was putting their hands on her. She could, just barely, watch strands of this asshole's foreign magic slither like worms into Sloane. But to imply that she'd ever choose not to be by Sloane's side was adding too much insult to injury.

On the other hand, it wasn't like this was anything new. Given how many racers engaged in worse illegal activity on the side, most rivals were loath to show their faces to one another, let alone share personal details that could be used against them. For her and Sloane, that had always meant keeping their closeness under wraps, in front of criminals and law-abiding citizens alike. Which was to say, everybody.

Finally, Crane stepped away and let Sloane run her hand over the spot that had just healed. "See, now, you're good as new! Be back to eating shit on that racetrack in no time. That'll be 700 gold, my dear."

"That's a funny way of saying 300 gold," Sloane responded at once, putting her jacket back on.

“Do you think I make house calls in the middle of the night for fun?”

“I think you’re out of your mind. I could have bought three healing potions for that much.”

“Ah, but you didn’t!”

Seeing where this was going and not especially keen on a five-minute-minimum bargaining session over how much Sloane's actual life was worth, Hurley stepped forward to drop a sack of coins into Crane's hand. "That's 650, alright? Now please leave."

"Ram, fuck's sake, don't give into them like that!"

"Aw, very sweet of you, sheep."

"Fuck you," Sloane said. A selfish part of Hurley hoped that was for her.

"So it's true, then?" Crane's grin stayed smug, but it was no longer satisfied. There was something new in the way they held themself. The way their head tilted as though trying to see from a different angle, the little bounce in their knee as they stood there. Behind those thin, grinning lips, it was clear, they salivated for an answer. "What they say about the two of you, I mean."

"They say a lot of things about us. Now kindly fuck off out of here." Her tone was flippant, but the skin stretched taut over her knuckles as her fist kept tightening at her side. She had one arm outstretched toward the door, and that was held stiffly, too.

But she might have just said yes. There weren't many these days in the racing scene who didn't at least suspect, and these were people who would wear their "lucky" boxers for two months straight if they thought it would let them win a race or outrun a cop. If they had a suspicion, any inkling of what might give them even the barest advantage, then they were acting on it already. Sloane lost nothing by confirming what everyone already thought they knew anyway.

As for what the pair of them stood to gain? Admittedly, Hurley wasn't quite sure. Maybe freedom, or maybe just a way of knowing that they'd been free all along. Free to share their victory kiss out in the open, drenched in sweat and the sun and the clamor of the crowd and each other. They didn't always have to crash together rough and quick as they ducked down a shadowed alleyway after a race.

"Sure, sure." They sneered. "I was just wondering if I could tell everyone that I heard wedding bells."

Her fingers uncoiled only to snap to the handle of the dagger at her thigh. Her shoulders were forward, the ruff of feathers around her collar seeming to puff out like the neck of a frilled lizard. She walked at them quick enough to startle them back a step, the black beak of her mask inches from their eye. Hurley had seen her like this before, this posturing. There was a time when she might have fallen for it herself. That was before she knew to look for the quickening of Sloane's breath, the way her whole body stiffened as if bracing for a blow. She almost felt like ruining it. She felt like saying, I see you bluffing. She felt like saying, You’re full of shit. She felt like saying, You don’t have to do this. "Crane, if you fuck me over--"

"Alright, alright!" Their hands were up in front of them. "Fantasy Jesus Christ, you woke up on rather the wrong side of the bed, didn't you?"

"I got shot."

"And you're a very bad sport about it." They spun on their heel and raised their hand without looking back. "Happy trails, you two."

Sloane slumped as soon as their footsteps had faded completely. She was stable now, and the only blood left in the room had long since dried to shit-brown, but exhaustion pressed down on her like a hand on the place where her neck met her spine. Hurley saw it and had the thought, as though it had been whispered to her without warning, One of these days, I'm going to make you honest.

As soon as she sat on the couch, Hurley joined her, trying to ignore the springs pressing up against her under the ratty upholstery. "Sloane?"

Sloane turned her way. This time, when she tried to lift the raven mask away, she wasn't prevented. For the first time since yesterday, she saw bright green eyes underlined by dark crescents, looking her softly all over. Sloane also didn’t flinch when she reached out toward her face—Hurley had always understood why she hadn’t liked hands coming near her, but she’d said that she wanted to break herself of the habit anyway, and it seemed that she had. She brushed aside the strands of hair that had been plastered to the side of her face by sweat since last night, rubbed lightly at the indents in her skin that had been left by the mask. She closed her eyes slowly when Hurley ran a thumb over her cheek, and she turned her head to the side when Hurley tried to get a better look to see if she was okay, and this was how Sloane loved her, by giving way to her like this. And this was why she loved to be loved by Sloane, because she relented for no one else, because she let herself be moved by no one else. This belonged to Hurley alone.

Though that didn’t mean it had to always be behind closed doors. Would it be such a bad thing if people knew the way those eyes fixed on her? Would it be so bad if, when they were out in the wind, people saw her brush Sloane’s hair aside to get a better look at them?

Of course it would be, for plenty of reasons.

"What are you lookin' at?" Sloane finally murmured with a small, tired smile. "I know I look like shit."

"I'm sure I do, too. We both haven't slept."

“Rough night, huh?

Hurley snorted. “I think I should be the one saying that to you.” In the growing light just before sunrise, she could see what she hadn't before, the smaller cuts across her chest and over her arms. Nothing big, but there, and red. "They missed all of this."

Sloane raised her brows a little. "I didn't ask them to take a look."

"You shouldn't have to ask." Hurley stared her down on purpose as she said it, to make sure the words stuck out to her.

It was unclear whether they did. She glanced away and scratched at her hairline. After seeming to think for a moment, then, she said, "Well, they would've charged me more for that, I bet. Speaking of which, I guess this means I have to pay you back."

"You're an ass," Hurley said just before kissing her, slowly this time. Sloane placed her hands over Hurley's where they rested against her damaged chest, keeping them pressed there. Hurley had her eyes closed, since she didn't have to look to feel the way the warm healing magic flowed from her fingers and into Sloane's body. She could sense the cuts closing one by one.

If she could help it, she’d always give Sloane a reason to be honest. She'd be the reason Sloane hummed to herself when she worked on the engine and laughed with her mouth wide open. Hurley would be the reason she felt safe enough to lean forward and rest her head on someone’s shoulder and doze at dawn in a run-down old apartment, the way she was now.

And it didn't have to be now, but Hurley saw forward to a time when the two of them clasped hands out in the desert noonday, out where people couldn’t ignore the flash of her black hair as the sun sparked off it. Where people couldn’t ignore how proud she was of this woman and being chosen by her. Not now, but one of these days, something would give. One of these days, they wouldn’t be able to contain themselves anymore.

#hurley #sloane #hurloane #taz balance #taz #the adventure zone #the zone cast #taz hurley #taz sloane #taz fanfic #fan fiction #hurt and comfort #light angst

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suckerforsmylex · 4 years

Text

I Think I Made You Up Inside My Head - Pt. 7

Harley giggles and hangs up, and you aren’t sure what to think. Part of you is pissed that The Joker had to leave to tend to Harley’s bullshit. He answered her call earlier while he was in between your legs for god’s sake. The other part is mad at yourself for being so insane. I mean – here you are swooning over your attacker like a dumb school-girl.

I still don’t believe that this is real! Why the fuck is this happening to me?

You decide that you’re going to leave. You have to see what’s going on outside of your apartment where apparently, it’s Gotham City. You put on an all-black everything outfit, and set out for the city.

If I’m going to sneak out, I’ll have to blend in with the night.

You glance at your wall again and see a cut out of the front page of The Gotham Times with a photo of Harley and a team of other criminals propelling off of a building. Shaking your head, you leave the room quickly, and finding that the bathroom door is still open from your medicine cabinet discovery earlier, you run inside with the intentions of taking your medication. You shake out a pill into your palm and stare at it and then close your eyes. The memory of The Joker bandaging your bleeding foot with his shirt comes to your mind and that’s all it takes for you to dump all of the pills into the toilet and quickly flush before you can think twice.

If I’m going to figure this shit out, I’m doing it as me, not a sedated version of myself. How much crazier can it get anyway?

You grab your car keys from the glass bowl and turn on your remote start. The engine purrs to a start and you open the hall closet door to grab your purse and…

KaaaaaBOOOOM!!!!

The car is in flames and you almost feel it before you see it as you thrust the door to your apartment open. Shutting the door quickly, you lock it and put the chain on just as your cell phone rings. It’s an incoming facetime from The Joker. You’re afraid to answer, but even more afraid to let it keep ringing. When you answer, the picture-in-picture display shows you dressed in black on the tiny screen and The Joker appears on the main screen, wearing a maroon button-down shirt, half unbuttoned and a platinum blazer. His clothes are covered in blood and he��s got it spattered on his face as well.

“Cupcake,” The Joker drawls out as he rolls his head around in frustration, “…what part of DO’NT LEAVE YOUR APARTMENT did you not understand?” His chest heaves up and down and it looks like he’s going to have a heart attack. “Answer me,” he demands as he gets up from the chair he was sitting in and removes the blazer, throwing it down to the floor brusquely. “I…I’m sorry…I just wanted to see what was going on outside. Did…did you just blow up my car,” you ask with tears welling up in your eyes.

“Did I…blow up your car? Did I blow up your car?” The Joker turns to a henchman behind him who’s wiping blood off a wall. “She wants to know if I blew up her car.” He’s got full on crazy eyes and the henchman lets out a nervous chuckle. “YES! Yes, sweetness. I asked one of the twenty men guarding you to point a fucking bazooka at your car the moment you started it.” The waterworks are in full effect on your end now and you’re sobbing.

“Stop blubbering. We’ll steal you a new one,” he says, waving you off with a ringed hand. The thought of you and The Joker stealing a car together makes you grin from ear to ear, even through your tears and you force yourself to take a deep breath. “I remember now, Mister J. I met you in the court.” Saying that to him only makes you grin more, until you’re laughing. “That’s where I met Harley and we robbed that expensive department store. I broke you out of Arkham. I have the jewelry heist stash!” The tears are streaming down your face but you’re laughing between almost every word. The Joker cocks his head to the side, grins and slaps his thigh. “Oh…she’s back. My naughty, little thief is back! I don’t know what I like more. When you’re a naughty girl or when you’re a sweet angel. HARLEY! HARL!” You hear Harley before you see her on the screen, and then she comes bounding in, almost knocking the phone out of J’s hand. “Hiya’, Puddin’! You need me?”

Both of them are now on the screen, and Harley is also smeared with blood. Her baseball bat it leaning against the wall and gunky with some kind of bloody, clumpy matter and she’s got droplets on her face and her Daddy’s Little Monster shirt. “Hey, hot stuff!” Harley seems genuinely happy to see you and she keeps nudging J out of view in her haste to speak with you. “I got a little nutty ova’ here and beat the living shit out of someone! Okay, it was more like someones. Five someones to be exact!” She wrinkles her nose, smiles and puts her fists up in a boxer’s pose and starts shadow boxing. “When I get going, I don’t know when to stop. We had to get rid of the bod….”

The Joker bats her away from the phone. “Daddy is gonna’ leave Harl with Frost and come and pick you up. Be ready to go out the back patio in ten minutes. We’ll have some company to respond to that little explosion. Get the jewelry and get out. We’ll get you new things tomorrow. DO NOT make me wait.” The last thing you see and hear are The Joker’s finger waving in a “no” motion and Harley singing a nonsense “la…la…lala…la” in the background.

This is it. I guess I’m quitting my day job and joining the circus.

Obeying his directive, you run and stuff all of the jewelry into a black duffle bag and say goodbye to all of your pencil skirts and your steno-graph. You grab the news clipping off the wall and stuff it into the bag too. The sirens blare as they come down the street. In a moment your apartment complex will be swarming with fire trucks, police and maybe even The Batman. You open the patio back door and hop the small fence landing in a short bush.

Smooth. Real smooth.

The Joker pulls up in an unmarked car, just in time to see you brushing twigs and branches off yourself and out of your hair, and you jump into the passenger seat with the duffle bag. He’s dressed in a GCPD uniform from the police badge right down to the hat. “Oh, I love a man in uniform,” you purr out as you look him up and down. He growls and tosses you a uniform too and the two of you speed off into the night. “Feeling frisky, sweetheart? Put on that uniform.” The Joker’s eyes are locked on you as you change. His hands are steering erratically, weaving in and out of traffic as you take off your top and jeans and put on the uniform. “Sure, Mister J, I’m up for anything. What do you have in mind?” You finally feel like you. Untouchable. Unstoppable. It’s alarming how good it feels to be a bad guy.

When the car stops you look up and see you’re at the Gotham Museum of Classical Art. The Joker turns and grabs you by the throat. “You’re a work of art, sweets.” He pries your mouth open with his and covers it with a kiss. “Mmmmm. You’re my little cherry bomb. Sugar and spice and everything nice and then, KABOOM! All that explosive heat.” The Joker has a hand snaking its way down your GCPD uniform pants. He lands on the outside of your panties, stroking your wet lips with two fingers through the sheer fabric, leaving you breathing heavily and trying unsuccessfully to suppress a moan. He leans in close and whispers in your ear. “Youuuu…are dripping right through your panties, officer.” He gives your ear a nibble and pops out of the car, leaving you gasping.

He pulls out a briefcase and starts walking up the museum steps. “Come on, let’s keep popping your criminal cherry.” You jump out of the car and run after him and he rings the security door, telling the desk guard that you’re responding to a report of a disturbance. The guard buzzes you both in and you proceed to handcuff him and his partner and then bind them with duct tape. Lastly, you lead them both down the stairs and secure them with a second set of handcuffs to pipes in the museum basement.

The two of you move fast, climbing the museum’s main staircase and walking down the second-floor corridor that overlooks the courtyard and into The Dutch Room. You both fill large bags with pieces of art that you lift from the walls. It’s easy because you have a list of requested items with each piece’s exact location within the museum. He cases The Early Italian Room and you make your way through the The Raphael Room and reconvene in The Wayne Gallery.

There are so many diamonds and jewels in this room that it makes you stop dead in your tracks, remove your police hat, let your hair down and put on the first ornate tiara you see. The Joker takes one look at you and clears a large marble table of relics and they crash to the ground. He lifts you by your waist and drops you down onto the table. “If you don’t have a collection of tiaras already, I guess we’ll just have to start one, princess.” You squeal and The Joker starts peeling off your clothes.

Laying on the cool marble slab in your black lace bra and panties, wearing the newly stolen tiara and your black booties is surreal. “I’ve been dreaming about this moment since we locked eyes in that courtroom,” he snarls as he unzips his pants and releases his massive cock. It’s a struggle for him, to take his thick shaft out of the fitted pants and you blush and turn away for a moment. The sight of him is enough to make you almost come on the spot. He grabs your chin and turns your head back to face him. “Oh no. No shyness. Look at me. I want you to see how hard you made, Daddy.” Looking at his cock makes you clench and whine. “Daddy, please…” You’re squirming around on the hard surface, helpless and needy. “Daddy, please what,” he says with a chuckle. His thumbs hook into the lace waist band of your panties. “Daddy, please…” The Joker has his eyes locked on yours and it’s quite clear by the way his cock twitches that he’s enjoying tormenting you.

“I need to hear you say it, sweets. You know what Daddy likes.” You moan out hungrily. “Daddy, please fuck me. I need you inside of me.” There is no room for shame. You’re desperate for him. There is no room for coyness. He grins but doesn’t remove your panties. Instead, he slides them to the side with his thin fingers, poking digit into your pussy, and then pulling it back out and sliding it into his mouth. “I’m going to fuck you until you forget your own name. Did you forget that too earlier,” he asks with a low laugh. Before you can respond he slams himself into you, filling you with the thick weight of his dick, pounding into your wet slit. It feels like he’s ripping you in two and the tears well in your eyes as your body is thrust hard into the stone. You grip both sides of the table tightly with both hands.

“Awww, baby? Does it hurt?” When he says the words, you lose it completely and start bucking your hips back against him, feeling your orgasm building and your inner muscles clench the full length of him. He rips your tits out of your bra and roughly tugs on both of your stiff nipples. Your body is hot and loose now, writhing all over the table and you know you are about to come. You manage to lick your lips and tell him, which makes The Joker pull himself entirely out of you.

“Nooooo! I was about to come,” you whine, and it makes him give you a terrifying smile, licking over his metal teeth. “You have to earn it first, greedy girl.” He walks around the table and you can see him hovering above you. “Taste the mess you made.” You open your mouth and engulf all of him, sucking sloppily back and forth, the sound of spit and your wet arousal on his cock and in your mouth, bring you back to the edge. You can taste the sweet tang of yourself mixing in with his own taste. “You better ask for permission before you come,” The Joker warns, and with that, you start waving your arms wildly as a signal that you are close, as he continues to fuck your mouth. “Do you need to come?” You nod as best you can with him filling your mouth. “Let me hear you ask me nicely.” Looking up in desperation, you ask as best you can. It sounds pathetic. “Caaghh I peeess cunnn, daahh deee?

He cackles and removes himself from your mouth with a wet pop and you gasp for air, while he leaps onto the table, straddling you and thrusting all of himself inside of your pussy. You cry out, frantic for release and he grips your throat, his face inches from yours. “Come. Come now. Come all over my cock.” You explode all over him on command, shockwaves running through your body as he thrusts as hard as he can. “Give me what’s mine.” With one last hard thrust, you can feel him filling you, and the pulse of his balls as he empties himself inside you, and you collapse back onto the table.

It’s only now that you hear the alarm has been tripped on the first floor. He hears it to and there’s no time to savor the exquisite way he’s cream-pied you. He pulls out and tucks his ruddy, wet dick back into his pants, while you scramble to put all your clothes back on. It’s a miracle that you don’t end up with your bra on the outside of your shirt, at the speed you’re going. You both run and manage to escape out of a hole The Joker laser cut into the second-floor back window and propel down to the street. You jump into the nondescript car with the stolen art and ride off, still wearing the tiara from the museum display.

The Joker turns to face you, smiling broadly. “You’re mine now, and you’ll have anything your little, crooked heart desires and that includes plenty of tiaras.”

You smile at the thought of being his favorite and of having a new crime family to come home too. Harley was like your sister from another mister, after all. After looking in the rearview, you lean over to give him a peck on the cheek but he turns his head quickly and the kiss lands on his crimson lips instead, making a genuine giggle rise from your chest. It was easy to laugh with him and he laughed to, his infamous, “Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha,” echoing into the impending sunrise of a new morning. This was the start of your new life with the Clown Prince of Crime, and you were ready for whatever was going to come next.

#the joker #joker #leto joker #leto joker fanfiction #joker x reader #fairy tale endings #i reworked this chapter so much #because some of the things I used to write #are super embarrassing!

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heisthq · 4 years

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you all certainly didn’t make this easy on me — it was an incredibly tough decision for many of the roles. there were THIRTY-EIGHT applications for only ELEVEN roles, which is insane, and please know that every single one was incredible. i’m only one person on the internet, and this decision is in no way a reflection of the quality of your writing ( seriously, i know i just said it, but i’m kind of shocked by how good every single app was ). i’m so grateful for all the love heist has gotten, and i couldn’t be happier with the beautiful submissions i received ! from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

for those of you who were accepted, please follow the checklist, familiarize yourself with your fellow members, & review the triggers list. once your blog is set up, please send it in to the main within 24 hours so i can send you a link to the discord server.

but enough talking — the newest members of HEISTHQ can be found under the cut !

welcome, DEDE ! you have been accepted as THE BLEEDING HEART, otherwise known as JUDY FAULKNER PRYCE ( ELIZABETH OLSEN ).

good god. what a way to start off acceptances — judy reached into my heart and took it for herself, and i’m not upset about it in the slightest. her gruff outer shell, still with that instinctive need to help, to do something, is so bleeding heart, and i ached at every step of the way through her journey. i knew i was really in for it when i dedicated a skeleton to loss itself, but you spun that concept into a living, breathing person and shot her back at me. i’ll happily let her knock me down any day, and i know she certainly will as soon as she makes her way onto the dash.

welcome, CHERRY ! you have been accepted as THE CAREER CRIMINAL, otherwise known as MISCHA DOSTOYEVSKY ( NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO ).

though you made my decision very difficult with that eleventh hour app, i couldn’t stop coming back to mischa. from the beginning of her childhood crimes to her current position as the head of the motherfucking bratva, she pulled me in and got me hook, line, and sinker. you painted such a brilliant picture of her that i felt she was going to jump off the page at any moment — and that last line of her bio ? chills. literal chills. finally, i have now decided their next heist is going to be stealing lip gloss from claire’s, shoutout to mischa for that hot idea. all in all, she’s an absolute delight, and i cannot wait to have her here.

welcome, REED ! you have been accepted as THE EYE IN THE SKY, otherwise known as INDIANA “INDIE” ASCENCIO ( ANA DE ARMAS, BUT ONLY WITH PINK HAIR ).

okay, first of all, are you kidding me with that bio structure ? that was the coolest shit i’ve ever seen. what a way to kick it off for the eye in the sky — i said break the stereotype and you said bet. indie is an absolute gem of a character, as stunning as she is valuable, and damn if she doesn’t know it. she’s so vibrant that i could practically hear her voice when i read your answers to the prompts; i’m still howling at thirty five pages of criminal offenses. the eye in the sky needed to take me by the throat to show me who they are; you broke down the door and said here she is. i couldn’t be more honored to have her.

welcome, NOAH ! you have been accepted as THE GETAWAY DRIVER, otherwise known as CARLISLE “JACE” JACOBI HARRISON-SHEA ( CYRUS AMINI ).

the getaway driver was, arguably, the toughest choice i had to make — but i couldn’t help myself. jace drew me back in every single time like a moth to a flame, and i know he’d read that fact with that same, secret little smirk. every moment of reading your app is exciting, like i’m white-knuckled in jace’s passenger seat, along for whatever twists and turns his psyche brings, which was exactly what i was looking for. there are too many incredible quotes to put in one acceptance post, but one such example is stunningly simple: you weren’t just running. you were chasing. i posed a question in the getaway driver’s skeleton, and with one quick pivot, you took my breath away. just... wow. that’s all.

welcome, MARS ! you have been accepted as THE HIRED GUN, otherwise known as ASLAN “MAZZIE” YILMAZ ( ALPEREN DUYMAZ ).

mars, i’m gonna be honest, i hate you a little bit ( but not really. i love you ). i’m pretty sure forcing me to choose between two stunning apps should count as some sort of personal attack, but after much agonizing, i’m delighted to settle with the absolute tragedy that is my newest son mazzie. there’s a quiet power, a quiet ( but no less imposing ) threat threaded throughout his story, and somehow you managed to weave my own heartstrings into the picture alongside it all. you sent me tumbling head over heels for this man who, in his own words, is death himself. you gave me my hired gun, and he’s everything i dreamed. thank you.

welcome, LUCY ! you have been accepted as THE INSIDE MAN, otherwise known as IVY WANG ( GEMMA CHAN ).

lucy. lucy !!! you didn’t make it easy on me, but man, i couldn’t be more wrapped around ivy’s finger, which is probably just how she’d like it. the structure of your app was so interesting & unique ( that arrest report ?? HOT ). she encapsulates the inside man so perfectly — from her mannerisms to her motivations, everything was so spot on that i’m pretty sure you reached inside my brain to pull out my exact vision. she feels so real, so human and so powerful all at once, and i would personally let her arrest me and write her a thank you note for putting me in jail. i’m obsessed. obsessed !

welcome, BEE ! you have been accepted as THE MASTERMIND, otherwise known as BISHOP LEE ( CHOI MINHO ).

my beautiful mastermind is no longer mine — he’s yours, bee, every inch, and i couldn’t be happier about it. from his recruitment log ( which was !!! you wove his voice into it so perfectly ) to his reasoning for creating the group in the first place, bishop is someone i didn’t expect, but i adore him, shaping his little family & leaving behind a legacy he can be proud of ( “so bishop acts like they’re immortal, because he truly believes they are. it’s just his version of immortality is in the history books rather than an eternally beating heart.” are you KIDDING ??? ). please don’t take him from me — i don’t want to let him go.

welcome, MIA ! you have been accepted as THE NEW KID ON THE BLOCK, otherwise known as MARTY CHOI ( KANG MINA ).

listen, i’m pretty relieved i didn’t get another app for this character, because i didn’t need one — marty is the new kid, through and through. she has that hunger that is so quintessential for this role, the drive and ambition for something more in this grand universe of ours. it’s so perfectly exemplified by marty’s own words: let me be excellent at something again. let me be proud of my own capabilities again. let me be part of something so i'll stop feeling so alone. this !! this is so perfect i almost jumped out of my skin reading it. thank you for bringing me our perfectly imperfect new kid — i can’t wait to see her in action.

welcome, LEXI ! you have been accepted as THE SECOND IN COMMAND, otherwise known as PERCY BANKS ( BRENTON THWAITES ).

holy shit, lexi. holy shit !! from the moment i saw “STATUS: deceased” at the beginning of your app, i knew i was in for a wild ride — but i had no idea what truly awaited me. from percy’s humble beginnings through his ambitious rise to hotshot fbi agent ( speaking of, can you say hot fucking take to have him as ex-fbi ? i’m floored ), i was hooked into the twists and turns of his story, my jaw dropping when i realized who jupiter was after all. the highs and lows of his first foray into the world of heists had me on the edge of my seat, and i truly cannot wait to see what percy does next — because at this rate, who knows where he’ll end up ? i’m excited to find out !

welcome, HANNAH ! you have been accepted as THE STAR OF THE SHOW, otherwise known as STRIKER KIM ( CHARLES MELTON ).

god, hannah — break my heart, why don’t you ? as each tidbit of striker’s past fell into place, that’s what you did, and i’m aching for this boy who’s just trying to stay alive ( and live as much as he can while he still is ). though the star could be played in so many different ways, you took this role an entirely different direction, and suffice to say it blew me away. literally, your mind. exhibit a — you didn’t go running to high society for fame or fortune, no. it was your insurance policy — god, striker !! he’s such a complex, heartbreaking character, and i can’t wait to see him on the dash. he may have a hand in two different worlds of crime, but he’s also got a place in my heart, and god knows he could use the love. also, making me crack a code just to understand your bio headings ? touché. i deserved that.

welcome, ELLIE ! you have been accepted as THE WATCHDOG, otherwise known as THEA JAIN ( NAOMI SCOTT ).

the watchdog requires a delicate balance: soft edges bathed in steel, a gentle person capable of terrible things. it can be a tough image to capture, but i shouldn’t have worried. your entire app painted a picture of this exact person, tugging at my heartstrings until the very end: remember that you are thea jain, and that you are a good person. you are kind. you are loved. and you are in control. that was it — just like thea’s fifth rule to round out the reminders of her morality, you completely sealed the deal. the way she cares for the team, baking for them and occasionally mothering them, exposes that soft underbelly guarded by her quiet yet surprising strength and power. you’ve made a beautiful character, ellie. i can’t thank you enough for bringing her to me.

#accepted.#thank u all for putting up w me !!!#sorry it took so long but whew #it's here

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