#the redhead is just something in testing for a concept
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Tried CSP and drawings never been easier. It's like when Rock Lee took his weights off
#excuse how theres more lines than usual#rusty since i havent drawn for myself in a long time#works been heavy#rkgk#fem giyuu#like its just natural id draw her by instinct#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba giyuu#kimetsu no yaiba#kny#kmts#dani art#myart#the redhead is just something in testing for a concept#so oc ig#just realised I've been drawing short haired fem giyu more ofren like its my default
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The Oracle||Concept Oneshot||
This and a few more one-shots will be setting up and testing how I will write the upcoming Sun Wukong x Reader story. “The Oracle” will be a placeholder name until something better comes to me. During this time, you guys can have a say on how certain things will turn out. So stay tuned for more oneshots and art.
“Thank you.”
You grab the warm cup from the vendor. Bringing up to your face, the steam kisses cold skin. You let out a sigh and head off down the busy street. As soft pitter-patter follows close behind.
Taking a sip from the cup. The air was cold, the sun taking its well-deserved rest. Everyone around you wore sweaters or light jackets. However, the cold didn't bother you. On the contrary, you didn't feel it. As if a warm blanket was always covering you.
Crossing the street, you head to the park. Only a few people were out, doing a nightly jog, taking a walk, or having the kids play at the playground in hopes to tire them out. You wander around a bit, taking in how the trees are gaining back their bright green leaves. All before finding a bench to sit at.
The soft patter of a small dog stops. It looks around before taking a seat right next to your feet, keeping guard. You smile softly, allowing your mind to wander.
‘I am so fucked.’
It's been 2 months since you got isekai to this cursed place. You want nothing to go back to your world and life. (Even though it wasn't perfect, at least you didn't have to worry about demons or the world-ending disaster that's going to happen soon.) Sadly from what you remember, it seems damn impossible for you to survive that bus crash.
When arriving here, you were heavily injured and with no currency for this world. You had to survive 3 hard weeks on the streets. Even worse, whatever power brought you here, announced your entrance to everyone in the mortal realm. Catching the attention of demons, that you really want to avoid.
Nothing right was going for you. Everything was just a huge dumpster fire. That you are forced to be in. Going through hardships and hunger, well until you ran into the fiery redhead. He gave you some money to finally buy a motel room and food to eat. Redson was the reason you manage to get this far. You glance down at the dog.
No, that isn't quite right.
During the first week here, you met this loveable thing. Truly a kindred spirit, all alone with no home or friends, trying to survive on the streets. Taking care of each other and having the other's back. It was tough but the dog and you made the dire situation bearable.
A smirk reached up to your face. The thought of Redson taking in two stray dogs. It was a simple stealing of an apple from a vendor during the daytime market, which is when you ran into him. Well, knocked into, was a better word for it.
That day you learned a new fact about the redhead. He likes to shop for produce to cook. This came as a surprise but it made sense, since he did have a vendor stall during the season 2 premiere.
The smirk quickly falls from your face, when you remember what followed next.
The feeling of wanting to go home returns.
“I may not know a lot about mortals, but I'm pretty sure, you guys need to keep warm. Otherwise, don't quote me on this, you’ll get sick or something.”
A familiar voice rings from your right side. The small dog quickly jumps on your lap, trying to come between you and the celestial demon. He huffs before taking a step back.
“Can you please control your mutt, please?”
You softly brush against the dog’s head. Quickly the animal leans into your hand as it lays on your lap.
“Is the infamously immortal Sun Wukong scared of a tiny dog?” You chime, finally looking at the frowning monkey. He was not pleased by your teasing, raising an eyebrow. Before a disappointed sigh left his lips.
“Infamously?! Also, I’m not afraid of dogs, I just don't like that, thing, aggressive behavior.”
He was on his cloud until he decided to hop off and take a seat on the bench. Humming happily, that he gets to spend some time with you.
“So, why are you up so late? Shouldn't you, oh I don't know, be at your place where it's safer?” Putting his hands behind his head, he leans back with his eyes closed.
You shrugged.
“Couldn't sleep and no place is safe for me at the moment, if you don't remember.”
“That’s why I'm taking time from my busy schedule to check up on you.” He smiles proudly, while you roll your eyes.
“Ah yes, I feel so honored that the Great Sage himself is so concerned for my safety.”
“You can be so adorable sometimes, peaches.”
Your eyes widen as you stare at him with red cheeks. Ever since meeting him, Wukong would say these random pet names. That did nothing but make your cheeks red. You were about to say something until he quickly brought his hand up. His thumb and index fingers, touching.
“Just a little bit though.”
You quickly shut your mouth, regretting whatever thoughts shot through your head a moment ago. A chuckle escapes from his mouth before a string of laughter follows, shaking his body.
“I'm sorry that was rude of me, I just couldn't help myself. You give out the cutest of reactions.”
“I'm not falling for that one again.”
“Again?” He smirks.
You groan and turn away from him.
“Alright, I'll stop, don't want you to get mad at me.”
You took a second before glancing at Wukong. He wears a soft smile as he stares at you. Emotions that you can't decipher fill his eyes.
Was it happiness? Relieve? Fondness?
You kept your face neutral, trying not to let any thought or emotion show. A short silence fell quickly before it was broken.
“So where did you go all day? Got me worried, since you weren't here to annoy me.” Your tone was soft and low. For once the always prideful being, tensed up. His eyes shoot to anywhere that isn't on you.
“Well, you see, I was visiting an old friend of mine…”
You hum, now intrigued by his sudden behavior. One of his hands goes into his pocket.
“Since that blast of energy reminded me so much of hers. I thought, maybe, she had a clue about helping control that power of yours.”
He pulls out a small white box. Wukong fiddles with it before taking the cover off. Revealing a red string bracelet with a simple gold lotus charm. You took a second to register what was happening.
‘A gift for me? And who the fuck did he visit? Everyone from the pilgrim is dead, no he said, she. Then could it be Guanyin?’
Thoughts rush through your head as you look at Wukong. He still didn't meet your eyes, instead focusing on a tree. Cheeks slightly red.
“How will this control my little ‘quirk’? You were gone for nearly the whole day and just for a simple bracelet?” You raise an eyebrow. Wukong faces scrunch up looking annoyed.
“Look if you don't want it then fine, I just wanted to help.” He tries to put back the cover. Wukong grimace, disheartened by your reaction.
“That's not what I meant- I'm just skeptical, but if you say it will help then what's the harm in trying it out? Anyways it looks nice.”
Wukong finally glances back. You gave him a small smile, hands reaching towards the box. He gives out a sigh, before revealing the bracelet once again. It slid easily onto your right wrist.
“Not bad, it sure is pretty.” You said. A gust of wind passes by, your body shivered.
“What the- why did it get cold all of the sudden?” Your arms wrapped around yourself, trying to keep warm. Wukong hands reach for you but stop midway. His hands instead unties his cape from his neck and drape it across your shoulders.
“I'm guessing that the bracelet is either locking or draining that power. So your body is back to running with regular human energy.”
“So that means..”
You stare into Wukong's eyes. His face was neutral before a twinge of mischief reached his eyes. Giving a smirk, flashing his sharp fangs.
“W-wukong. What are you thinking of doing?”
He didn't answer, instead, placing one arm behind your back and under your knees. Wukong easily lifts you up and onto his lap. While you let out a yelp and hold your pet close to your chest. A look of shock was stuck on your face. You felt his arms wrapped around you.
“I have been waiting so long to do this.” He whispers into your hair.
“There was no vision…” You were too stunned to speak. All this time, whenever you came into contact with somebody, you would involuntarily get and give visions of that person's grim future.
“There was no vision!” Quickly you wrap your arms around Wukong, bringing him into a hug. Letting go of the confused dog. It's been so long since you had any physical contact with another person that felt nice. You were so relieved and happy that tears started to fall.
“I did say, I was going to help you, didn't I?” Wukong smiles softly, taking in your smell.
It has been too long since he was this close.
__________________________
I was trying out a new perspective since I'm more used to 1st or 3rd. I felt this was lacking a bit, but the other one-shots will be from those perspectives. Depending on how good the response is what the majority of the perspective of the story is going to be.
#lmk sun wukong#lmk#lmk reader#sun wukong x reader#lmk monkey king#lmk redson#lmk x reader#lmk x y/n#sun wukong#lmk oneshot#The Isekai’d Oracle
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Fictober23 day 18: "We can't do this on our own."
(Original fiction and my original world concept.)
Sarah just sat there with the latest news. The news is that the heavens continue to use her to do things they feel they can't do. It's just something that's always tested her temper. At least she's a lot better at calming down than she was when she was younger.
The world could burn and they say it's all pre-ordained. Nothing against their father, just how they all keep doing this.
Aki just sat there next to her. “So what are we going to do?”
The only reason the redhead was allowed to even come with her on this, was because her official mission was to be her guardian. Their relationship was just a pleasant after-effect.
"We can't do this on our own." Sarah sighs and runs her hand through her hair.
If they want me to be their attack dog then fine. I'm doing this my way.
Aki just tilted her head as she looked right at the stars. "Who do we know besides your connections with the demons?"
Sarah's so-called demon connection was more to the fact she was considered the soul mate of a demon prince. Which caused its issues. Individuals who learn of that just assume she's being romantic or physical with him. That's the complete opposite.
Even platonic soul mates don't get her instant access to help from hell.
What they said could happen doesn't concern hell. Probably would benefit if things were fucked. That and I'm not in the mood for Eric's posturing.
Sarah sighed. “I was thinking more outside that. The fact their asking me to stop someone who’s already changed reality once.”
She really doesn’t want to play detective with the other supernatural groups. A lot of them don’t even think someone like her exists. All Sarah knows is the little experience she had with them over the past century.
Which was they were always one misstep away from all-out fighting.
Aki just gave a side-armed hug. "Aww, don't worry. I'll protect you. It probably won't be that bad."
I hate it when she says that. That’s usually when something explodes or I get shot again.
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✖️✖️✖️ 11x07 Rm9sbG93ZXJz
The one where... technology comes for Mulder and Scully because Mulder didn’t leave a tip on their weird silent sushi date.
Tagline: VGhlIFRydXRoIGlzIE91dCBUaGVyZQ= (aka The Truth Is Out There)
Best: Holding hands in a diner, just comfortably enjoying each other’s company after a long, wild night 🥰
Worst: This episode doesn’t really make sense (the silent sushi date, Scully’s weird smart house, etc) and isn’t subtle or all that deep, but it’s fun.
✔️ Flashlights
❌ Woods/Desert
❌ Slideshow
❌ Autopsy
✔️ Evidence Disappears
❌ Scully Misses It
❌ Mulder Ditch
✔️ Sunflower Seeds
✔️ Voiceover: AI intro VO
✔️ Catch Phrase: AI (IWTB)
❌ Scully is a Medical Doctor
❌ Mulder is Spooky
❌ Scuuullllaaaaayy! Muullllderrrr!
❌ Fox/Dana
✔️ Inappropriate Touching (that I am here for)
✔️ Casual Scully
✔️ Casual Mulder
❌ Trench Coats
❌ Bad Tie Watch
❌ Glasses Watch
✔️ Taking! It! Personally!: Mulder
50 States: DC x109 (45/50)
Investigate: Together & Apart
Solve Rate: 77%
❌ Bechdel Test: Only other human person in the episode is the waitress but only Mulder speaks with her.
MSR: 🐝🐝🐝🐝
Goriness: 👽
Creepiness: 👽👽
Humor: 👽👽👽👽
Rewatch Thoughts:
William check-in: No mention.
Break-up check-in: Well, they still have separate places (or did until Scully’s exploded) but they’re going on evening sushi dates and holding hands on their morning diner date so I think they’re going to be ok.
I like the concept of a silent episode - or episode where the only communication is with technology - but it just feels weird and unnatural that they aren’t talking on their sushi date. Also why is the place completely empty?? It would have felt more natural to me if they were in a busy restaurant and it was so loud they couldn’t hear each other and couldn’t talk or something. I know they’re going for a dystopian feel and to contrast with the diner at the end though.
The blob fish!! GA’s beloved
Her panicked who am I talking to! in the car 🤣
Mulder: You suck Mr. phone.
Scully: Poor! Awful! Terrible! Never again! Me on every automated customer service line trying to get through to speak with an actual person.
Scully’s smart house is very much a suspension of disbelief for me for this one episode. It’s nothing like the cozy aesthetic of her apartment in the original series or the Unremarkable house. If it was just aesthetic change that would be one thing - you could argue that she wanted something completely different when she moved out or that she thought of it as temporary so she never made it homey, etc. But after going on the run from the government and all her trust no one paranoia, the Scully I know would not live in a house that tracked her every movement and uploaded all that information online for whatever company or government agency or shadow conspiracy or individual to use against her!
Her password is Queequeg!
Rock it like a Redhead huh Scully? Her hair color changes so much over the years, I’m definitely a Scully has some red to her hair but she colors it truther.
Not sure how I feel about Scully’s new short hair - I think it just feels more like a wig to me because it’s so straight? It’s not bad but we know what Scully’s hair looked like when it was that length back in the day so it doesn’t feel quite right.
Scully’s little pink vibrator! To me Mulder’s look says more surprise that she’s carrying it around right now, not surprise that she has one - because you know he knows she does. TMI my little pink vibrator is not the same one, but the selection may have been (heavily) influenced by this episode.
Mulder’s frustration at being forced into this tip - it’s definitely worth $5 to make this stop 😂 Of course that’s what the tech companies are counting on 💀
Mulder thanks the waitress by name - this little diner seems like the kind of spot Mulder would be a regular at.
Mulder: Well, it’s good to see you got all your personal devices back. Scully: Not all of them. Significant look 👀
The first episode of the revival written by women (although Dr Anne Simon & Dr Margaret Fearon have story credit on MSII in season 10)
#xf rewatch#xf fanart#msr#Rm9#Rm9sbG93ZXJz#the x files#the xfiles#thexfiles#xf#txf#xf motw#i want to believe#truth is out there#xf review#11x07#revival
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Piece by Piece | F.W.
“He'll never walk away. He'll never break her heart. He'll take care of things, he'll love her. Piece by piece, he restored my faith that a man can be kind and a father should be great.” // Piece by Piece, Kelly Clarkson
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem! Reader
Summary: As a father, Fred is everything a man should be.
Word Count: 1.1k
Warnings: Reader has an absent/abusive father, “daddy issues”, unplanned pregnancy, parenthood, but honestly this is dad!Fred fluff <3
AN: I have a terrible relationship with my father and lots of trauma from that, and a close friend of mine on here does, too. We were chatting about it and how we dream that our future daughters are ‘daddy girls’. Thus, I wrote this oneshot. Honestly, it was so healing to write and gave me all sorts of emotions. I hope you enjoy, even if you can’t entirely relate.
✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧
You leaned against the kitchen island, holding a cup of warm coffee in your hands. You took slow sips, watching your husband, who was seated on the floor with your daughter.
Fred’s legs were practically touching his chest as he sat in the tiny, child-sized chair. He held a plastic teacup between his thumb and forefinger. Holding it out toward her, he raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have one sugar in my tea, miss.”
Your daughter giggled. “Daddy! You already has four sugars in there!”
It was something you had never known. You had hoped and prayed for your daughter, even before her conception, that this would be the love she knew. You longed to keep her from the ache of uncelebrated Father’s Days and broken promises. The hole left behind by your father was like an abyss. It swirled deep within you - its very being beckoning you to wonder about your worth and ability to be loved.
But Fred put your fears to rest. When she was first born, he looked at her like the most precious thing he’d ever seen. On that cool April morning when Fred had held her for the first time, he was unable to control the tears that spilled down his happy cheeks.
“She’s beautiful. Oh, she’s ours. Hello, my little darling,” he had cooed, walking around the hospital room at St. Mungos, cradling her gently in his arms. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her tiny head, moving to adjust the pink knitted hat Molly had made her.
You had been so afraid the day you told Fred about your pregnancy. It was five years earlier, although the memory graced your mind as if it had been yesterday. You were so young - just graduated from Hogwarts and barely making it in your entry-level position at the ministry. You were living life as a fresh-faced and spritely witch with the world open to you, now suddenly faced with two blue lines on a pregnancy test and uncertainty about your options.
When you told him, you were seated with him on your couch. You had your eyes focused on the red, blinking ‘W’ on his Weasley Wizard Wheezes tie, lips trembling as you braced for his goodbye. Your father’s face was clear in your mind - his words dripping with venom rather than love. In your chest, your heart shattered at the thought of your daughter reaching for a ghost the way you had your whole life. Rather than a father, you had a phantom who had left you cold and lonely. His face was haunting. It was that face that caused you to shield yourself from love for years until Fred Weasley had used his humor and charm to create tiny cracks in your armor until it had fallen nearly completely.
All of the years of self-deprecation about your ‘daddy issues’ couldn’t protect you from the blow of this moment, sitting across from Fred, knowing you had turned out almost exactly like your mother. “I’m giving you an out, Fred. No harm, no foul. I won’t...ask for child support or anything. You can leave.”
But, no goodbye came. Rather, the freckled-faced, redheaded young man next to you cupped your face and promised to love you and your baby - forever.
“I’m not going anywhere. I love you. I already love our baby.”
For the first few months, things were far from easy. Fred worked tirelessly at the shop. He would return on Sunday nights, feet aching after a sixty-hour week. But your daughter never wanted for a single thing. Despite his tiredness, Fred would walk softly into her nursery, where he’d find you gazing over her crib. He would come next to you and look down at your daughter with you, thinking to himself that there was nothing in the world that could ever touch the love he had for the tiny human you had created through your love.
Now, little Molly was five years old. She loved unicorns and princesses. Often, Fred would humor her, allowing her to place her tiny feet onto his shoes, dancing with her around the living room. In her tiny blue dress and crown, she was a Cinderella, content to dance with her father all day if she could. She looked at Fred like he hung on the moon. But the truth was, to both you and Molly, he did.
You came and sat on the couch opposite them both now, content to sip your creamy, sweetened coffee as they had their tea party. “Mommy! I want to watch Punzel, pwease!” Molly ran over the television in her bare feet, practically jumping up and down. You laughed and nodded, allowing Fred to get up and turn on Tangled - for probably the seventh time that week alone. Molly had a bit of an issue fully pronouncing the princess’s name, but you and Fred only found it all the more endearing.
The three of you cuddled on the couch with Molly between you. You pulled the blanket from the back of the couch, spreading it across the three of you. Your daughter rested her head on Fred’s chest as she watched, laughing loudly and clapping during the songs. When the movie was in its final scene, Molly had crawled onto Fred’s lap. Cupping her tiny hands, she whispered something in his ear and he nodded.
She took off running like a bolt of tiny lightning. You looked at Fred confused. Just as fast as she had left, she returned with a tiny, black box in her hand. “Open it Mommy!”
Rapunzel was still singing on the screen about her enchanted flower as you opened it. Inside of the box, a beautiful yet simple ring was waiting for you. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked over at Fred. He was grinning from ear to ear as Molly jumped up and down, holding your hand excitedly.
“Daddy wants to marry you like Flynn marries Punzel! Will you marry Daddy, Mommy?!”
Joyful tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded, allowing Fred to slip the ring onto your finger. Fred gave you a soft kiss on the lips. “I love you, y/n,” he whispered, staring into your eyes.
“Daddy! What about me?”
He lifted her up, making her giggle as he attacked her face in kisses. “And I love you, my little angel!” He had flipped her down onto the couch, attacking her with tickles now. Molly’s tiny and gleeful giggle filled the living room. The sound of your daughter made you cry more, but for once a father was causing you to weep happy tears. And for that, you were grateful.
#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley fanfiction#fred weasley fluff#harry potter fanfiction#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley x fem!reader
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IMAGINE TEEN OM!MC GETTING TRANSPORTED TO TWST
when they first came into the mirror room they were like “oh my again ? which cult do you belong to ? asmo’s ? luci ? perhaps diavolo’s-“
cue crowley crying about his school not being a cult in the background (excuse-me but if i was transported to twst i would definitely call them a cult like a students in robes worshipping some kind of mirror ? nu-uh not happening-)
for plot purpose this mc would probably have magic (but not the same as people in twst if that’s makes sense-) and be solomon’s little partner in crime student ! (i actually have a lot of wholesome moments in my head with this situation JEJDJDJ-) which means they would have a way to summon everyone they made a pact with on their own !
THEM HAVING PACT MARKS ON THEIR BODY AND THEN THE BOIS ASK ABOUT THEM
nrc bois : mc what are those ?
mc , nonchalantly : oh just the marks from the pacts i made with some demons :)
nrc bois : mc what-
mc : i’m also friends with two angels and a kind of shady very very old wizard !
nrc bois : 😀 you became friends with w h a t
since i’m coward i will act as if ma obey me bois and mc can still contact each other (i don’t care about plot holes plot holes fear me)
also
idia 🤝levi
bitching about normies and talking about anime
vil 🤝 asmo
sharing beauty routines and having skin care sleepover with mc
solomon 🤝 azul
being shady af
anyways in conclusion just mc having more simps than before
THIS ASK IS SO MESSY I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND
(ask characters limit : *expands* me : I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE)
literally sending you asks has become my favorite part of the day-
JZJDJDJDJDJDJD
HAVE A GREAT DAY !
YOOOO YOOOOOOOO YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
WHAT A CONCEPT!!!
LOL ANON, WE SHARE THE BRAINCELL!!! I also thought of NRC being some sort of cult with their strange practices djfdssasd
Crowley so offended to be associated to something demonic (or maybe he just acts offended)
OBEY ME TWST CROSSOVER!!! Your ideas sound so nice, anon!
Really digging MC being Solomon’s student/co-chaos bringer :b
OKAY, BUT I IMAGINE RIDDLE AND SEBEK (and maybe Deuce, too) BEING HELLA SHOOK WITH MC SAYING THEY MADE PACTS WITH DEMONS AND HAVE THE MARKS ALL OVER THEIR BODY LOOOOL
Meanwhile, Grim’s like “...I like this hooman! Worthy of being henchmen to the Great Me!” (cue Mammon: “Hey! That’s my line!!! >:o ”)
Honestly, idk if Levi and Idia will get along at first jadfjdsf
Maybe they develop a friendly rivalry?
I also imagined their meeting being like:
Idia: What even is going on? What is this bunch of weirdos doing here?
Levi: Ikr? Bunch of normies hanging out on these parts. I’d be ashamed to be a student in this school rofl lmao
Idia: *turn on camera to his tablet* Wait a second..! That speech pattern... RURIRURI_FAN_NO.1?!?!
Levi: Whu-? H-HUH?!?! UNDERWORLD/MYSERY18?!?!
*insert the spiderman meme of them pointing at each other, while spouting whatever gamer nonsense and throw on their faces how their (new) rival played dirty that one time in that one game*
.
DUDE, NOOOOOOOO!!!! THAT’S PERFECT!!!
Solomon - Azul duo alliance!!!! 😭😭
I imagine Solomon always outsmarting Azul whenever he sees himself dragged to the octomer’s office to strike up a deal
(Luci has to drag Mammon out of Octavinelle every day before he commits a stupid with the shady octopus)
YOOO, BUT SOLOMON & SAM?!?!?! I think Sam would be the one character Solomon becomes very interested in (maybe Malleus too bc of how powerful he is?)
Can we acknowledge how cater DIES to take a photo with Vil and Asmo??? CAN YOU IMAGINE THE AMOUNT OF FAVS AND FOLLOWERS HE COULD GET BY UPLOADING A PHOTO WITH THESE TWO BEAUTIFUL BOYS TO HIS MAGICAM?!?!?!
Asmo - Crewel tho 👀 I’d feel Crewel will say “FINALLY!!! A pup that actually knows about fashion!!”
....sorry, I’m simp.....
J A D E - B A R B A T O S D U O 💘💘💘
SO PERFECT, OOF *CHEF’S KISS*
Belphie - Leona - Silver
S L E E P
BEEL ADORING SCARABIA’S BANQUETS, WHILE KALIM WATCHES IN MILD HORROR AND JAMIL IS ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED AT HOW THE DEMON GULPS DOWN EVERYTHING AASADFKJD
And Vargas wanting to put the redhead to the test with his harsh training
I feel like, for once in his life, Luci feels so out of place.... and then he becomes friends with TREIN
Maybe Satan also becomes friends with the old teacher, ESPECIALLY BC OF LUCIUS!!!! But I can also see him have nice discussion sessions with Riddle, Sebek and Malleus about books and the magic of this world
ANON, AMAZING IDEA!!! ALL THE KUDOS TO YOUR SPARKLING MIND!!!
Awww <333 You’re always welcomed to drop by the askbox whenever you feel like it!! ^ ^)/
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little bumps in the road (pt. 21)
Previously, in LBitR...
Lena has to admit she’s impressed—albeit exceedingly exasperated—when Nia does not budge an inch in her resolve to keep her locked away from Lex. They young hero apparently has a stubborn streak to rival Kara’s, and at some point, Lena simply has to concede defeat, if only for the fact that Nia seems close to bursting into tears whenever she tries to explain there’s no place Lex can’t reach.
Whatever Nia has seen in her visions, it’s enough to make her adamant and completely unmoving on the matter. It hurt; Lena understood it, even if she did not agree with the decision in the slightest, but still. It hurt.
Brainy is the one who comes to collect her, a silent Nia in tow, a few hours later. Lena had only recently been allowed to walk around her room—under heavy guard—so he comes to her with a rather apologetic look when he pulls a fresh pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.
Lena offers her hands with only a resigned sigh. The cuffs barely close around the cast.
“My apologies,” Brainy says as they click into place, barely even tightened. “But we must keep up appearances.”
Nia is completely silent when Lena shoots her a look.
“This is a mistake,” Lena tries for the last time, a last-ditch effort. There’s no changing the resolve in Nia’s gaze. “We have to disable the implants—it’s the only way.”
Nia tries to remain utterly impassive, but there is a slight tremor to her lips that does not bode well. Before Lena can press further, Brainy interjects, looking apologetic. “There isn’t time,” he says, cutting through Nia’s determined silence with worry in his tone. “Supergirl has been spotted in Nevada—she’s undoubtedly on her way here. We cannot take the chance.”
Lena doesn’t try to say that they should take the chance, now more than ever. She doesn’t say that somehow, Lex will find her wherever it is they are taking her, and she’ll be powerless to stop him when he is literally inside her head.
Instead, she bites her tongue and lets DEO agents put a bag over her head. She doesn’t try to count the number of steps it takes to get to the van, or how many curves they take to this new, supposedly Lex-proof facility. She doesn’t even try to count the seconds in her head to work out how long the trip takes.
No, the entire time, Lena keeps her eyes shut and thinks.
She thinks about the miniscule implant in her skin, under a fresh layer of clean bandages changed only this morning. She thinks about the pattern in which the flashes of memories first appeared, tries to think about the memories she lost, she thinks of the blinding pain Lex’s trigger words had wreaked in her brain and her mind, physically and emotionally.
Trust me. Trust me. Trust me.
Most of all, Lena thinks about how the fuck she’s supposed to stop it from happening again.
The bag finally is taken off her head in a corridor so poorly lit Lena barely has to blink to adjust her eyes. It looks like any of the many run-of-the-mill military bunkers she’s seen in her lifetime. The main difference is the endless row of reinforced Plexiglass containment cells, all dark except for two, at the very end of the corridor.
One of them is empty; Lena assumes it will be hers. The other holds only a redheaded figure, slumped over a cot.
“Alex?” Lena breathes—the whisper comes out before she can even think about stopping it. The figure shifts ever so slightly in the cot, but Alex Danvers doesn’t deign to look her way. From where she’s standing, Lena can just see the white of fresh bandages at Alex’s temple.
The one other thing that draws Lena’s attention is the tall, brooding and stoic presence of J’onn, looming by the open cell next to Alex’s. Lena wonders why he’s here, wonders what he could possibly have to say to her, but the Martian remains utterly silent as Brainy and Nia escort her into her cell.
Once the handcuffs are off, Lena takes one step backward, and the door hisses shut; the loud click of the locking mechanism echoes eerily down the corridor, drowning out the breath that escapes Lena’s lungs.
They all stand there—well, Alex is still lying on her cot—for several moments. The air is thick with tension, and Lena wants to say something, but all she has to say are more arguments as to why what they’re doing is a terrible idea, and she already knows they will not be heard.
To Lena’s surprise, Nia’s the one to speak first.
“This—” she waves at their cells, hands trembling despite the strength and certainty she injects into her tone “—this is temporary. I promise.” Her eyes meet Lena’s framed by the blue of her Dreamer mask—it somehow makes her anguish even more apparent. She looks to where Alex is lying dejectedly in her cot, lips pulling into a thin line. “We’ll take care of Lex before he can activate the implants. I promise.”
Lena doesn’t tell her not to make promises she cannot keep. She just smiles, as frankly as she can, and lets Nia walk back down the corridor in a determined strut, Brainy following shortly after, leaving Lena behind with a pained look.
J’onn lingers. He stares directly at Lena, wordlessly for several moments, like he is staring through her soul. Lena tries very hard not to think about what she knows of Martians’ and their telepathic abilities—knowing she can’t exactly shield her own mind, instead she focuses on keeping it blank, a vast emptiness with nothing for him to find.
She can’t exactly look away—this feels like a test of sorts, and Lena has never not risen to the occasion. She’s not entirely sure she succeeds, but the silence is interminable as the tension slowly, slowly ebbs away.
Unfathomably, the Martian chuckles.
“Very good, Miss Luthor,” he says, his deep voice a rumble behind the glass of her cell. Lena cannot even begin to understand what he means.
J’onn steps closer—his eyes drift to Alex’s curled form for a moment, a glint of worry glimmering through them before they settle back on Lena. “You are more prepared for this than you think, Lena.”
The statement shocks her, enough for Lena to let her guard down for a moment. Her fist—which was clenching tightly at her side—suddenly relaxes, and it is as if the movement releases a ball of pent-up energy she has been carrying ever since her heated argument with Nia.
“Excuse me?” she says, her disbelief and confusion plain in her expression. She’s stuck in a cell, with an incapacitated Alex Danvers in the cell beside her to boot. They’re essentially sitting ducks for Lex.
“You are not as vulnerable as you think you are,” J’onn continues, as if he had read her… wait. He smiles, following her realization with something akin to amusement.
“I have a mind-control device in my head,” she says matter-of-factly, eyes narrowing. “I’d say that’s pretty vulnerable, especially now that I’m being left stranded here with no recourse.”
“Lena. You know. And knowing is half the battle,” J’onn murmurs cryptically.
Lena’s good fist clenches again, her aggravation evident. “I can’t win half a battle,” she hisses.
J’onn shakes his head, like he’s discussing something with a child who can’t comprehend a fairly simple concept—it only serves to irk her further. “Lena. You know about the implant.”
“Yes!” She half-yells. “I know about the implant, I know how it works, I even know how Lex put it in my head! But I also know there’s nothing I can do about it. So tell me, J’onn, what good is knowing all of this if I can’t use it??
J’onn regards her pensively for a moment—that hint of amusement that glimmered in his eyes is gone; however, it looks as if it has been replaced with something else entirely.
He looks impressed.
“Lena,” he says, and his voice is… encouraging? Optimistic? “You said it yourself. You know you have a mind-control device in your head. You are aware Lex will use it at any point. And thus, if you are aware…” he trails off, taking a step back and eyeing Lena knowingly.
Lena feels her jaw slackening, her fist unclenching. The hand encased in her cast throbs mildly, just enough to remind her of how she stopped what Lex had triggered. She thinks of his words, thinks about the blinding shock that seized her psyche when he did it, of how it pulsed inside her skull, white-hot and agonizing.
She thinks of how she expects it to happen, literally any minute now, how Lex’s words seem to have been swirling in her head ever since he used them against her.
Trust me. Trust me. Trust me.
The Martian’s smile returns as he follows Lena’s train of thought.
“You know, Lena,” he repeats, beginning to walk away. “That means you are prepared.”
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#nara's word vomit#LBitR#supergirl#supercorp#lena luthor#kara danvers#fic writing#femslash#I ACCIDENTALLY MADE THIS LONGER WHOOPSIE#SORRY#but we are close to done I promise#I just could not resist A Little More#and also#brain cannot just pick One Lane and Stick With It
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Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 6
You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.
pairings: dark!Avengers x reader
word length: 2.9K
chapters: 6/?
warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. more detailed content warnings are included at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers, click through the read more, CTRL + F “content warnings”.
notes: slightly shorter than my usual, but i needed to get some stuff fixed up. if ya’ll like my stories please consider donating to my ko-fi— a bitch is poor lmao
Steve swept you up in his arms and turned to deposit you on the landing upstairs, evidently trusting the others to keep you contained for a moment. There was an audible scuffle going on in the den, Bucky would be heard growling from outside—snapping at someone who made the mistake of asking how he’d gotten out there so fast? Tony was growling at Peter who looked seconds away from begging for forgiveness.
“You guys made it safe, I’m happy to see you Nat,” Steve drew the redhaired woman into his arms and sighed in relief, but you couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement; honestly you were having trouble thinking, your brain clouded with the sudden onset of absolute and uncontrolled panic.
The moment the black-haired man had been pulled away by the delta currently stomping back up the stairs, clarity had returned to you like a slap in the face. The golden fog that obscured your vision immediately dissipated and just as quickly you’d been overwhelmed with gut wrenching fear. You didn’t actually remember kicking Steve in the face or making a break for the stairs, but evidently you had and you cursed your hindbrain for running towards the stairs—you should’ve jumped straight out the window; you had a better chance at out running Bucky and whoever else was down there than the two alpha primes and their surrounding packmates.
Before you could even take a step towards the still wide-open window, the black-haired man appeared with a green flash and wrapped around you tightly. “Shhh , pet, no. No windows for you, darling, come now—back to your nest.”
In a moment of truly unusual harmony, your consciousness and hindbrain agreed that the bed was the last place you wanted to be. That wasn’t your bed, the omega hissed tearfully, you’d never made a nest—that wasn’t yours. It could barely be called a nest, even. There hadn’t been any careful consideration regarding the placement of the pillows and blankets, there were no articles of clothing or soft items that had been scavenged or stolen to elicit a feeling of safety or comfort. Worst of all was the way it smelled. Obviously, it didn’t reek, the mix of individual scents wasn’t a bad conglomeration, but your hindbrain whined at the unfamiliarity. This wasn’t your pack’s scent.
The cohesion was jarring, and you groaned. Regardless of the reasoning, your hindbrain was aware that you didn’t get to have a pack and that reminder always hurt. It desperately desired one, but an omega’s primary objective was survival.
After all, you in all of your fully conscious state knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would never have a pack—it wasn’t a matter of wanting or not wanting at this point in your life. You were too old to be regressed into the type of omega that packs wanted, your body too badly reliant on the chemical reactions produced by suppressants after fifteen years to stop taking them. At your age, to be found by a pack meant death.
They would get sick of trying to fix you. You’d die from quitting the suppressants cold turkey. They’d beat you for disobedience until your body gave up. You were nearly thirty and that was ancient for an unbound omega and you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks. Especially an old dog who was bound and determined not to be taught.
“LOKI!” Bucky bellowed as he stomped past Steve and the redhead on the stairs, looking three shades past furious.
The man holding you let go very quickly after that, spinning you away and moving to intercept the furious delta with an equally unpleasant expression. Why couldn’t you have just fucking kept it together upon meeting Bruce—that blood in the water, shark nosed asshole, if you had reigned in your panic there was no way he could’ve scented you through your suppressants. Steve was a different story, but if you’d been quick and calm you probably could’ve made it.
You scanned the room quickly; Bruce was on the bed, checking on Wanda. Bucky and Loki were on the floor fighting, half entangled with Peter and Sam who were doing their best to put their own fight aside to keep the deltas from killing each other. Steve was still halfway down the stairs with the other redhead, talking to her quietly. Tony was—
“Okay, princess, okay,” Tony was wrapped tightly around you from behind, carefully keeping your head braced between his chin and shoulder when you tried to thrash. “This isn’t fair to you, you’re way too fragile for this right now. Put your head here, breathe with me.”
“Please let me go,” you didn’t realize you were crying until you spoke, words coming out in sobs. “I don’t want to die like this, please—”
“You are not going to die, little love,” Thor sounded so sad from where he came to stand in front of you. “I’m not going to bond you, not while you’re so upset. But the results of the tests Bruce ran showed that you are in danger. I cannot allow that and no matter how angry you are with us, we will not let you suffer needlessly.”
“I’m not suffering! I swear, I swear I’m not suffering I’m, I’m happy! I’m happy living my life the way I have been. Please, let me have the choice, I want to be alone, it makes me happy!”
Trying to explain to a literal God why you deserved personal agency was an exhausting business, especially when said God was as condescending as Thor. His indulgent and sad smile was nearly enough to tip you over the edge, but there really wasn’t a point in getting angry—he obviously couldn’t even fathom the concept that what he was doing was wrong. It’s not like you could do anything anyway, you weren’t built for violence but for running away. Every bone in your body vibrated with rage; the injustice was overwhelming.
For fifteen whole years you’d been just fine. You would’ve continued to be just fine, if it weren’t for some super nosed freaks crossing your path. What were the odds of the only people in the world who could scent you from beneath more than a decade’s worth of suppressant use would have a cabin in Quebec that you happened to clean—and run into said people because they happened to show up early; an incredibly unusual situation.
It made you think about Mrs. Hunt. She’d only called to give you a heads up because of the last time, when the homeowner had tried to assault you even while he’d thought that you were a beta . You wondered how long it would take her to realize something was wrong; it was getting late and you’d yet to return her cart despite telling her you’d be there shortly.
The real question would be whether she tried to help or not once she discovered your presentation. She could try to help, try to stick them with omega theft, but they could claim civic duty like Peter had earlier. Besides, that was contingent upon her wanting to help you considering you’d lied to her for so many years.
“You’re so distressed, won’t you let me purr for you?”
“Don’t! Don’t you dare take away—”
“Little love, please—”
“Don’t call me that. You don’t even know me,” you spat, turning to address the room at large. “What kind of fucking superheros are you? Let go of me! Let me go!”
Tony sighed and hefted you up into his arms, one wrapped around your torso while the other hooked under your knees and pinned you carefully across his body. You struggled uselessly against his strong hold; he wasn’t as strong as Thor or Steve, but his bicep was massive next to your head and you could feel his muscles through his clothes as he walked to the bed.
“We can’t, princess,” he murmured into the side of your head as he lowered both of you to the bed, sitting propped against a mass of pillows in the corner. “We’ll never find an unbound omega in your age range again. Plenty of omegas have been offered to us, but they’re all practically children. You’re our last chance—”
“There are plenty! You said plenty! Pick the oldest who wants to be in this fucking shit show and leave me alone!” Everyone tensed when the tone in your voice approached a shriek.
“We’re not taking an omega who’s not even legal to drink—”
“That alpha is like eighteen!” You tried to gesture to Peter, who gaped at you like you’d wounded him, but your arms were still pinned tightly to your sides.
“Peter is twenty-four, actually,” Tony spoke with mirth when Peter jumped onto the bed and crawled until he was pressed against Tony’s side and your back. “And before you ask, Wanda is twenty-six.”
“We’re so lucky to have found you,” the alpha half purred, pressing his nose into the back of your neck. “We’ll make you happy, happier than you are now.”
“It’s gonna be a rough start,” Bruce laid down in the nest a few feet away, welcoming the woman you recognized as the Black Widow into his arms when she slithered into the bed. “We have to balance your hormones, or you will die. You wouldn’t have lasted another year on those suppressants.”
“Death would be a reprieve,” you hissed shortly, freezing when the tone of the room immediately changed.
All attention was suddenly on you, Bruce still making direct eye contact with those sad puppy eyes, “I know that feeling, sweetheart—”
“We will do it another way then,” Thor interrupted, sending Bruce a quieting but loving look. “I said I would not bond you while you are in distress anda I will never break a promise to you. Open your mouth, this will be quick.”
Steve seemed to sigh in response and followed to stand next to the other prime, “I lost my chance. You’ll help her?”
Thor leveled the shorter blond with a careful look before nodding, both showing signs of deference and affection and respect that you did not care for. The rattle of a belt prompted Tony to turn you, setting you carefully between his legs while continuing to hold down your arms with what could appear to be an affectionate bear hug. He even linked his fingers with yours, squeezing gently as you tried to squirm.
“No. No, no no no, that’s disgusting, I won’t—”
“Shhh , I’ll do all the work little love, all you need to do is swallow.”
He was jerking his cock carefully, a flick of his wrist near the head catching your eye. That was a dangerous weapon, the same way you’d come to learn Steve’s was and you had no intention of letting it anywhere near your mouth. You clamped your lips shut, teeth grinding.
“Stubborn,” Peter snorted a laugh and you would’ve snapped at him had his hand not dove between your thighs, fingers gliding through the slick lips of your cunt until he found your clit.
You had to stop yourself from screeching, the head of Thor’s cock directly in front of your face. “Very. Come on now, open up.”
The fingers pinching your nose shut came as a shock, you’d crushed your eyes shut out without realizing it and they snapped open when your face was assaulted. Steve was kneeling on the bed, carefully cutting of your air supply with one hand and stroking your head with the other.
“Come on, precious, you’ve gotta breathe,” he stated softly, smiling when you were forced to pull your lips back to gasp for breath—until he realized your teeth were still locked together. “Really ‘mega?”
The next thing you knew his thumb was shoving against your molars, literally prying your jaw open. There was no way to fight it without hurting yourself, especially once he wedged his thick thumb between your top and bottom teeth. You barely had a second to anticipate the horror before an unnecessarily large cock found it’s way between your lips.
You tried to shriek, your brain finally catching up to the whole series of events, but it was no use. His scent was overwhelming and his dick stretched your lips, your jaw forced completely open. Thor groaned, a triggering noise as he very carefully pressed forward until your mouth was completely full and he was settled against you tongue.
“Suck for me, little love, just a little,” he grunted, just barely working his member between your lips while his huge hand stroked the rest.
It took a surprisingly small amount of time for a massive load of cum to shoot into your mouth. It was thick, and the way that Thor growled immediately made your pupils blow wide like you’d done a line of coke.
Your body went lax immediately and you swallowed on instinct when a hand gently rubbed your throat. The fuzz in your brain was the result of arousal, a brutal orgasm that rocked your body at the sound in combination with your body’s sheer delight at the taste of alpha cum. Somewhere you realized that was disgusting but the haze in your brain made you more focused on the hand between your thighs rather than the indignity.
“Man, this shit ain’t fair,” Sam complained, panting from the exertion of trying to prevent Loki and Bucky from killing each other. “They get to cuddle and we—Hey! Quit that, man!”
“All of you stop fighting,” Steve’s alpha order was brutal and effective.
The sounds of scuffling from behind Thor stopped immediately and there were huffs and snarls and low grumbles but the nest started shifting all around you. You were dropped back to lay against Tony’s chest, having inadvertently swallowed the entirety of the god’s massive load.
“She’s so cute,” Wanda cooed from somewhere to your left.
“We’ll need to go over what we’re doing from here,” Steve sighed once everyone had settled, still watching your dazed expression with a small smile. “But let’s just… nest for a bit, okay?”
The word nest triggered something in your half alpha-cum stoned brained and you looked around the den with a displeased expression. It was a terrible nest; all of the pillows and blankets were in weird heaps and the scent was so wrong. You didn’t really want to nest here, your hindbrain grumbled in agreement, but you’d fix the damn thing. You whined and wriggled until Steve gave Tony the go ahead to stop fully restraining you.
The bed was incredibly soft, which was an upside and crawling across it was like sinking your knees into clouds as you collected the soft heaps of blankets and pillows as you went. You wanted everything off so you could start from scratch, brain muddled by the wrongness of the current layout. You wanted to wash the sheets, the pillow cases, the blankets, all of it. The scent wasn’t right.
“Help her.” It was a quiet request from the Black Widow, who’d also started shifting around to remove the items. “She doesn’t like it like this.”
It was easier to get everything pushed away and in neat piles with the packs’ help, everyone immediately moving to help organize the pillows. You only snapped at the blond beta—Hawkeye, your memory supplied— once for putting a soft blanket on the pile with the not soft blankets. He immediately gave an apologetic burr to which your hindbrain purred back instinctually; evidently a good reaction.
“Why does she like Clint? They haven’t even spoken.”
“She doesn’t like him, she snarled at him!”
“She hasn’t purred at anyone else!”
“Shut up, fuckin’ idiot.”
The noise you made was one of discontent and disdain, the arguing deltas immediately quieting. You didn’t argue with the chirping growl that meant displeased omega, not in a real pack where the goal was to keep omegas pleased and docile. Somewhere your brain reminded you that this wasn’t your pack but the alpha hormones filling your blood and confusing you and yet somehow all you could focus on was whining and pushing at pack members to get them out of the way as your rearranged; clicking your teeth grumpily when you were handed a blanket instead of a pillow or vice versa.
You found yourself being corralled back into the corner, where Natasha and Wanda immediately wrapped themselves around you. Thor had found Bruce and settled beside and settled near your feet where you’d built an intricate nest wall of pillows and blankets. Two of the deltas, Tony and Loki seemed to be glaring at each other—even as Tony laid himself completely on top of the other and they both relaxed into comfortable holds.
It was interesting, watching the pack dynamics as they moved between each other. Clint wrapped around Natasha from behind the same way Carol found her way behind Wanda. Peter had weaseled his way into curling against Loki’s side while tossing a leg over the man’s hip, subsequently laying it over the backs of Tony’s thighs. Sam, Bucky and Steve all found their way into a neat grouping on the bed closest to the stairs, piled as close to the subsequent piles of superheros as possible.
There was some sort of pattern beginning to form in the back of your brain but you were still too confused, too sucked into your own omega hindbrain by the overwhelming introduction of alpha hormone to your system. Instead of following the thought through to the end, you found yourself warm and comfortable and full and falling asleep tucked between the groupings of presentations as if it wasn’t totally, 100% against your will.
content warnings: forced cum eating, chemical manipulation, dead dove: do not eat
#avengers x reader#steve rogers x reader#thor x reader#bucky barnes x reader#tony stark x reader#carol danvers x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#bruce banner x reader#clint barton x reader#peter parker x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#sam wilson x reader#dark!avengers#dark!AU#pocketful of posies chapter 6
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more of tauriel’s hellfamily adventures! there’s still a couple of gaps in my conception of this au, which is why these are bullet points and not an actual fic, but i think i’ve got enough to progress the plot, such as it is. certainly got a bunch of anecdotes i think are funny
i’m not even going to bother explaining how tauriel ended up in one of the fëanorians’ boltholes being treated for mild injuries
nothing super serious, but enough that she’s out of action for the rest of the night. the palace is on fire
the bolthole opens, and celegorm (who’s doing first aid) turns his head. his preemptive scowl melts away instantly. ‘hi elrond!’
the former lord of imladris just sighs. ‘please tell me you idiots haven’t abducted tauriel’
legolas has concerns, apparently. he saw celegorm vanish into an alleyway with her slung over his shoulder and immediately started panicking
‘i've talked him into delaying his rescue mission until i had the chance to check that she was safe’ elrond finishes, sounding absolutely exhausted
tauriel confirms that she is doing fine, as much as she can through the concussion. celegorm’s like ‘if he’s so worried about her why doesn’t he just come up here’
elrond disappears, and a few minutes later legolas scrambles inside
he’s glaring at celegorm. celegorm tells him where the first aid kit is, punches him on the arm, compliments his tracking skills in a vaguely threatening manner, and jumps back out to assist with the chaos
legolas collapses by tauriel’s bedside, still clutching his bow. tauriel pats him on the thigh reassuringly
neither of them are surprised elrond knows the fëanorians - they stayed in his place in tol eressëa for a while, dude knows literally everyone - but they don’t really know why
closer to dawn, elrond’s voice drifts up into the hideout. he’s going on this long irritated rant that climaxes in an extremely exasperated ‘valardamnit dad!’
maglor cackles. tauriel’s like ‘huh didn’t know that.’ legolas makes a face like he accidentally swallowed a spider
by this point, tauriel’s known the brothers hellspawn for long enough legolas has been unnervingly close to a kinslayer way more times than he’d like
this is the longest he’s spent in proximity to them by far, but it’s not the only time he’s interacted with them. they seem to like tauriel, and he knows she can take care of herself
but like still
it keeps happening, though. as tauriel further ingratiates herself with these awful awful elves, her two separate social circles keep bleeding into each other
take the time legolas and co visited the aulendili
before they left middle-earth, gimli whipped round every dwarf they knew and assembled several volumes of complaints. they refuse to confirm or deny whether aulë is the maker, but they are determined someone’s gonna hear their grievances
and thus a small wagon train of wood elves head up into the mountains. including tauriel
tauriel offhandedly mentioned the upcoming trip to the twins, and amras was like ‘hey we’ve got family up there!’ a few messages went up and down the funicular, and now gimli and crew have a place to crash up there
they’re put up by some of the fëanorians’ less murderous (if equally loud) relatives. it’s a pretty interesting trip
half the town is redheads. several people still mistake tauriel for a fëanorian. it’s been happening a lot in the wider noldorin territory lately, it’s weird
caranthir stumbles up into town about halfway through their visit. he gets into an extremely long philosophical argument with gimli that somehow ends with a mutual dwarven nod of respect
he also ends up fighting back-to-back with tauriel in one of those debatebrawls so common among the noldor. neither of them is quite sure how it happens
that’s the way it goes, isn’t it. there’s no big official moment when tauriel becomes part of the family
she just grows closer to them over her time in valinor, as they do to her
she merges into their social world. she develops a rapport with maglor’s wife - a first age mountain sinda and a third age forest avar don’t have that much in common, but they are both looking at noldorin culture from the outside. they have so many injokes about ridiculous bling
(it goes the other way too. this childhood friend oc of hers i’m developing - pretty sweet guy, the token sane man in the legolas-tauriel-him trinity - gets along really well with celebrimbor)
this one time tauriel punches a guy out for calling elrond a traitor. it doesn’t matter that he’s like three times her age, he is babey
she gets chewed out by maedhros and tests out new devices for curufin and drops in on nerdanel for tea. even though she doesn’t permanently live in the definitely-not-fëanorian quarter, she has her own personal space in its innermost warren
she’s one of them long before anyone consciously realises it
what causes that realisation is, admittedly, partially the conspiracy theories. if you say something often enough, you’ll start to believe it, and while the tauriel origin stories circulating through the noldorin rumour mill vary a lot in the details they all agree she is a fëanorian
but that’s a gradual long-term thing. it’s one more thread that leads to the moment
because there has to be an inflection point, i think. the fëanorians have plenty of family friends within the ranks of their definitely-not-minions. some are even as close to them as tauriel’s become
something has to happen to show she’s something more. fortunately, as demonstrated by the darkening and the númenorian invasion, no matter how peaceful it seems, history never stops
shit goes down. the exact details i’ll admit i don’t know yet, but at some point some sort of massive crisis rocks all of valinor. it’s during that crisis that tauriel does stuff that makes it blindingly obvious she’s not just on her side, but one of them
what stuff? again, i don’t know yet. i have this mental image of her leading a strike team that’s half definitely-not-minions and half legolas’ people through a burning city to do... something badass, but that’s as specific as i can get atm
what i am certain about, is that throughout the unfolding of the crisis, tauriel is permanently on the fëanorians’ side, just like they’re on hers
it’s one thing to be someone’s friend in bright happy days. it’s another thing to stick by them when everything’s falling to pieces and the whole world is against them. it’s in the depths of this crisis that both parties have the chance to fully prove their worth to each other
that probably wouldn’t be enough on its own, but combined with the friendship and the conspiracy theories and just the general way she is, once the dust settles it’s blazingly clear that tauriel is a daughter of the house of fëanor
there’s a little debate about where exactly she fits on the family tree, but not much. our sample size is admittedly small, but third generation fëanorians tend to have the slightest modicum of common sense? elrond and celebrimbor both have a fair degree of self-awareness and at least a few brain cells
tauriel does not. tauriel is mad, bad, and dangerous to know, just smart enough to understand that her sheer chaoticness is something she can channel but not nearly close to regularly thinking through the consequences of her actions. she’s loud and violent and does whatever she wants whenever she wants without a single thought towards what people will think of her
and more than that, she doesn’t relate to the second generation fëanorians the way the third generation does. she’s their friend and partner-in-crime, not one of their precious perfect must-protect children. she gets jerked around and bullied and does all that stuff right back, and while she doesn’t have a solid place in the second generation’s internal hierarchy yet she would easily slot in
no, tauriel’s a second generation fëanorian, one of fëanor and nerdanel’s horrible children. the fact that fëanor is currently indisposed and unable to provide an opinion on the matter doesn’t seem to bother anyone
she gets inducted into the family in a massive group hug, and from then on out the brothers hellspawn are the siblings hellspawn
her new family doesn’t replace her old one, of course, she has a long talk with elrond wherein she hashes this out. she’s still a silvan of the greenwood
she’s just also the little sister of the most bloodthirsty elves in history
(that sound in the background is legolas screaming)
#silmarillion#tauriel#feanorians#house of feanor#the feanorian tauriel saga#my terrible fic#this is late because i needed to sleep last night#extremely panicky background legolas#the worst part is he can't even deny it#current plan is looking like one more main entry and a couple of errata#there's a scene i don't think i'll be able to fit in and a little minific about why tauriel doesn't believe in maedhros
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10. Music Makers - Part 6 / Scenes from Gordon’s Bedside
Chapter Summary: Virgil and Gordon and music
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
You are Here - Final Section
Chapter A/N: In honor of 10 chapters of this concept, the plan is to give you a hell of a chapter 10 with a few moments in time strung together. I decided to go ahead and share what I have with you instead of waiting. Once the chapter has been shared in full over tumblr, I will post the full piece at Ao3 and FF.net. It may or may not make sense to remain as chapter 10 or be it’s own thing. Do share if you have an opinion. :-)
Adding also - this is the final bit. Thank you all so much for the reblogs and the likes, and the tags. The support has been wonderful and I am so humbled. I hope you have enjoyed. I am posting the last bit here, and tomorrow sometimes I’ll probably post the FF and Ao3 links for the story in full, but for now, this is for you tumblr. Thank you.
Part Notes: A thank you to @gumnut-logic for the read through because I needed another set of eyes on what is a complicated set of boys below. It’s been a whirlwind of a day.
For tunes this time - Green Onions.
***
Music Makers - Part 6/The Conclusion
“You want to do what?!”
“I want to use your accident as a simulation for training.” John continues to layer cream cheese onto his toasted bagel as he speaks, but Gordon has stopped his knife mid-spread, the heaping dollop of hazelnut hovering dangerously on the dull edge.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not,” John says, his countenance severe as green eyes stare piercingly to meet Gordon’s shocked expression.
“O-kay” Gordon says slowly, placing his breakfast down onto his plate and pushing the breakfast meal aside. “Why exactly?”
The hydrofoil had exploded before anyone could ever have anticipated the destruction; there had been no time. The only way to use his accident for a rescue simulation was to admit what really happened. And while Gordon was grateful for what John had risked by hacking confidential WASP files to discover the cause of the accident, no good could from clueing in Scott and Virgil to the knowledge that it was sabotage, that someone – they still don’t know who - had tried to murder him and had succeeded for seven others. He planned to take the knowledge to his grave and has asked John to do the same. Which is why it was strange for their Thursday morning to start with such a suggestion.
The four of them had been running sims for weeks. There was nothing that would beat live testing the equipment and they had done test drives of the pods and ships, but running mission scenarios was different. Before they introduced International Rescue to the world, they needed to be able to trust each other completely, to know how to work the problem.
Scott had naturally taken to the role of commander, his instincts well in tune with countering the details of John’s “missions.” Since it was all simulations, Virgil would often challenge Scott’s decisions, walk through the equipment they would have at their disposal, and offer additional suggestions. Brains and Jeff had started to create practice rescues as well, so John got the practice he needed to best support communications.
Overtime, the rescues became more complex. They were all experts in their fields, so it was natural for them to lean into the rescues that met their niches, but when they went live that wouldn’t always be the case. Just yesterday, Gordon had given his family a crash course on how to best avoid getting the bends in a deep sea rescue, and Gordon has learned more about functioning in zero gravity than he hopes he will ever truly need.
Sometimes John and Brains would program the mission to have an urgency to it, sometimes it was a mission of precision. And they’d failed. A lot. A lot less lately as they started to get into the groove, but they always worked the problem until they solved it.
Even knowing what he did about the bomb that had been placed deep in the hydrofoil’s engine, Gordon’s knew his accident was…unsolvable.
“But how are we supposed to solve for the impossible, John?” John doesn’t answer; he just looks at Gordon patiently, pointedly. Waiting. “Oh my God, you want to give them a Kobayashi Maru!”
John nods. “Yes.”
“No, I don’t like it,” Gordon says, shaking his head.
“Look, we will do everything we can, and we will still lose people. Scott and Virgil—” the and you goes unsaid “—need to understand that! They’re getting too complacent, and they need to understand the stakes. We can’t save everyone.”
“We understand the stakes,” he argues, but John is shaking his head vehemently.
“No. You don’t. You all have shown you’re going to be a hell of a team, honestly,” he says. “But it’s all been puzzling through the situations, how to use the pods. I need a way for it to feel real, and I can’t use the avalanche, so —"
“Don’t you DARE.”
“I’m just trying to find something—"
“John, stop.” Gordon says, grasping at the redhead’s shoulders and gently shaking him. “I need you to turn off rescue work here. How can you even think to do that to Virgil? What exactly are you trying to prove? I didn’t think you would be so cruel.”
Gordon can’t fathom what would possess John to pressure his brothers – Virgil who, he clearly has mis-understood, and Scott, who after two months MIA, had been returned to his family with an honorable discharge and a pair of haunted eyes and agitated reflexes that were mere phantoms to what they imagine he went through captured behind enemy lines. If training in the Air Force was anything like WASP, Gordon knew just why and how Scott closed himself off from feeling at times.
John pales. “I’m not—”
“What is Virgil supposed to think if you give them the avalanche and they can’t solve it?” Gordon feels heat flush up his neck. “What if they can solve it? I don’t even know what’s worse, but I won’t let you do it! I won’t!”
“I know. Look, I know, Gordon. You haven’t let me finish; I said I am not going to use to avalanche,” he says, urging Gordon to understand. He knows how difficult this is. He’s been going through it in his head for days before mustering the courage to ask Gordon. “Just let me start over.”
“Fine. But get to the point.”
“Tell me - when is the last time any of you used someone’s name on a rescue simulation?”
The question takes him by surprise. He knows they receive the victim’s name in the scenario briefing, but he can’t remember a time when they used names. The simulations were life-like enough that they could role play if they need to, yeah, but the point was to practice with the equipment. But then, they had been exceeding expectations there lately.
“How about the last mission? Do you remember the victim’s name? How about his age?”
Gordon stares blankly at his brother. He thinks it started with a B, perhaps. Brandon? Bradley?
“It was Randy, and he was 8. Virgil geared up with the Jaws of Life, moved the cross beam to save him, and got him out of the fire to safety. You don’t even know why the boy froze, do you? It was because he was scared. Randy was deaf and he didn’t hear a thing Virgil said. Virgil can’t do ASL in the exo-suit, and for the entire simulation he faced away from him. Virgil may have gotten him out, but he didn’t give him very much trust in International Rescue.”
“Yeah, but he would still be alive if it were a real situation.”
“Gordon, the situation was never about the fire. It hasn’t been about learning the equipment for weeks. Please. I am not trying to be heartless. I just… don’t know how else to make it feel real to them. And I am worried.”
“So, what? You’re trying to make a point about their compassion, and yet you’re showing them none? I don’t want any part of it,” he growls. “And you make your own no-win scenario. Leave mine out of it.” Gordon slides his chair back and storms off.
After a few seconds, John too retreats to his room, after wrapping up the two uneaten bagels for later. He has a lot to think about.
***
Gordon finds Virgil in Thunderbird 2’s hangar, checking her over for the test flight they are planning to undertake after simulations today. His dark hair is swept underneath a large headset that could appear to have a safety function to protect his ear drums, but no, Gordon knows they are his older brother’s preferred set of sound blocking, bass pumping, wireless headphones.
He'd bought them for him himself, as a thank you after one of his more difficult nights, and he knew from experience how immersive the sounds were through the speakers. There was no one else around other than Gordon, which Virgil had yet to realize, and so it was a sign of just how focused Virgil was in his work.
Gordon steps further into the hangar and observes the adoration Virgil puts into his careful touches as he checks the green supply ship. Over the past year and a half, Virgil has channeled all of his creativity and ingenuity into her build. Thunderbird 2 was what Virgil needed, his special project to distract him from the burdens of Gordon’s injuries as he healed.
He sits down on a crate and closes his eyes. Virgil had sacrificed so much for him. If anything, the simulations had shown just how eager Virgil was, and John didn’t know their brother well enough if he felt Virgil was forgetting the stakes. Virgil knew the stakes better than anyone. The idea for International Rescue had been born from loss after all. A loss that Virgil was a breath away from being part of.
How can he possibly blame him for his excitement to share Thunderbird 2 with the world? For getting lost in the details? The problem was the simulations would always be awkward for him. He compensated for his lack of acting skills by leaning into what he knew well, which was his patience, knowledge of machines, and an innate talent for challenging Scott.
Gordon didn’t need a simulation for him to have the upmost faith in Virgil’s compassion. John hadn’t been here to know how tenderly Virgil cared for him while he was healing and so he couldn’t see what Gordon could: that when it was real and when it mattered, Virgil’s heart would only be focused on the people they were trying to save.
A no-win scenario would break him.
When he opens his eyes again, Virgil is still oblivious to his presence, but he’s abandoned his wrench and with his hands free has started to dance, his head bopping, energized with the beat that only he can hear. A shimmy and a spin and he finally catches sight of Gordon, who laughs with the scene. Virgil is so in his element today, and the joy Gordon feels is so counter to his anger from earlier that morning.
“Hey!” Virgil calls, a little louder than he realizes with the headphones still around his ears, but he removes them as he realizes and walks over. “How long have you been there?”
“Not long. Whatcha listening to?” Gordon can hear the pulse from the speakers.
“R&B Soul.” Virgil pulls the headphones off his neck and sets them around Gordon’s ears. The cool blues bassline vibrates through his bones and he too rocks his body with the music for a couple seconds.
“S’cool. I like it,” he says, before relinquishing the headphones back to his brother.
Virgil accepts them back, his eyes suspiciously bright as he places them around his neck once more. “Sorry,” he says chuckling lightly at himself. “It’s just – you’re dancing.”
“I know. Who would’ve thought?” He grins devilishly as he attempts a pirouette and fails.
“I did.”
“Yeah, yeah you did.” Gordon goes quiet a moment, whispering, “Thank you.”
“You really don’t need to keep thanking me, Gordon.”
“Yeah, I really do.”
***
After dinner, Scott finds Gordon sitting on the edge of the pool, swinging his feet in the chlorinated water. It’s wild to think that after all this time, Thunderbird 1 is waiting below for her first mission.
“You skipped simulations today.”
He grunts. “I know. How did it go?” He knows Scott will assume he skipped for his health.
“Well we need an astronaut, that’s for sure.” A space mission. That’s… different. “We could use you tomorrow if you’re up for it. We still haven’t been able to launch correctly and it’s John’s program so he’s not talking.”
“I am not a space guy, Scott.”
“Yeah, but three of us are better than two,” he urges. “We’ll figure it out.”
***
Mayday! Mayday! Impact imminent.
He can’t get the sounds of John’s pained voice out of his head, panicked calls for help that they have been trying for hours to reach.
Over and over.
Until finally, they did reach Thunderbird 5, and after so many times hearing his brother die, John had programmed for them to see it.
“We’re too late; run it again,” Scott had said, pale. “Okay, how do we improve our launch speed this time?”
Then for another three hours, they kept trying to tick off time, to get there faster, until their time plateaued and yet they still were unable to save their sibling.
The mechanical voice – All systems offline. And the screams for help fade to nothing, and Virgil knows what to expect. It’s been torture. Virgil collapses in front of the too white, too pale, too dead figure and screams for it to stop, ripping off the virtual headset.
His knees are weak, but he dashes to John all the same – he needs to see him, to feel him alive. But John’s expression stops him in his tracks.
“It’s not solvable.”
John shakes his head, his expression tight. “No.”
Betrayal flashes through Virgil’s eyes.
“What the hell, John!” Scott shouts and Virgil jumps at the volume. He puts his hand on Virgil’s trembling shoulder. “How long were going to do this for?”
“I-I didn’t think you’d keep running it that long!”
“Of course we were going to keep running it, John – you’re our brother. We would never give up on you. God dammit!”
“I’m sorry, look, Gordon was right-”
“Gordon knows? Is that why he’s been skipping? I thought he was hurt.”
“No, no. Well not really, but–”
Scott eyes flash, and he leaves the training room in a flurry of angry curse words. Virgil cringes as the door slams.
“Virgil, I mean it,” John pleads. “I am so sorry. I didn’t think you’d stay in there. I really didn’t.”
His fingers twitch, as he starts to feel life back in them again, his heart suppressing the vision of red hair caked with blood and unseeing green eyes. John is not the most tactile of people, but despite being quite tall among the Tracy family, his shoulders slump and he seems so small.
John is still his younger brother, though, and he’s upset, and they both could use the hug Virgil had been wanting. He covers the rest of the distance to John and envelops him in his arms.
“Damn you,” he whispers into red hair, and yet he never wants to let him go.
***
Scott is livid. Gordon is absent. John is remorseful. Alan is unaware, lucky kid.
Virgil feels sick. He taps on his watch and calls for Gordon. “Where are you?”
Through the communicator, the aquanaut responds that he’s on the beach by the dock and invites him to join if he wants. Virgil wants. He needs to get out of the villa. Maybe get some fresh air as the sun ducks beyond the horizon.
After a few moments gathering himself, he begins the trek down. In his left hand he carries a guitar, in his right he holds his shoes, as he steps carefully over the granules of sand towards his brother.
Gordon is already strumming on the ukulele when he approaches.
“Did you know?”
“I had an idea,” Gordon admits. “I didn’t agree with it.”
Virgil hums, plopping down next to him on the large beach blanket he’s laid out along the sand. Virgil likes the guitar, and it’s a lot more portable than a baby grand piano. But also, there’s just something powerful about a beach bonfire with the sound of plucked strings.
It's easy for Virgil to fall into chords that complement Gordon’s melodies, and they aren’t playing anything in particular, but it’s seamless when Gordon passes the harmony to Virgil. The ukulele transitions to the accompanying chords, and Virgil smiles thankfully, nodding as he picks up one of many underdeveloped melodies in his head. Virgil fingers fly along the frets, and it's apparent in his loosening posture when he starts releasing the tension in his shoulders.
Gordon places his uke in his lap after some time and leans back into blanket, content to listen to his brother’s playing.
The gentle notes drift with the tossing of wind currents, until suddenly Virgil rounds out a melody with a sigh.
“I think we need to talk.”
Gordon nods and offers to call John and Scott if Virgil will start working on the bonfire.
John was keen for the invite, knowing he would need to be called on before his apology for the error would be accepted, but Scott had taken some talking to. After he left, he’d gone for a run along the bluffs and had settled a bit away. He finally agreed to come join with Gordon’s persuasion, but he would be a while yet.
Virgil has the fire roaring and Gordon has stepped away to talk to Scott by the time John arrives, picnic basket and roasting skewers in hand. Virgil turns from stroking the fire and accepts the picnic basket, peeking inside.
Marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers. Hell yeah.
When Scott approaches, Virgil is playing a tune on the guitar, and Gordon and John both have their skewers extended over the flame, marshmallows browning in the heat.
He is disgusted by the angry shriek of the alarms that sound in his ears at the sight of John, but he swallows down the memory, as he joins his brothers around the fire.
They are not sure what to say to each other, the smoke rising between them and drifting into the night sky, but Virgil’s music is soothing against the tense air, and it’s obvious who is still struggling to the most to meet each other’s gaze.
Gordon shrugs and picks up his ukulele to join Virgil’s song.
A lightly browned marshmallow enters Scott’s field of vision, and he follows it to meet his brother’s apologetic eyes.
“Thanks.” Scott nods, taking the treat. He’s not one for sweets as much as his siblings are, and he can’t remember the last time he had an actual all out s’more. But John knows that, knows Scott’s preference, and has quelled his instinct to stick his skewer in the fire itself to burn it black the way he likes it.
He's furious with him, but he still feels warm at the thought.
“Okay, let’s talk.”
John starts. He explains about the simulations, the number of missions he’s designed to try to get them to focus on the nuances of the people they were to be saving (even many of these are new even to Gordon), and how he was so desperate to get them to feel something. How after days of trying, and days of running worse and worse scenarios in his head, he felt he needed to do something drastic to create a no-win scenario that would challenge them beyond how they had before.
“I’m so sorry, Scott. Virgil,” John finishes. “I knew it would be rough, I just didn’t think you’d be in there that long, repeating it on a loop like that. It must have been torture.”
“It was,” Virgil admits.
“We needed to save you, idiot,” Scott says at the same time.
John is quiet, nodding. “Too real?”
It’s Scott who says yes. “Okay, so how were you involved?”
Gordon frowns at him. “I wasn’t.”
“He knew what I was trying to do. But didn’t agree with it. He didn’t know exactly what I programmed.”
“Be glad,” Virgil tells him. It’s awkward, after hearing John’s explanation, describing to John and Gordon exactly how the program had made them feel, the desperation, the awful loop of the same terrible result over and over.
“Well thanks for the nightmare fuel, I guess,” Gordon says. His brown eyes are dark, thankful that the secret of his accident is still safe, but so torn at how seriously John had taken his words to make something up. “Wait, is that something that could happen?”
“Anything can happen. That’s been the whole point.”
“Well, not if we have a say in it,” Scott proclaims. “We are Tracys. Never give up, remember?”
“But John’s right too. The reality is we can’t save everyone,” Virgil adds with a nod in John’s direction. He doesn’t agree with the methods and will have nightmares for days, but he understands how this whole mess started.
Gordon strokes the fire, adding, “Not going to stop us from trying, though. Hand me another marshmallow, Virgil, please.” Virgil does so, and Gordon squishes it slightly, before promptly tossing it in John’s surprised face. “Don’t be stupid next time.”
The marshmallow hits the center of John’s forehead, leaving a trail of sticky sugar there before it drops silently to the sand. Virgil smiles down at the guitar, suppressing his giggle with a series of notes, while Scott’s laughter is carried into the sky with the rising smoke, and John himself snorts at his own predicament.
Gordon wipes his hands on his shorts to clean off the remains of the marshmallow on his fingertips, before he picks up his instrument as well and joins Virgil in his song, just as he will for years to come, as they both will, and just as the four of them – and eventually five – will come to know each other’s steps as naturally as they know their own.
#Gavii Scribit#scenes from gordon's bedside#chapter 10 music makers#Virgil Tracy#Gordon Tracy#Scott Tracy#John Tracy#thunderbirds fanfiction#Thunderbirds are go
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Psycho Analysis: Bling-Bling Boy
(WARNING! This analysis contains AN INCEL!)
From the animated masterpiece that is Johnny Test hails what may be the single greatest villain of all time: Eugene Hamilton, AKA Bling-Bling Boy. Just look at the image up there; can you look at my man Euegene and tell me with a straight face he isn’t the single greatest character of all time?
Okay, okay, it’s not April Fools so I’m not keeping the irony up the whole time. As we all know, Johnny Test is pretty much a ripoff of Dexter’s Lab, except instead of a redhead scientist boy and his annoying blonde sister, it’s twin redhead scientist girls and their annoying blonde brother. But one thing that didn’t change is the Mandark character, the evil genius villain creepily obsessed with the scientist’s sister. That’s our man Eugene here, though he is different than Mandark in that instead of being a scrawny, big-headed nerd, he is a fat, pimply nerd. It’s brilliant character decisions like these that helped set the show apart.
But if you think I’m going to just make fun of him the whole time, you’re sadly mistaken! BBB here is genuinely amusing at times, kind of like the show he’s in. I mean, if you’ve got a show that’s so bad it’s good, wouldn’t you want a villain who is just as so bad it’s good as the show itself? In that regard, I think BBB succeeds in spades.
Motivation/Goals: Bling-Bling here concocts numerous evil schemes over the course of the show, much like Mandark did, but where Mandark genuinely wanted to show up Dexter and his attraction to Dee Dee was secondary, BBB’s attraction to Susan Test is a major motivator in just about everything he does. There are schemes where he actually snaps and manages to be a genuine threat, but usually he’s just a complete
Performance: Bling-Bling sounds as whiny, nasally, nerdy, and obnoxious as you could hope. Like, look at that image again, and imagine what he sounds like. There is a high chance that whatever you imagined is the exact voice Lee Tockar gave him. Who is Lee Tockar, you may ask? Well, he played Snips on Freindship is Magic, so at least we know he has a consistent character type he plays. Oh yeah, I guess he played this guy too:
Final Fate: So given this is an episodic cartoon, I’m pretty sure you can guess BBB is always thwarted by the heroes, and he also never gets a date with Susan. I don’t exactly feel bad for him though, because he’s rich; just go to the strip club, dude.
Best Scene: I present this to you with no further comment:
youtube
Final Thoughts & Score: Much like the show he’s in, Bling-Bling Boy is a shoddy, obnoxious ripoff of something better. But frankly? I don’t care. Bling-Bling Boy is an absolute riot… usually.
Like this guy is the most painfully white antagonist possible. He’s a fat, basement dwelling loser, he’s rich, he dresses in bling to try and look cool, and he pretty much invented being an incel. If this character were created by someone more competent, I might find him more tasteless and offensive, but he’s so hilariously cringey that the hilarious part stands out more.
Like, he’s not a particularly deep character, considering the show, but at the very least he is kind of chummy with Johnny at times, and even helps him on a few occasions. I always like seeing villains who are okay with setting aside their differences to help out or just chill with a hero. Sure, he’s no Dr. Doofenshmirtz… But who even is besides the man himself? Still, nice bits aside, he’s still a character on Johnny Test, and every character on this show is obnoxious at some point, so as funny as BBB can get, he has a pretty equal chance of being a frustrating character to watch.
Bling-Bling gets a 3/10, as he is peak so bad it’s good villainy. Just the sheer concept, the execution, the voice, the style… Bling-Bling is what crappier villains wish they could be. Obviously he can’t go higher because by all accounts he’s not a very good or deep villain, but you can mine some laughs from him, and sometimes that’s all you need.
All hail the god of incels!
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𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞
Chapter 3: Balancing on Breaking Branches
full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work
Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers (in future chapters) x Reader
Word Count: 3,521
Summary: Steve Rogers; a Hollywood A-lister and your clandestine occasional hookup. Best friends since childhood, but people change and friendships fall out. Now you were merely strangers with benefits. What happens when one day you stopped being his doormat to be a better man’s queen? The selfish Steve Rogers would not like it. How far is he willing to go to get his favorite possession back?
Warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, dark Steve (in later chapter), angst, Steve Rogers is an asshole in this one, no redeeming qualities. (MUST BE 18+)
A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @belovedcherry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for being a friend when i truly needed it. i’m really glad that you trusted me to write this story for you. with all my heart, i sincerely hope you like it. this series will be updated every day.
The day after the party, you were ready for your first class as a freshman in college. Everything went smooth, your professors were nice. There was one who spoke monotonously like he was mumbling, but you survived. Steve was the last thing that crossed your mind but you couldn’t help but replay the look on his face when Natasha threw a drink at him over and over again. You smiled to yourself every time you recalled it; amid of a class, during lunch breaks, in the library and when you returned to your dorm.
Natasha was currently out on a date with the guy she danced at a party last night. Clint, if you’re not misremembering it. You were lounging on your bed with a Sci-Fi book in your hands. You loved casual nights like this; today was the first day so you didn’t have to worry about assignments, projects or tests demanding for your attention. You could just enjoy the scarce school nights where you could just chill with your preferred novel or show.
You were so engulfed in your daydream that a knock on the door jolted you. You certainly weren’t expecting any guest at this hour and it was too early for Natasha to return from her date. Perhaps it didn’t go well or the guy was a birdbrain that Natasha just got up and left? In the past one week you had known Natasha, you knew that it was undoubtedly something Natasha would do.
So you walked toward the door and opened it. What jarred you was the person staring back on the other side.
“…Steve?”
“Hey, y/n.” A placid tone in his voice echoed.
“What…. What are you…? How did you…?”
“Cat got your tongue?”
You chuckled. “No, it’s just- I wasn’t expecting anybody tonight.”
“So you would any other night?”
“No! I- I mean, having guests is not common for me. Are you sure you’re in the right place?”
“0809B?” He quickly verified the numbering on the door.
“Yes, yes it’s me. But… what are you doing here?” Five years ago if Steve had come over to your place, he wouldn’t even need to bother to knock. But now, it felt like a foreigner was standing at your door; uninvited and unannounced. Inculcating himself on your fortified township that didn’t have his name on the list of inhabitants.
“Thought I’d say hi. It’s been a while.” He said it so carelessly as if it wasn’t your brittle heart that was on the verge of a cliff, a waft away from hitting the ground and crash.
“How did you know where my dorm is?”
“Got my sources all over the campus.” He welcomed himself in without even asking for your permission. You being the pushover you characteristically were, stepping aside immediately as a bit of his arm brushed your shoulder.
“So… where is your scary redhead roommate?” he paced around the room, his broad figure making the moderate unit feels even more cramped.
“She’s on a date.”
Steve scoffed, “good luck to that guy.” His eyes darted all over the chattels before he flumped conveniently on your bed. “This one’s yours, right? I wouldn’t want your roommate to throw more drinks at me for messing up her sheet.”
“Yeah, it’s mine.” you folded your hands on your chest, trying to shield yourself from the unaddressed tension in the room. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night… at the party.” you loaded the silence in the room.
Steve smirked. “What are you sorry for, doll? Wasn’t you who made me go home with wet clothes, was it?”
“I know but, I’m just sorry. I don’t know why she did that, well, I mean I did know, I just didn’t know why she thought it was okay and I really did try to stop her but-” you rambled, feeling even more repentant than before. All the contentment that gradually cultivated since yesterday was extinguished when his cerulean blue eyes fixated themselves on you as he stood from the bed and approached you.
Without a single warning, Steve slammed his lips onto yours, knocking the lungs out of your breath as you nearly stumbled on your feet. And then, it was like the time stopped ticking and the scene was in slow motion. The only things that reverberated in your ears were your laboured breathing and the quickening pace of your heartbeat.
What was happening? Your mind was scattered all over the place by one sweep of his lips and you couldn’t patch the pieces of the phenomenon.
All you knew was that you wanted more… You needed more. It was everything you had ever yearned and perished for. You craved him deep in your bones and he infused himself in your blood, long before you even realized it. And you let him, you’d cut open your flesh, just to have a crumb of his love.
He licked your bottom lip to ask you to grant him entry and you permitted. He tangled his tongue with yours and he explored your mouth. You couldn’t help but emit a whimper to what he was doing to you. His hands around your neck keeping you in place.
“I know you want me, baby… You want me, don’t you?”
“Yes, Steve. I do.” you were so breathless, you practically whispered the words.
“Say it. Say that you desperately want me.”
“I desperately want you, Steve. Please…” you didn’t know what you were actually pleading for but you were too mesmerized by his touch and his body so close to yours. You would do, say and be anything he wanted you at that moment. You’d give it away without a second thought.
“Such a sweet girl. You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” he taunted you. The truth is, he always knew you had fond feelings for him but he never planned to reciprocate those feelings. He always viewed you as someone who was once his best friend, and when he had a taste of what life had to offer once he put himself out there, what you offered felt bleak and monotone. Janet was a wild ride, a Bugatti Chiron on an empty lane and he loved the adrenaline.
But you… You were as soft as cotton, a needy lamb in the middle of a deserted island, begging for someone to come and rescue you. It wasn’t what he liked on his plate but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to have his fun with you. Your naivety came with being malleable and oh, how fun he was going to have, moulding you into whatever he liked.
Steve lifted you and threw you on the bed and you shied away from his fiery gaze. “Stay there.” you nodded and waited for his next move. He took off his coat and stripped himself off his jeans and navy blue shirt. He slowly pulled down his briefs and the primal instinct in you knocked on the door of your desire, tempting you to look but you were too mortified at the moment. Not having that many experiences… Well, not having any experience at all actually, made you feel extremely nervous.
You didn’t know what was happening or what he was going to do next. What if he asked you to do something your Biology classes didn’t teach you about? You were jittery as the ceiling of your dorm suddenly looked so intriguing. You listened to the ruffling noises of his clothes being taken off.
“Sit up.” You followed his order and he lifted your oversized shirt off your body and you suddenly felt so exposed. You weren’t wearing a bra because you never bothered to when you were in your resident and you lived with Natasha who didn’t even care if you walked around the dorm naked.
Your hands instantly shielded your breasts as you shrank before him. He pulled your hands away, clearly disagreeing with your sheepishness. “Now, now, let’s not play coy, shall we? You said you want me then what are you hiding for?”
You didn’t know what to say so you just nodded. He lightly pushed your shoulders so you laid back on the mattress, as Steve pulled down your pyjama shorts along with your underwear. You had never felt so unconcealed especially on the eyes of the man you had loved since you were a kid.
“Relax, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you… Well, maybe just a bit.” He winked as he positioned himself between your legs. He trailed butterfly kisses along your body, down from your belly to your neck. He knew the exact spot that would make you weak on the knees (as if you weren’t already–) and he took a little more time there to prep you for the imminent calamity.
You squirmed underneath as you let out a breathy moan. “Steve…”
“Shh, I got you.”
He dragged his fingers down your clit as he made a circling motion with his fingers there, making you shudder. You bit your lip with your eyes shut and you didn’t see how much he was enjoying the palpable effect he had on you.
“How does that feel, baby?”
“It feels… Good. So good, Steve.” Your wetness gathered and then you felt a nudge of his tip on your bud. You gasped and the friction opened your eyes. “What… What is that?”
“It’s just my cock being impatient for your soaked cunt, baby. Relax. We’re gonna get there.”
You slacked beneath him, letting him take the wheel. When you were wet enough, he stopped. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes… I trust you.”
“You’re willing to give yourself to me? Hm?” He nipped your bottom lip and he bucked his hips into you, giving you a peek of what was about to come.
“Yes… Yes, I will.”
“That’s a good girl.” He inserted his cock through your entrance, tearing off the thin piece of tissue that surrounds your opening. You shrieked in pain as you held on to his shoulders, trying to endure bear the new sensation you’d never felt before.
You closed your eyes, trying to regain composure but it was impossible with him filling you up so well. He withdrew his hips and thrust himself forward and he repeated the action. You tried to suppress your squeals but Steve encouraged you to do otherwise.
“Moan for me baby, go ahead.”
You couldn’t disobey him even if you wanted to anyway, so when he kept pounding you with his enormous cock, you lost your capability of doing anything else but scream his name and felt all of him inside you. The pain that hurt you at the beginning has morphed into newfound pleasure.
He picked up the speed, not wanting to wait any longer to reach his climax. The accelerated velocity formed a sensation in your abdomen, anticipating for its eruption. Steve felt you clenched around him and you couldn’t restrain yourself any longer, one more push and the coil inside you broke and you swore you saw stars and fireworks going off above you.
Steve’s grip tightened on your wrists as his cock throbbed, shooting his cum deep inside you. The euphoria never gets old. Even though he had just fucked two girls after the party last night, there was nothing more satisfying than knowing that he had just desecrated someone’s purity, which is exactly what just did to you.
Steve threw himself off of you in your tiny bed, laying next to you. He had one hand propping up his head and the other one on his stomach, a complacent look on his face beamed like the moon in the eventide. In a matter of seconds, Steve collapsed from the depletion and he flickered out like a light.
You, on the other hand, felt… Different. It was like your body was replaced with a clone and now you must make peace with the reality that this was your brand new skin. You felt something in you bloomed like a flower in spring. There was electricity in your veins like and you knew that you couldn’t return to what you once were before Steve led you down this path.
You regarded him at his most equanimous state and memorized every featured on his face. This was everything you had ever dreamed of; him, slumbering on your bed after he just made sweet, sweet love to you. His lashes fluttering with his lips slightly part as his soft snores escaped through the crevice. You wanted to touch him, anywhere, anywhere at all where you could palpate the minuscule parts him that composed him into who he is.
You recalled the graze on his knee when he recklessly rode down his bike on a bumpy road, taking a shortcut to the cinema because the film was starting in seven minutes and it took at least twenty to reach from his house.
You recalled the bruise on his cheek from when he was young and stupid; he dared to fight anyone who wouldn’t stop talking during the show.
You recalled the scar on his palm from when a branch scraped his skin when you had your own little summer adventure in the woods.
…And you recalled the first moment you fell in love with him; it was when you cried in fifth grade because your impish classmate, Jason had stolen your favourite pencil and he broke it. Steve comforted you by offering his own pencil even though he barely had enough money to buy another one and he didn’t hesitate in standing up to the boy and punched him on his nose. Jason went home and cried on his bicycle with a bleeding nose. It was also the moment you realized just how lucky you were to have such a considerate best friend like him.
You stargazed the man who you knew by heart like the back of your hand; you began to feel yourself getting drowsy so you let the weariness pulls you down to oblivion, there was no better view than Steve’s face being the last thing that you saw before you could meet him again in your dreams.
-
Steve didn’t realize he had fallen asleep so quickly after he fucked you; goddamnit, how the hell did this even happen? He always got up and leave as soon as possible after he had his fill. He wasn’t one for aftercare and cuddling after sex. He wasn’t planning on to settle in a relationship either.
After Janet was caught screwing Ken who he thought was his friend, he decided that he would stop committing into mundanity. Why on earth would he need to give himself to one woman only when he could have a million other women? He knew he was hot shit. He wasn’t this awkward and scrawny kid that he used to be anymore; he was bigger, bulkier, and braver.
He was also aware of the talent he possessed; he was an excellent performer. He had received countless praises from his schoolmates and his teachers after every school plays. He was going to attain even so much more now that he is in college. It’s a free real estate.
He didn’t need anyone else. The only woman worthy of his attention and devotion was his mom. His mom who had endlessly supported him, loved him and raised him. He made an oath to himself that he was going to pay back all her sweat from hours of drudgery. That means, he had to work his ass off until he no longer had to worry about paying the bills and filling his fridge. Until he could buy Sarah her own Range Rovers.
That also means he had no time to share an apartment with a girl and decorate it with tiny houseplants or talk about how many children they were going to have together. No, he knew that was what you wanted from him. He knew that was how you illustrated your future. He was getting miffed by it already. He’d hate having to pretend that he’s the slightest bit interested in having a conversation of “where is this going?”
So he tried to slip through your grasp as quiet as a ninja to prevent waking you up. You stirred a little bit and he was relieved to see that you didn’t open your eyes. God, we fucked once and he was already this clingy? No, thank you. He cerebrated.
He put on his clothes that were strewed on the floor and sprinted for the knob, letting himself out without looking back. He was free.
-
Natasha had returned from her date a little later than expected; Clint had taken her to the outskirts of town for a late getaway and they lost track of time. By the time she arrived at her dorm, it was nearing three am where there were barely people who were still up.
Except for one person. What the hell is he even doing here?
Natasha saw Steve Rogers coming out of the resident with a blue trench coat hugging his massive figure. He didn’t see her, lucky for him. Because if he had, she would’ve murdered him on spot with her glare. He should’ve thanked his guardian angels in heaven that Natasha was too knackered to obtrude herself in his direction and confront him. If she hadn’t, she would’ve tackled him to the ground. (She could do it, she had done it back in high school when someone tried to mug her. It was as if she was a highly trained Russian spy in another life or something)
She monitored him as he ignited the engine and bolted off his Harley Davidson to God knows where and then she entered her building. Her mind couldn’t help but wonder, did he come here to see you? Perhaps to apologize? Did I successfully knocked some sense into him? There would be a necessary conversation waiting for you in the morning.
-
In the dawn, you woke up with a glow permeating through the drawn curtains and one that emitted from your body. You couldn’t put a word to enunciate it, but it felt rapturous. Just like the ache between your legs.
You expected to see Steve next to you, thinking that he would be there to kiss you good morning and maybe you both could have breakfast together before class starts. But of course, he didn’t stay. Perhaps he left earlier to get ready at his own place and didn’t wanna wake you up? That would’ve been sweet but… was it really the incentive?
“Good morning.” Natasha greeted with a cotton towel wrapped around her body.
“Hey, what time did you come home last night?” you roused from your nestled state.
“Around 3 AM, got a little lost. Clint took us to the outskirts, I almost thought he was planning to kidnap me.” Natasha joked.
You were quiet. You had questions hovering in your head but you didn’t have the courage to voice them.
“Funny story… I ran into Steve Rogers last night. Well, I saw him walk out of the building more precisely.”
“Oh…” there was no curiosity or astonishment in your voice.
Natasha had a dubious look on her face, “did he come to see you?”
“…Yeah, he did.”
“Did he come to apologize?”
“…Not exactly.”
“Then what did he do?”
You bit your lip replaying the sin that you committed last night. You could still feel him between your legs and you felt your body tingled at the flashback. Your lack of respond told her everything she needed to know.
“Oh, no… Y/N…”
“No, it was actually… Good. He was really good.”
“Sweetie,” she asserted to make you listen. “You know you were only one of the hundreds of women he had slept with, right?” She postulated.
“What makes you say that?” you were dejected. But deep down, you knew… You knew that she wasn’t mistaken. But it doesn’t mean people can’t change… Right?
“I’ve dealt with men like him many times, y/n. I knew he was trouble as soon as I first saw him at the party. Remember all those girls who surrounded him like he was Charles Manson? I’ll bet you $20 that he had put his penis in every single one of them.”
Your words were clogged in your throat. You felt the pang in your heart at her truthful words. As much as you’d like to inculpate her for speaking nonsense, you knew better. Steve didn’t apologize, he never even showed a single shred of remorse for forsaking you in high school. He only came to take advantage of you and then fleed without saying goodbye.
Maybe the blame was on you, for closing your ears on your own intuition. For allowing him to climb inside your body and getting away unscathed after desecrating your innocence. You felt resentment, hurt, defeat, sorrow and loss filling you up like steaming hot water, searing you inside out. But you hated yourself more for knowing that despite all the incriminating turpitude he inflicted on you, you still yearned for him. You still loved him.
#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x you#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers au#steve rogers series#steve rogers smut#steve rogers angst#steve rogers college!au#dark!steve rogers#dark!steve rogers au#dark!steve rogers x reader#dark!steve rogers series#chris evans#chris evans imagine#chris evans fanfic#chris evas series#chris evans x reader
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BFCD Story Concepts by Nesha
Story Concept 01: No Saviors in the Wild Pt. 3
Read Pt 1 | Pt 2
Notes: Not writing out an entire cohesive story, but just hitting y’all with lore and the occasional scene is refreshing for me, but also like... I feel like I leave out so much since I’m not painting the full picture of it. So, because this is an installment of when they “met,” figured this is the good place to tell exactly what they look like. Sure, Birgundi Baker is too old to play the roles she plays and Shani is 16, but Birgundi’s look is perfect, so she is Birgundi at a 16 year old version.
Atlas, has no FC, because the image doesn’t exist in Hollywood, as far as I could find: Brown eyes, red hair, a freckles/acne collab skin type - this kid is covered in freckles - and will have acne his entire life, broad shoulders, tall, large ears, hands, feet, and Adam’s apple. Generally scowling. Has an overbite when he smiles and it's the only thing he's really self conscious about at first because when he does smile, it seems to be the thing that people's eyes move towards.
* Shani tells him it's because they're so used to boring, perfect teeth that a smile with character gives them the wrong reaction. "It makes me smile bigger," she adds, with a little shrug. He blushes and tells her to shut up.*
@shslargue @jacksope-lives Thank you for putting up with fragments of an idea that I wish I could mold into a world for you both.
A Savior is Born: The Rise of the Rebels 01
Shani: Objective problem solver, analytical mind, sometimes mistaken for being cold or detached, overthinker who doubts herself and tends to worry that she’s potentially acted or reacted without thinking with her heart.
Her field of study is communications, with special interest in linguistics, because comm can get her a media job and this is one of the careers that can make for a comfortable life in their society (lucrative, if she can handle various languages and/or several fields of communications). She’s focused on intercultural and multilingual communications at the start of the story and has a bunch of stuff about language and speech in her brain.
School is only available for pay, and Shani has applied for a program to work for her schooling - which includes lodging, clothing and food, but is extremely expensive. Students in said programs typically only have time for school and work, having to work an equal amount of hours to process payment for courses and meals, and having to put in a certain amount of hours per dollar amount of clothing, food, and class resources. She has everything available for her education accessible, but in the event that she can’t work for it, she loses that access.
Shani has been working her way through this school system since she was 10.
Prior to that, her parents struggled to pay for her to have a bright start, and also homeschooled, when they could, with outdated publications of any books that they could find, to stimulate her mind and figure out what she might excel in, because they couldn’t afford testing and she wasn’t on the successful track that kids with money were put on. Being a smart child and excellent student, Shani soon earned the right to apply for the scholarship.
At that point, she moved into the dormitories, ate in a cafeteria that was typically full of students BUSY studying, as study hall was more expensive than at home study, and many of them had too many work hours to get a decent amount of study time in.
Shani rarely struggled with taking in information, performed tests extremely well and didn’t take too long to complete homework, as to not interfere an extreme amount with her work schedule. A lot of the kids who were barely hanging on resent her for it, and one particular event that occurs when she’s 16 between herself and a few students who were being removed from school due to grades or insufficient work hours (both of which, at the time, Shani had the displeasure of having to be record keeper of), she was jumped and while she only shielded herself to prevent maximum damage, the aggressors had a matching story that she was involved in a fight with them and she received her sentence (and lesson that kids like her better know their place), along with an academic probation and a fine from the school.
It was taken into consideration that for all 6 years of being in the program, she made excellent scores in all school assignments, performed admirably in all job assignments, and held perfect attendance. She wasn’t removed from the program during her sentencing, but would have to complete her courses remotely while serving her time, or repeat her semester later (having to work to pay off both the “abandoned” one and the one that she would have to make up. So, she chose to continue remotely, through her sentence.
She’s the only kid enrolled in school for the sentencing assignment and that automatically puts a target on her, from the other kids, particularly because she also clearly doesn’t belong here. They can just *tell* that she didn’t earn the sentence she’s serving, and (as always in her life when she gets into a group setting), others resent her for being where she “doesn’t belong.” The rich kids did it in class. The less adept kids did it in the dorms. These kids did it during assignments. She was used to it. But, she was actually terrified of these kids.
They were criminals! Especially, that one.
He was tall and imposing. Not… dangerous looking, really. He didn’t ever smile, but that didn’t mean much in a place like this. What was there to smile about? She noticed him before anybody else, even though he was quiet and not rambunctious like some of the others were on the bus ride to the worksite. She noticed him first because of his hair.
It was bright red, but she didn’t think it was dyed. She had seen red hair before, but not as bright and it definitely wasn’t common. She’d read that it was rare, and had only gotten more rare as time went on. She could think of maybe 3 redheads that she had seen in her life, and none of their hair had ever caught her attention that way. He was covered in freckles. Every visible part of his skin that could harbor freckles appeared to. She couldn’t remember if she knew anybody with freckles, but she liked them. She could stare at them and pretend to make little images by connecting some of them. Her brain imagined a series of patterns while she looked at his arms, slightly less vivid red hairs coated them.
And on his face, he had severe acne. She was a little entranced by it. She found herself also mentally tracing patterns in the bumps, sometimes even incorporating freckles for accent. Up until the point where her brown eyes met his and his were not as dark, but way more mean. She smiled uncomfortably, and his expression didn’t change. She made prayer hands and awkwardly turned away. She could feel him glaring at her, though. She could feel it for the rest of the ride to the woods, and didn’t dare to glance his way when they unloaded.
They wound up standing next to each other as the chaperone took roll call, and verified their identities and sentences. Shani only looked at him again whenever the chaperone read his sentencing as “aggravated robbery.”
He didn’t even blink. He just said, “Allegedly.” Shani noted that although he wasn’t muscular or that solid, he was even taller than he seemed on the bus… maybe 6’1 - 6’3. He was nearly a foot taller than her, at 5’5, but not quite. Still, with his broad shoulders, his brooding expression, and the collar on his neck (the consecutive crimes collar); she felt very unnerved not just being next to him, but being on this site with him. Aggravated Robbery was SERIOUS. You couldn’t even purchase an education with that type of charge. Of course, Shani WOULD be thinking in terms of education. She didn’t even know this boy. His education wasn’t her business...
Next, the chaperone read her name, and stated, “First time violent offense?” And she read it like it was unbelievable and all of the kids looked at Shani as the woman continued, “Judging from your record, I’m assuming that you’re here because of a misunderstanding?”
Shani felt her face grow warm with everyone staring, including Mr. Collar, but she explained, in a low voice, “All I did was try to shield myself. I’ve always read that if you never attempt a hit, you can plead self defense. There were multiple assailants, therefore, my defense was futile and the judge sided with my aggressors, that it was a fight instead of a gang attack.” She heard groans and snickers. She looked at the redhead. He shook his head in disbelief. She didn’t know why, but it made her feel very insignificant. She didn’t realize that the last thing that she should have done in that moment was tell everyone THAT. The chaperone gave her a sympathetic smile and moved on. Mr. Collar scoffed, laughed a little and turned away from her. She studied his profile. His eyes drifted over, checking to see if she was looking at him. Whenever he turned to face her again, she quickly looked away, her face hot from being on the verge of being caught staring again.
Whenever she glanced back, he was still staring. He didn’t look as mean as on the bus. He seemed to be... studying her. She would have loved to know what he was thinking. Whatever it was, his brown eyes were softer than before, at least. She offered a smile and he didn’t return it, but at least he wasn’t glaring. He turned away very suddenly, like something had happened. She noticed that he looked like he was turning red. That was... interesting. Imagine somebody tall and dangerous blushing over one little smile. Her own face grew warm at the thought. He might be... whatever the records alleged... but he was a tall boy with features she liked, too.
#BFCD Story Concepts by Nesha#stories#story concept#writing#original content#Story Concept 01: No Saviors in the Wild#Shani Saviors#Atlas Saviors#A Savior is Born: Rise of the Rebels#Shani Moodboard
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BnHA Angel/Demon AU
This got inspired by an old tumblr post (by prokopetz) I found a while ago about the reversal angel/demon concept^^ It´s way too easy to picture Bakugou as a rowdy angel and Izuku as a nerdy demon xD
Anyway, I added Kiri as the lucky person who gets between them, because that might be the savest for them... aaand this will probably never go any further than this, but I really liked the concept^^
Eijirou wasn´t entirely sure if it was just some kind of hallucination from eating something wrong or if it was indeed a manifestion of his conscience that led him to seeing two little beings placed respectively over his right and left shoulder.
The one on the right looked by all means harmless at first sight, fair skin with pale blond hair and a pair of snowwhite wings indicating that he was on the good side. On second glance, if you asked that little angel something stupid - which Eijirou obviously did every time he opened his mouth - his hands literally erupted into little fireworks. Still pretty, but also slightly unnerving that close to the ear and obviously not very subtile as the smell of smoke and burned caramell hit his nose.
"Fucking damnit, why are all humans so fucking dense and why do I still have to do this shitty job?"
The swearing was the bigger shock, though, and led to the suspicion that those two beings had swapped roles and wanted to test him, because no way was his good side the swearing type! (Or was it?)
"I thought swearing is bad?", Eijirou couldn´t shut his mouth fast enough before those words of surprise left him. "Only if you swear to the wrong one", a meek voice on his left answered, which went unheard because a loud "Do you have a problem with me swearing, human?" errupted at the same time from the white winged creature. Not trusting which answer might be the correct one, the redhead prefered to ignore it and turned his attention in the other direction.
"Is he always like this?" Looking at the other being sitting on his left, it seemed rather timid even though the pair of leatherly black wings and the little horns sticking out of his mop of green curls clearly labeled him as the evil one. The only thing missing was the trident and in its stead the little demon held a pen and notebook that he used to duck behind when said angel let out his anger.
"Not..not always", came the shy reply, like the little demon feared of being heard by the other.
"Listen here and don´t talk to stupid Deku over there, human", the angry angel pointed an accusing finger at the mentioned demon while letting the word "human" sound like an insult. "I´m NOT here to slap your mouth and wash it with soap every time you use some language that offends the ears of some simple mortals!" - "Then why are you here?" - "Because I can´t let HIM drag you to his side, obviously, stupid!"
"No offense, but to whatever side you two want to drag me to, I get the feeling you´re both doing it kinda wrong.."
Note: and that is why Baku and Deku are pitted against each other, because they´re equally bad at their respective sides xD
#boku no hero au#bnha au#mha au#my hero academia#katsuki bakugou#kirishima eijirou#izuku midoriya#angel bakugou#demon izuku#confused kirishima#source: prokopetz#angel demon au#baku vs deku
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Crimson Curls
Summary: A barista at the Avengers Tower coffeeshop goes missing. Her boyfriend, prominent Avengers engineer Michael Hauer, headlines a desperate campaign to find her, aided by the support of Tony Stark and the rest of the super-powered team. But as Hauer's narrative begins to unravel, it becomes clear that a certain Asgardian prince knows more than he's telling.
Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character
Chapter 1: Disappearance
Previous chapter | Next Chapter
Word Count: 3,138
A/N: This is definitely something born out of my obsession with true crime and missing persons cases... I'm not sure if anybody else is as interested in this concept as I am, but I had the time of my life writing this story, so I hope that translates to you in some way.
Also, this is my first multi-chaptered fic (I know, exciting, right?!)-- part 2 should be up within the next week.
Thanks for reading!
TW: domestic violence
Read it on Ao3
Kristine Ververs was first reported missing at 6:07 AM on Tuesday, March 17, by her boyfriend Michael Hauer. He was a bit worried, he said, because she had stormed out of their apartment the night before after a fight, and he had only just realized when he woke up that morning that she never came back. His attempts to call her led him to discover that she had left her cell phone on the kitchen counter.
The dispatcher asked him to wait at the apartment for investigators to arrive. He told her he couldn’t. He had to go to work. A bit befuddled, she asked if it was at all possible for him to wait until police arrived so they could ask him some questions.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “I work for Tony Stark.”
Michael Hauer was considered to be fairly acclaimed at the Avengers Tower. He had been one of the first engineers hired when the Tower opened, picked out by the infamous genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist himself. He spent his days in the restricted upper floors, designing and testing projects so confidential that his girlfriend didn’t even know what they were.
He had met Kristine at the Tower. She worked in the coffeeshop next to the cafeteria, where the employees of all 93 stories flocked to with bleary eyes each and every morning. Kristine was hardly the most talkative barista there (on the contrary, she appeared to make it a point to say only the bare minimum), and yet she was the girl everyone thought of when they thought of their morning brew. Her wild mane of curly red hair stood out in a crowd. Even when she wasn’t in uniform, people knew her as the coffeeshop girl.
It was unclear what she thought of this. A lot of things about Kristine were unclear—she spoke very little, and never about herself. Her coworkers often wondered why someone so shy would choose to work a job that so heavily relied on social interaction, but she managed just fine. Despite her natural demeanor, she would put on a smile and speak in that bubbly barista voice people found either endearing or irritating for the customers, and no one thought anything of it.
When she disappeared, people were shocked.
“You mean the redhead from the food court?” asked Bruce in the apartment story of the Tower when the news broke. “She’s the one?”
“Yeah,” said Tony. They were crowded around the TV, the newscaster flashing a photo of Kristine shyly smiling at the camera as the tip hotline ran across the bottom of the screen. “Poor Hauer. He was a mess. I can’t believe he even came in today.”
“I didn’t know they were dating. I don’t think he’s ever mentioned her.”
“Yeah he has,” Steve turned around in his chair to face the doctor. “He brought her to the Christmas party, remember?”
Tony frowned. “Did he?”
“Of course! I remember!” Thor lit up. “She danced with my brother!”
“Oh that’s right,” Tony chuckled. “Poor girl. She didn’t say much, did she?”
“She did strike me as a bit shy,” Steve said. “I hope it’s all a misunderstanding. Maybe she’ll be back on her own.”
But she didn’t. As the days passed with no news of Kristine Ververs, media attention snowballed around the Tower. On its own, there wasn’t much to the case, but the fact that both the missing girl and her boyfriend worked for the Avengers caught the attention of the public. It seemed so impossible. How does someone who walks among superheroes vanish without a trace?
Missing posters lined the hallway walls: HAVE YOU SEEN KRISTINE? People rushed to news stations for interviews, most of which had no connection to her beyond the fact that she sometimes made their lattes in the morning. Hauer held emotional press conferences, begging anyone with information that might lead to Kristine to come forward. Everyone looked at him differently now. The standoffish, stiff engineer that had once been considered uncomfortable to be around was now a grieving boyfriend. They sent him flowers and patted him on the back in the halls, telling him they’d be praying for his girlfriend, promising to help keep the story alive.
Although that probably wasn’t an issue. Stark himself got in front of the camera, making international news as he expressed the Avengers’ concern for the Ms. Ververs and offered to help the police in their investigation in any way they could.
The investigators would have happily accepted this help if they had found anything for Stark to help with. But the fact of the matter was that there was nothing: no clues, no sightings, not even the slightest trace that Kristine Ververs had ever left her apartment. The security cameras in the lobby showed her coming home from dinner with Hauer at 8:13 PM that Sunday night, but had no record of her exiting the building around two hours later, when Hauer saw her storm out. They considered that she may have been pulled into another room, that for some reason she left through a fire escape, but the few cameras in the hallway showed nothing and witnesses were nonexistent.
Kristine had seemingly vanished into thin air.
“Do you think there’s something supernatural at play here?” Natasha asked one day. “Like, a leftover portal from the Convergence or something?”
“Unlikely,” Bruce said. “The Convergence caused our tech to go haywire. We’d definitely be getting noticeable readings if there was a portal down the street.”
“But something like that is still possible,” Tony interjected. “What with all the crazy shit we deal with on a regular basis. Someone might have been going after Hauer—he’s one of our top engineers, it wouldn’t surprise me.”
The fact that she had left her phone was strange, as well. The screen was cracked rather badly—Hauer explained that had happened a few weeks ago when she dropped it on the bathroom tile. Her call history showed that the night she went missing she had phoned an unlisted number. The call hadn’t been long—likely, it had been cut off before the other line even had a chance to answer.
Unfortunately, there seemed to be no clue as to who was on the other line. The number was so badly scrambled that it was untraceable, even with Tony’s resources. In fact, he was relatively certain that whoever she had called had been using his tech to hide their number—leading to a heightened suspicion cast upon the higher-ups at the Avenger Tower.
When after two weeks there were still no leads, Tony held another press conference to announce that he would be posting a one-million-dollar reward for any information that led to the safe return of Kristine Ververs. Hauer joined him, thanking Mr. Stark profusely and pleading once more for help from the public. In the Tower, the others watched the broadcast from the television in silence.
“Filthy weasel.”
No one had noticed Loki entering the room until he spat the words like venom, glaring at Hauer’s distressed face on the screen.
Nat frowned. “What’s your problem?”
The Asgardian made his way to the kitchen and set about boiling water, still scowling darkly. “He has the audacity to sit there and wail as though he’s the victim of some great crime,” he said. “As if he’s some tortured soul wracked with fear.”
“Brother, the woman he loves has gone missing,” Thor said. “Can you not blame him for being in pain?”
“Oh yes, he’s in such pain,” Loki rolled his eyes as he prepared a mug and teabag. “Stark is close with him, is he not? Has he asked him what it was they were quarreling over so passionately that his lady felt compelled to run out of their home in the middle of the night?” He mixed the water in the mug. “Or has no one thought to question that?” With that, he slipped down the hallway with his tea, leaving the others and their gaping expressions behind.
Loki wasn’t the first to doubt Michael Hauer’s authenticity. His neighbor, Colleen Donalds, had come forward to the police shortly after the case went public to voice her concerns. She lived across the hall from the couple, she said, and a lot of times she’d overhear their arguments. They were always incredibly one-sided. She told the police that she very rarely made out Kristine’s voice during these exchanges, but Michael’s boomed all the way down the hall. He called his girlfriend the most demeaning things, throwing out words that Colleen was ashamed to repeat. She felt sorry for Kristine.
“She’s always so quiet,” she said. “Even when I run into her when Michael’s not around, she barely says a word. I can’t believe she stays with him.”
Colleen Donalds attempted discretion. Her story was to the police and the police alone, avoiding making any direct accusations and trying to stay out of the entire situation as much as possible. Marlon Arcardi had no such interest.
“He hits her,” the couple’s next-door neighbor told the tabloid reporters. “I hear it through the walls. I’ve called the cops on him a couple times, but they never do anything about it. He was doing it the night she went missing, too. I heard the crashing. He’s a complete piece of shit.”
The magazines that hit the stands next to the grocery store checkout lines screamed in red ink: AVENGER ENGINEER RESPONSIBLE FOR GIRLFRIEND’S DISAPPEARENCE?
When questioned about it, Hauer denied all allegations. “We’d get into fights,” he said. “What couple doesn’t? It was nothing serious, and the more we focus on it, the more distracted we become from the actual issue: Kristine is missing.”
“Are you saying Mr. Arcardi is lying in his statements to the press?”
Michael Hauer shrugged bitterly. “He wants attention. He’s getting attention. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s trying to derail the investigation so he can have fifteen minutes of fame. It’s sickening, because we right now we need to be concentrating on Kristine.”
Hauer managed to skirt by on this explanation for a bit, but the investigators soon discovered that Marlon Arcardi was telling the truth—at least, about calling the cops. In the two years that Kristine and Michael had been living together, the police had been called to their apartment nine separate times: seven public disturbance calls from a smattering of different neighbors including Acardi, and shockingly, twice from Kristine herself.
The police refused to release these calls, saying only that each time there were no charges pressed. The public was left to draw their own conclusions as they called in Michael Hauer for more questioning. Suspicion began to blossom.
“If they’re this perfect, happy couple like he wants us to believe,” asked one newscaster. “Then why is she calling 911 on him? Why is she running out in the middle of the night? The whole thing is extremely concerning.”
More people began coming forward. There seemed to be no end to the neighbors who overheard crashes and cursing coming from the Hauer apartment. The baristas Kristine worked with started doing interviews as well.
“We used to have like, you know, night outs on the weekends sometimes,” said Curt Chambers, one of her coworkers. “We’d always ask Kristine, but she always had some excuse. Like, she was sick, or she already had plans, or something. I joked with her once, like ‘you can just say you don’t want to go, we won’t be offended.’ And she said something like ‘no, it’s not that. It’s just my boyfriend doesn’t like me being out too late.’ And I remember thinking that was a really weird thing to say.”
Elaine Janson, another coworker, had more to add. “Something always felt off about that relationship,” she said. “They’d come in together, and then he’d come down a couple times during the day. It was like he was checking on her. It was weird. And they always left together. If he was working late, she’d wait for him.” Elaine shrugged. “Kristine always seemed so tense when he was around. I mean, she was shy to begin with, but when Michael came by it was different.”
It was also revealed that Michael Hauer had failed two lie detector tests: one taken on March 19th, within days of his girlfriend’s disappearance, and another on March 27th.
Tony Stark was inundated with calls: from reporters, from employees, from concerned citizens, some asking if he still supported Michael Hauer in light of new allegations, others demanding that he fire him immediately. He responded in a press conference in front of the Tower.
“As of right now, I’ve been shown no evidence indicating that Michael Hauer is in any way involved in Kristine Ververs’ disappearance. If and when that evidence comes to light, we will reevaluate the situation and take appropriate steps.”
Then somebody leaked the calls.
No one was quite sure who got ahold of those tapes, but by morning they were being blasted on every single news broadcast under the sun. It was the first time that the public was hearing anything in Kristine’s own words, and it didn’t bode well for Michael Hauer.
“Can you please just send someone?” she whispered into the microphone, breath labored as she struggled to get the words out. “He’s really mad, I think he’s going to break down the door. Please, is someone coming?” In the background, a masculine voice was yelling something intelligible, clobbering at a wall.
“Does he get mad often?” the operator asked after assuring her that the police were on their way.
Kristine Ververs gulped back a sob. “He’s always mad.”
The second call didn’t even have words. A scream, the crash as the phone tumbled to the floor, more yelling, pleading, crying, pounding, the operator tracing the call and sending in a unit…
Michael Hauer was formally asked to resign from his duties at the Avengers Tower. When he refused, he was terminated.
Still, he remained steadfast in his story. “Kristine has been missing for nearly a month now,” he stated in a recording posted to social media (press conferences were out of the question now; so many people showed up to protest that he couldn’t get a word in edgewise). “On occasion, we would get into violent fights, but I would never do anything to hurt her. I loved her more than anything. Please, don’t allow my mistakes to derail the investigation. We must not lose focus.”
A tweet of the video link with the caption “You loved her?? Enough lies. Where’s the body, Michael?” shot up to over 2 million likes in a day. #WheresTheBodyMichael and #JusticeForKristine began trending. Petitions for the arrest of Michael Hauer racked up signatures by the hundreds.
On April 21st, over a month after Kristine Ververs was first reported missing, a second, more in-depth search of the Hauer apartment was conducted. They noticed some things that had been missed the first time. The door lock had recently been replaced. The television screen was scratched. But, most critically, there was kitchen knife missing from the set atop the refrigerator. When questioned, Hauer claimed he had no idea what could have happened to it.
Detection dogs were brought in. While the cadaver dogs found no sign of the presence of a corpse, two different blood hounds alerted to the scent of human blood in the kitchen area and indicated a trail leading towards hall. A sample was taken from the carpet and sent to the lab for analysis. With the help of the advanced technology offered by the Avengers Tower, it was conclusively identified as Kristine’s blood.
As if that wasn’t enough already, a few days later, on April 25th, a trash collector turned in the missing kitchen knife to the police. He said he had noticed it in a dumpster earlier that day and recognized it from the description in the paper. There were three sets of fingerprints on the handle: Michael Hauer’s, Kristine Ververs’, and an inconclusive set assumed to be the trash collector’s, despite his insistence that he was wearing gloves when he picked it up. Kristine’s DNA was found on the blade.
The public had been screaming “GUILTY!” ever since the phone recordings were released. Now, they roared.
Michael Hauer was arrested on April 29th and charged with the murder of Kristine Ververs.
It was a shocking turn of events. Technically speaking, there was still no proof that a murder had taken place: there was no body, nor any sign that one existed. And just as there was no evidence of Kristine Ververs leaving the apartment that fateful March 16th, there was no evidence of Michael Hauer leaving the apartment that night either, especially with something as cumbersome as a human corpse.
The twitter hashtag found its home in newspaper headlines: Where’s the Body, Michael?
In the penthouse of the Avengers Tower, Tony rubbed his forehead. “This is such a fucking mess.”
They were gathered once again in the living room, watching as the newscaster recapped the last month and a half, breaking news that was already known. Kristine’s picture, with her downcast cerulean eyes and her frizzy red curls, flashed across the screen once more.
Tony sighed. “He just seemed so normal. I never would have thought—”
“You think he did it?” asked Steve.
“Well, he did something,” Tony snapped. “Clearly. He’s got a history of violence, her blood’s all over the floor—”
“No one’s debating that he did something,” interjected Bruce. “But if he killed her, what happened to the body? He never left the apartment that night, and there’s no evidence that a cadaver was ever stored there”
“He’s smart! That’s why we hired him, he’s a freaking genius! He probably thought of something—”
“Thought of what?” the doctor asked, throwing up his hands. “Teleportation? How the hell did he get the body out?”
“He didn’t.”
The group turned around to find Loki lurking in the back, studying them carefully from the shadows.
Bruce was the first to find his voice. “What?”
“He didn’t remove the body, because there was no body to remove,” he said deliberately.
“But, Loki,” Thor said uncertainly. “Weren’t you convinced Hauer was a killer from the start?”
“I never said he was a killer. I said he was a filthy weasel,” Loki said. “And he is, clearly. He's a slimy, abusive, manipulative, wretch of a man, but he's not a killer—although he likely believes himself to be."
Tony frowned. "What are you talking about, Loki?"
"He cannot be labeled a killer if his victim survived his attempt on her life. Which she did,” Loki paused a moment to let his statement sink in. “Despite Michael Hauer's best efforts, Kristine Ververs is very much alive.
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=Chapter 36
In no time, the three of them were in the backyard. Ruby looked nervous to the point of nauseated, but she was trying to be good about masking her nerves. And failing.
“What’s going on?” Yang finally hissed.
“Yeah, and why am I here?” Weiss asked. “Seriously, I thought you would only want your sister’s advice.”
The small girl squirmed, fidgeting with her fingers. “Well… jeepers, I think you’re really swell, Weiss, and you’re so nice to me! And you helped me and Yang start talking again, so it seems to me like you’re great at advice, y’know? A-and I thought it made sense to ask you! But if you don’t want me to ask your advice about stuff anymore, that’s fine! Really!”
“Why don’t you tell us what the problem is first?” Yang chuckled, cuffing her around the chin.
“Okay. I… yeah.” Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. “I d-don’t know what to do about Homecoming!”
“Huh?”
“The dance! Remember? The… one you asked Weiss to?”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “I know what Homecoming is. What’s your beef with it?”
“Penny. She asked me, and I kinda… shot her down, but I didn’t mean to! She just really caught me off my guard - since I don’t even think girls can go with other girls. But now she kinda thinks I don’t want to go.”
“Ohhhhh,” Weiss breathed, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, I remember that now.”
“Right!” Pulling at her hair, she started pacing as she went on, “And now I wanna make it up to her in a really big way! But… this isn’t my thing, y’know? And I don’t even know if I like her in that way, but she seems to have caught it from you guys.”
Unable to help herself, Yang burst into laughter, doubling over and slapping her knee. Ruby pouted, and Weiss patted her arm gently until the Dragon could manage speech again. “CAUGHT! Like it’s… the goddamn measles!”
“Well, she did! Seeing so many girls dating? Y’know?”
“Ohhhh… oh boy, that was great.” Straightening up and wiping her eyes, she said, “You’re a big tickle, Sis!”
“Forget her,” Weiss sighed in mild annoyance, patting Ruby’s shoulder now. “I think it’s very nice that you want to go with Penny… assuming there’s no fella who’s caught your eye?”
“Not really,” she admitted with a little shrug.
“Then there’s no reason you two can’t go as friends. If she wants to think of it as a date, that’s fine, right? Just… tell her you have bad breath if she wants to make out.”
Yang snorted. “You don’t even have to do that. Okay, here’s what you’ll do…”
As she whispered into Ruby’s ear, Weiss tried to busy herself with staring off into the clouds. The whispering went on, and on, and on, and Ruby only nodded and breathed a little “Ohhhh” or “Yes!” to indicate she was listening. Eventually, she decided the two sisters needed this time to conspire and made her way back into the house, knowing she would scarcely be missed. They could always track her down later.
“Why the long face, Little Weiss?”
She squirmed. “My father was the last one to call me that.”
Kali frowned, setting the pie that had just come out of the oven down in the middle of the dining room table to cool. “It will never be uttered again.”
“No, no, I… it’s alright. You mean it very differently than he did.”
“Naturally.” She came over to drape her arm around her shoulders. “What was the matter before you came in here, then?”
“Nothing, actually. Today has been… very nice. All up and down the map! I just felt a little left out trying to keep up with Ruby and Yang. And I know that’s stupid,” she hurried ahead, making sure she got her words in before Kali’s rebuttal.
“Of course it isn’t stupid. Erroneous, maybe. But your feelings are your feelings.” When Weiss still didn’t look convinced, she guided her over and sat her in a chair. “You’ve had Yang all to yourself all day, and now you don’t, so you’re sad. But that will pass.”
Nodding, she stared down at the table for a second. Then something strange came to her; something she wasn’t sure she should say. But she began with, “Mrs. B?”
“Kali,” she corrected gently.
“Kali. Um… I know Blake has been weird about it, but… I think it’s a kick that you and my mother are becoming friends. And I can tell she’s really happy, too.”
The older woman blinked a few times before her lips twitched into a small smile. Weiss knew that one; adults always smiled like that when their children were being good in a “cute” way. “Thank you.”
“Ugh… fine, nevermind.”
“No, no, I mean it.” She took Weiss’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I actually do appreciate you saying so. You’ve already pointed out how strange it would be if I stopped flirting with you to flirt with your mother, and I can’t disagree, but… as of right now, I really am just happy to be there for your family. And having your support in that only makes me even happier.”
Allowing her lips to twitch into a smile, she breathed in relief, “Good.” Then she patted the back of Kali’s hand. “Where’s Blake, anyway?”
“Out with Emerald and some of the others. I’m not sure. Would you care to help me with my pasta? It’ll be time to get dinner going soon.”
“Yeah! I mean, we have to pull our weight around here.”
“That wasn’t why I asked,” she laughed, glancing up as Willow entered. “Ah, good ‘morning’ in the afternoon.”
But Weiss’s mother was busy breathing in deeply, eyes closed in bliss. “That… smells… divine.” The other two only giggled in bemusement as they all headed into the kitchen.
------------------------------------------
The rest of their Saturday was fairly uneventful and dull, but highly pleasant. Yang and Ruby stayed for dinner, the latter mentioning that Uncle Qrow had only been planning to open some cans of tuna for them that night - which made Kali turn her offer into an outright command that she not leave only to head toward such a disappointing fate. Blake turned up halfway through and wolfed down some food, making some excuses not to hang around with them more and heading up to bed.
When Weiss tried to ask what that was about later, she only whispered that she wanted to be left alone. She almost felt like pressing the point - since they had been making such great progress lately. But Blake insisted that nothing was wrong, she just wasn’t up to speaking a great deal. Nothing more to be done from that point onward.
The next day, Weiss strongarmed Yang into getting together with Pyrrha so they could all study again. The redhead was one of the most patient teachers she had ever known - and she wasn’t even an actual teacher - but even she seemed to find Yang’s inability to grasp certain concepts a bit taxing from time to time. However, through dogged determination and their combined efforts, they all managed to help prepare Yang for the upcoming test.
Not that Yang’s frequent bribes of kisses helped. Weiss only succeeded in fighting her off most of the time, and no amount of throat-clearing from Pyrrha seemed to put her off it. At least she seemed to be moderately less queasy about things like that now.
Which Weiss asked her about a bit later, when they were taking a break.
“Am I what?!”
“Are you interested in Cinder?” she asked again, voice steady and bald of any deception. “Honestly.”
Clearing her throat, Pyrrha smoothed her hand over her hair as they fished the bottle of milk from the refrigerator. Mrs. Nikos had made a fresh batch of cookies that would go nicely with that. “You’re wrong, Weiss. I… know how it looked, but I don’t have those sorts of feelings for women.”
“Then why do you look so nervous when I ask about it?”
“Because I- I’ve never been accused of liking someone!” she burst out anxiously. “Cinder’s affections feel so strange, I- my stomach twists into knots when she touches me, but not in the good way you’re implying. Not the way it does when I see Jaune smile in class. It’s more like I feel… afraid.”
“Alright, alright,” Weiss tried to reassure her, a hand raised as the other held the glass steady for Pyrrha to pour. “I didn’t mean to pry. Honest! But you know how it looked at the hospit-”
“Yes! Yes, I… I know. But surely you understand that I only wanted to… to make Cinder feel less wrong, less… oh…”
“Sad?”
Pyrrha nodded, setting the bottle back in the ice box. “Sad. I’m sure you felt the same way I did. It simply isn’t right for a woman so full of confidence to be so broken. Don’t you agree?”
“I do. Seriously… that isn’t the part I’m wondering about. I knew why you did it. But once it was happening, and you were sitting next to her on the bed…”
“Yes.” Her wide eyes turned to Weiss. “What about it?”
“Then… you looked as if you were enjoying yourself. You just wished you weren’t.” Their gaze met, both of them uncertain. “Were you?”
The room fell silent for a few seconds. Pyrrha looked down into her glass of milk but didn’t respond, didn’t elaborate. Now Weiss felt awful for having brought it up at all. She was honestly hoping that a little gentle nudging might help Pyrrha come clean, or at least settle any fears the two of them might have been wondering about. Instead, it just seemed to awaken them afresh.
“Pyrrha, I’m really sorry if-”
“Hey, what’s taking you two cats so long?” The instant Yang stumbled into the room, she sensed the bleak atmosphere in the room and flinched back. “Whoa… why do I feel like I goofed in coming down here?”
Pyrrha favoured her with a practiced smile. “It’s nothing. Just getting distracted; I’m sorry. Here, take your glass; we… we won’t have to carry so much this way.”
She took it, shooting a confused look at her girlfriend - who had no great idea of how to respond exactly. She wanted to make amends for pushing too much. Even now, she still wanted to know if Pyrrha really didn’t like Cinder in a way beyond friendship, or if she was merely afraid of enjoying those frequent advances and wanted to cover those feelings so completely that they would cease to exist for all intents and purposes. If so… lying to herself was only going to hurt her in the long run.
But most of that was speculation. And Weiss cared more about supporting her friend than digging for the truth. She just wasn’t sure how best to go about supporting her in this situation anymore.
------------------------------------------
Monday morning brought school, and even more confusion about everything. Blake had been quite sullen and distant again the night before, but that morning she was all sunshine and rainbows, telling Weiss she looked nice and that she hoped they would all have a nice day in class. Pyrrha also acted like nothing had happened between them the night before, just plastering on her patented “politician smile” and greeting everyone cheerfully. In contrast, the normally-chipper Ruby was walking around in a cloud of uncertainty, acting jumpy - as if someone would spring out from inside of a locker and demand to know her true feelings about Penny.
Life was kooky.
The only thing that did make sense was Yang being in a fantastic mood. Their skinny dipping session had seemed to ease a lot of her anxieties and sorrows about other situations - such as her mom, and the fate of the Dragons overall. She locked arms with Weiss often and they chatted about fun, light topics. It was just what they needed.
Unfortunately, Ruby didn’t make good on any of her plans that day. Weiss asked what they were but Yang remained tight-lipped; she said it would be much more fun as a surprise when it went into effect. But it seemed they weren’t going to get that surprise today.
They were going to get another.
“Hey, kiddo,” Qrow called out as he strode over from the parking lot, his white-and-grey suit standing out like a sore thumb on the campus full of boys in sweater-vests and tweed sportcoats, polo shirts and lightweight jackets. The wave was casual. Yang tensed, but Weiss tried to remain calm; she wanted to see how this might go.
“Hey, Uncle!” Ruby piped up, grabbing him up in a hug. “What’s up? Am I not catching the bus?”
“Not today. Gotta head over to a neighbouring town for a run. Need my copilot.”
Her smile only widened at the prospect. This girl really did seem to love living with him as much as Weiss loved having her own mother back in her life. “YAY! Road trip, road trip!”
“Pipe down,” he rumbled in his gravelly voice, tousling her hair. The girl only giggled. Then he glanced over at Yang, face becoming somehow yet more passive than the already-nonchalant expression of before. “Yang.”
“Qrow.”
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Weiss shoehorned herself in, reaching out a hand. Hopefully, it might diffuse the tension. “Weiss Schnee.”
“Yeah. I know. Schnees have been runnin’ this town for years.” She drew back the hand an instant later. He hadn’t even glanced at it.
“Hey, lay off my girlfriend,” Yang warned him.
“Ooooh,” he breathed with both hands raised in false fear. “I’m shakin’. And shocked ya turned out just like your mom.”
Yang’s face darkened with anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Chasin’ skirts instead of chasin’ fellas. It’s…” He paused to choose his words carefully. “...a crazy coincidence, don’t ya think?”
“Mom doesn’t chase anybody. You know that. She doesn’t even go out anymore, she’s always working…” Her lips shut and she turned to march away, then thought better of it - but only enough to force herself to stand there with her back to Qrow and Ruby, arms folded over her chest and entire frame seething with barely-restrained rage.
“Sure, kiddo, sure. Been a while since I even talked to her.”
“That’s your fault. You picked your side, and you… you picked wrong.”
“Yang,” Ruby whispered, but Yang sighed in annoyance and she fell silent immediately.
“Really believe that, don’t ya?” he asked with a slight edge of biting humour. “Little spitfire. Too much of your mom, too much of your dad. Or maybe just enough.”
Folding her arms tighter, the Dragon grunted, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothin’. C’mon, Ruby.” But just as they began to stride away, Weiss hurried to circle around behind them, blocking their path. “Excuse us.”
“No.”
“Wanna try that again?”
“I said, ‘no’!” She stamped her foot as she went on, “You and Yang are going to talk, and if I have to… to kick you in the shins until you stay, I will! Don’t think I won’t!
Looking distinctly unimpressed, the man grunted, “Yang, do you wanna tug on your little girl’s leash here?”
However, Yang sighed in defeat, rubbing at one side of her face. “No… trust me, it’s not gonna make any difference. She gets something in her head and there’s no stopping her; we might as well accept it. What do you want us to do, Weiss?”
“Talk. Now. Is that really so crazy of me to ask? Really talk, don’t just say a bunch of mean things.” When nobody answered, she rolled her eyes and turned back to Qrow. “Let’s start with this: what did you mean by ‘just enough’ of her parents? I think you were going to say something nice.”
“You think all you want.” But of course she still wasn't moving. He rolled his eyes and said, “Fine, fine. I was gonna say… this is stupid.”
“No argument here,” Yang said with no hesitation. But before Weiss could protest, Qrow was actually answering – and it was a genuine answer.
“You got your mom's spunk. And that fierce loyalty that almost nobody really sees. She could have dumped you out in the streets, but even though she's about the worst candidate for a mother I've ever seen-”
“Forget this! I don't need to hear you talking about her like-”
“Wait, wait,” Ruby spoke up, finally seeming to catch on. She and Weiss shared a little smile. “I think… you should let him finish.”
Qrow looked a little ruffled by all the attention, but was trying to hide it behind a veneer of disinterest. “Like I said, she’s no prize as a mom. And she knew it. Always knew it; that’s why she gave you up in the first place. But after you two lost Summer… she took you in anyway. Takes a lot of guts to do something you don’t think you're any good at for somebody else because you’re the only name in the hat - and she’s been doin’ it for years and years. Because she doesn’t turn her back on family unless they give her a good reason. Real loyalty.”
Yang’s mouth just barely uttered an “Oh.”
“And as for Tai… he was kind of a flake, still don't know why he twenty-three skidooed on us. But he had a lotta love in his heart for his friends, family. Strong and didn’t know the meaning of ‘fear’. And, uh… I think you got a lot of both of ‘em. That’s all.”
“O-oh,” she breathed again, and this time Weiss noticed her eyes were watering. But she turned away, arms tightly folded over her chest. “Fine.”
“Yang,” Weiss insisted very quietly. But Yang didn’t budge. So she turned to Qrow and nodded at him. “Thank you for saying that.”
One hand waved it off while the other fell to his almost-niece’s shoulder. “Eh. C’mon, Ruby, we’re burnin’ daylight.”
“Okay,” she said quietly, favouring Weiss with an uncertain little smile. “See you later, okay?”
“Yeah. See you, Ruby.” Once they were out of earshot, Weiss stomped over to Yang and seethed at her back for a few seconds. “You could have at least said ‘thank you’ instead of ‘fine’.”
“Wh-why should I thank him? He just… still didn’t… what a big clod.”
Her arms wrapped around Yang’s waist, hugging her from behind as she shivered with unshed tears. “I know, I know. What a meanie, telling you that you’re loyal, and brave, and you have a big heart. How dare he!”
By that point, Yang was truly sobbing, and she turned to hold her girlfriend as close as she could, needing the creature comfort. Weiss did her best not to let her shock at this release show; just held her, petting over her back and hair and giving her the chance to have all those feelings. They stayed like that until Blake happened along and asked what the matter was, to which Yang completely sidestepped before rushing off to get home.
“That girl is just weird,” Blake remarked with a small shake of her head. “Mondo strange-o.”
“Yeah. So, um… do you think maybe her mom would let you come over now? Because it still seems like she’s being stubborn about houseguests. I think that stinks.”
Her shoulders raised up and down within her leather jacket, staring off after the blonde driving away on her motorcycle. Wistful but resigned. “Nah.”
“No?”
“Probably not. But I see her enough in school. And when the Dragons hang around, too, I guess.” When she saw Weiss squirm, she sighed and rolled her eyes. “You can stop now. I’m not a charity case, and I’m… okay with how things turned out. So enough with the babysitting. I’m fine, Weiss.”
She bit her lip for a second, indecisive. Then she finally hugged her around the middle. “I’m glad. Because I’m a Dragon now, too, remember? If you’re in pain, then I’m-”
“I get it,” she laughed weakly. “Let’s go home, you weird hug-monster.”
When they got there, they saw a few more bikes parked in the drive than were normal. And Weiss was just beginning to get familiar enough with her fellow gangsters to tell which bike was whose.
“Salem? And Vernal, and… and that is Cinder’s bike, I think, but she’s not even out of the hospital yet!”
Blake shrugged as she left her helmet on the handlebars. “We really need to get that new Shopkeeper’s set up. Somewhere.”
As she could have expected, Salem was seated in the living room with Kali and Sienna, discussing things in hushed voices. Weiss noticed her own mother was conspicuously absent; that would have worried her, but Kali looked far too calm for it to mean anything dire. Probably had her hidden upstairs.
“Ah, there are a few of our babies,” Kali said with a half-smile. “Good day at school?”
“High Dragon,” Weiss said with a slight bow in her direction. Salem barely tilted her head downward in recognition. “Where’s Cinder?”
Almost as if summoned, Cinder appeared from the dining room with a glass of iced tea. She was still heavily bandaged, and leaning on Emerald for support, but she looked a little more hale and hearty than she had the last time they saw her. Flirting with two women at once had done wonders for her complexion.
“Schnee,” she rasped with a slight smile, which Weiss returned.
“Fall.”
“Belladonna,” Blake grunted in mild annoyance at being ignored. Cinder smirked. “Now, what’s this all about? I didn’t know we were having a pow-wow. We would have told Yang.”
Salem waved a hand of dismissal. “This is not an official meeting, Blake. We’re discussing how to proceed.”
“He’s got a little too many higher-ups backing him to rub him out now,” Kali warned her, sounding as if she had already made that point before but was trying to rearrange her words so that they would be more convincing. Weiss’s gaze sharpened on the older women. “There’s no way it wouldn’t lead back to us - even if we asked the boys to do it instead.”
“Agreed. However, we may not have much choice; if we languish here while our enemy amasses yet more power, we may find the option vanishes from under our noses. He’ll be out of reach soon.”
Cinder spoke up, surprising them all. “Make it quick. Hell, I’ll do it - sweet revenge.”
“Wait, wait,” Weiss interrupted before Kali could speak again. “What is it we’re talking about? Who needs to be… you know.” She had a suspicion, but wanted to confirm.
Salem blinked at her a few times before she answered. “You haven’t heard? Our timetable has been… truncated.”
“I haven’t. I mean, apparently.”
For a moment, no one answered. Then Kali stood and crossed to her small television set, turning the dial to get it warming up. Within several seconds, they were staring at a black-and-white image of a newscaster with a handful of papers, gazing into the camera and trying to be serious without being dour, square jaw outlined in strong relief above his suit.
“...within these past weeks, with the fire at the abandoned building as further proof of criminal activity. Mr. Schnee says that he hopes his term in office as mayor will usher in a new age of peace and prosperity for the city of Vale. Now here’s Lisa Lavender with the weather…”
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