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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

Kiss of Death

Warnings: nonconsent (fingering and intercourse)

This is dark!(mob)Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You (literally) run into a powerful man but find it hard to shake him.

Note: So we’re taking a tiny break from Painted Windows. The last chapter was intense and even my heart needs some respite. So I let myself wonder down the backstreets and wrote some mob!Loki with a good chance of a sequel.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

After a long day and a longer week, you were looking forward to the small get together. Several nights in a row you came home late and gulped down a microwave dinner before passing out on the couch. An unglamorous life, to say the least.

For Nisha’s birthday, you agreed to meet up at a nice restaurant downtown for drinks and hopefully dinner. Tiana and Ana were already there with Nisha as you rushed in. You weren’t used to being the last to arrive. Usually you were the first there and waiting for at least twenty minutes.

You gave a frantic greeting to the small group and dropped your purse in your empty chair.

“I’m so sorry. Nisha, happy birthday but I’m gonna burst,” You said as you caught your breath.

They laughed at your panic and waved you towards the restrooms. You snaked around tables and to the narrow hall that led to the facilities. You were quick to sweep inside and into a stall. Your pants were barely past your thighs before you sat; the stream was painful and squeezed your bladder terribly. You sighed and took a moment to gather yourself as soft classical music plucked from the speakers.

Finished, you washed your hands and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your jacket hung open over your flowery blouse and pressed slacks. You wore a pair of low wedges that gave you a few inches. You were exhausted and you looked it. A night of drinking would surely wake you up… or at least lull you into the sleep you’d been lacking.

You smoothed out your shirt and slipped out of the jacket. You slung it over your arm and tried to fix your hair as best as you could. Your latest client was demanding and worse, a perfectionist. Usually, your suggestions were accepted without a single glance but Stacey Forrest was very particular. She needed to impress her new circle of peers; many twenty years her senior. Just thinking of her stabbed your temples with frustration.

You shook off the moment of chagrin and took a breath. Work was done. You had Saturday to sleep off the hangover you planned on feeding tonight. Sunday was far away at the present.

You pushed open the door and strolled back to the dining room. You spotted the table of women awaiting you, giggling as they sipped from their respective glasses, and set off to join them. In your tunnel vision, you didn’t notice the party to your right. The man whom you walked directly into and barely kept you from tripping over his leather shoes. You were so embarrassed, you hardly realized how the entire room had gone silent.

You backed up and slipped free of the man’s grasp. You looked up at him and caught your coat before it could fall to the floor.

“Oh, sorry,” You said as your cheeks burned. “I wasn’t…” You glanced around. “Paying attention…”

“It’s quite alright,” The lilt in his voice surprised you as much as the glimmer in his green eyes. “These things happen.”

“Yeah, I… Sorry again.” You sidestepped between some tables. “Um, okay.”

You spun away awkwardly as you tried to ignore your audience. Even Nisha, Tiana, and Ana had turned to watch the debacle. Well, the night was never complete without you making a fool of yourself. You hung your coat over the back of your chair and moved your purse as you sat. The room was still in a hush.

“Smooth,” Tiana raised her brows.

“Shut up,” You grumbled.

“Only you.” Nisha chided.

You peeked around at those who whispered around you and followed their own attention to the man you’d nearly tackled. He was with a group of several men and was shown to a booth near the back of the restaurant. You turned back and shook your head.

“I need a drink.” You declared.

“I’d say you do,” Tiana shook her head. “And a knock in the head.”

“You do know who’s foot you just stomped, right?” Ana asked.

“When do I ever know what is going on?” You said dryly. “So we doing just drinks or dinner?”

“She doesn’t even care,” Tiana gasped. “We should leave before she gets in anymore trouble.”

“Oh my god, what is the big deal?” You demanded.

“Take another look at that man,” Ana intoned.

You huffed and turned in your chair. You looked at the man as the server listened intently to him and you felt as if he was familiar but you couldn’t place him. He smiled at the waiter and then his eyes met yours. You blinked and spun back so quickly your chair wobbled. You shrugged as you steadied yourself.

“His name, which I’m sure will shake something loose, is Loki Laufeyson.” Tiana scoffed. “You might have heard that somewhere through that haze you call sentience.”

Your eyes rounded. A waitress appeared and asked for an order. You opted for gin on ice and rubbed your forehead.

“Shit.” You swore. “Well, I mean, it was just an accident. Not like I pulled a gun on him.”

“You scuffed his shoe,” Ana mused. “I’ve heard stories of him taking offence at less.”

“Don’t,” You warned. “I already have enough on my plate without worrying about…” You lowered your voice. “...the mob.”

“Oh, we’re teasing you,” Tiana insisted. “So how is Mrs. Forrest.”

“Nee Marris,” Ana added.

“Oh, you know, the same girl she was in uni,” You grinned. “Only this time she’s married her sugar daddy.”

“And she hired you to style her new house?” Nisha asked.

“Manse,” You corrected her. “As she prefers.”

“Definitely hasn’t changed,” Tiana smirked.

You all laughed as the waitress set your drink in front of you and you thanked her. You continued to gab over your menus and eventually ordered. You forgot about the bumpy beginning and were soon lost in the cheer. You had longed for a night out. A rare occasion when you reverted to the college girl procrastinating on her studying.

When your dinner came, so did another round of drinks. You paused and stopped the waitress before she could flit away.

“Sorry, but we didn’t order another round,” You wondered.

“Compliments of Mr. Laufeyson,” She said quietly.

You froze and the other women looked at you curiously. You raised a brow and tried to subtly look over your shoulder. You didn’t turn all the way as you sensed another’s gaze on you.

“You can thank him but we can pay for them,” You insisted. “Really…”

The waitress blanched and your friends tittered.

“Oh, what’s the harm,” Nisha chimed. “Better than him sending something else.”

“Loosen up,” Tiana took a large gulp. “The free drink should help with that.

You sighed and Anna added to the plea with a grin. You rubbed your chin and relented. “You can thank Mr. Laufeyson.”

She exhaled in relief and agreed to do so. You grabbed your glass reluctantly and sneered at the girls before you forced your finest smile. You turned and found the man in question watching you. You raised your glass at him as a gratitude and quickly righted yourself in your chair.

“Oh,” Ana preened. “You think he’d pay for the whole meal? Give him a wink or something.”

“An,” You warned. “Really. That’s not the type of man you want to owe favours.”

“Really?” Tiana challenged. “Twenty minutes ago you barely recognized him.”

“Maybe not but I’d heard of him and his… supposed deeds.” You said. “You aren’t really encouraging this, are you?”

“He must like the whole clueless vibe you’ve got going for you,” Tiana trilled. “Rather endearing even if it does leave your toes a bit tender.”

“Hush,” You hissed. “Really. Let’s eat and then we shall relocate so that I do not entangle myself further with thugs.”

They laughed and you flaked away a piece of salmon with your fork. You shook your head. You had the sense of being watched and didn’t need to look to know why. It sent a frightful tickle along your spine. You were always quite skilled at walking, or rather, tripping head first into trouble.

🐍

That night was just another fleeting thrill in a series of missteps that never quite came to fruition. You didn’t need to worry about the mobster or your little stumble. Sometimes a kind gesture was just that and a coincidence was nothing more. No serendipity, no fate, just another anecdote about how your clumsiness had nearly gotten you in trouble.

You finished your dinner and found your way to a pub just down the way. The music was a little young for your tastes but the cocktails were on special and it wasn’t too rowdy. It was like Sex and the City but duller; and likely sadder. You shared stories of failed dates, workplaces peeves, and the latest drama witnessed on the tube. Provoking stuff.

Nisha crashed at yours. You woke on the couch, the birthday girl was offered the bed. You drank coffee with the curtains drawn but she didn’t wake up until noon. When she did, she finished the pot and dressed in her wrinkled clothing. You saw her off to the station and stopped by the shop for some orange juice and paracetamol.

You spent the rest of the day in the dark with Netflix in the background. You dreaded another day of Stacey’s obstinacy. What kind of person needed more than a dozen bedrooms in one house? Oh, and she did mention their summer house in the south? Well, if you couldn’t start appeasing her Cher Horowitz tastes, she might not need you for that.

The only thing you could do to prepare was set your alarm and sleep off your hangover. When you woke, the ice pick had dislodged from your skull and the fog outside helped mute the harshness of the sun. You dressed, had your coffee, a small breakfast, and readied to face off with Stacey.

The drive was an hour out of the city. Your small car puttered along but never failed to get you where you needed. You sang along to Petula Clark on the scratchy radio station as you yawned over the steering wheel. The old house rose before you; a hideous mishmash of an old Tudor cottage and a modern geometric renovation.

You drove up the winding drive and around the back. Classified as a member of the help, you weren’t permitted to park with the Bentley and the Rolls. You didn’t recognize the Aston Martin but you assumed it was another of Mr. Forrest’s associates. You climbed out, locked your car, and dropped your keys in your pocket.

There was a backdoor, formerly the entrance to the servants’ quarters, and you ducked through the arched doorway. The old corridor had recently been remodelled with a couple guestrooms, a modified laundry room, and a wine cellar. Paintings left by the former owners had been reframed and hung. Stacey couldn’t decide if she wanted to be old aristocracy or the new age elite.

You found Stacey in the kitchen. Her assistant, Deanna, was making her a green smoothie. She greeted you with a smile and flicked her finger across her tablet.

“Just in time,” She beckoned you over as Deanna set the glass down beside her. “I was thinking this lamp would be perfect for the master.”

You looked at the image. The clear glass body of the lamp was filled with large round sequins; a fishtank of tackiness with a feather shade. You had to hide your distaste.

“It could work,” You allowed, “But we would have to revert a few other choices.”

“Revert?” Her voice went deep and she sipped noisily through her straw.

“The curtains. You want sheen or lace. Not both.”

“Hmm,” She pressed her lips together. “I suppose. We could still have the curtains, they would be cute in the loo.”

“Cute,” You repeated as you resisted a laugh. “Well, as long as we keep to that theme in there.”

“I was talking to Paul,” She batted her lashes as she always did when she spoke of her husband; you suspected she held more affection for his last name and wallet than his person. “He did mentioned he wouldn’t mind a hint of snakeskin in his office. He doesn’t want anything too stuffy or old.”

“Oh yes, he is one for the… younger tastes,” You intoned. “We could probably work it in subtly. We don’t want it to be overbearing.”

“I suppose…” She rolled her eyes and took another long drink. “Well, I’ve tracked down those lamps in the city. I say we go and have a look around the boutique while we pick them up. Perhaps we can muster some inspiration, maybe even some imagination.”

You smiled and accepted the rebuke in stride. “At your leisure, Mrs. Forrest.”

“Stacey,” She corrected. “You know that makes me feel old.”

“Stacey,” You repeated and leaned on the counter.

“I’ll just finish this and then I’ll have Stuart drive us into the city.”

“I have a car,” You offered.

“And so do I. It’s much nicer,” She insisted. “And we will discuss ideas on the w--”

She turned completely in the tall chair and stood. “Paul,” She greeted her husband in a sing song.

You watched her and angled yourself to keep your eye on her. Paul’s silver hair was thinning and still wore hints of the black dye he’d used to reclaim his youth upon his wedding day. His wrinkles deepened as he grinned and welcomed her against him. She wore stilettos and a skirt so tight it looked painful.

Your amusement dwindled as another figure appeared behind him. You recognised the man immediately. It hadn’t been two days since your first and last encounter. As you remembered him, you were sure he remembered you. You were convinced of it as his green eyes sparkled and he smirked in your direction.

“Sweetheart, I thought you’d be off already,” Paul’s arm held Stacey around her waist. “I was just discussing our renovations with Mr. Laufeyson on his way out and was about to show him the east wing.”

“We were just on our way,” She announced. “We’ve some items to pick up for the master and soon enough we’ll move onto the rest of guest rooms.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” Paul turned back to his visitor, his arm still around his young wife, “Pardon my negligence, this is Stacey’s designer.” He introduced you kindly. He might have been an easy dupe but he was nice enough. “They go back a ways. To university I believe.”

“Oh yes, I was in fashion and she was in interior, and so we ran into each other a couple times a year,” Stacey explained. “She always did have a good eye.”

“Ah,” Laufeyson neared and held out his hand cordially. You eyed it and the scene of you crashing into him replayed in your head. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” You shook his hand awkwardly and prayed Stacey would not stay too long to boast.

“Actually,” He let go slowly, “If you’re not too tied up at the moment, I have a place not far from here that needs a breath of fresh air. You see, it was my father’s and it still bears much of his tastes. Not very akin to my own but I am terribly obtuse at these things.”

“Hmm, well,” You swallowed and looked to Stacey, “My roster is rather full at the moment. How many rooms did you say there were in this place, Mrs. Forrest?”

“Oh, but she is not that burdened, Mr. Laufeyson.” Stacey insisted. “We have sorted plans for most of the rooms. You might take her on the odd days, if you wish?”

Your nostrils flared. She acted as if she owned you. As if you were to be lent out like one of her designer dresses.

“I do have a waiting list--”

“We are old friends,” She interjected, “As a favour from me, Mr. Laufeyson, as a thank you for your wonderful wedding gift, you might have a consultation upon us. Right, Paul?”

“Oh, yes,” He seemed to have awoken from a trance at the mention of his name. “That old place your father kept, it could use a good dusting.”

You glared at Stacey. If she wasn’t paying twice your hourly rate, you might have walked out. You quickly wiped away your chagrin as the attention turned back to you.

“Well, I suppose if Mrs. Forrest can spare me…”

“Tomorrow,” Stacey affirmed. “Leave the address with Paul and she’ll meet with you in the morning. I can survive the day without her. The contractors will be back for the west wing.”

🐍

The next morning, you left early to make sure you arrived on time, all so that you could eventually leave on time. Mr. Laufeyson’s house was not far from the Forrests’. You pulled up to the tall gates and rolled down your window to push the buzzer. A voice rose from the crackly speaker and you called out your purpose several times before you were understood.

The wrought iron gates finally opened and you pulled through slowly. The drive was even longer than Stacey’s and the house grander. It was indeed old-fashioned. You pulled up before the large garage off the side of the house and stepped out onto the cobblestone. Your thick heel skidded over them and you nearly tripped. You locked your car and carefully walked along to the front steps.

You climbed them carefully but stumbled up the last. As you fell and scraped your hands on the stone porch, you heard the door open. You looked up and cringed as Mr. Laufeyson looked down at you. He stepped out onto the porch and you dragged yourself up by the column at the top of the railing.

“You okay?” He touched your elbow gently as you dusted your hands off on your jacket.

“Fine,” You assured him. “You know, gotta make an entrance.

“You’re early,” He said.

“Shall I wait?” You asked.

He chuckled and waved you ahead of him to the door. “Not at all. I’ve been eagerly awaiting you.”

You were silent as you neared the open door and entered the large foyer. He was close behind as he pulled the door closed and you tried not to flinch as he brushed close to you. You looked up at the grand chandelier and the towering portraits of ancestors.

“Where shall we start?” He asked.

“Well, I usually begin with a walk through and then we can go over my notes at the end. Discuss what you want to change, what you’d like to keep,” You took out your notebook as you spoke. “You’ll have a copy of it all. Should you choose to carry out the plans with another designer, you’ll still have them as reference.”

“Very well,” He nodded and you waited for him to lead you; up the stairs, through the door to your left or to your right. Just to start the whole awkward day.

“Mr. Laufeyson?” You glanced over at him and he smirked.

“Loki,” He said. “We can go without the formalities for the day, I think.”

“Loki, where should we start?”

“I know you remember me,” He ignored your question. “And I certainly remember you.”

“I did appreciate the drink,” You said evenly. “And again, I do apologise for my carelessness.”

He considered you a moment. He didn’t move.

“And you know who I am?” He asked.

“Who doesn’t?” You answered as you looked around tensely. Heat began to crawl up your neck.

“A thug, no?” He wondered. You blanched at the word you’d used only days before.

“It was a joke…”

“I do not deny it,” He assured you. “Or take offence. I’ve been called worse.”

You took a deep breath and tapped your pen on your notebook. Your turned to look at him directly.

“Did you bring me here to reprimand me?” You asked.

His smirk remained and he buttoned his jacket.

“I brought you here to rid this place of my father’s stench,” He said coolly. “And because this universe has a peculiar way of aligning the stars.”

“Left, right, or up,” You pointed to each door and then the broad stairway. “We should begin before the time gets ahead of us.”

“We should,” He agreed. “The left, dear.”

🐍

It took you all day to get through every room of the house. As you explored, you pieced together the story of the old place. A family property passed down through the generations. Nobles until the Great War, criminals in its aftermath and since. They hid their delinquency beneath their titles.

Loki seemed to have little love for his late father. His words were resentful. He explained that this was the lesser of two houses; the other was bequeathed to his brother. Expected but still a thorn.

He talked more than you expected, as if to fill the silence as you jotted down notes. Perhaps to loosen your own tongue. A man used to charming others. His words were as useful a weapon as a gun. You found it hard not to let them sway you. It was easy to see him as pleasant when his task was not so odious.

You caught yourself several times. He followed a bit too closely, leaned in a bit too much to look over your shoulders, held doors for you, brushed against you a little too conspicuously. You sensed him closing in the further you delved into the old family stead. Felt him looming around you as you tried to focus on the peeling wallpaper and golden candlesticks.

You were on the third floor. The walls were lined with geometric sconces of the art deco era. They could be restored easily and once more stylish even a century later. You reached the end of the hall and tucked your notebook under your arm as he pushed open the door there. He stepped back and waited for you to enter. You did, cautiously.

You walked the perimeter of the room, around the armoire and the bed, the standing lamp, the curled feet of the night tables. An extravagant fireplace with statues of lions on its mantle gaped back at you. You stopped before it as you scribbled on the paper. You turned and looked around once more.

“Are you set on the bed frame?” You asked. “An antique but clunky.”

“Hmmm,” He thought as he neared the foot of the bed. “I’m not sure.”

“I suppose if you removed the canopy and replaced the duvet it might…” You glanced at him and your eyes strayed behind him. The door was closed. You hadn’t heard it shut. You shook off the tremor and looked back to the tasseled canopy. “It might work but you could free up a lot of space, make it a little more open with something less… imposing.”

He rounded to your side of the bed slowly. He dragged his fingers along the bedding and stopped beside you.

“I think I know what might make it look a little nicer,” He said.

“Oh?” You kept your eyes on your notebook as you scribbled down nonsense.

“Yes,” He lifted his hand from the bed and grabbed your notebook. “I think you might look rather striking in it.”

He dislodged the book from your hand and you tried to catch it before he flung it across the room. You stared up at him in shock and he ripped the pen from your hand in kind. You stepped back, startled.

“Loki,” You gasped. “What are--”

“You knew the kind of man I was back in that restaurant,” He blocked you as you tried to skirt past him. “You knew it at the Forrests’, and yet you came here.”

“I came to work.” You insisted. “I came because another said I would.”

You tried to push past him but he caught you around your waist. He swept you off your feet and swung you onto the bed. You bounced on the mattress and sat up quickly.

“Loki,” You tried to shimmy off the bed. “I don’t--”

He was on top of you before you could get your feet over the edge. He shoved you back down and straddled you beneath him. You tried to wriggle out, tried to push him off, bat him away, but he caught your hands and pinned them to the bed.

“You knew that night who I was and what I can do.” He purred. “And I knew what I would do. Sooner or later.” He leaned over you until his nose almost touched yours. “I knew I would find you again.”

“Please,” You breathed shakily. “Please, you can stop and we can both forget--”

“I can’t forget,” He sneered. “I won’t.”

“Let me go,” You begged. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean for any of it. I said sorry, I--”

“Oh, dear, this isn’t about that,” He rubbed his nose against yours cloyingly. “This is about the way that ass looks in those pants.”

You whined and kicked helplessly beneath him. “Help!” You yelled. “Someone, please!”

“I dismissed the help when you showed up. It’s an empty house, dear,” He rocked his pelvis against yours. “In the middle of the country.”

You grunted in frustration. He sat back and released your hands. He pushed your jacket open. He barely noticed as you slapped his arms and chest. He chuckled even. He tore your blouse and his hands cupped your bra. He squeezed and rocked his hips. He groaned as he groped you.

He slid his body down over yours until he was draped over you. He bent his head to your chest and kissed along your cleavage. You pulled his hair roughly as you tried to wrench him away. A hand slithered up and closed around your throat. He squeezed as his teeth pinched your flesh. You cried out from the pain.

Slowly, he raised his head. A black strand fell across his forehead. “My dear, it means nothing for me to hurt you.” His grip tightened. “So if you insist upon it, I will.”

You grasped at his hand as you tried to breathe. Your eyes watered and you nodded frantically. Your head was starting to throb. He let go and once more buried his head in your chest. His hand crawled back down as he held him over you, he flicked your fly open with one hand and pushed the zipper down slowly.

You were paralysed. Shock, fear, mortification washed over you. You were stupid enough to come hear. Weak enough to go along with Stacey’s demands. And desperate enough to be inflamed by his touch.

His fingers hooked beneath the waist of your pants and the elastic of your panties. He tore them down. He jolted your entire body and backed off of you as he forced them down your legs and over your boots. You tried to sit up but he was quick to shove you back down. He put his arm across your throat and held you there as he pushed his knees between your legs.

You shook and clung to his arm as he leaned on your windpipe.

“Loki…” You pleaded.

He tickled along your thigh and slipped two fingers between your lips. You gulped as he flicked your clit and your thighs tingled. You bit down and he did it again. He delved between your folds and your arousal was soon obvious. He returned to your bud and rubbed until your thighs were tensed against his.

“You can try to resist me, dear,” He snarled. “But know, I’ll always find a way to get to you.”

He shoved his fingers inside and you cried out. He pressed his thumb to your clit as he drew his fingers in and out. You slapped his shoulder and latched onto it as he kept on. You could feel your ascent and he urged you to your tipping point. You moaned and closed your eyes as your body quaked in betrayal. You came on his fingers. You could feel it, hear it.

You tried to catch his breath as he left you empty. He slipped his arm off your throat and leaned on his elbow as he unzipped his trousers. You squirmed and he grabbed a hank of your hair and pulled. You whimpered and he rolled his pants down to his thighs. He dragged his tip along your wet folds and you spread your hands over his chest.

You shook your head and tried to beg with your eyes. You pushed on his chest and he lined himself up with your entrance. He slammed his hips down and you yelped as he impaled you to his limit. Your fingers clawed at the lapels of his jacket as he began to rock. You went limp beneath him as your body buzzed. You were repulsed by how good it felt.

He sat up and grabbed your thighs. He held your legs against him as he watched his cock slide in and out of you. Each thrust came sooner than last, harder than the last, deeper than the last. You reached out and balled the duvet in your fists as you tried to breathe away the mixture of agony and ecstasy. It didn’t work.

You came again. This time you shook even more and exclaimed louder than before. He let go of your left leg and reached to pulled your bra down beneath your tits. He kneaded as he tilted into you.

“Say my name,” He commanded. You shook your head and he pinched your nipple. “Say it!”

“Loki,” You whimpered.

“Again.” He growled.

“Loki,” You repeated.

“Keep going.”

His name tumbled from your lips over and over. Each time he pounded into you, you recited the syllables. You came a third time and covered your face in shame. You were dizzy and confused. He sank into as deep as he could and the bed stilled. You felt him spill inside of you, his cock twitched as he groaned.

You went quiet and all strength drained from your body. He sighed and eased himself out of you. His cum leaked down onto the duvet between your legs as he crawled backward off the bed. You drew your legs together as he stood. He bent to grab your pants from the floor and tossed them over you.

He tucked his cock away and zipped up his fly. He pushed his shoulders back and let out another deep breath. He watched you smugly as you shakily sat up and grasped your pants. His eye brow crooked and he felt around in his jacket as it began to buzz. He pulled out his phone and read the screen.

“That’s the wife,” He said. “Shit. I’ll have to let her know I’m running late.”

You blinked as he turned and answered the phone. Your eyes were wide and your heart seemed to stop as he opened the door and disappeared into the hall. His wife. You hadn’t thought you could feel worse but like many things, you were wrong.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #dark loki x reader #dark!loki x reader #mcu #marvel #thor #fic #one shot #or short series #possible sequel #dark!fic #dark fic #au #mafia au #mob au

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pepperf · 4 years ago

Note

wip meme: t100 002 *chinhands*

lol. Oh jeez, okay... oh! This is my The 100 canon universe soulmate AU. I wrote a lot of this one, and I was pretty pleased with it, which is why it’s still on my WIP list. A long snippet, just because.

---

He's still not totally convinced that Lincoln isn't planning to carry Octavia off, but he finally agrees to release him because Octavia insists that it's her risk to take, that she doesn't care, that she trusts this Grounder she barely even knows—and, honestly, a part of him wishes that Lincoln would carry her off and save him a whole heap of trouble. Not being responsible for his sister: what a concept.

But Lincoln stays. He doesn't run back to the Grounders, and he doesn't massacre them all single-handedly. He might be scoping them out, but honestly, Bellamy doesn't have much illusion about the strength and complexity of their fortifications. If Lincoln was watching them from the trees, he probably knows everything that's worth knowing by now. Which means he's staying for Octavia.

So Bellamy is trying to bond with him, god help them both.

"She's my... I don't know what you call it." Then Lincoln says something that sounds like gibberish to Bellamy's untrained ears. Soulmate marks started appearing during the first years on the Ark, so there's no shared origin word.

"Say it again?"

Lincoln sounds it out slowly. "Tom... bom... houmon. Tombom, like heart." He pats his chest, where Octavia's name hides under his shirt. "Houmon, like... people united with promises?"

"Spouse," Bellamy translates. Lincoln speaks fluent English, but on Earth it's a warrior's tongue; some words don't get used as often.

Lincoln nods. "Spouse, yes. Tombom-houmon."

"Tombom-houmon." It's a pleasant word. Bouncy. "We say soulmate."

"Soulmate." Lincoln turns the word over, thoughtfully. "It's easier to say," he concedes, eventually. Bellamy's lips twitch. "Have you met yours?"

He doesn't know what makes him pause. Lincoln should probably be the last person he'd trust with his secrets. But there's something about this quiet, thoughtful Grounder—no, this quiet, thoughtful man, he corrects himself—that he instinctively trusts. And if this is Octavia's soulmate, he needs to start somewhere.

"Octavia doesn't know," he begins, heart tripping nervously. "I always told her I didn't get a name. On the Ark, it was—I didn't think it would be fair."

Lincoln just looks at him.

"I know I've got to tell her the truth, but I just... I need time, okay? You can't tell her."

Lincoln considers this. "You will tell her?"

Bellamy sighs. "Soon," he finds himself promising.

Lincoln nods. "Then I'll keep your secret."

Bellamy stares the other man in the eyes. Lincoln looks back steadily, but honestly, he doesn't even need to do that: somehow, Bellamy already trusts him with this. He nods his thanks.

Then he lets his control slip, allowing his eyes drift where they always seem to want to go: to wherever Clarke is located. At the moment she's just across the camp from them, in their direct eye-line, going through the stores with Monty to head off any further incidents with hallucinogenic flora. But he always knows where she is, can always find her in a crowd, unerringly. Like his body just knows.

When he turns back to Lincoln, he doesn't need to say anything. "I see," says Lincoln. And Bellamy is pretty sure that he does see, too—that meeting his soulmate wasn't some defining romantic moment in Bellamy's life, that he can't just walk up to her and stake a claim or whatever, that it's hard and complicated, with precious little likelihood of a happy ending. That whatever happens, it's going to bring him trouble.

It's such a fucking relief to tell someone at last. He rests his elbows on his knees and lets his head slump between his shoulders for a moment, just breathing.

"You're well matched."

Bellamy's head snaps up so fast he's going to hurt himself. "What?"

Lincoln just looks at him. "You and Clarke. Don't you think?"

"Uh, no."

Lincoln—who is rapidly on his way to being the second biggest pain in Bellamy's ass—raises his eyebrows. "You're both strong. Wily. Mistrustful. Ruthless."

Bellamy winces, but Lincoln is saying these things as though they're compliments.

"You don't hesitate to do what must be done to protect your people."

"I hesitate," objects Bellamy, not particularly appreciating this assessment.

Lincoln ponders it, and then tips his head. "And yet, in the end, you'll still do it. You were both born to lead your people."

Bellamy scoffs slightly at this. "I was born about as far as you can get from leadership. I took it down here because I had to, to protect my sister."

Lincoln nods, as if he understands. "I see. And if not for her, you would willingly have followed someone else."

"Well..."

"That one, perhaps." He points out Miller. "Or her." Fox. "Or him." Jasper.

Bellamy's entire soul revolts at the idea, and it shows on his face, apparently, because Lincoln looks smug. "Not just anyone," he mutters. His eyes light on Clarke again.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter," says Lincoln. "Whatever traits you do or don't share, she's your soulmate. You fit together. You are made for each other."

He blinks at Lincoln in shock. "What? No we're not."

"That's what this means," says Lincoln, gesturing to where his soulmark rests. "Do your people not understand this?"

"No, we—we do," he croaks. "But that's—Clarke and I aren't—it's not like that with us."

"Yes it is," says Lincoln, inexorably. "It is like that for all soulmates, whether or not they wish to acknowledge it."

He ducks his head and stares at the floor.

"You don't really think you can ignore it, do you?"

But Bellamy doesn't answer, because he's in the middle of an unwelcome epiphany. "Fuuuuuuuck," he mutters, dropping his face into his hands. Lincoln chooses now to fall silent, leaving Bellamy with his churning thoughts. It's not just the way he's drawn to Clarke—he's given up pretending that feeling doesn't exist. It's the sudden realisation that he wants this—he wants her. He doesn't want to fight this attraction, this sense of connection with her. He wants it to be real, for him to be part of her life. He wants to know that this isn't some fluke or the result of necessity, that it's not going to end as soon as the rest of the Ark comes down. He wants... he wants everything.

So now here he is, trying to go to pieces quietly because he's in the middle of camp, in the middle of the day, and he doesn't need a fucking audience for this.

"Ah," says Lincoln, catching on.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Lincoln pats his shoulder awkwardly. He seems to have been knocked off balance at last, and Bellamy would find some satisfaction in that, under any other circumstances.

They sit quietly, and Bellamy tries to get himself under control, and not be so obviously in crisis.

"How?" says Lincoln, at last. Bellamy glances at him, and the other man gestures helplessly. "How did you not know?" He sounds baffled.

"It's less than three weeks since we first met," says Bellamy. "And most of that time we've been busy trying not to die."

Lincoln winces, and looks away. "Sorry," he says.

Bellamy huffs a quiet laugh, staring down at his boots again. All this bloodshed, and Lincoln is sorry that it messed with his love life? Abruptly, he remembers Roma, and loses any inclination to find any of this amusing. "Yeah, well."

When he looks up, Lincoln is staring across the camp at Clarke. She's laughing with Monty, and Jasper has come over to join them, and Lincoln looks... conflicted. He's making connections, Bellamy realises. They're becoming people in his eyes. He was already protecting Octavia, but now there's Octavia's brother, and Octavia's brother's soulmate, and all their friends...

In a way, he can understand Lincoln's position. Now he's getting to know Lincoln, the Grounders don't feel so distant and unknowable, so threatening. Well, okay, still pretty threatening, he thinks, remembering how fucking built the guy sitting next to him is, how hard he was to take down. But he also remembers Lincoln's face when he looked at Octavia, and as hard as he fights it, how much he hates that this strange and terrifyingly competent Grounder is his baby sister's soulmate (why couldn't it have been Atom? He could control Atom), he still—with the greatest reluctance—understands how he felt in that moment.

He looks across the camp at Clarke, just as she rolls her eyes and smacks Jasper with the back of her hand, sending him packing with a sharp word. Jasper and Monty exchange their dumb handshake thing, and Clarke turns back to the table, hiding a fond smile. And Bellamy feels his heart clench.

He's so fucked.

#the 100 #the 100 fic #fic by pepper #bellarke #bellamy x clarke #mememe #bending-sickle

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superman86to99 · 5 years ago

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Superman #84 (December 1993)

Superman takes a short Paris vacation! Like, one day short. What's the worst that could happen?

Oh, man.

So, for the past few issues, we've been hearing about children being abducted in Metropolis. Now we see that they're being kept inside a giant toy house by some creepy bald man in Quasimodo clothes who seems to be obsessed with toys -- a "Man of Toys," if you will. Side note: no wonder the children haven't been found... all the articles about them are just gibberish! (See clip below.)

The kidnapper thinks that these kids' parents don't deserve them, and that they're much better off here, in an underground hideout with a man who threatens to starve them if they don't play with him. (And I do mean literally play, with action figures and stuff.) Meanwhile, as these children cry for help, Superman is having the time of his life. While helping move a stranded ship with some huge-ass chains, Superman spots a sunken galleon with a treasure chest inside and fantasizes about keeping the booty...

...before turning it over to the authorities anyway, the big boy scout. Then, he wakes up Lois at 6 AM and tells her they should go to Paris right now, which usually means your significant other is having a mental breakdown, but in this case they can actually do it. And so, after deciding that he deserves to use his powers for fun every once in a while, Superman and Lois drop everything and fly to France with super-speed for the rest of the day/issue.

Anyway: back to the child abduction! Cat Grant and her son Adam attend a Halloween party at Adam's school, but there's a disturbed weirdo in a hideous costume lurking among the crowd. Yes, I'm talking about Jimmy Olsen in his Turtle Boy suit.

Shortly after that, a guy in a dinosaur costume (see, all the creeps are dressed as reptiles) lures Adam out of the party with the promise of "superb video games." What child could resist that? Of course, that turns out to be the kidnapper and Adam ends up in his hideout along with the rest of the missing children and, worst of all, not a single "Lextendo" console.

The kidnapper gets angry at Adam when he refers to the toys at the hideout as "old-fashioned junk" (he was REALLY looking forward to those video games), and even angrier when Adam tries to free the other kids. Adam is brave and puts up a good fight, but...

And those were Adam Morgan's final words. "Uh-oh."

Next, we have a pretty harrowing scene of Detective Turpin letting Cat know Adam’s body was found, and Jimmy and Perry White taking her to the morgue to identify the body (most people probably wouldn't bring their former boss to something like that, but Perry sadly knows more than most about losing a kid). As for Lois and Clark, they were gone so long that the Daily Planet had time to print a headline about the murders. The issue ends when the lovebirds walk into the office smiling like two people who just spent the night fooling around in Paris... only to feel like jackasses when they find out what happened.

To be continued!

Character-Watch:

And that's it for little Adam Morgan who, unlike the also tragically diseased Jerry White, didn't even get any post-death appearances. Adam went from a little kid scared of Superman, to a huge brat, to a character who was approaching likeability as of last week. That's why I hate it when DC kills off young characters like Adam or Liam Harper: in long-form storytelling, children represent potential. Look at how much Wally West or Dick Grayson evolved over the years compared to their mentors! Sure, there's a huge probability that Adam would have ended up disappearing from comics for 25 years anyway, but who knows, maybe we'd now know him as Teen Gangbuster or something. GangbusTEEN.

This issue also represents a turning point for the kidnapper, who is never named or seen clearly in the story itself but I don't think I'm shocking anyone by spoiling the fact that he's Toyman (it's in the cover, for one thing). In his last two appearances before this storyline, Toyman helped Superman save some kids from Sleez and looked genuinely sad to learn about Superman's death, so this is a pretty dramatic change for the character. We'll find out why he went from big softy to child killer in Superman #85 (but don't get your hopes up).

Plotline-Watch:

The most disturbing part of the issue, all things considered, is still the part where Toyman climbs into a giant crib and hugs a huge stuffed bunny. Look at serial killer Tommy Pickles here:

Don Sparrow says: “Even with the upgrade, Toyman is still just a man in a suit, a common complaint about Superman’s rogues gallery.” Funny you should say that, because I JUST shared an old Wizard interview in our Twitter in which Dan Jurgens talks about how Doomsday came out of his frustration with the fact that most Superman villains are dudes in suits (plus other interesting tidbits from the era, like how it was actually Roger Stern’s idea to bring back Hank Henshaw, so check out that link!).

Don again: “The entire Superman storyline of this issue feels like filler. Diving for buried treasure and soaring off to Paris -- it all feels like wasted time next to the Adam storyline.” I have a theory that the entire ship sequence is there as an excuse to put Superman in those big chains and make that Spawn joke (which I didn’t get until now, since I’ve always read this issue in Spanish).

Superman says that pulling that big ship was "a little easier than expected" -- that's either another hint that there's something going on with Superman's powers since he came back, or a subtle dig at the state of American ship manufacturing.

Another adorable "window tap" scene for the books, and this is the sexiest one so far. Is it me or has Jurgens started copying more than just Teri Hatcher's hairdo from Lois & Clark? (For anyone who thinks Lois has gotten implants, I refer you to this clip.)

While in Paris, Lois asks Clark if he's ever wondered what would happen if his rocket had landed in other countries. Don: “Clark’s conversation with Lois sounds like a bunch of concepts for Elseworlds stories. We eventually would see a Russian Superman, and a British Superman, but not yet the French Superman. (Hire us, DC!)” Yep, got my French Superman pitch ready, Jim Lee. Or just let us do Russian Superman again, since Red Son wasn’t even the first time you published that idea.

Don once more: “Another thing that makes no sense about the ‘new’ Toyman is his resentment of technological toys—when in previous appearances he himself had deadly high-tech toys to vex Superman over the years.” I especially resent his hatred of video game consoles. Incidentally, I wonder what types of games are available for Adam’s beloved Lextendo. Star Lex 64? Mega Man Lex? Sonic the Hedgehog 3 & Knuckles & Lex?

No one is more upset at Lois and Clark for going AWOL than Whit. NO ONE. He's so furious that his usually grey mustache turned black.

Patreon-Watch:

As always, shout out to our patrons, Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Samuel Doran, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush and Raphael Fischer! Last month’s exclusive Patreon article was about the recently unearthed sequel to Superman 64 for the PlayStation, featuring Metallo, Parasite, and Lois looking even hotter than in this issue:

Hot damn. Find out more at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99!

And believe it or not, Don Sparrow has even more to say about this issue. Read his section after the jump:

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

I should start off my section with a big caveat: I flat out hate this issue. There were several weird decisions made in the post-Death-and-Return era (most of them along the same lines of making the Superman titles more grim-and-gritty), and this story was one of the worst of them. My theory is that, despite the praise and record-breaking sales of the Death and Return storyline, the Superman creative team felt pressure to have more extreme storylines, perhaps in response to the wildly successful Image books coming out at the time. Between this story, and the upcoming “Spilled Blood” storyline, the Super books take a hard—but temporary--turn into more violent and upsetting storytelling—even though these stories are by the same writers as the previous few years. While death has always been a part of comics, and Superman comics was no exception, there is a jarring glibness and unfeeling toward the way violence is handled in these pages that is quite different from the stories that preceded it. It’s made all the more jarring by the fact that well-established personalities suddenly veer wildly out of character, Toyman chief among them.

We start with the cover, and while it is technically well-drawn (by the familiar team of Jurgens and Breeding) it’s also a very upsetting visual. I think they should have gone with the pieta type pose with Adam and Superman, OR the scary badass bowie-knife Toyman (who apparently has a Cheshire cat smile now) but not both. But the cover is a good hint at the tonal dissonance of the comic within.

We open with a splash of the now-extreme 90s looking Toyman, with his serial killer shaved head and spooky cloak, ignoring the pleas of hungry kids he has locked up in a tiny jail cell for days at a time (if that sentence doesn’t ring alarm bells for how wrong this is for a Superman story, I don’t know what will). For much of the issue Toyman’s eyes are obscured by glare on his lenses, further de-humanizing a character who was once one of Superman’s more empathetic bad guys.

We cut to Superman tugboating a huge tanker with giant chains and it’s a cool visual (one repeated in the Batman V Superman film). It feels especially out of place to focus on, given how upsetting this issue is otherwise, but throughout the whole comic, Lois is drawn smoking hot, especially on the two page spread on pages 9-10.

The scenes depicting the actual murder, while still wildly out of place in a Superman comic, are well done, and give a real sense of darkness and menace, which I suppose is the intent. Perhaps my least favourite visual is the Big Bird stuffie, silently bearing witness to what’s about to occur.

The edges of the panels on get more slashy and off-kilter (to me, looking very much like the layouts more typically seen in Image comics of the day) and I suppose I appreciate the restraint of how little Dan Jurgens shows of the death of a child, showing only a bloody slash on a black background. This is still a pretty baroque image for a Superman comic, but certainly less violent than it could be, given what is happening.

Cat Grant’s silent horror is well staged, and powerful in its way. Lastly, Clark Kent bending in sorrow and regret is a powerful image.

While this issue is handled marginally better, and more maturely than other comics on the shelf at this time, I still believe it is one of the biggest mistakes of the era. Giving a long-established character an unceremonious death for shock value is gross on its own, but making it a child definitely crosses a line for me. Making it worse is that, while the Toyman is a criminal and a killer, he has shown in past issues (a similar kidnapping storyline involving Sleez) that he genuinely cares for the well-being of children. So for a long-time reader, this also felt like a betrayal of a long-established, fully developed character. Adding to the ugliness of this is that Adam dies heroically, trying to free the children who have been caged, unfed, for days, but even in that regard, he fails. The headline at the end of the issue confirms all the children are dead. Adam’s death did not buy the other kids enough time to get away. It was all for nothing. Had Adam died, but the other children lived, maybe this issue wouldn’t leave quite as bad a taste. [Max: It’s weird because it’s all told in a way where it’s told in a way where it would make sense, narratively and within the story universe, that the other kids survived, but then it’s almost casually revealed that nope, they died too. A scene of one of the kids relaying Adam’s heroism to Cat in a future issue would have gone a long way.]

Superman doesn’t come off well in these pages, either. It’s honestly the type of story they should just stay away from, because the more you think about all the calamity that is going on around the clock, the less defensible the whole Clark Kent persona becomes. Superman carving out time to romance his fiancée directly led to the preventable deaths of innocent children—how do you come back from that?

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I’m always looking for hints that perhaps Jimmy or Perry know Superman’s secret identity deep down, and Jimmy’s anger at Lois and Clark on their return to the Daily Planet offices would seem to give that theory some credence, as he’s as angry at them as if he knew Clark really were Superman. Either that, or he’s ticked that it fell to him, and none of them to escort Cat into the morgue. [Max: Has this issue finally converted you to the “Jimmy is terrible” side now, Don?]

I don’t think I’m the only one who disliked the new Toyman—SPOILERS BE HERE: years later, in Action Comics #865, Geoff Johns retconned this whole story, reverting Schott into the criminal who over-relates to kids, rather than the child-killer of this story. Apparently the infantile Schott, who speaks to “Mother” a la Norman Bates, is a robot so lifelike it fools even Superman, and the “Mother” he’s constantly replying to was the real Winslow Schott trying to recall the malfunctioning robot. [Max: That’s one Geoff Johns retcon I really didn’t mind, even if it felt kind of derivative of his similar “all the Brainiacs are robots made by the real Brainiac” reveal.]

#superman #dan jurgens #josef rubinstein #toyman #cat grant #adam morgan #dan turpin #whit #gangbusteen #super luthor fighter ii turbo championship edition

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talesofafangirlwithadvr · 4 years ago

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March 2021 Picks!

Okay, this is pretty shocking. I am actually starting this review with two weeks of March left! However, you will notice that I haven’t watched a ton of stuff this month. Instead I’ve been reading more for my program. I have continued with some favorites though, and even finished some series.

Here come the spoilers....

NANCY DREW

I HAVE to start off talking about the CW’s Nancy Drew because I am LOVING IT this season. Wednesday’s cannot come fast enough (as you have probably seen on this page already). I am SO obsessed that I have actually started re-watching season 1 again (got it as a X-mas present, but available with HBO Max). It’s just SO GOOD! Obviously, I remember how that mystery concludes, but there’s things I’m noticing that I didn’t the first go round and even a few things I forgot. Some of those episodes feel like a lifetime ago because it was a pre-Covid world. Watching this show just makes me so happy. There’s great writing, plot, and THIS CAST! They are AMAZING. It is rare that I can say I like an entire show’s cast. That’s how you know you have a hit. I love the pairs. George and Nick are such a good match and make so much sense. I know they are not canon in the original series, but this show is its own thing and I think the choices they made with George and Nick’s characters are great. I just want George to be alright. She’s been through so much already. I also LOVE the potential of Nancy and Ace and I seriously think we’re headed there with the show. So many breadcrumbs and I am loving them all. I often re-watch a lot of the episodes instantly to make sure I have found them all. (See my page lydia-yougowith-stiles for more gushing on that.) Now we just need Bess back with Lisbeth and everything would be golden.

WANDAVISION

I LOVED the ride that was Wandavision. I have never watched anything like it and I don’t think I ever will get that same experience again. It was so tough to wait for a new episode every Friday and it’s crazy that we haven’t had a new one for two weeks because it’s over. (Haven’t started Falcon and the Winter Soldier yet, but plan to.) I can definitely see myself re-watching the series as a whole in the very near future. I loved all the speculation and fan theories out there after each episode was released. I know some people are upset that they decided not to include some stuff, but I was okay with it. I feel there’s so much potential and we’d love to see it all, but there’s also the hope we can see more of it with Wanda’s character in the future. For an Avenger who was underrepresented in the MCU she FINALLY has the recognition of being one of the strongest people out there. I cannot wait to see where she is headed in Dr. Strange Multiverse of Madness. I feel this is not the end of “Vision” and the boys either. I seriously loved their family and the scene (which I chose the above picture from) was one of my favorite moments of them. We got to see them fight as a family, which made it even heartbreaking later.

SUPERMAN AND LOIS

From one super family to the next, I have been pleasantly surprised with how much I have enjoyed the CW’s latest additional to the Arrowverse: Superman and Lois. While I am feeling the burnout of the CW’s superhero shows, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel specifically for Superman and Lois. The trailer didn’t draw me in, but I decided to still record and watch the pilot. I am very happy that I did. I love the tone of the show and the decision to show an older Clark and Lois raising their twin sons. (Even though I am continually feeling like Tyler Hoechlin is far too young to have 14 year old twins. He’s 33, so that “would” have made him 19, but it still feels like they try to make him look older as Clark.) As a lover of Smallville (which was my first real experience with superheroes), I love being back in the small, farm town and seeing Clark at his roots. Lois is great and very Lois like in her wanting to take down Morgan Edge. The couple has great chemistry and they feel like a family with the boys. I liked the twist (even though I felt it coming) that Jordan has powers and Jonathan is “just” athletic. While I liked that this was a way for Jordan to bond with his dad, I am hopeful that Jonathan will get something later down the line. If not then I hope he becomes more like the Stiles and stays human but can be apart of the team in another way. I don’t want him to go evil or anything because of his lack of powers. I really enjoy his character and how supportive he is for his brother.

BLOWN AWAY SEASON 2

The second season of Blown Away came to Netflix at the perfect time. I was missing this show after watching the first season in the later half of 2020. Glass blowing is something I knew nothing about, but was drawn in by the trailer of this competition show. It was so mesmerizing and satisfying to watch (although, I would never try it myself). With the season being so short, I was ecstatic to discover the show got renewed for a second season. This latest season was just as fantastic and we tried to drag out watching the episodes as long as we could to make it last even longer. Seriously, check this show out if you love interesting competition shows that you’ve never seen before. You’ll be wanting to book a trip to visit the Corning Glass Museum in NY.

VIOLETTA

Well, your girl did it! After three seasons of 80 episodes a piece, I FINISHED Disney Channel South America’s telenovela VIOLETTA. What a fun ride it’s been. From eagerly awaiting the next season to be released on Disney Plus, to adding the songs to my phone. I feel like my Spanish improved, but I’m sure once the subtitles are removed I’ll be hopeless. This was such a fun time with some out of this world stories, but they were so entertaining. While there were times I wanted certain plots wrapped up, I understood why they were dragged out because of the length of the show. Season three as a whole wasn’t my favorite. While the beginning was very strong, the middle was rough and I found myself taking a lot of pauses. (I really felt I needed to finish when my sister-who started long after me-finished the show and I was still on like episode 50.) Despite, all of this, it did pick up in the last 20 episodes and I just wanted to marathon through because it was so good. Once I was finished I felt so accomplished and a bit sad. I want to continue watching South American Disney shows available on Disney Plus, but due to the long commitment I think it will be some time before I do. Plus, right now I would definitely compare it to Violetta a lot because I just finished it and it was my first experience.

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pretend-writer · 5 years ago

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Never Gonna Be Alone (Bellamy Blake x reader)

Requested

Summary: Being stuck in solitary before sent down from the Ark, Y/N finds a hard time fitting in with the other delinquents.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Title Reference: Never Gonna Be Alone x Nickelback

Word Count: 1636 words

Warning: fluff, angst, swearing, violence

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

I was a freak

They all looked at me the same way they looked at the people from the ground. Ever since we've landed on Earth, no one has said a word to me.

It's not their fault, if I saw someone from solitary too I'd judge them as well. Especially after what I've done, there was no excuse.

A guy with shoulder-length hair approached me, 'So you're Y/N? Was wondering what you look like.'

'I've heard about Y/N too. Holy shit, I got to see her in the flesh!' The goggle boy beamed.

'What are you talking about?' I crossed my arms, confused to why suddenly I was a celebrity to these people.

'Heard you did some crazy shit back up in the Ark but it's so scary, no one would even talk about it.'

The blonde girl walked in on the conversation. 'Jasper, cut it out. We don't know what she did up there and it doesn't matter anymore.'

'Well, Clarke if she did do scary shit I'd want to know!' Jasper looked next to him, 'Right Finn?'

'For all we know the Grounders might not be the only people we have to worry about.' Finn agreed with Jasper.

Their logic made sense; If I was stuck with some strange person from solitary that was stuck in there for a reason no one knew, I'd be fearful too. That didn't mean that I was going to blab around the truth to everyone.

How can I ever tell anyone? The guards, Kane, Jaha, no one believed me anyways.

'Okay, guys let's leave her alone.' Murphy came in with Atom, 'Don't you guys have chores to do?'

'You and Bellamy are not the boss of us.' Clarke huffed.

'Sure.' He then turned to me and smiled. 'Hey, come with us.'

It wasn't like I was dying to go with Murphy and Bellamy, they've basically tried to take over these people and I hated how they've been acting towards them.

For some reason, Murphy saved me from that awkward interrogation and I didn't really have a reason to say no to following him. Besides, I didn't want to be alone.

'Thank you, Murphy.' I looked over at him and Atom and gave a soft smile.

'You know my name?' He slightly smirked, 'Flattering.'

'Well, you and Bellamy are pretty known in camp considering you want to control everyone.'

Murphy curled his lips, 'Fair point but I don't see it as controlling. I'd like for you to see it more as managing.'

I shrugged, 'Whatever helps you sleep at night. I still thank you for helping me back there, doesn't change that.'

'Are you kidding me? Having you on our side would mean the others will definitely listen to us. You know people are so intimidated by you!? That's so dope.' Atom praised.

Of course, no one would let go of the fact that I was trapped in solitary for years. I thought that finally being free from the Ark would mean I can start over. I guess erasing the past was too good to be true.

A let out a fake smile, not saying another word as I walked into the dropship. All I've ever wanted was a normal life and no one allowed it. At first, all this attention made me upset but now I was more angry. Angry at myself for letting this happen.

Bellamy's head shot up as I walked up the ladder, 'You scared me. It'll be nice to not sneak up on people considering the fact that we have Grounders trying to kill us.'

'Uh, yeah. Sorry.'

'No worries, just messing with you.' Bellamy kept searching to see if he was able to find useful tools. 'What brings you up here?'

I sat down on the cold floor, watching Bellamy. 'Just wanted to be away from people.'

'Haven't you been away from people long enough up at the Ark?' He let out a light chuckle, perhaps trying to lighten my mood.

'Yeah, you make a good point there.' I laughed with him, it's been a while since I've genuinely smiled. 'It's just hard when people label you as some dangerous person.'

'Well, are you dangerous?'

Our eyes locked, he was serious yet curious about my answer. Even with all of the attitude he has been pulling since we landed on Earth, something about him made me comfortable and safe.

'I just had to do what I had to do.'

'Which was?'

'Killing my mother after she shot my father right in front of me.' I didn't know why I was confiding in Bellamy but somehow I felt like I could trust him.

He bit his lip, 'I'm sorry that happened. That sounds awful.'

'My dad and I were really close and my mom hated that. She was just ill, I know that but-' The flashbacks of those days haunted me everyday but I never knew the time that I talked about it would ever come. 'My mom tried to hurt me and I'm the reason my dad's dead.'

'No, it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself. Like you said Y/N, your mother was just ill and she needed help.'

'If my dad wouldn't have tried to rescue me, he wouldn't be dead. I wouldn't had to kill my mom for attacking the both of us.'

Bellamy scooted closer, holding onto my hand as he comforted me. 'Your mom wasn't in the right state of mind. Something bad whether if it was someone dying or getting hurt would've happened eventually down the line, it's not your fault.'

'Then why didn't Kane or Jaha believe me?' I started tearing up, thinking about the times where I felt alone in the world being trapped in those four walls that I thought I'd be in forever.

'I-I don't know. But it's done okay? Jaha and Kane, the whole thing doesn't matter anymore. You're down here and now I'm here with you.' Bellamy gripped my hand tighter as he smiled. 'Don't worry about a thing.'

Lightly nodding, I gave him a hug. 'Thank you.'

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

We all gathered around the fire as we ate the food that Clarke and her friends hunted for tonight. Of course, Murphy and Bellamy were the ones rationing them.

Everyone practically had their own group, they all separated themselves from each other and it felt like we were back at school again. Of course, I was alone in my own bubble.

Two of the delinquents that I've probably seen once or twice surrounded me as I tried to finish my last bite of dinner. Both crossing their arms, they glared at me as if I had taken something important from them.

'Uh, can I help you?' I said in a curious tone.

'You can do us all a favor and leave camp.' One of them shouted.

Standing up from my seat, I stood in front of them. 'You guys might want to quiet down a bit. Wouldn't want the Grounders to hunt you down, do you?'

The other dude rolled his eyes, 'Alright that's it.'

Both of them grabbed me at the same time, not giving me the chance to defend myself. I tried kicking but one of them gripped onto my ankles tightly before I can fight them off.

Next thing I knew, a whole bunch of other delinquents joined them, torturing me by throwing dirt and sticks at me. It was either them grabbing me hard everywhere around my body or hitting me with something. Either way, it was painful.

'Hey! What the fuck?!' Bellamy yelled as he squeezed through the crowd. I heard his voice but I didn't see him anywhere with all of these people around me. 'What's going on?'

'Y/N! Bellamy, don't you want her out of here too? We can feed her to the Grounders. Probably trade her for a deal to keep us safe.' Another delinquent shouted.

'Why in the hell would we do that? What are you doing to Y/N?' He eventually reached me, hovering over me as he screamed at everyone to back off.

Someone in the back snickered, 'You're defending this asshole?'

Bellamy picked me up, walking towards the dropship as he ignored everyone's murmuring and gossiping. 'Are you okay?'

'Yeah, yeah. I'm okay.' I tried giving him a smile to somehow make him feel less worried but with all the bruises forming on my face, it hurt too much.

Hearing me wince from pain, he nodded. 'Just a little bruise, I'm sorry they did that to you.'

'Why are you being so nice to me? Even yesterday at the dropship, you barely even knew me. Still really don't know me to be fair.'

'Y/N-' He paused as he put me down after making it into the dropship. 'I know how it's like to feel alone and I've always hated that feeling. After Kane and Jaha took Octavia away from me, I was a wreck. So, I just want you to know that you don't have to feel that pain with me.'

It was something about him that I was so drawn to. It was more than comfort and safety, I didn't quite know how to explain but it felt so right.

Bellamy gently rubbed the blood off my face as he looked into my eyes. I could see it in his face that he felt sorry for me. He tucked my hair behind my ears, trying to avoid them from sticking on my bruises. 'I'll get some first aid for you.'

'Thank you. Not for just fixing me up but for being here for me. I don't deserve any of this.'

'Yes, you do. It's about time someone stood by your side and I'll be that person.' Bellamy smiled, 'You won't ever have to be alone.'

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fic #bellamy blake oneshot #bellamy blake one shot #bellamy blake imagine #the 100 fic #the 100 oneshot

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

Note

You like Riordanverse? Have you ever considered Batkids demigod au? Or just headcanons? Like each of them having one godly parent? I think Athena could probably claim all of them if she wanted to..

Ironically, my fondness for the Riordanverse is precisely why I’ve never been that tempted to write fic for it and likely never will be. Whether with original fic or fanfic, I pretty much just write the things I want to read….but that don’t exist outside me writing them.

With fanfic, the end result of that is I basically am just inspired to write content where I see like….wasted potential, IMO. Books or comics or shows where there’s enough in the source material to capture my imagination and draw me to particular characters…..but beyond that, the source material is leaving a ton of stuff untouched or making a bunch of narrative choices that I’m just not engaged by.

So the thing about the Riordan books, is I like what’s actually on the page and don’t have any real specific…’gaps’ in the narrative that I feel a need to fill in or change or alter with different takes. They give me what I’m looking for from them so I just enjoy them as a reader rather than being inspired as a content creator. And similarly, like, if I want to read or follow in my head a story using the Riordanverse or its premise…there’s more books to come in the already existing series, so I just don’t really feel that itch with that particular universe. I love mythology stuff in general, so I’d be more likely to write or imagine a fanfic that comes up with my own spin on mixing mythological elements with the Batfam, that I haven’t seen yet (something I actually did a lot of with Teen Wolf content I wrote)….rather than apply an existing mythological premise like Riordan’s to them.

So I just haven’t put much thought into even headcanons along those lines, and am not super likely to, because one other thing is one of the little angles about the Riordan books that I really really liked, was that like…..Percy isn’t the son of who you’d expect the main character of a series of Greek mythology books to be, y’know? Like, if you had to guess at the start who Percy’s dad would turn out to be, having no clues as to which specific god it might be…..most people would be likely to assume Zeus, or maybe Apollo. Poseidon seems like a fairly random choice….and that’s what made it work so well for me. Because it made Percy feel just that much more like a real character who just happened to be the main character of these books, rather than a character who’d been basically engineered to be the ideal protagonist of these books.

My point there being for me personally, it just wouldn’t work to try and make headcanons about which godly parent matches each Batkid most ideally, based on their divine attributes and the Batkid’s characterization. Its counter-intuitive to one of the things that really sucked me in most……so I could totally headcanon that Dick makes sense as a son of Zeus or Apollo or Helios or Hermes, because of his love of all things flying….but that wouldn’t really feel like a Riordan premise to me, y’know?

So if I were to do that ever, it would be more likely that I’d just pick totally random gods to be each Batkid’s divine parent, and then from there headcanon how that affects the Batkid in question and how that ends up working into their existing characterization. Make the character and how this affected them grow out of the choice, rather than make the choice grow out of the character and who would be best/most affected by which god.

*Shrugs* But of course, once I do that, I’m kinda likely to just end up growing a whole story anyway, only it wouldn’t be one I’d ever feel a ton of motivation towards because like….its not really a story I NEED to see play out. Even just thinking about it, I end up diverted by stray thoughts like……okay, just as an example, totally spitballing here, but like, I just randomly tried picking a god to be Dick’s divine parent that would be somewhat different and not the most obvious or preferred choice, and thought okay what if Hephaestus were Dick’s biological father.

Except then my brain does this thing where before I can even START thinking about how that would weave into Dick’s existing characterization or lead to new stories, I’m like okay, but Riordan already did ‘character finds out they’re the son of a god’, what ELSE could I do with a story about Dick and also Hephaestus.

And then I’m off and running with like, okay, so because the Greek gods exist in the DC universe and the Titans because of Donna have even interacted with them a fair amount, what if Hephaestus is murdered and nobody knows by whom, so the Greek gods call upon Donna to recruit her friend, a detective even they respect, to solve the mystery. And so Dick is brought to Olympus to investigate, but in the process of searching through Hephaestus’ forge for clues, he ends up finding this mysterious trinket he feels drawn to and pockets, and in doing so, ends up with Hephaestus’ like, essence kinda imprinting on him….because the Divine Artificer had been the one to craft weapons that could kill even gods like him, so he of all the gods would most certainly be aware of the fact that there are things that could kill even them….making him the most likely to also craft a solution to even that particular problem, and thus design something that could help him cheat death, even if killed by a god-killing weapon. Hence the seemingly innocuous trinket that actually acted as kinda a godly flash drive to download his divinity and memories and self into a new vessel should his old one end up destroyed.

WHICH THEN, instead of exploring how Dick might be affected by having Hephaestus for a biological father or how having some of his divine attributes might explain certain traits or skills of Dick’s or complement them……which is still a story I’ve seen versions of already with Percy and Jason and the other main characters of the Riordan books….this premise lets me explore what if those divine attributes or whatever are instead kinda imposed upon Dick as he already is? What kind of internal struggle would result from that, given Dick’s fierce independence, and what kind of balance could be struck from Hephaestus’ divine nature as a craftsman and artificer like….possibly finding an outlet through Dick’s natural problem-solving instincts and existing detective/investigative talents….and so rather than ending up changing Dick, Dick’s own nature acts as a kind of filter that changes how Hephaestus’ vast array of attributes are focused, and in what ways.

And then plus you also get to have the whole “Dick drawing upon Hephaestus’ memories to try and solve what’s now weirdly in a way his own murder” thing, and that’s always just fun, y’know? LOL.

But yeah, that’s how my brain works and so even though its not what you were looking for, hopefully it was still of interest to you.

Also, just as a throwaway, another reason I’d probably always have trouble headcanoning any of the Batkids as having a godly parent based just on archetypes, is that like….they kinda already do. LOL. Given that Bruce has at many times over the decades been paralleled with Hades, and occupying the same place in the JLA pantheon as Hades occupies within the Olympian pantheon. Much like Clark is kind of Zeus, king of the heavens, and Arthur of course is Poseidon, and the Flashes have always been modeled after Hermes, and the Green Lanterns are Hephaestus and so on. So my mind kinda already flashes to ‘well, Dick’s dad is already like, the dark, brooding god of the Underworld, Judge of Souls and ultimate arbiter of justice, god of wealth and riches, with a helm that lets him vanish into shadows and pass unseen, and also not as dour as the hype would have you believe because he’s all of those things while also still being the kind of dork who would have a dog named Spot Ace the Bathound.

(The joke there is because Cerberus is just the Latinized form of the Greek word Kerberos, one translation of which is believed to possibly be ‘spotted.’ Aka Hades had a monstrous three-headed dog of legend, that actually the giant dork named Spot. Remind you of anyone?)

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in-your-language · 6 years ago

Text

If I Can’t Have You

Hello! So I ended up deciding to post this (thanks to anyone that commented on my last post!), I hope it’s okay <3

Summary:

"The number of times he had slipped into a daydream where he finally gathered the confidence to ask Sam out was ridiculous in its own right, but really, how could it be his fault when Sam was constantly walking around looking like that."

A.k.a Grizz is very much into Greek tragedies and Sam Eliot.

[AO3 link in the reblog]

Grizz had somewhat of a committed relationship with Greek tragedies, and Wikipedia pages about Greek tragedies, and books about Greek tragedies. He also had somewhat a committed relationship with Sam Eliot’s Instagram profile, given how much he brought it up on his phone, but that was a matter for another time.

“The Trojan Women,” he announced louder than intended as he set the play down in front of Gordie.

The boy smiled, watching with curious eyes as Grizz took the seat opposite him. “I’m starting to think you have a thing for tragedies, Grizz. Sure you’re okay?”

“They have the best lines,” he explained, smiling back at Gordie as he began flicking through. “If it's not a tragedy then the characters don’t have any time to get all deep and philosophical.”

“But of course. Grizz the random reciter of meaningful play lines.”

“I take my job very seriously,” Grizz nodded, smile widening when Gordie began to laugh.

It was a miserable Thursday afternoon, with rain splattering against the windows and pattering against the roof. The large yellow lamps hanging above their head provided the library with warmth, particularly in comparison to the dull atmosphere outside.

“So what have you found out about it?” asked Gordie, leaning forward in his seat.

“Well - it was written during the Peloponnesian War,” he responded, eyes flicking over some of his annotations. “The Athenians were getting ready to dispatch a massive expeditionary force to attack Sicily. Very nice of them.”

Gordie moved around the table then, settling down in the seat beside Grizz, and their discussion about the historical context alone ended up lasting about 40 minutes. Wars were complicated in Grizz’ defence.

It was when the bell chimed, alerting them to other students, that Grizz allowed his eyes to wander. It was Sam who walked in, alongside his friend Becca. She was signing animatedly to him, whilst he looked over with a smile.

Grizz didn’t lose his composure often, but seeing Sam that day, hair disarrayed from the beanie he was wearing, smile bright enough to light up a whole damn room, suddenly it felt like the world was collapsing around him.

Sam’s eyes found his across the room as they always did, and he offered Grizz a playful smile before returning his attention to Becca again. Grizz let out a scarily lovesick-sounding sigh.

Gordie chose that moment to clear his throat, eyebrows shooting up knowingly as he looked over at Grizz. He hesitated for a moment, clearly trying to be careful with his words.

“You know...I’m not sure if you’ve seen, but there’s this movie called Love, Simon that seems pretty cool. It’s not a Greek tragedy but we could still watch it sometime if you wanted.”

Grizz snorted. The subtlety was astounding.

“Um,” he paused, trying to bite back a smile. Gordie was only trying to be supportive, after all. “Yeah, sure. That’d be nice. Saturday at my place?”

“Sounds like a plan! I’ll bring the popcorn.”

Grizz glanced back at Sam again, before sighing again and standing up from his chair. “I should probably get back to the team now, I’m sorry. Another session next Monday at lunch?” he asked, carefully closing the books that were scattered across the table and placing them in his bag.

“Sure,” said Gordie, following suit. He looked over at Sam too this time, smiling wide. “He’s cute,” he added, before turning around and heading towards the exit.

Grizz was left standing there for a moment, completely dumbfounded. He heard a giggle in the corner of the room, and he looked over to find Becca covering her mouth with her hand, Sam laughingly shushing her. He tried to ignore the pang of hurt in his chest as he slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way over to the exit.

Who was he kidding, he thought miserably as he walked, splashing through grey puddles. She was beautiful - everything Sam could’ve ever wanted.

“Now - what are we gonna do, guys?” Clark asked fiercely, fist raised in the air.

Grizz rolled his eyes and disappeared as subtly as he could into the background, preferring not to get involved with all the shouting.

“We’re gonna smash it!” came the responding chorus from the football team, Luke’s and Jason’s voices somewhere within the mix.

He looked out at the grandstands, shaded against the beaming sunlight that had broken up their week of rain. He was looking for someone in particular - he always was - but that didn’t mean he was going to admit it to himself. Butterflies flooded his stomach when a pair of blue eyes met his own, and suddenly he felt about twelve years old all over again.

Sam offered him another wave (they seemed to be getting more frequent and the idea of that terrified Grizz as much as it excited him), taking his hat off his head and holding it out in front of him. Grizz squinted for a moment as he read it, then a wide smile appeared on his face.

It had ‘Go sports!!’ printed on it, and Grizz suddenly felt so much fondness for this boy that it was slightly overwhelming.

Despite never having exchanged anything beyond ‘hi,’ he had somehow managed to develop a full-blown, all-consuming crush on Sam Eliot and honestly, it was kind of ruining his life. Once, he was so caught up in Sam smiling at him that he walked into a pole for starters. The number of times he slipped into a daydream where he finally gathered the confidence to ask Sam out was ridiculous in its own right, but really, how could it be his fault when Sam was constantly walking around looking like that.

Suddenly there was clicking in front of his face, and he tuned back into the real world to find Clark hovering in front of him. “Dude, the game’s starting! How the fuck are you day-dreaming now?”

Grizz immediately sprung to his feet with a hurried “sorry”, shaking his limbs out as he followed Clark onto the field.

The sound of a loud, shrieking whistle soon filled the air and all the boys around him were off. Grizz couldn’t help but sneak glances over at Sam, and when he wasn’t doing that the boy somehow managed to stay on his mind regardless. His movements all felt contrived, and his limbs weren’t cooperating, and yeah okay - who the fuck gave Sam the right?

There was insistent sunlight beaming down on him, and constant shouts ringing out in the air, and all Grizz could think about is what it would be like to feel Sam’s lips pressed against his.

He hated his brain sometimes.

It wasn’t a spectacular fail in the end - they won - but it was uncomfortably close for the team’s liking, and the general consensus was that Grizz had messed up big time.

“Dude, where the fuck was your mind that whole game?!” Clark exclaimed, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Fuck off, Clark. I was just having a bad day,” Grizz muttered as he shimmied into a pair of jeans.

“I’ve never seen you that off your game though,” Luke chimed in, walking over to the boy and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Sure you’re okay, bud?”

Grizz hesitated for a moment, gaze wondering past Luke’s shoulder, before letting out a resigned sigh. “There’s just this person I like that I haven’t really been able to get out of my head.”

Jason, who had been changing off to the side, froze almost instantly at the words. Clark had a huge grin painted across his face, while Luke seemed shocked more than anything.

Grizz didn’t blame them. He was rarely one to talk about romantic feelings no matter how much the boys prodded him, always shutting down any mention of the topic. But now that Sam had come into the picture and Grizz was reconsidering his whole stance on not coming out until College...

“Who’s the girl that’s finally managed to melt your heart of ice then, man?” Clark asked him, looking overly pleased by the confession.

“I’m not telling you guys,” Grizz said simply, shrugging as he pulled a shirt over his head.

Luke’s mouth fell open. “What?! Why?”

“You won’t know her,” he insisted, pushing past Clark to grab his gym bag.

“At least a description?” Jason begged, hands clasped together in front of him.

Grizz looked over at the trio, gaze hard, before rolling his eyes and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Ginger hair. Blue eyes. Wears a lot of sweaters. Into books. That’s all you’re getting,” he told them, before leaving the change rooms.

Jason looked after him, shaking his head. “So he’s into a nerd then?”

“Don’t knock nerds,” said Luke with a shrug as he pulled on his own shirt.

“Is there even a ginger girl in our year?” Clark asked.

Grizz just shook his head as he walked away, trying hard to bite back a smile.

Grizz had never been the scandalous kind, but looking across the room at Sam he came to the conclusion he’d happily sneak around with that boy forever if it meant being with him. That is, if that’s what Sam wanted of course, which he didn’t. The rumours around Sam being gay were just that. Rumours. And Grizz couldn’t bring himself to believe that Sam didn’t like Becca with the way he looked at her.

That’s why it was a little startling for Grizz to be pulled into a random janitor’s closet by Sam of all people. Given the context, it hadn’t been totally weird. A practise intruder alarm had sounded across the school while Grizz was out collecting something from his locker. Perfect timing, if you ask him. Before he knew it, the classroom doors were being locked and the blinds were being drawn, leaving him standing there like an idiot until Sam pulled him aside.

The good news was that he wasn’t going to be told off by a teacher for being out and about. The bad news was that he was currently stood in the world’s smallest janitor’s closet, so close to Sam that he could barely breathe.

Grizz blindly reached for the light switch, and after a few failed attempts the lamp hanging above their heads flickered on.

He swallowed thickly. “Hey.”

Sam smiled apologetically. “Hey. Sorry for being so sudden,” he responded, signing along.

“It’s okay,” he smiled back, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

Grizz wracked his brain for any ASL he knew, but frustratingly enough he came up blank. Well - except for...

Bullshit, he signed, which had Sam bringing a hand up to his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“It’s the only sign I know,” he explained, feeling a blush rising on his cheeks as he spoke.

Sam nodded, smile fond as he leaned back against the wall. Grizz cleared his throat, hands nervously clasped together in front of him.

“I um...I liked your hat! From the game.”

“Oh, thank you. I worked very hard on it,” said Sam with a nod, voice playful.

Grizz actually fucking giggled at that, and for a second he was convinced that he had actually somehow managed to become twelve again.

The alarm was still blaring around them, and for a few moments, Grizz had almost forgotten about it. He bit his lip as he returned his gaze to Sam, obnoxious little butterflies filling his stomach.

Sam smiled faintly. “I see you looking at me a lot,” he spoke, hands signing along.

Grizz, without seeming dramatic, wanted the ground to swallow him up whole so he’d never have to deal with this conversation. This conversation with a cute boy who had definitely noticed all of his creepy staring.

“Sorry,” he managed, blushing like an idiot all over again. “It's uh...something I do a lot. Zone out.”

Sam raised an amused eyebrow. “So it’s just zoning out?”

Grizz bit his lip and nodded, heart racing now.

“That’s a shame. I thought maybe you liked me.”

And suddenly Grizz was considering the idea of this being a dream because what the actual fuck did Sam just say? His heart couldn’t take this.

“I - wait - um, do you...do you like me?” he spluttered out, embarrassed beyond belief.

Sam just smiled teasingly and shrugged, seeming about ten times more confident than Grizz felt.

“I don’t know. Do you like me?”

Grizz hesitated for a moment, looking anywhere but Sam as he contemplated on how the hell he should respond.

“...Yeah,” he managed, voice higher than he would’ve liked, but then he remembered that he was an idiot and the boy couldn’t hear him anyway.

Sam gave him a beaming smile.

I...like...you...too, he signed, movements slow. Grizz got the message, and he honestly had to refrain from pinching himself.

There they were - standing under a dangling yellow light amongst cleaning supplies in a closet that was criminally small, looking at one another as though waiting for something more. Waiting for one of them to break.

Sam swallowed, hints of nervousness shining through as he took a step forward, and that was enough for him to be right in Grizz’ space. Grizz let out a shaky exhale, bringing his hands up to rest on the boy’s waist. He had no idea whatsoever what he was doing, but he at least wanted to look as though he did.

Sam took this a cue, smiling slightly as he shuffled forward, allowing Grizz’s arms to wrap fully around his waist, before looping his arms loosely around Grizz’s neck.

Grizz was vaguely aware in the back of his mind that the alarm had stopped by now, but that seemed so distant he ended up ignoring it.

Sam inched closer, on his tippy toes now, and Grizz’ heart was officially soaring. He closed the final gap between them both, brushing his lips against Sam experimentally before drawing back again. Sam chased him, pulling him in and firmly connecting their lips.

Yeah. Okay. Grizz could definitely confirm the real thing was far better than imagining it, because holy shit.Sam’s lips were soft and slightly chapped against his own, and his hands were feather-light against his skin, brushing up his arms now (when had they left his neck?) Why he had wasted so much time pining when kissing felt this good was absolutely beyond him.

From that point on he relied almost entirely on instinct, which must’ve explained why he was suddenly lifting Sam up and setting him down on the wooden crate behind them, never disconnecting their lips. Sam pulled away for a moment, eyes alight with mischief as he gave Grizz a playful smile, before pulling the boy back in, hands travelling up to his hair now and tugging ever so slightly. The action pulled a small (embarrassing) gasp from Grizz, and he felt Sam’s smile widen.

It was when they heard shouting outside that they jumped apart, Sam hopping down from the wooden crate and Grizz frantically attempting to straighten his shirt. The door to the closet was thrown open and Luke was stood there, Clark and Jason right behind him.

Grizz swallowed, running a hand through his hair. “Uh. Hey guys.”

“We’ve been looking all over for you dude!” exclaimed Clark. “What are you doing in here?”

“The classrooms were locked,” explained Grizz as he stepped out into the corridor, Sam following close behind. “It seemed like the next best place.”

Luke was still looking between him and Sam, eyes narrowed sceptically. Grizz saw his eyes travel from Sam’s hair, to his face, to his sweater to - oh fuck he’s worked it out.

It didn’t take a genius, Grizz supposed. He and Sam were still panting a bit, shirts and hair in disarray, glances at one another awkward. That, on top of his blatant description of Sam, really wasn’t helping him in the slightest.

“Let's go, guys,” Luke said suddenly.

Clark and Jason gave him incredulous looks. “Why?”

“Let’s just fucking go, okay? Teacher’s probably waiting for us anyway,” he repeated, dragging them both with him down the corridor. He glanced over his shoulder when he reached the corner, giving Grizz a wink. Grizz smiled gratefully and gave him a wave in return.

“That was fun,” said Sam, smiling over at the boy.

Grizz bit back a smile of his own and nodded, giddiness setting in over what had happened.

“We should uh...do it again sometime? Maybe not at school, though...unless you want to.”

Sam’s smile took a mischievous edge. He leaned over to press a quick kiss to Grizz’s cheek. “I don’t mind school, but maybe we could see each other over the weekend? My parents aren’t home on Sunday.”

Grizz smiled. “It’s a date.”

#gram #grizzam #grizz visser #sam eliot #the society #fics #my fics

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forwhomthebellamytolls · 6 years ago

Text

내 곁에서 머물러줘 (stay with me)

Clarke hadn't seen Bellamy in three years. Not since they graduated college. But when he told her he was backpacking around Asia, and she just so happened to be teaching English in Korea, she told him to come by and visit.

Bellamy Blake [11:24] How close are you to Seoul? I know you’re working, but could I come visit on the weekend?

Clarke Griffin [11:25] 3 hrs away from Dongseoul. but theres nothing here unless you’re into dried squid

Bellamy Blake [11;25] that’s the main draw, ya

A few days later and Bellamy Blake was back in her life, eating bbq, singing A Whole New World with her at noraebang, and drinking from his first 소맥 tower. A few bottles of soju later and Bellamy Blake was drunk and leaned up against the wall outside her apartment while she tried and failed to unlock her front door. Ao3

"I think your keys have whiskey dick," Bellamy commented drily.

"I think you should shut up," Clarke hissed back.

"Why are you using a stage whisper?" he asked.

"I'm trying not to wake my neighbours," she insisted. She stuck her tongue between her teeth and furrowed her brow and jabbed the key haphazardly at her doorknob.

"Are you sure this is your house?" Bellamy asked.

"Please," Clarke blew her bangs out of her face and fiddled with the knob. "As if I'm drunk enough to forget my own house."

Her keychain dangled in her hand and she frowned.

"Oh wait," she paused. "This is my office key."

She changed keys and the lock snicked open easily.

Bellamy snorted.

"I'm never drinking with you again," he declared.

"Just wait another three years," Clarke said and shouldered open the door. "You'll come crawling back."

"Rude," Bellamy sniffed. "Implying it's going to be another three years before I see you again is rude."

They stepped across the threshold and Clarke flicked on the lights, allowing Bellamy to see her apartment for the first time. It was large by Korean standards but you could still see the whole thing, save the bathroom, from the front door. In the split second between the lights flickering on and the room lighting up, both Bellamy and Clarke fell still as they were faced with a burgeoning reality. There was a small single bed pushed up against the wall of the bedroom. And there was also a futon unfolded in the centre of the room. They both stopped and stared at it.

Clarke tore her gaze away first.

“Do you need a toothbrush?” she asked suddenly.

She avoided Bellamy's eyes and dropped her bag on the floor with a thud.

“No,” he answered, taken aback, “I packed one.”

“Do you want the bathroom first?” she asked, still not looking at him.

He squinted at her and cocked his head.

“No, go ahead.”

She pulled a t-shirt and boxer shorts from behind her pillow and fled to the bathroom. She took her time brushing her teeth and washing her face and changing into her PJs.

When she returned from the bathroom, Bellamy had already divested himself of his jeans and was sitting on the futon in his boxers and an oxford shirt.

Clarke wrinkled her nose.

“Are you wearing your button-up to bed?” she asked him.

He reddened.

“Uhh,” he stammered.

“You weren’t wearing that before. Did you change into a button-up for bed?”

“Maybe,” he said and examined his cuffs.

“Bellamy, your buttons are all fucked up, what are you doing?” she pointed at the front of his shirt. He had managed to button up the shirt but it was at least two button-holes off from where it should have been.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t know what was appropriate to wear in this situation and while you were in the bathroom I thought it would be really funny to go formal but now it just seems fucked up.”

Clarke broke into a fit of giggles and fell backwards onto her bed.

“You didn’t know what’s appropriate?” she asked. “God, Bellamy, just wear what you usually wear to bed.”

“Yeah, but I usually don’t wear a shirt,” he protested and tugged at his collar.

“Oh no," Clarke sat up and rolled her eyes. "How will my virgin eyes ever recover from seeing a man’s exposed shoulders and chest,” she pondered. “Also, I’ve never been to the beach in my life.”

“Shut up,” Bellamy answered and squeezed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to focus.

“Would you stop being weird and puritanical and just wear normal clothing to bed?” she asked.

“Fine,” he huffed and started aggressively popping his buttons open.

Insisting he dress comfortably was perhaps, a mistake.

“Oh my god,” Clarke blurted out.

“What?” Bellamy demanded and looked up at her defiantly.

It turned out that Bellamy’s exposed shoulders and chest were maybe a little more than she could handle. His biceps bulged and his chest looked firm and his abs were flat and toned and suddenly the room felt a lot smaller.

“Do you need a blanket?” Clarke asked and jumped to her feet.

“Uh,” Bellamy's eyes darted to her bed. Her bed was a nest of pillows fitted out with a fluffy duvet and a throw. His futon was bare.

“Yeah,” he said and fiddled with a seam on the futon. “Yeah, I guess.”

She threw open one of the drawers in her wardrobe and stared down into it blankly.

“Fuck,” she said and cursed her hopeful former-self for not doing laundry.

“What?” he asked.

“I just have a sheet,” she answered.

“It’s fine,” he told her.

She scooped the sheet out of the drawer and threw it to him.

“Won’t you be cold?” she asked.

“I’ll be fine,” he said again and snapped the sheet open.

“I’ll turn off the aircon,” she said.

“Clarke, it’s fine,” he said yet again.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said emphatically. He laid down and stared up at the ceiling with his arms at his side and the sheet pulled up to his chin.

She turned out the light.

“You look like a cadaver,” she mumbled and sat down on the edge of her bed.

“What?”

“Tell me if you’re cold, okay?”

“Clarke.”

“You can sleep here if you want,” she said in a rush and kicked her feet under her duvet.

“Hm?”

“If you get cold, you can sleep here,” she thumped her hand down on her mattress and curled up on her side before he could answer.

He was quiet for so long she wondered if he’d heard her.

“Never mind,” she said and rolled over to face the wall.

Clarke laid in the dark and tried not to listen to Bellamy’s breathing across the room. But she found herself counting the space between his breaths as the minutes wore on. She was sure he was still awake. But she didn’t know how to reinitiate the conversation. They were quiet for what felt like forever. She was just about to drift off when he finally broke the silence.

“I missed you,” he said suddenly, his voice gravelly from lack of use.

She turned over, unsure if she’d imagined it or maybe fallen asleep and dreamed it.

“A lot,” he said.

She lifted her head from her pillow to see Bellamy curled up on the futon with the comforter pulled tight around him. The aircon was blasting directly onto him and his shoulders were hunched up to his ears.

“Bellamy,” she whispered.

He rolled over, bed sheet shuffling in the dark.

She licked her lips and opened and closed her mouth wordlessly.

“Are you cold?” she asked, finally.

He shrugged. Or she thought he shrugged. It was hard to tell in the dark.

“Come here,” she sighed. She lifted up her duvet in invitation.

He breathed in sharply but sat up.

“Come on,” she insisted and shook the duvet a little.

He pushed the sheet aside and stood up before crawling into bed next to her. He laid down stiffly on his side, careful to leave her as much room as he could on her tiny single bed.

“This is like a middle school dance,” she huffed with her back against the wall.

“Hm?” he asked.

“Like seventh graders slow-dancing a foot apart from each other,” she said, only brave enough to say it out loud because of the dark.

He shifted a little so his chest connected with her shoulder.

“You’re stuck with me here,” he said. “You can’t exactly kick me out, there’s nowhere else for me to go. I just don’t want you to think I expect anything.”

She squinted at him in the dark. His face was drawn and his arms were pulled in against his chest, trying to take up as little space as possible. He was holding back.

“Bellamy.”

He met her eye uncertainly, his body still stiff on the edge of the bed.

She reached out and put an arm around his shoulders to tug him to her. She heard his breath hitch in his throat but he rolled with her compliantly. She carded a hand through his hair. He seemed to melt a little at that, all nervousness leaving him as he settled in with his nose pressed up against her neck.

“So you’d rather freeze on my shitty futon than get remotely close to me?” she asked and rubbed one hand up and down his bare back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think it was a line,” he said. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She clicked her tongue against her teeth and squeezed his shoulder.

“Idiot,” she said fondly. “It didn’t have to be suggestive, you could have just asked for another blanket.”

“You could have just given me another blanket,” he pointed out and nosed her cheek.

“You want me to?” she asked. “I can send you back to the futon-”

“No, no, no,” he said quickly and tightened his arms around her waist. “I like it here.”

He paused.

“I mean, as long as you like me here.”

She skated her hands across the broad expanse of his shoulders, his skin warm under her palms.

“I like you here,” she agreed and pressed a kiss to his temple.

He tugged her down by the hips and leaned his forehead against hers.

“Good,” he mumbled against her cheek.

“Good.”

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke AU #bellarke fanfic #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #fanfic #the 100 fanfic #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 ff #bellarke ff

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nerdydungeonhound · 6 years ago

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Bad At Love Ch. 1

Dani gets reunited with her high school best friends Tommy and Vince. They are now in a band, and the bassist catches her eye. Will he ever give her the time of day? 1,884 words

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Dani hadn’t heard from them in a year. Tommy and Vince both left their senior year with only 2 months to go. She had to face graduation without her boys, the only two people in the world who ever really understood her. She missed them so much the first few months, then eventually learned to live with it, but getting out of her situation was a little harder without them.

Her mom and dad basically wanted nothing to do with her, so she had moved in with her high school boyfriend that Tommy and Vince never really liked. But it was the only move that she had. That was until he started to get drunk and make her feel like she had no worth, whatsoever. Finally getting out, she lived on the streets for a few months, then finally moving in with Tonia, who she worked with at the Whisky A-Go-Go, she had wished everyday that she had her two best friends back.

“Hey Dani! Wake up, darling, you have a table!” Tonia yelled from over the bar as she noticed Dani lost in thought. Dani immediately perked up, not even realizing she had zoned out. Dani picked up her pad and pen and looked over at the high-top table, four guys sat, talking amongst themselves. She couldn’t even believe Tommy and Vince were among them. Slowly making her way over to the table, one of them noticed her making her way and elbowed Tommy in his side and muttering something to him. He was the most attractive man she had ever seen, with long dark hair and green eyes that burned into her. As Dani reached the table, Tommy looked up with the biggest smile on his face, and getting up to engulf her in a big hug, crushing her, she noticed Vince was a little stunned.

“Dani, oh my god. How are you?” Tommy yelled, twirling her slightly. She melted into the hug, giggling.

“I’m good, Tommy. Better now! I miss you guys.” She said once Tommy had set her feet back on the ground. He looked towards the other men at the table and pointed towards an older gentleman with long black hair and sunglasses on inside at night.

“This is Mick Mars, he is a killer guitarist,” he then gestured to the man who had alerted him of Dani approaching, “and this is Nikki Sixx, our bassist. We are in a band now, dude. You should come to a show sometime!” So she now had a name to the face, Nikki.

“Of course, but before we get into all of that, what can I get you all, so my boss doesn’t have a conniption,” Dani said, eventually taking their orders and bringing it to the kitchen. Tonia approached her with confusion in her eyes.

“Who are those guys? I’ve never seen you so comfortable around people besides me before.”

“I went to high school with two of them, I just was introduced to the other two. We will see what happens.”

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Over the next few weeks, Dani had been spending more and more time with the band, eventually being there for almost every rehearsal. She had finally gotten what she wanted, to be with people she really trusted. But there was one person who she really wanted to get to know, but somehow always seemed to avoid her at all costs, Nikki. She will admit, she had a crush on him. But every time she tried to strike up a conversation, he would avoid her gaze and say as little as he possibly could. This morning, Dani looked into the mirror, running her hands through her shoulder-length jet black hair, she looked into her brown eyes, noticing the dark circles under them from many night shifts at the bar. The clock struck and it was noon already, soon she would need to head out the door to the guy’s apartment. Throwing on a Black Sabbath T-shirt and black shorts, combined with her combat boots, she made her way into the living room of Tonia’s house. Tonia was still in her pajamas, laying on the couch with her 1 year old son, James.

“You look nice. Going to that grimy apartment again today?” She asked looking her direction and raising her eyebrow at her. Dani plopped down next to her, smiling at James.

“You know I am, and its not that bad in there, honest.”

“I drove by the other day, I can actually see the trash overflow outside.”

“Good point. I think there is a party tonight, if you can find a babysitter for this precious guy,” Dani said looking at the baby again and making a face at him, making him giggle. Tonia looked a little skeptical.

“I’d love to, but I’m going to stay home tonight, the bar has been wearing me out lately, from the looks of it, its doing the same to you.”

“Ill be fine, Tonia. On that note, I have to go,” Dani stated, getting up and looking in the mirror one last time and adjusting her hair and eyeliner. Waving goodbye to her James, Dani headed out of the door to walk the two or so miles to Sunset and Clark, where the band’s apartment was.

She walked up to the door, examining it as she took the last few puffs of her cigarette, noticing it had been nailed shut. Her attention was drawn to the open front window, putting out her smoke, she called into it.

“Hello? Anyone home?” She saw a familiar figure approach the window, it was Nikki. He was dressed in a similar fashion to Dani, his hair unusually flat for a normal day.

“Come on in, Dani,” he said in a monotone fashion, looking down at the burned carpet, and lightly kicking an empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor. Dani slipped into the open window. Once she was upright, she looked at him puzzled.

“What happened to the front door?”

“We finally got sick of the cops kicking our shit in,” he said, not lifting his eyes from the floor, “So we just decided to nail it shut.” Dani laughed lowly, it sure sounded like something they would do. She turned to sit on the poor excuse for a couch in their living room, surprised he even said that many words to her at a time. It was progress, if only he could look her in the eye. Vince came into the room in a striped tank top and sweatpants, looking like he just woke up, he probably did.

“Hey there, Dani. You are looking hot as usual,” he said sitting nest to her and placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“Oh, Vince, how many times have you said that to a woman? Does it even have any meaning anymore?” She looked at him, faking bring offended. He smiled at her.

“She has a point, Vince,” Nikki stated from the other side of the room, as he leaned against the walls arms crossed. This time he looked directly into Dani’s eyes. She seemed to be lost in his gaze.

“Shut up Nikki, she knows I love her,” Vince said making his way past him, and down the hallway and into the bathroom.

“So are you planning on sticking around for the party tonight?” Nikki said still staring at her. She shifted in her seat, his stare making her lower abdomen tighten.

“Yeah, I’m considering if I should go home first and change though, I really didn’t plan that far ahead, clothing-wise.” He finally broke the eye contact, when Tommy burst out of his bedroom.

“Dani! You made it here pretty early!”

“Couldn’t stay away for very long, I will miss you guys too much,” She said holding her arms out for a hug. Tommy basically landed on her, almost knocking the wind out of her.

“By the way! Could you talk to your boss at the Whisky to see if we can play there? You would be the best best friend in the whole wide world!” Tommy asked in a whiny voice, looking at her with the widest eyes she had ever seen on him.

“I can try, Don’t get your hopes up though, He can be a bit stubborn, my ass would be on the line.” Tommy jumped up off of the couch and called down the hall.

“Dudes! She is going to ask, I knew she couldn’t resist me!” Dani raised her eyebrows at him. Mick suddenly appeared out of nowhere, he was as silent as the wind, it almost startled her. He nodded at her, as much praise as she was going to get out of him, it seemed.

“Thanks, Dan,” Nikki muttered, walking back towards his bedroom to grab his equipment for practice.

——————————————————————————————————————

That night the party was in full swing, it always is at the Mötley House. Dani decided it was a waste of effort to go home and change, considering the only one she wanted to impress didn’t even want to give her the time of day. As a matter of fact, he was in a lip lock with some nameless woman. Dani glared and sipped her glass of Jack Daniels. A man was talking in her ear, some nonsense she didn’t care about. Every so often Nikki would glance in her direction, mid-make out session and raise his eyebrow at Dani. The most he has ever acknowledged her presence. Tommy pushed the stranger out of the way to stand next to Dani.

“Hey girl, I can see the daggers in that girl’s back,” Tommy slurred at her, “We don’t have a Carrie situation do we?” Dani snapped out of her trance and looked at him.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Tommy,” Dani said, playing stupid. Tommy wasn’t buying it.

“I have known you for years, Dan. I know when you are into someone, I’m not a total idiot,” he said.

“I hope its not that obvious to him, he barely notices I’m even here.”

“You do know why he does that, right? Why he can barely look you in the eye?” Tommy asked, leaning in slightly. Dani looked over quizzically.

“Because he hates me? Because I’m not worth his time?” She answered. Tommy shakes his head violently and smirks.

“He gets nervous around you, I’ve never seen a woman do that to him before in the year I have known him,” He slurred, “He likes you.” Dani was shocked to hear this, it couldn’t be true.

“That’s not funny, Tommy. You’re drunk,” He grabbed her by the arm and looked into her eyes.

“No, no, no, listen. I’m serious. He told me. But he would kill me if he found out I told you. Don’t tell him.” Dani was dumbfounded. Tommy looked as serious as he has ever been. Maybe he was telling the truth. She glanced back over at Nikki and noticed the girl from earlier was gone, and he was staring at her and smirking. The alcohol clearly making him more loose. Dani smiled back at him and shot a wink in his direction, going off to the kitchen to get another drink, leaving Nikki in the main room. This was going to be a long night.

#the dirt #nikki sixx #mötley crüe

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tessatechaitea · 6 years ago

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Superman: Year One: Book Three

Here's the back cover instead because I misread it as "We serve one purpose: Jesus," and I was ready to accept that.

Due to the amount of lava and debris, I would have gone with "sharts."

Superman saves Lois Lane from dying under the ocean which probably means she's going to reward him with her big city sexual prowess. But before Superman can accept his reward for being a nice guy, he has to defeat a troop of Navy SEALS who have come to capture him. So everybody's looking for Superman now because he showed off a few too many times while training in the Navy and his commanding officer became jealous that the mermaids let Clark fuck them. So Superman's big enemies are the god Poseidon and the American military, both because Lori Lemaris chose to fuck Superman instead of them. You might think I'm concentrating too much on Superman fucking the women he saved, and people being upset that they didn't get to fuck those women. If you are thinking that, it's probably because you haven't actually read Frank Miller's Superman: Year One. You'd totally understand that it's not me who is obsessed with Superman getting laid for fighting for truth, justice, and the American Way (honorably discharged version). It's apparently the entire theme of Frank Miller's Superman story. I just realized that I was going to make a Batman sucking Superman dick's joke based on the cover but then I didn't scan the cover. Oh well! Lesson learned! Any time somebody says, "Lesson learned," you should immediately ask them, "Oh? What was that then?" I bet most of the time, they won't be able to explain how they learned anything. The good thing about the cover of Book Three is that it was drawn by Frank Miller. And no matter what you think of Frank Miller's art, you have to agree (or at least better agree or we're going to have a problem) that it's better than John Romita Jr's art and better than Frank Miller's writing. After beating up the Navy SEALS and rescuing Lois Lane, Clark Kent winds up graduating from college and interning at the Daily Planet. Don't ask me what happened to Lori Lemaris and Atlantis! I guess it was such a terrible break-up that even Frank Miller doesn't want to write about it.

You can tell how dumb a person is by how much they defend Trump and blame the mainstream media. The fucking mainstream media bends over backwards not to point out just how fucking ignorant Trump is about everything!

Stepping away from the comic itself for a moment, here's what John Romita Jr had to say about this comic book after it was announced amidst a lot of "eye-rolls and groans" at San Diego Comic-Con. "The cynics that don't like my artwork or Frank's work were everywhere on the social media. Now we'll see what they have to say, because this is damn fresh, and I'm really proud of it." Well, I didn't have anything to say about it before reading it. I even bought it mostly knowing that I wasn't going to enjoy it even though I always hope that I enjoy everything I purchase as entertainment! Why else would I bother if not to hopefully be surprised and elated? Well, let me tell you, I was not surprised nor elated. Superman in the Navy might be fresh but it's also pretty fucking stupid. The whole idea was that Superman would join the Navy so he could see the world? But then he spends his entire time training in California where he learns he doesn't want to kill people after battling pirates in the Pacific waters off of the coast of California? Also he fucks mermaids during that time because why the fuck not? Now imagine reading all of that while looking at John Romita Jr's terrible facial expressions. The announcement of this comic book with this creative team should have garnered a lot more than groans and eye-rolls. There should have been jerking off motions as well. Working at the Daily Planet with Lois Lane (who, if you remember from the part where I said she wants to fuck him, wants to fuck him), Clark Kent realizes he needs a disguise. So Frank Miller makes sure to explain how the hat and glasses work as a disguise. The hat "changes his silhouette" and the glasses are just "the geek factor" he needs. The whole "dress to unimpress" angle is the disguise. Fucking bullshit. We all know that the glasses and the outfit are the least part of the disguise. He needs to discuss how he changes his posture, how he acts clumsy, how he puts on the air of naive farm boy, how he's terrible at pleasing a woman in bed. These are all aspects that work to make it unbelievable that he could be Superman. Christopher Reeves in Superman nails all of these aspects and I wish writers would be more upfront about how Clark Kent's disguise is less about the accouterments and more about the act Clark puts on. Superman begins deciding how to fight crime now that he's come to Metropolis. And his logic goes like this: "What do criminals want? Money! Where is the money? Banks!" And just like that, he becomes the protector of corporate America! He even thinks, "Never mind the third rate muggers and street swindlers." No wonder Batman doesn't respect this asshole! A third rate mugger killed Batman's parents and Superman is all, "Bah, they're harmless! Better get the guys going after the money that's insured!" Fuck this Superman! Next Superman goes after street level drug makers. That's better, I guess, but couldn't he go after the pharmaceutical industry itself?

What the fuck is "factory brand duct tape"? Having managed a warehouse on the Netscape campus back in the 90s, I'd say they should be wrapped in shrink wrap.

This morning, I discovered Carrot Cake flavored Oreos. It was nice living without diabetes but I must say goodbye to those years now. Later, Superman stops a man from abusing his wife and kids. I don't find out if she thanks him with her sex. But from what the previous chapters of this story have taught me, she did. After that, Superman frees some hostages from a hostage situation that was set-up by Lex Luthor so he could meet Superman. Lex manipulates Superman into working for him to stop Batman. Why does Lex care about Gotham and Batman? I don't know! I don't even really know how Lex manipulates Superman! And I don't think it's because I'm too stupid to follow the story. I'm pretty sure I'm smart enough to understand a comic book! But this comic book feels like a bunch of pages are missing. Hell, Superman's first words to Lex Luthor upon meeting him for the first time are "You're a damned liar!" What did he lie about? When did he ever say anything to Superman? What the fuck is going on?! Over in Gotham, Batman uses a gun. Okay. Whatever. Let's wrap this shit up.

Here's a terrible picture of Superman since I can't write about a story I can't follow.

The gist of the rest of the story is that Lex Luthor is tired of Batman and Superman foiling his crimes. So he decides to convince Superman that Batman is a jerk. After they get done killing each other, Lex Luthor will profit. Not that he isn't profiting already. But he'll profit more, I guess? Superman lands in Gotham to speak with Batman and Batman instantly tries to kill him. Oh yeah, Frank Miller totally understands these characters. Batman wants justice but is willing to kill Superman because Superman wants to talk to him. And Superman goes around doing good while constantly thinking, "I'll show them!" and "I could kill these guys!" and "Which other woman should I save so I can fuck her?" Batman tries all kinds of violence on Superman while telling Superman smarts are what counts. If only he'd use some and realize he can't hurt this guy. This might be the dumbest version of Batman I've ever seen. Eventually Wonder Woman arrives to point out to these two blockheads that maybe they should stop fighting and work together to make the world a better place. Batman is all, "Well, I can't hurt him anyway so I guess I'll work with him." And Superman is all, "How is she stronger than me? She doesn't need rescuing from anybody. Has she ever gotten laid?!" The issue basically ends with Wonder Woman telling Superman that she's ready to fuck him after he goes into space to learn to fuck (by fighting Brainiac?) and Batman telling Luthor he hopes he gets raped in prison. So exactly the way I'd expect a Frank Miller Superman comic book to end.

I wish I were right popular in high school.

Superman: Year One: Book Three Rating: What I learned from this comic book is that every woman in the DCU wants to fuck Superman and every man in the DCU is jealous of all the women Superman gets to fuck. What I also learned is that I should have read this series before purchasing Dark Knight Returns: The Golden Child. I'd still like to know what happened between Clark and Lori. I guess he just left her the same way he left Lana and the same way he left Wonder Woman (who he fell in love with immediately, I guess?).

#Superman #Year One #John Romita Jr #Frank Miller #DC Black Label #DC Comics

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superman86to99 · 6 years ago

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Superman: The Man of Steel #26 (October 1993)

REIGN OF THE SUPERMEN! In this issue: Steel vs. the Cyborg... or, if you prefer, John Henry vs. the Machine. The Man in Black and the Man of Steel are still exploring the Cyborg Superman’s ginormous Engine City (formerly Coast City) when they hear a massive rumble -- looks like someone put the keys in the ignition, which is bad news for everyone on Earth. See, the Cyborg’s plan was to put several of these engines across the planet to turn the Earth into a knock-off Death Star, but his lackey Mongul betrayed him and decided to start the first engine before time. As a result, the whole planet will spin out of orbit and break itself apart due to, uh, physics and stuff.

Our heroes bump into Mongul as he’s making his escape, and he decides to stick around a little while longer to beat their asses. The Man in Black decides to fight Mongul to allow Steel to go into the engine itself and hopefully turn it off before it destroys the planet. Now, Mongul might be a planet-killing bastard, but at least he’s considerate enough to give the Man in Black and Steel a little moment to themselves before they separate. Aw.

“It’s you! The guy who looks exactly like the steel mask I’ve been looking at!”

So, Steel goes into the engine, but the thing is so massive and complex that he doesn’t know how to even start turning it off. Luckily, he gets some unexpected tech assistance from the Cyborg (well, some chunks of metal animated by the Cyborg’s mind) and his complete inability to STFU.

Steel basically just lets the Cyborg keep talking about how the engine works as they fight, then uses that information to formulate a sophisticated plan to shut the machine down. That plan is called “jam the Cyborg and himself into the gears and make the whole thing explode”.

It works! The Cyborg is still alive and he still has a giant, kryptonite-powered fortress in his power, but at least the planet won’t crumble anymore, so that’s something. Anyway, let’s check on how the Man in Black’s been doing against Mongul...

Uh-oh.

Character-Watch:

Superboy had his big character-defining moment a few weeks ago when he pushed himself to the limit to stop that missile, and now it’s Steel’s turn. If Superboy’s moment was about rising up to the occasion, Steel’s is more about using his engineer brain to outsmart the Cyborg. His best stories are the ones where he tackles impossible problems until he finally breaks them down (literally, with a hammer). What a cool character. Too bad he died in this issue and stuff.

Plotline-Watch:

Halfway through the issue we see Green Lantern Hal Jordan coming back to Earth from a mission in space and he’s like “And now to take a big sip of water and check on my beloved home town of Coast City...” Don Sparrow says: “Some rough news, to be sure, but Hal’s been a noble hero for so long, I know he’ll be able to handle the disappointment like the hero as he has been consistently been portrayed for all these decades…”

Don’t worry, we’ll see Hal go “down there” in Green Lantern #46 soon!

We also see Old Man Eradicator flying down on Engine City. It’s all coming together!

Supergirl, once again in her invisible form, tries to help the mostly powerless Man in Black against Mongul, but he showers her with a convenient oil pipe and takes her out of commission in two seconds. If I were the Man in Black, I’d ask for a refund on my Emergency Secret Weapon.

Jeb-Watch: Lois sees Jeb “Homewrecker” Friedman for the first time since he kissed her last month, and he tries to get her attention with a pretty shocking accusation: that she (*gasp*) loves Superman. Jeb expert Don Sparrow says: “I’m pretty famous for my hatred of Jeb in these pages, so I gotta love how hard Lois is ignoring him. Aside from dismissing his sexist jabs, his would-be haymaker about her loving Superman and not Clark is flat out ignored, and to my memory, never brought up again. Besides, if Clark is dead, as Jeb thinks he is, what would be wrong with Lois loving Superman? Stupid Jeb.” Suck it, Jeb.

And I’ll just let Don keep talking now. More after the jump!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

This entire issue feels to me like it’s being backed with a guitar solo, and the cover is no exception: pure badassery, as Superman and the Man of Steel run from explosions like action movie stars. The opening splash on page one doubles down on the badassery, with Superman wielding an Image-comics-scale firearm (and while Jon Bogdanove has never shown an inability to draw feet, the convenient smoke hiding them does also remind me of Rob Liefeld, so more Image homage). [Max: I think he covered the feet so we can’t see Steel using his jet boots to look taller than Superman, again.]

Then ANOTHER splash follows on page 2-3 where we see the scale of our heroes relative to the giant engine structure.

Mongul’s bearhug looks pretty painful on page 6, and page 7 gives us yet another variation on the great poster from the Cyborg Superman’s first appearance. [Max: Those shots of Cyborg inside the machines always give me Superman III PTSD.] I love the mixture of low-tech and high tech that Bogdanove uses to show us the alien Engine City. Aside from wires and gears, we also get shapes that look very analog, like transistors and the like. Also the Cyborg being shown coming to life through his structures is a real visual playground for the art team, with some of his forms looking like himself, and others looking downright monstrous.

Did I think we’d get to see an oiled up Supergirl when I opened this issue? No, no I did not.

The beating Mongul lays on Superman is very painfully drawn, particularly that last left hook Superman takes. [Max: Why does this look so familiar? It could be that similar cover image with Bibbo punching Superman, but I have a feeling both things are homages to something else. Some Neal Adams thing maybe?]

Mongul’s power level has always been something of a mystery to me. Alan Moore’s “For the Man Who Has Everything” put him on a par with Superman, right up there with Darkseid for power level. But then when Superman fought him in the gladiatorial games on Warworld, Superman didn’t have much trouble beating him, even though he had been out of range of a yellow sun for a very long time and was therefore, again, only using a fraction of his regular power.

The sequence of Steel hammering away at the Cyborg is well done, and appropriately reminiscent of The Mechanical Monsters, from the old Fleischer Superman cartoons (a well that Bogdanove rightly revisits a lot!)

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

This issue serves as a precursor to the Man of Steel comics from the early 2000s, where John Henry Irons served as an unofficial partner to Superman in Superman: The Man of Steel when it was being written by Mark Schultz (one of the more readable Superman titles of the mostly awful Joe Kelly-Joe Casey era).

Mongul’s done a lot of lousy things over the years, but it was downright decent of him to just flat out stand there and wait for Superman and Steel to have their bro moment before attacking the very-weakened Superman. [Max: Great minds, Don.]

This issue reads very choppily, as a lot of the transitions are jarringly abrupt. From when Superman barely finishes his sentence when they come against Mongul, or later when we cut away from Jeb midsentence to the Cyborg, then jumping right to Steel in the engine room, it can be confusing as a reader. Anyone else notice this?

Looks like Bog has skipped right past the Clint Eastwood of last week, and is taking the Eradicator right into R. Lee Ermey territory.

It’s fitting that in what amounts to the final issue of this being a Steel comic (until his own later series) that they finally raise the John Henry story, as the inspiration for Steel’s name. In an industry with a reputation for underrepresenting people of colour, Simonson and Bogdanove’s Superman: the Man of Steel has consistently featured prominent African-American characters, and portrayed them with nuance and dignity rarely afforded in the mid-90s.

I would have liked to seen a little more acknowledgement from the Cyborg of just how much his plans are screwed up, but I suppose it’s all supposed to further demonstrate how insane he is. One thing after another, his plans fail (Superboy survives, saves Metropolis, Warworld conversion fails, SUPERMAN IS ALIVE, Mongul betrays him, Green Lantern is coming to help, etc). Now he’s saying “ah, it’s all cool, all that matters is my plan to kill Superman!” Except that he thought that Superman was dead when he hatched this whole plan! [Max: I guess they had to make it sound like there was still stuff on the line before the big climax... but yeah, that was weird. No one’s buying it, Hank.]

Aside from a few pages where they go ALL OUT (like the aforementioned Engine City spread), there’s a real dearth of backgrounds in this issue, with tons of figures on solid or blank backgrounds.

I’m glad we got a little update on Lois after Superman jetbooted away again, it was kind of her to assure them that this is indeed the real Clark who has returned. Still, that conversation could have been a lot more awkward than it was.

FOOLS! The Man in Black is an impostor! My money’s on Bibbo now.

#superman #louise simonson #jon bogdanove #dennis janke #steel #coast city #mongul #ma kent #pa kent #jeb friedman #hank henshaw #hal jordan #green lantern #supergirl #eradicator #old man eradicator #agh no i thought about superman iii goodbye sleep #reign of the supermen

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 6 years ago

Text

S.T REWRITE - S1:E7; Chapter Seven, The Bathtub - [Pt. 3 - FINAL PART]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

While on the run, Y/n uncovers a startling truth. Eleven struggles to contact Will and the party joins forces with Joyce and Hopper.

Warnings: unedited (kinda?)

||Reader's POV||

The sun had set behind the trees by the time the chief's car pulled up in front of the Byers home. Strangely, it feels like years since we were last here when it had only been three days ago. As we all exited the vehicle, three figures emerged from the house; Nancy, Jonathan, and Ms. Byers.

"Mike. Oh, my God. Mike!" Nancy exclaimed, running towards Mike.

He stepped forward and she engulfed him in a hug.

Grabbing him by the shoulders, she pulled away. "I was so worried about you." She scolded.

"Yeah, uh... me, too." He said awkwardly.

Nancy's eyes trailed over to El and an odd look crossed her face and she tilted her head slightly.

"Is that my dress?"

El looked to me not knowing what to do and then back at the older girl. For some reason, and what I can only assume to be my state of mind and being under so much stress i begin to chuckle, finding the whole situation kinda funny.

+++

"Okay, so, in this example, we're the acrobat."

We had all made it inside and currently, we were all gathered around the living room. The boys, El and I were sitting on the floor surrounding the coffee table while the others were seated on the furniture. Mike had drawn up Mr. Clark's diagram of the flea and the acrobat and was catching everybody else up with what we've learned so far. They all stayed quiet for the most part -occasionally jumping in to ask clarifying questions which we were more than happy to answer - and listened intently. I, however, remained quiet. I was still trying to process what had happened during my encounter with the men. I was also transfixed in the living room around me. Wondering how the once welcoming and cozy second home had changed so drastically.

"Will and Barbara, and that monster, they're this flea. And this is the Upside Down, where Will is hiding. Mr. Clarke said that the only way to get there is through a rip of time and space,"

"A gate," Dustin interjected.

"That we tracked to Hawkins Lab"

"With our compasses,"

"And El's help of course," I added, smiling at El who shyly returned it.

The others exchanged confused glances.

Dustin took this as his cue to talk.

"Okay, so the gate has a really strong electromagnetic field, and that can change the directions of a compass needle.

Hopper spoke up for the first time in a while.

"Is this gate underground?"

Surprising us all, El answered almost immediately. "Yes."

The two made eye contact. "Near a large water tank?" He asked.

She nodded and her gaze dropped to the floor. "Yes."

Beginning to feel more on edge, I spoke up, my voice faltering. "H-How do you know all that?"

The man said nothing and only kept his gaze. Mike looked to the drawing. "He's seen it."

I frowned at his odd behavior and I didn't try to hide my confusion and anxiety from him, I then dropped my gaze to my hands, growing tenser at the thought that these horrible people could be out to get me.

Ms. Byers spoke up, addressing El. "Is there any way that you could... that you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in this--"

"The Upside Down." El finished.

Joyce's voice fell into a whisper. "Down. Yeah."

El nodded her head yes.

"And my friend Barbara?" Nancy spoke up hesitantly. "Can you find her, too?"

I could see the confidence build in El and it was then that I knew she was willing do everything she could to help us.

+++

We were all gathered around the dining room table, watching with bated breath as El attempted to find Will and Barb. She had breifly explained that she could sometimes find people telepathically somehow. She required white noise, hence Will's walkie was on the table, switched to a blank station so static filled the silence and she had her eyes closed.

Nancy had offered a once torn up photo of Barb sitting on the edge of a pool as a reference for El. What felt like minutes passed and suddenly the lamp overhead flickered and El opened her eyes. Her voice was hoarse.

"I'm sorry."

"What? What's wrong? What's happened?" Mrs. Byers stuttered.

El was blinking back tears and her voice broke. "I can't find them."

+++

El had excused herself to the bathroom, probably to catch her breath. I just hope she wasn't blaming herself. The rest of us are still at the kitchen table, processing everything. My attention was pulled to the boys when they began elaborating more on her powers.

"Whenever she uses her powers, she gets weak." Mike said.

My head perked up at this.

"The more energy she uses, the more tired she gets," Dustin added.

I've had a lot of time to think about what had happened and what I had done earlier today and in that time I could never help but assume that however, whenever El got her powers, I got mine. Whatever it may be, we must be connected somehow.

I recalled that in the short time I've known her and seen her use her powers, I've seen the toll it takes on her.

If it makes her weak, that must have been why I passed out earlier... my body had never grown accustomed to the exertion.

"Like, she flipped a van earlier."

"It was awesome."

"But she's drained."

"Like a bad battery."

I sat there, my eyes glued to the floor as I listened to the boys unknowingly talk about the similarities between me and El.

I felt a pair of eyes on me and I hesitantly lifted my head and briefly made eye contact with the chief who seemed the slightest bit suspicious of me. I quickly looked away and tried to focus back on the group.

"Well..." Ms. Byers stuttered. "How do we make her better?"

"We don't. We just have to wait and try again." Mike said.

"Well, how long?" Nancy asked.

Mike shrugged his shoulders weakly. "I don't know."

"The bath." El's quiet voice grabbed everyone's attention and we all turned to see her standing just outside the kitchen.

"What?" I asked.

"I can find them." She seemed very hesitant, almost afraid of what she was going to say next. "In the bath."

+++

Well, this is happening.

We really are calling our science teacher at ten o'clock on a Saturday and asking about sensory deprivation tanks and how to build them.

That won't be weird at all.

Nevertheless, we all watched nervously as Dustin stood by the phone and made the call.

"Mr. Clarke? It's Dustin."

"..."

"Yeah, yeah. I just, I... I have a science question,"

I cringed, unable to imagine any scenario in which this would pan out.

"..."

"Do you know anything about sensory deprivation tanks? Specifically how to build one?"

I run my hands through my hair.

"..."

"Fun."

I furrowed my brows and then sighed defeatedly before putting my face in my hands.

"..."

"You always say we should never stop being curious. To always open any curiosity door we find. Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?"

I couldn't help but let a small chuckle escape, slightly impressed he threw Mr. Clarke's words back in his face and I looked back up.

"..."

All of the sudden Dustin motioned for something to write on and with and Jonathan grabbed a spare notepad and a pencil and Dustin sat at the table, listening to the instructions and writing them down.

"Uh-huh... uh-huh. How much? Uh-huh. Yep, all right. Yeah, we'll be careful. Definitely. All right, Mr. Clarke. Yeah, I'll see you on Monday. I'll see you on Monday, Mr. Clarke bye." Dustin quickly trailed off and was quick to hang up the phone.

"Do you still have that kiddie pool we bobbed for apples in?" Dustin asked Ms. Byers almost immediately after hanging up.

"Uhh, I think so, yeah."

"Good. Then we just need salt. Lots of it."

"How much is 'lots'?" The chief asked.

Dustin took a look at the notepad and looked back at the chief.

"1,500 pounds."

"Well, where are we gonna get that much salt?" Nancy asked the question everybody seemed to be wondering.

+++

The school. It was the chiefs idea. We all headed to the school, taking separate cars.

The chief and Jonathan went to the shed to grab the bags of salt, Mike and Nancy were getting the hoses while Dustin, Lucas and I set up the pool in the gym.

"Damn, this thing is heavy." Dustin panted as we both rolled the folded up kiddie pool to the center of the gym.

Together we undid the ropes holding it together and attempted to unfold it. After much trial and error we finally were able to get the pool set up. The water temperature had been tested just as much as the bouncy of the egg to determine if there was enough salt.

The finishing touch; Will's walkie switched on to static nearby. Finally, we were ready.

Ms. Byers and and I had helped El into the bath. She had just taken off her shoes and socks as well as the digital watch Mike had given her almost a week ago. Ms. Byers and her seemed to have constructed a waterproof blindfold with ducttape and goggles from the science lab.

We all sat nearby, ready in case she needed anything and it was almost chilling to watch her float on her back. Suddenly, the lights in the gym flickered accompanied by the sounds of the electricity surging and lights went out. We all looked cautiously towards the ceiling before looking back to El.

Seconds felt like hours when suddenly, El spoke. Her voice broke, she sounded fearful.

"Barbara?"

My heart began to faster once more.

El's breathing became frantic and the lights flickered once more.

"What's going on?" Nancy asked worriedly towards us.

"I don't know." Mike said, just as panicked.

"Is Barb okay? Is she okay?" Nancy asked frantically to El.

El began whimpering.

"Gone. Gone. Gone."

I looked to Nancy, who brought a hand to her mouth to mask her sobs. My heart ached for her.

My heart was pounding by now. My hands were shaking.

Ms. Byers immediately reached a hand out to El and held her hand, and rubbed her arm comfortingly.

"It's okay. It's okay. It's okay." She cooed.

"Gone. Gone!"

I felt like I was stuck in the middle of a storm, unable to move. Unable to help. Useless. Waiting for the worst.

"It's okay. It's okay. Hey. It's okay." Ms. Byers was doing everything in her power to calm the girl.

Even the chief gently grabbed her other hand to try and soothe her.

"It's okay, we're right here. We're right here, honey. It's okay. I got you. Don't be afraid. I'm right here with you. It's okay. You're safe."

||3rd Person POV||

Eleven found the wave of panic dissolve into nothing as she heard the distant echo of Joyce's voice reassuring her.

For the first time she felt somewhat calm in this horrifying place. Suddenly she saw something the distance.

It was a small hit roughly her height, made from large sticks and branches. It was decorated with flags and a painted sign that read

《•••》

"Castle Byers." El muttered.

My eyes widen in shock and my eyes were glued to the girl in front of me. Terrified of hearing the word "gone".

My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. My fingers grasped the edge of the pool and my knuckles began to turn white.

《•••》

Eleven slowly approached the fort, scared of what she might find. But she knew she had to. She needed to.

After everything everyone had done for her. How kind Mike and [Y/N] had been. She felt she owed it to them. Facing her fears she brought her hand up to the blanket entrance and brushed it aside as she stepped inside.

There he was. Drenched in sweat and slime and shivering from the cold conditions, laid Will Byers unconscious, but clinging to life.

She lowered herself to the ground and sat on her knees.

"Will."

《•••》

"Will?" El asked hopefully.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and everyone around us gasped.

《•••》

In his life-threatening state, he saw the girl kneeling before him and like a mirage, his mind chose to see the girl he grew so fond of.

《•••》

"[Y/N]?" The voice over the walkie talkie echoed all throughout the gym.

My heart stopped and I felt everyone's eyes on me and everyone gasped.

The voice, the sad and broken voice of Will Byers crackled over the radio saying my name causing me to stare at the walkie talkie.

My eyes became glassy and my vision blurred.

He's alive. He's alive and that all that matters.

"That's Will! Tell- You tell him... tell him I'm coming."

《•••》

Eleven spoke the words that echoed in her brain. She grasped the boys hand shook it ever so slightly.

"No, but she's looking for you. Your mom... she's coming for you. Everybody is looking for you."

Finally gathering enough strength to open his eyes, he looked to her and spoke.

||Reader's POV||

"Hurry."

His voice echoed through the gym once more and we all watched feeling helpless.

Ms. Byers began feeding words to El once more.

"Okay. Listen, you tell him to... to stay where he is. We're coming. We're coming, okay? We're coming, honey."

We heard whimpering on the radio and suddenly El shot up, gasping for air making us all jump back. She scrambled backward into Ms. Byers arms and she softly calmed the girl down.

Tears were now freely falling down my cheeks as I try to process everything that just happened.

"Oh, okay, okay. I've got you. It's okay. I got you. I got you. I got you, honey. You did so good. Are you okay?"

I quickly attempt to wipe my tears away with the back of my sleeve as I watch everything unfold. I wanted to be strong for El.

For Will.

+++

Tag List: @fuckwaad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa@miscellaneoustoasts

DM me if you want to be added!

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unicornofdanger · 7 years ago

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Tension

Author’s Note: I really hope that you guys like this one-shot. Tony is one of my favorite characters on NCIS because he’s not only a good person but he has a sense of humor. And who doesn’t love his love for movies? But, anyway, I hope that you guys like this. Requests are open at the moment. My prompt lists can be found on my masterlist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist & Prompt List

Tony DiNozzo x Reader

7. “What’s our exit strategy?” “Our what?” “Oh my God, we’re all going to die!”

Word Count: 1,389

Warnings: Language

Y/n and Tony were sitting in a corner booth at the front of the restaurant. Tony’s arm was slung across Y/n’s shoulder as they waited for the suspect to arrive. In front of them sat two cokes that they were drinking while they watched and waited. All they needed was for the murder to meet with his accomplice. It was that simple, but it seemed that the man they were after didn’t think so. They had no idea that it would take all day.

A few days before, the team had caught the man’s accomplice. He didn’t seem to care that he had killed a man as he was at his sister’s dance recital. Y/n and Tony cuffed him and then Gibbs and Tony questioned the man for hours as he made it clear that he wasn’t going to talk. That he really didn’t care what happened to him. And then when he realized that he had no way out, that he was still pinned to the murder, he caved. He spilled everything he had on the man and more. Y/n was glad that she wouldn’t need an accomplice if she ever murdered someone.

The man then Gibbs that he would be meeting with the man at a bar in a few days and that was the teams best chance to catch him. And that is why Y/n and Tony found themselves in the restaurant, doing nothing but twitling their thumbs.

“What are you gonna do after this?” Y/n asked Tony as she stirred the straw in her coke. Trestaurantant wasn’t too busy, so from where they sat, Y/n had a good look at the man they were meant to be watching.

Tony shift and moved his arm back to his side. He wasn’t too thrilled to have to get up close and person with Y/n. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, he thought that she was a wonderful person and a great agent. But there was just something about her that gave him anxiety. Maybe she was intimidating, but that couldn’t be it. She hadn’t done anything to scare him. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was the problem. He didn’t know. He probably never would.

Turning to her, he said, “I think I’ll try to get you out of the dress.” Y/n rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder.

Glancing around the restaurant, all she saw were the other people in the restaurant and the man that they were keeping their eyes on. The angle of the lights made the sweat on the man’s face visible as it ran down from his forehead. Everyone was having a great time. Friends were talking over lunch, some people were on dates with those that they thought were the one, and family members were bickering over whatever. They all were enjoying themselves. Y/n wished that she was enjoying her time in the place like everyone else. But instead of chatting away like everyone else, she was stuck sitting next to Tony. “You know that is never gonna happen, DiNozzo. Your no Clark Gable. So don’t think that you can talk me out of my clothes.”

“Ouch! You think Clark Gable is better than me?” He asked in shook. “ You think that he could do a better job at flirting than me? The man’s dead!”

“I’m well aware that he’s dead,” she told him. “But who didn’t love the man in Gone with the Wind? And to be honest, Gibbs is probably better at getting women to strip than you.”

Tony was not a fan of that comment.

Ever since Y/n had joined the team there had been tension between her a Tony. It started out fine. She knew that it wasn’t because of anything that she had done. She was new and he didn’t trust her. That was normal. She had bounced around the agency many times and was familiar with the tension that new agents brought with them. But as time went on and as Tony was always forced to partner with Y/n, the tension decreased. She liked that she was able to joke around with him and the rest of the team. She liked that she finally felt like apart of the team.

While the tension decreased for a time, one day it shot all the way to hell. Y/n didn’t understand how one day Tony could treat her like family and the next fawn all over her. He was always making jokes about how he loved her and would do anything for her. Often times he would quote movies and all Y/n could do was roll her eyes. She had never been trapped in a work relationship like DiNozzo put her in. And often times she was unsure if that was his normal behavior towards people he was friendly with or towards women that he found attractive. He created horrible sexual tension that was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

During the more than friendly banter, the accomplice they were watching slipped out the back door, out of their sight. It took the pair a few moments to notice.

“Shit! Gibbs is not going to be happy about this,” Tony muttered as he stood from the table, Y/n right behind him.

The two went out the back, their guns were drawn. The back door came out to an alley with a dumpster next to the door and nothing but trash on the other side. The door shut behind them with a thud that sent Y/n in the air.

“I’m tough, Tony. I’ve got this,” he teased. “Tough people don’t jump when doors shut, Y/L/N.”

Y/n scoffed, “Oh, yeah? Says the one that jumps when Gibbs walks in the room.” Y/n moved passed Tony and was about to go around the dumpster when shoots rang through the alley. “Shit.”

The two crouched behind the dumpster before Tony went and tried the door. Y/n looked back at him as Tony turned back to her and shook his head. There was no way out, the door was locked.

Tony crouched beside Y/n, “It be smart of you to be afraid of Gibbs as well,” he said before looking over the dumpster and firing back at where the shots came from.

The two of them shoot off a few rounds at where the shoots first came from, but they were getting nowhere fast. It seemed that whoever was firing at them had a whole arsenal, while they just had a few rounds.

“Tony,” Y/n called. “Do you think we were set up? Because I’ve been set up before and this definitely feels like a setup.”

Tony muttered to himself as he reloaded his gun and shot over the top of the dumpster. “Really! Why didn’t you bring this up earlier?”

Y/n kept quiet as they exchanged shots with whoever was shooting at them. Y/n cursed under her breath as she realized that she was out of ammo. “Tony, I think we have a problem.”

Still firing shots off, Tony asked, “And what would that be? The fact that you should mention things in advance?”

“No! I’m out of ammo.”

“Well that’s just great,” he commented, throwing up his hands and turned to her. “What do you want me to do?”

“What’s our exit strategy?”

Tony turned back to the dumpster and peeked his head over. He could see a shadow around the corner of the building, but he knew that he probably won’t be able to get a shot at the person. “Our what?”

Y/n’s eyes went wide as she ran a hand over her face. “Oh my God, we’re all going to die!”

“No, we’re not,” Tony reassured her. “Just call Gibbs.”

Y/n shook her head at her partner. For a senior agent, Y/n would have thought that Tony would have a plan. But of course, he didn’t. That would be too easy. Y/n dialed Gibb’s number and told him of their situation. Y/n wasn’t afraid of Gibbs he was a kind man who didn’t shit. Tony, on the other hand, was the one to watch out for. Especially if you didn’t want to die.

#ncis #ncis imagine #ncis imagines #Tony Dinozzo #Tony Dinozzo imagine #Tony Dinozzo imagines #Tony Dinozzo x reader #imagnation #imagine #imagines #requests #requests are open #masterlist #prompt list

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