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bored-storyteller · 4 years

Note

How would the the dorm leaders react to a mc having a mental breakdown from stress? Please.🙇‍♀️💕

So, for convenience I divide this request into two parts (I will do it for all requests concerning all leaders), so this is the first part with the first three leaders! 🌸

Furthermore, as far as mental breakdown is concerned, in reality reactions and symptoms can be manifold, I remained on something light (if we mean the same thing). I hope you like it anyway! ❤️

13- Twisted Wonderland- Dorm Leaders x down!s/o pt. 1

Riddle Rosehearts

· Riddle is basically used to being under stress and is used to keeping people around him under stress, so he doesn't immediately notice the problem of s/o, or at least he doesn't connect to the fact that maybe they are too stressed.

· He perhaps notes that the body of s/o becomes thinner and at the same time tense. He wonders if s/o is following a proper diet and every now and then he might even scold them for not eating properly.

·It may be disadvantageous to have relationships with him in a similar situation. Just because he loves and appreciates s/o, Riddle could expect a lot from them, and between the study, the school responsibilities and also the orders and rules of the leader, life cannot be simple at all.

· In recent times, Riddle's heart may have become a little more worried when he sees s/o's eyes more dull than usual, and with heavy dark circles under their lower eyelids. But since it is the tests period he can imagine that it is because of the night study. Still, s/o should close the books at night.

All of Riddle's rigidity, however, collapses when he glimpses the figure of s/o in the library, curled up on itself, trembling and shaken by violent sobs that apparently cannot hold back. He hasn't figured out what's going on yet, but he rushes to them with concern.

"S/o, what happens?"

The question naturally comes from his lips, immediate, perhaps too hasty to show empathy, but still, he feels as if that tears were his fault even if he doesn't know the cause.

"I can’t."

The trembling voice of s/o responds as soon as it reaches them, and Riddle suddenly hears it the world collapsing on him. Even if they replied they don't seem to really realize that he is there, they seem destroyed.

"I can't do it anymore. I can't pass the tests, I can't meet all deadlines. They will reject me, they will hate me ..."

The crying does not end, and what worries Riddle the most is that they are on the book of their favorite subject! It is certain that they could not fail the test even if they wanted to! How much did they have to endure to break where the problem isn't there?

He is ashamed of himself. Has he never noticed this situation? What kind of leader is he? He doesn't really know what to do, but he knows he has to do something.

A little hesitant, he puts a reassuring hand on their shoulder, and he is amazed at how violent their tremor is.

"You will make it. You have always been strong ... here ... it is a difficult time for everyone."

He certainly can't be convincing, Trey would be much better than he is. But he can't let himself go with s/o, he doesn't want them to be ruined. So, he try to think of the words that would have made him feel better if he had found himself so alone, as it seems to be s/o.

"I am proud of you and I am proud even if you sometimes fail."

It's probably the most beautiful and profound thing Riddle can say to someone in need.

Carefully squeezes the shoulder of s/o. Slowly their eyes land on him, moist but somehow raised.

"Sorry ..." they murmur, sitting down on the chair again.

Riddle does not get too upset, but remains there with them until they have finished studying, leaning against the back of their chair, pretending to absently read a book that does not interest him at all.

Leona Kingscholar

· Ok the relaxation with which Leona seems (seems) to take everything that happens stresses practically everyone around him. He does not show that it has really big requests despite continuous orders, but the simple fact that he is present - even if he sleeps - requires that everything goes exactly as he wants.

· Well, there are people who know how to bear it, like Ruggie, but while s/o suffer the weight of the tests on their shoulders the simple presence of the prince (however much they may love him) becomes unbearable for them. But obviously they would never dare to tell him or deny him something

·The way out of that period seems increasingly distant, almost non-existent. Also a little problem becomes giant for s/o and more and more often they lack their breath for no reason, nor are they able to sleep without having nightmares. Some nightmares concern the Savanaclaw leader. Although they have never been reprimanded by Leona, the anxiety that came from his presence has now turned into fear.

· S/o cannot please Leona, they cannot pass the tests, they cannot perform the tasks of Professor Crewel or those of Professor Trein. They don't feel the strength to do all this, nor do they feel the skills. They feel as if every second someone is looking at them and judging them. Their muscles are always tense and they can't help being alert.

· Obviously Leona doesn't notice anything. S/o have always done everything alone, he doesn't really see the problem. In short, everyone is stressed during the tests.

S/o hope that the fresh solitary air of that point in the garden and the music in the ears can erase a possible failure from their mind, while the book of ancient curses lies open on their legs.

But as sweet and relaxing the music can be, it has the effect of isolating them even more from the world, a world that now scares them too much. When something touches their shoulder it is as if everything breaks: their mind and body are shattered.

S/o screams.

No, it's not a simple scream. This is a scream of pure terror, which makes them jump on their feet and then curls them on the ground. Not even Leona can predict a similar reaction to his touch. For a moment he thought his hand had burned them.

“Calm down, herbivore!” He exclaims reflexively. He didn't even understand that he was the cause. He remains there, still staring at the curled up figure of s/o with his heart beating fast in his chest and his ears flat against his head.

"I can't do it, ok ?!" The voice of s/o is high and distressed as they hold their hair in their hands "I can't do what you ask me! I can't pass this stupid test and I can't get out of this school ever again! Don't get angry! It doesn't matter how much I try, I will never be able to do all this ... "

Leona's ears barely move. Damn, why don't people talk from the start? He barely growls as he rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

"I'm not angry, stupid herbivore."

The words are not so kind, but his voice is softer than usual. It's not that he doesn't understand that feeling at all. He met it long ago.

"Listen to me, nobody ever died from failing a test, so please get your little head in order."

With those words he bends slightly to carefully take the arms of s/o, to help them get up. It's a gentle touch to be Leona's touch.

He gently drives s/o back lean against the tree trunk and then, as if he always does, sits next to them, leaning over the study book to see the topic addressed.

"What are your problems? It seems to me that you answer the questions well ..." he doesn't wait for the sobs of s/o to subside completely, he let them explain their problems to him with a broken voice, but he remains patient, even if he can't help yawning occasionally or nodding boredly.

But on the other hand, at the end of the day he heard over thirty pages of ancient curses repeated aloud, he is not to blame. In truth, his job is to take care of the puppies, isn't it?

"You will pass it for sure, and you will pass the rest too, so stop worrying."

With one last big yawn Leona gets up, and after having playfully stroked s/o's head he goes towards the school.

It is strange, even if the tests have not passed yet, s/o feel more calm, right?

They smile, and before Leona disappears from view they turn to him with a new charge of energy: "Tomorrow I will buy you lunch for you!"

Azul Ashengrotto

· S/o spend a lot of time at the Monster Lounge during the testing period. The tension they feel about this is such a lot that they do everything to try to relieve it a little.

· The local staff don't mind; they are a polite and kind person. Even if they spend a lot of time there, it's not a problem. In addition, they never forget to bring a good income to the club, whether they are there with friends or in solitude.

· But the closer the test time approaches, the more problems in the s/o's head begin to weigh and their insecurities surface. They feel a total nullity. They will never be able to overcome everything. Never. All the commitments accumulate in a single suffocating week that will never end. They hate it, they can never do it.

· S/o don't know, but their long visits have not left Octavinelle's dorm leader indifferent. He always has an eye for them, they are loyal customers after all.

· Although he will not admit it, but Azul also has a certain eye for certain attitudes. He knows the insecurity and perceives it in the gaze of s/o and in their tired body, of those who cannot rest well at night because of a thousand thoughts.

Is the day before the test most hated by s/o. They studied a lot, but their mind refused to learn. They have faced a thousand chores in the last few days, Grim more than once had put them in trouble, and now they no longer feel the strength. And everything has yet to begin.

There is no way that they can pass tomorrow's test, nor the others, nor that they can satisfy everyone and fulfill all their duties. How can one person do everything? They are nothing but a failure.

In the Monster Lounge s/o hoped to forget this fear that lurked in their stomach, but it was useless.

Even sitting at the table in front of a glass and two empty cups their lips continue to try to repeat what they need to know, and every time the words are missing panic increases dramatically.

At the last block s/o they can no longer bear themselves, and covering their faces with their hands they collapse into a silent cry. If they could, they would like to disappear from there.

"We're going to close." The voice of the founder of the place only worsens the situation.

Oh no, what are they up to? Raising their faces in terror, they realize that they are the only ones left in there.

They would like to apologize and rush out, but terror and tears prevent them.

The arms return to cover the face while they curl up on the table, unable to do anything else. They would like to scream, but they cannot, they are already pathetic like this.

"Oh dear, I can't let a customer react like this in my cafe." His voice is quiet, perhaps even a little amused as he sits next to the sad trembling figure.

His proximity makes s/o feel even more oppressed. Being under the eyes of others is the worst thing that could have happened at that time, yet the crying only becomes louder.

What will happen? He will propose them a kind of deal? Will he blackmail them? Or will he just laugh at them?

"Please don't say anything! Pretend I don't exist! I beg you ... I can't do it! I can't do it!"

The words from their lips come out like a prayer, but Azul smiles as if nothing had happened.

"Come on, why don't you explain to me what reduced you to such a pitiful state? I'm not bad at helping people."

He has already heard them, he knows what was whispering coming out of their lips. So even if they don't answer his question, he kindly hands them the handkerchief.

"Let's make a deal between us. I will help you study, so that at the end of this horrendous session you have passed all the written tests."

The eyes of s/o open in panic. No no no, they can't stand it. What will he ever ask? To work there? They could never! They are not capable enough.

But before s/o can open his mouth to refuse Azul laughs, simply messing up their hair. His face seems decidedly amused, even pleased.

"Don't make that scared face, you don't need it. I wouldn't mind if you just sat a little near the counter. You know, I'm sure you would bring more money than you already do."

Before s/o can even accept, the hated test subject book is already open on the table in front of them. Azul holds the sign with his finger.

"Obviously this if you pass the test, but believe me, you just need not to panic. I know you can do it."

#twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #leona kingscholar #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst azul #leona kingscholar x reader #twst x reader #twst leona #twst riddle #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #request

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imagine-lcorp · 5 years

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Use Somebody (One Shot)

Request

How about a post-season 4, where kara and lena have feelings for each other then to get back at kara for keeping her supergirl identity, lena rejects her and started dating reader but ends up really falling in love with the reader in the end. Reader gets at by Lena's ulterior motive. Angst with happy ending please. P.S. I really love your writings! :)

A/N: Okay guys, so furst of all I’m soo sooorry, I haven’t wirtten much, honestly October is like a pretty busy month for me but please know that I’m still around, trying to write and pretty much obssesing over Lena Luthor and Katie McGrath. Now, this little imagine was supposed to be angsty but it seems like my brain cannot function when writing angst so please forgive me because i think this is actually pretty bad but i did my best for you as always. Please let me know what you think, i hope you still like it and love y’all!!!!

Lena Luthor x R//Word Count: 1,904

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

It was right after Lena broke the picture in her desk that she decided she had had enough. Enough lies, enough pretending, enough betrayal. Enough of a broken heart. So, when Kara visited her that morning to ask about her, Lena didn't hold back.

The confrontation couldn't have been more nerve wrecking for both of them. Lena didn't want to know anything about her anymore outside of what was strictly necessary. If Supergirl or the DEO needed her, she would comply and that was it. A courteous agreement for the greater good and to preserve the peace among them. It no longer mattered the reasons why Kara had kept her secret from her or how much she had claimed to care and love Lena. At the end of it all, Supergirl and Kara now fused in the same person, were confined to a corner in Lena's mind where a box with all she had made Lena feel once was sealed and left to never be opened again.

It had hurt Lena so deeply that she could only think how much she wanted her to hurt too, make her feel the same she was feeling. Wounded, hopeless, tired. A punishment to fit the crime.

Then you entered her office and she didn't know if it had been the alcohol or the way you looked at her from her door, so innocent and full of concern just like she used to.

"Sorry to bother you but I heard what happened. I thought you could use a friend."

"Thank you, (Y/N)." She smiled sadly at you. "I could definitely use one right now."

And so she did.

It was no secret that you had a crush on Lena, even she was pretty much aware to some extent about it, but you never made a move or showed more interest than it was necessary. There had always been a speck of hope that your friendship with her could became something else but you kept your distance on those matters.

But then Lena invited you on a date and then another and another, and date after date you tried to prove yourself more than just a good friend and someone she could trust.

When the Superfriends found out about you, they seemed relatively happy about it. Or most of them anyway.

You started to notice soon after the way Lena acted towards Kara. However, she never mentioned why it was like this and you also never questioned her about it. Their relationship was still in good terms as far as anyone could see. Lena had made sure of that. So not a single time it occurred to you that something was wrong. Or at least that was you said to yourself over and over and over.

The bites of tension every time Lena and Kara were in the same room. The way Kara kept her eyes on Lena trying to catch her attention, the extra politeness they dedicated to each other when their encounters were inevitable, and how Lena tried to stay on the other side of the room if Kara happened to be there too. Silly glances and coincidences that were made obvious in the was she tried too to stay close to you or showing a little more of affection if there were people around. If Kara was around.

Over and over you had convinced yourself it was due to the novelty of your relationship. How bad you wanted to be near each other, how in love you were with each other.

As the days with you passed, Lena started noticing a few things by herself. How little by little the ache and the sadness that had plagued her dissipated to shed some light on the new feelings nesting inside her heart.

At first, it was strange to realize thinking about Kara didn't hurt as much when you were around. You were by her side and on her side and that was more than enough at the end of the day, having one person to trust and love.

It was the careful, thoughtful way you cared for others and made them feel heard, the many things you liked and tried to share with her, the sound of your laugh when you found something funny on your phone, and the little quirks she had learned about you that were so you she couldn't imagine you without them. The way you looked at the world. The way you looked at her. All of you that helped her forget.

If only you had remained blind to real reason why Lena had choose you to stay by her side, it would have been enough for you too.

It was a Friday night, out with your friends and Lena that you finally found out. Between drinks and laughs and jokes and bad songs on the karaoke, you left Lena's side for a moment and headed to the bathroom. You hadn't notice Kara and Alex had gone there too.

"... this whole thing with (Y/N) and Lena, I know it's getting on your nerves." You heard Alex's voice before entering the bathroom and at the mention of your name you stopped.

"On my nerves?" Kara scoffed in response. "No, that's not what-" The sound of glass breaking made you jump a little.

"Well, you broke your drink." Alex remarked.

"Oh god, Alex, what am I suppose to do." Kara sounded tired. "They look like they are made for each other."

"I wouldn't go that far. I mean, do they look cute together? Kinda. Will that last? No. Why?"She pointed each question and answer and you frowned."It's obvious Lena has feelings for you. Why do you think she started dating (Y/N) in the first the place?"

"Because she hates me and is in love with someone else?"

"Because she's hurt." This was definitely something you didn't want to listen, but your feet had seemed to be glued to the ground. "From what I can see, this is Lena's rebound and I'm sorry (Y/N) had to be the one caught in the middle." You didn't listen to anything else after that.

No one could understand why you had left the bar in such a rush and neither did Lena until she called after you.

"(Y/N), wait!" You stopped dead in your tracks in the middle of the street at the sound of her pleading voice. It wasn't something you ever thought hearing from her. "Would you tell me what's going on?"

"Sure, I'll tell you what's going on." It was a second before the anger came back and you turned to face her. "Only if you tell me first, why did you ask me out the first time?"

She was taken aback for a moment at your question but took a couple of steps slowly towards you as if not scare you. "Because I like you (Y/N), why else would I-?"

"Are you sure it wasn't because you wanted to get at Kara?"

Lena didn't move. She couldn't. Because she knew there was truth in your words. So she let the silence fill the space between you before she was able to respond. Her answer was confirmation enough for you.

"It's not what you think."

"Not what I think?" You scoffed. "And what do I think, Lena? That this whole time I was only a piece you could use in your little game?"

"(Y/N), please, let me explain."

"What for?" Your voice kept rising at every word. "So we can keep pretending you had some kind of real interest in me? So I can keep making a damn fool of myself since I was the only one in lov-!"

You stopped yourself from finishing the final word as you felt your chest crumble and your voice break.

You closed your eyes for a moment and let out a ragged breath before looking back. "Did you even really cared?"

"(Y/N), I..." Yes, she had wanted to say. "I'm sorry." She said instead.

You swallowed trying to keep your voice from cracking. "Yeah, me too."

Lena couldn't seem to move anymore as you turned back and left. She realized too late she should have gone after you but the fear of rejection had made her stay behind.

She started calling soon after that, leaving messages, voice-mails, knocking on your door whenever she guessed you could be at home, only to find no answer. There was no reason to have an answer from you when all she had done was give you the same lies, the same pretense, and the same betrayal she had received from the person she used to love. A fitting punishment.

There were many times, however, when you had wanted to answer those calls. You would hear and read her messages over and over just to listen to her voice again. Although every time you listened to her you felt your heart grew heaver and heavier at every word. Because you loved Lena and it was impossible to you to understand how she was capable of playing you the way she did. You had believed every single word that came out of her mouth, not seeing the calculated moves and actions behind them. Or rather, you hadn't wanted to see them.

"(Y/N)." She called through your door one last time after many days she had spent trying to get a word from you. "I know I'm the last person you want to see ever again, but I want you to know that...I'm sorry."

"I was so angry and hurt by someone that I believed using someone else was a good idea to hurt them too. So, when you entered my office that day, my mind was already plotting vengeance. But you were so good with me, so caring and kind, that I started to forget why I had done all of it in the first place."

"I'm sorry." She repeated. "I love you, (Y/N), and I hope you can forgive me someday."

Lena pressed her forehead on your door and left out a defeated sigh not expecting it to open. She waited for a moment, her last hope of getting an answer.

She didn't receive any.

She turned to leave, finally accepting the fact that her mistake had been too great for you to ever forgive her. If it had been her on the other side of the door, she wouldn't have opened it either, she thought.

But then she heard the knob turning and the little squeak your door did every time when opening and she stopped herself one step from your door. She turned again to see you looking at her with a frown she couldn't quite read. It may have been anger, tiredness, confusion, a mix of all of those even, but when you spoke your voice was filled with concern. The same way you had looked at her that morning from a long time ago.

"You seem like you could use a friend." You said.

"Yeah." She swallowed. "I could use one."

Behind your door you had heard, her words so true that even when you couldn't see her you knew, that for everything she had said and done before there must have been something true. So you swung the door open wide and let her in once more, and that was enough.

#lena luthor #imagine lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor imagines #one shot #request #use somebody #angst #lena luthor x you #lena x reader #lena x you

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travllingbunny · 4 years

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The 100: 7x03 False Gods

Although I liked this episode less than the first two episodes of season 7, which were great, especially 7x02. I quite enjoyed False Gods for what it was. This seems to be an unpopular opinion in the fandom, which mostly hated it for what it wasn’t. And I get it - Bellamy has been missing for almost 3 episodes (even though it’s not even been 2 days since he left Sanctum), Clarke took a back seat here, and the new SciFi Anomaly storyline is far more interesting than the power struggles in Sanctum. Plus the A plot of this episode was problem-of-the-week, another potential nuclear meltdown - of a reactor we didn’t even know about before.

it feels like a setup/breather before we get to the real story. Yes, it's high time the storylines finally converge and Clarke and the others learn that Bellamy and others are missing, and get involved in the Anomaly plot. I guess I’m more patient than most, and it helped that I already knew this would only happen in the next episode.The biggest problem of this episode is probably that it didn’t address what was happening in the other storyline, for the benefit of all the viewers who are watching this weekly, don’t necessarily think about the show’s timeline and aren’t aware of the fact that it’s been a little over one day since Bellamy, Octavia, Echo and Gabriel went to research the Anomaly Stone, that there’s absolutely nothing surprising about the fact they haven’t come back yet (people were absent for similar periods of time in season 6 even when they went to a less distant location), that there is no reason whatsoever for Clarke and others to think that there are any other threats on the moon or any other humans outside Sanctum, and that there are no radio signals or mobile phones they could use to call them before they get back. And that, if she doesn’t have reasons to think Bellamy is in danger, it’s not OOC at all for Clarke to not be whining about the fact that he left with his girlfriend, his sister and Gabriel to do research instead of stay and help her as a co-leader in Sanctum, while she is also grieving her mom... Actually, you know what, I do have a problem with people criticizing Clarke for that. But I do see why a mention would help the viewers get a sense of coherence, that both this and the previous episode belong to the same story.

But at the same time, this episode delivered some of the things many fans have been saying they wanted to see: it was focused on the characters who have been there from season 1, Raven and Murphy (and Emori, who has been there since season 2 and has had the most long-lasting relationship in the show), it gave Raven an arc and character development and put her in the situation to make “impossible choices” and understand how Clarke has felt so many times (something that many were asking for after her season 6 characterization), it, put an end to Madi being a Commander, and let Clarke grieve for the loss of her mother for another episode.

Raven's storyline was still really engaging and the scenes in the reactor intense. And damn it, I liked Hatch, even though he was in just two episodes and a few scenes. He stole the show and made me really sad when I realized he was definitely doomed. I knew from the trailer that Nikki would beat the crap out of Raven, but I didn't know why. A lot of people thought Nikki would just be a straight-up villain like McCreary, but instead, she's given a good reason to feel the way she does. And it was high time the show addressed the fact that the Eligius prisoners are looked down on as second class people or barely people. Sure, they are murderers and thieves and not nice people, but that doesn’t make it OK to see them as barely human, as Eligius Corporation did when they were going to leave them to die as expendable.

This is probably leading to the friendship between Raven and Clarke getting stronger again. Other things this episode seemed to be setting up:

future conflicts in Sanctum: SheidhedaRussell (SheidRussell? RussellHeda?) getting more control, while Clarke and others have no idea about who he really is, while the Eligius prisoners are going to be led by a very angry Nikki;

Clarke has a continuation of her story from 7x01 and gets a kind of closure to her grief over her mother. She gets to say that she cannot lose anyone else, a very obvious setup for learning about Bellamy’s (and others’) disappearance. At first, this made me roll my eyes a little bit - it’s not like this is a new motivation for Clarke. She is always trying to save her people, and anyone who isn’t aware how important Bellamy is to her, has not been paying attention. But then it struck me - the show was doing extra work to set up Clarke being ready to leave Madi in Sanctum without looking like a ‘bad mother’ - and for that purpose, she now 1) knows Madi is not a Heda anymore and can breathe a sign of relief that Madi can be a normal kid now, 2) has no idea about Sheidheda, and 3) has started to trust Gaia enough as someone who could take care of Madi.

This time it’s Luisa's voice saying "Previously". It looks like they're having a different cast member say it at the start of each episode (Eliza in 7x01, Marie in 7x02).

James wasn’t losing any time, did he. It’s been just a little over a day since they came from the ship, and he’s already hooking up with a girl from Sanctum. And the show really did the horror trope of a couple that goes to a secluded place to hook up and dies.

There is a nuclear reactor in Sanctum? We go to another planet moon, and again the same problems, just as Indra said.

The opening titles ended with a new shot of the mansion and the grave next to it - this is presumably what Abby’s grave will look in the future. At the moment, it’s a heap of rocks with flowers over them. (Maybe it's meant to be Kane's, too - they don't have either of their bodies, though Abby did die on Sanctum and they could at least bury her clothes.) Contrary to what many fans thought, Clarke burying Jake’s ring was not Abby’s “funeral” - the funeral had already been held, so the answer to the often asked question “why weren’t Madi, Raven, Jackson, Murphy etc. there", is - they were, when the funeral was held. Clarke just went later, alone, to bury the ring, the remembrance of both her parents. With the grave being so close to the mansion, Gaia saw Clarke coming to bury the ring and then came to talk and bury the Flame.

It’s good that Clarke has another confidante/budding friendship, someone to talk to in her increasingly small circle. But I’m not sure that Clarke and Gaia managed to connect that much over grief - because losing a parent and losing your religion are very different kinds of loss. Clarke doesn’t even have a religion and doesn’t have that kind of experience.

I love the way the show acknowledged that everyone knows Clarke will always be the first one to risk her life to save everyone - and Murphy knows it. But the plot mechanics ket Clarke away from this storyline (because Murphy and Emori had have it) - Indra said Calrke had her hands full with Russell’s execution, even though it wasn’t clear why she’d have to be the one to organize it (especially since Indra herself seems to be capable of dealing with the politics) and Clarke didn’t look too busy the rest of the episode.

I’m glad we’re done with the plot of Madi being Heda or having to pretend to be Heda. Although I’m sure this will haunt her still, because she has memories of other Commanders - including Becca and Sheidheda, and she may find it the easiest to recognize SH, because she knows him better than anyone.

I completely understand why Clarke wasn’t going to let Madi order Wonkru members to perform such a dangerous task - she doesn’t want to let Madi feel responsible for sending people to their deaths, feel the same guilt she did, but at an even younger age.

Gaia telling the truth both was and wasn’t the right thing to do - morally right, but with potentially terrible consequences, if no welders had been found. Here’s a song for her by one of my favorite bands. On the other hand, Raven lied to people in the name of necessity and the greater good of them all, and achieved her goal but ended up sending people to their deaths, and felt the consequences of lying.

One revelation I really liked is that the guy from Sangedakru thinks of the infamous Dark Commander as “Sangedakru’s greatest champion”. That feels a lot more realistic than the idea that all Grounders hate him and think of him as a monster - even though their culture is based on war and killing, and we’ve seen other Grounder leaders (Queen Nia) be just as ruthless. Sheidheda being from another clan helps makes sense of Indra’s story from 6x13 of the time SH “took Trikru” and was going from village to village and killing everyone who refused to kneel. I’ve been wondering for a long time what exactly Heda were commanding before Lexa united the clans. I suppose they were trying to command, but clans were still divided and preferred Hedas from their own. And it seems that Sheidheda was also trying to ‘unite’ the clans, but not by negotiations! Of course he is considered a monster by people from all the other clans, whom he was killing and torturing and trying to conquer, but is still remembered as a hero by his own clan. Of course. That’s how it usually goes.

Small moments of Sheidheda enjoying the fact he’s corporeal again - from touching his own arms to eating a cookie - are a nice touch.

I like the fact that Sheidheda is smart and much sneakier than the pompous Russell was. He had to be smart to be able to manipulate the AI in the way no other Commander could, not even Becca, its creator, ti isolate the other Commanders, get control of Madi, and later download himself to Russell’s mind drive. SH was also using the captivity to read some of the books he’s found and apparently gain some technical knowledge about Sanctum,

Delilah’s parents are finally back. I don’t think we had seen them since they killed Priya. And Trey (the annoying “adjustor” who was brainwashing Jordan) can go f(ck himself. Really? Blaming Delilah’s parents for avenging her death?

I’m still unsure where exactly the show is going with Jordan. His brainwashing will have to be addressed at some point. It may not have been fully successful - he doesn’t think of the Primes as gods - but it was sure enough for him to stop despising them as murderers and to start believing their BS (and even to form some sort of attachment to Priya). If he weren’t brainwashed, he’d be spending time with Delilah’s grieving parents, rather than the people who worship her murderers. Right now, the show is playing it ambiguously, so some people may even forget about brainwashing and just see Jordan as a gullible naive guy (which he is, of course, he grew up just interacting with his parents) or as Jordan sees himself, as a moral compass/substitute for his father. Someone should tell him that Monty was never naive and knew when it was necessary to fight and kill, even though he hated it and tried to avoid it. Maybe realizing that he’s been manipulated by the Devout and by SH will be a wake-up call.

Jackson has had more character focus in S7 than he had for seasons - the mild doctor now wants revenge for his mentor-mother figure. Good to see more focus on his and Miller’s relationship, including their arguments. What Jackson said about Miller seems to have hurt Miller, who’s still feeling guilty for his role in the Blodreina regime. Maybe this Mackson disagreement contributes to Miller deciding to leave, to prove something to himself, and save Bellamy this time, since he didn’t do it in season 5.

Memori continue to be adorable. and we learn that Raven having no respect for her friends’ privacy is a recurring thing. Another snippet about the life on the Ring.

There was one line that didn’t make sense to me. Raven to Murphy: “Go do your job, be Emori’s moral anchor”. What?! Isn’t it usually the exact opposite?

Speaking of couples - Hatch called Nikki “Honey bunny”. That has to be a Pulp Fiction reference. Raven got the job done here, but I feel like Hatch’s death will have dire consequences for the possibility of peace in Sanctum. Both because he was the more optimistic and tolerant one, willing to expect good and to try to work to earn respect, and because Nikki is now going to be even angrier and more extreme. And just like we had different views about Sheidheda among the Grounders, here we see different views among prisoners about McCreary - Hatch calls him a jackass he won’t miss, but Nikki thinks he would have fought for the rights and better treatment of the prisoners. (I wonder what any of them have been told about Diyoza.)

“Welcome to the world of grey”

A few more words about Raven’s storyline -

One thing that bothers me about this storyline is the idea that this is the first time Raven is in the "world of grey". I guess the writing staff Murphy doesn't remember that time when she tried to give him to the Grounders to be tortured and killed in Finn's place for a crime Finn committed. She also tried to get Clarke to kill Lexa and start a war over Finn in that same episode, basically to sacrifice a bunch of people for him. There was also that time when she tortured Lincoln with electric shocks to save Finn. Or that time when she was withholding medicine from the dying people, including a dying child, because of rationing. Or the time when she was ready to turn the plug on 283 prisoners in cryo sleep. Or when she gave Echo an OK to kill Shaw, her ally, in season 5.

But all this got forgotten because she's never before had to deal with the consequences of her actions. Lincoln didn't die, the others stopped her from turning over Murphy and Finn gave himself up, Clarke opted to mercy kill Finn and do what's best for everyone instead, Murphy stole the meds and gave them to Abby so the child was given the medicine but died anyway, they didn't have to - and then couldn't - kill the prisoners in their sleep, Echo did not kill Shaw...

There were also plenty of times when Raven gave others the responsibility - like when she decided Clarke needed to make the list of 100 people who'll get to survive Praimfaya in the Arkadia as shelter (while passively aggressively bashing her at the same time, which was weird: "I'm in charge of rationing, but deciding who lives or dies is your specialty"), and then Clarke got blamed for it.U

Now, the writers (going by Jason's recent interview where he said that Raven had never done anything morally wrong in the first 6 seasons) seem to have forgotten about it - which I guess is why they wrote her as a self-righteous moralizer in season 6 - unintentionally making her really hypocritical. Which I hated, because she used to be one of my favorite characters, but became quite hard to like in season 6.

The way I see it, it’s best to ignore ridiculous BTS statements of the writers when those statements don’t match canon. I’m all for “Death of the Author” in that case, at least. If we just ignore it, Raven’t entire arc starts making more sense. Maybe they had some weird idea that they were writing her as the moral compass of the show in season 6 (but people who have acted as a moral compass usually don’t say things like “I’ve never done anything wrong in my life!” and refuse to acknowledge their own mistakes), but I’ve always interpreted Raven’s behavior in S6 as lashing out - she was hurting and lashing out, because she had been betrayed by her substitute mom Abby in the same way and for the same reasons as her real mom; she also felt betrayed by Clarke; and then she lost Shaw, the one person who would have put her first, so she felt she had no one left who would. (Though she did get better later in the season, making up with Abby, acting less judgmental and making up with Clarke. )

This is either the show course-correcting her earlier characterization, or fixing a long-standing flaw - Raven’s tendency to be harsh and judgmental to others, which had already been there before season 6. This was seen in this episode, too, from some of her disparaging comments to Murphy, to her contempt for the Eligius prisoners (not that this isn’t understandable, with the fact that she had been tortured by McCreary’s men).

So this feels like an important step in Raven starting to face the world of grey she often tried to see as black and white, and for once be in a situation where she has, almost directly, caused people’s deaths, by decisions she made on her own.

(The show also seems to be course-correcting a few other things about Raven: she looks more like her old self, she has gotten back some of her snark, and the show is showing her disability more - after having largely ignored it for the last couple of seasons.)

To be fair to Raven, she did not know from the start that she was sending Hatch and others to their deaths. She had assumed at first that the task would be dangerous, but not lethal. When she realized it was, the men were already irradiated, and it was necessary to fix the reactor so it would not kill everyone. The bigger problem was that Raven had lied - because she did not respect these people enough to give them an opportunity to maybe volunteer while knowing what the danger was. I think that Hatch, at least, still would have. He did prove smarter than she thought but realizing what was going on, while she was still lying to them that they weren’t going to die in minutes, and, contrary to what she had assumed - he did still want to fix the reactor, in spite of knowing he’d die, to save someone he loved. Raven also showed a similar disrespect towards Murphy - locking him inside to get the job done. It feels like this is something that has never been fully resolved between them - the fact that Murphy was a POS in season 1 and crippled Raven, but also, that she was fully prepared to give him to the Grounders to be tortured and killed in Finn’s place. I feel like this is going to make her start thinking differently and maybe give people the benefit of a doubt.

I knew Nikki was going to beat the crap out of Raven from the trailer, but I didn’t know what her reasons would be. It felt like Raven herself almost wanted this as punishment, because she felt guilty, and would rather take a beating than comfort (”Don’t touch me!”) And I’m sure Raven can understand how Nikki feels, since she has lost Shaw so recently, and Finn before.

I liked Hatch’s conversation with Murphy and the parallels Murphy could see there - Hatch and Nikki were another Bonnie and Clyde-style thief or rather robber duo.... except it went too far and they became murderers. Which Memori were not... but Murphy was a murderer even in season 1. In season 6, Murphy died and thought he had gone to hell for his sins, so it must have resonated with him when Hatch replied that, no, he wasn’t looking for redemption, because “There is no making up for it”.

Body count: James (RIP to yet another Arker from Wonkru, though we first met him in 6x02), his Sanctum girlfriend, and 4 Eligius prisoners including Hatch (which means that 32 remain).

Rating: 7/10

#the 100 #the 100 7x03 #false gods #the 100 season 7 #raven reyes #john murphy #emori #clarke griffin #gaia kom trikru #sheidheda #jordan green #indra kom trikru

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joseqhine · 4 years

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JOSEPHINE’S AUDITION: lady macbeth

ooc note: josie is auditioning for the role of lady macbeth, but let me make this clear - i do not want her to get that role. if josie is going to do any sort of growing/learn any humility over the course of the semester, then she needs to be challenged and step out of the spotlight a bit. her audition is obviously not perfect, but she is still a good actress, so i suppose i wouldn’t go so far as to say she gets an unimportant role, but just not a lead. she doesn’t deserve it! :)

Josephine felt as if she were floating high above her body as she waltzed into the audition room, taking her place on the stage with a dazzling smile and yet feeling ever so empty inside. With glazed eyes, she looked somewhere past the table that had been set to watch her. She wasn’t all there - she was disconnected. Disjointed. Fragments of her had been scattered across the stage, the rest were forming piles of dust around the grave of Orson Hobbs. That was who her mind had decided to focus on as she’d stepped through the door - not herself, not Heidi, not even Lady Macbeth. Orson Hobbs. He has a hold on you even when he’s six feet under. Perhaps even moreso. For three and a half years, Josephine had stepped into the audition room and felt at peace, she’d locked eyes with her director and flashed him her signature smile, she’d given her monologue like it was just idle conversation and she’d allowed herself to be showered in praise before leaving, knowing exactly where her name would sit when the cast list was released. But now, it was different. Now, she came in with him on her mind, and when she smiled, it wasn’t at Orson, but at a woman who wasn’t so easily fooled by a flash of pearly whites.

Nothing was certain now, was it? Auditions had once been the easiest thing in the world for Josephine. She walked out with an easy smile because she knew where she belonged and that she was going to get there, but this audition wasn’t like the others, because it was filled with uncertainty. All week Josie had been spewing the words of Lady Macbeth just simply to get them in her head, but she hadn’t really been preparing - she’d forgotten, for those few blissful days, that the ground she stood on was no longer so solid. When Harry had let slip that name, Orson, Josephine had been thrown back into a reality she didn’t want to face - a reality where she should’ve tried much harder to prepare for this audition. With her smile still placed on her lips and her glazed eyes still settled just above Heidi’s head, Josephine began. “My name is Josephine Flores and today I will be auditioning for the role of Lady Macbeth.” Unable to help herself, Josephine’s eyes fell and landed on her new director, whose eyes were boring into her. In fact, Heidi didn’t even break eye contact to take note of what Josie had just said. She continued to look at her, eyes slightly narrowed, brow slightly furrowed, her lips pursed as though she was considering her student. Josephine hated it. All she could think of was just how badly she wished it was Orson who was looking at her now - Orson was the only one who was allowed to look at Josephine like that.

Feeling as though she must continue, Josie smiled wider still and pressed on. “I will be performing for you Lady Macbeth’s soliloquy from Act 5, Scene I of Macbeth.” At this, Heidi’s eyebrows shot up, and she finally broke eye contact to jot something down in her notes. Josephine paused. She knew this was the predictable route - she knew that others would think it utterly ridiculous - but when she’d chosen it, she hadn’t cared. She knew what she could perfect, and she knew that it was this monologue. There was no use hiding behind a role that wasn’t what she was already ridiculously good at. And up until now, she hadn’t even questioned it. But now… silence rang through the FAB in the few seconds after Josephine spoke. She was waiting for his words, waiting for Orson’s thunderous voice to fill the theatre and his gorgeous smile to tell her she had chosen a wonderful piece, and she was going to perfect it. But he’s not here. And you’re left standing alone, not even his ghost to comfort you. You’re alone. He’s not here. And you’re not here. You’re far away. You’re six feet under.

Allowing her smile to melt into something more chilling, Josephine began. “Out, damned spot! Out, I say!” Her words echoed through the cavern of the theatre, the role of Lady Macbeth falling easily over her like a comforting cloak. “-- One, two. Why, then, ‘tis time to do ‘t. Hell is murky!” This was it. This was what Josephine did. She filled the stage with her presence, she lit up an audience with her words. She was at home in this role, though it wasn’t because there was any particular affinity to what Lady Macbeth was going through. She was at home because she was center stage. She was the leading lady in a play that had been put on for centuries, she was the star with the spotlight shone directly on her. Josephine didn’t see any connection to Lady Macbeth’s situation, and when she fell into the role, it wasn’t because she was becoming Lady Macbeth. She was good, but her goal was always to entertain. She craved the applause. And she was sensational. Any audience would be lucky to see her.

And that was when Josie’s eyes fell on her audience. And something in her began to shake. Her audience… not him. Not him. Not him. But her. And she wasn’t him. She could never be him. How dare she sit in his seat! How dare she take on this role when Orson was always meant to be the lead! Heidi wasn’t even an understudy - she was a background character. And she should be ashamed to call herself director when the real director’s life had been cut short. How dare she.

The sight of Heidi set a clear pause in Josephine’s performance. For three seconds that lasted far too long, something fell away. Josephine was hollow. It was not just Lady Macbeth that was gone - it was Josephine herself. She was just a body on a stage, not even a ghost. Like he is now. Just a body in a grave, not even a ghost. He’s gone. And you’re gone too.

Josephine finished her monologue faster than she had ever rehearsed and moved to stand back in the middle of the stage, not even a pretend smile lighting up her face any more. Her jaw set as she stood to look at Heidi, and Heidi stared right back. They were both silent for a moment. Seconds passing, silence between them, but their eyes staring at each other. Josephine’s eyes were filled with disgust. Heidi’s seem to be filled with disappointment.

“Did you have anything else prepared?” Heidi’s voice finally cut through the silence, and Josie glared at her, arms lying limp at her sides though they ached desperately to cross over her chest.

“No,” Josephine retorted, staring still at her director who continued to stare right back.

“Do you want to be here right now, Miss Flores?”

Josephine paused. The question caught her off guard. Of course you don’t. Anywhere but here. Somewhere with him. “What makes you ask that?” She questioned, unable to answer the question as politely as she knew she should.

“I get the feeling something is wrong, Josephine. Like perhaps you know what you have done is not enough. But I don’t believe that you don’t care - from what I have heard, you are a wonderful performer. And you enjoy being here. So why, then, would you give me this performance? What are you thinking of, when you prepare and when you perform and when you are standing here in front of me now?”

Something in Josephine swelled. How dare she speak to her this way. She didn’t have the right. She doesn’t know you. Orson knows you. And you would never have let him down.

“You’re not him.” Josie’s jaw was taught and her lips were tight as narrowed eyes stared down Heidi. “You will never be him. Orson knows who I am. He knows that I am good. Orson would never sit there and try to tell me I hadn’t done enough. He tells me I’m the best because I am the best. You ask what I’m thinking of when I prepare, and when I perform - I think about how I am better than anyone else who will come and stand on this stage for you, and I think about how I deserve to be here more than anyone else. I think about how Orson will tell me I am not just good, but great.” Josephine knew she had a short temper - she knew this - but she didn’t care. If Heidi wanted an explanation, then she would get one.

Heidi paused once more and looked one final time at Josephine, studying her as if with a new set of eyes. “You’re right, Josephine. I’m not Orson. I will never be Orson. But I think you need to realise that unfortunately, Orson is gone. You cannot search for his approval anymore - it is my approval that matters, not that of a dead man. You can stand there and tell me you are great all you want, but I need to see that for myself. I need you to show me.” Heidi’s calm voice trailed off before she offered Josie a small smile and a wave of her hand. “That will be all. Thank you for coming in today.”

ORSON IS GONE. And Josephine is lost without him.

#| ❛ everyone saw a princess but inside she was on fire. ❜ ( character study. )#ensembletask #i wrote and posted this after like 1 readthrough im sorry its a mess DHJSAKLGHJSKA

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sole-cuore-amore-e-droga · 5 years

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Tel Aviv 2019: Straight outta Denmark to Eurovision with a cute multilingual jingle

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Dansk Melodi Grand Prix is... a NF I don’t really have anything to say about. Like, you expect me to rile up 3 big paragraphs about the pre-NF dramas and what-not, but honestly... what’s the point.

Well, aside from the fact people did not really get excited over the lineup this year. Me neither from the names alone, actually. Even last year was more interesting to look at despite with another lineup of songs you can’t give a fuck about and then move on - I noticed they had Sannie who used to be known as Whigfield (”Saturday Night” <3333 the duck quacks <333), Ditte Marie (anyone remembers “Overflow” from 2012?) and Albin Fredy (which seems to be the same Albin that brought me my one of the two DMGP 2013 favourite songs, “Beautiful to Me”???). This year was a big “WHO IS SHE?? WHERE DID YOU FIND HER???”, so I just left DMGP in the corner where it picked cobwebs until not too long ago when someone got chosen.

Well, this NF keeps being a NF where I don’t personally feel too emotionally fucked about any of them entries, so that’s a big plus in my book, which will mean that I won’t throw a “THIS WAS ROBBED!!!1″ post on Denmark NF-wise... at least this year and the last year because I really loved “Venter” in 2012 and the said “Beautiful to Me” and “Invincible” in 2013 (I also liked “Only Teardrops” but I was mad its victory was so obvious xD). As for why I like it when the NFs don’t toy with my feelings, A Dal 2019 is an obvious demonstration, but more on that on my Hungarian writeup, which is significantly longer than this one - that’s how much of a demonstration it is.

Anyway, let’s talk about the chosen song, shall we? Performed by a smol skater girlie Leonora (Jepsen), here comes “Love Is Forever”, which was co-penned by the ever-so-notorious Lise Cabble - the champ-mastress of writing Eurovision songs for the Danes (by that I mean she wrote their 1995 entry... and then none of her entries got chosen for ESC until 2011 lol). And this is a significally softer turn of hers compared to “Only Teardrops” - ever since Anna Ritsmar in 2018′s DMGP, she tends to write cute, acoustic tunes sung by young ladies with their lil cute and lil crispy voices. “Love Is Forever” is just that, tbh.

Well THAT and also it sounds like a lovely acoustic background song for those funny photos/student quotes/test answers/etc. compilation videos on Youtube (I actually am talking about the channel Scoop, because other kinds of compilation videos use Youtube Audio Library-like pop songs or something straight off NoCopyrightSounds). Or the theme song for a TV programme for animals. Or the theme song for a children's programme they show at hospitals. There's so many places you can insert it into, I guess. At the same time it feels like a cupcake with pink frosting that tastes nice. And a cup of warm cocoa with whipped cream and sprinkles. It's a delightful bite. Yum.

Realistically though, the song itself has an easy noddable-along-to rhythm, cute violin string plucks, the capability to melodically progress to sound even more joyful (I mean, the chorus just adds more and more layers of brass as it keeps repreating, just giving it a bit more of a typical Scoop channel background music material), the D flat major key of this song’s uplifts the spirits of this whole shebang and it also somehow includes lines in some more languages than expected in a Danish song ever, how odd it seems like??? And it’s especially given that we haven’t really heard Danish in a song since like what, 1997?? We only got “shout insh’allah” and “taka stökk til hærri jörð, taka” ever since then, and these aren’t remotely Danish lines. But this year we’re getting some Danish, and French, and even German. Feeling the love in multilingual. L’amour est pour toujours, y’all! Liebe IST für alle da!

There are also people that aren’t buying into the song all that much because Leonora looks way too creepy to sell a song about love love peace peace, like someone emerging out of a demented cabaret. I suppose that other people think that this song was forced onto Leonora when she didn’t really want it, and now has to pretend that we have to spread love to the world, make friendships with others, don’t get too political, and then act all supercool about it. The saddest bit that she does sound like that person that would sing a song like that... young, with a passion for skating, looks like a person that could probably hug you when you least expect it, the one that posts light purple sweater pictures with a glitter effect applied to them on Tumblr, the one who would wear white mittens with a giant red snowflake painted on/knitted into them... I don’t know if that’s all Leonora wanted to compete with in DMGP to make a breakthrough with her singing career after skating so darn much, and if she even believes in what is she singing (this is my rare reminder of the war situation in Israel that’s going on, and I’ll probably never have to speak of this again in any writeup, hopefully. Yeah sure, love is for ever...), but I somehow buy it, sue me. Those acoustics and that touch of brass instruments won me over.

So my final thoughts on this song is that it’s a joyball with that kind of song message so overused I cannot be angry on it because it’s not slapped on a dreary Russian peace ballad - it’s a singer-songwriter-esque small showtune, which makes it all seem a lot different because love is cute and this song is cute. So I guess I have no issues with it, whereas I can’t stand the aforementioned Russian peace ballads all that much because if you remove the good singers singing it, they’re cliché af; “Wars for Nothing” (Hungary 2015) sounded too innocent while having a full gun tree serving as a backdrop for them and if you looked too much into Boggie’s eyes, you could very well feel her penetrating your soul with war imagery; and Iceland last year was a knock-off Russian peace ballad that sounded too good to be unbearably dreary and the vocalist wasn’t even a belting girl. So yeah, I like it. More adorable songs about spreading love, less overdone ballads about world peace.

Thing is though, why did she really dress like a barista from a late-night-open cocktail club? I get that looking like a princess à la Maria Olafs won't cut it anymore as it would look way more saccharine, but Leonora is up like she's there to serve you your damn drink as soon as possible so she could go outside for a small smoke break, not to advertise love. Watch me make "when you have Eurovision at 9 and job at a cocktail bar at 11" memes on the night of the 16th. Seriously, her image barely even fucking suits the song!

Approval factor: Well, one of my faves won DMGP again, for the 2nd time in a row, so why wouldn’t I approve? ^_^ Love from me is forever!

Follow-up factor: For Denmark it kind of seems like a decent follow-up? For all those out here that remember Denmark as the nation that plagiarises every other entry, it would just seem logical for them to finally send a generic royalty free ukulele song for Youtube videos. Which is spectacular! No one knows which song did this one exactly plagiarize - the entire concept was ripped off! Jokes aside, it’s an interesting one after Rasmussen. After a song that urges you to lay your weapons down in a war and go find higher ground more peacefully, we’re now getting a morale on the fact that love is for ever and everyone. Isn’t it sweet. I’d rather these than a bland love song about laying down armours and guns. ^_^

Qualification factor: depends. For now I feel like writing it off because to the 1% of the people who’ve already heard this song beforehand and hate this song, the whole thing feels like “love :) is :) forever :) please love everyone you little shit :) :) :)”. To some others however, like Luke Malam from ESCXtra, it’s a song that definitely makes them feel the love being forever, just like “yaaaay we love each other and the world yaaaay!!! ^o^”, so it’s perhaps a bit of a mixed bag. I wanna see it through though, just as much as I want to see Lithuania, about which I will be talking next in these write-ups. But I see it very much so as a borderline because... idk, just a gut feeling. Sometimes songs that ooze loveliness just don’t quite get themselves across the other hand side of the viewer thus they don’t really qualify, for example, Finland 2012, another song sung by a lady better known as a sportswoman rather than a singer (but maybe that’s just because there was too much intimacy of hers with her and her celloist’s mom, and she looked too awkward to pass the intimacy to the viewers so they too could feel the loving bond and the life metaphors coming from a Finnish entrant singing in Swedish). For now from me it’s a positive borderline. Yes, I think that it probably will make it and we’ll see that large Ikea chair prop with many people swaying to the rhythm on it next to Leonora on Saturday as well.

NATIONAL FINAL BONUS

Even with me not having much to say about DMGP, I will go ahead and cherrypick the favourite songs from the event:

• The big favourite of mine this year was brought by Julie & Nina, who served a bilingual schlager-like midtempo track, “League of Light”. Hats off to sounding properly Eurovision-y but without using a “rent-a-NF-songwriter” songwriter for to write this! It’s soaring, majestic, somewhat memorable and inclused Greenlandic. Yeah. Do you believe that this would have been a year where we could’ve gotten more exotic Language spins? Now we have lost both Aboriginal and Greenlandic out of Eurovision, hopefully just for this year so the languages can return again sometime. I’m proud of these women being so courageous and delighting some that really wanted schlager pop that still can click with some that are bored of Eurovision NF schlager cliches. Oh and this song is in A flat minor, probably one of my favourite keys in music. Not too bad, everything this was, although the aggression they transmitted through the song during their live DMGP performance kiiiiinda made them looked like pissed-off housewives imo?

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• Them both and this guy below, Sigmund, were picked to the superfinal to compete against Leonora. What was Sigmund’s contribution and why did he deserve to be there so much? Well, I really love his colourful flamboyant electropop track that has piano influences, “Say My Name”, which lyrically reflects on the song’s protagonists big power that he will probably have if only the invisible force Sigmund’s singing to would just “say [his] name”. And I definitely think he deserved his spot over some really nice pop entries that the fandom definitely overrated. Oh and the song is in A flat minor too. Maybe I’m biased, maybe I’m not. You judge. >:)

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• See, I don't feel like talking about the DMGP songs this year. It's a cool bunch of songs that some of them I like but nothing quite outstanding to talk about beyond those I already have paragraphs for. Well maybe you'd like to look up the entries by Humorekspressen (for to get a pub singalong song) and Jasmine Gabay (for to get yet another Latino-influenced Havana club track). But that's it. Here from me the last one you'll be getting is Simone Emilie with her teen-flavoured light radiofriendly dance-ish song "Anywhere". Why didn't it do better despite having the power to click with the Eurofans quite much? Well, maybe it's because her backdrop and the fairytale-esque dress went for another kind of atmosphere than it was required to have on the song.

• I don't know, I just find this particular winning reaction shot funny. Not sure if she's yawning or being like "yaaaazs bitchesss ;) 😄 ✨" in here. I gotta say - her lipstick was definitely on fleek that night.

That guy below her takes the cake at making this shot memorable too. Do you want the invisible meal Leonora is about to take a bite of too?

And besides that moment I don’t really have any on-show moments besides songs that were somewhat memorable. Why do Danes always have to be this vanilla in the Nordic country barrage, I will never get. That’s it. That’s their crime. Of being average. And being sued for plagiarism a lot in the past.

For now I’d just wish Leonora good luck in Tel Aviv and show ‘em that love can and will prevail before hatred does, if only people remember to love... ah wait, wrong kind of philosophy.

#eurovision 2019 #tel aviv 2019 reviews #denmark 2019 #leonora #love is forever #denmark

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namelessblacksheep · 5 years

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WHY WE NEED A REVOLUTION

Growing up I recall a soft drink advert where they used to make the claim ‘the revolution will not be televised’. Given all the crap we see on TV these days I kind of hope that it is.

Don’t get me wrong, a revolution does not have to be a long series of riots or violence. It could be something completely different, but something that leads to a shift. Who knows maybe something akin to a revolution is actually taking place.

The reason I feel we need something akin to a revolution is that bubbling away under the surface of life is deep unhappiness. In the past decade or two so many things have been surfaced that have shocked us.

Across the globe, politics has quite frankly gone bat shit crazy. Unrest and discomfort in daily life are becoming the norm.

We had a global financial crisis that didn’t correct any of the wrongs that underpinned it.

On a weekly basis, we are learning that the people we celebrate and reward so highly, flout their positions and commit heinous harms. Justice is never likely to be served.

Huge corporations and powerful individuals continue to increase the divide between the haves and have nots.

It’s as if all of the rich and powerful have totally forgotten the concept of ‘with great power comes responsibility’. Failure is richly rewarded for some, irrespective of the cost it brings.

The masses though are placated with toys and avenues to keep them from rising up. I have never witnessed such a monumentally awesome age of great television. Fuck the real world problems out there, I’ve got several hundred hours of Netflix marathons to get through.

Then you feel a bit guilty that you are failing in your civic duty, so you decide to send an ironic GIF to Donald Trump – you know doing your bit.

You could cancel your Amazon Prime account and vote with your feet, but then you’d have to wait a few days for your deliveries.

You’d use a search engine to find a different provider, but you like Google. Google knows you so well that when you start typing shit it predicts what you want and you don’t need to hit another key.

It doesn’t scare you at all, not even the fact that you clearly have an Asian babes obsession or some of the suggestions are a bit worrying.

Sure, someone else could get right on that issue. Politicians for instance. They should be sorting this shit out, except they are far too busy trying to pretend to rule the world and avoid answering difficult questions.

Be honest. We are quite simply fucked right now. A revolution might be exactly what we need.

You may be in need of a little more convincing. You know as you are sat there skipping words and sentences for a quick fix that tells you whether this is worth your time or not.

5 minutes of your time, taking you from your busy life. The one where you're a battery plugged into a system that is fucking you every day. At least it all fits conveniently into your phone, I guess.

So, here it goes.

People have become weak

Everybody seems to be offended, like, all of the time. You can’t say shit anymore without someone either correcting you or reminding you of the new rules of engagement that nobody agreed to.

If you are one of these people, don’t be offended when I say that you are total Thundercunt. Seriously, I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

If you came here hoping to find something to annoy you, then you aren’t paying attention. Unplug your earphones and look at the world around you. It’s fucked. You could focus your efforts on doing something productive even if that’s being a better person, or a little less sensitive.

There’s plenty to be pissed about. People don’t want to focus on the big stuff that matters. They’d rather freak the fuck out about inconsequential nonsense that bruises their fragile egos.

We need a revolution so that we can all ‘man the fuck up’ (sorry feminazis) and start fixing shit like we’re Bob the Builder (or Betty if it makes you feel better).

We need to change the news narrative. Anyone else bored to tears with the daily Brexit coverage? Seriously, this storyline is more drawn out than the whole Ross and Rachael will-they-won’t-they saga.

For all the super-intelligent University educated geniuses that just graduated and have no fucking idea who Ross or Rachael are, go check out a TV show called ‘Friends’. It’s probably on the History channel these days anyway.

Brexit is like an un-flushable turd. A repetitive narrative that papers and broadcasters trot out every day. Seriously, this shite is more convoluted and contrived than the X Factor. It’s the epitome of the lowest form of entertainment and we need to change the record.

Whether you are for a Sunnyside-up Brexit or a Brexit with a side of Unicorn steak, I couldn’t give a damn. A revolution might at the very least give us all something new to get excited about and something we could all rally behind.

We need unity not division

Issues like politics, sport, and even mild banter have become so immersed in the underlying anger we're silently drowning in that no one seems able to have fun anymore.

I cannot remember a time when so many comedians couldn’t make a decent joke about the moronic state of the world and instead make sniping remarks to canned laughter.

Every decent sporting event seems to get overrun with people’s inability to enjoy the spectacle for what it is. Social media and chat forums are littered with petulant hatred and jingoistic tribal bullshit. The Brexit ‘have your say’ plays out like an anthem of bitterness with new vitriolic names invented every day.

We are descending into a bunch of spoiled children who express their pent up feelings through sending passive aggressive memes, angry hashtags and all manner of confusing emojis to make some innocuous point.

We are slowly becoming a mathematician with a broken calculator to solve all our problems. It can’t always be about division (see what I did there).

This diversity bullshit just isn’t working, let’s try something new like a bit of unity. You know: adding shit up to something bigger. I’m fairly sure Einstein would approve, and he was a smart guy.

Some folks need something better to do

If you spend most of your life sitting on your butt. You have all your stuff delivered to your door and your thoughts delivered to your phone or through your TV or laptop – you need a revolution.

We can call it a hobby or a social bonding activity. It’ll be a bit weird because all your new ‘friends’ might not look exactly like you, but you might learn a thing or two about the real world you live in.

Echo chambers are nice and safe because everyone in them thinks the same stuff. However, the real world is full of people ready to blow your mind in more than 140 characters or a 5-minute blog post. It could be exciting.

If you need convincing, watch the Matrix. Neo was simply sad old Thomas Anderson miserable as fuck, then he met Morpheus and learned to fly and loads of other cool shit.

If you already know what you think and it makes you comfortable to surround yourself with other people just like you, perhaps you should just join a cult and be done with it.

The system is broken

Seriously, guys, we have seriously screwed the pooch with the world at the moment.

The system’s broken and we are all just standing around waiting for inevitability to prevail.

The Avengers won't be coming to save us. Anyone who saw last year’s movie knows they are a bit down on their luck at the moment.

Thanos’ minions seem to be running the world and we all need to step up and become superheroes in our own right.

If you want to whip out the Lycra or Spandex – go for it. But do something, even if it’s just being better or not throwing hate out to the world because someone is different from you.

I don’t care if the revolution happens or even if it is streamed on Netflix or some other site. Change needs to happen and often that is as simple as everyone trying to be less of a douchebag than they might have normally been.

The only thing I can offer as a ‘reward’ or promise is that we might actually get some decent music back on the scene.

Revolutions tend to come out best in song. There has been no truly great era of music for decades now, and if ever there was a more compelling reason for a revolution this would be it.

Music is the anthem of the soul. It’s time for it to wake up and belt out something beautiful.

#writing #humour #revolution #quick #change

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ben-j-man · 6 years

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Secret War- Chapter 4

According to my wrist chron the wait in the line lasted only fifteen minutes, but for me, it felt like a whole frigging hour, did I say I hated waiting in lines? I did? Good so now it's doubly emphasised.

When we stood in between slight steps, I tapped the tip of my shoe on the rockcrete and the whole way I smoked Lho as my attention darted around like quicksilver. About halfway through the line, Elandria hissed at me: "really could you stand still for more than three seconds?"

I blew out smoke and replied simplistically, "no."

She kept quiet after that, perhaps Elandria was smarter than I gave her credit for perhaps she was aware it was an intended ironic echo of her own catchphrase and then I made a mental note that I should make use of her "whatever" more often.

Once we had finally made it to the end of the line, I whispered in Elandria's ear, "let me do the talking."

"Whatever," she hissed back "just be careful not to knock out the Moody Hammer with one of your nervous twitches."

I pursed my lips, that actually wasn't a bad idea I had yet to come up with a decent plan for starting this brawl. Just looking over the line alone I decided that this task would be easier said than done, sure I could pick a fight with one patron easily enough but initialising the needed chaos would be a challenge. The majority of the patrons were upper-class dandies who I doubted had ever taken part in a full-on bar brawl in their pampered lives. If it was a lower hive bar, well enough said really.

We approached the colossal hammer standing at the door, that despite his low browed, vat-grown, square-jawed appearance that a lot of his kind has his hooded, beady eyes gleaned a slight modicum of intelligence. He wore a suit not dissimilar to my own, and he held a data slate in his huge, meaty paw. I quickly noted the large, black tattoo on his neck which showed he belonged to the "Greasers" a local gang who was one of the first our intelligence had reported being reeled into Brutis Bone's little alliance. The holstered las pistol barely was hidden under his blazer, the Microbead in his ear and not just that but two more huge hammers standing inside the shadowy entrance to the club.

The Hammer smiled a surprisingly welcoming, toothy smile and gave us both friendly nods, "Sir, Mamzel may I ask that you state your names please."

"Indeed," I said, I may have put on a hammy performance earlier for Elandria's sake but as Glaitis taught me the true art in undercover acting is subtlety. To not get carried away and not let stereotypes rule your mindset, but that is of course unless the role calls for it "I am Autius Davian-Meggs, and this lovely young woman is Riculia Harviad."

As I said this, the Hammer scrolled down his data slate, "...Sir Autius Davian-Meggs and mamzel Riculia Harviad you are indeed on the list. Welcome to the Twilight bar and may you enjoy your time here."

"Thank you and we will," I smirked slightly as Elandria, and I turned into the club. I was not surprised at the doorman's professionalism and politeness it would be a given for a club this high up and well known but the colleagues in the entrance way did not share the doorman's friendliness I could feel them glare at us, suspicious and unyielding with bulky arms folded in an "intimidating" fashion.

I pretended to ignore them, and I assumed that they wouldn't treat their regular customers in such fashion (or else that their "bar" would have closed down a long time ago) evidence so far was pointing to this being more and more to be a Brutis Bones operation.

This could also prove that our rival organisation knows our faces at least.

I glanced over my shoulder at the doorman and saw him talking intently, his index finger placed against the microbead in his ear.

We followed through the three-metre-wide corridor; the hologram planning had proven right; the hallway curled subtly to the north-west. The steel walls dulled down into a dark crimson, metallic sheen and the walls trembled in time with the bass line. The way the building little advanced is that the main entrance's corridor splits the club in half starting from the south-east and ending in the northern corner, according to the information gathered the west side of the building was the private area for the VIP's and the east general club and bar.

"So? Do you have any kind of plan yet?" Elandria hissed right in my ear her soft voice causing me to start slightly from my thoughts.

"Some semblance..." I said twisting my pinkie finger in my ear.

"Which means nothing?"

"No it means what it means "some semblance," I'll think of something, I'm...Adaptable."

"Adaptable? Is that what you are calling it now?"

Before I could make a reply, my pocket vibrated, and swiftly I reached in and slid the small listening device in my ear.

"We're in," I said, though I knew that they would already know.

"Good work," Castella's voice came from the tiny speaker, "Where are you now?"

"Still in the corridor, not yet through the second security station the one with the metal detectors," I said "I find this place very interesting this is, very...Pretentious I can almost smell the pretentiousness in the air."

I heard Castella giggle on the other side, "what do you expect when it's called the Twilight Bar?"

"Well I expected that the main corridor would be darker and be more of a reference to its namesake, perhaps the building itself hates what it's called so much, so somehow, through sheer force of will, rejected it."

Again Castella laughed, "Alright, alright you know the drill you have four of these devices make sure you drop one in this corridor and another at the second station on your way in the other two keep with you and Elandria so we can communicate with you inside "

"Yes we know, we know didn't you just say that I knew the drill yourself?"

"I did, but as you know one can never be too careful, you know, just in case good luck and may the god-Emperor's virtue be with you."

Then she cut the link.

Immediately I halted my walk, slipped off of Elandria, pulled one of the listening devices out from my pocket. Took off the back adhesive and stuck it against the wall. Immediately the advanced, little piece of tech camouflaged its self in the wall's colour, texture all but invisible to the naked eye.

"One down and just one to go," said standing back to full height and offering my arm back to Elandria, "may we move my dear?"

Elandria begrudgingly took it and growled "if you call me "my dear" one more time-"

I sighed, "Yes I know, I know I will be sorely lacking my head, I know."

We walked through the detectors without consequence the listening devices were made from a rare and expensive Plasteek that was all but invisible to most scanners.

The two huge hammers posted at the checkpoint were just as affable as their colleague at the door and with the combination of my quick hands and the aide of Elandria I was able to place the listening device at the checkpoint successfully. When we entered into the club itself, dozens, upon dozens of dancers jumped and leapt to the music a massive orgy of activity which seemed to move like white caps on the sea, rising and falling, rising and falling. It was almost entirely dark the only light source lasers beaming down onto the countless cavorters, projecting patterns, numerous different patterns changing from flowers to even the Imperial Aquila, it was quite an amazing sight to behold.

Quickly I changed my tact, glancing over the crowd my brow hooded in concentration and noticed three more gangers straddled through the crowd each eyeing both Elandria and I with distinct suspicion, and I barely held back a sigh. I knew they are low hive gangers; I knew that they were muscle, but they wouldn't know subtlety if hit over the head with "A Guide to Infiltration and Espionage." Though it is an utterly terrible and pretentious book which the author (whose name I cannot recall) he blatantly did not do the research, it would help these idiots' skills in that field by leaps and bounds. That wasn't saying much of course.

Then it hit me, it frigging hit me and the realisation caused me to sigh and place my face into the palm of my hand if these gangers were this pathetic and it has taken this long for Taryst's "elite" to find this place.

I didn't want to begin to think about it; it was depressing just damned depressing.

But, actually, perhaps that was it. This "bar's" security was so stupid and sloppy that it wouldn't stick out from the rest of its ilk, or was I just over analysing it?

I didn't know, and I didn't care anymore.

"What the hell is wrong with you now?" demanded Elandria her raised voice heard barely over the music, but I could listen to her well, her words enhanced by the bud in her ear.

"I hate my job," I groaned, my voice muffled into my hand.

"What?"

I dropped my arm back to my side and said instead, "These guys are complete idiots."

Elandria smirked, "Please, do tell me something I don't know," she said, "I see three Hammers in the crowd, two armed with laspistols, one with a high calibre auto pistol all in torso holsters right?"

"Hmmm, interesting," I said.

"What?"

I gestured with a lazy hand; a small indistinct movement aimed toward the Hammer with the Auto pistol.

"See? His Pupils are dilated, and even in this terrible light it is obvious his skin is a shade lighter than his norm, that Hammer is scared, very scared."

"Scared of what?" asked Elandria then a big, evil grin spread across her symmetrical face, "scared of us?"

I shrugged, "hmm perhaps, that seems logical. He may be a survivor, a survivor of one of our many skirmishes against Brutis Bones' organisation over the past months he may even be the one which they had learnt our identities from."

Elandria grimaced in utter disgust, "a survivor! We were thorough! We let none escape!"

"See! It is that exact attitude that would have allowed for his escape in the first place but this we can turn toward our favour, though it also looks like we will have to reevaluate our plans."

"Why?"

"Because we will both die if we don't. If we make one wrong step, even try slightly to start a fight he will shoot us, he's as twitchy as a frigging Obscura addict on withdrawal."

"Even shoot through a crowd of civilians?" she smirked.

I sniffed and glared at her sidelong, I knew she was ruthless, but I was hoping that there would be some line for Elandria.

"Perhaps, but that is one risk I am unable to take, at first this was to be innocent fisticuffs against other club goers but if we are to do anything we will have to take care of that Hammer first."

"Kill him?"

I grimaced, "if it comes to that but-"

Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and a cold shiver slid down my spine. The air temperature dropped dramatically, and the once enthusiastic crowd halted its partying as everyone shook in instinctive terror.

I had felt this before, and I knew what it was.

Elandria turned to me, her eyes white with animalistic fear, "psyker!"

My earpiece suddenly came to life, and Castella's uncharacteristically urgent voice erupted over the mic.

"Attelus! Attelus! Cough if you copy damn it!"

I quickly complied.

"Good! We have two new additions to the line outside and-and the people they are just-just parting, letting them through, I!-I can't make out their faces but-but-!"

The line began to fizzle and crackle, warping Castella's words into indecipherable syllables then entirely descended to nothing but static.

I felt my heart beat a thousand miles a minute and the fear! Oh, the fear! The adrenaline pumping! But still, I shivered in the unnatural cold and then I noticed Elandria who looked at me utter terror, whose lower lip shook and her body wavered.

"Why-why are you smiling?" she stammered.

"I'm smiling?" I asked, genuinely bemused, "well I guess I would now that everything is going according to plan, to my plan anyway."

I don't know if you had thought I had forgotten about Taryst's little psyker cadre or you had forgotten, but this, this I had actually seen coming, yes.

I knew I had to act; perhaps that time was short so I moved. Dodging and weaved through the frozen club goers within milliseconds I reached the Hammer with the auto pistol; the ganger was never able to react to my advance as his glazed eyes stared dumbly to the ceiling, his mouth gaping open in severe shock.

I smashed my elbow straight into his solar plexus which impacted in a sickening "crunch!" and the Hammer let out a feeble gasp for air, his torso bending in under the force. I gritted my teeth and followed on, punching him in the kidney then the ribs and finally finishing him by sliding to his flank and delivering a brutal, low side kick snapping his knee inward and causing the Hammer to let out a strangled howl of utter agony. I now had his Auto pistol in hand (which unsurprisingly already had the safety off), and I fired one round into the ceiling yelling out at the top of my lungs, "down everybody down!" Luckily the crowd were not so frozen in fear that they were unable to acquiesce to my request and with frightened yelps they did as told, all accept the two remaining bouncer Hammers who were only just now numbly reaching for their weapons.

I shot them both, one through the head and the other in his chest the shots accompanied by even more screams of terror.

"Damn it what the hell are you doing?" demanded Elandria as she retrieved one of the corpses' Las pistols and raising it to cover the entrance way.

"Improvising," I replied.

"Didn't-didn't you just say that "everything is going according to plan?"

"All according to one plan, yes."

"Then it isn't improvising then is it?"

"Whatever," I sighed, and I found the unconscious Hammer's three backup ammo clips and I slipped them into my pockets.

"So what is it that you improvise now oh you magnificent bastard you?"

I looked over my shoulder at her shocked, was that an actual joke? A backhanded compliment perhaps? Or something else entirely?

"Cover the door for me, would you. I have unfinished business to attend to."

"Then what the hell will I do when that Psyker gets here then?"

"Prey to that Emperor of yours!" that was my reply as I turned into the corridor leading to the VIP area, my confiscated Auto pistol raised and ready as I advanced.

I had not forgotten about Taryst's psykers, I had an idea in the back of my head that this little independent operation of Glaitis' would have been tracked, but that also begs yet another question, why would Glaitis have played this move?

She must have known of Taryst's psychic allies and was aware without taking the proper precautions that we would have been found out, and I could hazard a myriad amount of guesses as to why but now was not the time to-

As the corridor began to curve southward, I heard it, sudden and deafening, gunfire which reverberated within the passage. I gritted my teeth, risking a look and what I saw made my eyes widen in fear. One Hammer had lost his mind, he fired his stub automatic limply and indiscriminately into the crowd of terrified, screaming VIPs, two of which already lay dead.

The man was grinning mindlessly, foaming from the mouth and his body moved loosely like a marionette. This was defiantly a psyker's work, and this would have been nightmare fuel unleaded if I had not seen it many times before. Without breaking stride I shot him, I shot him straight through the face, the back of what was once a Human's skull exploded out into a cone of gore, the thick, red matter coating anyone near and the body dropped like a sack of spuds.

I left the corridor and out into a cacophony of cries as the VIPs all saw the small skinny bastard who held a smoking auto pistol walking right through their midst.

Are you really scared of me? Didn't I save all your hides? I thought Glaitis had once said that being a hero was overrated and once again she proves to be right, and I kicked the corpse as I walked through, "shame about the face," I muttered.

I came to the door which led into the "restricted" area and studied the lock, it was one of your atypical passwords encoded things and to the consequential cry of many an onlooker I raised my pistol, turned away covered my face with a forearm and blew out the lock with one deafening pull of the trigger.

I kicked the door open then was forced to throw myself back into cover mere milliseconds before the torrent of Las fire cut through the air. I had managed a glimpse of the lone Hammer, the lone Hammer with crazed eyes, who stood six metres down the corridor and who still kept spraying on full auto despite my absence and who's insane screams of fear I could hear well over the rounds, he had no cover, nothing.

I only had to wait for several seconds for the fire to stop and to hear the familiar hiss of overheated Las weaponry then I stepped out. "You idiot!" I roared as I put two rounds through his torso. Of course, his idiocy and the other's fear could be explained by the psychic presence. Now I could see my breath steaming and the ice on the walls, I grinned, thank you Taryst you are making this way to easy.

I kicked open the door at the end of the corridor and entered into what I remembered from the schematics a larger room and found it was a recreation room one that was already held and makeshift fortified buy three more of Brutis' Bones mooks. I was almost caught completely unawares, not prepared for an organised defence and was immediately forced back into hiding as they opened fire. I had accounted for the psyker's presence to be more lasting and at times like this, I would kill for a grenade or manstopper rounds they would easily blow fist size holes through the table which they had turned over. It looked like it wasn't going to be so easy after all.

I briefly leaned out and fired off my last three rounds which forced the Hammers to duck behind their table. Ejecting the empty clip, slamming a fresh one home and without hesitation, I leaned back out. Even now I am not sure if it was skill or luck which was the cause of me managing to scalp one of the Hammers as he rose from hiding but either way, it shocked his comrades into submission long enough to allow me to sprint the distance and shoot them both through their faces at point blank range.

I vaulted over the table and retrieved a las pistol from one of the corpses, after checking the charge gauge was full, I moved on now with a big grin on my face.

The shots reverberated in the confined corridors as I fired two point-blank rounds into the Hammer's chest and my front kick followed on colliding into the limp corpse and propelling the dead Hammer into the next of his colleagues in line. Both bodies fell to the floor in a mass of writhing limbs and screams. While lunging over the screaming Hammer and the corpse pinning him to the floor I shot the next ganger as he was bringing his stubbrevolver to bear but the forth ganger in line was thinner and more nimble than the others as he slid past his collapsing ally and lunged into a hook punch intended on smashing in my head. I blocked the fist with a forearm, an inner-outer block which pushed the attack off course, augmented his momentum and caused his punch to connect straight into the rockcrete wall instead. His hand broke with a sickening crack, and the Hammer bellowed out in of utter agony a bellow which was abruptly cut short as I pistol whipped him in the base of the skull causing his forehead to follow after his fist in cracking against the hard surface.

He also wasn't much taller than I was so hence an effective human shield and just in time I hooked my arm around the man's neck, turned the limp form to face the next aggressor as he opened fire. The human shield took three rounds from the Hammer's auto pistol (I could only thank the Emperor that none of them wielded shotguns) Jarring the corpse with each and almost caused me to let go before I managed to shoot the hapless team killer over the shoulder of his murdered work mate.

The next Hammer, an older and horrifically scarred monster attempted to follow my example as he roughly shoved his traitorous allies corpse toward me to mask his advance, but I slid out the way, pushing my back against the wall and the two dead men collided into each other falling to the floor in a heap. The large ganger was on me and threw a deceptively fast hook that I barely managed to back peddle out the way from, he was actually pretty good much to my surprise and my attempt at bringing my pistols to bear was interrupted by his follow-on, a right jab that I swayed under and then an uppercut I narrowly sidestepped. The next attack was a lunging back fist that sent me back peddling even further and almost made me trip over the corpses that I had left in my wake.

The Hammer stopped his assault and glared at me balefully, one of his eyes milky white the other a piercingly clear blue

"Put those pistols away," he grunted as he cracked his knuckles "I see you are a worthy opponent so let us truly see who is the better fighter."

I sighed and complied dropping both my pistols to the floor with a clatter.

"Hmm right," I said, "but first, just one question, are you by chance Brutis Bones?"

"No, I am-"

Before he could continue any further I knelt, picked the pistols back up and shot him five times, the first exploded out his guts; the second blew a ragged hole in his chest. The third burst open his right bicep, the fourth hit him in the thigh, causing him to spin around so his back was facing me and the last ripped out the base of his spine, and he fell straight to the floor, flat on his face. I knew it was overkill but these "Honour Before Reason" idiots were usually tough bastards and that was the only way I could make sure he wasn't ever getting back up. Taryst wanted Brutis Bones alive so I would have made an effort if it was him.

Sighing again and wondering how the hell such an idiot could have lived as a Ganger. I casually lowered my Las pistol and put a neat black hole through the forehead of the Hammer who was still struggling to escape from under his dead ally.

I felt dirty; sure I was sure I could have beaten the idiot eventually if I had done the honourable thing and fought fair but that would have wasted time and time was one thing not on my side.

As I moved through that maze of cramped, brightly lit corridors the closer I came to the area I guessed was Brutis Bones' quarters. More and more a feeling of unease grew at the pit of my gut, that almost the very air disturbed my very being and with that feeling, it became more and more evident the lack of any psychic activity around me. Only one thing off the top of my head could explain this phenomenon, the presence of a blank. A person whos very existence nullifies the activities of the warp around them dissipating all psychic abilities at a certain radius. It would explain a lot, Taryst's apparent need of an army to track down this enemy even with the cadre of psykers at his beck and call. But there had to more to it than that even with the blank here making this place all but invisible why hadn't Taryst just captured a lowly Hammer and had one of the psyker's delve into their mind? Was Taryst so paranoid at having the activities of his psykers found by the local authorities so frigging overwhelming?

That also begs the question how the hell could Taryst know my thoughts so well that he could tell of my doubts about my job, perhaps the answer lies in the "blocks" placed in mine and all my fellow mercenaries minds, perhaps they allow the psykers to read our thoughts without giving off any hint? Was that even possible? I didn't know. But if it was true, then it only confirms that Taryst didn't want anyone outside of his organisation knowing of this hunt and the complicated precautions he was prepared to take to keep it that way.

Then "paranoia" was a frigging understatement.

But this "answer" was just fuel for many more questions; why was Glaitis willing for her apprentice and many of her employees implanted with these things? Why would Glaitis have both Elandria and I along to this operation if Taryst could have his psykers read our minds? And I will not say that it was "because she didn't know" idiocy, she knows, she knows everything I can say that with an amount of conviction that I hadn't felt in ages. Perhaps she wanted to have Taryst reveal his organisation by forcing his hand? But then why would she want Taryst to show himself in the first place? Could Garrakson know more than he lets on as well, he was our leader and longtime senior in Taryst's company?

But most importantly what was the cause behind all this paranoia and why the hell was so much effort going into tracking down this low life gang leader?

The answer to that I could hazard a myriad amount of guesses upon.

I reached the end of yet another corridor, stopping at the edge I pushed my back against the wall and glanced around the corner.

Two Hammers stood guard at the doorway situated halfway down the next hall both were bulky men both held Auto Guns, and both glanced about with nervous expressions.

Without hesitation, I stepped out and vacated the nearest ganger's brains out the side of his skull with one auto pistol round. The other turned to me in almost admiral discipline, attempting to bring up his auto gun to fire. He managed it half way before my Las shots killed him, one blew through his ribs, and the other blew out his neck.

I ran on, unloading and reloading my smoking pistols on the move then pushed my back against the wall next to the already open entrance. It was then I could not help but think to myself that perhaps this was a little too easy and you also may be wondering, why I am doing this? Why it is simple, and it is not what you may think if it is that I bring in Brutis Bones finally Glaitis will see me worthy and promote me to full assassin-hood? Well, that would be a bonus, but no. I am and have never been a particularly ambitious person I have no dreams of ascending Glaitis and taking her blood-soaked throne (the metaphorical one of course but at times I have wondered) No I just wanted to have this frigging job done, finished so we can move on to something else. I hated this crap and was frankly sick of it, that is why I am throwing myself blind into the Wolves Den, killing anything and everything in my ways like a Hitman on heat. The poor Hammers who stood in my way were just the instruments for me to take my anger and aggression out on, almost like Vex was.

I physically winced at the thought and felt the guilt I had suppressed over the earlier hours boil back to the surface. I swallowed hard and forced it back down. I still had plenty more frustration to go around, Now, with that finally explained I took in a huge breath and slipped through the doorway. My pistols raised and covering the interior. The room I emerged into was large at least eight metres in length and fifteen in width, a brightly lit rockcrete cave. Barren to an extreme and there were twelve thick, square pillars, six along the diameters of the room. It was empty except for the one figure who stood in sight, right at the epi-centre, he had his back facing me but I could see the heavy carapace armour he wore.

"Brutis Bones I presume?" I said, covering him with my guns.

No answer, the man just stood deathly still and stayed silent.

"Hmm right. I'm not going to bother to say for you to surrender. This place looks like it's been built specifically for a firefight isn't a coincidence is it?"

Again he replied with silence.

Something inside me snapped, and I cocked my pistol, "don't you give me the frigging silent treatment you bastard! Do, you, have, any idea the crap, I have been through to find you!"

"I can't believe that so many of my guards killed single-handedly by a kid," the man said abruptly, "a foolish kid playing at games far too large and complicated for him to even begin to comprehend."

I wasn't sure how to reply to that, what he had said had hit quite close to home.

"And nope, sorry kid I am not your Brutis Bones, he is, in another castle, you could say."

I gritted my teeth, widened my eyes and tightened my hands on the grips of my pistols.

"How the hell do I know that you actually are him and not just lying?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice neutral, if this wasn't Brutis Bones then Glaitis' intel must have been misled, no I sincerely doubted that. If this were Brutis Bones, she would know, and if this man who talked to me now isn't him, then it would just reinforce that this as one of her feints used to force Taryst to show his hand.

The man shrugged, "you can choose to believe or not to believe, kid, either way, its the truth, now I may not be him, but that doesn't make me want to live any less so..."

Then he spun, as quick as lightning and he held a stub revolver raised and firing.

All I could do was a lunge, diving behind the nearest pillar just in time. But I was not fast enough to dodge the one round which skimmed my left shoulder, the sharp pain erupted up my arm, and I yelped out as I hit the floor.

Getting into a crouch, I pushed my back against my pillar cursing savagely. I had his back wholly covered, and yet the bastard still got the drop on me!

A few more shots rang through the vast room; then there was silence, the only sound the ringing clatter of empty shell casings falling to the floor.

"You really are him aren't you?" I said.

"Maybe, maybe not," the man replied.

My reply was me suddenly leaning out slightly and wailing off four shots in his general direction.

"Well, either way, you're fighting me now and either way you are going to pay the consequences!" I said as I lunged out into the open, my guns blazing.

I ran, sprinting sideways and fired my pistols at my opponent who ran with me. The bellowing, rudimentary consistent and combined sounds of our weapons discharging over and over echoed throughout the interior with a horrible, deafening cacophony and tore into the decor, which wrought in a new and far more interesting scenery of bullet holes in the rockcrete walls and pillars.

Making it to the next pillar and leaving the clatter of spent shell cases in my wake I pushed myself up against my cover. I lent outlet off a few shots with my Las pistol then I spun to the other side rockcrete cover and neatly caught my enemy off guard as he attempted the same manoeuvre. The man barely made it behind his colonnade as I opened fire. Then without hesitation, I moved, running toward the other side in an attempt to bridge the gap while I wailed away with my pistols to keep the bastard pinned to prevent his reconciliation.

Without hindrance, I found the other side of the same colonnade that my opponent cowered behind, pushed myself against the pillar then slid out, pistols raised and found the man had gone.

I snarled out a curse, turning just in time to catch him as he came around the other side of the pillar and desperately knock his raised Stub Revolver's aim off course. The round once meant to cave in my skull shot off, its fate only to create yet another smoking crater in the wall and I followed on, kicking out viscously at the man's groin. The man sidestepped the attack with almost contemptuous ease and attempted to bring his gun to bear on me again. My inner-outer block smashed the shot aside after which I opened up with my auto pistol.

Despite the shot being point blank the man still managed almost to dive out the way, instead of to explode his ribcage the round impacted against his shoulder guard, it's kinetic force caused him to turn in mid-lunge, and he hit the floor clumsily, I could clearly hear him gasp out his lungs ejected air with the impact.

I didn't hesitate, shooting once! Twice! Hitting him as he rolled across the floor but that was all I could muster before he made it behind the next pillar and my pistols clicked empty.

Sliding around the first colonnade, I knelt and began reloading; I had six clips left, four for my auto pistol and two for my las. Along the way of my massacre, I had pilfered them off the corpses of my many victims, and I could also hear my opponent following suit along with his pained gasps and grunts as he performed the task.

"You know," I said as I slammed home a fresh clip into my auto, "you would be dead if you weren't wearing that carapace."

"I know," he replied, and I could not help but be surprised by the sadness in his words, "your good kid I'll give you that."

"I know," I echoed back.

"Perhaps even good enough to kill me," he went on, "and that I actually wouldn't mind, I have lived a long life kid, killed a lot of people I really wouldn't mind. Going out with one final blaze of glory."

I grinned, "well if your so keen to die why don't you just step out and make this easy for me?"

The man sighed, "you and I know I can't do that, your boss, Taryst wants me alive, doesn't he? There is more at stake here than one old man and his lowly life; my mission demands that I live amongst the populace of Omnartus to complete it so I can't give up, I can't let you kill me or anyone else."

It was my turn to sigh, "and what the hell is it that is exactly at stake?"

"More than you could imagine."

Something in those words made sudden indescribable fear crawl up my spine, fear even more potent than the presence of the blank, fear even more potent than the psychic activity of earlier.

"W-what do you mean? Who the hell are you?" I managed.

"I'm nobody, no one. But I know who you are, you are what I said you were earlier, nothing but a kid, a kid caught up in games far too complex and adult for him. Just some poor, innocent kid who's been thrown into this mess and for what I am about to do I am truly sorry."

I gritted my teeth, somehow the fear was even more potent than before, my heart shuddered in my chest, and my hands began to shake uncontrollably.

"Sorry? W-what the hell are you sorry for?" I demanded.

"For this."

I heard a beep, the brief pure sound of a press of a button, small non-descript but somehow it held more weight than any of his words.

I flinched in fright as I heard a nearby, small section of the wall slid open revealing the darkened room beyond and what stepped out from its depths made my heart turn to ice.

"I am truly, truly sorry."

It stood at three metres tall, its enormous bulky body utterly corded with a musculature not at all possible for a normal human being. It was naked except for a torn old loincloth, it's pink, the swollen skin was covered all over with countless hideous scars, both its hands had been severed at the wrists surgically replaced with two huge, razor-sharp axes and its teeth where filled into ugly incisors.

The Arco Flagellant didn't make a sound, no roar from it's smiling maw as one would expect from such a monster and that somehow made it even more terrifying, silently and with grace belying its bulk it turned it's attention to me then lunged for the kill.

Despite my utter terror I still managed to dive out the way of the Arco Flagellant's charge. I landed and neatly rolled into a crouch and turned in time to see it practically eviscerate a frigging three metre thick solid rockcrete pillar with just one swipe of its huge Axe. It then shoulder barged straight through carrying on as though it was nothing. The wanton destruction showered the surroundings with chunks of rockcrete and an explosively ejected cloud of dust.

This was one enemy I couldn't defeat, this, this thing was so far out of my league that even if I was full equipment with armour everything I would be nothing but a spec to it, even less of a nothing than that damned pilaster it had just destroyed with nought but its forward momentum and its shoulder.

I crawled to my feet, a clumsy and hard action as my sweat-slicked hands almost slid out from under me twice. The task of getting up must have taken me no more than a few seconds but felt like a lifetime, any second I expected the thing to bear down on me to deliver the killing blow, but it never came and once up I turned, and I ran. I ran like the coward I am.

My heart beat so fast my chest hurt, my whole body shook so hard I was in utter agony I sprinted as quickly as my aching legs could go, but still, I never felt it was nearly enough.

I made it out the door and turned right, the way I had come and barely a millisecond after the Arco Flagellant crashed the entrance way.

I never looked back; I didn't dare. I just ran and ran as my arms flailed about like curtains in the wind, my breaths came out as agonising rasps. Every step I made felt like a million more, and I never looked back, but I could feel its presence behind me, tailing me, descending on me like a predator about to pounce upon its prey and with every step I took I expected to feel it's Axe cut through me.

Those corridors seemed to go on forever these were the corridors which mere minutes ago I had slaughtered my way through, and I now ran for my life through them. Terrifyingly I almost tripped over many of the dead Gangers I had killed. Even in my fear fueled state I was able to see the irony that falling over one of them meant falling to my demise.

When I finally made it out of that maze, my body almost physically ejected itself out the door, out into the club beyond and the relief that washed over me in reaching it here was completely and utterly unjustified.

But despite myself, I slid to a stop and turned to look back and found the monster wasn't there, that somehow, someway I had lost that inhuman thing in the maze, as the corridor behind me was completely and utterly devoid of life.

Perhaps it wasn't as manoeuvrable as I was through those sharp turns so it had lost its way? And I was to busy mindless in my flight to ever notice?

I glanced around and to my complete horror found that the partygoers hadn't moved an inch since my earlier exit, they all stood gaping and staring at me with terror milked eyes.

Something deep down inside me said that the Arco Flagellant would never be lost, that it would hound me until I was dead or it was, I knew soon, very soon that it would come down that corridor and massacre anyone and anything in its path, these people included. I could leave them, run and run, leave them to be slaughtered delaying it further so I could have a slighter semblance of a chance to escape.

And why not? They were nothing! The sons and daughters of haughty, arrogant, corrupt aristocrats and bureaucrats! Whatever the galaxy would never mourn them, they were nothing just dozens of lives among trillions more.

But yet they were innocent, these people, these men and women they had come here to dance to enjoy themselves. To forget their worries and find some slight joy in this Emperor-forsaken universe, every day millions of people die whether killed by the numberless Xenos that ravage humanity on every front or those of our petty species, the insignificant members of humanity like myself. Perhaps I could conquer my cowardice and work for once to prevent even just a few of those millions of souls instead of being a contributor. That if I died and even one of them survived, that they would remember the small skinny bastard who gave his life to protect them, that my sacrifice would mean something for someone.

I was wrong, I was the nothing I had died inside almost a decade ago when war had ravaged my world, my country, my home. When war separated me from my mother and forced me into a world of ruthless scavenging, a life toiling away for survival amongst the ruins among the rest of the beasts I-.

It was then that I noticed that despite everything I had kept hold of my pistols.

I smiled bowing my head and felt the tears abruptly swell in my eyes and roll down my cheeks, this was the first time I had cried in a very long time, and boy did it feel good. I thanked the Emperor that I had my answer and seemingly almost on cue; I heard the repeating, quick-fire plodding sound of the Arco Flagellant's running at the end of the corridor.

I raised my pistols and cocked back the hammer of my auto, perhaps this was the retribution for what I had done to Vex, perhaps this was my vindication for my selfish cowardice.

The smile never left my face even as the creature bared down upon me and my shots fired ineffectually off of its thick hide.

A voice, a womanly, low soft beautiful voice spoke in the impenetrable black, a familiar voice. One I felt I knew well but could not recall to who it belonged to. It came off somewhere distant, far, far out in the blackness.

Was this death? Was what the church of the Ecclesiarchy taught about death complete crap, was death just this black void of nothingness?

I had never believed. My mother was highly religious but I never was, we were opposites. We were so similar in our personalities but different in our beliefs, we would clash countless times, verbal fights of stunning ferocity on both sides and now I think back at it, it was a miracle that the Ministorum never found out about my Heretical words. That my mother loved me enough never to tell them.

I believed that the Emperor was never the god that people proclaim him to be, but a great man whose wisdom and power was indeed God-like. But how could he ever have wanted this for us? All the suffering all the death? The rampant poverty, the chaos, the mindless religious fanaticism in his name, the millions of planets dedicated to the hives of organised chaos and the meek, brainwashed bureaucrats who knew nothing but their small boxes and the Cogitators at their fingertips our whole encompassing bureaucracy?

If this was indeed death I wouldn't mind, I felt safe here, I felt truly free just floating in this black, in this nothingness and that voice, that beautiful, beautiful soft voice oh I could listen to that voice forever.

Slowly though the voice came closer, as if whoever, the voice belonged to silently walked toward me through the black.

I wasn't scared, never was I scared and I could start to make out the words which became more explicit as the voice came closer what was it that it said? It sounded like a prayer of some kind, the prayer like the voice felt familiar, but I couldn't quite recall what it was.

Then it stopped, the voice; gone and my heart emptied at its absence, was I supposed to spend the rest of eternity without its comforting words, without its company?

Wait, my heart? What?

"Attelus," whispered the voice in my ear, "open your eyes."

Without hesitation I did as told, and found myself alive, lying in one of the many beds in Taryst's medicae facility and that the voice had belonged Castella who sat at the end of my bed her hands clasped together in prayer and pushed against her forehead with her elbows leaning on my duvet.

She was so beautiful and to see her there filled me with such indescribable joy at being alive.

I tried to open my mouth to speak out to her through my dry, crack lips but all that I could manage was a pathetic rattle as though my body had forgotten how to talk.

She stopped her praying and looked to me, her eyes were red with tears, and it hurt me to see such beauty marred. But her smile oh her smile it was a smile of indescribable happiness, one of great relief, a smile which showed the weight which had left her shoulders.

I tried to move my hand to beckon her closer, but my whole world is racked with pain at the effort, utter agony which made me close my eyes and grunt out in response.

It took me until then to realise I was covered from head to toe in bandages and to see the drip cord which fed into my arm.

But she got the hint and leaned closer, nearing her ear toward my mouth for me to speak and I said, "Stop praying, I'm trying to sleep."

Castella threw back her head and laughed out loud; it was a sweet sound a beautiful sound from a nice person who seemed to utter nothing but sweet sounds.

She laughed so hard she had to wipe a tear from her eye, and she sat back down on her chair.

"It's good to see that you are still yourself Attelus," she said.

I tried to smile but even that hurt.

"You have been out for a long, long time my friend," she carried on.

"How...Long?" I fought to say.

Her eyes widened into a pained expression that told me I really didn't want to know.

"I...See."

Her perfect face suddenly curled up, and tears ran down her cheeks. The change in emotion was so fast that I didn't know how to react.

"Th-thank you," she squeaked.

I couldn't manage to ask what she was thankful for but she still answered.

"Thank you for proving to me that you still are a good person. Ever since I had first met you, I knew you weren't like the rest us, that you weren't evil, that you still cared for more than just yourself. Thank you for proving to me you still are human," she sniffed heavily and wiped away her tears with her forearm, "after-after what you did to Vex I began to doubt you, I had begun to believe that you had devolved into the monster, but I see now that doubt was unfounded. You stood alone Attelus, against an impossible enemy, you willingly put yourself on the line for the good of others, you-you."

She couldn't continue her sentence as she teared back up again.

"And-and thank you that now I know no matter what happens, no matter how hard it is you will still be that good, kind, compassionate person inside. I just regret that we couldn't have got there in time to save you earlier and for that, I am sorry Attelus, I am truly, truly sorry."

Even if I had been able to speak then, I couldn't have, I was taken aback at her emotional outburst, never in all my career that I would have ever suspected that Castella cared for me so much, never.

She was always a friend, the only person who I could talk to with humour and trust, who saw me as a person and not some know nothing apprentice.

But then I realised something; I couldn't recall at all what had happened in that club after the Arco Flagellant had charged me, how the hell had I survived? Had any of the club goers escaped? What exactly had happened?

Castella sniffed again, and as if reading my mind she said, "you did it Attelus. You held off that monster for long enough that those people could escape, you went one on one with an Arco Flagellant long enough that Elandria, Hayden, Darrance and I could stop it before it could cause any more damage. If you had died Attelus your sacrifice would not have been in vain and I swear I'm telling you the truth, I know you aren't the most trusting person in this world but believe me on this, be proud Attelus."

She sniffed again but this time it had humour in it, "when we took you to Taryst's medicae facility, they said there was no way you would survive, that you would die within hours but I knew you were stubborn and you held on, you lived and-and most importantly, thank you, thank you for living, thank you."

Oh how I dearly wished I could reach out and comfort her or even thank her but everything was so hard, so, so hard, couldn't keep my eyes open, anymore, anymore, I blinked, once then twice, then I embraced the sweetness of sleep.

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killervibe · 6 years

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The (God)Parent Trap

Killervibefanficweek18 Day 2: Undercover Missions!

Notes: This is a future fic that really took a life of its own!! It’s fluffy and I had a lot of fun writing it, enjoy!! <3

The (God)Parent Trap

Cisco knew this was a bad idea the moment this club’s DJ decided Rebecca Black’s Friday was worthy of being played.

Cisco shot Caitlin an agonized look.

Caitlin winced sympathetically, and opened her clutch for her phone. “I’m going to text Barry to let him know we made it in. You can try to fix the music.”

Cisco straightened his tie and marched over to the DJ’s booth with the determination of a soldier. “Oh, I’m three steps ahead of you,” he called over his shoulder, and grinned at the fond yet exasperated look on her face.

The DJ is a lanky, nerdy thing, very much similar to old pictures of Barry Iris showed Cisco from their days in high school. He tapped the kid on the shoulder, waiting for him to stop bopping to this horrible excuse of a song and remove his headphones.

“I’m sorry, Friday? What year is this, 2011?”

“I think it’s pretty rocking.”

Cisco groaned. “Okay, how much are they paying you for this gig? Fifty? Eighty? One Hundred?” Cisco slid over several twenty from his pocket. “I will double whatever they’re offering if you play something better. I’m desperate.”

The boy looked at the cash longingly, but shook his head.

“Sorry Sir, this song was requested.”

“By who?” Cisco cried, trying to forget that this dude called him sir. He may not be twenty-three anymore, and he may be wearing an itchy fake mustache, but god forbid anyone actually starts treating Cisco like an old irrelevant man.

The DJ pointed out a bossy girl teetering in heels wearing a flower crown.

“Oh Lord, she’s just as crazy as her father,” Cisco muttered under his breath. Of course it had to be Yelena, Dr. Sinister’s fourteen year old daughter.

Cisco rolled his eyes and left the DJ to his horrible life choices, maneuvering around the cheering pre-adolescent children on the dance floor as they slosh their orange crush over the rims of their red solo cups.

“It’s no use,” Cisco grumbled to Caitlin, who was leaning against the wall as Friday faded out and Miley Cyrus circa 2008 started next. He grabbed two drinks from a passing caterer tray.

He peered into the first glass.

“Shirley Temple?” Cisco guessed, handing the pink concoction to Caitlin.

“Thanks,” she said. She took a careful sip, grimaced, then rolled her eyes at finding Cisco covering his ears like a child.

“What do you expect?” She said, and Cisco let out a long tired sigh. He hates when she excuses crazy situations they get themselves into with logic. “This is a teenage dance hall converted into a makeshift club for the birthday party of a 14 year old who happens to be best friends with the daughter of Barry’s newest arch nemesis.”

“What I expect is to not have to fear that my brain will bleed out of my ears before the end of the day!”

“You’re being so dramatic,” Caitlin laughed, “As if you don’t love Lady Gaga and Katy Perry.”

Cisco scoffed, offended. “I’m sorry but Poker Face cannot even compare to Fly On The Wall and you know it.”

A teenager came up to them then. “Excuse me, are you two the chaperones?”

Caitlin bended down, “Yes! My name is Katherine Rodriguez and this is my husband, Arlo. We’re Sonya’s parents.”

The kid gave Caitlin and Cisco a once over. “You two don’t look anything like her.”

They shoot each other a quick look before both replying at the same time.

“She looks like her grandmother.”

“She’s adopted.”

Caitlin stepped on Cisco’s foot. “Uh, what we mean is we adopted Sonya when she was three but we were told she looks like her maternal grandmother.”

The girl snapped her gum, “Yeah, whatever. We’re, like, not friends or anything.”

Cisco tilted his head to the side and squinted. “Is there a point to this or…”

The girl seemed to remember the reason why she came and perked up, “Oh this is, like, tbh, really awkward now, but I just wanted to let you know that I caught her picking on Yelena. Maybe you should go and see what’s going on.”

Yelena Sinister. Dr. Sinister’s daughter. Perfect. The plan was working.

Caitlin tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and blinked innocently. Cisco snorts. Is that how Caitlin thought it looked to be motherly? He’d tease her later about it if he didn’t find it so weirdly endearing. “Oh, I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” Caitlin said, placatingly.

The kid looked skeptical, but put her hands up as if to say Oh well I tried and turned back to the buffet table.

“Arlo?” Cisco exclaimed, scandalized, once the girl was out of earshot.

“It rhymes with Cisco!” Caitlin defended, peering over the crowd for Nora. “It should be any moment now.”

“Are you sure she knows what she’s doing?” Cisco asked.

Caitlin nodded, “It’s Nora. She practically begged us to let her do it. Besides, you know she’d do anything to help her dad with a mission. Even if it means crashing a lame party and going by the terrible fake name Sonya.”

Cisco stopped sipping his club soda to retort, “Like Sonya is so much worse than Arlo.”

Cisco could feel they were just about to get into an epic bickering match over names when a man about five years older than Cisco comes towards them.

“Excuse me,” The man interrupted politely.

He was tall and somewhat handsome, but very obviously not naturally blonde. However, Cisco supposed it wasn’t fair to judge. Caitlin was sporting a ginger wig, like she was channeling a young Molly Ringwald and Cisco’s own fake mustache and goatee Iris forced onto him made him laugh so hard the first time he saw himself in a mirror, they almost flew off his face.

“Are you the other chaperone?”

The question was pointed at Cisco.

“Yes, I’m Arlo,” Cisco introduced himself, and he really did have to fake the smile. He shook his hand, “And this is my wife, Katherine.”

“Oh!” The man flushed pink and began to stutter. “Oh, we met before.”

Caitlin began to flush too, and Cisco sensed he was missing something.

“Really...When was this?” Cisco asked.

“I believe you were with the DJ. You know, it’s so refreshing to hear our children listen to appropriate songs, thank you for reminding the DJ of that.”

Caitlin hid her laugh in a cough as Cisco’s fake smile turned into a pained expression.

“Well, yes. That’s my job, protecting the children,” Cisco said smoothly.

The man turned to Caitlin.

“I’m so terribly sorry, Katherine. I didn’t know you were married or else I never would’ve said those things.”

Cisco raised an eyebrow, “I’m sorry, what? Wait...Were you flirting with my wife?”

Cisco found himself getting ticked off, and it was weird, how he didn’t even have to pretend to feel vindictive. How he had no real claim at all over Caitlin but he still wanted to put his arm around her waist and drag her the hell away from this man.

Cisco didn’t like the way he looked at her. Cisco didn’t like the way she looked at him either, especially with her all flustered like this.

Caitlin put her hand on Cisco’s arm, sensing his discomfort. “I thought Eric was being friendly, I swear. It didn’t click until just now.”

Caitlin’s explanation felt sincere, and Cisco felt himself unwind when Caitlin kissed his cheek, for show, obviously, but still, it was a nice gesture for him...Or was it for Arlo? Cisco was starting to get confused.

For what it’s worth, the man truly did seem like he wanted a hole to swallow him up.

“I’m so sorry I flirted with your wife, man. I was just saying she looks so young to have a teenage daughter.” Eric paused to look at Cisco, “I mean, so do you. Also, I couldn’t help but notice neither of you wear wedding rings.”

Oh damn. Cisco knew they forgot something.

Caitlin smiled tightly. “We’re both allergic to gold, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Of course. Again, my apologies. Anyway, whose parents are you again?”

“Sonya.”

“How old is she?”

Cisco and Caitlin both spoke at the same time. Again.

“Eleven.”

“Fourteen.”

This was why Cisco and Caitlin hated working undercover.They sucked.

All three chuckled awkwardly.

Cisco cleared his throat, “We adopted Sonya when she was three...” He began, and Caitlin continued on for him when he began to falter.

“Exactly, so she’s really fourteen in age but we’ve only had her for eleven.”

They linked their arms together, smiling charmingly.

Speaking of their fake daughter, Cisco was hoping Nora picked up the pace so they could call Dr. Sinister already and get him out of his lair. Barry must’ve been staked out there for over two hours now.

Nosy Eric, as Cisco began to call him in his head, even though he probably doesn’t deserve it, frowned. “My daughter never mentioned her before. How does she know Vanessa?”

“Who?” Cisco frowned.

“Vanessa? My daughter.” Eric began to grow impatient, “The birthday girl.”

“Oh, right, I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over this wholesome music!” Cisco replied, snidely.

Caitlin jabbed an elbow into Cisco’s rib. “Sonya was invited by Yelena. They go to piano lessons together.”

“I see. Wait a minute...Yelena doesn’t go to piano lessons. She does ballet.”

Thankfully, Nora swooped in and saved them when a loud crash followed by shrieking caused everyone to swerve their heads to see what the commotion was.

Cisco, Caitlin and Eric ran over to the dessert table where Nora was bent over, hands on her knees, laughing her ass off at Yelena who was on the floor, covered head to toe with hot melted chocolate from Vanessa’s chocolate fountain.

“You little bitch!” Yelena cried, slipping in the gooey mess as Vanessa stood several feet away completely stunned.

“Language!” Eric scolded at her, but it became very clear he agreed.

The snitch that advised Caitlin and Cisco crossed her arms over her chest and sighed loudly, “I warned you.”

All of their friends were pointing and laughing, which would’ve made Cisco feel a little bad if she wasn’t the spoiled brat spawn of one of Earth’s most despicable metahumans.

It was time to spring to action.

Cisco offered Yelena a hand as Eric began to scream at Caitlin about Nora ruining his daughter’s party.

“Your daughter did this?! I thought you said they were friends!” Eric accused, snapping at the teens to put their phones away.

“I can’t believe Sonya did this, I’m so sorry,” Caitlin apologized profusely, pretending to be aghast.

Cisco looked at his goddaughter straight in the eye and mentally psyched himself to sound as fatherly and as angry as possible when all he wanted to do was laugh. She quirked an eyebrow challengingly with a mischievous smirk.

“Sonya Isabella Rodriguez how dare you,” he scolded, “Your mother and I raised you so much better than this. Have you not one ounce of shame? This behaviour of yours is out of hand!”

Nora pinched her fingers together discreetly, telling him to tone it down a notch.

“But Daaaaaaaaad!” Nora whined, “You would’ve done it too if you knew what she’s like!”

“I don’t care,” Cisco said, “You’re coming home immediately. Apologize to this poor girl right away. Also you’re grounded.”

Caitlin rushed to the table to get napkins and wiped off the chocolate from Yelena’s hands.

“Here,” she said, whipping he phone out where it was conveniently left at the dial page. “Call your parents, honey. They’ll pick you up.”

Smart move, Cisco thought. Now Caitlin will have Dr. Sinister’s cell phone number, a valuable asset for tracking him in the future, and potentially finding out where else he goes.

Teary-eyed and humiliated, Yelena took Caitlin’s phone gingerly and called her father. She began wailing into the phone, and Cisco continued to fake berate Nora until she hung up.

“My daddy is coming right away to pick me up,” Yelena sniffed, picking her wilted flower crown from off the sticky floor.

Cisco shuffled Nora towards her. “Yelena, Sonya has something she’d like to say.”

Caitlin grabbed her cell back, texting Barry that Dr. Sinister should be leaving any minute, and that he should go ahead the moment the coast is clear.

Yelena shot Cisco a death glare she definitely learned from her father. “Your daughter is a fake ass wannabe weirdo who doesn’t even go to our middle school! I never invited you! Nobody knows who you are! How dare you crash Vanessa’s party!”

Nora’s jaw dropped, “Yeah, well you’re a prissy princess daddy’s girl! Even worse, your dad is a total psycho!”

Yelena gasped, then lunged at Nora, slapping her right across the face.

Cisco sent Caitlin a panicked look. Name calling and slapping fights that could end up exposing their fake identities during their undercover mission was not part of the plan.

“Okaaay! That’s enough! We’re going home now!” Cisco said in a rush, dragging Nora away by the collar of her skater dress. Quickly, Nora sped the three off to the dance hall’s lobby where Cisco opened a breach and they all quickly jumped through it and into Star Labs.

~.~

Iris startled at the control board of the cortex. She surveyed the three of them catching their breath and narrowed her eyes.

“Why is there chocolate all over my eleven year old daughter’s hair?”

Nora threw both her hands up in the air, “You were the one who said Uncle Cisco and Aunt Caitlin needed me to get into the party!”

Iris opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Well... Yes, but it was their job to end the party and get Dr. Sinister out of his lair! Not yours.”

“Hey,” Said Cisco, putting a hand on Nora’s shoulder. “We were the ones that let Nora get involved in the mission, and she did an excellent job, if not slightly carried away at the end, but who could blame her.”

Iris massaged her temples, “You couldn’t have pulled the fire alarm or something?”

Caitlin shrugged sheepishly, “...We didn’t think of that.”

“Sweetie, come here,” Iris said to Nora, but at that moment Barry’s voice crackled over the intercom system, requesting Iris and Cisco for help.

He must have found something in Dr. Sinister’s lair.

“Ah crap,” Iris sighed, “Caitlin, do you mind?”

Caitlin shook her head and beckoned Nora over to the Med Bay, “Here, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She made Nora sit on the examining table and wet some paper towels to wipe the chocolate out of her hair.

“That was fun,” Nora said happily.

“I”m glad you thought so, but I’m sorry you got hit. Does it hurt?”

“Not really,” Nora reached towards Caitlin’s head to take off the red wig. “You looked like Kim Possible.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Caitlin smiled.

“Aunt Caitlin, can I ask you a question?”

Caitlin turned off the water faucet, and turned towards her, all ears.

“Sure,” Caitlin replied.

“I saw that guy talking to you. Why didn’t you get his number?”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow at the little speedster. This wasn’t what she had in mind when Nora asked to chat.

“It would’ve blown the cover. I was pretending to be married to Uncle Cisco, remember?”

“But you’re not in real life!” Nora objected.

Caitlin handed her a junior sized Star Labs sweatshirt and sweatpants to change into. Nora hopped off the table to get dressed.

“Yes,” Caitlin agreed, “But that man didn’t know that. I didn’t want his number anyway.”

“Why not?” Nora asked innocently.

“I just didn’t.”

“So if you’re not with anyone, and you’re not really with Uncle Cisco, then why haven’t you or Uncle Cisco ever had a boyfriend or girlfriend?”

Caitlin paused, taken aback. It was true that she had been single for a long time, but coincidentally, Caitlin had never been more content in her life than she was now. She had her life back in order, she had struck up an unlikely friendship with her alter ego, who had been less Killer and more Frost for several peaceful years. She made amends with her mother and was in fact really proud of her work with Barry, Star Labs and her personal research.

“I can’t speak for Uncle Cisco but I’m happy with my life as is. I don’t need anyone new.” Caitlin looked out the window at Cisco, giving Barry directions of what kind of tech to look for in Dr. Sinister’s lab and sighed wistfully.She was right. She didn’t need anyone new. It was an old friend that she had wrapped around her finger.

Nora followed her gaze.

“You looked awfully happy pretending to be Mrs. Rodriguez, though,” Nora pointed out.

Caitlin blushed. It wasn’t lost on her that there was a lot of truth to that statement. “I was playing pretend,” Caitlin insisted, knowing how weak that sounded..

Nora put a hand on her hip sassily, pursing her lips a lot like her mother.

“Were you, though?” She pressed.

Caitlin ruffled the damp hair of Nora’s head, shutting down the conversation all together. She loved the kid, but she sure was Barry Allen’s daughter, meddling in personal affairs. “You’re all good to go. Why don’t you run home to your brother. I’m sure he misses you.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Caitlin opened a drawer and handed her a lollipop. Nora rolled her eyes. “I’m too old for these.”

Cisco peeked his head in at that moment, his faux facial hair all gone, “No no,” He admonished, “You’re never too old for candy.”

He snatched Nora’s lollipop out of her hand, unwrapped the plastic and plopped it in his mouth. “Your loss my gain,” he said, muffled around the candy.

“Just think about what I said,” Nora told Caitlin, then sped out the building.

Cisco leaned forward. “What was she talking about?”

Caitlin fiddled with her medicine drawers. “Um,” she said lightly, shaking her head like it was no big deal, “Just about us being Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez. She didn’t quite believe that we were acting.”

Cisco sat in down heavily in Caitlin’s office chair. “But you told her we were…”

“Of course.”

Cisco sighed. “Right.”

Caitlin turned around, curious at Cisco’s tone of voice. “Why, you wish we weren’t?” She felt overly conscious about the way her heart sudden quickened in pace.

Cisco made a contemplative humming noise, “Weeeellll,” he dragged out the word, avoiding Caitlin’s gaze. He toyed his dress shoes into the floor as he swiveled left-right-left in her chair and removed the candy from his mouth.

“Arlo might’ve been a little jealous that a man was interested in his wife. It made him feel a bit stupid. Arlo has this amazing beautiful woman and he never really tells her enough what she means to him, he always kind of assumed she knew.”

“Ah,” Caitlin responded. Cisco glanced up at her, vulnerability written all over his face. “What does Katherine think?”

Caitlin lifted a shoulder, nonchalant. “Katherine was too wrapped up in her feelings about Arlo to even notice that another man was interested. Katherine felt silly that she lost her touch. And then she felt not so silly, because who was she trying to impress, if Arlo cared about her so deeply without her even having to try?”

“Really?”

They weren’t joking anymore.

Caitlin nodded. “Yeah.”

“I do,” Cisco breathed. “Care about you deeply. So much. For so long.”

Caitlin felt like she might die. In a really good way. In a ‘I ate three belly burgers and had one milkshake too many but I’m so very happy’ way.

“Is this Arlo talking or Cisco?” Caitlin teased, holding her breath.

Cisco stood up and grabbed Caitlin’s hand, tugging her towards him. “It’s Cisco,” He said softly, seriously. “It’s me. I’d be lying if I said you’re not who I want. Who I think about all the time. Who I’d want to be my partner in crime not just when we fight crime.”

Caitlin squeezed their joint hands. “That’s a relief. Caitlin feels the same way.”

Cisco moved closer, following Caitlin with his eyes, beaming. He leaned in just as Caitlin placed her hands on his waist when Nora zipped back into the Med Bay with her twin brother in tow, scaring the two half to death.

They jumped into each other’s arms as Nora crowed in victory. “Thank you speedforce!” She exclaimed, “I did it! You owe me ten bucks!”

“Congratulations,” Don cheered as unenthusiastically as a kid could sound. “No offense, but I thought it was never going to happen.” He handed Nora a crumpled Hamilton.

“See, I told you it would work!” She stuck her tongue out at Don smugly.

Suddenly all the puzzle pieces clicked. “Wait a minute…” Cisco said, shaking his head at Nora, impressed. “We’ve been bamboozled! You were the one that put the idea that we should be your fake parents in our heads! You set us up!”

“To be fair,” Nora pointed out, “You are our godparents, so it’s not like it’s that unrealistic.”

Caitlin tilted her head, thinking that reasoning over. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Who cares!” Nora cried, “You’re together now!”

“Okay, thank you, we owe you. Now let us have our moment!” Cisco said, ushering the Tornado Twins away.

They zoomed off, and Cisco could hear Iris yelling after them as he pulled the curtain around the bed.

“Now,” Cisco said, winking, “Where were--Mmmph!”

Caitlin cut Cisco off, finally bestowing him their long awaited kiss.

#killervibefanficweek #killervibefanficweek18 #killervibe #thatkillervibe #thatkillervibefic #The Flash #flash fic #flash fanfiction #fluff #nora west allen #future fic #Undercover Missions #Day 2 Undercover Missions #Cisco Ramon #Caitlin Snow #Barry Allen #Iris West #ciscait #fic

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the-chubbiest-dumpling · 7 years

Text

Bad Day

Summary: You asked Sebastian to go over some lines with you, but you don’t show up at the designated meeting place. When he finds you unable to get out of bed, he takes it upon himself to brighten up your day.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 6650

Warnings: Swearing. Crying. Vulnerability.

You’ve known Sebastian for a while now.

You first worked with him in The Covenant, starring as one of the main protagonists, Sarah Wenham. Though you two didn’t interact much in the film, you got the chance to work closer with him on the show Kings as the role of his sister, Michelle Benjamin. From the beginning you could tell he was a very serious actor that loved what he did. You heard that he got the role of Chase Collins by videotaping himself in his kitchen, performing the scene where he goes to the Dean’s office to speak with him. You, on the other hand, auditioned in person like a bunch of other girls, and eventually got the role. Sebastian got the job on the spot. And when you worked with him on both projects, you were blown away by his acting, and his kindness.

You developed feelings for him in no time.

The third time you worked together was on the set of Gossip Girl. You managed to land the main role of Serena van der Woodsen, the lead protagonist, while he Carter Baizen. You were both happy to see each other, and caught up during set breaks and off-set as well. You were also super excited to find out that he’d be playing your boyfriend for some time, and to be able to kiss him. You really hoped that he couldn’t tell how happy you were about it, though you were bashful at times when you knew he couldn’t see you. He was overjoyed to be working with you again, and expressed it the very day he arrived on set, with a giant hug.

That smile will always punch you in the gut.

Over the years, you continued to send your congratulations of his achievements via text after exchanging numbers. From landing the role of Bucky Barnes in the MCU, to T.J. Hammond in Political Animals, to his iconic role of Lance Tucker in The Bronze (to which you couldn’t stop laughing), and to his most recent role of Jeff Gillooly in I, Tonya. You always complimented his acting abilities, especially when it came to expressing emotions in a subtle way. He paid the compliments back with some of his own, his favourite being how you go in and out of a role so fluently. And how your ridiculous shenanigans on set made him laugh.

Seeing him grow up and being able to even know him has been a privilege. You have no idea how he’s him. He’s so caring and generous and kind and funny and heart-warming and so incredibly talented. And handsome, of course. Can’t leave that bit out. You have different work schedules, so you don’t see him as often as you’d like, but you still text from time to time.

This is one of those times.

Two days prior, you had asked him to go over some lines with you. You had gotten your script a week ago, and reading them by yourself at home just wasn’t cutting it. It was lacklustre compared to doing it with your co-star and director present. And since neither of them were available to help you, you called up Sebastian and asked for his help. He readily agreed, and promised to meet you at a private coffee shop in the city to go over them with you. Today is the day you two confirmed to meet, at the designated time and place, but you’re not there.

In fact, you’re not even awake.

Your week began slow and steady, with an overall jaded mood. You didn’t know what was dragging you down. You felt fine for the most part, but as the week progressed, your mood decreased and you became agitated and stressed. You ate less, and became exasperated from doing simple tasks, like cleaning and doing laundry. You just didn’t have the energy for it.

It’s just one of those days, you had told yourself. But it felt like more than just having a crappy day.

Today just happens to be the worst of it.

You first woke up at nine o’clock in the morning after going to sleep at three the previous night. That was a regular thing for you: going to bed especially late and waking up in the afternoon. You got up to go to the bathroom, got something to drink, then went straight back to sleep. The next time you woke up was at two in the afternoon. The room was darkened as much as possible, but the sun still shone through your blinds annoyingly. You looked at the time, and sighed. You didn’t know what was wrong. You just didn’t want to do anything today. The only thing you were willing to do was sleep.

And sleep you did.

You manage to fall asleep for another two hours before waking up in a haze. You thought you had slept right into the next day, but it was only four in the afternoon. Even opening your eyes feels like a task you cannot complete. They burn from sleeping so much, and from rubbing them every so often. You stretch your arms and legs, but otherwise stay curled up in your nice, comfy, warm blankets.

However, you decide it’s finally time to wake up. But not get out of bed. You unplug your phone from the charger, and instantly groan from seeing all your notifications. Your phone was on silent the entire time, so you heard none of the phone calls, nor the worried texts that Sebastian made. You feel incredibly guilty for making him worry, but one look at his texts throws it out the window.

He’s on his way over.

Like, right now.

The most recent text was made thirty minutes ago, approximately the amount of time it takes to get from the coffee shop to your apartment. You grunt in frustration and drop your phone down beside you, and wipe your hands down your face.

“God damn it,” you hiss.

Sometimes you hate how worrisome he can be.

You live on the thirteenth floor of a twenty-story complex, giving you no time to clean up before Sebastian walks through the door. Your place is a mess, with dishes in the sink, clothes strewn on the floor, leftovers discarded on the counter, and abandoned laundry baskets left by the washing machine. You’re usually not such a slob, but these past few days have taken a toll on your mind. Since nobody really visits, there wasn’t much reason to do any of those chores. But now that Sebastian is on his way, you wish you could’ve just gotten off your ass and done it when it needed to be done.

Sighing angrily, you grip the sheets and pull them up to your chin, tuck your knees up, then close your eyes once more. You’re not going back to sleep, but a little eye rest will do you good before facing Sebastian. Seeing your messy apartment is one thing, but seeing you trapped in your bed and unwilling to get up is even more embarrassing. You have no idea what to say to him when he walks through the door.

Shit.

For reasons unknown, you left your door unlocked last night, which is completely out of character for you. You don’t live in a sketchy part of town, and you have nice neighbours, so there’s no real threat, but you’re nothing if not careful. Your carelessness scares you a little.

And no more than five minutes later, you hear a knock at the door, and the familiar, smooth voice you’ve come to love.

“_______?” Sebastian calls. “You in there?”

Even if you did raise your voice to confirm your presence, he probably wouldn’t even hear you. And let’s not forget the fact that you don’t even want him to be here. Well, be here and see you in this state. You’d rather him not see just how horrible of a week you’re having.

“_______?” he knocks again. When he doesn’t hear an answer, he grabs the doorknob. “I’m coming in.”

You hear the door click open, then pretend to be asleep in hopes that he’ll go away. But you know that won’t happen.

Sebastian haphazardly steps through your apartment, and takes note of how unkempt it is compared to his previous visits. He seemingly notices every little thing that’s wrong. It doesn’t feel right to him. He knows you like to keep your place neat and tidy for your own sake and that of visitors. He’s seen it a little bit messy, but not this much. There’s a certain smell to the air (that you’re the least bit proud of), and he finds the source in the kitchen. Dirty dishes and leftovers sitting on the counter. He puts his hands on his hips and pulls his lips to the side.

This doesn’t feel right.

“_______?” he calls out again, heading for your bedroom. The door is closed, so he quietly pries it open and peeks inside. It’s dark, but light enough for him to see you laying there, perfectly still, your shoulder moving the sheets up and down in time with your breathing. He says your name quieter this time, but you don’t give him a response. You bite your bottom lip and pray for him to go away, but he only comes closer.

“Hey,” he whispers, gently shoving your shoulder. He kneels down as you turn over on your side, with your eyes still closed. Knowing that you can’t keep up the charade anymore, you slowly open your eyes, and see his concerned eyes staring into you.

At first you act confused as to why he’s just waltzed into your apartment uninvited, but decide that that’s not the best route to go. You don’t want to yell at him; in fact, you don’t want to speak to him at all. It’s too taxing. So instead, you blink several times to get the sleep out of your eyes, and clutch the blankets.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks, tilting his head. “You didn’t meet me today. I called you and sent some texts, but you never answered. Are you sick?”

Mentally, yes.

You shift your eyes to the left, avoiding his gaze. You have no idea what to say. You’re not just about to start blubbering about every little thing that’s wrong. Letting Sebastian see into your mind and how fucked up it is is not how you want this visit to go. So, being a “physical speaker”, you speak to him with your body.

You shrug your shoulders, and dart your eyes all over the floorboards when you can see his worried expression from your peripherals.

“Did something happen?” he asks, wanting to get to the bottom of this. He’s not mad that you didn’t meet up with him; he just wants to know if you’re okay.

You shake your head no, so he thinks of another reason why you’re laying in bed at four in the afternoon.

He goes the logical route.

“Bad day?”

You nod once, then pull the covers up higher to shield your mouth and nose. But the eyes are one of the biggest dead giveaways when you’re trying to hide the pain behind them.

“Have you eaten today?”

You shake your head.

“You need to eat something, _______,” he says gently. “Come on. I’ll make you something.”

He stands up and begs you to come with him, but you stay huddled up in your blanket cocoon. On a much better day you’d gladly sit in the kitchen and watch him cook you something to eat. But your mind and body is just not having it. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he really wants to see you get out of that bed. But you can’t. You just can’t do it.

Sighing, Sebastian comes back and crouches down beside you.

“I know it’s hard,” he starts softly. You dare to look him in the eyes. And when you do, you can’t look away. “I know that it feels like a chore to get up and walk, to eat, and to even speak. And that’s okay. But you can’t neglect yourself, _______. Otherwise you’re just going to be even more miserable than you already are. It might be a shitty time, but it’ll pass. Sometimes not as quick as you want it to be, and not always in the way you want, but with the right amount of care and patience, it’ll be alright in the end. So please, for me, can you come with me?”

He’s being so sweet and sincere, and here you are, being an asshole by not meeting him and making him come all the way to your place for nothing. You feel like he’s wasting his time by trying to get you to stand up and eat and probably shower. He hasn’t said it, but you know he can smell it. You’re so embarrassed by everything that you have to stop yourself from crying. You blink rapidly, and from being this close to him, Sebastian definitely notices.

“Listen,” he says. “I’m gonna draw you a bath. Make sure to use it before it gets cold.” He chuckles, which in turn makes you smile the tiniest bit. “While you do that, I’ll make you some late lunch. Okay?”

You can’t refuse him, so you nod. He nods back, then stands up again and takes his leave, keeping the door open. You hear him turn on the water, and even plugging the drain. You hate, but love that he’s doing this. It really means something when you know that someone genuinely cares. And that fact is enough to make you emotional.

You stretch once more, but still don’t have the strength to toss the blankets away. It’s too warm, and you’re too comfortable. But having a bath is probably–definitely–what you need. You trust that the bath will be warm, so closing your eyes tightly, you kick your covers to the end of the bed, and shudder from being exposed to the chilly air. Step One done. Now comes the hard part.

Getting out of bed.

Slowly, but surely, you drag one of your legs closer to the edge of the bed before letting it fall to the floor. You do the same with the other, and soon enough, you’re halfway there. But then you stop.

That’s enough progress for one day.

You’re stuck in that position for a minute before Sebastian comes back to retrieve you. When he sees half your body hanging off the bed, he has to smile. You look so ridiculous, but he has to be somewhat serious about it. He’s here to make you feel better, not make fun.

“Come on,” he says, walking up to you. “You’re almost there. You can make it.”

He brings his hands forward and grasps yours. You squeeze loosely, but no matter the grip, Sebastian pulls you to your feet. You stand upright instead of just falling back on your bed, for his sake. He really is trying to help, so you might as well comply to his efforts.

He keeps hold of one of your hands as he brings you into the bathroom, your bath drawn and ready. He even dropped in one of your bath bombs to make it seem more inviting. There’s even a towel set aside, as well.

“You stay in here as long as you need,” he says. “And when you’re done, I’ll have something ready for you to eat when you come back out. Sound good?”

You still can’t find your voice, so you just nod again. Sebastian doesn’t mind. He does hope that he’ll hear your voice at least once during this time with you. But for now, he’ll leave you be.

“And promise that you won’t fall asleep again?”

You nod.

“Thank you.”

He gives a quick kiss to your head before closing the door behind him to tend to his other duties. You allow yourself a small smile, because his beard tickled your forehead. You look down, and stare longingly at the bluish-green bathtub. You might as well. It’ll be good for your body, and for your mind. And to settle some of Sebastian’s nerves.

You strip down and gingerly step into the tub, sighing loudly as soon as you submerge yourself in the warm water. The bath bomb is Lush’s The Big Sleep, which gives off a calming, woodsy lavender scent. Lavender is an herb that aids in sleeping, but you don’t plan on sleeping any time soon. Not while Sebastian is still here.

You soak yourself for about half an hour. During that time, you periodically heard Sebastian rummaging around in your kitchen. Cooking or cleaning, you don’t know. But just being able to hear him in your home is enough to keep you at ease. Better him than anyone else, in fact. He hasn’t judged you for anything. Not the state of your apartment, nor yourself. He’s completely understanding, and knows where you’re coming from. It saddens you to think that Sebastian might have had days where he didn’t want to do anything either, and that’s why he can relate.

You’re definitely going to pay back the favour if that moment ever presents itself.

After thirty more minutes, the water has gone cold, and you’ve had a thorough rinsing. You dip your head under once more before standing up and wrapping yourself in the towel Sebastian laid out for you. You sadly unplug the drain and watch the colourful water disappear until it’s all gone.

You honestly feel better after that, and even feel more awake.

You smell something mouth-watering from the kitchen. Whatever Sebastian’s making, even if you don’t like it, you’re going to shove it down your throat because he took the time and energy to do so. You squeeze the water from your hair and shake it, then firmly tuck in the end of the towel and quietly emerge from the bathroom.

You peek behind the wall, and see him making something in a pan. His jacket hangs on one of the bar stools, and he’s removed his shoes as well. He’s made himself at home, to which you don’t mind at all. It’s refreshing to see him do common, everyday things. Not wanting to disturb him or draw attention to yourself, to skip back to your room and kick the door shut. Sebastian manages to catch a glimpse of your back before you disappear behind your door, making him smile.

You take your time getting changed, even though you eventually settle on wearing sweats and a plain grey V-neck. You put your hair up to dry, squeezing out the last of the droplets and discarding the towel on the floor. You look at yourself in the mirror, pulling your lips to the side. You’re feeling better, but you don’t know if you’re in the mood to talk yet. Perhaps an affirmative grunt or a sigh or maybe even a laugh. Either way, you’ll know when you join Sebastian in the kitchen.

You decide to throw on a hoodie before leaving your bedroom again. You tiptoe into the kitchen, and muster a weak smile when Sebastian looks up and smiles at you. You sit down on a bar stool and cross your arms on the counter, setting your chin on top of them.

“Better?” he asks.

“Mmm,” you hum quietly. It seems he spent most of his time cleaning up, since the floors and counters have been cleared off, and all the dishes have been done. It’s extremely inconvenient to not have a dishwasher, but one of these days you’ll buy one. For now, you’re your own dishwasher.

You cast your eyes downward, avoiding any kind of visual contact with him. You love looking at him, but not when you’re feeling so awful. He takes notice of your crestfallen expression, and hopes to god that the tips he looked up about what to do when your friend is depressed alleviates some of your pain.

“I’m making chicken and shrimp stir fry,” he says after a moment of silence, showing you the pan. “I hope you like it.”

You glance up at the pan, then to his eyes, then back down at the counter. His expression falls a bit from your lack of reaction, but he’s not going to stop trying. Baby steps is better than trying to push everything on you all at once. Small chit-chat is fine with him; just as long as he can get the message across that he’s here for you.

He throws in some teriyaki sauce into the pan, mixes it around a little, then turns off the stove and begins plating. You hate it being so quiet, but you have nothing to say to him. You would if you could think of something intelligent or funny, but your feel as if your mood has gotten worse. Despite the bath waking you up, your mind is not at ease. It has its good days, but today is one of the foulest ones.

While you’re lost in thought, Sebastian places your plate in front of you, setting a fork down beside it. The clank of glass to marble makes you jolt upright in a fright. It really worries Sebastian when you seem jumpy; and he hopes it’s not for the reason he’s thinking of.

“C’mere,” he says, picking up his plate. “Let’s sit over there.”

He motions to your Lovesac–The Big One–by the window. You peer over your shoulder at it, then back to him. He’s smiling that soft, sweet smile. The one you can never resist. You know you’ll love sitting beside him on a big fluffy bean bag chair and eating food he made for you, so you gather your plate and fork and follow him to the chair. You sit down first, and balance your plate on your leg as Sebastian carefully sits down next to you. You can’t even look at him, not even when he’s this close to you. Then again, when the proximity is nearly face-to-face, it’s hard not to feel just the slightest bit uncomfortable.

You eat in silence, as both of you expected. Sebastian is incredibly patient, as he’s always been. And very observant. How slow you eat, how quiet you are, how you’re not willing to even glimpse at him; he doesn’t want to be hurt by the fact you don’t trust him enough to talk about whatever is bringing you down, but he knows it’s not that easy. It’s much more complex than that.

After finishing his lunch, he gets up to wash his plate and put it back in the cupboard. When he turns around, you’ve finished as well, so he takes it upon himself to do the same. He takes your plate, washes it, then stores it before flopping down next to you again. You tuck your knees up higher, and play with the end of your sleeves. Sebastian supports his cheek in his palm, and stares down at you sadly. He has no idea if one of his “accidental pep talks” would help you any, but he’s going to try anyhow. It pains him to see you not smiling; and if he can get you to smile genuinely before he leaves, then his job is done.

“I’m here for you, _______, I hope you know that,” he begins softly. He knows you’re listening when you stop playing with your sweater. “Good day, bad day, doesn’t matter. Whatever you want, or need to talk about. I’m here for ya, okay? You don’t have to say anything, and that’s perfectly okay. I just want you to know that you’re not alone in this. You can trust me.”

Your eyes well up with tears when he starts being sentimental. You’re not used to hearing these sort things in real life. In movies mostly, some you even acted out yourself. And even then it was difficult to hear. You don’t know why you can’t just accept help when it’s being offered to you. But you’ve managed to come up with a handful of reasons:

1. You don’t want help unless it’s too late 2. You don’t look/seem mentally ill enough to be offered help 3. You like the attention because you felt unimportant/left out by many people in your life in the past and present, but don’t take the advice 4. You think you don’t deserve it

The main reason is probably–

All of them.

You know how incredibly honest and kind Sebastian is, and you truly appreciate those aspects of his personality. But when the person you’re pining for says those things to you while you’re extremely vulnerable is a nightmare. You never wanted him to see this side of you. Others have, but you’d be damned if he ever saw it. And now, after years of knowing each other and working together, it has finally come to light.

The tears slide down your cheeks, and you hastily wipe them away. Your lip quivers, so you bite down hardly on it. Sebastian wraps his arm around you when you begin to become distraught. He feels bad for making you cry, but he had to let you know. Assuring someone that you’re there for them is one of the most important things someone can do for another. And Sebastian always makes sure that he’s there for the people he cares about.

He’s about to begin another tangent, but you cut him off.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you confess, your voice thick. You keep wiping your eyes as you speak, as the tears just keep on coming. “I felt fine at the beginning of the week. I was feeling great, even. And then I just… didn’t. I dunno if it was the people or my surroundings or what I had to do or I was anxious about everything and nothing or it was everything at once. All I know is that I just got so fucking tired and lost all my energy and motivation. I didn’t wanna get up, didn’t wanna do anything productive, and apparently, didn’t wanna go over my fucking lines with you. I’m so shitty that I couldn’t even text you back when I woke up the second time, or at all. And I was being rude to you earlier by not answering you.

Everything is just so overwhelming all of a sudden and I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself! My friend almost died the other day and I forgot to pay my rent and I don’t know if I did the right thing with agreeing to be on this new show and I’m going to fucking explode because it seems like life suddenly hates me! I try to put on a good front and wait until I’m by myself to just fucking cry about it, but it’s getting harder and harder to hide it and I’m scared that no one will shut up about this side of me!”

Your throat completely closes up so you can’t speak anymore. You’re a sobbing mess now, and shove your face in your hands so you can cry your heart out without him seeing. The sound of you squealing from crying so hard breaks his heart. He pulls you to his chest and rubs your arm as he attempts to comfort you.

“A lot of life is a struggle, _______,” he begins. “We just don’t see it all the time because our eyes are always trained to look for ‘happy things’, but life is always a struggle with beautiful moments in-between. We have to keep going. That’s all there is. And most of those beautiful moments, at the end of the day, are pretty simple. Good company with people that get you. Or being proud of a goal maybe you set for yourself. Anxiety is just part of our past. It’s always gonna be there as long as we are human because a long time ago it protected us. But now it’s like having an old alarm clock that still goes off even though you may not need it anymore. But everyone has it. Go forth, go forward. Take a few breaths and onwards we go. There’s nothing more heroic in the world than that.”

This time, his pep-talk isn’t accidental. He becomes the most heart-felt person when he sees a friend in some kind of peril. Despite that, he hasn’t had the chance to do it in person most of the time. A lot of the time has been on Instagram, and small snippets during interviews. He’s hugged a fan or two at a Con where they couldn't get through a question for him, but he never had enough time to hear a full-length explanation about why they’re having a bad day. Doing this with you right now it making him feel all sorts of things: pride, empathy, determination, love… he really wants to get through to you, and help you see the bright side on things.

But again, he knows–amongst other things–that not every person wants to feel happy during a time of great vulnerability. Preaching to you won’t help you any if you won’t take his advice. Do or don’t, Sebastian will still be there.

He physically feels you calm down, and hears that you’re full-blown sobbing has dwindled down to sniffling and light crying. You’re definitely not ready to talk yet, so Sebastian keeps ranting in what he hopes is the best way possible.

“And you know what? No matter what just be yourself. That’s it. Just be you. Whatever you feel walking into the room you feel. That’s your truth. Don’t deny it. Don’t fight it. If you’re nervous, you’re nervous. If you’re scared, you’re scared. Don’t try to change how you feel on the day. Embrace it. Mike Nichols said ‘bring your day to the stage’, meaning you bring what you’re going through that day to the work. Even if you’re nervous once you embrace it and go ‘this is me right now and that’s that; they don’t like it, well then, they don’t like honesty’ then you will relax into it. We spend too much time bullying ourselves trying to be other things. Be who you are. Own it. It’s okay to give yourself some love once in a while. Be kind to yourself as you would be to a friend in need.”

What you honestly can’t believe is all the sap that’s coming out of his mouth. You know he can be incredibly encouraging sometimes but this is just… wow. You didn’t know know that people could be capable of such perception and understanding. It blows you away, actually, that Sebastian took the time to say all of that to you in hopes that it would make you feel better. You appreciate his efforts. You manage to stop crying completely and just sniffle. Your throat is raw, and you’re sure you’ll need some Vics and pain killers, but you feel ten times better after having a big cry. Your head hurts a little, but other than that and your throat, you feel okay.

“You’re pretty fucking unpredictable, you know that?” you chuckle, wiping your eyes. You finally relax after being so tense, and avoid looking him in the eyes still. You’re not ready for that just yet. He smiles down at you, happy that he got something out of you.

“I try,” he laughs. He continues to rub your arm, and patiently waits for you to give him some sort of recognition to his words, but when he doesn’t get it, he decides to throw in another point.

“I have a therapist,” he says, which seems to grab your attention. You glance up at him once before staring back at his legs. “You can see him if you want. Or I could help you find one, if you’d like. I don't wanna shove this down your throat, but my offer will always stand.”

“I see,” you say. “…now I know where you get all your astounding advice from.”

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get a lot of good guidance from him, but I throw in my own thoughts and opinions as well. Whenever I see people going through a bad time, I can’t help but just reach out to them and see if I’ll be of any use. And it makes me feel great about myself when I find out that I am. Making a difference in people’s lives is something that I’ve always wanted to do. And it’s very fulfilling to know that I am.”

Finally, you have the strength to sit up and face him. You wipe your eyes once more before looking into his eyes.

Bad mistake.

He’s got a mix of puppy-dog eyes and smiling like you’re the most important thing in the world. You’ve lost your voice, and your thoughts are scattered, but after clearing your throat and looking away from him, you manage to think of a response.

“I, uh. Um. T-Thank you for um. A-All of that. I don’t know what to say other than that I’ll… think about it.”

“That’s quite okay with me,” he smiles. “But can you promise me something?”

“I guess…”

“When you’re having a bad day, like today, will you come talk to me about it? You can text me, call me, meet in person. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll always be around. And I promise you that you won’t be inconveniencing me. Above all else, taking care of yourself comes first. Say you have an illness and cannot come in. You matter, _______. And you hurt yourself by neglecting your health. So please, please, talk to me when you need to.”

You can’t push him away when he’s being this sincere. But you don’t want to push him away anyhow. How can you? You love him to death; closing him out of your life would benefit neither of you. Smiling, you nod your head.

“Okay,” you agree. “I will. Thanks, again. I–I can’t–“

You cut yourself off because you begin cry-laughing. You rub your eyes and laugh to shake off the new feeling inside you. Sebastian smiles widely when he finally hears the laugh he’s been waiting to hear. You look away from being embarrassed, but Sebastian just grabs hold of you and squeezes you into a giant hug. You squeal happily this time and hide your face again because he’s being so adorable.

“Sebastiaaan!” you whine.

His arms are so strong.

He loosens his grip, causing you to go lay across his lap. You nuzzle your face in the soft warmth of your Lovesac, then peek over your shoulder. He has his head back, and is giving you the biggest, toothiest grin. You can’t help but smile back just as widely.

God I love him.

You shift around so you’re sitting with your legs in his lap. You cross your arms and lay your head to the side. The way you look at him is like he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. And he is, he really is. Your eyes become heavy, but you blink rapidly to keep them open.

“I’m okay,” you say before he gets the chance to poke fun at you. “I’m awake. I’m alright.”

“Nah, I wasn’t gonna say anything like that,” he says.

“Then what?”

“You look cute when you’re cozy.”

You smush your face into the fur and pull your hood over your head to hide your flushed cheeks. He grins proudly to himself and pats your legs to get your attention. You don’t want to look, but you pull your hood to the side slightly.

“What if I stay here for the night, hmm?” he suggests. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m a lover of pizza and movies.”

You pull your hood away and cock your head to the side. He’s serious? He sounds serious. And he wouldn’t be smiling like that if he wasn’t. Biting your lip, you knit your brows together as you think. He’s just cleaned your apartment, made you some late lunch, and boosted some confidence in yourself. Plus, he made the trip all the way to the coffee shop, then to your apartment. It’d be rude to kick him to the curb. You smile softly at him.

“Alright,” you say. “You can stay.”

“Sounds good.”

For the entirety of the night, Sebastian is nothing but a bundle of laughs. When you can, you stare at him for as long as possible. You’ve fallen in love with every part of him; his face, his personality, his charm, his talents, his inspiration. From the first time you met, you already lost to him. Everything about him is so inviting and appealing; no one would be able to resist him. And as far as you know, no one has.

He’s still his useful, goofy self, and takes every opportunity to make you laugh. Making fun of the movie, telling a joke, eating his food weirdly, and even a funny story he has about his own personal life and things of the past. Anything to see you having a good time. Everyone has their bad days, and sometimes they need them, but Sebastian decided to cut that short. If he’s crossed a line and you actually wanted to be alone, then he’ll apologize profusely and leave right after. But so far, you’ve given no indication of that desire.

As the night comes to a close and you begin yawning and rubbing your eyes, Sebastian begins to turn everything off. He stores the leftover pizza in your microwave and helps you to your feet. But before you go to bed, you turn to face him.

“I really appreciate this, Sebastian,” you say. “I honestly didn’t mean to get that upset, but it just washed over me. So… thank you, once again, for making me feel better. I know it’s not exactly what you wanted to do today, and I’m sorry for that but… it means a lot to me. What you said. And I still can’t thank you enough for–“

Sebastian cuts you off by pulling you in for a hug. You’re a little dumbfounded at first, but you quickly relax into his embrace and wrap your arms around him. He strokes your hair and rubs your back while gently swaying back and forth.

“That’s enough of that, _______,” he says. “I’m always here for you, remember? For the good and the bad. I’ll be here.”

“Thank you,” you mumble into his chest. You close your eyes and breathe him in, smiling all the while. The hug lasts for a relatively long time, but it still feels too early when you pull away from each other. You both smile, and he ruffles your hair before sending you off to bed.

“Want me to be an alarm?” he asks as you walk away.

You stop as you grab the doorknob and look over your shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” you say. “Feel free to use the big ass bean bag chair as a bed. But I have a guest room if you’d prefer that.”

“I think I’ll take my chances with the chair,” he confesses. “But thanks anyway.”

“Alrighty, then. Goodnight, Sebastian.”

“Goodnight, _______.”

The moment you enter your room and close the door, Sebastian waltzes over to the Lovesac and grabs a blanket from the couch. He steps out of his pants and jumps down on the chair, pulling the blanket close.

He feels so euphoric from being able to get your mind off things, and he wants to feel that way more often. He stares longingly at your bedroom door, and whispers a personal goodnight of his own before falling asleep.

146 notes · View notes

cyjprojectarchive · 7 years

Note

It is so difficult to choose one hateful text because all of them give me angst feelings, but I will ask for "fuck your apologies, you can keep them". You know what pairing I want, bean.

prompt: “fuck your apologies, you can keep them.”group: got7genre: heavy angstwarning: lots of swearingpairing: choi youngjae & im jaebum ; 2jae // 2young are brothers!words: 3881

note: i agree, kelly - the angsty ones were just so good that’s why I decided to use that list! ;-; anyhow, I hope you enjoy! i said I was hoping to finish before you were off to sleep tonight, but oops ;;

also, i cross posted this on ao3. here is the link to anyone interested in reading it there instead, maybe! other than that, careful with your heart and enjoy! ;)

still accepting requests!! please check this link for guidelines and the prompt list to choose from!!

It was the biggest mistake of his life.

“Are you coming or what?”

“He’s there.”

“That’s the point of the party, dumbass. We’re celebrating the release of his song.”

“It’s not his song,” Jaebum sighs as a hand runs down his messy waves of hair. “Hell, he was mostly harmony for the rest of it.”

Jinyoung doesn’t appreciate his best friend’s attitude for a few weeks now. On a different day, he would have been greatly surprised with Jaebum’s reaction towards the man in question’s celebration of being able to collaborate with a few of his favorite artists. They were all part of a tight knit group of friends, so everyone was obviously excited for this opportunity given to Youngjae—Jaebum was not an exception, seeing as he’s the boyfriend.

But Jinyoung had been seeing… differences between his best friend and his own brother’s treatment towards one another. He couldn’t—for the life of him—pin point what it was. All he knows is that it’s not good.

“Let’s not ruin the experience for my brother,” Jinyoung chides instead, tossing Jaebum’s car keys towards him. Landing on his chest, Jaebum grabs it with a reluctant sigh. He feels the tension of meeting Youngjae in a sea of people in his stomach, but the possibility of Jinyoung finding out what he had done to his brother frightened him.

He knew he was an ass for keeping it a secret. But at the same time, confusion strickens his core as to why Youngjae hasn’t revealed his act of betrayal to any of them either.

Maybe he was too focused on the song, too preoccupied with meeting new people, too in love with this new life ahead of him.

Jaebum grits his teeth at his thoughts, but Jinyoung snaps him back to reality.

“The car isn’t going to drive itself, Jaebum-ah,” Jinyoung notes, already making his way out of the bedroom.

Standing up, Jaebum dusts off his jeans and follows suit. He imagines how happy Youngjae is being the center of attention at the party—something he has forgotten to give him the weeks prior to the younger’s work travel to New York, the very reason he got to work on this song in the first place.

They walk to his car, and Jaebum cannot erase the image of Youngjae enjoying the time of his life with Sanjoy, or Elliot what-’s–his–face; he cannot set aside Youngjae’s bright and carefree laughter echoing in the chambers of his mind. Youngjae excited, thrilled, and happy—all the things that made him fall in love with the man, everything given so freely to someone else instead.

He closes the door louder than usual, squirming at his own actions. Jaebum starts up the car as he looks to the passenger seat and wait for Jinyoung to get in. His eyes wander around the area until he finds something pink, lacy, and frilly peeping under the seat.

“Shit,” he mumbles nervously, reaching as fast as he can. Shoving it further down under, Jinyoung finally opens the door as he’s taken aback by the sight of Jaebum’s face dipped under the car seat.

“What are you—”

“Nothing, nothing,” Jaebum pants, retreating to his place before placing both hands on the steering wheel with an iron grip. Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, lowering himself onto the seat as the door closes. Before any of them can comment anything else, Jaebum begins driving.

The dread doesn’t leave his chest, and he uses all the strength in his upper arms and calves to focus on nothing but the road. How dumb can he be to leave that stupid thing lying around his car? For almost three days?

Jinyoung glances at the driver, feelings of suspicion still evident in his eyes. He’d casually chuck his feet under the seat and feel the object having been shoved down there by Jaebum, but he didn’t want to anger him while driving. Jinyoung will have to wait.

He wishes he can turn back time.

Arriving at the venue Youngjae had rented for the party, Jaebum parks at a close enough area and promptly turns the engine off. He releases his seatbelt, yanks the keys out of the ignition and clicks open the car door.

“I have a question,” Jinyoung says out loud—enough for Jaebum to stop midway. The older nods once, signaling for Jinyoung to continue.

The younger hesitates, setting aside the real question in his head and asks something else: “Are you sure the two of you are okay?”

The immense dread only crushes his organs even deeper, and Jaebum physically winces at the pain. He could confess right now, show his remorse and beg for Jinyoung to help him reconcile with Youngjae—but he couldn’t do that to him. He couldn’t ruin this very moment his boyfriend had been dreaming all these months.

“It’s just a little misunderstanding,” Jaebum tastes the venom of his lies. “I’m sure he’s forgotten about it now,” he adds, mentally punching himself in the gut for assuming such a selfish thing about his boyfriend to his brother.

While Jinyoung wanted to pry even more, he shared the same sentiments of not wanting this night to be stolen away from Youngjae’s spotlight. He accepts the vague answer for now, and decides to just mention it in passing to his own brother at the party. He might tell him the truth this time.

The party is not very extravagant, just the way Youngjae likes it—a few people from the recording company he is in, some friends from others, and of course the other four people in their group are already mingling about the cozy yet spacious room. Strobe lights dance around the walls and the speakers surrounding the venue blast the very song being celebrated as well.

“Damn, my brother has taste,” Jinyoung ponders to himself, chuckling as he takes in the vibe of the party. Jaebum’s head drops low, already regretting the invitation to come with. Hell, Youngjae didn’t even give him one at all.

“I actually helped him set up the place,” Bambam corrects the older as he approaches, Yugyeom and Jackson towing alongside him. They all hug, with Jaebum the most antsy of them all. He hopes they didn’t notice, as the bass of the music thumps hard beneath their feet.

They all chat mindless topics—but frankly, Jaebum wasn’t as interested. He knew they all saw each other just a few days ago at the usual; he was invited there but he politely declined because he had better—or should he say regretful —things to do that day.

Clenching a fist, he asks to be excused. They all didn’t seem to mind, except for Jinyoung.

“Can I come with? Are you looking for Youngjae?” Jinyoung says.

“No,” the nth lie that has ever came out of his mouth. “Mark—where’s Mark hyung?”

“By the concessions table, I think,” Jackson chimes in, pointing to the direction of a long table covered with different delicacies. Jaebum mutters a thanks, gives Jinyoung a look for approval to leave. Once the younger gives in with a sigh, Jaebum escapes the perimeter of his friends.

He sees a lot of familiar faces, some even greet him passing by. Jaebum has never been a social butterfly, but working in the same field as his boyfriend gave him a lot of connections to the same people—all the more reason to hate himself for what he did, Jaebum thinks as he grimaces.

Their circles are just too connected with one another, one slip up and that whole bond would just crumble to dust.

Jaebum finds Mark, back facing him as the older seems to be enjoying whatever dessert he found on that particular section of the table. Mark turns around, eyes widening at the sight of Jaebum before returning to his usual calm expression.

“Funny seeing you here,” Mark starts, popping the whole cake pop inside his mouth. Jaebum tilts his head slightly, eyes peering over his friend as he treads lightly into the conversation, “What do you mean? If anything, I should be on the VIP list of this party.”

Okay, so much for keeping it casual.

Mark smirks, and it makes Jaebum even more wary of what he actually knows. He offers Jaebum a cake pop but as he refuses, Mark puts another one in.

“Let’s pretend I didn’t hear your arrogance,” he reprimands with a playful tone, “But I’m serious. Youngjae doesn’t want you here, Jaebum-ah.”

“What do you know?” Jaebum asks, straightforward.

“Enough to know how risky it is for you to be here,” Mark answers with a shrug. “He didn’t say anything specific, but he was pretty fucking devastated when he crashed at my place the other day, Jaebum. I don’t know what you two fought over since he literally just got back from New York not even for a week yet, but I haven’t seen Youngjae that wasted off his ass since he couldn’t find the courage to ask you out three years ago.”

The information rendered Jaebum speechless, his voice scratching away at his throat. As much as he wanted to deny any and all assumptions from Mark, he couldn’t—he just couldn’t lie anymore. The more he covers this up, the more his chest is going to explode from the guilt gnawing away at his heavy heart.

“J-Jinyoung forced me to go,” says Jaebum, knowing of nothing else to respond.

“Because Jinyoung doesn’t know what shitty thing it is you did to his precious little brother,” Mark counters, the friendly tone in his voice officially replaced with a cold, harsh one. “We’re all friends, so it’s really hard to be mad at you—I shouldn’t even be meddling in your relationship, but—” Mark stops himself as he crosses his arms and stares at the younger with pointed eyes.

“I’m telling you, and it’s for both of your own good—even all of us. As much as you are Youngjae’s boyfriend, what you did to him negates every right you have to be here right now. So you can either wait outside until the party is over and then talk to him or go home and find the time to confront him.”

Mark’s eyes shift to the left as panic fills them in as well. “Y-Youngjae-yah—”

“It’s okay, Mark hyung,” Youngjae says dismissively. Stiffening in his place, Jaebum hitches a breath as he hears that soft and familiar music to his ears. He decides against turning to see him face to face, but he didn’t need to as Youngjae steps right beside him, with his arm excruciatingly close to his.

“He can be here uninvited if he wants to,” Youngjae continues, and Jaebum feels his glare scorching his face. “It seems to be something he is okay with himself, anyway.”

His eye twitches, feeling the burn of that statement. Jaebum closes his eyes, afraid of what he might say or do in front of the two of them. Remembering Mark’s words, he backs away, choosing to ignore the encounter entirely.

“Yeah, go and walk away, hyung. Walk away and pretend we ever meant something,” he hears Youngjae’s striking words reap his back, ripping into his spine and poisoning his veins. Jaebum’s face grows hotter, as he whips around with hands balled into fists and nose steaming with frustration.

“The fuck you on about, Youngjae? Who’s the person stubborn enough not to talk about it and refuse to even understand the other side of the story? You’re the one who’s walking away,” Jaebum seethes, the scratchiness of his voice laced through angry words. Fortunately so, the music blared louder than his anger as Mark and the others were quick to hold him off.

“What’s going on?” Jinyoung demands, coming in between the two lovers. Mark has Jaebum’s arms trapped in his, but the latter swats him away convincing him he wasn’t a hazard to any of them right now.

“Nothing, hyung. Jaebum hyung was just about to leave,” Youngjae announces, eyes blurry with hot tears threatening to spill. Mark shoots Jaebum an expectant look, almost forcing him out the door already. The other three stand still, unaware of the tension brewing between their friends.

“What? Why are you kicking him out? Youngjae-yah, what the hell is happening?” Jinyoung continues, brows scrunched up in worry for his brother. Shaking his head vigorously, Youngjae zips his lips as he grabs Jinyoung by the arm and signals for everyone to follow him somewhere else. Other guests have noticed the encounter, most of them leaning towards Youngjae asking him if he’s alright.

Jaebum is left with Mark, but before Mark can tell him off, the younger has already stormed off without another glance.

Jaebum stays inside his car, punching the curve of his steering wheel repeatedly—careful not to target the center as the horn would probably irritate him even more. He didn’t know what else he could do; he couldn’t just leave right now, that’d be giving into what Youngjae accused him of. At the same time, his shame and guilt are on its way to devouring his sanity, and all he could think of to repair himself is to call Youngjae and ask to talk with him.

The party had been going on for a few hours at most, and Jaebum sees people coming out of the door already. He fell asleep for a while, but the moment his consciousness awakens he immediately grabs for his phone. Jinyoung had left him a few missed calls, but that wasn’t his main concern.

He knows how selfish he is becoming yet again , but if he didn’t plead for Youngjae’s time now, who knows when they can ever return to normal anymore.

Jaebum sends a message first, a simple hey, can we talk when you’re done? as he waits for a reply. Knowing he’s still probably talking to a few people, Jaebum shoots Yugyeom a text asking for help. The younger replies with a i’ll see what i can do and minutes after he concludes sorry, hyung. he really doesn’t want to talk to you right now .

Grunting, Jaebum hits the middle of the wheel as the startling noise rings in his ears. It is enough for him to get out the car, enough for him to take a deep breath from the cramped space he has been in for hours , and it is enough for him to go right back in the place and confront Youngjae without hiding in ignored texts and denied phone calls.

Just as he is near the front door, Jinyoung exits out and sees him. His eyes form into slits as his figure walks straight into Jaebum’s path, arms grabbing hold of his shoulders just to push him with much force to send him stumbling away.

“You fucking bastard,” Jinyoung shouts, not letting Jaebum go out of his sight. The older keeps his hand guarding his chest, careful not to make Jinyoung any madder than he already appears to be.

“Jinyoung, please—I know, I’m sorry—let me talk to him, please I’m—” Jaebum swerves just before Jinyoung lands a punch to his chest, and Jaebum sees Youngjae rushing out of the door, calling out to his brother.

“You don’t get to talk to him, you fucking asshole. You don’t even get to see him,” says Jinyoung, tone flaming in rage. Youngjae runs to his side, hugging his brother’s chest as he pleads him to stop. Jinyoung’s eyes soften to Youngjae’s whimpers, but he shakes his head as he tries to squeeze out of his grasp.

“He doesn’t deserve you, Youngjae. I can’t believe how much I trusted him to take care of you,” Jinyoung spats, looking Jaebum directly in the eyes.

“Jinyoung, I didn’t—please just fucking listen to me, I swear I’m sorry,” Jaebum chokes out, his tone wavering and his body wanting to disintegrate every second he sees Youngjae’s tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Youngjae. I was an asshole, I was weak, I was devastated you were gone, I was—”

“For two damn weeks, hyung! I was only gone for fourteen days and you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself!” Youngjae snaps, dragging Jinyoung away with him. “I wouldn’t have known if Mark didn’t message me saying there’s an unfamiliar car parked at your place one night. I wouldn’t have known if I didn’t call your phone early in the morning, hoping to hear just your voice but ended up talking to a girl.”

Jaebum takes a step forward, eager to explain his weakness to Youngjae—to do anything anything to turn it all around.

“Don’t even try, hyung,” Youngjae insists harshly, red brimmed eyes constantly wetting his cheeks.

Jaebum feels a shot to his chest as he breaks down with his own salty tears and moves faster to catch up to the love of his life. Jinyoung notices him advancing, so he quickly helps Youngjae get farther away and into another car.

Mark suddenly comes into the scene as he opens up his car and lets the two of them in. Jaebum is forced to stop, and watch the wheels scrape against the pavement as it takes Youngjae away from him.

He blames himself for the mess he made.

The night progresses, and so does Jaebum’s desperation. All of his clothes messily scattered on his bedroom floor, pillows and sheets buried underneath them. He didn’t want to drink nor result to any violence, so all he could do once he got home was take control of the things Youngjae’s presence heavily lingered on: his clothes.

Some of his sweaters were missing, and Jaebum vaguely remembers Youngjae borrowing them to bring with him on his trip to New York—one of which the younger already harbored months before even buying the ticket. Jaebum sits on the edge of his bed, fingers raking down hard across his scalp as his nails dig deep. He remembers Youngjae overly complimenting that black oversized sweater, and one day he just didn’t find it in his closet anymore. When Jaebum had picked Youngjae up from his apartment thirty minutes too early, he catches the younger red handed with his sweater dressing his boyfriend’s body.

Jaebum doesn’t notice the piece of fabric he is holding onto, and as his eyes scan the material, memories of Youngjae flash through his head once again. He holds it onto his lap, the vibrant red color straining his eyes but regardless, he reminisces the time Youngjae video called him at work. Jaebum was on his lunch break, and Youngjae had time to go shopping. The younger showed him a piece of track suit in blue, and Jaebum immediately blushed at the matching aesthetic Youngjae was hinting at. His boyfriend only grinned adorably—the way he always did whenever Jaebum strips himself vulnerable towards him.

He finally sets aside the article of clothing, wipes away the sweat on his forehead and exits out his room. He brings a lighter with him as he goes outside, the freezing air hitting his face with a blast. Jaebum continues to his car, opening the passenger door and grabs something he now finds indespicable underneath.

Taking one last look at the unwanted lingerie tainting his car, his reputation, his relationship , Jaebum spits out the flashbacks from the week before: starting from arguing with Youngjae about one misunderstood flight time which led to them not talking during the whole two-week he was gone which resulted to Jaebum getting himself drunk in a bar he’s never been to, meeting a girl he didn’t even get the name of—and everything became hazy after that.

The bits and pieces that came back to him when he found himself driving back to his apartment with a raging headache were incomprehensible, but as soon as he saw the pink bra left by this unknown girl, things started to make sense—Jaebum wish it didn’t; he begged for his mind to stop piecing things together and making him realize he fell to his weakness, to his loneliness, to his anger.

He lights it on fire as he stands next to the garbage bin. Watching it shrivel up to burnt fabric and yet knowing the consequences it held would stay with him for the long run, Jaebum cries out loud.

He dumps whatever was left, and starts making his way back to his apartment: numb and hollow. He sees a figure walking towards him, and Jaebum had to blink twice to confirm who he was seeing.

“Y-Youngjae,” he breathes out. A box in his hand, and a grimace on his face—Jaebum didn’t want to know what the box contained.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jaebum suggests desperately, holding onto the other end of the box as Youngjae tugs on it tighter. The younger places it just a few inches away from the door, and Jaebum can clearly see his beloved black sweater sitting on top of other things he knows hold memories of them together—memories Youngjae wants to give back.

“It didn’t have to end this way either, hyung,” Youngjae simply states, eyes hooded and avoidant. With shaky, cold hands, Jaebum clings onto his boyfriend’s arm. He whimpers softly, right into Youngjae’s back and the younger attempts prying him off.

“Youngjae, p-please. I’m sorry, please fo-forgive me. I can’t—I can’t do this without you, please—I’ll do anything, I’m sorry please—”

“Hyung, stop embarrassing yourself.”

“I don’t fucking care, Youngjae, please —I’ll do anything for you to forgive me. I was an ass, I didn’t know what I was doing—I was drunk but I caved, I’m sorry—”

“Hyung,” Youngjae deadpans, using everything in his might to push Jaebum off of him. He sees the older’s tired eyes, dry lips, and weakened stance. Jaebum never wanted Youngjae to see him like this , but the chance of the younger leaving him for good made Jaebum lose all sense of individuality.

“Youngjae, I swear to god I’ll do anything, let me—let me prove myself just please,” Jaebum whimpers, hands searching to intertwine with Youngjae’s, just like before. His fingers move around the air, and never find their place of warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he keeps repeating as Youngjae keeps backing away. “Youngjae, I’m sorry, fuck, I’m fucking sorry, please— ”

“Hyung, just go to sleep,” it didn’t sound like Youngjae anymore, but maybe because Jaebum tried blocking out all the noises telling him it’s over, and all he wanted to hear was the opportunity to prove himself worthy to Youngjae again.

“I’m—Youngjae, I’m sorry,” Jaebum croaks out once again, but it takes him a few seconds to realize Youngjae has left him. Out in the cold, with their relationship shoved into a box.

Jaebum kicks it hard, sending its contents scattered around his doorstep—much like the scenery in his room.

He didn’t want to believe he has lost Youngjae; he didn’t want to accept the fact that his ultimate stupidity is the cause of the most important person of his life to disappear.

A buzz interrupts his train of thought, and he chucks his phone out of his pocket and sees the sender, only to grow miserable once more from its message.

YoungjaeFuck your apologies, Jaebum. You can keep them.

#got7 #got7 imagines #2jae #2jae imagines #got7 scenarios #2jae scenarios #choi youngjae imagines #choi youngjae scenarios #im jaebum imagines #im jaebum scenarios #emfics #uhyn #received

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not-close-to-straight · 7 years

Text

Smitten Kitten (Chapter Two)

Check out Concept Art for this fic HERE by the lovely @striving-artist

MASTERLIST

******************** “Now guys.” Colonel Rhodes sat in front of them on the couch, his hands clasped loosely in his lap. “Tony would like to stress that making fun of him in his shifted form is completely unacceptable. He can't help that while you, Steve, are a Lion, and you, Bucky, are a Wolf, he is nothing quite as scary. Tony would also like to calmly emphasize that--”

“If either of you fuckers calls me a pretty kitty again I will end you!” Tony shouted from the doorway. “I swear to God I will end you!”

“Tony would like to calmly emphasize --” Rhodes repeated louder. “That calling him kitty is a very fast way to piss him off, please don't do that anymore. Showing you his shifted form was not something he had necessarily wanted to do, even though he has agreed that it was necessary to facilitate his healing. That being said, he is understandably nervous about showing it to you again, based off your reaction this time.”

The Colonel was speaking with all the tact and diplomacy of someone who had been explaining Tony's shenanigans to the press for years, and both the soldiers were having a hard time not laughing at the overly serious tone which was the complete opposite from how worked up Tony was.

“Tony, is there something you would like to add to the conversation, or have I covered the basics?” Rhodes asked politely, and Tony just huffed and turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him.

“Yikes.” Bucky murmured. “Made him angry, didn't we?”

“Goddamn it, you two.” Rhodes dropped his head into his hands, all diplomacy gone now that Tony had left the room. “I cannot believe you reacted like that. Giant bastards that you are reduced to cooing and squealing over a damn cat!”

“We weren't squeal--” Steve started to protest and Rhodes sent him a look. “Alright. Maybe we were squealing.”

“I saw the video feed.” the Colonel stated. “Never in my life have I seen two soldiers go from protective mode to fangirling mode so quickly in my life.”

“Don't gotta call us fan girls.” Steve sulked. “And maybe we got a little ridiculous but come on. Have you seen his animal form?”

“He is literally the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life. And I used to bring home orphaned kitties all the time.” Bucky said matter-of-factly and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Excuse him. The Winter Soldier is completely helpless against kittens, fluffy dogs and babies. Terrifying, isn't he?”

“Fuck you, Steve.” Bucky said lightly. “So Colonel. You've seen his shift?”

“Yes.” The Colonel leaned back and folded his arms. “Tony used to shift for me all the time in MIT. Helped him relax after finals, helped me relax, and yes, it was pretty damn adorable every time. But lots of people shift into harmless forms, in fact most people are only Gamma level shifters. Harmless little animals. It's really just not that big of a deal.”

“Tony just hates being the only household animal on a team that involves a dragon, a hawk with a twenty foot wing span, a giant snake, a Wolf that is so big it's almost obscene, and of course the King of the Jungle.” He motioned to Steve. “Half this team is Alpha shifters, the other half Beta shifters only by a slim technicality. He's a Gamma shifter. You could sit on him and not know he was there. How do you think that makes him feel?”

“I don't understand why his animal didn't mutate once he became Iron Man.” Bucky interjected. “My wolf is almost twice as big as it was before the super serum. Steve couldn't shift at all before getting juiced up because his heart couldn't handle it, and now his Lion stands five and a half feet at the shoulder. Everyone knows the more powerful you are as a human, the bigger your animal is. That's why Tasha's dragon stands at six feet partial shifted. She's terrifying and her animal reflects it.”

“That's a good point.” Steve said with a frown. “With the arc reactor powering his body, Tony could go for days. And even now, without the reactor, he's Iron Man . Easily the most powerful person on the team. Why hasn't his cat--” he tried to hide a smile.”--grown to a panther or something?”

“Actually, the whole problem is linked to the arc reactor.” Rhodes said slowly. “When he had it in his chest, he couldn't shift at all. His actual physical heart was too weak, plus shifting with an artificial limb is next to impossible. Bucky, I am constantly amazed that you can shift as well and as quickly as you do.”

Bucky rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. He hated his left arm, and the only reason he didn't throw the damn thing out is because he wouldn't be able to shift into his wolf at all with only three limbs. He didn't want to have to thank HYDRA for anything-- but they had made sure he could shift with the arm on, and he was grateful for it.

“Anyway.” Rhodes continued. “Tony spent years unable to change, years stuck in human form, having to heal at normal speed, never being able to fully relax, never really being able to enjoy the shifter side of him.”

Steve frowned. He had gone so many years without the ability to shift that now he loved it. He couldn't imagine being able to shift and having that taken away during some of the most stressful times of his life. “Poor Tony.” He murmured. “I never thought about that.”

“But now, even without the arc reactor, and maybe especially without the arc reactor, his heart is weak.” the Colonel explained. “His animal can't morph into something mighty just because Tony thinks he's indestructible. Our animals are basically linked to our strength of will, but our bodies can only take so much, and Tony's can't hardly take anything at all.”

“So, he's stuck in this tiny cat form? Never gonna be anything else? Never gonna be anything bigger?”

“No, he's stuck like this.” Rhodes sighed. “It makes him crazy. Also, for whatever reason, it takes a lot out of him to shift, so he hates to do it. He's always afraid he will get stressed and be stuck in a partial shift, with his mind only half online, and that terrifies him. So it's all or nothing with him, and lately he hasn't shifted at all. In fact, this might be the first time I've known him to shift in months. It's not particularly healthy to go so long in between shifts, and thank to you two dumb asses, it might be months before he does it again.”

“We will have to apologize to him.” Steve said firmly. “I didn't realize it was something this serious. I mean, we saw a kitten and just--”

“I just wanted to hold the kitty.” Bucky said with a light flush and Steve punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! Stop that!”

“Be serious , you guys.” Rhodes took a deep breath. “Tony pretends to be a lot of things. He pretends not to be affected by anything, pretends not to be scared, pretends to brush everything off. He hides everything behind that sarcasm and those stupid expensive sunglasses but in his shifted form, he can't hide his emotions or his reactions. It's all instinct and feelings at that point.

”“When his parents… passed…” he cleared his throat, looking away from Bucky uncomfortably. “You couldn't even tell by looking at him. Tony went to class every day, aced his tests, mouthed off to some asshole that I then had to step in and beat up. But at night, every night for weeks, I'd have this tiny black cat curled up in my bed, shaking and crying and yowling because the pain in his heart was too much to handle. He can't hide anything in cat form. He's needy and insecure and craves physical affection because he's had so little of it his entire life.”

The Colonel stood to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. “That brings me to my next point. I don't know what this whole possessive protective thing is you two have going over Tony, but it needs to stop .”

His voice hardened and Steve and Bucky shrank back a little.“Spending your days following him around and being so protective might just seem like you are looking out for your pack mate to an outsider, but it looks completely different to me. All I see is two Alpha shifters sniffing after my best friend. And that, boys, will get you your asses handed to you.”

“Tony likes both of you. Wants both of you, which is something he admitted to me in complete confidence, and something I am telling you only to warn you not to do anything stupid. He wants to share his shifted form with you two, which puts him in a very emotional and physically vulnerable spot.”

“I shouldn't have to tell you to be careful with my best friend.” Rhodey narrowed his eyes. “But I'm going to say it anyway. Tread lightly.”

“We wouldn't ever do anything to hurt Tony.” Steve started to object, at the same time that Bucky growled, “Why would you ever think we would do something like that?”

“Shut up.” They shut up. “When you have Tony pressed up against you, purring, trying to get as close as he can because he needs it? You will give him what he needs.”

“If he needs that in cat form so be it. If he trusts you enough to need it in human form, you will give him what he needs.”

“Tony doesn't actually think you two want him,” the Colonel rolled his eyes. “Which is the stupidest thing I've ever heard because everybody in the world knows how much you want him. But he's an oblivious little shit, so you boys are going to do one of two things.”

He waited for Steve and Bucky to meet his eyes before ordering, “You will either be there for Tony in whichever way and capacity he needs you to be, or you will back the fuck off. Do you understand me?”

“I don't know if Tony wants you in a romantic, bonding type way, or if he's drawn to the amount of protective Alpha shifter vibes you guys give off, but either way? Give him what he needs, or leave him the hell alone.”

“That won't be a problem, Colonel.” Bucky said quietly, with a quick glance towards Steve. “If Tony's willing to share his shifted form with us, of course we will do whatever he needs to keep him comfortable like that.”

“Definitely.” Steve echoed. “We are-- we are in this for the long haul. Both of us.” a nod from Bucky. “Tony is safe with us.”

“Good.” Rhodes widened his stance a little, his hands dropping down by his side. “Did you know I am an Alpha level shifter as well? Have you boys ever seen my bear?” His voice dropped into a growl that seemed to rumble through the floor. “I stand eight feet tall partial shifted. Do I need to tell you what will happen if I ever hear that you have upset Tony?”

“N-Nope.” Steve's blue eyes went wide with shock and a healthy dose of fear.

“Good Christ.” Bucky squeaked, completely intimidated by the unassuming Colonel growling at him.

“Well then.” Rhodes voice came back to normal and he smiled congenially. “Good talk boys. Always a pleasure catching up with you.”

They both jumped to their feet and saluted automatically as he left, then dropped back onto the couch, staring at each other nervously.“Uh--did you know Rhodes was a bear?”

“Nope. Much less an Alpha Level Shifter.”

“Huh.”

They sat in contemplative silence for another minute.

“So. Tony wants us both?” Bucky said hesitantly. “Because that's what Rhodes said and I don't really know--”

“--yeah, I don't know either.” Steve finished. “Maybe cross that bridge when we get to it?”

“So we would be sharing Tony? Or would all three of us be--”

“CROSS THAT BRIDGE WHEN WE GET TO IT!” Steve said even louder, and folded his arms stubbornly.

“Steve.” Bucky's voice sounded hoarse. “Can you imagine what he'd feel like between us?”

Fuck me. All Steve could think about was Tony and Bucky in his bed. Rolling around beneath his sheets. So many hands and mouths and bare skin and tongue and--

“I'm going to go take a shower.” He announced and nearly ran from the room.

He wasn't fast enough to miss Bucky's soft moan though, and not quick enough to miss watching his best friend push the heel of his hand over the erection outlined behind his zipper, his head dropping back onto the couch.

Steve tore his eyes away and headed right for a cold shower.

We are in trouble.

Damn cat.

#ncts fics #stuckony #shifter!fic #cat!Tony #wolf!Bucky #lion!Steve

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nyangibun · 7 years

Note

jon x sansa black pretty please! jon as assassin would be hot damn.

Mhmmm, Jon as an assassin, yes. But okay, this is probably not what you wanted because there’s a considerable lack of action. I still hope you like it! Tagging @manbunjon because you also asked for black.

There were two factions to the League: spies and assassins. As the bastard son of a Targaryen, Jon had been expected to follow the path of spies. They are born from wealth and privilege, with exceptional good looks and charm that cannot be taught. It was the logical next step. But Jon hadn’t always been a Targaryen. He’d been a Snow first; poor and forgotten by the system. He grew up with a chip on his shoulder and a knack for going unseen. When his mother died and Rhaegar Targaryen showed up in his life, Jon immediately gravitated towards the assassins. They’re fighters. Spies are liars. He may live the life of a criminal, but assassins had a code of honour that Jon could respect.

Unlike his half-siblings, who respect nothing, but themselves.

“Brother,” Aegon greets, once he rounds the corner and spots Jon. His smile is tight-lipped, verging on a sneer, but to anyone else, it would appear polite, maybe even fond. Jon knows better. After seven years with the League, he can read the Targaryens like a book.

Aegon comes to a stop in front of him. “You aren’t going to dinner dressed like that, are you?”

This is a conversation Jon’s had far too many times and one he is growing weary of. “I’m wearing what I always wear.” The League may see him as a Targaryen, but he’s a Snow through and through. They didn’t raise him. His mother did.

“Yes, unfortunately I am all too aware of how you dress,” Aegon continues, his facade faltering to give way to a distasteful frown. “But tonight is important for the League. You surely own something… better.”

Jon grits his teeth. Aegon knows the assassins live their life free from most material possessions. It’s in their culture to denounce them so that they won’t be swayed in the future by victims who try to bargain for their lives. He knows this, yet he still treats Jon as poor and uncultured. It shouldn’t bother him; he’s used to being the bastard, but it does.

“Leave Jon alone, Aegon,” Rhaenys interrupts just in time. Her long blonde hair is plaited down one side and she’s wearing a form-fitting red dress. “And go powder your nose.”

Aegon huffs, but walks away nonetheless. Rhaenys is next in line to lead the League after Rhaegar dies and anything she says is law. Thankfully, his half-sister is much more tolerable, and she dislikes Aegon nearly as much as Jon.

“My brother is a prick, isn’t he?” she sighs, before turning her gaze onto Jon. “But he is right, you have to change. I know father tailored you a tux.”

He doesn’t try to hide his groan. He hates dressing up.

Rhaenys looks at him with a bemused smirk. “You will grow to enjoy it eventually, Jon.”

“I won’t have to.”

“You will,” she says. “Do you think the League will go to Aegon if both father and I die?” She laughs loudly, the sound echoing in the narrow stone corridor. “Please; this place would be driven to ruins if it was up to that idiot. No, you will by my second-in-command once I take over.”

Jon blinks, unable to fully comprehend what she’s saying. It’s honestly the last thing he ever expected, which is why he blurts out the first thing to come to mind, “you don’t even like me.”

His half-sister laughs again. “I don’t like anyone, Jon. Don’t take it personally.” With those last words, she leaves him, disappearing down another bend in the corridor.

The League has become his home over the past seven years – from the dilapidated castle to the ragtag group of men and women he serves with. But he never thought he would one day have to lead this place. It had never been a dream of his. In fact, he doesn’t really know what he wants for the future. He doesn’t like to think about it often because it means facing who he is and what he’s done, and that person doesn’t deserve a future.

Jon rubs his eyes and returns back to where he came from to change into the tux. He hates it – hates the way it feels like he’s suffocating from the falseness of it all – but whatever tonight is, he has to attend and pretend he’s much more charming than he is. Even Tormund is more appealing than Jon, but in a way that you’d watch a bear dance in a circus – with abject horror and fascination.

The grand hall is decorated in golds and whites. The torches fastened to the stone walls flicker amber light across every corner of the room. Dinner is being served on a long table at the opposite end where Jon can see guests are already milling about chatting to one another. He’s been to his fair share of dinner parties over the years, but something about tonight feels more important. Aegon, for one, is actually smiling and joking with the people around him, and that’s always a sign of some impending doom.

“Jon!” his father booms, and suddenly several pairs of eyes are on him, as he begrudgingly makes his way over to Rhaegar and the group of people he’s with. “This is my son. He’s –”

“Lyanna’s boy,” someone finishes, a mixture of awe and bewilderment in his voice. Jon immediately glances towards the man, frowning as soon as he catches sight of dark hair and grey eyes. He knows those eyes. But how?

“You knew my mother?” Jon asks without much preamble, to Rhaegar’s irritation, but he’s an assassin, not a spy. Charm is not really in his arsenal.

“Once upon a time,” the man says sadly. “We grew up together. She was a dear friend to our family until –” He stops himself, glancing surreptitiously at Rhaegar, before smiling wide. “Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Eddard Stark, but you can call me Ned. This is my family.”

He gestures to the people beside him, and suddenly Jon is very aware that they’re all staring at him with a mixture of fascination and wariness in their eyes.

“This is my wife, Catelyn.” Wariness. “My sons, Robb, Rickon and Bran.” Fascination. “My youngest daughter, Arya.” Boredom. “And – oh, there she is. That’s my eldest daughter. Sansa, come. This is Rhaegar’s son, Jon.”

Her blue eyes catch his and she rakes her gaze down Jon’s body then back up again, making his neck and cheeks warm from the attention. Her lips are pursed in an impassive line, but Jon can read her too, and that was definitely appreciation. He wants to tell her, the feeling’s mutual, but all he can do is stare.

“Ah, the infamous Sansa,” his father says when Jon doesn’t speak. “I hear you are back now from Paris.”

She smiles; it’s soft and gentle, but something about it is off, and Jon doesn’t know why he thinks that, only that he’s positive he’s right.

“I am, Mr Targaryen,” she affirms. “Three years away from my family is three years too long.”

The younger sister, Arya, snorts, and one of the boys (he’s already forgotten which one’s which) elbows her none-too-subtly in the ribs.

“Please, you must call me Rhaegar!”

And so the night carries forward in this fashion. A lot of pleasantries and empty, meaningless words. Jon doesn’t get to speak to Sansa or the rest of the Starks, as he continues to be swept from one group to another by his father. He knows he doesn’t attend these functions often, so when he does, Rhaegar always takes the opportunity to show him off. It should offend him to be treated like a piece of property, but he knows it’s his father’s way of showing he’s proud of what Jon’s accomplished within the League. And it’s honestly so stupid to crave the approval of a man who had never been there for Jon during his childhood, but it’s hard not to let himself get swept up in it too.

He has finally managed to extricate himself from a very handsy older woman, and slips away from the crowd to find refuge in the corner by the refreshments. He’s nursing his whiskey when someone sidles up beside him.

“I hate these things.”

Jon doesn’t turn, so much as he glances through his peripheral at the copper-haired woman in that sinfully tight emerald green dress. Her hair is swept up in one of those intricate updos and her lips are painted hot red. She looks like the type of person who would fit seamlessly into these kind of parties.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“I did once,” Sansa admits quietly, angling her body so she’s looking at him now. “Getting dressed up, being told you’re beautiful and dancing with handsome men? What girl wouldn’t like that?” She laughs a little sardonically. “I realised a while later that it’s all an illusion. False words for naive little girls.”

“I can’t imagine you naive either.”

“Then you’re pretty awful at reading people, Jon Targaryen,” she teases. “I thought spies were supposed to be observant.”

He snorts before he can stop himself. “It’s Jon Snow. And I’m not a spy.”

This surprises her and she furrows her brows as she studies him. “You’re not?”

“I’m not…” He should probably try to impress her considering who she is and the kind of family she comes from, but the thought of lying to her doesn’t sit right either. “I don’t really like this. Any of it. Being dressed up and talking to people I don’t know.”

Sansa giggles, and Jon’s heart stutters a little at the sound. “I couldn’t tell. So does that mean you’re…”

“An assassin,” he finishes for her, feeling his chest tighten in a different way. He normally never has to tell girls about what he does, but everyone in this room already knows, so there’s no point in lying about it.

“An assassin,” she repeats, taking her time to enunciate each syllable, as if she’s testing out the word on her tongue. “Does it not bother you to… you know?”

Jon looks away. He can’t answer her question while looking in her earnest blue eyes, and it pains him to be who he is and stand next to someone as beautiful and innocent as her. “Most of us do. But it’s a cross we all bear.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Because we have to,” he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “The law doesn’t actually protect people anymore. If it ever did.”

Sansa nods, and then much to his own surprise, she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Jon.”

He wills his breathing to calm, as he says, “you don’t even know me.”

“No, but I know people,” she tells him. “I know a good man from a bad man, and you’re good.”

It’s hard for him to fully comprehend her words – harder even to really take her in – but he tries to. He so desperately wants to. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she says, giggling again when he takes her hand and leads her swiftly out of the grand hall.

They race down the empty corridors, up the spiral staircase and stumble out, laughing, onto the roof. The air is frigid in spite of it being mid April, but the days are growing longer and at eight o’clock, the sky is dusky, streaks of pink and purple light disappearing into an endless canvas of navy. It’s beautiful.

“Next time, you’re carrying me,” Sansa huffs from beside him, her fingers intertwined through his, but as he glances back, she’s smiling bright and wide, so different from the way she smiled at his father. This one is genuine; it’s real, and it takes his breath away that it’s because of him.

“Am I now?” he says, grinning stupidly back at her.

“Yes! You try running in heels, Jon Snow!” Sansa tries to look indignant, but when he tugs her closer, the smile returns.

“You’re beautiful,” Jon tells her without thinking. Once the words leave his mouth, he flushes. “I know you don’t place a lot of trust in those words anymore, but… God, you’re bloody beautiful, Sansa.”

To his delight, she actually blushes and ducks her head. She’s adorable too, and that’s a dangerous combination.

“Do you want to dance?” she asks instead, and he has to laugh this time, because they’re standing on a rooftop, freezing, alone and without music, but he has never wanted to dance with anyone more in his life.

He wraps both arms around her waist. “I’d love to.”

As soon as they start moving, Sansa’s head drops to his shoulder, fitting perfectly into the space between his neck and shoulder. He can feel her breath tickling his skin, and for once, Jon is happy to just be.

They stay like that for a few minutes, each lost to their own thoughts, as they watch the sky slowly submerge them into darkness. But then Sansa shivers in his arms and he has to pull back to look at her face. “We should go inside.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to get pneumonia.”

Sansa rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to get pneumonia.”

“Fine then I don’t want you to get sick,” he says, matching her exasperated tone.

“Jon, just shut up and kiss me.”

He freezes for a split second, watching as she raises a brow challengingly, before he comes back to himself and chuckles. When he finally kisses her, she responds instantly, tightening her arms around his neck as her fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He shivers from her touch and that makes Sansa smile against his lips. After they pull apart, they’re both breathing heavily and leaning into one another.

“If I get pneumonia because of this, it’ll be worth it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Sansa laughs.

He is and she’s pretty much the reason why.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jon snow #sansa stark #game of thrones #jonsa fic #colour prompts #my fics #long post

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nylonsandlipstick · 7 years

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Hi there, would you mind explain why you consider cc and tmi books problematic? I mean they are a somehow flat especially compare to tid/tda but I don’t think i would called them problematic. As for Claire I have hear people to complain about her in the past but always judging by her books I can’t see why. Now this not to say you are wrong or anything like that. I’m just curious on the matter.

Hi! First I’d like to thank you for being so polite in your ask! I know a lot of CC and TMI fans, even casual fans, can be very rude about anyone who views CC or TMI negatively.

So, I’ll start with the analytical book stuff and then go on to the author gossip so that you can have some legit criticism and then read the gossip-y stuff if you’d like and I’ll even direct you to some posts that explain certain things in better details and offer sources so that it doesn’t seem like I’m just offering a bunch of baseless rumors. Also, be warned, I write long analytical posts as I have no chill lol so this post is going to be rather long even though I'll try to cut to the chase.

The Mortal Instruments books aren’t the best books I’ve ever read, not even by a long shot, but the plot itself isn’t problematic. While I don’t like how the books come off more as a series of events strung together by a halfhearted central plot with rather bland and one-dimensional characters, it’s not those things that make the books problematic but rather the characters and the way Clare handles them.

Let’s start with Clary since she’s the main character. She’s rather bland and just really whiny (not a character I disliked or liked, she kind of feels…there) but what makes her problematic is just how she seems to hate all female characters that are prettier than her and could be possible love-interests for Jace. The books give her a weird relationship with Izzy but it’s nowhere near a friendship. She’ll spend so much time kind of side-eyeing Izzy and judging Izzy for how she dresses and basically slut-shaming Izzy and it’s not even because Clary doesn’t like girls that dress like that and sleep around but rather just because she believes that Izzy is a main contender in the competition of winning over Jace. One thing I don’t like that Clare did was play on that stupid trope of girls only seeing each other as competition for a guy (we even see a bit of that in TID with Tessa immediately viewing Jessie as competition for Will but, thankfully, moving past that quickly as she understands that Jessie has no interest in either Will or Jem for that matter). I also really disliked that Clary uses Simon during that godforsaken faux incest plot just to make Jace jealous (which is so wrong on so many levels, but I’ll get to the incest later). Clary also used Alec’s sexuality as leverage against him which is so wrong (Alec’s reaction to Clary realizing his sexuality wasn’t great either).

I think Clare just doesn’t know how to make good female characters in the first place as she makes Izzy super bad too. She’s written as a character that’s supposed to be a slut in no uncertain terms, and that’s just so bad. It’s not like Clare even tries to make it so that Izzy is super comfortable in her body and everyone accepts her because the way she dresses doesn’t make for her intelligence and her ability to fight (which we all know she’s good at). Clare just makes Izzy a pretty face with nothing but boys and how to dress provocatively on her mind, which I don’t think is necessarily bad, if it weren’t for the fact that Clare makes those things out to be bad. I absolutely adore female characters that love dressing up and love constantly dating and don’t care much for fighting if they’re properly developed because I’m so tired of the “I hate dresses and makeup and I’m not like other girls, I’m one of the guys” female characters that are just so annoying at this point. Clare just acts like being feminine and being comfortable in your body are such bad things when that’s not supposed to be true at all. And Izzy really isn’t even there as an actual main character but rather to make Clary seem like the better of the two girls because she’s not what Izzy supposedly represents (femininity and sexuality) and eventually only there as Simon’s love interest (so to further a male character’s love story).

So, as of now, Clare really isn’t seeming like the feminist she claims she is as she not only poorly represents her female characters, she uses them to further male story-lines and there is a huge difference in the female to male ratio in the series (the story is honestly so male-dominated and there’s no balance in female and male characters whatsoever, e are about three main female characters with a dozen of main male characters).

Jace really isn’t problematic in his characterization like Clary or in what he does aside from the faux incest subplot. He’s definitely unlikable and a total Bad Boy trope with untapped potential for being an amazing multi-dimensional character and has an unnecessarily complicated backstory but that’s not really bad outside of writing-wise. So, because I really don’t want to push it off anymore, I’m going to talk about the incest subplot. First of all, incest should very much not be used as some sort of obstacle a couple has to go through to prove their love for each other or whatever. Anything else would have been better, even having Izzy as a legitimate love interest for Jace would have been better. I found it just so uncomfortable having to read through that Seelie Court scene. And the fact that Jace and Clary continued to have feelings for each other and didn’t even try to squash their feelings down and try to see each other as full-blooded siblings just made it all worse. I was so relieved when Valentine admitted that he pretended to be Jace’s father (again, the unnecessarily complicated backstory)…then almost threw up when Sebastian came in and showed romantic interest in his own sister. I understand that Sebastian is supposed to be creepy and unlikable, but, damn, Clare could have done without the incest subplot. It makes it all more irksome that Sebastian is very aware that Clary is his full-blooded sister and yet he still somehow can’t control his feelings for her? The only time I want to see any incest in any form is in an episode of Law & Order: SVU where the main detectives spend the entire episode denouncing incest and calling it wrong in every aspect.

One of the bigger problems I had in the series was Alec. So that you know, I do not like Alec at all, and don’t care for him. Just because Matthew Daddario plays him in the show doesn’t mean I suddenly like show!Alec over book!Alec (although show!Alec has some redeemable traits). I don’t like him at all, period. That way you know that my criticism about Alec isn’t because “Well show!Alec is better and book!Alec this and that, and Matthew plays him which makes him so much better” as I’ve seen a lot of people do. Matthew seems like a kind and likable dude, but I cannot just get behind Alec at all. Aside from being such a stoic and bland character (I don’t really do serious characters, they’re not very fun and they remain rather static throughout stories which is boring), Alec is such a gross character and such a poor excuse for homosexual representation. I think it’s so sad that Clare made her only gay (male homosexual, I only specify since gay is used as a blanket term a lot of the times) character so unlikable and very biphobic. Not only does Alec threaten bodily harm to Clary so that she doesn’t reveal his sexuality (which is a huge no-no, that’s a terrible way to handle a closeted character’s anxiety over coming out), when Alec’s sexuality is finally revealed, it’s in Simon’s point of view which is just so…ugh. Alec is such a huge slut-shamer too; he’s right on par with Clary. He spends so much time egging Magnus about his past relationships and acting like Magnus, a hundred-something years old man, would never have had any relationship before Alec at all. What makes Alec’s slut-shaming so much worse is that it always points back to Magnus’s bisexuality. As a bisexual myself, I hate seeing people slut-shaming us bisexuals (when we’re not being out right ignored, that is) because we go both ways. It’s as if a heterosexual or homosexual isn’t as likely to cheat or be sexually promiscuous at all. It’s just so gross and uncomfortable and what made me absolutely despise Alec. And anyone, even a bisexual, who supports Alec’s biphobia because it’s “realistic” should remember that the Shadowhunter world is full of angels, demons, werewolves, vampires, and magical objects with few poc and lgbt+ characters; CC is far from realism at this point, she could have done without the biphobia.

Magnus isn’t perfect either as he’s so unnecessarily rude to Alec for not coming out quickly and basically attacking Alec for not admitting his sexuality to everyone. You’d think that Magnus, a bisexual man born in the nineteenth century, would understand that it would be difficult for Alec to come out as gay and that he should be so supportive of Alec and help him through it.

Racial/ethnic and sexual representation is at such a minimum and Clare just doesn’t seem to know how to handle her poc and lgbt+ characters properly at all. We have only four lgbt+ characters, one of which is biphobic (Alec), two whom are super minor and there to further other characters’ stories (Magnus and Aline), and one who doesn’t even appear much in general (Helen) and the only two lgbt+ relationships in the entire TMI series seem to have to go through so many obstacles that either the heterosexual relationships don’t have to go through or if they’re in a similar circumstance is easily resolved (like the immortality question for Malec is somehow unable to be resolved and actually made more difficult while Sizzy resolve the immortality question so quickly and easily). And as far as I can remember, most of the TMI characters are very white. The only non-white/ethnic representation we get are Simon (Jewish), Maia (biracial, black and white I believe), Aline (Chinese, if I remember correctly), Magnus (biracial, Indonesian and Dutch), and Jordan (ethnically and racially ambiguous). That’s five characters that I can remember from a very, very long list of characters. So, Clare isn’t much of a good white ally either.

Those are just some of my main problems with The Mortal Instruments books that I feel make them problematic. I know some people can pull out a lot more things I forgot as it’s been a while since I even touched those books. I understand that those books were her first ones to be published and writing changes (as seen in her other series), but Cassandra Clare as a person really does not seem to change.

I’m not as well versed in the problems with Cassandra Clare so I’ll link you to a couple of posts as I give my brief points that explain everything better and give sources (because in situations like these, sources are necessary so that you don’t come off as some Gossip Girl).

So, for Cassandra Clare, you’ll have to bare with me as she’s done a good amount of things that even I can’t keep straight and I’ll definitely miss out on some stuff.

She has a history of cyberbullying fans and continues to do so (x)

She tried to scam the fandom in something that’s called LaptopGate (x)

She plagiarized the hell out of other authors’ works and she won’t apologize for it and won’t even admit it (x)(x)

She seems to have a need for taking down anyone who tries point out her plagiarism/any problematic content her books have and then cries anti-bullying because she got hurt (x)

She’s was and still is hateful of the show (x)(x)(x)

She basically told a fan asking for positive Muslim representation that it won’t happen (x)

She claims that people dislike her because she’s a woman (x)

She claims that the reason why she couldn’t include much Malec (or LGBT+ rep in general) was because her publishing company was conservative which is a bald-faced lie (x)(x)

She tweeted about Magnus currently identifying as bisexual even though she headcanons him pansexual because he would date someone nonbinary which just goes to show her ignorance about sexuality (x)

I really recommend you go through the anti CC tag. There will definitely be a lot of negative things said as many people are angry at CC but you'll get a better understanding as to why people are mad and believe CC and TMI are problematic.

Just for the record, I will say that I am a fan of the books Clare writes. I really enjoyed The Infernal Devices (although I had a few problems with the series but most of them being plot-wise and not liking a few characters) and I’ve heard better things about The Dark Artifices (I’ve also heard it’s got a few problems with its representation but that it’s a step up from The Mortal Instruments). While I don’t agree with and dislike a lot of the things she’s done and written, I think the books are wonderful. I believe that it’s absolutely possible to enjoy a book or television series or movie or whatever and acknowledge that it’s problematic. And I will also say that while I like Shadowhunters better than The Mortal Instruments books, I don’t think that the show is flawless and free of problems. It’s still rather problematic with it’s use of stereotypes, whitewashing/scooting around the ethnicity of certain characters played by pocs (the Lightwood and Lewis families), sidelining of pocs, inherent homophobia (basically queerbaited with Malec and didn’t even show tons of scenes that would have been shown for a straight couple), and a few other problems. But the show is definitely a step up from the books. They really change a lot of things that just didn’t sit well with not only myself but a lot of the book readers and they also fix a ton of plot holes that were in the books.

Anyway, I digress. I really hope that you see this as actual criticism and not me just hating for the sake of hating. You can totally disagree with some of the things that I mentioned and view things differently than I do as that’s your right. But, anyway, I hope this explained things well!

#asks #not narnia #tmi #anti cc #anti cassandra clare

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