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angelguk · 3 years

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what happens in this section is entirely a result of what guys voted please do not! come for my head in my inbox im begging. very sad in general like Angst with a capital A with a sprinkle of despair and pain. listen to mess it up by gracie abrams. roughly 2k.

(titled — out of line)

You thought Lucas would help, the warmth of his body a distraction from your aching heart, but he didn’t. Not the way you needed him to. He was sweet enough, made you giggle endlessly before finding his place between your thighs. But even with his tongue on your clit, your (now usually sober) mind still lingered on Jeongguk, his memory a stain on your soul. It didn’t help when you spotted him with a girl hanging off his arm, her bright eyes stuck on his face, soaking him in like the earth does the sun. You didn’t know her name – Chayoung took the liberty of whispering it to you after your biology lab. She was Hyeri, a sophomore with a delicate laugh and graceful disposition. That vile vindictive black thing that now inhabited your chest swelled, brain already comparing the differences between you and her. Your clumsiness suddenly felt like a curse, even though Jeongguk had countlessly said he loved you for it (or did he say that just to ease your worries?). Insecurities spring forth like weeds and you don’t have the capacity to keep the careful garden of your heart tended.

They take over slowly, your eyes stinging whenever you see them huddled together in the quad. Bitter tears blinked back, your blinkered senses overlooking how Jeongguk’s quiet gaze followed your figure whenever you turned your back to him, even with Yoona yapping at his ears.

Perhaps the despondency that clung to your bones is what led you here, face planted in the musky scent of Namjoon’s sheets, your heart throbbing funny.

“Can you even breathe?” He questions. The timbre of his voice washes over you, familiar and somewhat reassuring. You twist upright to face him, eyes squeezing tight when the bright fluorescent lights in his room assaults your vision.

“I was hoping my heart would give up if I held it in long enough.”

Namjoon stills, brown eyes flitting over you. He coughs like he’s working through various sets of words before he decides what’s most suitable. “And then what? I get framed for murder when they find your body here?”

You laugh, and it hurts. “Maybe. My body is very portable though, did you consider first burying me in the backyard?”

“Rookie mistake,” Namjoon returns. He rises to fetch the mugs of tea sitting idle on a stool he’d dragged from the corner of his room. “The sniffer dogs would fly straight to that location. Also, I’d have to dig a hole big enough to fit your head in.”

“And why would the dogs find me immediately?” You say, shuffling upright, palms ready to receive the tepid heat that will seep through the ceramic the moment the cup settles in your hand.

“Your perfume,” Namjoon says. He hands you the mug, heat fulfilling its chosen purpose, the scent of gentle jasmine wafting to your nose.

You pout then, glancing at him. “My perfume?”

“It’s distinct. Violet, right? Maybe vanilla too?” Namjoon says it easily, sinking beside you, utterly unaware of the ticking in your brain. Your gaze falters then, shifting to his broad shoulder and thick biceps. The ivy shirt he’s got on barely contains all that muscle in, fabric stretched thin.

You take a sip of your tea, and despite the period Namjoon gave it to cool it still scalds your tongue.

“Why do you know what fragrance I wear?” It comes out accusatory, but Namjoon handles it well, laughing low.

“You’ve had the same one since high-school, I think. And I remember you telling me.”

The fingers around your cup squeeze tight, your brain unlocking a moment you’d forgotten in the wake of brighter ones. A quiet afternoon at the back of your high-school, Namjoon towering over you, his nose trailing the hollow of your neck, a stray comment about how you smelled good washing over you. It was followed by a flustered younger version of you deflecting, heart pounding wild when Namjoon drew back to look at you as you rattled off the different sillages that made up your favourite perfume. He’d laughed, low like did just now, before calling you cute and pulling you in for a kiss.

“Oh,” you finally murmur. “I remember now.”

You were actually going to change it after your break-up with him, but then Jeongguk had mentioned how much he’d liked it and the bottle had stayed.

Namjoon hums, his gaze slow as it shifts around the room. It’s a space that screams of him, light wood tones and plants breaking from the pristine white walls. Space carved for nature, a grounding sensation living within these four walls – something that seems to live inside of Namjoon too.

“How are you?” He suddenly asks, turning slowly to measure your features.

You blink hard, only realising then that you’d been staring at his face for a second too long. “F-fine. I’m okay. Just busy, y’know. Finals coming up, planning events; the usual.”

“I know,” Namjoon says with a ginger smile. “But that’s not what I’m asking. How are you? With Jeongguk and everything.”

“Oh.” You can’t answer that, his unexpected brazenness shocking your system. The smile on his lips fades, a solemnness in the brown of his eyes. His next words are earnest, and they settle in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t just come here to chat for no reason. We can talk about Jeongguk, that’s okay.”

“N-no, we don’t need it. We’re over. It’s been two months already. We’re seeing other people and I don’t really want to discuss one of my exes with another one. And maybe I did just come to see you,” you tack on an empty laugh at the end, hoping Namjoon doesn’t read right through you.

But he does. Like a part of you hoped he would.

“I’m your friend, you know. We had something but nothing like what you and Jeongguk have. Two months isn’t going to make a lifetime disappear. It’s okay if you still feel bad.”

That’s what cracks you, a well-aimed hammer knocking your walls right down. You bite your lip hard, fingertips pinching the ceramic in your grasp, and swallow the tears looming in your throat with a choked laugh.

“I’m fine, Namjoon. I feel a little like shit but I’m working on it. And Lucas is a great guy–”

“But he’s not Jeongguk.” The sentence feels heavy as if it carries the weight of many hearts on it. But it’s also a line you were thinking about earlier, even with Lucas pressed against you.

“That’s not what I would say–”

“But it’s what you were thinking,” Namjoon cuts. Maybe there’s a peephole in your head that only Namjoon has access to. “And that’s fine. It sucks for Lucas, though. But you shouldn’t feel bad for thinking that way. Especially when you know how special Jeongguk is to you.”

Special. The word is bright, glimmering like Jeongguk’s eyes do.

“I-I just–it just–I don’t know.” The tears you’d attempted to seal inside burst, slipping down your cheeks quiet. Namjoon pry's the mug from your hand, replaces its warmth with his own, and for a split second things feel bearable.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, a calloused palm on your damp cheek, his steadiness clearing away the gloomy skies in your head. But he doesn’t tell you to stop crying, doesn’t whisper that it’ll be okay. He just tugs you closer, rests your splinting head on his wide chest, and soaks up the tears on your face with his shirt. Like the earth does for the pouring heavens.

You eventually hiccup the despair down, finding the words to explain to Namjoon what you were feeling in between the moments where breathing didn’t feel like a race. He takes the news of Jeongguk kissing somebody days after your break-up with wide eyes, his eyebrows drawing together. And then comes the second girl, you don’t even know her name but it still cleaves something out of you. And finally, Hyeri. Her name is a lament.

“And it sucks because he looks happy with her and I still want him to be happy because I still love him. I love him so much it hurts.”

Namjoon cocks his head then, his wide palm sliding down your back. “You think Jeongguk looks happy?”

“Yes?” But it’s a question, your upward gaze on his face imploring.

Namjoon shakes his head instead. You don’t hear it, the following words a deep muffled murmur, “Both of you are idiots.” But you see the twinkle in his eyes and it makes your back straighten.

You want to pester but Namjoon pulls you closer, and you lose yourself in the feeling of him, before a question can register on your tongue. His arms are huge, like sturdy branches defying the blistering gales of your heart. He lets you cry for a little longer, listening intently to the continuing spew of words from your lips, until the storm quiets into a breeze.

“Okay?” Namjoon asks.

You stick your head further into his chest, breathe him in deep. “Okay.”

When he shifts away your skin freezes, but then you realise he’s reaching for a blanket. He swathes it around you fondly, pulling you in for a swift hug before falling out of your reach once more.

“Now, I think we both need a moment to process that.” He’s talking about but you’re not listening, your eyes on his face, gaze gently trailing the curve of his lips. “I also think we need food before we start unpacking the mess you’re in–”

You swallow the sentence with your lips, salt singeing the corners of your mouth. But your movements are not reciprocated, Namjoon’s mouth is still under yours. The soft hand on your neck guiding you away is what pulls you back, right out of that strange dark desperate ocean that held you.

“Y/N–”

“Sorry, shit–shit, I shouldn’t have done that.” But there’s no use now, you can’t take it back. Namjoon is looking at you with those eyes, the ones that feel like pity. His sympathy suddenly makes you feel sick, and you wish the ceiling would give away and shatter your head. “I should go.”

He tries to stop you, firm but gentle with his words and hands. But you’re a wild storm again and nothing can stop you from snatching your butterfly tote bag from the floor of his room and fleeing. The black thing that had been subdued for a moment reemergence with vengeance the second you hit the sidewalks, vision reeling. How could you do that? To Namjoon? To the stable friendship you'd created? But he felt too warm, too caring, too much of everything that you longing for and that Lucas could never give you.

Just a reminder of the swimmer's name as you skidding to a halt, the thump in your chest vicious. Maybe Jeongguk was right. Constantly painting yourself the victim while actively hurting the ones around you. Maybe you should have never let him kiss you again on that rooftop. Maybe you should have never tried to love him.

—

It’s silent in your head when you get back to your apartment. Sieun is home, finally back from her trip to her boyfriend’s parents place, so you’re not surprised to hear the soft hum of laughter filtering through the house. You don’t expect to find Chayoung there though.

They’re huddling in the kitchen, drifting out cheery greetings when you trudge it, only to fall silent when you mumble back a hollow response. A gentle song floating from the radio fills the empty space, three bodies navigating something tense.

“Were you with Lucas?” Sieun eventually pokes. She’s not a big fan of him. She’s not a big fan of the current break-up between you and Jeongguk either. She’s going to hate you for what you’re about to tell her.

“No,” you mumble. There are twenty notifications flashing across your phone screen, all from Namjoon. You feel sick, and you might cry again.

“Well? What’s with the long face?” Chayoung adds.

You take a deep breath, gripping the marble counter tight before twisting around. Better to rip it off all at once right? And there’s no way you could hold this inside of you, not when there is barely any room for your broken heart.

“I kissed Namjoon.”

“WHAT?” Sieun’s jaw slams into the ground and Chayoung freezes beside her, like her joints have suddenly been welded together. They stare at you for long you might have grown a second head during it. And then the questions come, a torrent erupting. You blank for a second, and then the guilt crawls up your spine. It may only be thirteen past five in the afternoon but you definitely need a drink.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #bts x reader #i said this was gonna tomorrow but my brain said tonight so here we are #nobody ask me how we're gonna come back from this #this is ur fault!!#bts angst #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic

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tracybirds · 3 years

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Paper Dreams

John receives a prestigious invite and he’s not sure how to respond.

Many thanks to @gumnut-logic for the encouragement because I am nerves!!

* * *

The crisp white envelope was heavy in his hands as he hurried from the room. Paper was a formality, a mark of distinction that would surely draw his brothers’ unwanted attention. Letters didn’t just arrive unannounced in this era of high-speed data connections and quantum supercomputers. In fact, they didn’t arrive at all.

So, John was more than a little apprehensive when Grandma Tracy silently handed him the sealed envelope and walked away.

It took only a few short minutes to read through the contents and he sat back against the window in his room, the words whirling in his mind.

Mars Colonisation Project. Distinguished candidate. Invited to apply.

An opportunity of a lifetime.

A way to prove for once and for all that he was more than his father’s famous name.

John clutched at the letter, the paper crinkling in his grasp. He mouthed the words as he read them, over and over.

He looked up at the sound of a loud yell calling his name, hurriedly shoving the letter into the envelope and dropping it at his side. Snatching up a nearby tablet, his flushed ears were the only hint of the letter that remained when Gordon shoved open the door.

“John, dinner, hurry up.”

His brother tore out of the room before he could respond.

* * *

John slipped into his seat, mouthing an apology to Grandma Tracy as he did.

“Finally!” cried Alan. He wriggled back in his seat, staring hopefully at the food. “Grandma said we had to wait for you, you took forever!”

“Is Dad not eating?” asked Virgil. “I heard him come in.”

“He’s taking it in the study tonight,” said Grandma Tracy, shaking her head slightly. “Brains dropped by and they’re holing up together on that project of theirs.”

John glanced over at the conspicuously empty seat at the head of table. They all knew what ‘that project’ meant.

In the heady rush of excitement, he’d all but forgotten the silent expectation that accompanied his studies and extra-curriculars for the past five years. A pet project alone wouldn’t have been enough to deter him from his own ambitions, but the Thunderbirds, they offered something different, something more than the office politics of academia, squabbling over research grants.

He’d never known anything that could compete.

Until now.

“Hey,” said Virgil in a low tone, nudging him from his thoughts. “You okay?”

John pulled himself back into the present with a slight grimace.

“Fine. Just thinking about an assignment.”

Virgil nodded slowly, looking him up and down with a critical eye.

“Are you going to eat anything, or just push it around?”

John automatically lifted his fork, blinking as the peas fell back to the plate and landed in a pile of mushy, grey potatoes.

“Actually, I’m not that hungry.”

“Can I have yours?” asked Alan, already reaching over to grab at his plate.

“Not hungry, John?” asked Grandma Tracy. “You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

She examined the pinched look in his face and the nervous twist of one hand inside the other.

“No,” said John, wishing he hadn’t said anything. The last thing he wanted was any level of scrutiny. “I’m fine, Grandma, honest.”

He let Alan scrape his leftovers from his plate, realising with a pang than he’d had another growth spurt over the previous semester at his boarding school.

If he left for Mars, he’d return to a brother he’d hardly recognise.

Colonisation was a long-term project, the result of years in planning and decades of dreams. Countless people would put their life’s work into its development and they had every right to expect the same of their astronauts. The application process alone was heavily involved and would severely limit time with his family, to say nothing of the many years ahead for him on Mars if he made it all the way into space. He’d be travelling millions of miles from home, only to find himself living with a group of strangers that he couldn’t escape without logging an external environment report.

He didn’t even like sharing a bathroom at the university housing that much.

Still the piece of paper called to him.

“Can I be excused?”

Grandma Tracy nodded and he hurried from the room, not noticing her troubled look.

The warmth of the room followed him into the hallway and he shut the door firmly behind him. He thrust his hand into his pocket, searching for the reassuring touch of cool paper.

It was real.

It was real and if he let the opportunity pass by, he might regret it for the rest of his life.

Or he might be wasting his time, pinning his hopes on something that would only serve to distract him in the long run. He could only imagine what Scott would say, who’d never once taken his eye off a prize once he’d decided to aim for it.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what he wanted, and found himself climbing into the cramped space under the roof that had generously called a playroom, then a study, then an attic.

He blinked as the bare bulb overhead lit the small room, filling it with old memories and dust.

His first telescope was still standing in the corner, pointing high in the sky and he lifted the edge of his T-shirt to wipe the dust away. Surrounding it, lay stacks of books that his mom had picked up from the local thrift store, that Mrs Delaney, the owner, put them aside just for him.

John walked carefully among them, tugging the small window open and staring out into the night. The stars shone bright in the clear, crisp air.

Crouching down, he peered through the eye piece, adjusting the focus with a practiced hand. The little reflector was nothing like the giant telescopes available at the college department, and he had to hold his breath to stop the stand from wobbling. But the universe was still out there, the same as it was when he was a kid, still holding an infinite number of mysteries despite the years he had spent uncovering the rules that held it together.

He looked up, eyes darting through the familiar patterns, searching for the anomaly he knew was wandering between Gemini and Taurus.

And there it was.

Mars.

A planet with so much to offer the world they lived on. Where he could work with a team of people who loved space just like him, where he could devote his life to researching astronomy from a new perspective and developing technology for interplanetary life for generations to come.

Where he could leave his mark alongside all the heroes of his childhood. Alongside his dad.

“After all, why shouldn’t I go?” he said, scowling up at Mars.

“Go where?”

John spun around with a start.

“Kayo! When did you get in?”

She shrugged, propping up her head with her hand.

“Long enough to see you come up here,” she said. “I waited for you, but then Mrs Tracy said you hadn’t eaten. Figured something was wrong.”

She looked him up and down with a piercing eye. John tried not to squirm. He’d always felt Kayo had something of a sixth sense when it came to knowing things that should have been a secret.

“Seems like I was right,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Then where are you planning on going?”

“Nowhere. I don’t think, that is…”

He flopped down and tilted his head back with a huff.

“Not right now, at any rate.”

Kayo pulled herself up onto the floor and drew the ladder upwards.

Neither spoke as the trapdoor shut with a small ‘click’.

The dust swirled in the air, dancing in the shafts of light above them.

“Is it a graduate program?”

“No.”

“An international program?”

“No.”

“A long-term space colonisation program for specially selected candidates who have already proven themselves in the fields of communications, astrophysics and astrotechnology?”

John stared at her.

She shrugged.

“It’s my job to know.”

“So, why even ask?”

“I’m trying to get you to lower your guard.”

She smiled at the dumbfounded look on his face.

“You’ve met Brains, right? He’s got some server tracker that flags your name. They asked your advisor for academic and personal references months ago.”

“Oh God,” said John, dropping his head in his ands and staring wildly at the floor. “Does Dad already know?”

Kayo shook her head.

“Dad and I do. Security details and all. But we don’t tell him that kind of stuff, you know, he’s not spying on you.”

“You’re right, that’s a real comfort,” said John, drily.

Kayo tossed her head.

“I’m just saying.”

Her eyes softened as she watched him draw his knees close to his chest.

“He doesn’t know.” She hesitated, still watching him. “Would it be all that bad if he did though?”

John huffed a little, still staring at his knees.

“International Rescue’s all we’ve ever talked about,” he said. “I didn’t think there’d be anything else I wanted. What if I let him down?”

“He’s already proud of you, John.”

“But we’ve been working towards it for so long now. This would change everything. Delay the full scope of the project for months, or years even.”

Kayo snorted.

“You really think Jeff Tracy, resident billionaire and with access to the best tech in the world, wouldn’t be able to find another genius astrotechnician and communication expert?”

John shot her a withering look.

“Okay, so maybe he’d have to find two super geniuses.”

She easily dodged the picture book he threw in her direction.

“Leave off,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Kayo spotted the slight smile though, and grinned broadly in return.

“Can I?” she asked, nodding at the space between him and the wall.

John nodded and shuffled over as best he could, trying not to topple the book stacks around them.

Kayo wriggled into the gap, and John paid her no mind.

He hadn’t thought of who would take his place because, of course, someone must. He’d been preparing for an International Rescue without him, one where his family diverted communications for a few years and focused their efforts on establishing themselves on land and sea until Alan stepped into his role on Thunderbird Five.

He hadn’t imagined an International Rescue where he wasn’t even needed.

Kayo seemed to sense the turn in his thoughts, nudging him gently to pull him from them.

“He wouldn’t trust them half as much as you, you know.”

John shrugged.

“I don’t want to disappoint him,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “But I don’t want that to be the only reason I don’t go.”

He took a deep breath, and glanced back up at the slowly setting planet.

“And I want to go,” he admitted. “I do. I need to tell him.”

Kayo nodded, a sad look in her eyes. They sat in silence together, lost in their own thoughts. The bustle of the house downstairs filtered upwards. Muffled bangs and indistinct shouts of Gordon and Alan playing some ridiculous game, loud music from Virgil’s room – the kind he put on to drown out any interruption to his painting. Grandma Tracy seemed to be having some kind of one-sided conversation with herself, until John remembered, with a pang, that it was Saturday morning out in Guam and she was likely speaking to Scott at that very moment.

Kayo sighed and dropped her head on John’s shoulder.

“I’d miss you though.”

John swallowed carefully past the sudden lump in his throat.

“I’d miss you too.”

* * *

John was too old to be summoned to his father’s study, but somehow deliberately interrupting him felt worse. Nausea sat like a rock in his stomach, his voice box left in tatters as he knocked on the solid oak door.

“Who is it?”

He couldn’t reply.

His eyes flitted across the family photos that littered the hallway, landing finally on the image of his father and crewmates waving to the masses as they entered the Herschel-VI.

The photograph didn’t show the way his father was blind to the crowd, his farewell only for the woman who stood half a mile from the launchpad, proud, so proud, and sick with worry too. She held tight to her eldest son with one hand, and rested her other on the stroller she was rocking back and forth. She didn’t see the way he had wriggled out of his restraints nor how he was preparing to drop to the ground and run away, already intent on chasing after his father at three years old.

Jeff Tracy, first man on Mars, opened the door with a frown and a touch of impatience, and John knew there would be no escape this time.

“John.”

“Dad.”

His throat closed around his words and his hand closed around the letter in a fist.

Jeff looked down at the sound, and looked back at John, an assessing look in his eye. He stepped back wordlessly and John entered the severe room.

“What’s happened, son?” he asked, holding his hand out for the letter.

He smoothed down the crumpled edges as he read, his eyes leaping from phrase to phrase on the page.

“Well, it seems congratulations are in order. I assume you intend to accept?”

The knot in John’s chest loosened and he collapsed into the chair opposite Jeff.

“I intend to apply,” he corrected, staring down at the desk between them.

“John, they don’t reach out like this unless they want you onboard. They intend you to be on that shuttle, regardless of the formalities the bureaucrats put in place.”

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the blueprints, Brains’ small, neat handwriting annotating each design and his father’s looping comments scrawled liberally across them.

Jeff followed his line of sight and smiled.

“Five won’t be operational for a few more years, you know that. Don’t let her be what holds you back.”

“But this was always it, this is why I’m getting space rated. And the satellite network still needs to be launched, and the orbital mechanics calculated.”

“An opportunity like this doesn’t come your way twice, son.”

John stopped.

“You think I should accept. If they say yes.”

“Don’t you?”

There it was. His father’s blessing laid out in front of him, just waiting to be taken up like a pennant.

Everything they’d worked for, everything they’d sacrificed, gone. In its place, a single shining achievement, a global community on their sister planet. The first of its kind.

It had been a long time since John had allowed himself to dream his own dreams.

“Alright,” he said, a giddy rush spinning his head so that he hardly knew what he was saying. “I’m gonna do it.”

#john tracy #kayo kyrano #jeff tracy #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic

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jwillowwolf · 3 years

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Magic and Miracles - Chapter 14

Sanders Sides Big Bang fic, Final Chapter!

< Previous Chapter | << Prolouge | Masterlist

Summary: Instead of speaking, Virgil simply pulled Logan in for a hug. Logan froze in shock for a moment before he hugged him back. He felt the tension leave Virgil’s body and just barely heard as he whispered.

“It’s finally over.”

“Yeah. It really is.”

“Thank the gods. It’s over.”

Warning/s: food mention, minor violence.

Characters: Logan, Virgil, OCs, Roman, Remus, Patton, Janus, Remy, Emile.

Tag List: @theimprobabledreamersworld @remy-please-come-back

Read on AO3

14 | Finale

“After the spell is performed, you should be able to make a porthole into the fae realm yourselves without going to the pixie gate. You would still have to make it outside of the fae city to avoid magical interference of course.” Nitya stated as the group followed it through the halls of its home.

Janus frowned. “That sounds like a big spell.”

“It is. In fact, it’s not normally used by anyone, but you should have enough magic to do it afterwards… Just double-checking, you’re all one-hundred percent sure you want to go through with this?” Nitya asked.

Virgil nodded. “We came to the agreement that this is what we need to do.”

“I asked if you wanted to do it.”

The group exchanged some glances and Logan spoke for them. “We want to help people and this is a way we can. We have to go through with it.”

Nitya smiled softly. “Well, whatever happens, I hope you all find success against your foes.”

It led them to a room that looked very much like a library, with the walls from floor to ceiling holding leather-bound books.

“This is my study. All of my notes from over the years are kept here. Since it won’t be of any use to me anymore, I suppose I’ll leave it to you all to do whatever you want.”

Everleigh’s eyes lit up. “I’m in heaven.”

Nitya chuckled. “You can look at them later. First, I need to explain the spell to you all.”

“About that, will we need to participate? Because Everleigh doesn’t know how to use magic,” Logan explained.

“Ah. Well, I’m going to need to teach you all what to do, so going into a little more depth for newbies won’t be too hard,” Nitya shrugged. “You do at least understand the basic concept of what magic is, right?”

Everleigh nodded. “It’s the essence of the world itself. Of the life that flows through all things in existence.”

“Correct,” Nitya grinned. “Ever present, never seen. Feared and admired by all beings. The life that bursts from the earth, the secrets hidden in stone. It dances in the fire’s flames; it gives the wind its mournful tone. Here it is, this is it. Defined yet unexplained. In the depths of the ocean, and of your own mind. In the veins of all creatures, including humankind. For magic is in everything, yet unknown all the same.”

“Woah, is that an old poem or something?” Willow inquired.

“Hmm, simply something I learnt from another strange being,” Nitya stated ominously. “But never mind that. I need you to stand in a circle for this to work.”

The group stood in a circle formation around Nitya, just as they had been directed. Unfortunately, due to the high-risk level of this spell, I can not explain the intricacies of it to you. But I will do my best to give you a description of what happened next.

Nitya looked around to make sure everyone was ready then held a hand over its head and began to chant in an unknown tongue. The light on its fingertips steadily changed colours, fading from one into the other as Nitya drew a myriad of interconnected glyphs. As the colours began to brighten, Nitya’s voice became… strange. It seemed to echo at different pitches. Almost like its voice was not its own, but rather that many different voices were speaking from its mouth at the same time.

The teens took this as their signal to begin drawing their own runes. And as they all finished, in unison they said, “Solhart.”

The runes and glyphs turned stark white before bursting like tiny fireworks and fading from existence. Logan looked around at his companions and thought that perhaps the spell had been unsuccessful. But then at the centre where Nitya had been standing, he saw that there was nothing left of it. No clothes or feathers or anything. Just an empty space at the centre of the room.

“Did it work?” Patton asked.

Willow shrugged. “Well, I suppose there’s only one way to tell. Everyone ready for status checks?”

“You’re going to need to talk me through that,” Everleigh said.

“Oh, right, uh here I’ll show you.”

Logan checked his own status and did a double-take when he saw it.

Logan Picani

Titles: Divine Friend, Legend Wizard, Wind Tamer, +...

MP: 500 - full

HP: 200 - full

Skills: Bond-Link, Wind Tamer, Magic, +...

“Uh, is anyone else seeing a way higher status than they had before?” Roman asked. “Because I swear I only had twenty mp.”

“It worked! We’re all at like master magic level now,” Remus said excitedly.

“This is definitely going to give us an edge for going back into the fae realm,” Willow commented.

Virgil nodded. “But first, let’s discuss a plan…”

---

On his stolen throne, Ynclementia sat with a deep frown gracing his features. “What do you mean she’s still resisting the poison?”

The alchemist gulped fearfully. “S-she’s wearing down, s-sire.”

“She should already be dead.”

“I’m sorry w-we miscalculated a step. But she’ll be gone before sunset.”

“She better be. Or I’ll have your heads.” Ynclementia snapped.

Just then, a guard burst into the room. “Sire! There’s been an attack.”

“Kill them off then. I told you if anyone tries to rebel, show no mercy.”

“It’s not rebels, sire. At least, not normal rebels.”

“What do you mean, ‘not normal rebels’? Are they too much for you idiots?”

“Well, sire-” the guard was cut off by static from his walkie-talkie.

“They’re on the tenth floor! We’ve lost six men! We need backup! The d- holy f-!”

The speaker on the other end was cut off by what sounded like a roar and multiple screams before the transmission cut out.

“What is that?” Ynclementia questioned.

“That’s what I was trying to explain, your majesty. A dragon, a wolf, a human, and two elves have stormed the tower.”

“Prince Virgil’s entourage,” Ynclementia muttered before his eyes widened in realisation. “The Prince, did you see him with them?”

“We’re not sure, sire.”

“Kill them all and bring the prince to me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” a familiar voice said from the doorway.

The alchemist, the guard, and Ynclementia all looked up to see Virgil standing there with a dark look on his face.

“Kill him!”

The guard ran forward first, unsheathing her greatsword to slam down onto Virgil. Vi was quicker than her though and moved out of the way before the blade could even graze his hair. He took advantage of the moment that the guard had her sword down, and threw a potion at her. She gasped and released the sword before falling limp to the ground.

“I’m paralysed!”

The alchemist then snapped out of their frightened state and pulled out a potion to throw at Virgil. He easily dodged it though so that the alchemist instead hit the guard.

“Gah! It burns!”

“I’m sorry!” While the alchemist was apologising, they had left themselves open, giving Vi the perfect opportunity to throw another paralysis potion. “Eep! Going down.”

“You useless wretches,” Ynclementia growled. “You couldn’t even handle a child.”

“How about you face me yourself, coward,” Virgil taunted.

The earl grinned devilishly. “Gladly.”

Ynclementia rose from his seat with his grin seeming to grow wider. Virgil’s eyes widened in horror as he watched the man before him morph into a creature that could barely be considered human, let alone fae. His limbs seemed too long in certain places while too short in others. His eyes had turned completely white -no pupil or anything- and his hair moved as if it was a fire burning him.

“You took a contract with a demon. That’s how you gained so much power.”

“Finally figured me out then, your highness? Well, you weren’t always the fastest to catch onto things. Hopefully, your death will be quicker than your mind.”

Virgil just barely got out of the way as the Earl shot a surge of hellfire at him. He ducked and dodged as Ynclementia sent beam after beam at him like a slew of large fiery arrows. Except the fire was the arrows and his mouth was the bow. Finally, the Earl reached a point where he couldn’t use the hellfire anymore and switched to hurling himself at Virgil.

While he was able to run just out of the fae-demon’s reach, Vi could feel his energy wearing down, and decided instead to turn around mid-run with his dagger raised to slash at him. Unfortunately, Ynclementia had seemed to anticipate this move and caught Virgil’s wrist before he could swipe at him.

Virgil could see the hellfire building in the back of his throat. In an instant, his life flashed before his eyes. His family, his childhood, his schooling, his school, his classmates, his friends, the memories hit him like a truck. He felt like he was about to die in that very second and all he could think was-

“AHHHH!” Ynclementia screamed as water hit his chest.

He released Virgil and fell to his knees in agony. Virgil stared dumbfounded at the fallen enemy then looked to the doorway where the stream of water had come from. Standing there he saw his grandmother and a very concerned Logan who immediately rushed over to him.

“Oh my gods, are you okay? Did he hurt you? Did any of them hurt you?” Logan questioned.

Virgil stayed silent.

“Why won’t you answer me? Did they put you under a spell? Virgil, please, speak up.”

Instead of speaking, Virgil simply pulled Logan in for a hug. Logan froze in shock for a moment before he hugged him back. He felt the tension leave Virgil’s body and just barely heard as he whispered.

“It’s finally over.”

“Yeah. It really is.”

“Thank the gods. It’s over.”

“Ehem,” the boys looked up to see Valeria smiling at them. “Do I get a hug too, or do you two want some space.”

“Nana! I’m so glad you’re alive!” Virgil declared, rushing over to hug her.

“I’m glad we’re both alive,” Valeria replied. “But what on earth possessed you to fight a demon?!”

“I didn’t know he was a demon.”

“Wait until your fathers hear about this.”

Virgil frowned. “Nana, they…”

“I can bring them back, dear.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Yes! … Oh, I am going to be in so much trouble…”

---

“Hurry up, kiddoes. The carriage is waiting for us outside,” Emile called.

“We’ll be down in a minute!” Everleigh yelled. “Does my hair look right?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “For the last time, Ev, yes.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. This is my first time in high society, you know.”

“Firstly, I’ve got about as much experience with this as you do. And secondly, we both know that you just want to look nice for your girlfriend,” Logan teased.

Everleigh blushed. “Willow and I aren’t official yet.”

“Yet.”

“Oh, stop. Also, you totally have the upper hand here. You’ve met two queens and a prince!”

“You’re friends with the prince and have met one of those queens. Under better circumstances than I did too.”

“Well, you did that magical license test thing publicly. Gods, I’ll still have to learn all the magic stuff you did. And in a more polished school too.”

Logan nodded. “That’s a good thing. You’ll get to make friends and have more than just Remy to teach you.”

“I don’t need any more friends, I think. Also, it’s totally unfair that you and the others got to learn everything before me.”

“I did offer to teach you.”

“You weren’t even sure you could teach yourself,” Everleigh pointed out. “Huh, you’ve actually come pretty far, haven’t you.”

Logan paused for a moment to think. In just under a year, he had gone from a struggling self-taught mage to an expert wizard with noble-born friends and hero status. Just two weeks ago, he’d snuck away from home with his friends to find a magical miracle and then ended up going to the fae realm and saving the fae queen from the brink of death. Saying he’d come a long way may have actually been understating it.

Just days before that he’d been worried about losing his friends to their high-class lives, and now they were all going to a ball hosted in their honour where they’d be officially receiving their hero titles and full magic licenses.

“Done! You look fabulous, if I do say so myself,” Everleigh declared.

Logan looked at himself in the mirror to double-check the make-up she’s done. It wasn’t too complex, just some eyeliner, blush, and blue lipstick to match his azure suit. Normally make-up gave him dysphoria, but since he’d completed the transition spell, he simply felt like a handsome young man.

“Wow.”

Everleigh grinned. “I know right.”

“Kids, come on- Woah,” Emile said, staring at his son from the doorway.

“Hey, dad. How do we look?”

Emile smiled. “You both look absolutely stunning. Gods, how did you grow up so fast?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “I’m only sixteen.”

“That’s too old already. What happened to my baby boy?”

“I’m still here. I just got taller.”

“Not by much,” Everleigh muttered.

Logan pouted. “Hey!”

Everleigh laughed. “Come on, let’s go! We’ve kept the carriage waiting long enough.”

The ride to the castle was short, smooth, and full of growing anxiety. Especially when Logan noticed how many people were out trying to get a glimpse at them like they were some kind of nobility themselves. The carriage stopped inside of the castle’s inner courtyard, where other carriages of nobility and foreign royalty were already parked. Remy came over to help them out of their carriage.

“There you guys are. Ready for the party?”

“Golly, there are a lot of people here,” Emile stated.

Remy shrugged. “Well, Thomas and Nico did invite everyone. Honestly, though, even I’m surprised at the turnout considering Thomas’s aversion to large crowds.”

“Perhaps it’s because Virgil’s finally making a public appearance,” Logan said, eyeing the people who looked to be around his age.

Many of them would probably be here to make a good impression on the crown prince. Perhaps a few of the bolder ones would even try to befriend him. A few may even attempt to romance him. That idea gave Logan a sick feeling in his stomach. Even worse than the anxiety of being at a high society event.

“Everleigh! Logan!” Willow called out as they ran over to them. “Hi!”

Everleigh giggled. “Hi to you too. Is it normal to run to your friends at these kinds of functions?”

Willow shrugged. “Who cares. This is kind of our party anyway. You look breathtaking by the way.”

“Th-thank you. You look lovely as well,” Everleigh stammered.

“Thanks. Your make-up looks really cool, Lo.”

“Thank you,” Everleigh did it. “Did you run away from Janus or are you here with your family?”

“Oh, my family is here, but I was just with Jan and Roman. I can take you to them then we can all hang out together.”

Willow led Logan and Everleigh away into the castle, to the huge ballroom where the majority of the party-goers were socialising. They found Janus and Roman at a table, looking as if they had just been dancing and were now resting their feet.

“Hey guys, great timing. Would you please tell Janus that I was indeed the first to confess my feelings?”

“Liar. I was the first to confess, and they’ll tell you so.”

“This is why I left them,” Willow whispered to Everleigh and Logan. “I swear, they’re an old married couple reincarnated or something.”

“It’s rude to keep secrets,” Janus commented.

“I said you’re both insufferable.”

“But I was the first to confess though. Right, Willow?” Roman prompted.

“You were not, you forgetful elf.”

“Forgetful, I have never forgotten a thing in my life, oh darling dragon.”

“Double D’s, an interesting nickname, bro,” Remus said as he popped up.

“Gah! Remus! Don’t do that.”

“Aw, but you look so funny when you’re spooked.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be with Patton?”

“I’m right here,” Patton said as he approached with a darker haired boy who looked quite similar to him, beside him. “Everyone, this is my brother Morgan. Morgan, these are my friends Janus, Logan, Everleigh, Willow, Roman and well you already met Remus.”

“Hi! Did you guys really defeat a demon?”

“Technically, Queen Valeria killed the demon. Everleigh, Janus, Willow, Roman, and Remus all fought its subordinates and I only snuck by to get to Queen Valeria,” Logan stated.

“Still, we’re all awesome,” Remus declared.

Roman grinned. “Agreed. We are indeed true heroes.”

“Speaking of, when is this ceremony supposed to start?” Janus asked.

As if to answer their question, there was a sudden sound of trumpets silencing the crowd before an announcer spoke. “Presenting, King Thomas the Just and his dearly beloved husband Prince Consort Nico.”

Everyone looked over as the King and his husband entered the room in their dazzling royal attire. They walked arm in arm to the dias at the end of the room, where three magnificent thrones were standing. As they turned around to look at everyone, the people bowed and curtsied respectfully for them.

“Thank you, all. You may now rise,” Thomas declared. “And another thank you to everyone for attending tonight’s ball. While we had originally planned for this only to be our son’s debut, as you know, things happened and now we have a lot more to celebrate tonight. But first, we’d like to proudly introduce to you our son; Prince Virgil of Srednas.”

The crowd looked back to the top of the stairs from which Thomas and Nico had descended. Now standing there they saw Virgil. Dressed elegantly in a deep purple suit with light purple makeup underneath his eyes and a gentle smile on his face. He walked with confidence and purpose down the stairs and to the dias where he joined his parents.

The people bowed and curtsied for him as well, and he said. “Thank you. You may rise.”

Everyone did, and then stared at the royals, waiting eagerly for what they would say next.

“As I was saying before. We have many things to celebrate. One being, my son, and the other being the valiant rescue that he and his friends did only a fortnight ago-”

Thomas wasn’t interrupted, but I figured you don’t want to sit through a retelling of events that you’ve already heard. Basically, Thomas retold everything that had happened from when he, Nico, and the council disappeared, up until when the teens stormed the tower, healed the queen, and defeated Ynclementia. The crowd was of course, quite captivated, and Logan found himself feeling quite flattered at how heroic the king described them all to be.

“-so, as thanks for their service, the young heroes shall of course be given the appropriate titles. Roman and Remus Leafstone, Patton Lilyhart, Janus Embryn, Willow Redrunner, and Logan Picani. Please come here,” Thomas requested.

The friends exchanged nervous/excited glances then went and stood in front of the royal family.

Thomas turned to Virgil, “You can stand with them if you want.”

Virgil nodded and joined his friends in front of his parents. He stood close to Logan and whispered. “You look enchanting.”

Logan blushed but didn’t have time to even say thanks in reply as Thomas continued talking. “As King of Srednas, I acknowledge your great deeds and grant you all the titles of Knights of the Miracle Order. May you carry your titles with the same honour and valour that you have earned them by, and let all your future escapades be just and victorious. Cheers to the Miracle Knights!”

“Cheers to the Miracle Knights!” The crowd echoed as they applauded the eight young heroes.

Logan and his friends turned around to face the crowd with bright smiles. The cheering and clapping went on for a few minutes still as they stood there. Once the cheers died down, Thomas spoke again prompting the party to continue. The musicians began to play again and everyone returned to socialising.

Before Logan could decide what to do though, Virgil had taken his hand and was motioning for him to follow him somewhere. Curious and still slightly dazed from the earlier compliment, Logan went willingly with him, away from the large crowd, outside the ballroom, to what seemed to be an empty veranda that looked out over the royal gardens.

Virgil released Logan’s hand and turned to face him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Logan replied in the same soft shy tone. “Thank you. For the, um, compliment. Earlier.”

“Well, it’s the truth. You look absolutely mesmerizing,” Virgil declared.

“I suppose I have Everleigh’s makeup skills to thank for that.”

“No. Your enchanting beauty is your own, Logan. It’s something that you’ve seemed to have ever since I first saw you. Something that could outshine even the stars.”

“Well, you’re much more handsome than me. The first time I saw you, I nearly lost myself in those stormy grey eyes.”

As silence fell over the pair, Logan found himself getting lost in those eyes once again. Tonight, they didn’t reflect any firelight. Instead, they shone purely with Virgil’s emotions. That same bright ‘fondness’ that had been in his eyes the night they had talked about their futures. It seemed to be even stronger now somehow.

“Logan, I… I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“Okay, so, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. A very long time honestly. And I’ve made up my mind on it, so I can only hope you’d at the very least stay friends with me if you don’t like this. Of course, I would totally understand if you never wanted to see me again. I wouldn’t dream of forcing you to stay my friend. I also don’t want you to just say yes because I’m the prince or anything like that. Nothing will happen if you don’t want this. Or, if you really don’t want me to ever come near you again, then I-”

“Virgil, please breathe.”

Virgil shut his eyes. “I’m sorry. I am just really nervous. So nervous I forgot even my anxiety about being introduced to the public earlier.”

“Well, you made a very elegant entrance. You looked quite fearless to me.”

“Glad I learnt to hide my fear early on then,” Virgil laughed as he opened his eyes. “I still need to ask this question though.”

Logan nodded.

“Here it goes then. Logan. Would you please consider, maybe going out with me and, um, being my boyfriend?”

…

“Logan? Oh, geez, you ha-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll go out with you. And be your boyfriend.” Logan stated. “May I kiss you?”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Please.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Logan closed the distance between himself and Virgil and kissed the prince squarely on the lips. It was a sweet kiss. One that signified the beginning of a beautiful romance and the ending of our tale.

The tale of how Logan Picani went from being a simple baker’s son to a master mage, Miracle Knight, and the boyfriend of Prince Virgil. From being the underdog he rose, learning magic alongside those who outranked him, befriending his classmates and rising with them to become great magic users. From choosing to trust a friend and keep the secret of his heritage to later helping that friend save his grandmother and two entire realms from the greed and tyranny of a fae-demon. From making pseudo stars in the throne room to this moment where he was kissing the crown prince on a veranda. It had been one heck of a journey.

And Logan wouldn’t change anything.

---

A/N: Tada! The story has come to an end, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm done here of course. I have really enjoyed writing this story and getting comments during this past week of posting it, so I might make a sequel or at the very least some spin-off one-shots. If you guys would like that then please let me know. Thank you for reading! Here's hoping you have a magical day 💜

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ellemcu · 3 years

Text

I don’t wanna hurt you

Chapter 5: Trust you? Again?

Part 1 \\ Part 2 \\ Part 3 \\ Part 4 \\

Word count: 1685

Warnings:Panic attack, swearing

*****************

You slowly opened your eyes, feeling numb all over your body. Everything was blurry and your nerves felt as if someone was stabbing them repeatedly. You groaned and struggled to keep your eyes open. After a few minutes, memories of everything that had happened flooded your brain and you sat up quickly. You were in a small room with 4 white walls and one big mirror, which was obviously double sided, after all the years you had been stuck in a small room, being studied on, this was nothing new.

You drew your gaze where you were sitting and you were lying on a small plain bed. Your whole life you had slept on the grubby floor and this new sensation was awful. You rapidly stood up but as soon as you put your whole weight on your knees they buckled and you tumbled on the floor. But you were determined to get out of this place because you need to go back to HYDRA, the more time you’re away the more pain they’ll inflict on you, the more they’ll train you until you don’t have enough energy to even breathe. You need to go back, at any cost.

You slowly stood up again and ran towards the mirror and banged your fists on it, so harshly that blood started to draw. You kept on banging until you couldn’t feel your arms anymore so you stepped backwards until your back met the wall. You slowly slid down it until you sat down, bringing your knees to your chest, trying to catch your breath. You weren’t even tired but the more time you spent in this damn room the more your brain thought about all the possible ways you were gonna be punished. You were gonna kill every single person without thinking twice about it if it meant to go back home

You felt as if your lungs had stopped working and breathing was becoming really difficult. You rocked yourself while trying uselessly to even out your small, choked breathes. Your mind was racing and suddenly, irritated by your whole situation you reached out your hand and slowly raised it, telepathically, bringing your bed with it. You made your bed float through the air, slightly tilting your head with a cold stare until you swiftly moved your hand towards the double sided mirror.

The bed crashed into the mirror, making the whole room vibrate. You were sure that the glass was not made to be broken but with your super hearing you heard a slight crack. That was enough to make you stand up and accumulate more power. Your (e/c) started to turn purple and red sparks started to escape your hands. You swiftly lifted the bed and started to slam it against the mirror. After a few powerful strikes the glass shattered and what was on the other side kinda shocked you.

You inhaled deeply and cracked your neck, a small smirk formed on your face as you took a step towards your new exit. On the other side there was a room full of computers and strange looking machines that made your shiver. You looked around thoroughly but the room was completely empty, there was no sign of any threat. Just as you were starting to let your guard down a door flung open. You froze and waited for someone to come in. Staring deeply into the door a man appeared. He was a tall, bald man with a black eye patch on his left eye. He slowly walked towards you, raising his hands to show he didn’t have weapons but you obviously saw through that after seeing a pocket knife he had strapped on his knife. You still hadn’t moved and were looking very carefully at his every move. “ Listen Y/N I’m Nick Fury and I know you must be feeling scared “ he stated while you scoffed at his comment, YOU scared? PLEASE-. “ Or you might be feeling uncomfortable because you feel like you need to get back to HYDRA” he continued as you looked at him with a confused look. “Listen I just want to help you,” he said, offering his hand out to you. You looked at him “ That's the same damn thing your friend told me and look at me now.” you murmured. “ Listen I don’t wanna fight because you are not my mission but if you are gonna stop me just know that nothing can stop me from going home”. You growled. You were about to leave when Steve walked in “I get it, I really do but listen”. You hadn’t stopped walking, you were tired of listening to these dumb people.” I knew you mom” he continued. You stopped dead in your tracks: “Yea, she was a lovely lady, extremely smart” he went on. “And I know for a fact that she trusted me, we were buddies, so please trust me. Just once. Please” he sounded so desperate. “You think I should trust you?Again? What, so you’re doing all this for what? Trying to help me? trying to help me not go back to what you think is wrong? Dude I don’t think you understand.” You answered in a low growl. Suddenly you felt a sharp pain in your skull, but it wasn’t external; it was as if your cells were reprogramming. You felt as if someone was crushing your skull while dividing your brain into their smallest atoms. You knew this feeling too well. It was HYDRA turning you into their

soldier. You were turning back to The Shadow.

You breathed in deeply and opened your eyes though this time your expression was cold. Your mission was to kill everyone here. Every single person.

You stared at the floor for a couple of seconds before lifting your gaze towards Steve “ You did this?” he questioned not really understanding why you were staring at him. A smirk forming on your lips once again as you fisted Nick Fury's neck knocking him out completely. You grabbed a pocket knife and threw it with precision towards Steve. It hit his shoulder, just in the right angle to injure his muscle perfectly. You slowly got up and walked towards Steve who had fallen to the ground and was trying desperately to grab his shield even though it had slided away from him. Your eyes were emotionless as you telepathically choked Nick fury while pushing the knife from Steve’s shoulder up, towards his neck as slowly as possible. Everything was perfect, no time to lose. You were finally gonna go home. Out of the blue You heard a pair of boots run across the corridor towards you. You glanced at the door and there HE was. THAT muther fucker. You stood up, still moving the blade telepathically towards Steve’s neck while he squirmed helplessly. A woman came running in after the tall dude with red hair and a jet black suit. She raised her hand towards you, aiming to hit you with an electric shocking device, as if that was going to make a difference after all the electricity that had flown through your body. You scoffed at her action and stopped choking Nick Fury (he was about to die, just to say), you looked deep into her eyes and then turned your gaze towards the man you kept trying to kill, every time failing miserably. But this time his expression was different. You could read his emotions easily, which was impossible a few months ago and his eyes had a different look to them, not easily noticeable but if you paid enough attention to someone, like the highly trained assassin you are, it was easily detectable. After a few seconds of staring deep into his soul, his expression changed, now he was surely worried. “Natasha freeze” He shouted at the red head. “Barnes she is gonna kill us, what the fuck is wrong with you?” she murmured back to him, still keeping her wrist high. ”She’s under their control. She.. she doesn’t understand”. he shouted quickly back at her. “ Just let me deal with this” he continued quickly as you were about to attack Natasha. You understood completely what they were saying but you weren’t reacting in any way. You lunged towards Natasha and she tried to dodge your attack but she was way too slow for your quickness. You twisted her arm and pulled her on the floor, pulling out the knife that was in Steve’s collarbone, blood gushing out as you brought it to her main artery. You were about to stab her neck when the all in black dude said in a clam voice “Soldat. Stop.” you recognized that voice. The Shadow recognized that voice and froze. “I’ve heard a great deal about you. We even met but I don’t think you remember now, do you?”. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes. You never could make eye contact with your handler at HYDRA so you kept eye contact with the floor. “Now stand up.” he said clearly. You listened and stood up from Natasha and stood by her side. “Barnes how the fuck did you do that?”. You finally looked up at him, trying desperately to be able to see his next moves before he hurt you. He walked towards you and said in a steady voice. “Now follow me (Y/N), I know you’re in there.”. You nodded, following his orders as he walked out of the room and you followed.

In the corner of your eye you could see Natasha run to Steve but you couldn’t disobey this man, even though you had no idea who he was, you were fully aware of what he was capable of.

******************************

omg I’m really so sorry it took so long but school has been killing me. I know this is being very slow but I promise once we’re in the compound it will be so much better. I really hope you like it and if you wanna be tagged or you have any request on any sort just send it!

elle.

Tags

@vicmc624

#Bucky Barnes #buckyxyou #buckyxhydrareader #buckyxreader #steverogers #nickfury #natasha #bucky buchanan #bbb #HYDRASoldier #hydrareader #hydra x reader #avengersxreader #Avengers

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portalford · 4 years

Text

Nothing Separating You and Me

AO3

“Grunkle Stan!”

Stan lights up when the video call finally goes through. “Mabel! How’ve you been, kiddo?”

“I’m good,” Mabel says cheerfully. “Just a sec.” She leans back and shouts “Dipper! Get in here!” at a volume that has Stan wincing and turning the sound down on the computer. She turns back around with a bright smile. “He had something to show Grunkle Ford.” Her smile dims slightly. “Where is he?”

“He’s in bed—”

“Is he sick?” Mabel cries. If she wasn’t so obviously upset it would be funny how fast she jumped to a conclusion that wasn’t “Ford went to bed early,” because debilitating illness was more likely than Stanford Pines going to bed at a reasonable hour.

“Who’s sick?” And Dipper makes an appearance.

“Nobody,” Stan assures them. “Ford took a nasty fall this morning and strained his hip, but he’ll be—”

“Is that the kids?” Ford pokes his head around the kitchen doorway.

Stan scowls at his brother and finishes his sentence pointedly. “—fine, as long as he stays in bed and doesn’t keep getting up to walk around like an idiot.”

“It’s a mild strain, Stanley, nothing more, and I can rest out here just as easily as I can in bed.” Ford limps to the other chair and sits down cautiously, leg stretched out in front of him.

Mabel is so close to the webcam her face blots out everything, including a protesting Dipper. “Ohmygosh Grunkle Ford are you okay?!”

“Fine, Mabel.” Ford smiles encouragingly. “I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, that’s not reassuring at all.” The sarcastic bite to Stan’s words is somewhat undercut by his immediate tilting of the laptop so Ford can see the kids better.

“What happened, Great-uncle Ford?” Dipper is trying to shove Mabel aside so he can be seen, and Mabel is shoving him back, so they’re both having a silent push war with identical expressions of genuine worry on their faces.

Stan beats Ford to the reply.

“Sixer here was trying to draw a seal—”

“It was a selkie, Stanley, and—”

“—and he got up on the railing for a better look, except it wasn’t stable, because this is a ship, and when we hit a swell he hit the deck hard.” Stan has slightly less amusing memories of being belowdeck when he heard the thump and Ford’s startled noise of pain, and the fear when he’d run up to see Ford on the ground. Now, though, he’s going to milk this for all it’s worth. Payback is payback, regardless of how petty. “How many PhDs do you have again?”

Ford’s distinctly peevish with his reply. “I don’t see what doctorates have to do with—”

“You’re supposed to be smart, Stanford! Smart people don’t try to stand on boat railings!”

“I tried to stand on the stair railing once,” Mabel offers.

“Sure, sweetie, that’s ‘cause you’ve got talent.”

Mabel beams.

Dipper says, “She fell off and broke her arm.”

“I did,” Mabel says, undeterred. “And I drew all over my cast so that it wouldn’t be sad and boring anymore.”

“That’s the spirit.” Stan kicks at Ford’s uninjured leg. “Want to get a cast to draw on, Sixer?”

“My hip is strained, Stanley, not broken.” Ford’s using that snippy tone he gets when he’s mad about something, but knows better than to try and start an argument. “Besides, we don’t have the materials to make a hip cast.”

“I’m sure I could whip somethin’ up. Besides, if I really thought you needed a cast, I’d win that argument. You don’t have a leg to stand on.”

Ford sighs. Dipper mutters something about that one being ‘pretty good, actually.’ Mabel lifts her hand and says, “air high five!”

Stan high fives in her general direction, and Mabel does the same. She probably would have connected with his nose in real life, but hurray for the wonders of technology.

“So,” Dipper says loudly, clearly changing the subject, “how long do you think you’ll have to stay off your leg, Grunkle Ford?”

“No more than a few days. It’s more bruised than anything else, so I just can’t exacerbate it with too much activity.”

“That’s a few days if he actually stays put,” Stan amends. “The way he’s been, it’ll take a week or two.”

“I know my own limits, Stanley.”

“You’re not a doctor, Stanford.”

“Technically—”

“A PhD isn’t an MD, even I know that.”

“I have a doctorate in biology.”

“That still ain’t an MD.”

“No, but it makes me more qualified than you.”

“Guys, guys!” Mabel waves her hands at the screen. “We’re all qualified here. Grunkle Ford, it would make me really happy if you took some you-time until your hip stops being hurty.” Her eyes get big and dewy and she blinks two or three times, just to make sure it’s really sunk in. “Please? For me?”

Ford is visibly torn between extreme frustration and reluctant amusement, but collapses like a card house nonetheless. “All right, Mabel. I’ll be careful.”

“Yay!” Mabel’s expression shifts to delight, then determination. She points at Stan. “You look after him, Grunkle Stan.”

“I’m trying, pumpkin, honest! He’s worse than Dipper.”

“Nobody’s worse than Dipper,” Mabel says. Her tone was one of a person who has Seen Things.

“Ford is absolutely worse than Dipper,” Stan replies. His tone was one of a person who has also Seen Things, but bigger, and with more teeth.

“We are sitting right here,” Dipper says, but he’s distracted by a pamphlet that fell out of his backpack, so he might have missed chunks of the conversation.

“And? We want you to hear this. Every one of my grey hairs is something stupid Stanford did.”

“Age—”

“Nothin’ to do with it.” Stan chops the air with his hand for emphasis. “I’m a spring chicken.”

Dipper frowns. “Then how come you made me do so many chores because you were ‘too old’ to do them?”

“Don’t question my logic, kid.”

Mabel interrupts, all but throwing a sketchbook at the camera in her excitement to show them. “I’m taking an art class at school!”

Stan smiles. Mabel has her ups and downs with high school, but she never stops loving art. “Show me what you got.”

She does, and the conversation wanders from art to history to board games; then, as it often does, meanders back through Gravity Falls. It’s almost like the hikes he and Ford took the kids on before they left that summer, and it gives Stan the kind of stupid nostalgia he swore he’d never feel for anything.

He wouldn’t give it up for the world.

They venture through the trees to the mountains to the sea, out to a sturdy little boat currently bobbing somewhere off the coast of Iceland, and they stay up way past the kids’ bedtime.

Nobody tells them to stop.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #stanley pines #stanford pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #my writing #do i like this? unsure. am i posting it anyway? absolutely #wonderland round 2 is on right now and i'm feeling brave #and also extremely sleep deprived

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chiaki-translation · 4 years

Text

Luminous Circus: Event Translation Ch7-8

I realized that if I post once a day I won’t be able to finish it in time because there’s epilogue. Let’s see what I can do~ Someone asked me how I can do the translation so fast, well, I’m currently more or less jobless, just waiting for school to start. Due to Covid, I have a very long holiday and I’m at the point that I’m actually pretty bored with nothing to do. So I decided I should use my time for something more useful *cough* I mean, doing translation helps me learn English and Japanese (English is not my mother tongue) and I’m enjoying my time doing this so why not~

Btw, feel free to tell me if there’s anything weird/wrong with my translation because I’m still learning and I do want to learn to make them better. Thank you so much for reading whatever I’ve done! Without further ado, today’s chapter will be under the cut again, enjoy~

(Also, added hyperlink for chapters under the same event so it’s easier for reader to find related chapters~)

Ch3-4 / / Ch5-6 / / Ch7-8 / / Ch9-10 / / Epilogue

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber’s Entertainment

Homare:

Grandmother.

Homare’s Grandmother:

Oh, that painting, is it already fixed?

Homare:

Not yet--

Homare’s Grandmother:

Homare:

For grandmother, the thing that you treasure is not the painting itself, but the memories within the painting right.

About the repair, sorry for saying something irrelevant.

Thanks to Sakuya-kun and Muku-kun, I realized that the most important thing is not the item itself.

Homare’s Grandmother:

It’s because of those 2 over there right.

Sakuya:

No! I did nothing!

Muku:

I also didn’t say much.

Homare’s Grandmother:

I see…

Though, you guys are quite stubborn for a poet and a painter.

Homare:

Uh…

Kazunari:

Ahaha…

Homare’s Grandmother:

Well, I also don’t understand people much.

Homare:

About this painting, is it something that grandmother gave to grandfather as a present?

Homare’s Grandmother:

…Yes.

Homare’s Grandfather:

Miyako-san, why don’t you come over here.

Homare’s Grandmother:

What is it?

Homare’s Grandfather:

There you go.

Homare’s Grandmother:

This is?

Homare’s Grandfather:

They’re art materials.

Homare’s Grandmother:

I can see that myself. Who’s going to use it?

Homare’s Grandfather:

It’s going to be me and you.

Homare’s Grandmother:

I’m a poet, I don’t have any interest in painting.

Homare’s Grandfather:

I’m the same.

Today’s joyful feelings, I was thinking of painting it so we won’t forget.

Homare’s Grandmother:

We can take pictures for that.

Homare’s Grandfather:

That would be boring.

Anyway, we cannot leave our feelings in a picture.

I just want to leave behind this inspiration swelling inside of me right now.

Homare’s Grandmother:

If that’s the case, it’s enough to just put it in a Haiku.

Homare’s Grandfather:

I already made too much Haiku for you.

Homare’s Grandmother:

Is this a punishment game or something?

Homare’s Grandfather:

It’s not, I just thought it would be fun to trial and error together on something new.

Homare’s Grandmother:

…Sigh. I understand.

Homare’s Grandfather:

Thank you.

…

Homare’s Grandmother:

…

Homare’s Grandfather:

Hmm, between you and me, we have around the same skill in painting.

Homare’s Grandmother:

This painting, never show it to anyone else.

Homare’s Grandfather:

Of course not.

You actually managed to draw that bear well.

Homare’s Grandmother:

It’s an elephant.

Homare’s Grandfather:

I see it now that you say it.

Anyway, if we just practice in a few sheets, we’ll definitely get better.

Homare’s Grandmother:

…Hah.

Homare’s Grandmother:

Isn’t this enough already?

Homare’s Grandfather:

Hmm…. I like this painting the best, is it a clown?

Homare’s Grandmother:

Yes, so you can see it.

Homare’s Grandfather:

Of course.

Then, this one is an elephant.

Homare’s Grandmother:

It’s a circus tent.

Homare’s Grandfather:

I see it now that you say it.

Homare’s Grandmother:

…

Homare’s Grandfather:

Yep, it’s really great.

Do you mind if I receive this from you?

Homare’s Grandmother:

I don’t get how you can call this horrid painting great.

Homare’s Grandfather:

I feel that I can see that rare smile of yours here.

Homare’s Grandmother:

…Hah. I understand.

Then, I’ll give it to you as thanks for today.

Homare’s Grandmother:

Ironically, I even left such a message behind…

In return for the painting, he gave me the pocket watch.

Homare:

I see.

Homare’s Grandmother:

We painted this painting together, and it contains the memory of that person who gave me such happiness, that’s why, for me, it is my precious treasure.

There’s no value in such a horrid painting.

I thought that way too, but… I guess you’re right.

Kazunari:

Homare’s Grandmother:

There are feelings contained in this painting.

That is something that should not be thrown away easily.

Thank you for saying that you won’t give up on it.

Instead of repair, I think I’ll keep it as it is.

Even if it has become like this, the important thing won’t change.

Rather than getting repaired by someone else, I think it’s better as it is.

Kazunari:

I see. I understand.

Homare’s Grandmother:

Thank you for making it dry and clean.

You should show me your painting next time.

Kazunari:

Of course!

Takao:

Sorry to disturb you, Homare-sama.

Homare:

What is it?

Takao:

I found a picture of the painting.

Homare:

Really!?

Takao:

I received the picture from the remodeling contractor who took it for his reference.

Director:

Thi, this is…

Homare:

See, it looks the same with the one I drew doesn’t it?

Kazunari:

You’re right! Aririn, that’s amazing!

Director:

(I didn’t expect for the painting to be really like that…

Now I understand grandfather’s feeling who thought it was an elephant.

Homare-san’s talent is really similar to his grandmother, the literary talent too.)

Homare:

Thanks to you guys, I managed to understand grandmother’s feeling.

Thank you.

Sakuya:

That’s… I’m sure that it’s Homare-san’s feelings towards your grandmother that has been conveyed.

Muku:

Homare-san really think a lot about your grandmother.

Homare:

Nah, I still don’t really understand people’s feelings.

It’s really difficult, there’re still so much to learn.

Kazunari:

It’s not only Aririn!

I’m the same too, the same!

Homare:

Hmm… Even for Kazunari-kun whom Yuki-kun claimed to be the Communication Guy.

Kazunari:

Yep yep, but, even if you don’t understand, make sure you talk a lot with the other person, and everything will be alright!

Homare:

I see… You’re right.

Muku:

In the end, what happened to the reformation?

Homare:

We’ll keep that place as it is.

It’s a bit barren, but it’s full of memories for grandfather and grandmother.

I thought grandmother will definitely be the happiest if I leave it as it is.

Director:

I see…

I’m pretty sure your grandmother will be glad.

Homare:

Yes…

At grandfather’s funeral, I saw my grandmother, who already wiped her tears, looking forward with such determination. I always thought she’s a strong and cold person.

But, surely, it wasn’t the case.

When my grandfather passed away, when the painting was ruined too, I’m sure she was filled with a lot of sadness.

I cannot do things like making the typhoon never happened, I wonder if I can do something to return the smile back to grandmother’s face…

Kazunari:

If you want the big smile back on her face, I think you can do so by making new memories with her.

Homare:

Hmm…

Director:

--If that’s the case, I think I know of a perfect method. Right, Sakuya-kun.

Sakuya:

Eh?

Director:

I mean, if it’s circus…

Sakuya:

Ah!!

Homare:

What is it?

Sakuya:

There is!

A method to make her smile again!

Guy:

It’s unusual for it to be Whiskey.

Azuma:

It’s a good change sometimes.

Tsuzuru:

Yukishiro-san really knows a lot about alcohol.

Azuma:

I can teach you if you want to know more.

Tsuzuru:

Th, thank you.

Tasuku:

There’s a high chance you’ll drink too much if you use Azuma-san as the reference, please be careful.

Guy:

Other than as reference, you can learn from him.

Azuma:

Why does it sounds like you guys were being mean to me.

Director:

I’m home.

Kazunari:

I’m home~

Homare:

I’m home.

Azuma:

Welcome back.

Tsuzuru:

Welcome back.

Homare:

Glad you’re here, Tsuzuru-kun!

Will you cast me in with the Circus Troupe?

Tsuzuru:

Eh?

Homare:

I’ve already gathered the troupe members.

Kazunari:

Here here!

Sakuya:

Yes!

Muku:

I want to join too!

Director:

I told Homare-san about the Circus idea for the script.

Tsuzuru:

Oh, I see.

Homare:

I apologize for bringing in my personal feelings but, I want to present a memory of circus to my important person.

Tsuzuru:

From the beginning, the circus is Arisugawa-san’s idea isn’t it.

Homare:

Hmm, now that you said it, it is.

Maybe I was already thinking about that painting somewhere inside my head…

Tsuzuru:

I wrote the lead, George, with Arisugawa-san as the image.

By all means, pleased to work with you.

Anyway, the desire to convey your feelings through a performance, I also understand it.

Homare:

Thank you.

Tasuku:

Seems like the members have already been decided.

Azuma:

It seems that the next Mixed Performance will be another good one.

Guy:

Yeah. Arisugawa’s circus… I’m looking forward to it.

Visitor:

Are you Miyoshi Kazunari?

Kazunari:

Yes.

Visitor:

This painting, is it an expression of water?

Kazunari:

Yes, this shadow represents the fluctuation of the water surface.

I had a hard time finishing it, but the flow and the three-dimensional effect was there to show the expression as well.

Visitor:

I see…. I can buy this right?

Kazunari:

Eh? Well, yes…

Visitor:

Then, I’ll take it.

Kazunari:

Eh!? Are you sure you’re fine with this!?

Visitor:

I think it’s a wonderful painting.

Kazunari:

Th, thank you so much.

You can proceed over there…

Visitor:

Alright. Please continue to do your best from now.

Kazunari:

Yes.

…

Homare:

You don’t seem to be convinced.

Kazunari:

Aririn, you came.

Homare:

I wonder if you’re actually not satisfied with this painting.

Kazunari:

It’s not that I’m not satisfied with it.

I just don’t know whether it actually worth the money it’s being sold for.

Until now, I’ve been drawing without thinking of monetary value at all, that’s why I’m feeling a bit lost.

But for that visitor, this painting has become something of value.

Homare:

I’m sure that the visitor has their own thoughts of the value of the painting, which might be different from yours.

Similar to poem too, under different perspective, the value will be decided by the different individuals who listens to it.

As a fellow creator, I understand your feelings.

But, in a good and bad way, the recipients might end up deciding the value without regarding the creator’s thoughts and feelings.

That’s why, even when you’re thinking of its value, you should continue to draw only paintings that you’ll be satisfied with.

However, I don’t think you need to feel guilty for not being able to agree with the value of the painting.

I mean, you must have poured your feelings when you’re drawing this painting too, right?

Kazunari:

--It’s like that. As expected of Aririn!

Homare:

By the way, do they have any postcard here?

I want to give it to my important person.

If can, I want it to be a painting of a circus.

Kazunari:

If you’re looking for that, you have to special order one.

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! translation #homare arisugawa #kazunari miyoshi #sakisaka muku #sakuya sakuma #a3! event #a3! mixed play

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surveys4ever · 3 years

Text

25.

Section 1 – Who were you?

Think back as far as you can. What is the first memory you have? I think meeting my (now) dad for the first time when he and my mom were dating. I was very upset because he was short and that’s not what dads were supposed to look like in my 3 year old eyes since my bio dad was super tall.

What is something you remember enjoying very much as a small child? Playing Barbies, watching Barney, Happy Meals, being with my grandma.

How old were you, when you made your very first friend? Probably preschool.

Are you still friends with this person today? Facebook friends, yeah. Real friends, no.

Was there a story somebody read or told you that has stuck with you? No one ever read to me after I learned to read for myself so one day I was sick and I came home and curled up with my mom on the couch and asked her to read me a Little Mermaid book I had and she did, even though I had to get up to go shit myself halfway through and it meant a lot to me at the time.

What is something you get an immense feeling of nostalgia from? Hannah Montana for some reason. It was my favorite show and we didn’t get the Disney channel so whenever we went to a hotel, nobody could tell me fuckin NOTHING because we were watching Hannah Montana whether they liked it or not.

As a child, were you a sore loser or a sore winner? I was the only child for 8 years and then the oldest after that so I never lost at anything and now when I do, I feel like I'm the biggest piece of shit loser there’s ever been. So that’s fun.

Did you go through the "naked phase"? I learned that you didn’t have to sleep in pajamas and you could just sleep naked so I did it for a while but then realized that I much preferred pajamas.

Which television shows do you watch the most as a child? I loved TV so basically all of the 90′s/early 2000′s shows there were.

Did you play with siblings, neighbourhood kids or by yourself? Either with neighborhood/school kids or by myself. I didn’t ever really have siblings who weren’t my kids, if that makes sense.

Is there something you really miss from your childhood today? I miss back when everything was simple.

Section 2 – Likes and interests

Would you ever like to try competitive pinball playing? Ummm, no.

Do you knit, crochet or cross stitch? I’m trying to teach myself to crochet.

Have you ever, or would you like to attend a gaming or comic convention? No thx.

What's your opinion on online multiplayer games? I really liked Among Us for a while there but I don’t really enjoy how rude everyone is on online games.

Do you like to go cycling? If so, where? Uh no.

Have you ever tried woodturning? If not, would you like to? Never tried it, don’t really have any desire to, but it can be relaxing to watch!

Do you enjoy drawing? If so, what do you usually draw? I do! I usually draw graphics for YouTube videos or doodle over Instagram photos, draw things to put on shirts with my Cricut, etc. I use my iPad for so many things.

Have you ever attended a painting class? If so, what did you create? I haven’t but I would like to!

How about a creative writing course? If so, did you get any feedback? I took Creative Writing literally every year it was offered in high school and I always got awards for having the top marks in the class.

What is your favourite form of exercise? No thank you.

Section 3 – People

Who is the most important person in your life (besides yourself)? My husband.

Do people generally approach you easily? I think so!

Do you get along with people well? If not, what's the problem? Yeah! I’m pretty friendly and easy going.

Do you enjoy being in crowds or do you prefer your own company? I would much prefer my own company than crowds.

Which one of your friends have you known the longest? I still talk to the girl I was best friends with in the 6th grade on occasion so like 17-18 years?

Do you find it easy to make friends now? If not, what makes it difficult? As an adult who works from home, making friends is hard as fuck.

What is something about people that annoys you? Something I've noticed in recent years is just how entitled and greedy everyone is. Everybody wants something from you or for your skills to benefit them without them putting in any work or paying you for your time. It’s just gross.

What is something about people that you really like? We have really, really harsh winters and if you ever find yourself in the ditch for whatever reason, there will be a lineup of cars stopped behind you to help you push it out or let you chill in their car while you wait for a tow truck. On the really bad blizzard days, there are groups of men in big trucks that literally L I V E to go around and help pull people’s cars out of the ditch. It’s the only time I feel like there’s actually a sense of community around here.

If you live alone, what would be your criteria for a roommate? I honestly would never have a roommate because they could either be your friend or a stranger and living with friends is a good way to ruin a friendship if your living styles aren’t similar and living with a stranger just sounds like a nightmare.

How about criteria for a spouse, if you're single? I am married but my criteria was honestly that I just wanted him to be kind and funny and I got that tenfold with my husband.

In general, what's your attitude towards people? I can’t stand to be around grumpy people. If all you do is gripe and complain about literally everything, I’m out. No thank you. Why is your hobby being angry? Take up knitting or something for christ’s sake.

Section 4 – Habits

What is something you do every day without fail? Baby talk the dog and snuggle with Beebs.

What is your typical breakfast? I’m a leftovers for breakfast kinda gal but lately I’ve been having a bagel and watermelon.

Which article of clothing do you like to wear the most? I loooove me a good baggy T-shirt and booty shorts.

Is there a TV show you watch habitually? We’re currently watching Unhhhh while we eat dinner every night, haha!

Where do you usually spend most of your day? I really only sit in 4 places--bed, the couch, my makeup/work desk, or my sewing desk. Depends on the day which one I’m at.

Is there a product that you do not want to run out of? Moisturizer. I’m a dry son of a bitch.

What is your preferred mode of transport? Car!

Do you usually have something playing in the background when you're home? Nah. I’m in silence a lot of the time.

Where do you usually get your groceries? Walmart for the bulk of it, a local grocery store for the specialty items, and Target if we ever run out of something midweek because I cannot handle Walmart more than once a week.

How often do you go to your local park? Like once or twice a month in the summer!

Which of your hobbies do you indulge in most often? Sewing and Sims currently!

Section 5 – Favourites and dislikes

What is your favourite fruit? Watermelon!

How about your favourite berry? Strawberries are the only berry I like.

Which food do you highly dislike? Fish. It’s all disgusting.

What is your favourite song, and why? I hate this question. Who can pick one definitive favorite song out of the bajillions of songs that have been written??

What is a movie you cannot stand? Anything with Seth Rogen in it, any movie that's got a 3+ after it (looking @ you, Fast & Furious), and all the fuckin’ superhero movies that have the same ‘ah yes, this undefeatable bad guy that we have absolutely no chance against and will undoubtedly kill us all--but we’re going to pull through at the last second with the power of friendship!’ plot line.

Which trait in a person do you find most appealing? I don’t know how to describe it--certain people just have that spark and you can always tell right away if they’ve got it or not and those are my favorite kind of people.

Which trait puts you instantly off? If they’re religious it’s an instant no from me, dog.

Who is an actor/actress who you dislike so much you can't watch them? I really, really dislike Tom Holland. I honestly think he’s a terrible actor.

What colour are your favourite shoes? White!

What is a smell that disgusts you to no end? B.O., on me or others. I just can’t deal with it.

Which door handle/door knob do you like the most in your home? They’re all the same.

Section 6 – Culture

What is something very typical to the culture of your home country? Apple pie and baseball are the only things coming to mind atm.

Do you enjoy art? If so, which form of art is the most enjoyable? I do! But I prefer art that you can look at and know the artist is incredibly gifted and/or has put in a ton of time and effort to master their skills. None of that million dollar paint smear on a canvas shit.

What is something about another country's culture you don't understand? I feel like other cultures take their family and their family’s approval way too seriously. That might be rich coming from someone who doesn’t have a very good relationship with their family but I just don’t understand what the point of making yourself miserable to make your family happy is.

Do you ever attend the theater? If so, which play did you see last? Last thing I saw in a theater was Shangela perform a drag show, haha!

How about the opera or the ballet? Nope.

Which dance troupe do you enjoy, if any? ...they still do that?

Do you attend concerts or gigs? If so, which band did you see last? Not as much as I’d like to as no one good really comes here very often. Last band we saw was X Ambassadors and Paramore!

Are you interested in foreign food? I’m not uninterested but I’m not super interested either.

If so, which country's cuisine do you enjoy the most? Chinese...albiet probably a very Americanized version of Chinese.

Do you enjoy stand-up comedy? If so, who is your favourite comic? I doooo! Bo Burnham and Drew Lynch are my favorites.

Do you contribute to culture in some way? If so, how? I try to? I’m an influencer so I definitely have a platform of a couple hundred thousand people. Not sure what exactly I contribute tho.

Section 7 – Charity

Do you volunteer your time to anything charitable? If so, what? Newp.

Do you donate money to any charities? If so, which ones? No. I don’t trust a lot of charities, to be quite honest. A lot of them are very shady and I’d rather donate money directly to someone who needed it rather than it getting tied up in a charity where it might never actually see the people they claim to be helping.

If you have pets, are any of them rescues from shelters? We adopted our dog from one of my husband’s coworkers but she probably would have gone to the shelter if we didn’t take her.

Do you donate your old clothes, linen etc. to charitable organizations? Yes! We almost always have a bag of donations in our trunk that we always forget to take to the thrift store when we go.

If someone you know is in need, is it in your nature to offer help? If I can, yes!

Have you ever donated Christmas presents to children of poor families? We used to do that when I was a kid.

Have you ever had to rely on other people's charity? One Christmas when I was really young I remember my parents signed up for a sponsorship through the Salvation Army where a family adopted us and bought us Christmas presents and Christmas dinner or whatever.

How do you feel about donating to charities endorsed by celebrities? I would never donate to a charity simply because it was sponsored by a celebrity but I guess its the easiest way for a charity to get the word out that they need donations.

Is there a charity you absolutely never ever will not trust? PETA, Salvation Army, Goodwill, and that breast cancer one with the horrible CEO.

Have you ever donated to a cause that had a person going door to door? No. I extra wouldn’t if someone came knocking on my door asking for money.

In general, what is your opinion on charity? I already did my rant about them, haha.

Section 8 – Entertainment

Which was the very first video game you remember playing? Ocarina of Time I believe!

Which was the very first film you remember watching? That I don’t remember. Maybe that Barney movie with the magic egg?

What is your go-to form of entertainment? TikTok usually.

Do you have a large collection of DVDs/Blu-Rays? Nah. We have a drawer but we usually stream everything.

How about music albums? Beebs collects vinyls!

Do you prefer to have your music on vinyls, tapes, CDs or digital? I prefer digital and Beebs likes vinyl.

When and where do you like to entertain yourself usually? Either the bed or the couch.

Do you ever binge watch shows? If so, what are you binging now? Usually! I’m sadly in between shows rn.

What kinds of books do you like to read, if any? I honestly don’t read anymore.

Is there a book series you're currently collecting? ..

Is entertainment something you prefer to enjoy alone or with someone else? I have my shows and then we have shows we watch together. So there’s a time and place for both!

Section 9 – Internet

Do you always have access to the Internet, wherever you go? If not, why? Yup!

Which website do you frequent the most? Website website? Google. App website? Instagram or TikTok.

Which search engine do you prefer and trust the most? Googs.

What do you use the Internet the most for? Social media or entertainment.

Do you judge people who have their phones out all the time? If so, why? Random people? None of my business. But if we’re spending time together and I’m trying to have a conversation with you and you're not paying attention to me because your nose is glued to your phone, I’m gonna be pissed.

If your connection goes down, what do you do? Go do something that’s not on the internet?

Is there something you wish you could do online that isn't possible yet? I still wish you could smell things through the internet.

Do you remember the first time you used the Internet? When was it? Yes! I believe the 2nd/3rd grade?

What was a website you used to frequent that doesn't exist anymore? I loved the Disney website with all the games.

Do/Did you ever have your own website? That was the thiiiing back in the day.

Isn't it great how much knowledge and info we have at our fingertips? It’s great but also overwhelming.

Section 10 – And finally...

What is something you consider to be highly controversial? Politics, apparently.

What kinds of jokes do you like the best? I love a good pun.

Is there a person who makes you laugh effortlessly? Oh definitely.

Which part of your body do you like the least? My eyes.

What's something random, out of context you remember from your past? I don’t do well with really vague questions.

Do you wear shoes indoors? No, I’m not a heathen.

What's the silliest thing you've worn on your body in public? I don’t think I usually wear silly things.

What's the most important thing in your life right now? Just spending time with my fam. Trying to get over this anxiety.

What is the most distant point on the planet that you've been from home? Florida.

Do you enjoy trivia games? If so, which one's your favourite? We love some Trivial Pursuit in this house!

Are you more logical or emotional? My emotions take over and then my logic brings it back in. Equal parts, baby.

#survey

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theveryworstthing · 5 years

Photo

Pictured: three blooming Luna Mandrakes.

Field Notes: Fruit Bats

From my experience you suddenly know exactly what’s happening when you see the Blooming begin but you don’t really care about it more than any other seasonal marker. It happens every year to specific people and for some reason it just slips your mind when the physical signs are less obvious. It’s just the way things are. One of the natural mysteries here that no one really thinks about but that we all reflexively keep from outsiders.

Maybe it’s the smell that triggers the return of memories? During the day you’ll start to get tiny whiffs of their musty fruity aroma if you stand too close to the Luna Mandrakes. Not that most people stand especially close once they remember what they are, but in some cases it’s unavoidable (or just rude) to keep your distance. They’re a part of the community after all. They’re the soft spoken neighbor who lives in the house where grass grows up through the floorboards. The kind butcher who’s bare feet are always caked in blood and dirt. The school janitor who stared at the sun, eyes unaffected by the glare, every lunch break when I was in high school and told us stories about the founding of the tribe that settled here before this town was built. Every spring they and others like them go about their lives as the days grow warmer and their skin grows paler and nobody mentions the way they gently scratch at their too-long necks when the the time to bloom grows near.

The process has always reminded me of those time lapse videos of seeds sprouting. For some the buds bubble up through their flesh and squeeze cascading blossoms through the widening pores that begin to honeycomb their throats. You can even hear the thin protective membranes that re-form every morning pop open under the pressure if you’re nearby during their evening transformations. For others the flowers don’t wait for an opening to spring from, instead their skin simply twists and puffs itself into fat white knots that always reminded me of oiled balls of dough. By day they hang heavy from the knobbly stem formed from spines shrink-wrapped in velvety white skin. At sundown the buds begin to split and separate, until they eventually fan out into dramatic manes of thick white petals. The flowers themselves come in different sizes and configurations, but they all finish their evening blossoming by unfurling blood-red clusters of pistols and stamens that pulse like gentle heartbeats. Personally I find them all breathtakingly beautiful in that gross way that nature is beautiful. Almost makes me wish I had studied botany instead of biology.

How do I always forget that they aren’t human?

How does anyone ever forget?

I’ve always felt like I should be terrified by the cycle of forgetting and remembering and maybe if I hadn’t been born here I would be. It could just be that my endless curiosity about the ecosystem around my home trumps the fear. Or I’m just weird inside. Probably a mix of the three. I don’t even think I’m supposed to notice that I should be upset by it. No one else feels the same way.

No one else gets anxious around the bats either.

I think they’re harmless, I’ve been told all my life that they’re harmless, and I tell every classroom of children I visit that they’re harmless. They show up every year right as the Luna Mandrakes start blooming to feed on their nectar and in turn, pollinate them. Just like regular bats. Regular bats that are large enough that their combined wings of their relatively small population completely black out the sky for at least ten minutes every evening, the sight of which has always given me such a rush of smothering claustrophobia that witnessing and recording the the spectacle for my research leaves me shaking and lightheaded. Regular bats that only thrive in a neighborhood on the south side of the city with the densest population of Luna Mandrakes, where harsh restrictions and curfews send any human on the streets at night without a botanical license straight to jail for encroaching on the habitat of a protected endangered species. Regular bats that my mentors and I, even with our exhaustively thorough paperwork are only allowed to observe through field cameras in approved locations or by studying the occasional disfigured body found at the edge of the desert.

Regular bats that I finally saw alive and up close last night when I grabbed a burner phone and slipped out of my apartment with a fake botanical license and the promising seeds of a future panic attack.

So.

Right off the bat (no pun intended) something is wrong with the cameras we’re using.

Something about them is distorting the images into visions of creatures both more bestial and less monstrous than the bats I saw attending the lavish night market that has apparently existed here for god knows how long. Draped in finery and walking upright with ease they wandered the streets freely, stopping ever so often to converse with each other in a language I couldn’t understand or flitting from one open door or window to the next. I peeked inside one dimly lit bar and found it converted into a sort of small theater where a few bats munching on mealworms crowded around a huge flat screen tv and a human woman with a lanyard matching my forged one flipped through movies on Netflix and described each one in detail, pausing between summaries to gauge the half hearted chirps coming from her audience before moving on. Next door a supposedly closed for renovations bed and breakfast was transformed into a makeshift spa where human attendants rubbed shimmering oils into the sprawled out wings of bats being meticulously groomed by other bats with white beads braided into their fur. In the open garage of a closed auto shop yet more bats sat around watching chickens in a makeshift pen. The chickens weren’t fighting, in fact I think they were both hens? At one point a bat reached down to pet one before being aggressively clucked at and recoiling back to their seat. I still have no idea what the point was with that one.

I should have taken pictures. I mean I’m glad I didn’t because I drew enough attention to myself without snapping Polaroids like a tourist every five seconds but I have a feeling once I get some sleep this is all going to feel much less real and I’ll forget important details before I can get some solid sketches of the bats done. I wish I could draw right now but I’m still too jittery.

Also I am procrastinating because writing out my thoughts about chickens and giant bats trying to agree on if they were in the mood to watch Spice World means I can avoid talking about the Luna Mandrakes.

As I said before, this area of the city is where most of the Mandrakes lived. I was confused at first because I saw so few out on the streets where the bats mingled but the ones that I did see looked…off. They were all bare foot and either wore off the shoulder garments or went topless, probably to comfortably make room for their floral manes. Angel hair thin tendrils of flesh peeled away from their ankles every time their feet touched the ground for more than a few seconds and gently prodded the sidewalk beneath them until they continued walking. Their half-lidded eyes had a reflective sheen to them in the glow of the street lamps and they rarely blinked as their focus darted back and forth from the market wonders to the bats that watched them with open curiosity or kept pace just steps behind them. They moved like they were swimming through warm molasses. Smooth and purposeful, but easily too slow to lose their admirers. It gave them a kind of floaty quality that would have been quite elegant if not for the fact that their hands seemed to be just out of sync with the slow down, flexing and fidgeting as if untethered from the strange spell the rest of their bodies were under.

I followed one of the plants deeper into the residential area and watched them disappear into a darkened home. I was too afraid to join their entourage inside, but I did decide to look at some the houses with less traffic. Even with fewer bats or human officials to potentially discover my ruse, the Mandrakes’ homes were eerie enough to give myself a three house limit on investigations before I turned around and made my way back.

I made it to one.

It was a small house tucked away on a dead end street, totally unremarkable outside of a couple of trees and bushes out front that shielded much of it from view and the fact that the door was open but the windows were all shut. I should have left when I heard the guitar from just inside the dark entryway, but I didn’t. Mostly because the high of curiosity and the possibility of catching a giant man-bat monster thing maybe having a chill jam session overpowered my common sense. Instead I followed the meandering melody down the hall and tried to dodge the sticky sections of the wall that coated the hand I used to guide myself in the dark with what felt like watered down syrup. I followed it all the way to a slightly open door in the hallway where the moonlight through the windows was more than enough to make out the carpet of red stained petals I had been walking on.

There were at least five bodies on the floor of that room.

Whatever did it had torn through the blossom manes of the Mandrakes, leaving their heads barely attached by strands of viscera to chests that seemed to have been crushed and gnawed on by some massive creature. All evidence pointed to them being dead but those who had them still slowly followed me as best they could with their cloudy eyes.

I took a step inside and tried not to meet their gazes as I tried to mentally process the destruction. Besides a few thin smears and splatters there was surprisingly little blood at the scene. Or maybe it was all nectar. I feel like my clothes stink of both now. I also think I’m probably dangerously deep in shock because my first move upon getting home from such a scene was to write it all down instead of sitting in the shower and screaming for days, which seems much more up my ally when it comes to finding a room full of corpses that track you with their eyes but that’s neither here nor there.

The Mandrake with the guitar sat in a chair by the window, clearly also a victim of whatever mauled the others but mostly intact and still breathing fairly easily. He didn’t respond to my intrusion, I don’t think he even knew I was there. The tendrils around his ankles had rooted him in place, threading themselves into the rug at his feet and winding around similar limp and blackening tendrils branching from the fallen bodies nearby. He played as if in a daze and I debated on whether I should try to get his attention or simply haul him out of there before whatever did this came back to finish the job.

This dilemma is probably what distracted me from the footsteps until I felt the clawed hand gripping my shoulder.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” The bat said in a deep feminine voice. Their tone was light and neutral as if merely giving me a friendly reminder, but they extended their wings just enough to block my exits while long red fingers reached for my lanyard. I felt just as rooted as the Mandrake while it turned my fake id back and forth in the moonlight, purring to themselves in an inquisitive tone before eventually smiling and setting the piece of plastic back against my chest with a little pat. Their hand came back up to my shoulder and paused for a second before sliding up to grip my collar bone and smearing something warm and wet against my throat with a clawed thumb.

“You are not,” they said, quieter now as they leaned down and forced me to stare into their giant brown eyes for what felt like hours, “supposed to be here.”

I nodded.

And then they just…let me go.

They strode past me into the room, sparing the other bodies only a glance as they headed for the Mandrake with the guitar. I only stayed long enough to watch them gently brush the dark brown curls out of his eyes before my body’s flight response finally kicked in and I bolted.

And now I’m home. I kept calm and got past the barricades like I was supposed to. I discovered that a species I thought I knew all my life has a secret society that mirrors our own which brings us up to two sapient non-human species living alongside us that the rest of the world has no idea about. My plan totally worked despite the fact that it totally shouldn’t have. And I’m not sure if any of that matters because to be honest I have no idea what to do with this information. What I do know is that I got a news alert on my phone about an hour ago when a home on the south side of the city was destroyed in an electrical fire that claimed the lives of the five people inside before firefighters could arrive and thankfully extinguish the blaze.

No word on a sixth body.

No word about any dangerous creatures on the loose.

And I can’t even focus on the implications of these new mysteries because all I can think about is the shadowy courtyard just outside my apartment where I swear I’ve spotted a tall dark figure with nectar-stained hands at least twice now. I don’t think they can do closed doors and windows but mine are all locked and bolted just the same. All I can do is wait.

Forty-five minutes until sunrise.

over on patreon Shannon Leigh Legler asked for 'big fat flowers', Sabrina Gross asked for 'cute girls of any kind', and he_walks asked for 'April showers bring May flowers.....but what else do they bring?'. the first two prompts inspired the sketches and the last prompt plus the sketches inspired the short story :)

#mandrake #luna mandrake #bat #vampire #body horror #bare chest #long post

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years

Text

Safe - Chapter Two

READ IT ON AO3

...

Hello, damn, that was one hell of a night, huh? I'm so glad that I managed to get this chapter done because I have to study alllllll weekend long for my test on Tuesday (and work on my project that is due Thursday).

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and I hope to see you next time!

Note: Ignore any remaining spelling or grammatical errors. I am far too tired to catch them all of them, so I will likely be editing in the morning and will catch them once I wake up.

So, let’s just pretend that we (and by we, I mean, me) are all not seething with rage directed towards Arthur’s dad. (I’m flying to France tonight to fight him, who is WITH ME!)

...

Robbe.

It was the only thing that Sander could think of as he sat at his desk. He had finally managed to get his art room completely how he had wanted it. After he had managed to unpack the remains of his clothes that had been abandoned the night before by Britt’s insistent calling and (later) a flight to, and from, a pool, Sander had settled down to work on the gift for Arthur (he finally had all the signs for it, not that he blamed Noée, she was a busy woman) and now he could get down to work on how to start it out. Or, at the very least, something in his stack of commissions.

But, as he sat with a blank sheet of paper in front of him, his mind was dry of any inspiration or ideas on what to do. He couldn’t even picture any of it at all, even with the photos of the signs on his phone, sent to him through Eliott.

Because all he could think of was Robbe.

He was all-consuming like a wildfire that had encompassed Sander’s entire brain. His fingers itched to hold him again, to send out a message telling him to hurry up, because he just wanted to be there to hold him in his arms, kiss him senseless. But, Sander knew that Robbe was in his test (Sander had sent him a good luck text before, free of any flirtatious teasing in an effort to not distract him) and he felt like his brain might explode from being completely, irrevocably consumed with Robbe.

What was it his high school art teacher used to say?

Don’t hold it in. Just let it all out. Then, you’ll be able to focus.

Sander picked up his pencil and drew.

He drew what he wanted, what he needed, the curve of the face forming within a matter of minutes, barely visible on the white paper. It was so easy to draw it, Sander realized, his phone turned down, the memory of Robbe engrained in his mind. The photo from the warehouse, him beneath the waves, on the edge of the pool, in the alley, outside his house, all of it came flooding into Sander’s mind, coursing through his fingertips as he drew. He drew until his hand was cramped and there was a rough sketch on the page.

Robbe amidst a heart-shaped hole in a wall, the middle of an explosion that was waiting to happen, in his mind, in his heart.

His mind buzzed with recognition, at Robbe’s texts from earlier.

Chernobyl.

As if summoned by the power of Sander’s thoughts, his phone buzzed against the surface of his desk, causing him to jump in his seat, and he flipped over to the phone to see who had sent him the text message, relishing in the way that his chest glowed. Robbe.

I’m downstairs, outside the gate. Come let me in. Please 🥺

Without even realizing an hour and a half had passed and now Robbe was here. Sander’s heart thumped expectantly in his chest as he leaped up from his chair, sending him a text to let him know that he was on his way down. Picking up the sketch of Robbe in Chernobyl, he filed it in his blue folder, the one that he kept all of his personal sketches, before moving out of the art room, grabbing his keys, and headed outside.

The elevator ride down was too slow, but it was worth it to see Robbe there, waiting patiently at the iron gate, shifting from one foot to the other, his thumbs idly playing with his phone. Sander bit down on his lip as he approached, trying to stop the need to throw himself at Robbe. He was dressed in a brown jacket with a hoodie and t-shirt beneath it, all seemingly engulfing his figure, and a pair of jeans that did the same. Today, he wasn’t wearing a beanie which might’ve been a good thing because Sander wouldn’t have been able to hold back.

He needed to be cautious because he didn’t know if she was around… and the last thing Sander wanted was for Robbe to get hurt for being with him.

Once Sander opened the gate, Robbe looked up and beamed at him, brilliantly, infectiously, captivatingly, “Hey!”

“Hey,” Sander spoke, grinning. He extended his hand and Robbe took it, their hands fitting together easily. Sander tugged him inside the courtyard, closing the door before leading him into the apartment building. He could tell that there was a silent question in Robbe’s grip, following him into the apartment and across the lobby to the elevator. Sander ran the pad of his thumb across Robbe’s knuckles, relishing in the feeling of his hand in his, and tugged him into the elevator after everyone who was inside spilled into the lobby.

Once the doors were closed and they were alone with the number 6 lit up, Sander couldn’t hold himself back any longer, turning towards Robbe, grabbing him by the chin and angling his face up so their lips could slot together, easily and efficiently. Robbe let out a noise of surprise, still clinging to his hand, but the other reached up, clinging to Sander’s bicep, pulling him closer against him, making the kiss deeper. Sander ran his fingers through Robbe’s hair, feeling the gentle pull of the elevator lifting them upward. Once the elevator began to slow, Sander pulled away, resting his hand against Robbe’s chest.

Robbe whined.

“I know, I know,” Sander replied, probably sounding as desperate as Robbe felt. “But, this is our stop.”

Robbe sighed, a grin forming on his features as he looked up at Sander with half-lidded eyes. The elevator stopped, the doors opening, and he gestured towards the door. “Alright. Lead the way.” Sander grinned, pulling Robbe along as he fished his keys from his pocket. Robbe waited patiently as Sander slotted his key into the lock of his apartment, opening the door, stepping inside, and tugging him after him. The living room was still covered in moving boxes, on his couch and coffee table, and Robbe sent him a grin. “I thought you were talking about unpacking.”

“I got all my clothes unpacked, but I decided to move onto commissions.”

“Oh? How did that go?”

“Not good, I didn’t get any work done,” Sander admitted. Robbe smiled, understanding on his features as he toed off his shoes by the front door, next to Sander’s Docs and the shoes he had just taken off, dropping his backpack beside them and then draping his jacket over it. Sander needed to get the hook from his old apartment back up, and the small table that he used to place his keys, so that way Robbe had a place to put his stuff when he came over.

When he came over…

Sander grinned and Robbe turned.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Sander remarked, stepping closer to him. Robbe’s eyes flickered down to his lips, his eyes blatantly honest in his want for the bleach-blond, and Sander relished in the thought of having that much of an effect on him. But, then Sander’s eyes caught sight of the flash of gold and he turned Robbe’s head to stare at the single stud in his ear. “Huh… I knew I didn’t imagine that metallic taste.”

Robbe chuckled, shaking his head and wrangling free of his grip. “What did you think that you made it up?”

“We did have a couple of beers and other assortments of alcohol in our system, did we not?”

Robbe let out a sigh. “True.” He swallowed, stepping towards him. “Is there anything else that you think that you might’ve imagined?”

“Wait, there's one more thing…”

Robbe raised his head, tilting his head up, trying to get them to kiss again, to bring their lips together slow and agonizing like in the elevator, and Sander could feel himself vibrating with want and need to have Robbe, as much of Robbe as the brunet was willing to give him and relish every piece of him that was offered. But, he also couldn’t help the teasing bone in his body, the one that wanted to see Robbe’s exasperated face and I can’t believe you in his expression that seemed to stick with Sander all last night.

And, so, Sander grabbed Robbe by the shoulders, twisting him around and pushing him towards the kitchen with a quick movement. Without even seeing his eyes, he knew that Robbe’s eyes were rolling back in his skull with his weight shifting against Sander’s hands. “Ah, you wanted the grand tour! Here, I’ll show you around.”

And, to his credit, Robbe was a trooper.

He let Sander lightly manhandle him around the apartment taking everything in as Sander tugged him from room-to-room, showing him rooms that were mostly covered in boxes and few items of personal value. When Sander showed him the art room, Robbe stepped inside, his eyes flickering all over the room, taking it all in. The walls of the room were covered with photographs and paintings that he had done over the years, some he had posted online, others that he kept to himself, and Robbe’s eyes darted over the room, taking it all in.

His eyes lingered on the window, where thick black curtains hung.

“It can double as a darkroom,” Sander spoke, stepping closer to him. Without thinking, other than the fact that he wanted to, Sander reached up, running a hand through Robbe’s hair, the brown strands flitting between his fingers. He grinned brightly when he spotted Robbe’s eyes fluttering closed, his head tilting back into the palm of his hand. “The one at my other apartment was a little bigger. But, it’ll do just fine.”

Sander dropped his hand to his shoulder, pulling Robbe back against his chest and catching him when they collided together. The brunet let out a surprised breath, half a laugh, as Sander wound his arm around his shoulders, holding him against his chest and guiding him out of the art room, towards the final room in the apartment, and the only one that had been somewhat started in terms of clean up.

Robbe chuckled. “Ah, I see. This was all a ploy to get me in the bedroom.”

“Yes,” Sander whispered, his lips brushing against the folds of Robbe’s ear. He heard Robbe let out a soft noise and gulped, his hand reaching up to place over the hand on his chest. Sander twisted his hand, so their fingers intertwined together, gripping tightly to Robbe’s hand. “As long as I have the bed up, I’m able to sleep and not have to sleep beneath my desk again.” He nipped at Robbe’s ear before pulling back, moving from the bed. Robbe let out a sigh. Sander grinned, moving towards the box that contained his movies. “So, what do you want to do? Watch a movie? I’ve got a little bit of everything and a Netflix account.”

Sander sat on the bed as Robbe let out a groan. Sander glanced up at him as Robbe rocked from one foot to the other. “You’re such a tease.”

The resulting grin covered Sander’s face completely. “If you think that I’m teasing, that means you’re definitely expecting more.”

Robbe rolled his eyes again, obviously as he crossed his arms across his chest, stepping closer to the bed where Sander was sitting.

As soon as he was close enough, Sander reached out, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him closer. Sander had only intended for Robbe to stand between his legs to look up at him, but Robbe wasn’t having it. He stepped onto the bed, straddling his waist and briefly towering over him. Sander watched him, tilting towards him because he couldn’t help it, his hands settling down on the younger man’s thighs. Robbe settled down on his lap, Sander’s mind swirling briefly with the possibilities. One of his hands dropped to Sander’s hip and the other rested on the nape of his neck.

“And, if I was?” Robbe spoke, a silent challenge.

Sander grinned up at him. He couldn’t believe that this man existed. Even sitting on Sander’s lap, the swirling lust present in his eyes, Robbe still somehow managed to look so innocent. It was completely unfair for such a man to exist, so irresistible, and Sander couldn’t hold back anymore, as much as he wanted to continue teasing him.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, almost involuntarily, Robbe’s eyes followed it with a heavy stare, and he leaned up to press his lips against Robbe’s which the latter responded to immediately. His fingers dug into the strand of Sander’s hair and he leaned over him, pushing him lightly on his shoulder to get him to fall back. Sander brought him closer, slipping his tongue along Robbe’s bottom lip to get his mouth open, and Robbe’s mouth fell open eagerly, his fingers digging further, harder into Sander’s hair.

And, Sander wanted more.

But, even though they had been dancing around it all day in their texts, even though they had been on the verge of crossing every physical barrier that they could think of, he didn’t want a strictly physical relationship with Robbe, and he didn’t think that Robbe did either, he wanted to know this man, wanted to know more about him than just the way he kissed, the way that his body responded when Sander tugged on his hair. He wanted to know everything about Robbe that he possibly could and they couldn’t do that if they were all wrapped up like this.

Sander pushed up on Robbe’s chest lightly, just enough to separate their lips, and Robbe whined, again, and the grin on Sander’s face couldn’t be smothered. “Be patient,” Sander whispered, reaching up to press a featherlight kiss against his lips. Robbe tried to deepen it, probably not realizing he had done it, and Sander lifted Robbe off of him. The boy groaned, spread his legs out over Sander’s lap as the latter sat up, and the artist dragged over the box of movies. “Come on, let’s find a movie.”

Robbe pouted, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Sander’s shoulders, leaning his cheek against his shoulder and let out a sigh, “Fine.”

...

READ THE REST ON AO3

#wtfock #wtfam #safe: an unattainable spin-off #sander's pov #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #sobbe #rosander #robbe x sander #sobbe fic #rosander fic #wtfock fic #my fic #unattainable fic #unattainable related fic stuff

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ifeellikeimdancing · 5 years

Text

Eager - David Webster x Reader

For my 500th (!!!) post here is my first Band of Brother’s fic!!

Warnings: This is legit just straight up smut with like a teaspoon of plot, cursing, unprotected sex (pls use protection irl)

This is based strictly on the actors portrayal in Band of Brothers and in NO way means to disrespect any of the legacy of the real Easy Company soldiers. Please keep that in mind.

Please send me a message if you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics in the future!

Tags: @easynix

Enjoy!

Webster was unlike any other soldier you had treated thus far. Was it his Harvard education? His good looks? Or the fact that you let him into your private quarters a few too many times.

There was something about him that was intoxicating. He always spoke to you in a flowery language, like he wanted to show off how much he knew. Though at first, it was annoying with the idioms and superfluous words, it somehow grew on you. Once you actually understood what he was trying to say, it was actually kind of sweet.

He came to you with a bullet hole clean through his leg. One of the simplest wounds you’ve seen, some stitches and some physical therapy and he’d be good as new.

Though his injury was easy to take care of, letting him go wasn’t.

The past few months together felt like a lifetime. It was like you were in high school again. You’d catch him watching you patch up another soldier. He’d give you side glances in the mess hall. You both would steal innocent touches of each other, desperate for some type of contact till the night settled.

Tonight wasn’t the first night you two spent together, actually, it was one of many, but there was something else bubbling below the surface that you didn’t understand.

Webster didn’t need to knock on your door when it hit midnight. He knew you were up, waiting for him and that spurred something on in his heart as he entered your quarters. You were laying on your side facing the door, your arm propped your head up, one of the books he recommended in your hand.

You finished your paragraph and closed it. Your eyes trailing up the man in front of you as he leaned against your door.

A familiar click of the lock echoed in the room as he moved towards the bed. It only took him two steps to get to you. He grabbed the book and put it on the nightstand as you rolled onto your back, the biggest smile he’d ever seen on your face.

None of this was new, but his actions never failed to make your heartbeat a little faster.

Webster kicked off his boots before his weight dipped the bed as he moved to straddle your waist.

Though David Kenyon Webster was twice your size, you couldn’t help but love the pressure of his weight on top of you.

The robe you wore shifted exposing your bare shoulders to him. He smiled, a few more inches and you would be completely bare to him. Something he loved.

Loved.

Was there love between the two of you each night, he pondered, or was this just a distraction from the horrors of the war you both saw day in and day out.

Webster hoped it wasn’t the latter.

Well, at first it was just a distraction, there’s no denying that. It felt great just to be with another person after so long, he was desperate for relief and so were you.

But now? There was no way that this was nothing more than just a good time. But the inevitable was bound to happen, he’d have to go back to war. You weren’t ready for that, you wanted him to stay here with you for as long as he could. But you knew he was pushing it too far already. Four months away from the line.

You wanted forever with him.

Webster’s eyes seemed to glow as he studied your face, then your neck and shoulders, down to your cleavage that was threatening to spill out of your robe. No words were exchanged in these few moments, you both were content in your silent conversations in your heads.

You tilted your head as you studied his features, trying to burn this memory into your brain. You looked at the way his hair curled over his forehead, it was thick and you loved running your hands through it. The way that he had parted his lips, something you noticed he always did, as they curled into the cutest smile you only ever dreamed of. He only wore his white undershirt and his Army green trousers. New ones luckily. You ripped his old ones to shreds long ago.

He just sat on you and stared. There was something on his mind. You were about to ask if he wanted to talk but his hands traveled up your sides to the bow that was at your hip keeping you modest.

With a gentle tug, the bow came undone and the material easily fell off your body. Webster’s fingertips ghosted over your bare stomach drawing mindless patterns. Your eyes closed in response, content exploding through your body.

Soft sighs left your mouth as his patterns drew closer to your chest. Honestly, you wanted nothing more than him for just to take you and forego the foreplay. Then again, you didn’t know how much longer you had with him and you wanted to remember his every touch, every kiss, every thrust. You needed to remember.

Your eyes fluttered open to look up at Webster. His eyes were blown and half-closed as he looked at you. You bit your lip and arched your back, your hands snaked over his and all the way up to his arms till you had two handfuls of his shirt. He watched as your fist tightened, something glistened in your eyes as you let your lip go.

“I want you, Web,” you breathed, breaking the veil of silence.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I want you, too.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Webster licked his lips and toyed with that question in his head. What was he waiting for?

“Can I not take my time? I want to remember this.”

“I’m not dying,” you tried to joke, “I’ll always be here for you.”

“Always?” He questioned, as his fingers traced the underside of your breast.

You gave him a genuine smile, “Of course, now would you stop teasing?”

Webster shook his head, “No.”

“I don’t like you.”

“That’s not true,” He cooed, his index finger circled around one of your nipples.

Your breath hitched, he was being an ass. You sighed and yanked him down. Webster was strong, had to be in the Airborne. He’s proven that time and time again, this time he didn’t protest. Ultimately, he let you drag him down to your face, your lips colliding together and melding like you two were meant for each other.

His lips parted, as his tongue dragged across your lips. It was a delightfully sinful. Your fists relaxed and you moved your hands up his chest to the nape of his neck. Gently, you pressed him closer to you, nipping and kissing at his pouty lips. The coolness of his dog tags laid between your breast that sent a shiver through your body.

You needed, wanted, more than just heated kissing. You traced the muscles on his back till you got to the edge of his shirt. Your hands sneaked under, your palms flat against his stomach. Web smirked against your lips, he pulled away to take a deep breath. Web sat back on his heels.

You licked your lips, your chest rising and falling. It was hard to breathe after a kiss like that.

He laughed at the look on your face. Your lips were swollen, your eyes half-lidded, it was cute. As he caught his breath, he grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him without his shirt on, you always smiled like an idiot. It felt like your first time over and over again. The excitement of being with him, and the fear of getting caught. Though, those two emotions sometimes mixed together.

Web threw his shirt to the side and ducked back down for another kiss. He pressed himself hard against you, pushing you against the bed, his hands tangled in your hair. You moaned into Web’s mouth, and he swallowed the sound with ease.

“You need to stay quiet,” Web warned in between kisses.

“I can’t help it.”

He trailed kisses down your jaw to your neck. One hand left your hair to cup your breast. How did he expect you to stay quiet when he’s doing...this?!

You went to undo his pants, his hand wrapped easily around both of your wrists.

“Eager,” he breathed into your ear.

“How could I not be? Come on, Web, I need you.”

Webster looked at your eyes. A big smile spread over his dumb, stupid, cute, face.

“Okay.”

In a second, he let go of your hands. Almost too frantically, you unbuttoned and zipped his pants down. Your hands cupped around his ass as you pushed them and his boxers down his legs.

Web nuzzled into your neck and laughed against your skin. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Nope.”

He sat up and rolled off you. A whine left your throat at the loss of contact. Web wanted to call you needy, but he just chuckled instead. He stood and rolled his pants off his body, leaving him fully naked. You perked up as you watched him fully undress.

Goddamn.

Web was never really self-conscious in front of you, the hunger in your eyes at this moment made him want to jump your bones sooner rather than later. You sat up on your knees and crawled to the edge of the bed. His hands rested on your shoulders underneath your robe.

As gentle as he could be he slid the bit of clothing off you. His hands ran down your back, tracing every part of you. You reached and tossed the robe off the bed, ready for what was going to happen next.

When his hands met the small of your back, he pulled you flush against him. The air left your lungs in surprise. You leaned your head against his shoulder and suppressed your laugh against his skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and his hands rested on your waist. He rubbed small circles with his thumbs as he tilted his head to look at you.

Webster licked his lips. You ran your hand through his hair, tugging on the strands lightly to elicit a groan from him. He closed his eyes for a second, as he basked at the moment. He dug his fingers into your skin. You gasped and he took that as an opportunity.

He immediately started to attack your lips with his own. The force of his kiss almost knocked you back onto the bed, the grip on your hips stopped you. Web’s hands curved around your ass and kneaded into your skin, he stifled your moans with his mouth. The sounds were like music to his fucking ears. Web moved your legs to wrap around his waist as he pushed you back into the bed, his knees held him up. His erection dug into your thigh, so close to where he wanted to sheath himself into.

“God,” you groaned taking a second to let some air back into your lungs.

Webster smiled a devilish smile that sent a shock wave through your body. Your eyes scanned his face then to his chest that was covered in a blanket of hair all the way down to how close your bodies were slotted together. Both of you panted, staring at each other in a fog of lust.

You rolled your hips into him and a broken groan left his throat. He hung his head, eyes closed tight. You were close to just begging him to do something to you.

One of his hands moved in between you. You were absolutely soaking for him as his fingers ghosted your entrance. He curved his hand and stuck two fingers in you easily. It felt so good to have something suppressing the ache at your core. You threw your head back, trying to hold yourself together and keep your noises to a minimum.

Webster dipped his head peppered kisses along your clavicle as he started to finger fuck you. But you wanted more than just his fingers, you wanted all of him.

As soon as he started he stopped, and before you could protest you felt the head of his erection at your entrance.

Oh, fuck.

He trailed his kisses up your neck to your ear.

“Are you ready?” he whispered in the huskiest voice you ever heard.

You nodded your head, all too eagerly, “I’ve been ready.”

Webster shook his head, and let out a laugh. God, he would miss this.

No. He couldn’t think that now when he has the most beautiful soul under him right now. He needed to be in the moment, and not think about his future.

He took a deep breath and guided himself to your entrance as agonizingly slow as he could. He could feel yourself adjusting to him, your body has been accustomed to him before but it was always the first thrust that was the hardest.

After what felt like forever, his hips sat flush with yours his cock deep inside you. Your chest rose rapidly, your heart beating against your ribs. Your fingernails dug into the skin on his back as you rolled your hips again, so fucking desperate for some type of friction.

Webster gasped at the sensation and you had to hold back the laugh that bubbled in your throat. He shot a look at you, and he saw the smile on your face. You bit your lip as you saw how his lips were parted, his heated breath scattering across your skin.

That smile sparked his hips to move. He pulled his hips back just as slow as he entered and slammed back into you.

Fuck.

Then he did it again. Just as slow and just as fast. He was toying with you and you couldn’t muster up any words to protest, you just let him fuck you like he was. However he wanted, you didn’t care, as you were getting off just the same as him.

After a few more of the same thrust, he couldn’t take it anymore. He just wanted the pure experience, no more teasing. Webster’s hips dug hard into yours as he rammed you into the bed. Your back arched into his thrusts, and your head fell back. He couldn’t help himself as he sucked on your neck, leaving a large love bite that you would struggle to hide in the morning. You drug your nails down his back. You both left marks on each other, lost in the moment.

Both you and Webster were close, and you wanted it to come faster. You hooked and locked your feet around him, bringing his hips ever so closer to you. Your crossed ankles rested on the small of his back, slightly changing your angle making this feel so much more intense.

It was inevitable now. It didn’t matter who would come first, as long as you both did. You rolled your hips, again and again, in time with his thrusts. Both of your moans melted together in the room, fuck anyone who heard. You didn’t care. All you cared about was how full you felt.

Webster thrusted harder and harder, his hips slapping against yours. You knew you weren’t going to be able to walk that well in the morning. Your legs tightened against him involuntarily, keeping him as close as you possibly could.

With two more thrusts, you both came at the same time, high pitched moans echoed in your quarters. Your legs and hips were shaking as he came inside you. Fuck it. It felt good, and you honestly wouldn’t mind bearing his child if that meant he would try his best to survive the rest of the war.

What the fuck were you thinking?

You both sat, him still inside you, your legs still wrapped tight around him, in silence. Then after a second, you both burst into a fit of laughter. Web hid his face in your chest.

You slowly unlocked your ankles already feeling the burn in your thighs. As your feet planted on the bed, Webster pulled out of you, his cum spilling on your thighs.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry about it,” you whispered.

He shot you a look, “What happens if you get pregnant?”

Oh, we are going straight to that.

“I don’t know,” you were honest, “I guess you’ll just have to come back and find out.”

“You...want me to come back?” He asked.

Even with all his college education thus far, sometimes he could be so thick.

You sat up facing him. You grabbed both of his hands and held them in yours.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Webster’s mouth hung open, just like it always his, processing what you had just said.

Heat rose up to your face, “Uh...do you not feel the same? I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for. I just thought that-”

“Sh,” he interrupted, “I do. I do feel the same. I was afraid you weren’t.”

You scoffed, “How could I not feel something about you Web?”

He just looked at you and shrugged. You hated how cute he looked, how he did something so simple yet it gripped your heart.

You shook your head as you place a sweet kiss to his cheek and stood from the bed. You pushed the covers back and crawled into them as Webster just watched. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you lifted the edge of the blanket and invited him in.

Webster moved from the end of the bed and climbed in next to you. He laid on his back, his hands cradled the back of his head. You snuggled upon him, your head rested on his chest. You brought your hand up to circle his chest hair between your fingers. You absentmindedly drew patterns across his chest, just like he did to you before.

Ultimately, you both were content in your post-sex high, and just being with each other.

“So,” Webster stated, “You don’t mind having kids?”

You chuckled, which caused him to shiver. He brought his arm down to wrap around you, his hand rested on your shoulder.

“This is what you want to talk about?”

He shrugged, “It’s something.”

You mimicked his action. Letting the words hang in the air.

“To answer your question, no I don’t mind. I think after what I’ve seen, it’d be a good change of pace.”

Web couldn’t help the dumb grin that was on his face and the thought of little Webster’s running around the place.

It wasn’t a bad thought.

But he still had to go back and finish the war first. Dammit.

“Promise me,” you started, “Promise me you’ll come back alive.”

You knew it was stupid you make him promise something like that, but after these months you felt you couldn’t live without him. You didn’t just want him to come back you needed him to come back.

Webster could only imagine the thoughts that were running through your head at that promise. You both were thinking along those same lines.

He couldn’t live without you.

“I promise.”

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #david webster x reader #david webster #ifeellikeimdancing writing #webster x reader #easynix

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biavastarr · 5 years

Text

Co-Workers

Pairing: steve rogers x you (fem!reader)

Warnings: language, mild (?) violence, injuries, inaccurate medical descriptions, inaccurate passage of time

Word Count: 3,968

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of the media or characters mentioned in this story.

Author’s Notes: okay so this is my first fic that I’ve written since seventh/eighth grade and since the theme is nostalgia and I’m the writer who has the power to do whatever I want I’m gonna disregard like half of canon and make this fic post-Civil War except they all got along and everyone’s alive and happy and Pietro and Bucky are living at the tower too and it’s not the compound mainly bc I want it to be in the city. reader is an ex-SHIELD agent who joined the Avengers like a month ago bc she’s been on the run since it fell. I just,, I love them both. I’m definitely being overindulgent and this is way too much exposition for stuff I don’t think really gets mentioned.

this is for @whirlybirbs and her endgame writing challenge, the nostalgic thing in this being the innocent “they all lived in the tower together” era that I loved so much. this is my first time writing for Marvel but I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Being a former SHIELD agent left you with a lot of walls that a certain blonde super-soldier is all too good at tearing down.

This mirror, you decided, has got to go. You were staring at yourself from ten different angles and the A.I. was reciting a full rundown of your skincare routine and it was quite frankly creeping you out. Ever since you moved in to Stark Tower last month, Tony had been trying to charm you with increasingly technologically enhanced appliances and you were starting to feel like Belle, what with having to tell your fridge that no, you are not hungry but thank you for the concern.

You carefully smoothed over your dress, a black, crushed-velvet thing with a high neck and flowing sleeves, a cinched waist, and wide skirt that fell delicately at your knee. If you could appreciate one thing about the mirror, you mused, you could admit that it let you know you look damn good. You slipped on a pair of pumps and left your little pseudo-apartment as quietly as you could manage, praying that your years of SHIELD training didn’t fail you in your time of - dare you say desperate? - need.

Tragically, as though the gods themselves had it out for you - you’d curse Thor for this later - you only managed to make it down the hall before delighted crowing from one genius billionaire playboy philanthropist made himself known. You turned slowly, bracing yourself for this inevitable interrogation-slash-please-be-friends-with-us speech. The man strolled over to you with a smirk on his face, Captain America himself trailing awkwardly behind him. Your heart fluttered pathetically at the sight of the blonde soldier. No, you reminded yourself sternly. Coworkers are coworkers.

Blissfully oblivious to your sour expression, Tony clasped your hand and spun you wildly, your dress flaring out around you. “Do my eyes deceive me, or are you finally gracing us acquaintances with your presence at movie night tonight?” He drawled out his comment, glancing far-too-knowingly at a certain slack-jawed supersoldier.

You winced, knowing that he’d just quoted you from a check-in report you had given Fury the other day that the other Avengers had found and pouted over. You didn’t have any specific issues with them, you knew, but they were your coworkers. The last time you had trusted the people you worked with, you had ended up with a gun to your head in a room full of Hydra members. It was easier - both for you and your heart - not to mix business with pleasure. That being said, you also knew that it’s never wise to be rude to a man who’s quite literally housing and paying you. Ever since SHIELD fell, Tony Stark had taken it upon himself to finance this whole initiative.

You sighed dramatically, faking a put-upon tone. “I suppose I can promote you all to glorified roommates, if you would like, but no, I’ve got a date.” Your eyes subconsciously drifted to Steve, drinking in his appearance as you admired his absurdly tight shirt straining over his chest.

At this, Tony lit up, his grin only widening further, eyebrows dancing high on his forehead. “Oh, really,” he questioned, “and with whom, may I ask, are you going out with? Can they really outmatch ole’ Capsicle here with his puppy eyes?” He winked at Steve, who was doing his best (which was not very successful) not to stare too deep into your eyes.

Smiling playfully, you pinched Tony’s cheek, laughing at the blush that painted his face in reaction. “Aw, Stark, that’s for me to know, and for you to never find out.” With a swish of your dress, you stepped around him, nodding kindly at a still-silent Steve Rogers, and entered the elevator.

As the doors closed, you waved shyly at the pair, trying not to think too hard about how none of the walls you had built, those defenses so painstakingly made, could ever really protect you from those incredibly blue eyes that still looked your way.

---

Steve hated when Pietro picked for movie nights. The last three time in a row had granted the Sokovian complete and utter control and he was dying, he was sure of it.

While they normally rotated turns, last week was what the Avengers had hoped to be your turn, but you had shrugged and said you had a mission, passing it off to Pietro, despite him literally picking the week before, not that Steve was still bitter about it or anything. Not at all. Tonight it was supposed to be Tony’s turn, but he had picked up on Steve’s exasperation with the speedster’s movie taste and gleefully handed the reins to Pietro once more.

Wiggling his eyebrows (ridiculously), Pietro popped the DVD for Not Another Teen Movie into the player, flopping down into the seat beside his sister with a bright grin. “Look, Captain,” his heavily accented voice drew Steve from his thoughts. “You may even like this one, it’s a play off all the other flicks we’ve been watching. Also, the guy who plays Jake is hot.” He winked unabashedly at Steve, who was now contemplating how hard it was to fake a heart attack if it meant he could leave the inevitable teasing that would come from tonight.

No, not because he was an “old man who can’t appreciate fine cinema” (Natasha’s cutting words after he said he didn’t particularly enjoy High School Musical 3), but because your absence meant that the others could safely - and loudly - tease him about you.

Bucky, whose metal arm was slung casually around the seat next to him, was currently bearing a shark-like grin, and Nat, who had draped herself across an entire half of the couch, much to Tony’s chagrin, had a smirk painted on her face as they watched everyone settle in, easily noting that you, like always, had elected not to come.

“Where’s our new recruit?” Wanda inquired with an air of fake innocence, oh, Wanda, not you too, not you, thought Steve in alarm, the young witch looking around as if she really needed to search for a person she knew was not attending.

“Oh, haven’t you heard? She’s got a date.” Tony said, drawing out the last word as if he treasured it dearly.

“No!” Wanda mock gasped. “How did I not know this!” She turned to Steve, the bowl of popcorn shifting dangerously in her lap. Sam nimbly scooped it up before it fell, and Tony mumbled something grateful about stains in his carpeting before stuffing his face with the buttery popped kernels. “Who’s she out with?”

Sam grinned at her slyly as he tossed a piece of popcorn at Natasha, watching her catch it deftly in her mouth. “It’s probably Pepper’s new assistant, Jared, I think? He’s always staring at her like she hung the moon or something, bet he finally got the balls to ask her out.”

Natasha shook her head incredulously. “No way, that kid is so nervous he rivals Steve in his eloquence around her, I swear. Maybe she met someone outside of the Tower. She does go out without us a lot.”

Steve flushed considerably, cursing his Irish skin for betraying him so. He tried to focus on the movie again, preferring the embarrassment of the whipped cream-covered protagonist to the current situation he was facing. “I do not get nervous around her,” he grumbled, more to himself than anything. Bucky’s head shot up at this, his damn super-hearing once again being the bane of Steve’s existence.

“Yeah, punk, and I don’t have an arm made of Vibranium,” Bucky snarked, throwing his metal hand up for emphasis. “What, like it’s just natural for you to fall off your chair mid-debriefing?” Steve, again, bemoaned his reddening state, doing his best to ignore the group around him smirking at the memory.

Sam patted his leg consolingly, having stretched out on the pillow-laden floor for better access to the snacks. “Look, man,” he started carefully, “you’ve just gotta say something, sometime. You don’t want to wait until it’s too late and you definitely don’t want to say it when you don’t mean to. She’s an Avenger, just like the rest of us, despite how much she tries to act like she’s not, and it’s not going to make life any less complicated for her if you’re stewing on feelings she doesn’t know about.”

Steve laughed a little disbelievingly. “What, you think I’ll tell her in the middle of battle? C’mon, man, give me some credit.” Sam rolled his eyes eerily in sync with Nat and Bucky.

“Alright, Rogers, whatever. Act like you don’t need us.”

---

Oh fucking hell, you thought, sprinting frantically through the streets of Paris as the city lights twinkled tauntingly above you.

Your date, as you had called it eighteen hours ago, was actually at a gala hosted by an arms dealer Fury suspected was Hydra, and now, with a gash carved across your leg and a head wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding, you felt that he had been quite justified.

Pausing for a moment in a flower-covered alcove, you held your breath, hoping that whoever had been tailing you had finally called it quits and moved on. You were tapping out a message on your phone, letting him know what went down, when you caught sight of the man tracking you.

Shit, you thought to yourself. It was the man whose very arm you had entered the gala on, and he was the most trusted goon of the suspect you had been investigating. You knew it was safer to head back to the Tower, check in with Maria and Fury, and then return for further evidence, especially considering the USB drive you had tucked into the pocket of your dress, but you had already gotten so much from this mission that you hadn’t expected and by god if you weren’t a relentless and slightly reckless pursuer of justice.

Narrowing your eyes as you continued to observe your oblivious pursuer, you opened up your purse, quickly wrapped your calf wound, and carefully slipped on the stealth suit and matching boots, packing away the dress and frowning slightly at the new tear in the seam. One of the surprise pains of being an Avenger was the tragically short lifespan of your closet.

Padding behind the man silently, you finished your message to Fury, punctuating it with the update of your plans to infiltrate whatever base the man was headed to. Breathing in deeply, you slid your phone into one of the straps across your thigh and winced slightly at the pain still screaming in your leg, hurrying on behind the burly man.

---

Maria groaned exasperatedly at the message blinking on her monitor, swinging her chair around to face Fury. “You see this?” She pointed at it in frustration, finding no other words for your stupidity.

“Fucking dumbass. She always does this. Thinks she can get all the motherfuckers out of sheer will.”

“God, I mean, she’s a good agent, but she has no regard for her personal safety. It is such a pain, Nick, I’m telling you, I’m going to get gray hair just from having to be her handler.” Maria tugged at her dark locks as if to display them for inspection. She and Nick both loved you, but they forgot how dumb it was to send you on a solo mission with no back-up; you were never sated with just satisfying mission objectives; with no one to stop you, you wouldn’t be finished with the job until at least an entire base was wiped out or you were carried away on a stretcher.

Nick shook his head and picked up his phone again, signalling to Maria that she needed to respond to you, well-aware that you’d ignore their protests anyways. Dialing his backup plan, he internally groaned at the voice that picked up.

“Hey, Stark. So I borrowed your new agent-”

---

Oh fucking hell, for real this time, you thought, wincing at the heavy manacles they left you in. You were a little grossed out that these things looked like they came out of a medieval torture museum, and had the rust to prove it, but you supposed that was a later issue. You had gotten your tetanus shot, you reminded yourself as a new grimace shook you when the metal dug painfully into your wrists.

No, your current issue were the two Hydra agents staring you down in the harshly lit room. You assumed it was the designated unwillful-interrogation room, but you clocked no less than three potential exit points, from the door to the vents to poorly concealed hollow panel you bet you could kick in with a hearty shove. Finishing your assessment of the room, you waited until one of the agents cleared their throat before turning back to them.

“Who do you work for?” His gruff voice ground out, grabbing the chain that kept your bulky cuffs suspended in the air. Your lips curled into an expression of disgust at his proximity.

“I mean, a) cliche line, seriously, and b) why do you even ask? If I’m from anywhere worth being from, it’s not like I’d tell you. Also, you guys should have, like, basic investigative skills. Facial recognition technology. Literally anything.”

The man growled again, rattling the chain as if he was trying to shake you around like a ragdoll. Your head swam and you were reminded of the blood draining out of you from a wound with an ever-slipping wrap.

Figuring that waiting longer would only worsen the situation, you yanked your arms up and wound the chain tightly around the agent, choking him out while his partner sprang up towards you. She shot straight at you through him, clearly not caring whether he survived this attack, but you launched yourself up and over his shoulders, snapping his thick neck with a twist of the chains. Angling your wrists up so that the next bullets hit the cuffs, you wriggled your hands out of the pinched, burning hot metal and lunged at her before she could react.

Scrabbling at her hands while trying to grab the gun, she managed to sling you over her shoulder so you landed with a thud on the ground. You kicked out at her feet and she fell heavily on top of you, but you flipped yourself over, straddling yourself over her hips. She tried to jerk her head up, but you dodged quickly, circling her throat with your hands and forcing your knee down on her thigh so you could follow the momentum and twist with a loud crack of her neck.

Letting her body slump to the ground, you dusted yourself off and looked around. Electing to exit via the vents, as it seemed to be the safest way to stay out of sight, you braced yourself against the chains hanging from the ceiling and pulled yourself up and out of the room.

---

“Barnes, Rogers, Romanoff, Wilson, c’mon, we’ve got a mission to ‘supplement,’ as Nick so delicately put it.” Tony was speedwalking through the common area, ignoring groans of protest as he smacked the whining assassins. “Shut up, Barnes, you can lose to Natasha at chess on the quinjet, we’ll have plenty of time on our way to Paris.”

“Paris?” Steve parroted, joining Tony at his side. “Does this have anything to do with the fact that this alleged ‘date’ has lasted a day and a half?”

“Relax, Cap, your girlfriend is fine-”

“She’s not my girlfrien-”

“Right, you wish!” Natasha cackled loudly, high-fiving Sam and Bucky while Steve turned and gave her the best kicked puppy expression he could. This only served to make them laugh more, and Steve once again questioned why he ever let these dorks - his dorks - all meet.

---

“Yes!” You whispered quietly to yourself, beaming at the storage room full of explosives you could see below you. Dropping down as quietly as you could manage, you let yourself land on the shoulders of the lone guard and knock him to the ground, stabbing him in the stomach with knife you had pulled out of your boots. Pausing once again to readjust the bandage you had tied around your leg, you let yourself lean against a crate for a moment, your vision wavering.

---

“Tony?” Natasha’s concerned voice rang out from the cockpit, causing everyone to worriedly look in her direction. “Was this base supposed to be on fire?”

Steve stood up and rushed to the windows, his own eyes confirming one of his biggest fears. He had a team member down there, and he didn’t know if she was alive or dead, and worst of all, he didn’t know what he could do to help her.

“Sam, Tony, you guys get out now. Fly over and try to get us visual on any activity going down. Let us know if, if you see her.” Steve shook his head at his stumble, pausing momentarily. “Bucky, Nat, as soon as we land this thing, we’re all going to split up. Cover as much ground as we can. Where’s our closest landing point?”

“I’ve got it, Cap, calm your beautiful, beefy-”

“Do not even finish that sentence right now.”

“Rogers that.”

“That doesn’t even work, Tony!”

---

It had been a whole 273 seconds since Steve had touched down on the ground and there was still no sign of you, and with the few Hydra agents stationed at this base being found dead or dropped already, this left his mind all too open to thinking up terrible situations that you could’ve found yourself in.

Don’t be ridiculous, he chided himself, the knocked out agents, the explosions are a good sign. She’s a capable agent; if she did that, she’s out here somewhere. He clenched his jaw in concern over the state of the base, though. He was guessing that it was you who blew it to near pieces, and rubble was still crumbling and settling. He just hoped he didn’t find you trapped under any of it.

Suddenly, a piercing scream curled out from around a corner, and he whipped his head in search of the chilling sound. Jogging into another collapsing room, he breathed a weighty sigh of relief upon discovering your bloody but intact body on the ground. He followed your horrified line of sight to discover a kevlar-clad severed leg, drenched in blood and soot.

He knelt before you, bringing your head to his chest and wrapping his arms gently around you, trying to quiet your panicked cries, though puzzled at the sight - as an agent and then Avenger, you certainly were no stranger to gore. Steve rocked you slightly, and your shrieks quieted enough for him to bring his face level with yours and search your eyes earnestly. You watched him, your face blank, as his large thumb brushed tenderly against your cheek, wiping the stray tears and dust from your face.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, “are you okay?” He took your hand in his, gingerly stroking the back of your hand in soothing circles, and you marveled at his soft touch despite the rough leather of his gloves.

“I,” you started helplessly, “I’m, uh.” Tears continued to escape you, and you tried to fight the humiliation of crying at work, no matter how grave your situation was. You nodded brokenly at the bloody calf across the room from you, hoping he would put two and two together, and your shoulders shook once more. Steve looked at you quizzically, fighting the urge to kiss your fluttering lashes until the unidentified pain went away.

“....What?”

“What do you mean what?”

“I, just, what?”

You wailed again, throwing up your hands in frustration and instinctively standing to go and show him yourself when suddenly you glanced down in wonder. No, your eyes did not deceive you, you were standing on the same two legs you had entered this mission with. “Oh, that’s not my leg!” You gestured excitedly at the limb you had mistaken for your own, glancing back at your own leg that had a matching gash down the back of the calf. “I had just assumed I couldn’t feel it because of shock, y’know, and-”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” Steve’s breath hitched as he realized what he just said. Oh god, he groaned internally, this isn’t technically in the middle of battle, but-

“What?” You were blinking, a lot, more so than what Steve thought was normal. He tried not to read too much into your eyes, those eyes he found himself lost in, prettily framed by those long lashes and holding a gaze he couldn’t understand.

Shit, his mind was racing, stumbling over his words once more. “I, uh, I don’t, um, know why? Why I said that? Oh, god, I mean, we’re not even there yet, not that I’m expecting you to have to be there, ever, oh god, I am so sorry, I’ll just-”

“Steve,” you cut in, gasping a little and clutching a ridiculously thick arm of his for balance. “Fuck, uh, my leg, my actual leg this time-” With a painful whine, your body toppled against his as you blacked out, warm blood still trickling down your calf.

---

You squinted your eyes open, trying to avoid the glaring fluorescent light the filled the room. The hospital room, you realized, turning your head with a wince to see a large window whose natural light was tragically obstructed by cream-colored blinds. You let your eyelids droop again, hoping that you could avoid the effort of revamping your lighting by just falling asleep, but you had no such luck. You settled for letting your gaze wander aimlessly around the area, which you assumed to be a local Parisian medical center and not the Avengers medbay you had yet to visit - Tony would never allow such an ugly tile pattern within fifty feet of his home.

Shifting carefully, all too aware of the throbbing pain that still burned in your leg, you looked to the other half of the room and stifled a gasp - the one and only Captain America was asleep at your side, leaning heavily to the side of his fragile-looking plastic chair. Your eyes fell to his still-gloved hand, which was clasped in your own, and you briefly wondered how out of it you were that you hadn’t noticed this immediately.

Dragging your free hand over to cradle his face, you called his name softly. Bleary-eyed and painfully cute, Steve blinked his way awake, coming back to you. His shoulders sagged in relief at the smile on your face.

“Hey.” You weren’t necessarily one for feelings or overaffection, but you hoped Steve didn’t notice the embarrassingly obvious adoration in your voice as your eyes drank him in.

“Hey.” His tone matched yours, sleep-husky voice still loving and velvet. You started to draw your hand away, relishing the warmth that emanated from his skin, but he caught your wrist cautiously, gentle enough to let you slip away if you wanted but firm in his request.

You stayed like that, together, for a dreamy few seconds, before he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Listen, uh, so, I’m sorry, about asking, not that I didn’t want to ask because I did, but it was unprofessional and unfair to you and-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I said yes, Steve.” He blinked at you adorably in question.

“But I thought you didn’t want anything like that with a, um, coworker?”

You swallowed and looked down at your clasped hands. You had spent far too long keeping people at arm’s length because of your fear, and you knew you could trust the Avengers. You made a tiny, tentative promise to yourself, to give people chances like they had given you. Bringing your eyes to match his, you gave him a small smile.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that Captain America is my coworker, and it’s Steve Rogers who’s asking.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #my writing #birbswc2019 #i dont rlly like this but i am 2 tired to try harder

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schrijverr · 5 years

Text

Professor Elric?

After The Promised Day Edward is sent on a miliary mission to Hogwarts where he will teach Alchemy to his students. He is told not to interfere with their business, but he has a hard time not getting involved with this weird Voldy prick.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: mentions of canon violence

Chapter 2 out of 10

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

They were sitting at the Gryffindor table when Hermione nudged Rons shoulder and said: “Who’s the little guy with the blue uniform?”

They strained their neck to see. Right at the edge of the table sat a short man, or boy, he was obviously very young, he has his long blond hair in a ponytail and was wearing, what looked like, a blue army uniform, but it wasn’t form a country they recognized.

Harry said: “Maybe the new defense against the dark arts teacher?”

Hermione frowned and commented: “Could be, but who’s the woman in pink then?”

“We don’t know, Hermione.” Ron sighed, “They will be introduced shortly, don’t worry about it.”

She shot him a look, but didn’t say a thing about it.

They sat through the sorting ceremony and cheered when someone got sorted in Gryffindor. When Dumbledore stood up to give his speech Hermione perked up. He first introduced the lady in pink as Dolores Umbridge, the new DADA teacher and minister. When Harry asked what that meant for them, Hermione answered: “It means the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts.”

Then she had to go an do that weird speech, leaving everyone a bit out of it. Luckily Dumbledore was quick to recover and went on to introduce the mystery boy in blue. He said: “We also have a new teacher, with a new subject. Alchemy will be taught the year by Colonel Edward Elric, he is from Amestris, so go easy on him with what you consider to be basic knowledge.”

The man stood up, he was indeed quite short, but they could see that he had a lot of muscles when he gave them a short salute. His golden eyes passed over the student body calculating, but he didn’t give a weird speech, so props to him.

Then food arrived and everyone dug in enthusiastically. Everyone except Hermione, she turned to her friends and said: “Has anyone heard of Amestris? And why would someone from the Army come teach here? And a Colonel, that is a high rank. This year is going to be mental. We got O.W.Ls, the Ministry interfering and a foreign army officer in our mids.”

Ron replied, with his mouth full: “Wasn’t Amestris part of the hidden continent? My dad told me about that, said there was a continent in the middle of the ocean, but it got hidden from muggles and it was enchanted, like the tent last year by the cup. Was supposed to be a safe haven for wizards, but now mostly muggles live there, they just don’t know about the other continents much, I think.”

Hermione gave him a surprised look, which made Ron blush and squirm in his seat a bit. He shrugged and said: “My dad is really good at telling stories.”

Harry look between them, unsure what had just happened. He decided not to comment on it and say: “Well, I don’t care much for having to call him Colonel, why can’t he just be Professor? Seems a bit pretentious, don’t you think, especially for someone so young. But I don’t think he’s our biggest worry. If the Ministry is interfering they will try to prevent us from preparing to face Voldemort.”

The three shared worried looks and watched Umbridge movements all throughout dinner.

Edward looked over the crowd of youngsters, at seventeen years old he himself was the same age as some of the older students, but he couldn’t see it. He had seen too much to be mentally seventeen, these were kids, he wasn’t he hadn’t been for a long time.

Most of them had given him weird looks when Albus had introduced him as a Colonel, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to stares. Besides he could never be as strange as pink toad lady. She had given an entire speech about her and the students being friends or some bullshit like that. Edward could see not a single one of the kids was convinced, far from it actually.

He had also noted that she was from the Ministry, the fact that this was stated extra meant not all the teachers were from the Ministry. He had read in one of the books that the Ministry held little power inside Hogwarts, aside from judging O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts. The fact that they were trying to force their way in with a teacher-Minister was a development, though Edward hadn’t decided if it was good or bad.

The rest of the dinner was pretty uneventful, but the food was delicious and it never seemed to run out. Edward smiled to himself as he though that Ling would love this place.

Edward was looking over his class. They were his first class of his first day, the fifth years from all the houses. Quite a few had signed up, but Edward was convinced that his classes would be a lot smaller pretty soon, so he had told them to just put them all in one class. He had given military courses on the Academy and that was a much bigger crowd.

He had been silent for almost a minute now and his class was starting to look a bit nervous, good. He began: “Hello class. I am Edward Elric, but you probably knew that already. You can address me as Elric, Mister Elric, Colonel or Colonel Elric, I don’t really care, but not Professor, you got that. You may think Professor is a given title, but it’s not. Where I am from you need to work to earn a title, so I will not tolerate you giving them out so easily in my classroom. Do you understand?”

They all nodded.

“Good.” he saw a blond kid with his hand up and he said, “You, what’s your name and your question?”

“Draco Malfoy.” the boy answered and Edward didn’t like how he skipped the sir there, but he didn’t bother to correct the kid, “And I was wondering how old you are.”

That got the interest of the entire class. Edward rolled his eyes mentally, but he couldn’t blame them. He had seen the other staff and knew he didn’t look like an experienced teacher whatsoever. They had a right to know, so he dutifully answered: “Seventeen, is that a problem.”

That got some gasps and a few murmurs, but he quickly saw that they were looking at that Draco kid. It was obviously someone who talked back to teachers, so the rest would rely on him to ask the offensive or rude questions they were too scared to ask, while they still got their answers. Draco didn’t disappoint: “You should still be receiving your education. Why would they make you a teacher, or a Colonel for that matter.”

And there it was, he should have lied and given them a lower rank or just Mister to work with, but too little too late. He tried to think of Al chiding him to be polite and not smack the kid, he couldn’t help that he was a dumbass. So he answered: “You should research my country before you apply your rules to me. If you don’t think I am fit to teach you, there is the door. This is for everyone. I am not here to convince you of my skill, I am here to teach you. So you can allow me to do that or you can leave.”

He gave everyone a hard look. Most kids avoided his stare or swallowed harshly, none however moved to pack. “Thought so.” Edward commented, “Now, lets get to learning. Alchemy is not magic, nor a miracle. Alchemy is science.”

And with that he had ruined all of these kids life. He saw a few of the mouth the word science at each other with confusion, they had never heard of it. A few others mouthed the word in horror, like they couldn’t believe science would touch them here in this building.

Edward shook his head, how uneducated could these people be. “I know all of you are here to learn magic, but Alchemy isn’t it. It is a handy skill to have and lucky for you your Ministry counts it as magic, so it is still part of you curriculum. I just wouldn’t call Alchemy magic around some people, me being one of them. If you are uncomfortable with that in any way, shape or form, you can now leave.”

One girl did, she stood up and said: “Sorry, sir, I wanted to drop science so bad in middle school and I am finally free. I cannot do that again.”

Then she was gone, Edward appreciated the guts on that girl. He waited again for a moment, but no one else tried to leave, so he went on with his lesson: “Alchemy has first law is basic and all Alchemy follows this rule, so write this down: The first law of Alchemy is that humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. This is what we call equivalent exchange.”

He wrote ‘equivalent exchange’ on the board and underlined it. He looked back at his class and saw fifteen people writing and twenty-three doing nothing, those twenty-three wouldn’t make it to the end of the year.

He turned back to the board and drew a circle. He then said: “Alchemy is also based in circles, we call these transmutation-circles.” he wrote ‘transmutation-circle’ under the circle, “In the circle we draw a code, with that code you write down what you want to turn into something else. You need to be very careful with that code, because one mistake and your circle will backfire.”

A girl with brown bushy hair stuck her hand up, she had been one of the people that were writing he recalled. He said: “What is your question, miss..?”

“Granger, Hermione Granger.” she said, “What does a backfire look like?”

Edward filed through his memories for a good example, he couldn’t really tell them about his little brother being ripped apart or his teacher losing her gut, literally, but his mind gave him the image of Father Cornello. He decided to use an edited version of it: “I knew a man who wasn’t careful. He tried to turn metal into a gun, but he had written the wrong material down, so when he went to transmute the circle backfired. His arm was suddenly encased and replaced by metal with pipes sticking out. He didn’t bleed, but I could see it hurt him.”

A silence had fallen over that classroom, the air had turned serious. He said: “Which we won’t start doing Alchemy until you have trained your body along with your mind. Alchemy isn’t just theory, Alchemy is practice. An Alchemist must be fit in mind and body. Next lesson you will have clothes on or with you in which you can exercise, because we will be sweating.”

Immediately the class was in an uproar. He let them rage for a moment before he bellowed: “SILENCE!” (he had never regretted asking Major Armstrong about the loud voice that the Armstrong family had passed down for generations, because the Armstrongs knew their shit)

They were quiet within the second, once he had asserted that it would stay that way he said: “If you do not agree with my methods you can go, but you won’t learn Alchemy otherwise. There is a reason Alchemist are mostly army men. Besides, you all are lucky with how easy I am going on you. I’m not even half as harsh as my teacher.”

A quiet voice asked: “What did he do then?”

No one, but Edward saw who’d said it, but he decided to not call the boy out. It was too good of a moment to scare them to pass it up, so he said: “When I started learning under her I was ten and my little brother was nine. Before she would teach us we had to survive without Alchemy on Yock Island for a month. That meant no adult, no food, no water, no clean clothes, no bed and no roof and even then she wouldn’t take us unless we answered her riddle correctly.”

“What was the riddle?” that was the Granger girl.

“I will not make a habit of answering questions with me calling on the person who is asking.” He said.

She cast her eyes downwards. Once Edward was sure they all understood he went on: “But since I will be asking you the same, I will answer anyway. “One is All and All is One”, that’s it. If you can’t give me an answer at the end of the month you will not be allowed to follow this class any longer, understand?”

Most nodded, but some were getting ready to protest. Before they could he said: “Before you say a thing about it being unfair, it isn’t. You all have brains, you have resources a ten year old did not, so if you can’t answer you won’t partake in my class. This is the key to understanding Alchemy.”

He looked at them all intently and wished he could be the brash and arrogant fifteen year old again. He had so much hope back then, so much innocence and ignorance. There was no corruption or conspiracy, just a search for an unreachable stone. These kids could never even know, not that he wished that on them, no, no one deserved that. Although he did wish them some wisdom to, because this education system didn’t put emphasis where it should.

Before he could lose himself in though he said: “Dismissed.”

#RR writing #edward elric #Ron Weasley #hermoine granger #dolores umbridge #Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore #draco malfoy #neville longbottom #fma brotherhood #FMA AU #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood and harry potter crossover #Professor Elric?#Professor Elric #colonel Elric #Professor Elric? Chapter 2 #HP AU #harry potter au

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 5 years

Text

Spider-Man: The Darkest Hours Thoughts

Many years ago I was contacted by someone who recommended this novel to me and others from a Mary Jane fan point of view. You can read the recommendation here.

Whilst I own the novel and started it at least twice for whatever reason I stopped reading it before the start of the first big action set piece. However since Dreamscape audio released the novel on audiobook I’ve finally been able to experience it for myself.

So how’d it fair? SPOILERS ahead

I don’t usually do this these days but because this story is relatively obscure I’m going to provide a synopsis. Or more accurately marvel.wiki is:

“Even though he is a chemistry teacher, Peter Parker has now been forced to be a substitute basketball coach over at Midtown High where he works. His ineptness soon negatively draws the attention of basketball star Samuel Larkin, who challenges Peter and refuses to cooperate with his own teammates. Going over the player's records, Peter soon discovers that Larkin has not taken all of the required vaccines needed to play at the school, which will mean his automatic expulsion from the team for the remainder of the season, as well as dwindle his chances of getting a scholarship to a good university.

After a long day of coaching, Peter returns home and discovers that Mary Jane has won a part as Lady Macbeth in Shakespeare's Macbeth. However, the play is held in Atlantic City, so in order to compensate for the long drive, MJ bought a car despite not having a driver's license, let alone any idea how to drive. They began discussing whether or not Peter should teach her. In the middle of the talk, however, the Rhino attacks Times Square, so Peter leaves to go fight him as Spider-Man.

While on the way there, Spider-Man runs into Black Cat, who claims the rampage is a trap and that Peter should not go. He ignores her warning, though, and continues to head there. Peter easily defeats Rhino, knocking him unconscious in the process. Just as he does, however, the siblings of Morlun - Thanis, Malos, and Mortia - appear. They blame Spider-Man for their brother's death despite the Other being the true person who ripped his throat out, and now want revenge by killing him. Spidey initially flees, but with the help of a SWAT team and Black Cat he eventually takes them on (he also seeks help from Doctor Strange but is declined, with Strange asserting that his interference would harm the cosmic balance). Mary Jane comes to the fight scene and becomes jealous that Felicia is able to help Peter fight the siblings, as well as how the siblings are treating her husband. Enraged, she takes her car and runs Morlun's siblings over, distracting them and giving Spider-Man the time needed to banish them to a barren netherworld using three trinkets Strange had secretly arranged to be given to him.”

Let me get some admissions out of the way.

a) I’ve not read a ton of Spider-Man/comic book based novels, although I own the majority of the Spider-Man ones that Wikipedia claim exist. I dunno why, I just never manage to get around to them for whatever reason. Perhaps it’s because comic book superheroes being designed for a visual medium which so often emphasises action makes the jump to prose (or in this case audio) difficult. Indeed I must admit when reading/listening I do zone out a bit when action scenes occur.

b) I’m not familiar with the work of Jim Butcher although I hear great things

c) I’d actually forgotten the specifics of the recommendation for this book. I just remember it was recommended and it was because it should feed the MJ fan/shipper in me and others. Forgetting this was lucky actually as it allowed me to enjoy some aspects of the books I’d otherwise have not been surprised by.

Let’s also get the technical aspects out of the way since this is an audio book I am discussing.

The narrator, Jack Meloche is...okay...mostly.

I find his performance of Peter a little too nasaly and early on in the audiobook you do have to kind of power through his performances of Mary Jane and especially Felicia. By the end of the story I grew to tolerate them but never love them. Hearing a grown ass man do his best to convey a sultry kinda sorta femme fatale can be a bit cringe inducing I must admit. His best performance is as the Rhino though.

Other things you should know is that this novel is loosely in continuity with ‘Spider-Man: Drowned in Thunder’ (which I talked about here),

https://hellzyeahwebwieldingreviews.tumblr.com/post/140091613524/spider-man-drowned-in-thunder-my-thoughts

another novel from the same range of books. It was published and is set after the events of this novel and both are set chronologically during the J. Michael Straczynski ASM run prior to Spider-Man joining the New Avengers.

I’ll be upfront with you I found ‘Drowned in Thunder’ to be better for the most part and downright ingenious. It did not however use Mary Jane as much or as critically as this story. She was important but didn’t have as big of a role as she does here. Does that make one novel better or worse than the other? Neither, they’re just different. It’s healthy to mix up the emphasis certain supporting characters get after all.

Looking at ‘Darkest Hours’ on it’s own merits for the most part it nails the characters in terms of the sentiments but my personal problems with it are in the presentation at times. Not even all the time just some of the time.

Let me put it more clearly.

There is exactly one scene featuring Aunt May, specifically a phone conversation. And this phone conversation progresses into a very involved inspirational speech from May to Peter about how awesome he is as a person/hero and the scene’s drama stems from the fact that Peter might be fighting his last battle soon after this. Are the sentiments Aunt May expressing in character? Of course. Are these things she would say? Yes!...but...I felt it was kind of...off that her one scene in the whole story is her showing up and giving the most involved inspirational speech Spider-Man has ever gotten from her or anyone else. Spider-Man 2’s backyard scene was tame by comparison. I just feel it would’ve been better for May to have both featured in some way prior to that scene and for the speech to have been dialled back a bit.

Much more relevantly though is the book’s handling of Peter and MJ’s relationship.

Throughout the novels there are scenes of Peter and Mary Jane being very much in love. The most common way this is expressed is via Peter complimenting Mary Jane in his head.

Would Peter feel this way about Mary Jane. 100% yes! But...I don’t know if it was the vocal performance, the fact that we have this back in the comics now, or really JUST me but personally I kinda...cringed a bit.

I’m not saying it’s bad!

I’m not even saying it could be better!

I’m sure there are many readers who adore this.

I’m not well versed in romance fiction so maybe I’m missing something here and actually it’s perfectly acceptable or great writing.

I’m saying just for me personally again...I’d have wanted it dialled back. It just got a little much, a little cringey for me personally.

But you know that happened sometimes in the JMS run which I loved and agree with everyone else wrote the marriage better than it has ever been written.

Speaking of Straczynski we really need to talk about his Spider-Man work.

Commonly original Spider-Man novels (i.e. not novelizations) that are trying to vaguely present themselves as being canon (so we aren’t talking about stuff like ‘Hostile Takeover’ set in the Marvel Gamerverse) try to have synergy with the status quo of the day or a very recent one.

This novel is no exception. My research tells me it was published in 2006 and whilst it’s not reflective of the then status quo of the comics where Spider-Man was unmasked and a member of the Avengers, it is reflective of the dominant status quo immediately preceding that which ended circa 2004-2005.

To refresh your memory that involves Peter being a teacher at Midtown High, Mary Jane being an aspiring stage actress who recently reconciled with Peter, and both Aunt May and Black Cat knowing his secret. To drive the point home about just when this novel is set there is an entire dialogue exchange discussing the idea of him hypothetically joining the Avengers. A discussion that in my eyes throws some wonderful shade at the idea.

This is the same status quo that ‘Drowned in Thunder’ was set during but ‘Darkest Hours’ hardcore embraces this status quo in a way ‘Drowned in Thunder’ never did. ‘Drowned in Thunder’ if anything drew more from the Paul Jenkins PPSM run than JMS’ run and exempting Aunt May being in on the secret felt like with a few changes it could’ve exorcised every other element of his run. Peter’s teaching job was a factor in the story but it was used as a brilliant and organic segue way into a Bugle/Jonah centric investigation.

‘Darkest Hours’ though...doesn’t do that.

Rather it is practically a lost arc from JMS’ run. No, not his ‘era’ wherein we’re talking about every title during his time in charge. I mean that if this was a comic book story it could’ve been straight up slotted in directly before or after ‘Sins Past’ and no one would’ve batted an eye.

The way the story tries to handle Peter’s marriage to Mary Jane, Peter’s teaching job, the inclusion of Doctor Strange and Dex, the potted history of Ezekiel, the direct references to Shathra and friggin ASM #500, and of course Morlun’s siblings. This FEELS like the JMS run!

And for a lot of people that’s going to be a huge deal breaker for this novel.

In my experience of Spider-Man fandom whilst there is a lot of appreciation of JMS’ run it was divisive for various reasons. A lot of people just for whatever reason turned off by Peter being a teacher (or more accurately not being a photographer for the Bugle) and recoil even more over the presence of mystical elements like Morlun or Doctor Strange.

Now if you liked or tolerated that stuff then this novel is a hidden gem of sorts, whether you want a shot of nostalgia or just found that stuff compelling.

Me personally, I liked the first half of the JMS run for the most part. And Jesus Christ looking back at it after what we got after he left it’s a Hell of a lot better.

Say what you want about Ezekiel and Peter being a teacher but I’d take that stuff over fucking Superior Spider-Man and Parker Industries!

Of course the elephant in the room regarding this novel in the modern day is that it predates Spider-Verse and Spider-Geddon as stories establishing Morlun had a family.

And...did...it...BETTER!

In Spider-Verse/Geddon Morlun was the main character and his family had unbearably simplistic personalities that boiled down to being variant action figures of him!

Now don’t get it twisted. Mortia and her brothers are a million miles away from the greatest villains in Spider-Man history. In fact they have LESS personality than Morlun did.

And yet in context this actually works for the story more effectively than in Spider-Verse/Geddon.

Morlun as originally presented was essentially a very eloquent predator and a hunter, not quit a full on force of nature but close to it. He was intimidating because he really didn’t do anything besides hunt Spider-Man and want to eat him.

Where Spider-Verse/Geddon failed was in reintroducing Morlun and then immediately watering him down by having him appear alongside his variant action figure family with moments and even back up stories told specifically from their POVs. Sure JMS gave us moments focussing on Morlun’s character outside of Spider-Man or Morlun, but they existed to introduce the character and briefly build him up before we realize just how utterly outclassed Spider-Man is against him. When we already know who the Hell Morlun is we don’t need scenes focussing upon him because he isn’t a character who can support that level of attention. Nor should he be because he’s SUPPOSED to be a one not hunting and killing machine basically.

That’s why this novel makes better use of ‘the Ancients’ than S-V/G made of ‘the Inheritors’. We don’t have scenes from their POV thus they can basically be what Morlun was when Spider-Man first met him. Ruthless predators on the hunt, except now there are three of them so Spider-Man is truly screwed!

The plot cleverly focuses instead on the characters who have to DEAL with the impending threat the Ancients pose rather than trying to pretend these guys have actual characters. Butcher also makes them much scarier than the Inheritors because rather than monsters who basically just port in wherever and kill indiscriminately, the Ancients have riches and resources. They are a part of society and Peter is racing against the clock hoping those resources don’t zero in on who he is and where his family lives. This dread, this tension is delectable and far more effective than what Slott of Gage ever did. It helps that we actually see Peter reacting believably to the pressure and stress of his potential demise rather than be a generic and passive as he was in Spider-Verse.

Also the fact they appear alone rather than alongside Morlun is better too as it means Morlun doesn’t look less unique and they look less like variant action figures.

Additionally Butcher does a great job fleshing out the backstory to the Ancients, helping to integrate them well into the established Marvel Universe, developing their abilities and how they worked. Hell he even remembered how they were supposed to work as JMS defined them rather than how Spider-Verse and Spider-Geddon just ignored these abilities and did whatever they wanted. For instance Butcher establishes clearly the Ancients CAN feed off of life forms other than Spider-Man as opposed to S-V/G just having them do that with no explanation and feed off of just anyone. Butcher also remembered Morlun saying that eating Peter would sustain him for a looooooong time and incorporated it into the plot. Similarly he provided a clear explanation for why Spider-Man couldn’t simply use the same trick he used against Morlun again (because he’s outnumbered!) or get help from other heroes like Doctor Strange. Speaking of which we got one of the best ever explanations for how magic works in the Marvel Universe ever. Wasn’t expecting that nor for Wong to be so delightful!

The only real misstep Butcher makes as far as the Ancients are concerned is the idea of the Rhino being a potential snack for them when he never got his powers from a real rhino or anything like that. He was even referenced as one of the pretenders to totem powers by Ezekiel. I guess you could that the Lizard (who was also referenced) should count so...whatever the rules aren’t clear here.

Let’s leave our main villains behind and talk instead about our more grey characters.

So yeah...Jim Butcher wrote one of the all time great Rhino stories here!

Again wasn’t expecting that!

The Rhino in Aunt May’s home breaking bread with Spider-Man is so insane an image that you’d love it for the absurdity alone, but Butcher makes it totally organic. He also keeps Rhino in character (with the exception of a time he refused to kill Spider-Man which I don’t remember being a real story) and fleshes him out rather wonderfully. He draws some great parallels between Rhino and Spider-Man and frankly the scene where Mary Jane is literally shaking with laughter over these comparisons is unquestionably the highlight of the whole novel!

What was really great was that Butcher didn’t change the Rhino or compromise him. He’s still a mercenary, he’s still not really a good guy, but he’s more human. He doesn’t like Spider-Man, he wants to beat him, but he also on a certain level respects him.

It’s just expertly done!

Then there is Felicia. Had Spencer not already fixed Felicia this story would’ve ignited fury within me. Not because this was bad but rather that this story used Felicia so wonderfully that BND and Slott’s ruination of her would’ve stung all the more.

Felicia is purrrrrrrfect here!

Not quite good, not quite bad, sultry, catty, territorial, smart, aggressive, dangerous, loyal. Butcher NAILED her character!

The fact he uses her to open up a philosophical debate about the differences and moral justifications between Peter, herself and the Rhino is inspired. There are differences but the lines aren’t as clear cut as Peter treats them as. In a sense he really does have a bit of a double standard in regards to her and everyone else. This isn’t the only time Butcher brings out Peter’s flaws very well. The scene where Peter has momentary lapses into light machismo are well done. Spider-Man is a hero but he ain’t perfect that’s why we love him!

This brings us to Felicia and Mary Jane. Sorry...I love it. Maybe it’s problematic, maybe it’s problematic that I do love it...but I just do.

Okay from a strict continuity point of view Butcher puts MJ and Felicia at greater odds than they really should be. By this point in time there were tensions but there was also friendship. Truth be told Butcher puts that friendliness in there but only at the very end of MJ and Felicia’s arc together and the resolution to the tensions are off-page. And yet...what can I say the pure soap opera of it was fun for me on a very base level. Who says marriage is free of tension again?????

The peak of my enjoyment was when the pair were just unrestrained hurling insults at one another. Again, shallow I know, but it was just fun for me and I really loved Peter having to step up and be the grown up in that situation and coldly let everyone know where they all stand. MJ doesn’t get to talk to Felicia that way because she’s their friend. Felicia doesn’t get to talk to MJ that way because she’s his wife.

This brings us to Mary Jane herself. Apart from again the romance stuff for me personally going a bit too far she’s mostly done very well. She’s supportive, she has a subplot of her own dealing with a real life problem (learning to drive), she makes mistakes, she’s great at analysing Peter, and helping figure things out via being a confidant. Oh and she totally saves the day at the end. No straight up she does. If not for MJ the day would’ve been lost and Spider-Man would’ve been dead.

It was such a baller as fuck scene I am slightly pissed off that it wasn’t realized as a comic. Her throwing shade at Doctor Strange was also priceless.

The final thing to mention is the subplot involving one of Peter’s students.

I am once again going to draw comparisons to both the JMS run and ‘Drowned in Thunder’ as they are apt here.

Okay basically strictly speaking the subplot regarding Peter helping one of his underprivileged kids retain a spot on the basketball team was a weak spot of the storytelling. Not because it was necessarily bad (though a 30something trying to write ‘inner city youths’ leaves something to be desired) but because it really didn’t tie into the main plot all that much.

In ‘Drowned in Thunder’ Peter’s teaching job was integrated seamlessly.

But in this you could tweak the novel and exorcise the whole subplot. It’s relevance really is mostly thematic (Peter and the kid both need to embrace team work to succeed) and to illustrate character traits of Peter Parker. He’s so responsible he would still make time to help out this poor student even whilst his life is potentially ticking away. Nor will he abandon this kid to save his own skin, even though the kid’s physical life might not be endangered at all if he did.

Now that all being said I LIKE the subplot’s inclusion. Not only because it does demonstrate Peter’s character and the lesson he needs to learn for this story, but because I view it as part and parcel of this book’s mission to be a lost JMS story.

Really the subplot could’ve been one of the handful of stories told during the JMS run concerning Peter helping out his impoverished students. If viewed as part and parcel of trying to capture the ‘flavour’ of the era the subplot succeeds.

Finally I must say I loved Peter’s words of defiance before his possible demise.

Over all I’d say this was a very strong story. Okay, as an over all package not quite as good as ‘Drowned in Thunder’ but still up there, with moments and aspects that are as good if not superior to the latter.

Highly recommended.

P.S. I can’t believe we got development and a great use out of Dex of all the obscure characters out there!

#Spider-Man #Jim Butcher #Morlun #j. michael straczynski #black cat #Felicia Hardy #the black cat #mjwatsonedit #Mary Jane Watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #mj watson #rhino #the rhino #Aleksei Sytsevich #Alex O'Hirn #Peter Parker #Spider-Verse #Spider-Geddon

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