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frannyzooey · 1 year

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Short Days, Long Nights: 1

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: none — I’ll change it to E when we get there (slow burn, forced proximity, age gap — no age actually mentioned but rather more implied, competence kink)

Summary: Part of a band of travelers, your party is slowly picked off one by one, until there are only two of you left. Finding an abandoned cabin in the woods, you decide to make camp there until you figure out your next move. As the seasons change, the nights get longer and longer…..

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @mourningbirds1 for the incredible feedback, beta, and comments. As always, I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you also to @write-and-buried for her TLOU knowledge and constant support, and @the-ginger-hedge-witch for reading this one over and making me confront how much Joel Miller has rotted my brain 😉 Enjoy!

—

SPRING

The copse of trees surrounding you is dense, and from the overgrown path you’ve been following by groove alone, you almost miss it. A flash of muted, dingy blue in a sea of green.

“Hey,” you call to him. “What’s that?”

He turns, his features and body already taut with a practiced, ready tension and when he sees your face isn’t one of concern but rather curiosity, he relaxes. Walking over to you, he follows the line of your finger with his eyes.

At first, he sees nothing. Just a wall of clustered vegetation: sturdy trunks that hide behind branches heavily weighted with rain, the floor beneath them obscured by ferns that brush against your legs and growth that softens your footsteps. His eyes catch on something too angular for the setting and he frowns, focusing on it.

Barely visible in the distance and seen only through the filtered sunlight that catches the sharp edge: a moss covered roof. A structure, isolated like the two of you.

He glances over at you for a moment, reflexively reaching back for his rifle.

“Let’s take a look.”

Weapon out with his steps steady and slow, he approaches the cabin with a careful, defensive slink. As it slowly comes into view, you brace yourself for any type of movement. Second nature to now activate the constant thrum of self preservation inside you, you check for visible traps as you follow him, your eyes flitting between the building and the ground.

A specific sort of tension fills the air when something is close: you know that feeling now, have become so sensitive that it can wake you from dead sleep the second you feel it. Like a sixth sense forced to emerge due to evolution, you focus on it and feel none of that tension here: just the trilling sound of birds, the soft crunch of pine needles underfoot and the peaceful silence of total seclusion.

Joel catches your attention with the jerk of his head, motioning to stay close.

You approach the front of the cabin together. His hands white knuckle the gun, the butt tucked tight against the worn strap of his backpack where it curves around his shoulder and as his fingers flex in anticipation, you hold your breath.

There is a weighted beat as you wrap your hand around the knob and turn.

In the end, it’s all for nothing - the cabin you find, after roughly working the warped door open, is abandoned.

–

It’s like a time capsule in the middle of the woods.

A thick layer of dust covering everything, motes of it swirl lazily in the beam of Joel’s flashlight as you wander from room to room. His boots scrape against the floor with heavy footfalls, the two of you silently surveying the causally cozy and completely still disarray: a moth bitten handmade quilt thrown over the back of the couch, outdated magazines in a stack on the counter, cobwebbed toothbrushes by the bathroom sink. Bookshelves packed with faded spines, grime covered windows, dead plants in pretty pots lining sills.

Someone loved this cabin once.

Used to your partner through circumstance by now, you anticipate an order to scavenge for everything you can carry and then move on, so you’re surprised when he sets his pack down on the floor and lets himself fall back onto the couch. A cloud of dust bursts into the stagnant air, his hands coming up to wearily scrub his face. They rake through his damp, messy curls as he closes his eyes before laying his head back and letting out an exhausted sigh.

“This should do for the night,” he says. “Could stay until the rain lets up, at least. Be nice to sleep on something other than the ground for a change.”

You nod in agreement, rolling out the kink in your shoulder you woke up with. Your eyes drift over the exposed line of his tanned throat, lingering on the hollow just above his collar. You force yourself to look away. “Yea, the beds didn’t look too bad.”

There had been two of them, across the hall from each other and the idea of a mattress - no matter how old - had you yearning to climb into bed already. Nothing saying you can’t, you reason with yourself. Not when time is more of a concept than anything else these days but the gnawing hunger in your stomach immediately disagrees, knowing exactly how long it’s been since you’ve last eaten.

“I’m gonna go look for some food,” you tell him and he hums in acknowledgement, seemingly indifferent.

Not really expecting to find anything of substance, you feel a swoop of scarce felt joy when you discover a cache of canned goods in the pantry. A treasure trove.

“Hey Joel,” you call, wiping your thumb over a peeled, dried out label. “I think I found dinner.”

He doesn’t answer, most likely asleep given his ability to succumb whenever and wherever he can when he gets a moment and you take several, bringing them over to the counter. Brushing away the dust that sticks to the labels, you survey your choices: baked beans and peaches, two of each. Just what you would expect at a lake house.

Letting him rest and holding the beans in your hand and a spoon you find in another, you take bites straight from the can as you wander down the hallway of the cabin, looking at the pictures on the walls. Using the heel of your hand to wipe away the dust that covers the glass, smiling faces emerge from the fog. You study them one by one, slowly chewing.

They look like stock photos you used to see in stores: generically bland smiles, posed to perfection. An elderly couple with their children of various ages, a large family gathering photo, parents with children sitting between them. You try hard to picture those people here: sitting in the living room, sleeping in the bedrooms, playing outside. The concept seems too foreign to grasp, too far away to be real and you take another bite of food, pushing away the sudden unbidden reminder of similar photos you once had in your own home, now lost.

You hear the couch protest as Joel gets up, coming to pass you in the hallway. He stops for a moment behind you, looking to see what you’re staring at and when he sees what it is, he frowns. Letting a deep sigh escape him, he keeps moving down the narrow space and with his pack in his hand, disappears into a bedroom.

–

Wanting the safety of his nearness and given that it’s the only other bedroom, you set up across the hall when you’re done eating. Placing your own worn pack on the floor, you start to methodically strip the mattress, shaking out the bedding. Minimal creeping mold darkens the seamed edge of a mattress in otherwise good condition and you flip it, hoping for the best. Shaking out the pillow to make sure there is nothing hiding in it, you take the pillowcase with you, wanting to air it out on the deck now that the rain has stopped.

Wanting to do the same for him, you walk into the bedroom he’s claimed and even though he’s not in there, it already feels like an invasion of privacy to be standing in it. His pack slumped on the end of the bed a visual claim, you grab his pillow off the bed and start to tug off the case.

What does he look like, sleeping in a real bed? Does he bunch the pillow or tangle himself in the quilt? When he gets up, is there a rumpled form left behind, still warm with the heat of his body pressed into the sheets?

For all the time you’ve spent with him, the majority of Joel is a mystery to you. He gives away more than he knows, but that’s still not a lot. You knew of him back in the QZ: his broad frame a hard one to miss, his reputation even bigger and while your paths rarely crossed within the borders of those high walls, once you set out, it was hard to stay out of his orbit.

His handsomeness drew your eye initially, but it was his usefulness that made you stay in his shadow. His determination to fight for his own made you feel protected by proximity, even more so when he extended it to you.

Had to, once your group got picked off one by one.

You had been thankful, in a sick way, that he was the one that remained. The best one. The most ruthless one. A ruthlessness you admired, then revered, then thought about at night as you tried to drift off to sleep.

Without needing to sleep clothed to protect himself from the elements, does he still sleep in them, or will he be in less? If so, how much less?

Sharply snapping the pillowcase in the air, the sound brings you back to the present and you shake away the thoughts, leaving the room.

“Whatcha got there?” He’s sitting on the couch, a can of peaches in his hand and when you face him, you have to look away from the glistening juice on his lips.

“Oh, I was going to hang these outside, see if I can get some of the dust smell out.” Your nose crinkles and he smirks, taking another bite and shaking his head.

“Thought you’d be used to that by now.”

You shrug, taking a seat in a chair by the woodstove. Leaning forward to inspect it, your chair wobbles; the front leg rotted.

He nudges his chin in the direction of the stove when you open its door. “I thought about lighting it, but we better not. Don’t want the smoke showin’ people someone’s here.”

You nod, sitting back in the chair. “I can’t believe what a good find this is. There’s all sorts of stuff. I found some clothes in the closets, some more blankets too, if you need one.”

You watch him chew, his jaw flexing under the salt and pepper of his beard.

“There is more food where that came from, if you’re hungry. The pantry is pretty full.”

He acknowledges it with a nod, taking another bite and you glance towards the windows that run the length of the room. A miracle none of them are broken, thanks to the secured tarp that lined the outside.

“I think I’m gonna clean some of these and see if I can get a better view.”

“Cleanin’ the windows, doin’ the laundry. You lookin’ to move in?” His teasing tone is a dry one, and you smile, shrugging.

“Just so we can see what’s out there. In case someone comes.”

He looks at you, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he finishes the can, drinking the juice.

“Well don’t wear yourself out too much,” he says, standing with a soft grunt of pain. “We ain’t gonna be here that long. Not worth makin’ it all homey.”

He sets the can down on the counter, grabbing his bow and supplies off the surface. You watch him check his stock of arrows before reaching back to feel for the knife strapped to his belt.

“I’m gonna go see if I can find us something for dinner.” He gives you a look, his eyes quickly sliding down over your form and then back up. “Yell if you need me, okay? I’ll stay close.”

You nod, holding his eyes for a minute and when he goes, you use the pads of your fingers to wipe clean a clear circle on the window.

A creek lines the edge of the property, one that you didn’t even hear from the path with how thick the vegetation is and you watch him walk down along the edge of it for a moment, his head bowed. His hair is lighter in the sun, ruffling slightly in the wind and you keep watching until his form disappears behind the trees.

–

Searching the cabinets methodically for anything of use while he’s gone, you find them buried deep in a junk drawer, sealed inside a faded, dirty ziplock.

Seed packets. A lot of them.

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself, opening the plastic pouch. You handle each pack delicately, spreading them neatly and carefully out on the counter and marvel silently at the whole vegetable garden you’ve found in this tiny bag. The haul would be worth more than you can imagine back at the QZ, but the potential for it is even higher here, in this dim kitchen, with that patch of moist, fertile soil outside.

You pick them up one at a time, sorting them by recommended growth timelines and a thought takes root in your mind; the paper packets eventually gathered and put neatly back into the bag.

You let it stew the rest of the afternoon, into the evening. As the sky dims, then darkens, as he comes back with a skinned rabbit and cooks it, as you both sit in the living room after dinner, your dirty plates resting on the coffee table between you.

He’s sprawled on the couch, his arm behind his head with his thighs spread wide and the denim around his thighs is molded tight; his other hand resting limply against the inside of his thigh. When his eyes close, your eyes drop from his face to his hand, and then back up again.

“So I found something today,” you begin, and he answers with a slow drawl, content and full.

“Oh yea? Anything good?”

“Really good. Like, something really, really good.”

He opens his eyes then, looking over at you with a tilt of his head.

“Well? You gonna tell me what it is?”

You draw one of the packets from your pocket, holding it in your hand and he sits up immediately, leaning forward on his elbows to reach for it.

“Careful,” you warn, scared some will leak out of the thin, dried out paper.

“You found these here?”

“Yea, in a drawer. In the kitchen.”

You can tell by the way he is looking at them that he knows their value. His hands hold them more tenderly than you thought his hands capable of, and he flips the packet over, reading the front.

“I would kill for a fresh squash right now,” he mumbles, more to himself than anything, as he studies the front.

“Well…” you start, suddenly unsure of your idea when he brings his eyes back up to your face. It’s intimidating when he looks directly at you normally, but you feel it tenfold now. He’s always been the one to call the shots, his experience in this world outweighing yours and while you’re nervous to throw yours out there, thinking of the alternatives nudges you forward.

“I was sort of thinking this afternoon. About this place, and about these seeds.” You pause, looking away for a moment and then back at him. “About us, maybe staying here.”

He immediately frowns, scoffing to discourage the idea. “You can’t be serious. Stay here?”

Though you expected it, his immediate dismissive tone flares annoyance in you.

“Where else is there to go, Joel?” you ask, your voice gaining confidence. “Be serious. Every settlement has been a nightmare, every place we’ve tried —“

He shakes his head, cutting your argument off. “I said we could stay for a night, not stay forever goddamnit. We’re like sitting ducks out here, just waitin’ to get killed. In the middle of fuckin’ no where —“

“Exactly!” you say louder, before bringing your voice down. “Exactly. We didn’t even see this place from the road. Not even from the path off the road. Who is going to find us here? No one knows about this place, or else it would have been looted ages ago. The tarps hid it, the trees block it, the –”

“And then what, huh? The second we light that wood stove, it’s gonna give us away. Even so, what then when someone wandering down that path sees the same thing we saw, and they decide to come take a look for themselves? They are gonna see everything we have – everything you’re suggesting we start – and they are gonna kill us for it.”

He pauses, the next statement forcing you to look at the ground. “Just like we would have done if we found someone else here. Just like we do.”

You say nothing, letting the words hang in the air.

“Just —“ you pause, looking down at your hands. Flashes of the last few months play back in your mind: the hangings, the strict enforcement of rules for all made to benefit the few, the bleak apartment you live in. This mission, all the things you’ve seen along the way, all the fear and terror you’ve felt and how the only person who has ever made you feel safe since the Outbreak began is sitting right here in this room.

If ever this could work, it would only work with him.

You bring your eyes back to him, pleading. “Aren’t you tired of it? So restless, always fighting against everything. For everything you have. Aren’t you sick of it, Joel?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m just fine.” His tone is clipped, but you can tell he’s thinking. He glances at his watch, the broken face staring back at him. It’s been broken for as long as you’ve known him, but he’s always treated it as carefully as his weapons, his supplies. You can see him illuminated by the moon profile in your mind, his fingers skating around the face as he kept watch, or brushing it with his thumb to delicately keep the dirt off. Seeing your opening, you take it.

“I’m not saying forever,” you press. “Hell, I’m not even saying a month. But let’s just stop for a second. Let’s… just stop. Nothing says we have to go back there. We could be dead, for all they know.”

He brings his attention back to you and placing his hands in his pockets, he straightens his spine. “Probably will be, sooner or later, if we stay here.” He looks you directly in the eye, holding your gaze. “It’s not just the supplies they’ll take. They’ll want way more than that.”

You raise your chin, ignoring the tightening of fear in your chest. He hasn’t let that happen yet, and even if it's foolish to believe, you know he won’t let it happen. When he sees you’re not going to answer, he sighs.

The lantern is bright between you, illuminating the room in a soft glow and his deep brown eyes study you. His expression is stern, like he wants to say no…but he doesn’t.

“It’s a dumb idea.” His statement is said with resignation, but with the authority of the last word and deciding not to push it any further tonight, you stand.

“Well, good thing it was just an idea.” Glancing over at the seed packet, you chew your bottom lip while he watches your face with a frown and your voice gets softer, quieter.

“I’m gonna get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

—

He isn’t there when you wake up, and finding his bow gone, you know he’s out hunting again.

You wander over to the coffee table to pick up the packet of seeds you left there last night when you see a book facedown next to it. Like he was reading something he found on the shelves after you went to bed, and left it there.

Picking it up and turning it over in your hands, a smile unfurls at the edge of your mouth and you sit down on the couch, opening it to the first page:

The Basics of Gardening

#joel miller #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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emophil81 · 1 month

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Thanks to @imaganatomy I was inspired to create the following love story between armless Cooper and his best friend Alex, based on the picture above by @imaganatomy - I hope you all enjoy the story:

„Cooper and Alex - triumph over tragedy!“

I'll never forget the day I returned to my old high school. It was like stepping into a time capsule, except everything felt different. The same familiar hallways, the same classrooms, the same friends – but I was no longer the same person. I was no longer the confident, athletic jock who had once dominated the basketball court and excelled in class. I was now a 18-year-old armless teenager, forced to navigate the world on my own terms.

The year had been a blur since the accident. I'd spent months in rehab, learning to adapt to my new reality. Losing both arms at the shoulders was a shock, to say the least. But I'd refused to let it define me. I'd learned to do everything with my feet – from eating and dressing to even typing on my phone. It wasn't easy, but it was mine, my new reality.

As I stepped onto the school campus for the first time since my accident, I felt a mix of emotions. Excitement, nervousness, and a hint of dread. What would my friends think? Would they still recognize me? Would they even want to be around me?

I wore my usual outfit – bright orange shorts, a sleeveless jeans vest, and a tanktop that showcased my shoulder stumps. I'd decided to wear flip flops to give myself easy access to my feet, which were now responsible for everything. My hair was a bit messy, and my eyes were sunken from lack of sleep, but I felt like I was finally taking control of my life.

As I walked into the cafeteria, the room fell silent. Students stared in shock, their eyes fixed on my armless body. Some looked away quickly, while others gawked openly. I felt a surge of embarrassment and self-consciousness, but I refused to let it get me down.

I spotted my friends huddled in the corner, their faces etched with concern. They'd always been supportive, but now they looked like they were trying to figure out how to react to this new me. I made my way over to them, trying not to trip on my own feet.

"Hey guys," I said, attempting a casual tone.

They turned to me, their faces softening with relief. "Cooper!" they exclaimed in unison.

We exchanged awkward hugs, trying not to make eye contact with the rest of the students staring at us. It was like we were all waiting for someone else to break the silence.

As we sat down at our table, one of my friends asked hesitantly, "Dude, how...how did you do it?"

I shrugged. "I didn't have a choice," I replied matter-of-factly. "I just learned to adapt."

My friend nodded thoughtfully. "You're still you, Cooper."

That's what I needed to hear – that despite everything, I was still Cooper.

As we ate our lunch and caught up on each other's lives, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. Who would have thought that losing both arms would be the catalyst for me to discover new strengths and abilities?

I glanced around at my classmates, still trying to wrap their heads around this new reality. Some looked away quickly, while others stared with curiosity. But I knew that eventually, they would learn to see beyond my disability and recognize the person behind it.

For now, I was content with being Cooper – armless teenager extraordinaire.

The days turned into weeks, and I slowly began to find my footing in my new reality. It wasn't easy, but I was determined to make the most of it. I started taking classes again, using my feet to write notes and participate in discussions. My friends and classmates were still getting used to seeing me without arms, but they were supportive and encouraging.

One of my friends, Alex, even started helping me out with some tasks in school, like helping me carry my books and carrying my tray to the table in the cafeteria. He'd sit beside me in classes. It was a bit awkward at first, but we eventually found a rhythm and I appreciate his help although I wanted to be as independent as possible.

I also started taking art classes again, which had been a huge part of my life before the accident. I used to love painting and drawing, and now I was rediscovering my passion using my feet. It was messy and unconventional, but it was mine.

My art teacher, Mrs. Jenkins, was amazed by my talent and dedication. She started working with me one-on-one, teaching me new techniques and encouraging me to experiment with different mediums. I found solace in the creative process, losing myself in the strokes and colors.

As I settled into my new routine, I started to notice the little things that made life worth living. Like the way the sunlight streamed through the windows in the morning, casting a warm glow over everything. Or the way the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the cafeteria, making everyone's day a little brighter.

But not everything was easy. There were still days when I felt overwhelmed and frustrated by my limitations. Days when I just wanted to break down and cry from exhaustion and despair. Those days were hard, but I knew that I couldn't let them define me.

I started journaling again, using my feet to write out my thoughts and emotions. It was therapeutic, and it helped me process everything that was going on inside my head. I wrote about my hopes and dreams, my fears and anxieties. And slowly but surely, I began to feel more grounded and centered.

One day, while I was sitting in class, feeling particularly lost and alone, I looked up to see Alex sitting beside me with a gentle smile on his face. "Hey, Cooper," he said softly. "You're doing it. You're really living again."

I smiled back at him, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Thanks," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

For the first time since the accident, I felt like I was truly starting to heal – not just physically, but emotionally too. I was finding my footing in this new world, and it was a beautiful thing.

As we walked out of class together, I glanced around at the students milling about on the campus. Some of them still stared at me in shock or curiosity, but others saw me as just another student – armless or not.

And that's when it hit me – maybe being armless wasn't a curse after all. Maybe it was an opportunity to discover new strengths and abilities, to find new ways to live and thrive in this world.

I smiled to myself as we walked off into the sunset, feeling like I was finally starting to find my place in this strange and wonderful world.

As the weeks went by, I started to feel more confident and comfortable in my own skin. I was still learning to adapt to my new reality, but I was determined to make the most of it. I started participating more in class, using my feet to write notes and ask questions. My friends and classmates were supportive and encouraging, and I began to feel like I was a part of the group again.

But despite my newfound confidence, I still struggled to find my voice. I felt like I was stuck in a silent world, unable to express myself fully. It was like I was trying to communicate through a thick fog, and no one could hear me.

One day, during lunch, I saw a flyer for the school's annual talent show. It was being held in a few weeks, and anyone could sign up to perform. I looked at Alex, who was sitting across from me, and hesitated.

"Hey, what are you thinking?" he asked, noticing my gaze.

I shrugged. "I don't know...I just saw the flyer for the talent show. I don't know if I'm ready to do something like that."

Alex nodded thoughtfully. "You're crazy talented, Cooper. And even if you're not sure what you're doing yet, you can always figure it out. Just think about it."

I chewed on his words for a while, replaying them in my head. Then, on a whim, I decided to sign up for the talent show. I had no idea what I would do yet, but I knew that I needed to take a chance.

The night of the talent show arrived, and I was nervous. Really nervous. What if I messed up? What if people laughed at me? But as I stood backstage, waiting for my turn, something inside me shifted.

I took a deep breath and focused on my feet. They were all I had now, but they were also all I needed. I used my toes to tap out a rhythm on the floor, and suddenly, music poured out of me like water.

I performed with my feet – tap dancing, to be exact. It was awkward at first, but as I got into the rhythm, I felt like I was flying. The audience erupted into applause when I finished, and for the first time in months, I felt like I was truly alive.

As I walked offstage, beaming with pride, Alex grabbed me in a tight hug. "You did it!" he exclaimed.

I grinned back at him. "Yeah...I guess I did!"

For the first time since my accident, I felt like I'd found my voice – or at least, one way to express it. And as we walked off into the night, surrounded by cheering crowds and flashing lights, I knew that this was just the beginning of an amazing journey.

From that moment on, I started performing more regularly – tap dancing at school events and even landing a few gigs at local dance studios. It wasn't easy, but it was exhilarating – and it reminded me that even without arms, there was still so much that I could do.

And as for Alex – he became my biggest supporter and confidant. We started hanging out more often, exploring the city together and laughing until our sides hurt.

Life wasn't perfect – far from it. But for the first time in months, I felt like things were finally falling into place.

As the months went by, I started to get the hang of this armless thing. I learned how to adapt, how to find new ways to do things. But sometimes, it still felt like a major challenge.

I was sitting in my favorite coffee shop, sipping on a latte and working on my latest art project. My feet were moving swiftly, creating intricate patterns and shapes on the paper. I was lost in the zone, not even thinking about my lack of arms.

But then, suddenly, my foot slipped and I knocked over my cup. Coffee spilled all over the table, and I let out a frustrated sigh.

"Whoops," I muttered to myself, trying to clean up the mess with my feet.

The barista, a friendly girl with a pierced nose, rushed over to help me. "Hey, no worries! It happens to the best of us."

I smiled sheepishly, feeling a little embarrassed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just...sometimes I still get so frustrated with my body."

The barista nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine. But you're doing amazing, Cooper. You're adapting and finding new ways to do things. That's what matters."

I nodded, feeling a little better. "Thanks, Sarah. You're always so supportive."

As we chatted, I noticed a group of kids staring at me from across the coffee shop. One of them pointed and whispered something to the others, and I felt a pang of embarrassment.

"Hey, don't worry about them," Sarah said, noticing my gaze. "They're just curious. And besides, you're an inspiration to so many people."

I shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. But as I looked around the coffee shop, I saw people of all ages and abilities enjoying their coffee and conversation. It was a moment of clarity – I was no longer defined by my lack of arms.

The next day, I received a text from Alex: "Hey, want to go to the skate park with me? We can try out some new tricks!"

I hesitated for a moment before responding: "Yeah, sure thing! But can we go slow and take breaks? My body still gets tired sometimes."

Alex replied: "Of course! We'll take it easy. And who knows – maybe we'll even invent some new tricks!"

I grinned as I read his message. That was exactly what I needed – someone who understood me and was willing to adapt to my limitations.

As we rolled up to the skate park on our boards, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. But as we started cruising around the ramps and bowls, I forgot all about my armless body. All that mattered was the thrill of the ride.

We spent hours at the skate park, laughing and pushing each other to try new things. And as we left the park that evening, exhausted but exhilarated, I knew that this was what life was all about – finding your groove and living in the moment.

And as for Alex – he became more than just a friend. He became my partner in crime, my confidant, and my biggest supporter.

As the months went by, Alex and I became inseparable. We spent our days exploring the city, trying new foods, and laughing together until our sides hurt. But as we grew closer, I couldn't help but notice the way Alex looked at me. It was like he saw something special in me, something that no one else did.

One day, as we were walking through the park, Alex turned to me and said, "Hey, Cooper? Can I ask you something?"

I nodded, feeling a flutter in my chest. "What's up?"

Alex took a deep breath. "I just wanted to say that I'm really glad you're my friend. You're one of the most amazing people I've ever met."

My heart skipped a beat. "Thanks, Alex. You're pretty amazing too."

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah, I guess we make a good team."

We walked in silence for a moment, the only sound being the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves. Then, Alex spoke up again.

"Cooper, can I tell you something?"

I nodded, feeling my heart race even faster.

"I...I have to admit, I find your armless body really fascinating," Alex said, his voice low and husky.

I felt my face flush with embarrassment. "What? Why?"

Alex took another deep breath. "Because it's not something I see every day. And it's...it's really beautiful. The way you adapt, the way you find new ways to do things...it's inspiring."

I felt a mix of emotions: surprise, embarrassment, and something deeper. "Alex, I...I don't know what to say."

He took a step closer to me. "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to be honest with you. Because the truth is, I think I might have feelings for you beyond friendship."

My heart skipped another beat as I looked into his eyes. "Feelings?"

Alex nodded. "Yes. Feelings that I've been trying to ignore for months now. But it's hard to deny them when I'm around you."

I felt a sense of wonder wash over me. No one had ever said anything like this to me before. No one had ever looked at me like Alex was looking at me now.

"Alex," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He took another step closer, his eyes locked on mine. "What?"

I took a deep breath and let my feelings out. "I feel the same way," I said, my voice trembling with emotion.

Alex's face lit up with a smile as he wrapped his arms around me. We stood there for a long moment, holding each other tightly as the world around us melted away.

As we pulled back and looked into each other's eyes, I knew that this was it – this was the start of something real, something special.

And as for Alex – he was still fascinated by my armless body, but now it was because he loved me for who I was, flaws and all.

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enchantinglyjade · 2 years

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Milk & Honey - Ch. 9 (Part 1)

Elvis (Movie) x Black!OC

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Summary: Michael gets Honey a chance at a real performance, but now she has a big choice to make.

Warning: NSFW 18+(Just a dash), swearing, racial issues, alcohol, self deprecation, anxiety

Note: I have been SO EXCITED to write this chapter! Also, for those that didn’t see, I made a playlist to go along with the story! Listen here! Lastly, this takes place the same night as the last chapter.

Song: I Got a Woman by Ray Charles

Trouble by Elvis Presley

“AHH!!”

Vickie and I scream at the sound of my own voice blasting through the radio. She squeals, gripping my hands tightly. “Michael did it! You’re gon be famous!” We scream once more, hugging each other in excitement.

My heart pounds in my chest. I’m on the radio. What does this mean for me? What’s next? For the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful for what the future holds for me. Would I be performing in front of a live audience again? Would I ever be put on TV?

“How much are you gettin’ paid now that you’re on the radio and everything? Ooo, you could get us one of them new Cadillacs like Elvis rides.” She puts her hands out in front of her, mimicking the motions of a steering wheel.

I pause to think. Hmm. Never really got to that part. “Um, are you supposed to get paid right away…?”

“Hey! Though I heard screaming.” Michael suddenly calls from the end of that hall. He treads happily across the carpet that Vickie and I are supposed to be cleaning. “Been looking all over for you.”

“You got me on the radio!” Without a thought, I run to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. With a chuckle, he lifts me, letting my feet dangle in the air. Then, he sets me down with a soft look, staring into my eyes with an odd sense of tenderness. It makes me realize what I had just done, so I clear my throat awkwardly and take a step back. “Um, thank you.”

He chuckles. “You think getting on the radio’s great, I got a call from WDIA this morning. They asked me if you wanted to perform at the revue tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” I exclaim.

He guiltily smiles. “I know it’s last minute, but I already told them yes. This will be a great opportunity for you, and besides, I know you can do it.” He pulls me in for another hug, leaving a kiss on my cheek as he always does. “I gotta go get the band in order, they’re downstairs doin’ God knows what, but I thought I’d say goodnight before I left. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, alright?”

“Okay…”

Oh my God, I’m gonna perform tomorrow. My body tenses at the thought, an anxious feeling swelling in the pit of my stomach.

“Did Michael ever say anything to you after the party?” Vickie whispers over my shoulder.

I jump at the feeling of her suddenly so close to me, not realizing she had traveled all the way over to me in such a short amount of time. But then I pause. I also thought that the band told him once we left. How could they not? They saw everything. But to my surprise, everything just continued on as normal. Maybe they don’t care enough to tell him. Or maybe they already did… “No, actually…”

She studies me for a moment before letting her eyes fall to the floor with a contemplative hum. However, she’s quick to shrug it off and go back to folding towels like before, but nearly just as fast, she drops what she’s doing with a gasp of realization. “We are absolutely going shopping together! I gotta help you get a real dress. I don’t trust you after seeing that time capsule you call a closet.”

That night I could barely sleep. My head raced with so many thoughts and doubts. I could never safely be on stage or TV. I can barely walk down the street. I saw how difficult it was for King to get his foot in the door, I can’t imagine the things they’d allow on TV before they’d consider giving someone like me the chance. What would people say after seeing me? Better yet, what would they do? Maybe I should have just given up on music all those years ago like Ma wanted. Would I be putting her in danger? What if they riot my house? What if I get arrested?

I toss and turn all night, trying to shake the anxious thoughts from my head, but nothing works. I wake up that morning shaky and dreadful.

After an evening with Vickie, it’s finally time to get ready. Night falls all too quickly upon me and before I know it, I’m backstage with Michael at the biggest concert I’ve ever seen in my life.

Well, I got a woman, way over town

She’s good to me

I feel so unbearably small surrounded by these big name musicians. Thay have King, Ray Charles, all kinds of big and small artists from across the South all gathered under one roof and I guess I’m one of them now. Unfortunately, another one of those artists is Elvis, who I was not at all warned about. And although I’m not surprised he’d want to be here, I am surprised they allowed him to be there.

Backstage is busy. People are running everywhere, bands are getting their last practice in before showtime, and sounds of singing bounce from every wall.

She gives me money when I need

Yeah, she’s a kind of friend indeed

Michael and I stage amidst the chaos.

“How are you feeling?” Michael questions.

I bounce in my spot, unsure whether it’s from pure terror or overjoy. Regardless, the energy needs a way to get out of me. “Could be better. Got a pain in my neck. Done spent all morning under Vickie’s hot comb.”

It’s my first time getting my hair straightened. First time letting my hair out in public too. Hopefully it’s just assumed that I dyed it like Vickie told me girls was doing, I don’t need any trouble tonight.

Michael smiles. “Well, the sacrifice was worth it, cause you look beautiful.” He reaches out to me and tucks one side of my hair behind me ear, then I watch as his face turns more serious. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

My stomach churns already, feeling a sense of dread towards his unspoken words. I gulp, staring up at him while my heart picks up in my chest. “What?” I ask tentatively.

“Michael, we’re up next!” One of his friends interrupts, peeking his head around the corner before disappearing again.

He nods to them, before turning back to me. “I’ll ask you later. I’ll see you in a few minutes, beautiful.”

I got a woman, way over town

She’s good to me, oh yeah

My bouncing only worsens, anxiety growing, knowing I’m up after Michael. Did I practice enough? What if the audience boo’s me? What if I trip on the microphone wire, then forget the lyrics?

I’m still on edge from wondering if Michael’s band has told him about Elvis and I. My career could be at stake from that action alone and I just have to wait for it to happen. What would I do then? I’ve already ruined things with Elvis. Why am I so stupid for doing all those things to him? Now I’m gonna lose two of my greatest friends and I’ll be left all poor and alone in Memphis with my ma while they travel the country.

I’m so overwhelmed by my thoughts that I don’t even realize my breathing has quickened and my eyes swell with tears. I also don’t notice someone sneaking into the room with me.

I try taking deep breaths to calm myself, but it does little to help. Suddenly, I hear footsteps rapidly approaching me.

I open my eyes to see Elvis jogging over to me. His hands quickly grab my arms, letting them drag down until my hands fall into his. I don’t even need to tell him what’s going through my head, because he already knows.

“Darlin’, you’re spiralin’. It’s alright. You’ll do fine out there. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

I try to hold back tears by leaning my head towards the ground, so he can’t see my struggling. “Everything’s happening so fast. I don’t know what I’m doin’ anymore.”

He pulls me into a hug, a hand behind my head to hold me against his chest while he rocks us back and forth. “Hey, show ‘em how we used to do, just like when we was kids.”

I press my head into the shoulder of his black suit jacket. “Elvis, I ain’t never sang in front of this many people.”

He takes my head in his hands, making me look up at him. “Hey, look, I’m right here. You have yourself a fine set of lungs and a fiery personality to go with it. Show ‘em what you can do.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb, looking down at me with such kind eyes.

Looking at him right then fills me with a sense of peace I had long forgotten about. I feel like I’m back at home, sitting on the porch with the boys drinking mama’s sweet tea and watching birds fly by on a breezy Mississippi day, but that is in fact not the case with us. Not anymore.

And just like that, everything that’s happened since floods my mind. Elvis is a forgiving man, but he wouldn’t forgive me this easily. Something’s wrong.

My tears dry and suddenly I find myself filled with distrust. “Why are you talking to me?” The words hurt to ask, but not as much as the drop in his face when he looks at me.

He furrows his brows at my change of tone. “What you mean?”

I step back, pulling my hands out of his. “I thought you hated me after everything. What happened? Are you trying to play with me? Get payback or something?”

His fact contorts into that of insult. “Honey, what the hell are you talkin’ about? Can’t I just be here for a friend?”

It’s too good to be true. He should be mad at me. What if he’s finally had enough and is setting me up, waiting for Michael to come back so he can catch us in the act this time? Would he go that far? Why was he even at that party anyways? Wait…

“Did you know that was Michael’s band…?” I ask slowly, really not wanting to know the answer. And when his face drops, looking between me and the floor, I know I have my answer. I bite my cheek in a mix of anger and disappointment. “I can’t believe you.” I turn away with a scoff.

“I ain’t know you were gonna do all that!” He exclaims in defense, throwing a hand out in reference to my body.

I turn back to him with flaming eyes. “You didn’t exactly stop me either!” I run my hands through my hair, groaning while I throw my head back. “What if they tell him tonight?”

Everything’s already hard enough as it is and having this drama on top of it is all too much. Sometimes I wish I could just run away from all of this and start a new life.

He walks back up to me, putting both his hands on my shoulder to keep me put. “Honey, why you spendin’ all this time carin’ about what he thinks? He’s lyin’ to you! I didn’t know how I was gonna tell you, but I saw him kissin’ other women last night. He said to my face that he never cared about you. He’s using you!”

I shake my head, trying not to let the information get to me, but somehow it’s not difficult to believe. “Maybe I deserved it.”

“No, you don’t, Honey. Now quit talk’ like that.” His eyes seem to create a layer of gloss over them, his voice becomes softer too.

I shake my head more vigorously. I can’t let it get to me, not when I’m this close. I close my eyes, concentrating on the task at hand. “I have bigger things to worry about, Elvis.” I bite my bottom lip like I’m biting down my composure.

His head jerks back in shock before he’s shaking my shoulders like he’s trying to knock some sense into me. “Honey, do you hear yourself?

“It’s not about Michael!” I shout, finally letting those built up tears escape my eyes. “You know how much this means to me, but you’re so caught up on Michael. I wanna be a singer! My bills, my house, my Mama are all counting on the success of this. And for the first time, the world is starting to accept me for who I am. It’s not about love, Elvis, ‘cause if it was I would already be with you!”

I try catching my breath with tears rolling down my face.

He stands speechless, hands dropping to his sides while he searches for the meaning of my words in my eyes.

I shake my head, turning to walk away from him. I can’t stand looking at him any longer, it only makes everything hurt more. Besides, the greatest moment of my life is about to start.

I don’t have time to think about Michael with other women. I just have to suck it up if it is true, because this might be my only chance. It’s not like I’ve been doing anything differently to him. You reap what you sow. I can’t be mad at getting a taste of my own medicine.

I wipe the tears from my eyes, smudging my makeup back into place, while I walk through the mayhem of the theater. Right as I arrive at the stage, Michael’s band finishes the last note of their song and the crowd roars.

I peek past the curtains to find an integrated audience, separated by a mere rope. Both sides cheer for him, much to my surprise. I have never seen so many people in one room and especially not integrated. Even when there’s a divider, I have never seen them more… united. All of them are here for the same reason: to enjoy the music. Through getting lost in rhythm, they have unknowingly joined together as one; an audience. It’s kinda pretty to think about.

“Making her professional debut with her hit ‘Rock Me Baby’, Ms. Honey James!”

My name echoes and booms throughout the building from the loud speakers, causing my stomach to feel as if it dropped to my feet.

My eyes widen in pure terror as they desperately search for Michael’s. Everything happens so quickly that my mind can’t even keep up. He waves me onto the stage. The pressure is paralyzing, but somehow my body floats in front of the microphone, center stage. My golden dress shines almost as bright as my still glossy eyes under the stage light.

The crowd claps, rather unenthusiastically, not knowing what to expect from me. Before I even have time to gather and prepare myself, the band begins playing the intro.

Rock Me Baby. I’ve practiced all week. It’ll be great. Right?

The first line comes out wobbly, but I’m determined to not embarrass myself tonight. Everything I’ve worked for is on the line right now, and as nervous as I am, I’m not giving up this easy.

Second line is better, but it needs more.

It’s fine, Honey, just sing with emotion. That’s what Elvis always told me…

That’s it! I can just channel him into my singing. All the stress, and heartbreak, and dare I add, lust, I can put it into the song!

The next line comes out noticeably stronger; the anger and need in my voice only gives me a louder and raspy sound, a powerful sexiness. The crowd whoops, clapping to the beat now, and that’s all I need to hear in order to let go of my fears and let out what I’ve always felt deep in my soul.

My voice comes out more robust than I’ve ever heard it, nearly matching in power to the church choirs we would listen to growing up. But unlike the church, I like to add a few rather provocative sounds and moves to rile up the crowd.

And just like that, the song is over and the crowd shouts and claps. I had never felt more proud of myself in my life than in this moment. All the hard work and dedication finally paid off.

Suddenly, I feel a hand gently touch my waist. I look behind me to see Michael ushering me off stage. He looks down at me with a big smile. Once backstage, I finally let out my enthusiasm, jumping up to hug him. “Ah! I can’t believe I just did that!”

He squeezes me tight with a laugh. “You were great! I told you you had nothing to worry about.” I pull away with a beaming smile, still trying to tame all of my intense emotions. I have so much energy coursing through my body, I need to sit down or something, anything to calm my nerves.

“Can I ask you something, Honey?”

That works too.

My smile drops and I raise my eyebrow questioningly.

“Come to Chicago with me.”

My body goes completely numb. That’s certain to sober a girl up. “What?” I ask, my ears not believing what they’re hearing.

“You can be our lead singer. We leave tomorrow on the Chitlin Circuit and when we get back to Chicago, I can sign you at Vee-Jay. They’re open to so much more up there, more than they’ll ever be down here. I know you got what it takes to make it big in Chicago.” He grabs my hands, giving me a soft look. “I wanna take care of you, Honey. Your mama too. I can get both of you a nice house, nice clothes. I know your mama will love that.” He chuckles, before running his thumbs over the backsides of my hands, looking down at me with an earnest look. “Come with me.”

I had heard of the Chitlin Circuit before from one of King’s boys. It’s a bunch of venues across the U.S. that allow colored people to perform. It sounds like a fun little adventure, it makes my heart skip a beat just thinking about it and finally seeing the world outside of Memphis. But what if Elvis was telling the truth? What if he doesn’t care about me or finds some other pretty singer and leaves me behind in a motel in the middle of nowhere? Would the risk of that be worth getting a small taste of my dreams?

“Michael, I can’t just up and leave like that.” I say with a hopeless feeling growing in my gut, hopeless that I might have to give up one of my biggest aspirations.

He shrugs. “Why not? What’s keeping you here? We can explain everything to your Mama tonight. I’ll tell her about all the backup singers you’ll have and the Cadillacs you’ll be driving. I’ll get her to give in.”

I giggle at his last sentence. I have no doubt Michael could, considering how much she seems to side with him already, but I’m still unsure if I should go or not. Of course I have ties here. I love Memphis, all the energy and talent. I don’t need to leave the state to know there ain’t nothing like it. It’s inspiring and I’d hate to leave it behind, not to mention a few special people I’d miss. But what if it’s time for my to finally get outta my comfort zone and explore new things.

He notes my hesitancy. “Tell you what. I’ll give you some time to think about it. Gotta help the band pack up, then we’re heading over to Handy for the after party. At the end of the night, I can bring you home, get all your stuff packed, and we can hit the road before the possums start comin’ out. Alright?”

I nod with a light smile, looking down to the ground, heavy in thought as he walks away. It all seems too good to be true.

“Are you actually considering going with him?” Elvis’ voice breaks me from my mind. I spin around, finding him standing in the middle of the hall, disappointed and rejected. Did he hear everything? “After everything I just told you? After you told me you love me?”

I feel mortified and downright embarrassed I’m even in this situation. “Elvis, it’s not that easy,” I say barely louder than a whisper, tears stinging my eyes once more.

“Yes, it is! So, are you gonna decide on what you want yet? Cause I’m sick of bein’ toyed with by you!” He steps closer to me, tears of anger threatening to spill from his eyes.

My breath hitches in my chest. He’s never raised his voice at me before and it has me feeling like a shameful child getting scolded by their parents.

“I have proven to you over and over again how much I love you. You think I’m not scared either? Cause I am, but you will always mean more to me than what everybody else gots to say about us.” He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, likely holding back more words that want to tumble out.

Did he- He loves me? “Elvis, I-”

He throws his hands in the air, turning away from me now. “I can’t hear it anymore, Honey. I gotta be onstage.”

I feel all hope in me die the second he leaves my sight. I am acting like a selfish child, aren’t I? I really don’t deserve someone as good as him in my life.

I lifelessly pace the hall behind the stage.

Maybe I should go to Chicago. I can’t stand the thought of causing Elvis any more damage than what’s already been done. Maybe Ma will have a better life there too, then she won’t have to worry about us running into trouble again.

Vickie abruptly stumbles around the corner, heels clacking against the tiles. “There you are, girl! I been lookin’ for you. Your man’s about to take the stage, everybody’s goin’ crazy. Come on!” She grabs my hand, yanking me down the hallway faster than my mind can keep up with.

‘Now, I was told not to sing tonight, don’t make no jokes, don’t do any of that here wigglin’ on this stage-’

Elvis’ voice echoes through the venue, sounding oddly lively and playful compared to a few minutes ago.

“That was impressive what you did up there, by the way. I heard some guys talkin’ about how sexy you looked. Better tell Michael and Elvis to watch out, they got more competition comin’ to ‘em.” She laughs, but I can barely bring myself to smile still.

She bursts open the main doors to reveal the crowd, the atmosphere instantly feeling uncomfortably tense. An officer glares down at us in annoyance, pointing us in the direction of the colored section in a threatening way.

I gulp away any anxieties that try rising up. Somehow it feels less safe out here than it did onstage.

‘But that ain’t no fun. And I ‘specially don’t like people tellin’ me what to do… who to be.”

There’s so many people, I can’t even see the stage. Vickie scootches us past some men in nice suits to get us closer to the center, but she’s met with a thick rope before she can go any further. She mutters out a ��damn’, picking at the rope while she looks around for a new plan.

A white woman on the other side accidentally brushes her hand across Vickie’s fingertips and immediately retracts her hand back in disgust. Vickie simply rolls her eyes and grabs my hand once more, leading me to God knows where.

‘So, how ‘bout we break a few rules tonight? Cause all these here coppers ain’t gon scare me none! Ya hear that, Honey!?’

My body tenses at the sound.

Any of his fans could easily mistake his last word as a cute little nickname for them, but I know better.

His cackle travels through the venue and with a loud boom the song begins, the speakers shaking the venue and his voice vibrating through the ground and into my body.

‘If you’re lookin’ for trouble’

The crowd screams, waving their arms in the air. Women are all but piling on top of each other in hopes of getting as close as physically possible to the stage.

Vickie and I try balancing ourselves while we get thrown every which way by the audience. It’s like this for the remaining duration of the sound, until the last second he finally comes into my view.

Unhinged, animalistic, sweating, throwing himself around the stage with a bottle of champagne in his hands. He pops the bottle open with a ‘Woo!’, spraying the bubbles onto the girls in the front row while they let out feverish screams.

‘I’m evil!’

I let go of Vickie to push past the crowd with a new strength. I try not to let jealousy overcome my emotions and focus instead on coaxing him off stage. This man is either drunk or out his damn mind, because he’s committing at least 3 crimes as we speak.

After pushing and shoving, and damn near starting a riot, I finally make it to the front. With a huff, I rest my hands on the platform, looking up at him with enraged eyes.

He watches me emerge from the crowd with an evil darkness in his eyes. He stills his movements suddenly.

“Now what’s all this?” He grabs the microphone, dragging the stand across the stage as he nears me. “Little missy ain’t havin’ too much fun.”

He drops to his knees only inches in front of me. The girls scream once more, reaching for a taste of him while he’s this close, but his eyes never leave the sight of me. I get shoved from every angle, drowning in the sea of people. He then puts a finger up to his lips, signaling to the girls in the front row. They eventually get the idea, quieting down, but their breathing and small squeals still fill the air.

He glances back down at me, his eyeliner only giving him a more sinister look from this angle. He chuckles at my upset expression, before turning serious again.

“We can’t have that,” his deep voice rings in my ears.

He grabs my chins with the same hand that holds the champagne bottle and gently pushes my head up to face him. The wet rim of the bottle brushes against my cheek, leaving a sticky residue behind, though I barely notice it, getting too caught up in trying to compose myself under his, and everyone else’s intense gaze.

“Not here,” he whispers. Then, he rests the tip of the bottle against my lips, holding the base between his legs. “I think you need a drink, lil’ darlin’.”

I look up at him in disbelief, but can’t stop myself from obeying his subtle command and open my mouth.

Steadily, he pushed his hips forward, causing the bottle to pour liquid down my throat. The bubbles tickle against my tongue while I try keeping up with the amount he’s pouring.

However, once he sees I have a mouthful, he tips the bottle past my chin and downwards onto my chest, letting most of its contents drip down my body. I would have gasped had I not had a mouthful to swallow of the drink.

He watches with blown pupils as the alcohol runs down my breasts, making them glisten under the stage lights. He grips the bottle, knuckles white, watching the fabric of my dress turn a shade darker and cling against my body.

The girls surrounding us gasp in a mixture of jealousy, horror, and astonishment.

To make matters worse, he looks me right in the eye and brings the bottle to his lips, slowly running his tongue around the rim where my mouth was only seconds before. Then. with a dark smirk, he throws his head back to take the very last sip.

There goes another crime to the list.

This causes much of the white side of the audience to nearly gag at the thought of him drinking off the same bottle as a colored woman like myself. Most restaurants would smash their finest china if they found out I had simply breathed near it, but now their biggest icon is licking the glass from which I drink. I can’t even begin to comprehend the amount of power this action alone fills me with. It might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen him do.

Once he swallows, he brings the mic back to his lips and with a deep, raspy voice he says, “Now that’s more like it, baby.”

Subconsciously, my thigh muscles tighten, causing me to have to catch myself against the stage from all the tingles traveling throughout my body.

He sees this, chuckling pridefully into the mic, knowing exactly what he’s doing to me.

He backs up, looking over his shoulder and noticing a large amount of police officers ready to grab him. They rush him, taking a hold of him before he can do any more societal harm. He thrashes while they drag him offstage. The crowd cheers for him even as he’s probably getting arrested.

In a panic, I push back through the crowd, hoping to find where they’re bringing him. A good amount of people I push past are either disgusted by me or laughing at how humiliated they think I should be from having a drink dumped on me. Unfortunately for them, I’m too high off adrenaline to give a damn.

Vickie is quick to find me through the audience, fighting her way over.

“Did you see that shit. Vickie?” I ask her unbelievably, attempting to ring out my dress.

What the hell just happened? I can’t decide on being pissed or turned on and ready to jump him the second I find him. Damn, this is what I get for teasing him all those times. Well played, Mr. Presley.

She laughs in her usual hot and bothered type of way, fanning herself off. “Yeah, and ooo, he a bad boy. I’m almost jealous, but, uh, you best get out of here quick. My guess is they comin’ for you next.” She looks over her shoulder while pushing me closer to the door, but doesn’t follow me any further. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everything’s alright. Just go find Michael and get.” She shoos me away.

I flow through the main doors, sneaking past security, and hiding within the crowd until I’m outside. Police cars surround the area, red and blue lights dancing through the city and into the night sky, but no sign of Elvis.

I hold up my dress to run through the damp alleyway, hoping my heels won’t fail me or bring unwanted attention. Luckily, I find Michael’s car parked near the back door, Michael himself stuffing instruments into the trunk before shutting it closed.

He greets me with a smile, like he’s oblivious to what happened inside.

“Hey, we should start heading to the afterparty.” I jog up to his car, letting myself in, quickly shutting the door, and scanning for police outside the window.

He looks confused between me and the backstage door. “Oh, I didn’t know they wrapped up in there. What happened to your dress?” He asks with a brow raised, as he gets settled into his seat.

“Long story, but I’ll tell you later. Wouldn’t want to waste any time before hitting the road.”

This catches his attention and he immediately starts the car, “So, you’re coming with?”

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ash-morse · 1 year

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IC TASK 003 : TIME CAPSULE

when: early may, 2022 where: coco’s dorm room

As soon as Court had heard about the time capsule, he planned on recording a submission for it - he loved Ogden! He loved his teams, his friends, his classes - he had so much he could talk about! But he was busy, and most of spring semester ticked away, and he still hadn’t recorded it. Every so often it came up again, a brightness alighting on Coco’s face every time he recalled his excitement for the project.

Of course, things were a bit different now. He had injured his knee, sitting out of lacrosse practice for the last few days, and more than enough time on his hands. Which he didn’t know what to do with. And could barely burn off his energy - and for someone like Courtney Mills, that was never a good thing.

So, while he was feeling morose, self-pitying, an excess of anxiety built up and thrumming through his body with his inability to burn it off in anyway….he still found himself thinking of what he could record. What they’d want to pass on to the students attending Ogden College fifty years in the future.

“Hello!” he chirped, greeting the camera brightly once he had it set up, the lighting catching the sparkle in his eye - still there, even in his current mood. “I’m Courtney Mills - my friends call me Court. My pronouns are he/they -“ a pause - “Hopefully that’s something that’s…easier in the future,” he said, a small laugh leaving his lips. Out of view from camera, Courtney’s hand rubbed at their knee, the swollen, discolored joint purposefully kept off the recording.

“I’m a lacrosse player, pre-med student. Currently a freshman. For another week or so,” he said, a crooked smile accompanying the statement, like the end of the year wasn’t looming, and the change that was coming didn’t have him all at odds with himself. As changes often did when it came to Court. And the fact that first, as always, he defined himself as a lacrosse player. An athlete. But that was what the school had done too, wasn’t it? By giving him money, accepting him even, as an athlete.

Who were they, if not who they already were?

Did that even make sense?

“College has been great for me,” Coco said slowly. “Ogden has been…great for me. High school wasn’t always easy. I guess you could say that I was, like, a late bloomer or whatever. And kids - at least in my day and age…” he put on his best crochety imitation of an old man, coaxing inspiration from his own grandfather before continuing, “can be really mean. If they think you’re different. THat’s something I hope as changed as well.”

They let their words stop, taking in a slow inhale before a shrug. “People didn’t always like me. But when I got here…everyone was so much more accepting. But that’s scary in it’s own way, you know? It gives you something to lose.” Something he possibly had lost, already, if this injury didn’t go away. And with Greer…

He shook his head, not letting himself dwell in their thoughts, instead pushing themselves to continue. “I feel like I’ve gotten so addicted to the feeling of people actually liking me, inviting me to things, wanting me around….that I’m petrified of what’ll be like if it goes back to how it used to be. If they decide they don’t like me anymore and I go back to that, that…loneliness. Because when things weren’t always so great, and then they are great…can’t help but be scared it’s not gonna stay that way, you know?” Court quipped, a smile pasted on his face, some mockery of bravery in the statement.

“Anyways....Ogden is great. Maybe too great. And in fifty years, you can see this, look me up and see…all this is just me being paranoid. We can hope, right?”

#ogdentask #ictask003

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verde-limon-fashion · 11 months

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How to Dress More Attractively

Introduction

Dressing attractively is not about following the latest fashion trends or wearing expensive clothes. It's about expressing your personality, feeling confident, and making a positive impression on others. In this article, we will explore practical tips and advice on how to dress more attractively while staying true to your unique style.

Understanding the Importance of Dressing Attractively

First impressions matter, and how you present yourself plays a crucial role in how others perceive you. Dressing attractively can boost your self-esteem, improve your confidence, and open doors to new opportunities. People are naturally drawn to those who look put-together and stylish.

Identifying Your Personal Style

Discovering your personal style is the foundation of dressing attractively. Take time to explore different fashion styles, from classic to bohemian to modern, and find what resonates with you. Once you have a clear sense of your style, it becomes easier to curate a wardrobe that reflects your personality.

Choosing Flattering Colors and Patterns

Understanding which colors and patterns complement your complexion and body shape is essential. Learn about the color wheel and how to use it to create eye-catching outfits. Additionally, know when to wear patterns and how to mix them with solid colors for a balanced look.

Dressing for Your Body Shape

Every body is unique, and dressing to enhance your best features is key to dressing attractively. Whether you have an hourglass, pear, apple, or rectangular shape, there are specific clothing styles that flatter your silhouette. Embrace your body shape and dress to highlight your assets.

Enhancing Your Look with Accessories

Accessories can elevate even the simplest outfit. From statement necklaces to scarves, hats, and belts, the right accessories add a touch of personality to your look. Learn how to accessorize appropriately and avoid overdoing it.

Grooming and Personal Hygiene

Looking attractive goes beyond clothing; personal grooming and hygiene are vital. Maintain a well-groomed appearance by paying attention to your hair, nails, and overall cleanliness. Good grooming shows that you care about yourself and others.

Dressing for Different Occasions

Adapting your outfit to different occasions showcases your versatility. Whether it's a casual outing, a business meeting, or a formal event, knowing how to dress appropriately demonstrates your social skills and adaptability.

Dressing Confidently

Confidence is the key to looking attractive in any outfit. Stand tall, make eye contact, and embrace your unique style with confidence. When you feel good about what you're wearing, others will notice your charisma and self-assurance.

Creating a Capsule Wardrobe

A capsule wardrobe is a collection of essential, versatile, and timeless pieces that can be mixed and matched to create numerous outfits. Building a capsule wardrobe simplifies your dressing routine and ensures you always have stylish options at your fingertips.

Maintaining Your Wardrobe

To dress attractively, you must take care of your clothes. Regularly clean and organize your wardrobe to keep your clothes in good condition. This also helps you see what you have and what you may need to add to your collection.

Dressing Attractively on a Budget

Looking great doesn't have to break the bank. Discover budget-friendly shopping tips, explore thrift stores, and consider clothing swaps with friends. You can look attractive and stylish without spending a fortune.

Dressing Attractively for Men

Men have their unique fashion challenges and opportunities. This section will focus on tips and ideas specifically tailored to help men dress more attractively while embracing their individuality.

Dressing Attractively for Women

Women's fashion is vast and diverse, and this section will offer guidance on how women can accentuate their beauty and charm through their clothing choices.

Conclusion

Dressing more attractively is within everyone's reach. By understanding your personal style, dressing for your body shape, and embracing confidence, you can transform your appearance and leave a lasting impression on others. Remember, dressing attractively is not about following strict rules but expressing yourself authentically.

FAQs

1. Do I need to wear designer clothes to look attractive?

Not at all! Attractiveness is about how you carry yourself and how well your clothes suit you, not the brand labels.

2. Can I mix and match different fashion styles?

Absolutely! Experimenting with different styles can lead to unique and captivating looks.

3. How can I find the right colors for my skin tone?

Consult with a color expert or use online resources to identify the colors that best complement your skin tone.

4. Is personal grooming only about appearance?

No, it also reflects how you take care of yourself and your consideration for others.

5. How can I look attractive without overdoing accessories?

Choose one or two statement pieces that complement your outfit rather than wearing multiple flashy accessories.

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endtimesbeacon · 1 year

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Is Enos the Cure for Vax'd & Unvaxed Clots? Message from a Prophet

Is Enos the Cure for Vax'd & Unvaxed Clots? Message from a Prophet. What's ENOS? See Below. The Covid-19 Vaccine Has 2 Factors Related to Clotting 1. Snake venom 2. The Nano Self Replicating cyborg Takeover Structure Building Up in the Body

Depending on What News You're Watching, You May Have Noticed People Dropping Dead All Over the Places, Lots of Athletes, Lots of Kids Too and People in General. "Myocarditis" is the Snake Medicine Term Used. People Are Getting Choked from Within. Top Treaments Identified So Far: - EDTA IV. Maybe EDTA Topically - Totally oblerterates the build up structures while pulling out nano and bad metals. - NAC - N-Acetyl Cysteine + Bromelain (enzyme from pineapple) works like gangbusters against the venom component and the spike protein nano build up. - Licorice Root extract (trying a tincture right now and way more potent than capsules - plant glycerin based so don't need the alcohol type of tinctures. Tinctures are said the be the most potent way to take herbs and fastest absorbing too. - But also heard that NO or nitric oxide or Nitrous Oxide is effective and helpful too: See the message from this prophet below but here is the ENOS excerpt (although she spiritualized it, this message is very related to the chocking off from within from nano cyborg robot assembly in the vaxed and shredded onto the unvax'd! Do not hang around the Vax'd. The vax'd need to be isolated out from society until there is a total cure. The vax'd are infecting, hurting and killing others and animals. "Endothelial NOS (or eNOS) is an enzyme created in the human body. Courtesy of Wikipedia: "eNOS is primarily responsible for the generation of NO in the vascular endothelium, a monolayer of flat cells lining the interior surface of blood vessels... NO produced by eNOS in the vascular endothelium plays crucial roles in regulating vascular tone... Therefore, a functional eNOS is essential for a healthy cardiovascular system."" - Not health advice. Do your own research. Seek the guidance of a non Satanic, successful and healing, health care professional. Here is the whole prpophecy: "The Hour of Enos! New Spiritual Weapons Are Coming!" Edie Bayer, Houston, TX Recently in prayer, I had an encounter where the Lord shared a couple of things with me that I feel pressed by Him to share with you now. Enos First, I heard the Lord breathe the name "Enos." Of course, I wanted to know what this meant, because God hides nuggets in names. So I did some research. Going to the Word, I found the name Enos in Genesis 4:26, which says, "And to Seth, to him also there was born a son; and he called his name Enos: then began men to call upon the name of the LORD" (Genesis 4:26, King James Version). I heard the Lord then say, "It is an Enos hour!" It is time to once again call upon the name of the Lord. Vision of the Man in Shining Armor Then, closing my eyes, I went into a vision. I called out to Him, "Lord!" Immediately, I saw the back of a man clad in shining, silver armor, His hair hanging out from under His helmet. He turned toward me, took off His helmet and reached out His hand, beckoning me to take it. It was Jesus! Behind Him, in the distance, I saw a commotion; but it was gray, foggy and hard to make out. I sensed there was a battle raging. I sat still for a moment, thinking about clasping His hand but didn't actually take it, waiting to see what would happen next in the vision. Then the shine of His armor started to change to a dull gray as He slowly turned back toward the battle, putting His helmet back on. Panicking, I quickly cried out, "LORD!" Once again, He turned toward me, His armor shining. He extended His hand once again, beckoning me to join Him. This same scenario played out three or four times. Finally, He said, "Come with Me." His voice sounded very calm, but also very serious. The War Hammer I was afraid! I knew that if I took His hand, I would be on that battlefield, fighting in that skirmish, which I somehow knew was a matter of life or death. Looking behind Him, I saw the battle still raging in the distance. "Don't be afraid," He said. He then handed me a weapon. (Photo via Pexels) I had never seen anything like this weapon before; it was terrifying. It was a rectangular, gray, metal hammer with square ends, similar to Thor's mythical hammer, Mjölnir; but this hammer's head was completely covered in cone-shaped spikes. The weapon He handed me would take out anything that was bold enough or stupid enough to get in its path, shredding and utterly destroying it. "I will protect you," He said. It was at this point that I opened my eyes and began researching weapons from the Middle Ages, looking for the one I'd seen in my vision. I wanted to know why its spikes were cone-shaped, why it was a hammer and why it was shaped the way that it was. What was its purpose and its symbolism? Beginning with Thor's hammer, Mjölnir, I searched specifically for war hammers that might match exactly what I had seen, but I couldn't find anything quite like it. However, I did discover that the weapon Mjölnir, in mythology, was used for BOTH destruction and blessing, which I believe holds significance for what I had seen in my vision. I knew God's guiding hand was upon this journey! Upon finishing my search, I realized that there was no other weapon like it known to man! The weapon that Jesus handed me was one of a kind, newly created and designed specifically for this warfare! Five Things That I Learned from My Encounter Here are five things that I learned from this Jesus encounter, which I believe are not just for me, but for all of us in this hour: 1. God is giving us a new weapon in this Enos hour as we call upon the name of the Lord! Yours will probably look different, for a different purpose. And though you may not understand how it works, or how to use it yet, just know that it will cause serious damage in the spirit world (see Ephesians 6:12)!

2. Don't be afraid to enter the battle! Jesus is with you, battling at your side and wearing the exact same shining armor He has given us (see Ephesians 6:13)! (Photo via Piqsels) 3. Much like Mjölnir was fabled to do, this same weapon that causes destruction in the spirit realm may also cause blessing in the natural. After all, Jesus came to destroy the works of the devil. That is a blessing all by itself (see 1 John 3:8)! 4. He will protect you. He'll never leave you or forsake you, and He won't let any harm come to you (see Deuteronomy 31:8). 5. Finally, because God has a sense of humor, AND because He wants us to know this, He revealed the final revelation behind why He had spoken the name Enos to me: Endothelial NOS (or eNOS) is an enzyme created in the human body. Courtesy of Wikipedia: "eNOS is primarily responsible for the generation of NO in the vascular endothelium, a monolayer of flat cells lining the interior surface of blood vessels... NO produced by eNOS in the vascular endothelium plays crucial roles in regulating vascular tone... Therefore, a functional eNOS is essential for a healthy cardiovascular system." Basically, IT'S A HEART ISSUE! Calling upon the name of the Lord creates in us a healthy heart. If we don't call upon Him in this hour, we will not have enough ENOS; therefore, we won't have a healthy heart! We simply MUST call upon the name of the Lord in this Enos hour! Amen! After God revealed these things to me, I closed my eyes again and was in the vision once more. I looked out from under my helmet as I headed onto the battlefield, vision coming into focus, with my new weapon in hand... Whatever you do, don't miss another ELIJAH LIST email! Subscribe at this link: elijahlist.com/subscribe. Edie Bayer Kingdom Promoters Email: [email protected] Website: www.KingdomPromoters.org Edie Bayer is co-founder of Kingdom Promoters along with her husband Darryl Bayer. Edie Bayer ministers as a prophetic preacher and is an author, a speaker, and traveling minister. Edie's primary call is to promote others that are ministering in the Kingdom of God, creating unity instead of a spirit of competition. Edie believes that we are to "complete and not compete!" Edie works diligently to create public and private events and invite other ministers to speak at them, helping to promote them and gain public exposure both for them and their ministries. Edie and Darryl reside on a small homestead north of the Houston area. They raise chickens, ducks, rabbits, and have two cats. Edie has two children and three grandchildren. To receive more words like this in YOUR inbox, subscribe FREE to the Elijah List at this link: elijahlist.com/subscribe. Find us on: * Facebook click here * XAPiT click here LInk https://elijahlist.com/words/display_word.html?ID=28799 Read the full article

#NitrousOxide]

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tonkitrip · 2 years

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Hallucination drugs

#Hallucination drugs plus

Salvia may also cause fear and panic, uncontrollable laughter, a sense of overlapping realities, and hallucinations. What Are the Risks Associated with Salvia Use? Salvia's psychic effects include perceptions of bright lights, vivid colors, shapes, and body movement, as well as body or object distortions. Salvia leaves can be chewed, smoked, or heated and turned to gas that can be inhaled (vaporized). Users may call it salvia, shepherdess's herb, diviner's sage, seer's sage, Maria pastora, magic mint, or Sally-D. It is not processed and looks like small dried leaves. Salvia divinorum is an herb in the mint family misused for its hallucinogenic effects. Long-term effects such as flashbacks, risk of psychiatric illness, impaired memory, and tolerance have also been described. Panic reactions and psychosis also may occur, particularly if a user ingests a large dose. Psilocybin has LSD-like properties and changes the function of smooth muscles of the heart, lungs, and glands, motor reflexes, behavior, and perception. What Are the Risks Associated with Psilocybin Use? The effects include hallucinations, an altered perception of time, and an inability to distinguish fantasy from reality. They may be brewed as a tea or added to other foods to mask their bitter flavor. Mushrooms containing psilocybin are available fresh or dried and are typically taken by mouth. Users may refer to this drug as magic mushrooms, mushrooms, shrooms, caps, or boomers.

#Hallucination drugs plus

These mushrooms typically contain less than 0.5 percent psilocybin plus trace amounts of psilocin, another hallucinogenic substance. This chemical is found in approximately 190 species of edible mushrooms that are indigenous to tropical and subtropical regions of South America, Mexico, and the United States. Psilocybin (4-phosphoryloxy-N,N-dimethyltryptamine) is the active chemical in hallucinogenic mushrooms. A blank stare, rapid and involuntary eye movements, and an exaggerated gait are among the more observable effects. Other effects include numbness, slurred speech, and loss of coordination accompanied by a sense of strength and invulnerability. Users may develop severe mood swings, anxiety, paranoia and hostility, as well as psychosis. What Are the Risks Associated with PCP Use? Users may hear things that are not happening. PCP use causes users to feel detached, distant and estranged from their surroundings. For smoking, PCP is often applied to a leafy material such as mint, parsley, oregano, or marijuana. It can easily be mixed with dyes and sold on the illicit drug market in a variety of tablet, capsule, and colored powder forms that are snorted, smoked, or swallowed. PCP is a white crystalline powder that dissolves in water or alcohol. Users may call it angel dust, embalming fluid, killer weed, rocket fuel, or supergrass. It is misused for its hallucinogenic effects. It is no longer used medically due to serious adverse effects. PCP (phencyclidine) was developed as an intravenous anesthetic. Users can also experience flashbacks, or recurrences of certain aspects of the drug experience for years after use. Some LSD users experience severe, terrifying thoughts and feelings of despair, fear of losing control, or fear of insanity and death while using LSD. The experiences and changes may be frightening and can cause panic. In large doses, the drug produces delusions and visual hallucinations and causes the user's sense of time and self to be altered. What Are the Risks Associated with LSD Use? Experiences may seem to 'cross-over' different senses, giving the user the feeling of hearing colors and seeing sounds. Users may feel several emotions at once or swing rapidly from one emotion to another. LSD changes sensations and feelings in people under its influence. LSD is often added to absorbent paper, which is then divided into decorated pieces, each equivalent to one dose. LSD is sold in tablets, capsules, and, occasionally, liquid form. Users may call it acid, blotter, cubes, microdot, yellow sunshine, blue heaven, cid, dots, mellow yellow, or window pane. It is manufactured from lysergic acid, which is found in ergot, a fungus that grows on rye and other grains. LSD (d-lysergic acid diethylamide) is one of the most potent perception-changing chemicals. Common hallucinogens include LSD, PCP, Psilocybin, and Salvia: LSD These compounds are typically found in some plants, fungi, mushrooms (or their extracts) or are synthetically produced. Some hallucinogens are also able to produce rapid, intense mood swings. Under the influence of hallucinogens, people see images, hear sounds, and feel things that seem real but are not. Hallucinogens are among the oldest known group of drugs. Hallucinogens (LSD, PCP, Psilocybin, and Salvia)

#Hallucination drugs

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bumblesimagines · 3 years

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Green Thumb

Part 20

Request: Yes or No

"Time travel sounds fun until you see how cringy you used to be." You said, watching Nebula fix some things on the suit Scott had on.

"I've never been cringy." Scott said. You stayed silent in response, glancing at Rhodes. Scott blinked, scoffing softly as you giggled.

"You're great, Scott." You gave a tired smile. Bruce went to put in the red capsules.

"Hey- Hey, be careful!"

"I'm being very careful." Bruce replied.

"No, you're being very Hulky." Scott put in the capsules himself. Even if Bruce was careful, he could still crush whatever was in there without even thinking about it. It was weird seeing Bruce in Hulks body but you supposed it helped end the beef they had. Scott and Bruce went back and forth until he turned small and big in a second.

"Alright, one test run." Scott gave a sheepish smile, glancing at everyone in the room. "I'm not ready for this."

"I'm game." You turned your head, looking at Clint. You crossed your arms, a soft sigh leaving you.

"I'll do it." Clint shrugged. Scott licked his lips, looking at Bruce. Bruce gave him a small nod so Scott walked out of the room to change out of the suit. Clint followed.

"So.. He got a new tattoo." Rhodes glanced at you. You licked your lips, shrugging lightly. Rhodes sighed, leaving the room momentarily before returning with some twizzlers. He offered one to you, giving a small smile. You took it, taking a small bite from it as Clint walked into the room with the suit on. Nebula made sure everything was good with the suit.

"Clint, you're gonna feel a little discombobulated from the shift. Don't worry about it." Bruce told him.

"Wait, wait.. Let me ask you something. If we can do this, you know go back in time, why don't we just find baby Thanos and just.." Rhodes made a wrapping and squeezing motion.

"I mean, it's a solid idea. Baby Thanos was probably real ugly anyways." You said, chewing on the candy. Bruce stared at you and Rhodes in disbelief.

"First of all, that's horrible-"

"It's Thanos."

"And secondly, time doesn't work that way. Changing the past doesn't change the future."

"We go back and get the stones before Thanos gets them.. Thanos doesn't get the stones!" Scott said, shrugging. Rhodes nodded, motioning to him.

"Problem solved!"

"Bingo." Clint nodded as Nebula glanced at them, giving a small shake of her head.

"That's not how it works." She muttered.

"Anyways, who told you that?"

"Star Trek, Terminator, Time Cop, Time After Time, Wrinkle in Time, Hot Tub Time Machine-"

"So, any movie with time in the name." You said with a chuckle.

"Well, it doesn't work like that. If you travel to the past, that past becomes your future and your former present becomes your past." Bruce explained. You hummed, continuing to munch on the twizzler.

"If time travel works.. That means there's different versions of ourselves in different.. Dimensions, right? Like living things we've lived and making decisions we'll eventually make?"

"Yes, actually." Bruce nodded, glad that at least someone was getting it.

"For example, my past self might be in Sokovia fighting Ultron right now while my future self might be relaxing on a beach." Bruce said with a shrug. You hummed, nodding.

"I wonder what my future self is doing.."

"Probably getting therapy instead of napping and drinking." Rhodes muttered, glancing at you. You scoffed softly.

"You drink?" Clint questioned, brows furrowing as a frown tugged at his lips. You shifted your gaze back to the man you used to call dad and shrugged.

"Occasionally." Once the suit was good to go and Bruce had told Clint everything he needed to do, you followed the guys and Nebula to the platform Rocket had built. It was surprising how much a raccoon could built. You glanced at Thor, giving him a small nod. Bruce walked up to the controls, the others standing behind him as they watched Clint stand in the center.

"Alright, Clint.. We're going in three.. Two.." You could tell Clint was nervous, you were too. Despite everything, he had still been someone who took you in and loved you. You slowly chewed on the twizzler, gaze flickering around the platform. To Clint it could feel like hours but it would merely be seconds for you and the others. Clint suddenly appeared, falling on the ground. The helmet retracted as he panted. Natasha quickly rushed up onto the platform with you following incase he had injuries. Natasha helped him up, getting him grounded as Clint looked around.

"I saw her... I saw Lila again.." Clint panted. You stared at him, swallowing as your grip on the twizzler tightened. Clint tossed a baseball glove at Tony, nodding.

"It worked." Clint said. A sense of relief filled you along with everyone. There was a chance at getting everyone back. The team turned, heading to an office in order to talk more and come up with a game plan. You finished your twizzler, taking a seat and watching Tony pull up pictures of the stones.

"We gotta find out the when and the where." Steve said, looking over all of the stones.

"Almost everyone in this room has had at least one encounter with an infinity stone." Steve turned his attention onto everyone. You supposed Vision counted as an encounter.

"Or substitute encounter by being damn near killed by one of the stones." Tony added, shrugging as he sipped on his coffee.

"I haven't." Scott piped in. "I have no clue what the hell you're talking about."

"Regardless, we only have enough pinparticles for one trip each and these stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history." Bruce said, slowly walking around the office.

"Our history." Tony reminded him. "So, not alot of convenient spots to drop in."

"Which means we'll have to pick our targets." Clint muttered. Tony nodded, shooting him the side eye. You cocked a brow when you made eye contact with Tony. Tony simply patted your shoulder.

"Let's start with the ether. Thor, what do you know?" Steve asked, everyones' attention shifting onto the god of lighting. Thor sat in a corner, coke bottle in hand and sunglasses on.

"Is he asleep?" Natasha asked after Thor didn't answer. You stared at him. The last five years had definitely been rough for him.

"Pretty sure he's dead." Rhodes mumbled. You sighed, reaching forward and grabbing a cup of water. You made it turn ice cold before tossing it at the god. Thor jolted awake, looking down at his wet shirt.

"Thor, the reality stone. What do you know about it?" Steve asked again, watching him stand and approach the picture of the reality stone. You listened to Thors' rambling, turning to look at Tony. Scott was the only one interested in what he had to say. Tony approached him, urging him to sit.

"Alright.. Who's next?"

~~~~~~~~~~

You stared at the pictures. Three stones in New York, one in Asgard, and the other two in Morag. You looked at Steve as he approached the hologram.

"Alright, we have a plan. Six stones, three teams. One shot." Steve said. You swallowed, glancing at Rocket and Thor. You had been assigned on their team. Just in case. You stood up with the others, going off to change. You stared at the two pictures in your locker. One of the Barton family and the other of the Stark family. You headed towards the platform after changing, standing beside Thor and Rocket.

"Stay safe." Natasha said softly, giving your arm a squeeze. Steve gave a pep talk before you put your helmet on. You absolutely hated the feeling as you went through what looked like a blue tunnel. When you blinked, you were in Asgard. Thor held a finger up to his lips, passing by a room. You followed, glancing back and seeing his brother. You had never officially met Loki but he was an odd dude. You reached a hall, standing besides Thor. You listened to the women talk in the hall. You shared a look with Rocket.

"There's Jane." Thor whimpered, shaking his head. Rocket sighed.

"Alright.." Rocket hopped off the stone block, looking at you and Thor.

"You're gonna charm her, (Y/N) will be our lookout, and I'll poke her with this thing, get the stone, and we'll be gone." Rocket said, watching Thor. You gave a nod but Thor sniffled.

"I'll be right back. The wine cellar is just down here. My father used to have this huge barrel of ale." You stared at Thor, letting out a sigh as you scratched your forehead. You heard a door opening and quickly ducked besides Rocket.

"Yes, and could you also let me know when Gaia plans on visiting again?" You blinked, feeling your body freeze. You slowly stood, glancing at Thor as he slowly walked down the hall, gaze on the woman.

"Who's the fancy woman?" Rocket asked, hopping onto the stone. You swallowed, turning your head and looking at the woman.

"That's my mother..." Thor answered. Your eyes slightly widened, turning to face Thor. You opened your mouth to ask him a question.

"She dies today." Thor whispered. You shut your mouth, frowning. You licked your lips, gaze flickering around.

"How.. How does she know Gaia?" You asked softly. Thor glanced at you with furrowed brows.

"She was a friend of my mothers'." Thor answered. He looked back at where his mother had been, shaking his head.

"I can't do this." He breathed out, beginning to pant softly. You and Rocket faced him. Rocket told Thor to get closer as Thor rambled. You blinked as Rocket slapped him, almost laughing at the sight of a raccoon slapping a god.

"You think you're the only one who lost people? What do you think we're doing here? I lost the only family I ever had. Same with nature boy over here. I get you miss your mom, but she's gone. Really gone and there are plenty of people who are kind of gone. You can help them. So is it too much to ask that you brush the crumbs out of your beard, talk to the girl, and when she's not looking, suck the infinity stone and help us get our families back?" Rocket stared at him. Thor nodded, a small whimper leaving him as his eyes watered.

"Thor, calm down." You said softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "You're the god of lighting, Thor. You can do this."

"Yeah, yeah, I can." Thor nodded. You gave him a small smile, following Raccoon towards the door. You turned, hearing footsteps rushing away. You sighed.

"He's gone." You muttered. Rocket groaned softly.

"You go after him. I'll go get the stone." Rocket said, turning around and walking towards the room.

"I don't know this place." You huffed, looking at the talking raccoon. Rocket let out an exasperated sigh.

"Be my lookout." He mumbled. You walked towards the room Jane was in, watching Rocket enter. You stood infront of the doors, gaze flickering around. You had no idea what you were gonna do if somebody asked you what you were doing. You swallowed, glancing in the direction Thors' mother had gone in.

"He'll be fine." You assured yourself, speedwalking in the direction. You spotted Thor, quietly walking towards him.

"Thor-"

"Shh." He brought up a finger to his lips. Thor grabbed you, keeping you hidden behind the pillar as his mother passed by. She dismissed her girls. You and Thor peeked around the corner.

"What are you doing?" You flinched, letting out a yelp as a woman yelped as well. You turned and faced her, watching her look at Thor. Thor suddenly grabbed you, covering you with his jacket.

"You're better off leaving the sneaking to your brother." The woman said, head tilting.

"What are you wearing? Who is this?" She asked, stepping forward. You swatted Thor's arm away, clearing your throat.

"Uhm, I'm- I'm (Y/N)." You said. Rocket was gonna kill you.

"Frigga." She gave a polite smile. "What are you wearing?" Friggas' brows furrowed, looking Thor over. Frigga slowly approached her son, placing a hand on his cheek. Thor rambled slightly. Frigga smiled softly.

"You're not the Thor I know, are you?" She asked softly.

"Yes I am."

"The future hasn't been kind to you, has it?" She gently brushed some hair out of his face. You watched her, gaze softening. You could see why Thor loved his mother so much. They shared a tight hug, something Thor had desperately needed.

"Let's talk." Frigga smiled. You tuned out as Thor spoke to his mother. You walked around her room, looking over the glass. You licked your lips, looking over at them.

"How do you know Gaia?" You asked softly. Frigga turned to look you curiously.

"Like, uhm, Thor told me but I.. I wanna know more." You said, facing her. Frigga tilted her head, slowly approaching you.

"Gaia? What would you want with her?"

"She's my mother and she.. She kind of abandonded me." You shrugged lightly, letting out a small awkward laugh. Frigga hummed, gaze softening.

"Gaia's in.. It's hard to explain. She's in The Garden. She lives there and it's how she watches over her creations." Frigga explained.

"How do I get there?"

"Fairy rings. Only certain people have access to her portals." Frigga said. You nodded, keeping it in mind. Thor stood, approaching you and his mom.

"Mother, I must tell you something-"

"No, Thor." Frigga turned to face her son, pressing a finger to his lips.

"Mother-"

"Guys!" Rocket shouted, running towards you. "You were supposed to watch the door!"

"I know." You gave an apologetic smile. Rocket shook his head, showing the stone.

"I got it." He breathed out. "Oh, hey, you must be mom."

"I wish we had more time." Thor said softly. Frigga smiled gently, grabbing his hands.

"This was a gift. Now you go and be the man you were meant to be." Frigga said softly. Thor gave her a sad smile.

"I love you, mom."

"I love you." Frigga hugged Thor tightly. She pulled back and smiled. Rocket began to count but Thor stopped him. He extended his hand towards the balcony area. You and Rocket shared a look.

"W-What are we looking at?" He asked.

"It takes a second." Frigga chuckled softly. Thors hammer returned to him, making him beam. You smiled softly as the suit returned.

"Nice meeting you." You said.

"Same here." Frigga smiled, giving a small wave. The helmet came on and you went back through the nauseating blue tunnel. You grunted, shutting your eyes tightly.

"Yeah, fuck that." You muttered, rubbing your forehead. You looked around, noticing Clint fall to his knees with teary eyes.

"Where's Nat?"

~~~~~

Tags: @geek-and-proud @wolfelocksley @babyvisionisamenace @jjk-is-my-shit

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ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Let Me Help - Keanu Reeves x Reader

summary : during quarantine, your husband keanu worries you’ve been working too much and offers to comfort you, by helping you wind down. requested!

warnings : smut. oral sex [female receiving] loads of fluff! a very concerned keanu. x f! reader. 3.3k.

notes : this was requested by a lovely reader. I wrote this near the end of august, and touched it up a little last night for posting. I’m hoping to get back to writing some new stuff real soon, look forward to that! feedback appreciated, hope you enjoy xx :)

In the wake of the day break sun, a fatigued Keanu trudges down the wooden stairs of your shared home; a hand raked through tousled bed head locks, half executed yawn breathed off his lips. The house seems dead silent, the sound of a hissing coffee pot and keyboard clicking fingers apparent far distantly downstairs.

He’d woke up to the spot beside him in the bed vacant, and the figure that had quietly been tucked under the security of his arm all night, absent.

Normally, the morning dew would greet him with the feel of his love curled against his chest, consumed in a warm sea of silky sheet enveloped around them. Mornings like that were his favourite; where you’d hold him close, your drowsy AM gaze would open to the sight of him, his mocha eyes locked to your resting frame, limbs tangled as one.

“Good morning, handsome.” You’d quietly mumble, tinted smile groggily musing with a deeper cuddle into his chest, and he’d quietly chuckle at the way stray locks fall in your eyes, barely peeking his way. ‘Good morning to you too,’ the words would sweetly melt off his lips, peppering small, gentle morning greetings into your hair as he’d draw you closer, smiling.

Smiling at your little, personal piece of heaven you’d built.

Keanu trudges further, slow pace deliberate, swallowing tightly to the known sight he knew he’d perceive as he’d venture to the bottom of the stairs to your kitchen, where you were surely sat. He wasn’t tired, per say, yet his mood tinged a drought of sour.

You’d been working, constantly, through out the entirety of the declared lockdown in your home town. Those once blissful mornings had been rare; stolen, gentle kisses and mindless relishes in each other’s arms non frequent since the quarantine began. Not only did his lovesick heart miss you, his mind also worried. He worried far, he worried frequent-

that the women he loves with his entire heart, hadn’t been taking care of herself. Over the years spent together, Keanu had come to learn all too well. You take immense pride in your work; nevertheless, that strive for excellence often has tendency to override, to conquer each ounce of energy and dedication that courses through your veins.

He admires, loves your dedication. Yet he worries. He fears that you’ll overwhelm, burn out.

Over anything; any hinder, any instance, the sole triumph had always been you. You, your health, your safety. It’s the lone thought that matters to him, the only thing that truly matters.

Through sickness and through health; it’s what you’d both promised.

Approached to the kitchen entrance, Keanu sighs a warm smile, seeing your frame lounged against the granite wall counter, coffee pot in hand as you’d replenished your favourite noir mug. Dressed in a pair of sleeping shorts equipped with his oversize t-shirt, his heart hitches, his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you.

Each breath taken around you, capsules in a warm, heavenly kiss. Only you’d ever been able to do that to him. Only you could bring his heart to its knees, each and every day.

Soft, quietly, Keanu lingers behind your smaller figure, humming a gentle morning ease, thin lips placed to the back of your head as his arms circle your waist. “Morning, gorgeous.” he whispers, a gravelly rasp thick to his sleep awoken voice. Tinged to a curled upwards smile, his nose idles in your locks, senses enveloped by the sweet saccharine of coconut shampoo and something that resembles florals, flowers, silk and satin.

All things good, all things beautiful. All things that take his breath away.

You’d told him the day you first met; your fascination with the sun, and her flowers. Her roses, her violets, her world that breathes, only when she lights a glow, revitalising all that live under her, flourish under her.

Smiling faintly, a hand reaches behind, tangling in the dusty strands of his lengthy mane, as your other plants warmly to his arm that holds your body close by the waist. “Good morning.” You smile, turning gentle in his warm embrace, with a delicate kiss pecked to his thin taut lips. “Sleep okay?” You wonder, escaping his hold to return to your impromptu work station, situated at the marble kitchen counter. Stray papers decorate the surface, ball point pens and open laptop screens speckled about. Keanu’s smile fades, and he watches your weak frame shift back to your occupied spot.

“Didn’t like waking up without you there.” He confesses, watching the way you resume lineage to the sheets and workload below. An old, half empty cup of morning dark rests to your table side, cold; long forgotten and forlorn. It had solidified his assumption; you’d more likely than not been up for far longer than he’d originally supposed, slaved, laboured to the never ending, self assigned work load purging at your fingertips.

Thus far, avoidance had been crisp on his lips, the words that threatened to spill had seldom died in his throat before extending any further. His love for you ran farther, deeper than could be explicable. He’d always strived for you to do anything you thought was right, he’d never come in the way of you or your career.

Yet as of late, the boil, the sear of burden inside his veins threatened to leak. Through tired eyes accompanied with dark, tiresome bags, he’d noticed the toll never ending workload had begun to take on your brittle form. He’d sensed the way a part of you faded day by day, succumbing to the drudgery toil. With his toned arms crossing, and an attentive lean to the granite kitchen counter, a worrisome Keanu speaks into the empty, quiet AM air, his voice a certain echo through the gray kitchen corridors. “Baby, do you have to work today?”

You’d barely glanced his way, before continually reverting to your task below. Inhaled deeply, a sip from your mug swelters on your tongue, the bitter taste of a roasty caffeine kick igniting that acquainted burn to your tongue. A burn, something familiar, something that reminds you of there still being discipline, still being normality. “Of course I have to work, Keanu.” You’d dryly returned, tone singed with a far bitter tint than you’d intended. Yet, you’d pledged known thought that he wouldn’t let the issue die so easily. He’d press, he’d push; knowing it was the pull you’d sometimes needed.

“Hey,” Keanu barely speaks, his voice a quiet whisper so calm, so soothing, you’d nearly succumbed into his arms to the mere hint of it. His larger frame falls to its knees, kneeling beside you sat on the kitchen chair. Heavy, gentle, his breath falls dense, weightier hands collecting your softer ones in return to a gentle grasp. His lips are warm; brimmed with special affection; admiration.

Before Keanu, you’d not known the feeling of being completely, hopelessly adored by someone. He did that to you. He did that, for you.

He’d never let you forget the feeling of being adored.

A few measly kisses pepper to your hands from his lips; to your palms, your knuckles, your fingers, and with a hefty sigh, he voices his unease. “I’m just worried.” He begins, eyes connecting to yours in a knowing plead. Keanu is a man of few words; his speech proves selective; he’d never say anything that would interfere with what you truly wanted.

Yet, his heart, and yours, are old friends.

He knows you all too well, knows you’re not where you want to be. “You can understand that, right?” He asks, a gentle nod accompanying. Fixed on yours, his eyes hold your gaze. Warm, cocoa eyes that gleam with that beautiful familiarity. His eyes were something else,

something calming, something that grounds you when you’d need it most. Security.

Only to him, you could express any thoughts, any feelings, anything at all without the fear of what would follow. His heart and yours, are old, old friends. Looking away, you sigh, locking your fingers around his hand that holds your tighter. “I…I know.” You declare. “I get it. I just…” Keanu watches you keenly, his hands never letting go of yours as he listens intent.

“I just feel like…I need to be doing something. I need a routine, I need something prolific, something…productive while we’re stuck at home.” You lament, heart heavy as your deeper fears paint clouds of grey in your chest. “I need something real.” Whispering almost, your eyes fall disheartened, a frown douses your features. “Something that feels like I’m not wasting away.”

“I’m real...” Keanu explains through a quiet undertone, murmuring, eyes desperately trying to hold your fraying gaze that almost feels…ashamed to look at him. Awful feelings flood your mind, the thought of letting him down overwhelming.

“You know what I mean, baby.” You reason, head tilting to a noticeable look of blue on his darker features. With your gentle hand cupping his beard ridden cheek, your eyes sadden. You’d never want him to feel as if he wasn’t enough,

because he was everything. He was all that had truly been keeping you alright, keeping you from slipping into an overwhelming whirlwind of self destruction over this period of uncertain time.

“Hey,” Keanu assures, taking hold of your wrist that holds his cheek. “We’re real. This is real.” He speaks. “You, are the realest thing I know, baby.” And the to sound of his voice, you smile. This man, the man you so gratefully call your own, never fails to cast a smile to your lips. “Let me take care of you.” He speaks, voice thick with reason, as your brows furrow to the proposition. “Just for today. You deserve it, sweetheart. I’ll do anything you need; cook, foot rubs, massages, anything at all.” He appeals, desperately hoping you’d agree, rather than burying yourself under an endless workload for the remainder of the day. “I need you here on earth today,” He smiles, knowingly. “With me.” And to the sight of his glowing orbs, and hopeful gaze, your heart fills with warmth.

Watching his profile with a halted breath, another beat of silence follows, flows before a slight smile ultimately tugs one side of your mouth upwards, heart warming at his determination. Your lover, is something different. Something special inside him grows. Something warm, something,

that you fail to remember when,

had become a necessity.

“God, I’ve missed you so much, baby.” Keanu quietly whispers, your satin skin sprawled upon the silky sheets of your California king, hands tangled to his hair as his lips daub gentle, love soaked kisses along the silk of your body. Through a broken moan, laced with a breathy gasp, your lips barely manage; the feel of his warm mouth marking a delicate, violet bruise into the skin of your breast overwhelming shockwaves, piercing each and every wavelength inside you that longed for him now, craved to feel him closer.

When he’d insisted on taking the day to make you feel ease, you should have known right away, swift, that the first activity on the menu would be a good, much needed, passionate

fuck.

Moving from your lips, Keanu’s kisses trail gently, feverishly across the bare skin of your mid, bulkier hands palming the soft swell of your breasts, soft and tender to his touch. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby.” He assures, between peppered pecks, grazes of his lips across your skin, inching near the throb that ached between your legs. Fiddling with the flimsy material of your underwear, two stocky digits slip into the fabric, gently peeling the textile off, discarded mindlessly to the carpeted floor below.

“Ke…” You breathe, heavy, restrained. His face hovers just above your bare, exposed centre, and his arms move to plant under your thighs, urging your pussy closer to his lustful lips that begged for a taste. Back arching, your nails tangle, scratched to his scalp when his mouth delves lower, trailing a few sauntered kisses to the insides of your thighs, two sturdy fingers slicked between your moist arousal, rubbing a swell to your clit as it thrived for more stimulation; ached for his mouth to make art along your womanhood. To decorate your warm, wet haven with a symphony of his want. “Relax for me, sweetheart.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your pulsing clit, licking a gentle stride to the slit of your fold. With one of his hands moving to hold yours on the rippled bedsheets, his other pumps sinful fingers inside your cunt, adding stimulation. Merely a lewd moan flees your lips, eyes clasped shut as the feel of his sinfully warm tongue lapping your nectar overtakes, and you practically cry a whimper when the feeling of sheer, burning bliss coils, bubbles in your mid. Keanu has always been a giver, his skill, his expertise, his attention to detail never fail to make you feel as if a painting; a mural he paints with vibrant hues, vibrant tones; music he makes spill out your body each and every time he works you this way.

Each time he shows you the stars alike; each time he shows you just how fucking much he loves you.

The sounds of your wetness slicking his lips fill the room, laced with the searing sound of your gasping moans, yelping groans at the way his hold on your hand tightens, tongue flattening with alternating flicks between fast and slow, delicate sucks and kisses to your ached clit. Keanu works a symphony of pace, spreading your folds as needed, skilfully conjuring an orgasm to build inside you that you knew would channel you into absolute oblivion, at a mere 10:00AM in the morning.

“Please…” You beg, pleading, gazing down at the sight of your love between your legs, devouring you whole. “Please don’t stop, babe.” You drip, toes curling, spare hand clenched to the bedsheets. “I’m so close.” Hips bucking, disjointed moans squirm under his touch, his suave voice pushing your need for release further to the end.

“You sound so sexy, angel.” He encourages, circular motions firm, stubbled beard burning against your core. And to the sound of his lust thick tone, your climax washes over you with the force of a strong ocean current; one that rummages over the ocean shore, spilling strong, warm relief over each inch of your body.

As the nirvana dies, and your eyes barely open again, his chocolate gaze watches you with a smile; clearly pleased with how deliciously he’d given you the orgasm of your dreams. Glossy on his beard, your release coats in a glaze to his chin, and you bite your pink stained lips, sighing at the way he still looks into you,

as if viewing his favourite picture; his favourite dream. As if the light of every star in the universe’s dire sky had been embedded inside you.

Something special grows inside him; something so sincere, something that thrives off of nothing, but loving you so well, so good.

“Thank you.” Is all you’d managed, sighing, cupping his dark tined cheek when he comes up, offering a soft kiss to your lips as his hand still holds yours, tenderly. You hadn’t realized how desperate you’d needed relief, how frantic you needed escape from the world around.

And with a simpered smirk and wet kiss daubed to your neck, Keanu kisses your forehead, one hand still held to yours as his other strokes his meaty shaft, fully erect from the pornographic sight of you moaning, whimpering, embellished in utter ecstasy as you’d cum for him. “Oh baby,” He kisses the corner of your lips, sloppy palm tugging a few measly strokes to his dangerously thick, glorious cock; felt strongly aroused, stabbing against the soft skin of your stomach. “I’m not done with you just yet.”

The day had complied, had been spent with just you, and him. Together, through each waking minute, lost together, relishing together.

After drawing you a steamy, heavenly eased bubble bath, in which he’d joined you tenderly after your AM rumble, your dream of a man had helped wash you, massaged a gentle cleanse to your hair through soft kisses, and intimate grazes of each other’s skin.

“I love you, so much.” He’d whispered into your ear, flushy pink chest pressed firm to your back as you’d lounged against him in the soapy water; fragrant aroma of roses and lavender kissed to each sense. Bubble bath’s shared with Keanu had always been your favourite; you’d forgotten how dire you’d needed simplicity. How great you’d needed to share simple, carefree, intimate moments with him during the chaotic shambles the world held, upon these uncertain times.

You’d forgotten that your remedy, the only antidote you’d ever needed, had been resting at your finger tips. He’d been holding you tenderly each night, kissing you awake every morning. He’d been checking in on you, gently brushing strokes to your hair and offering you kind hugs when you’d needed them most.

He’d been silently, quietly forgetting to care for himself as he watched you, trying everything in his power to make sure that you’d be alright. So much, that he’d broken down in his own, unique way today, for you.

What you saw in his eyes this morning, as he begged, pleaded for you to allow him to take care of you; was something different. It was fear, it was surrender.

He’d surrendered a part of himself to you. A part you’d always hold, always keep. This morning, he’d begged you to remember it. To remember, that a part of him, lives within you, part of him resides within you.

He’d begged you to take care of that part of him today. To allow yourself to remember that you need to flourish, need to slow down, before that part of you breaks.

A piece of him belongs to you, and he’d begged you to care for it. To care for yourself; because you and him, that us that resides within you, is truly,

something else.

Something so powerful, so real.

You and him, against the world.

It’s what you’d promised.

“Baby?” You barely whisper, snuggled into his warm embrace on the snug living room sofa. With your head on his chest, both his arms wrap around your body, holding you close as you’d both gazed the blue TV screen; reruns of your favourite 90’s sitcom portrayed to the motion picture. Against your ear, his heartbeat had been calm, collected. Serene, to the feel of your skin against his, knowing you were safe; at ease, resting.

“Yeah?” He quietly wonders, a stray kiss softened to the top of your head. The sun had set, and a gentle evening glow dims in the room, moonlighted silver threatening to spill in soon. As the world outside darkens, and all living things bid goodnight; the world prepares to flourish again. To revenue a moment of calm over the silvery night, to replenish, to prosper tomorrow,

When tomorrow shall come.

“Thank you for holding me.” You whisper, calmly, sweetly, drowsily into his chest. And with a deep chuckle, Keanu’s hands smooth over your back, deep baritone of his chest sending that familiar wave of warm, complete and utter,

gratitude, soaring, flowing inside you. “I’ll always hold you.” He returns, quietly, another kiss into your maven locks, arms tightening around you further as if in fear, that you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold firm enough. And to the sound of his heartfelt confession, you sink further into the feel of him

holding you,

with every last breath. And you remember, that him, this dream, this symphony you fear might just be a dream, is the embodiment, of a thousand feelings, complied all into one. Roses are beautiful, flowers are gorgeous, the sun and her blossoms are wonderful too. But all you really need, is him. This man, that reminds you, that you too,

need to breathe.

You too, need to flourish.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves x you #john wick x reader

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petitelepus · 3 years

Text

His Beloved And More, Part 6

You always live in Brainstorm's mind... Unless...?

WARNING: Blood and Gore.

When Brainstorm finally answered his crewmates' attempts to ask about the alien rodent onboard they were surprised to hear that the usually so cowardly seeker had personally taken care of the pesky little thing. Ultra Magnus offered to send someone to clean the mess in Brainstorm's habsuite, but the flier had refused, claiming that he would do it by himself. After all, a little alien blood wasn’t the worst thing at the moment.

The crew was informed about your capsule's disappearance, but no words were said that you were dead, everyone came to that conclusion themselves even if captains tried to keep their hopes up. Many close friends of yours and Brainstorm’s came to pay their respect to him. To everyone's great shock and confusion, the scientist greeted everyone with optics filled with joy and mirth.

”What are you saying? She is alright!”

”She never left! She would never leave me!”

”If she didn’t leave then she can’t be gone!”

”Everything is going great!

Many mechs brushed off Brainstorm’s behavior with the conclusion that the poor mech had completely lost it and left, not wanting to spend their time consoling a mech stuck in a loop of false beliefs, but mechs who truly cared stayed beside the scientist.

Some like Nautica smiled sadly and hugged him long and hard, assuring him that it was alright. Brainstorm happily returned their hugs and agreed with them. Some offered help like Perceptor and Rung, the first one trying to talk hard sense to his colleague and the second one offering his private time for scientist to use any time he felt a need to talk about anything in his mind. One was brushed off and another one was kindly taken but never used.

Brainstorm kept going on with his life on board like you were never gone and you really weren’t! You were always there talking to him, assuring him how you still loved him despite everything that had and was happening! Others couldn’t hear you and they would look Brainstorm sadly when he spoke to you, but no one got involved. Nautica, Chromedome, and Rung tried, but the flier had quickly left, remembering that he had something cooking in his habsuite.

Humans were so far away from Cybertronian technology, but unlike Cybertronians, the little organic species had already practiced cloning living beings. Now Cybertronians never had such a need for that, but Brainstorm was happy to learn another way to do science! Especially if he got to hacker his way to Earth’s super-secret laboratories and computers! He put everything he learned to use and by that use, were you reborn again before him!

Brainstorm looked longingly at your glorious peacefully resting form in a tank full of chemicals to help your cells to grow. Just a week ago you were smaller than those Earth beans you sometimes flicked at unsuspecting mechs, a tiny ball of molecules and cells multiplying. And now, you were a glorious young woman again. A little younger than you really were with longer hair, but Brainstorm couldn’t wait any longer to be with you again physically.

He was so giddy as he drained the blue liquid off from your tank, looking at how your body slowly sank to the bottom of the tank, instantly shivering and convulsing in cold. Brainstorm opened the tank and removed tubes from your body. Without a tube giving you air, you would have to use your own lungs and wake up.

The reaction was instant, your eyes shot open and you started coughing and wheezing for air, your hands and feet flipping from one direction to another in shock. Brainstorm smiled, seeing the panicked look on your eyes as you tried to gasp for breath. He gently massaged your back and held you up. Once your breathing finally calmed down, he could hear it, your voice, clearer than before.

"Oil cake…” You didn’t react to his voice so he gave you a little nudge and tried again. ”Sweet spark, it’s me… Your brilliant Brainstorm…”

You looked up at him, your eyes so big and shiny and your sweet little lips slightly parted. He grinned in joy and looked at you lovingly. ”My little sweet spark… You look so beautiful… Just as I remembered…!”

Your lips moved and Brainstorm got excited. Were you trying to talk to him? Tell him something? Your first words?

A small squeal managed to slip past your lips before you choked and there was a splash and Brainstorm’s spark froze as blood splattered all over his hand. You kept coughing up more blood, the crimson liquid gurgling as it streamed from your throat to your mouth and all over him.

Brainstorm could only watch in horror how you slowly choked on your own blood, your body slipping past his servos on the ground and twitching before you weren’t moving anymore. The scientist sat there on his habsuite floor with your body and his hopes and dreams once again destroyed.

'It’s alright Brainstorm… You tried and it was your first time. You can try again.'

You were right. This piece of meat wasn’t you. It just looked like you. He could do much better. This was just a chance for him to make progress and find out what went wrong this time. With that in mind, Brainstorm lifted the body from the floor and carried it to his little side table. He would have to perform an autopsy to find out how to improve his attempt next time.

It appears that your lungs were too weak and your breathing raptured them. An easy thing to fix, time to try again! And so he did, only for the new clone to die again. Some organs were not developed enough to support your body and the stress it was put under. Again!

The third time was the charm or so he thought. He got you to breath and live, but when he tried to teach you to walk… your bones shattered under your weight. He tried seven more times with your encouragement, but each time something went wrong. Brainstorm was growing frustrated, but he never let it show, not to others or to you, but being an attentive person that you were you tended to notice.

'I’ll always love you, no matter what.'

You would talk to him, soothe him, and help him through his moments of doubt when he started doubting everything he was doing. He might have given up already and put himself into stasis if it wasn’t for you being there for him and encouraging him to continue. You were always there when he needed you.

But when his samples started to wither away he was starting to become more and more desperate. No matter what he tried, the samples of your cells were not as pure or strong as they should have been to successfully clone you.

The mech slammed his fists on his table and swiped all his datapads and vials across the room. Nothing went as he wished them to go and it was starting to show on him. He didn’t recharge or eat as much as he should have and it started to take a toll on him.

'What’s wrong Brainstorm?'

”Everything is falling apart! I have you but I don’t have the body for you!”

'Why not?'

”The samples of you are decomposing despite all my might to keep them fresh! I can’t create you a body strong enough for you to use…! I’m at my wit's end…!”

'Don’t worry Brainstorm! You’re a genius! If there is anyone who can reunite us it’s you! You just need to think outside the box!'

Brainstorm scoffed out a dry laugh. ”You and your silly human sayings… You never chang-!”

Then it hit him. Of course. The answer was before him all this time! Excited and back to his old self, he collected all his datapads from his floor, threw them on the table, and started to count everything from the experiences to results.

He had to wait for the results to grow for a week, but it was all worth it when he got to see you again. He held his ventilation as he watched you yet again hack and cough air. So far so good, you weren’t getting any blood on him.

”Sweetie…? Can you hear me…?”

To his great joy, your head immediately flicked towards him and you looked at him with your big eyes. You struggled to get on your feet and he was already moving to help you, but you pushed yourself up on all four on your own! No crunching or falling, meaning your bones were holding on together at the moment.

Brainstorm crouched down to your level and held his hand to you. You approached him carefully, every few seconds glancing at him in alert, but at least you approached him. When you were only inches away from him you took a careful sniff at his extended servos. The scientist couldn’t hide the excited smile even if he wanted to and he didn’t. You knew him. It was you.

A little drop of that alien rodent’s DNA mixed with yours and you’re as good as new! Sure, you looked a little bit different with your rougher hair, and sharp claws and fangs, but it’s still you! His sweet little sweet spark.

#yandere #brainstorm #mtmte #transformers mtmte #transformers #reader #reader insert #gore #gore and blood #blood #writing #my writing #story #my story

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higherfurther-romanova · 4 years

Text

Addiction

Warnings: Mentions of drug abuse, alcohol, depression, self-harm, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, language.

Word Count: 1,098

A/N: This got dark… damn. I may do a fluffy part two to this once I finish “Then Finish It.” :)

~~~~~~~~~~~⧗~~~~~~~~~~~

When the white powdery substance wasn’t enough, you turned to pills. The tiny capsules numbed your pain… for a while at least. You definitely couldn’t say the way you’re living makes you happy. You’re not proud of anything. Your body has gotten smaller, you’ve been quieter, you’re not looking well. The team has started to notice but no one has said anything out of fear of scaring you off or upsetting you. It’s tearing them apart though, they know you feel that your emotions are a weakness, that you’d feel stupid for being so vulnerable.

You’re currently sitting in your room, blade in hand, blood slowly trickling down your wrist. You sense a presence in your room, but you’re too out of it to process it.

“Hasn’t the addiction done enough damage already?” Steve asks, motioning towards your wrist.

You clench your jaw, his words sinking in deep.

“Do you drugs still even get you high?” He questions.

“Back off, Steven.” You growl.

“It’s my job as team captain to worry about my team.” He states.

“But it’s not your job as a friend.” You scoff.

“You know that’s not what I said-”

“Thanks, Rogers. I’ll have you know that your friend is doing great.” You push past him, rolling your sleeve down.

~~~~~~~~~~~⧗~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re sitting in the kitchen, vodka in hand, dried tears staining your cheeks, your eyes are puffy. You slowly bring the bottle to your lips and take a sip. The liquid burns its way down your throat. The images of your past burnt into your memory, haunting you, tearing away at your strong armour. You know they can’t get to you now, but it’s still so terrifying.

“Should you really be drinking that much?” A soothing voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Probably not.” You rasp.

“Wanna talk?” She asks.

“No…” You say truthfully.

“Well I’m not going to leave you here alone. Will you at least go out on a drive with me?” She steps closer.

“Yeah.” You nod.

She smiles softly as you put the bottle down and stand up. She knows the alcohol barely has an effect on you anymore. With the serum you were injected with as a kid and the amount you’ve consumed it does little to no damage at this point.

“Who’s driving?” She asks as you arrive at the garage.

“I don’t mind doing it.”

She nods and gets in the passenger side of your (car choice). You sigh and get in and pull out of the compound. You drive in a deafening silence for a while.

“What are you thinking?” She asks.

“What if we just crash this car and make it all stop?” Your voice gets caught in your throat at the end.

“What…?” Her voice is filled with terror.

You know you would never do it with her in the car. You couldn’t bring yourself to hurt her, now you on the other hand…

“Nothing.” You shake your head.

“(Y/N)... what’s going on? You haven’t been okay for a while now and we both know it. Please talk to me.” She begs.

“Are you okay with having blood on your hands?” You mumble.

“No… Is that what this is about?” She asks.

“Not completely.” You admit.

You trust Natasha with everything you have. Trust doesn’t come easily to you, it took you two years to finally let down your walls a bit around the team, you still don’t trust any of them. You care about them, but you just cannot trust them.

“Hey. It’s okay. I know the past we come from is hard to deal with and that’s okay.” She soothes.

You didn’t even realize there were tears welling in your eyes. You pull over to the side of the road, not trusting your own intentions. You’ve never felt this broken in your life. Natasha’s never seen you this broken, even after she found you. It’s heartbreaking.

Nat reaches over and grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from your face to look at you softly, it’s like a unspoken promise that she’s always going to be there for you, unspoken reassurance that she’s there, that you’re okay. You wince at the pain, causing her to let go quickly.

“(Y/N)...?”

You look over at her, your tears are threatening to flood out. You’re trying to hold them back but you just can’t. She sees you staring at her, she notices the hurt in your eyes, the utter pain behind your seemingly blank expressions every day, she sees it and each time she feels so helpless. You let out a small whimper, trying to hold it back.

“Baby, it’s okay.” She whispers, the nickname just slips past her lips before she can take it back.

The second the words leave her lips, it all comes flooding out as if a da broke.

“Shhh. It’s okay.” She whispers, leaning over the armrest to hug you, pulling your head to her chest.

You’ve always been so strong. You’ve always been her shoulder to cry on. Never did she realize how hard it is.

“I’m sorry.” You sob.

“For what? You don’t have to appologize, you’ve done nothing wrong.” She holds you tighter.

You pull away and take a deep, shaky breath.

“We should head back.” You sniff.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” She asks.

You nod.

“Want me to drive?”

You nod once again. You get out and switch places. You slouch down in your seat, trying to rebuild your emotionless mask.

“(Y/N)... Can I ask you something?” She asks hesitantly.

“I… yeah?” You say.

“When…” She sighs. “When I grabbed your wrist, you winced like it hurt, why? Did I grab you too hard or-”

“No… It’s not your fault.” You look down at your hands.

She kind of knew the reason, she just didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t want to imagine the truth. She glances over at you, pleading for you to tell her you haven’t been doing it, but you don’t.

“I’m sorry.” You say barely above a whisper.

“Don’t be. I’m going to help you through this. I promise.” She lets her hand rest on your leg.

She looks at you and it’s almost as if she can read your mind, “You’re not weak.” She whispers. “You’re stronger than I’ve ever been. And I don’t think any differently of you.” She assures.

“Thank you, Nat.” You smile weakly.

“I love you.” She confesses.

The words strike you like a bolt of lightning. Your heart swells at her confession.

“I love you too…” You look over at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~⧗~~~~~~~~~~~

#natasha romanoff angst #natalia romanova #black widow #fuck steve rogers #captain america #captain america is a bitch #im making more angst #im not okay but im going to say i am #hA #im fine #:)

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another-sonic-blog · 4 years

Note

How about one where Amy discovers Shadow in stasis instead of Eggman?

By Accident 2k ShadAmy

When Rouge told Amy about the rumor that a hedgehog was being held captive at G.U.N's Prison Island, she didn't doubt that it was Sonic.

She knew that it was a crazy thought. Even the bat told her that Sonic couldn't be there because the base in Prison Island had been shut down a long time ago. Nothing could go in or out without a fight. Still, the pink hedgehog's mind was filled with the 'what if's.'

Amy hasn't seen Sonic for months and there was no news of him. She watched the TV, listened to the radio and even looked online whenever she could just to see where he was. The doubt that Sonic was hurt somewhere in the world haunted her mind and there was nothing that would stop Amy Rose from finding out where the love of her life was.

It was an abandoned base, so how hard could it be? It was just a matter of getting in, check out if Sonic was there or not, and then get out.

Or at least that's what she thought. She had been followed by robots and had to destroy them. Lasers, bombs, guns and all other kinds of military weapons have been used against her. Even if this wasn't Sonic, what was G.U.N trying to hide so badly? She finally reached the main room. No robots were following her now. Walking around the large space of the room, she was amazed at how dusty it was. She let out a sneeze as she dusted off the control stand. Technology wasn't her forte and for a moment she wished she had paid attention when Tails tried explaining her about computers, machines, and such. Amy pressed whatever buttons there was, yellow, green, red and nothing seemed to work. In the end, she was running out of time and patience. The pink hedgehog only wanted to see if Sonic was there or not. She took out her hammer and with all of her might, she smashed it against the panel control.

That did just the trick and she smiled as she noticed that something was coming out of the groud. A capsule raised up, almost touching the ceiling but then it came to a sudden stop. Amy continued to sneeze as the capsule had released a lot of dust and as it opened some type of fume was released as well.

Amy watched with amusement as a figure began to come out of the capsule. Her heartbeat began to raise and she twirled around in happiness at the figure above her.

"Sonic, I found you!" Amy screamed loud enough for her beloved to hear her. "Now come down here! What were you doing inside that thing?"

Amy kept her smile but it slowly began to disappeared when seconds passed and there was no answer coming from the blue one ... Was it blue?

"Sonic?"

"My name is Shadow,"

Alright, this was definitely not her Sonic. Now that her eyes were better adjusted to the darkness of the room, the figure on top of the capsule was a black and red hedgehog. His voice was deeper than Sonic's and Amy began to wonder just what in the world did she released upon herself?

"Since you were so kind to release me, my master ... I'll grant you one wish."

Amy gulped and suddenly she felt herself freeze as vermillion eyes stared at her. The stare pierced through her soul, her whole being felt electrified with such imposing manner coming from the black hedgehog. It was as if she was experiencing greatness without being part of it.

Suddenly, her trance was broken as multiples robots crashed into the main room. Shadow jumped from the top of the capsule and landed next to Amy who instinctively took out her hammer. The pink one placed herself in front of the black hedgehog, stopping him from getting any closer to the guard of robots.

"Stay behind me, I'll protect you Shadow," Amy looked side to side, trying to think of a way they could scape without Shadow getting hurt. If she throws her hammer at the robots, then she could create a path in which they can rapidly get to the exit ... if they were fast enough.

"Hey, Shadow ... Can you run fast?"

Amy quickly looked behind her to get any type of response from the black hedgehog. However, she found something unexpected. The majestic hedgehog that came out of the capsule was no longer there instead, his eyes were full of surprise and his mouth was a bit open adding to his astonishing look.

The pink one didn't have time to think about that right now. She looked back at the robots and without thinking too much about it, she threw the hammer at them. That distracted them and Amy rapidly held Shadow's hand and began to run through the path she created. She successfully got out of the room where lasers were waiting for them. Amy snapped her fingers and her hammer appeared in her hands again. She threw her hammer at the lasers and once they were destroyed she continues to run.

Amy looked back to Shadow who seemed to be lost in a trance. As if he was trapped in a dream, in a place where he had lived through this before. Terror filled his eyes and the only thing Amy wanted to do at the moment was to console him. She had never seen such a sad look on someone's face and her kind side took over. However, right now it wasn't the moment. They needed to get out of Prison Island safely first.

But there was no time. The robots were shooting at them, guns coming out of the walls was a problem as well. Amy came to a sudden stop in which she immediately turned around and looked at Shadow.

"I'll stop them as much as I can," Amy said loud enough for Shadow to break out of his trance. He looked like he was lost but immediately he gained consciousness of where he was. Seeing that Shadow was back to his self, Amy proceeded. "There is a small airplane in the jungle, run towards the east and it will be there. If I am not there in within 5 minutes, leave."

The moment Shadow heard her words come out of her mouth, an electric shock ran through his body. Suddenly, his sense were back to him, he knew what to do next.

Protect the pink hedgehog no matter what.

"I'll take care of this," Shadow said as he walked towards the robots. "It won't take long."

"No, Shadow-"

Amy tried to stop him but wasn't able to as Shadow ran towards the guard of robots. Fire coming out of his shoes, he jumped, kicked, punched, and even fly as he destroys every single robot, laser, and gun.

He was as fast as Sonic but different from the blue one, he had technique. Amy like the fighter she was, knew that he was well versed in kickboxing, different types of martial arts and Chaos ... he is good.

It took him five minutes to finish and when he did he just casually walked back to Amy, no a scratched on him. Amy still didn't fully process what just had happened and she only had a question on her mind.

"You could have done that all of this time?"

"You can take the guest room, there are water bottles and some snacks in the kitchen."

After getting out Prison Island and returning the plane to Tails, Amy was ready to go back to her apartment to get some sleep. Shadow just followed her quietly, with excitement and amusement on his face. Amy smiled whenever Shadow looked at something interesting and his eyes would light up. The room where she found him was very old, and it made her wonder just how long Shadow was in stasis inside that capsule.

"I'll cook something in the morning and we can talk then," Amy said as she approached her room, Shadow still following her. She came to a stop right in front of her room's door. The pink hedgehog smile kidly at the black hedgehog who only had a serious look on his face.

"Your room is right over there," Amy said as she pointed at a door that was across the hallway. "Use it however you want ... Goodnight."

Shadow nodded and with an awkward smile on Amy's face, she closed the door to her room.

Amy almost fainted when she opened the door and found Shadow standing right outside her room.

"For Chaos! Did you stay there the whole night?" Amy tried to catch her breath as she placed a hand on her chest, feeling her racing heart.

"Yes."

The pink one didn't expect an answer but she got one and what an answer it was.

"You didn't sleep?" She asked.

"I don't need to, I slept for a long time," Shadow said. "Besides I just wanted to make sure of your well being ... Yesterday, you were sneezing quite often. Sneezing may be due to a cold or allergic reaction. With your current health, we can't allow sneezing to go unnoticed Maria-"

"Maria?"

Shadow was surprised that her name came out of his lips. It came out like a whisper, like a dream. Almost impossible to come out, how many years has it passed since he last said her name?

"My apologies Master, I-"

"Do you want some food?"

Amy watched as Shadow's face soften. His hard and serious expression had become now of a surprised one. The pink hedgehog was very perceptive, she knew that there must be a reason why Shadow was kept at Prison Island. His eyes showed those of terror, pain, and a complicated past. It pained him to remember and Amy didn't want to be the cause of that.

"Let's go to the kitchen, I'll make us some pancakes."

The black hedgehog watched every single move she made. From mixing to putting the pancakes on his plate. Amy would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy someone watching her cook so eagerly.

"Bon appetit!" Amy finished with a smile as she placed three pancakes on Shadow's plate. She sat in front of him on the dining table and began to eat. A few seconds passed in which there was complete silence.

"Why are you doing this?"

Amy looked up to face the hedgehog who once again had a serious look on his face. Camly she placed her utensils down. "What do you mean?"

"You freed me from my slumber, let me inside your house, and even feed me ... And you don't even know anything about me."

"To be honest with you, I was looking for someone when I found you by accident," Amy made a pause, the tick-tock of her wall clock was the only sound that could be heard at the moment. A certain nervousness overtook her but still, she overcame that. "And for the rest, well ... I don't care about your past. You protected me against that guard of robots! I know you are not bad, I trust you Shadow."

Words couldn't leave his mouth. Her kind words pierced through him and his heart skipped a beat the moment she smiled at him. A pure, innocent smile, full of life.

Shadow mentally shook his head, getting rid of the thoughts crossing his mind.

"Before I said that I shall grant you one wish ..." Shadow said. "But due that you have shown me such kindness, I'll grant you two wishes. It can be anything-"

"For you to eat your pancakes," Amy responded.

"But Master-"

"And for you to stop calling me Master."

A few more seconds passed in which Shadow thought the pink hedgehog was playing with him. However, it just seemed like the female hedgehog in front of him was full of surprises. She was very serious about her request and this intrigued Shadow even more.

"Are you serious?"

"I am not gonna lie, with your strength and speed, it would be easy to find Sonic, but I won't force you." Amy added, "Besides you have been asleep for a long time right? I am sure there are a lot of things you want to do now that you are free."

Suddenly, he remembered why he was here. Space Colony ARK, G.U.N., Professor Gerald Robotnik, the Eclipse Cannon, Maria, and the promise he had made to her ... to destroy the world who killed her.

"There is one thing I need to do actually," Shadow looked down to his food, although the food looked pleasant and smell good, he wasn't hungry. "But first I need to go home and to do that I need a Chaos Emerald."

"Oh? I can help you with that! Not to show off but I am great at finding people and things! I believe there even is a Chaos Emerald in the city," Amy said, once again giving him a smile. "I can take you there if you want!"

Shadow thought about it for a second. In all honesty, there was not too much to think about. He was unknown to the place, and the pink one seemed like she could be trusted. Not only that, he wanted to destroy the world but he didn't want to destroy it when the pink one is in it. He could take her to the ARK and keep her there while he finishes his business and to do that he needed to keep her close. If she wanted she could even bring that person she was looking for to keep her company.

"In return of you helping me, I'll help you find that individual you are looking for," Shadow replied. Amy's eyes shone and a beautiful smile decorated her face and once again, Shadow's heart skipped a beat.

"You will help me? Really?"

The pink one stood up from her chair, her hands placed on the dining table. Amy tilted her head and without noticing her ears lowered and her tail wiggled from side to side in an excited manner. The black hedgehog just began to wonder how such a cute hedgehog was able to live in such a rotten planet.

Shadow nodded once again a soft smile placed on his lips. "Yes, I will help you Master."

Amy's let out a small laugh trying to hide a little bit of her embarrassment. "Please, stop calling me Master ... I don't like it."

"How should I refer to you then?"

The moment Shadow heard Amy's soft laugh, he discovered he wanted to hear it again. Maybe if he calls her the way she wants to, he will hear it again.

As if Chaos heard his prayer, Amy smiled and giggled at the black hedgehog satisfying his need to hear her laugh once again.

"Just call me by my name," she said. "Amy Rose."

A/N: I loved writing this! This could even turn out to be a small fanfiction series but we will see about that. Thank you so much for the nice prompt! This really inspired me!!

#shadow and amy #shadamy au #Shadamy #shadowxamy #shadow the hedgehog #amyrose #Amy Rose #shadow x amy #shadow and Amy

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builder051 · 3 years

Text

Run my river dry

A commission fic for Ketturukka. A Captain America Powers/No Powers story.

⚠️WARNING ⚠️ for suicidal thoughts/actions. (Everyone is mostly ok in the end.) Tumblr currently won’t let me do a cut.

——————————————————

Bucky doesn’t say goodbye when Steve leaves. Instead he says, “I’ll be fine.” He doesn’t wait for Steve to ask the question. They’re too deep into the valley of habit for it to matter.

Steve just nods and heads for the door. “Sure you will,” he says, a slight sigh in his voice. Bucky can’t tell if he’s being truthful or a little sarcastic. His ears have gotten bad at telling the difference, but it’s not like it matters. Day in and day out, it’s all the same. Steve goes to work, and Bucky stays home. Maybe eats breakfast, maybe doesn’t. Maybe tosses it back up. Then he goes back to bed and wishes he doesn’t exist.

As soon as Steve closes the door, Bucky lets out the breath he didn’t realize was bated as he held it deep down in his throat. He pulls it in and out for a moment, almost panting, until a wave of lightheadedness passes. It’s stupid, because he’s sitting down, but Bucky hasn’t been feeling well lately. He hasn’t been doing well.

There are meds upstairs, good ones. Bucky knows this because he happened to wake up, sweating and shaking, the night Steve moved them from the bathroom cabinet to the linen closet. He’d intended to go hang his head over the toilet for a minute and see if it made him feel better, but the sight of Steve with a half-dozen pill bottles in his hands had stopped Bucky in his tracks.

Steve had been forced to explain, and Bucky forced to listen. “It’s just to be safe, Buck,” he’d said, showing him the shiny new doorknob and the key he had on a chain around his neck. “And it’s not forever.”

Bucky knows the setup is supposed to be reassuring, to let him know Steve cares about him, and that he cares that Bucky’s safe from himself. He can’t help feeling like a toddler, though, stripped of autonomy and any semblance of self-care.

Steve doesn’t know it, but Bucky fosters a mild obsession with the linen closet and its perpetually locked door. He only lets it show when Steve’s not around, detouring to the downstairs bathroom or borrowing blankets from the back of the sofa just so he’ll have a reason to pass it and try his luck at opening it.

It never budges, of course, for Steve’s diligent about Bucky’s care and upkeep, or maybe that of the house. He parcels out meds at scheduled times, and that’s all. He can occasionally be wheedled into a Tylenol here or there when a headache comes on, but nothing unless Bucky’s symptomatic. He’s good that way. Though from Bucky’s view, it’s more of a negative than a positive.

When Steve’s bike leaves the driveway and buzzes off down the road, Bucky returns his never-filled coffee mug to the cabinet, then pulls his hoodie more tightly around his body. He’s never warm anymore. Not even when under the pile of blankets in the bedroom. It’s as close as he can get, though, so Bucky turns toward the stairs and starts the trudge upward, grasping the railing and dragging his way.

At the top of the steps, Bucky looks to the bathroom, considering whether a detour is worth it. He’s had nothing so far today, so there’s nothing to piss out or vomit up; his churning stomach is just a farce.

Across the short hall is the linen closet, the more enticing option. Bucky blinks at the gleaming silver door handle, takes a slow breath, then crosses to it in two shaky steps.

He tries not to get his hopes up, or at least he wouldn’t if he had any hope in him to force up to the surface and into his chest cavity along with his heavily beating heart. Whether from nerves or some perverse kind of excitement Bucky knows not, but the hammering behind his ribcage gives him something else to focus on at least.

With his eyes locked onto the door handle, Bucky grips the cold metal in his fist and makes an attempt at turning it. It’s lackluster and light, but to his utter shock, that’s all that’s required to make it turn. The door creaks open as Bucky pulls, feeling as guilty as he does eager.

He’s had nary a glance inside the linen cabinet since Steve’s redone it, so the change is somewhat shocking. The upper shelves remain crammed with sheets and towels, but the lower two are now overtaken with rows of pill bottles. Bucky’s surprised to see they have so many medications on hand, and he wonders how they accumulated. Is it normal for a household to have so many drugs?

Bucky sinks to his knees and continues to survey the collection. He realizes only half or so are prescriptions, and that makes him feel a little better. But then again, if Steve doesn’t trust him enough to be around the ibuprofen and Sudafed, what does that say about his current state of mind? Or Steve’s perception of it? An ache of remorseful desire squirms at the bottom of Bucky’s gut, and he reaches toward the grouping of over-the-counters, caressing their lids with one finger.

Most of the bottles have safety lids locked in place, effectively keeping Bucky out. Steve’s gummy vitamins and caffeine supplements have regular screw-off tops, which Bucky supposes he can open with his singular hand, but overdosing on those probably wouldn’t induce anything but an episode of paranoia and vomiting. Bucky scoffs and decides it’s not worth the trouble.

He moves his fingers forward and scans through the rest of the bottles, these glowing orange behind their large typewritten labels. Bucky squints at the text, trying to recall which of the long words is meant to treat which ailment. He can’t, but he does recognize the name of his psychiatrist at the top of each label, representing tiny blows to his sense of self as he taps the locked lids.

He’s broken. With every parceled out dose, Steve tries to fix him. The meds aren’t enough, though. The combination is wrong, or perhaps the dosages are too low. Things aren’t working. Bucky wishes he could take matters into his own hand and just purge himself from his place on this earth.

So why doesn’t he? Bucky runs his knuckles along the fronts of the row of bottles, rattling them slightly until he stops on one at random. He tilts his head as he realizes its lid is slightly askew, the cap set just barely off its threads.

Bucky’s heart begins to pound in his chest, and his palm goes sweaty. He lets out a shaky breath as he pulls the bottle forward out of the row and grasps it around the neck, holding it up so he can examine it properly.

Yes, the cap is definitely presenting a problem. Or, rather, an opportunity. Bucky’s shoulders shudder with anticipatory excitement as he plants the bottle between his knees and inserts his fingernails below the ridge of the cap. He digs in and gives it a hard twist, and, to his utter astonishment, the flat white lid comes off in his hand.

“The…?” Bucky murmurs, his breath stopping any further words short in his throat. His heart flutters with a sudden burst of elation, of happiness, but also with tremendous guilt over what he’s about to do. For that is what he’s about to do, isn’t it? He can’t turn back now, not after he’s gotten this far.

Bucky gulps, tasting bitterness in the back of his throat. Then he shakily raises the bottle of pills to his mouth and tips it back as if he’s taking a shot of whiskey.

Bucky recalls the first time he took a shot, sitting at the bar with Steve at his side. He’d wrinkled his nose and tried not to vomit as he’d swallowed down the stuff, feeling Steve’s slightly sloppy hand patting him hard on the back. There’s no encouragement this time; if Steve saw what he was doing, he’d certainly snatch the bottle away. But Bucky shuts his eyes hard and shoves the memory away, then takes the softly coated pills on his tongue and tries to swallow.

The capsules stick to the inside of Bucky’s dry throat, but he forces them down with a swish of spittle that tastes sour and chemical all at once. Almost immediately he feels his esophagus try to close up, but he clears his throat with a cough and pours more pills down, now emptying more than half the bottle.

A dizzying feeling starts to rise from Bucky’s core. It’s too early for the medication to be taking effect, so it must be something psychosomatic. Something emotional. Bucky’s head spins, and he tips sideways to rest it against the doorframe of the linen closet. It takes a moment for him to get his bearings again, and when he does, a thin sheen of sweat has gathered on his brow. He takes another breath, swallowing the thick saliva that coats the pills threatening to rise back up in his throat, and raises the bottle to his lips again.

It takes three tries to get the entire bottle down, and twice Bucky belches a couple of capsules back up into his mouth. He re-swallows them, though, determined to follow through with his choice. The tremor running through him grows in intensity, and he has to drop to lie on his stomach to keep his arm and legs from giving out.

Once Bucky’s finished the bottle, he continues gulping at the bitter flavor that covers his tongue and throat. It proliferates through his mouth, spreading with the saliva washing over his teeth and down toward his stomach.

Time takes on an odd texture, ebbing and flowing and moving in fits and starts. At first Bucky feels fine, save the tremor that prickles through his skin and the vertigo that plays around his ears.

Then, all of a sudden, a darkness descends upon him. Bucky’s vision drops to a dull blur and a ringing grows in his ears. A feeling of raw sickness creeps from his stomach to his throat, making him gulp down warm bitter wetness.

If this is death, Bucky thinks, it seems slow coming and not much distinguished from nightmarish sessions of illness he’s experienced before. It’s not that ne necessarily thought his erasure from the earth would be an easy experience, but he didn’t think it would be horrific, considering the method he’d chosen for his departure.

A metallic taste grows in between the gumlines behind Bucky’s teeth, and he begins to cringe involuntarily. He feels his eyes roll up in his head, and his head jerks sideways, cricking his neck in painful spasms.

Bucky’s jaw opens in a retch, and foamy saliva forces itself through the gaps in his teeth. An involuntary inhalation brings a choking feeling, and he sputters and vomits down the front of his shirt. The warm wetness feels odd, and he wonders for a moment why it seems to reach down his legs as well. Then he slowly realizes the seizure’s released his bladder muscles as well.

There’s no time for shame, for the world flickers before Bucky’s eyes. Stars dance in the corners of his visual field, threatening to take over everything he sees. Bucky pulls in his breath, feeling strings of mucous drag across the back of his tongue and prepare to choke him once they have their chance. It barely matters now, though. Bucky’s exhausted. He’s ready.

The sound of a door squeaking on its hinges, ten slamming against air pressure interrupts the quiet rhythm of Bucky’s heart beating in his ears. His breath, which has been slowing, catches in his chest and speeds up, grabbing a flicker of moisture that makes him sputter and cough. Unable to turn himself onto his side, Bucky lays there as a tiny spurt of liquid rises from his throat and forces itself between his gently parted lips.

“Hey, Buck?” Steve’s voice calls.

Bucky wonders if he’s hallucinating. That would make the most sense. The pills, whatever he took, might initiate a high before they kill him. They might make him hear voices, see things. Bucky opens his eyes and blinks a few times, just in case there are some visual illusions he’s missing. He only sees the ceiling, though, partially obscured in blotchy patches of yellow and lavender aura.

“St…?” Bucky manages to cough out. It’s not loud enough to be heard, but the voice downstairs continues in an inexact reply.

“I forgot my coffee, didn’t pack any lunch. And I was kinda, um, worried about you…”

Come upstairs, Bucky thinks. Or, really, don’t come upstairs. Just go…

“Buck?” Steve’s boots move through the entryway and into the kitchen. “Did you go up to bed?”

Bucky’s heart beats hard and slow, a sure sign that he’s losing his strength. He shuts his eyes hard. What if he dies, right now? What if Steve doesn’t get to him on time? Would that be the perfect ending, or the worst? Bucky doesn’t know. And he’s about to run out of time.

“Bucky?” Steve’s heavy footsteps move up toward the stairs.

Bucky bites his lip, tasting the chemical vomit and now a little blood. He prepares for hands on him. His body goes hot, then cold, cold as death, cold as the morgue itself…

“Buck, oh my god.” Steve’s knees hit the ground hard enough to shake the entire house. He plants both hands on Bucky’s chest and starts compressions, tilting his ear toward Bucky’s face to listen for a trace of breath.

Bucky stays still. Not necessarily because he wants to, but because paralysis seems to come upon him, forcing his breath to catch in his throat and his fluttering eyelids to squeeze shut.

Steve continues to move his hands up and down on Bucky’s ribcage, until, all of a sudden, a wash of vomit comes up, thick with not only foam, but also with pill casings and yellow bile. Steve scoops Bucky’s floppy form onto his side, arranging his knees into a recovery position so he won’t fall to his back again.

“Ok, ok, get it up,” Steve murmurs frantically. He percusses Bucky hard between the shoulder blades, forcing more of the frothy vomit up and onto the floor.

“Steve—“ Bucky sputters, reaching for Steve’s sleeve and clinging on. For dear life, he thinks. Is that what he wants?

“Yeah, I’m here.” Steve wraps his arms around Bucky, holding him tightly to his chest, paying no mind to the mess coating his clothing and the floor. “I’ll always be here.”

Bucky rests his chin on Steve’s shoulder, the tremor running through his body again. He’s grateful for Steve to hold him tightly together, lest he ooze out all over his lap.

Steve’s arm shifts, and Bucky sees him pick up the pill bottle from where it’s landed on the floor. He grabs it and squints at the label, then lets out a breath and presses his lips together.

“This is what you took?” Steve asks, his voice devoid of tone. “Is that all?”

Bucky stays silent.

“Buck?”

Tears fill Bucky’s eyes, and he isn’t sure what to say. He needs to tell the truth, of course. But won’t Steve hate him? Won’t he be upset?

“Buck, you have to tell me. So I can help you.”

Help him. Steve wants to help him. Bucky needs help. But does he want it? He isn’t sure. Now’s not the time to decide, though, for there isn’t much of it left.

“Just nod or shake your head, Buck. That’s all you have to do,” Steve says. “I won’t be mad at you, I promise.”

Bucky sobs, and a mouthful of foamy vomit slips from between his lips. Then he slowly moves his head up and down.

“Ok.” Steve pauses for a second. “Ok. We need to go to the hospital.”

Bucky lets out an involuntary high-pitched moan as his eyes flood with fresh tears. He shakes his head so hard it makes him dizzy, the hallucinatory lights and colors dancing around the edges of his visual field.

“We have to,” Steve repeats. “I think you got a lot of it up, but we can’t take any chances.” He looks Bucky up and down. “You’ve gotten really slim lately. I don’t know what max dose you can tolerate before there’s permanent damage. This could stop your heart, Buck, I—“ Steve breaks off, tears filling his eyes as well.

“I don’t wanna go…” Bucky drops his forehead to Steve’s chest, long strings of sour drool dripping from the corners of his mouth into Steve’s lap.

“I’ll try not to let them keep you,” Steve promises. “It’s a… a… poison control problem. You have night terrors and sleepwalk. It’s true enough…” Steve looks at Bucky, as if to test whether the story seems believable.

Bucky has no idea. His head aches, and nausea still crashes in waves against the insides of his body. Only half of what Steve says seems to penetrate the feelings of illness and make it to his brain, which, in turn, seems to be only half in tune with what’s going on around him.

“Do you think you can move?” Steve asks. “We kind of need to go.”

“I…” Bucky swallows the desire to be sick again. “Go now?”

“Yeah, Buck. “ Steve rises to his knees and pulls Bucky up along with him. “I want you to be ok. I need you to be ok.”

“Are…you ok?”

“Buck—That’s—“ Steve shakes his head, then presses his lips together. “No,” he finally says. “And neither are you. But we’re going to work on that. And the first step is to have you come with me. Right now.”

Bucky hesitates. He barely has control over his body, but he can at least maintain some autonomy around his words.

“Unless you want me to call an ambulance?” Steve gives Bucky a hard look, but Bucky sees his lower lip trembling. He sees how hard this must be for him, to come home to see Bucky practically dying in the hallway.

Bucky shakes his head a fraction of an inch to each side, the movement making him sick as well as sad.

Steve sets his jaw, then wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist and drags him to his feet. “We’re going now, ok? We can probably make it as fast as a squad…” His eyes look hopeful. Almost wistful.

He doesn’t know if Steve is stating a fact or gearing himself up for a challenge, but either way, the sick guilt bubbling up in Bucky’s chest presses against the back of his tongue, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from sicking up all over Steve. He lowers his head and forces out a sound that may or may not seal his fate.

“Ok.” Steve nods. He cups Bucky’s cheek and uses his thumb to wipe at a wayward tear. “Come on.”

They slowly move toward the stairs, ignoring the mess in front of the linen closet. Steve doesn’t even bother to close it; Bucky supposes he’ll deal with it later. That they’ll deal with it later. For certainly now they’re in this mess together, and they’ll swim their way out of it together as well.

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bunnimew · 4 years

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A Friend

Rating: T Fandom: Rise of the Guardians Characters: Jack Frost, Pitch Black Tags: Space AU, Horror, I did the spoopy!!!, Ambiguous/Open Ending Summary: For RotG Halloween 2020: Day 10 @rotg-halloween

Alone in space, Jack waits.

On AO3 here.

It was dark.

It was always dark, out here.

It had been more than a week since the station was attacked, and Jack couldn’t know if anyone had received their distress calls, or his own, since.

It had been an act of desperation to crawl into this capsule. An act of instinct to initiate launch. The station was being torn to pieces by some unknown… thing, tendrils of deep black crawling along the walls and creeping into the crevices only to rip away whole chunks of the technology and machinery that kept them all alive.

Jack had no idea what became of his friends. If they had been on a deck that was destroyed before they could leave it. If they had been running for a capsule like this one only to find all of them gone. If they had made it to a capsule, and were just floating out in space like he was: alone, anxious, a little crazy.

The capsules didn’t have rear viewports. Being in one now, Jack considered that a huge oversight. The first several hours after launch, Jack had desperately wanted to know what was happening behind him. He had pressed himself to every window he had, trying to see past the end of his little boat, but the angles were all wrong and Jack had no idea, then or now, whether the station was even still in one piece.

Jack felt a small stirring of hunger and slipped the last of a stick of jerky into his mouth. The capsule had rations enough to keep him alive for at least a month, and Jack was doing his best to stretch them even further. The generator hummed constantly, filtering his air and waiting for commands, but Jack had nothing to ask of it.

The noise had been so annoying at first, before Jack got used to it. The beeps of life supporting machines used to be so loud, but now all Jack heard was the silence.

He floated in the middle of his capsule, drifting aimlessly in time with his tiny world around him so as to seem like he wasn’t moving at all. The stars were so distant, they didn’t look to be moving at all, and their light… it barely reached him here.

Jack left the capsule barely illuminated to preserve power. If he focused on a window and ignored the sharp shine of the barest of light reflecting off mechanical corners, he could almost imagine the capsule wasn’t even there.

That it was just him.

Alone in space.

Except for the whispers.

When the hums and the beeps and the whirrs faded out, when the silence was total and all encompassing, when Jack was almost sure this was just a dream and he was already gone, there would come a slip of sound.

It took a long time for Jack to come to accept that he wasn’t hallucinating. Time didn’t mean anything anymore, and without the onboard clock, Jack wouldn’t know what day it was. He slept when he was tired, or when he was tired of being, and woke to more dark, endless dark, so the idea that he might be making things up just to be less alone was incredibly reasonable, all things considered.

But he wasn’t.

It always started so quiet, barely discernible from the rest of the white noise. It took forever, or it took Jack really trying to hear it, but they would get louder. Silk on a mattress, water on a slide, there would be the slightest rustle, then a rush, then, eventually… a voice.

To say Jack flipped his shit the first time he heard it would be an understatement, and Jack still wasn’t completely comfortable with it now. Where could he run, though? A day spent pressed against the walls of his capsule, eyeing every corner and window, waiting for an attack that never came was enough to drain every self-preservation instinct right out of him.

He could only spend so long on edge before the edge crumbled beneath him.

If he was found, he was found. If he died, he died. If it was starvation, or cold, or asphyxiation, or his stowaway… It hardly mattered.

But Jack wasn’t alone.

It was easy to dismiss as a trick of the eye, but once he came to terms with the idea that his ears weren’t lying to him, next was to believe what he was seeing. The darkness moved.

It wasn’t like on the station, though. It didn’t creep and spread and invade and destroy, it just… settled. In the darkest corners of Jack’s tiny world, shadows shivered and tucked themselves into an endless pitch too black for his eyes to accept. He looked away from them, because watching just made him feel crazy, or like his eyes weren’t working properly, and after days spent in this cold, quiet, darkness… It was just…

Well, it didn’t matter, anyway.

So Jack floated, still as death, in the center of his dim capsule, waiting for whatever tomorrow would bring.

Something touched him.

Jack gasped and jerked his leg away so fast the muscle in his thigh cramped. He clamped his hand down on it, trying to ease the pain away, even as his attention darted around to every wall, every machine, every little light in his tiny little world.

Of course he didn’t see anything. Of course he didn’t hear anything. But if he had seen something, and was hearing something, then the next step, obviously, was to feel something, wasn’t it?

Jack almost laughed at the inevitability of it all, but the pain in his leg was still too keen and his lungs didn’t have the air. His stowaway was getting bold and that just meant his time was running out, didn’t it?

Nice to know he was still alive, kind of. He hadn’t lost all of himself to the darkness if his reflexes still worked, but in Jack’s head he knew they were futile. It might have been more merciful if he could have been out of his mind for this. Being completely aware as he faded to nothing didn’t sound like the kind of end he wanted for himself.

Jack stretched his leg out as the cramp loosened and swore to himself that he wouldn’t jump like that again. If he was going to die, it would be with courage in his heart, not flinching away like cowering could somehow stop this.

Jack stared out of the viewport ahead of him, at the stars, at the dark, at the sheer size of space, and wasn’t surprised when something touched his ankle again.

It slid all the way around, and Jack shivered at the light, silky, nothing feel of it. He could sense the goosebumps rising in waves on his skin, up his shin, over his knee, across his thigh, all the way down his arms. His shoulders tensed, his back tensed, he clenched his hands to keep still because whatever this was, it would not get to hear him scream.

The thing inched higher, and Jack shivered again. His spine was locked in a straight line and Jack’s teeth pressed together, jaw clenched shut against his instincts. He could feel the cold of it through the insulated fabric of his suit, poking, prodding, gripping him as it pulled itself higher and higher on Jack’s body.

By the time it reached his waist, Jack was properly scared. He could still feel it wrapped around his feet, but now it was clamping down on his hips, which meant it was so much bigger than Jack had thought it could be. How something this big had been hiding for days in the tiny corners of his capsule, Jack didn’t know. It was alien, foreign, Jack didn’t know anything about it, except that it would kill him, and nobody was ever going to know.

He refused to look. He wanted his last sight to be the stars, as cold and distant as they’ve ever been. He dragged stale air in through his nose and tried not to think about just how hard he was breathing, whether the air filters would be able to keep up, whether he was going to pass out and be blissfully unconscious for whatever happened next.

Barely there ribbons of ice laced around Jack’s chest and it hurt to breathe. He gasped, then bit down on his own tongue to keep everything else inside. The darkness was all around him, strapped to his legs, tied around his arms, tightening against his torso and Jack wondered if the capsule had always been this dark or if he was already beginning to lose himself.

The universe had never been this silent.

Whatever sounds the technology of the capsule used to make, Jack couldn’t hear them. Everything was too far away, no longer a part of his world, the sound unable to travel through space to reach him. Jack heard the soft whisper of his own breath leaving his lips, and then everything was still.

Jack hadn’t heard real wind in a very long time, but this was like that.

Hello.

He didn’t jump. His body was so tense, so tight, that there wasn’t any fluidity left for jumping. Jack held his breath, and waited.

But nothing came.

Jack was startled to realize he could hear the beeping of life support systems again. The air rushed out of his lungs in one huge, surprised breath. He was still breathing. Why was he still breathing? Suddenly the aching of his clenched hands broke through the dulled senses of his fear, and Jack stretched his fingers out, instinctively trying to relieve it.

And then he froze, because as soon as his hands were open, the chill rushed in. Soft nothingness pressed into his palms and threaded between his fingers and held.

Jack waited.

Nothing came.

Jack stared out at space and wondered what the fuck was going on.

The voice had said hello. It had never said anything before, but now it said hello.

Jack sucked in a breath, hoped this wouldn’t be the last word he ever said, and whispered, “Hi?”

The thing wiggled against his skin and Jack shuddered at the feeling of it. Was it happy? Or agitated? Would Jack die before he knew?

You’re warm.

It took Jack several seconds to realize his jaw had dropped. He quickly shut it, lest the darkness press in like it had with his hands. “You’re… cold.” He felt stupid saying it, but higher thought wasn’t available to him right now, and he had to say something, because he needed to hear what it would say back.

I know.

Jack blinked, surprised and shocked at this turn of events. What was he… supposed to do now? He wanted to ask if it was going to kill him, but somehow that felt like giving it ideas, so Jack asked the next thought on his mind. “What are you?”

Ice wrapped more firmly around him, and Jack swallowed thickly to hold back his fear.

A friend.

Jack stared. At the darkness. At the vacuum. At the nothing and nobody around him.

He was lost in space, running out of power, running out of food, running out of air, running out of time.

No one could hear him. No one could see him. No one even knew he was there.

Except this shadow.

Jack relaxed into its hold, accepting the inevitability of its company. It wasn’t like Jack could get away. It didn’t seem to want to kill him, for now.

So Jack drifted, still as death, in the center of his own tiny world.

Wanting nothing, awaiting everything.

And the darkness was his friend.

#thebunni #rotghalloween2020 #jack frost #pitch black #rise of the guardians #SPACE AU

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 4 years

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Michael After Midnight: Heavy Metal

Sometimes it’s fun to revisit old movies you watched when you were younger and find out, hey, this is better than you remembered! Sometimes your young mind just wasn’t ready to accept how awesome something was, and you needed time to fully understand what you look for and like about cinema to truly appreciate it. But then, sometimes, you watch something you liked when you were younger, and you realize… wow, this is absolute dog shit!

Such is the case with Heavy Metal. This is a movie I have frequently cited as a low-ranking entry on lists of the finest animated films of all time, and to be entirely fair to the film, it is important in a historical sense, being a cult classic that was passed around through bootlegs because music rights kept it from getting a home video release, and it came out around the dawn of the 80s and kind of destroyed what you would think an animated film was capable of. This film is full of sex, drugs, and rock and roll, and it entirely, unabashedly unashamed of this, for better or for worse.

Now, while I do think the overall film is a bit lacking, it is an anthology film divided into segments, and there are some pretty good ones I will make note of; this is not a film with absolutely no merit. But before that, let me point out the one thing everyone can agree is amazing about this film: the soundtrack. You’ve got Black Sabbath, Blue Oyster Cult, Stevie Nicks, Devo, Cheap Trick… if nothing else, the kickass soundtrack is worth a listen, though Blue Oyster Cult’s song inclusion irritates me to a great degree. The movie went with “Veteran of the Psychic Wars” for the soundtrack, despite the fact Blue Oyster Cult had a song ready to go that is literally about the final entry in the anthology, called “Vengeance (The Pact).” Why the people compiling the soundtrack made this choice baffles me; it reminds me of how they didn’t use “Jennifer’s Body” in, well, Jennifer’s Body, instead opting for a different Hole song from the same album.

But I digress. Let’s go one by one and touch on the segments:

The framing device is about an entity known as the Loc-Nar, who claims to be the sum of all evil, detailing to a little girl how it has influenced chaos and carnage across time and space. The thing is, though, the Loc-Nar doesn’t come out on top in any of the segments, and its schemes are often thwarted. So the entire movie is basically this supreme evil being detailing to a little girl how much it sucks ass at its one job.

The first segment is Harry Canyon, a story about the eponymous futuristic New York taxi driver. In some regards it reminds me of The Fifth Element, what with a scruffy, slummy, futuristic taxi driver trying to help a smoking hot babe find out the truth and all, but unlike that film, this short is a lot bleaker and gritty. You kinda know what you’re in for when Harry vaporizes a dude who tries to mug him, and if that’s not enough, the female lead of this short literally throws herslef at him, and yes, he gets to take a dive into her Harry Canyon – and you get to see it.

This is a running theme throughout these shorts – almost every female character has huge titties and is sexually promiscuous, throwing themselves at the first penis they see as if it was their job. It’s so incredibly juvenile and tacky as to be laughable, but I guess this comes with the territory considering the magazine this film adapted.

Anyway, the segment is harmless and unremarkable. It’s exactly what you’d expect from this sort of story, without much in the way of twists or turns.

The second segment, Den, is arguably the best segment in the entire film. We have a nerdy kid named Dan who gets transported across space and becomes the musclebound warrior with a huge cock known as Den. Every woman throws herself at him, every villain in his way gets pummeled, and no task is too impossible for this man! And did I mention that he is voiced by John Candy? Really, Candy’s comedic touch is what makes this entire thing feel fun and palatable; it’s a cheesy swords and sorcery romp through and through. Honestly, I don’t have much bad to say about this one, it’s just very silly fun.

Unfortunately we are back to being not great with Captain Sternn. Sternn, played by Eugene Levy (of The Wacky World of Mini Golf fame), is basically an intergalactic war criminal on trial, and when his paid witness Hanover Fiste (played by Rodger “Squidward Tentacles” Bumpass) comes up to the stand, the Loc-Nar influences him to the most evil act possible… betraying this war criminal in front of the judge and jury! GASP! I’m not sure what the Loc-Nar is really trying to do here; you’d think it would maybe want Sternn free to continue spreading wicked influence across the galaxy, but nah, it just makes Squidward hulk out and tries to kill him, only for the tables to be turned and Squidward to be dropped out an airlock, further cementing how utterly useless the Loc-Nar is.

Thankfully, once that’s over, we have yet another very strong segment, another contender for best in show: B-17. This is a genuinely creepy zombie short film, and the zombies are utterly horrifying and grotesque. This is regarded as the most nightmarish part of the film, and for good reason; this shit is certainly worthy of being called “heavy metal.” Honestly, there isn’t much bad to say about this one either, except perhaps that it is over far too soon.

Then we get to what is probably the worst segment: So Beautiful, So Dangerous. The entire segment is sort of meant to be a lighthearted comedic breather between The last segment and the final one, but it just comes off as combining every problem the movie has into one segment: the uselessness of the Loc-Nar, copious and ridiculous sex, drugs, and so on. Really all that’s missing from this is gratuitous violence, but hey, guess you can’t have everything all the time, right? It just comes off as really dull and pointless, and there’s not really anything particularly funny about anything that happens in it, unless of course you’re a thirteen year old who thinks “big boob woman having sex with robot while aliens snort cocaine” is the funniest shit on Earth.

Thankfully, we end on a strong note with Taarna, which is about a proud warrior woman dressed in horrifically impractical armor (and this actually effects the plot, I’m not kidding, somehow there was some self-awareness here) and a cool alien pteradactly flying off to fulfill a vengeful pact after the slaughter of a peaceful race by barbarians mutated by the Loc-Nar, in what may be the Loc-Nar’s sole impressive feat. Taarna is the ultimate hero, giving us the trifecta of qualities a heroine in this movie should have – boobs, butt, and bush... Er, I mean, sword, cool mount, and ass-kicking prowess. This one is not quite as good as “Den” or “B-17,” but I still think it’s a solid finale that has enough action and awesome music to make up for its tackier elements.

The movie ends with Taarna’s defeat of the Loc-Nar echoing through time and killing it which… makes absolutely zero sense, but whatever, the Loc-Nar is an absolutely atrocious villain and perhaps one of the most useless in cinematic history, he gets a 1/10 on Psycho Analysis. Then the girl gets her own kickass space dragon thing and becoming the new Taarna or something and, honestly, it’s the exact sort of batshit ending you should expect from the film.

So, is this really an awful film? In some places, no. It’s a love letter to cheesy, trashy sci-fi fantasy from the 70s, with all that comes with it, and in that regard it does succeed. But still, a lot of the film feels like the utterly juvenile fantasies of same sad high schooler, or perhaps even middle schooler, who has never had and who likely never will have sex. It’s a tashy little time capsule to a bygone era where this sort of storytelling was okay so long as there was enough blood and titties on display, so if that appeals to you, by all means, check this film out. It’s certainly not the worst thing in the world to watch, but animation has come so far and adult animation in particular is capable of so much more than adolescent masturbatory fantasies that this film has little value beyond a few solid segments and a damn good soundtrack.

Hell, just go listen to the soundtrack. I think you’d have a better time doing that.

#Michael After Midnight #Review #Movie review #Heavy Metal #animation #animated movie #sex drugs and rock and roll

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