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okay-j-hannah · 3 years

Text

Part 1: The Sun God

Doctor Who : Multishot

Tenth Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 6756

Warnings: There are descriptions of burns and burn victims. Also some talk of drug addiction

Request: This is just from my own head 😊

A/N: One step closer to understanding what’s ailing the reader... meanwhile *lovestruck sigh* the bickering and flirting between the reader and the Doctor is ✨giving me life✨

Prologue: The Dying Girl

Part 1: The Sun God {You Are Here}

Part 2: The Tonic

Part 3: The Ending Song

Life with the Doctor went by in a blur of rescued planets, saved species, and TARDIS accidents. The hospital visit planned so many months ago was long forgotten.

(Y/N) and the Doctor were simply swept away with adventure after adventure. After partaking the famed gouda of the moon and dancing the night away in the Blankar System, their companionship became less of a requirement and more of a favorite pastime.

There was still the looming mystery of (Y/N)’s alien tainted particle trail and the Reapers around every corner. But the pair of them found themselves rather enjoying spending their time exploring rather than hunting.

And the longer she spent on the TARDIS, the harder it became accepting she should go home at some point. It had been months. Months: and thoughts of her fiancé were knocking at the door in the back of her mind.

“This way!” The Doctor grabbed her hand and started to run. They were always running.

Though this time she was feeling a bit winded.

“You shouldn’t have pointed out their sham,” she laughed, disregarding the angry human mob behind them.

“Well, they shouldn’t have tried to scam the money off of you. The way they were groveling you, trying to pick your pocket – honestly.”

She gave him a silent look of admiration and scolded herself. “Could you have parked the TARDIS any farther!” There was a burning tickling her lungs – she didn’t normally get this fatigued so quickly.

The Doctor scoffed, gripping her hand tighter and spotting their blue box ahead, “Running’s good for the heart, (Y/N). And what with you only having one of those, I’ve got to keep your cardiovascular system in shape.”

They slammed into the TARDIS doors. Locked.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” (Y/N) said, leaning into the box heavily, “Shouldn’t it open at your command?”

“Oh hush,” he snipped, “Extra precautions aren’t a crime.”

The mob scrambled closer, finding them stationary at the end of the street. (Y/N) nudged the Doctor’s elbow, “If they aren’t a crime then why is our punishment on its way?” The Doctor fiddled with his silver key.

“Don’t rush me.”

“We don’t exactly have the time, Doctor.”

“You’re less fun when you’re grumpy.”

“I’ll be grumpier if we’re on the end of those pitchforks!”

The doors swung open as the mob roared. (Y/N) and the Doctor entered and felt as the humans pounded against the police box outside. Their torches could be seen ablaze through the window.

The Doctor didn’t hesitate to jump to the controls and put the TARDIS in an orbit while (Y/N) tried to catch her breath.

Her lungs were still burning, a stitch in her side. It felt like there was a pulse entering her brain, so loud it drowned anything else out. She didn’t feel good. Really didn’t feel good.

“That was a close one.”

She laughed, though her face pinched into a wince, “No thanks to you.”

“Like I said, if only they had kept their grubby hands off of you… (Y/N)?”

She was holding her head with both her hands, her face going slack. Her knees shook as she felt a comforting pressure on both her shoulders, “I feel a bit faint.”

It was the Doctor holding her steady, “You look it. What happened?” And as her knees buckled, he caught her smoothly, wrapping his arms around her. “Woah, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Did something hit you?”

(Y/N) sighed, her head reeling – she couldn’t open her eyes; the light was so bright now. “I – I don’t know. I don’t think so. We just started running and I couldn’t breathe.”

The Doctor looked at her with bewilderment, but with her eyes closed, he snuck some fear into the gaze. “Well, up you get. Lets get you to your room.” With his arm slung around her, they sloppily made it to the ladder lowered beneath the grates.

“I’m finding the lack of stairs here very inconvenient,” she joked, practically falling into the Doctor’s arms at the bottom of the ladder.

He smiled though his brow was tense, “I’ll keep that in mind when I do renovations.”

(Y/N) was dragging her feet by the time they entered her bedroom. It was quite a bit different since she first moved in. After a few shopping trips and cleaning sprees, it was positively habitable. At least that’s what the Doctor called it.

He gently laid her on the bed and went to pull off her sneakers, “I’ll get you some water. Maybe you’re just coming down with something.”

“I never get sick, remember.” She had a hand over her eyes.

The Doctor pulled the sheets to her chin and gave such an intense look of concern he knew she’d make fun of him if she saw. But that was always the Doctor’s way. He waited for when she wasn’t looking.

“You also are adjusting to a new lifestyle,” he muttered, noticing the TARDIS lowering the brightness of the lights. “Maybe you’ve finally hit a wall.” When he turned to give her time to rest, she raised her voice.

“Don’t go,” she called, regretting how it made her head pound, “I hate it when you leave me alone. I know you’re off having more fun without me.”

He grinned, a feeling of elation and triumph centering in his chest. He scolded himself.

“I know you’re not used to the sickbed, but usually this is when the ill rest.”

“I thought we just agreed I’m not ill.”

“You are fatigued.”

“And see how you didn’t use the word ill?”

He sighed out that easy smile that came whenever she bickered with him. He ran a hand over his face and returned to her bedside, “You’re growing as stubborn as me.”

“You know I fall asleep faster when you tell me stories.”

“Oh, great. Thanks,” he laughed, choosing one of the comfy reading chairs (Y/N) furnished her room with – he pulled it closer to the bed.

She smirked, settling into the covers, “You know what I mean. They’re not boring… they’re soothing.”

“You just like hearing me talk,” he cheekily intertwined his fingers before him, “Besides, I shouldn’t be disturbing your rest.”

“Then why have you pulled up a chair?”

He observed that her eyes were still closed, though her brow was no longer pinched in pain. “Maybe I’m just making sure you don’t sneak out of bed before you’re properly feeling better.”

“Nah – you’re just in denial.”

The Doctor felt his joints freeze into place. It took a few moments for him to ensure his voice was steady, “Denial?”

She fisted the sheets and tucked them under her chin, it was ridiculously adorable. “You won’t admit we’ve become friends despite our agreement when we first met. You care about me more than just someone who has a mystery about them.”

Did she think because she had a ring on her finger she could toy with him like this?

“I thought I didn’t need to say it aloud, (Y/N).” He stared at her serene face, propping an elbow on the armrest of the chair. He put a finger to his chin, “Did you believe I didn’t think that?”

“Oh, I knew you cared from the moment Jack offered to take me dancing.” If her head weren’t about to explode, she might have burst into a round of giggles.

The Doctor held back a frustrated groan at the memory, “I was only looking out for you – Jack can be…”

“A catch?”

He paused, staring at her with more longing than he ever allowed himself, “A dog.”

She grinned but winced. Almost instinctually the Doctor leaned over from his seat and rested an arm on the mattress.

“You okay?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath, attempting to relax her face. “Tell me about Shakespeare again. Did he really have a full head of hair?”

The Doctor made sure her eyes were still closed as he lightly grazed a few fingers along her hairline, “He also was a terrible flirt.” He pushed the strands of hair away from her face.

“Bet Martha didn’t mind.”

“She said he had bad breath.”

“Then tell me about the mannequins – that one always gives me the creeps.” She felt her heart stutter as he continued to lean against her mattress. “Or maybe the TVs that sucked your faces off!”

He hummed, a deep sound from his chest, “Those stories won’t help you sleep.”

There was a moment of silence as (Y/N) simply took in the calming presence of him. One of the first things the Doctor promised her upon meeting was that he would keep her safe. And she felt it. She was safe with him.

“Tell me about the orange sky then.”

His chest ached. He knew exactly what she was asking for.

“The silver trees and the red grass,” she muttered, snuggling into her pillow, “Remind me how many times you failed your school exams.”

The Doctor chuckled, that ache threading up and making his throat dry, “All right.” He couldn’t help himself; he moved a hand and cupped her cheek. The same one he held when she woke from her coma.

~~~

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

The usual comfort of her favorite watch wasn’t coming to her this time. She was staring intently at her engagement ring. Pulled off her finger and held to the light, it glittered mockingly.

Months, she reminded herself, months she had been away from home. Didn’t she care about how Andy was doing at all?

Of course she did.

But did she care enough to run home to him and plan that wedding and live the rest of her life as a primary school teacher married to a nurse?

Apparently not.

But why was that? As she stared at the ring, she didn’t feel what she ought to have been. She should feel as though she were engaged to the man of her dreams, anxious and excited to be married. The thought of him should give her butterflies. The sound of his voice should make her heart skip.

Why wasn’t she feeling that anymore?

The Doctor.

No, it couldn’t be. She was losing those feelings long before the Doctor pulled her from her classroom.

Great – now her thoughts were settling on the Doctor. That brown eyed beauty. Did he know how conflicted he was making her feel? The wonderful bastard.

She peered at the engagement ring for a while longer, wondering how she was going to tell Andrew that she was having second thoughts. That there was a reason she was so willing to abandon her earth life and run away with an alien man in a time machine.

She wasn’t in love with him anymore.

A sudden flash of memory fought for room in her head: the Doctor brushing her hair away, gently tucking her in and whispering the story of his home planet. Of Gallifrey beneath the burnt orange sky.

She shook her head. If she were to make a bulleted list of things to know about the Doctor, it would start with:

1. Stay near him; he’ll know what to do

2. He will keep you safe

3. He is incredibly and impossibly alone

4. He cannot share a life with someone he could lose

No, that’s not quite right. The Doctor cannot allow himself to share a life. Every time he does he gets hurt. Hundreds of years of hurt that she couldn’t possibly understand. He told her in strict confidence about some of his old friends he’d lost.

She couldn’t insinuate, couldn’t encourage, being anything more than friends and companions.

She could handle suppressed feelings when the Doctor had been suffering for the majority of his long life.

Besides – she was an engaged woman.

A sudden bout of boredom overcame her. A sensation so powerful and unexpected that she hopped off the bed and began to pace her room. It reminded her dolefully of the Doctor. He was always on his toes, brimmed with impatience and boredom, looking for the next adventure without any proper sleep. Perhaps she was becoming more like him.

She felt immensely better after her fatigue spell. She might as well go find him on the main level.

And there he was tinkering with some wires at the console. “Good morning.”

He grinned, seeking her face immediately, “Hello!” A spark of the wires and a yelp from his lips made her laugh.

“Lets go out.”

The Doctor sucked a burnt finger, but stared at her with a furrowed brow, “You what?”

“I’m bored!”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised, “How are you feeling?” He came around the console and approached her sulking figure. “Does your head still hurt?”

She smacked away his hands, “I feel fine. I feel bored. Can we go somewhere exciting?”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m not fainting, am I?”

“You could be lying.”

“Since when have you refused to go exploring with me?”

“Since you’ve taken ill and, as your physician, I can’t condone behavior that could make you more ill.”

She put her hands on her hips, “I am not ill!”

His cheeky grin grew, “(Y/N) …”

“Fine!” She threw her hands in the air and made her way towards the innumerable buttons and levers. “I’ll find a place myself.” She started typing on the keypad and twisting a few knobs – the TARDIS immediately responded with a plume of steam and a flurry of flashing lights.

“Woah now!” The Doctor flew over, turning a few things and setting the ship right, “There’s no need to spring a mutiny.” He rounded on her, less kindness in his tone than he’d shown her the past night. But the pleading look on her face had his lungs constricting.

“Please.”

He pondered her expression for a few moments, eyes flickering about her figure to ensure she wasn’t swaying on her feet. As he usually did, he went to stare at the ring on her finger. A painful ritual he caught himself doing regularly.

But the ring wasn’t there.

What had she done?

“All right.” Perhaps she needed to get out of the ship for a while. “I’ve got a planet in mind you’ll find interesting. I haven’t visited in a long time.” He set the course and pulled the lever to start the engines.

(Y/N) beamed, wrapping her arms around his middle from behind. He stiffened. She didn’t notice.

“Thank you, Doctor.” She went to brace herself against the railing and the Doctor cleared his throat.

“It’s called Axiless the First. As you can imagine, the planet is axis – less. It doesn’t spin like many planets do in solar systems. It doesn’t move near as fast because it’s so stationary. That means the day and night cycles last about six months. And the magnetic field that’s usually created from planetary motion, doesn’t exist so there’s no field shielding the planet from UV rays. They have to use sun shields just to go outside!”

The TARDIS bumped to a stop and the Doctor pulled out some shades from a compartment in the center console, “It’s a small colony of people as they do have to live on mid-latitude areas, but it’s fascinating seeing a motionless planet. Imagine if the Earth stopped moving – your oceans would flood the continents.”

He tossed a pair of sunglasses her way. She slid them on with ease, “How do I look?”

It surprised him the amount of heat that crept up his neck. “Uh, f-fine. Suits you.”

She punched his arm playfully, “Come on then.” She bounced towards the doors and missed how the Doctor moved his hand to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. He pinched himself.

The doors opened and a gust of hot air swarmed the ship.

The planet looked desolate, a desert of sand and rock. A few bare shrubs were scattered amongst the yellowed stones. There were even a few trees, though their branches were needlelike, and they provided little to no shade.

Sunlight was bathing everything in a harsh glow, it almost looked like waves were radiating off the sand. (Y/N) was slightly afraid to step on it for fear of burning the soles of her shoes. She had her sunglasses on, but she couldn’t help but shade her face with her hands.

“Bit hot, isn’t it?”

The Doctor stood beside her, blowing out his cheeks, “Must’ve landed in the middle of a day cycle. There was a fifty-fifty chance of hitting day or night. These glasses can be used in either cycle – day they’re sunglasses, night they’re night vision goggles.” He groaned, slipping out of his coat and throwing it into the TARDIS, “It’s hotter than I remember it being.”

“You don’t have a Hawaiian shirt in there somewhere?” (Y/N) laughed, stumbling as her feet shifted in the sand. “Surely you wear something more than those two suits.”

“I’ve got a dozen dress shirts and ties.” He started rolling up his sleeves, squinting despite having shades on. “Don’t you go bickering on about my outfits. Why is it hotter than before? The planet moves around their suns so it’s not like the sun has gotten closer and raised the temperature. Like I said before, it’s meant to be warmer than usual, the planet doesn’t spin. They have to keep the sun shields up to keep the harmful ultraviolet rays at bay, otherwise everyone here would burn.”

He started paving the way towards a sand dune; (Y/N) followed closely, feeling her feet heat up with how hot the ground was. “Are you telling me we’ve stumbled upon another doomed planet? What are the odds?”

She laughed but the Doctor ignored her. “The only way the planet could be heating up is if the UV rays have reached the surface. Like a microwave the sun is cooking the planet. Which means there’s nothing stopping the sun. Which means…” he put a hand through his hair, “The sun shields aren’t up and working.”

(Y/N) faltered, stopping at the top of the dune and catching her breath, “I don’t fancy being roasted alive, Doctor.” Below them was a small village, one made of glass and metal. “Do you suppose they know they’re living on a microwave?”

The Doctor wiped the growing sweat on his forehead. “Let’s go find out.”

The colony was little but were awed and welcoming at the presence of (Y/N) and the Doctor. It was impossible, in their eyes, for visitors to want to see their scorching planet. They were directed towards the people in charge, a race of humanoid beings; their eyes were a startling purple, and they had no hair. Intricate and beautiful floral patterns painted their skin and bald heads.

The smartly built huts were just as humid and stuffy on the inside as it was out in the sand. But they were grateful for the shade.

“I’m the Doctor and this is (Y/N),” the Doctor introduced, removing his shades, “We’ve come for a visit and couldn’t help but notice you’re… well, roasting.”

One of the humanoid aliens bowed, “You are correct. Our suns are infiltrating the shields. We’ve been suffering in this heat, unable to do anything.”

“What’s your name?” The Doctor asked, making his way towards a compartment of computers and scientific equipment.

The humanoid appeared to trust him near the technology. “I am Peony. This is my companion, Iris.”

“Like the flowers?” (Y/N) asked, eyeing their floral tattoos. “They’re very pretty names.”

“Yes, we’ve been compared before,” the other called Iris stated, “But the only correlation is that we are born of the ground. We’re planted seeds in a garden and sprout into being.”

(Y/N) gave them an appraising look, “Your babies are grown in the ground?”

“They’re a solitary species, (Y/N),” The Doctor called over his shoulder, “They don’t understand physical touch or procreation like you do.”

“There is no need for such intimacy,” Peony said. And (Y/N) could see how there was a purposeful distance between the two humanoids.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know. I’d miss the cuddles.”

“Right then,” the Doctor shouted, “What did you mean the suns are infiltrating your shields? They’re only comprised of hydrogen and helium, only hot plasma that reacts to nuclear fusion. It’s not capable of motives like infiltration. That would mean they’d have consciousness.”

Peony and Iris shared a purple-eyed look before stating, “We believe there’s more to it then that.”

“You believe your suns are alive? Like actual beings?” (Y/N) asked, feeling the back of her shirt stick with sweat. “How is that possible?”

The Doctor peered at the information before him, screens that monitored the strength of the sun shields, “There are beings out there that we don’t fully understand. Gargantuan, God-like beings that are too powerful to observe and communicate with. I wouldn’t believe it – only…” He put a finger to his chin, “This chart here shows UV rays behaving like soldiers.”

Iris nodded, walking towards him, “You see them beating against the shield. They’re using physical force.”

“Like the arms of an octopus, they’re reaching out and tapping on the door,” the Doctor muttered, “Right, okay then. What’s the plan?”

A haziness enveloped (Y/N)’s eyes. Oh, no, not this again. She closed her eyes and tried to stay upright, taking deep breaths. She had felt perfectly fine that morning. Must’ve been the blasted heat.

Heat exhaustion. That’s all it was. (Y/N) didn’t get sick – has never been sick.

“We’ve been working on the theory to get the planet spinning again,” Iris stated, “It would create a powerful magnetic field and shield us permanently.”

“What? No. No! You can’t,” the Doctor said, “Making the planet spin would bring disaster to the surface, you will more than likely kill everything trying to survive here. Besides, you’ve got to have a core…”

“Our core is metallic,” Peony interrupted, “And planetary motion will help it create that magnetic field.”

The Doctor was getting that crazed look about him, one that normally pushed him to do rather crazed things. “But don’t you realize when your planet begins to spin again, whether instantaneous or gradual, everything will change. Tsunamis, earthquakes, volcanos, natural disasters everywhere! The planet surface will slide with the speed, bodies of water will be forced onto land, and plant life will be unable to cope.”

Peony looked at him as if they’d heard such an argument before. “It will also bring balance to the thinning air. We won’t have to only live in certain areas of the planet to breathe. We wouldn’t have to adjust to six month day cycles. And we wouldn’t have to worry about the sun. We are running out of options, Doctor.”

“We are dying either way,” Iris said, “It’s only a matter of which gets us first.”

“What do you mean?” the Doctor asked.

(Y/N) was leaning heavily against the wall paneling. It was a good thing the Doctor had something to occupy his mind.

“It’s either falling into natural disaster or burning from the sun.”

“There must be another way. Strengthen the shields again,” the Doctor muttered.

Iris waved a hand over to a staircase, one that went underground. “Follow me.”

“It’s no good,” Peony said, “We’ve been exposed to these rays for too long. We thought them simply ultraviolet, but that’s false. These suns are living beings and living beneath them has filled us with toxicity.”

“How’d you mean?” They continued down the stairs, (Y/N) still feeling woozy but appreciating the miniscule temperature drop.

They made it to a doorless room that held a wide window. It looked on at what could only be described as a burn clinic.

“What is this?” The Doctor continued questioning.

The longer (Y/N) looked, the more afraid she became. Numerous of the planet’s species were laying there, each to their own cot. And every one of them was covered in harsh, angry red burns. It looked incredibly painful.

Others in yellow hazmat suits were walking around and applying ointment, taking temperatures, and wiping foreheads. A few of the affected people were writhing in their beds, going mad with the heat. They had to be held down.

“It’s a sickness,” the Doctor whispered, mostly to himself.

“No, they’re just sun burnt,” (Y/N) said with an air of desperation, “Nothing some aloe vera can’t fix.”

“You forget we aren’t dealing with a regular sun,” Peony muttered, “Those are not burns from exposure, they’re from a plague.”

The Doctor leaned against the window, taking in the scene, “You’re dying either way. Sun shields won’t stop them because they aren’t only suns. They have motives and biology and warfare.”

(Y/N) felt her knees shake, unable to tear her eyes away from the camp of victims. It was like a horrific car accident – you couldn’t look away. “Are we safe?”

“You haven’t been exposed that long,” Iris said, “We’ve been living here our whole lives.”

“You only have to worry about those already showing symptoms,” Peony went on, “Don’t go near someone with the plague.”

The Doctor rubbed a hand over his face frustratingly. He was deep in thought, (Y/N) knew, he needed to think of a solution. Because he was brilliant. Because he was the Doctor. And he couldn’t turn away.

“What if we manufacture a magnetic field,” he banged a hand against his forehead, “We don’t have to shield the entire planet, only the parts people can survive in. Oh, my head! We’d need to mine enough metal and charge it with positive and negative energy. But a system could be built where that’s magnified to a specific area.”

Iris and Peony were sharing a silent look again, “That is a possibility we had not thought of.”

“We were busy thinking of the entire planets safety.”

The Doctor suddenly grinned, “But the entire planet isn’t habitable. Only parts. And we can secure those parts. I know I can build it - do you have the metal to wield it?”

“We have a metallic core, Doctor,” Peony smiled, “How else do you think we built these structures?”

Hello, (Y/N).

“What?” (Y/N) looked around, not recognizing the voice that addressed her.

The Doctor faced her, “Sorry?” He was still grinning from his brilliance.

“I thought…” she paused, very conscious of the sweat falling down the side of her face. “Nothing, I thought I heard something.”

You did.

“Right, lead the way,” the Doctor said, gesturing towards the staircase, “And while we’re at it, maybe I’ll find some revolutionary antibiotics for your patients.”

Your head is strange. Very dark. Very empty. What is hidden behind this steel door?

“What is that?” she questioned but realized that she was now alone in the small, windowed room. “Hello?”

Hello. How do you stand having so much hidden in your head?

“Where are you?”

I’m here. Inside you.

“Very funny,” she wheezed. Her breath left her, much like the night before. “Who are you?”

Ancient. Ancient like your Doctor. You’ve got quite the thought train dedicated to him, haven’t you?

“What are you called then.” Panic. She mustn’t panic.

We have no name. Only fire and ruin and wrath.

“You’re – you’re the sun. The one outside! Is this you infecting me? Am I sick?” She looked at her arms, fear starting to broil. But there were no angry burns appearing there.

This is our form of communication. We are so far away. The shields have dampened our telepathic field.

“Well, what do you want then? Why are you talking to me?”

There was silence for a few moments before:

I was bored.

The same reason she and the Doctor came to the planet. She was bored.

“And are you entertained now?” the edge of mockery in her voice was satisfying. But her head was beginning to pound.

You’re very strange. Very weak. Are you aware of how weak you are?

“Shut up!”

“(Y/N)?”

She whirled around and found the Doctor at the bottom of the stairs. She was breathing heavy, sweat dripping from her chin and hands.

“Who’re you talking to?” He kept his face calm, void of the real emotion he was feeling. Fear.

She swallowed, finding her throat remarkably dry, “No – no one.”

Interesting.

“Are you all right?” He took a few cautious steps towards her, his shirt sleeves still rolled up and his tie now loosened. She eyed him thoughtfully. Too thoughtfully.

Very interesting.

“I’m fine. The heat – it’s too much for me,” she cracked a lackluster smile, “It’s stuffy in here, isn’t it?”

The Doctor nodded carefully, raising a cautious hand and touching her shoulder. He pulled back almost immediately.

“What is it?”

Clever Doctor.

He stared at her with newfound confusion. The stare was so intense she felt as though she were being x-rayed.

“What have you done to her?”

Curiouser and curiouser.

“Can you hear him?” (Y/N) asked, whispering despite knowing the being could hear perfectly fine.

The Doctor refused to look away from her, “Answer me.”

You have some interesting trains of thought as well, Doctor. Very secret and very guarded.

“He’s in your head too?” (Y/N) looked back at the Doctor, trying her best to stay afloat. Her headache was becoming all consuming, she couldn’t ignore it much longer. Perhaps her wobbly knees will give way first.

The Doctor clenched his jaw, a few fingers to his temple, “You should ask for permission before you go snooping around.”

Ah, Time Lord – you have telepathy of your own.

“You have no right to this world,” he continued, “No right to consume what you don’t need.”

The man that regrets.

(Y/N) could feel the tension seizing the Doctor. She trailed her suddenly tired eyes towards his face. He wasn’t holding back now, he was upset – he was hurting. The label struck a cord in him. It made him think of an impossibly long list of heartaches.

And his companion: the dying girl.

She held her breath. That was a label she didn’t recognize.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t talk to it,” The Doctor said, moving his fingers from his head towards (Y/N)’s. “I’ve shut him out of my mind. Now I’ll shut him out of yours.”

You should be afraid. Be very afraid you weak, dying girl.

“Stop it,” she said. She wrapped her hands around the Doctor’s wrists, shutting her eyes tight against the words he could no longer hear. A burning like nothing else was heating her bones, it started low and began to grow until it was scorching.

“Stop it, stop it! PLEASE.”

“I’ve almost got it, (Y/N),” the Doctor ground out, “Bear with me, I’ve got you.”

No ones got you. You’re alone. Void of memories. Family. Life. Your time is up, dying girl.

Blisters erupted on her arms, searing away her skin. “Please! STOP IT.” Unexpected tears ran hot down her sweltering face. Sweat made her rosy cheeks shine.

There is no help coming. You are meant to die. From the moment you woke you were meant to be dead.

And snap. Her head was silent.

She fell into the Doctor’s arms, trembling and burning. He clutched at her, saying words that she couldn’t make out. White noise was shoving cotton in her ears. There was a scent of smoke in the air. Was that coming from her?

And she fainted.

~~~

It was bright. So bright.

There were shadows passing behind her eyelids and she was reluctant to open them. Every bone in her body, every joint, ached and burned. She was suddenly very aware of her limbs and how sore they were.

“What happened?”

Someone was near her, ready to answer, “You were filled with tendrils of that sun being energy. He stuck a needle into your mind and poisoned you. It was an instantaneous infection.”

She cracked open one eye to give him a look. It almost made him smile.

“He gave you the plague. You’ve been sick.”

She groaned, “If this is what being sick feels like, I’ve been terribly naïve.” She felt a hand on her forehead, and it was cool against the heat of her skin.

“You have been sick for a long while, my child.”

(Y/N) opened her eyes at the unfamiliar voice. She was surprised to see a cat. A blooming cat.

“Novice Hame, this is (Y/N),” the Doctor frowned. (Y/N) swiveled her gaze from the robed cat to his placid face. He had that expression sometimes when he was dwelling on something particularly sullen or painful.

When he dwelled on the past. Or his regrets. The man that regrets.

“Where am I?”

“Remember that hospital I wanted to take you to all those months ago.” His voice sounded tired. His hand trailed to the back of her head.

Novice Hame purred, “You’re a patient at the New New York Hospital. We’ve been treating you the past few days.”

“Days?” (Y/N) questioned. She tried to sit up, her face pinched in pain, and the Doctor helped her. “What’s happened to Axiless the First?”

“I’ve given them the blueprints, the technology. They’ll be fine. The Sisters of Plenitude provided medicine for their plague victims. They’ll be fine without me.”

“You didn’t stay to help?” She watched him pull his hand away, intertwining his fingers tightly across his stomach. He sat more stony as he watched her without much reaction.

“They’ll be fine. I was needed elsewhere.”

The way he stared at her was excruciating. She wished he would tell her what he was thinking.

(Y/N) looked at her arms, searching for the blisters and burns she felt explode on her skin. But they were clear, “I don’t look like I have the plague anymore. Why do I feel so sick then?”

“You’re ill with much more,” Novice Hame said, moving towards the bed and fiddling with a side table of medications. “Like I said, you’ve been sick for a long while.”

“How long? Sick with what?” She put a hand to her head, feeling faint again. “I don’t get sick, nurse.”

The cat smiled with pointed teeth, “We’re still working it out.”

“You don’t get sick with human disease, (Y/N). We’re talking about alien disease.” The Doctor put more inflection in his voice though his face was still flat. “I should’ve taken you to this hospital the first chance I got,” he whispered.

“Alright, now you’re scaring me.” (Y/N) turned towards the novice and asked, “Tell me.”

The cat woman appeared conflicted, as if she didn’t know where to begin. But she shared a look with the seated Time Lord and sighed, “As far as we can tell – you’ve been ill all your life.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

(Y/N) flickered her gaze towards the Doctor and saw the sorrow creep into his face.

“You still feel sick because it wasn’t just the sun plague that was ailing you,” Novice Hame continued, folding her hands in front of her, “The Doctor tells me you’ve been experiencing fatigue, dizzy spells, the last few weeks.”

She swallowed hard, “I’ve been tired is all.”

“You’ve been experiencing withdrawal.”

(Y/N) blinked, then scoffed, “Withdrawal?”

“Your body is dependent on a substance to keep it going. Since leaving Earth, you haven’t been receiving it.”

She glared at the cat, as if saying she’d better keep talking before something bad happens. The Doctor remained silent, sitting as still as he could but never taking his eyes off of (Y/N)’s reaction.

“While you were healing from the plague, we took the liberty of analyzing your blood. Over three-quarters of the cells there were mutated. They were defected, synthesized cells. They were still fully functioning; they just weren’t natural. They didn’t come from you.”

“Is that… is that why you were able to track me?” She addressed the Doctor.

If possible, his frown deepened. “Your particle trail. It was traceable because your biology has been tainted with a traceable substance.”

“What is this substance?”

Novice Hame continued, “The human body depends on constant cell replacement to survive. When you have a cut, the body creates new cells to heal it. When you scrape your skin, your body creates cells to replace it. Blood cells are used for so many things that they tire and die, and then must be replaced to keep the body functioning. Without cell replacement, oxygen won’t get to your organs. Nutrients won’t replenish growth. Nerves would become defective.”

“Alright, I get it,” (Y/N) said, her head aching with the upheaval of information. “Cells are important. I asked what the substance was in my body.”

“I’m telling you that’s what the substance does. This substance is acting as those new cells replacing your old ones. For some reason, your body has stopped producing its own cells, it’s completely dependent on outside help.”

“But – but if I’ve been dependent on whatever that is my entire life… how have I been getting it without realizing it?”

There was a long pause as the cat woman debated her phrasing. “Have you been in contact with someone or some place on a regular basis? A regular visit maybe that would give enough time for someone to administer the cells?”

“Well, the only person I see almost every day is my fiancé Andrew. The only person I see on a regular basis is Andrew.”

“And you haven’t seen him in months,” The Doctor muttered.

Novice Hame sighed, her voice delicate and feline, “What do you know of your fiancé?”

(Y/N) stared at her incredulously, “You’re not suggesting… you think my Andy has something to do with this?”

“He’s been with you from the moment you woke up,” the Doctor said with more of an air of thinking aloud. “Said so yourself, he was the first face you saw.”

Not true. And he knew it.

“Then we have reason to believe that this Andrew has been secretly giving you a substance of synthesized human DNA regularly. And you are in dire need of a cell replacement.”

(Y/N) sat there, a strange itch in her hands. She felt like she should be doing something. She felt like she needed to be moving. Her breathing was becoming heavy, her eyes wide and stunned.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, “Why would he make me addicted to something like that? And I need it to live?”

“Yes,” Novice Hame said, “We’ve been trying to get your body to regenerate cells on its own again, but to no avail. This drug substance is powerful and foreign.”

“And you can’t just make more of the drug?”

“I’m so so sorry.” The Doctor had finally put his face in his hands.

Novice Hame remained solemn, “We don’t understand its compounds. It may be synthesized, but we don’t know how to replicate it.”

They were silent again, except for the rapid breathing coming from (Y/N). She could feel the tears trying to creep into her vision.

“So I’m an addict, that’s it? I’m an addict with a drug dealer fiancé. Why would the Reapers want me for that?”

The Doctor stood from his chair, pacing in front of the bed, “And how could my alien tracer track you if this substance is only defected, synthesized human DNA? That’s not alien.”

“The mutations were manufactured by something alien; it always leaves a trace.”

“And the Reapers come after beings they believe have cheated death,” the Doctor continued, pacing with new purpose.

(Y/N) felt her eyes water further, “The dying girl.”

The Doctor snapped his attention to her.

“I was called the dying girl. Apparently I’m supposed to be dead. Meant to have died.”

He looked at her with fierceness, jutting a finger at Novice Hame, “You are going to find a cure.”

“But Doctor…”

“You are going to find a cure and fix this!” a deep seeded power was entering his voice. If she didn’t know him as well as she did, (Y/N) figured she’d ought to have been afraid. “She is going to get better. She has to!”

(Y/N) felt a pang in her gut.

“We’re going to ask dear old Andrew a few questions,” the Doctor continued, an ancient anger in his expression. “And we’re going to get you well. He’s bound to have more of that drug.”

“Doctor, she is very weak, you’re going to have to be careful.”

He put his hands on the railing at the foot of her bed. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to lose her. Not today.”

And (Y/N) believed him. Those tears left salty tracks down her cheeks as she stared at him. But if he didn’t lose her today, then when?

He cannot share a life with someone he could lose. Not so easily.

~~~

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funtimebunnyblog · 3 years

Note

Hi 👋 can you do a scenario for the pillarmen with a s/o who is a little shy and has a bit of trouble standing up for herself? I always struggle to speak up for myself because I feel like I’m being irrational or mean. But there has been a few times when I’ve stood my ground. Mainly when someone I care about is also being affected. But every other time, I see that I can be a bit of a push over because I’m too nice to people. I need a big intimidating pillar man to help speak up for me when I can’t 😔

Oh my dear Anon ❤❤❤

Believe me when I say that I wouldn't hesitate to stand up for you if I ever saw you getting pushed around ❤ Keep your chin up!

But for now, let me send you 4 gorgeous Ancient Aztec Vampires to stick up for you 😇🥰😘

The Pillarmen (separate) standing up for an s/o who can't stand up for themselves... (Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• From the moment he met you, he always found your shyness quite endearing.

• Not to mention your small size.

• You two were quite the case of "opposites attract" for sure.

• One day, you and him are out getting some coffee at a Café after running some errands like you did every Saturday together.

• Kars went to pick out a good place to sit by the window looking out to the street while you go grab the coffee you wanted.

• He was halfway across the room when suddenly he heard the sound of you gasping, only to turn around in time to see you getting pushed out of the way by an older man.

• The man was much taller than you, looking very riled up as he had simply stormed into the place.

• "Move it! I'm in a hurry!" The man growls at you as he takes your place in line.

• Kars watched as you opened your mouth with some hesitancy, visibly shaking as you attempted to put your foot down and confront him.

• "I-... I was here fir--" "I told you, I'm in a hurry, you stupid bitch! Now fuck off and wait!"

• Kars had, quite frankly, seen enough.

• In a fraction of a second, he was across the Café and standing right behind the man; acting as a barrier between you and the offending jerk.

• He tapped the man on the shoulder.

• "Do I have to fucking tell you--" the asshole whirled around, expecting to come face-to-face with you again only to come face-to-chest with, the great and terrible Kars.

• The jerks eyes went wide and he craned his head back to meet the unrelenting gaze of the over 300lb, muscular and larger than life Pillarman who was staring at him like a predator would prey.

• "Is there a problem?" His voice was eerily calm but cold enough to make shivers run down your own spine, ruby irises piercing the man like the sharpest knives.

• The man could only stand there, gaping like a beached fish. "Uhh, I--"

• Kars cut him off, uncaring as to what he had to say. "I do believe my beloved wife was standing here before you."

• One glance down at the massive hand that was now wrapped around yours and the man caught sight of your matching rings.

• "I--... I--..." the man was floundering, starting to sweat profusely as the dots connected.

• His sweating only increased as Kars' face soured even more into a scowl, looming over him as straight and as solid as an oak tree.

• The mans face went positively white. "Oh! M-My mistake.... actually, I-I... uhh... should go..."

• Suddenly, the man didn't want his coffee anymore and was in even more of a "hurry" than before as he bolted out the door.

• Kars chuckled lowly, Mortals...

• Finally, he turned to face you. The Pillarman gave you a once over to make sure the jerk hadn't done you any physical harm when he had shoved you out of the way.

• He didn't miss that you were still shaking, looking a little doe-eyed as you were still reeling from your confrontation with the man.

• He smiled softly, leaning down to press a dotting kiss your head.

• "How about you go sit by the window and I'll bring you the coffee, my sweet little sunshine."

Esidisi:

• Your shy nature always enamored Esidisi.

• You could say it fueled his fire (tee-hee)

• He wasn't very shy himself and he was always willing to do things for you when they were out of your comfort zone, like waiting in line for you or accompany you anywhere.

• One of his most favorite places to accompany you was the supermarket on the weekend.

• "Oh! I forgot the laundry soap in the other isle..." you said, looking at your checklist as you marked through it. "Could you run back and get it while I get the cereal?"

• "Of course," he said with a smile, leaving you with the cart as he walked 4 isles down to get it.

• He was not expecting to see what he saw when he returned with it in hand however.

• You had gone to get the cereal like you told him and there were two boxes of the kind you liked left on the shelf. You had grabbed one to put in the cart and continue on when suddenly a woman appeared out of nowhere and ripped it straight out of your hands.

• The woman regarded you with a knot in her face, "I have two kids, I need these more than you." She spat, taking not one but both boxes and dumping them in her cart that was already overflowing with things she "needed more" of.

• Esidisi watched as you stood there, contemplating telling her that was unfair but ultimately deciding it wasn't worth your time.

• This wasn't the first time something like this happened to you and it was just cereal. You didn't want to cause a scene over something so small, it felt irrational.

• Esidisi on the other hand, wasn't just going to stand back and let you get disrespected like that whether it was over cereal or not.

• Lord help anyone who disrespected his Queen.

• Just as the woman tried to strut away with her overflowing cart, Esidisi blocked the isle exit, standing like a roadblock in front of her cart.

• His arms were folded and he had a calm and collected aura about him that any onlooker could see but only you could see the fire that was blazing in his eyes.

• "Get out of my way!" The woman ordered, as if she could look half as threatening as him.

• "You took something from my wife. Give it back." He said sharply.

• The knot in her face returned as she looked the Pillarmen up and down with a scrutinizing eye, "I already told her, I have two kids. I deserve it more."

• You knew very well she was about to threaten to call the police or something if he didn't move. You had seen this scenario PLENTY of times before.

• Esidisi pursed his lips, raising one brow. "Oh, children you say?"

• You knew that look in his eye to damn well.

• A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, reaching into her cart and grabbing both boxes of cereal.

• The scorching heat of his hands torched them in mere seconds and the woman watched helplessly as they blazed and crumpled into ashes before her.

• "In that case; apologize to them for me." He leaned over the cart, his grin stretching as he lowered himself to face level with the gobsmacked, ill-manered woman. "Now they don't get any."

• The woman stood there, mouth agape, trying to say something but failing. All she could do was watch, filled with no doubt terror, as Esidisi linked his arm with yours and walked away with your own cart.

• "Cereal is overrated." He told you, pressing a warm kiss to your knuckles. "I'll just make you breakfast instead."

Wamuu:

• Your sweet shyness was one of the things that made Wamuu absolutely over the moon for you.

• Going anywhere with him always felt like he was your personal bodyguard due to his massive size, even if he wasn't protecting you from anything.

• One particularly hot day, you both decided it would be lovely to spend it at the beach and cool off with a swim.

• "Wait here, I'll go get the sunscreen from the car." He told you, smiling softly as you made yourself comfortable on the towl he laid out in the sand.

• Always mindful of your Human needs, he didn't want you to get burned while in your swimsuit.

• He departed for only a minute, coming back in time just to witness a creep looming over you, right where he had left you.

• "C'mon babe. Why don't you go for a swim with me?~" the man purred, grinning slowly as he ogled you.

• "N-No thank you." You muttered, shrinking under his gaze. The heart that was pounding in your ears made it hard for you to be as firm as you wanted with him.

• You hoped, you prayed, you begged this man would take NO for an answer and leave you alone.

• You really didn't want to cause a scene with this weirdo.

• His first mistake was not giving up there.

• "Oh, don't be difficult." He went on. "Have some fun~ You're at the beach~"

• You shook your head, cheeks burning with more than the heat and a lump starting to form in your throat, rendering you unable to speak at all now.

• You really didn't want to deal with this. You wished the sand would just swallow you up. You kept praying he'd leave you alone.

• The mans second (and greatest) mistake was laying even a finger on you.

• He grabbed your hand quite forcefully, trying to pull you to your feet as he kept pressing you to "spend some time with him".

• Suddenly, a great and dark shadow passed over him, blocking out the burning sun and shrouding him completely in darkness, paired with a huge hand gripping his shoulder like a vice.

• Immediately, you were let go as Wamuu forcefully spun the offending man around to face him.

• There, he came face to face with the greatest and most powerful warrior who ever lived... and that warrior was scowling down at him in all his terrifying and gargantuan glory.

• The sun shined off the living Gods bronze and bulging muscles, his eyes burning with an intense and unmatchable anger.

• "I do believe my bride told you NO, Human." He growled, his brow knitting. "I would take that order and leave while you still can unless you plan on me having fun with you as well."

• The creepy man backed away from both you and the Pillarman, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

• Wamuu clenched his own hands into fists, knuckles crackling and popping like fire crackers.

• He couldn't even get so much as an apology out, his knees quaking as he staggered away as quickly as possible in fear that Wamuu would tear him in half like a sheet of paper.

• When the creeper was far, far away from your spot Wamuu dropped to his knees beside you, taking your tiny hand in his, his face now radiating with concern.

• "Are you alright, my beloved? Did he hurt you?" If you should happen to say yes Wamuu fully intended on taking chase down the beach and carrying out his previous threat.

• When you assure him you're not hurt he presses soft, loving kisses to your already sun-kissed cheeks.

• Finally, he smiles and holds up the bottle of sunscreen. "Now, let me get your back for you, my sweet. And then we can go for our swim."

Santana:

• You two were always like two peas in a pod; sharing a similar sort of shy nature and all.

• You were his sweetheart and you were the only person in this world who made his stone heart absolutely melt.

• Santana was quiet and reserved on the norm, he was also very passive like you, but an onlooker shouldn't be fooled by those things, as he was also very protective of you.

• He was walking to where you worked one afternoon; you both had made plans to go get some dinner together after your shift to celebrate the end of a long week and unwind.

• He opened the door to the shop you were working in, only to be greeted by the sounds of yelling hitting his sharp ears, making him stop on a dime.

• "I-I told you, sir, we're out of that product." Your voice was brittle, very unlike the sweet and cheery tone he was used to. "We're getting a shipment next Wednesday, I can put you down as--"

• "I DON'T FUCKING CARE!" The man you were serving at the counter roared into your face, slamming his hands down and making you jump. "You're going to get me it TODAY. I need it TODAY."

• Your throat was squeezing tighter and tighter as the man just kept yelling and yelling; this had been going on for the past 10 minutes now.

• Your shift was supposed to be over by now but this customer was downright mean and unrelenting without signs of giving up and facing the facts that he just couldn't have what he was looking for today.

• The man fully intended on bullying and belittling you until you somehow made what he wanted appear out of thin air.

• "I--" Inevitably, you were cut off again by the surly customer.

• "You stupid fucking bitch! Do I need to draw you a fucking picture?!" He snarled. "Get me what I want RIGHT NOW!"

• As soon as Santana saw the tears beading in your eyes starting to trickle down your cheeks, he had enough of this show.

• Wordlessly, he walked right up behind the man, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set.

• He looked uncannily like a wild animal closing in on a helpless prey, ready to pounce and kill.

• "Hey." His deep voice rumbled, grabbing the mans attention.

• The man whirled around, full on glaring at Santana before directing his anger onto him.

• "Wait your fucking turn!" He snapped, not fazed in the slightest by the sight of the Pillarman. "This idiot cunt won't take a SIMPLE order and--"

• This time, the man was cut off as Santana grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. You didn't miss the fact that your Husband's fingers start to phase into the mans body as if becoming one with him.

• The man let out a gasp, his words dying in his throat as he curled in on himself slightly. His body grew very, very pale and noticeably he became the slightest bit thinner, wheezing hard as his eyes bulged.

• Santana didn't plan on killing him, but the youngest Pillarman definitely intented to drain a decent portion of his energy to teach him a lesson he would never forget.

• With his blood red hair swaying and his cold eyes piercing, he leaned in close to the man, not once raising his voice as he spoke.

• "Leave." He commanded. "And never, ever, come back here again, primitive."

• And just like that, Santana pried his hands off the man; leaving him gasping for air.

• Without another word, the once haughty customer ran out of the store, not daring to look back as he feared Santana would be right behind him.

• Santana huffed, his mane bristling like an angry cat with its hair sticking on end, before turning to you.

• He came around the counter, reaching out and cupping your cheeks with his large hands.

• His thumbs swiped away your tears with a gentleness he sure as Hell didn't seem capable of after that display, kissing your head softly.

• "He is gone now." He murmured. "You are safe now, my beautiful bride."

• With Santana's help, you calmed down and eventually you both left hand in hand to finally go to dinner.

#Funny Bunny #Pillarmen #headcanons #battle tendency #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #anon ask #my writing

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rosesloveletters · 3 years

Text

Simplicity.

pairing: Heath Ledger Joker x Reader

word count: 1,336

warnings: language, violence (mentions of blood) and some sexual themes.

summary: short sentence prompts revolving around reader’s relationship with J.

notes: Hello! I wanted to share something different with you all this time, so I chose a prompt I have not done in a very long time. I used a random word generator to generate 50 words and I would write one or several sentences including and/or inspired by each individual word. If you would like to try out this prompt, visit this link for the random word generator I used. Please enjoy this fun little prompt I fulfilled with J in mind.

unedited.

Quit

“I think I’m starting to get pretty good at this ‘committing heinous crimes and random acts of violence’ thing, aren’t I?” “uh-huh.” You fix him with a look of disbelief, to which J’s only response is, “don’t,ah, quit your day job, toots.”

Anger

The anger you feel doesn’t hold a torch to the rage within J every time that you disobey him.

Distance

The nights when you fall asleep next to J are the ones which make you feel miles apart.

Braid

You tentatively clutch the braided rope in your hands, wondering how long had it been beneath your bed and why J had hidden it there.

Steep

Being in a relationship with J is like trying to climb a mountain that is too steep for you to find any generous footing; if you cling too tightly, the surface gives way and you slide all the way back to rock bottom.

Quota

Guns are too quick, J reflects, but he’s got a quota to hit and so he reloads without another thought on the matter.

Bet

You would’ve bet that J would eventually have to sleep, but never would you have thought it would take this long.

Crystal

“No more blood on my sheets that isn’t mine or yours, J, do I make myself clear?”

“Mm…crystal.”

Hot

Blood oozes from the open cuts which litter your skin like tiny scratch marks and you wince in discomfort; nothing a hot bath, or tongue, can’t fix.

Moving

Imagining a life with J means taking into account the amount of times you’ll have to move to remain one step ahead of the Gotham Police Department.

Biscuit

J trying to stuff several biscuits into his mouth at once inspires you to make a mental note never to bake him any ever again.

Nonsense

You could not make heads or tails of some of the things J tells you and you wonder if perhaps it really isall nonsenseand there’s no ultimate meaning behind any of it at all.

Scene

Most days, you refuse to turn on your television for fear of another crime scene making its way onto your screen; you always know who’s to blame.

Bubble

The color of blood has always been J’s favorite and he has to concentrate not to smile fondly as the warm, sticky liquid bubble’s from his victim’s throat.

Possibility

When you were younger and more naïve, you used to believe in life’s endless possibilities, however, life on the run with Gotham’s most wanted criminal only has one viable outcome.

Basket

You follow the trail of dark red droplets all the way to your bedroom and the sight that meets you is enough to make you drop the basket of clean clothes you were carrying.

Literacy

J often leaves notes behind on the little doodles he scatters throughout your home. The first one you ever kept was written after he begrudgingly watched a nature documentary with you, inspiring him to leave a drawing and a note scrawled across the margins of the morning newspaper: ‘I hate bees’.

Step

To step up against J was to end your own life; even though you are still breathing, today is the day that you have officially died.

Distort

Your relationship with him was about as distorted as J’s grip on reality, but that was what made you love him the most.

Brown

J’s brown eyes contain the only bit of humanity within him.

Light

J’s face is illuminated by the flames, his stark white face paint glowing a pale orange by cause of the dying embers, and the sight makes you wonder what elsehe is keeping from you?

Beat

Should anyone lift a finger against you, J would not hesitate to deliver a beating they might never recover from.

Commitment

Much to your chagrin, the only thing that J is committed to is his work.

Patience

It might take some time for you to warm up to the idea of sharing a house (and a bed) with Gotham’s most notorious criminal, but J knows he can wait you out.

Shower

It’s the first time he’s had a shower in weeks and J’s expression remains indifferent as the water visibly grows darkin color from the grime that rinses off his body.

Preference

It is true that J has no preferences when it comes to who he is sleeping with, but he would be damned if you didn’t check all the boxes he would have had if he’d been anyone else.

Fool

Perhaps it was foolish of you to think that J could muster emotion of any depth in association to you.

Knock

You could have lived with polite knocking, but whenever J returns home it sounds like he’s about to break the door down.

Curl

J’s body encircles you, curling protectively around yours as you embrace each other in the pale lamplight.

Protection

Under J’s protection, you throw caution to the wind and allow him to do what he does best; you would never have daredto walk the streets of Gotham by night, yet now you travelled them carelessly under cover of darkness beneath the ever-watchful eye of your ever-present bodyguard.

Sow

“Ever since you came into my life, I’ve had nothing but bad days!” “Ya…reap what ya sow, huh, doll?”

Key

You gave J a key, but he somehow manages to get inside your house without ever using it.

Film

J doesn’t ever utter the ‘I love you’ words, but without fail does he watch every film you’ve ever picked even if it does not interest him; actions speak louder than words and in this case, you never would have needed him to say a word.

Digital

You really would’ve liked to know why J had such strong opinions about digital clocks.

Short

The first time J snaps at you for coming a bit too close when he’s in a foul mood shows you just how short of a fuse he has.

Second

A second’s glimpse gave you the impression that there is more beneath the surface of J’s hardened exterior.

View

“Quite a plea-sing view, ain’t it, doll?” J asks as you both admire the burning building.

Depression

You never see the side of J that is tender except on the days when it all becomes too much and you physically cannot get out of bed.

Check

Ever since J had come into your life, you have not felt the need to check underneath your bed and inside your closet before climbing into your bed.

Shelf

J intentionally puts everything you need on a high shelf and won’t ever retrieve it for you when you ask.

Switch

A switch to the other side gave you a taste of sweet adrenaline and you finally understood why J loved the chaos.

Trap

Every word you utter becomes another bar in the cage he traps you in and throws away the key; you cannot win an argument with J.

Damn

That damned clown is going to kill you, either out of love born from you’re your own misguided emotional ties to him or with a gun to the head in the middle of the night; you did not care which.

Relinquish

J will never relinquish control even if his life depends on it and, sometimes, it does.

Delete

You wish that removing emotions is as easy as pressing ‘delete’ on your keyboard, but nothing in life is that easy and J is determined to teach you that.

Incentive

Watching you undress in front of him was morethan enough of an incentive to keep J in line for now.

Swallow

“It ain’t polite to play with your food, sweets,” J growls, a smirk of superiority on his face as he watches you finally swallow your mouthful.

Relief

You are unable to express the amount of relief you feel on the night J returns from yet another unexplained period of extended absence.

Front

He puts up a good front, but you are aware of how much it bothers J every time they call him ‘crazy’.

Adventure

Sharing a life with J is a daily adventure and you never know what direction it will lead.

#heath ledger #the dark knight #the dark knight joker #joker #the joker #heath ledger joker #ledger joker #joker x reader #heath ledger joker x reader #the dark knight imagine #biblio :: 📖

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chili-aux · 3 years

Text

Soothing Touches

Summary: Hange suffered from a headache alone until Levi came to her rescue.

Note: My first contribution to Levihan community. Inspiration sprouted from my headache. Anyways, hope you’ll enjoy.

Link to cross-posting: AO3

Sitting on her wooden chair inside her messy laboratory, as Levi loved to call it, Hange puts her elbow on the table, fingers delicately massaging her pounding head. She cannot recall how did this headache start. Was it from her enthusiastic greetings to her subordinates this morning? No, because she is always like that. Was it from the experiment that she and Titan Eren did this afternoon? No, besides, she should not be the one who must have this excruciating pain because she was the one who conducted the experiment.

‘Was it from lunch?’ Hange asked in her mind, recurrence of the conversation she had with Moblit surfaces, realization dawning on her.

“Squad Leader! Take a break, please!” Moblit said exasperatedly to her, ignoring his plea as she continuously writes down the necessary materials for their new technology, the Thunder Spear. She's feeling giddy about this ever since they found research information about it upon raiding the Military Police Brigade. Hange intended to use this new weapon to penetrate the Armored Titan's armoury skin. It might just be wishful thinking, but she hopes that it will damage Reiner, or their efforts will all be in vain.

“I’m busy right now, Moblit. I need to present this to Erwin immediately.” Hange replied without removing her attention from the paper. She got a sigh in return.

“Just please, eat or drink something.” Moblit pleaded one last time. Feeling bad, she assured him that she will do it later. The man left with slumped shoulders after.

Now, when was that later again? She completely forgot about it. Ironically, a scientist like her who possesses vast knowledge about the human organ systems and the effects of neglecting your bodily needs like eating will ignore her bodies' humanly calls. She just wants to pound her pulsing head to the table. This happened to her quite an amount of times before, but stubbornness is just one of her innate characteristics.

I need to eat.

Hange took a deep breath, before standing up but regret instantly invaded her system. She felt her world spinning, her blurry vision even gets blurrier. She holds the edge of the table, finding support to regain her balance. She was quite successful with this one, allowing her to take steps to the laboratory's door. While walking, however, the pounding became insistent, feeling her pulses pumping at her temples. She felt that this might escalate, much worse, to migraine. She wished she was wrong with this one though.

Once outside, Hange calculated the minutes she might take to get to the cafeteria downstairs. Luckily for her, her office is just located on the 2nd floor of the Survey Corps’ Headquarters. There are three rooms the size of her lab she will pass by to get to the stairs, which has 25 steps.

“5 minutes or so? That bad, huh?” Hange said to herself before placing her right hand on the corridor wall as a support for her excruciating journey to fill her hollow stomach. Every step she takes, her head will pound with more intense pain, blood pumping more rapidly.

She sometimes stopped momentarily to regain her composure, collecting herself via deep breaths, leaning her head on the wall, and saying words of self-encouragement. Hange wished that some soldier will pass by to call for help, but she still believes that she can reach her destination. She can do this, she said, Titans are more merciless than this.

However, the pain levelled up to the point where tears are now escaping her eyes, feeling like vomiting whatever content her stomach has even if it’s empty for hours now. Her eyes are now sensitive to the firelights the hallway’s torches are emitting, bowing her head so she cannot see it. She lost the ability to tell the time now, not knowing how many minutes have passed until she reached the end of the hallway.

Grasping the conjunction of the two walls with shaky hands, she lifted her throbbing head up with tears still running down her face. She expected to see a deserted stair for she already feels hopeless that she will see anyone who can help her. Hange already lost her courage moments ago. But it seems like her incessant fight for humanity’s freedom had paid off.

“Levi…” Hange said with a sniff, voice laced with gratefulness. Even in her headache mess, she can still recognize the emotion that painted Levi’s handsome face. But before she can open her mouth again, she lost consciousness, Levi’s panicked expression was the last thing she saw.

-o-

The next thing Hange saw was a familiar ceiling, free of dust and cobwebs because of the owner’s excessive cleaning habits. She remembers the moments she woke up to this ceiling in peaceful cockcrows, nights of heeded passion let her fall into undisturbed slumber. She recalls the warmth that always envelops her, accompanied by the early morning sunlight, drawing herself to the arms that constantly welcomes Hange, returning the affection she received in the process.

This time, however, the only light that illuminates the room she had grown to love was the fire coming from the lamp, swaying and flickering in an age-old dance. She heightened up her hearing senses, raindrops falling on the solid ground can be heard from outside with wind whistling its natural hymn.

Then, Hange observed herself if she still has that freaking headache. She has, but the pain becomes tolerable now thankfully. That’s when she noticed a firm grip on her left hand, transferring her gaze slowly to the man holding her.

Levi.

He is sitting uncomfortably on his small stool, his head laid upon the soft mattress of his bed, supported by his left arm. Hange silently hopes that his muscles wouldn’t grow numb. Unsurprisingly, for her, the man is sleeping. Getting up as silent as possible, she glanced to the bedside table to see her glasses placed there, grasping and wearing it to see properly.

With a small smile painted on her face, she transferred her gaze once again to the sleeping Corporal, her free hand unconsciously reached for Levi’s soft hair. She ran her hand through the soft locks, down to the man’s handsome face, caressing the flawless skin of his cheeks with her delicate fingers.

Hange knows that Levi is insomniac, his daily sleep just ranged in 2-3 hours. However, her mind cannot help but trace back to the moment she first saw an asleep Levi.

It happened in her messy room one rainy night. While sitting on her comfy bed and reading her small findings of Titans for that day, courtesy of Eren of course, Hange heard a knock that she grew familiar with.

“Come in, shorty! Cannot sleep, huh?” Hange smiled at an entering Levi dressed in his white long-sleeved shirt and black pants. The man just rolled his eyes at her and nod tiredly.

Upon reaching her bed, Levi spoke, “Move your ass a bit, shitty glasses.”

Hange just stared at him for a moment, worried about the bags under his eyes that are growing gradually, days with lack of sleep are taking a toll on Humanity's strongest. Moments later, she broke out of her reverie, put her notes on her bedside table and complied, letting the man settle beside her.

Levi had other plans though. Instead of placing his head on the comfortable pillow, he laid on Hange’s lap, facing her stomach and encircling his arms around her slim waist. Hange’s eyes widened like a saucer, mouth releasing an audible gasp, her hands instinctively move up as if she had just been busted by the Military Police.

“Oi, Levi! W-what are you doing?!” Hange exclaimed. The man in question just gazes up briefly at her before burying his face on her tummy. "Hey, answer me!"

"Shut up, shitty glasses. I'm trying to sleep." Levi answered with a voice muffled by her clothes.

“If you want to sleep, why on my lap, you clean freak?!”

“Tch.” Levi, tired of her shouting, removed one arm around Hange. He reached for her right hand, pulling it down to place it on his hair. Hange’s jaw dropped again.

“What the?! You want me to pet you, Levi?! Are you a cat or something?!”

“Just do it, four eyes.” Noticing the tiredness in his voice, Hange just gave up and give Levi a soft continuous rub. Minutes have passed by in silence, spent with her just staring at the man’s handsome and peaceful face. She knows that the raven-haired man isn't sleeping yet, so she decided to ask what was bothering her from the start of… whatever this is.

“I thought… you don’t want to sleep in other people’s presence?” Hange asked carefully, almost whispering.

It took seconds or even a minute before Levi spoke, his answer shook Hange’s world like no other.

“You’re not just other people to me, four-eyes.”

While Hange tried to calm her rapid beating heart and removed the blush that painted her face, Levi finally succumbed to a peaceful slumber.

Hange just laughed at the memory, feeling the familiar butterflies that love pestering her tummy. Her heart beats hastily like how it pounds inside her chest during that flustering scene. Her small smile widens, gentleness and adoration for the man beside her and holding her hand like it was his lifeline. She just stared at his sleeping face happily in tranquil when his lips suddenly moved.

"Draw me now, it will last longer," Levi said with his usual grumpy voice.

“Eh! When did you wake up?!” Hange yelled from shock. Damn it, she thought.

Lifting his head, Levi stretched his arm that he used as a support to remove its numbness. Hange just looked at him, blushing and admiring how the flare from the lamp accentuated his immaculate features. Then the man turned his head and looked at her, steel blue eyes staring straight into brown orbs.

Hange can feel the man studying every part of her, his eyes and expression unreadable. She can feel a lump forming in her throat, a bead of sweat ran down from her hair to her temple. Her hands that Levi’s yet to let go is getting clammy, which she is sure that the man had noticed. She can sense the brewing anger from the man as the hold in her hand tightened.

With her eyes hurting from not blinking, combined with the intensity from those blue eyes that she cannot already take, Hange closed her eyes and bow her head.

“I-I’m sorry if I made you take care of me again, Levi," Hange said lowly, guilt plagued her system in a record speed. “Moblit tried to remind me to take a break but I forgot. So yeah.”

“Ahh. As if that’s something new, four eyes. Now,” Hange suddenly felt fingers under her chin, lifting it to gaze up in her beautiful brown orbs. Their eyes met and she was captivated once more. “Does your head still hurt?”

"A little," Hange answered softly.

Letting go of her hand, Levi suddenly stood up, and said, “Move your ass a bit, shitty glasses.”

“It’s the second time you said that to me. But whatever,” Hange teasingly said, which Levi just scoffed at, and just move a bit like how the captain wishes. Levi sat and leaned his back securely on the headboard. What he did next shocked her though.

The man just tapped his freaking thighs, people!

Whilst Levi just stared at her expectantly, Hange is still processing what she saw, giving the man an incredulous look. And her eyeballs went out of its socket when Levi tapped his thighs again.

"W-What?! Are you kidding me?" She screamed, moving closer to the man to put her hand on his forehead, checking if he got the flu or something. "You're not even sick! What have you eaten to say those freaky things, huh Levi? I'm- "

Her rambling stopped when Levi held her hands at once, pulling her body closer to his, diminishing the distance between them. Hange released a yelp with the sudden movement and gazed up immediately to the Lance Corporal, seeing the intensity that his eyes always emit.

Realizing what he did, Levi grumbled under his breath, “Tch. Just fucking do it, four eyes, while I’m still in the mood.” Before she can complain once more, Levi continued, “Enough peevish.”

Hange just sighed and scooted a little further towards the edge of the bed, then lay her head where the captain wants it to be after. The man then removed the hair strands under her nape, making it sprawl out freely on the top of her brunette. Closing her eyes, she felt the man taking the glasses off her face before placing it carefully on the bedside table. Then a cool fragrant mint enveloped her senses, the substance that Levi always apply when Levi or she suffered from stress and sleep deprivation.

That’s when Hange felt it, cool, strong fingers pressing on her temple with a firm circular motion. Those delicate fingers then moved to her forehead, meeting in the middle, and slowly traced a line back to the side, whilst she hummed in glee as the pain slowly subsides. After this soothing pattern, Levi’s hands then transferred to the scalp of her unwashed locks, massaging her head on all sides in continuous presses. She let out a pleased moan as Levi massaged a particular spot, her head reeling with the satisfying pressure. Then Levi gathered her brunette locks in one hand, proceeds on tugging it in with careful interval, making her remember the time when Levi purposely made her look at him by holding her messy ponytailed hair atop of their horses before an expedition. She just chuckled at the memory.

“What are you laughing at, shitty glasses?” Levi asked, which Hange just giggled at. “Oi!”

“It’s nothing, Levi. I just remembered when you tugged my hair to call me an abnormal. Well, you’re not wrong though.”

“Tch. Did you also remember that I regretted that? Your hair is so fucking greasy! You didn’t even bathe that time, four-eyes!” While Levi grimaced with the memory, Hange just laughed her ass off.

Opening her eyes, she saw piercing but gentle blue eyes staring intently at her. Despite her upside-down view, Hange appreciates how handsome Levi looked, how even if he always displayed that nonchalant face, his façade will go down when he is with her. That even though she was the messiest person that the man ever encountered, Levi still stayed with her, treat her like she is the most important figure in this goddamn cruel world that they lived in. That inside closed rooms, Hange can freely strip her inhibitions and Levi won't judge but expressed genuine love and care for her.

Hange slowly reached for Levi’s face. Caressing his soft and flawless skin with her fingers, she saw Levi leaning down towards her, which made her closed her eyes again. She first felt his soft lips on her forehead, kissing her gently without minding that it was still coated by that minty substance he just used for her headache. Then he traced tender kisses to her nose, making her laugh a little as the action sends ticklish bolts to her cheeks, making them glow with sweet pink blushes. Levi stroked her cheeks with both of his calloused but caring fingers, before moving further.

With lips tingling in anticipation, Hange moved her head up slightly as Levi reached what he intended to devour. Then their lips met, slowly meshing and mingling with each other, both savouring the familiar and homey taste of one another. Hange's hands managed to snake around Levi’s head, fingers feeling the soft locks and baby hairs of his undercut. As she pulled him closer, Levi’s tongue knocks on her mouth, pushing its way to her hot cavern, relishing every part for his satisfaction. Hange hummed as Levi sucked on her tongue, electrifying delight immediately ran through her body. With pleasure reeling both of their heads, Levi and Hange continuously taste each other until the need for air arises.

Parting, Hange gets up and faces Levi, sitting herself up on the raven-haired man’s lap and welcoming her fully by wrapping one arm around her slim waist. Flipping her hair away from her neck, Hange placed her thoroughly kissed lips on Levi’s, battling for dominance, expressing their passionate love and deep admiration for each other. Pressing her body closer to his, his free hand managed to sneak under her shirt, caressing the warm smooth skin, pinching it softly as the atmosphere around them intensify. After a minute full of fervent kisses, they separate, foreheads pressed, nose touching, and heaving breaths mixing.

“You okay now, shitty glasses?” Levi huskily whispered on her still stinging red lips.

“A-huh, thanks to my clean freak, best service, no fees included. As if I’m paying him anyway.” Hange answered, snickering.

“As if you had the money to pay me, four-eyes. News flash, you can’t.” Then Levi moved to whisper in her ear, licking her earlobe before saying, “But I know a way that you can, no fees included.”

“Oh, hot shit, Corporal!” Hange cannot help but scream and laugh at the same time. Levi saying dirty remarks isn’t new to her, but due to the man’s flowery language, she is always amazed when he does. Besides, it’s only for her.

Pushing herself away from the man, she giggled and said, “C’mon Levi, I’m hungry.”

“You just fucking noticed, huh? I keep hearing that monster grumble when… Never mind.” Levi suddenly stood up and walked to the door.

Hange also stood up and laughingly followed the Corporal, “What ‘when’? Huh, shorty?!”

“Shut up, Hange.”

“Make me, Levi!”

As their bickering continues and their echoing footsteps match the sound of the pouring rain, Hange sketched this rare and precious memory inside her now healing head. In the middle of their journey to the kitchen, they unconsciously held each other's hands. And Hange thought she will never mind another round of headache if she can feel Levi’s soothing touches again.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #levi ackerman #hange zöe #hange zoë #levi and hange #levi x hange #snk #aot #this is so fucking cheesy #enjoy reading

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ghostmartyr · 4 years

Text

SnK 130 Thoughts

My opening joke is going to be a brief description of Historia’s circumstances, because it requires no creative energy on my part to make it a joke.

To review!

107 introduces the concept of Historia being a breeding factory. This is suggested as part of Zeke’s 50-year plan to establish Paradis without it being genocided to death. At the end of 107, present-day Historia is shown to be pregnant.

At the very beginning of 108, the Military Police openly discuss how this is kind of weird. And while the mood is largely in favor of Historia having children so the Founding Titan stays in Paradis control, she’s having a child at a very inconvenient time for everyone, because she’s supposed to eat Zeke before he can cause trouble.

In 114, it is revealed that Zeke’s actual plan is to sterilize all Eldians so they die off and stop being a problem. By virtue of five seconds of pondering, this falls apart when you consider that Zeke’s plan is the beginning of Historia being prepped to breed children. Having any royal children would actively interfere with Zeke’s ability to guarantee that his choices for the Founding Titan would be the last.

In 130, Historia is shown to still be going along with the 50-year concept, and no one is stopping her except Eren, who is against Zeke’s sterilization plan (which a child would stop), and who says that Historia making this kind of choice is what’s driving him to genocide.

To which Historia suggests a baby.

-draws a line back to 107-

-underlines Eren’s angry feelings about all of this-

This would make sense if it were live action and the actress were pregnant.

Not within the story or anything.

But an explanation would at least exist.

I should take up drinking. Or cocaine. Or something.

There’s virtually zero content this chapter. Half of it is just Eren going on rampage. This is how you know it’s the end of a volume for a story that’s ending. The subtle ways the story beats come firing at a machine gun’s pace before slowing to a deliberately controlled crawl.

Surprise, Liberio’s no longer a factor!

-surprised Pikachu faces-

-everyone officially burnt out on violence-

-except Eren-

-this is a problem because Eren is indeed causing the most violence, and violence would probably be a great help in stopping him, so having someone on that boat thinking they should just fucking stab him would be just a little encouraging that’s all I’m saying-

Then we dash straight into a slightly more visible flashback to Eren’s memories of the future being unlocked, and get to the development of his genocide plan.

It isn’t much of a plan.

It mostly still involves genocide.

But worse.

He’s basically going to do what Karl did, only when he tells people on Paradis that all the humans beyond their borders are dead, he won’t be lying. He is keeping the genocide and the mind-wiping, though. In this spirit of how well that worked out previously.

This is a choice.

A bad one.

Even by Eren’s current standards.

This is especially impressive given that he has none.

Alrighty then. Uh.

Here we have Eren’s mission statement. That’s nice?

“The only way to put a final end to the cycle of revenge born from hate... is to remove that history of hate from this world and bury it in the ground, civilization and all.”

Legitimately, Eren’s entire plan amounts to, “The First King was right about everything except not actually making us the last humans alive on the planet.”

See, Zeke’s plan of killing all Eldians off is evil and bad, and Eren is disgusted at the very idea of going along with it.

Eren’s plan of killing everyone else off, regardless of who they are, is a good one.

As is manipulating all of his friends into following it, telling them he hates them, fairly directly letting one of them know this is basically all her fault, and.

Look, I’m sorry, but what the fuck?

I mean.

Fuck, do I have to go full Madoka on main?

Here is a brief summary of the third Madoka Magica movie, for those who do not understand the reference: Person who has spent her entire life torturing herself to save one girl feels like she didn’t save the one girl hard enough, and compensates for this mental breakdown by turning into the literal Devil.

These are decisions that can be explained by trauma. The character in question has been through a lot, and arguing that she’s too emotionally stable to undo the universe is harder to do than it feels like it should be.

She still takes the established order of the series and 90% of the movie and drops it in the shredder, leaving the characters who are around and aware of this move to stare, aghast, as the new world order is established.

To catch up the uninitiated, when the new world order is established in the series, it’s a happy ending that ties up all the struggles everyone has been through. Not necessarily neatly, but they’re honored, and the cast continues on.

The new world order of the movie is one character screaming “NO” in various cries for help as she pounds her heart into the pavement and the pavement is everyone else’s quality of life.

Anyway, the current reason everyone on the planet hates Paradis enough to attack it is because Eren publicly murdered civilians at a festival with international significance, including the one Eldian in the world with good publicity.

Things weren’t pretty for anyone, but Eren snatches the ball out of the court and throws it into the backyard with vicious guard dogs. He decides to bring everyone into a war, and he decides the initial terms. He makes a violent declaration, and ever since, the story has been devoted to people catching up to him to ask what the fuck his problem is.

As opposed to the usual routine of catching up to him to steal him back from whoever’s kidnapping him that week.

Eren’s the direct cause of this mess.

Fucking Marley doesn’t help, what with their hundred years of brainwashing and titanizing to actively keep the hate of Paradis alive -- but Eren’s the one who turns it into an issue of national immediacy when everyone around him is trying to find more time.

All the while going, “look what you made me do”

Right.

Where it breaks down for me isn’t that it makes no sense for Eren to have fallen this far. This entire series has been destroying him one piece at a time, and I do feel like you could have a very powerful conclusion with Humanity’s Hope turning to Humanity’s Despair, and the people he once inspired having to bear the torch themselves instead of forcing one person to carry their entire future.

Hell, that could still happen. I would still love an ending where Mikasa wraps the scarf around Eren, and he’s finally saved from himself.

What’s aggravating is that as many ominous hints as we’ve gotten about Eren’s monstrous nature throughout the series, there’s just as much material of him loving his friends, and wanting them to be free and happy, and understanding that walls aren’t the only prison.

Angry Eren the Rage Boy is there. He’s even easy to understand, sometimes. OG Ymir’s history inspires a desire for death and destruction. It would be and is wrong, but the impulse isn’t difficult to parse.

He’s more than that. He stays up all night listening to Hange’s theories. Armin’s dreams of the sea catches his mind like wildfire. Fighting Annie even after she’s revealed to be someone who’s ruthlessly murdered his comrades is painful. He wants to believe Reiner and Bertolt are innocent even when they’re making the worst show of hiding it. He smiles every time he sees his friends genuinely happy.

Eren’s rage has always been a direct response to his views of the world. The slavers are monsters. He has no problem killing them. Titans are monsters. He wants them dead. He runs off in Trost and gets his leg chomped off because he’s so upset that a bit character we barely spend time with is being eaten.

“When we’re born... all of us... are free. People who reject that, no matter how strong they are... don’t matter.”

Since leaving his friends in Marley, Eren has rejected the freedom of every single one of them. He doesn’t tell them what he’s up to, but expects them to have his back. He pushes events into motion that nearly lead to all their deaths. He actively lies to Mikasa about how her brain functions. He tells Historia to get on board or have her memory wiped.

The rage and agony and helplessness Eren feels isn’t particularly strange, in my mind. He hasn’t coped with any of the manga’s arcs well, and the few victories he’s been part of have landed him in worse and worse places, emotionally.

The conclusions he’s reaching don’t work.

It isn’t that strange for people to not realize that they’re contradicting themselves, especially when they’re in this frame of mind, but Eren loves his damn friends.

Meanwhile, he’d find it easier to take if Mikasa were attached to him because her bloodline made her do it, but that’s.

Actually, no, that’s relevant.

Eren suggests plot magic chemistry before he considers that Mikasa actually loves him.

He’s a dying man.

He’s condemned himself already. It doesn’t matter what he does, as long as his friends are alive. Anything else -- everything else is secondary. They’ll be alive, and he’ll be dead, and it’s as simple as that.

But it isn’t like he doesn’t know right from wrong. This might be a wrong he can accept on his deathbed, but it’s undeniably wrong.

How horrific is it that people might be so attached to him that he can do all this, and they’ll still fight for him instead of putting him down like the monster he is?

Eren struggles with greys. If he’s willing to be the bad guy, it makes sense for him to commit. He’s rejecting freedom, so by his own rules, he doesn’t matter.

It would be so much easier for him if everyone else agreed on that point.

He seems to be doing what he can to make that happen.

...But that’s just whimsical speculation born of profound pity more than anything. I still have trouble figuring out what his deal is. He’s eviscerating his friends in the name of them surviving, but he still terms his want as them having “long, happy lives.” While actively interfering with both those aims.

This chapter doesn’t seem to leave much room for a secret other plan that Eren is secretly putting into action. That’s been my hope from the beginning, and pretty much every bit of my confusion here is why. The majority of the conflict here comes from Eren deliberately fucking things up. It’s like he accidentally poisoned a bunch of people by using the wrong chemicals to clean up the dead body of the person he killed who totally deserved it, and figured the best following response was to repeat the process.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that the Eren we’re starting to see looks broken beyond all repair, and we’re missing the breaking point. We can puzzle out possibilities and trauma, but at the end of the day he has chosen such a destructive route that it needs more justification within the story.

Personally, I think that this Eren is buying into his own bad press so completely that he’s stopped giving himself freedom. That is my most established take.

The fact that that read play in nicely with Mikasa wrapping the scarf around him and taking him home has very little to do with that except that’s where my brain spends most of its time now, I guess.

AND NOW WE’RE BACK TO HISTORIA BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I EVER GET TO HAVE A SINGLE MOMENT OF PEACE.

Hell.

I am tired of going over all the ways in which this does not make sense. I am, perhaps, equally tired of how every single time the pregnancy subplot comes up, it manages to get worse.

‘what oh noooo she’s being used to breed an army of royal babies who will eat their mother’ ‘wait nooo she manipulated a guilty childhood bully into fucking her so zeke could live for some strange reason’ ‘oh nooooooooes it turns out she actually goes and fucks npc farmer guy because zeke needs to live for eren to commit genocide and if she doesn’t let eren commit genocide that’s bad for some reason even if she was just saying it’s actually bad for him to commit genocide’

????

Additionally, I realize this chapter has probably reinvigorated people’s theories that Eren is the father, which. um. continues the trend of being worse, because then you have Historia feeling like she’s backed into a corner where fucking the guy who’s about to commit genocide is her only option because if she can’t come up with some good excuse to not eat Zeke he’s going to wipe her memories.

(ETA: Hours later, I sit here remembering he can’t actually wipe her memories until after Zeke shows up. Oops. ...That somehow manages to make all of this make less sense.)

I deeply do not want to discuss that element.

I’m just bringing it up to establish that every way you spin Historia’s situation is fifty shades of rape, and it’s skeevy as fuck along with making no sense.

Glad to know that in two years, literally nothing has come along to make this better or more logical.

That’s vaguely true because it lends more credence to the idea that it’s all a lie, but at this point, the writing is breaking its own back bending over to try and make this work.

“If there is a most reliable way to make sure that this island lives on... I’ll go along with it. There was no other way... But... you defended me back then... everyone acted for my sake... That’s enough for me.”

I’m going to try to explain my problem with this without screaming.

I’m probably going to fail.

The thing is, Historia’s entire arc is about fighting fate.

Her entire arc is about undoing the cycle of abuse her family has perpetuated, breaking free of it to reclaim her identity as a person and forge a better future for the world.

She almost kills Eren for her father’s approval.

When she doesn’t, her commentary isn’t that it’s wrong, or ineffective (though she’s aware of both these elements).

She makes her case very succinctly.

“God?! What a load of bull!! You’re just saying whatever you can think of to manipulate me and save yourself!! That’s it, I’ve had enough! I won’t let you kill me!!”

Replace “save yourself” with something related to Eren, and we have the exact same plot beat we already had, for a character who’s already gone through it.

Historia’s lack of agency would be bad enough on its own.

The entire focus of the pregnancy subplot has been that it causes Eren angst.

We have not gotten Historia’s thought bubbles.

We have received her verbal compliance.

We have had her misery over her situation on display.

This is something for Eren to feel guilty and angry over, not something for Historia to interact with.

On its own, that’s bad.

When you have it attached to a character whose entire arc is about breaking damaging cycles and living a life designed by her own choices instead of following orders and roles, you have a problem.

Historia never tries to resist this fate. Not that we’re shown. She’s clearly terrified, even in the scene where she staidly offers acceptance, but Eren is the one to speak up. She’s miserable whenever we see her pregnant, but every scene with her involves her sadly going along with this thing she clearly does not want. Even when she asks Eren what he thinks about her having a child, she’s unhappy.

This is the first time she’s gotten dialogue of her own in two years.

The first little bit is her shrugging at her inevitable suffering.

The second bit is being appalled at Eren’s everything.

Then somehow we land at her proposing her inevitable suffering.

Which...

How does that help??? Anything???

My answer to that is that I’m Team Fake Pregnancy, and Historia is proposing a hypothetical thing where she ponders how her having a child would play out, but I’m sorry, what?

Eren’s upset about you losing your bodily autonomy.

Among other things, yes, but having a child you’re not enthusiastic about is the entire fucking ignition point of this fucking fuckening idiocy how is it that NEITHER OF YOU ARE IN POSSESSION OF YOUR SOLITARY BRAIN CELL WHAT IN THE F U C K.

Even if you read it as Historia not having a child with the intent of future cannibalism, but simply having a child to get out of eating Zeke --

Holy fuck is that not better.

It’s still her feeling forced to have a kid because the alternative is lots of people dying.

She’s nineteen.

At the very fucking least this could have the decency to be her story, not a story built around making the main male lead angst enough to commit genocide. At the time of this writing, we are denied that, and while I don’t think this is totally beyond saving, the story the narrative is selling is inexcusable and insulting. The only room for improvement is if we’re actively being misled.

Which is a valid theory, but that doesn’t change my disgust at what we’re being told to believe.

Having Historia simply accept her fate is a sledgehammer to Historia’s entire character development, and Historia’s character development is a microcosm of the guiding themes of the main story. You can’t dethrone her without the manga’s entire thematic significance ringing false.

Also, while I’m here, Eren’s being a fucking prick.

In case that was somehow missed.

'hi historia friendly reminder that i’m only here to commit genocide because you saved my life because like you said you’re the worst’ ‘lol remember that time you said the titans should just kill everyone and i teased you and you said you were caught up in the heat of the moment well guess what i listened to you and everyone’s gonna die thx for the protips’

Anyway.

This is either really good or really bad.

Because Historia does some very stupid things. That is not a writing flaw, it’s a character flaw and feature. She’s impulsive and dumb and realizes things conflict with her principles nine steps into committing criminally negligent homicide, and if that’s how this is all justified...

Hell, I guess I’ll just be tired. Which I already am, so that’s. fine.

It’s funny. This is one of the times I could have gotten away with writing barely anything, since half the chapter is just trailer shots for Eren’s monster movie. Yet here we are, many words in.

I’ve thought a lot today on if I should keep reading or not. One of the things that got under my skin is that I’ve spent a long time coming up with ways for this all to turn out okay. I complain a lot, and certainly lose my temper, but I like to think I stick around because however bad this gets, I have faith that the story’s thesis is that beauty wins against cruelty.

If that’s the case, I want to be here to see it through. I want that high of things being okay when all signs point to nothing ever being okay again.

But it’s been a long day, and I’ve spent two years split between anger and hope that I’m not sure if I feel because I trust the story or if it’s become a habit I’m afraid to break.

Or if it’s because if I did give up, I’d feel insanely guilty for any of the times I’ve tried cheering people up over the bleak things going on in the manga.

I want this to be a happier story than anyone I know thinks it will turn out. I’m an optimist to a degree that people tolerate, but don’t find particularly realistic when gauged against the content.

The main character is on a genocidal march in the name of friends he has broken and betrayed. Friends who can still barely vocalize the option of putting him down.

I don’t know if I want to be here for this.

I don’t think I need to watch more cruelty unfold, no matter how much beauty survives it.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 130 #Eren Yeager #Historia Reiss #shingeki no no #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #tl;dr #chapter post

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sickslickman · 4 years

Text

Welcome to the Table States

Been thinking of doing this for a while, just a cast list for Welcome to the Table by main, major recurring, minor recurring, and guest spots. Let me know if I missed anyone. Also I don’t know sports teams worth a damn, so if I don’t name the state’s jerseys as they should be, that’s why.

Main cast:

(These are characters that premiered in the first episode and appear in most if not all of the episodes. Note: unless otherwise mentioned, all characters in this series are portrayed by Ben Brainard)

DC: The District of Columbia. Runs the meetings. Acts as the leader, but occasionally the shady side of politics comes out of him. Trying desperately to keep his sanity amid the virus, BLM, and everyday American life. His appearance goes from wearing a polo shirt to a suit and tie. Appears in every episode.

Call: “I’m about to do something drastic!”

Florida: The Sunshine State. The Mr. Hyde to DC’s Dr. Jekyll, he is all for absolute chaos and fun over order and following guidelines, and basically comes to the meetings solely to ruin DC’s day. Knows how to call every state because everyone eventually moves to Florida. His appearance is usually a tank top, shorts and a bucket hat. Believes that the coronavirus is a hurricane (or a tropical storm, it varies from day to day). Appears in every episode.

Call: “Duval!”

Texas: The Lone Star State. Usually represents everything the conservative side stands for (guns, politics, religion, women’s rights, big government, you get the drill). His appearance is a red button down shirt and a black cowboy hat. Appears in most episodes.

Call: Sing lines from “Who Put All My Ex's in Texas” by Willie Nelson

California: The Golden State. Usually represents everything the progressive liberal side stands for (abortion, anti-police, anti-fascism, anti-confederacy, BLM, you get it). His appearance is hipster based with beanie and thick-framed glasses. Appears in most episodes.

Call: “Hey Human Torch!” (Unknown if that’s official call or if it just worked because of the wildfires currently ongoing in California)

New York: The Empire State. Tends to be gruff, abrasive and sometimes hostile with his arms almost always folded. Politically is sort of the middle ground between Texas and California; mostly would rather be doing anything else. His appearance used to be a winter coat and hat but has since switched to a Giants jersey. Appears in most episodes.

Call: Unknown at this time, but does react when someone claims their pizza is better.

Major Recurring:

(These are states that make frequent appearances and/or have a strong presence)

Louisiana: The Pelican State. Florida’s best friend and main partner in crime. Very laid back. Only character that speaks with a Cajun accent. His appearance was initially a bucket hat and suspenders with no shirt, but has gradually shifted to wearing LSU gear. Loves daiquiris and gators. Appears in most episodes. His premiere episode is the most watched episode of the series.

Call: “Who dat? Who dat?”

(Note: At this point he has appeared in as many episodes as the main cast, considering bumping him up to main.)

Georgia: The Peach State. Always acts like he just got out of bed, and is almost never seen without a mug of coffee. His appearance has gradually shifted from pajamas to Panthers gear. About as chaotic as Florida, but more out of being dim-witted than out of desire for chaos. Appears in many episodes.

Call: Unknown at this time

West Virginia: The Mountain State: The only state to appear in the pilot episode that is not a main character. Appears very infrequently. His appearances usually involve following coronavirus guidelines and his usage of the word “f***.” Initially dressed in Amish clothing, he has since changed to a Mountaineers football shirt and hat.

Call: Unknown at this time

Washington: The Evergreen State. As the American spread of the coronavirus originated in Seattle, he is almost always coughing but passes it off as “allergies.” Usually wears a dark short-sleeved button down and hipster glasses with ear buds. Appears in several episodes.

Call: Unknown at this time

Massachusetts: The Bay State. Appears frequently and loudly. Has a love-mostly-hate relationship with New York. Tends to be a very abrasive and loud voice of reason. His appearance has gone from a Celtics jersey to a Bruins one.

Call: “Is that Matt Damon and Ben Affleck?”

Utah: The Beehive State. His appearance is a dress shirt and tie and he usually carries a Bible. He is a Mormon and very religious. Has an antagonistic relationship with Florida, who constantly belittles him and inquires about his multiple wives (which Utah does not do anymore). Appears semi-frequently.

Call: “I wish someone were here to tell me about my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!”

Kentucky: The Bluegrass State. Usually wears a dress sweater and carries a picture of Governor Andy Beshear with him everywhere. Tends to be a voice of reason and one of the least problematic states at the table, which is surprising given who his senator is. Appears semi-frequently.

Call: Pronounce “Louisville”

The Carolinas: Both make frequent and strong appearances, and both have a rough relationship with Florida. Both wear T-shirts reflecting their states.

South Carolina: The Palmetto State. Likes to remind Florida of the Jameis Winston crab legs incident. Gets annoyed if you say his barbeque is trash. Loves college football and is always talking about Clemson.

Call: “Carolina BBQ is trash!”

North Carolina: The Tar Heel State. Although he has only appeared in the series fairly recently, he has already become a recurring character. Loves barbecues and basketball. Tends to get hit with a lot of natural disasters.

Call: “It’s bo time!”

Colorado: The Centennial State. Wears a blue T-shirt and a ski hat with goggles. Is usually high all the time and constantly talks about weed. Appears semi-frequently.

Call: Howl like a wolf

Alaska: The Last Frontier. Has only appeared a couple of times but has made a strong impression. Wears an “Alaskan grown” shirt and winter hat. Speaks in a slow but patient voice. Likes to be left alone. Has a friendly rivalry with Texas on account of size. Is a little weird but friendly enough.

Call: None. He is always there. Like Batman.

Minor Recurring:

(These are for characters that are more like supporting characters. Note that although several of these states have had episodes focusing on them, their overall presence is less than that of the major recurring)

Indiana: The Hoosier State. Has only appeared twice. Has trouble coming to terms with Mike Pence’s alleged homosexuality. Not much else notable about him.

Call: Sing the Indiana Jones theme (Although he would prefer “Hoo hoo!”)

Pennsylvania: The Keystone State. Appears semi-frequently but is mostly a slightly less abrasive New York or Massachusetts. Wears an Eagles jersey in most appearances. Constantly asking for a drink. Constantly asking people to choose between Wawa or Sheetz.

Call: “We are!”

Wisconsin: The Badger State. Wears a giant foam Swiss cheese hat on his head. Is perpetually drunk. Argues in favor of the rights of the people (although not always in the best ways). Hates Illinois and especially the Bears.

Call: “Anyone need anything from Quik Trip?”

Illinois: The Prairie State. Mostly just known for Chicago and not much else. Wears a Cubs jersey and hat. Seems rather old fashioned and does not like alcoholics. Everyone in his state seems to hate each other. Hates Wisconsin and has arguments with New York in regards to who makes better pizza.

Call: Unknown, but seems to react to someone insulting the Bears.

Ohio: The Buckeye State. Loves skyline chili and wine at two o’clock. Begins just about every sentence with “ope.” Used to dress like a rapper wannabe, but now dressed in Ohio State gear. Hates Michigan and given the chance would kill him himself.

Call: “O-H!”

Michigan: The Great Lake State. Wears a Lions jersey and hat and brings a bottle of Vernors with him everywhere. Hates Ohio and wants to beat Ohio State at football.

Call: “Liberate Michigan!”

New Mexico: The Land of Enchantment. Appears very infrequently. Speaks Spanish on top of English. Is intelligent to a degree but will throw down if necessary. Mostly talks about cultural things. Wears a blue hoodie-looking sweater.

Call: Unknown, but responds when someone claims to have better green chili.

Mississippi: The Show Me State. Claims to be the “Harvard of the South.” Carries a water bottle with him wherever he goes. Gets into arguments with California over Confederate momentos.

Call: Unknown at this time

Alabama: The Cotton State. Mostly appears in the weekly recap videos. Represents the philosophies of the Deep South. Not much else known about him.

Call: Unknown at this time

Arizona: The Grand Canyon State. Appears mostly as a semi-frequent character in the weekly recap videos. Not much else is known about him.

Call: Unknown at this time

Missouri: The Show Me State. Appears semi-frequently in the weekly recap videos. Not much is known about him other than he likes barbeque and has a feud with Kansas over Kansas City.

Call: Unknown at this time

Oklahoma: The Sooner State. Appears mostly in the weekly recap videos but has made other appearances too. Tends to be rather sarcastic and blunt, but is prone to overreaction at times. Hates Texas.

Call: Unknown at this time

Tennessee: The Volunteer State. Appears mostly in the weekly recap videos. Tends to be high-pitched and melodramatic.

Call: Unknown at this time

Oregon: The Beaver State. Appears mostly in the weekly recap videos. Was very active during the BLM protests and was vocal against the use of police brutality and unmarked abductions.

Call: Unknown at this time

Minnesota: The North Star State. Appears mostly in the weekly recap videos. Was very active during the BLM protests and in support of defunding police and reallocating resources. Tends to be a voice of reason.

Call: Unknown at this time

Connecticut: The Constitution State. Has only appeared a few times in the weekly recap videos. Tries to avoid dealing with Florida as much as he can.

Call: Unknown at this time

Maryland: The Free State. Wore a T-shirt in early appearances but is now decked out in crab gear in recent ones. As abrasive as a northern state, but with as much pride as a southern one. Early episodes had a running gag of Maryland’s issues regarding coronavirus tests.

Call: “Anyone have any Old Bay?”

The Dakotas: Appear infrequently. Only have about thirty-six people among both of them.

North Dakota: Has only appeared a couple of times. Not much is known about him.

South Dakota: Has appeared more often than his brother, but usually only talks about the Sturgis Bike Rally. Also is trying to fight meth.

Call: “Who’s the better Dakota again?” (will call both of them)

Iowa: The Corn State. One of the biggest running gags in the series is that no one seems to know where he is or how to get in touch with him. Tends to come and go from meetings whenever he sees fit.

Call: Unknown at this time

Background characters:

(Characters that only appear once or have no real significance to the series)

Nevada: The Silver State. Has only appeared once. Dresses like a Vegas dancer.

Rhode Island: The Ocean State. Has only appeared once to discuss his name change.

New Jersey: The Garden State. Has only appeared once. Doesn’t like it when New York keeps visiting him.

Wyoming: The Equality State. Has only appeared once when Florida insulted his name.

Nebraska: The Cornhusker State. Has appeared a couple of times but has had no real significance.

Kansas: The Sunflower State. Has only appeared a couple of times. Tends to feud with Missouri over Kansas City.

Idaho: The Gem State. Has only appeared once(?).

Arkansas: The Natural State. His only real appearance was in the poker episode when everyone told him he couldn’t play on account of he never shuts anything down and can’t weigh in with anything.

Delaware: The First State. Has only appeared twice. Like the state itself, nothing of significance has yet been noted.

Virginia: The Old Dominion. Has only appeared a couple of times, and his only notable role was in the mask debate.

States that still have not made an appearance:

Montana

Vermont

Maine

New Hampshire

Hawaii (Note that Brainard has stated he wishes to find a Hawaiian native actor to play this character.)

Other characters in this series:

CDC: The Center of Disease Control. Originally played by Ben Brainard, the role has since been taken over by comedian Drew Lynch. An overworked, underappreciated man who tries to get the states to adhere to coronavirus regulations. He has a bad stutter and has not slept in weeks. He may be being kept alive purely on coffee and good intentions.

International DC: Played by Elana Rose. Has only appeared once. DC’s sister and the international relations part of the federal government. She’s not very good at her job and tends to act very “mean girl.”

Mother Nature: Played by Liz, aka “lozclaws”. The goddess of earthling weather. Has an on-again off-again relationship with Florida.

Claire: Also played by Liz. Mother Nature’s...roommate? Mother? Not entirely sure. Tries to be a voice of reason to a pair with very little reason between the two of them.

The National Guard: The national army. Has only appeared twice, once to bodyguard Maryland, the other to discuss the BLM protests.

The 3rd Amendment: The third amendment to the Constitution of the United States. Only appeared once. It was very confusing.

Virginia: Kentucky’s sign-language interpreter. Only appeared once. Was deeply offended by Florida (as we all are).

Greg the Sound Guy: The guy who handles the audio and holds the mic boom for the show. Only appeared twice. Probably doesn’t get paid enough.

#Ben Brainard #Welcome to the Table #a wikia of sorts #TikTok

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darkkidplaidopera · 4 years

Text

“For eternity” Khunbam

as always sorry for any errors, and there’s smut under the cut so you’ve been warned lol

<- ->

Khun Aguero Agnis has never been prone to believe in the supernatural. As he said himself, this world has already contained enough madness itself. The first rule of living there everyone learned as a child – if you want to avoid making the same mistakes, you have to know your past. What's more, each human being was born with a mark on their body which symbolized the way one died in their last incarnation. The mark belonging to Khun didn't look particularly large. Some people thought he's lucky because of it. Yet two dark dots staining his pale neck looked as if he got bitten by a venomous snake. Even though they seemed way too huge for simply a wild animal, Aguero tried not to think about it. Was there a big chance that he'll die this way again? No, of course not. He didn't have any possible way of meeting such a creature during his usual life. And that's enough of a reason to don't care about his mark. After all, Khun Aguero Agnis was a busy man, he had no time for this kind of nuisances. Always dressed properly – a tailored suit, shiny shoes, black tie, and an expensive watch. If you ever tried to imagine what a stereotypical businessman looked like, he'd be the first thing popping into your mind. Khun's life, just as his straightened blue hair, was lacking any kind of mess. He couldn't understand people who treated their marks as a significant part of themselves. There was no such a word like “destiny” in his dictionary, because believing in it had no logical value. After all, he lived in a world with much bigger issues – economy, politics, and even an upcoming climate catastrophe! Caring about something as trivial as body marks in current situation seemed egoistical. Or at least that's what he thought.

Fall was such a pretty season, but it had a major flaw. Too short days. Aguero spent most of his time in his office, which resulted in the fact that both when he entered, and left the building there was already dark outside. Maybe Khun didn't like to admit it, but coming back to his house was the least favorite part of the day for him. The office was his sanctuary. Full of life, people, important matters. And his house? Empty, filled with loneliness, and apathy. Aguero had everything, but he felt like he still lacked something. Or someone, to be more precise. Khun could reject those thoughts, try to disagree with them, he could even find them totally idiotic. But for what reason when deep down he knew himself what was the truth? Self awareness was both a blessing, and a curse. Yet the awareness itself couldn't possibly affect his daily routine in any way. Aguero packed his documents, and checked for the last time if everything was on its place. It was a few minutes past 8 P.M. If not for the streetlamps, there would be an unbreakable darkness surrounding every inch of the world outside. Khun lived near his office, so he could easily go back to his place on foot. On his way he passed different parks, streets, and houses. Aguero swore to himself that there was no other place in this world with so many imbeciles behind the wheel who treated speed limits like suggestions instead of restrictions. Khun considered himself to be a tolerant person. Yet there was one thing he absolutely couldn't stand – irresponsibility. Suddenly, he heard a weird noise behind his back. It couldn't possibly be wind. The noise sounded more like a rustle of some leaves being stomped at. Aguero turned around immediately, but the only thing he saw was an empty road dressed in a dark shroud of the night. Maybe he imagined things? No, impossible. Maybe it was some kind of animal. Yes, that's the only rational option. Khun tried to believe that. Yet, during the whole walk to his house, he felt like he wasn't alone. As soon as Aguero reached his destination, he closed the door quickly while throwing his cloak at an armchair.

“Alone once again,” Khun murmured.

Talking to himself was one of those habits that he didn't create completely deliberately. Khun didn't like spending time in an absolute silence. Being left alone with his thoughts was too overwhelming. Silence was the only thing that could scream the truth so loudly. Khun Aguero Agnis was a successful man. And he was really fucking lonely.

“You seem really confident for someone who's wrong.”

Aguero froze. That voice definitely didn't belong to him. It didn't even sound fully humane. A husky, low timbre made Khun shiver. He felt like an animal that's slowly getting closer to getting trapped in a cage. The velvet voice seemed to cling to Aguero's heart, and surround it with golden threads. The ones that spread their warmth, making others unable to take their eyes away from the beauty. Those that one day will stop Aguero's circulation to own the last beat of his heart.

“Who are you?” Khun asked while trying to get out of his narcotic trance.

“Does it matter? I can introduce myself with every name, and every past. But it won't change anything,” a man answered.

Khun took this moment as an opportunity to see the source of the voice. A man standing next to his window seemed completely indifferent to what was happening, as if the situation's nothing new for him. Because of a black cloak he was wearing, his posture lightly blurred with the night sky. Long, dark hair covering a part of his face made the stranger slightly more mysterious. It looked as if his clothing was chosen on purpose so the slim body didn't look so fragile. Because of his tallness, and rather delicate face structure the stranger reminded Aguero more of a statue than a real human being. His marble skin, and body seemed like an embodiment of the slenderness of Gothic architecture that somehow got trapped in a Greek sculpture.

“I don't think any different. But since you've already broken into my home, you could already make some effort, and provide me a believable reason why,” Aguero snorted.

“Does everything need to have a reason, though? If something has to happen, then it will, no matter if there's a legitimate cause of it,” the man replied.

Nonsense. Nothing happens without a reason. Khun Aguero Agnis would never allow something as irrational as fate to make a difference in his life without a permission.

“And, Aguero,” the stranger continued. “Don't you want to know what was the real cause of your mark?”

“How do you know my name?”

With each passing second Khun found it harder to stay calm. There was a stranger in his house who had probably followed him before, and somehow even knew his name. Aguero didn't know if the man meant any harm, but he also wasn't too thrilled to check. Khun knew there's a chance he's in danger, and even worse – he didn't know how to escape from his own house to call the police.

“I've been watching you for quite a time.”

Yikes. Isn't that stalking? Suddenly, a wind blow came through the room, and left a slight impact on the man's hair. The dark cascades made a contact with golden light coming from his big eyes. They seemed familiar. Too familiar for Khun's liking. A quiet voice in Aguero's head was getting louder, and louder. And its screams were repetitively filling his mind with one word.

“Your name is Viole, right?”

The man nodded.

Jue Viole Grace has never considered himself to be an extraordinary human being. Well, maybe let's start with the fact that he never considered himself a human. As one of the creatures that most people thought existed only in fairytales, he tried to fit in really hard. And it wasn't an easy task. With his extremely pale skin, dark hair, and fangs that were a little too long Viole was rather easy to find in a crowd. Viole considered the twenty-first century as a nice change, though. In the previous ages, his appearance usually made people either scared or nervous. Not to mention when he had to run away from villages while being chased with pitchforks, and torches. And now? Now if people react to his looks at all, they usually just wonder if there was a new collection with vampire accessories in Hot Topic. Viole liked it. No one would believe he's a vampire anyway. The society apparently thought of reincarnation, and weird body marks as completely normal. But vampires? No, that's not possible. Yet what else could he expect, when after all these years some people still believed that the Earth is flat? Viole didn't complain, though. Conspiracy theories were way better than wasting his time on priests trying to exorcise him to get some demons out. Viole didn't mind waiting. He didn't remember his past lives fully, but there was one repetitive thing in all of them. Eyes made of cobalt. But not some ordinary blue eyes. Only the ones that belonged to his Aguero had this exact color. Dark, but not overbearing hue that looked almost mauve in daylight was irreplaceable. Every time Aguero was amused, his eyes shined with him, and Viole could swear on his life that they looked like a sky full of stars. He'd wait for Khun as long as it's necessary. But he hoped that the right time will come soon.

The fact that his Aguero remembered him made Viole feel relieved. Even if a detail or two of their relationship escaped from his head. The last time they met his Aguero was gone too soon. Even though Viole would give up his own eternity for Khun, there was nothing that could remain immortal when facing this world's cruelty. The marks weren't necessarily equal with death. They meant that the soul has already perished, but brought no meaning when it came to talking about the state of one's body.

“How much do you remember, my Aguero?”

Khun blushed madly. Most people didn't dare to act informal around him, let alone call him Aguero. It didn't bother him, though.

“Not a lot, unfortunately. I don't get why everyone's in some kind of tower,” he replied.

“It's a long story, my Aguero. Too long for just one night.”

Said story wasn't the most pleasant one to tell, too. Even though the godless tower was supposed to bring them happiness, the true joy came with the disappearance of it. Viole couldn't possibly be happy knowing how many people died because of him.

“There's quite a few interesting things that I remember, though,” Khun smirked with a dangerously amused look on his face.

Viole almost didn't notice how quickly Aguero closed the distance between them.

“How loudly you were moaning my name, for example,” he whispered into Viole's ear.

Viole felt his cheeks turning crimson. Beacause of the long time he spent without his Aguero, he almost didn't remember what a tease he was. But Khun forgot one thing.

“Then you should also remember how much you liked choking on my cock, and begging for more.”

Aguero frowned. He didn't recall Viole being that bold, and it really turned him on. Their lips connected in a hungry kiss which was a beginning of a sinful act. At some point, Aguero's legs wrapped themselves around Viole's waist, and Khun wasn't sure if he had any control over them anymore.

“I think a need a reminder,” Khun said, and licked his lips. “Preferably in the bedroom, third door on the left.”

“I'll make sure that you'll never forget again.”

Quiet moans started to fill the spacious room. Tangled, blue hair partly covered Aguero's rose-red cheeks. His plump lips, now lightly swollen, were wrapped around Viole's member, and made honey-eyed man lose his mind. A stream of saliva on Aguero's pale chin, his half-closed eyes, and needy moans were enough of a reason for Viole to forget about anything else. His Aguero looked exceptionally pretty when he was so obedient. When defenseless, he seemed almost pure, and full of innocence. Or at least what was left of it. Viole felt that he's about to cum, but it was too early for

that. The fun has just started.

“Mm... Aguero,” he said with a hoarse voice. “Be a good boy, and lay on your stomach for me.”

Khun tried to stood up, but his shaky legs were a major inconvenience. Viole has already made a mess of him, and he didn't even properly touch him. When Aguero's throbbing cock touched the sheets, an obscene noise left his mouth. He wanted Viole's touch. No, not just wanted. He needed it. Now. He felt Viole's arms slowly roaming around his body. And then, a silky fabric of his own tie made contact with Khun's wrists, tying them up.

“Is it too tight?” Viole asked, and the only answer he got was an incoherent mumbling, supposedly meaning 'no'.

Viole's lips started leaving trails of kisses on Aguero's body, making their way to his inner thighs.

“Stop t-teasing me, Viole,” Khun gasped, not even entirely sure himself if the words made a proper sentence.

“I thought that good boys are more patient,” Viole replied. “You know that being disobedient results in a punishment.”

He didn't wait for any reply this time. He liked seeing Aguero like this. So vulnerable, and willing to do what Viole wanted. But he wasn't sadistic. He could pamper his Aguero a little, and skip the punishment part. Viole reached for the lube that laid on the nightstand, and let the cold substance cover Aguero's needy, twitching hole. Khun moaned loudly when Viole's member entered him.

“Harder, please!” Aguero yelled with no care that someone might hear him.

Hoarse incoherent sounds left Khun's mouth, when Viole increased the speed of his thrusts. The erotic act between them brought another deadly sin to their lives, and made it take full control of the lovers. A throbbing release of their passion ended with an intense orgasm, leaving two men in a chaos of their own bodies.

“Viole?” gasped Khun exhausted, craving for air. “I want to be yours only.”

“You're already mine, Aguero,” replied Viole. “You've always been.”

Gold eyes roamed around Khun's body once more, while pale hands untied him.

“Not in that way, Viole” Khun said. “I want to be yours forever.”

The man looked into cobalt eyes once more, as if he was looking for reassurance. Aguero was confident with what he wanted. Viole's lips left a few delicate kisses on his neck, and then bit it.

“For eternity, Aguero?”

“And even longer, Viole.”

#khunbam #khunbaam #tower of god #tog #tog ff #kami no tou #khun aguero agnis #khun aguero agnes #25th bam #25th baam #jue viole grace #vampire bam #modern au

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wafflebloggies · 4 years

Text

Second Contact

[more of this]

They were building next door, again. Alan didn’t have any more idea what they were building than he’d had when they’d moved in, but the shuddering noises kept on and on and on, from behind the tall, bleak, green-painted steel wall around the perimeter of the place where the house next door had been. Alan lay awake and stared up at the ceiling, watching the lampshade sway in the pale slant of moonlight, jerking with each percussive thud. The noise usually stopped by midnight. His parents seemed to be able to sleep through it.

The lampshade jumped like a salmon. Alan jolted upright with a gasp. That one hadn’t even sounded like it came from next door. It sounded like something dropping onto the roof of their house, directly over his head.

He told himself to calm down, made himself lie down again. His imagination, it was just his imagination. It had to be. Nothing could-

The window creaked.

Alan was suddenly very aware of the space in the room, the night breeze stirring the curtains, the empty floor, every single hair that was trying to crawl right off his arms and the back of his neck. He'd never felt more awake in his life- he was pretty sure no other ten-year-old in the history of the world had ever been this awake, ever.

His eyes were riveted on the window, where the moon shining against the curtains made a perfect backlit shadow theatre. The shape of Something- a slow, long, spidery, distorted Something- eased up the sash, and slid into the pool of shade under the window.

Into his room.

Alan wasn’t quite sure how he ended up out of bed, but he did it. Before the dark mass under the window started to move again, he had slipped out from under his bedclothes and into the recess between the bed and the wall. Directly in front of him, the tall obelisk of his wardrobe blocked the way. It was the biggest thing in the room- too big, really, for a room this small. It was right between him and the door.

The Something moved across the room. Flattened against the floor by the baseboard, all Alan could make out was the soft pad of footsteps on the rug under his ear. He couldn’t tell how many feet. He couldn’t even hear breathing. Very slowly, praying nothing would catch or shift or creak, he pushed out with his bare foot, felt with his toes under the wardrobe’s nearest corner for the heavy wooden knob of its front leg. The frail one, with the twist- the one his dad kept meaning to fix.

The Something stepped into the moonlight, into the centre of the room. Alan held his breath, shut his eyes tight, and kicked.

The wardrobe moved, but not much. At the horrible shifting creak it made, the Something turned suddenly, and Alan caught the flash of an eye and something else- something unearthly and inhuman that glinted like metal. He kicked again, terror giving an edge to his strength, and flung his shoulder against the back edge of the wardrobe. It was just enough.

The wardrobe toppled, the lower drawers sliding out as it went, thudding into the rug like a handful of giant’s dominoes. The Something let out a single shocked squawk before the whole thing went over, and before the heavy front had even slammed into the floor, Alan was moving, diving across the room for the torch in his desk drawer. He grabbed it and pumped it up, the whirring of the battery loud in the wake of the wardrobe’s settling crash. The strengthening beam of light swung wildly across the room, and Alan scrambled across the bed and peered down at the floor.

“Ow,” whined the Something. “That actually really hurt.”

---8---

“I mean you no harm,” said the alien.

It was a strange thing to say, considering. Most of the alien was sandwiched, firmly, under the bulk of the wardrobe. Alan, who was sitting on top of the wardrobe with his bare feet drawn up, to put as much weight on it as possible, shifted his grip on the mosquito whacker in his hands. He didn’t feel too confident, facing down an alien-robot-monster-thing with nothing but a two-dollar electrified tennis racket, but at least he wasn’t the one pinned to the floor.

He wasn’t entirely convinced by the thing’s delivery, either. The words were ‘I mean you no harm,’ but the way they were said sounded more like ‘you just wait.’

“Who are you?” he said, shakily. “What are you? What are you doing in my bedroom?”

He could feel it trying to pull itself free. It was hard to believe that the floor-shaking crash the wardrobe had made as it tipped had failed to wake either of his parents, but then, the three of them had been dealing with the horrendous construction noise from across the street every night since they’d moved in. Probably, by this point, his parents could have slept through an earthquake with very little disturbance. Alan didn’t dare get down off the wardrobe to fetch them, just in case his own relatively insignificant weight was the only thing preventing the thing’s escape.

The alien squirmed a bit, but seemed to realise it was well and truly stuck. It let out a long, impatient sigh. “Don’t freak out, okay,” it said, “but… I’m not from this planet.”

Alan stared. “Well, yeah,” he said, at last. “You’re an alien robot, I heard you landing on the roof.”

“I’m not a robot- you’re actually being very rude right now, you know? Just because parts of me happen to be inorganic-”

“Rude? You broke into my room!”

“The window was open!”

They stared at each other. The bedside lamp had been knocked over in the initial scuffle, and in the crooked slant of light Alan could see the alien’s eyes, very vivid emerald green and slightly reflective in its metallic face. It wasn’t a big creature. Given that most of it was under the wardrobe, it was maybe about the same size as he was.

“You know, this wasn’t the sort of welcome I was expecting at all,” said the alien. Its voice was loaded with accusation. “It took me a really, really long time to get here, I had a lot of majorly cool plans, and all that’s happened since I arrived is, people yelling at me, and refusing to listen, and now you actually attacked me, and I don’t- I don’t feel like you people are even taking me seriously at all! What do I have to do? Literally, what do you want from me, I’m the first contact you humans have ever had with an interstellar species, exponentially more advanced than your own, would it kill you to show me a little respect? I- I have a ship and everything! I… I…”

It stumbled over its words, and stopped. The silence dragged out for a little bit, and Alan was about to speak when to his astonishment and embarrassment he heard the alien make a noise like a stifled sniffle.

“Are- are you… crying?”

“No,” said the alien, furiously and damply.

Alan arrived at a decision. He put down the mosquito whacker and climbed down off the wardrobe, ready to dash back at any moment if the thing tried to make a move. He padded over to his school coat, hanging on the back of the door, went through the pockets and brought the alien a crumpled tissue, which after some hesitation it took, and blew its nose on.

“My name’s Alan,” he offered, sitting down on the rug by the alien’s side, against the wardrobe. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

It made a sound halfway between a hiccup and an incredulous sniff. “Hurt me? It’d take more than this stupid, flimsy little… uh…”

“Wardrobe.”

“…wardrobe, to hurt me. I mean, it’s kind of squashing me into the floor, but that’s no biggie.” Another nose-blow.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m- uh- well, my name is way too complex to translate into your primitive phonology. You can just call me, uh… the Captain.”

He posed, dramatically, or at least as much as he could, squished as he was between the wardrobe and the floor. He really didn’t look very comfortable.

---8---

“Cool! That’s great, Alan. Maybe you can start by getting this thing off me, how does that sound?”

Alan sat back on his heels.

“Actually, um, I’m not sure I can,” he admitted. “I don’t think I can move this thing by myself. Dad had to ask the guy next door to help us get it up the stairs. Mom says it’s genuine oak.”

“That’s nice,’ said the alien. ‘I’m glad I’m not having my spine crushed by some cheap knockoff.”

They tried, anyway. Alan braced his feet on the wall and pushed until he saw flashing lights, and the alien made a lot of straining noises without appearing to actually help much, but the wardrobe didn’t budge an inch. Giving it up as a bad job, Alan pushed his sweaty curls out of his face and tried to think.

“In movies,” he said, slowly, “kids always try to keep stuff like this a secret.”

“Which never works,” the alien pointed out.

“Yeah, it never- wait, how do you know?”

“Oh, I know movies,” said the alien, shifting under the wardrobe enough to rest his chin on his hands. “I’ve watched all of them.”

Alan squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He was just beginning to say ‘what do you mean, all of them?’ when a sound from the direction of his parents’ room down the hall brought him sharply back to the problem in hand.

“I’m going to get Mom and Dad,” he said, standing up. “Don’t worry, they’re… uh… don’t worry, okay? Just try to look… harmless.”

The small alien-robot-kid stuck half-under his wardrobe gave him a look that was at the same time both overly patient and quite unreasonably exasperated.

“I’ll try,” he said.

---8---

Alan knew his ground.

“We can't just call the police, Mom,” he said. “We can't. We don't know what they might do to him. What if NASA decides to, to experiment on him?”

His parents looked dazedly at him, the alien, and each other. They had the shellshocked faces of two sensible, rational adults who really weren’t prepared to be dealing with this sort of thing at 3AM.

“Alan-”

“There's this thing they showed us in class that they can do to monkeys, where they cut it open and put its brain in a sort of dish of chemicals, and it's still alive, and they poke it and make the monkey react, and its body is still twitching around even though its brain is gone! What if they do that to him?”

“Alan,” said his dad, after a rather queasy sort of pause, “it's not our-”

“It IS our responsibility, Dad! Look at him! He's not going to hurt anybody! What if they torture him? What if they kill him, and next week, his whole family shows up and atomizes the planet? We don't know! We're the only people who can do anything now, while his brain's still on the inside!”

The alien had listened to all this with the aloof, dignified expression of somebody who didn't understand a single word. Alan's mother put a hand on his dad's arm, and drew him across the room to the window, where they started to talk in urgent, grown-up whispers. There was a lot of pointing and waving, mostly from his dad, who talked with his hands. Alan watched them, trying to make out what they were saying, but after a minute the alien poked him in the leg.

“What did you tell them?”

“Um,” said Alan. “Just, er, that you're very important and it'd be good for Earth if they helped you, probably.”

The alien nodded. “Very diplomatic,” he said, approvingly. “Tell them they can start by getting this wardrobe off me.”

#Captain Disillusion #cadet disillusion #smol AU #my writes

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lucarioisinthevoid · 4 years

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I’ve always imagineer that it is one of Mike’s biggest fears to not have The Gang (TM) not be real and it all was one big hallucination. 🥺🥺🥺🥺 poor boi

Hah, you don’t even know how many universes I have about this. It certainly terrifies him beyond everything, but he’s desperate to believe, because not only would him waking up mean that his delusions have reached a whole different level, but also that he’s absolutely incapable of connecting with real people. It’s scary to like people. It’s scary if people like him. There’s the constant threat that it will all be taken from him. Even worse if it might happen by his own hands. That he breaks something so important, so valuable, that not even his co-workers can forgive him. Sometimes he just feels like an untrustworthy animal. A feral monster. Though in an odd way he felt more connected to the animatronics- perhaps there was a place for monsters, where they weren’t- … well, where they at least weren’t unwanted. But yes, he never will be free of the worry. Of the fear. Because how do you prove what you see is real? How do you test if all your perceptions can be faked? Do you know if you’re a brain in a jar? Are you here right now? With me? Can you hear me?

When Mike woke up, he sucked in his breath panicked. Where was he?! What happened?! His mind was a fuzzy mess of static-y noises and missing memories. Quickly he shook his head, then looked from the left to the right, trying to figure out what exactly was going on- Doors, the screens, the cupcake, the fan- Oh. The fan was off. Quietly he flicked it on and felt a little bit better instantly as the cold air hit his face. Right. The nightshift. Everything was fine. NO WAIT IT WASN’T- Checking the doors, the awful grinning Chica stood in front of it, pressing herself against the glass. Waiting. Without even having to think, he pushed the button, causing the door to slam. Good god, how lucky he was that he hasn’t been gone too long- He couldn’t imagine what would have happened if the animatronics would have caught him sleeping- Did he ever fall asleep on the job before? … something was wrong. The temptation was there to go out and check on this feeling- But no, he wouldn’t let himself being baited into getting murdered. Hah, that would be FUNNY. No way. His brain was working as good as it always did, he was above this. He KNEW truth from his feverdreams. Finally, six AM. He was out. Or rather, he could relax while the animatronics retreated onto their respective stages. Mike stayed in the main area, playing around with the hats, waiting for the doors to open and his co-workers to enter. But they never came. He waited an hour, he waited the day, as the sun slowly sank down he got more and more worried. He attempted to call them- but nothing. Then finally he decided to go out- But where should he even seek? Did he KNOW where they lived? Seemingly not as he constantly ended up at the false places- he must remember something wrong- something was WRONG! But what was the guard to do? When the night approached, he returned back into the office, for another shift. There was no way he could just abandon the machines, they would hurt themselves- or others, then getting torn apart. Simon would come back right? Simon was his friend. He would return. He would come to look for him, right? If he couldn’t look for them, they would eventually return- Jeremy- Dave- Old Sport- ONE of them had to return eventually, right? Someone would come to tell him what happened! Time passed by. Mike wasn’t even sure how fast- every day pretty much the same. By now he had befriended the machines a little bit more, at least for during the day. The restaurant was breaking down, but thankfully the generator needed little to charge it up, the cameras and lights were all still fine. Hell, even the music did work still out. He felt a bit bad for the animatronics, as they slowly became more and more broken down- they still seemed to be in high spirits though. And still hunting him down heartlessly at night. Mike had stopped questioning that part. They knew he was their friend, at least during the day… he assumed there was some trauma related terror coming with the darkness, causing them to act out viciously. Fine. He could handle it. He was like them after all. Trying his best he attempted to maintain what could and keep the place at least SOMEWHAT clean, though he slowly lost the fight against the creeping plants and mold. But that was fine. Nobody ever came, even if he was sure that the doors were open. What could have caused the sudden shut-down? And were the other taken along? Maybe they had been sent to another location? But then- why not him? His thoughts were constant circles that were slowly driving him insane. He hoped for SOMEONE. SOMETHING. Hell, he was looking for secret doors, hoping for ANY HINT- Until one night, finally someone came. Mike was flicking through the cameras, rather bored as he heard something and quickly flicked until he found the one where there was unusual movement. The doors had opened and a group of teenagers had answered. He could hear their laughter and words, but those turned into distorted echoes, as they were send through the empty hallways. Glancing at the clock he realized it was shortly before midnight. Fucking hell- what for fucking IDIOTS! Rashly he grabbed his flashlight and made his way down the hallway. The poster changed as he passed them. Fuck, fuck, fuck, they were awake- When he arrived in the main place, where the teens had set up some alcohol and party lights, one even having put on a hat, he called out loudly- and admittedly, maybe a bit too harshly. “HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING HERE!?” The kids jumped, one falling straight from the chair. Frozen they stared at him and he frustratedly stared back. Seriously, what where they DOING here?! Suddenly, next to him was a noise of something dropping on the ground loudly. Snapping around he saw a girl standing there, a few broken cups to her feet. Suddenly one of them screamed out. “RUN!” And she didn’t hesitate anymore. “DON’T FUCKING DO IT- goddammit.” Mortified he looked at the stage- The head had turned. With a last glare at the teens he proceeded to follow her up. “IF YOU GO THERE YOU WON’T GET FUCKING OUT, YOU’RE AWARE OF THAT RIGHT? THOSE ARE A FUCKING DEAD END. EMPHASIS ON DEAD.” As fast as he could he rushed after her, but he was distracted as he heard multiple voices scream in the backroom, then scattering. “Goddamn kids- why aren’t they running OUT!?” The next generation seemed to seriously lack self-preservation instincts. Torn he stood on the spot, swaying- Then he rushed back. The animatronics were there- the danger was THERE. Rushing as fast as he could without crashing into any walls while taking corners, just to spot one of the teens being chased down by the laughing Chica. He wanted to go along, distract the animatronic, but quickly saw a silhouette in the darkness ahead- “HEY!” It ran off, moving into the office, making Mike realize what was going on. “YOU BETTER NOT CLOSE THAT DOOR, YOUNG MAN-“ The door was closed and locked and Mike could only stare in through the window, at the mortified person cowering inside, looking back at him. “OPEN THE DOOR! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING-“ The other side was still open and to Mike’s horror, a golden eye lit up behind the guy. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK- Desperately he pounded against the reinforced glass. “GET OUT! TURN AROUND! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?” The brown-haired teen kept his eyes locked on him, causing Mike to make a distressed noise and try to run the other way around- Not three steps and he heard an animatronic scream. Too late. There were other screams throughout the place, there was no time to dwell. Again Mike made his way around, attempting desperately to spot any humans- This was terrible, terrible, fucking awful! How would he tell the police about this?! How would the animatronics deal with hurting people who were almost children themselves!? WHY WASN’T HE DOING HIS JOB!? Hurry, hurry, hurry up. Make you can save SOMETHING. For ONCE. Hearing something he pressed himself against the wall, letting an animatronic pass that seemingly didn’t notice him. Out of breath he moved past the bathrooms and- Sobbing. Instantly he moved inside, hearing a muffled cry. The last of the teenagers cowered against the wall, the green eyes wide and terrified. “STAY- STAY AWAY FROM ME!” “Calm the fuck down!” Mike tried to reassure him. “I… I’ll get you out of here. But you NEED to calm down. You HAVE to-“ The boy threw something that Mike promptly deflected. “You’re a little bitch, you fucking know that? Maybe I SHOULD let you brats handle yourself” He turned to check on what it was that had fallen- His eyes met the ones in the mirror. Silver. Shining silver. An endoskeleton, with tiny white dots in their big black eyes stared back. A torch in its hand. A hat on his head. A little glowing badge on his chest. “What… what the fuck…” He stumbled back and the endo almost crashed into one of the stalls behind him- he could feel the door open against his back. Terrified his eyes wandered back to the kid. “That’s- that’s not real. That’s not me. THAT’S NOT ME-“ IT’S ME IT’S ME IT’S ME IT’S ME Before he could do anything more, the teen bolted past him and he lost his focus more and more. S Y S T E M R E B O O T Mike woke up at his desk, tired, with a headache. Fuck… what happened?! Something happened. Did he fall asleep?! Dizzy he stood up, looking outside of the black doors. There was noise of slow animatronic movement. Something was… off. Slowly he stepped outside, looking around. Chica was with the back to him, carrying something. A liquid of indistinguishable color dripped from whatever she was carrying- “… Chica?” She turned, then smiled, turning further to reveal her pizza. “Mike! So you finally came out! Took you long enough! Lazy butt!” Happily she laughed. “… you’re in a good mood… what is that…?” His head was HURTING. “Pizza, obviously.” “How did you make that?” For a second it was silent, then she tilted her head. “The ingredients you brought in…?” “Ah.” Suddenly he remembered. He went out today, buying groceries for this. Because Chica was whining so much. God, how could he have forgotten that? Friendly she signed him to come along. “Come!” “Can’t. Someone needs to clean up the damn sauce. You got it all over the fucking place.” She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry Mike… come, I’ll clean it up later, I promise.” “WILL you?” “Yessir!” She smiled. “Well…” “Eat with us, Mike.” The guard sighed and followed the machine into the darkness.

#mike schmidt #au

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haberdashing · 4 years

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As If You Were There (2/4)

The statements from Episode 100 rewritten as regular statements, with a fair bit of creative liberty taken to fill in the missing details.

on AO3

Part 1 / Part 2

Statement of John Smith, regarding a supernatural encounter within the depths of the abandoned Aldwych Tube station. Original statement given May the 13th, 2017. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

Look, I’m not giving you my name and address and birth date and goddamn blood type so you can go hand it all over to the bloody government when I’m done. Maybe you don’t do that sort of thing, maybe all that talk about confidentiality is more than just lip service, but I can’t trust you just like that. I’m not sure who I can trust, not anymore. I trusted my friend--let’s call him Jeremy, I trusted Jeremy--but that’s about it, and now he’s not here, and I don’t know what agencies will help and what agencies will just rat me out to the perpetrators. I’ve heard of your field, found a few web pages a while back, but that’s not much to go on. I just really hope you’re one of the good ones.

D’you know about Aldwych Tube station? Well, it’s not a Tube station anymore--there’s still trains running at the platform level, but the station itself isn’t running anymore, it’s been abandoned for decades now. So many of the things there are all in original condition--the original adverts are still up, things like that, never removed that stuff after they shut it all down. It’s part of London’s history, y’know, it’s public transport, it’s interesting.

But when Jeremy and I decided to break in there, it wasn’t just about about the public transport stuff and the adverts. We wanted to have a look around because we had some ideas about what else might be down there, maybe there was something worth investigating there. It’s the right kind of place for it, hiding in plain sight, unused space in the middle of London but nobody thinks twice about it because oh, it’s just an old Tube station, everybody knows that. But we figured maybe it’s not just an old Tube station, maybe there’s more to it than that.

Suppose we were right about that bit, at least. Just wish we could’ve learned it without losing Jeremy in the process.

We were in the tunnels when it happened. Already saw the adverts, the usual public transportation stuff, nothing too exciting there, but that wasn’t a surprise. We weren’t the first ones to break in there, not by a long shot, so it couldn’t be that easy. But the tunnels, they could be hiding something for sure. Jeremy and I both had torches with us--it was evening then, but it was gloomy enough in those tunnels that I doubt they’d be much lighter in the day time. It started out pretty boring, just following train tracks, no signs of anything.

Then our torches went out. Both of them, at the same time. And we’d packed them with fresh batteries, too. Can’t have been a coincidence there. Maybe the government made some kind of field down there that messes with electronics, just in case someone came poking around, getting too close to what they’re hiding down there.

Now, it was proper dark down there without the torches. Couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. But Jeremy started rambling about what he was doing, came closer and said he’d get his phone out and use it as a torch since the actual torches were a bust. I wasn’t big on his bringing the phone in the first place--too easy for the wrong people to track--but having the light from it definitely would’ve been better than nothing. But the phone wouldn’t light up either. Thought it had died too, but then Jeremy tried to turn it on and it made a sound like it was turning off, though the screen hadn’t shown a thing the whole time.

Electronics disrupter, I’m telling you. Screwing with the EMF field. It’s gotta be.

Jeremy wanted to turn around then, just call it a bust and go home, but I figured this meant we were close to something big, exactly the sort of thing we’d come for in the first place, and I talked him into going a bit further before giving up. ‘Course I regret it now, but how could I have known?

We linked arms to make sure we each knew where the other one was in the dark, even though it made walking a little awkward, and Jeremy definitely stepped on my shoes more than once down there; to be fair, I probably paid him back in kind along the way. Tried to keep going straight, best as we could figure, but we kept bumping into the same wall over and over again. No matter how much we course-corrected, we kept bumping into this smooth, cold wall on either side, though the tunnels had seemed plenty big when we started out. No way the trains could pass through a space that small.

I pointed that out to Jeremy, actually, said we must be getting close to something then, and it was right after that that we first saw them.

Couldn’t tell you what they looked like, height, weight, gender, any of that stuff. For one thing, it was way too dark to make out any of those kinds of details, and for another, they were dressed to blend in, to hide that identifying information further. Could be some sort of military camouflage prototypes, adapted to the darkness of the tunnels. I could only see the faint snippets where their pitch-black clothes didn’t quite cover them--gaps between long sleeves and gloves, or between a turtleneck and a ski mask--and even then, they had to be pretty close first. If it really was camouflage like I thought, well, it wasn’t perfect, but it sure got the job done.

The first one I saw was off to the right, so we tried to go around, but just bumped into the wall on the left instead. Jeremy was on my left, and I think he got a few scrapes there, heard him wince in pain. Then I saw a flash of skin from another figure, and another, and my stomach began to sink.

I was sure there were five of them there. I don’t know how I was so sure, given that I only saw them in brief flashes, small snippets of skin that could’ve been the same person over and over, but I was sure. And if it was two on two, or even three on two, I might’ve been willing to duke it out, but five on two’s hardly a fair fight, is it?

I heard something in the distance, a loud, long sound that reminded me a little of a train coming, and I remembered this was a Tube station, or had been, though I didn’t think any trains were supposed to run that late. I thought maybe one was heading towards us, or coming from behind, though there were no lights to show as much, so I told Jeremy to run.

I heard my own breathing then, and could just barely make out Jeremy’s as we tried to head back, but I swear, I swear I didn’t hear a single breath from the five that were after us. Maybe they were robots that just looked like humans. Wouldn’t surprise me.

Whatever they were, they were after us for sure now. Even as we tried to get away, to dodge, they just kept getting closer. Tried heading to the right, but hit the wall pretty quick, even though we’d just hit the other one. Tried walking backwards but, well, that’s hard enough on your own, let alone when you’ve got your arms linked up to someone else.

So we just broke arms and ran. Every man for himself isn’t pretty, sure, and I’m far from proud of it, but sometimes that’s all you can do. If we’d stayed together, we’d prob’ly both be gone now.

At one point when I was running I saw a light back the way I came, looking like it was coming from everywhere all at once, and after being in the dark that long it hurt my eyes to see. I could see then that Jeremy was behind me, that the men in black were all gathered around him now. He was on the ground, so either he fell along the way or one of them knocked him down; probably the latter, if I had to guess. Either way, I hadn’t heard it, just that low rumble of a train that never quite arrived.

Part of me wanted to go towards the light, like it’d be safer, but I figured it had to be a trap. The only place that light could be coming from was their secret holding facility, and I wasn’t being dragged in there for the life of me. Plus, that roaring noise had only gotten louder when it showed up. So I ran the other way and made sure not to look back.

Eventually the sound faded away and I saw a sliver of light from above, managed to climb my way out of Aldwych station, but I never saw Jeremy again. I came back the next day with all the industrial torches I could buy with cash without triggering any government alarms, found the torches we’d dropped along the way--both still dead--and Jeremy’s phone--also dead, and screen way more cracked than it had been when we started--and a spot of blood on the wall, but no sign of Jeremy.

I tried going to the tabloids first, the kind that publish what they know is the truth, no matter what the authorities try to claim. I figured Jeremy’s younger, decent-looking bloke, and pretty well-off these days, so even if none of them believed the government connection--and none of them did, or at least, none of them were willing to admit it--I figured his disappearance would be a human interest story, and the details could come out later. They all turned me down and laughed me out of the room, though. A few suggested going to the police, but I knew better; at best I’d get arrested for trespassing, at worst I’d be locked up down in the tunnels with Jeremy. One of them looked to be in the middle of calling me a shrink, or worse, when I just up and left. And one mentioned your name as an alternative.

Even if you had all my details, I’m sure you wouldn’t tell me if you sent someone down into the tunnels the same way we’d gone, or got in touch with your government connections to arrange a deal, or whatever. That confidentiality agreement of yours goes both ways, I imagine. But I don’t need all those details. I just need you to get back Jeremy for me.

Or if you can’t--if he’s too far gone, if they’re already testing bioweapons on him, or they already wiped his mind, or did something else that means he isn’t coming back--make damn sure nobody else goes the same way he did.

Statement ends.

#tma #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #personal #my writing

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imperiuswrecked · 4 years

Text

Fanfic Authors Tag Game

Tagged by: @marblesarelost Tagging: @veliseraptor @traincat

AO3 Name: ImperiusRex

Fandoms: Marvel & DC (comics mostly but I enjoy other stuff too like cartoons and movies), Mercy Thompson book series, Dresden Files book series, Black Sails, Star Trek, early seasons of Vikings.

Number of fics: 66 trying to get to 100 before the end of the year hopefully!

1. Fic you spent the most time on: I really can’t say, because a lot of my fics are ones that I start and then put on pause for a time until I find the muse to start/finish them again, which takes anywhere from one day to years. However the longest ongoing wip I have is: To Find my Soul a Home; very long fic about Namor’s life and has slow burn Jim/Namor as the endgame. I have been working on it on and off for about 3 years. Still working on it.

2. Fic you spent the least time on: Strange Customs; short Jim/Namor fluff fic set during the Oracle Inc holiday party.

3. Longest fic: Catching Quicksilver; 61,858 word fic (26 chapters) featuring Remy/Pietro. It’s my first published fic too.

4. Shortest fic: Mister Dibbles; 556 word fic about Pietro learning more about his new pet.

5. Most hits: Catching Quicksilver ; currently at 4,422 hits

6. Most kudos: The Thief's Heart (Remy/Pietro fic) ; currently at 214 kudos

7. Most comment thread: Strength & Weakness (Namor/Pietro fic) ; currently at 46 comments

8. Fave fic you wrote: My favorite fic is always changing and it’s usually the fic I have not finished yet. I like all of my fics but I think the ones I will love most when it’s done is either To find my Soul a Home, or Lighthouse which are both Jim/Namor wips.

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: Currently none, I really don’t like to go back to fics after I post them because I take so long to even finish one and if I don’t know when to say stop, then it never gets finished. So I try to just be ok with whatever I wrote.

10. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning:

From: To Find my Soul a Home: Jim/Namor fic: This scene takes place in middle of the story, long after Jim and Namor had parted ways. Jim has been buried in the desert by his enemies, which was the explanation of why the OG Human Torch was not around for decades. warnings for angst, mentions of war, and burial:

He is crushing darkness around him. There is something wrong with his body, he is unable to move, unable to cry out, Jim is trapped inside his mind as the sounds of dirt hitting dirt slowly fades away until they stop. They have buried him in some place he does not know, deep under the ground. What did they do to him? He strains to try and move but nothing happens, he can’t even wiggle his fingers. Lips closed so that any words he would have spoken were sealed forever. This can’t be happening, not again, not again! He remembers the last time he was trapped in such a way, when his father- when Horton sealed him in the concrete under the ground because they were all afraid of him.

“I’m sorry my boy… I have to do this for your own good. I f I leave you out here they will destroy you. I will come back soon and set you free, and teach you more about this world. When it’s ready for you. Be good my boy.”

Anger burns in his chest and he can’t feel his body heating but it’s a weak fire smothered by dirt and lack of air. Horton never came back for him, he never returned and Jim had to free himself. Horton would not free him now either. The world had never been ready for the Human Torch, but Jim had demanded they try, he did everything he could to be human and now he can’t even die like one. Trapped in this suspended animation as he hears the men’s boots stamp over the dirt of his grave before muffled sounds of their voices fades away. Was it night now? Did it matter? He was never leaving here, Toro hadn’t even known what happened to him, what would happen to the boy? Would he search for Jim? He couldn’t let himself hope for that. He hopes Toro will move on with his life, he was old enough now that he could make it on his own. Still Jim feels a tear slip down the side of his face, he would never see his son again, never hug him and ruffle his hair and tell him how proud he was, how much he loved him. Toro could be an old man before Jim ever escaped from here.

Time has passed, how much? Jim doesn’t know, he could have been here a few days but it feels longer than that, weeks, months maybe. His body’s functions had been shutting down slowly, he feels his artificial heart slow to just a few beats per minute. His mind is clouded by the memories of the past, like a bad tape it skips around and some scenes run on repeat. If he was human it would be called hallucinating.

“Look at me Pappy!” Toro flames on by himself for the first time without burning any of the surrounding furniture in their tiny home, his fire spark smile is wide as he lifts his arms up in success. Jim folds the newspaper down enough to watch him. “Good job son. I’m proud of you.” Toro grins as he slowly flames down.

Jim wants to smile at the memory but his face is frozen.

“Come on now Jim, you can’t tell me you still hate him? Even after everything you two have been through?”

“Why are you pushing this Betty? I thought you would be happy that whatever Namor and I had was over.”

“I never saw you as my rival Jim, we both love him, but you know what he’s like.”

“I know. I know, but dammit Betty he gets me so mad…”

His partner in the police force, Betty’s face fades away, the tape skipping again as he tries again to move. He panics again, the cycle of screaming in his head, hoping someone will come, despairing when he comes down from this latest panic attack because nothing changes except his heart is a beat slower than before. Knowing that with every moment that passes his body is shutting down and soon he will be for all intents and proposes, dead. Jim had never died before, he knew what it was like to be shut off, a dark sudden black before the light came on again. Is this how humans feel knowing they have an expiration date? Knowing that one day they too will cease to exist?

“You’re too quiet firebug.”

No. No. No. NO. Jim panics again, tries to get his mind to turn over this tape, switch it to a different record, anything. He doesn’t want to see him.

His face is turned away from Jim in the memory, they were somewhere in France on the shore of a beach. It was the war.

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“I find that hard to believe, you’re always quick to voice your mind when it comes to me, how many times have you insulted me in the past?”

“So you came to find me because you missed my insults?”

“Missed you.”

Jim doesn’t reply to that.

“Say something Firebug, it’s too quiet here.”

Jim follows Namor’s gaze and looks out at the sea of dead soldiers that littered the beach. Their eyes blank as the gulls pick at the corpses. He looks down at his feet as the blood soaked wave washes over his boots.

Jim wants to claw out his brain, he wants it to STOP. He hated the war, he wasn’t like Namor, something happened to the Prince during the war. Jim could compartmentalize the trauma, he locked it away and did his best to be a support system for Toro, but Namor felt everything more deeply. He doesn’t want to see anymore, and for the first time Jim begs Horton’s god to let it end. More time passes.

The edges of his vision are blurry now, and each memory that comes is slower than before. He sees Toro again, in the circus doing his act. He sees Steve sitting in a chair in the clock tower, his face in his hands, the tired slump of his shoulders tells Jim that Steve has not slept again. Papers scribbled with art is strewn everywhere. He sees Namor in the rain.

He knows this.

Jim’s mind is finally on its last legs as it begins to shut down the last of his conscious mind. He is in a house and every room has a light on but the lights are being turned off one by one. He doesn’t want to be alone in the dark again.

The rain soaks Namor, plastering his dark hair and making his pointed ears stick out even more, it’s cute. Jim never told him that.

He knows this night.

Jim follows him out into the rain, away from everyone else.

Another light is turned off and Jim doesn’t try to waste the little energy he has left trying to move his body again. He wants to relive this one more time, he wants to hold on for just one moment more-

He and Namor are pressed against each other in their little alcove, the dirt of the trench wall behind him turns to mud. Piercing green eyes, and warm breath fills his senses as Jim clutches the Prince’s wet dark hair and pulls him closer. The war is worlds away as he feels Namor’s lips connect with his in a kiss. Soft and sensual, it is a sharp contrast to the harshness of the world they live in.

He knows this… the last light turns off and Jim is in the dark, the grainy picture in his mind fades and the record skips for the last time.

“Say something Firebug. It’s too quiet here.”

“I love you.”

Jim sleeps. A man forgotten by time and those who loved him.

#sorry marbles! i finally posted this #tag game #long post #jimor #im just very bad at going back to stuff once my brain shuts off and says: get the fck out of here and go write something else #which is why i don't think i will ever revise anything once its posted #mim writes a thing

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randomguywithwords · 4 years

Text

Backstab (BNHA Hawks Villain AU)

“Pro hero Hawks still missing. Agency doubling search efforts…” The small television in the corner of the laboratory displayed the headlines.

“Amazing. They’ll definitely find us now,” Dabi snorted.

“Dabi. Focus. He’s growing another one,” Ujiko warned, not looking at the shackled hero as he fiddled with syringes and oddly coloured liquids.

The fire-user yawned as he outstretched his arm. Sparks flew at the palm, before another torrent of fire billowed towards Hawk’s bare, raw back.

Hawks screamed as the flames licked his already burnt skin, tormenting him once more. He reflexively pushed his body forward, but with his limbs chained up in an ‘X’ formation, the motion did nothing but remind him of his inability to move.

The sprouting feather, Dabi’s actual target, was torched and reduced to ashes, along with more flakes of Hawk’s skin.

His screaming faded to heavy breaths, heaving like a bull in its death throes. He gritted his teeth, biting his bleeding tongue, shooting a look of venom to his captors.

“Do you need to be so loud? Jeez,” Dabi said, “I’ve had to deal with it my whole life.”

Hawks gave no answer. Dabi circled around him to look at the hero directly.

“Not talking so much now, huh? I miss the old talkative, double-agent Hawks. You’re just…” Dabi pat Hawks’ singed hair gently, “so pathetic now.”

————-

I woke up in pain. I was in a box. Why? How did I end up here?

My back…God, what the hell is that? Shiny things…sharp, very sharp. Light from the few holes poked in glinted off them. I can feel them. They responded.

Get me out of here. The blades responded. They flew toward the walls. The box ripped open. I slowly clambered out, panting slightly. Thirsty.

I was in an alley. People walked past me on my right. No one saw me.

The blades noticed them, however. They responded, growing in size, piercing me. I yelled in pain, dropping to my knees. “Stop it,” I growled, but they did not respond. They kept growing. Along my spine, I felt them grow from the bone. New gashes began to appear, not just from the two slits where majority of them resided.

I bit my tongue. It was already bleeding. I tasted dried blood. Tears ran down my dusty, grimy cheeks from the agony. Make it stop, I begged. The blades did not respond.

They needed to be sated. I needed to be sated. My eyes refocused on the pedestrians. The blades…they responded.

————-

“Doc, how long more? The more I look at him, the sadder I feel.”

“Almost done.” Ujiko flicked the tip of a syringe. “This should delay the Hero Commission a good while.”

“You’re…” The two villains turned to look at Hawks, who was facing the ground. “Trying to Nomu me, like you did Shirakumo? Feed them false info…throw them off the scent. That’s - that’s a bullshit plan.”

“You’re right, Hawks,” Ujiko replied, grinning, “I never doubted your intelligence, and I am glad we are of a like mind. I did consider it though. I could have a brainwashed Hawks telling his superiors what they wanted to hear, perhaps assassinate an entire council of the Commission in one fell swoop…”

Ujiko got up from his desk. “Then I realised I had the number two hero in my grasp. You have gifts to give both me and your higher-ups. And I plan on unwrapping my gift: your quirk.”

————-

Why did I attack them, those innocents? I’m not sure myself. Partly to distract the blades. The pain…it was unbearable. I knew, somehow, that they needed blood. If it wasn’t me, it would be others. They would have to do.

Partly…a feeling. A voice, perhaps. A sensation that was rooted in my mind; a desire to kill. I knew not where it came from, and I didn’t care.

I admit. It feels good.

The screaming and crying brought me back to the present: Me, suspended in the air by animating the blades to form legs, while others flew around the city striking everything in their path.

In just under a minute, I had transformed the city from a bustling metropolis abundant with vitality to a living hell. My blades cut through everything, tearing up roads, cars and buildings, humongous claws scratching and shredding the city. Blood ran in the streets as bodies lay still, eyes open in surprise at the sudden attack.

People scattered before me, as if some villain was terrorising the city. The blades responded to their sounds. Another wave of streaking metal shards launched at the populace, and more were silenced. More blood stained the silver, keeping them quiet and content. I shared their satisfaction.

Police cars formed a barricade around the block. Officers scrambled to get citizens to safety. Some heroes had already arrived in their fabulous costumes, ready to stop me.

The first hero stepped up. I only caught a glimpse of a red cape before the rest of his costume was drenched in sanguine.

Then the second and third came at me with some pitiable synergy. They hadn’t seemed to catch onto how my blades work. They let their emotions control their actions. I could tell that they were…together. All I had to do was focus one down, and let the other be distracted. Then kill both simultaneously. Amateurs.

I let loose a laugh at the rush of euphoria that came with the slaying. Was it I who was enjoying this, or someone else? Another part of me? A man who delighted in massacre.

No matter. My job wasn’t done, someone told me.

What? I thought. I had a job?

————-

The scientist knelt down before Hawks, raising the syringe to the hero’s neck, who flinched away from the needle.

“Why create another boring, obedient Nomu, when I could instead create a monster, more intelligent and deadly than anything I could have fathomed?”

Hawks’ breaths became short and rapid. “I could destroy this whole place if you did that. Whatever you make — he could lay waste to everything.”

Ujiko smiled. “I appreciate your concern, but I have contingencies. Goodbye Hawks.”

With that, he jabbed the syringe.

“Gah!” Hawks gasped. Ujiko retracted the syringe and stood up, peering at his experiment through his round glasses that showed no emotion.

“What the hell did you —“ He choked as purplish veins spread from the puncture wound.

“You won’t remember anything, so I’m happy to tell you everything until the drug kicks in. That concoction contained a particular villain’s DNA I believe will be a perfect match for your own. Have you heard of Moonfish?”

“Y-you bitch,” Hawks rasped.

Ujiko continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “I managed to obtain a sample of his DNA. You won’t just be some common Nomu. All the Nomus I’ve previously designed were simply the hosts of multiple quirks. You…my little bird, will be the host of a fusion of two quirks. Yours and Moonfish’s. I’m intrigued to see the results. I pray that you will deliver.”

Hawks gave one last murderous glare before he slumped unconscious.

“That’s the anaesthetic,” Ujiko muttered. “Pack him up. Skeptic’s employees will deliver him.”

Dabi nodded.

————-

More of them had arrived. Heroes. They came to stop us – me.

Some were easy. They left openings so laughably easy to exploit, it was a shame they were even considered pro heroes in the first place. I cut them down like sacks of sand.

Then there were the better ones, who I admit, gave me a certain degree of annoyance when dealing with them. Still, I could keep them at bay. I…knew them somehow. I knew their quirks. They didn’t know mine, only a guess. It was an advantage for myself, and one I utilised to its full extent.

Even heroes who avoided the public eye, those lurking underground, who thought they had the upper hand. If only they knew who I had once been, they would know I knew everything both above and underground, including the pro heroes who operated in the shadows.

We continued my onslaught, sending wave after wave of steel to slice through their ranks. There was so much blood, so many bodies. From up above, I could smell it. It was invigorating.

The rush of adrenaline lent me power. I summoned the blades to form a whirlwind of bloody, deadly steel, and sent it flying in the direction of the heroes. I told the blades to do that, and they responded.

For the last time.

I must have used all my blades for that, forgetting about those I needed to keep me alive. All this while, I had blades intercept any projectiles aimed towards me. Without them, I was as vulnerable as I was an hour ago in that box, dazed and confused.

I felt pain blossom in my chest. A bullet, or some other thing.

I blinked. Then I fell from the sky.

The job is done.

————-

“Tsk. I knew Moonfish would have had some effect on his mental state, but to go so far as to forget self-preservation? Too much bloodlust…” Ujiko muttered as he read the article.

“He was quite the retard the only time we used him,” Dabi noted, remembering the attack from the Vanguard Action Squad, “but what’s this about Moonfish affecting Hawk’s mind? Didn’t you just give him the psycho’s DNA?”

“It’s a theory I’ve been mulling over for a while now: A correlation between one’s quirk and their personality. I don’t have much proof, but these quirks…they’re much more than a mutant cell in human bodies. Whatever it is, if the quirk factors can affect the physical state of the user, why not the mental state as well?”

“Hmm. Sounds like a load of garbage to me,” Dabi said.

“Well, think of another theory why the number two hero would knowingly stop his defense mechanism in order to cause more damage.” Ujiko glared at the fire-user.

Dabi shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe your Nomu stuff did it.”

“I never used any of those chemicals for what I injected Hawks with,” Ujiko countered. “This is truly fascinating behaviour. I need to know more.”

“I’ll leave your crazy science stuff to you. I’m just the delivery boy.” Dabi laughed. “Bring in the next one?”

“Yes please,” Ujiko answered politely.

————-

Thanks for the inspiration for this story @ quirkwizard and the anon. I think the fighting scenes were pretty shit, could definitely elaborate on them more but I really liked the concept of this new quirk, as well as a villain hawks, that I wanted to finish this ASAP.

31/12/19 A/N Update: Reposting this as a sole post, will edit this to make the fight scenes hopefully nicer but no promises when that’ll be finished. It’s not high on my list

#bnha #mha #bnha hawks #mha hawks #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #bnha hawks villain au #hawks #villain hawks #hawks fanfiction #hawks fanfic #bnha oneshot

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nitewrighter · 4 years

Note

👏Bob👏Yatta👏Fanfiction👏continuation👏PleASe👏

Zen and the Art of Hovercycle Maintenance, Part 3

Previous Chapters: 1, 2

—-

Ashe was sitting across from him, hat off, her white hair taking on a slight yellowish tint in the glaring light of the workroom. She looked smaller with the hat off, but sharper somehow, like a blade unsheathed. She sat across from him, leaned back in her seat slowly turning one of Zen’s orbs of destruction over in her hand. Bars and Bob loomed in the corner, and Zenyatta heard a sneeze to his left, moved to turn his head, but found he couldn’t. All motor functions shut down again, he thought.

“Way to ruin the moment, idiot,” muttered a voice to Zen’s right.

“Wasn’t my fault!” said the source of the sneeze.

“Both of you shut up–” said a voice behind Zen.

“Boys,” Ashe spoke simply and the three voices flanking Zen instantly silenced.

“Sorry boss,” they all spoke in unison. Ashe gave a nod of acknowledgement before fixing her red eyes on Zenyatta.

“Care telling me what you’re doing working with Jesse McCree?” She

“Can I ask what will happen if I don’t tell you?” asked Zenyatta.

“You can,” said Ashe, “You ain’t gonna like it.”

Stall, thought Zenyatta, You know McCree and the others are looking for you. Just stall.

“What will happen?” asked Zenyatta.

“We still find out,” said Bars, “We shut you down, dismantle your head, sort through your visual data from the past 36 hours a handful of terabytes at a time. We put everything back, put you back together, and wake you back up, of course, but everyone says it feels like everything in their head’s been moved an inch to the left.”

“You would do that to another Omnic?” said Zenyatta.

“I’ve done it to other Omnics,” said Bars, leaning in.

Zenyatta studied Bars’ face for a moment, “…one of those eyes isn’t yours, is it?” said Zenyatta.

“It’s mine now,” said Bars with a shrug. Horror flickered across the lights in Zenyatta’s forehead and Bars just stood up to his full height, “It’s all parts, Zen. That’s all it is.”

“How can you just…” Zenyatta trailed off.

“How many Null Sector units you see roving around here?” said Bars, folding his arms.

“…none?” said Zenyatta, “But they only target population centers–”

“You know how much prime solar power real estate is in these deserts? Enough to make a new Omnium,” said Bars, stepping forward, “But because there’re no population centers, you don’t see the US government giving a shit about it.”

“I told you,” said Ashe, leaning forward, “I’m the law around here.”

“You are a weapons trafficker, a bully, and a thief,” said Zenyatta.

Bob suddenly loomed forward, insulted on Ashe’s behalf, but Ashe held up a hand and Bob stilled. He signed something furiously but Ashe only gave him a short glance before saying, “It’s fine, Bob,” before turning back to Zen. “And you’re claiming moral high ground on account of, what, working with Jesse McCree? You come into my territory blowing shit up and you want to act like you didn’t throw a rock at a hornets nest?” said Ashe.

“Whatever personal issues you have with McCree–” Zenyatta started.

“Don’t,” said Ashe, “Tell me what you and McCree were doing out here.”

Bars was already looking over a tray laden with screwdrivers of various sizes. He turned on an acetylene torch to make sure it worked.

“Jesse McCree is with Overwatch,” said Zenyatta, and then he added, “I–I am with Overwatch. The new Overwatch.”

It felt strange saying it without Genji around. He and Genji had decided that Overwatch was the best means to stop the rising conflicts between human and Omnic in the world, but without Genji there, any connection Zenyatta felt to Overwatch was tenuous at best. Zenyatta had always felt like the one guiding Genji, but now, alone in a grubby little garage in the middle of nowhere on Route 66, Zenyatta felt like he had just wandered after Genji into this whole mess.

“Go on,” said Ashe as Bars examined a screwdriver.

“We were stopping a shipment of explosives,” Zenyatta spoke quickly, “Not yours. They were from Talon. The plan was to safely drop them off with the authorities at Watchpoint: Grand Mesa, when we were intercepted by the Sidewinders. There was a… miscommunication, on my team’s end, and rather than let the explosives fall into the wrong hands, we detonated them. I was separated from my team in the blast.”

“…you were caught in an explosion… because of a miscommunication…” Ashe repeated slowly.

I was caught in an explosion because I was put on a team with someone who doesn’t care if omnics live or die, thought Zenyatta before answering, “Yes. A miscommunication.”

“Well if McCree was on that mission, that doesn’t surprise me. Shit seems to have a magnetic attraction to fans when he’s around. Let me guess: McCree’s here because he’s ‘an expert on the area,’” said Ashe.

“You need to put me on this mission. I’m an expert on the area,” Zenyatta could clearly hear McCree’s voice in his memory.

“…yes,” said Zenyatta.

Ashe huffed incredulously. “I’d call him a son of a bitch but truth be told I have nothing but respect for any woman who spent that many years looking after his sorry ass without strangling him,” she stood up from her chair, now tossing the orb of destruction up and down in her hand and walking thoughtfully around the room, “That was the only reason you were here?” she said, looking back at Zenyatta, “Overwatch has no intention on stepping in on any of Deadlock’s operations?”

“Deadlock… isn’t as high a priority as Talon or Null Sector,” said Zenyatta.

Ashe chuckled and the triplets behind Zenyatta forced nervous laugh along with her. “’Not a high priority,’ he says,” said Ashe, “Oh, but once you take care of Null Sector and Talon, then petty criminals like us should be quaking in our boots,” she walked over to a worktable where her black hat was resting and fitted it back on, adjusting it in her reflection in the glass of a cracked analog television tucked in the corner, “Is that what you’re gonna do after you save the world? Do what the old Overwatch did after the Crisis and just start policing the world over again?”

“I… I don’t know,” said Zenyatta. He certainly didn’t see himself being an enforcer like that.

“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” said Ashe, looking at him with something almost like pity, “So… how is the fight going?”

“Excuse me?” said Zenyatta.

“The fight. The big damn heroic-ass fight,” said Ashe, “How’s it going?”

“I… would not be able to tell you,” said Zenyatta.

“Oh I don’t doubt that,” said Ashe, “But what do you think of it? Is it getting any easier? You got ‘em on the ropes?”

Zenyatta was silent at this.

“Figured,” She gave a glance to the orb in her hand, “You don’t exactly strike me as the mercenary type… what are you doing with them?”

“I heal and advise,” said Zenyatta. How often do they listen though? a bitter voice in his head spoke up, made sharper by his own sense of helplessness and isolation, Winston, Jack, and Ana listen to Doctor Ziegler before they listen to me because they actually worked with her. Lúcio is friendly, but his focus is largely on Vishkar. Genji listens, but he tends to keep out of the larger-scale strategizing anyway, so I can hardly expect him to advocate for me if he’s not advocating to begin with. Tracer listens, if only because she respected Mondatta.

That last thought stung and if Zen could have shaken his head to stop the train of thoughts, he would.

“You advise,” said Ashe, arching an eyebrow, “But you don’t know how the fight is going?”

“I don’t… advise tactically…” said Zenyatta, hesitantly, before attempting to assert himself as best he could while being completely immobilized. No, he wasn’t going to let himself get discouraged here. “Overwatch is a peacekeeping organization. If there is going to be peace, it requires guidance from activists like myself.”

“I thought you looked Shambali,” said Ashe, tilting her head, “So a cozy little alliance there, huh?”

“I… am no longer Shambali,” Zenyatta said a bit stiffly.

Ashe perked up a bit at this. That look of not-quite-pity seemed to shift into genuine concern. “Seriously?” she said.

“I was Shambali, but then the Shambali became overly concerned with dogmatism and overshadowed by their own fame, I believed the path to changing the world was in individual connections.”

Bob’s shoulders softened a bit at this but Bars made another exaggerated motion of his head to indicate eye-rolling.

“…So I set out on my own path,” said Zenyatta.

“And that lead you to Overwatch?” said Ashe, tilting her head.

Genji lead me to Overwatch, thought Zenyatta, but he managed a, “Yes.”

Ashe huffed a little before plopping back down in her seat.

“Bob,” she said, not even looking over her shoulder at the massive omnic butler, “Get my usual and get him some Glenwales.”

Bob perked up and quickly headed out of the room.

“I don’t want Glenwales–” Zenyatta started.

“Yes you do,” said Ashe. There wasn’t a playful ‘Come onnnn live a little!’ lilt in her voice, but rather a flat factuality.

“You threaten to take my head apart, and you think some oil is going to establish trust?” said Zenyatta.

“You talk about trust, but I wasn’t the one who started off this whole thing claimin’ to be an artist,” Ashe scoffed, “The sad part was I really wanted to believe that. We would have sent a tail after you when we let you go, I mean I’m not stupid, but I did want to believe it. But no, this isn’t about trust, Zen. This is about hospitality, and god knows you could use some.” She glanced over her shoulder at Bars. “Bars? Restore the motor functions of his head, neck, and left arm.”

“You sure, boss?” said Bars.

“Well I ain’t pourin’ that oil down his gullet, do you want to?” said Ashe, “It’s five on one and he’s not an idiot. Just lost. Like anyone.”

“I am not lost,” said Zenyatta, adjusting himself in his seat as he felt something pinch in his neck and felt the ability to move flood back into his arm.

Bob came back with an oddly fancy silver tray and two bottles and two glasses set upon it. One was an already-half-empty crystal decanter, the other was a commercial bottle of Glenwales, not even opened.

“Sure you are,” said Ashe, filling her own glass with the whiskey, “You’re working with Jesse McCree, ain’t you?”

“Overwatch as an organization is far more effective than you give it credit for,” said Zenyatta.

“I’m sure,” said Ashe with a shrug, “Yeah, it’s a hodgepodge, but the firepower you’ve got is nothin’ to sneeze at.”

“You’re more lost than me,” said Zenyatta, “You are plagued by doubt and resentment, your vision is clouded by anger, and you are ultimately chained down by your past.” His words would have far more effect with an orb of discord, but if it had managed to stop Genji in his tracks a few years ago, he saw no reason why it wouldn’t work on Ashe. But Ashe just kept that expression at him as Bob poured Zenyatta a glass of Glenwales and offered it to him. Bob looked questioningly to Ashe as well with Zenyatta’s words but Ashe seemed unshaken.

“Uh huh,” said Ashe, sipping her whiskey, “I know all that. And you’re in Overwatch because…”

“Because I must help,” said Zenyatta.

“Just not tactically,” said Ashe, swirling her whiskey in its glass, “And martially you can probably hold your own, but you’re not exactly a soldier. Or a doctor. And arguably you could advocate but as you said, you’re exactly Shambali, either.”

Despite finally having partial movement, Zenyatta stiffened in his seat.

“Lost recognizes lost,” said Ashe, “Which I guess brings me to the rub of the whole situation, which is, what do you think Overwatch would give to have you back?”

Zenyatta suddenly felt very hollow. Overwatch’s resources were stretched phyllo-thin as it was. He knew as a medic he was invaluable, but whether Overwatch had anything to offer or would even negotiate such a matter…

“It doesn’t matter,” said Zenyatta, “McCree was easily able to defeat you before–”

“Yeah. Fresh after a heist when everyone was exposed and exhausted and he was pulling the puppet strings on the situation just so he could get his glowy blue sex doll back. This situation calls for your team storming our turf–which, I promise you, will end up much worse if it really comes to that, which it doesn’t have to. I don’t have the time to bother with a hostage. Your team wants you back. We can take care of this like adults.” She motioned with her own glass to the bottle of Glenwales, “And we’ll see you’re well-taken care of in the meantime.” Zenyatta noted the virtually unchanged level of whiskey in her own glass and the still-sharp look in her eye as she set her own glass down. No, she wouldn’t get his guard down that easily.

“How kind of you,” Zenyatta’s voice was bitter and dry.

“Aw, thank you!” Ashe put a hand over her heart, “People tell me I’m too nice all the time.”

“They do?” said one of the triplets, before he got swatted upside the head by one of his brothers.

“Bars?” said Ashe, putting her hands on her hips, “Think you can figure out whatever comm network our guest is linked up to?”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” said Bars, rolling his shoulders.

“Good. I want an accessible channel with it by the time I get back. You three,” Ashe motioned to the triplets, “With me. We’re riding. Making sure there’s none of those Sidewinder clowns in our territory in the meantime.”

“You got it, boss!” the triplets said in unison.

“Bob?” Ashe put a hand on the massive omnic’s shoulder, “I am leaving the comfort of our dear guest in your very capable hands… Also rip his head off if he tries escapin’.”

Bob gave a slight bow to Ashe as she walked out of the room, the Deadlock triplets trailing behind her in a line. They all headed out the door but Ashe paused in the doorway, “I mean, we can put it back, of course–”

“…Of course,” said Zenyatta, dryly.

Ashe made a finger gun at him, “Sit tight!” she said, before slipping away from the doorway.

About a minute of pure silence and stillness passed, punctuated only by the sound of Bars’ tools clinking as he sifted through them and then the hum of hovercycles in the distance. Zenyatta slumped a little in his seat, and then noticed Bob was pushing a glass of Glenwales in his direction.

“…I don’t want any,” said Zenyatta.

“Do you have tac-mods?” said Bars.

“Pardon?” said Zenyatta.

“Tactile modifications? You know, ‘Oh wow, organic partner, you touching me feels so good, and this is very genuine because I physically altered myself so we would both feel better about your dumb meatsack body rubbing on my chassis.’”

“…I… have.. some,” said Zenyatta.

“Where?” said Bars.

“That’s rude,” said Zenyatta.

“I’m asking you so I don’t hurt you,” said Bars.

“…Chest, forehead, and hands,” said Zenyatta.

“Really?” said Bars, “No…?” he gestured at his pelvic region.

“I…. considered them, but decided I wouldn’t get them until I found the right partner,” said Zenyatta.

“Ooh la-la,” said Bars, picking up a screwdriver, “Got a real romantic on our hands.”

“I’m a monk,” said Zenyatta.

“You’re not Shambali,” said Bars, stepping alongside Zenyatta and setting a screwdriver against one of the bolts securing the small flattened cylinder on the left side of his jaw. A few loosened screws the upper half of it came off easily. Zen didn’t feel a thing. He did feel a wire being stuck into one of the manual ports and then glanced off to the side to see Bars holding a tablet and tapping a few things into it. Zenyatta heard a high pitched noise buzz through his head for a few seconds before Bars extracted the wire.

“Got what I need,” said Bars, walking out of the room, “All you, Bob.”

Bob nodded as he headed off and the door closed behind him. Bob took a seat in the metal folding chair Ashe had been sitting in. It creaked and whined beneath his weight. Bob sat primly, one leg folded over the other, fingers interlaced on his knee like an old-fashioned gentleman in a victorian clothing catalogue.

He signed something at Zenyatta.

“…I don’t understand,” said Zenyatta.

Bob perked up, slightly alarmed, held up a finger again in a “Wait,” gesture, then stood up, stepped over to a work table and rifled through it briefly before pulling out a data drive. He pulled a small handkerchief from the interior of his vest and wiped the data drive down, looked it over, seemed pleased with it, then stepped in front of Zenyatta once more.

He held up the data drive to Zenyatta.

“What?” said Zenyatta.

Bob gestured to the side of his own head, then pointed at the exposed port on the side of Zenyatta’s jaw.

Zenyatta flinched back slightly and Bob made a slightly flailing, “it’s okay!” gesture, before taking a phone out from the interior of his vest. He slowly and clumsily tapped something out on the phone and then held the screen up for Zenyatta to read.

It’s safe.

I promise.

“I would like to trust you,” said Zenyatta, “But… given the circumstances…”

Bob withdrew the phone, rapidly tapped the screen indicating him deleting a word, then tapped something out again and held the phone up once more.

“I PROMISE” was in all caps now and Bob held up the data drive.

Zenyatta paused, studying Bob’s face, then gingerly took the data drive from Bob and inserted it into the exposed port in the side of his jaw. His train of thought slowed as it always did when he was downloading a large amount of data and Bob started signing.

“I don’t understand what you’re–” Zenyatta started, but then he did.

“—doesn’t cover all the signs, people are always making new ones, of course,” Bob was signing, “But you should be able to fill in the gaps–Do you understand me?”

Zenyatta sat there, stunned.

“Do you understand me?” Bob signed again.

Zenyatta brought up his one functioning hand and slowly signed, “Yes.”

Bob’s eyes brightened. “Oh! I’m so glad! You don’t have to sign everything. You can just talk. It’s fine.”

“…why don’t you talk?” said Zenyatta.

“I tried a couple different voice boxes, Ashe and Bars still bring me some, sometimes,” Bob signed, “None of them sounded right. None of them sounded like me. This,” he signed, “Feels like me.”

“But you were made without a voice box?” said Zenyatta.

“Technically I’m just a slightly more advanced labor unit,” Bob signed, “I was never designed with one. I learned ASL because deafness is congenital in Miss Ashe’s family.”

“…explains why she’s so good at yelling,” Zenyatta said a bit dryly.

“It’s not my place to apologize on her behalf,” signed Bob, “But it does touch on a very sore spot that you’re involved with Jesse McCree and that you lied about it—”

“Because she’s the most dangerous woman in the southwest,” said Zenyatta.

“Dangerous things tend to be so to survive,” Bob signed. He paused for a bit and Zenyatta was silent as well.

“You spoke more than I thought you would,” Bob signed after a while.

“Oh–I did?” said Zenyatta.

“I was worried Bars would take your head apart–” Bob signed, “I mean the procedure is perfectly safe, but that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant but… you shared a lot…”

“…I can’t remember the last time someone asked me that many questions–me as in… me,” said Zenyatta, “Not what I thought so they could help themselves best—” He caught himself and then glanced back at Bob, who was still listening perfectly patiently, “I’m rambling. They’re a good team,” said Zenyatta.

“I’m sure,” Bob signed.

“They are,” said Zenyatta.

“I never said they weren’t,” signed Bob.

Zenyatta just slumped back in his seat a bit.

“I do wish we had met under better circumstances,” Bob signed, glancing off at the orb of destruction Ashe had left on the workbench, “But Miss Ashe doesn’t believe in keeping families apart. As harsh as she can be, she does want to see you back home.”

“I carry the Iris with me,” said Zenyatta, glancing off, “Home is wherever I can bring human and omnic together in harmony.”

Bob paused at this. “So home is with you,” Bob signed, “It’s not… technically… with them.”

“No–” said Zenyatta, “Well-Yes–I mean…” Zenyatta made a sighing sound. Not having any lungs, the sound itself didn’t have any physical purpose aside from giving him a few seconds to think, “Is this place home to you?” said Zenyatta.

“It is. I rather like being a dastardly rogue,” Bob signed, “It’s quite thrilling.”

Zenyatta chuckled a little at the sign for ‘Dastardly.’

“And Miss Ashe is my family,” signed Bob.

Zenyatta reared back slightly in his seat at this.

“She can surprise you,” Bob signed. He daintily extended a finger and pushed the little glass of Glenwales across the silver tray towards Zenyatta with his pinky. “Lots of things about this place can.”

Zenyatta gave a long look to the glass, then took it and gulped it down. Well, if he was going to be here for a while…

#bobyatta #tekharta zenyatta #bob overwatch #elizabeth caledonia ashe #overwatch

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