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sserpente · 5 years

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24 little kinks | Door 16 🎄

“You remember that chocolate advent calendar I got you for December?”

“I do,” he chuckled and pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “You made me display it in the kitchen so I would not eat it all at once.”

Your smile widened. “How about we get another one?”

Loki raised an eyebrow, only now paying proper attention to the sex toy ad. Then, he frowned. It was an odd mixture of disgust, genuine curiosity and even a hint of arousal flashing in his blue eyes.

A/N: You know what day it is tomorrow, right? ;-)

NSFW warnings: erotic tickling (?), orgasm delay

“What are you doing, my sweet?”

You flinched. You should be used to him sneaking around as quiet as a cat hunting its prey and yet, he managed to startle you every single time.

Quickly, you covered the box you were in the process of wrapping with the blanket hanging from the bed.

“Have you opened the calendar without me again?” He chastised, crossing his arms before his chest as he leaned against the threshold. You shoved the box under the bed inconspicuously, along with the tape and the scissors.

His question could pose the perfect excuse for your secrecy. But your butt was still sore from his attention last night and you couldn’t risk him finding out about what really was in that green box with the golden bow. He’d learn soon enough.

“I did not, I promise! I was looking for a toy cleaner. Our collection is piling up, I’m gonna have to stock up soon…” At least, that wasn’t a lie. You could always clean the toys with hot water but some actual disinfection solution would do no harm. “Let’s open the calendar.”

Loki held the box in his hands before you made it over to your desk. It was large but light and when he opened it, it revealed a long black feather.

You gasped in a delighted manner. “You know what to use that for, right?”

“Oh, I do indeed.” Curiously, he ran his fingers over the soft feather. You could tell a plan was forming in his mind—and you would be lying if you claimed you were not excited for whatever he had in store.

Making popcorn garlands for your Christmas tree was something you both loved and despised. The aroma was tempting—salt and coconut oil, and that satisfying popping of the corn in the microwave… stringing them on a thin cord with a needle, however, was a true Sisyphean task. Loki was doing little to help you after you had explained to him what it was you intended to do.

He had made one garland—and then emptied his whole bowl of popcorn by eating it all up. You slapped his hand away when he reached for your bowl.

“Loki! Stop eating my popcorn!”

“How do you expect me not to eat it, putting it right on the table before me?”

You growled. “I told you what I need it for! Popcorn doesn’t grow on trees and I’m not keen on leaving the house again to buy more.”

It had started to snow again over night. Thick flakes fluttered to the ground, resulting in a heavy snow storm. According to the weather forecast, it was going to continue snowing like this for the rest of the week.

Initially, the plan had it been to take Loki out to a Running Sushi place (which he had been meaning to try ever since Thor told him about your food moving right past your table) tomorrow. If you got snowed in, you would have to improvise.

Loki narrowed his eyes at you when you sighed at the window. You were up to something. He could feel it. And you never kept any secrets from him.

“What was really in that box you hid from me this morning?” He asked, following your gaze back to the popcorn garland. Surely, you must have made enough by now unless you intended to put up a twelve foot tree in your living room tomorrow. He underlined his statement by reaching for some popcorn yet again. You pursed your lips, suppressing a grin.

Loki really did remind you of a cat sometimes. Graceful, proud, indifferent towards strangers, a sweet tooth… and sometimes too curious for his own good—at least when it came to you.

“Tell me.” He demanded softly. With a sigh, you finished the next garland and wiped your greasy fingers on the kitchen roll you had brought.

“Nope.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at you—a silent warning. You held back a giggle.

“Tell me.” He mused again, inching closer to you. You leaned back, biting your lower lip. If he truly did not know… then he might have forgotten that tomorrow was a special day. Loki had told you once he barely celebrated his birthday anymore. There had not been a reason since Frigga’s death. Everyone had always made a fuss about the aging of his brother Thor, even now that they had settled on Earth but Loki’s birthday… Odin had never deemed it as important.

Now he did enjoy praise and worship… for Heaven’s sake he had written a play about his own alleged death before… but there was a sweet bitterness to his birthday upon learning they did not care.

Well, you did. But you were not going to let him in on it yet.

“Tell me…” Hovering above you, he smirked. He knew that whenever you did keep things from him, it was to give him a pleasant surprise, never to deceive or betray him, so he wasn’t worried. But he was in the mood to play. “Tell me…”

You squealed when he started tickling you, making you laugh out loud. Struggling and squirming underneath him, you attempted, in vain, to push his hands away from you. In your frenzy, you kicked out with your feet, knocking the full popcorn bowl on the coffee table straight to the floor and scattering the salty snack all over the carpet.

You were panting when he let you catch your breath, still capturing your body with his.

“Tell me.”

“No!”

“Come on, now, tell me, my sweet…”

“No! Look at the carpet, who’s going to clean that mess up?”

Unfazed, he flicked his wrist and the popcorn disappeared.

“Now… back to important matters. What is in that box?”

“I’ll never tell you!” You screamed playfully, once again letting out a scream when he started tickling you again.

“Oh, I will get it out of you… we have all day, my sweet. Now, where are those handcuffs?”

Your eyes widened. He knew where those handcuffs were. Unceremoniously, he materialised them in his hands, momentarily blinding your eyes with a green light—then, he grabbed your wrists and cuffed them together.

Your eyes met. “Are you willing to tell me yet, my sweet?” Pressing your lips together, you shook your head defiantly.

“Very well…”

Now he could have used magic to remove your clothes with magic but where would be the fun in that?

Painfully slow, he tugged your comfy sweatpants off your body, along with your knickers. Your jumper was next. It hung off the sofa covering your hands because of the cuffs. Loki tilted his head, seemingly contemplating if he should simply cut your bra with his daggers.

“Don’t you dare, Loki! That’s one of my favourite bras!”

He growled in response when he opened it and pushed it up to the jumper, leaving you entirely naked and exposed to both his greedy gaze and skilful hands.

Loki sat back down on you, immobilising the rest of your body. Then, he produced the feather from today’s door. Your eyes widened once more. Oh, you should have known that he would use it against you… you had simply hoped it wouldn’t be so soon.

Making you shiver, he brought the tip of the feather to your left nipple, immediately making you shiver and creating goose bumps all over your chest. You couldn’t quite decide whether it tickled or aroused you… ultimately, it was both. Loki soon tended to your other nipple, right until both of them stood, hardened, along with your constant giggles. The stimulation was so light you arched your back, silently begging him for more.

“Are you going to tell me?” He asked innocently. You grinned and shook your head.

And so Loki continued his sweet torture, pampering each and every inch of your bare skin with the black feather until you were breathing heavily, wetness pooling between your legs. It was insane. Everything Loki did to you, it somehow aroused you.

Finally, he moved between your legs, prying them apart for access with lust sparkling in his blue eyes.

His fingertips tickled your inner thighs, making you squirm again. When he brushed the feather over your swollen lips, you moaned.

Loki started teasing you relentlessly, the tip of the feather tracing your entrance slowly and intimately. It tickled—but it did so in the most pleasant way possible. Finally you understood why a feather of all things was considered a sex toy in many cases. It was so light the stimulation was barely enough to give you that orgasm you craved so much.

Your chest was heaving. He briefly wondered whether he could make you come undone for him with only this feather. If he kept stimulating your clit like this… that sensitive bundle of nerves so desperate for his touch…

“I will let you cum if you tell me now, my sweet. How does that sound?”

It cost you all of your strength to shake your head again. “No!” You whimpered. “Loki, it’s a s-surprise.”

“So there is something in that box I am not to see?”

How could he make such a fuss about this? Oh, you knew… because he needed a reason to tease you into oblivion. He had definitely succeeded. You almost started thrashing wildly when his finger found your pussy to massage it lazily as a reward for your confession.

“No! I mean, yes… Loki, please…” You were tempted to move your cuffed hands down to finish the job yourself but you knew that would only bring you another delicious spanking—which was too soon after last night. You bit your lower lip, begging him with your eyes.

“Don’t cum…” He ordered softly.

“Loki… Loki, please…” He continued to stroke you, now firmly rubbing your clit until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Not yet…”

Just when you were about to burst, he stopped, reaching for the feather again. And this time… the stimulation was enough. A few firm brushes pushed you right over the edge. You came hard on the sofa, with Loki’s hungry eyes on you as you arched your back and bucked your hips to intensify the feeling—uncontrollable movements you couldn’t help but give in to.

There was something about this advent calendar experience with the God of Mischief. He loved to give, loved to pamper you… loved to make you feel good without always asking for something in return. And while you enjoyed giving him the very same bliss, sometimes downright enchanted by his impressive length, your love for this man went so much more beyond mere sexual lust and the compassion you had felt for the storm inside of him. Loki had a good heart.

It was about time he learned what it meant for him to be appreciated.

A/N: Door 17 will be opened tomorrow, on December 17th!

Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente

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lov3nerdstuff · 5 years

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Dark Stars {Part 4}

*Loki x OFC*

Part: 4/10

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: adorableness and some darkness

Summary: ~Loki could just let her die here and now. His problems would be solved and he could go back to his usual ways. But then he would forever be left with an unsolved mystery and he hated the prospect of that even more than the fear of what would happen if she lived.~

A story of what happens when Loki stumbles upon someone who is like him in every way. Only better. Oh, and they just happen save Asgard too.

A.N.: To celebrate over 1000 people following me (how insane is that?!), I decided to share the newly edited version of the very first Loki fanfiction I ever wrote! Enjoy the mischief 💚

All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

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Now that Ivy stood this close, Loki could see the anger dancing in her eyes, clear as day and mingling with the shadow of how much she hated him in that moment. It was an expression he had seen so often on so many people that it didn't take much to recognize anymore. But there was something else… something she tried to hide from him.

From the second he noticed it lingering in the shadows of her gaze, it appeared to be the most obvious thing he had ever seen, and he couldn't believe that he had missed it before. And something about this deeply hidden expression felt so oddly familiar to Loki that he didn't even dare questioning her about it.

Right in this moment, with her small, angry form in front of him, only illuminated by the moonlight occasionally breaking through the heavy clouds, he felt utterly defeated. The anger in her eyes, the knowledge that he was the cause of it, was squeezing the air right out of his lungs and he wanted it to stop. Right now.

"I don't regret it." His voice was quiet now, almost reluctant in its tone.

Ivy blinked a few times too many, as if only now waking up from a dreamlike state of mind. "What…?" The anger vanished from her voice in a blink, leaving it just as calm as Loki's own.

"I don't regret that I saved you." He repeated, more certain this time, breaking free from the spell her eyes had put him under by looking anywhere but at her.

"But maybe I do..." She whispered a few seconds later, making Loki's eyes snap right back to hers. The sincerity he found in them struck him like a cold lightning from deep within, making his lips part ever so slightly. Did she… no, she couldn't mean that. She didn't want to die… Loki didn't want her to die, for hel's sake! His eyes widened as they dug into hers, searching of her soul, but finding something greater.

Silence. Intimacy conveyed by nothing but an honest glance.

Now it was Ivy's turn to look away in the vain attempt to cover up her own vulnerability under his gaze, clearing her throat and taking a few steps backwards once she realized just how close they had been standing.

In an instant he had sorted himself out as well, going back to his normal, stoic self, rising up the walls. But he wouldn't forget what he had seen in her eyes that short moment ago, nor would he ever forget how it had made him feel.

"We should really leave this place. Both of us." Ivy said then, running a shaky hand through her tousled locks in an attempt to get a grip. She hadn't meant to say what she had said before, hadn't meant to reveal so much of herself, and she hadn't even noticed the words leaving her lips until it was too late. It was something she kept hidden deep within her, only to surface when she was sure no one would notice. No, she was strong, she was playful and she was smart. That's what she had to show the outside world. That's who she had to be right now.

"We should really leave this place." She said once more, repeating herself involuntarily. Of course Loki noticed, but he decided to keep it to himself. Just like he decided to keep quiet about everything that had just happened. If he would have remarked on it, had admitted to recognize it, he would have risked giving away too much of himself in return, and that was not an option.

"Where are we going?" He finally asked, for once forgetting about his urge to be in control. The whole situation had thrown him off quite a bit, and he was grateful for a pause in their teasing game.

"Do you trust me?" Ivy asked, back to her ever so present smirk. So much for a break…

And before Loki could answer, she had already grabbed his wrist and gone they were, only a short moment before the door to Sif's chambers was opened.

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Loki found himself at the outer rim of the forest, surrounded by only trees and darkness. Ivy stood right next to him, frowning to herself.

"Are you alright?" He asked as he turned towards her, unable to stop this expression of concern from showing.

Ivy smiled at him. "Do I hear worry in your voice?" She teased, but as his expression turned from neutral to clearly annoyed, she stopped smirking. "Yes, I am fine. I'm just not specifically used to..." Her mind caught on, making her stop mid-sentence. "This situation is rather new to me." She finally said.

"But is this…" Loki pointed to their surroundings dramatically, "...really where you wanted us to go?"

"Actually, yes!" She smiled, obviously satisfied with herself.

"Then not all hope is lost on you…" Loki muttered under his breath as he took his time to look around with a deep frown.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing, dear…" Dear! There it was again, that stupid little term of endearment, adding much to Loki's annoyance.

Ivy smiled to herself, very much liking this effect she seemed to have on him. It were either annoyed, angry or flirtatious vibes coming from him at most times, and Ivy would gladly take the latter.

Without any further questions, she took a hold of his wrist once more and started walking ahead into the darkness that lay before them.

Loki rolled his eyes, but let her drag him through the forest without complaining. For some reason, their little moment of rawness back in Sif's chambers had taken most of the anger he had felt for her and simply erased it from his body, leaving him with curiosity and maybe the slightest bit of inclination, which he yet tried to suppress.

Suddenly Ivy stopped dead in her track, a few feet away from a huge boulder. It was almost double the height of Loki, and more than ten feet wide, but there really was nothing special about it, and after a few moments of Ivy just grinning at it, Loki started to frown.

"Did I hit you in the head too hard while fighting? Oh geez, you must have lost your mind…" He sighed dramatically, making Ivy chuckle and grin even more. Yes, he enjoyed that… making her laugh. Seeing her happy. Was by far better than making her angry, and by far more difficult.

Only when she started dragging him closer towards the boulder, he suddenly came to realize that she had indeed almost exactly copied his own magic barrier, and thus created the illusion of a solid stone wall. It didn't even look half bad, and he was only able to tell it was a doorway because of long years of experience. A normal guard surely would have missed it, even if they had stood right in front of the magic wall. Somehow, seeing her copying his magic made him proud, and seeing her doing it this well made him positively boast.

They walked right through the boulder then, a small tunnel leading them to the other side, to a clearing not unsimilar to his own. It was not as spacious nor as beautiful as his, but it would surely do, and it even enclosed a small lake in the far back. He had to admit that it was a rather good place for a hideout.

"I thought it would only be fair to show you my version of a secret hiding place." She smiled, while walking right over to a little spot where he saw a bag and blankets lying on the mossy ground. "You know, after you threw me out of yours, I had to build my own place."

Loki looked around the open space rather doubtfully, he wasn't even that unimpressed, but he just hadn't ever thought of his hiding place as a place to live in, as that obviously was what Ivy used it for.

"So… You live here?" He tried to hide his distaste for the rather dirty surroundings, just as he tried to hide his heart clenching at the thought of her having to live here.

"Not everyone is blessed with a palace and a nice bed and free meals." She laughed quietly, but he noticed the strain in her voice, the subtle sadness and shame.

"Why don't you live in the city, and find work there, or just build your own home out here if you'd prefer that?" He questioned, while Ivy motioned for him to sit down next to her on the dusty blanket she had thrown herself onto. Loki couldn't help but pull a face at it, yet when Ivy glared at him, he rolled his eyes once and plopped down right next to her.

"I can't afford building or buying anything at the moment. And well, I'm not what you would call 'welcome' in the city, and I despise being surrounded by so many people anyway, more than anything. So much for working there..."

"What do you mean you are not welcome?" He asked in disbelief, frowning.

"I mean that I'm not welcome. Simple as that. Don't ask about it." The harsh tone of her voice surprised even Ivy herself, but she didn't like talking about it and this was maybe the only way to counter Loki's curiosity. And certainly she didn't want to talk to Loki, of all people, about her past and origin.

"If it makes you feel any better, the people of Asgard certainly despise me more than they could ever dislike anyone else." Loki finally said, staring at the stone wall on the opposite side of the clearing.

"And how would you know?" Ivy asked as she rubbed her hands against her legs, trying to warm them up. Romantic as it may sound, nobody ever mentioned that living in the wild nature was shitty as hell when it came to the weather and temperature.

"They would never dare as much as outright tell me, as I'm still their prince and they ought to pay me respect." He started, earning a snort from Ivy, which again makes him look at her amused face in feigned dismay.

"I told you that you're an asshole right away. A puny excuse of a prince, a total loser, a..." Ivy started with a self-sufficient grin.

"Yes, I know that, Ivy, now shut your mouth while I try to answer your question. Will you do that?" He asked with a sarcastic undertone and Ivy made a move that looked like she was zipping her mouth shut.

Loki sighed. "The people, the citizens… they always put on a smile when it comes to meeting me, but nearly all of them forget their eyes. Their eyes tell me so much more than their words ever could. They are full of hatred, anger and usually also... fear."

"Why would they fear you?" Ivy frowned, crossing her legs beneath herself as her knee brushed against Loki's thigh.

Loki let out a sincere, but dark laugh. "If you even have to ask, then you must truly be blind. Or insane!"

"Oh, I'm clearly and utterly bonkers!" She laughed, and shoved her still freezing hands into the pockets of the jacket. "What do you see in my eyes?" She asked after a while, curiously, calmly… not at all frightened.

A cold shiver ran down Loki's spine… why did she have to ask THIS question? Of course he did see something in her eyes, but he wasn't so sure if it was something meant for him to see. Usually he would, for that sole reason, tease and torment her with it until she broke into pieces and crumbled into his hands. But he just couldn't. Not after what he had seen.

"I see that you're cold!" He finally said, and his face clearly showed the discomfort he felt, despite his attempt at hiding it. There simply was no hiding this kind of knowledge.

Ivy rolled her eyes, but to his great luck decided to let it go for now. Seeing Loki all flustered amused her greatly, and that was enough for the moment, but she had to admit that she was cold indeed, and thus buried her hands deeper inside her pockets. Until her hands touched something cold inside. She flinched immediately, pulling her hand back while making a small squeaking noise.

"What is it?" Loki asked in an instant, following her gaze down to where she just pulled a little metal device out of her pocket. It was not larger than her hand, flat and had a black glassy surface.

"What the heck is this?!" Ivy twisted the little object in her hands, inspecting it from all sides.

Loki on the other hand let out a sudden, loud laugh. He honestly had no idea how or why Sif had an ipod in her pocket, but it didn't surprise him either. She often ventured to Midgard, thus probably also the odd jacket…

Ivy was still staring, her eyes shifting between Loki and the ipod, unsure of what to think or say, but the moment she touched a button by accident, the screen lit up brightly, illuminating her face. With a small yelp she dropped the device into her lap, and in her surprised shock, she tightly grabbed onto Loki's arm. He smirked at the gesture and picked up the ipod from her lap, as second later, once Ivy realized what she was doing, she let go of Loki's arm and eyed the device with a frown.

"This…" Loki held the ipod so that Ivy could see the screen. "...is a device to play music with, mainly. It's Midgardian technology."

"But it doesn't look like technology." Ivy said quietly, feeling utterly stupid in the statement.

Still smiling, Loki unlocked the thing (for whatever reason Sif had not minded to lock it properly… but she also didn't lock her chambers, so much for that.) and scrolled through the playlist. He let out one disapproving sigh after the other, while inwardly making a note to criticize Sif for her taste in music.

"Let me see!" Ivy grabbed it from his hands, now almost too eager to find out what the mysterious device did. She pressed down on the screen and a faint music started to blare from the tiny speakers. "It's so quiet!" She said and looked at Loki expectantly, holding the small item out to him again.

"Good Lord…" Loki sighed and rolled his eyes, before finally waving his hand over the little screen, upon which the music started flowing all around them, well to be heard all over the opening.

Ivy looked first at the ipod, then at Loki, as she was deeply fascinated by the foreign music.

The song Ivy had picked by accident was not more than a loud blaring of various foreign instruments, not at all to Loki's taste, so he picked up the ipod once more and searched through the music, until his eyes fell upon a playlist called 'good'. Now, that was very creative of Sif for sure... He rolled his eyes.

Loki scrolled through the songs and found one he liked, selecting it and a few moments later it was to be heard all around them.

Ivy got up from her place on the blanket and started strolling around the opening, while Loki's eyes followed her every step. Then she slowly started dancing to the music.

"What are you doing?!" Loki asked with wide eyes full of surprise, and also a little amusement.

Ivy only laughed and continued moving. "It helps against the cold. You should try it!"

The rather dark lyrics made Ivy wonder whether he had chosen the song intentionally, or if it was all in her mind. But then she shook her head at herself, probably reading something into his choice of music that wasn't there. It was a good song after all... No lutes and harps for once, and that was good enough to enjoy it.

She looked over at Loki then and found him watching her, his head to one side and his arms resting on his propped up knees. He seemed to enjoy watching her dance… and she enjoyed his gaze on herself.

"I'm serious, come and dance with me right now or I will forever haunt and torment you!" Ivy said with an amused smirk. "You'll feel much better once you start! Or can Loki, the almighty god of cowardice, not dance with a lady?"

Loki rolled his eyes once more, but got up from the blanket with a small groan and a chuckle. She surely would be the end of him, no doubt in that.

He sauntered over to her slowly, his arms crossed behind his back, smirking ever so slightly. Whatever she was doing there, it wasn't dancing. But it certainly was adorable.

In a rush of excitement at having him actually following her order, Ivy pulled him closer to herself, trying to get him to dance, which eventually he did. Surprisingly enough...

Ivy had expected it to be awkward and somewhat hilarious –since he had refused to dance at all at first– but gosh had she been wrong. He moved with such an ease, such an elegance and grace... it was rather mesmerizing to watch, and thus she observed him for a few seconds, not sure if she should smile or stare in awe, and only then joined in to dance once again.

It was nothing special, really, and it must have looked utterly ridiculous to anyone who would have watched, but Ivy enjoyed herself and she was fairly sure that Loki did as well, even though he desperately tried to suppress the smile that tried to take over his features. Maybe, just maybe he was just was broken as she was.

As the song ended they both remained silent for another while, listening to the softer tunes that now started playing. That surrounded them in their own, comfortable little world.

"May I?" Loki asked in a polite yet gentle tone, holding his hand out for Ivy to take. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this. Where was his mind? His common sense? His normal self?!

She returned a small smile, placing her hand in his and he pulled her close to his chest without even thinking. Oh, he must be insane… But now, at least, they could be insane together for a while.

Loki placed one hand on the small of her back, the other capturing hers and holding it gently. Ivy on the other hand had no idea what to do, for she had never danced with someone before... or danced like this at all. But simply out of instinct, she placed her free hand against his chest and hoped he wouldn't cut it off for her daring to touch him. He didn't even flinch, and Ivy's skin started to tingle as she felt his heartbeat beneath her fingertips.

And like that they moved to the music, slowly and without any more words, as there were none needed.

Ivy didn't know what had overcome Loki all of a sudden, but she was more than certain to enjoy it while it lasted. She didn't dare to look at his face though, for she feared to see the same cold darkness in his eyes she had faced before. On the other hand, she didn't want him to see how much his touch affected her, and how much she wished to just let him in. To always be like this… close, trusting, honest.

Loki for his part was glad that she didn't look up to meet his eyes. He knew that his face would give away what he thought, what he felt… And right in that moment, with her in his arms and that comforting heat radiating off her like his own personal sun, he knew that he wouldn't be able to uphold his masquerade if only she looked at him with her beautiful green eyes. He was not ready for his facade to slip, for his walls to break down, and he certainly was not ready for any of the things Ivy was stirring up inside of him. So he took a deep breath to collect his thoughts, to force them away from her, sadly noticing the heavenly intoxicating smell of lavender, mixing with something utterly Ivy. He had come to a point now where he needed to chose if he would allow for this to continue, allow for her to become this maddening, all-consuming force in his life, or if he wanted to stay on the safe side and push her away like he did with everyone. A cruel choice, really… but he was scared. Scared of what would happen if he let this continue.

Thus, with every inner strength he possessed, he dropped her hand, letting his arms fall to his sides as he took a few steps back.

"Enough of this madness." He whispered gravely and turned around so that he wouldn't have to see her sad, confused face. All it would've taken for him to break, to turn around and pull her right back into his arms, into his life, was a single look into her eyes. And he wouldn't allow that.

Without another word of explanation, he walked away and left the opening through the secret barrier, taking the sound of the music with him.

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easilydistractedbyfanfic · 5 years

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Alright, gimme 4, 6, and 10 for *drum roll please* WHAT YOU NEED. Oh what did you think I was gonna pick something else 😉😉

Oh, I was laughing when I got this ask, but for TWO reasons! One, of COURSE you’d pick this story, but also because I thought I hit “save as draft” instead of “add to queue” on that post, so at first I was like, huh what’s this for? But then I figured it out, doh! Premature posting!

Fic writer questions found here. And if you’d like to read the story we’re talking about, it’s a Raven/Murphy one-shot found on AO3!

#4 - If you could change anything in (story title), what would it be?

At the risk of sounding vain, I don’t think I would change anything. This idea occurred to me suddenly and it was unlike any other story - and still is - that I’d already written. It’s darker and let me explore the characters in a way that I hadn’t done yet. I was satisfied when I first wrote it and I am satisfied with it now and I feel like it accomplished exactly what I set out to. In a critical way, I think it’s easily one of my best stories (if not the best, honestly) for multiple reasons.

#6 - Which scenes did you cut, and which were added in (story title)?

When I first thought up the story, I knew I wanted Raven to have reasons for doing what she did, but I wasn’t completely sure how to get her there. The first draft (in my head) did not include the bathroom scene where she cleaned up. That came to me after I had typed up some of the story already, and it was key to pulling the whole thing together. Most of the time I’m rather wordy and my stories can go long, but in this case it stayed pretty concise and the bathroom scene was the only part of the story that wasn’t in my original imaginings. Of course I didn’t know exact wording, but I knew how I wanted to involve the rest of Spacekru (and now I didn’t), and how I wanted Raven to handle Murphy and her efforts to pull him back from the edge. I didn’t cut anything out, scene-wise.

#10 - What are some facts readers may not know about (story title)?

Well, they probably don’t know that a story written for a kink meme prompt has as much depth as I think this one does! LOL! Lots of times I write Raven & Murphy in AU’s and strange situations just to imagine how they’d react to it, but this one is definitely only a very slight change in canon, IMHO, but it sends them off on a very different path. And maybe they don’t know - but I suppose they’re getting clued in if they’ve read this far - that I am particularly proud of this story. Also, I say it in the author’s notes, but “Madness” by Muse was a BIG influence on this story for me and where the title comes from. It is SUCH a Murven song, and a super weird fact - it was first played live by the band on 9/13/2012. My birthday is also 9/13 (I’m not telling the year, ha!) and also the Delinquents of the 100 land on Earth on 9/13/2149. So I guess I was just meant to write this story or something. ;>

Thanks for the ask, and especially for making it about one of our mutual favorites! xoxo

#my inbox #asked and answered #murven fic #my stories #murven

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austenwilliam · 6 years

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Becoming The Beast. (AU!Thorin Oakenshield x Human!Reader) [Death and Non-Con Trigger Warnings!]

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Human! Reader

Rating: Explicit! (Carries Trigger Warnings!)

Trigger Warnings: Death, Rape, Non-Con. (Do not read below the line if you do not want to read works containing rape or non-consentual actions.)

Length: 3217 Words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from The Hobbit or any of Tolkien’s works, especially Thorin (Played by the lovely, Richard Armitage). I do, however, own this story. This was written purely for entertainment purposes. I do not make any money from this, whatsoever.

GIF by @thorinoakenshieldconfessions

Note: This is entirely AU! This story was part of a writing challenge and also came to me when listening to a song called ‘Become The Beast’. I wrote it with the idea of Henry VIII and his lust for an heir (because I am a history nerd) but with a darker twist. Please, pretty please, forgive me as I am aware of the love that many of you carry for Thorin. I am also aware how ooc it is of him but for creative purposes he has taken a dark turn.

Summary: Thorin has survived and the battle has been won, but not without great loss. To ensure the line of Durin continues, Thorin is in dangerous need of an heir.

Erebor stood once again, strong and proud in its former glory. The halls shone with a deep emerald hue, the stone a beautiful green and blue. In the throne room a throne had been rebuilt, another now by its side. There sat Thorin and his Queen, N. Each gloriously crowned, the Arkenstone shone rightly above the king’s head, securing his divine right to his place on the throne. The battle had been won, but not without great loss. The king still mourned the death of his younger nephews, Fili and Kili. Each day he made sure that his rule honoured their lives. Making Erebor great once again, he would not allow their deaths to be in vain. This rule was made even more beautiful with the woman that sat by his side. Their marriage was a shock to his people, for they did not expect him to marry outside of his race, picking a human Woman instead; but his love for her left no room for their doubts. N may have been of another race, but she was no mere human. She had a strength within her that he had not seen in any woman, despite their heritage. She stood strong beside him from the moment they set foot on the journey to reclaim the lonely mountain. She withstood terror, pain and loss as much as he did, to help him take back his crown. In her strength he found her beauty. She differed from the Dwarrowdams of his people. Her hair was as white as the elves, reaching down to her shoulders. She stood at a greater height than him, a foot or there about, but her frame was smaller and less stocky than the women he had admired growing up. She lacked hair in places where the dwarrowdam would usually have plenty, but he didn’t mind, not at all. Often, he enjoyed tracing the line of her jaw, his fingertips soft; his touch feather-like, along her hairless skin. What captured him most was the sparkle of her eyes. If he dared, he placed the beauty of their gleaming hues, above the shine of the Arkenstone. Thorin would always get lost in them, losing all sense of reality whenever he did. It was as if one look from her would ensnare him with witchcraft. He would have been a fool to let this magnificent creature go, to allow another take his claim on her. No. She was his and the very moment the battle had been won he had claimed her as his own. Proposing they marry before his coronation, it then allowed her then to become his queen; crowned together.

However, moments of marital bliss slowly began to sour. Upon his reclaim of Erebor, Thorin was no longer a young dwarf prince, but an old king. Time was becoming of the essence and each day was a threat to his line. Not only was his own age a problem but the shorter life span of humans also raised an issue. To his two hundred years, N was already in her third decade of life. Between them, there was little time to be wasting. If he understood correctly, humans only ever lived to eighty, give or take some years. A woman was only able to bear children safely up to their fortieth year and even then, it was a great risk. If he was to bear the kingdom plenty of sons, to secure the line of Durin, then they had to conceive and soon. The added pressure of losing his nephews also meant that when he passed, the throne would fall to another family, breaking the line he had fought so hard for. He simply would not allow it.

N could feel the way her husband had become cold towards her. No longer would he greet her with his warming smile; instead a stone scowl took its place. She was not stupid, far from it. She knew that their struggle to secure the line was weighing on his mind. Though, she did not expect for him to treat her so differently. She was sure that he would be more accommodating, but his current attitude told her otherwise. At night, when they would retire to the bed chamber, the atmosphere within matched the cold of the Erebor stone. No longer was their coupling filled with love and desire, but instead a deadly desire to create. Gone was the soft and gentle touches, the sweet kisses and matching words. In their places came blank stares, no kisses and no consideration for her pleasure at all. N began to feel like one of the horses in the stables; mounted when needed and discarded when not.

Slowly, she began to fear her husband. Under the dragon sickness, she could always place the blame on the illness; but where can she place the blame when the dragon has been slain and the sickness dying with it? It then meant that each harsh word, each rough touch was his and his alone. She hoped that when she flinched, when she cowered in his presence, that he would get the hint; that he would see her pain. The realisation never came. Others living around them could see the darkness surrounding the king, yet felt they had no room to mention it. To bring it up would mean trouble for themselves. Not even Dwalin could get through to his king - his friend. All he could do was console the queen whenever he found her, shaken and alone.

The evening drew near, and the royal pair sat on their thrones, looking over the kingdom that they owned. A smile of pride slid across the king’s features, a blank stare featured on the queen. No longer was she proud of her home, not if it meant living in fear of his anger. He turned to her and quickly she forced a smile, her eyes dimming its usual glow. He was blind. He did not notice the glow fading out as the shine from the Arkenstone overpowered any light. “I will come to you tonight.” He spoke as though they didn’t share a chamber anymore. It was partly true. At night he would come to her, do what he needed to do with her body; ignoring her soul and then he would leave. The queen slept alone often, left to wet the pillow with her tears, time and time again. N simply nodded. Once, she would shiver with excitement; the thought of her prince coming to her in the night to love her, to cherish her and claim her very being-filling her with joy. He claimed her still but now it was a form of possession, an empty need.

Thorin looked forward again and excused her. He felt she was placing a shadow over the gleam of the stone and needed her out of the way. She held no surprise in her response; how could one be surprised when they are so used to being pushed aside? She walked slowly along the cold stone halls, arms across her chest in a small attempt to keep herself warm. Never before had she noticed how cold the kingdom was, until her warmth, her love, had been removed. She shivered and noticed the shuffle of each step, the sound echoing with dread as she neared her room. Standing outside of the door, staring at the wood that blocked her from the inside, she sighed heavily. Placing a hesitant hand on the physical barrier, she pushed on it gently, resigning herself to another empty night. If she could have anything, she would pray for one night alone; one night without his presence. Just one night. Free.

The hours ticked by, how many she neither knew nor cared. All she knew was that the inevitable meeting with her husband drew close, another moment she would have to endure. As if her thoughts had conjured the devil, she heard the heavy boots thud slowly down the hall. She felt the room shake with each step her heart thudding in time with the beat. The door opened, as slowly as she had done earlier. His frame dominated the doorway, the once majestic man, now a stone-cold predator. He stepped inside, her breath hitched. He removed his fur pelted coat, she held hers tightly. Wife was her name. No longer my queen, my one, my love; just wife. He said her name once again, commanding her attention. Not tonight, she thought. No more. A burst of determination rushed through her veins. No more would she stand for his treatment of her. No more would she be afraid of him. “My name is N, or have you forgotten?” She seethed, her words dripping with hatred of who he had become. “I forget nothing.” He faced her with his own force, ready to match whatever she threw at him. “You seem to have forgotten love, forgotten warmth. You’re cold. You’re a monster.” Her admission came from a heavy heart. His head snapped towards her, the monster within, growling. She stood quickly and backed against the nearby table. She made sure that within her reach was something she could use, just in case. Her eyes landed on a heavy book, big enough to cause a little damage, should she need it. When she looked forward, she was met with the hard frame of her husband. He may have been shorter but his dominance, and her fear of him, made him seem that much taller. “You think I am a monster?” His question was rhetorical. He did not want to hear an answer. He then let go a laugh, laced with cynical amusement. “Does it make me a monster for wanting what you promised me? Am I such a monster for taking what is rightfully mine?”

N shivered, each question was met with his body moving that little bit closer to her. Eventually he had her trapped, the edge of the table digging in to the back of her legs. Determined as she was, the menacing look in his eyes made it much more difficult to contain her fear. Slam!

She jumped, her heart stopping for a split second as his fist came into contact with the table top, the whole thing shaking from the force. She swallowed hard. “You promised me children, woman!” He hissed lowly, his hot breath hitting her cheek; his face but inches from hers. “For a year now, I have waited for the announcement of an heir, yet so far you are proving just as useless as the rest of your race!” “Useless?! I was not useless when you dragged me in to battle; I was not useless when I saved you from the spiders!” She fought back, straightening up so that she could push him back a little.

“Don’t be a fool, human.” He scoffed. “None of that matters. What matters now is the line of Durin, which you are failing to provide an heir for!” “Perhaps I could conceive if it was in love and not out of force.”

“Ha! I don’t think you can conceive at all. You were damaged before me and now I am left to deal with the consequences!” Smack! A sharp hand came across his face, the sting resonating through him. N glared, her chest heaving with pure anger. Her victory was short won though when his hand, much larger than hers, came up and wrapped around her throat; the pad of his thumb pressing against her jugular, cutting off her air supply – slowly. Her own hands clasped around his arm in a desperate attempt to pull him from her. Gasping for air, she scratched at his skin, hoping he would let her go. He leant in to her ear, his grip not loosening one bit. “You will give me what you promised me, or…” He paused, pressing that little bit tighter on her throat. “I will kill you.” Could she breathe, she would allow herself to cry but her fight for air, for life, was far more important. He let her go, watching as she turned, using the table for support as she coughed, drawing in as much air as she could; to replace what she had lost, what he had taken from her. “So, what will it be?” He stood behind her still, dangerously close. “Go to hell, Thorin!” She rasped, her voice scraping along her injured throat; still she managed enough anger to fill her words. “I would rather die than let you force yourself upon me again!” He snarled, the sound something so dark even a warg would cower. His hands curled in to fists, his knuckles cracking under the pressure. “So be it.” He closed the gap between them, pulling her body flush against his own. Where it would once make them both shiver with pleasure, the only shiver was her own; a shiver filled with fear. Suddenly she felt the cold of metal, pressing against her throat. From hand to blade, her body was under threat once again. His hot breath heaved in her ear, a pure animalistic rage overcoming him. The feel of her tremble under his touch brought him a sadistic pleasure, making him grin. “Defy me again. I dare you.” He whispered, whilst his free hand ran up her thigh, slowly lifting her dress. His fingers left a burning trail, not of desire but of pure disgust; making her stomach turn, her eyes water, her heart break.

She refused to honour him with a reply, instead she stood as still as she could, resigning herself to one more moment of shame, one more moment of pain before she would then welcome the feeling of death; for death was heaven compared to the hell it was to be in his arms.

She shook, swallowing her fear when his fingers grasped at her undergarments. With a sharp inhale, he tore them away from her. The ripping sound filled the room, ringing through her ears. Hard as she tried she could not take anymore, a sob breaking from her broken and tired body. Her tears soaked her skin, her broken voice pleading with him to leave her be. She begged more profusely as she felt his heavy foot kick her legs apart. The sharp line of the blade pressed in to her skin as she remained chained to him through his vice like grip. “Thorin, please.” She whispered, hoping to appeal to his humanity once more. “Don’t.” Her plea fell on deaf ears, his actions continuing, his need for an heir almost forgotten as the monster within consumed him. He hushed her with a gentle reminder of the blade at her throat, pressing it in to her skin a little harder. Within herself, N fought hard to find strength. She sought the woman from the battle field, trying her damnedest to summon her back. Her primal instincts meant that she would not go down without a fight, doing whatever she could to survive. Her gaze then fell upon the book she noted earlier as a possible weapon. Both of her arms free, she tried to reach it; lucky that his attentions were elsewhere. With desperate fingertips she pulled it forward – slowly. His fingers gripped her inner thigh, her hands then gripped the heavy book; holding it firmly on each side. Her eyes closed, trying hard to not let his invasion of her body break her further. His hand then slipped higher, moving dangerously close to her sex; each inch determined.

Pushing back images and thoughts of her old Thorin in her mind, she would not let those memories cloud her. Before he could get to her most intimate parts, she lifted the book and brought it quickly up and over her shoulder. The angle was awkward, but it left her with enough room to catch his head, the item hitting him hard enough to make him stumble – and stumble he did. Groaning in pain, he let go of her and cradled his head in his hands. N used this precious moment to spin and come to face her attacker. She swung hard once more, aiming for the tender spot on the back of his head. With a blunt force she knocked him to the ground. The monster was stubborn, still not allowing the attack to knock him out cold. Out of pure fear and determination, she continued to bring the heavy tome down; again and again, her mind ignoring the blood that splattered her dress, her skin - and the walls.

Pausing, only for a second, her chest heaving from exhaustion; she waited and checked for any sign of movement. If his blood, pooling quickly around his head, was not enough to prove his death; she threw the book down once more – just to make sure. Well and truly dead, Thorin lay cold and lifeless upon their bedroom floor. His death slowly seeped in to her mind, the realisation sinking in. The queen then brought a blood covered hand to cover her mouth, a gasp of shock escaping her. What have I done!? It was never her intention to kill him but to only bring him harm. Consumed with a rage she never knew a human could possess, she felt as if her body was no longer her own in the moment of madness when she took his life. Kneeling on the floor beside him, she felt his blood soak through her clothes. Hesitantly, she put a hand on his back, as if to touch what didn’t seem real. Feeling the firm body beneath her touch, she knew very well that it was the body of her husband – the king. Like a woman feeling the loss of her love, she wept. She cried for the man that was, for the man she had met on the starry night in Bag End. Her body wracked with sobs for the prince under the mountain, for Thorin. Her One. The following days were a blur. Dwalin had found them both shortly after, coming in to check on them both, after hearing shouts and screams. He stopped any body else from coming in to the chamber, helping the queen up. He cradled the broken woman in his arms as she cried, muttering repeatedly her pain. She pleaded for his forgiveness, that she never meant to kill him. It was kill or be killed, she cried. He said nothing but showed her that there was nothing to forgive. Thorin’s body was removed, the reasons for his death kept quiet. Those involved in his burial were sworn to secrecy, allowing the common folk to believe he had passed in his sleep. It was then that the king was buried, the Arkenstone placed upon his chest, where his heart once beat strongly for his kingdom, for his people – for his queen. N, consumed by grief and guilt, sunk slowly in to madness, drifting towards to her own grave – day by day.

Together, deep in the belly of the mountain, lay king and queen; their lives shortened by a tragic end. There was only hope that in the life beyond, in the heavens above, they could unite once again as the lovers they once were. A hope for a second chance at a happily ever after.

The end.

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ratherhavetheblues · 3 years

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ANDREI TARKOVSKY’S ‘STALKER’ “Prisoner? I’m imprisoned everywhere…”

Our protagonist, early on in this mammoth undertaking, and en route to a client, protests to an imaginary companion, “My dear, the world is so utterly boring. There’s no telepathy, no ghosts, no flying saucers… They can’t exist. The world is ruled by cast-iron laws. These laws are not broken. They just can’t be broken…” On reaching his customer, there is also a woman, in furs and with a cool sports car. He continues his rant, now addressing her. “Don’t hope for flying saucers. That would be too interesting…”She retorts, “But what about the Bermuda Triangle?” This annoys him. “You’re not going to contradict…” And she quickly declares, “Yes, I am.”/ “There is no Bermuda Triangle,” he insists. “There is Triangle ABC which equals Triangle A prime, B prime, C prime.” She yawns, “It’s all so tedious, so very tedious.” She might have added that it’s all very pedantic. It’s all very pushy, in a thrust that doesn’t yield power. Pedantic, to the point of desperation. Shifting back to his whimsy, he tells her, “In the Middle Ages, life was interesting. Every house had its goblin, each Church a God. People were young. Now every fourth person is old…” The client had placed his hat on her car; and, in the woman’s resenting the protagonist being so adamant, she races away from them, leaving his hat on the roof. That dogmatic display had been mitigated in several ways. Surrealism had landed with the hat. The triad of the Bermuda Triangle was also a breath of fresh air, a visit from a source to be seen soon. Telepathy, ghosts, flying saucers, all in the mix, somehow.

Beginning as we did, there requires now a more complete sense of the crisis. His career of being known as a “Stalker”—a term implying harsh measures—focuses down to his being a sort of pilgrimage tour guide. Whereas such a calling could be lucrative, one look toward our protagonist’s home makes very clear that money is scarce there. His bedroom and kitchen have been reinforced by a living room operating as a public bar. Could that polyglot become a manifestation of the passionate innovator himself? Whereas those typically doing pilgrimages rush to prove how old-fashioned they are, our Stalker finds a market (obviously not numerous) for those with a hankering of the rebellious. The saga of the missing hat would be a case of a lady’s man, a popular, wealthy writer purveying the chic and solid classical rational thought from many centuries ago. That he’s fond of “risk” is one thing; that he’s bought into the ways of the Stalker is a very different thing. The first visitor seen at that surrealist bar is the other client of the adventure, a scientist. Curiosity being smiled upon in that realm, where standard curiosity does not have a hope. Not about smidgens, but a new cosmos. Both would be proud to call themselves skeptics. Both would be impostors.

Insofar as being that, in my view, the core of this elusive film is concerned with a planet of impostors, we will attempt things in the most incisive and compelling way, that being left for the crisis and what to make of it, while beginning with an idiosyncratic triumph which does, in fact, form the ending.

“You came back,” says the Stalker’s wife in a needling way, and in the bar. Where did the dog come from? (He was feeding the dog.) “It tagged along. Don’t chase it away…” Though unimpressed by the new family member, she is concerned that he join her on a walk to carry her crippled daughter, Monkey, needing the elements. “Monkey’s waiting.” (The elements being contaminated by a striking, unabating force.) Mom smoking, pacing the floor of the bar. The two tourists being morose. The smoker asks, “Does anybody want a dog?” The Writer responds, “I’ve got five already…” The dog goes to the girl. Mom says, to the barman, with no enthusiasm, “So you like dogs.”/ “That’s a good one.” The Stalker gets around to, “Alright, let’s go.” The Family Man raises the girl to his shoulders. The Professor/ Scientist and the Writer watch nonplussed. The daughter and her crocheted shawl seem to be a haven. Their arresting and dashing procession, along a shoreline, frees the gala to its simple and graceful height. A ringing sound is heard. Cut to a wooden bowl being filled with milk.

In great contrast to the playfulness, back home the marching man complains to his wife, “If you knew how tired I am… Only God knows… They still call themselves the intelligentsia. Writers! Scientists!”/ His wife says, “Calm down…”/ He insists, “They don’t believe in anything. Their capacity for faith has atrophied.”/ “Calm yourself,” she tells him, in the action of his being overrun by the lack of focused emotional force. Surprisingly, one more room shows up—an impressive library./ “Stop it. Calm down. Don’t worry…”/ By now, he’s lying on the floor. She tells him, “It’s dark. You can’t stay here.” She helps him up. “Take it off,” she says./ Toward the bed, a surreal cave wall, rippled, primeval but also vaguely chic./ She helps him take off his pants. He lies down in their only bed. She touches his forehead. She sits on the bed. She adjusts the pillow. “Calm down. It isn’t their fault. They should be pitied, not abused. Their eyes are blank.” She gives him a sleeping pill./ He perseveres, “Their thinking how not to sell themselves cheap. How to get paid for every breath they take. They knew they were born “to be someone,” to be an elite!”/ She touches his temple./ He says, of them, “You live only once… How can such people believe in anything at all?” (Ambiguity here must be embraced.)/ “Relax, now,” she urges. “Try to get some sleep…” She sponges his face and forehead. “Go to sleep…”/ He argues, “Nobody believes. Not only those two. Nobody” [Tarkovsky, we must account for, could be using “belief” in a rare way]. Then he delivers a prayer. “Who shall I take there, O Lord… The most troubling is that nobody needs The Room [the great delivery of his product]. And all my efforts are in vain.”/ She argues, “Why do you say that? Don’t…”/ He pitying himself, “I’ll never go there again with anyone.”/ “If you want,” she says, “I’ll go with you. Do you want that?”/ “No, you mustn’t.”/ “Why?”/ “What if you fail, too?”

She sits down and has a smoke. She speaks to the void. Their void. Our void. “You know, Mama was very opposed to it. You’ve probably already guessed that he’s one of God’s fools…” (The footprints of Bergman’s theatrical dialogue; and the heavy woolens on her presence, in lieu of heating. As with Bergman’s films, dialogue is crucial in a film like this. Tarkovsky’s pictorial genius does not invite your guesses as to what he might be thinking. The depths of dialogue deliver exactly what he is thinking—a thinking not to be imagined as normal, nor a quick grab. The métier of the business of film-entertainment might as well be tricked up by Shakespearean garb, inasmuch as nothing has essentially changed in essence since more than two thousand years. Bergman and Tarkovsky [along with a few ignored figures hoping to make a change] know of another way, an emotive key having been in a form of long imprisonment. Here we have questionable nonsense; and overrated smarts. Closely following the dialogue is not a choice.) “Everyone around her used to laugh at him. He was such a wretched muddler. Mama used to say, ‘He’s a stalker, a marked man, an eternal jailbird… Remember, the kind of children stalkers have…’”/ “I didn’t even argue. I knew all about it—that he was a marked man, a jailbird, mocked by children. Only, what could I do? I was sure I’d be happy with him. I knew there’d be a lot of sorrow. But I’d rather know bittersweet happiness [pathos, a Bergman specialty] than a grey, uneventful life. (Moreover, far beyond personal distinction, the lift is an uncanny “zone.”) Perhaps I invented this later. But when he came up to me and said, “Come with me,” I went. And I’ve never regretted it.” (At the film’s beginning, she becomes hysterical about his stealing her watch for the current job… You gave me your word. I believed you…) There was a lot of grief and fear and pain. But I never regretted it nor envied anyone. It’s just fate… It’s life. It’s us. And if there were no sorrow in our lives, it wouldn’t be better. It would be worse. Because then there would be no happiness either. And there’d be no hope. So… (a little smile).

Cut to the daughter, reading at a table. (At first sight it seems a Bible. But on closer inspection it’s far from a Bible.) A freight train goes past their window. Flecks of light show up. Monkey’s voice-over, surveying her prospects.) “I love those eyes of yours, my friend. Their sparkling, flashing, fiery wonder./ Where suddenly those lids descend/ Then lightning rips the sky asunder/ You swiftly glance, and there’s an end… (Panning down, she in profile.)/ There’s greater charm, though, to admire/ When lovely are those eyes divine./ In moments kissed by passion’s fire;/ Where though the downcast lashes shine/ The smoldering embers of desire…” (She looks out the window. A pink color in the sky.)

On the table are three glass vessels: her medicine; a tropical fish; and an empty vase. A dialectical site, not as sterile as you might think. The pulsation from a train moves the medicine bottle toward the edge of the table. But the ensuing pause outside allows the bottle to stay in play. A second glass, containing the fish, also stays in play. (She places two fingers toward the window and the pink sky.) She places her head at one side of the table. The third and empty glass, devoid of substance, plunges to the floor. Is it a case of one’s frailty, or a case of one’s dead history? “Then lightning rips the sky asunder…” Is there a way for her to elicit that “greater charm?”A ringing bell. The table shakes, the glasses shake. The train shakes the table. “In moments kissed by passion’s fire…”

Stalker is far from the graces of Monkey. He and his two adventurers show us most graphically that being alive can be already dead. The figure of the Scientist, aka, the Professor, the early-bird, the typical go-getter, gives us a whack of big-reality in the form a Nobel Prize winner. “Was it a meteorite or a visitation from outer space? Whatever it was, in our small country there appeared a miracle—The Zone; imagined to be a singularity. Stalker went to work upon a mystique of that meltdown.

Right from the terminology of Zone, you know embarrassment awaits. In fact, the entire enterprise of that safari is one long episode of the concerns of Theatre of the Absurd. (That being a tonality very useful to the films of Ingmar Bergman, and now dawning upon Tarkovsky. Also, Bergman was not slow to see that Hollywood melodrama had unwittingly taken up an early version of the tendency of bathetic overkill, in many entertainments. The pathos of that moment of Monkey’s day, introduces something very unique.) Whereas the alarm of Theatre of the Absurd would be heavily involved by way of rational (and irrational) analysis, the Stalker’s approach derives from the possibility that, given enough woe, a frenzy of physical action can break through to serious truth. (He being far from coherent, his other notion becomes that when the magic field is found, the hero is given all the joy anyone would need.)

Rounding off the take-off, our two bold candidates declare statements of concern. The Writer admits, “I dig for the truth, but, while I do, something happens to it. The truth changes into a pile of… I won’t say what… I seldom think. It’s bad for me. The Scientist posits: “I’ve lost my inspiration. I’m going to beg for some.

In the course of stealing a side-car to access what is seen to be a magical place, they invade the large railway complex nearby in the Scientist’s jeep. The pollution count provides the making of film noire, but the actions in the railway yard are so hare-brained as to become a parody, a very young children’s entertainment. What does, though, amidst the jeep-hopping tracks and the Keystone Cops, is the intensity of physical motion, driven to crazy ends by the enthusiast, ends with potential, but light-years away. The atrocious dramaturgy opens the door to the realization that the clientele here—and everywhere—are dead in the water. (In the lull of the race, one of them blurts out, “If I don’t come back, tell my wife…” And, “Hurry, for God’s sake! Keep your eyes open!”) Finding this pitch to be only a specialty of the guide, the Scientist tells them, “What I said about going there… It’s all a lie. I don’t give a damn about inspiration… But how can I put a name to what I want or really don’t want. These are intangibles where the moment you name them, their meaning evaporates, like jelly fish in the sun. You’ve seen them around. My consciousness wants the triumph of vegetarianism. My subconsciousness longs for a juicy steak. So what do I want? I want world supremacy, at the very least.”

Having outrun the ruined land, they come upon a vital valley and fresh streams. Stalker feels like flexing the muscles of his arms. “Here we are, home at last!” The Writer adds, “It’s so still.” Stalker proudly declares, “It’s the quietest place on earth. You’ll see yourself. It’s so beautiful. There is no one here. The protagonist quips, “Three men can’t foul it up in one day.” The Writer contradicts, “Why can’t we? Sure we can… It stinks like a swamp…” The guide tells of an earlier client who trampled all the flowers there. As such, here is the point of leaving off the study as an adventure per se, and instead an exposure of the perversity of educated people finding their heavy preparations to be, in the final analysis, a farce. The bizarre and conflicting meanderings have been allowed to run amok in order to illuminate a quicksand having become supreme. Some mad duress by the leader forces the experience to freeze until twilight. In the hiatus, the protagonist going for a walk that becomes a sleep, the Professor ridicules the so-called businessman. “He was in prison several times. His daughter is a mutant, a so-called Zone-victim. They say she has no legs…” There is a cut to Stalker, body and face plunged into thick grasses. Consulting the elements. The Professor had a friend who had an idea the meteorite was a message to mankind… or a gift.

Making a trek into damaged military ruins of a distant war, the invasion had been forced to proceed in single file, as if that war were still in force. Along with the recent attacks of advantage, there was the protagonist, happy to be pushing around a notable physicist and a best-selling novelist, living in a big villa. “I’ll point out the path.” The advertised athletic force is nowhere to be seen, due to keeping up with big-mouths. “I said, don’t touch it! What, are you crazy? I said this wasn’t a place for a stroll… The Zone demands respect, otherwise it’ll punish you… Don’t try anything like that again!” / “Why can’t we go in a straight line. It’s right under our noses.”/ “I’m fed up with you nuts…”/ “Forget it. I’m going my way…”

This skirmish being the opposite of attempting to deliver disinterestedness by way disciplined, dynamic toil. The three of them settling into that what looks like The Three Stooges. Hollywood melodrama early; and Hollywood comedy late. “Keep the last pole in sight. You go first, Professor…”/ “No, you…” / “We’ll go roundabout.”/ “Why?”/ “Here the straight path isn’t shortest. The more indirect, the less risk there is.”/ “Is it fatal to go straight ahead.”/ “I told you. It’s Dangerous.”/ “Is the detour less dangerous?”/ It’s not, but nobody goes straight…”/ “You and you’re detours.…”/ “How about if I just go straight.”/ “Listen you…”/ “It’s risky here, risky there. What the hell… Forget it. I’m going this way…”

Being duped about a childish magic, the buyers recoup what they can. An assault from science: “You’re a fine one, Mr. Shakespeare. Afraid to advance, afraid to retreat…” A response from literature: “It might seem capricious. But at each moment, it’s as if we construct it accordingly to our own state of mind—the states of mind here overlook honest concentration, and therefore we have just another “fabulous” entertainment. The Stalker also finds a statement transcending Stooges. “All of them are death traps. I don’t know what happens here when humans aren’t around. But as soon as humans appear, everything begins to change. Former strengths disappear, new ones appear. Safe ways become impossible. The way becomes more easy, now confused beyond words.”

Making the best, after making the worst, the protagonist also grasps the sense of the capricious. “But at each moment it’s as if we construct it according to our state of mind. I won’t hide the fact that some people turned back half-way. Some perished on the threshold of the Room. But everything that happens here depends on us.” So far the sobriety holds. And now it doesn��t. It loses its purchase upon one’s readiness to embrace the kinetic. “So the Zone lets the good through, and kills the evil.” Stalker is somewhat amenable to revise that position. “I don’t know. I don’t believe that. I think it lets through those who’ve lost all hope. Not the good or the bad, but the unhappy. But even the most unhappy will perish if they don’t know how to behave here.” Pedantry gone wild.

The semi-anarchy holds to the point where more disclosure of the captains of wow can fall down a hole. The fantasy of the Zone allows the two customers some diversion. But it is the poverty of The Scientist and The Writer resuming their feud that matters. The man of science and technology addresses the writer, “You bedraggled hack, you home-grown psychologist, fit only to scribble graffiti in lavatories.”/ The Writer has his own way to portray the enemy’s being needing to be terminated. The ways of history. The Writer laughs, “That’s feeble stuff. Call that an insult?” (Before more childishness occurs, a dog runs their way. It sits with The Stalker. It easily steals the show. But the sensationalists all but ignorance it.) They’ll soon stumble upon, while in their supposed destination, a striking formation of undulating snow-white domain, in the cave being a supposed heaven. They haven’t a moment to appreciate the strange beauty there.) The Writer’s Response: “What are you after?”/ “All right. So I’m after a Nobel Prize. What are you after? Want to bestow on mankind the pearls of your bought inspiration?”/ “I spit on mankind. In all of your mankind, only one man interests me. And that’s me… Coming to the conclusion that his life is “shit,” the popular sweetheart comes to, “Know something, Einstein, I don’t want to argue with you.” This prompts the image-of-steel, to a militant overrun—the only like of, being religion. He concocts, lyrically, the heavens creating the mountains. “And from the wrath of the Lamb who shall be able to stand…. Truth is born in arguments, dammit! Happiness, but what kind of happiness?” The Stalker’s reverie: “And lo, there was a great earthquake…and the sun became black as sackcloth, and the moon became as blood… And the stars of heaven fell into the earth… And they said to the mountains and rocks, ‘Fall on us and hide us from the face of him that sits on the throne’…And it came to pass that Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but they didn’t recognize him.” Dribs and drabs: “Mankind exists in order to create works of art. At least that’s unselfish compared with other human activities.”/ “You’re unable to think in abstract terms. Why don’t you teach me the meaning of life…”/ “You may be a professor, but you’re ignorant…”

The Stalker will back into something perhaps a little less hopeless. “Now, take music. It’s connected least of all with reality. Or, if connected, then it’s without ideas. It’s surely empty sound without associations. Nevertheless, music miraculous presents your very soul.” (An agency of force. What chord in us responds to its harmonics? Why is this necessary? )

The “climax,” of course, isn’t. The Writer pulls out a gun; and then throws it into a body of water. The Scientist pulls out of his rucksack a bomb. Much Three Stooges. A large, beautiful hawk comes by where they’ve buried themselves in the cave of nothing. The Writer blurts out, “They devour the film in your soul… What kind of writer am I, if I detest writing? I wanted to change them, but they changed me to fit their own image. The Scientist phones his office to divulge, crazy-heroically, that he had taken from the institute his brainwave. The speaker on the line exclaims, “You realize this finishes you as a scientist.”/ Now, having burned his bridges, he brazens, “Go on, do your dirty work…”/ From the zone of the “true,” the former colleague has a familiar good-bye: “I can see you hanging from your belt over a prison latrine.” The gunman could resume his effete vexation. The bomber, however, seems to have taken on a remarkable problem. Desperate ways. His last words to the messenger—”And not for money or inspiration, but to remake the world!—may still be wrongheaded and wrong hearted.

We’ll call it a day, with Algot, the hunchback-sexton in Bergman’s Winter Light (1962), when Tarkovsky was a young, eager learner. Here he saw some real innovative excitement, excitement like what was in store with Monkey. Algot’s discovery was, “that the Bible’s real sense pertains to one sensibility, Jesus, whose sensual virtuosity was never grasped by anyone as realizing that the spirit driving it all has nothing to do with human immortality.”

#andrei tarkovsky

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itshigh-boop · 7 years

Note

Greetings! May I request a fic with Writing Prompt 111 about HanMei? (Mei seeing and reacting to Hanzo’s Ultimate for the first time?)

You sure can! I’m sorry if I went a lil overboard with this - but I really liked the idea and got carried away! Either way, I hope you like it and thank you for requesting HanMei!! I love this pairing so much ❄💙❄– ( Prompt 111: “ You have… Superpowers? ” )Getting to Lijiang from Antarctica had been such a long and arduous trip, the climatologist barely had the energy to run when she found out she was being pursued. Making use of her new invention, she made it as far as she did by mostly creating icy barriers and patches of slippery footing in their wake to deter them from trailing her. “Ha!” she smiled triumphantly as she turned and aimed, creating an extremely well-timed, thick and curved wall of ice that intercepted what could have very well been an opportunity for them to grab her. Mei-Ling pointed her blaster once more, considering creating another layer to her barrier. Lifting the contraption, she pressed the trigger mechanism, only to feel it shake her in hands with a loud rattle. “Ai ya!” The climatologist shook her creation, hoping that it would still have a bit of life left. However, a glance down at the fuel meter quickly let her know that her last icy wall was the result of her last fuel reserves. The telltale sound of cracking ice alerted her to how much time she had left before her barrier would shatter and allow her pursuers to continue. With a frustrated whine, Mei-Ling placed the blaster back into its makeshift sheath at her hip and turned to begin running again.“Snowball,” she panted as she ran, each heavy pound of her feet against the ground sending her closer to the eventual crash she’d experience when she no longer had the energy to spare. “Go. Please. You know the message I recorded with you? The coordinates I had you download?” When she received the affirmative digitized chatter from her companion, she nodded. “Good…no matter what…you must get to Winston…pass him the data we’ve collected…we need…to…”“She’s over here!”Mei-Ling grit her teeth, urging herself to run faster, if not just to give Snowball a chance to leave the area safely. She turned a sharp corner and into a dark sidestreet, hoping to make as many detours as possible. She rounded corner after corner until eventually finding herself face to face with a tall, cement-brick wall, the crude and chipped graffiti mocking her helpless situation.The little droid floated out of his spot on her empty fuel tank, hovering before her. What she took as a sad noise and the droop of his ‘eyes’, Mei gently stroked her thumbs over Snowball’s visor. “You’re my only hope now, Snowball.” She ushered the droid to float toward the sky. “Go!” she whispered, nodding to him once and then turned around as the thuds of combat boots swarmed her senses. “What is that you want from me?” Mei-Ling asked as she turned, managing to muster up the courage to sound and look angry with the unwanted guests. “You’re either a valuable research asset or a dangerous liability, Zhou. You’ve got two choices: come quietly, or you can die here.”Mei-Ling blinked away the hot tears that sprang to her cinnamon colored eyes. This was unfair. Even now, she looked down at the empty fuel canister for her blaster, hoping for some kind of miracle. “I don’t know who you are but I have something I must do.” Her fingers clenched around the blaster as she glared at the soldiers from beneath her lashes. “And I won’t stop until it’s done.” With a simple nod from one of the chasers, all their weapons were now focused on her. “I’m sorry to hear that. But you were in Overwatch - you knew the risks.” I did know, Mei-Ling thought. hoping that Snowball was safely on his way to wherever from Winston had made his broadcast. This was the least she could do for the world - to ensure that her friends’ deaths weren’t in vain. She closed her eyes tight and with a shaking sigh, wondered if she’d be reunited with her teammates in just a few moments. The flurry of bullets that she expected never came. It was both an instant and an eternity passing as a new pair of footsteps reached her ears. There were confused and angry shouts and the once still evening breeze suddenly picked up in intensity, tossing her hair about. Faint sparks of electricity seemed to dance around, peppering at her cheeks and rousing her to open her eyes. Just as she did, a blue glow filled her vision. Then, a powerful and proud shout, in a language not of her homeland resonated off the narrow walls of the alleyway. “Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!”Mei-Ling felt more than heard the shaking roar that followed the shout. Dragons had always been an important symbol of power and luck with her people. To actually see one (no, two), even the ever positive and creative Mei-Ling Zhou was questioning her remaining sanity. The dragons were transparent but radiated a fierce blue light, their scales shimmering like precious gems and their entire aura sparked. Yet, as their maws gaped open, as if to swallow anything in their path, Mei-Ling felt safe in their wake. Their brilliant light consumed the soldiers, and as they approached, their bodies passed through her body, filling with her a rush of energy from her temples down to her very toes. The raw power she’d seemingly only been touched with was enough to lift the breath from her throat. Mei-Ling sank to her knees, the bout of energy from earlier instantaneously gone. When the winds had died down and the alleyway became dark and dingy again, she dared to open her eyes. “Mei…?” came the digital voice of Snowball, flaring his voice box with an intonation of concern. “Snowball?” A relieved laugh escaped Mei-Ling’s lips and she smiled as the droid chirped, nudging her cheek affectionately. “How are you here? I thought you left…”Footsteps approaching her had Mei-Ling on her guard, quickly lifting her head, only to find that the soldiers were all now strewn about, seemingly unconscious. Stepping over their bodies was a man who, in her very honest opinion, appeared no less intimidating than the unfriendly men who’d chased her down…but there was a calm on his face - sharp features capturing Mei-Ling’s attention and that had her feeling not so on edge as before. The most eye-catching thing about him being the large bow he held in his hands as he approached. When he was close enough, he leaned down, offering a gloved hand to her. “Are you alright?” he spoke in English, though with a slight accent.It was much better than her own, anyway. Mei-Ling blinked and eventually took his hand. “Uh…I am fine. Xiè xie…” Bringing her hands up to fix her glasses, she swallowed the small lump in her throat. “Who are you?” she finally asked. “And how did you manage to find me?”The stranger’s shoulders tensed, eyes glancing to the side. “I am no one important. I was simply passing by the area when your droid found me and alerted me to your situation.” “My droid?” she repeated, turning to look at Snowball who flashed the words ‘danger’, ‘help’, and ‘follow’ across his visor in red lettering. Mei-Ling felt a small rush of heat rise to her cheeks in a bit of shame. To think she was so ready to just have it all end when Snowball was trying to save her. “I see. You didn’t have to follow him…but I thank you.” She inclined her head and back slightly in her gratitude, designating someone having saved her from certain doom as worth a bow.“Ah, please,” the man stated. “You do not have to. I was simply…helping someone in need,” he finished awkwardly. “In any case, you are unharmed and that is what matters.” That seemed to be the end of the conversation. However, there was a pressing issue that forced her to speak. “Ah, I know this may sound strange but please, I must know!”She took his blank stare as permission to continue. Biting her lip, she hoped that this question would not sound as nearly as foolish and insane as it did in her head. “Do you…you have superpowers?” Had the curiosity not been burning something fierce, Mei-Ling would have giggled at the sight of his serious expression fall into one of confusion. “Super…powers?” the man questioned. Mei-Ling fiddled with her glasses once more. “It’s just…I may just be hallucinating, but I could’ve sworn I saw…dragons. Two blue dragons, looking like they came from you after you shouted.” Her brown eyes scanned the area, refusing to look at his face as she continued. “I am a scientist and I just cannot think of any sort of explanation for what I saw.”A few moments of silence and her savior let out an exhale through his nose, shoulders slumping. “It would be a difficult thing to explain, one that I am not truly comfortable discussing with a stranger,” he admitted. “But I assure you…I do not have…superpowers…” The word appeared to physically cause him tension as it left his lips and she couldn’t help the tiniest grin that graced her features. Instead of laughing, however, she rubbed at one of her eyes, suddenly extremely tired. “Well, even if you don’t have super powers,” Mei-Ling began, only now realizing how silly her question was. “You still saved my life.” Contemplating her next inquiry, she shrugged her shoulders, smiling. “Would it be too much to ask for your name?” Surely he could do at least that? The last time she’d held a conversation this long was…technically nine years ago. No matter how strange the circumstances, her desire for a connection, even if temporary, was intense. He appeared to finally relent. “Hanzo,” was all that he answered with. “Hanzo…” Mei-Ling repeated, trying her best to say his name as intended without her own accent. “My name is Zhou Mei-Ling.”Hanzo nodded, glancing over his shoulder and then looking down at her. “Would you like me to escort you back toward the markets, Miss Zhou?”“I would like nothing better. Come on, Snowball,” she called to her droid companion who floated gently along with the pair as they stepped over the bodies of the mercenaries and walked out of the alleyway. “Hanzo,” Mei-Ling repeated as they walked, causing him to look at her in question. “I will remember this moment,” she smiled at him.“Hm.”

#hanmei #hanzo x mei #mei x hanzo #my writing #request

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a-pretty-nerd · 7 years

Text

~Golden Passion~

Chapter 5 💚

Jasper Jordan x reader 1920s Au

A/N: Ya’ll should know the concept by now. So I’ve been having hardcore writers block, and getting adjitated at litterally anything and everything so writing this has been a mess! But I hope you guys still like it. So lets get this show on the road! As always I take requests for other stuff, and don’t forget to follow me on my Insta and Twitter to get updates on stories and more! ✌❤

Warning: None, really.

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Time is a funny thing. It’s as fickle as the wind, and just as damaging. Time seemed to slow down as you watched Maya walk across the dinning room. You sat on the other side of your husband, delicately picking at your meal. The staff stood against the wall as they did at every dinner, waiting for orders. Howard encouraged small talk at the table. Or gossip about the neighbors and his colleagues. While most nights, you sat at attention and played along. Recently, something was bothering you.

That new maid, was bothering you intensley. You watched her, and found her to favor the attention of your most beloved butler. Who gave her more than you liked. You tried not to become jealous, but the way he smiled at her. It made your blood boil. As the days passed, you noticed Jasper distance himself from you. He would have Monty tend to you, when he usually did.

The girls could sense when something was off, and so they took you out to whole days of shopping, and drinking. All in vain.

“Oh Y/N, that color on you is absolutely Ducky!” Alice chimmed as you came out of a dressing room.

“I suppose.” You spoke, unenthusiastically. You stood in front of a full length mirror and inspected your reflection.

“What’s wrong?” Oleta demanded an answer. You simply shrugged and look at yourself in the mirror a few times over again.

“It’s this new maid…” You started, but before you could finish your sentence, the girls were rolling their eyes.

“There is no point in becoming jealous over a maid, Y/N. Mr. Gould is not worth such emtions. Besides, if you can have a lover behind his back-”

“It’s not Howard.” You interupted. “I’d prefer it be that. It’s…Jasper.” A silence passed over your friends. You sighed, and turned to the store emplyee. “I’ll take it.” You said, before going back to change. When you came out in your own clothes, they gave a serious eye.

“She’s your maid, just fire her!” Dia practically shouted.

“That’s suspicious. Besides, what would Jasper think of me?”

“Jasper is at your disposal my dear. He has to follow every order you give him.” Oleta recommended.

“I will not force my butler to continue our relationship!” You protested. All she did was shrug, as if that was your only option.

“It’s not as if you can adress it with him.” Clarke mentioned.

“Well, why not? He’s a logical person. There is no harm in addressing the issue.”

“Y/N, you have made the single most dangerous mistake a married woman could make. In fairness, we probably should have warned you of this, but I thought it was obvious.”

“And what is that, Oleta?”

“You fell in love, with your lover.” She put it simply. And she was every bit right. You had. Helplessly, and hopelessly so. As you thought he had for you. But as you watched him drift farther and farther, the more it hurt. One afternoon, you sat in the parlour, when he walked it to give you your drink. He set the glass on the coffee table in front of you, before swiftly turning away to exit.

“Not even a kiss?” You inquired. Your voice sharp, and determind as you were. He stooped in his tracks, without a response. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of being waited on you in a while.”

“My apologies Mrs. I’ve been attending to other matters around the mansion.” The way he said Mrs hurt more than anything. As if you were a stranger.

“Yes I suppose that maid must take up most of your time.” He turned swiftly, his eyes wide with what could be equated to either fear or anger. Either way, he was not happy bringing her up.

“Y/N-”

“Do you take me for a fool, Jasper? I see the way you look at her and she looks at you!” He just started at you.

“Y/N…”

“I suppose you prefer her company over mine then?”

“I never said that.”

“Actions speak louder than words, Jasper.” You were standing at this point. Your fists balled, and you spoke with grit teeth. You’d had enough of his games.

“Monty is right. This is dangerous, for the both of us. It is only more suspicious if I continue to remain single. But Maya gives me a cover. My feelings for you will always remain, but Maya-”

“I’ve heard enough!” Your head ached. The sound of his voice alone pained you. Rage continued to build. “Get out.”

“Y/N..”

“OUT!” And with your shout, he scampered out of the room. The more you watched them together, the sicker you felt. After that, Jasper tried to apologize. But you wouldn’t have it. He wanted to be with someone else, let him. Besides, Monty was right. It was very dangerous.

“How is that new maid’s performance?” Mr. Gould questioned at a meal. The mention of her name made your hair stand on end. It dawned on you, that you had the opportunity, to simply get rid of her by request that she be fired. But when you looked up from your plate, Jasper’s gaze caught you. Wide, and curious. He knew your power here. You sighed. You couldn’t fire her without reason. Especially not the reason that she was flirting with your butler. And what if you did fire her? What would Jasper think then? He'd lose all respect for you. Not to mention, you'd be hurting him. That pained you more than this.

“I suppose I haven’t payed much attention.” You bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself quiet. You gripped the cloth napkin on your lap in utter fustration.

“Her and Jasper appear to have entered a relationship.” Your husband pointed out. You practically choked. Your breath became heavy as you tried to hold yourself back. Keep your breaths calm, and deep.

“Huh.” You pretended not to notice. Though you fully hated every second that passed of that moment.

“Quiet the pair, aren’t they.” When you looked at them, Maya’s smile stretched across her face in a gleeful and proud moment. Jasper on the other hand, appeared nervous.

“Indeed.” You looked down. You pretended to not be interested. You couldn’t get that out of your mind. The thought of Jasper touching another woman the way he had you. Or someone else fawning over him the way you couldn’t. It tore your heart apart. You felt sick to your stomach as the image refused to leave your mind. You felt tears inch their way up. You held it back as you exscused yourself to the restroom. Jasper watching you with worried eyes as you left. As soon as you reached the privacy of the bathroom, you broke down. Allowing yourself to weep, and sob against the wood door behind you. You leaned, and slowly slid down as you attempted to keep the water from falling down your heated cheeks with tissue. You gave yourself a strong moment, to stable yourself. Freshen yourself up, and return to the dinging room.

The next morning, you asked for Jasper again. You stood face to face in the privacy of a guest room. He stood, his head held high, but his brow bent in concern.

“Does she know?” You finally croaked out. The room silent other than your voices. “Of us.”

“No.” Jasper insisted. “Y/N, this doesn’t mean-” He tried to approach you, but you turned away from him.

“I don’t want to see you anymore.” Your voice quivered.

“No…please.”

“The two of you will continue to work here until you have found another job.” You struggled. Shaking like a leaf, and falling like the fragile things surrounding the mansion.

“Y/N, don’t do this. Please. This doesn’t mean anything has to change.”

“No Jasper. You’re right, this is dangerous and it has gone on long enough. Since you prefer her over your mistress, so be it. Be with her.” You barked.

“Don’t you understand? If I get caught with you, my life is over. I may never work again, or worse. You don’t get it, I need Maya.” He tried reasoning, stepping closer to you. “I can’t live without you…Y/N. I can’t risk being take away from you, and Maya…Maya isn’t so bad if you only gave her a chance.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll just have to live with Maya. You cannot have the both of us.” You walked past him, when he reached out and gripped your arm tightly.

“Please, don’t.” He begged for the last time, before you pulled your arm back and stomped out of the room. For the rest of the day, you felt the same rage fester and breed in your heart. A few nights later, you layed down with your husband, who again asked you about Maya’s performance.

“She’s…satisfory I suppose. She’s not Raven or Harper. Why did you hire her anyways?” You layed down as you spoke.

“Raven hired her as the head maid. I simply approved her. Why? Do you not like her?” He questioned.

“I wouldn’t say she’s the Cat’s Pajamas.” You fell asleep rather quickly, only to find yourself woken up by a knock at your bedroom door. Your Mr. slept through it entirley, and you made sure he was still dead asleep as you opened the door. You found on the floor, a single white glover, and a note. Your missing glove that had been gone since the day you moved in. You picked up the note as it read.

“Forgive me Mrs. Gould, but I’m afraid I misplaced your glove and have just found it tucked in my jacket pocket. As it appears I no longer have use for the glove of a woman who no longer holds my affections. I am returning it to you in hope your husband does not become suspicious of us. Though I suppose there is no need to worry of that any longer.

Sincerely, Jasper Jordan”

Your heart broke. He had stolen the article of clothing in an act of infatuation when he first met you. Before you started the affair. You closed your bedroom door behind you, and stumbled to the long empty staircase in the dark. You let the tears fall one after the other as you sobbed. Grasping onto the glove, which smelled like him. What had you done. Surley Jasper would never forgive you for this. You threw aside the man you loved most in the entire world. You sat on the steps, and hid your face in your hands. You jumped when you felt a hand on your back.

“Mrs.” For the first time, Monty’s voice was soft, and gentle. “Are you alright?”

“Oh leave me be Monty. You’ve finally gotten what you wanted. Jasper is free of my clutches.” You croaked out, througb sobs. His hand rubbed circles on your back as he sighed.

“Y/N…I’m afraid I was incredibly wrong.”

“What?” He brushed aside your tears, and gave you an apologetic look.

“Jasper…I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s absolutely torn apart because of this. He drank himself to sleep on giggle water the past two nights. I’m worried to say the least.” You shook your head in disbelief.

“Jasper…is with Maya. She-”

“Could never make Jasper as happy as you made him.” The room went silent as he continued to comfort you. “My only request, is that you continue to be careful. There are things about Howard you don’t know. Vivian, his wife before you…”

“Died, I know.”

“No doubt, Oleta has told you her theory. Y/N…She is not entirley wrong. Or…it appears that way.” He took something out of his pajama pocket. A small notebook, that was old and tattered. “This, was Vivian’s.” You took it cautiously, looking over the wrinkled pages. “Don’t let him see you reading this.” He warned, before saying good evening, and leaving you alone.

The next day dragged on, and you couldnt wait to see your girls again and tell them everything. To be able to confess everything to someone, and have acceptance and friendship. But unfortunately, Jasper waited on the group, as usual. You were unable to say a word about the glove, or even mention the situation. Out of fear of upsetting him. Since you had broken it off, Jasper mostly sulked around the Mansion. It only furthered your heartache. You would see Maya trying to cheer him up, which appeared to help a little. But only when she was around. The conversation with the girls was the usual. Gossip about neighboring families, and talking about trends and the paper. Suddenly, the conversation was interupted by a loud crashing sound from another room. Loud shouting followed, as you watched Maya run out from the kitchen and out into the big living room. Where you watched your husband, in a very uncharacteristic rage shout and scream after her. He called her name upon name, as he cursed her for being so clumsy that she ruin such an incredibly expensive suit of his. Your jaw dropped as he chased her out of the front the door.

“You’re fired you mangy whore!” He yelled, as she escaped with her small wails and cries followed her. Jasper jumped to chase after her. “Butler! You follow her out that door, and you’ll lose your job as well!” His eyes were wide, and panicked as he stopped. He looked around the room, and his eyes met yours. He fixed himself, and cleared his throat as he apologized. “Fine then! Then if you’re going to stay around here, clean yourself up. That messy mop of hair will have to go! No butler of mine will look so unkept and unclean! You’re lucky I don’t throw you out with her! In fact-”

“Oh leave him be!” You interupted. Your husband’s enraged eyes snapped to you. You’d never been so unsettled in your life. You’d never seen him act like this before. You found yourself struggling to stay strong. “You’ve just separated him from his girl! Leave the poor boy alone. He’s always served you well!” You watched your husband take a few deep breaths as he glances between you and Jasper. Before he turned back to his colleagues who had followed him out.

“Very well.” He fixed himself and left with his men, leaving you with the girls, and Jasper. Jasper, stood. Visibly unsettled, and shaken up.

“Jasper..” You tried to speak to him, but he ignored you, and stormed out of the room. The sound of an old grandfather clock filled the room as the silence embraced everyone in it. That was, until…

“What the actual hell just happened there!?” Oleta shouted.

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ultimaxell · 7 years

Text

Testing Fate

Word Count: 9968

“There he is, Our Valedictorian, Arsen Michaels!”

The cheers he heard following his name… it was strange, an odd disconnect. Maybe it was the fact that he knew there was not a single student was clapping for him because of who he was. They cheered as he took the stage, called loudly and thundered their rapturous applause because they knew what it was he was meant to do, what it was that he was supposed to give them and it was for that they cheered, for the information he held rather than the person he had become. They did not care about, could care less about him and many made it pointedly obvious they really didn’t care if he was alive or dead when they choose to acknowledge him rather than blatantly ignore his existence. Or maybe the disconnect came from seeing the principal, smiling as these student’s roared, his face bright and happy and elated that his school had such a low problem with bullying, that his students supported one another. He didn’t know, didn’t see the day to day and only heard of instances when His friends and him could not talk their way out of an investigation.

They took care of their own. That was an unspoken rule that had existed between them since before he could really remember anything else. Be it as they grew up and the beatings they got from family, ‘friends’, enemies, classmates got worse, they learned first aid in the most hands on of ways, It was one of them going on two am runs through the drive through or a 24/7 quickie mart because someone in the Squad hadn’t eaten in three days, It was getting a call in the middle of the night because someone felt lonely and you didn’t ask questions, didn’t say anything because what was it you could say? Or when the life they lived almost took over one of them, when the life that they had to call theirs nearly swallowed them and they gave into the whispering voice that told them that the world was so much better off without them,It wasn’t one of these people who ran the whole way to their house because you couldn’t get the car and It wasn’t them having their finger vomited on as they forced one of them to puke up all they had in their stomachs as your heart dropped into the pit of yours, and it sure as hell wasn’t anyone but them who showed up at their hospital rooms to check in on them. The squad Took care of the Squad. They would be the only ones who had each other’s backs, the only ones who understood. No one else even could come close.

Nobody here knew them. No one here cared to.

And that would be their downfall.

“Thank you Principal.” His voice was smooth, easy as he waved at the man, sliding his gaze off of him to blink out into the crowd of people who only cared about what came out of his mouth. He could see it, their smiles as they fixated on him, watching him intently but not seeing him. To them, He was Arsen Micheals, The Nerd, the loser who you could bully into passing your class for you with just the right amount of beatings. He was the class nerd, the smart kid you only wanted to talk to if you had a group project. They only saw him as the fixture they had made him, and Arsen smiled, no joy to the feature as he cleared his throat.

They had no idea that he was no longer that boy. He was long gone, lost now in the darkness of his past.

The Michaels line would die with his Father. Arsen held a new name, another man’s blood in his veins. He accepted the legacy of another, the man that Arsen could not yet find the courage to call his father but could not think of him as anything else.

“But It’s Lee.My name is Arsen Lee.” His voice echoed over the growing silence that followed his ascent to the stage.

He turned his head, a slight condescending smile on his lips as he shrugged his shoulders. He heard the mutters, the waves of question that started, the slight confusion as people battled their own lack of knowledge to try and remember if they had always been his name. Arsen paid it no mind, instead turning back to the podium as the Student Council president, a bubbly, arrogant blond with bright blue eyes and a splattering of freckles over her cheeks, took her place next to him, her clapping as he started his prepared speech, all written out for him in glittering pen like he was a moron the couldn’t even give a small speech. He didn’t allow his smile to drop, simply, picked up the cards to tighten them before placing them down and looking to the crowd.

“Anyway, I hope you all are enjoying yourselves tonight. There’s a lot I could say up here, a lot of bull shit about how we should all be so proud to have made it this far, how we should be proud of ourselves…. But I’m not going to.”

Arsen felt the jab as he spoke, the sharp slap of hands over his arm as he spoke off course for what she had written. Her eyes blazed as she snapped her gaze to him, her smile still in place as she bore fire into his skin, her anger practically heating him as he continued on.

“Tonight…. Well, tonight is a once in a lifetime event. There will never be another night like this, there will never be this exact moment ever again. “ He spoke, the room falling quiet as The president fumed beside him. Her nails were digging into him, trying to force him to get back on track, her smile twisted and gnarled as she hissed her displeasure.

“What are you doing?”

“And that sort of heaviness requires a certain amount of respect. So, Let’s not ruin it with bull shit, and just move on to the part you want to hear. This Years Prom King and Queen!”

However unconventional his speech, this was meet with screams in the crowd as they cheered, showing their enthusiasm to get him off the stage so they could go back to dancing and acting like a fool. He smiled, the envelope he needed being shoved roughly at his chest, The President looking like she wanted nothing more than to rip his head off for ruining her perfectly crafted night. Arsen grinned.

Cindy had always had a problem with him because he got better grades…. It felt good to ruin her plans, as she had made his life hell, often putting his own grades at risk by trying to sabotage him or lying about something.

“Thank you, Cindy.” He spoke pointedly, straightening his jacket as he cast her a sideways glance, his smile shifting, sliding into more of a smirk. He opened the envelope, slowly, watching her face redden as she tried to bite back the venomous tirade just on her tongue. He grinned, his own heart racing for a thousand different reasons, chest tight as he flipped open the paper to look at the ink on the card.

“This year’s Prom King Is…” There was a pause as the sound of a few hundred students making a drum roll sound filled the gymnasium, his eyes watching that vain pulse in Cindy’s head as he grinned brighter.

“Neket Dhouti!”

There was a roar of applause as the Squad Cheered, Followed by the sounds of voice that had only just recently become familiar chiming in, twice the size as they usually were made a difference as it filled the quiet room as people muttered under them, building to the roar. Neket walked up to the stage by the side stairs, his enthusiasm appearing to have not diminished at all because of the circumstances. He moved easily over the wood of the stage, body moving in easy movements as he danced his way across the stage, the principal looking confused as the Black haired boy sauntered up to him, taking the crown from his hands to place it on his head, the metal sculpture fitting easily on his head.

“Look, Arsen, a Perfect Fit.” He beamed, and Arsen made to respond when he was interrupted by the screech that had his ears ringing.

“That is NOT what it says!”

Her voice shot out now, nasally, high pitched and generally unpleasant. Her voice was snooty, uptight, her drawl worsening as she poke. She straightened now , a screech sliding past her lips as she smacked him harshly on his chest, Arsen not even flinching as he leaned slightly away. There was a huff as she crossed her arms and snapped her fingers at him, something that instantly set him on edge.

“Don’t snap at me. I’m not your dog.” There was a steady tone to his voice, and he could hear it as Neket gestured to the crowd behind him, though his gaze was locked on the blond, eyes flashing dangerously. He didn’t see the Black haired boy’s movements, just watched Cindy as she huffed haughtily.

“Then do something RIGHT for a change.”

Arsen’s gaze moved away from her, in seeming submission as his hands fiddled with the cards before moving behind his back. Cindy took her moment to look smug, her victory sweet on her tongue as she grabbed for the microphone.

“Didn’t i just say tonight demanded Respect?”

It was all too easy to pull the gun from his waistband. It fit easily in his hand, glinting off the light of the spotlights on him. Everything slowed, his heart in his ears, pounding out a beat in his mind.

He pulled the trigger in one easy motion.

He never even bat an eye.

The girl fell in a heap to the floor, Arsen’s gaze narrowed as he sighed, rolling his eyes as he turned to the crowd.

“Have some Respect For Your King…. He hasn’t even given his speech yet.”

Screams filled the air as Arsen laughed, watching the people scrambled and bolt, their bodies bumping into one another as they practically ran over one another to try and get away from them.

“I don’t think They’re listening, Neket.” Arsen practically purred, his eyes flicking at the boy whose body was trembling in for a moment, shoulders shaking as he hunched over, before his laughter, wild, untamed, mad, slid past him, his head being thrown back in the heat of his joy. He looked consumed, wholly unhinged as he spun in his place, watching the bodies move before speaking up, a loud shout over the Desperate action.

“Then let’s get their attention!”

—————–

Audi stood very still in the middle of the bathroom, his body trembling. The room was large, with cooling tiles and thin but wide windows at top of the plastered wall. The room was so big that his whole squad could come bursting through in spinning chairs and they would still have room enough for each other. It was big enough that he could actually curl inside the last stall in the room, wrapping comforting arms around his legs and wait the whole situation out. It couldn’t take that long. Right?

They were all confident now. They were all able to move into their transition from nerds to kings easily, the title something of an accomplishment they never really thought they would be able to truly grasp. They were all smiles now, they all knew that nothing could get to them now. They were true kings. They were above the rest of the beings around them. Audi knew that. Audi knew he should have been in that gymnasium, right along side his overly confident brother. A feat that suited the new ‘Lee’ too well. Audi knew that he should have been taking his rightful place beside Neket. Hyping the boys enthusiasm for the night, whooping and hollering attached to his side.

Even know he could hear the trickle of the man’s laughter flowing hauntingly into the restroom. Violet eyes flicked to the mirror, taking himself in. Taking in the new found being that he had became. A peak of his physical perfection. A new king. A new king that came from a kid that used to carry himself around with bags under his eyes and a oversized sweater.

He knew that the students that were scattering deserved, rightfully so what was coming to them. With the few obvious exceptions. Audi knew that they needed to be able to get their revenge to be able to move on into a new area of their lives. He knew what this night meant to everyone.

So why was he so scared?

Why couldn’t he take up the mantle like his brother and friends had? Why couldn’t he suck in the anxiety that seemed to create a hole where his chest was supposed to be? Why couldn’t he stand up for himself, why couldn’t he stand tall and proud, why couldn’t he colect himself enough to help the squad?

The answer was simple. And it would never change no matter how much he wanted it to. It was because he was pathetic.

Just as pathetic and low as he was a human. He wasn’t good enough for this life, he wasn’t good enough to be along side with them. And he wasn’t good enough for her. Those facts were not simply going to change, they weren’t going to drift along peacefully into the afterlife with his soul. Not when they were inherent parts of a personality that seemed inescapable.

Audi rested his forearms on the whites of the sinks as the screams built, his eyes flicking down to the gun at his feet. An impatient huff passed his lips. There was a small shuffle of his feet as anxiety crept up his spine, and he shut his eyes to the sudden onslaught of panic. A prickle of awareness slid beneath his skin, into his mind. He drew in another breath slowly and let it out.

He needed to do something. He needed to show his support somehow. And standing here staring at the ground with empty hands was not going to help any of them. He knew what he needed to do, he knew what he wanted to do. It was not as if he didn’t know that almost all these students deserve some kind of punishment. And this just seemed juss. It was controlled. It was maintained. Each of them knew who to keep their hands off of, each of them knew what the other was truly there for.

His brothers words were hummed through the roaring and blood curling screams of his fellow classmates.

Tanned fingers slipped down to grasp the cold metal in the palm of his hand, gripping it with a sort of resentment that he didn’t know he held for the metal. But if he was to be honest, guns seemed… excessive. Considering. But still he straightened himself, moving his free hand over the white of his vest and smoothed out the lines in his button up shirt. His finger pushed up at his elbows, bunching the fabric of the longs sleeves back.

But he moved, his feet shuffling to the door in a slow motion that seemed almost in hesitance but really he was waiting. Holding out for the exact moment that he needed to approach the situation at hand.

Even if he didn’t want to do this, even though he really wanted nothing more than to go home and curl himself back up in his bed, he was going to help, he was going to at least try to be something for Neket. For Arsen. Maybe even change a little on his perspective. That would be the win all.

The door opened with a creak, the screams that were dulled, now blaring and echoing through the halls of his school, violet eyes took in the terrified faces with a smile on his lips. With a quirk he tsked, his fingers making a small motion towards the crowd.

“No respect, no respect.”

He aimed, finger pulling the trigger snugly into its holder. The noise shot just as loud as before, the ceiling crackling with the bullet. But Audi did not flinch his eyes on the students that had went quiet, on the faces that wear tear stained and red from exertion, their eyes wide in horror as they took him in. Which only kept that smirk on his expression.

“What a ungrateful lot you are. Go back in there and bow to your rightful king.”

———-

The laughter was infectious, the bubbling feeling flooding his body, his limbs, his mind. It consumed him, body shaking with effort as he felt his arms lift, crossing over his stomach as fingers found his sides to try and hold himself together as he felt himself falling, falling apart at the seams as everything he had ever wanted slid into place before him. It was happening now, all his fantasies, his daydreams and the smallest light in his anger fueled living waking nightmare he called a life, all of it was happening before him, the scent of blood tangy on his senses as he saw the puddle under her, the student President who had placed far too much value in herself, grow steadily as blood poured from her corpse, a sight he noted Arsen was pointedly not looking at. His eyes on his suit as he tightened it casually, like the world of en entire senior class hadn’t just changed in an instant.

The thought of Arsen as Squeamish made him giggle, earning a look from the violet eyed, newly declared Lee. Neket moved, swaying slightly on his feet before he looked back to the principal who was kneeling down next to the young woman who had just lost her life, his tears making his own smile grow as he moved, easily, over the stage. Most of the students had spilled into the hallways of the school that connected them, the chaperones that were supposed to be standing guard having vanished into the halls, probably in search of a phone that worked as they frantically patted themselves for a cell they could not find. It was quiet around him, his smile grown as he kneeled, taking in the scene now for a moment before letting out a low long whistle, a chuckle past his lips as his head shook, black strands falling over his face.

“You don’t need to feel bad, old man…. It’s not like you saw this coming from a mile away…. It’s not like I haven’t been to your office covered in bruises and you brushed me off as a ‘misunderstanding.’”

He could see the realization dawning on him, the slow understanding of his words washing over him. Neket’s hand moved, clapping on the man’s shoulder as he leaned in, his words lowering into soft heated whispers over the man’s skin, no escape as his hand clenched tightly, painfully, the bone nearly giving under Neket’s enormous strength.

“It’s not like you refused to see what was happening right before you, It wasn’t as if your ordered your teacher to ignore us as we suffered in your hallways, under the hands of your precious athletes…. It wasn’t as if you placed the reputation of our school over the wellbeing and health of a whole group of your students, right?”

The principal blanched before he started to sob, breaking and trebling so pathetically under his hand that Neket had to pull away, had to release the man as he stood up again, moving to pace along the stage as he heard the gunfire sound out from the school, heard the sounds of the screams stop as the snap of another familiar voice hit his enhanced hearing. He purred as he made his way through the curtains, seeing the props lined up against walls, the flicker of interest as his eyes landed on a small selection of props that obviously were set aside for tomorrow’s play.

His hand circled around the silver of the cane in his hand, the flashing of the sapphires in the wolf’s eyes glittering as he walked through the curtains one more time, the cane in his hands twirling slightly before it landed on the stage with a solid thump, his eyes widening as they filed back in, by ones by twos by threes, all of them spilling back to join the people too shocked to move.

“No One will be able to blame you, RIGHT?” He hissed in spitting anger, his smile nothing but gnarled hatred and burning resentment. He turned back to the students, the grin on his lips widening into something that bordered on madness. His words came softer no, a mumble against the fires that bubble under his skin, a rumbling of resentment wrapped in friendly conversation and a mocking cry of comfort.

“Then you can sleep well knowing it wasn’t your fault.”

He grinned as the door slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the room as he stood, his hands placed princely over the head of the cane as he leaned on it slightly, his head tilting before lifting to hover above his eyes, like he was blacking out the sun from his mismatched gaze.

“Welcome back, You Naughty, Naughty Subjects! Is that any way to treat your newly appointed King!?”

He spoke, laughter as his hands flew out, outspread in grand gesture as he let loose a little laugh that was building in his chest. He watched as they shuffled in with wide eyes and tears staining thier cheeks as a familiar voice echoed out again, his voice soothing, a snap along his senses. Neket turned immediately as he walked into the room, the smile on his lips changing to something real, Genuine.

“There you are, My Tovak…. I was worried I’d lost you.”

The words were oddly affectionate, even as the surprise flickered along his face as another unfamiliar word fell from his lips like a native language. There was this strange sort of distortion, the sort of disconnect from the man he had been just only a few moments before alarming and jolting. He moved, taking a step forward on the stage, swinging the cane in his hands as he looked at his Best friend, one of the few he’d had given anything to see just even a little bit happier. Neket watched his features, took in the sunken look on his face under the smile he held. Neket’s own joy diminished slightly as worry started to creep along his throat, his eyes narrowing slightly but choosing to not bring attention on it on such a public scale.

He would see him, see to that smile he held precious to his heart. He would see it back on his face or die trying.

“Thank you, for bringing them back. It would seem my Subjects don’t understand proper manners…” He purred, a heavy foot fall as he walked along the length of the wooden stage. He moved to the music that was still playing, a slow melodic beat that seemed to fit his ascension to king. His hand fell behind his back, eyes restless as they moved over the crowd in long, predatory glances.

“But Your New King is Kind, and will forgive your one transgression! No need for such THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE!” He laughed into a nearly silent room, the sounds of sobs filling the space before him. Neket didn’t seem to mind, shaking his head as he brought one hand to his chin, tapping it a sif in thought before he lifted his hand, holding up one finger.

“Just. This. One.” His tone was stern, a growl mingled with control.

There was a cry then, sudden, fierce, boiling as they heard the footfalls of a mad dash for freedom as Neket noticed, too late, the unguarded back doors that lead out to the open ended hallway. He stepped forward as the man burst through the doors, metal slamming against brick as he spilled into the dark night, gone almost the instant he stepped foot outside. He heard him, heard the footfalls as he made a mad dash for the car’s, heard his breaths as he disappeared into the darkness, moon all but gone and the stars hiding away.

Neket’s eyes widened as he heard the screams, piercing, high pitched and reverberating, causing a shout to sound out from the Gym as more and more people started to break. He heard them before they saw them, the sound of two footfalls and the rough scratch of cloth on tile the only noise before his eye caught his eyes. He could see them, the pair that had become a common fixture in his life in this past week alone. The form of one of them moved to open the door, shifting to allow the figure dragging the lump behind him to step through, the figure of the one who had given him his new life, his new identity, the smile on his lips ancient, amused and eternally aggravated as he threw the body of the would be escapee onto the floor. There was a furrow to his brow was he threw the body to the floor, clean but mangled, distorted to strange broken proportions.

“Your King is being generous…. I would listen to him if I were you.”

Saho Dhouti drew a hit from his cigarette, breathing it out slowly as he allowed his gaze to slide over the students who had made the mistake of crossing his boys. His voice was rich, dark, a shifting of tones laced in a strange foreign accent that was starting to bleed into Neket’s speech. Smoke spiraled from his lips as he straightened his jacket, mismatched eyes flashing as he waved regally toward Neket.

“The Crowd is Yours!”

Neket beamed, his heart racing as a strange sort of elation shifted through him. The Younger boy nodded, his hands coming up to clap together to draw back everyone’s attention.

“Students, Ladies, gentleman, Vile vermin of society, Welcome back, Welcome back! Your king has granted you pardon from One, horrendous act, a gift more than befitting the majesty of tonight.… but one pardon is not enough, my students.”

There was something changing in him, a crack along his smile as his smile started to fall, his voice shifting, laced with something dark and sinister, all heat and pain and anger. He moved, jerkily, lifting his hands to lift up one finger once more. His eye caught his Squad, watched as they shifted along the crowd, their eyes wild and locked on those who wrong them. Instantly, he was reminded of times he nearly lost them, times when things became too much or someone pushed too far. There were days he could remember his heartbreaking as he thought he might actually lose them, nights he spent with bile in his throat and sleep avoiding him like the plague as he waited in the waiting rooms of hospitals just hoping and praying he didn’t lose someone he needed, and his spine steeled, his heart soothing out to an even beat.

They deserved so much worse than he could give.

“You see, as it is, You all have a whole lot of years stacked up against you. Years where you all look down on me, on my kind, my people. You have years, thousands, hundreds of sins that I can not pardon…. And tonight, we’ve decided we’ve had enough. Tonight…. I’m making you all pay your debt.”

His hand slid to the gun tucked away in it’s holster, pulling it out to cause the scream and rumble of the crowd growing even more uneasy.

“You all though we were a joke, a game, and since you’re so fond of games, why don’t we make tonight full of em? The name of the first game is, how long can you hide from us? All you have to do is….”

He trailed off, leaning forward to smile and laugh as he lifted the microphone that had fallen to the floor during the confusion, up to whisper his next word.

“RUN.”

———————

This could not be happening.

This was the only thought that seemed to rise above the screaming roar that had filled her mind since she had first heard that gunshot, the sound of it reverberating in her mind with the looping capabilities of old fashioned recorders. It sounded off now, a distortion to her memories as she could not recall the actual events, just the blur of motion and the vivid hot sting of fear rushing over her, the only crystal clear thing about any of her memories. Her Heart Pounded as she crouched low in the shadows of the tables and decorations that filtered down from the ceiling, a loud pulsing scream in her chest that reverberated with fear as she tangled her fingers into the synthetic strands on her head.

Fear. All she could feel was fear, the hot white powerful whips of terror that licked along her skin and seared her with scars that would never really heal. There was music, playing, music that was still spilling into the gym, a sick demented soundtrack to the death of students she had seen grow up, people she had once call friends, acquaintances. The melodies played out over her in her darkened corner of the gym, the place her body had taken her as she had run, trying to get away from everything that had happened. She crouched there, balancing on the balls of her feet, her eyes locked on the floor as her body shook, trembled, her eyes burning, her stomach in her throat.

There was a sound, a voice that drifted over the music, saying words she could not hear, didn’t really understand, before the music got louder, mingling with the screams around them, creating a distorted and strange remix of songs that had once sounded so innocent. Lunthe Felt…. Wrong, her hands tightening on the wig under her hands as she drew in a shaking breath.

She could feel her nails, even through the wig, her heart hammering as she felt the sting welling behind her eyes, her vision hazing as she sucked in a breath, trying, and failing, to hold back a sob. Everything was spinning, her only anchor to this world the screams that were blooming around her, the pain as she ripped at the fake strands, pulling her own hair free of it’s hold as allowed her pale strands to fall over her shoulders, the aggravation just not worth it in the grand scheme of things, a life ended right before her eyes, a night that was supposed to be magical crumbling into ruin.

This could not be happening.

“Where’s Braithe…?”

The words spilled from her lips, the waver in them evident in the way her lip trembled as she lifted wide, almost black eyes to the crowds before her. Everyone was screaming, crying, begging as she glanced around, the fear in her chest swelling to press on her tongue, waves of nausea as bile played with her gag reflex. She didn’t see her, couldn’t spot her sister’s darker synthetic strands or her bright yellow and pink dress, is usually something she could pinpoint with ease lost in the dark blur of moving bodies, of falling and stumbling students, figures she might have once seen as people if it hadn’t been for the fact they were currently between her and her sister, which made them nothing more than obstacles.

“Where’s Brathie?! BRAITHIE!?”

Her screams were desperate, filled with an intense desperation and need as she stood, her eyes moving, never resting as she took in the forms of the people before her. She was moving before she could even recognize what the urge in her chest was calling for her to do, her eyes wide, unblinking as she felt the tears spill over, terror, real and genuine fear making her chest ache with a tight pusing ache. She pushed her way through the crowd, not caring about the shrieks as people stumbled over afters he knocked them off balance, ignoring the force slammed into her as she ran through them, her hands shoving and her breath short as she called her name again.

“LUNTHE!”

She heard her before she saw her, melodic voice the cause of the new wave of tears to spring to the girl’s eyes as she snapped her stare over to the flashing lights that were her sister’s shoes, her lips parting as she rushed into the arms of her twin, pulling her close and wrapping her in her embrace like she could shield her from the shattered ruins of their world around them.

“Oh thank God I found you….” Lunthe practically sobbed, tightening her hold on her sister for a moment before she pulled back. Instantly her hands were on her sister’s cheeks, deep blue eyes flashing, flickering over her features like she hadn’t memorized them years ago, a perfect match for hers. Her thumbs brushed over her sister’s cheeks, trembling hands tracing over her to try and seen, to feel that her sister was still here, still intact, still whole and alive. Her noted her sister’s face, shocked, void of tears but they were there, flooding her gaze as she glanced up at her, her hands shaking as the latched onto her, tangling in her dress to hold her to her. Lunthe soothed her, ignoring the people around them, ignoring the laughter and gun fire.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? Braithe, we have to move. We have to leave.”

———–

How was it that every door in the building was locked? The possibility alone was highly impossible. But it made more sense when that first shot rang out through the school. It made sense now why those men had only smiled as they shut the door in her face. It made sense why she was unable to open the door herself. The door had felt like it had been forged to the threshold, unmoving. And it had been the same with all the other doors. Until she heard that gun shot.

And she bolted. Straight to the only place she knew she could get exactly what she was going to need to at least survive a little longer. Her heart screamed at her, her lungs were on fire and her body was shook as she let her fingers roam over herself. Searching for an object she already knew was not going to be on her. The door ripped open and clicked softly in a shut behind her. Her breaths were escaping in huffs, her body wheezing as she continued further into the class.

“No. No, no, no. Fuck.”

Ryker spun in place, her eyes frantic as she stared down in shock at her empty hands. The one time she needed the damned phone, the one time she needed to be able to keep track of the contraption and she couldn’t find it anywhere. It was normal, a daily occurrence to leave it behind, or lose it all together. But on prom night? She couldn’t even remember if she had brought the thing with her.

Her heart thundered behind her ears, pounding out a unknown rhythm through her bloodstream. It was failing her, like most days, her heart. Failing to keep up with the emotions sweeping over her body as she searched for the little black device she usually had no interest in. Her breathing steadily became heavier.

Thin fingers patted over the white of her dress, dipping into the hidden pockets of her skirt and checking every crevice between the fabric and her skin. Panic was building up the back of her throat, the realization that the phone was nowhere to be found struck her in a way that had her shivering. To say she wasn’t scared would be a blatant lie. To say that she was prepared for anything of this sort happening at her school, would have been a lie.

How was it she could tell you up to 65,739 of the digits in the square root of pie, but she could never remember to get a hold of her phone before exiting a building?

Another shot rang out, familiar and shrill against her nerves, and the pitiful cries eased abruptly, only momentarily. Aware she had been holding her breathe Ryker let it out slowly, bending solicitously over the desk should have held her inhaler. She was already beginning to struggle with her breathing, terrible anxiety already seeping deep into her lungs.

Her eyes moved to the grey model like phone that sat atop the table. If there was any sort of chance she need to get herself together and she needed to get some sort of help from the police or even Cain.

It was maybe a minute, maybe two, when the lights began to flicker.

“Fuck, fuck. No.”

One by one the lights went out,the fluorescents shifted and clicked as the whir of electricity began to shut off behind the mosaic patterns. Gold eyes turned to watch as the last light in the english class went dark. Soft murmurs of screams could be heard echoing through the eastern side of the school, on the second story, probably as far away from the gymnasium as one of the students could possibly go. And still she could hear the shrill familiar scream of gunshots roaring through the halls. Two. She had counted two. So obviously these kids were going to keep up the charade for a while. They were gonna take their sweet time ‘punishing’ who they felt fit.

Ryker bent herself over, her knees bunching against her chest as she pulled out the small pink pouch out of her desk, the zipper sounded louder than it should have been in a moment like this, in a crisis like this. But there it was all packaged and hidden still, just like it was supposed to be. The paper that wrapped the inhaler crinkled, and was generally as loud as it could possibly be while a high school shooting was happening.

The likelihood of this happening was pretty high to begin with. With the amount of bullies and the amount of general harassment in their school, there was no way it would always stay so calm. Teachers ignored the problem, and if it was brought to the light, it was just made worse for the tormentee. Nobody was truly safe from the torment, but some…. Had it worse than others.

Bullying was a problem at her school, but she had never had any part of it.

Her forehead pressed against the wood of the desk as she pressed the inhaler to her lips.

Sh needed to calm herself down, needed to get some sort of grip on herself to assess the situation. She need to have her mind on right if she was going to be any sort of help. Nephie was still in that gym. Braithe and Luneth were still in there. She had to be able to help them somehow, even if it was just getting a hold of Cain.

———————

The sea of people was angry. Waves rose up, cresting high, a boiling cauldron of dark rage. Red foam was left gurgling, spilling and slipping onto the gyms laminated wood flooring, only to return, reaching ever higher as the screams ripped apart the thick air. Reaching with hunger and fury, with deadly intent. The dark, fathomless sea of these people spread, a dark eye seeking. Hunting. Turning toward him. Crying out for help he would not offer.

Audi wrenched himself away from the obscene acts that were unraveling in front of his very eyes, fighting for air. His lungs burned. He pressed tanned fingers against the steel of the gym doors as some of the students rushed towards the doubled doors. Slightly disoriented, he told himself it was a dream, nothing but a dream. He knew the truth. But it was still comforting. Cool air rushed in and he inhaled deeply. He noticed with relief that they were nearly to the end of the first part, already half of the students were down or fighting for the lives. It reminded him of livestock to be honest. Reminded him of cattle gathering to to take the trip to the butchers that most of them saw coming.

Death already a part of them, their eyes alive, jolting with fear, and small bouts of hope here and there. But they knew ultimately what awaited them.

He cocked his gun at the couple that reached out for the door, his finger already pressing into the trigger. There was no hesitation as the first shot screeched through the air, his aim deadly and precise. Not a second later the second shot rang out, once again proving his aim was not something to be reckoned with.

The bodies draped over each other, red splashing out and flooding the world around them as they hit the floor with a thunk.

“Leaving so soon?”

He managed to keep his voice steady, in spite of the way his heart pounded in alarm. He detested the nightmares that so often plagued his sleep, he detested the fact that his stomach seemed to be curling in on itself as he watched his friends laugh maniacally. As he heard the gunshots zipping through the thick atmosphere of the night. Back and forth. He couldn’t stomach the red that was starting to vastly take over his world.

He had wanted to sleep this night away, that was the original plan. To just sleep and let dreams of his purple haired siren fill his senses, but he seemed to only be dreaming of death and violence. Of voices calling to him, of death beckoning with a bony finger. Instead of the warm hands and pretty smile that he wanted.

Why did he have to look so small and uninteresting just when he finally met a girl she connected with? She was so gorgeous. So intelligent. So… everything. He had walked into a her classes without one iota of information and had come off looking a complete fool rather than a man of extraordinary intelligence. She had a way of making his heart jump to his throat, a way of taking the very breath from his lungs when she smiled. Lunthe probably dated model buff blonds with big muscles, men who hung on her every word. Audi brushed a hand over his face, hoping to wipe away the nightmares that refused to allow him any sort of rest. Hoping to rid himself of the image of embedded in his brain. She had somehow branded herself deep into his flesh and bones.

Her voice had whispered through his body, heated his blood, melted his insides. Audi hadn’t wanted to look at her. He had been all too aware of the differences between the two. All too aware he knew nothing of women. He was bewildered by her sincerity, bewildered by the sheer weight of his attraction to Lunthe Durandal. And he had run like a rabbit, wanting to find some sort of solace in just being able to be by her. Even if it was only in passing classes and small conversations.

She was everything he could place of what perfect would be if it could compile itself into a human being.

He could hear her screams, his heart clenching with each desperate attempt to find her sister. She was frantic, scared, her mind unable to keep up with the panic that was filling her veins. Violet eyes watched as she dipped into the crowd, only to reappear again, the same desperate expression crossing her features every time.

He tried not to groan aloud and give away his thoughts. He tried to contain himself from moving from his spot at the mere sight of her. He tried not to go to her side, tried not to take her in his arms as he wanted to and wipe away all the anxiety painted plainly across hers face. As much as he wanted, he knew he couldn’t.

‘No, not yet.’

It wasn’t till he moved forward that he could hear the low pitched whine that was escaping his lips, it was not until he moved that he even really noticed that he was watching her. Watching her push and pull her way through the bodies, disappearing behind some, he could have swore he had seen her almost fall twice now. It took her a moment, her screams and shouts for the little pinkie going unanswered at first.

And with each call he could see the tension seeping through her skin. But, nothing would happen to her sister, not unless Neket wanted that. He knew it, others knew it. They each had agreed. They each had chosen people to protect from this all. And he knew that his squad would stay true to their words.

Braithe was safe. Just as Lunthe was.

It just happened that girls didn’t know that yet.

His fingernails cut into the palm of his hand as he watched her, longing all the while to be by her side. There was something about the way that she cried out for her that made his heart leap to his throat. But the second relief seemed to rinse over her stress, he could feel his body shifting.

There was a small huff as he watched her eyes light up again, this time with something of hope as she embraced her sister. A detail that did not escape him. But he strained, strained to hear the words that she was whispering to the brunette in her arms. Words that he knew would probably be of the false hope that she held now.

How was it that she could be in a horrible situation, the predicament could be dire around her, and somehow his girl still found some sort of light in it? How was she the one who had to play the hero in this situation? And she took the mantle so diligently. So gracefully, uncaring of the consequences.

But that’s what he was there for he supposed, to be the consequence.

—————-

Lunthe had found her, just to find a dead end through Braithe. She couldn’t move, the air in her lungs too thick. Enough that she had to concentrate to pull in oxygen. She could hear her sister’s words. Feel her trying to sooth the over the fear that was deep rooted in Braithe’s chest. But no matter how much she wanted to play protector. Braithe knew, Lunthe was just as afraid as her.

“I can’t. Lunthe, Lunthe. I can’t. I can’t. I’m scared.”

She was soothing, the truth behind it was Lunthe was always soothing. Always the sister to take care of her. Always the one who protected, and it only ever left Braithe the spot to be the cry baby sister that Lunthe never asked for. She knew she needed to listen to her words. She knew that should try to make her knees unlock, she knew that she should try to book it behind her sister, let her lead the way, because honestly, between the two of them she seemed the most suitable to do so. She was the protector. Where Braithe was the trouble.

It wa something that had been told to them since they were children. Their own parents deciding it for them long before they could really understand. There was just something about the little bubbly Lunthe that Braithe just did not have. Not that she was envious, at most points. But it was moments like now. Moments where she could not keep the tears from streaking down her cheeks, moments like this where she wished she had the courage to just make a mad dash to the exit with her sister in tow.

Instead, she was left with crippling anxiety. And a terrible dread that was beginning to give her a terrible headache, not that the loaded guns and constant gun fire was helping either.

Instead she was left being a burden to her sister. She could have left, could have easily slipped into hiding. But her she was, trying to once again get Braithe out of a situation that she had more than likely got herself into. Braithe gripped onto her sister’s dress, the fabric bunching under her fist, her head shaking furiously back and forth as she tried to communicate. As she tried to tell her sister to run, to leave her behind. But the words wouldn’t leave her lips. And she knew just as the thoughts came to mind.

She didn’t want her to leave. She didn’t want her sister to leave her, even when Neket found himself right back on that stage. She couldn’t find the courage to say the words just like she could not bring herself to face the one person she had never meant to anger. Neket.

She had done this. And now she was just forcing everyone else in the prom to be punished right along with her.

“Neket, is really mad, i think.”

The words slipped through her lips, shaky but with a huff of laughter at the end.

She pressed her forehead to the crook of Lunthe’s neck, trying to get the comfort she wanted. Trying to force the situation to be better. If even just by taking the comforting existence of her sister into her own hands.

He was mad, vengeful against a school that had wronged him. A school that dragged him around,… all of them around in the dirt and then tossed them away like used rags. They were justifiably angry. Their minds were wrapped in this revenge that really she should have seen coming from a mile away. With how she had just treated him the past week.

She couldn’t look, not when the next shot rang out. Instead she stiffened, frozen into the spot she knew she needed to escape. Her legs felt like rubber, and weighed three times her body weight. At least that’s what it felt like. Her mind raced as she tried to piece together a world that was falling apart around her.

“It’s probably something i did… I’m not really all that smart all the time.”

She could feel Lunthe body straighten, see the stern expression that her purple haired sister often gave her. The fabric under her palms shifted as cold hands grasped Braithe’s cheeks. She was shaking, her fingers trembling against Braithe’s wet cheeks, but those twining blue eyes locked, forcing Braithe to make some sort of eye contact. She had to focus, had to try to see through the blur of tears that seemed to be never ending. But who would not cry in a situation like this.

“I’m sorry….”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. What was she sorry for, one might ask. But even Braithe could not tell If she was sorry for causing the shooting, if she was sorry that the reason so many people were already on the floor dying was because of her, or maybe it was because she couldn’t take the lead for once in her life. She still could not protect her sister even in a time that called for some sort of courage.

“Braithe, we have to run. Have to. Are you hearing me?”

She spoke softly, calming tone soothing over the jagged edges that was Braithe’s nerves. It sent a sort of soothing balm over mind, at least long enough for her to nod her head, her own eyes locking onto Lunthe’s. There it was, the only calm she needed to get her knees to work right, the only calm she needed to straighten up again, her hands leaving Lunthe’s dress to find her hand with Braithe’s.

“Okay, okay… don’t leave my side… Don’t.”

She whispered the words out quickly, her fingers intertwining the two girls together. There was a moment’s hesitation as she saw the crowd pushing past them, screams ripping into her, causing her head to throb and splinter as she looked for some sort of exit. The actual exits were shut off, Audi in front of one, the other failing to open. Even now she could see some of the jocks struggling to force the metal door apart from its frame. That one was a no go.

“Bathroom’s. The bathrooms have windows, we can crawl out of them… Right? It’s the safest bet.”

—————

Click. Boom. Scream.

The repetition played in Kasmir’s mind, a bored mantra in his mind as he went through the motions with an expert tick of his head, a flicker of his eye as he lined up his next shot after another one shot kill. He watched them fall, watched them as they all dropped to the floor as that final death scream slipped past their lips, his bullet finding him in their skull. There was no doubt in his mind that they deserved it, no doubt that under any other circumstances he would have been overjoyed to be the one to end their lives with the rapid pull of a trigger. There was no lingering guilt hiding in his heart, the rebirthed organ thrumming evenly as he unloaded years of repressed anger out in a few bloody explosions.

But tonight was Prom Night. Tonight was the night his world would change, the night everything would finally be as it was supposed to be, with his enemies at his feet and the tang of blood on his lips… Everything was finally lining up, finally going his way, and he had the pleasure of seeing so many of his old enemies, people who had seen him beaten, bloody and broken, plead him for their life, clamor along his leg as he watched them sob pathetically against him. He had the pleasure of being the one to end their lives, had been the one to look them right in the eyes as he pulled the trigger. It was all everything he had fantasized in all his darkest daydreams, a nightmare come true for the rest of the world….. It should have been perfect.

But it wasn’t.

And that was because he wasn’t able to see her.

It was literally the only thing keeping this night from being absolutely perfect, but rather unfortunately, it was the one specific element this night needed to worth anything at all. Everything he ever did, Kasmir did it for her, the woman who owned his heart, long before a new legacy took residence in his veins, long before he had the power to change worlds at his fingertips.

Emmy Trigovise was… Everything he longed to deserve, and everything he strived to protect and care for. He knew it sounded overdone, sounded over dramatic and over played but he truly did not know where he would have been if she had not come into his life. His life wasn’t anything to celebrate, nothing that he could claim as his own worth anything to anyone, but she had come along, all smiles and surprises as he met her gaze across the courtyard and saw her wearing the jacket he had been missing for forever now, and she had changed everything, and now, Kasmir had no idea how to live in a world without her.

She was his ringing heartbeat and the melody in his blood, she was the light in his otherwise dark world, the only being to show him affection and the only one who had managed to find their way past his defences, sliding right in to take control of his heart with an expert’s hand.

There were a million ways he could describe her, but truthfully, Kasmir never knew where to start, his mind forever caught between going off about her physical beauty or to spill his hopeless affection for the woman inside, her mind a whip crack of brilliantly formulated thoughts, comments, insults. He lived for her smiles, the breathless sighs at three in the morning when he kissed her neck just right, pulled her close so that he could feel the flutter of her heartbeat under his lips as he memorized every curve of her body along his, lived for her moans as her body arched against his, his name a heated gasp on her lips as she rolled her hips against his to take him deeper inside of her. He lived for the sleepy little yawns she gave as she leaned over to kiss him good morning, pressing her lips along his jaw and neck and cheeks as she purred his name in the early mornings, the sun not even rising as she woke, lived for the way she would sneak blowing him kisses across the room or how she would reach for him immediately as he pulled her into another empty room or into his apartment. Lived for her arms circling around his neck as she pulled him in for a kiss as she slammed the door shut, returning back to his waiting, open arms, where she belonged. His life had become so much more than the forgotten blight on existence it used to be with her presence, and tonight, the most anticipated date in your school life besides graduation, he had yet to see her once.

The bodies moved, faces he knew but could only call strangers running around him like a swarm, his heart hammering with disappointment with every new face that whipped past him, None of them the face he longed to see. He sighed as he lowered his gun, rolling his shoulders before turning to the three figures that never strayed far from his side, the three other men that meant everything to him and just about the only people who knew somewhere about the depth of his emotions for the tiny brunette.

“This is getting us nowhere. Fast.”

There was a warning line of lethal electric tones tangled in his words, a low vibration of irritation that was starting to bubble in his chest, starting to flood his limbs as he turned his glare toward his small group of friends within his friends. He watched as Derek turned his gaze to him, Davy’s green stare flickering to him to narrow pointedly before returning to look at the remnants of what once had been a senior class. All that was really left now were the stragglers, the ones still clinging to life, and the ones who had yet to make it out of the building, and now, with number against them, their chances of making a clean getaway was falling lower and lower and lower.

His only satisfaction was that he had not seen that head of brown hair or the slivers of skin her dress was sure to reveal, and that he had saved his very first kill for the one person who deserved it the most. The true obstacle that got in his way, the only flaw Emmy ever had.

Her boyfriend.

“What do you suggest then, Kas?” Davy’s Drawl came just as Derek made to speak, his lips parting before he turned to look at the taller darker male. Kasmir narrowed his gaze at Davy, watching as Dean took that small step closer his as davy tilted his head, ink black hair falling into too bright eyes that flashed with determination, a Mission Kasmir knew all too well.

They had people they needed to find.

“I’m done waiting around to kill off stragglers…. I’m about ready to hunt.”

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liv-andletdie · 7 years

Note

My liege, would you be so gracious as to bless us with an angsty zelink?

So I came up with the idea for this and then I started crying. This prompt has been on my mind for the longest time now it’s time to do this. I chose OoT for this because it’s the angstiest game in my opinion (people wanna say it’s Majora’s Mask it isn’t it’s Ocarina of Time! It splits into 3 time lines ALL OF THEM SAD) Again this ended up being quite short I’m not sure what’s getting into me.

(Actual quote from my sister “I don’t like you. That wasn’t very nice how dare you”)

Ao3 link [x]

Metal sliced through flesh, a deafening cry rang out across the ruins of the once proud castle. Blood spilt over the floor, staining the cracked stone crimson. The scent of death hung in the air.

The hero fell to his knees, he wasn’t aware of anything accept the pain and fire in his abdomen. And inferno surrounded him and the maniacal laugh of the beast before him rang in his ears. He dropped his sword, the polish steel rusting almost instantly. A bad omen for a dying man.

Link clutched at his side, blood seeping through his fingers. The smell of it burned his nose, knocking him sick. His vision began to fade, the agony clouding his mind. All he could think about was the pain. It hurts it hurts so much he thought falling to the ground as the strength left his legs. The worn stone was hot against his cheek, the flames around him glowed bright and blinding

A small cry could be heard, the tinkling of bells sounding out over the wreckage and the ruin and the turmoil. A spark of blue flitted in and out of his vision, a light pressure landed on his cheek. Navi The small sobs of his closest friend pierced his ears. Her light voice was usually a comfort. She had guided him in the darkest of dungeons, she had been with him in the lightest of nights. But now little Navi was sobbing, and the sound broke his heart.

I’m scared The thought hit him like a charging horse. The cold weight of his inevitable death refusing to lift from his heart. He was scared. As he lay in the rubble, the blood and ash filling the air, he tried to dream of better times. Of tall trees and the kind smile of his old friend. But the memories hurt as the child, aged beyond his years, sobbed in the face of his own death.

In the distance he could see her, the princess, fighting alone against the creature that had killed him. She looked tired, scared, and utterly devastated. She carried on fighting, the walls that had surrounded him had been dropped the moment the Master Sword had left his grip.

Watching her fight he felt his heart stutter.

The Beast let out an almighty roar, his anger shaking the ground as Zelda pushed against it with her magic. She used that moment to run to him, stained pink slippers entered his vision, the princess collapsing to her knees in front of him. She cast Nayru’s love, a crystal blue dome protecting the two of them from Ganon’s prevailing attacks.

“Link” she cried, reaching for him and pulling his weak body into her lap. The blood stained her once white skirts a deep dark red. “Oh Link, stay with me it’s going to be okay”

Her voice was like music, soothing and caressing his aches and wounds. She pushed his hair out of his eyes, gazing over him with her kind and worried expression. “I’m sorry” he croaked out, choking on the blood that bubbled up from his throat. “Shh shh” she soothed him, he voice heavy with unshed tears “It’s okay, I’m here, you’re going to be okay”

She’s lying.

She ran her fingers through his hair, trying to bring him some comfort. His tears ran hot down his cheeks, mixing with the blood and grime on his skin. Soft sobs bubbled up from his throat, more blood coming with them. He watched her, the way the fires contrasted harshly with her watery gaze, the grime that covered her own beautiful face.

She’s always been beautiful he thought to himself, remembering a garden. The soft summer air mixing with the scent of fresh flowers, an inquisitive young girl stood peering into the window. They had been so young, so innocent, he lamented. She had believed in him, believed that he could stop the tyrant before it was too late. But he’d failed then, he’d been to late the first time. He had watched as she was taken from him, her castle and her city in flames. A helplessness settled in the pit of his stomach, new tears welled up in his eyes.

“Z-zelda” he sobbed, a shaking, blood stained, hand reaching up to hold hers, pressing the smooth silk against his cheek. “Yes my love?” “I’m… I’m sorry”

She silenced him with a soft kiss, the taste of iron strong on his lips. “You mustn’t talk like that Link. You’re going to be okay. Isn’t that right Navi? He’s going to be okay”

The blue fairy was silent, already in mourning for her charge. Zelda seemed to grow desperate, pulling his lame body closer to hers. He grunted at the pain, a fresh stream of blood seeping from the wound in his side. Delicate hands reached out to try and stop it. He tried to catch her eyes with his, desperate for a friendly and familiar sight in his final moments.

“Zel-” he choked tears clouding his vision “I’m scared”

She held back a sob, applying more pressure to his wound, the blood was hot and sticky in her hands.

“Don’t be” she commanded, trying to hide the mounting fear and guilt in her voice “I’m right here, Link. I’m here just stay with me”

Using the last of his strength, he reached his arm up, his fingers holding onto her chin, staining her skin red. He turned her face towards him, eyes meeting hers. A shallow sob left her chest at the look in his eyes. He’s terrified her heart ached, her hands instinctively held him closer. He’s hurting, he’s scared, and it’s all my fault!

For 7 years she had hid waiting for him to return, her Kokiri boy, her hero. The boy who snuck past guards time and time against just to show her the masks he had found. The boy who risked being kicked out of the palace grounds just to see her smile.

For 7 years she had disguised herself, given up jewels and dresses to keep him safe. When she had seen him again her heart had stopped beating. Her Kokiri boy, all grown up. He’d looked so lost, but determined. It had killed her to lie to him, to see his worry every time he asked for Princess Zelda. “How is she doing? Is she safe?”

But now, for the first time in a long time, she saw him for who he was. Not some brave hero, not some gentle eternal soul, not a man born and bred to destroy evil.

A frightened child. Terrified of dying, of being alone.

“It’s going to be okay” she repeated the words like a hopeless mantra. Praying to the goddess that they may take pity on her love, that he may survive, that he not be made to suffer.

“I failed you”“You didn’t! Link you didn’t fail me. I… I failed you. This is my fault”

The boy in her arms shook his head, his hand moving to hold her cheek. Her vision became blurry, tears falling onto his face. Navi remained silent perching on Link’s golden hair, matted with sweat and dirt. She curled up, holding tightly onto the strands, he soft sobs and wails buried in the green fabric of his cap. “This is my fault” she repeated, expected to see hatred and malice colour his eyes. But they remained blissfully blue, only fear and love present in his tear filled gaze. Guilt gnawed at her stomach, her shoulders shook with restrained sobbs. She wouldn’t break down in front of him, she wouldn’t let him know how terrified she was.

“It’s-” a wet dying cough erupted from his chest, warm sticky blood dribbling down his chin. He struggled for breath, his lungs failing him.

“Don’t speak. Link please don’t speak” she begged, hand leaving his side to tangle in the ruined fabric at his chest. “Please Link, just rest” “It’s….it’s….not….your fault” He wheezed. Tears streaming down his face with the effort. His breaths were becoming laboured, a rattle sounding from his torn lungs. Zelda could only watch as her love went limp in her arms. His blue eyes sliding shut for the last time. The hand the held her cheek fell down, resting uselessly at his side.

Panic overtook her. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she searched for his.

“Link?” she sobbed, her hand coming up to rest against his neck, trying in vain to find a pulse. “Link please… open your eyes….Link”

Navi’s blue glow had diminished, growing fainter and fainter until she ceased to shine. Her child lying cold beneath her was a blow the small fairy could not survive.

Zelda pulled him close to her, her grief filled sobs echoing across the broken stone. His body was limp in her arms as she rocked back and forth, The floating ash coating the two of them like falling snow. She clung to him, never wanting to let go. Nayru’s love left her, the crystal shield falling away and leaving her exposed to the Beast King’s attacks

The Hero of Time was dead.

Zelda composed herself, wiping the tears from her eyes. She lay Link down on the floor, his hands resting on his chest, Navi curled up between his fingers. The two would be at peace now she hoped as she pulled the small blue ocarina from his pouch.

She had given him the instrument over 7 years ago when they were both still young. When this had all seemed like a big game they could win. When the goddesses had been kind.

Standing Zelda lifted the Ocarina of Time to her lips, her breaths still heavy with grief as she played the prelude of light.

I’m sorry my love she thought, eyes ghosting over Link’s still form as she disappeared into a shower of light. I am sorry I cannot bring you with me, that I must leave you here. I will find a way to defeat him. I will destroy Ganon. I promise you my love. I promise you.

Polished marble met worn and stained slippers as she materialized in the Temple of Time

The weight of what had happened hit her as she collapsed to the floor, her sobs coming anew. She wrapped her arms around herself rocking back and forth on the cold stone, her precious ocarina held tightly in her grasp. The last thing she had of him, of Link.

In the distance, the Beast’s loud cries could be heard. The rang throughout the land like a death knoll, proclaiming the end of the hero for his minions to hear.

I promise you she prayed I promise you Link, I will not let him destroy us again.

#zelink #oot zelink #zelink angst #zelink fanfic requests #I'm in bits

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joeybelle · 7 years

Text

Starlight - Chapter 7

Relationship: Cassian Andor x Orginal Female Character

Rating: Mature

Tags: Pre-Rogue One, Slow burn, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Foul language

Cassian didn’t come to see her the next few days so Cora was left wondering if he was still mad at her or if he was just being busy. It was hard to admit that she was feeling guilty about what she said to him, but it was the truth. She felt insulted, so she insulted back. Reflecting on what had happened, she should have handled the whole situation like an adult, apologize even if it wasn’t her fault, smile and make peace. But she was sick and tired of that. While working for the Imperial Army she always did her best to behave, be a model employee, hoping that in that way she could make her father proud. Right now she didn’t care anymore. The only freedom she had left was the freedom to speak her mind.

But she still felt a little guilty. He had been really nice to her lately. There may have been some ulterior motive behind that, because being friendly was giving him a better chance of finding out her secrets, but Cora was grateful anyway. He could have taken a totally different approach and bring out the torture, so she didn’t complain about the niceness. Besides, she didn’t have much to hide. Even if she agreed to contact her father to try and lure him into a trap, she was sure he’d never come to her aid, so their efforts to get that information out of her were in vain.

At the same time his stubbornness was getting on her nerves. She’d seen hints of it since she’d first met him, like when he refused to be put on an IV, but she didn’t know just how headstrong he could be. Right now it seemed to her that whenever she was trying to get a little closer to him he’d sprout thorns and turn into a cactus. In a way it was understandable, she was a stranger, an enemy even, so it was normal he’d keep her at arm’s length, but she found it curious how he was so professional with her during the questionings, ignoring all her insults and stupid remarks, until he dropped the tone and she asked something personal and then all hell broke loose. It was like whenever she scratched his outer layer an avalanche of pent up feelings came flowing out.

She realized she was thinking and maybe overthinking and most certainly making assumptions about Cassian last name Andor (thank you Doc), but her life had become so uneventful that she didn’t have much else to think about. It was either Cassian Andor on her mind or her own demons, and she preferred to think about the living for now. She sometimes found herself wishing they would imprison someone else so she could be a little less lonely.

“Do you think he broke up with us for good, Ben?” she asked the lichen in the corner. He didn’t move, which she took as a sign of agreement. “Don’t be depressed, we’ll find a new inquisitor soon enough.”

She was napping when four guards came at her door. The sound of them banging on the iron bars made her jump and start hyperventilating, cursing loudly.

“General Draven is requiring your presence,” said one of the guards when Cora finally managed to calm down.

“Just fuck him sideways,” she mumbled, but stuck out her hands for him to fasten the handcuffs anyway. So Cassian had given up on her and she was back to being questioned by the milk curdler shaped like a human being. Which was unfortunate for the general, because she was already annoyed by the rude awakening and was set on making someone else’s life hell. She hoped it would be Cassian, but in his absence, the general would do just fine.

They didn’t take her to the usual interrogation room, but to bigger conference room. There were a handful people there, and they all gave off the impression that they were important. Cora recognized General Draven, Mon Mothma, Cassian and Doctor Crane. Some of the faces in the crowd were familiar, so she assumed they’d taken part in her past interrogation sessions. Some faces were new.

The presence of the doctor unsettled her the most. You don’t bring a doctor to an interrogation unless you intend to badly hurt the subject. It seemed they’d finally had enough of her defiance and had decided to bring in the big guns. She hadn’t thought that they’d make such a spectacle of it, though. She found it rather tasteless to invite people to a torture session. But to each their own.

They sat her at a table, making her feel a lot smaller surrounded by so many standing people, but she took her seat obediently. What choice did she have?

“Good afternoon, Doctor Enoch,” one of the new faces addressed her. He looked imposing: tall, well built, dark hair that showed signs of greying around the temples, perfectly shaped beard. He looked like he had been really handsome in his youth. Hell, he was still handsome, she thought. “Can someone please remove her restraints? So we can have a civilized discussion?” he addressed the guards. General Draven started to protest, but the man cut him off. “Please, General, if a whole room of high ranking military can be taken down by one unarmed person, I think we have failed our job, don’t you think?” Cora smirked internally, enjoying that someone had finally told him off. The general looked at her, and even if her face remained unchanged he knew her inner voice was laughing in satisfaction.

“I am Bail Organa,” said the tall man, “and I speak to you today on behalf of the Alliance.” He motioned to the guards and they took her handcuffs off.

“Cora Enoch. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” she automatically replied, rubbing her wrists and feeling a little more comfortable now that she wasn’t handcuffed anymore. She was really curious what this whole thing was about.

“It’s been brought to my attention that you have been cooperating with our intelligence officers, sharing some of your inside knowledge on the Empire.” Cora smiled.

“I wouldn’t really call it cooperation.” She threw Cassian a glance. “More like: talk, or you’ll die in a cell.”

“I am sorry, Doctor Enoch, that the times are forcing us to be a little more cautious. We may even go a little overboard in the name of safety, but I hope you can understand our concerns.” He seemed genuinely apologetic, but at the same time his face didn’t show any signs of weakness. He looked like the man that could sign her execution order without flinching.

Cora nodded. She understood. She hated it, but she understood their mistrust.

“But right now we need your help. Will you be willing to lend us a hand?”

“Depends.”

“I’m going to get straight to the point.” He took a seat in front of her looking into her eyes from the same level. “Our med bay is currently heavily understaffed. Doctor Crane, I think you’ve met him already,” Cora glanced at the doctor and he smiled at her, “is asking if you’d be willing to assist us. To work in the infirmary.”

“You want me to work in the infirmary?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “Now?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice determined.

“After you threw me in a fucking cell and let me rot there you suddenly realized you need my help?” She laughed.

“I’m sorry if the way we treated you until now may seem unfair…”

“Cruel!”

“If you like.” He leaned back in his chair. “But I’m sure you understand the reasons behind our decision.”

“I don’t give a shit about your reasons,” she said, pointing an accusing finger at him. “I never wanted to be part of this. I just wanted to run away someplace where I could live peacefully for the rest of my days. That’s all.”

“Isn’t that what we all want? Peace? Some of us don’t have a choice but to fight.” Cora crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. “There are no civilians in a time of war, Cora. The enemies won’t care if you were actively involved in the fight or not. They won’t spare your life just because you will tell them you didn’t help us. Do you think they’ll spare our families and friends, just because they’re civilians?” He gave her a sad smile. “Remember that for them you’re still a traitor. Your only hope to ever live a peaceful life is to help us win.” His voice was powerful, but it still had a certain gentleness to it. “You have to pick a side. You’re either with us or against us. But if you chose to be against us, then I am sorry, you’re going back to the cell because we can’t take any risks.”

Cora didn’t know what to say. She hated to admit but he had a point. She couldn’t expect them to just let her go now that she could betray their identities and endanger their families. Even if she would never tell a soul, who could be certain she won’t be captured one day and tortured until she would spill all their secrets. She was too much of a risk. And it was all Cassian’s fault.

She had left the Empire because she was a coward and didn’t want to fight. The imperial army was cruel, but she didn’t know what the life of civilian inside of the Empire was like. She always thought it couldn’t be that bad, but she never really knew. She went from living on a star destroyer to living in a very strict boarding school and then to the army. She was never free to live her life as she pleased, and she was longing for that. Her hate for the Empire, it was personal and directed towards the army. It wasn’t something to start a war over.

But these people, they were putting everything on the line. Their families, their friends, everything. For them the Empire was a real threat and fighting them was a necessity. She was brought up to believe that the rebels were a handful of uneducated scoundrels who revolted because they hated authority and just wanted to plunge the whole galaxy into chaos. But they didn’t seem like that. They were intelligent, well prepared people, who were sacrificing everything for the cause. Maybe life inside the Empire was even worse than what she imagined.

Maybe it was time for her to join the fight. Not actually fight, she sucked at it and would only set them back, but she could still help in her own way. She could probably stop being a coward. But the cowards are the ones that survive, cried her mind.

“What does this job entail?,” she asked, uncrossing her arms and placing them on the table. She was ready to negotiate.

Bail Organa smiled at her. “You will be working shifts in our med bay. You will have to discuss the schedule with Doctor Crane, he will be the one responsible for you and can tell you the exact details. As far as I understand from Doctor Crane, you are perfectly capable of managing a med bay on your own, but you’d be under supervision for a while.” Cora nodded. “We will provide you with accommodation as soon as we can fix some of the old rooms, we’re a bit short on space at the moment.”

“So I’m not going back to the cell?” Her amazement was evident.

“You will, for now. But we intend to move you to a more comfortable location soon.” Cora smiled in disbelief. This was far better than expected. “You have to understand that there are still a few security concerns, but Captain Andor has vouched for you, so I hope you won’t betray his trust.”

“Did he really?” she asked, throwing the captain an icy glare. She had tried refraining from glaring at him the whole meeting, but now the temptation was impossible to resist. “How incredibly odd…” He turned his head and looked away, trying to avoid her gaze, a look of exasperation clearly visible on his face. The tense moment was broken by a rather violent coughing fit coming from Doctor Crane.

“Excuse me,” he apologized, and all the eyes turned back to her.

“Senator Mothma and Doctor Crane have also spoken in your favour.” General Draven did not, she thought. “Of course, you won’t be allowed to leave the base and you’ll be constantly monitored. You’ll be fitted a special pair bracelets that you won’t be able to take off and will always tell us your exact location. You won’t have access to any of the databases or means of communication.”

“So I’m still a prisoner.” She sounded disappointed.

“As Senator Organa said earlier,” Mon Mothma intervened, “we can’t take any chances. This is the only thing we can offer you right now in exchange for your help. You can take it or leave it, it’s your choice.” Her face was stern, but gentle. Cora was a little surprised that she had spoken in her favour.

“You will have until tomorrow to think about it.” Senator Organa stood up, signalling the end of the negotiations, and she followed. “Does anyone have any objections?” he addressed the others. Cora waited for anyone to protest, but they were silent. Even General Draven was silent, but Cora could tell she wasn’t very happy about the whole thing. Or maybe that was his resting face, she couldn’t tell.

The meeting ended and they took her back to her cell. She didn’t have to wait until morning to make up her mind. She still felt she had been wrongfully imprisoned, but it would be very stupid of her to decline their offer only because they had hurt her feelings. That would be letting her pride get the best of her, and right now it was in her best interest to show a little humility. They were offering her freedom back. Not the freedom she always dreamed of, but it wasn’t any less than what the Empire had allowed. Being stuck on a base that she couldn’t leave wasn’t much different than being stuck on a warship that she couldn’t leave without special permission. The job description was the same. The only thing that had changed was the flag.

“I’m leaving here, Ben,” she told the lichen. “They’re going to give me a job and a proper room with a shower.” The lichen didn’t say a thing, but a wave of sadness washed over her. “I’m coming back for you, Ben. I promise I’m gonna take you out of here. Just wait for me.”

In the morning, they came for her again. The meeting was short this time, with only Senator Organa, Mon Mothma, General Draven and the doctor present. She agreed to their terms and conditions and she was officially a doctor once again.

General Draven fixed her bracelets, which were more or less a pair of unchained handcuffs. He even called them so. He explained to her that they will always be able to know where she is at any point so she shouldn’t even think of sneaking away. Also, if she as much as stepped outside of the base’s perimeter the handcuffs would release an electrical current strong enough to incapacitate her. Cora tried joking and asked him what was she supposed to do if someone invited her to a romantic midnight stroll in the jungle, but he had absolutely no sense of humour.

Doctor Crane was much better company when he took her to see the med bay. He explained that there were two, in fact. The one on the third level of the temple, where she had been for her checkup, and one on the base level, that mostly dealt with emergencies. She would work primarily in the one upstairs, where they had the operation rooms, bacta tanks and recovery ward.

She was pleased. The infirmary was probably a little bigger than the one on the star destroyer, but some of the equipment was a little older. Nothing she couldn’t handle, though. It was clean and well organized and it smelled familiar and Cora felt at home once again.

The next day the guards brought her in for her first shift, and as she got dressed in her pristine white medical uniform once again she saw herself in the mirror for the first time in ages. She looked thinner, older somehow. There were bags under her eyes and her skin and hair had lost some of their vitality. She looked sad and tired, but she wouldn’t allow herself to lose hope, she thought. Not today. Today a new chapter of her life was starting.

The new uniform fit her nicely, she noticed as she took a few steps back from the mirror. It wasn’t much different from the one she had worn for the Empire. Similar cut, same standardized pockets and insignia. The only thing that really caught her eye was the emblem on her shoulder: the red crest of the Rebel Alliance.

She was officially a rebel.

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#cassian andor #cassian andor x original female character #cassian andor x ofc #rogue one

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