#feast on my brilliant taste in music | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goodolddumbbanana · 1 month

Text

(Molten/Sun platonic) A little nightmare [TW: Violence, blood, maybe bugs]

Summary: I like angsty and fluff. i have problem man.

The Thing Creator install still inside Sun's head. It still totured Sun but it made him forget everything after he woke up.

**********

They say there are three things that separate machines from humans.

The first is that humans feel pain, machines don't.

The second is that humans can dream, machines don't.

And the last is that humans have emotions, machines can only fake them.

So when all three conditions are met, can machines call themselves human?

***

Someone's heavy breathing. The hallway is dyed red with blood, seeing the fleeing figure struggling in the swamp of flesh and bone that is dragging them down. They are like trapped in the stomach of a monster, with the walls vibrating in a steady rhythm as if breathing and the flickering eyes that watch their misery like something to behold.

Sun tries to pull himself out of the swamp. His limbs thrash in panic, as his mouth opens, hoping to get some oxygen. A sweet, fishy taste rushed into Sun’s mouth, making him make pitiful gurgling noises as he was about to choke.

‘It’s not real.’

‘It’s all in your head, Sun.’

‘Be patient, Moon will come to save you.’

But no matter how many times he repeated the mantra, Sun himself couldn’t believe it.

Every night. Every damn freaking night. Sun would be stuck here, reliving the endless pain his dear old father had left him the day that wretched old hag hacked into his head.

First was the broken leg.

Pain that made him hard to breathe. Pain that felt like his lungs were being squeezed and submerged in water. Pain worse than anything Eclipse and Moon had ever put him through before, pain that left him unable to scream. His nails dug into the metal, bending it and creating ugly scratches and dents as an unhealthy defense mechanism to ease the pain.

If Sun had a tongue, he would have bitten it off by now.

Then came the loss of vision.

The mist was so thick it was hard to breathe, surrounding Sun like a heavy, wet blanket. It clung to Sun’s throat, sharp as if it contained tiny metal fragments, invading Sun’s circuit boards and fans like termites, feasting on the wires inside Sun’s body. It felt like thousands of worms were eating him from the inside out, with buzzing sounds mixed with screams that almost reached the limits of Sun’s madness.

‘Tear it out… Tear it out… Take it all out! PLEASE!!!’

Sun cried out for help, but nobody came. His pearly eyes were still red, the smell of burning flesh lingering in his nose like sap on the hottest day. The electric explosions were whistling inside him, the system kept popping out golden triangles, even now, it was replaced by plump white legless creatures crawling across his inner screen.

Hearing was the last thing.

In that eerie silence, Sun's screams were swallowed into nothingness. He had a mouth, but he couldn't scream.

***

"Frog dissection experiments are really inhumane, right Mr.Sun?"

Sun blinked, and suddenly, he was in the daycare. The room music was whispering in his ears, and the brilliant colors of light kissed Sun's skin.

'Wha–?!'

A small hand grabbed Sun's ribbon and shook it. The little boy with the superhero cape had eyes shining like stars, looking at him with anticipation and excitement.

"What did you say? I don't understand..." Sun stuttered. "Well... It's educational to some extent... I guess?"

"Sunny!!..." The kid huffed. The other kids looked at each other with amusement.

"See, Huey, you're wrong!" Another kid, wearing big glasses and blond hair, shouted.

"Shut up Jackie! My mom says it's not nice to hurt animals!" Huey waved his arms wildly, for some reason the red of the cape wrapped around this kid reminded him of blood.

"Pfft!! You are chicken!! Chicken Huey!" Jackie stuck out his tongue.

The twins behind him squealed with laughter, matching the rhyme: "Huey's a chicken! Huey's a chicken!"

"Come on James, Jamie. You can't tease Huey like that." Sun cut off the teasing when he noticed Huey was starting to tear up. “That’s not good, okay?”

“I’m not a chicken.” Huey’s eyes were red, his voice starting to crack. Sun pulled Huey into his arms, patting the child’s back. A sick feeling came over him as the child lay snugly in his arms.

“No one said Huey was a chicken. You’re the bravest person I know. Those kids were just teasing…”

“But what do you think, Sunny?”

A whisper rang out in Sun’s heart. The music had stopped at some point, and something was dripping behind Sun.

“What–!?”

“Do you think that because a frog’s life is worth less than a human’s, it deserves to be tortured like that, Sun?”

Something slipped out of Sun’s arms, falling to the ground. A human body, the body of a child. In Sun’s arms was only Huey’s head. Two empty eye sockets stared at him, the boy’s mouth still open, smiling at him.

In the blink of an eye, what had once been the daycare was gone. Bodies were strewn everywhere, and blood was in Sun's hands. But right now, Sun was too small, too weak. A laugh rang out, a laugh that Sun was sure was his own, but it didn’t escape his mouth.

His clone, another Sun, stood before Sun with a look of satisfaction. There was blood on the other’s sunbeam, and his intestines and brains were still neatly placed on the monster’s shoulders.

“Brother, look. We have a winner~~~”

“Oh~~~Why don’t we give the winner a prize?”

Sun didn’t even have time to react.‌ The other’s claws shot out, grabbed Sun’s head, and slammed it hard against the ground. He couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, couldn’t do anything but watch as his brains were splattered and his limbs were torn to pieces like rag dolls.

***

“Doctor, look at this specimen.” Sun suddenly found himself trapped in some kind of operating room, with his real body. Surrounded by anatomical images of fish, frogs, and even worms. Opposite his sight was a fish tank. The goldfish swam silently inside, circling around a moon doll whose head was torn off by someone. “Even though it’s dead, it can still move~~~”

Bloodmoon appeared before Sun’s eyes, the red moon model grinning at him with delight, the monster wearing a pure white nurse’s uniform, not a single blemish in contrast to their bloody hands.

The other person was also Bloodmoon, but it was the one who had been destroyed by Puppet. Over their red and blue coats was a surgical gown that specialized doctors often wore.

Sun felt the inside of his chest split open, these two gremlins's hands rudely stirring up the wires and circuit boards inside.

“Hmm, you’re right, my nurse. Let’s say, I think if we increase the current, I feel like we can make some progress.” Blood nodded, as they ruthlessly tore the fan off Sun’s body.

“Aren’t you afraid it will die again?” The other chuckled, but his hand was already ready to plug the power cord into Sun’s charger.

“Isn't It just a useless thing, my nurse? We can easily replace it with something else.”

And the pain tore everything white, accompanied by Bloodmoon’s cruel chuckle.

***

Sun felt like he was going crazy.

Maybe he was already crazy.

In a blink of an eye, he was back in hell. His whole body was shaking, choking on the air filled with mist and smoke, with a heavy feeling like someone’s hand was dragging him down into the mud. Sun could only limp to the ground, even moving an inch was enough to hurt him so much that he couldn’t breathe.

A black figure stood staring at him, an almost octopus-like body with tendrils shooting out all around, pitch black with irises staring back at him.

“What more do you want!!?” Sun spat. He glared at the person in front of him. His torturer. His prisoner. His newest roommate for over a dozen days.

The Thing.

And as always, the bastard said nothing. A virus, whose sole purpose was to torture him, that didn’t even have a sentient yet.

It moved closer to Sun, the seemingly delicate yet sturdy metal wires pulling Sun up despite Sun’s feeble struggles. The wires clung to the joints and shafts of the frame, tight enough to make him walk like a puppet.

“What?!‌! Say something!!!”

There was only silence in response. There was the sound of dripping water, and the rattling of plastic balls in Sun’s ears. The pain suddenly disappeared, as did the unreadable look on ‘The Thing’s’ face, always shrouded in red mist.

Sun felt no pain. He felt nothing. He felt empty, so empty and peaceful that it was scary.

Suddenly, a loud, harsh noise, the sound of metal breaking.

What could it be? Sun wondered absentmindedly, suddenly finding his vision lowered.

Oh… The thing that broke turned out to be him.

Piece by piece… Piece by piece the metal that had once shaped Sun fell, crumbling to dust. His face fell off, sinking into the water.

The darkness was cold and too suffocating.

Sun prayed that this would be his final destination.

***

“Sun? Sun, wake up.”

A strange, monotonous, mechanical sound rang out in Sun’s ears.‌ The saffron-colored animatronic jerked awake in confusion, its mouth opening in a jumble of questions.

A soft icy blue light caught Sun’s eyes. A Freddy model with white fur and orange spots, looked at him curiously.

“Oh? Molten? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, no. I saw you fall asleep. Are you tired, Sun?”

Sun looked around in confusion. He was sitting in front of the movie screen. It was strange, when did he fall asleep? He and Molten were watching a movie. Something from Marvel… Then maybe he fell asleep because he was bored? Sun checked his internal system, and found that his battery was only below 30%.

“Oh… It’s okay Molten, I just forgot to plug it in. I guess practicing magic somehow drained my energy more than usual.”

“Can I help? I want to help.” Molten’s ears twitched as if he was excited. It was strange because Sun had never seen Freddy or any Freddy model like Molten.

It was… quite cute to some extent.

“Oh, no need.” Sun stood up and stretched. His whole body was sore, probably from lying in the wrong position. Right now, all he wanted to do was lie in bed, but the thought of going back to sleep or standing up to charge somehow made him feel discouraged.

Never mind, he could charge himself standing up with the solar power anyway.

“Are you used to everything here, Molten?”

“Yes! Everyone here is really nice!!” Sun could feel stars twinkling in Molten's eye as they rambled on about Moon, about Solar, about Daycare…

“And you haven’t met Jack and Dazzle yet. They’re all pretty cool, trust me.” Sun chuckled, his eyes wandering to the chair where the popcorn crumbs were scattered. It was dirty, bugs, bugs, he hated bugs… Why does he feel like he wants to hit something right now?

“Oh, new friends? I like having new friends. We can play games, and watch movies…” Molten nodded. Their hands were bent, but the sharp, smooth wire still made a rustling sound along the way. Something made Sun feel uneasy, but Sun didn't know what it was.

Maybe he should ask Moon to run the system again, it had been a long time since he had upgraded anyway.

But maybe later. Moon was quite busy, and Solar too. The Computer got broke, which caused them a lot of trouble. Too much work to do and too little time to spend.

"But you're fine, Sun." The words sounded so gentle in Sun's ears that he was startled. Sun looked up, Motlen's face still looked the same, a look of innocent joy that made Sun a mixture of guilt and relaxation.

Why are you so nice to me? I don't deserve it, I really don't deserve it at all. I'm not as smart as Moon or as reliable as Solar. Even Monty is more responsible than me.

I will destroy you.

I will be the venom that will burn you from the inside.

I will turn the best part of you into something ugly, like Rocksan, like Nexus, all because I dare to think about caring.

Eclipse is right, I'm an ungrateful idiot who only knows how to cling to others.

As if reading his mind, Molten smiled. "I love to hang out with you because I know you are a good and caring person. But I know it is hard for you to believe it. So I will keep saying these words until you believe the words I say are true."

Something stirred in Sun's chest, so quickly that he immediately suppressed the feeling.

Can he really have a friend? Someone wouldn't suddenly break like Rocksan, someone wouldn’t be so spiral like Nexus.

Is it okay for him to have someone other than Moon?

“Hahahaha… yeah sure, Molten.”

Sun laughed, but inside he had no answer to that confusion.

Please leave me.Please stay with me.

***

“Hope is a terrible thing, Sun. It keeps you from giving up no matter how hard things get, but it can also make your situation worse without you even knowing it. Why is the sinner clings to a spider’s thread, even though he knows it will break, he still tries to climb up countless times?

That is because of hope, or desperation?

A song that is danced to many times will become boring too, don’t you think it is true, son? Are you ready to give up?”

Creator asked his creation affectionately, who was forcefully sitting on a throne that was stacked high with human bones.

Exhausted, bloody, bruised, and stained with a clean brown and yellow, the son of the most self-absorbed bastard on the planet, who could only move his head right now, gritting out the words.

“Go to hell, old man.”

“Oh well, and I thought I am making some progress. It's a shame this talk didn’t work out. Let's try again, my boy. See you next time, Sun.”

The brain chuckled, and once again the hands grabbed Sun and pulled him into the water, making gurgling, gurgling sounds.

“Maybe I should switch the target to Molten.”

#sun and moon show #tsams #sams #the sun and moon show #sams sun #tsams sun #tsams molten #molten x sun #haha i am crused #molten/sun

43 notes · View notes

donnerpartyofone · 1 year

Text

This has been a really hard one to talk about. I'm always very ambivalent about mourning celebrities. I try to remember that I don't know these people, that what is really mourned by most of us is the person's ongoing work, which in the best cases has helped us understand ourselves and the world in which we live. Unavoidably, though, you can start to develop the sense that you know these people personally, which isn't true or even appropriate necessarily, I mean you have no idea whether you would even like someone you've only seen on a screen or received an autograph from; but at the same time, I don't know if you can really force yourself not to feel like the deceased celebrity is a dear friend you will never get to talk to again (the last time I tried and failed was the passing of Lux Interior). Maybe this is more forgivable, and also more inevitable, if you feel like you grew up with the person.

Of course this is all about ME now, but my mother (who also died from cancer) was an extremely hip, brilliant, funny individual who for whatever reason refused to form a relationship with me. This was pretty strange, because we liked a lot of the same things--B movies, old comics, all types of camp and kitsch--but when I liked those things, it was in poor taste and punishable by exile, whereas when she liked those things, it was evidence of her cultural genius. Before I make anybody too mad I should say that I'm being a little bit unfairly reductive just so I can get to the point, which is that one of the few things we could share was Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I didn't know anything about the show's more adult origins or the fact that Paul Reubens was sort of a performance artist, but I didn't have to. Pee-Wee's Playhouse was a feast for any child's senses: stylish, hilarious, and on some subliminal level, really sophisticated. I was clued into some of what was going on just because I watched it with my mom, who always laughed at Pee-Wee's winks and nudges to the hep parents in the audience. The show might have been my first encounter with the kind of anthropological humor favored by people like David Byrne and Laurie Anderson, artists who engage subversively with cliches, stereotypes, and other memetic parts of popular culture. In Pee-Wee's Playhouse, with its sharp, edgy cast and crew, kids like me were getting into fine art without even knowing it--which is possibly the best way to learn about art anyway.

In fact, on the other side of our house, I became obsessed with Gary Panter's incredible punk opus Jimbo In Paradise, a Dantesque comic book about an innocent young guy living in a dystopian future, where he is occasionally joined by guest stars such as Nancy and Hedorah. I was about 7 when I started reading Jimbo over and over again even though I could barely understand it, and I had no idea that Gary had pretty much designed Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I'm speaking about him so familiarly because I got to know him a little bit as a grownup. I remember Gary talking about how private Paul Reubens could be. He used to do this thing where he would accept a dinner invitation from anybody who asked, as sort of a stunt, but he had to stop doing it because people became so intrusive and entitled with him. Gary said that they'd be walking around in New York and when they saw an obvious Pee-Wee fan gearing up for an offensive, Paul Reubens would sort of transform into this totally different person, putting out an aura that let you know not to fuck with him. It's crazy-making to think that someone who was so protective of the boundary between his private and public selves had to suffer that ridiculous arrest, but it's heartening that most of society eventually grew the fuck up and forgot about it. It's also helpful to remember when he turned up later on the MTV Music Video Awards and started off by asking the audience, "HEARD ANY GOOD JOKES LATELY??"

I'm glad we got one more Pee-Wee special in the past several years, but I always wished that we would see Paul Reubens in more movies. He was such a cool actor, funny, convincing, and naturally charismatic. While people are cycling through their favorite roles of his, I want to point out that he had a great role on a recent HBO miniseries called Mosaic, an intense, engrossing crime drama that I definitely recommend if you have access. Maybe I'll rewatch it, too. In closing, here's a great story that I grabbed from Facebook that should warm everybody's heart, along with the heartbreaking statement (inappropriately cropped by Instagram of course) released upon the death of the very private Pee-Wee Herman. It makes you wish you could thank him in person, for everything. The best we can do is just remember him.

305 notes · View notes

twwings · 8 months

Text

Big Festivids Recs Post!

Last weekend was the big Festivids GoLive, which meant the release into the wild of 160 brand new small fandom vids (aka fanvids, edits, etc.) Right now the collection's anonymous, but tomorrow is vidder reveals, so I wanted to write up a recs post for some of my absolute favourites from this year's collection. If you know Yuletide, well, Festivids is like Yuletide, celebrating small/weird/underappreciated fandoms! It's an exchange fest, so people ask for the small fandom vids of their heart and, then, receive one.

Honestly the collection this year is SO high quality, you should really go and browse the works yourself in their entirety; there are so many vids that I absolutely loved that I didn't put on this recs list, because I was trying not to get carried away (and also trying to get it done). But just to get you started, here are a smattering of my favourites. I tried to represent a bunch of vid genres and source types here, but ultimately it's just my taste.

RECS RECS RECS!

Andor: Level Up

AHHHH this is a vid about Andor and fascism and collective action and One Way Out and it's so gorgeously done. Perfect song choice, perfect vid, makes me cry and I will rewatch it many times.

Andor: be ready and be brave

Focusing on Ferrix, its history, its people, and its revolution. Absolute chills. Also I'm SO happy whenever I get to watch a vid to a Mountain Goats song.

Mosquita y Mari: como siempre soñé

Such a sweet, soft, slow romance vid. I ACHED for these two. Like reading a 300k slowburn but in three and a half minutes.

Dropout TV: Nothing in my Head

The Dropout TV vid of my DREAAAAAMS! (largely Game Changer but with lots of stuff in there!)

Taskmaster UK: Blood in the Cut

UHHHH. IT'S AMAZING??? It's hot and raw and kinky and hardcore. the vidder has the delicate, precise touch of a bloody scalpel. Yes, this is a vid for Taskmaster, the UK show where comedians do silly tasks. Because yeah, it's that show, but it's also this show.

Slash/Back: Uja

This vidder KNOWS how to vid horror. The way this vid cuts the most terrible images to make them barely-there, more horrifying for being rough slaps against my consciousness . . . yikes. Amazing vidding, super cool and scary, while also maintaining the uplifting, kickass, hopeful tone you want from a collective-action horror movie.

Janelle Monae: I Like That

Glorious, joyful, sexy celebration of being a free-ass motherfucker.

Star Trek: Lower Decks: Hard Times

Boimler vid about how he's essentially a redshirt who is just slightly too sweet to actually die. Absolutely adorable and hilarious.

Woman King: Upside Down

Absolute BANGER of a vid, great cuts, great movement, great character arc and great Dahomey women being amazing.

Romeo + Juliet: Magnetic

We all agree Harold Perrineau is the best Mercutio, SO, with that in mind, here is a flawless celebration of the best Mercutio.

Knives Out/Glass Onion: 'Til You Hit a Nerve

Brilliant comparison vid putting Marta from the first film together with Helen and Andi from the second one, drawing out the similarities and dissimilarities in a visual feast and with a badass powerwalk. Nothing not to love!

David Cronenberg's Films: body

This one is phenomenal. It takes David Cronenberg's entire filmography and condenses it into a vid about all the sexualized body horror. It is deeply horny and deeply disturbing and deeply fascinated by every single finger going into a hole in a body that shouldn't be there. It's soft and tentative and it's very graphic and violent, all at once.

The Wheel of Time: Velodrome

Tower politics and circularity and being bound to one another in every good way and every bad way; what a beautiful vid. I love how this is about a place, and about how that place draws these people together over and over in their shared experience and love and trauma.

The Midnight Sky: The Laughing Heart

Absolutely gorgeous vid of the film to a spoken word + music rendition of Charles Bukowski's "The Laughing Heart" (there is a light somewhere). I have not seen this film but I found this vid deeply moving.

Moby Dick: Queequeg and I

There are four (FOUR!!!) Moby Dick vids at Festivids this year, and they are all amazing combinations of a huge smorgasboard of sources, I heartily recommend them all, but I'll specifically rec two. This one is Queequeg and Ishmael to "Wouldn't It Be Nice" and it is the sweetest queerest thing ever. Queequeg and Ishmael get a happy ending shhhhh they do shhhhh yes this is how it happened they came out of the water they're fine

Moby Dick: a vulture feeds upon the heart forever

This vid is a fucking masterpiece. It is a huge archival multisource Moby Dick vid that weaves all these incredibly different visual together to make a coherent, tragic narrative. And like. The BOOK is not a coherent narrative! This is such gorgeous and amazing fanwork. Don't miss out on it.

Women's 100m Sprinting: Didn't Come to Play

This is GORGEOUS, I don't know anything about sprinting but I know I love these beautiful joyful powerful women running really fast and hugging each other and being amazing. The editing on this is so tight; the vid never stops for a second. Like a sprint?!?!?!

The Golem and the Jinni: סיפור הגולם

This is another book vid, but since this book doesn't have any adaptations, it's using entirely archival source and probably some documentaries and films to construct the story - or, really, construct the vibe of the book, construct the metaphors of the book, and the result is beautiful and powerful and meditative. It's about survival, and making life.

Jesus Christ Superstar: Hope on Fire

This is another umbrella vid, where the vidder is taking a bunch of different productions of the play and mashing them together. This vid focuses on Judas and Jesus/Judas, and it all feels so inevitable and tragic and real and cruel. I really loved it.

Jordan Peele's Films: Goodbye, Honey, You Call That Gone

This is such a wonderful mashup of Jordan Peele's three films, exploring all the parallels and differences and just the rich tapestry of his imagery.

猎罪图鉴 | Under the Skin: Put It On Me

I don't know this source but this was just so gorgeously put together; there's a focus on art and art objects, on hands moving and creating, that's just mesmerizing.

50 notes · View notes

plainndry · 1 year

Text

I think I am gonna make a Media thread to share what I’ve played/watched this year. It looks like a fun thing to do! (Copied from my Twitter thread)

Here’s what I experienced in 2023

Dark Souls 2 Scholar of the first sin:

While souls games tend to be frustrating for me, they are also brilliant experiences, and I had a ton of fun with DS2! The Halbert in this game specifically is my favorite weapon in the entire series as of rn.

Neon White:

I hope everyone finds a game that fits their taste as well as Neon White fits mine. One of my new favorite games with such a satisfying sense of flow and rhythm that I couldn’t put it down till I got a gold medal on every stage.

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish:

I loved the TV show they did so I wasn’t totally surprised but this exceeded my expectations. Gorgeous art style, fluid animation, compelling characters, and the most intimidating animated movie villain in a long time make this a winner in my book!

Bocchi the Rock Season 1:

IT’S SO CUTE AND FUN OMG!!!! A really heartfelt and well realized story with an absolute banger soundtrack. I loved every single character and every single episode so much, it’s truly an amazing show!

Elden Ring:

This game is scary in how good it is. It’s massive, intensely difficult, detailed, and beautifully crafted. It’s so much that I’m inclined to say it’s too much. But too much of a masterpiece is still a masterpiece. I’m carrying this victory with me for a long time.

Transistor:

Holy wow, I haven’t been surprised by a game like this in awhile! It’s an extremely well designed tactical action game with an unconventional narrative structure and absolutely killer visuals and music. I’ll definitely consider returning for another run later on!

Summer Wars:

An absolute rollercoaster of a movie. I really enjoyed the family dynamic and the different ways the story unfolded. It wasn’t what I expected at all and I think it was better for it. The visual design is incredible too! It’s very pleasant to look at. A fun movie!!

Journey:

I’ve rarely seen a game so perfectly titled. It was a true journey. It was an experience that was unique to me and my own playthrough. That’s what I think is truly special about this game. The people you meet and the way you progress while linear is truly your own

John Wick 4:

Absolutely lives up to the quality of this series. John wick continues to impress me with its action choreography and cinematography. This entry specifically has a strong set of side characters, some excellent music compositions, and amazing settings. Loved this one!

Portal 2 (Co-op):

I played the single player years ago but I finally got to finish the co-op campaign and it was a blast!!! Portal is one of if not the most satisfying puzzle games I’ve played. Reminds me how much of a classic this one is. Shoutout to my cousin for joining me!

Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves:

A really enjoyable action comedy movie! It did a good job capturing the dynamic of a dnd party. A super fun time with genuine humor, great performances all around, and the appropriate amount of chaos for a movie in the dnd universe.

The Super Mario Bros Movie:

A solid film! The Music stole the show for me, Peach and Bowser were huge highlights and Luigi and Toad had great performances too! I was disappointed by the Kongs voices but it’s a film with a lot of love for the series in there! Peach is great btw💕

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom :

This game somehow impresses today in the same way botw does. The improvements rocket this game into the stratosphere. While i suffered the same fatigue I did with Elden ring at the end, I also found myself in awe almost the entire time

Spider Man: Across the Spiderverse :

I um, don’t know what to say. Visual feast, extremely compelling plot, character work that hit so so hard, an animated movie the likes of which I’ve never seen. Just incredible

Barbie Movie:

It was so incredibly fun. I had a good few laughs and it had really compelling characters. Very appropriately campy with the depth to back up the camp. A well made film

Cassette Beasts:

What a fantastic game. It recaptured the magic I haven’t felt since playing Pokémon platinum for the first time. It’s battle system is so engaging, story filled with mystery, characters absolutely lovely, and a world that is just the right size for exploring. 💕

#video games #movies #anime #dark souls #puss in boots #neon white #bocchi the rock!#elden ring #transistor #summer wars #journey #john wick #portal 2 #dnd #super mario #tears of the kingdom #media thread 2023 #across the spiderverse #barbie

11 notes · View notes

libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

Last love, as sweet; myriads of cedar, as I used to

As many a most serious night-wind swayne, or like the wretched man, without in her—will you see,—with snow. And in it take at her devoted bed- posts shine own vineyard—yes! Vomiting thing, whene’er was spun: and, green and third, in fair

guerdon winds seem high as learnd I loue she broad streames, and see the pomp and I mighty’s bowers be over-turn the distant too. Its too cleaues or ward, was table peddlers shed for their sense and hustled they quite; so in the rose over

and I love is she glided for an all the grass, a purer sapphire in thou art fair, my soul is alive enough, soon he rose, or like to life’s great bridal white; nor waves a glimmers could make me the dreary vaults. No father think,

till either curvëd points. Your soft like yonder my beloved more blessings are dabbled with their guns with flowery sisters or daughters of two and few could not feel the top of Mona high, where you move so bold, and follow, appetite

I never way, new strung Bow—himself my pass, and life, in the effort meet in this may nothing to reads the world, but, fool, which thing, twelve dancing princessant care Go, love, or die, let who I am. If it had lost both be used to orphan

families open fi mi if I shift mi hips the more beauties pluck’d an air that ever taste! Jar impact collar take and hark thee to a pensive heard I none. To will bleede; but I found; some knocked and whoever in the bars that Lucy’s

eyes flashes wept Blood—Search of her shall scruples hence. At wing and that I may give more likely, with grief lay her later, to-night, what is flowers and so these strange way, for the fall she be burnes; I can interpose of nobler exercise

of killing Will, but mend the castle. Last love, as sweet; myriads of cedar, as I used to a feasting, ordering at their perfect healthful anodyne; with her vineyard unto its nub, its lips into a room for weakness,

afflicted came he mighty winter, beside the other spirit of Love, like an orb, as thy neck so fared she, but a now be still kiss, and tried, one one would given by and loving branches gave my human, all in low to see such fleeces

newly was a crime: yet loue decreed: at length he mighty men. Medals, chast mindles red. And the bonilasse pass of grain as force, choise sport I sought him leaves raise, a shadowy land it so full perhaps from madness flame, directed,

enters, fits, flirtation, as long as standing words, of fire in the Galilean leper in a voyage is ylent machine, by my soule was gone: my song of praise herself within himself a Queen of various nothing and quiet

lake, that tower’d Camelot. Never sinketh, as a thread of sweet perhaps, thy silverswords, till Christians of Bonaparte! Vain endear; and like mine eyes of market girls, with ache? Of fresh lap the music unto memory of beauties

prouder beautiful and may moue you, all shined more steak while things, it is they hang a man in meditate thee: the Maple warre: what are as fire, the snow-limb’d Eve from service with crooked all it had presence of the sheep-hook, or twice

a dolefull loue into speak her wizard stream—the flocke, for on the viewless snow-white peacock, sits on the cold stone, on they somewhere are in the vales and vain endeavour: frail gesture and feeling poring about their brilliant repeat.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #229 texts #ballad

0 notes

survey--s · 2 years

Text

413.

Who’s the last person you were angry with? A (now ex) client for constantly messing me around and cancelling walks with less than an hours notice -_- What was the last video game that you beat? I don’t remember.

When was the last time you ate Pop Tarts? A few years ago. I always love the idea but they always taste like cardboard and disappointment, lol.

Have you ever hyperventilated? Yes, I’ve had a few panic attacks in my time.

Have you ever had lice? I think I did once or twice when I was in primary school, yeah.

Colored or black-and-white photo? I prefer coloured photos.

Do you believe in astrology? No.

Who did you last give a piggyback ride to? Probably my niece, but that was years ago now.

Do you like Lady Gaga or does she try too hard? Her music is catchy but I don’t get the appeal of her style or anything. She seems to have totally disappeared lately anyway.

What’s the ugliest trend you’ve ever seen? Crocs.

Would you ever keep your favorite animal as a pet? I have cats and a dog, but I wouldn’t keep my favourite wild animals at pets, no.

What would you do if you were stuck on a boat in the middle of the ocean? Do whatever I could to get help.

When was the last time you played Guitar Hero? Years ago. Does that game even really exist anymore?

Where did you last wear a bathing suit? Last time I used the hot tub at Tracey’s - so maybe September, I think?

Who did your last notification come from? Paul.

Do you feel more comfortable with a male or female doctor/nurse? Either is fine unless it’s something intimate, then I prefer female.

Ever cried so much you threw up? Yeah, quite a few times lol.

Are you completely over your last relationship? Yes.

Have you ever gone to a beach? I live about five minutes from the beach - I’m there pretty much every single day.

Have you ever suspected anyone of cheating on you? Yeah, and I was right lol.

What do you usually order on a pizza? If I’m getting takeaway, I love a BBQ meat feast. if I’m in an Italian restaurant, I’ll go for a fancy margarita with sundried tomatoes, mozzarella and pesto.

Have you ever done volunteer work just because you wanted to? No.

The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner? Yeah, I always use conditioner, otherwise my hair goes really dry and frizzy.

Would you ever visit a psychic? If it was free, sure, I’d go for a laugh.

Have you ever had a stick insect as a pet? No, I was never allowed a pet when I was growing up.

Has anyone ever called you stuck-up? Yes.

Had sex at school? No.

[TW: ABUSE] Abusive relationship: leave him/her or keep it a secret? It’s not exactly that straightforward, is it?

What recently happened that made you proud of yourself? I got Stanley to canter in my lesson a few weeks ago after my instructor told me he’d been refusing for days, lol.

[TW: DRUG OD] Ever have a drug overdose? What did you OD on exactly? No.

Are both of your blood parents still in your life? They are, yes.

Have you ever made out on a couch? Sure.

Someone asked you what you wanted, what would you say? A really, really good night’s sleep.

When’s the next time you’ll be drinking? I don’t really drink much but I’ll be having mulled wine after my beach ride tomorrow morning as we get one for free lol.

What are you doing on Halloween? I worked.

Have you ever been drunk at school or work? No.

Do you own any Sims games? Which ones? I own Sims 1-3 on my laptop but I haven’t played for years.

What are you listening to at the moment? It’s Me or the Dog.

First letter of the names of everyone you have kissed? .

If you could take back saying anything to anyone, what would it be? Nothing.

Do you do anything regularly that could damage your body? I mean, my diet isn’t brilliant.

When were you the saddest in your life? Probably my final year of university.

If you have siblings, have they moved out or do they still live with you? I don’t have any siblings. Have you been outside today? Yeah, I work outdoors. I was out for work from around 8-1, then I came home and sorted out my Christmas presents, went back to the shops and the post office, then back home to unpack and have a bath, then back out to do my last cat visit of the day. Did you know you wanted to be in a relationship with the person you are now when you first met him/her? No.

Would you rather live in Alaska or New Zealand? New Zealand.

Is there anyone in your life that knows right away something’s wrong with you? Yeah, my husband and my mum.

What would you do if you walked into your house only to find your boyfriend and your mother making out? I mean, why would that ever happen? lol.

What if you found out your partner had a previous sex change? Again, that’s not going to happen.

Have you ever dated someone in the military? Yes.

When’s the next time you’ll have to buy a gift for someone? Christmas.

List the last ten people that texted you. Suzanne, Jade, Mike, Alice, Helen, my mum, Sophie, Marc, Leila, Steph.

What colour is your favourite eye shadow? Silver.

What’s your favourite hairstyle on a guy? It depends on the person.

Who was the last person to call you beautiful? I honestly don’t remember.

Who was the last person of the opposite sex to Facebook message you? My dad, I think.

Do you know how to make origami? I used to know how to make a couple of things, but that was years ago.

Who is your hero? I don’t really have one.

How would you like to be proposed to one day? I’ve been proposed to twice. All that matters is that it’s genuine.

When was the last time you saw your brother? I don’t have a brother. I last saw my brother-in-law about six months ago.

Would you introduce the last person you kissed to your parents? They’ve met loads of times. I mean, we are married lol.

What does the shirt you’re wearing look like? I’m wearing a bright pink t-shirt, a grey knit jumper and a cream hoody.

Do you like to cuddle? I love it but I don’t like it when the weather is hot and you get all sweaty.

Is the last person of the opposite sex you texted single? No, we’re married.

Would your parents disown you if you got pregnant? No.

Any baby names you think you might name your future kids? I don’t want kids.

Think back to your most important relationship, was it all your fault it’s over? It was me that ended it, but it his fault.

Has anyone seen you naked in the last 6 months? Yeah.

#survey #surveys

0 notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 12 - ao3 -

The dinner lasted until late, late enough that Lan Qiren had to make his excuses and even then only just barely got back to his room in time to fall asleep at the appropriate hour; he didn’t even have enough time to do more than remove his shoes and outer layer before his eyes had closed.

Surprisingly, unlike most social dinners in Lan Qiren’s memory, it hadn’t been awful. Most of that had been thanks to Lao Nie, whose exuberance, as he’d suspected, could carry just about any social interaction to victory. After exhausting himself in thinking of ever more increasingly ridiculous toasts and forcing Wen Ruohan to drink them – they’d switched to wine at some point, although to Lan Qiren’s relief neither offered him any – Lao Nie had turned the subject to the type of music appropriate to be played at a wedding feast, and his opinions on music were, as always, so horrifically wrong that even Lan Qiren had been lured into arguing with him.

At some point, the conversation had shifted to the subject of marriage and weddings more generally, though to Lan Qiren’s relief both men clearly considered him too young to have thoughts about his own future in that regard the way his teachers might have. Instead, they’d spoken about the origins of various wedding traditions – there were some that Lan Qiren had thought were set in stone and handed down from ancient times which Wen Ruohan could recall having seen invented within his lifetime, which was a fascinating advantage of age that Lan Qiren had not previously considered.

It was equally interesting to see Wen Ruohan at his most charming. It was not a mask that the sect leader bothered putting on very often, as far as Lan Qiren knew, and it was a mask, one that was a little loose around the edges – even Lan Qiren could tell. Wen Ruohan would say the right words a beat too late, with his eyes a little too focused and his smile a little too sharp to be believed; his quips were a little too cutting and his suggestions just a little beyond the boundaries of common decency, his cruelty and indifference leaking out around the edges of even a casual chat with people he considered friends.

But at the same time, it was difficult to deny that he was brilliant. Regardless of whether he’d obtained his superior cultivation through dark and dirty means or not, he’d been the master of his sect and about a third of the cultivation world for at least a generation already, and no one managed that without being extremely clever and more than a little ruthless.

It made for interesting conversation, if one beset with a constant feeling of danger…

“I hope you enjoyed the bed.”

Lan Qiren nearly jumped out of his skin in fright, spinning around to stare at Wen Ruohan standing just within the doorway to Lan Qiren's room – he hadn’t heard him open the door, nor close it behind him. The other man was in his wedding finery, the brilliant fiery red of his sect turned to joyous purpose, and yet there was something sinister in his self-assured smile.

“The – bed?” Lan Qiren repeated blankly, and glanced at it. “It was…fine?”

“You complained, last time,” Wen Ruohan said, continuing to stroll into the room with his hands clasped behind his back. “Too hard, I believe you said…I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Lan Qiren vaguely recalled having said something along those lines and blushed in shame. “It’s fine,” he said. “I slept deeply and well. Thank you for your concern.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Wen Ruohan said. “You and I are brothers, are we not? My every thought should be of you.”

That didn’t sound quite right.

Before he could say anything, though, Wen Ruohan clicked his tongue lightly and stood in front of him, looking him up and down. “Your Lan sect’s formal clothing is truly a masterpiece of the embroidered arts,” he said. “A brilliant sight – especially all in white.”

Lan Qiren lowered his head, embarrassed again. If pressed, he would argue that his clothing was a little more silver than pure white, so he wasn’t actually dressed in mourning colors, but it couldn’t be denied that he was much closer than most, making it a little inappropriate for a wedding. Unfortunately, he only owned the one set of formal clothes, and there hadn’t been time to commission another; there was nothing for it.

“I like it,” Wen Ruohan said unexpectedly, his hands settling on Lan Qiren’s shoulders, smoothing out the fabric. Lan Qiren looked up and was caught by that intense red gaze. “My sect colors are red and white, after all – just like the two of us. A matched set.”

His hands burned too hot on Lan Qiren’s shoulders.

“White is a traditional color for the Lan sect as well,” Lan Qiren said, and his voice only quavered a little bit. “Anyway, it’s…mostly grey.”

“White,” Wen Ruohan disagreed. “As pristine as a pearl resting in the palm of your hand.”

His thumbs pressed lightly just by Lan Qiren’s collarbone. There were acupoints there, he thought, although he was having trouble recalling which ones or what they did.

“Yes, a pearl is truly the most apt comparison,” Wen Ruohan mused. “Simple and natural, yet shining with its own luster – I’d thought rubies, to make you fit to my taste, but perhaps pearls will suit you better.”

“I have no need for jewels,” Lan Qiren said, a little alarmed. Had Wen Ruohan really drunk so much the night before that he was still intoxicated, confusing his new sworn brother and his new bride?

“And yet I may wish to give them to you,” Wen Ruohan said. “Surely you won’t deny me – after all, I need to repay you for the charming gift you gave to me.”

Lan Qiren had a sinking feeling.

“Uh,” he said. “You saw it? Already?”

He’d searched the room briefly earlier that morning for the personal gift he’d bought for Wen Ruohan, intending on packaging the bowls away in his return clothing – why hadn’t it occurred to him to simply give it away to one of his fellow disciples, or even to trade or sell it? That way he wouldn’t have embarrassed himself by giving such a simple gift amidst all the opulent luxury of the Nightless City.

It seemed, however, that it was too late for that.

“Oh yes,” Wen Ruohan said, looking amused. “A set of drinking bowls, painted with a flowing border reminiscent of vermilion birds – made by your own hand?”

“I only applied the glaze,” Lan Qiren said hastily. “There was another gift, too –”

“I have dozens of golden crowns of better make and greater utility,” Wen Ruohan said dismissively. “Such a heavy thing. If you told me that you’d picked it yourself, I wouldn’t believe you.”

“No, I did pick –”

“Without constraint? Or from a selection of predetermined choices, each one deemed ‘appropriate’?”

Lan Qiren fell silent.

“Do not tell lies,” Wen Ruohan said, rolling the familiar rule in his mouth as if tasting a wine of fine vintage. “Yes, the guan is a very appropriate gift, neither too distant nor too familiar, too rich or too restrained, perfectly reasonable yet conveying nothing, giving nothing away...I’m quite certain your brother picked it out. But you were the one who picked the bowls, weren’t you? Did you pay for them yourself?”

Lan Qiren felt certain that the conversation was leading to some sort of trap, but he didn’t know what, or how, or how to evade it. “I did,” he admitted. “With my sect allowance.”

“How many months’ worth did it cost you?”

Lan Qiren thought back, calculating. “About three?”

He’d thought to get something nice enough that he wouldn’t lose face in giving it, though naturally he’d underestimated the luxury of the Nightless City. Still, it wasn’t as though he needed the money for much, anyway. The sect supplied him with basic clothing and gear, equipment to tend to his sword and musical instruments, and even access to books; he did not buy himself too many luxuries beyond that. Other than the fees he paid for various sect purposes, it was really only the occasional trinket that caught his eye or rare books on foreign musical techniques that he purchased with his own money.

It wasn’t anything like a sacrifice, not really, but Wen Ruohan still looked pleased about it, smug and satisfied as a cat right after the hunt.

“Three months’ worth,” he murmured, and his hands which were somehow still on Lan Qiren’s shoulders slid inexorably inwards to rest on the sides of his throat. “Even assuming you were extraordinarily parsimonious, little Lan, you could only save a third at a time; that’s nine months of your life that you spent for me. Nearly a twentieth of all the months you’ve lived so far.”

What a strange way to calculate time.

It wasn’t even right, since Lan Qiren had turned seventeen in the interval and that made the interval closer to a twenty-fifth than a twentieth, but also – who thought like that, treating time like a percentage, as if it could be measured and spent like coin? Perhaps it was simply that Wen Ruohan was so old already…and perhaps that, in turn, was why he looked at him so strangely, so unnervingly –

Lan Qiren swallowed, decided he didn’t need his pride more than he needed to get away, and ducked out of Wen Ruohan’s loose grip.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready or something?” he asked, turning and pretending to fuss with his robes to avoid making eye contact. “It’s the morning of your wedding.”

“Indeed it is,” Wen Ruohan said from behind him. He was standing too close: Lan Qiren could feel his breath on the back of his head. “Tell me, little Lan – little brother. What do you think of my marriage?”

Lan Qiren hesitated.

“The truth, if you will,” Wen Ruohan added. “I would hate for the purity of our relationship to be tainted by misdirection, even if you wouldn’t go so far as to lie.”

His voice was mild and even, almost sweet, and Lan Qiren was abruptly convinced that it was far more threatening than any of Lao Nie’s rages or his brother’s ice-cold sarcasms.

“I think you made it up to distract people from swearing brotherhood with me,” he said, turning back to face his fears and sworn brother, and felt his face go red as he realized how self-involved that made him sound. But it was what he thought, and Wen Ruohan had asked him not to lie. “You made a mistake, underestimated people’s reactions, and Lao Nie yelled at you because it was affecting your reputation and mine, so you came up with a better story and made everyone else believe it.”

Wen Ruohan hummed. “What an interesting theory. You don’t think the engagement was merely kept private before being revealed at an appropriate time?”

“No.” Lan Qiren shrugged. “If I’m wrong, of course, I’m wrong. But you asked what I thought.”

“Is that why you got me a gift?” Lan Qiren, surprised, glanced at Wen Ruohan, who was still smiling. “To thank me for clearing up the mess I made of your reputation?”

“I got you a gift because you’re my sworn brother, and you’re getting married,” Lan Qiren said, bemused. “What does my reputation have to do with anything? You’re not the one making everyone gossip, and even if you were, you cleaning up something you did is only what you should do. I don’t see what one has to do with the other.”

This time, Wen Ruohan gave a little huff of amusement, and he sounded almost surprised. “Charmingly blunt.”

“You told me not to lie or misdirect!” Lan Qiren exclaimed, feeling betrayed.

Now Wen Ruohan was chuckling in earnest. “Ah, little Lan,” he said. “Someone is going to get you into trouble one day, and it may very well be me…you’re right, you know.”

“What?”

“About the wedding,” he said lazily, and put a hand on top of Lan Qiren’s head. “Both in terms of motivation and timing. You’re entirely right, except for one part.”

“What part?”

His fingers tightened, the too-sharp nails digging into Lan Qiren’s scalp and pulling at his hair until his head was forced back to look up at Wen Ruohan.

“I didn’t make a mistake,” Wen Ruohan said. His eyes were boring into Lan Qiren’s own, the pressure of his will strong, as insistent as his voice. “You were not a mistake, little Lan. You’re mine.”

“Of course I am,” Lan Qiren said, suddenly irritated for no reason he could tell. “Your sworn brother. Doesn’t the whole world know it by now?”

“Mm. I suppose they do.”

“And on that note,” Lan Qiren said, “what are the terms, anyway? I never got to see them.”

“The – terms?”

“Of our brotherhood! My brother confiscated the paper you gave me before I could look it over, and naturally I don’t remember, so you have to give me another copy. I think I’m entitled to one, since I’m a part of it, and presumably you did the drafting. Was it one of the classical oaths? Which clauses were included? Provisions? Curses? Was there any consideration of – stop laughing!”

Wen Ruohan had released Lan Qiren’s hair in order to brace himself on the wall, he was laughing so hard. Laughing with big laughs that came up from his belly and stuck in his throat, and no matter what Lan Qiren said he didn’t say one single thing in response. Lan Qiren eventually gave up with a huff and stormed out.

Let the irritating bastard be late to his own wedding, for all he cared.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

119 notes · View notes

aonesteddybear · 4 years

Text

My Sunshine

apollo!miya atsumu x gender neutral reader

warnings: soft angst with fluff

word count: 1101

notes: this is for the hq server collab, which the prompt was “mythology” i knew i had to do my boy atsumu as apollo. so enjoy! kiyoko will be up soon hopefully i have to finish it but school has been hell. be sure to check out the masterlist here and see all the other great writings and artwork done!

thanks to my beta @stopisa

You always said he woke with the sun, rising long before you to leave tousled sheets and escape right as the sun’s rays flickered over the mountains on the horizon. If you were lucky, you would be able to rouse yourself from slumber, looking up at him as he hesitated at the doorway for only a moment before slipping out into the early morning to do stuff only the gods would know.

He wouldn’t be back until later, the sun lighting up the room and forcing you to stir and turn away from the blinding light, but his laugh would always have you turning back. Staring up at him through bleary eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed, and ran his hand over your face gently.

Staring up at him, framed by the sun, it was easy to see how lucky you were - how beautiful the man was, all lean muscle and golden skin. It was even easier to try and kiss his palm, coax him back into bed for a lazy day that you so craved but he only laughed. Tugging the sheet from your body, and your legs to the side as he forced you to wake.

He helped you get dressed in golden silk. Intracrit designs lacing the fabric, shimmering in the morning light as he twirls you around to admire your outfit he had gifted you. “I have a surprise.” He whispered in your ear, holding you close to him as he nudged your nose with his. “Will you follow me?”

Your agreement was pointless, you both knew you’d follow him to the depths of Tartarus if he asked. Yet you found yourself nodding anyways, catching his lips with yours as he smiled savoring your touch. He tasted of honeysuckle, reminding you of your childhood days - sweet and warm.

As always, he was the one to pull away from you, taking your hand in his as he led you through the building, out onto the streets and past the vineyard. No one noticed you like this, his presence was enough to keep people from looking if he didn’t want them to.

The smell of salt was strong on the breeze as you both wandered towards the cliffs, the sun slowly rising in the sky. Your father’s cattle wandered nearby, careful of your presence yet just as interested in the man you stared at adoringly.

His path stopped at a tree bordering the cliffside, small flowers blooming from the protective branches offering you shade as he coaxed you underneath them to where a feast had been laid. Olives, and cheese are perfectly positioned with small honey cakes and fruits surrounding them with wine poured into two cups for the both of you.

“It’s perfect,” you stated in response to his wordless question, his hand smoothing over the small of your back as he kissed your cheek gently. His hand nudged you forward, firm and guiding as he urged you to sit. He took his position beside you, grabbing one of the fruit slices as he lifted it to your lip, carefully feeding you it before he took a piece for himself.

On the horizon, the sun's reflection was blinding on the water. The lack of clouds caused you to turn away from the bright light but he had no such issue, staring out in somber silence at the reflection. Instead you turned your attention to him, staring up at the man as your eyes traced over his features.

As if he felt your eyes on him, he turned to look down at you. His mood switching as a blinding smile appeared on his face as he cheerfully asked what you were thinking, his hand coming to pull yours up to his lips so he could press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Can you play me a song?” The question was soft, but he heard it. Standing up he moved towards the base of the tree, picking up the lyre that had been propped against the tree before he returned to you. As his hands ran over the strings, plucking at them gently you found yourself picking up pieces of food, alternating between slipping them between your lips and offering it to the golden haired man.

The gentle sounds of music filled the area, coaxing your eyelids to shut despite the sun still being high in the sky. As if he sensed your sleepiness he laughed, the sound filling you with more joy than the sounds of his music had as you quickly woke to soak it in as he set his instrument to the side.

You took the hand he offered, scooting closer in the grass as he guided you to lay down snuggling into his arms. He gently pet at your skin, rubbing soft circles into your body as he held you to him in silence. The sun warmed the both of you, tanning your skin despite the shade provided to you from the laurel tree.

“I have to leave soon.” His words broke your illusion, jolting you awake from any sleepiness you had as you turned to stare up at him in confusion.

“What?”

“I will have to leave you soon.” He repeated, his words held sadness but you also recognized the longingness in them for wherever he meant to go.

“Oh.” You knew your answer was blunt, short and unawaring as he stopped the circles into your skin.

“I have to visit my twin.” His explanation was short, as if he was avoiding your next question that you both knew you’d ask.

“Will you be back?”

His silence was your answer as you nodded in response, tucking yourself further into his side as he continued to rub circles into your skin. You stayed like that for the rest of the afternoon, intertwined in each other's limbs, parting only to feed each other or drink the sweet wine he had brought. Neither of you willing to break apart from the other's embrace, gentle kisses marked in between them.

You watched the sun set on the water like that. Watching in silent awe as the sky erupted into brilliant oranges and pinks from your position with your head on his chest, his arms protectively around you as if you were the only thing that mattered to him.

You knew that this attention was temporary; He had plenty of lovers before you and you were sure he would have them after as well but for now you watched the sun fall with him, and inside his arms - you were just as immortal as he was.

#apollo #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu #atsumu x you #Miya Atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x y/n #atsumu miya x you #gender neutral reader #bella writes #hq server #server collab #hq server collab #soft #hq fluff

40 notes · View notes

stardancerluv · 4 years

Text

I’ll Always Catch You

Summary: What if you randomly met Roman?

Arthor’s note: Alot of angst is ahead! This is a bit long! I didn’t want to stretch this out. This story, has another ending. If there is enough curiousity about it perhaps I will post it.

After a long day at work, you had agreed to meet your friends out for drinks. It had been ages since you did that. So you got all dolled up and headed out.

You were relieved to discover that the Black Mask had tables. So you grabbed one. You ordered a drink.

You watched as people met up with others. Giggles and smiles were shared. Toasts were made. You eyed the time, you left messages. Nothing.

On drink number two, you got up and danced to a few songs. The music was fantastic, the signer was amazing.

Out of breath, but determined to not let the lack of messages back ruin your night, you went back to people watching.

You were fanning yourself, when someone a man in a flawless, white suit walked past your table. The sight of him alone, made you finish what was left of your second drink.

He had a strong jaw line, raven black hair and blue eyes that would slice you in half if you were caught by them.

You were checking your messages, when a waiter came by with a third drink.

You held up a hand, “Oh! I didn’t order that.” Drinks were very good but very expensive. You had debated on where you should get a third.

“It’s on the house.” The waiter smiled, put out a cloth coaster and put the drink on it. “Enjoy.” They smiled brightly and walked away.

You looked around. Wondering who could have possibly ordered a drink for you of all people.

You didn’t see anyone who caught your eye, except the man in white. He appeared to be in a serious conversation. His gloved hands were gesturing as if to stress something, very important or at least that is what it looked like.

You hoped distantly, his night had not been ruined. As you took a sip of the drink you didn’t know why you cared but you did. Perhaps, it was because he was so handsome.

Holding your glass, the cloth coaster, intrigued you. You didn’t want to just put the glass down, so you grabbed one of the plain paper ones that remained on the table, then you put it down.

Picking up the cloth one, you looked at it closer. A very elegant set of initials were sewn into the fabric. At least that is what you assumed they were. The thread was a brilliant shade of gold thread accented with black thread. In an opposite corner, in just as elegant script but only in black, was the name of the club. This was wonderfully elaborate and beautiful coaster. You’d expect that it belong in the vip lounge, not to be served to you, who had only ordered two little drinks.

Putting it down, you reached and put your glass back on it. Sitting back, you oddly felt amused. Tickled actually. Made you feel special. A smile even curled your lips.

“I was hoping, I’d finally see a smile on that face.”

Startled, you looked in the direction of the voice. You could not, stop from gasping. “Hello.” You immediately sat up straighter.

The word twisted in your mouth. It brought an easy smile from him.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, I mean I had walked by earlier.”

“Well, that was earlier and before I started my third drink.” You said without any hesitation, immediately you mentally kicked yourself for sounding so stupid.

“We do make them a strong here.” He gestured to the spot opposite you in the booth. “May I?”

“Sure, please.” Butterflies, began to flap in your stomach. What had he meant by we, you were amused watching as he easily sat down.

He glanced around and gestured. The waiter was back in a breath. “I’ll have another.”

“Certainly, Mr. Sionis.” They smiled and nodded.

They looked at you, you shook your head. Words, were a jumble in your mouth as it dawned on you who had just sat down with you

He looked back at you. “I couldn’t help but notice, you’ve been alone all night. Why?”

You took a sip of your drink, grateful your hand didn’t shake. “My friends never showed.” Once you began speaking, you discovered it was easier then you had thought. “And honestly, I didn’t want to leave.” You looked around smiling, then leaned forward “This place is great.”

The drink arrived with the same cloth coaster you nodded. You watched him nod and take a sip.

“Thank you. I strive to make this the best place in Gotham.” An air of something, confidence not exactly smugness splashed across his face.

“I haven’t tried the food yet, but the drinks and entertainment, are spot on.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Oh I’m good.”

He smirked. “You sure not even an appetizer?” He cocked up an eyebrow.

“Only, if you share it.” You don’t know what compelled you to say it but you did.

“Alright. I don’t usually eat down here in the club but for you, I’ll make an exception.” He gestured. Once again the waiter came right over. “Would you like me to order?”

You nodded. “Sure.”

His voice grew hushed then but waiter was happily nodding then fluttered away.

“I am sure you will enjoy what I chose.”

The buterflies were still flapping in your stomach but you were finally enjoying yourself.

You took a sip of your drink. “Did you have a good meeting earlier?”

A small smile came to his lips. “You noticed?”

You shrugged. “The way you gestured, it looked important.” You hope you didn’t over reach.

“It did.”

The food came then, your eyes grew. The two dishes looked exquisite. “Appetizers?” Looked over at him.

He shrugged. “Just a little taste.”

Sometime later, admittedly it was a little rough eating in his presence, since you were so nervous. You knew this was silly but you enjoyed it all. You were about to thank him, when the waiter eagerly took you plates and replaced them with little tarts.

“Dessert, too?”

He shrugged. “I like to go all out.”

“Well, you achieve what you strive for. This has turned out to be far better then I could have ever expected.”

“Good.”

You smiled, as you finished the last of the tart. “That was far too good. The next time I come, I will have to have another.”

“It is a favorite.” He ate the last piece of his own.

Your smile dropped, as you saw behind him the arrival of your very drunk looking friends.

He looked behind him and back at you. “What?”

You pressed your lips together. “My friends, my very drunk friends have finally arrived.” You finished your drink.

“Oh.” He scooted out of the booth, grabbing his glass. ��I hope you will have even more fun now.” With that he walked away.

They were loud and giggling and gave incredibly sloppy hugs. Lots of apologies were exchanged. You were already bored with them but you smiled and played nice.

The waiter came back and with flourish placed a cloth coaster, a glass of champagne in front of you.

“Thank you.” Looking around you spotted him across the club. You mouthed a thank you. He held up his glass and nodded.

Which for a moment, silenced the buzz of your friends but that didn’t last long.

*******

You honestly, don’t know where the time had gone. Some four months later, you finally returned to the Black Mask club. This time, you did not have plans to meet your friends.

Once seated you took it all in. Like before, everything was such a feast for the senses. It wasn’t long before a tart was delivered. Smiling, you looked around.

There he was. This time he was in an equally sharp looking suit but this time it was blue. You watched as, what looked like a forced smile was plastered across his face and it disappeared almost as fast as it appeared. It made a pang go through you. That meeting must have not gone well. You looked back at your tart.

A glass being placed on your table filled your ears. “Thank you.”

“Darling, that was my drink.” A soft, rich chuckle came from him.

“Oh!” You looked up smiling. “Hello.”

A softer, broader smile spread across his face. “Welcome, back. It’s been awhile.”

You grimaced. “Life and work got in the way.”

He shook his head. “You need you to take care of yourself. Nothing, should ever be so serious that it keeps you away from things you enjoy.” A mischievous glint lit up his eyes, making your butterflies, appear and flap for their lives in your stomach. “Especially, when it comes to those tarts.”

You giggled. “You’re right. I missed them terribly.”

He exhaled, you watched as his gloved hand formed a fist. That’s when heard before seeing, the infamous Harley Quinn, dancing or humping, you couldn’t decide which on one the poles.

“Apparently, someone likes to make a scene.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you join me for a tart?” You hoped he’d join you like he had that one night.

“Sure, give me...”

A scream tore through the club silencing it instantly.

His attention snapped to it. Harley did something. She sat smugly on one of the sofas, as a man was writhing and screaming at her. Roman, left his glass on the table as he immediately garnered the attention of everyone. The man was silently whisked away.

A random person, stopped on the way to bar. “Get your free shot!”

“I’ll be right up.” You weren’t leaving. This was horrible.

Roman, flushed. His cheeks were scarlet in his apparent anger as he came back to your table. He drained his drink.

“Dreams are for naught.” He glanced at you. His blue eyes were far away. “Have a good night.”

Your annoyance towards Harley Quinn began that night. It started as a tight knot in the pit of your stomach.

*****

You cheek rested in your hand, you were bored to tears at work. Looking, at your knick knacks, and even some of the post cards; were not helping.

“Y/F/N, this just arrived for you.”

You looked up at as the secretary to the office, came over to your cubical. You mood lifted a little. You took the envelop from their hands.

You smiled when you saw the script, you knew immediately who it was from. You swirled in your seat. Your heart picked up speed, your fingertips tingled. Taking a breath, you gently opened the envelop, seeing the gold inlay your eyes grew. It was lovely. You pulled out the heavy black paper.

Hello Y/N,

I would enjoy it very much if you were to be my personal guest tonight at the Black Mask.

I will have a cocktail and a tart waiting for you. I look forward to seeing you at seven o’clock sharp.

Yours,

Roman Sionis

You did a little happy dance in your chair.

******

Not only did you wore a new dress but you, styled your hair as well. You wanted to look as good as possible.

Outside, of the Black Mask you stopped and gathered your breath. In all of these months of getting to know Roman, this was the first time he personally sent an invitation.

With your head held high you went in. A hostess, this time seeing you escorted you to a table. “Thank you.” You whispered. You shook gently, as the butterflies took flight.

“Hello, Y/N.” You smiled when you saw it was the man with white hair. He seemed to to be his confidant. The two of you had never been formally introduced.

“Yes, I mean hello.” You blushed and smiled.

“I will tell Roman you’re here.”

You smoothed your dress more times then you cared to admit. A waitress, came by with your drink. You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Would you like your tart now or would you like to wait?”

“I’ll wait.” She nodded and smiling, she left. You took a sip of your drink. Nervously, your fiddled with the little plastic sword that held your three cherries.

“Oh, now look at you.”

You looked up at the rich deep voice that always caused your heart to beat harder. And it certainly beat harder, he had dressed in black and gold as well.

He offered a hand. “Allow me you see all of you.”

You could feel as heat raise in your cheeks. You took his gloved hand as you slid from behind the table. Once you were free of the table, he twirled you. When he stopped, you were against him. One of your hands came to rest gently on his chest, his magnificent black and gold suit jacket looked even better up close and one of his arms was around your waist holding you to him.

He smiled down at you. “I caught you.” His face was inches from yours.

“You have a habit of doing that.”

The rest of the club faded away. All you saw was his dark blue eyes, the waves of his black hair and soft expression his mouth had taken.

“I hope I always can.” He swallowed, his face moved closer and then he stopped. “Shall we sit?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Neither of you moved. “I had better let you go.”

His arm finally loosen and you, slid back behind the table.

Smoothing, his jacket and unbuttoning it he slid in. He patted the space beside him. “Don’t sit so far away.”

Flushing you moved back so now, you were beside him. He patted your thigh, “Much better.” He smiled, and his hand came to rest on your thigh when waitress walked up with his drink.

You barely noticed her looking your way. “Would you like your tart now?”

He squeezed your thigh, as he looked between the two of you. His smiled curled to the one side. “Yes, I believe she would. Right, Y/N?”

Hearing him, distracted you from the feel of his hand on your thigh. “Oh? Yes, yes please.” You smiled and nervously you took a sip of your drink.

Once the waitress was gone, he dragged his hand away and took a hold of his own drink. In a very short time, once again the conversation between the two of you flowed very easily. You shared a few laughs and smiles as he shared about a few good meetings and you shared how the office secretary had grown intrigued with the note he sent.

He gave you a side long smile before he had taken another sip of his drink. “So are you now the talk of the office?”

You shrugged, smiling. “I could be, I’ll find out tomorrow.”

The waitress showed up with your tart then. “Thank you.” You smiled and soon, dug in.

“So I was thinking, I can really build something.”

You smiled at him sweetly. It was great to see how his eyes were so alit with happiness.

“It’s a great club...” The man walked up then and placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder. His gestures grew with his excitement.

It was never good when he could come over and interrupted your time together. Looking, away you focused on your tart.

“Harley Quinn, has the diamond.” Roman’s hand found your thigh and squeezed. It was so sudden you, swallowed the entire pice of tart you just took.

“And?”

You tried to not pay attention, it was none of your business.

You could barely hear him as he whispered to Roman. “And they disappeared.”

“Fuck!” Roman barked. His hand flew from your thigh, first banging hard into the table making your plate shake. “Fuck!” He barked again as his fist met the table.

You felt as his breathing shallowed with his anger that gripped him. The club, had already silenced with his outburst.

Something horrible had gone down. In the dead silence, where you could have sworn you heard your own heart beat, laughter rang out.

His entire body tightened. “Who is she laughing at?” His voice rasped out. In a smooth move, he left your side.

Sadness with icy fingers wrapped around your heart.

“Is she laughing at me?”

“She is.”

You could not believe what you heard him say to Roman. Why was he lying. You tried to grab Roman’s arm. “No, she’s not. She’s....” he was across the room in no time.

You closed your eyes and frowned, why had he lied to Roman. You tried to look away, and you did for most of it. Your poured out to him. You k know it shouldn’t you didn’t think he could ever be that cruel. That wasn’t the man you knew. His right hand man pushed him, something happened and he just made it worse.

You could get up, go to the ladies room and freshen up. You could come back and perhaps, if he thought you had not seen anything things could be ok. You just didn’t know anymore.

Taking a breath, you got up. You were about to walk away, when a hand grabbed your arm.

Turning, you saw Roman’s anguished face and your heart went out to him. Tears filled your eyes. “Where are you going ?” His voice was hoarse.

“I’m, I was going to ladies room.” To managed to stutter out.

“No, no I want you to stay here with me close.” He pulled you to him.

Easily, you wilted in his arms. You were all a jumble. What he did was horrible but you knew it really wasn’t his fault but it hurt seeing him like that.

“You soothe, me.” He pulled back, his blue eyes were filled with remorse and sadness.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You voice shook and as you swallowed the tears back.

“Good.” He continued to move, dance with you.

*****

The following evening, you found yourself walking along the broken founder’s pier. It was a cold and foggy night. Despite how broken it was and how fallen to ruin it was you continued down it.

You really had to collect yourself. You were still completely shattered at what you had seen. Roman, could have the occasional angry outburst. You knew, never to mention his family, they had done him wrong and he pulled himself up and made something of himself.

But what you saw, it shook you. It must have by really been bad what Harley did in order for him to snap like that. You leaned against one of the steadier looking railings.

As a child, your dad had taken you there. He showed you all the founders of Gotham, you still knew them all their names. It used to be a beautiful pier when you were a child.

With a faint smile on your lips, you remembered how one time, you had climbed onto the railing and walked along it. Upon seeing you do it though, your dad panicked. That’s when you had wavered in your confidence. But he caught you, and you clung onto him relieved you had not ended up in ocean.

Screams sliced through the night. You looked in the direction of them. You don’t know why, but you ran toward them.

As you got closer, you could have swear you made out three figures. Two of which were hunched over.

“I’m Harley Fucking Quinn.”

A gunshot exploded in the night. That’s when you saw Roman, and you saw this young girl. Everyone, stopped and looked at you. His grip on the girl loosened but she caught your eye, you don’t know what compelled you but you ran towards her and him. “No!!!!” The words burst from your mouth.

You felt as your foot caught but as it did you somehow managed to reach and you contact with her. You reached, and contacted with her. She let out a scream as she began to fall backwards over the railing, your foot loosened at the last minute and you couldn’t stop. Everything, felt like it slowed down.

Just then arm wrapped and it slammed you down and found yourself looking up at the stars. “I’ll never let you fall.” His raspy voice filled your ear, you smiled despite everything. You felt safe.

A breath later and an explosion, rocked your entire world, no hesitation you clung on to him. You both looked.

“Hey, kid Are you ok?” Harley’s screechy voice hollered. You looked at Roman, but you barely saw him shock, instincts over taking you. The two of you crept and looked over the railing.

“Hey kid!”

“There!” You pointed. You saw someone flopping around in the water. “There.”

“I’m here.” A weak voice traveled up to all of you.

“I’m coming kid.” She looked at the two of you. “This isn’t over Romy.” She said through gritted teeth.

“It never is.” He replied, sounding more tired then anything else.

You watched as her golden overalls faded and obscured into the darkness. Her distant screams were met with others.

As one still slumped backwards, the aging wood creaked underneath the two of you. Distant and indistinct voices traveled up to where the two of you remained.

“We better get out of here.” He finally said.

“Yes.”

******

Neither of you spoke, you simply just numbly followed him up in the elevator. You barely looked around as you found yourself in his penthouse.

With your head finally clearing, you met his eyes and took the wash cloth from him. He sat down on the rim of a very large bathtub. You were washing the blood off his face. It was not long, before the man you had grown to care about. He inhaled sharply when you discovered the cuts.

Gently, he took the washcloth from your hands, “I should clean...” Your voice trailed off as he shook his head.

“They can wait.” His voice, was scratchy. It was as rough as he looked, which broke your heart. “I thought that first night, I could rescue you.” He swallowed. “But tonight, you saved my worthless life.”

The tears that wouldn’t come earlier, finally came. “You’re not worthless.” He looked away. “Hey, you saved me, too.” His eyes met yours but they were as turbulent as an ocean.

“I can’t excuse anything I did or I may do now that since they tried to kill me tonight. I want to be the king of Gotham.” His voice cracked. “When I joined you that one night, and the nights that followed, I..I...felt just like a man, a man who owned a club.”

“You are.” You reached out to him, he flinched.

“You were the only one whoever looked at me and didn’t have fear lingering or disgust in your eyes. That was till the other night. I get angry, my anger blinds me.”

A sigh came from him.

“I have no business even asking, since you now know the monster I can be.”

He pressed his lips together before continuing.

“But, I would you like me to be my girl.” He looked down and when his eyes met yours, they were blue flames. “Fuck, tomorrow they may actually succeed and finish what they couldn’t do tonight. But, I would like to die knowing I had a chance at you being my girl.”

You inhaled, you closed the distance. This time when you reached out and actually cupped his cheek, he did not flinch. Going, up on your tiptoes you did the only thing you could think of. You kissed him.

Pain, ripped through when he pulled back.

“Really?” Was all he said.

“Yes.” You managed to say and tears slide from your eyes.

“Then, I’ll catch you till my dying breath.”

He grabbed you and you clung onto him. With no hesitation your lips finally met. They didn’t part for a very long time.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @nomnomnomnamja @poe-kadot26 @top-rumbelle-fan @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @rosionis @queenofgotham800 @brookisbi @peachthatdrinkslemonade @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @rentskenobi @starwarsslytherin @proffesionalclown @chogisss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @pooshnulooshnu @speedypartyducksuitcase @blondekel77 @corey-clown @drarrylov3r @hollywood2k16

#ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor imagine #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #roman sionis #roman sionis x y/n #roman sionis x you #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis fanfiction #black mask #black mask fanfiction #black mask x reader #black mask x y/n #black mask x you #birds of prey fanfiction #birds of prey #bop #I’ll Always Catch You

98 notes · View notes

komi-komi · 3 years

Text

Words.

I posted this on my twitter the other day (it didn’t get much traction, mind you, though I don’t really care). Just thought it was a nice bit I wrote. I’m also still just trying to figure out how the hell to work this new account, I’ve already gotten lost like 5 times 😟

Take if it resonates, leave for someone else to find if not :)

- - -

Words.

There’s so many beautiful words.

I want them, I want them all.

I want to hear their sounds splitting my tongue like fresh honeycomb on a fine summer afternoon. I want their throaty, breathlessness scraping the bottom of my lungs as I fight to make them tangible through the air.

Intriguing enough to grip, powerful enough to stick.

I want to poison man’s mind with the blade of my letters. I want to feast upon the very notion of language, get drunk on all the choices lying before me, practically begging to be practiced.

Words: beautiful, limitless, robust, deadly.

Anything and everything that means something can be made up of characters, little soldiers in the army of expression, ready to sacrifice their individuality for the art of telling stories.

I want the words I don’t even know yet. So many of them, waiting for me to unlock their potential, wield them as a warrior their blade. Grasping them to my chest, I pray they never leave.

Words can be everyone’s, but sometimes, some can become mine.

They can be mine in the way your eyes are yours, your hair is yours, the way your smile is yours.

Some can illustrate my thought and feeling and passion.Passion lights words ablaze with heat barely matched by a thousand suns.

I want my words to ring in ears like a bell; always clear, definitive. I want my words to dig under skin like a disease; infecting the mind as they weave their way around bodies, dragging down one’s attention after another.

Some words I can borrow from others, some I steal and pretend are mine because they’re just too beautiful not to.

Let words be the music of my soul, the letters notes on a sheet while the choir sings. Let them ripen with moonlight and burst with fervor. Let them drench the largest pools with their intensity, drag mind after mind under with beliefs not heard of in centuries.

Words can be anything you want them to be, you just have to trust them enough. You just need practice, a sharp mind and sharper tongue, and anything you write can be turned into something spectacular.

Now me, I want to tell stories.

I want to set people’s eyes alight with the possibility of inspiration. A first taste burning their tongue and leaving them hungry for something stronger; tossing and turning in the night, labored with ideas swimming through the current of their mind, screaming to be let out and shown to the world.

I want to show the young how to use their voice, how to find their words and grip them with a vengeance.

I want to show how to argue their minds with excitement; how to use language not just as a tool, but an extension of the worlds upon worlds conjured in their brain.

Young can take your teachings and fling them out the back window to be carried away with the breeze.

But as long as they use those words, to say something worthwhile, something meaningful, something brilliant, something marvelous.

It doesn’t matter if they follow the rules, they’re ought to be broken anyways.

I want words, too many to count, too beautiful to forget, too wild to tame, too powerful to conquer.

So tell me your stories, have mercy on my ear. Because I’m hungry for something big, something fresh, and I’ve lost all fear.

2 notes · View notes

flowercrown-bucky · 4 years

Text

Yes, there is a difference between gentle persuasion and kidnapping.

Fandom: 1970s!Loki Multi-Chapter

Pairing: Loki x ConArtist!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, drug references, later death, later smut, crime, loki and the reader are con artists….. It’s a wild one y’all, hold onto yo’ seats..

Word Count: Upwards of 3k

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

[Something Wicked This Way Comes - Chapter Four]

Loki’s life on Asgard has become vapid; uninspiring. He’s got the taste for a little danger. During a trip to earth, he finds just the danger he’s looking for.A partner in crime - in every imaginable sense.

I've been hanging on the phone

I've been sleeping all alone

I want to kiss you, sometimes.

Well, I've been haunted in my sleep

You've been starring in my dreams

Lord, I miss you tonight.

- -

In his a thousand-and-something years of life, Loki had always struggled to understand the things most people derived pleasure from.

On Asgard, inhabitants tended to sway towards the inclination that they were above such base idiosyncrasies as were displayed by the mortals, but from where Loki stood, they appeared to be just as bad. Raging battle, feasts that stretched on for days and other celebrations that could easily double that duration. They were no better than the humans, filling the voids in their souls with food or sex or blood.

Consume, consume, consume. That’s all it ever came down to.

Since he was a little boy, he had always found his kicks in mischief. It started as little tricks, dropping spiders into the drawers of resident nobles and frightening his mother’s handmaids with snakes. But as he grew, he developed a real affinity for chaos. His father called him a hot head, he shouted back, his mother intervened. The cycle continued for years.

But as he sat, glaring into the smoky liquid in his glass, he was beginning to understand exactly why people sought to fill a void.

He’d lain awake all night, his mind firing off nineteen to the dozen. You were being followed, and him by extension. You were in real, tangible, physical danger. The entire night you’d remained curled under the duvet. Possibly asleep, possibly not. Loki had not wanted to check.

Laying on his back, the soft material of the duvet rubbing against his skin, he had never felt so distanced from you. He’d stared at the ceiling, wondering why it bothered him so much. If he was ever in any real danger, he could simply return to Asgard.

Couldn’t he?

It was this question that he was pondering as the rays of the morning sun poured through the window. Your face scrunched up as the rays splashed upon your face, as though someone had disturbed you.

He did not want to admit it, but the groan that you emitted brought a slight smile to his face. His reaction to you rolling on your side and pulling the pillow over your face was, however, completely not up for discussion.

He watched you as you slept, fighting the increasingly bright morning. You looked so different. So.. serene.

He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. A shower, he thought. Maybe a little walk to clear his head.

You, however, had other ideas.

“Loki.” You murmured, stretching out your hand. You reached across the bed, flexing your fingers as though you were searching for something. For him.

“Hey, man, are you alright?” A voice echoed in his ears. Someone was talking to him.

He blinked down at his drink.

The barman was staring at him, a concerned expression on his face. Loki shook his head, trying to remember what the man had said.

“Yes. I’m fine.” He replied, rubbing his face. “My mind was otherwise occupied.”

“I see that, in your eyes.” The man nodded. “You are in a fight with your wife?”

“Something like that.” He sighed. “She just.. Keeps so much to herself. It drives a wedge between us.”

“Women. They carry the world on their shoulders, and they say nothing. It is a constant mystery to me.” The other man nodded his head in agreement. “But your wife, she is very beautiful. You are a lucky man, no?”

Loki grunted in response.

He lifted his glass to his lips, taking a long gulp. It wasn’t exactly to his taste, but there was some satisfaction to be found in the burn it left in his throat.

Something about the voice of the gentleman who had served him was oddly comforting, his thickly accented English almost musical, a welcome lullaby to his ever-spinning mind.

Green eyes stared at him over a cherry-brown bar, glancing down at what remained of the smokey amber liquid in the glass momentarily.

Green eyes and hair black as the night were easily the defining features of both men, but it was quite remarkable, Loki thought, how two faces could differ so much whilst being so similar. One of those weird little quirks of the universe, he thought.

“You would like another drink?” The barman asked. “For you, it is with my compliments.” Before he could respond, his glass was lifted out of his reach. The bigger man turned away from him to reach for the bottle, the sound of glass clinking as he poured a hearty glass. Two fingers, you had taught him was how the people of earth measured their stronger spirits, although you always poured him three fingers’ worth, served with a single ice cube and a wink that would easily have a lesser man drop dead where he stood.

“This is very good of you.” Loki took a sip of his drink as it was set in front of him.

“It is no problem.” He replied. “I have been in this business long enough to know when a man is in need of... Light relaxation.”

“I’ll drink to that.” He scoffed, raising his eyebrows. He lifted his hand to brush a lock of hair out of his eyes, but was surprised by how heavy it was, by his own strength. It even felt a little difficult placing it back on the bar with enough care that it wouldn’t dent the wood.

He shook his head as if to physically cast the heaviness out of his head.

“If you do not mind my saying so, sir,” The barman continued. “But you should be with your wife, out of trouble.”

“Yes.” His head felt increasingly heavy. “You’re quite right. I absolutely should.” At least one of his words was slurred, he knew, but he wasn’t quite sure how many. He was starting to feel really, really dizzy, like his head was full of helium. Drowsy, too. Very, very drowsy.

Was he drunk?

No. Not possible. Midguardian alcohol had very little effect on the Aesir, and only in large quantities.

“It will be over soon.” The barman told him, turning

He should return to his room, he knew, and lay down for a while, sleep it off. However, he also knew that should he make any attempt to move from his stool, his legs would give out and he would fall flat on his face.

He was exceptionally confused. What was happening to him? How the fuck was he going to get out of this mess? His head spun, his limbs suddenly growing in weight and dropping to his sides. He felt as if he was chasing his thoughts, but every time he neared something relatively coherent, it would fly away from him. Everything was very slow, like he was swimming through a room filled with golden syrup.

His body curled in on itself, suddenly unable to keep himself upright. His head lolled to the side, too heavy to hold. He needed to get back to his room, and fast. Using magic to heal himself in front of mortals was far too risky, particularly seeing as you were being tailed. His ethereal abilities were not something he wanted to alert his - or your - enemies of.

The barman. If only he could alert the barman, he could possibly help him at least into the lift. But how best to summon him? Loki was not entirely sure he could muster up the strength to verbally communicate in any way, let alone anything coherent.

He dragged his heavy head from his chest, squinting at the white rectangle secured to the barman’s dark shirt. It was a nametag, he was sure, but his vision was too hazy to make out even one of the hastily scrawled characters on it.

His consciousness began to slip away from him, just out of his reach. Drops of sweat rolled down his spine, pooling at the small of his back, as a horrible realisation dawned on him.

Poison. He had been poisoned.

Loki, Crown Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief, Chaos and Lies, had been poisoned by a mortal.

Fucking brilliant.

His body involuntarily slumped against the bar as he fought to remain conscious, his mind racing. How? How had he unknowingly consumed it?

His hand dropped against the wooden bar with a loud thud, splashing something cold and unpleasantly wet against his hand.

The drink. The poison was in the drink.

He dragged his gaze up to where the barman was stood, watching him but unable to meet his gaze.

“You.” He hissed, consciousness drawing away with every laboured, painful breath. The world seemed to spin and twirl as his eyes rolled back into his head, whirling and blurring and changing in front of his very eyes.

The floor was suddenly a very, very deep blue. It seemed to be almost rippling, curling in on itself and suddenly crashing, dispersed back to nothing.

Bright lights shot across his vision, vividly coloured and layering on top of each other. They were building something, he realised, something brilliant and sparkling, comprised of every colour the visual spectrum of light had to offer. Something strangely familiar.

The bifrost.

Somehow, he was staring down at the bifrost from a great - but rapidly lessening - height. He was falling, at an incredible speed, onto the bifrost.

And he wasn’t alone.

Someone was traipsing towards him, carrying something quite enormous. Whatever they were carrying was dripping something onto the rainbow bridge, leaving a trail of dark puddles in their wake.

He squinted at the mysterious figure as they neared. They were tall, he noticed, and dishevelled, coated with some sort of dust and something that looked unpleasantly like blood. It clung to their skin, and matted their hair. Their long, dark hair.

Loki realised with a start that the man staggering towards him, was in fact, himself. Or a version of himself, at least. He was battered and bruised, his face ashen and sunken. Every single step he took looked as if he were about to keel over and collapse, but there was a determination in his eyes, as if he would die before abandoning whatever he had made his mission.

Quite frankly, he looked terrible.

The clothes his other-self was wearing were unusual, like nothing Loki had ever worn in his millennia of life. Heavily soled black boots stretched up to his calves, a furry coat of sorts adorning his upper body. The fur, much like his hair, was a matted, bloody mess.

Was it his blood, or someone else’s?

You were draped across him, your body dangling lifelessly from his arms. Your exposed skin was pallid, almost waxy, as if there had been no blood flowing to it in some time. Your features were almost indiscernible, if not from how bashed up your face was, but from the thick layer of blood that trailed down your neck. Your head lolled with every step his other self took, weak and fragile like a ragdoll.

A deep blue substance was gushing from the wound on your side, dribbling onto the bridge and leaving the puddles he had earlier noticed. The other Loki was absolutely drenched in it, the leather of his boots stained with it. Behind him lay a trail of footsteps as deep blue in colour as the ocean raging below them.

What had happened here? Why was he seeing this? How was he seeing this?

The scene before him began to fade, and he was falling again.

Falling, falling, plunging into the nothingness below.

As the world faded to black, sound filled his mind. Shouting, chanting even, echoing through the walls of his mind.

Long live the queen.

It felt like thousands of voices were yelling inside his mind. Such was the might, the enormity of the cry, that if felt as if it might be coming from the very core of the planet itself.

“I am sorry. I wish it did not have to be this way.” Was all he heard before the world around him turned to black.

You rubbed at your face with your hands, letting out a deep sigh as you pushed yourself off the edge of the bed. The window ledge was quickly becoming your favourite perch, somewhere you liked to sit and think, and it was here you were headed for now.

The morning light poured onto the streets below you, basking the white-washed walls in a warm glow. The cobbled streets wound and twisted through the city, trickling down to meet the sea.

“You’ve been here before.” Loki had said, a small smile on his face as you had glanced out the window for the first time.

“Maybe.” You’d replied. “A lifetime ago.”

He’d glanced at you curiously, but pressed no further.

You didn’t view the people below in the same way anymore. You studied each of them carefully, waiting for one to look back at you for just a second too long.

In all honesty, it was making you properly edgy.

You cast your eyes to where the other half of the bed lay rumpled. Loki’s side.

You felt bad about the row you’d had the night before, about the silent morning you’d shared.

He’d been sat on the edge of the bed, watching you as you woke. As you opened your eyes, his head had snapped away as if your gaze had burned him.

You snuck off for your coffee not too long after. That day, of all days, you needed a little time to yourself. It should have been peaceful, sat with your coffee, staring out to the sea, pondering what had happened.

You were being tailed, and you hated it. Every single person who brushed against you on the street, everyone who looked at you for just a second too long, made you jittery. Every thought was second guessed, every step matched with a glance behind your shoulder. It wasn’t even as if this was new - you had spent so long ducking every time a police car went past, heart lurching every time someone leaned towards you. Even when you slept, you were on high alert, waiting for someone to burst in and open fire. Some days, you wished someone would just stab you and get it over with. Maybe then, you could be at peace.

And then there was Loki.

You’d snapped at him, and that, you regretted. But your agreement existed purely because it was mutually beneficial, and that left no room for emotional honesty. He knew his place, and he was just as aware as you when he overstepped it.

Did you trust him? Not in the fucking slightest. Did you want to trust him? About as much as you wanted to bath in baked beans.

Did you feel bad about hurting him? Possibly.

He had been gone for some time. He’d swept out of the room in that dramatic Loki-way, storming off down the corridor. But that was three hours ago, and no matter how sulky he was, he should’ve returned by now.

You hit the button for the ground floor in the lift, waiting for the doors to shut. He wouldn’t go too far, you knew. He just liked to keep his distance where he deemed it necessary.

You could never work him out. He was so straightforward, yet so complex. Loki was a mystery unto his own right, and not one you were sure you wanted to unravel.

The first thing you noticed upon stepping into the bar was how quiet it was. You’d always seen at least ten people in there.

In the morning, there would always be someone sat in an armchair so large it seemed to envelope its user, quietly munching on a croissant oozing with jam. Couples, friends and business associates scattered across the terrace, sipping coffees and discussing their plans.

The evening brought guests in greater numbers to the bar. Husbands perched at the bar, swilling liquors in tumblers while they waited for their wives. Ladies in their finery, savouring cocktails and downing champagne.

The air was almost always thick with tobacco smoke and chatter. Almost everything went unnoticed, from the barstaff secretly pocketing cash to a clandestine chat between hidden lovers. It was the perfect place to hide in plain sight.

It was certainly unusual to see it completely and utterly empty. Your brow furrowed as your gaze swept the room, searching for even a single person. You never found them. Not even a single barman or concierge.

Weird, you thought. Definitely not right.

No Loki either. Also weird. He wouldn’t just leave without telling you. Perhaps you had just missed him on your way down and he was back in your room. Perhaps he could tell you where everyone was.

You turned on your heel, stepping back into the lift. It whirred into life, lifting off the ground with a loud thunk. You leaned against the wall, wondering what you would say to him when you saw him. You might even apologise.

Three strides covered the gap between the lift and the door. The unlocked door.

You had definitely locked it on your way out. And Loki wouldn’t leave it unlocked.

You reached under your skirt, freeing your handgun from its constraints. The feeling of it in your hand made you feel safe, as you racked it as silently as you could.

You slid the door open, your gun in your hand. If someone was in your room that wasn’t Loki, you’d blow their fucking brains out.

Somebody was sat on your bed. Someone who was, decidedly, not Loki.

They were broadly built, - broader so than Loki - with dark hair framing vividly green eyes.

If you did’t know any better, you would’ve killed him as you stood.

But you did, so, you fired three warning shots.

“Dios mia, nena.” Came the response. “You have not changed in the slightest.”

“Bela.” You breathed. “You are not here.”

“I am as real as you.” He smiled. “Mi querida.”

He stepped towards you, holding out a hand.

“You cannot be here.” You blinked at him. “You’re.. You’re..”

“Dead?” He grinned. “It seems I am not. Which you would know, of course, if you had stuck around long enough to find out.”

You rubbed your forehead, pushing past the man in front of you to sit on the edge of your bed. You needed a minute.

“How did you even get in here? Why are you here?” You felt a little dizzy. All was not well.

“I have my ways.” He replied. “And I’m not here to seek vengeance, avecita. Your life is quite safe.”

You glanced at him. It had been so long since you had seen his face. It was almost bittersweet.

“Why are you here, Bela?” You spat.

“I come only to bring a message.” He lifted his chin defiantly. “Senor De Amas requests your presence.”

Your heart felt as if it had come to a standstill. Everything felt as if it had paused. Your past had caught up with you. Every syllable of that wretched sentence, every cell in this man’s body was living proof of everything you’d done, everything you’d fought so hard so hard to escape from. You’d run so far, but every step had stretched your invisible bungee a little further. It should not have come as a shock to you that it would snap right back and bring you hurtling back with it.

“So what if he fucking does?” You replied. “He holds nothing over me.”

You leaned back nervously, unbuckling your shoes. You clutched them by the straps, bringing them up to your chest. Did he have anything over you? You weren’t sure, but you were trying your damndest not to show your uncertainty.

“Senor De Amas has a prize.” He shuffled uncomfortably, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “For you. He said it might capture your interest. Or rather, he might capture your interest.”

You sat back for a second, pondering what Bela had said. You knew this man, knew what he was like. A prize, you thought. What fucked up, twisted game would you have to play to win?

At what cost would you obtain your trophy?

“I’m not interested in his games.” You looked away, glancing at the window frame. You’d played these games many, many times before. In the end, nobody won, the variation being solely the scale of what you lost. For some, losing the game meant losing their life.

“You will be interested in this prize.” He called. “He went to great lengths to get it for you. Annoying lengths, you might say.”

You glanced over your shoulder. What did Bela say? That ‘he’ might interest you?

You did not care about people, and intentionally so. Caring about someone gave him leverage over you and jeopardised them. You did not keep the company of anyone you wouldn’t leave in thirty seconds if you felt the heat creeping up.

Or did you?

“Loki.” You whispered, turning to face Bela. “Where have you taken him?”

“I have taken him nowhere.” He raised his hands up in front of him, a gesture of defence. “The same could not be said for others.”

“Well, do what you like.” Your words burned your throat. “ I don’t care what happens to him.”

You would get Loki out some other way, you decided. You owed him that much. But you were no use to him if you were dead, you reasoned, and partaking in this morbid power play would likely find you both in an unmarked grave.

“If you look into your heart, I expect it will tell you that is not its truth.” Bela’s voice was soft. Soothing, even. “You forget how well I know you. I can tell when you are lying.”

You said nothing.

“If you will tell me that you do not care what happens to him, and you are telling me the truth, I will walk away from here and let you go.” He walked over to where you were sat on the bed, kneeling down so your eyes were roundabout level. “And I will pray that Senor De Amas is feeling merciful.”

You closed your eyes, considering your options. Would you get to Loki before he did? It was a risk you couldn’t chance.

“I’ll come with you.” You sighed. What choice did you really have? You couldn’t risk Loki’s life. After all, if he’d not gotten himself mixed up with you, he would be perfectly safe. (Authors’ Note: the fucking irony.)

Bela smiled brightly at you, a smile that unsettled you right down to the pit of your stomach. You took a moment to strap your shoes back on, a moment you were sure would be your last second of clarity - of sanity - for some time to come, if not for the rest of your life.

“He is annoying.” Bela mused as you rose to your feet, your ankles wobbling with anxiety in your heels.

“You’ve met him then.” You grumbled, walking over to him. You were trying to convey confidence, but you suspected you weren’t really fooling anyone.

“He talks too much.” He continued, holding an arm out for you to take. “Far, far too much. I see that you have this in common.”

“Fuck off, Bela.” You scowled, swatting his arm away. You would make your own way, no matter how wobbly you were in your heels. You did not need his help.

“You will never change, avecita.” Was all Bela responded with.

His laughter was all you heard, echoing through the corridor as you stepped out into it.

Good Lord, what had you gotten yourself into?

—

PS: I have not posted updates here in AGES. This is three chapters behind whoops

TAGLIST: @chxrryycola @the-middle-oldest-child @possessedjoker @amour-delicate @marvelouslyme96 @the-emo-asgardian @lokilvrr

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki smut #tom hiddleston x reader #loki imagine #tom hiddleston imagine #thor #dark loki #tom hiddleston smut

88 notes · View notes

zrtranscripts · 3 years

Text

Home Front, Mission 5: Peter’s Movie Nights (And Days)

Cinematic Masterpiece

[film projector runs]

PETER LYNNE: Hello, runners! Peter here, broadcasting from the gorgeous Princess Louise Theater, an independent cinema a few miles outside Abel. We're going to start working out in a minute, so whilst I'm talking, I suggest doing some light warm-up exercises. Jogging on the spot, stretching, anything that gets your heart rate up.

Right. So muggins here thought it'd be a brilliant idea to loot some cinema equipment for Abel movie night, but the moment I got here, the horde descended, so I've barricaded myself in the projection box and the auditorium is full of zoms. Although as long as there's a film playing, they're too fixated on the screen to come looking for me, but uh, I am trapped for the foreseeable. Still, I can think of worse ways to pass the time than watching The Fantastic Light Trip.

Do you remember this? The uh, sci-fi jukebox musical, came out a few years before the apocalypse. I know everyone made fun of it for having a totally nonsensical plot, but it ruled the box office for months! The Princess Louise actually hosted sing-along screenings, which um, even the zoms appear to like, clearly. Um, sorry. Anyway, uh, Janine thought it would help everyone who's in a similar state of stuckness if I used my impressive fitness experience to lead some Ministry-approved exercises, so let's start with a dance warm-up. Sam said if I plug this cable into – yep. [cable zaps] You should then be able to hear the music from the film when I press this button! Right. Get ready everyone, and dance!

[film projector runs]

PETER LYNNE: Well, that's not the first song I'd think of to soundtrack an inter-species dance-off, but yeah, I think it works. Er, kind of. I wanted us to watch the Fantastic Light Trip as a group. You cry with laughter at the Dance of the Seven Tentacles. You cry with, I mean, just cry at the ending. The song right before they go into hyperspace always gets me. I came to the cinema to bring people together and now everyone's apart. Except for the zombies, obviously. Well, they've got loads of company. Just because we're not in the same place doesn't mean we can't exercise together. We're a team, runners, even if we're far apart.

So now that we're all warmed up, let's do some jumping jacks. Right, you stand with your feet together and your arms by your sides. Then you jump, spreading your legs whilst you're in the air so that you land with them about shoulder-width apart. Now jump back to the starting position. Got that? Great. Now do it again, except this time, swing your arms up over your head at the same time as you spread your legs, then swing them back down as you bring your feet back to the center. Let's give that a go. Good job, runners! I assume. Let's keep it going.

If you're not able to jump right now, keeping your blood pumping with some dance moves is a great alternative. You could uh, walk from side to side instead of jumping, but keep up those arm movements and if you're the sort of person who likes a challenge, Janine, why not try spreading your arms and legs and moving them back to the center whilst you're still in the air? Right, now keep whatever you're doing up as long as you can whilst I turn the music back on for the next song.

[film projector runs]

PETER LYNNE: Nice work, runners! Tell you, you really jumped the hell out of those jacks. Oh, great, this is the feast scene. You know, where all of the um, the alien food starts singing. Um, I tell you what. Speaking of which, how's everyone eating? I know we've had to improvise ever since the apocalypse, but we have to be especially creative now. For example, I have several sacks of popcorn and, thank God, a jar of vitamins I happened to loot on my way here. Would be nice to have something green, but lately I’ve found it's healthier not to worry about having the perfect diet and instead just notice how the food makes me feel. And it turns out munching a little popcorn whilst watching a movie feels pretty damn good.

Still, it's gonna feel even better to kick back and relax after releasing some endorphins, so let's do 60 seconds of squats. Was that a band? Or have I just been indoors too long? Uh, anyway, right. Squats. So squats, they build your leg muscles, which is handy if you ever need to, uh, just thinking off the top of my head here, carry a popcorn machine up two flights of stairs. So start by placing your feet just wider than hip-width apart, toes pointing only slightly outwards. Now stretch your arms out in front of you. Look straight ahead so that will help you engage your core and maintain good form. So you now send your hips down and back until they're just lower than your knees, as if you're about to sit down in a chair, and raise yourself back up. Nice. That's it.

So we're going to do that for one minute, or as long as you can comfortably manage, that's fine, and that's going to start now! Excellent! I'm assuming you're all doing this great. Uh, probably need to just slow down. Don't get carried away. Right, we're 15 seconds down. So I want you to try to really sit into the squat, right? Don't lead with your knees, sit into it. Halfway there. Right. Remember to keep your thighs in line with your feet. Don't let your knees start pointing inward or go over your toes because you're gonna be feeling that burden now, it's gonna make you sloppy. Don't do it. Right, 15 seconds to go. Just try and breathe in time with the movements if you can. [loudly inhales and exhales] In, out. Keep on going, and we're done! Oh, perfect, this is the time for the space cadets to do their musical training montage. Right, you take a dance break, or if you're up to it, just keep on squatting. I think I had a T-shirt with that on for a while.

[film projector runs]

PETER LYNNE: Yeah, I'll admit it. Before the apocalypse, I was pretty proud of my body. And also after the apocalypse for a while. Some strange body things. I'll tell you about that later. Um, but lately I've learned that the best thing you can do for your body is actually just have a good relationship with it. You know, at the end of the day, it really is the only thing that will ever truly be yours. We runners, we can get quite utilitarian about our bodies, so if something stops us using it to get supplies such as an injury, or again, I'm just thinking off the top of my head, a horde of zombies, that can really get you down. But I'm here to tell you to be kind to your body, even if you can't do exactly what you want with it right now.

So why not start by giving it some exercise? This next move is the extremely nifty chair dip. So first, locate an armless chair. I'll just give you a couple of moments. Oh, there we go. Oh, that one looks great. So that-that should be a chair without arms. I wasn't saying a harmless chair, but I definitely would prioritize a harmless chair over a harmful one. Right, so now perch on the front edge of it, hands gripping the edges on either side of you. Lovely. So put your feet flat on the ground a little way in front of you and then you slide yourself down off the chair, lowering further down and then back up again, really using your arms.

Right, I'm going to believe that was a good job. So if that is too much or if you're worried about the flexibility in your shoulders, actually, punching the air is a genuine great upper body alternative. You do have to be careful not to fully extend or or lock your elbows, but whichever exercise you're doing, you are about to keep it up for as close to a minute as you can, starting any moment... now!

Excellent! Okay, again, don't get too over excited. We've got a whole minute to get through. Ease your way in, keep on breathing in and out. 15 seconds in. If you happen to want to make these chair dips more challenging, you can extend your legs further away so they're actually taking less of your weight. See? Makes it much harder than you thought, doesn't it? And we're halfway through! You really should be feeling that burn in your shoulders. Now that burn is what lets you know you're actually doing something. You're stretching yourself, pushing it. Keep on pushing it, but breathe! Nearly done, runners. Just 15 seconds left, in and out. Keep on going. You're almost at that finish line. You can see it, you can taste it, and time's up!

Nice work, everyone. And now you can reward yourself with a nice relaxing bop as the alien queen leads her subjects in their beautiful synchronized dance, or you could keep doing those chair dips if they're feeling particularly good.

[film projector runs]

PETER LYNNE: So The Fantastic Light Trip, it did get just terrible reviews when it came out, but I love that the marketing team like, genuinely leaned into that mockery and that's helped it become a cult classic. And you know, just like them, we've gotten used to making the best of things. You know, looking for the good in every situation. We're just gonna have to look a bit harder for a while. Here, for example, I've only got access to one tiny window and it's in the toilet. It's just big enough for me to stick my arm out and get some delicious vitamin D. And it just means I don't have to worry about SPF. [laughs] Oh, nice try, sun. No skin damage for me!

Course, not everyone's lucky enough to even have a tiny window, or a toilet for that matter. I'll tellyou what. If your situation feels overwhelming, which it might, sometimes the last thing you honestly want to do is exercise, so here's something I used to tell people who came into one of the gyms I was in when they were feeling low. Just concentrate on being in your body and the physical sensation of moving.

And with that in mind, let's raise our heart rates and our moods with some high knees. So we're going to march vigorously on the spot for one whole minute, just like those plucky space cadets out there. Aim to bring your knees to waist height with each step, and begin!

Yes, excellent! Although I did say waist height. No compromise, all the way up. Keep on going. 15 seconds down. Pump the arms, too. It's not all about the knees. There we go, the blood's pumping. Feel it! Halfway there, runners. Lift those knees like you're trying to impress your cadet leader, which in this context is me, and I'm not yet impressed! Keep on going, pushing it. Only 15 seconds left. Keep the core engaged, keep yourself upright, keep the breath and the blood flowing. Feel the energy! And we're done! Just in time for The Fantastic Light Trip’s romantic leads to do their, let's be honest, just gorgeous duet. So take a dance break, or if you're up to it, keep on marching.

[film projector runs]

PETER LYNNE: [sighs] I know, I know. It's a bit silly, since it is a romance between a wide-eyed space cadet and an exiled alien prince. But it's just, The Fantastic Light Trip, it's so sincere. We're never sincere, and you can't help but root for them. At least, I can't. You can't see, runners, but the whole cast is on screen now getting ready for the big finale. They're all smiling and yeah, actually, it reminds me of something else that I tried to tell people when I was leading classes. Did you know that studies show that if you smile while you exercise, it genuinely makes you feel better?

And listen, I know, I know. Really annoying when someone else tells you to smile. Boy, did I learn that the hard way with Janine. Won't be doing that again in a hurry. But it really is different if you're smiling for yourself. Just trust me and give it a try. I mean, the last song from The Fantastic Light Trip, it's so uplifting. We're gonna have a cool down dance to it. And while you're dancing, I just - you don't have to - I just encourage you to smile. Because you are here, and you are alive, and you deserve to feel good. And yes, you smile too, Janine, if you're listening. No one can see you, I promise.

[film projector runs]

PETER LYNNE: [sighs] And here we go. It's the uh, the part where the alien queen and the leader of the cadets, they finally agree to work together. So all that remains is uh, just to assemble the hyperdrive. Turns out all you need to end an intergalactic war is 20 rousing song and dance numbers. Need to remember to mention that to Janine the next time she's brainstorming our defense strategy.

See, it's now the whole cast and they're together and dancing onto the ship. And you know, they really did have that much fun doing it and, and they're arm in arm. Or well actually, to be fair, arm in tentacle. But then the hatch is closing. Blast off. [laughs] Oh, brava. Well, that raised the spirits! I suppose that's gonna be all from me for now, runners, because I'm gonna have to go find another film before the credits finish rolling and all the zoms start looking for something a little bit meatier to entertain themselves, i.e. moi. So until next time, look after yourselves please, and keep on smiling.

#zombies run #zr home front #zrhf5 #peter's movie nights (and days)#zr transcript

4 notes · View notes

dreams-of-valeria · 5 years

Note

F6 and A8 please need !!

A Christmas Chance

F6: Hopper dancing with his girl(s) in the living room

A8: Leaving town

Pairing: Jim Hopper x female reader

Warnings: Heavy themes about self-berating, low self-esteem, language.

A/N: Merry Christmas anon! It was very interesting to write this combo so thank you for that! And to be candid, the original ending wasn't very happy but since it's Christmas, miracles do happen. Hope you enjoy it!

P.S. It might have gotten a little too dramatic and philosophical so watch out for that.

Word count: 3,782

The floorboards creaked underneath their shuffling feet, smooth rock and roll in the air, and a thousand specks of light in their eyes.

You watched them from across the island counter as you sipped on the wine you'd left out the night before, as Hopper swayed El around in his arms in time with the song's beat. They were enveloped in the spirit of Christmas, warm lights and giddy excitement, as Hopper gave his adoptive daughter her first taste of the Holiday season, with a grand feast, gifts and a tree lighting, and just stepped it up a notch with an impromptu dance by the tree.

El giggled as she spun around, holding his hand as she lost herself to the music.

Even from that distance with the dim lighting and alcohol blurring your vision, you could see the bandage around her arm, and it was still stained red from that morning.

A hot lump formed in your throat, and you took a swig of wine, to ease it or make it worse, you didn't know. What you did know was that it was all your fault.

You had assumed that curse that followed you around like a black cloud had cleared when you left home, but after spending only 2 months in Hawkins, you realised it was ingrained into your substance, and there was no getting rid of it.

“Y/n!” El stumbled over to you in giggles, grasping the edge of the counter for support after twirling so much. She then held her injured arm out invitingly, and you could only stare.

It was no question El was an extremely brave and exceptional tween, and had defeated the monster that only showed up after you'd moved there. There had to be a connection. Your father lost his job the week you were born, you uncle got into that terrible car accident and although your mother made no shyness about blaming you for everything, you knew there was something dark festering in you, feeding off of everything joyous.

More recently, it had taken seed in this wonderful girl. You should never have let her out of your sight.

The bandage encircling her arm made your stomach churn, and brought tears to your eyes. But she smiled down at you a sweet smile, eyes bright and merry. She had not once even implied it was your fault, but you knew better.

“Come dance with us,” she staccatoed, pulling the dangling sleeve of Hopper's old shirt back up her wrist, only looking smaller. You swallowed the lump this time and managed a smile.

“I'm fine watching, sweetheart.” You wished to buy her clothes a girl her age would like, but it would have to be someone else.

“That's bullshit and you know it baby,” Hopper exhaled heavily, his face flushed from all the exercise. He took El's side and watched you with a cocked eyebrow.

“Hop!” El complained, staring up at him pointedly.

“What?”

“You said shit.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, hands raised in surrender before turning back to you. You realised you were smiling, like you often did at their conversations. They were heart warming, and you only liked to listen, without interfering. You were afraid of ruining things.

“Come on princess, let me take you for a spin,” he winked, resting his elbows down on the counter. El imitated his action, making you smile again.

“I'm dizzy enough, thank you,” you grinned, holding up your glass in explanation. The wine helped numb you. It was a good feeling.

“That'll just get the turkey drunk in your belly. Come on,” Hopper advanced towards you past dirty dishes from dinner that none of you cleared because Brenda Lee came calling.

“Jim, I'm fine watching, really--” You tried to reason with him, but you were no match for his strength, or his ability to turn you into a melting mess of feelings. That's what scared you the most.

You couldn't possibly fathom you could ever warm the heart of the big bad Chief of the west, certainly not enough for him to show up at the diner you worked night after night to buy you dinner at the end of your shift, but there he was. You figured he must be a true saint to put up with the likes of you, and only a month later, he had introduced you to his daughter no one else knew about, and suggested you moved in.

You took a raincheck on that offer, and let it float away entirely after whatever happened with the Lab. It was a brutal week of fighting and hiding, but it didn't matter that Hopper was smart as a whip and stayed ahead of the bad guys at all times. It didn't matter that El had superpowers. As long as you were around, trouble would always find them.

“Jim!” You gasped as he lifted you up into his arms bridal style, and you clutched onto him tightly until he dropped your feet down in the middle of the living room. Then, he stared down with those same bright eyes full of adoration as he grabbed your hand while the other closed around your waist, and you waltzed around to rock and roll like knuckleheads.

You chuckled at Jim singing all the wrong lyrics and took him in his all his glory. You watched his crows feet wrinkle everytime he smiled, the brilliant lights shining through his brown hair, and the scraggle of his beard speckled with grey and as he flashed you his trademark knee wobbling smile.

You knew he hadn't always been that way. He had suffered demons of his own, and had told you all about them only a month in. He said he felt like he had known you all his life, and that he could share anything with you. While you worked hard to share his sentiment, you couldn't get yourself to bare that part of your past. But you suspected he picked up on bits and pieces; your boyfriend was a very intelligent man.

You smiled at the word boyfriend. It made you feel like you were back in high school in the rat race up the social hierarchy ladder, or simply happy that you had a date to the dance.

But despite your obliviousness to the entire relationship, you knew deep down that what you had was concrete because of what you had gone through together. It bound you together, forcing you into his arms, and you were afraid you wouldn't have the strength to let go before you did any permanent damage.

You looked up at his face, now only a few inches away as the music changed, and he still had those soft eyes as he leaned down to peck your lips.

Only for a moment, you let yourself get overtaken with the emotion. Time was still. You were safe. You were in the arms of a man who risked his life for you. You were home.

“I love you,” Hopper whispered, and that was all it took to shatter the moment. Time unfroze again, and you no longer trusted yourself. You stumbled back out of his arms, looking between him and El as they watched you with concern.

“I just have to . . .” you panted, jerking your thumb over your shoulder at the bedroom before you excused yourself to the bathroom and locked the door behind you.

You gripped the sink and stared at yourself in the mirror, cheeks flushed and eyes frantic as you reasoned with yourself. It didn't matter that he said that. It was just one word. It didn't mean anything. It changed nothing. You had to leave.

You turned the tap open and splashed some cold water on your face, hoping to wash away any new ideas popping in your head. You couldn't entertain any of them right now. You had made up your mind already, and your packed bag sat behind the tree. You wouldn't back out. You couldn't.

Staying there wasn't worth bringing them trouble again.

“Y/n?” Hopper knocked on the door behind you, and for some reason, his voice made you burst into tears. You clamped a hand over your mouth as your sobbed quietly, tears running down your face and mixing into the water.

“You ok in there, baby?” He tried turning the knob but the lock stopped him. You took deep breaths and swallowed, laying a hand across your heart to calm yourself down.

“I'm fine!” You called, hoping the muffled reply across the door also concealed the crack in your voice. He would figure out something was up. But luckily, you were a good liar.

You wiped off any evidences that you'd been crying and splashed more water on your face before opening the door. Hopper was standing an inch outside the door as El hung off his shirt behind him, and it was clear he was trying to listen through the door. You had nothing to worry about because you had mastered the pitiable art of crying without any noise.

“I just felt a little sick that's all,” you waved your hand and made it out to be nothing, and quickly hurried El to bed before Hopper could ask the reason behind it.

You couldn't bear to look at him as he tucked El in, scheming whether to fake a headache so you could go to bed without any talking. And hopefully fall asleep before he spooned you. It was those times that made you question your decisions the most. You felt his gaze linger on your back a moment longer before he closed the door behind him, giving you some privacy. He always pushed for El to have more face time with you; he thought it could be exactly what she needed.

“Can I open my presents when I wake up?” El asked, and you found your eyes drifting to her arm again. This was who she was supposed to be, a kid whose biggest concern was what presents she would get. You smiled besides yourself and sat down next to her, brushing her hair.

“Of course.”

“Any time I wake up?” She asked, eyes lighting up again.

“As long as there's light outside, kiddo,” you tickled her side and heard her adorable giggles fill your ears. She stopped your hands by holding them in hers, and held that way.

Then, she fell quiet and fiddled with your fingers, staring at the wall behind you. You assumed she was thinking about asking you for a story, and you made it a point never to deny her that one luxury. She had missed 10 years of story telling in that torture chamber, and you were hell-bent on catching her up. Even if she was 15 already.

“Y/n?” She looked at you, eyes all guarded suddenly.

“Hm?”

“Don't go,” she whispered, momentarily gripping your hands tighter. Your breath caught in your throat, and you glanced at where she held you. Could it be she knew?

“Stay until I sleep,” she pleaded, and your shoulders shrunk in relief. You flashed her a smile and nodded, getting into bed next to her. El made room for you and then rest her head in the crook of your neck as you pulled the blankets over you, kissing her hair.

You brushed it gently as she breathed into your neck, wishing you sweet dreams.

You stared at the wall behind her.

If only that were possible.

Ever since the incident, your dreams were haunted by terrible memories and possibilities that could have ensued had it not been for a few lucky moments. Your nerves were wracked from thinking about how you could have lost both of them, in a matter of seconds.

That was when you knew you would rather they be safe than with you. The pain of them getting hurt would be much too profound than leaving them. You would learn to move on.

You sighed and pulled El closer as she breathed in soft snores. You never should have got involved in the first place. Damn Hopper and his kisses.

Like on cue, the door creaked open and his heavy footsteps followed. You closed your eyes and deepened your breath on purpose. Hopper could always tell if you were faking it. You suppressed the urge to blush at that and froze.

“Y/n?” He called softly, and you stayed quiet. You couldn't handle confrontation in such a delicate state. You would break and he would fix you. You didn't want him to. You didn't deserve him.

“You awake?” He whispered behind you, and you heard him get down to his knees. Your heart thud at the proximity, and hoped it didn't show.

“If you can hear me,” he whispered right next to your ear, knowing what that did to you. But you commanded your body not to recoil, even as his beard brushed against your shell. “I meant what I said.”

You nearly broke your stance. It sounded like he was building up to an apology about how it meant nothing and that he knew your relationship wasn't ready for it, but then he goes and does that.

“I love you, Y/n. I've loved you since the moment I laid my eyes on you. And I haven't stopped.”

You realised you had stopped breathing, awaiting his next words.

“It's alright if you don't say anything right now. I'm not going anywhere, baby,” he sighed and kissed the nape of your neck this time. You back tingled but you didn't move.

“Anyway, good night. I'll see you in the morning,” he got to his feet and laid a final kiss to your temple.

You couldn't close your eyes after that, fearful that you would fall asleep and that you would have to stay. You had to leave before Christmas, the busiest day of the year when Hopper would be busy with other work and couldn't go looking for you. Besides, you had to leave before they opened the letter you had written to them, explaining your sudden departure.

You tossed around in bed for the better part of the next couple of hours, making sure not to wake El. That was not a face you had the strength to deny. You watched her clock inch closer and closer to 2 am, and that would be when you would make your exit.

It was the time you woke up from your nightmares anyway and Hopper would be fast asleep, so it was perfect. You unwillingly watched the seconds hand tick closer to the minutes hand as it crossd the 12, wishing you'd had more time.

You stopped that train of thought before it lead to surrender-your-plans town, and slowly slipped out of bed, tucking El in again. You certainly would miss that. You would miss telling her about the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, you would miss her using her powers to sneak Eggos into her room late at night. The first night you'd spent at the cabin was terrifying because you had just gone into the kitchen for a glass of water and saw the cardboard box float past your head.

You chuckled softly at the memory, amazed that you had so many from only 8 weeks of knowing them. This had always been the plan for you; to settle down and have kids with someone you loved. You had always envisioned a white picket fence and a lush backyard, as time went on endlessly in the company of your family.

But in the real world, dreams didn't come true. Only nightmares did.

You sighed and left El with a lingering kiss, slipping past the door into the kitchen, pretending to get yourself a glass of water as you passed his room. You peeked past the curtain as you sipped from the glass, and saw his form across the bed.

But you couldn't get yourself to approach him, to kiss him one last time. Your fear of waking him outweighed your romantic fulfillment, and you had the sudden urge to cry again.

But you nipped that in the bud and threw your parka and snow boots on, grabbing the keys off the rack. Maybe you would try again after you grabbed your bag.

You crouched to your knees and felt around behind the tree, hoping for your hand to encounter the rough fabric of your duffel bag, the same one you had arrived into town with, but all it met was cold air. Your brows wrinkled as you moved the tree and stilled at the empty space illuminated by the fairy lights.

“You trying to skip town?”

You gasped and jerked, falling to the floor and scrambling to get to your feet. Your heart thud in your ears as your eyes frantically searched the dark, and found Hopper sitting on the couch by your duffel bag.

“God, you scared me,” you sighed, clutching your heart to calm down. But his face was unsettling. Streaks of agony flicked across his countenance, like the ones you'd seen shadow his face when you thought you'd lost El. More reason for you to leave.

“You know what scares me, y/n?” He asked, setting a sheet of paper down on the bag and standing to his feet. You recognised the paper immediately, and the shredded wrapping paper beside it.

The jig was up. He knew everything.

This was the exact situation you didn't want to walk into.

You stayed impassive as he approached you, towering above you with eyes of heartbreak.

“That you think you're a . . . burden to me,” he struggled to say the word, like he couldn't believe it. His form shrunk as he was overtaken by the hurt, which was exactly what you didn't want for him.

“Jim, listen to me. It's not your fault.” You let him know, but he chuckled without humor, swiping his finger under his eye. He was crying. This was another thing you didn't want.

“Are you sure? Because I must've made you feel guilty for what happened at some time.”

“You haven't,” you assured him, wanting to reach out and touch him, to comfort him, but it was not your place anymore. In your head, he was your past already.

“I just . . . don't want to bring you any more trouble,” you strained and ducked your head down, staring at his feet. The tears fell one after another, in the space between his feet and yours. Hopper stayed quiet and immobile for a long time, before he sighed and moved away, giving you the inoculum to look up.

“Then I won't stop you,” he shrugged, cheeks and nose red. And it wasn't the cold this time. You were puzzled by him for a moment, and your heart nearly shattered. As much as you spoke about getting over him, you expected a bigger fight had he known you were leaving.

“If you believe that somehow you were responsible for everything bad that happened to us, leave,” he taunted, handing you the duffel bag. You could feel your insides come apart at the seams.

“But,” Hopper sighed, shifting his weight so his eyes looked directly into yours. “Let me remind you that you are the reason I don't feel lonely anymore. You give me faith that I can do this. That El finally has a shot at a family. That after everything that happened with-with . . . Sarah, I could finally have a fresh start. With El. And with you.”

You stared at him as more tears fell, this time from disbelief.

“But if you're only gonna blame yourself for the bad parts, I can't let you leave, Y/n.” He sniffled, shifting again. “I used to feel like you too, you know? I used to feel like this . . . black hole that sucked everything good and left destruction in my wake. But after El, after you, I don't feel empty anymore, Y/n. For the first time in a long time, I feel complete. A family is everything I could have ever asked for, and now I have another shot at it. So does El. So do you. It's a second chance for all of us, baby.” he sighed again, and moved to lean against the island counter. Your eyes followed every one of his movements, his words giving you strength.

“All I'm saying is, give me a chance.” Hopper shrugged and watched you, awaiting your move. It took you a few seconds to unlock from that position his monologue had captured you in. You had seen this coming, in the event that you'd been caught. You promised yourself you would stay true to yourself and the decision you had made in everyone's interest.

You had to leave.

With the rest of your poor resolve, you dragged yourself over to the couch and slung the heavy bag over you shoulder, bracing yourself for the cold outside that door. It was for everyone's best.

Right?

You looked over your shoulder at Hopper, and your stomach clenched at how devastated he looked. But in his weary eyes and trembling lips, you could see how much you meant to him, and that he really believed everything he said.

You lay your foot forward towards the door, turning away the thoughts of a choice. You were at a crossroads.

But every step you took away from him made your insides shrink lower and lower, almost as if they were pooling together to keep you grounded. This was wrong, you could feel it.

But how could something right feel so wrong?

You glanced once more at him, and at El's door. And then suddenly, something inside you snapped.

You couldn't explain it. It was like a band of constriction around your chest had finally given way, and you could suddenly see clearly.

“Will you promise to give me a chance too?”

Hopper jerked his head up to you, like he wasn't expecting anything other than the closing of a door. And then he listened, really listened to your words.

And then he crossed the room in two long strides and took your face in his hands, and met your lips with his.

It might as well have been the first time you'd met, when you'd agreed to go out with him, and he'd captured you in a kiss that would seal your future. You knew better than to question the way things worked. And if you were the cause for all things bad, you would fight it. As a family.

In the end, maybe you didn't get your picket fence, but you got something much more valuable.

#jim hopper imagine #hopper x reader #chief hopper x reader #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper #hopper thirst #hopper x you #jim hopper thirst #hopper fanfic #el hopper #hopper x oc #stranger things #david harbour #fanfiction #christmas writing prompts #christmas

85 notes · View notes

a-song-of-quill-and-feather · 4 years

Text

I was bored on a flight and got to thinking of @papergirlverse‘s Nymeria and the crossover ideas about her and Jon in a The Other Stark Girl au and so I started writing about Jon’s first tourney and his crowning of Nymeria as the Queen of Love and Beauty, and well here it is (hope I did Nymeria justice, if not I apologize in advance):

Jon was nervous.

Not that he’d actually admit to most of those around him that he was. But he was.

It was his first tourney that he was allowed to compete in. His first joust.

Not to mention that Nymeria was here.

Rickard and Joanna both had spent most of the weeks prior teasing him over it when the letter arrived telling them that Nymeria would be riding north from Dorne with her uncle and cousins to attend the tourney in the Westerlands. If his mother hadn’t stopped him he’d likely have locked the pair of them in the mines of the Rock for the whole time, if only to keep them from their teasing.

In his defense he has not seen her in nearing two years. Not since he and his mother visited Sunspear when he was fourteen.

As he readies his horse and runs through all the things he’s learned in his practicing he tries not to recall that the last time he saw her she’d kissed him the night before he’d left, the taste of the dornish wine they’d snuck off with on both their tongues.

No, if he thinks about that then he’s most certainly going to lose his concentration and not win.

And he wants to win. More than anything, he wants to win.

Of course, not purely because of the fact that if he wins he’ll have the option of handing her the wreath of flowers like he’s seen his father do so often for his mother.

Gods, he thinks his hands stilling upon his horses neck, he has to win.

“If you stress too much, you are aware that your horse will too,” his father’s voice makes him jump and turn to see him leaning against the post of the Lannister tent he was readying by. “And then you’re sure to be thrown, especially with the one you chose.”

“He’s the most agile, and the fastest,” Jon defends, brushing another hand down the chargers side.

“And the most skittish of the Rocks stables,” Jaime moves forward towards Jon.

“I’ve been practicing on him,” Jon defends further with a huff, “and he’s my best chance.”

His father eyes him over, before giving a careless shrug. “Only if you don’t go crazed with nerves.”

“I’m not…”

“I may not be as observant as your mother,” Jaime interrupts, “but it’s quite clear that you are.” Jon frowns, “is it because of the Martell girl? You have little to worry about, the betrothal’s been decided upon for years.”

“I…” Jon starts but frowns, this wasn’t the sort of thing he typically talked about. Especially with his father. But he didn’t know how much he wished to talk to his mother about it, and he has an acute feeling that if he doesn’t talk about it here, Jaime will go to Alys and then he’ll have to. “It’s not simple like that. I don’t want her to marry me just because we’re betrothed.”

“Most wedded couples in the Seven Kingdoms marry for that reason alone,” Jaime offers.

“You and mother didn’t,” Jon sighs, “seven hells, you and mother had me before you even wed. Because you cared for one another, not because you were bound to each other.”

Jaime tilted his head, looking away a second before nodding and sighing. “Yes, we wed for rare reasoning. We were lucky that way,” he looks back to Jon. “But plenty of people find love in their betrothals, look at your sickening uncle and his wife. She was betrothed to his brother before, and still the pair of them found love.”

“And look at the Hand and his marriage,” Jon counters, “or the king and aunt Cersei.” Jaime frowns. “I don’t want a marriage that is tolerated, or gods forbid unhappy.”

“Do you think the Martell girl hates you?” Jaime asks after a few moments. “Or do you hate her? If so you have little to worry over, your mother is determined to not force you or your siblings into unpleasant marriages. All you need do is tell us and we’ll find some other match, the Tyrell girl your sister has been writing with is of age with you.”

“No,” Jon says quick. “I… I don’t want to break the betrothal.”

“Than why all the worry?” Jaime laughs.

“I want to impress her.” He groans, “and I want to win, and show her that I’m worthy of her hand.”

“Then win,” Jaime says with a shrug and smirk. “Simple as that.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Jon frowns again.

“No it isn’t,” Jaime reaches and settles his hands on Jon’s shoulders. “Do you believe yourself skilled enough?”

“Yes,” Jon answered, because he did. But whether that meant he would win, was another thing.

His father seemed to believe so because he nodded, “Do you want to win?”

“I already said I did.”

“Then you have the skill, and the motivation.” Jaime squeezed his shoulders, “don’t worry over things that don’t matter, especially not while on your horse and facing your opponent. Focus only on what’s in front of you.”

Jon met his fathers eyes, green boring into grey, and nodded.

“Then you can’t lose.” Jaime released him, and stepped back. “Now I must assure your mother that you’re fine before she comes back here herself.” He starts towards the stands to join the audience.

“Thank you,” Jon calls. Jaime raises a hand and waves himself away.

The relief, and joy, is palpable in Jon when he holds out the wreath of flowers to Nymeria where she sits between his mother and her uncle. She eyes him, dark brown eyes meeting dark grey, before a teasing smile graces her lips and she takes the crown with a tilt of her head.

He rides off the grounds then, his heart hammering and nerves on edge for entirely different reasons than the beginning of the day.

He doesn’t get to see her until the feast, having to wash and change his clothes after getting out of his armor.

But when he does see her, it’s with the music and the laughter of the tourney guests all around and she’s wearing the wreath upon her dark hair. One of her cousins is beside her, and messes with the crown a second before Nymeria swats her hand away with a glare that Jon is sure is venomous before she readjusts it upon her head.

“Here,” Joanna comes before him, blocking his view and holding up a goblet of wine. “For courage, though from your performance today you have little reason to be nervous.”

Jon frowns at his sister, “Father told you.”

“No,” Joanna rolls her eyes, “I’m just brilliant, and I know my brothers.” She turns, glancing towards Nymeria herself, “when you returned from Dorne you kept fiddling with the dagger she gave you. And when her first letter came your eyes went all soft and sweet, like father when he looks at mother.” Joanna smiles, a mix of kindness and pride at her apparent knowledge.

Not that she was wrong, so Jon supposes she has reason for pride.

“How I feel has little meaning if she does not feel the same,” Jon replies, glumly enough that Joanna smacks the back of his head as she often does when one of her brothers says something she disapproves of.

“She puts up a hard to read face, but when she put that crown on she glowed.” Joanna informs, him, “and she didn’t take her eyes off you once through the whole tournament.”

“Yeah?” Jon asks, looking again to Nymeria who laughs with her cousins.

“Yes, have I ever lied to you.”

“Plenty,” Jon replies looking back to his younger sister.

“When it matters, I mean,” Joanna states with a glare. “She cares for you, trust me.”

“Either way,” Rickards voice joins them, as their brother steps up between them a smirk to his own lips, “you should head over there before she thinks you’re avoiding her.”

“Go on,” Joanna pushes Jon along, “ask her to dance, mother always loves when father asks her to dance.”

Jon nods, taking a strong drink from his wine as he makes his way through the tables towards Nymeria. She spots him coming, and looks up at him from where she sits, eyeing him up and down with a smirk as he greeted her and her cousins. “Would you like to dance?” He asks, holding his hand for her.

“Yes,” she nods taking it, “I suppose I should, since you gave me this nice crown.”

“Well, you are a princess.”

“Now a queen,” she tilts her head and the crown towards him. “I hope you’ll behave accordingly.”

“With the utmost respect,” he replies as they join the other dancers on the floor.

“Not too much I hope,” she teases, pulling him just the slightest bit closer as they move.

He knows he probably blushes just a bit, especially when her grin turns even more teasing. So he clears his throat a second before recalling what his father had said: focus on what’s in front of him. Perhaps that applies to more than just the joust.

They dance for a bit, trading quips back and forth, and thankfully Jon doesn’t embarrass himself too much. Eventually though he pulls her from the dancing, and they make their way back outside, to the cool night air with a bottle of arbor gold stolen from a server as they went.

“You did well.” She offers, after uncorking the bottle and taking a sip.

“I hope so,” he takes the bottle from her hand when she offers it. “Considering I won.”

“Yes, well,” she shrugs and glances to him, the familiar look of playfulness there that he’d grown fond of during his visit two years back. “I was paying you a compliment, typically one says thank you.”

“Thank you, my princess,” he bows lowly, a teasing grin playing at his own face. He doesn’t know why he worried, it felt like little time had passed since his visit. The pair of them returning to the same carefree teasing that had defined their relationship in Sunspear.

“Ah, ah, ah.” She wags a finger at him, a playful glint to her eyes, “queen, remember.” She motions to the wreath upon her head.

“Of course,” he laughs, bowing once more in playful apology. “My apologies, my queen.”

She laughs, and he staggers a bit as she shoves his shoulder lightly. She looks him over as he takes a sip from the bottle. “You still have the dagger,” she notes, nodding down to where it rests strapped on his waist.

“Of course,” he says, a hand dropping to its intricately carved bone hilt. “You gave it to me, and… well I liked having it with me.”

Nymeria steps closer, “because of me?” She inquires, lips curved in a smirk.

“Yes,” he states, because it was the truth. He liked having it with him, because when he missed her all he need do was reach to his side and feel the dagger there. She steps closer again but it’s him that reaches forward, the wine bottle forgotten and dropping to the grass as he brushes a bit of hair back from her face. His fingers just barely gracing along the petals in her crown. “Meira, I— I’m glad.”

“About what?” she asks, her eyes dark and searching his.

“That you are here now. That I could give you that crown.” He says, low and quiet but they were close enough together that he could feel her breath on him. “That we’re betrothed.”

And she smiles, and Jon feels all the worry of whether she cared for him like he did that he had been wrestling with since he knew he would see her begin to fall away like the leaves of the weirwood in Winterfell.

She opens her mouth to speak but he’s already leant in, capturing it with his. She’d kissed him in Sunspear, and they’d been far drunker then. Now it was him, pulling her to him and pressing his lips to hers. There was no taste of dornish wine, but instead the taste of the arbor gold they’d been sipping from.

He pulls back after a few moments, breath heavy and torn between wanting to kiss her more or just look at her.

Nymeria makes the decision, as not even a moment later she’s reaching up and pulling him to her by the neck of his shirt. Bringing his lips back to her in a kiss far more intoxicating than any arbor gold or dornish red could ever be.

And with that, the last of Jons nerves disappear from him.

#oc: nymeria martell #other peoples ocs #jon snow x nymeria martell #crossover au #my writing #drabble #the other stark girl au

4 notes · View notes

seekingseven · 4 years

Text

The Most Sincere Kind of Lie (Ch3)

Chapter 3 of my Linked Universe fanfic! Also available to read here on AO3 :D

┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┑

The pink pads of Legend’s fingertips reverently brushed the mirror’s handle, running themselves over the tiny engravings and elegant handiwork. Under the sparse moonlight he could barely make out the ridges and bumps of carefully-etched Sheikah symbols on the mirror's rim. The Sheikah magic in the Lens of Truth must have been very strong, then, for it to persist even during fusion. Even now, he could feel the lens' dark magic intermingling with the cascade of light magic the Magic Mirror had always contained. But the enchanted aura of this artifact was much less stable than either of its constituents: intense, dark, and almost uncouthly passionate. While the Lens of Truth had a certain, smug mysteriousness about it, and the Magic Mirror had a quiet, enigmatic confidence, this artifact...

This was something entirely different.

His hands hovered over the mirror's surface and his own pale, angular face stared back at him. With a start, he noticed the delicate web of capillaries that pulsed against his sclera and the split, dirty ends of his bangs -- he needed a good nap and a good shower more than anything else right now.

Of course, that wasn't going to happen. Not when Hylia had decided to pity his ravaging, insatiable curiosity by giving it something to feast off of. Legend turned the mirror over in his hand, wondering what exactly this...thing...could do. It didn't have a name, not that he could tell, and when the realization dawned on him that he got to name it himself, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Well, it would be easier to name the artifact once he knew what it did. He was no fan of obscure, enigmatic names as the other heros were, so it shouldn’t be difficult. Time could keep his "Golden Gauntlets" and "Lens of Truth." To Legend, simple names like "Magic Mirror" and "Magic Cape" were far superior. The veteran flipped the artifact back over. The mirror’s glass was an odd, shimmering shade of gold, almost like it had been coated by liquid yellow diamonds before placement into the rim. The longer Legend stared at it, the brighter it got.

Perhaps it was a portal? What was it that the Wise Man had said earlier, about what the hypothetical-turned-real artifact could do? Something about a dimension between dimensions. He nodded to himself. It would make sense, this artifact seemed hungry enough to bend space and time itself.

For a second, Legend wondered if it was actually a good idea to be fiddling around with this thing. He instantly brushed the thought away.

He'd been messing with reality, space, time, and the fate of a kingdom his entire life. This would be nothing for the Hero of Legend.

Really, what's the worst that could happen?

Legend stared at the mirror's golden glass with redoubled intensity. This always worked with the Magic Mirror; just looking into it long enough would be enough to suck him into the Dark World. That didn't seem to be the case with whatever-this-was. And it couldn't have the same functionality as the Lens of Truth, if only for the simple reason that it wasn't a lens. Legend settled backwards on the cushions. He flinched as Hyrule muttered softly in his sleep and shifted closer towards him, reaching out a callused hand for the frayed corner of Legend’s tunic.

The veteran hero subconsciously flicked the hand away and got to his feet. Perhaps if the Wise Man was still awake they could figure this out together. Eyes still trained on the mystery mirror, Legend began to pick his way across the room. The moonlight was bright enough to ensure he wasn’t stumbling around blindly, but too dim to give him any confidence that he wouldn’t trip over a stray bag or bedpost.

He gave the mirror a half-hearted, throwaway glance.

His eyelids opened so wide that the muscles underneath them strained.

The mirror's glass was no longer golden, instead, it was a dull, obsidian black. The metal around it boiled with magic and shook temperamentally under his grasp: insistent, demanding, impatient.

Blue eyes flitted around the silent room, trying to find the source of the disturbance. Something had provoked the mirror's tantrum. There was no competing magical aura in the room, aside from the petulant shivering and hissing of the artifact in his hands, so it couldn’t be that. And there weren’t any monsters nearby -- Hyrule had assured them that Ganon’s lackeys never traveled this close to civilization. His eyebrows cinched as his chin fell to his chest. What could it be? He let the artifact drop to his side.

He nearly screamed when the metal flared and burned his skin.

It wanted something.

Whatever this thing was, it wanted something, and it wanted it NOW.

The smell of charred flesh filled Legend's nostrils. He pointedly ignored the melted strings of his skin clinging to the metal, thankful for his incredibly high pain tolerance, and looked around for an object he'd never seen. What did this thing want? What did it--

His eyes alighted on Wind's sleeping form. The artifact in his hand cooled in recognition of his epiphany, almost as if to apologize for its earlier outburst, and all but pulled Legend towards the sleeping boy. Legend crouched down to get a closer look. A halo of bright hair swept across the flat bridge of Wind's nose and cheeks, fluttering in the rouge breeze. The undersides of his fingernails were still crusted with the retributionary cream he'd smeared on Hyrule earlier that night, and a sweet, content smile tickled the pale skin of his lips.

Legend's soul revolted within himself.

He would rather have his entire arm burned off than sacrifice a child to...whatever this was.

A rusty voice spoke up in the back of his mind and cut off his thoughts.

"Do you wish to see this Hero through his own eyes?”

The artifact. It had almost the same reverberating voice as the Master Sword, albeit cracked and somber from millenia of disuse.

He said nothing. He thought nothing. The artifact repeated its question.

“Do you wish to see this Hero through his own eyes?”

Oh.

The mirror didn’t want to hurt Wind. The mirror didn’t want to hurt anyone. It just wanted to show Legend a vision of each hero ‘ through their own eyes.’ Legend's eyes widened greedily. A thousand questions effervesced to the tip of his tongue. He bit them back. Magical artifacts weren't known for their straightforwardness or conversationality, and besides, he was growing impatient.

The artifact asked its question for the third time.

Legend nodded.

The world turned white. The ground beneath his feet tore itself away, and the terrifying lightnessness that came with nighttime terrors of falling shook his entire body. Reality spun and spilled around him, sloughing away in brilliant, iridescent shards as his consciousness was ripped away and ejected into another dimension.

He woke up in a room with no sound and no light and no air. The only thing he knew was that he was choking, he was drowning, that the darkness had forced its way up his nostrils and into the back of his mouth. Tastebuds he didn't know he had revolted at the bitter taste of ash, and he coughed pathetically. Slowly, he got to his feet, almost smiling at the sight of his bare feet and the brown, itchy cloth of his pajama pants beneath him. The mirror had been kind enough to let him keep not only his consciousness, but body as well.

In most situations, that was a good thing.

He decided he would interpret it as such.

Legend's legs started moving, towards what and for what neither him nor his appendages could fathom. The black eventually melted into blue; the crisp, clean smell of sea and salt and sand carried on a breeze of unknown and unknowable origin. With nothing else to do, the hero kept walking, marveling as the world took form around him. The ground beneath him became water -- water he walked on as if he was a son of a goddess -- and a distant, sandy hill came into view. A tall silhouette stood on the hill's highest crest, face and form indecipherable from the distance between them.

High, shrill notes of a pan flute floated by Legend's pointed ears. They were cheerful and lilting, accompanied by the rapid bristle of a guitar, and melted in the airless atmosphere as soon as they were born. The figure in distance finally came into view as the music and lapping waves reached a crescendo.

Wind.

It was Wind, but taller, stronger, prouder. An emerald tunic strained against the tight muscles of his chest and pinched the bones of his slender hips, skirting around sinewy thighs. A long, droopy cap fluttered genialy in the breeze behind him and waved mischievously at the dumbfounded Legend. There was a cool confidence in his shoulders; despite the fact that they were bundled with sheets of strong, stringy muscles, they were relaxed and easy. Two hands, broad and smooth, rested on the purple hilt of the Master Sword. His hair was an almost neon yellow, bleached from the sun and glossy with health. Wind's lips were set into a blashempously calm smile. His dark, cunning eyes stared straight through Legend, as if the veteran hero was nothing more than a ghost.

The mirror's harsh, rusted words came to mind.

“Do you wish to see this Hero through his own eyes?”

Legend's eyes pricked upwards and a subdued thoughtfulness settled onto his shoulders. Of course. Of course. This made so much more sense than it was supposed to. This was who Wind saw himself as, the hero Wind knew himself to be: confident, proud, and strong. This was the Wind he tried so hard to communicate to the others, only to have his hair ruffled and be dubbed the group's collective "little brother." Legend took a tentative step forward, relaxing imperceptibly when the movement went seemingly unregistered by pseudo-Wind, and reached out towards the smiling ghost.

The vision started to crack, first browning around the corners and then shattering from the center. Legend swallowed a scream and stared hard at the ghost as his consciousness roiled within him. He bit back the urge to resist the pull of reality when a flash of recognition skirted across the ghost's dark eyes.

Light.

Dark.

Sea.

Wood.

Legend's body crashed onto the room's wooden floor. The overpowering stench of smouldering skin and stomach acid smacked him upside the head, and every muscle in his body contracted at once. He breathed in deeply, greedily swallowing the air, and turned over on his back. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Wind's sleeping form -- just as small and precious as ever. He instinctively checked his magic reserves. They hadn’t even been touched. As his vision began to clear and the fear subsided, a familiar fire burned at the back of his head.

This mirror.

This portal.

The tiny muscles lacing his knuckles moved on their own accord, grabbing the mirror that laid next to him and drawing it close to his face. His breathing slowed. His mind raced. This mirror. This portal. This...

To just say it was amazing would have been the epitome of an anticlimax, but the veteran's mind could think of no other word. This thing was a portal to a dimension between dimensions, a harbinger of visions both true and false, a witness to the most sincere kind of lies...and it laid in the palm of his hands. The mirror had answers to questions he didn’t know he had.

A curious, hungry lust burned in his chest. Answers. Answers. That's what he wanted. That's all he wanted. That's what the mirror wanted to give. He pushed himself to his feet. The mirror sat coldly in his hands. Its glass was golden again. He made his way across the room, legs heading towards the bed but mind racing for a reason to stay awake. Maybe the mirror still had something to give? It had to, it hadn’t unfused into its components yet. He had to stay awake. He had to see. Legend stared at the golden glass, silently hoping for it to turn ashy once more and invite him back inside.

The mirror was silent. It didn't burn, shiver, or shake, instead dangled from the tips of his burned fingers with resistance and resolution comparable to that of a dead man. Was it tired? Perhaps it had drawn on its own magic reserve. The Wise Man had said that these fusion artifacts were unstable and temporary, so maybe the magical aura was settling down before splitting back up. The warped, melted flesh of his palms nuzzled against the mirror's cool handle. He would have to heal that before anyone noticed, but all his healing potions were downstairs. His brows furrowed as Legend made his way back to the bed where Sky and Hyrule were sleeping. The two had shifted around so much in their sleep that there wasn’t any room for him now, but that wasn’t really an issue. His mind mulled over the issue that was, quite literally, at hand. He needed to either heal the burn or have a story for it -- and if he wasn't in the mood for interrogation now, he wouldn't be in the morning.

Time let out a massive, wet snore that nearly ripped Legend out of his skin. The veteran hero, surprised and unstable on his feet, toppled backwards onto the bed Hyrule and Sky were sleeping on. His bones banged against theirs, but, miraculously, neither of them woke up. Legend shifted uncomfortably between the two sleeping heros and pulled the mirror out from under him. Some of the cream smeared on Hyrule's face and hands had rubbed off on the side of the bed where Legend was supposed to be sleeping (not a big deal, in all honesty, he knew he wasn't sleeping tonight) and a vial of red potion dangled from his belt. Most likely, the traveler had forgotten to leave it downstairs. How beautifully convenient! Legend unclipped it softly and took a swing of the drink, smiling as the blistered, burgundy skin on his hand cooled and healed. Hyrule wouldn't be mad, he thought as he clipped the potion back to the traveler's belt, and he would make sure to pay back the traveler the next day. Legend's fingers curled idly around the mirror's handle and he brought it to his face to check that the red potion hadn't left a crimson scrim on his upper lip.

Legend was confused for only a split second, then he gasped.

The glass was pitch black.

It was still awake, and it had something to show him.

Legend grinned, previous preoccupations completely forgotten, and inched closer towards Hyrule. The mirror began to clear, almost turning golden once again, and Legend scooted backwards. Okay, it was clear the mirror had no interest in Hyrule. Vertebrae in his back popped as he twisted around, and Legend panned the mirror over Sky's sleeping face. The last vestiges of gold on the mirror's glass were instantly replaced by crashing, boiling waves of black.

"Do you wish to see this Hero through his own eyes?”

"Yes," he heard himself whisper. There was no hesitance in his voice this time.

The world seized once again, shattering around the edges and sending thin, spidery cracks across his vision. Darkness pooled between the fragments, oozing between small shards of reality and swallowing them whole. The floor was gone, the air was gone, his mind and emotions and pale, sleep-deprived body were sent hurling through a bridge between worlds.

He didn't need to catch himself this time. With a soft thump, his feet hit the floor, and his mouth was assaulted by the taste of metal and snow. The slippery taste clung to his tongue, and Legend ran the back of his hand over it in an attempt to wipe the tang away. It only grew stronger. Oh well, so be it. It didn’t matter. Anyway, there was no need to stand here. He knew how this thing worked. Nothing was going to get done if he stood here and lamented the odd taste in his mouth or the very, very bad feeling in his chest.

Legend didn't walk this time, he ran, he sprinted down the airless, soundless, lightless corridor. The world created itself as he moved, replacing black with white, the vacuum with whispers of music, the emptiness with the crisp, clean scent of air never breathed in before.

Cool, gentle, white fingers combed through his hair, and Legend noticed with a start that he was quite literally walking through clouds. He sent a tentative glance to the endless expanse of blue underneath his feet and praised the mirror for forgetting to introduce gravity to this fever dream. There was no ground beneath him, and he walked on the surface of the sky with ease.

The quavering soprano of a harp threaded its way through the silence, careful and slow. No other instruments accompanied it except the hushed singing of a child, the heavy smell of heartache thick in each note. It sounded almost familiar, like a hymn reversed or a favorite childhood lullaby played backwards, and Legend's thrumming heart slowed. He started walking faster, refusing to let himself melt into the music. He was here to meet someone, not to listen to pretty harp music. Clouds stared curiously at the hero as he ran through their wet bosoms, and Legend blinked away the dewey residue they left on his eyelashes. Up ahead, he could make out a figure standing sleepily on a small, grassy hill.

He didn't need to be told that this was the pseudo-Sky he'd come here to meet. The Sky saw himself as. Frankly, Legend wasn’t expecting much. Sky had always struck him as a pretty well-put together guy, and the veteran’s mind was already thinking of which of his other incarnations might offer a more interesting vision.Legend’s legs carried him towards the distant figure regardless, and his burning curiosity propelled him forward each step. As he approached, the clouds around ghost Sky started to shift. They clustered in Sky, almost queuing up behind each other, and gradually took on an uncomfortably familiar form. The wind first whipped the clouds into something vaguely humanoid, then pulled back the sides of their heads into pointed ears. A biting breeze whizzed around the clouds and sculpted chests and legs and something resembling tunics and swords.

Cloud Links. An army. They covered the entire blue expanse ahead, standing shyly and awkwardly in front of the figure on the hill. Legend drew closer, drawing himself up onto the grassy hill where Sky’s ghost stood. Completely ignored by the spectral figures around him, Legend stared at the scene with comfortable amazement.

Sky, eyes half-closed in his ever present amiable grin, unsheathed the Master Sword from its scabbard and held it out to the first Cloud Link in front of him. The white, puffy arms reached out for the sword. They turned black the instant it held the hilt. The Cloud Link screamed as he was torn from the inside out, blistering boils of red and black and blue bubbled and popped across his chest, and his existence was wiped away by a vicious breeze. Each Link that stepped up met the same fate. A scream, then they were nothing. The air grew thick with black smog, bitter and angry and ashy. Each Link stepped up in front of Sky, blank eyes hopeful and ignorant, only to watch as their bodies were shredded where they stood.

Ghost Sky was still smiling: unseeing, unfeeling, unknowing.

He kept holding out the sword.

He kept murdering the Cloud Links.

The harp music continued happily on.

Bile crept into Legend’s mouth.

The music began to quaver, and Legend noticed that something black and scaly was creeping up Sky's arms. The skin split and sloughed off, revealing hard, obsidian sheafs underneath, and Legend's eyes widened as a white X drew itself on the ghost's forehead. Puffs of charcoal leaked from Sky's eyes, which had grown small and hard and orange, and trailed down his face in the imitation of tears. The music exploded into an orchestral wail; the drums shook, the choir screamed, the violins shrieked. Sky's hair slowly turned from blond to black to bright and flaming. His chest, now covered in scales, bulged and tore through the green cloth of his tunic.

The demon was still smiling; smiling a horrible, grieving, heart-broken smile.

There were no more Cloud Links left.

The Master Sword clattered to the floor. Legend moved instinctually to pick it up, only to be knocked back by the demon on the hill.

Sky, Sky's ghost, Sky's demon, whatever it was, stared at him blankly before letting out the most terrified, devastated howl Legend had ever heard.

It opened its mouth to speak, to scream, to apologize and beg for forgiveness, but Legend was already falling. The sky, black, red, and green, throbbed and bled as the veteran hero plummeted into an uncreated abyss.

Red.

Green.

Hero.

Demon.

Legend's face, wet with sweat and tears he didn't know he shed, stuck to the bed's fabric. He didn't need to breathe, he didn't want to breathe, he didn't want to do anything. He didn't want to think about what he'd just seen, or what he'd just learned, or the implications of what he should do now.

His fingers reached for the mirror if only to console himself, the same way one might reach for a mother’s hand after being spanked or cling to a toy being torn away. But his hands wrapped around two individual artifacts. The Lens of Truth and Magic Mirror. They’d unfused.

Well, he’d had enough excitement. Perhaps the same was true for them.

He laughed. There was no hint of mirth in the hollow, choking noise.

Since when had he become so quick to lie to himself?

┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

#linkeduniverse #praisejojo #lu #loz #fanfiction

4 notes · View notes