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notanotherinfjblog · 3 years

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The types as strangers I wish I had known (version 4)

Previous versions: One, two, three

INTJ: She was the first person to show me kindness in a new place. Moving across the country all alone in the middle of a pandemic is not exactly the ideal start of your first real job. So she took it all on herself to take me by the hand, to organise all the things that I had no clue about. She gave me a little tour around the workplace, recommended me places to eat once the pandemic is over, asked me about how I was settling in, remembered little things I mentioned. She was the only person not working from home when I first arrived and so it was just the two of us. She was quiet and reserved as most people here seem to be, and she was awkward in every way when interacting with me. But she tried so hard and maybe it’s just me projecting, but she said her son was in the very same situation as me right now, and it felt like she tried to help me in the way she couldn’t help her son, like she wanted to take me under her wing, but not make it awkward, and then actually making it slightly awkward in doing so. Her heart just felt warm and so did mine when I said thank you.

ENTJ: Everyone knows the classic character of a self-righteous doctor in a hospital show. You know that one. The one that everyone thinks may be hard-working and clever, but heartless and uncaring and egocentric, but a few episodes down the line you start to see that there is more going on underneath the rude attitude. I’ve always believed this to be a stereotypical depiction that is more of a caricature until I met her. She was a doctor at a hospital I stayed in, and damn, she was just like that. She stormed into the rooms, rolled her eyes at a patient whose German was bad, even though she had a thick accent herself, couldn’t be bothered to commit to polite standards of communication like saying hello or thanks, and she didn’t care to wait for just a second when a nurse was in her way and pushed her aside instead. Especially two young nurses were exasperated with her and complained about her as soon as she stormed out of the room. They really made me feel like I had gotten myself into a hospital show as a patient, it was fantastic. And I have to say, even though this young doctor had all of these flaws, she was the only one that actually talked to the patients and explained what was going on, hell she even talked to that woman’s daughter on the phone for a few minutes because the woman didn’t understand the language. Just like on tv, she may have been rude, but at least she seemed like a good doctor.

INTP: My university department held a conference and I was responsible for making sure that all these professors and PhD students didn’t die from their coffee cravings, so I spent most of my time running around with giant coffee cans. And I have to admit, among all the scientists that were roaming the halls, I couldn’t help but stare at him. He was a PhD student from the Netherlands and there was just something about him that did not fit in. You know how professors are often a bit eccentric or strange by normal standards (which explains why we had to explain to an unspeakable amount of them how a coffee can works), so you’d imagine he’d fit right in. But he didn’t. He was his own universe. While everyone was networking, he was studying the research posters in silence. Not because he was too shy, he seemed very comfortable in his own skin. He just didn’t seem to care all that much about other people. I got to listen to a few talks and as he sat in front of me, I saw him play a video game. At an international conference. With professors and colleagues sitting behind him. And he still managed to ask intelligent questions about the talk afterwards. No idea how. Part of me wished I could have talked to him, not because he was cute though he was, but rather because I really could not tell you what kind of person he was. Was he a good person? A bad one? Probably something in-between. But I don’t think my opinion would have fazed him all that much, since to me, he seemed like the kind of person that valued his own opinion on himself the most, and I think that’s a good thing that he’s got there.

ENTP: I had just moved to a different city in a completely different part of the country, and I had just gotten back from my first walk around town. Sounds exciting, but I got back to this unfamiliar flat that I was supposed to call home now and I was panicking. So I stepped out on the balcony hoping the cold air and the stars above could calm my nerves. But it wasn‘t them that did. I stood there in the dark and saw an elderly couple in the parking lot. The woman was in a very similar mental state as me. She was running around their car and was talking about all the things they still had to take care of and things they‘d need, but had forgotten, and her voice got higher and shakier with every word. And then her husband just went and hugged her. She kissed him goodbye three times and every time she did, he let out a little laugh, calm and gentle. He pat her on the back and said that everything was going to be okay, that they would see each other again tomorrow. She kissed him goodbye one last time before she drove away, and I stood there alone in the dark and thanked the universe that I was there at the right time to hear this old man‘s words. For some reason he always seems to appear every time I‘m feeling low and strikes up a little chat with me. And every time he leaves, I have already forgotten what I was sad about.

INFJ: I think everyone pursuing an academic career has this one hero, this one scientist that lit the spark in their heart to dedicate their life to science just like them. I know I have one. So when I started an internship at his lab with one of his colleagues, I didn‘t really expect to meet him. I had seen him around once in a while, yes, but who was I to approach a stranger to tell him what his work meant to me? But then came the plenary meeting that was meant to get more people of the lab to get to know one another - and he approached me. He sat down next to me, asked me about my academic past and future, asked about my current project with his colleague. And I still can‘t believe it. Only a little girl singing in the church choir who is suddenly approached by Beyoncé can hope to imagine what it felt like. He was an internationally renowned scientist, he would have had every reason to look down on the rest of us. Many of them certainly do. But here he was, talking to a little intern from abroad. He was such a genuinely nice person, was sweet and slightly awkward, he even mirrored my weird head nodding that I always do when all the words have left me. He felt like a kindred spirit. I didn‘t tell him what these few minutes talking to him meant to me though part of me wishes that I did, yet still he invited me to the meetings of his research team even though I was not a part of it. And when I came and sat down, he turned around, smiled at me and turned away again, and I can‘t tell you how insane it feels that all of this actually happened.

ENFJ: I’ve written about him before and I will write about him forever. I remember the day our eyes first met in that crowded school corridor almost half of my life ago. I don’t know why neither of us could look away that day, why neither of us could ever look away again from this day on. Somehow our eyes always found each other. I remember the snowy day at the train station so many years later, how he stood there alone in the cold and how he slowly walked towards me, his eyes glued to his feet that abruptly stopped right next to mine. And yet he stayed silent. As did I. So we stood there for an hour waiting for our train, quickly averting our eyes every time they came close to meeting. I remember him looking back at me over his shoulder once we got off the train. He seemed quite flustered that I was about to find out that he had parked his car right next to mine and so he fled. Both of us kept parking our cars next to each other, even when we didn’t see each other for months. But I could never follow him out. He was my own personal mystery. I spent countless nights staring at the ceiling wondering what it was, this strange thing that was going on between us, this little secret that we shared, and I wondered who he really was inside, not who he pretended to be in front of his friends. He was like an island in their midst, always a bit detached, always tucked away behind a smile. Soon twelve years will have passed and still we’ve never spoken a word, but somehow these dark brown eyes still feel more familiar than my own, these eyes that always seemed to look right into my soul. I could have stared at them my whole life. I honestly have no idea what it is that is tying me to him, what it is that I felt back then and what I’m feeling right now. Maybe I’ll never know. I haven’t seen him in three years, but I know our paths will cross again some day. I can feel it in my bones. This story is not over yet. Maybe then we’ll finally be ready to meet properly. Maybe then we’ll finally be able to speak.

INFP: I happened to stand at the window when I saw the new postman approach our letterbox, and so I watched him throw letters and magazines inside - and stop. He moved his head closer to the box and a frown appeared on his face. He backed off, wanted to leave, came back again and didn’t seem to know what he was supposed to do. So he rang the doorbell. As I opened the door, there he was, shy and with slight panic in his eyes. “I’m so sorry”, he said. “There is a sign on your letterbox that you don’t want advertisements, but I saw that too late and I had already thrown it in. I’m terribly sorry. I can’t get it out of the box and so I thought, I should ask if that’s alright.” And my heart just went awwww, that’s adorable. I smiled at him and told him that it was absolutely fine. He seemed so relieved. So he went away and I closed the door.

ENFP: This is for the man with the kind, but heartbreakingly sad eyes who sometimes sits in front of the train station silently begging for money. This is for the grandparents who spent their train ride trying to teach their little grandchildren the numbers from one to five. This is for the old woman who always kneels down in the middle of the train station with her forehead pressed to the ground, keeping still for hours, enduring the devastation of thousands of people passing by without stopping. This is for the woman who knelt down next to a homeless man, who took his hand and asked how she could help him. This is for the man who made faces at the little boy sitting next to him on the train to make him laugh. This is for the anger I felt when I saw the distraught face of a 10-year-old boy coming out of the movie „1917“ at the cinema with his father. This is for the happy little puppy who lives next to the bakery where I usually grab my lunch. This is for the twenty people who decided to all speak a foreign language during a meeting with each other just because I was there too, a total stranger they had never even seen before who is bad at their native language. This is for the creep that asked me in the middle of the street at night to accompany him. This is for the two teenagers who went to buy sandwiches and coffee for a homeless woman. This is for the families I often see sitting at the train stations, sometimes with a baby in their arms, holding a sign saying „Syrian family. We are hungry, help us please.“ This is for the man who yelled at his girlfriend because she gave them some money. This is for the people who play music during everyone‘s morning commute on the train. This is for all the people who approached me speaking in French and started to laugh when I apologised for not being very good at it. This is for Paris, in all its beauty and all its ugliness. This is for humanity, in all its beauty and ugliness.

ISTJ: He was sitting alone on the train, looking out of the window while listening to something with headphones. He was a tall guy in his mid-20s, one with a full beard, long brown hair in a neat ponytail, and a t-shirt of some rock band that I had never heard of. So, I was sitting there, three meters away, minding my own business, when I suddenly heard a giggle. The entire car of the train had been quiet all this time as it usually is, so I looked up and saw this guy trying to contain his laughter. He pressed the lips together, scratched his nose in order to inconspicuously cover his mouth. I don’t know where this sudden burst of laughter came from. Maybe he was listening to an audio book and reached a funny part. Maybe he was listening to a voice message of a funny friend. Maybe he just had a very amusing thought, I don’t know. But I’ve always had a soft spot for people who randomly start laughing in public and get embarrassed about it cause it’s always, always adorable.

ESTJ: She was a PhD student at my university and she was the one who mainly organised the conference that the above mentioned INTP was attending, too. And even though she didn‘t get tired of complaining about how much work this all was, how typical it was of her boss to volunteer to hold the conference at our university and then not lifting a single finger, she was like a fish in the water, not out of it. She observed everything and everyone, immediately recognised little problems or things that could become a problem, she was constantly running around checking everything, and she kept so many things in mind, it was impressive. One of the attendees sat in a wheelchair and as soon as she noticed, she made us rebuild the entire cafeteria immediately so that everything was reachable for her. And in all the running around, all the obligatory smalltalk, all the stress, she still found the time to stand with us student helpers and joke around.

ISFJ: It was 6pm on a Friday afternoon when all of Paris was trying to get home in the middle of a train strike, so the trains that did run were even more crowded than usual. I did not enjoy sharing 5 square metres with almost 40 other people. But then he entered the train and stood right next to me, leaning against the doors without moving, looking like an intellectual in gangster clothes. We were surrounded by noise of people talking and of rails screaming, by strangers breathing onto our skin, and he just stood there unfazed by it all. He radiated calmness like I‘ve never seen anyone do before. Soon it reached me too, filled me up and left no place for any distress or anxiety. He was like an island in the storm that grew and grew and grew until all of the 40 people around him were safe. I felt safe. I don‘t think he has even the faintest clue about how special he is, but I feel like it has been a privilege to have crossed paths with him.

ESFJ: Did you ever meet someone who, on first glance, looks like the perfect example of a jock, just a short guy with bigger arms than he’s tall? But then you look again, take a closer look at him and you realise that his face has goodness written all over it. He may be horribly bad at grammar for a linguistics student and he may be a bit too sensitive for his own good, but he never made it a secret of how much of a sweetheart he really is. And in situations like these, when he talks about how emotional he got as a tutor when his student told him about a dying grandfather because he felt responsible for the student’s wellbeing, in situations like these, when he approaches my friend after a class to apologise for his harsh criticism of her presentation and to tell her that he didn’t mean it that way, to which she gets all confused because she didn’t take the slightest offence to anything he has ever said in his entire life and he mumbles that he may have to stop beating himself up about stuff like this, I just want to give him a hug and never let go.

ISTP: I saw her on the metro during rush hour in Paris, and I immediately noticed her to be different. Everyone else always only stares at their phones or into space, everyone else always look like a tired zombie. She was not a zombie. She was leaning against the doors, shaking her leg in the rhythm of the music she was listening to. She was short and skinny, and not even her punk boots could hide that, but there was such a confidence shining out of her, a confidence in who she was that made her look like a giant. She looked like she‘s probably had it rather rough in life, but it didn‘t break her. She rose to the adversity, rose in spite of it all. She seemed to be capable of so many things. Intelligent enough to go into science if she ever wanted to, vicious enough to end someone who ever dared to cross her, warm enough to love deeply and with all her heart if she let it.

ESTP: It was a hot day and far hotter than a September afternoon ever should be. I was stuck in a traffic jam in the city, melting in my car as were so many others, waiting for that red light to finally turn green. And then he came, a young guy in an ugly shirt and with a hat on his head. He started to cross the street, but then stopped right there in the middle. And he started to juggle. In the middle of a traffic jam on a Friday afternoon, he juggled. Just before his green light turned to red, he bowed down to the cars a few times, and then jumped to the sidewalk and left. Thanks, mate, you enigmatic juggling traffic hero.

ISFP: I met him at a wedding. He was a bald man in his 70s with thick horn glasses and probably the most intimidating person I’ve ever met. Not because he was mean, but because he was so confident in himself and so observant. His gaze constantly changed direction. He took everything in that happened around him, he didn’t miss a single thing that was going on, and still he was calm and sure of himself that everyone at our table felt like they had to impress him in some way. Just by looking at him you knew he must have lived an extraordinary life and he really did. He liked talking about himself. He talked about living in the American desert, on a mediterranean island, in a Buddhist monastery, and on a cruise ship. He talked about the smell of the desert at night, about the taste of oranges picked from a tree. He talked about the people he met, about professors and musicians, about cooks and monks. He talked about how much his village loved him. But he also liked listening to others talk about their own lives. It was obvious that he treated life as an experience, as a journey that cannot be planned or imagined, only lived. When we said goodbye, he looked me right in the eye and told me that he thinks it’s great what I’m doing with my life and that he’s looking forward to meeting me again some day. It felt a bit like receiving praise from a deity.

ESFP: He was a nurse in the accident and emergency department at the hospital and the first person to talk to me while I was waiting in front of an examination room. He was only passing by with a colleague, but he stopped the conversation when he saw me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Aw, sugarmouse, what happened to you?”, was the first thing he said to me. You know, if an unknown man in his 50s is coming towards you and calls you “sugarmouse”, you’re usually not exactly happy, but he was just an overwhelmingly non-threatening guy that called all of the nurses and doctors by kitschy nicknames and radiated warmth wherever he went. He had noticed that I was nervous, and so he came to me and tried to gently put my mind at ease and I was really grateful for it.

#writing this took 3 years #nothing happens during a pandemic but all the more important this kind of testimony to these people feels to me #esfj has actually become a friend of mine by now #isfp is part of my family now since it was his brother's and my mother's wedding #and the enfj guy is the same as in the first version of this post that i wrote 5 years ago #i don't know where he is now or what he's doing but i really hope that his life is filled with love and happiness #i just think it's strange that after graduating i never saw 98% of the people i went to school with again #but the two people i did meet again dozens of times? were enfj and his little brother #sometimes it felt like a conspiracy of the universe and we were just too stupid #every time i think about how we had eye contact while driving past each other twice i think i‘m going insane #mbti #myers-briggs #types as #strangers i wish i had known #intj #entj #intp #entp #infj #enfj #infp #enfp #istj #estj #isfj #esfj #istp #estp #isfp #esfp

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mrsbarnes99 · 4 years

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The meaning of age and time

Pairing: Modern!CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are in a happy relationship but the comments of others about your agepap get to him and he starts wondering if you two are really suited for each other.

Warnings: Angst, big agegap (Reader is 23 and Bucky is 40)

Word Count: 1853 words

A/N: Here's a little one shot I came up with. I hope you like it. This is my first try at writing something and English is not my first language so please be kind.

You and Bucky had been together for almost a year and you‘ve never been happier in your life. He was the kind of boyfriend every girl hoped for: loving, charming, caring, funny and a bit dorky. But although you two were very in love and had been living together for a few months, there was one aspect that seemed to cause more and more problems. At first you never thought much about your agegap because you didn‘t deem it a problem in any way. But there had been situations in which you felt like Bucky was having some issues with the fact that you are significantly younger than him.

You first noticed it a couple of weeks ago when you two went out for some coffee in the afternoon.

Eversince the new cupcake shop down the street from your apartment had opened you wanted to try it out. So one Sunday you convinced Bucky - by convincing you mean giving your boyfriend a serious case of puppy dog eyes - to go there after taking a walk together. Bucky had always loved these little dates the two of you would go on practically all the time as Sam would say. This time though you noticed that Bucky was uncomfortable and kept glancing at everyone around you. Almost as if he was checking if they were looking at you two.

"Buck, if you don‘t want to stay we can take some cupcakes back home."

You were very surprised about the relief on Buckys face after telling him this but you figured that he was just exhausted and wanted to relax at home after a grueling week at work. Especially because everything seemed fine again once you had left the shop.

The second time that Bucky was all of a sudden in a bad mood was when Sam kept teasing Bucky with his "old age". Normally Bucky would just roll his eyes and start making jokes about Sam as well. Sometimes they would get so competitive that it almost seemed like a match. But this time Bucky just blew up.

"Y/N, grandpa here is really turning you into a homebody. When was the last time you went to a club with us?"

"I canceled one t-" "What is your problem Birdbrain!? Can‘t you just mind your own damn business for once?" You were shocked at how angry Bucky was and that he‘d just interrupt you like that.

"Cool it, Buckaroo or you might have a heart attack." Sam kept mocking. While glaring at him Bucky got up from his chair and then just stomped out of the café and back to his office. You and Sam just looked at each other confused. Neither of you understood why this would bring such a reaction out of him. After giving Bucky some time to calm down you went looking for him but he didn‘t go back to his office as you had presumed. So you went to his assistant and asked her where Bucky went to. "He left to see Mr. Rogers in his office to go over some contracts, Ms. Y/L/N."

You weren‘t sure if you should go up to Steve‘s office or not but decided to just knock and see if they were almost done. As you were standing infront of Steve‘s door you heard Bucky‘s voice "You don‘t understand Steve! I just don‘t know how to ignore it!" What was Bucky talking about? Ignore what? You were curious and kept on listening to their conversation.

"It was never a problem before. What changed?" "You just don‘t get it, Steve! Do you know how weird it is to feel how everyone around is watching you thinking what does he want with her? Can‘t he find someone his age? That poor girl he‘s probably just using her to feel young again. Why are they together they have nothing in common?" You felt a tear slide down your cheek. Why didn‘t Bucky tell you about his feelings concerning the agegap the two of you have? You decided it was better to go back to Bucky‘s office and wait there until he comes back to talk about everything. You didn‘t have to wait long. Bucky was back half an hour later and seemed to be in a better mood but once he saw your sad face he got concerned. "What happened, doll? Have you been crying?" "No. Actually, yes a bit." "Why?" Bucky sat down beside you and pulled you towards himself hugging you. "Ms. Romanoff told me you were with Steve so I went to his office and I overheard you guys talking. When were you going to tell me that my age bothered you so much?" You could see that Bucky was struggling thinking about how best to answer your question.

"Look, doll. I have always known that our relationship would raise some brows but that never bothered me until I heard some women talk about us." "When was that?" "That day at the cupcake shop." "So that‘s why you wanted to leave. But why does it bother you when someone you don‘t even know thinks it‘s ok to judge us?" "I didn‘t want it to bother me this much but I couldn‘t help but keep thinking about it. They did have some points..." "Such as?" You asked annoyed. "For example the fact that you‘re at an age where you like to go out an party on the weekends instead of chilling at home. Or that I‘m at an age where you settle down and start a family whereas that’s still in the far future for you. We‘re just in two very different places." "So do you feel this way too or have you just started thinking about this after hearing someone make these stupid remarks about us?" Bucky looked you deeply in the eyes, sighed and then kissed you on your forehead. "I‘m sorry, doll. I guess I just got too in my head with all this. I don‘t think that we‘re a bad match or not suited for each other just based on our age. I love you and I‘m very happy that you're my girl." "I love you too Buck. But promise me that you‘ll talk to me if something like this happens again ok?" "I promise, doll. What do you say to a movie and some Pizza tonight? So we can leave this all behind and spent some time together." You smiled at Bucky and gave him a kiss before grabbing your back and making your way back to the little clothing store you had started with Y/F/N a couple of years ago.

Now looking back at these two small incidents you wonder if you missed the signs which led to the big fallout you and Bucky had yesterday. When you came back to the apartment after work you were exhausted. Today just hadn‘t been your day. It started with an unfriendly customer and ended with a fashion magazine describing your stores latest clothes as boring and nothing new or exciting. You couldn‘t wait to just snuggle up to your boyfriend and forget about everything. But upon unlocking the door to your shared apartment it was like you entered an alternate dimension. There was a suitcase next to the door and you heard your boyfriend rummaging in the bedroom.

"Do you have to leave for a business meeting?" You asked confused, wondering if you forgot about something he mentioned. Bucky looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face. "Buck, what is going on? Did I forget about something?" You were starting to feel very agitated and uncomfortable like you already knew something bad was about to happen. "Look, Y/N, I think we‘ve been living in our own little world all this time but we just can‘t ignore the real world forever." "What do you mean?" You were shocked and heartbroken. Was Bucky really breaking up with you? And since when did he call you by your name? Normally he would refer to you by cute nicknames, mostly he would call you doll so much that his friends at first thought that that was your name. "It‘s just... you‘re too young for me. You're practically still a kid wanting to live their dream by trying to create a fashion brand with an itty bitty store. Whereas I‘m a cofounder of a well established firm who wants to start a family. We‘re in two different places in life and it‘s just not working. I mean your only 23 and I‘m in my forties. I need someone my age who I can marry and start a life with and you still have a lot to experience before you‘re able to settle down. You‘ll just resent me later on if I force you to grow up faster than you‘re supposed to." You were feeling numb. Too shocked to do or say anything. You only realized that you were crying once you saw the teardrops hitting your jacket that was folded over your arm.

"You can stay in the apartment as long as you need to find another place to stay. I‘m flying out to a conference and once I get back I‘ll move into my old condo." "So that‘s it. You suddenly decided to end it all over some comments other people you don‘t even know made? Don‘t I mean anything to you? I thought you loved me. How can you just throw it all away?" Bucky looked you in the eyes but you couldn‘t recognize the man you‘d fallen for anymore. His eyes were cold and detached like you were some nasty insect he wanted to get rid of. "Don‘t make this any harder on yourself. The faster you come to the realization that we never would have worked anyway the better. If you would be so nice as to let me leave now, I have a flight to catch that I can‘t miss because of your childish behavior. In the next couple of days someone is coming by to get the rest of my clothes. Oh and before I forget, here take this back it must have been expensive and you need the money more than I do." With that he gave you back the Rolex you had gifted him to his 40th birthday. You‘ve never felt so insulted „Really!? Is breaking my heart not enough for you? Do you have to insult me as well!? You can keep it. What should I do with it? I can‘t return it...remember it‘s engraved you egoistic, conceited asshole!" With that you shoved the watch back in his hand and ran off to the guestroom and looked it. A few minutes later you heard Bucky leaving the apartment and you.

Sitting on the floor you cried your eyes out. You‘ve never felt heartbreak like this before. Bucky had been everything you ever wanted but he just tossed you away like yesterday‘s trash. And the worst is that despite everything he just did and said to you, you‘re still not able to hate him. He still has your heart, sadly he doesn‘t want it no more.

#bucky angst #bucky barnes x you #modern!bucky #ceo!bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x younger!reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #natasha romanoff

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writingjoycebyers · 3 years

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Could you write a small drabble about jopper being protective of eachother 🥺

Joyce Byers x Jim Hopper - Friend, old friend - a song fic

(this fic is based on the prompt above (I hope this counts as protective) and the song slow mover by Angie McMahon. Comments and reblogs make my writing heart go boom boom - you know how it works. love feedback and suggestion on how to do it better. or ideas. or thoughts. or whatever <3)

Warnings: contains mature topics like a hint of cheating, alcohol consumption, very light nsfw (superficial) and angst. 18+ as always

Friend, old friend, it's 4 AM

What are we doing in the street?

They walk through the empty streets of Hawkins, a cold february night in 1969, snow falling onto them, and they don‘t even notice the small, cold drops on their heads, shoulders and hands - they‘re far too gone to notice, too drunk to freeze and too sober to dance in the snow the way they used to when they were kids in Jim‘s parents backyard. They‘d left the bar an hour ago, to roam the empty streets at night, talking and walking like old friends do.

„Yeah, he‘s with my mother tonight. Jon loves it there.“, Joyce adds as Jim asks her where she‘s left her son - a reasonable question considering Joyce seemed to have time and space to get wasted all on her own on a saturday night. „She lets him have chocolate before dinner and all.“

„And...“, Jim adds, unable to finish his questioning words when Joyce interrupts him. „I‘ve got no clue, and I kind of don‘t want to know.“, Joyce finishes his sentence, anticipating the question underlying the small word „and“ and the tone of her friend‘s voice. No clue, he might aswell be screwing some girl in her very own wedding bed. Lonnie.

„Joyce, does he even care for the kid?“, Hopper suddenly blurts out, without warning, and boy — he does sound angry. He stops, and grabs her by the shoulders. It‘s a sudden move for him, impulsive and way more serious than she had experienced him at the bar, in their heavy, drunken laughter above the tears behind her brown eyes.

„He... even asked me if I want to try for another one.“, Joyce confessed, a whisper in the cold as she tried to avoid locking eyes with Jim. She had become bad at eye contact lately. Her hand found his on her shoulder. He had not actually asked, had rather joked around that if they tried for another boy, then maybe he‘d finally have a kid that liked what he‘d call boys stuff. Joyce swallowed hard. Lonnie didn‘t want to make another baby for love. No, he was being selfish. And still that idea had sparked a tiny bit of hope inside of her, a hope that he‘d maybe change? Change for the sake of another kid? But she couldn‘t tell Hopper. So she told him some kind of half hearted truth.

„Are you hungry?“, she suddenly asked as his grip on her shoulders began to losen. She nodded into the direction of a 24 hour diner, the neon lights behind them illuminating his silhouette from behind. She loved his silhouette.

I don't want to buy fried chicken

I wish that I was going to sleep

„Nah...I just... Joyce.“, he mumbled, his articulation heavy and sloppy from the drinks he had drowned. The „Joyce“ said it all. He knew she was trying to distract him, knew she did not want to talk about Lonnie, that she did not want to stay with that man and neither would want to leave him. He‘d take her with him, he thinks, take her with him into his small apartment in NYC, around the corner of his police training station, and hold her tight every night in his way too small bed, and never let go again. He‘d done that once too often already. But then, his mind flashes to the woman he‘s dating, Diane, tall and blonde, a woman he hasn‘t thought of much during his visit home, if he was honest with himself. A small bundle of guilt starts to form in his gut, and he isn‘t sure if he‘s sick from the alcohol, or if it really is his conscience.

„Just tired.“, he mumbles then, and none of his thoughts were said.

So they start to make their way towards Jim‘s parents‘ house, the way they had done it so often as teenagers just a couple of years ago. A lifetime ago. Joyce keeps on walking next to him although she lives on the opposite side of town now, that small house on the edge of the woods. Where was home?

Quietly she follows Jim up to the corner of the street, because walking next to him feels a lot like home to her, so familar with his warmth, his unique scent, his height towering above her. He was home, after all.

They stop by the STOP-sign, a flashing one that stands across the streets of Jim‘s birth place, and as if the stop sign was meant for them, they don‘t go any further. It‘s quiet, a winter night, and Joyce feels like she can hear the snow flakes falling. Jim‘s presence feels warm, and life feels cold - and she does not know where to go. She‘s got a house to live in, but no home to go to sleep at. No peace within her own four walls.

„So, when are you heading back to the city?“, she asks shyly after some moments of silence.

„Tomorrow night.“, he replies, staring down on the floor, and then back up to the sign as a car goes by and it starts blinking.

„So.. last night here, huh?“, Joyce whispers, her face turned to the side because for some reason, for some damn reason she can‘t look him in the eye again.

The silence gets louder, the blinking feels harsher, the cold gets colder. She wraps her arms around herself as she feels the dizziness of the alcohol get washed away by the bleak midwinter air and her thoughts. The last night - their last chance?

Her thoughts drift off as she feels his gaze on her, feels him get closer and wrap his arms around her. They stand there in a deep, intimate hug and she asks herself what if - what if she was married to him, what if the house on the other side of the street was theirs, their home? What if they entered the living room, warmed themselves up with a deep, long kiss? God, she wanted to kiss him. His breath is warming the side of her face while he still hugged her, and she turns her head a bit, looking up. The last time they had been this close to kissing had been another lifetime ago. His eyes look dark and warm in contrast to the cold wind around them.

„You wanna come inside with me?“, he suddenly suggests. She answers with a small nod.

And I don't want to kiss you

Underneath that flashing sign

They enter his parents‘ place and although it is huge and empty, it is welcoming and cozy. The furniture hasn‘t changed. The atmosphere hasn‘t changed. There‘s a small light on the table by the sofa, and the room looks so large without Jim‘s family in it. She looks at him, and he looks sad. „It is okay to miss them.“, she whispers softly, her small hand on his back as they stand in the middle of the living room. The tension they had shared under the flashing light is gone for a second. They‘re old friends again. She rubs his back, and feels like she was wrong, feels as if she had interpreted it all the wrong way. Maybe he needed a friend, not a lover. Or maybe he needed time?

She can sense his tension underneath her hand, and she‘s glad she can be close to him in some way, somehow. Joyce looks around the familiar room, the old clock on the wall telling her the night might soon be coming to an end, and she gets sad herself. Their last chance - gone?

But then, suddenly, Jim wakes up from his short, griefing trance. Without a warning he pulls her close by the hand that had just comforted him, and as he leans down his lips find hers. There‘s no time to lose. They kiss and it feels both wrong and right, both hot and cold. She‘s overwhelmed by the passion behind his kiss, the force behind his touch as he scoops her up into his arms and her legs wrap around his waist like they belong there. „Jim...slow down. I want to feel this.“, she suddenly whispers. Suddenly, the night feels still young as he takes her by the hand and they walk up the stairs to his childhood bedroom

What's the hurry? We're not ready

We've got plenty of time

Some time later, minutes, hours, moments, they‘re a mess of limbs and words and kisses and Joyce could swear to God she has never felt like this before. He‘s rushed, but gentle, as if he‘s trying to make up for the lost time, and she‘s the other side of the magnet, slow and sensual and they make the perfect mixture. It takes a bit of talking, a bit of trust, and then they arrive - arrive at home.

For the rest of the night, Jim holds her tight in his way too small bed for once and he never wants to let her go again. They look into each other‘s eyes as they lay entangled, none of them daring to losen the grip, and Joyce feels tired, but she does not want to miss a second of this. Their last chance, remember?

„Get some sleep.“, he murmurs with a soft kiss onto the top of her head. „I‘m not leaving your side tonight.“, he adds as he strokes her hair, caresses it gently, stroking away the thoughts of guilt that come creeping up in Joyce‘s mind as she lays in the arms of another man, indulging in the afterglow of a forbidden rush of passion and confusion. What about him, she thinks, is there someone he should feel guilty for now?

Joyce couldn‘t know what the future would hold for him, a wife, a marriage and a daughter. She could only guess. Neither could she know what the future would hold for her, that she would indeed try for another baby with Lonnie and that, in two years or three, she‘d sometimes find herself lying awake late at night, counting the weeks between their little adventure and her blood results from the doctor‘s pregnancy test. It‘d be wishful thinking, maybe, that she wanted her second son to be more like Hopper than Lonnie. Wishful thinking, and a stupid, unprotected adventure.

Maybe you will get married

Maybe fall in love

Could you make me fall asleep

When you're holding me?

Try set me on fire

The morning after, Joyce awakes with her head on his chest and his arms neatly placed around his torso. Jim is fast asleep. Memories of the night come flashing back in front of her inner eye. She‘s Lonnie Byers wife. She is Lonnie Byers god damn wife in another man‘s bed. And she‘d always thought she was better than Lonnie.

Quietly, she leaves the bed and tiptoes to her clothes lying on the floor on the other side of the room. For the first time, she catches a glance of Jim‘s old room. Nothing has changed. She gets dressed as silently as possible, staring at a picture on the wall - him and her during Prom Night, in front of the Gym. She should have known earlier that this was more than friendship. She had known earlier, actually, and they had always danced around it, danced like it was prom night - until yesterday.

There's someone else but I twist all of

His words and he twists mine

At last, Joyce puts on her jacket, slips into her shoes and opens the old wooden door as carefully as she can. One last look towards the bed with a peacefully sleeping Jim in it, and she‘s out the door. He had promised last night he wouldn‘t leave her side, but this was a promise she herself could not make. In this moment, she felt as if they had to go backt to the separate paths they had chosen at some point, whether they were right or wrong, drunk or sober.

She waves him goodbye as the front door of Jim‘s parent‘s house closes behind her. A wave he doesn’t see.

Joyce would never return to that place again — She‘d not return home for more than 10 years after that. And when she, in 1983, finally does return home, entering the Chief of Police‘s office one morning, she‘ll be too panicked to notice that it‘s home, too broken to see that he‘s still there beneath the flashing sign. Waiting.

So I'll have to let him go

We sometimes fit, but we always lie

And he thinks we could make it work

But only when he's drunk

You think you could help me swim

But I've already sunk

_____________

Thanks for reading. Please drop me a line if you‘ve got thoughts on this. Or if you wanna chat about joyce/st/jopper. My inbox is open.<3

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texastheband · 4 years

Text

Texas V Wu-Tang Clan

Interview by Steven Daly Photography by Peter Robathan Taken from The Face - December 1997

It’s the pop story of ’97, the most unlikely end to a weird year: TEXAS collaborating with the WU-TANG CLAN. First, a Scottish rock band on the verge of slip-sliding away into a tasteful obscurity was reborn via a slew of hit singles and a glut of stylish imagery. Now, in New York, their Brit-cool meets hip hop in a mutually beneficial deal. For everyone concerned, it’s all they need to get on…

Sharleen Spiteri took the call in her front hall. "Yo, Peach," growled a strange voice over transatlantic wires. The gentleman caller was none other than Ol’ Dirty Bastard, court jester of New York hip hop dynasty the Wu-Tang Clan. Apparently Mr Bastard fancied working with Spiteri and her band, Texas. It all started in August, with one of Texas’ managers discussing Land Rovers with someone called Power in New York, who turned out to be the manager of the Clan. A video of Texas’ "Say What You Want" was dispatched, and prodigiously gifted Wu-Tang chieftain RZA signed on to do a re-recording of the single for a prospective single project. Original rapper OI’ Dirty Bastard was replaced by Method Man, the next Clan member with a solo album scheduled.

The hook-up with the Wu-Tang Clan is the perfect climax to a year that’s seen Texas rise from a tumbleweed-strewn grave to grab the pole position in British Pop. A year in which Glasgow’s Sharleen Spiteri has stared out, defiantly remade and remodelled, from every magazine cover and TV show. From a media point-of-view, Texas’ – Spiteri’s – reconfiguring of music and fashion has been the year’s dream ticket. Ever since Bryan Ferry took the innovative step of getting Anthony Proce in to design Roxy Music’s wardrobe in the early seventies, successive phases of pop’s history have thrown up performers who use the fashion photographers, stylists and designers du jour to present The Package. It is these performers who most often capture the youthful mood of their time: that’s why you can see the vulgar glamour of the Seventies in the cut of Ferry’s sleazy lounge-lizard jib; the naive aspiration of the early Eighties in the box-suited and pixie-booted "style" of Spandau Ballet; and the onset of the late-Eighties mixing and matching of different cultures in Neneh Cherry’s Buffalo Stance. When we look back at 1997 we will see in Texas’ sound and vision a new mix, all to do with living the high life but keeping it real. Catwalk and street, the designer and the understated, Prada and Nike; the slick and the cred. Ten years’ gone Scottish guitar outfit and this season’s bright young labels (in both senses). The setting too, has helped. Fashion, again, is big cultural business. Clever pop stars (Goldie! Liam!) want to be seen by the runway and hanging out at fashion parties; young designers yearn to be visible on the stage or the podium (viz. Antonio Berardi’s autumn London show at Brixton Academy). Factor in a paucity of self-motivating, button-pressing, songwriting, photogenic women in British music, and you have a ready-made media phenomenon.

Sharleen Spiteri is holding court at a New York restaurant with a gang of Calvin Klein employees who’ve just accompanied her to the VH-1 Fashion Awards. The annual ceremony is a mutually convenient arrangement, a TV cluster-fuck where the music and fashion industries exchange credibility and cachet. Texas are contemplating just such an exchange themselves, having recently been given the OK by CK. (Tommy Hilfiger has also made overtures.) Spiteri is to have an audience with Klein himself; she’s already been bribed with a trunkful of CK merch, including the streaked black dress – "inspired by [the artist] Brice Marden" – she’s wearing tonight.

Someone suggests that Texas would be perfect for Fashionably Loud, an MTV special where models strut on stage as the hot bands of the moment rock out. "Forget it," quips Spiteri. "there’s only room for one star up where we play." If Spiteri were to join Kate Moss and Christy Turlington on the Calvin Klein payroll it would not, as she sees it, detract from Texas’ music. "Fashion and music have always been connected, and now more than ever," says the singer. "You couldn’t have one without the other. If there’s shit music at a runway show it just doesn’t work."

Meanwhile, there’s the songs. With "White On Blonde", Texas’ fourth album, the music takes care of itself. Radio-friendly unit-shifters abound, helped on their way by producers Mike hedges (manic Street Preachers) and Manchester’s Grand Central. The singles have been, in sequence, nu-soul fresh ("Say What You Want"), springy pop ("Halo"), Motown-sunny ("Black Eyed Boy") and winter warming ("Put Your Arms Around Me"). The B-side remixers have covered all bases in these dance-savvy late Nineties, ranging from of-the-moment talents like the Ballistic Brothers and Trailerman to old stand-bys like Andy Weatherall and 808 State. Texas, patently, lost their dancefloor cherry by cherry-picking the brightest and the best.

Of course, while the singles have all enjoyed heavy airplay and gone top ten, and while "White on Blonde" has sold two million copies (more than its two predecessors put together), the remixes haven’t necessarily helped those sales. As the go-faster stripes of credibility on the solid saloon car, though, they’ve still been essential to The Package; all part of the thoroughly modern mix.

So now, the Wu-Tang Clan. To many, though, this latest development could smack of opportunism. One group are renegade roughnecks who mythologise themselves in epic hip hop anthems; the others are fastidiously tasteful Scots with an eye for perfectly modern consensus-pop. The Wu-Tang Clan are certainly among the aesthetically correct names that Texas always drop in interviews, but can there possibly be a legitimate connection between the two? "A lot of the Wu-Tang backing tracks have the feel of soundtracks, and we’ve always gone for a cinematic sound," says Johnny McElhone, Spiteri’s genial songwriting partner and bass player. "And I’ve always liked Al Green, and they use a lot of Willie Mitchell, Al Green, that whole Hi Records sound, and make it modern. And Marvin Gaye: Method Man, in that duet with Mary J. Blige, used ‘You’re All I Need To Get By."

Having dominated the charts in Europe this year, Texas are now, logically, turning their attention to America: the country that has always inspired them, whether it’s the dusty, pseudo-roots sound of their first three albums, or the iconic-soul and post-soul sounds of Memphis and Staten Island that they give props to now; the place where success has always eluded them. Yet given the commercial momentum of "White on Blonde", their approach to the Wu-Tang Clan is surely not driven by desperation. They are, then, viewing the collaboration with a combination of fan-like wonder and disbelief.

"Method Man is just a wicked, wicked rapper," enthuses Spiteri. "I can’t wait to hear the combination of my vocals and his – I‘m really excited about it. I have a kind of sweet, virginal thing going on, and he’s got this dirty sex vibe. It could be the perfect marriage."

It’s a Saturday night in Manhattan, and ten storeys above Times Square, Sharleen Spiteri sits on the floor of a recording studio, tinkering with her latest high-tech gadget, a Philips computer about the size of a TV remote. Across the street, three ten-foot high electronic ticker-tapes provide testimony to Monday’s stockmarket crash. No matter how much Spiteri plays with her new toy, there’s still that nagging worry: what if the Wu-Tang Clan won’t show? They’re supposed to be on a tour bus returning from a gig in Washington, DC today, but these, after all, are the original masters of disaster. The crew whose normal modus operandi seems to be chaos. The band that recently quit a national tour because only five of the nine members could be relied upon to turn up.

The studio has been booked since six, so Spiteri and McElhone breathe signs of relief when RZA and his posse finally roll in around ten. Among the dozen-strong throng, they’re surprised to see Wu-Tang member Reakwon, a stout fellow with a Mercedes cap and a Fort Knox of gold dental work. Several cigars are hollowed out, their contents replaced with weed; bottles of Cristal champagne and Hennessy are passed around as the air grows thick with smoke.

Half an hour later, method Man makes his entrance. Stooped over, he looks deceptively short – maybe only six-four in his Hilfiger fleece hoodie. "I’m John-John," he tells Sharleen, referring to his alias, Johnny Blaze. Pulling out the big blunt from behind his ear, Method Man considers the job at hand. "She got a nice voice," drawls the laconic giant. "This band not exactly my type of listening material, but they going in the right direction, if you ask me, by fucking with us. I’m waiting for RZA to put down a beat, hear how the vocals sound melded with the track before I come with ideas. I’m one of those guys."

As his friends get on with the serious business of partying, RZA goes to work, feeding a succession of sample-laden discs into a sampler. He has a diffident, genius-at-work charisma about him as he sits with his back to the room, keyboard at side. With a flick of his prodigiously ringed hand he reaches out and conjures up a brutal bassline. The speakers pulse violently. RZA takes a sip of Hennessy. "Record this, right here!" he tells the bewildered-looking engineer.

RZA has decided to dispense with the original master tapes, shipped over from Britain. He wants a completely new version, recorded rough-and-ready without the standard safety net of a time-code. This convention-trashing, wildstyle approach to recording elicits some consternation from the studio’s engineer, a central-casting white guy who warns RZA: "You won’t be able to synch to this, you know." RZA waves him away and turns to Johnny McElhone. "This riff is in E," McElhone tells RZA. "Maybe we should try it in the original key, D." "What are you saying? I understand no keys," says RZA. "You want me to sing the whole song straight through?" asks Spiteri, trying to divine RZA’s intentions. He orders the lights turned down, and offers Sharleen some herbal inspiration. She politely declines and walks to the vocal booth. "What’s her name? Sheree?" asks RZA as Spiteri warms up. The engineer wants to know if he should maybe start recording. "Always record everything!" exclaims RZA. "Ready, get set, go! Play and record, play and record!" Spiteri rattles of a perfect new version of ‘Say What You Want’, grooving along by herself and passionately acting out every word, even the ones borrowed from Marvin Gaye’s ‘Sexual Healing". Now it’s time for Method Man, who at this point is so herbally inspired that he can hardly open his eyes. He jumps up and lopes around the main room, running off his newly written rhymes and clutching a bottle of Crystal. Method walks up to the mic and opens his mouth, and that treacly baritone sets a typically morbid scene: "Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest…" The Texas duo just look at each other, shaking their heads in awe.

The hours and the rhymes pass. Around 6am, things are starting to get a little weird. As Method Man snoozes on the sofa, RZA bounces off the walls, dancing like a dervish. "These are the new rhythms," he yells. "These are the new dances from Africa. I learned them when I was there last week!" McElhone and Spiteri crack up. The engineer probably wishes he were in Africa right now; he further draws RZA’s ire by making a mistake as he runs off some rough cassettes. As everyone says goodbye, RZA decides that he’s taking the studio’s sampler – he already has two of the $3,500 items, but at this point it’s all about the wind-up. The engineer, though, having last seen the end of his tether a good few hours ago, has had enough. By the commencement of office hours that morning, the rest of the session will have been cancelled and the band and Clan banned from this studio.

After a few frantic phone calls later that morning, a studio is found that is prepared to let the Wu-Tang Clan through the door. With one precondition: only two of them are allowed in the studio. Now it’s midnight, and four-fifths of Texas watch a trio of RZA-hired session men go through their paces. They shift effortlessly through a handful of soul and funk styles, and the Scots mutter approval. These are the kind of players that are so good they can get away with wearing questionable knitwear.

Soon, another couple of Wus pop in. Then another couple. In the control room RZA orders up a bottle of Hennessy and talks about hearing "Say What You Want" for the first time. "I didn’t fully understand the sound of it," admits the soft-spoken maestro. "It was obviously a popular song, a radio song, and my sound is the total opposite. But I thought that the artist had something, so I thought: "Let’s take her and rock her to my beat."

"Sweet soul, that’s what her stuff sounded like to me. Smooth. It reminded me of the Seventies: in those days, they did songs that would fit anywhere. If you went to a club getting high it would fit; if you was cleaning up your house it would fit. That’s when you’ve got a real great song right there." Whether or not "Say What You Want" is a great song, it’s not quite coming together tonight. Despite the best offers of the studio management, a full complement of Wu posse members ended up in the house. As the night drags on the trio of musicians don’t get with the track, and by eight the following morning there is little in the way of usable material. But everyone stays upbeat. Texas will work on the track in Glasgow, and send it back to RZA to finish, along with a new song based around one of his samples. After vowing to stay in touch, everyone stumbles out into the Manhattan morning light together, the Scots with an American name, and the Clan without a tartan.

From a distance the collaboration will continue. But it’s only a different kind of distance. Culturally, creatively, the gap between the Wu-Tang Clan and the old twang clan is considerable. Yet so it goes, this cross-cultural exchange programme. Whether it’s The Stones copping blues movies, Bowie digging the Philadelphia Sound, Lisa Stansfield getting soulful with Barry White, Sting getting doleful with Puff Daddy… Whether it’s Todd Terry reviving Everything But The Girl or Armand Van Helden making Sneaker Pimps the unwitting jumpstarters of speed garage, naked opportunism and risk-taking innovation have always been confused. Now, with genres blurred and tricknology proceeding apace, anything is possible and everything is permitted. Perhaps it is this, the sheer unlikeliness, that makes the Texas-Wu experiment the most illuminating collaboration of the year. Whether it works or not.

"If you play her stuff in a club, everybody be dancing, but it’s a clear room and you can see everybody’s face," RZA reflects on the departing Sharleen Spiteri. "But if you play mine, the room is smoky." And perhaps it is here, among the clouds and the clarity, between the smoke and the mirrors, where a new sound and vision lies.

Text originally posted on texasindemand.com

#article #whiteonblonde #wob #the face #the faculty #wutangclan #wu-tang clan #saywhatyouwant #texas #texasband #texas band #texastheband #texas the band #sharleenspiteri #sharleen spiteri

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waiting-for-motivation · 5 years

Text

alaska

summary: They met at a young age and fell in love at first sight. Because they are the same. Because they are both from Jotunheim. Everything is great until Loki pushes (Y/n) away. Only after years he starts desperately looking for her. And he won’t give up until he has his love back in his arms.

pairings: Loki x Reader, Thor, Vali, Narfi

warnings: angst, sadness, mean!Odin, kinda fluffy

words: 2134

a/n: the Reader is half jotun, half goddess but that‘s not really that important..

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

He isn’t feeling well. Not at all.

Day and night he is looking for her. For the love of his life, he left.

The thing is, Loki never thought he could love anyone after discovering he is a frost giant; a monster. But that was not true.

On one particular warm morning in Asgard, Loki decided to go on a walk to clear his mind. He felt her before he saw her. All of a sudden, cold air surrounded the god of mischief. A coldness that reminded him of his true home – Jotunheim. His and her home.

Loki looked around, searching the reason for the sudden coldness. People around him got back in their houses or put on some extra layers of clothes.

The moment he wanted to go back to the palace, he finally saw her. He saw absolute beauty.

The young girl standing on the wall didn‘t look rather conspicuous. Her red floor length dress didn‘t seem expensive. Many stains sullied it. Her sandals looked like she wore them too often.

But that‘s nothing Loki actually paid attention to. He looked into her (e/c) eyes and lost himself.

She smiled at him once she realized the prince was staring at her. A curtesy followed.

Then she turned her back to Loki and started to admire the rising sun. But Loki couldn‘t go back to the palace, he needed to know who the lovely girl is. So he walked over the market and took a few steps to reach the wall, the girl was using as the perfect viewpoint. Loki stopped right beside the girl and even though the sunrise of that morning was astonishing beautiful, he couldn‘t take his eyes of the girl.

„My prince“, she said with a timid voice and looked right into Lokis green eyes. In that moment he felt like she could see his soul, secrets, problems, feelings, thoughts and heart.

And it only needed this short eye contact and they felt connected and fell in love.

But Loki left her. And here he is now. Alone. Without his soulmate.

A lot of news papers, books and his laptop surround him on his bed. All of them about weird events concerning women. But none of them looked or sounded like (Y/n). It‘s almost as if the world swallowed her.

„Did you ever think about the possibility that she doesn‘t want to be found. If I remember it correctly you pushed her away, telling her that she isn‘t worth a god and should hide her, and I quote, dreadfulness in Jotunheim.“ Thor enters his brothers bedroom without knocking and takes a seat in the dark green arm chair.

„For a guy who is rather stupid all of the time, you have a bright memory.“ Loki doesn‘t look up from the article he is reading, so he doesn‘t sees the fake grin Thor is giving him.

The article flies through the air and lands in front of Thors feet. Loki is frustrated. Since three months he is looking for a sign of (Y/n). But there is none. Because she doesn‘t want to be found.

„If you wont help me then please go, Thor. Your stupidity is distracting me!“ Loki almost screams. His brother gets up without another word, walking to the door but there he stops.

„Maybe you should look for her in her natural environment, where she feels safe and sound. But what can a stupid guy like me know, right?“ With a sad look Thor leaves his brothers room. Loki starts to see clear. His brother is right. (Y/n) will be somewhere cold. That would reduce his search to a few articles in Alaska.

And because of Thors clever comment the two brothers are stuck in this cold snow storm. Even though Loki is a frost giant he feels the cold too. Their faces are hidden behind big scarves and the hoods of their jackets. Thors grip on Stormbreaker tightens. Did he just imagine a growl behind them? Hopefully not.

Loki turns around and is faced with two wolves. One is white, the other is black. Behind them the gods can suspect a person but the storm makes it impossible to know who it is.

„(Y/n), please, if that‘s you. Let us talk. We mean no harm!“ Thor screams over the howling of the wind. The strange person comes closer and from one moment to the other, the snow storm stops. Everything around them falls silent.

One of the wolves, the black one, jumps through the air and brings Loki down on the ground. Therefore his hood and scarf fall of his face and he can feel the wolfs warm breath on his cold skin.

The white wolf takes a step towards Thor and to his surprise he sits down like a obedient dog. His big brown eyes stare at the blond man in front of him and hesitantly Thor starts scratching the fur behind his ears.

The strange person stands next to the white wolf and let their eyes wander form the blond god to Loki, who almost gets crushed by the weight of the black wolf. Neither Thor, nor his brother can see the face of the strange person because of a scarf, cap and hood.

„What are you doing here?“ The disguised person recognizes the two brothers. Thor and Loki. Loki, who broke her heart and pushed her away.

Slowly, the strange person takes of scarf, cap as well as her hood. A beautiful face is shown to the two brothers. Although Loki only gets a short glimpse, his breath is taken away. (Y/n) is even more beautiful after all those years.

One last time the black wolf growls at the god of mischief, then he returns to (Y/n)s side.

„We were looking for you, my lady. More precisely, my brother was desperate to find you“, Thor says and takes off his hood and scarf to reveal a grin. But neither (Y/n) nor Loki are smiling. The tension between them is almost visible.

Without another word and with a cold expression, (Y/n) turns around. Her wolves follow her. They are heading to a small hut, the two brothers couldn’t see because of the snow storm. As she reaches the wooden door, (Y/n) can hear a whisper.

„I‘m sorry.“ Loki followed her slowly. His brother is still standing where they stood when the storm stopped. „I‘m sorry that I pushed you away. I‘m sorry that I told you you weren‘t worth a god. Because you are. If anything, I didn‘t deserve you! I‘m sorry telling you that you should hide yourself in Jotunheim. You shouldn‘t hide your beauty, (Y/n).“ Their eyes meet but (Y/n)s expression doesn‘t soften.

„The girl that fell in love with you, would have believed you. But I‘m different. I‘m not a girl anymore, Loki“, she says ice cold. The black wolf on her left side growls at the god of mischief. (Y/n) turns back to the door and opens it halfway.

„Please, (Y/n). I know I hurt you but Thor didn‘t harm you. At least let him inside, he probably is hungry and cold and I don‘t want to listen to his complaints on our way back.“ (Y/n) looks back to the man who broke her heart and then to his brother who obviously is cold.

The two wolves enter the hut first, then (Y/n) follows and invites the two brothers with a hand gesture. Loki waits until his brother reaches the hut and is the last one to enter, closing the door behind him.

Thor is relieved because of the warmth and holds his hands over the small fire in the chimney. Loki still stands at the door, not knowing what to do, say or even think. His silver tongue lays heavy in his mouth.

The two wolves lay in front of the fire and seem to befriend Thor. They snap at his hands playfully again and again.

„Here I have got some soup and beer for you“, (Y/n) says while entering the living room with a bowl and a huge mug full of dark beer. With a smile on her lips she gives Thor the food and drink, then she starts caressing the head of her black wolf.

„What‘re their names?“, Thor asks and starts eating the soup with a wooden spoon. The question seems to trigger something inside the half Jotun. She starts fiddling with her hands and can‘t keep eye contact with the older brother.

Loki takes a step forward but stops because the white wolf growls at him. The wolves don‘t like him, not just because he broke their owners heart but because of something deeper.

„Their names...are..“ (Y/n) takes one deep breath once more. „Vali and Narfi.“ Thor nods and eats his soup without another thought about the two wolves but his brother is shocked.

He knows the names of the wolves.

After one particular steamy night (Y/n) and Loki layed in their bed together, their arms and legs entangled. They felt the love between them in this moment. And in this night they talked about children.

And they agreed on the names Vali and Narfi because a girl and a boy could bear those names.

Lokis and (Y/n)s eyes meet and they are both full of tears. On one hand the black haired god wants nothing more than to get his love back but on the other side he knows this is impossible.

He insulted her.

He pushed her away.

He left her.

He left his children.

He broke their heart.

Why would she want him back?

„Loki? I believe we need to talk“, the soft voice of (Y/n) reaches his ears. The next moment Thor rises from the old couch and leaves the room with the two wolves following him.

„Darling, if I knew what I know now, I would have never pushed you away. You must understand that...“, Loki starts but gets interrupted by (Y/n) who punches him right in the face. His nose starts bleeding.

„That you wanted to be a king? I know why you said those things, Loki. You never wanted love or me, all you ever wanted was to take you fathers place as a king and rule Asgard. You are a selfish little monster.“ These words hit Lokis heart. She said it herself. He is a monster.

„Darling, please. Let me explain“, he begs and gets down on his knees. Something he would never do but here is in Alaska, kneeling before his lost love. „You are right I‘m a monster. I left you. I left you and my children. And I will never forgive myself for doing so. But I promise you I‘m not this monster anymore. I gave up the throne because I missed you so much. I couldn‘t eat, sleep nor think straight without you. Sometimes I couldn‘t even breath. Please, (Y/n), give me a chance to show you that I changed. That I‘m a better lover now. A better father.“ Loki grabs his lovers hands and looks deeply into her beautiful (e/c) eyes.

(Y/n) is overhelmed by his words and opens her mouth to say something but nothing could describe how she is feeling right now. „Stand up!“, she orders. Loki does so and is surprised that she didn‘t tear her hands from his.

„I have to tell you something, before I give you a second chance. After you...abandoned me and I found out that I was pregnant, I knew I had to leave Asgard. So I went to the one place where I thought you would never look, well because you hate Midgard. I gave birth to Vali and Narfi, your sons, here alone with no one to help me. Three days after their birth an old man knocked on my door and asked for help. Of course I let him in but that was a mistake. It was Odin, Loki. He cursed our little boys so that they would be wolves forever. I don‘t know why he did this, maybe because he was afraid what our children could do. Maybe because he hated me. I don‘t know.“ A tear escapes Lokis green eyes and he has to sit down to process the story (Y/n) just told him.

„I‘m so sorry, darling. Maybe I can free them from their curse. I will try“, Loki says. The lovers stare in each other’s eyes for a moment till they hear the two wolves coming back. They sensed their mother in distress and of course want to protect her.

„Vali. Narfi. It‘s okay“, (Y/n) says to calm her boys. And the brothers sit down before the feet of their parents. „Your father will help us.“

Vali and Narfi look up at their father and for the first time after what felt like centuries, Loki starts smiling.

#loki #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki oneshot #loki one shot #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson oneshot #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson one shot #loki fluff #vali #narfi #odin #thor #asgard #marvel #norse gods #norse mythology

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yunhostinyuyu · 4 years

Text

broken and fixed - part 03

pairing: roommate!doyoung vs friend!taeil x original female character (ft. haechan & taeyong)

genre: roommate!au, work!au, social media!au-ish, fluff, angst, eventual smut

wc: 2.1k

synopsis: kang haneul is desperately looking for a way out of her home. as one of her best friends suggests a friend who is currently looking for a new roommate, a new and better chapter in her life begins. or so she thought...

warning: suggestive, mentions of abuse, panic attack, weed (for medical reasons)

“How many more boxes do you have? I don’t recall you having this much stuff! And why again is everything so heavy?” Donghyuck complained as he lifted another one of Haneul’s moving boxes. Drops of sweat already rolling from his forehead down to his cheekbones. “Quit whining big baby and get to work!” Mina scolded the younger boy as she grabbed a smaller box.

“We’re almost done...” Haneul explained as she kicked the door to her new room open and scanned all the labelled boxes with her belongings. She quietly counted as the three of them put thier boxes down, but can’t get rid of the feeling that she forgot something. “So these are the last ones.” Mina said and rubbed her red hands together. But as Hanuel looked around, she finally notices what’s missing.

“Wait, where’s my keyboard?”

“You didn’t bring it? Because I don’t remember loading it into my car...” Donghyuck commented. Haneul now remembers at how the piano is still at her parents home. She forgot to pack it because it was stored away on top of her wardrobe.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed loudly at the realisation, “I gotta go back to get it, I forgot... Fucking Shit!” she deeply growled. “I’d say that’s typical for you but I think you already know that.” Hyuck said, but was hit by a halfhearted slap from Haneul. He apologized “I’m sorry, I will go back with you to pick it up. Let’s go...”

“No, I can handle it. I still have my keys so I can just slip through for a minute and sneak out again. I’ll be fine, you guys should start getting ready for later.” Hanuel told her friends. Mina’s phone rang and she got startled as she saw the caller ID , “It’s my sister, I gotta run! But see you later!”. She placed a quick kiss on Haneul’s cheek and a slap on Donghyuck’s shoulder before she accepted the call. “Oww! She always does that!” He complained at Mina’s attack as she ran out the door. Right as the front door shut close, Doyoung’s head peeked out of the shared living room. That’s the second time he checked in on Haneul’s moving activities that day, earlier offering his help and letting them know he has friends over. So in case they are being to loud, he said she shouldn’t shy away from telling them to ‘tone it down’, as Doyoung put it into words.

“Everything okay?” He asked, a little concerned. He probably heard the cursing and Mina’s not-so-silent foot steps as she stormed out just a second ago. Hyuck shakes his head and she follows along, linking her hands behind her back in an effort to stretch them, as they stood in the hallways right out of Haneul’s doorframe.

“Yes! Don’t worry Hyung, we are about done.” Hyuck said first. “I’ll have to drop off one more thing in about twenty minutes and then I’m finished.” Haneul added and plastered a smile across her face.

“Yeah, no worries. Just wanted to check in.” Doyoung answered and already turned on his heel to open the living room door once again. As the door was wide open however, Hyuck spotted two new figures in the room and was quick to recognise one of them:

“Hey! Taeyong!” Oh oh. That name rang a bell in Haneul’s mind. Is he that ex of his sister? The one who’s room she is moving into right now? The look on her face froze, but only until they heard the slim figure yell back.

“Is that Donghyuck? What are you of all people doing here?” The boy walked out of the living room into the hallway and towards the younger boy. He was really skinny had had distinctive facial features, topped with platinum white hair, which was pushed back, with some strands of hair hanging out loosely.

“Oh just spending my precious time helping my friend...” Hyuck said, smiling, while fist bumping him. Taeyong quickly turned to face her and offered a handshake. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m Taeyong, Youngies former roommate.” The new face introduced himself, and Haneul shook his hand firmly.

“Nice to meet you too, I’m the new roommate of Doyoung, but you probably knew that.” She said, but then spotted another new face enter and slip past Doyoung, who was trying his hardest to hide his discomfort about this friends meeting Haneul. But he couldn’t do anything about it now. The nameless guy was shorter than the other two, but not by much. He had a round face with very plump lips and eyes she could loose herself in if she wasn’t careful, sparkling brightly. He was fast to stand next to his bright haired friend, his own brown, short locks looking awfully fluffy.

“We knew that, but we don’t know what your name is, beautiful? I’m Taeil.”

So now, when she first met Doyoung, she thought he was really attractive, but with the flirty boy who was now right in front of her, she had to correct her previous thought. His gaze almost made her drool. Thankfully, she could contain herself enough to shake his hand aswell and give him a genuine smile. “I’m Haneul” was all she could say before Donghyuck interrupted.

“Why don’t you guys join us later? Well be heading to a few bars downtown.” he suggested and Doyoung immidiatly cut right through.

“Maybe another time, but thanks for the offer.” the black haired man said and disappeared back into the living room now, hoping his friends would do the same. The both shoot a certain look to each other, thanked for the invitation and left to join Doyoung in the living room and went back to whatever it is they have been doing before. “Suit yourselves.” Hyuck dismissed the topic.

Haneul took her bag from her room and left together with Donghyuck. Her hands started to get clammy from the thought of having to go ‘home’ for one more time. Already running through all the worst case scenarios as she unlocked her car, which was parked right across Donghyuck’s. “Hey,” he spoke softly and she turned around to face her best friend again. He was just standing there with his arms spread out, offering a big hug. This was so rare coming from him, but nonetheless she put her arms around his back and let herself be pulled into his warm and cuddly embrace.

“I’m proud of you, Noona.” He whispered after a few seconds. “Don’t get all sappy now! Thank you Hyuckie, and I’ll see you later, yeah? Gotta make sure you look good so you get layed.” she joked when she pulled away from the younger man. Even if the older one enjoyed moments like these, she can’t handle them without getting either sarcastic or defensive.

“What do you mean? I always look good?”

“I will see you later! Bye now or I won’t make it in time” she swiftly dismissed his accusation and entered her car.

Nervosity starting to run through her veins as she got closer and closer to her parents home. Maybe she should have asked Hyuck or Mina to go with her, but now it’s too late. She didn’t talk with her parents about her plans to move out. To be honest, she didn’t talk with them at all, unless she was subject to her mother’s hits and unfiltered, rude words targeted at thier only daughter. The chance that they have caught up on what has happened already are pretty slim, since she wasn’t home all day and, obviously, all of her stuff is gone. Memories of the last incident with her crossed her mind again, and she really tried her hardest to keep that thought out of her mind. Focused on the street, the memories still stayed there and didn’t want to budge only an inch, which really made the young girl ache.

On the doorstep, her shaking hands tried to unlock the door as quiet as possible. The door opened itself slowly, and she stayed silent to listen for any sign of her parents. But no - there was only silence and everything was dark. The rooms she was living in all her life until now looked strange. They felt foreign, even if today was only the first day she officially moved out. It felt foreign, and it left a bitter taste in Haneul’s mouth.

Taking a chance, she dashed into her old bedroom, where her piano keyboard was stored. She hurriedly pulled it out from above her old wardrobe, balancing it as good as she could and put it into its cover. Without another thought she held it tightly against her chest and ran back out of the door. Everything happened in the span of only a minute, because Haneul was scared and the adrenaline made her act quicker than usual. But she was quick enough, and put the keyboard carefully in the trunk of her car.

„So that‘s it?“

Haneul froze, still facing the trunk of her car before slowly turning around to look at the source of the voice.

„What does it matter to you?“ she spat, quite surprised she managed not to break down right then and there.

„You‘re my daughter, a quick goodbye wouldn’t have hurt, huh? Tell me, who are you running away with?“ it‘s quite ironic, because it would infact have hurt.

„None of your fucking business. I‘m off now.“ Haneul spoke with as much force as possible, slamming the trunk shut and slowly walking around the car to get in the driverseat.

Her mother just scoffed. „Your attitude will never change, you stupid whore. Don‘t show your disgusting face around here ever again.“

Haneul swallowed hard, hand around the car door handle, but not get pushing it.

„Don‘t worry, you won‘t.“

And with that she drove away, back to her new home. Not having to deal with this mess ever again.

—

„Is she single? Do you know anything about that?“ Taeil asked, as the three freinds sat back down on the couch, curious about the new girl he had just layed his eyes on.

Doyoung didn’t answer, he only rolled his eyes as he stared back on his phone screen. Scanning Haneul‘s Instagram profile again and again in search of anything new, something she didn’t tell him or he didn’t find out about.

She was so interesting to him, but he would never admit it.

„Doyoung?“ Taeyong nudged his friend to pull him out of his thoughts, quickly shutting his phone.

„What? I‘m not helping Taeil, he can figure that out on his own.“ he huffed, clearly annoyed. Even if they were his best friends, they all had thier needs. And normally would help each other out to get what they desired, as in helping each other to get layed. But he really didn’t want them to be involved with his new roommate out of all people.

„Why are you so sour about this? I wouldn’t fuck her here if that’s what you’re so worried about.“

„No, because you won’t be fucking her at all. She‘s my roommate, there’s no need to involve her in anything just because you can’t keep it in your pants for once! There‘s plenty of fish in the sea.“ Doyoung answered and was met with an intense stare of his older friend.

„These are bold words coming from you.“ Taeil said, softly. „Somethings bothering you, and I don’t think it has to do with Haneul.“

„Ah, I don’t know, I‘m just... tired?“ the slim man uttered as he rubbed his temples with his and squeezed his eyes shut. Normally he would hit himself for saying stupid a things like ‘there are plenty of fish in the sea’, because he really didn’t think so. He only said it to distract himself from former memories. And that could also be the reason he’s constantly looking at Haneuls Social Media. To distract himself from the bitterness.

„Come on, we‘ll get something in your system.“

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hardyimagines · 5 years

Text

Welcome To The Family

Hey, I have never requested a story before , not sure how to ask. But how about Tom Hardy (himself) is my bf and I am bringing him home to meet my family and my father is very aggressive because tom is too old for me. Then he makes himself love especially to my mother and little sister. Aaand he spends the night in our house, we may do some dirty things. Thank you in advance :)

Warnings: little bit of sexxx

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“Will you just be kind to him? You never approve of anyone that I’m seeing?” Your voice was soft, already defeated. Today meant everything to you and you were sure that it would somehow be ruined. Laying your palms out flat on the folded white napkins that were set out on the table, you ensured that none of them contained any wrinkles before you turned on your heel and moved into the kitchen to join your mother. Your father remained seated at the table. He wore a look of distaste. He didn’t think you should be dating anyone at such a young age. You were in your mid-twenties, so he thought this was the perfect time to focus on your career, your studies and education, not on a man.

“Dad doesn’t get it, honey.. you have to be patient. He’ll come around eventually.” Your mother, Amy, told you quietly as she watched you from her peripheral. You hauled open one of the wooden cabinets and dragged out a stack of dishes. Some of the glasses were marked with prints, decorated with flowers, pink, purple, and green or animals ranging from panda’s to puppy’s. You set the dog one to the side and decided that that one would be Tom’s. He was the biggest dog lover you knew. You were silent following your mother’s words. You understood that your father didn’t want his little girl to grow up, but he didn’t have to treat the situation like it was the end of the world. You wanted him to like Tom, or at least pretend like he did. You didn’t want your boyfriend to feel like an outsider. A heavy sigh left your lips, the only sign that told your mother you heard what she said. The freshly swept floor gleamed beneath your sock-covered feet as you made your way back into the dining room. Setting a dish down in front of each chair, you gave your father the plate that was decorated with the owl.

“I want the dog one.” He told you firmly before ushering toward the dish at the opposite end of the table. Your eyes narrowed for only a second before you shook your head.

“No, I’m giving that one to Tom. He’s a huge dog-lover, dad. You have the owl one.” Your hand brushed along the back of his seat as you passed and when you did, you lifted the dog plate protectively, ensuring that your boyfriend would be the one to use it. Nervously making your way back into the kitchen to help your mother finish up with dinner, you finally spoke up to her. “If dad starts acting.. really rude, we’re just going to leave. I’m warning you now. Tom deserves the world and im just a small part of that. I don’t want dad’s big mouth or rude words ruining anything.” Your hip pressed into the counter as you turned to face the woman. You’d been dating Tom for three years, but nobody in your household knew that apart from your younger sister. Everyone else just assumed that since you were just now introducing him, you’d only recently begun dating. “I love him.” You whispered. The knife in your mother’s hands ceased its movements. Her brown eyes twinkled with concern before she looked toward you. It wasn’t her place to tell you not to love. She couldn’t protect you from heartbreak, she could only console you afterward. The conversation came to an abrupt end when the doorbell sounded. There was no time to worry about the nerves that suddenly made themselves present in your stomach — no time at all. You needed to get to the door before your dad did.

Tom stood on the porch with a bouqet of flowers clutched in his palm. The lively green stems were moist from having only recently been taken out of the jug of water he’d brought along on the journey. The plant water was tucked away in his car, blooming beauties in his hand seemingly more captivating since he’d allowed them to drink their water. He smiled lazily before lifting his gaze to the door when the brown wood swung open. His blue eyes glistened excitedly before running along your small form. You were dressed down in some jeans and one of his old shirts. The thing was too small for him, but it fit you nicely. A little oversized, but you still looked breathtaking. So casual, yet so very beautiful. He took a small step forward, sneakers scuffing against the porch step as he lifted himself on to the main deck. He towered over you more so now. The fluffy socks you wore were hardly enough protection from the cold porch you stood on. A little shiver ran along your spine as your boyfriend moved even closer, but you were sure that wasn’t from the chilly outdoors, just from the proximity of the handsome man. Your small palm lifted to press against his cheek, gentle fingers grazing the facial hair that lined his cheeks, jaw, and chin. He didn’t have much time to greet you before you leaned in and pressed your lips against his own. He supposed this counted as a greeting as well.

“Hands off her, boy, or we are going to have problems before you even make it into the house.” Your father’s deep voice invaded the perfect bubble you and Tom had created. Your lips were left alone when the man in your arms shrunk back. He resembled a shy child — one side of him you hadn’t seen much of before.

“My apologies.” Tom spoke softly before extending his arm. He smiled down at you before discreetly winking as you took hold of the pretty bouquet. Despite what your father had said, you leaned up and kissed your boyfriend again before taking his hand and leading him inside.

“Thank you for the flowers, baby, they’re beautiful.” You told him as you led him inside. He halted in the door so that he could remove his shoes, kicking the things softly before he turned toward you. Your light eyes fell to the socks he wore. Of course they would be Venom. An amused giggle left your lips before you looked toward your dad. Now that you were tucked away inside the warmth of the house, you could properly introduce the two. “Tom, this is my dad. Dad, this is Tom.” Your eyes squinted toward your father when you sensed how uninterested he looked.

“Hank.” Your father corrected. “Don’t call me dad.” His hands were pushed deep into his pockets, not twitching in the slightest. He made no movement to shake the actor’s hand or even smile. “You don’t look like you’re in your twenties.” He declared before scanning the man at your side. “You’re far too old for my girl, aren’t you. You’ve got to be in your thirties, if not fourties.” You rolled your eyes at his words before shaking your head. The annoyance in your stomach was coming to life. Did all dad’s act like this? So disapproving the second they looked at their guest. The floorboards creaked beneath the moving weight as you made your way down the hall and toward the kitchen to avoid this conversation. Age wasn’t important. Tom was hot on your heels, not letting you get even an inch away from him.

Your mother glanced over her shoulder at your loud steps and then sudden appearance. Her soft eyes locked on to Tom’s and she politely spun around to speak to him. “You must be Tom?” Her eyes were so warm and inviting. She dried her wet hands off on the dry rag that resided on the counter before making her way toward him. Her arms locked around him in a secure embrace before she drew back. “It’s lovely to meet you.” Her hand pat his arm before she looked to you. “You did good.” Her voice quietened significantly, as if Tom wouldn’t hear her sly compliment. “Oh- do you need a vase, honey?”

“Yes.” You uttered before moving to the cabinet beneath the microwave. A twinge of delight fluttered in your tummy as she instantly gave her approval over, but it didn’t cheer you up fully because the grumpy man in the dining room could still ruin the night by bashing on Tom for god knew what. Dragging the cabinet open, you pinched a large glass container and lifted it into the sink so you could fill it halfway with water. The flowers were then set inside their new home, fitting perfectly. You set the vase on the windowsill so the dying sun in the distance could warm the petals before it went to sleep for the night. Tom loomed behind you, large palm lifting so he could cradle your hip. He could tell you were already becoming frustrated.

“Babe?” He drew you backward and toward him. “It’s alright, yeah?” His voice was soft against your ear, hot breaths easing the building anger. You turned around to face him before lifting your small hands to his arms. Your thumbs traced his tattoos before you leaned in and embraced him completely. “I‘m not worried about what he thinks of me, remember that.” He enveloped your cheeks with his warm hands before drawing you in for a gentle kiss. Your mother had a hard time hiding her smile, so she lifted the first tray of food and moved into the dining room.

“Do me a favor..” You drew back from the kiss so you could look up at him. “When my dad tells you not to do something, don’t listen. I know you want to do good by him and impress him and all that, but if I want to hold your hand or kiss you, I’m gonna, so I want you to do the same.” The man stared down at you with a soft smile before nodding his head. He looped his arm around your shoulders and gently tugged you forward.

“Don’t worry that pretty little head, hm?” He pressed his nose against your cheek before smiling. “It’ll be fine.” He assured you with a soft peck to your skin. His mouth was repeatedly pressing to your cheek, gliding along your flesh. Little giggles left your lips, sounds of enjoyment but also quiet begs for him to cease his endless affection because it tickled.

“Who’s he?” A sudden voice piped up from the corner. You stiffened in your boyfriend’s arms before slowly looking over your shoulder. Eyeing your younger sister, you bit your cheek before turning around to face her.

“El, this is Tom. Remember, my boyfriend?” The little girl in the doorway smiled. She had two missing front teeth and a pair of glasses set low on the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t have been more than eight, he thought. Her hair was done up in pigtails and her eyes were a brighter shade of blue than Tom’s. She set her hands sassily on her hips, before tugging her jeans up and then stepping forward.

“Is your real name Tom?” She inquired. Climbing up on to one of the bar stools, she knelt on the tan cushion and fixed him with an accusing glare.

“Is your real name El?” He flipped the question around and leaned against the counter. His blue eyes glistened with amusement as they slid between her own.

“No, my name’s Elouise, but everyone calls me Ellie or El.” She stated matter of factly before fixing him with an impatient look.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He slunk forward so he could set his elbows on the counter she was stood at. “Tom’s not my real name..” He started, but you stepped up and cut him off before he could finish.

“Ellie, remember that movie I showed you the other night.” Your fingertips lazily traced the length of your boyfriend’s muscular back. “Mad Max, remember?” The child on the stool briefly looked toward you before nodding her head in response. “Mh, well, this..” Your hand stilled at the top of his spine, delicately residing there. “is Max.”

The little girl didn’t really understand the difference between people in movies and people in real life. She figured they were just made up, but the longer she looked at the man in her kitchen, she could see the resemblance. “So you’re on tv?” Her eyes lit up. She wanted to be an actress when she was older. “I wanna be there too- on tv, in the movies!”

The conversation in the kitchen could be heard in the living room. Your mother wore a fascinated smile, shocked that the boy in the kitchen had been able to strike up a conversation with her youngest baby so quickly. Elouise was typically shy, quiet, and kept to herself. Your father on the other hand was gripping his cutlery so hard, the silver was nestling itself deeper and deeper into his tender flesh before he let the silverware topple noisily down on his glass plate. Your mother looked to him instantly with a warning glare, one that told him to just behave for once!

Tom looked in the direction of the loud sound and you were soon to do the same. Lowering your hand, you squeezed his fingers before helping Ellie off of the stool. “Come on, munchkin, wash your hands and then let’s have some dinner.” You told your younger sister softly before moving around the island in the center of the room. Retrieving the basket of bread, you grabbed ahold of Tom’s hand and led him through the corridor and across to the dining room. Ushering toward the puppy plate, now set out so that he could have it, you took the seat beside him and set the bowl of bread down in the middle so everyone could have a piece or two.

Elouise came bounding into the room with soaked hands and warm eyes. Her smile was bright and contagious, wide enough to draw at least a twitch of the lips from every occupant of the table. Your hand lowered beneath said table, finding your boyfriends knee swiftly so you could squeeze some comfort into him if he needed any throughout the dinner. He looked in your direction briefly, instantly captivated by the smile that resided on your pink lips.

Your mother could see it, plain as day, how infatuated with one another you were. Your father saw it too and it sickened him. A man could fake those feelings until he’d well and truly used his selected victim and then could move on to the next. Especially a man like the one sitting at his dining table. He was older, mature, he knew what he was doing — what he was capable of. He preyed on the young. But little did your father know, Tom had no intentions of dating you when the pair of you’d met. It was accidental to fall in love.

“So,” Your mother was the first to speak. “do we get to hear the story of how you two met?” Her question was soft as she began to dish out the meal residing in the middle of the table. The silver dishes were sat in a straight line, potatoes tucked away inside one bowl, macaroni in another. A loaf of bread doused in garlic and butter was situated closest to your father and in the center of the table, a tray of chicken and fish. Amy fixed her plate and Elouise’s, green eyes gliding to your father every now and then when he made no movement to fix his own plate. He was too focused on the expressions you and Tom were wearing, so giddy and gleaming from nothing in particular. He squinted. He had no interest in hearing how the pair of you met. You slumped across the table, fingertips grazing the bowl of potatoes, struggling to actually grab ahold of it. Tom watched you momentarily with a lazy smirk, amusement evident in his gaze, before he leaned over and with his much longer arm gripped the potato bowl. Handing it to you so that you could get what you wanted from it, he tilted his head when you dropped two on to his plate. He rewarded your need to help fix his plate with a kiss to the forehead before he placed the bowl back in its rightful spot in front of Elouise.

“We met when he was filming ‘Legend’.” You told your mother quietly. Your father had absolutely no idea what the names of any movies were — he was clueless. Your mother on the other hand, she should’ve taken up a career in movie critiquing. She’d seen every movie on earth it seemed like, for the second you said the name of the film, she cleared her throat in confusion. That movie had come out ages ago. Her eyes latched on to your own, silently examining you. You nodded once to answer her silent question of ‘have you really been seeing this man for that long’ and when she looked back to Tom, it hit her like a truck that this was in fact the actor who’d starred as the Kray Twins. She straightened. He hadn’t looked familiar before despite the fact that she had seen plenty of his films, but he certainly did now. She wasn’t exactly an over the top, spastic fan of celebrities, she just really enjoyed movies. Her lips twitched, curving upward fully before she looked down at her chicken, tongs of her fork piercing the meat. “It was when I took that college practice course.” You waved your hand around to signify the timeline. “Remember?”

Her eyes lit up. “Of course I do.” Hank didn’t. His expression was still blank. He still thought this bloke was your boyfriend of a few weeks. You knew he’d be infuriated if you told him that you’d actually been dating the man for approximately 200 weeks.

“Well, I was in charge of Emily Browning’s makeup, but there were a few times they sent me over to his,” You squirmed in your seat, cheeks warming beneath the heated gaze of your family. “dressing room and I was assigned to help him out when it was necessary.” Your eyes flickered to the handsome man at your side.

“You’ve changed your career choice since then, honey, why didn’t you stick with makeup?” Your mother inquired, narrowing her eyes in the slightest as she tried to read the entirety of the situation.

Tom opened his arm, laying the length of it across the back of your seat. His fingertips grazed your arm, tracing your hot skin tenderly as he peered down at you. His plate was still yet to be made, but it was because he was listening intently to everything you had to say.

“Um,” Your eyes flickered to your boyfriend. “I had to put this foundation type powder,” Your hand lifted to Tom’s cheek. “on him.. a subtle amount.. and when they resumed filming, his face was blinding, and blotchy.” Your words drew a harsh, raspy chuckle from the bloke at your side. He looked to Amy.

“She didn’t spread it out enough.. and she chose the wrong color.” The woman could see he found the situation completely laughable and cute for he looked back at you with nothing but admiration in his gaze.

“Yeah, well,” Your hand fell to his shoulder, squeezing it. “you asked me out after that.” Slumping back in your chair, your soft eyes ran along his handsome features before you looked toward your dish, still not made. You made movement to lean forward and start, but Tom beat you to it. His large fingers curled around the spoon in the macaroni, dishing out a few scoops for you and then for himself. You watched him as he made your plate and then his before you looked toward your father who still refused to chime in to the conversation. “Now I’m going to be a hair stylist.” You looked back to your mother. “For films.. I actually have helped out quite a bit since meeting him, and I’m told I’m pretty good.” The excitement on your face made your mother’s heart warm. She looked to Tom to see if you spoke the truth. He nodded with a wide grin, backing you up on this career choice. Make up was a no go, but hair, you were very good at hair.

Hank shifted in his seat before beginning to loudly and sloppily make his plate. He was like a child, throwing a tantrum and creating as much noise as possible without having to verbally say ‘look at me’. Your hand vanished beneath the table, gliding to rest on Tom’s knee once more as you began to eat.

Ellie shifted, face filthy from the sticky cheese that coated her macaroni. “Do you have something else?” Her hand lifted so she could push her glasses up the bridge of her curved nose. “Something like else to say?” She stared at Tom. She was intrigued by him. He was very pretty to look at and she found it strange to see him in person after seeing him on tv.

Tom licked his lips slowly before studying the girl. He pondered what else he could tell her, but before he really had a chance, Hank spoke, startling everyone in the room.

“Tell me,” He squinted. “why there’s such a large age gap.” He looked toward the man seated at his table. “You’re closer to my age than you are to her’s.” He informed the man. “I’m 47.” His bushy brows drew together. “She’s 25.” He then laid his cutlery down and folded his arms over his chest. “So unless you’re 36, because that puts you right in the middle,” He tongued his cheek before shoving a piece of fish past his lips and speaking with a mouthful. “you can leave my house, boy, because there’s nobody,” He nodded, searching Tom’s eyes for a hint of anger. “that’s gonna date my little girl and be that much older than her.”

Amy scoffed at her husband’s pathetic words before she slowly looked in your direction. She could see the twitch of your lower lip, the faint tremble and she could tell then that Tom was, indeed older then 36, otherwise you wouldn’t be so upset. Tom sensed the tension you felt, he could feel your fingers twitching against his knee. He knew no amount of words could get him to leave, not unless those words were your own. He didn’t care about approval from anyone, he loved you and that wasn’t going to change by a meer dislike from your father. Your mother seemed to like him just find and Ellie did too.

“You don’t have a say.” You told him sternly. The heel of your foot pushed roughly into the floorboards as your throat grew tight and achy from the amount of words you wanted to spew all at once.

“I don’t have a say?” Your father barked harshly. “You’re my kid, I do have a say.”

“Maybe when I was younger. I’m 25, I brought him here to meet you. I didn’t bring him here to ask for your permission.” You lifted your hands and planted them so harshly against the table, the entirety of it shook beneath the force. “I love him and no amount of what you have to say will change that.” Tom was tempted to draw you gently back down into your seat, but he sensed that you wanted space from the tense room so he didn’t do anything. He let you speak your mind. Your eyes grew watery the longer that you stared at your father. “I don’t know why you can’t ever just be happy for me, you always have something to say about everything I do.” Your small hands moved to your plate, curling around it as you clenched your jaw. “I’m.. I can’t eat in here.” The four residents at the table watched you as you left the room without another word. It was unspoken that Tom would follow, but he stayed put for a few moments after you’d left the room. His eyes ran along the dinner, blue orbs lifting to the man who seemed to already hate him.

“She really cares about what you think.” He uttered before standing. “Always trying to do right by you and now I see why she’s always so stressed out.” Tom pinched his dish as well before looking toward El. “Do you want to show me where her room is?”

Amy’s eyes were fixed on her macaroni as she pushed it absentmindedly around her plate. Her eyes flickered to Ellie who was staring at her for permission. Her mother bobbed her head before watching as she skipped over to Tom and clutched on to his hand before leading him from the room.

You were sat on your bed, legs curled up beneath you as you flipped through the pages of one of your old scrapbooks. It had already been laid out on the bed, opened to the pages of printed photos of you and Tom. Your thumb grazed the length of the images, little smile playing on your lips as you admired the many, many pictures. The soft creak of your gliding open pulled your attention to it and the sight of Tom stood with Ellie’s hand clasped in his grip and his plate in his other made you beam.

“Sorry I ran off.” You told the pair before shutting the book and pushing it beneath your pillow. You slouched back against the wall, knees bending as you watched Tom enter further into the room. Ellie didn’t. Her stomach growled noisily so she waved before running off. The man stood beside the door gently nudged it shut before laying his plate on the dresser and fixating you under an inquisitive stars. His hands sunk into his jean pockets, feet planted firmly into the floor as he studied you.

“There’s no need to apologize to me, I didn’t know.. he was so hard on you.” He whispered before looking to his left. Studying the contents that bordered your dresser, he moved his hand to the broken carousel, studying the winder that no longer turned. You stood slowly from the bed, pushing off the mattress so you could cross the room. You stopped once you reached the dresser.

“It doesn’t matter.” You started, but he looked back to you.

“It does.” His brows furrowed. “It absolutely does, you’re miserable.” He frowned. Tom pulled his hands out of his pockets before lifting them to your cheeks. He cradled the smooth surface, tracing the underside of your eyes with his delicate touch. You were silent, relishing in the feel of his hands. “Babe,” He whispered, hot breaths running along your features. “move in with me.”

Your eyes, previously droopy from the enjoyable touch, sprang open at his words. Staring up at him as if he had two heads, your stomach dropped, twisted, and then churned. Three years was a long enough time to wait for such a question, but the unexpectedness of it made you feel queasy.

“What?” You whimpered out pathetically.

He smirked. “I didn’t stutter, now did I?”

“Tom, you.. that’s so sudden, too spontaneous, you need to think about what you’re asking me because I’d be invading your space!” He knew you were trying your best to make sure this was what he wanted, but he wouldn’t have asked you unless he’d truly meant it.

“I’ve been trying to ask you for months, I just didn’t know if you were ready to.” He whispered before slowly moving his hands from your cheeks, down to your hips. “I’ve thought long and hard about where I want this relationship to go and it’s.. everything to me, Y/n. I want to be with you for the rest of my life.” Your eyes widened then, hand lifting to his mouth so you could cover it. He was not going to ask you to move in and then propose to you right after. You wouldn’t allow it. Your eyes scanned his, warning him that if he were to propose, you were liable to faint. He smirked slowly before kissing the palm of your hand. He wasn’t going to propose, he had very special plans for how he was going to do that. He wanted it to be special, private, and the best day of your life. You fidgeted in front of him before slowly leaning up on your tiptoes. Pulling your hand out of the way, your mouth pressed to his own, a slow, sweet kiss that told him you were more than happy to move in together. Lifting the hang previously pressed to his lips around to the back of his skull, you curled your hand in his dark tresses and held him in place against you. Your breaths grew shallow and heavy as your mouth moved against his in matching pace.

Tom lowered his hands to your lower back, caressing the shirt of his that you wore before he rolled it up so he could get his palms beneath the fabric. “Would it be completely inappropriate,” he spoke into the liplock, teeth hitting your lips as you continued to try and kiss him. He couldn’t even get his words out completely before you moaned out softly.

“Yes, it would be.” You purred. Dragging your hand away from his hair and instead to his neck, you backed up until your legs hit the edge of your bed. Collapsing down on the mattress with a heavy sigh of want, you opened your legs. Tom sent you a devilish smile before setting his hands on the mattress beside your hips. He lifted his knee so that he could climb on to the bed, stomach flexing and biceps doing the same as he supported his weight.

“Naughty girl.” He murmured before leaning in so that his nose could brush over your own. “I love you.” He whispered breathily, finding it a bit difficult to speak because you kept pressing little kisses against his full, pouted lips. His giggle was boyish and bouncy, a sound that made your stomach fill with butterflies. You craned your neck and kissed him against before moving your lips to his nose.

“You’re everything to me.” You told him quietly before setting your hands on the side of his cheeks. Drawing him forward so that your mouth could trace the length of his nose all the way up to his forehead, you inhaled deeply before tipping your head so you could instead speak against his ear. “I love you too.” Tom adjusted himself on top of you so that he could angle himself just right and rub his crotch directly over your own.

A loud knock filled the room, a booming sound that made you gasp. Tom clenched his jaw before craning to look over his shoulder and toward the shadow that spilled from under the door. The heeled shoes which could be heard clicking from the hallway told the pair of you that it was Amy stood on the other side. Tom slowly lifted himself off of you before dropping down on the mattress so you could sit up.

“Come in.” Your voice shook as you tried to calm your breathing. Smoothing down your locks, you folded your legs nonchalantly and lifted your fork so that you could pick at your food. The door opened slowly and your mother’s head slowly poked into the room.

“Hi, darling.” Her voice was sweeter than honey, such a calming sound. You sent her a light smile before laying your fork down soundlessly against the plate beside your hip. “Your father um..” She clasped her hands together in front of her before shuffling further into the room. You’d never understand where your dad was coming from and he’d never be able to understand how you could love someone so much older. “You’re his little girl, Y/n, he’s always going to be protective. I tried to talk to him but he just doesn’t see eye to eye with this situation,” She paused for a moment before twisting so she could lazily pinch and pull at one of the ribbons attached to your dresser. “That being said, there’s nothing preventing the two of you from seeing one another, dad’s going to keep his opinion to himself, okay?” Her eyes flickered between the pair of you. “I see nothing wrong with it. The heart wants what it wants. I would’ve never imagined you falling for a man much older, but Tom,” She fixed him with a warm gaze. “I think you’re very sweet, polite, and I think you make my little girl very happy.” She moved into the room a little further. “Dad’s gone to bed and I think I’m going to head to bed to. Early night.” She whispered before leaning in and kissing your head. Her hand brushed Tom’s, squeezing it assuringly before she took a small step back. “El’s gone to her friends house so..” Her eyes locked on to your own. “Behave somewhat.” She waved to the pair of you before making her way back to the exit. She halted long enough to grab your dishes, cold food perched on top of them, uneaten and going to soil if kept out. “I’ll put these in the fridge for if you get hungry later.” She told you softly before tugging the door shut behind her.

You squirmed on the mattress slowly, soft eyes glued to where your mother had just been stood.

“I like her.” Your boyfriend piped up before rolling toward you. His head made its way into your lap, using your legs as a soft cushion as you sat with your arms out behind you, palms firmly sinking into the mattress.

“Me too.” You giggled softly before laying your hand on his cheek. Stroking the stubble that stuck out from his face, your free hand moved up to his locks, curling in them before you leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss.

“I see where your dad is coming from you know.” He had to speak in between the kisses you gave him. “I mean,” You swiped your tongue along his lips. “if our little girl,” You hummed. “wanted to date an older guy..” Your teeth sunk into his bottom lip, tugging on it playfully. “I wouldn’t exactly be too thrilled.” You kissed him sweetly before drawing back.

“Baby, I’m trying to kiss you.” You whispered breathily before tracing his bottom lip with your thumb. It was only then, as you stared down at him, that his words settled within you and realization dawned on you. “Wait, what?” Tom smiled lazily, hand lifting so that he could now return the favor. His hand curled in the back of your hair, lugging you forward so that you were bent over him and once more kissing his full lips. “Wait!” You gasped against his lips, unable to draw back because he had such a secure grip on you. “Tom!” You couldn’t help but giggle as he nipped and licked at your mouth, doing exactly what you’d done to him. “You want to have babies with me?” Your question was almost inaudible because of how airy it was.

The man let you break away then before he sat up on the creaky bedsprings. Ruffling his hair, the man pushed himself up on to his knees before rotating around. “Course I do.” He dropped down on his rear and slumped against the fluffy pillows that lined your headboard.

“W-when?” Blinking rapidly, you fidgeted at the foot of the bed before inspecting your boyfriend as he calmly eyed you.

“Whenever you’re ready.” His shoulders lifted before dropping with his shrug. “I told you, babe, you are all I want.. who else am I gonna have kids with or move in with?” He extended his arms and ushered you toward him. “Marry?” He grinned.

You took ahold of his hands before moving along the bed and toward his form. Swallowing thickly, you moved your hands along his and up to his forearms. Gripping on to him securely, you lifted yourself up so you could climb over his bent legs. Situating yourself in his lap, your fingers moved up to his shoulders, gripping them securely. “I didn’t know you thought about all that stuff.. I mean, I thought..”

“What? I was just spending three years of my life with you for the hell of it?” He lowered his hands to your hips and slowly drew you forward. Pressing his lips against your chin, he kissed down to the side of your neck before embracing you snugly. “No, baby.. I want to do everything with you.” He shut his eyes. “Everything.” His voice was heavy, honest, and it made your eyes droop. You wiggled in his lap before allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

Amy brushed her hand along Hank’s arm, attempting to wipe the grumpy expression, he’d been wearing since dinner, off of his face. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, fingernail tracing lazy shapes along his hot skin. She knew, despite his tough exterior and mean words, he would eventually have to come around. It would carve a wedge between him and you if he didn’t. She looked toward the hall, tempted to go back to your room and see if there was any way you’d want to come and talk to your dad, but deep down she knew that you and your boyfriend had no intention of going to sleep this early. The sun had hardly bid the world around it goodbye for the night. She looked to the ceiling. You could talk to him tomorrow.

A sharp gasp left your lips as your boyfriend pinned you against the mattress beneath him. Your trousers were around your knees, difficult for him to assist you in removing because he was far too interested in kissing your mouth and touching your breasts. His hands were buried beneath the tee, hidden as he massaged and kneaded your tender flesh. He moaned out gratefully into your mouth, hips wiggling uncomfortably as the tension between his legs grew harder and harder. Your shaky fingers clasped around his belt, unhooking it as swiftly and skillfully as you could without breaking the liplock which really just looked like a tongue war. You giggled into his mouth, legs kicking the second that he’d managed to get your jeans around your ankles. He slung the material to the floor before moving his hands back up the length of your legs and up to your hips so he could drag your underwear down and out of the way.

His trousers were harder to get off and you didn’t know if it was because they were thicker or because of how much you were shaking, but it took you long enough, to shove them down and off his hips. He’d managed to get your panties down and around your left ankle by the time he was kicking off his trousers and helping you by shoving his boxers down and off. You took your time in ridding of his shirt and you were sure that he had no intention of ridding of yours. He had his hands constantly pushed beneath the fabric so he could play with your breasts and because it wasn’t in the way of anything, you knew he wouldn’t waste time with removing it.

Your hips lifted eagerly, heels sinking into the mattress so he could slide forward and bury himself inside you. His face was red, coated in little beads of sweat from the frenzied movements. You wiped away the droplets before laying your palms against his wide, broad back. Dragging him down and on top of you securely, your eyes slid shut the second his tip sunk into you. A burst of warmth flooded you, followed by a slight pressure and then an explosion of stars. The groan you set free was deep and broken, a sound that he loved dragging from you and only managed to do when he first entered you. He let out a shaky gasp himself, a heavy, hot pant that your mouth was forced to devour.

This was how you wanted every night to end. Tom laid out on top of you or sprawled beneath you, bodies connected, molding you into one. He was your other half, no matter what the age difference was. He was the only person that could make you laugh as hard as he managed, smile until your cheeks burned, ache from how much you needed him. Your heart beat solely for his just as his beat solely for yours.

Today hadn’t gone exactly as you’d planned, but this was definitely making up for it.

———————————————————————

Tagged: @peakblogbecauseimweak @bsotstory @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @xxxxxeroxxxxx @wheresthewater @anrm1 @pansexualginger @marvelgirl7 @evilspretty-dead @heyitscam99 @wow-he-cute @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @sparklyreaderx @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @goodiesintheclosetlove @giftofdreams @ihclipse @meer0rauschen @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @centerhabit @clevertheoristpainter @jamierdr @favouritereadings @badmaax @thephuonganh @wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @matoki-darkpanda @bignastyfan-nz @97freaknik @hot-and-spiceyyy @shane-isa-shame @chimthighz @azayamari @baliadelcuore @lonewolf471 @crldrr @keeleyella

#tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fanfiction

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baylishh · 5 years

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Bruja- Taza Romero CH.2

A/N: Thank you all so much for the wonderful feedback. This blog wasn’t supposed to be a fan fiction blog, but it’s as much apart of me as my blue eyes. So, it makes sense that I’m writing again. Some aspects of this story are pulled from a Happy Lowman fic I‘m writing over on Wattpad. If you’re interested in reading it, HMU! Anywho, here’s chapter 2!

Taza and Angel had to leave. ‘Club business’ they both said.

The former had whispered in her ear that he’d stop by later. She nonchalantly mentioned when the café closed.

He just nodded pressing a kiss to her forehead. The action is familiar and Lydia is struck with visions of him in another life pressing soft kisses to her forehead before leaving for battle.

When he’s gone Lydia let’s put a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Something about her energy had shifted. She felt exhausted.

Music pours into the room from Lydia’s phone. She slides her thumb across the screen before placing it to her ear.

“You found him,” her best friend says.

“Hello, to you, too, Rach,” Lydia clears her throat, adjusting her stance and laying her front half on the bar. Her elbows dig in. “Yeah, I found him.”

The girl all but screams. Lydia holds the phone away from her ear until she’s sure permanent damage isn’t imminent.

“I fucking knew those visions where VISIONS y’know.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. Standing straight, she cocks out a hip and tosses her long blonde hair behind her shoulder.

“When haven’t they been VISIONS,” she asks.

“True,” There’s a sound of paper rustling before Rachel speaks again. “Galindo has demanded our presence. Not certain why.”

“Shit,” Lydia responds, running a hand up her face before delving it into her hair. She holds her hair in a fist, asking, “Do you know what this meeting is about?”

“I’m not in the habit of asking. Said it’s time we make some ‘new friends,’ whatever that means. Think he’ll wear the raincoat?”

Lydia snorts.

“Fuck, I hope not. Do you need me now?”

Rachel gives an affirmative response before wishing Lydia a safe trip to the compound. The line clicks off.

Lydia scribbles out quick note. She posts it on the door and flips her sign to CLOSED. With a flick of her wrist the door is locked and she’s headed to her car. The dash clock says 8:30.

The SoCal Iron Sisters Compound is modeled after the original compound in Scotland. It’s a collection of buildings in a circle around a large circular tower.

The Spire is only accessible to the High Priestesses and their coven members. Lydia runs in, finding the elevator open and waiting for her. She steps in and punches in her floor number.

It doesn’t take long for Lydia to get in uniform. Being a High Priestess the uniform is less form fitting. She isn’t required to wear the tight, black leather ensemble of the hunters.

Instead, she wears a lightweight, flowy black dress. It’s cinched at the shoulders and waist. Silver snakes keeping the dress tight where it’s supposed to be. Her arms a bare, only her tattoos covering the pale skin. The skirt brushes the floor. It slits on both sides, causing Lydia’s bare legs to say hello when she walks. It dips to just above her breasts, showing a tasteful amount of cleavage. Thigh-high black boots decorated with silver runes and sigils are the final touch to the outfit.

Her long blonde hair being the biggest challenge. She styles it into Viking warrior braids, using small rune charms to decorate them. Each rune is set with intentions of protection and strength.

The final touch is a handful of black makeup smudged across both eyes in a heavy rectangle. She draws a sigil of protection onto her forehead.

With the completion of her uniform, Lydia heads out to meet the rest of her sisters in the hall of the gods.

~Taza~

Bishop had called Templo. There was a run later on and with the prospect coming in, there was a lot to discuss. It wasn’t a long meeting, more of a “let’s go over the plan” kind of thing.

Thoughts of Lydia bubble up in Taza’s mind. Time seems to slow as he remembers the dreams, no, the visions from the night before.

His grandmother had always said a dreams feel like movies, visions feel like memories. Taza had awoken at midnight to the smell of cinnamon and autumn. The second his eyes had opened he was bombarded.

A beautiful girl with long blonde hair and eyes the color of blue sea glass. Her pale skin glowing with a radiant moon glow. Freckles scattered her face and arms, concentrated in some areas, sparse in others. Her body was thicker, curvier than most girls her age. Despite looking about 23, her eyes showed a centuries old soul.

The visions left him sweating and gasping for air. That being said, he’s never slept that well in his life.

The visions had happened again when he saw her in the café. Very domestic visions. Her sitting behind him on his bike, her planting the annual garden, her standing at the stove, very pregnant, and cooking pancakes for a 3 year old boy.

They made his knees weak.

When he walked in, and she met his eyes, Taza had been unsurprised that her knees had given out. He was more surprised that he seemed to cross the 10 feet between the door and her in a split second.

The bang of the gavel broke Taza from his reverie, and Bishop’s hand resting on his arm cleared his mind.

“You okay, carnal?”

Taza nods, clearing his throat.

“Yeah, Prez. I’m good. I...uh...I met a girl.”

Heat crawls up his neck. More so when his best friend laughs.

“Is that what Angel was going on about earlier?”

Taza’s eyes roll before he even realizes they have. A common reaction whenever Angel’s name comes up.

“That dumbass doesn’t know his ass from his brain. I found an Old Lady. Well, a young woman I would like to take as my Old Lady.”

Bishop looks taken aback. His mouth opens and closes a couple times before he says, “Took you long enough.”

Taza snorts. His eyes roll of their own accord again and he leans forward resting his arms on the table. “It was crazy, primo. One second everything is normal, the next my entire world has shifted on.”

Taza let’s out a sigh running his hand down his face. “And the crazier thing is that I can’t help but feel like every lesson I’ve learned and everything that happened to get me here was all for her.”

The room goes silent. Bishop takes a drag on his cigar, ashing it in the tray next to his gavel. When he speaks the sentence is laced with smoke, “Sounds serious.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“I’m happy for you, man,” Bishop claps Taza on the shoulder, holding firmly afterward. “Don’t let her get you killed.”

With that, Bishop stands, cigar hanging between his lips, and exits the room.

Taza would never admit it, but the primal urge to kick his best friend, and president’s, ass bubbles within his chest.

He takes a deep breath in, concentrating on the feeling of the ground beneath his feet, the chair pressed against his body, the table under his hands. Can almost feel the Earth’s calming energy flowing up through the items and into him.

Taza imagines the inferno of rage turning to wind. Imagines it swirling into a giant tornado before it explodes in a blast of energy.

When the sun finally comes up in his mind, Taza stands and leaves the room. Thoughts of seeing her later only grounding him further.

Tags (The Coven, if you will):

@crow-writer @pug-in-a-tub @docsangel @pupyluv247 @trashpile95 @nomiegnome

#taza romero imagine #taza #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #taza romero #che romero

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juminsmysticmc · 5 years

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Forever with you - Jumin’s version

@roxinhonani said: Okay i got one, it’s only for seven or jumin though (or both if you end up liking it). Mc dies while giving birth. When their kid is four or five years old, they are drawing alone in their room, when jumin/seven go to check up on them they see a drawing that looks a lot like mc, when they never showed any picture of her to them. When they ask who is it they simply say that it’s their ghost friend that they talk and play a lot. (Summing it up: their kid is a medium) Very angst with happy ending

Ahhh I love these kind of requests! Mhh, I‘ve decided to do both, I hope you like it! Although, once again they are on a different post XD

Everyone knew that the two of you were the most powerful couple in Seoul. There was nothing the two of you couldn’t accomplish. You with your beauty, who seemed more like a goddess than a woman and he with his strength, a CEO-in-line. But there was something that both of you couldn’t do, not with beauty, kindness or money. Reviving people, avoid death. This was something none of you could do, unfortunately. Jumin Han didn’t plan things like that, neither did you. He didn’t plan that you, his wife would die while giving birth. He still could hear your begging screams, to please help you, to let your survive. It wasn’t a selfish beg but one of a mother who wanted to see her child, her daughter. But Jumin Han was unable to do anything. All he could do was looking at your crying face and getting pushed out of the room.

,,Is the baby there?“ the RFA jumped up, a big smile was on their faces. The black haired man turned around, his face was pale, his eyes were red and he had eye bags. ,,She’s losing too much blood and the umbilical cord is around the babies’ neck....“ he mumbled. The smile of the RFA disappeared, none dared to speak up for a while. Time went by, it seemed like a long long long time but finally the doctor stepped out. Jumin never lost his hope, he knew that you were strong. You had to be strong. ,,I‘m sorry to tell you Mr Han that your wife died. We could however save your daughter. I‘m sorry for your loss.“ the doctor whispered. That day the world went down for Jumin Han.

Jumin ordered Jaehee to put away every picture of you in the house. His reason was that if he would see you, he wouldn’t be able to keep going. The RFA accepted his way to handle his lover‘s death and so you died even in the RFA‘s mind. None ever said a word about you. Especially not in front of Jumin or the little girl. He also commanded to change her birthday. There was no way he could handle to throw a party for his daughter knowing that his wife died that day, he stated. And Jumin never remarried. Every year at the same day Jumin sent his daughter away, her real birthday, to stay alone. On this day the young CEO would cry, pray and talk to you. ,,I‘m thankful that you saved our daughter. I‘m so grateful. She‘s so special. I wish you would have....known her....but without you it isn’t the same....can’t you give me at least a sign?“ he begged that night and fell asleep after his second bottle wine. ,,Daddy hello!!“ the young girl laughed when she returned home the next day. Jumin smiled brightly at her and hugged her. ,,Was it funny at Jaehee‘s place?“ he asked her. For him it was important that his little girl had a female figure next to her and since Jaehee was your best friend, choosing her was the right decision. And she had nothing against it. ,,Yes! I could color the whole day! Look at that masterpiece of mine!“ she laughed. As always she was cheerful and Jumin loved that, just like you used to be.... But the picture his beloved daughter drew shocked him. It showed a beautiful woman in front of a cherry tree. Jumin remembered the scene. You told him like that that you were carrying his child. The picture resembled you so much. So accurate, filled with details....this couldn’t have been by a child, right? Jumin glanced to Jaehee. She also shook her head as a sign that it wasn’t her. ,,Did someone help you with it, dear?“ he asked his daughter softly, stroking her arm. She strongly nodded. ,,My friend! We talk a lot and play together so much! But she says that I can only tell you and your friends because she‘s a ghost! But daddy she‘s so beautiful! You would surely love her!“ she blabbered out and kept looking at the picture. At that moment a lot of thoughts haunted his mind, was this your sign? Was this real? Should his daughter see a specialist? Could she see also other ghosts? That night Jumin couldn’t sleep instead he laid next to his daughter and observed her calm sleep. ,,Mr Han, I really believe that she‘s a medium....“ a specialist which was called by him told him. Jumin nodded. He decided to support her and talk through her with you, his wife. ,,But perhaps it will go away while she grows, this often happens to children.“ the man said. Jumin didn‘t know what to wish for but for now he wanted to talk with you through his daughter.... And thanks to that a lot of things changed. Pictures of you were finally again in the house and your daughter finally knew more about her mother....

Saeyoung’s Version HERE

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anagentinwriting · 5 years

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Subscribe - Part 1

Summary: (Modern AU) Peter was your college sweetheart until a certain event led to your break up. Seven years later another event brings you two back together, but this time a little girl is in the picture. Will listening to your podcasts be the reason you two get back together or be another reason to keep you apart?

Pairing: Peter Quill x Reader

Word Count: 3452

Warnings: Accident, Hospitals, Injuries

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Peter tapped his foot as he listened to the new group talent Walkman Records was planning to sign. Natasha discovered The Revengers after watching their videos online realizing they had a distinct refreshing sound people would love. Val, their lead singer, could tell a story through her voice while her bandmates helped bring the story to life. Thor, a tall not so handsome guy, strummed the guitar, Heimdall beat on the bass, and Bruce played the drums. They were a great group of individuals, and he couldn’t wait to see where their career would take them.

Bucky sat beside Peter, listening to Val’s voice as he adjusted a few marks on the soundboard. Once he was satisfied, he leaned back in his chair to enjoy the rest of the song. Peter mouthed along to Val’s lyrics, getting lost in her song when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Mantis, I told you not to interrupt us unless it’s an emergency. Buck and I are in the middle of a session,” Peter remarked, swinging his chair around to face her.

“Sorry, but there is someone on the phone saying it is an emergency and needs to speak with you,” Mantis replied in a soft voice, looking a little shaken.

“Is it the same boy from Queens who keeps calling coming up with random reasons to get us to sign his girlfriend?”

“No, it’s a woman. She threatened to break my arm if I don’t get you on the phone right away.”

“Okay, well that doesn’t narrow it down,” Peter sighed, running a hand down his face. “Did you get a name?”

“Gamora,” Mantis whispered in a frightened tone.

“Sounds like something she would do. I’ll take the call in my office.” He stood up, nudging Bucky to let him know he needed to take a call. Bucky nodded as Peter stepped out of the room. He hasn’t spoken to Gamora since you broke up with him years ago, so why would she be trying to contact him now? “Hey Gamora, still threatening people I hear. What’s it been like......seven years?”

“Yup. It gets things done faster, and it’s pretty handy when it comes to my job.”

“I heard you’re a big-time lawyer these days, but I can’t say I‘m not surprised.”

“Whatever, Peter. I didn’t call to make small talk with you.” Gamora paused. “I know you and YN didn’t end on the best of terms, but I promised her that if anything happened to her I would call and tell you…”

“Wait, hold on a second--” he interrupted her “--what happened to YN?”

“She was in an accident this morning.”

“Shit, is she okay?” Peter inquired, running his hand through his hair. “I mean, why would I care? We broke up years ago.”

“Okay, I'll try to believe that.” He could picture Gamora rolling her eyes through the phone. “I still haven’t heard anything, since she went into surgery. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing at this point.” She cleared her throat. “Can you swing by the hospital? I need to talk to you about something important.”

“Ahhhh….what is this about? YN and I broke up ages ago. Besides, I’m at work, and I got a lot on my plate right now.”

“I wasn’t asking Peter, I’m telling you. It’s the least you could do after breaking my sister’s heart.”

“You had to go there, didn’t you,” Peter sighed, staring down at his desk in defeat. He should know by now that Gamora never loses a fight once she starts one. “Okay fine, I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Perfect. We’ll see you then, I’ll text you the details.”

They exchanged numbers before hanging up, and he went back into the recording studio. The room was quiet, and he noticed the empty sound booth. Nat must’ve taken them into her office to discuss the contract. He groaned, plopping down in the chair next to Bucky.

“Whoa man, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Bucky commented, taking in his appearance.

“I have to go meet a friend. Are you and Nat going to be fine without me for a couple of hours?”

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem. Everything’s okay, man?” Bucky narrowed his eyes, moving his long hair out of his face.

“I hope so.”

_________

Peter pulled up to the hospital not sure what he was expecting. He wasn’t dating you anymore, but he didn’t want to see you hurt. He went up to the waiting room Gamora mentioned, but no one was there besides the nurses behind the desk.

“Excuse me,” the nurse at the station looked up at him with a warm smile. “Is YN LN out of surgery?”

She flipped through some files on her desk before clicking away on her computer. “She is still in surgery, but the doctors will be with you as soon as they can. You’re welcome to take a seat and wait. Are you family?”

“Yes,” he nodded without a second thought. He took a seat in the waiting room, running his hands through his hair and down his face. You were still in surgery, which could mean two things: everything was good and they were taking their time, or it was worse than they anticipated. He glanced at the television seeing a reporter speaking about the accident you were in. He read the subtitles as they drifted across the screen.

“On this mornings commute, a dump truck flew through a red light colliding into the side of a bus forcing it to topple over onto its side. We have gotten reports saying at least 12 are injured, but their conditions remain unknown at this time. As paramedics work hard to get everyone to safety, police are still investigating the cause of the accident. I will keep you updated on this story as it unfolds. Back to you in the studio…” Peter’s eyes turned away from the screen and back to the floor.

“Hello, Peter.” He glanced up to find Gamora with a little girl clutching onto her hand and eyeing him over. “You got here quick. Can we talk for a bit?”

“Yeah. Why else would I be here?” He shrugged, standing up from his chair.

“Hey, Bug,” Gamora crouched down in front of the little girl with a caring smile on her face. “Would you be okay with hanging out over there for a little while?” She pointed to the children's playpen.

“Okay,” she nodded, ignoring the playpen to sit on one of the double-seated chairs. She pulled out an old green iPod and slipped in her earbuds as she tried to get comfortable. There was something about the little girl that seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“Someone finally snatched up the lawyer Gamora, who cared more about her career than settling down with some dude. Who’s the lucky guy?” A cocky smile spread across his face.

“She’s not mine. She’s YN’s daughter,” Gamora corrected him.

“Wait, what?” Peter’s smile faded away, leaving his mouth hanging open before he snapped it shut. “When….when did that happen?” He asked, widening his eyes at her.

“Little over 7 years ago.”

“She found a guy right after she left me. Awesome, like that doesn’t hurt my feeling a little bit.”

“Not exactly,” Gamora replied while Peter ignored her.

“It’s good though…..good for her. As long as she found someone who does right by her, and cares about her and makes her happy. I’m happy for her…..” he rambled on.

“Peter shut up.” His eyes snapped to hers as he shut his mouth. “YN’s had only one person in her life for the last 7 years, and it’s been her daughter.” He narrowed his eyes, not understanding where she was going with this. “Okay, I promised YN if anything ever happened to her I would tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“The little girl over there--” she glanced in her direction “--is your daughter,” Gamora confessed in a hushed whisper, forcing Peter’s eyebrows to shoot up his forehead.

“What? No! No, no, no, no.” He shook his head not believing this. “It can't be! I would’ve known if YN was pregnant. She...she would’ve told me.”

“Really? Because the last I remember, you were halfway across the country when she found out.”

Gamora had him there. This must’ve all happened when he was at his internship in LA. How did he not know? Why didn’t he realize something was wrong? You always seemed so happy whenever he talked to you on the phone or through video chat. “Why didn't she tell me?”

“YN tried to tell you, but she was afraid of how you’d react. Once she started to show, she knew she needed to tell you so she went to L.A. to surprise you and we both know how that turned out,” Gamora recalled, forcing Peter to clench his jaw. “I can’t tell you why she hasn’t told you because I don’t know why.” Gamora shrugged.

His eyes flickered over to the little girl swinging her legs back and forth in her seat. Her eyes connected with his for a split second before she focused back to her feet. “What's her name?

“Meredith,” Gamora revealed, keeping a close eye on him.

Peter’s head snapped to her. “She named her after...after my mother.” Gamora nodded. He ran his hand through his hair, letting out a deep breath. “Why...um...do you..” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find the right words.

“YN wanted to name her after a strong woman,” Gamora filled in the blanks, making Peter crack a small smirk. “She’s a wonderful little girl. Strong headed and soft-hearted like her mother, but her quick-witted humor and love of music comes from her father.” He breathed a smirk, shaking his head at the little girl. “Can I ask you to do me a favor?”

“What’s the favor?”

“I’m due in court tomorrow, and I have to get caught up on what I missed today. Would you mind watching her tonight? I can't take her with me, and she’s too young to be left alone.”

“Ah...is this a good idea? She doesn’t even know me. Whatever happened to the whole stranger danger phase?”

“Trust me, you’re my last option.” Peter scoffed, forcing Gamora to roll her eyes. “If I could ask Nebula, I would, but she’s out of the country. I could ask a sitter, but Meredith hates them. She says they’re only in it for the money.”

He chuckled at her response. “Wait, hold on, you need me to take her tonight? Like tonight tonight? Right now.” He let out a deep breath as he glanced between Meredith and Gamora.

“What else would I mean by tonight? Meredith is smart for her age and if she needs anything she’ll ask for it.”

“Do you trust me to take care of her? I mean I once had a goldfish, and it died. I had a dog, but it ran away. This is an actual human being,” he emphasized, biting his lip to calm the nerves tingling in his stomach.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t trust you after what you did to my sister, but you’re all I got at this point.”

“Psh.....that’s reassuring,” Peter scoffed, taking a deep breath to think it over. “I have to move some things around, but she’s my daughter, and I should at least get to know her. Right?”

“That's the spirit.” Gamora patted him on the shoulder.

“Does she know who I am? Does she know anything about me?”

“YN’s told her some things, but as far as I know, she doesn’t know who you are.” He nodded, pushing his lips together in a tight line. Gamora walked over to Meredith with Peter in tow. “Hey, Bug.” Gamora leaned down, placing a hand on Meredith’s arm as she took out her earbuds. “An old friend of your mom's is going to watch you tonight and tomorrow until I’m done with work. Do you think you could take care of him for me?”

Meredith peeked up at him through her eyelashes and scrunched up her face as she observed Peter. She was the spitting image of her mother, except for her eyes; she had his eyes. “I can’t promise anything, Gam,” she mumbled, shrugging her small shoulders.

“Hi, I'm Peter.” Peter held out his hand, and she reached up shaking it.

“I’m Meredith Quill.”

_________

Peter sat in the waiting room for what felt like hours. They still haven’t heard any news about your condition, and it was making him nervous. He didn’t want to lose you all over again especially after finding out he shared a daughter with you. He had so many questions he wanted to ask you: Why didn’t you ever tell him? Did you think he would get upset and leave? Did you not think he was ready to be a father back then? What about today?

Peter flipped through a hospital magazine, keeping a close eye on Meredith. He still couldn’t get over the fact he had a daughter. She swung her legs back and forth in her chair as she mouthed along to the lyrics flowing through her earbuds. He smirked, knowing he did this at the studio all the time. Something in front of her caught her attention as a soft smile spread across her lips. Peter glanced in the direction to find a golden retriever.

Meredith shoved her iPod in her pocket as she approached the dog. He couldn’t hear the conversation between Meredith and the owner, but he suspected it was about petting his dog. The man nodded with a smile, and she knelt down scratching the dogs head as it licked her face. He couldn’t help but enjoy seeing her smile for the first time.

“Mer is more like you than you think,” Gamora commented, highlighting and reading through some documents a seat away from him.

“How so?”

“She loves animals and won’t leave the house without her iPod. Sure YN loves music, too, but the way Mer listens to it is a lot like you. She can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, too.”

“I think she gets that from her mother though,” he chuckled, making Gamora shake her head in amusement. Mer scratched the dogs head one last time before returning to her chair and her music.

“So, what has YN been up to?” Peter asked, scratching the scruff on his chin.

“Well--” she closed her file “--she’s been working at Potts of Honey for the past 4 years and…”

“Wow! What do they do there?”

“It’s a company helping parents and parents to be. They make all sorts of baby and toddler products, but they’re branching out to older age groups now, too. It’s a good company.” He nodded with pursed lips. “She also helps run a podcast for the company called Everyday's a Monday. It’s been a raging success and it’s helped the company’s brand grow.”

“What kind of podcast is it?”

“A parenting podcast,” Gamora informed, crossing her arms across her chest. “They talk about the latest trends in the industry and parents share their experiences hoping to help other parents. She loves her job.”

“I’m happy for her,” Peter nodded at the floor. “She always wanted to help people, and now she is. It’s great.”

“Her job keeps her busy when Mer isn’t,” she grinned at the little girl. “How’s business at Walkman Records?”

“Good. Natasha’s been finding a lot of great talent, and Bucky’s such an expert on the soundboard it’s insane. Wait, how did you even know where to find me?"

“My assistant found you,” Gamora confessed. “I learned a bit about your career, too. Like, how you and your two friends started Walkman Records six years ago after signing your first client. Somehow you became an overnight success and have been creating music with the best artists of our generation.”

“Hmm, your assistant really did her homework on me.”

“She wanted to keep her job. Excuse me for a second.” Peter nodded as Gamora got up and went to sit next to Mer. She smiled as Mer laid down using Gamora’s leg for a pillow and closed her eyes.

Peter pulled out his phone replying to a few emails while his thumb hovered over the podcast app. He wasn’t a huge podcast listener because he preferred listening to music rather than people talking. He bit his lip trying to figure out if he should download an episode to see what it was all about. He was curious. What did you talk about on there? Were you only the producer of the show or were you the host as well? Maybe he could hear your voice again or your addictive laugh. He shrugged as he started downloading the first couple episodes of Everyday’s a Monday.

_________

With still no word from the doctors, Peter could feel his stomach turning into knots, and his doubts started to set in. He didn’t want to think about it, but how could he not? He was about to assume the worst when two doctors dressed in scrubs stepped into the waiting room. Gamora noticed them and maneuvered herself out of Mer’s grasp, trying not to wake her. Peter shifted in his seat, so he could hear their conversation better.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Palmer, and this is my colleague Dr. Strange. YN is stable and out of surgery, but we wanted to tell you we did experience some complications.”

“What sort of complications?” Gamora asked, crossing her arms across her chest.

“At the scene, paramedics told us she was conscious and talking, insisting she was fine. Her only complaint was a massive headache and blurry vision. Medics brought her in right away but on the way she suffered a seizure. This forced us to run a quick CT scan, and we discovered a bleed in her brain. We believed she suffered a brain aneurysm from the accident, which led to her seizure. Once we found the bleed, we got her straight into surgery to repair it. This is when the complication during surgery set in causing her hemorrhaged and slip into a coma.”

“Is that normal? Is she going to be okay?” Gamora asked as Dr. Palmer looked to her colleague.

“It is hard to say at this time. We won’t know if she experienced any further damage mentally until she wakes up. Physically all she suffered was a couple of scrapes and bruises, but as of right now, all we can do is wait for her to wake up.”

“Thank you,” Gamora cleared her throat, earning a nod from both doctors. “Are we able to see her?”

“She is going to stay in recovery for the night and be monitored. We encourage you to go home to get some rest tonight so you will be a full 100% refreshed when you see her tomorrow,” Dr. Palmer reassured.

“Can we at least say goodbye to her before we go,” Mer piped up, sneaking up beside Gamora and grabbing her hand. Dr. Palmer peered over at Dr. Strange, but he shook his head no.

“I’m guessing YN is your mother?” Dr. Palmer asked, kneeling down to her level. Meredith nodded. “I bet she would love to see you, too, but she is asleep right now. Your mom needs to rest so she can build her strength to keep up with you when she wakes up. I promise you’ll get to see her tomorrow.”

“I WANNA SEE HER NOW,” she cried, stomping back to the chair. She crossed her arms, staring hard at the table with her forehead scrunched up.

“Don’t worry I’ll talk to her,” Gamora told the doctors. “Thank you again.” The doctors smiled before walking away. Gamora let out a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose before going over to Meredith.

Gamora kneeled down in front of Mer setting her hands on each side of her. Peter could see her mouth moving, but he couldn’t make out the words she was saying. Meredith's arms loosen up around her, and she wiped her nose as Gamora pulled her into a quick hug. Gamora let go of her, and in an instant, she pulled her iPod back out of her pocket.

“What did you tell her,” Peter asked, staring at Mer who didn’t seem to be upset anymore.

“The truth.” Peter narrowed his eyes at her. “YN would want Mer to be strong and patient for her, and let the doctors do their job."

AN: Hope you enjoyed Part 1! Thanks for checking it out. This is a series I have been working on for some time. I am not much for the romantic type, but hopefully, I will be able to pull this off. I would love to hear what you all think so far and any theories on what is going to happen next!

#peter quill #peter quill au #peter quill x reader #peter quill reader insert #peter quill image #Star-Lord #star-lord x reader #star-lord au #marvel fanfic #Marvel AU #gotg #Guardians of the Galaxy #Chris Pratt #subscribe

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redknight3996 · 5 years

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The Demon Lord’s Generals 2

Chapter 2 – The Lion’s Bane

Leok earned her name when she was twelve, still a whelp by any standard out there. ‘Sides goblins, maybe? Or summa those other smaller folks out there, though most folk were small to her.

The Ferrus Lion she fought way back then was a very big bastard though, and a hell of a fun match to fight. Its steel fur and solid hide made it practically impossible to wound with any bladed or pointed weapons, and even blunt stuff tended to bounce right off.

So her beating it down, choking it out, and snapping its neck, all with her own two hands, earned her some damn high praise when she dragged the mountain beast’s carcass back, far ahead of the rest of her hunting party. But it also earned her a cuff upside the head from the chief, so goods and bads.

“Ya don’t run off from yer party, brat,” Chief chided later on in her tent as she helped Leok carve her totem for the lion, letting the young, gold-blonde orc sit in her lap as she guided the whit-knife in her hand along a block of yellow-wood, “Even if yer goin’ up a beast alone, yer gonna want yer group ta know where ya are. One good knick and ya could be bleedin’ out fast.”

“Not my fault they're slow. If it were up ta them, we'd still be up there huntin’ the thin’...”

“Cause huntin’ requires patience. If ya keep chargin’ in head first, the beast yer huntin’ will just run off.”

“This one didn’t. I got him quick ‘nough.”

“Yeah, ya got lucky.”

That got Leok to scowl back at her chief, before pausing as Chief gripped her wrist a little tighter with one of her dark hands, keeping her from making a miscut. “...” She looked back at the on-going carving, still frowning. “Weren’t luck…”

“Hey now, no shame in luck. Luck’s important. Let’s ya know the gods like ya.” Chief chuckled, letting Leok carve on her own for a sec as she reached up and pet her short, messy hair down. “Plenty’a stuff facter inta a hunt. Strength’s important, sure, and ya got plenty’a that. Sensin’s also important. Gotta see where it goes, gotta listen close, gotta track its scents, so on.”

“And I‘m good at trackin’!”

“Yer good, but ya ain’t great. Patience is ‘portant, little lion. Sometimes ya get lucky and run inta a big, hungry beastie lookin’ fer a fight, but plenty’a times, y’ll be runnin’ fer weeks tryin’ ta track just one big, angry beastie who’s far too clever fer ya.”

“Hmph...I’m smarter than a beast…”

“Not all beasts, and it’s not always ‘bout bein’ smart. Ya can be the smartest, cleverest hunter out there, but if yer goin’ inta a new place, no idea what’s lyin’ out there, y’ll wind up gettin’ killed by somethin’ that just knows the area better’n ya.”

“...Like Tuzik Spike-Heart?”

“Oh, so ya are listenin’ ta Gran’s stories.”

Leok shrugged then, trying to focus on getting the small totem rounded right. Least that’s what she’d say if asked. Truth was, she was a proud girl, and embarrassment was painful. “...Summa ‘em. The smart ones.”

“Heh. And which ones’re those?”

“Summa ‘em. Ya probably know more’n me since yer listenin’ ta everyone all the time.”

“Probably do. Y’d learn just as many if ya listened too.”

Leok snorted. “Listenin’s fer chiefs. I’m gonna be a warrior, and make my own tribe’a warriors! Maybe unite all’a the orcs out there, make somethin’...big!”

“Ha! Really now? Ya got a conqueror’s heart in ya now?”

“I might!” Chief’s heavy hand dropped right on her head and started mussing her hair, earning a yelp from Leok. “H-Hey! Yer ruinin’ my concentration!”

“Gra ha ha! Bet I am! Can’t help it though, not when yer bein’ this cute.”

“I ain’t cute!”

“Yer a kid, kids are cute, deal with it. Also, speakin’ as an old warrior here, I’m gonna say that ya don’t have a conqueror’s heart. Ya got a warrior’s.”

“Yeah yeah…” Leok would’ve just grumbled and went on as usual, but...some little curiosity made her ask, “What’s the difference?”

“Heh. Big difference.” Chief let out a sigh. “...Real big difference. Startin’...ya remember Harvest-Maker and Harvest-Taker?”

“Eh? That kid story?”

“Yup, that’s the one. What d’ya ‘member ‘bout it?”

Leok shrugged, trying to think as she worked. “Uh...Once there were two orc brothers. Both were strong and tough, but one decided ta guard his tribe and the other turned bandit. The first brother, was the younger one I think?” At Chief’s nod, she continued, “He talked ta a lotta folk and orc as he walked with his tribe and made his people happy ‘cause he brought in food and coin by talkin’ good. Second brother, who was older, was meaner though, and got a buncha other meaner orcs t’gether ta rob folk. He was good at it and got a lot, but got the folks mad at ‘im and they dragged ‘im offa his horse and hacked ‘im ta pieces. His brother though, he lived long and happy ‘cause he made ‘is tribe happy, right?”

Chief grinned. “Close. See, Maker was a warrior. He worked fer his own good, ‘long with his tribe’s good. By bein’ smart and workin’ with folk, tradin’ with ‘em, huntin’ the beasts that gave ‘em trouble, he didn’t get rich, but he got enough. Enough ta live, not just survive. And he was a whole lot happier, cause he had people that loved him and wanted ta see him happy.

“Taker though, he wanted ta take. He didn’t respect folk and he didn’t respect orc; he only cared ‘bout gainin’. Not keepin’, but gainin’. More and more, always more. What he got, he wasted on drink and feasts. He was a glutton, and his new tribe weren’t even a real tribe, ‘cause none’a ‘em really cared ‘bout each other, not deep down. They could pal, sure, but they only wanted ta have their wants. Was why none’a ‘em helped when the folk came after Taker. Real tribe, they keep ya safe and ya keep ‘em safe in return.”

“...” Leok considered that, frowning as she carved the mouth. “So...I shouldn’t make a tribe’a warriors?”

“Ya could. But thin’ is, fighters gotta have reasons ta fight. What would they do if they ain’t got someone ta fight fer?”

“...Huh…”

“‘Sides, wouldn’t ya rather have plenty’a people around ta help out? Gotta have coinkeepers ta keep track’a accounts, and yer little pal there, Bekah, she don’t wanna be a warrior, does she?”

“Nah, she likes cookin’...Sero’s good at axe-throwin’ though. He could help.”

“Ya really wanna trust yer tribe ta just Sero?”

“Nah, he’s kinda shit.”

Chief let out a bark of laughter and ruffled her hair again, grinning wide, her larger tusks almost gleaming in tent’s lantern-light. “Ya see what I mean? Though don’t cuss.”

“Hm...Hyp’crite.”

“Hypocrite, ya little brat. Use yer words right.”

“Yes chief…” So young Leok grumbled, got back to work, and carved her totem. It was simple enough, and worked fine for a belt buckle, but the main, most important thing was that she’d earned her name and it was a big one. Not Leok Lion-Break or Leok Lion-Hunt.

No, she was a Bane of the Beast-Bane tribe. She was Leok Lion-Bane. And every orc out there was gonna know her name.

–2 Years Later–

Chief was a weird orc. Plenty nice to Leok and all the rest of the tribe, but she stood out, partially cause of her attitude and partially cause of her looks.

Her looks were the obvious part, on account of the Chief being a High Orc.

High Orcs were a rare type of orc, like a weird thing. Not a mutation, like Gura Three-Tusk or Lurtol Six-Finger, but like a special type. One way she heard it described was that High Orcs were like Lycans were to humans, but then there were Kapros out there that weren’t High Orcs, so…

To be more clear, appearance-wise, the Chief was taller than the average orc–at around 6’8” instead of the 6’4” average–and had dark brown skin instead of green or gray, or even the pink of Sun Land orcs. Apparently it was a sign of her type being closer to the gods or something, like those old Sun Land Imperials and all.

She also had longer tusks–which, orc-ishly speaking, was a lot more of a sign of status than any skin stuff–and a tail. A longish one, with a tuft of hair at the end that she liked poking at people with to mess with them, or just to play with kids, who liked grabbing at it. Not that Leok ever did that kinda thing when she was tiny.

Oh, and the Chief also had really shaggy white hair–like a ‘platinum blonde’ instead of Leok’s golden blonde–and her eyes were like a kinda...green-amber. Lots a little flecks and looked pretty weird at times, but the Chief was weird in general, so that was that.

And she could also turn into a boar. Like, a big boar, like a kaprothrope. Was interesting and sometimes she’d let people ride on her back if they were having trouble. Chief didn’t have a lot of pride, but she did have confidence.

Least that’s how she explained it to Leok. Apparently there was a difference?

Maybe it was a “conqueror/warrior” thing, where the difference seemed small but meant a lot. She didn’t understand, not at that point, but Leok did give an effort to watch how her chief talked with people, whether they were folk or orc.

She tended to be real polite with folk, speaking nice and polite and offering help and trade, and be a lot more casual and boisterous with other orc, though she was plenty friendly either way. There was more than a couple times she’d sell hides and meat for less than it was worth when she saw a tribe or town was going through rough times, apparently because “gainin’ goodwill’s worth more than havin’ a ton we’ll never use”.

Chief didn’t care about being rich, but it was still kinda a surprise to Leok to see how much worse off a lot of folk and orc were. Gobs especially seemed to have it rougher than most–something about hobs coming from up north looking for territory–and their tribe wound up playing escort to a few of them more than a few times.

It was interesting, talking with folk that’d lost their lands. Some orcs settled in places, but most tribes were nomads, heading to wherever game and grazing were good on the plains, so the concept of outright losing land felt kinda weird to think. It did make some sense though. Gobs and humans weren’t as tough as orcs, so they settled in places and made forts and alliances to keep out the dangers.

Didn’t feel fair though. If the dangers were too much, if folk like hobs or even orc bandit bands came after them, then they didn’t have anywhere to go at all.

Didn’t feel fair at all, and she said as much to the chief as the two rode alongside each other, following the trails to one the eastward towns.

“Yeah, it ain’t,” Chief agreed, “But it is how it is.”

“Yeah, but...why? Ya said folk were tough, right? So why don’t they all join up? Like a big army?”

Chief snorted. “I thought ya said ya were too big fer stories?”

Leok shook her head, her hair longer, but braided nicely. “Nah. The gob grans have interestin’ ones. Lotta stuff ‘bout old builders’n leaders.”

“I noticed. Why ya think I asked that?” She chuckled, leaning back in her saddle and patting Strider’s white mane, earning a whinny from the huge black horse. “Yer listenin’ ta a lotta tales’a leaders then?”

“Yeah, lotta ‘em. Big ones, unitin’ towns and tribes and stuff. Like...Jee-ahnma...Ghian…” She frowned, trying to figure out the unfamiliar syllables.

“Don’t hurt yerself.”

“Ah fuck off.”

“And no cussin’!” Chief pointed at her, then sighed again, still grinning. “They ever mention how most’a those leaders got their idiot selves killed?”

“...Uh...Not really? They aren’t around, so I thought they were gone, but...what d’ya mean?”

Chief shrugged. “Remind me ta talk ta ya about ‘Demon Lords’ later.”

Leok blinked. “What, like the ones in Gran’s old stories?”

“Nah, different. Not ‘Demon Princes’, not ‘Demon Kings’. Somethin’ both better and worse, in a whole lotta ways.”

“...” Leok glanced at her chief again. She was staring straight ahead, and her eyes seemed...more tired than usual. And for a moment, Leok wondered if Chief always had such deep bags under her eyes. “...Why can’t ya tell me now?”

“Easy. Cause town’s comin’ up ahead, and looks like we’re not the only tribe stayin’.” Chief suddenly grinned, then urged Strider into a gallop, leaving Leok and Apple-Eater in the literal dust, blinking after her in confusion.

And sure enough, right outside the town of Dasloh were a number of tents set up, though they were all a bright red instead of the shades of yellow most Hayland orcs tended to use to blend into the plants around. Leok didn’t know of any red forests out in the Dark Lands, so this new tribe would probably stand out just about anywhere.

“Ho the camp!” Chief called out from a decent distance, grinning easily as a couple of the camp’s orcs glanced over, letting Leok get a good look at the noticeably gray orcs–which probably meant they were coming from further east. They were all wearing feathered cloaks and coats over their leathers too, mostly in reds and browns.

“Is there somethin’ you need, traveler?” One of the orcs asked as he raised a hand, returning her greeting. He and the other orcs around had a whole lot of red-orange tattoos across their arms and faces, marking and making it obvious which Ancient they followed.

“Just ta inform ya my tribe is going to be stoppin’ here too. Don't worry, I'll lead them ta the other side of the town.”

“Is that so?” The orc grinned, standing straighter. “Well, if you and yours are in need of some entertainment, we’re more than willin’ to oblige. For a price, of course.”

“That so?” Chief echoed with a smirk of her own, “Never seen a troupe’a all orcs before.”

“In that case, you can consider this a rare opportunity well worth the price of admission!” he replied, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. Real theatric guy.

“Ha! Guess I'll have ta take ya up on that. Try not ta leave before we're done settin’ up.”

“We'll save you a spot in tonight's show,” the orc said as he bowed to her with a flourish.

Staying aways back as Chief returned to her, Leok looked over at the camp itself. Seemed most orcs had gone back to what they were doing once they realized it was just another tribe. Went a lot better than how it usually did there, since most tribes didn't like sharing spots, especially when it came to towns. One orc tribe being nearby was a good trading partner to most folk, but there were plenty who got suspicious, and those paranoid voices got a lot louder the more orcs were around.

Though, before she pulled the reins on Apple-Eater to head on back with Chief, she paused as she noticed an odd orc in particular was staring at her. A small thing, probably younger than her, but wearing full black instead of the browns and reds everyone else had.

“...” After a second, she raised a hand and waved over to the kid, who blinked, staring right back at her. Another few seconds passed, and the kid–looked like a girl, from what Leok could tell–raised a hand in return and waved hesitantly. So of course Leok smiled back at the shy kid, waving again before riding off to catch up with her chief.

And much later on, once they’d got all their tents set up and carriages set, Leok decided to seek out that kid again. She didn’t know what was up with the girl and her black feather cloak, but if she was standing out for some reason, there had to be something interesting going on with her.

The rest of the Fire-Art tribe was pretty amazing already, with all the fancy tricks they were showing off at their carnival. Lotta fire magic going off–made sense, considering the name–in big shows, like plays featuring dragons and monsters made of flames or glass sculptures made easy for folks to buy. Add in the lively music and cheerful feeling the whole place gave off, and it was hard for Leok to keep from smiling as she walked around.

Still, she had a self-appointed mission she was on–though the sight of a big lion made out of flames chasing an equally fiery gazelle through the sky was damn impressive–so she definitely couldn’t afford any distractions. Though barbecued meat at the food stands smelled fantastic…

Eventually, she did manage to catch sight of the black-cloaked kid again while she was munching on a skewer, and for the briefest moment, she felt kinda stupid for thinking the kid might be hanging around somewhere special instead of just sitting with her knees up to her chest and watching one of the fire shows with the other kids, but that moment passed quick and Leok headed right on over, taking a seat beside the kid.

“Hey there!” she greeted, grinning. Then she paused and tried to get some of the beef out from between her teeth with her tongue.

“Heh...hi yerself.”

“Nn...I get it?”

“Most’a it.”

“Nice!” Leok grinned again, moving her skewer to her left hand then leaning over with her right to shake the kid’s. “Name’s Leok Lion-Bane!”

The kid blinked. “Y’have a surname?” Then once that sunk in, she finally shook Leok’s hand, her face turning a little red. “Sorry. Uh, my name’s Crow.”

“I sure do! And nice ta meetcha Crow. Were ya named that fer yer coat or did that come later?”

“Came later. Gramma Col said I was all small and dark when I was born, like a crow.”

Leok nodded, continuing to grin. “Makes sense ta me. My tribe’s Gran named me Leok cause that’s like a lion’s name, and I got all this gold hair like one.”

“Huh...Lions’re named Leok?”

“Nah, they’re named Leo. No ‘K’, cause they’re not orcs.”

“Oohh…”

Leok giggled at the smaller orc’s nod of understanding, then leaned back, watching the show for a minute or so. “So how old are ya?”

“Eleven.”

“Yeah, that makes sense too. I’m fourteen!”

“Makes sense ta me,” Crow echoed, nodding again and earning another giggle from Leok, who really couldn’t help it. The smaller orc was just too serious sounding, it was cute. “Why’d ya look fer me?”

“Cause you were lookin’ at me. Made me curious.” Leok glanced at her. “So why were ya doin’ that?”

“...I got a feelin’ when I saw ya.”

“A good feelin’?”

Crow shrugged. “...Somethin’ like one? Just saw ya and thought…’she’s important’. Jus’ that thought...Might’a saw somethin’ too.”

Leok was trying to seem casual, still leaned back, but her attention was fully on Crow. “And what’d ya see? Other than me, a’course.”

“Nah, was still ya, but y’were...bigger. Adult, I think. And ya had this armor on, all gold and...big, fancy. And I was followin’ ya, along with a lotta other orcs...Not just orc, also other folks.”

“...Like a lord?”

Crow tilted her head, obviously thinking, and apparently not noticing...whatever was in Leok’s tone there. She herself didn’t really know what it was. Eagerness? Fear? Something. “Maybe? Ya were a leader though, that I’m sure.”

“...Heh. Huh.”

“Or could be nothin’, sorry.” Crow seemed to shrink in on herself, maybe mistaking Leok’s thoughtful tone for skepticism. “I’m still just learnin’ from Gram in the fortune stuff, I haven’t-”

Leok clapped a hand to her back, earning an abrupt squeak from the younger orc. Once Crow’s attention was on her again though, Leok grinned wide. “Thanks fer tellin’ me that. Ya just gave me a lot ta think about.”

“...Y-Yer welcome.”

Then Leok studied Crow for a moment, a slow smile creeping up her face. “Hey. When yer older, I’m gonna be even bigger and better than I am now. So when I’m at that point, and I find ya again, do ya wanna become my shaman?”

“...” And with wide eyes, Crow slowly nodded. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, definitely!”

“Good! Then work hard ta be the best ya can, because when I come back, I’m gonna be more than worthy’a bein’ yer boss.”

–Four Years Later–

Even at eighteen, Crow’s words from that one evening burned in the back of Leok’s mind. They stuck in her head, sounding out like echoes in a valley. Sometimes louder, sometimes quiet, but always there.

It’s what drove her to improve. If she was gonna be any kind of leader, she’d have to be stronger and smarter. The type who would never lose in any fight, physical or magical, and smart enough to know how to lead.

Those words–that promise that she’d be great–was why she was sitting on a lake island, completely naked with her legs crossed on the cold grass. Gran sat opposite her, her own darker, scarred body just as bare, letting Leok see the deep blue tattoos that crossed her old, weathered skin. At two hundred and sixteen, she was the oldest orc Leok knew, but she still looked damn strong, her green skin wrinkled and leathery but her muscles as solid as ever, same as her tusks. Though a few of her teeth had been replaced with iron ones over the years.

Sure, she looked all saggy in places and her white hair had thinned to the point that the half-blind elder just chopped it short, but there was no mistaking the power going through her. A different kind of power than the chief though. More...wise, instead of strong.

The tribe had stopped in a nice spot on the plains, nearby Tarkus Lake, some kinda sacred place. She didn’t really know why it was sacred, but when she went to Gran, telling her she was ready to earn her colors, Gran went right to the chief and told her to divert their course thataway. And the chief didn’t argue at all, so it was definitely an important thing.

“...Well I’ll be damned,” Gran finally spoke, her thin lips cracking in a grin as her eyes opened up again, one a deep green, the other a milky white, “Ya really are ready.”

“What, ya doubted me?” Leok almost grinned back, but this was a sacred thing. She had to take it seriously. But one thought did nag at her. “Why’d ya have Chief head here if ya weren’t sure?”

“The mystic thoughts of an elder can only be understood by reachin’ that age yerself,” she replied, closing her eyes and nodding serenely as though that answered things. It didn't mean much to Leok, but since the wisest of her tribe had said it, it probably meant a lot.

“Right, so since I'm ready, come on! Let's go ta the next step!”

Gran shrugged. “Alright, if ya want.”

“Come on, I–Wait, really?” Leok blinked. “Yer not gonna say somethin’ about how ‘patience is good’ or somethin’?”

“Course not. If yer ready, yer ready.” Gran smiled, a few of her iron teeth glimmering in the noon-day sunlight. “Takin’ a step like this means becomin’ an adult, Leok Lion-Bane. It ain’t somethin’ ya get inta if ya really aren’t ready fer it, and everythin’ about yer soul says yer ready. Sure, Rishak would probably prefer if I waited two years so ya get there the same as everyone else, but that’s cause she worries easy.”

“...Ya were talking about the chief there, right? She worries easy?”

“Course she does. Chiefs worry. They need ta. It’s part’a their responsibilities, and I’ve told ya plenty’a stories’a those chiefs that were so confident in themselves, they didn’t even think’a worryin’ when they really shoulda.”

“Yeah, ya have...So...What comes next?”

Gran cracked another grin. “First, yer gonna needa center yerself. Ya remember how ta meditate?”

“Ah, right.” Leok nodded, then took a breath and clenched her hands into fists, pressing them together in front of her stomach, at her core. She took another breath–in and out, slow as could be; five in, six out–and let herself fall into that rhythm.

“Good good, yer doin’ good. Keep up that breath. Now, I want ya ta think back ta my lessons. Not the stories, but the theology. Who are the gods?”

“...” Leok wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer at that moment, but she gave it a try. “The Ouza?”

Gran chuckled. “Yeah, that’s one answer. But we’re lookin’ fer a more complete one. And not fer the lower ones. Fer the Ancients. Who are they?”

Their creators, the ones who formed all demons, all dragons, all leviathans, all– “They’re the mothers of us all.”

“Right. Now specifics. What are their Names?”

Leok took a deep breath there. She needed it to help focus, to remember lessons she knew by heart, but kept in the back of her mind in favor of more immediately important things. “Rupture, the Ancient Eruption, Grandmother’a Molten Flames. Fathom, the Ancient Deep, Grandmother’a Kaz...Chasmic Seas? Uh, Tempest, the Ancient Sky, Grandmother’a Ragin’ Squalls. Stygian, the Ancient Thought, Grandmother’a...uh...Bound…” She grimaced, sure she knew the answer, then nodded firmly once she got it. “Boundless Minds.”

“Hmmmm...Yup, that’s all’a ‘em. Nice work rememberin’. Now, hold out yer hands.”

Leok did, and tried her best not to open her eyes when she felt heavy weight settle in her open palms.

“Y’know ya can open yer eyes now, right?”

She did not, but open them she did, which let her see the chunk of clear quartz in her hands. “...Huh. What’m I doin’ with this?”

“Yer holdin’ it.” Gran chuckled as Leok frowned at her. “That little jewel there’s gonna help ya figure some stuff out. First, I want ya ta look at it. What color would ya say it is?”

Leok blinked, then stared at the jagged crystal, small points jutting up from a smooth base like trees on a hill. “...Uh, like...white? It’s clear, mostly, but kinda towards the bottom…?”

“That’s a good ‘nough way’a sayin’ it. The white there isn’t exactly white though. It’s more like ‘absence’.”

“...’n that means?”

“Means nothin’s in there yet. Like yer marks.”

Leok blinked, then glanced at the white lines going up her right forearm, connecting straight from the circle around her elbow to the one around her wrist, kinda like a painted bracer. She’d gotten it done years ago as a way to practice magic, like the other kids her age. “Huh? What’s wrong with my marks?”

“Nothin’ wrong with ‘em, they’re just not complete yet. Ya haven’t found yer type yet, yer ‘affinity’. Ya wanna do more’n just make light balls and signals, right?”

“Well yeah, course. Just...How does this thin’ let me do that?”

“Easy. Ya already know how ta make light. Just push that same power out here, inta the crystal.”

And when Leok did exactly that, she saw what was easily the most beautiful sight she could’ve ever seen.

In that one chunk of quartz–which had gone from its pale, clear, white, to a burning, vibrate mix of molten reds speckled with black–she saw the fire she’d felt burning in the back of her head for all those years.

And with that beautiful sight, her fire burst free, and lit her soul alight.

–Eight Years Later–

Leok panted, her breath coming heavier than it ever had before. Sweat ran down her face and mixed with the blood leaking from her busted nose and split lips, soaking down her bare chest like it would mix with the crimson flames tattooed into her bruised and scraped skin.

“C’mon. Get up,” she commanded, like her arms didn’t feel like dead weights at her sides. She’d cut her hair short for this match. It was that damn important.

And about three hours into it, her Chief was lying in the sand, flat on her back for the first time Leok had ever seen. For the first time most of their tribe had ever seen, if she was right.

And everyone was seeing it. All the adults of her tribe waited outside the ring they’d formed, distant enough for respect, close enough to see. To see their Chief, the greatest beast of their tribe, down in the sand of a lakeside beach.

“Come on. Get up.” Little more insistently that time. Even years later, she’d wonder why she was so insistent there. She knew this was a step she had to take. She knew she would have to beat her own chief to reach that point. But a part of her, on that sunny day, had insisted that the Chief never lost to anyone. Not even her.

It wasn’t like the Chief hadn’t fought her hard. For the first time, Chief had let her beast slip in a fight. She’d let that thick fur cover her, let her feet harden into hooves, let her tusks get longer and curved like blades, and Leok had still laid her flat. Not without injury, not without effort.

But one of them was standing, and the other was on the ground, and in the eyes of the world and its history, that was the only thing that would ever matter.

“...hgh…ghh...ghh-hh…” Chief lifted her hand–slowly, painfully, like she was trying to lift the sky–and let it fall against her face, her shoulders shaking as she covered her face.

“...Don’t...Don’t cry ‘cause ya lost,” Leok said. She didn’t beg there. She couldn’t. She was the chief now.

“N’t...d-dun’t...f-f’ckin’ f-fladder yerzelf...b-brat.” Her voice was made of broken things. A broken nose, broken teeth, broken jaw, broken ribs and collarbones, but it all held together strong, and there wasn’t even a hint of a broken spirit in it. “Gh hh hh…’m zo f’ckin’...zo f’ckin’ prowd.”

And that was the breaking point for Leok. Tears fell from her eyes as she fell to her knees, a little laugh that sounded like a sob sounding out over the lake, before strong arms wrapped around her and helped her up, a wide grin on Gran’s face.

“Congratulations, Chief.”

That seemed to be the signal for everyone to immediately start crowding, shouting congratulations, cheering the ‘awesome match’, and helping Chief...helping Rishak up to her feet.

That night, they had a feast to fully swear her in, and Leok Lion-Bane–sitting at the honored spot among all her tribe, all laughing and cheering her name, with Rishak’s voice easily being the loudest–became the newest Chief of the Beast-Bane Tribe.

–Five Years Later–

“Yer leavin’?”

“Yup. Soon enough, I will be,” Rishak replied, grinning at Leok in the lights of her tent. Of Leok’s tent. The Chief’s tent.

Still felt weird, sitting on the chief’s pillow. It was a simple thing, large and yellow, like the fields of Korikala. Felt comfy enough. Made her seem taller than she was. “...Why? I mean...I know ya weren’t born in the tribe, but…”

“Yer my family,” Rishak confirmed, even though Leok should’ve known it would be her answer, “And don’t get all insecure, yer better than that.”

“Sure, Gran.”

Rishak’s eye twitched. “...I swear ya told the kids ta start callin’ me that. Rulak ain’t even dead yet and yer already settin’ me up ta take her over.”

Leok snorted, ignoring the little pang at the idea of her Gran dying. She was getting older by the day and all… “I can’t help what the kids call ya. Besides, is it a bad thing?”

“Nah, it ain’t. It’s kinda cute.” Rishak shrugged. “Still. I’m thinkin’ yer set here. Y’ve got a good handle on the tribe, y’ve got a good feel fer the folk around, yer good at talkin’, and yer damn good at fightin’. Ain’t lost a fight yet, right?”

“Only ever lost ta ya, and ya know it.”

“And ya won against me.”

Leok nodded. “And I won against ya. And y’still stuck around afterward. So why now?”

“...Yer movin’ the tribe east, ain’tcha?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. I ain’t been keepin’ it a secret. Thin’s sound bad down south. Folk and orc say some crazy shit goin’ on in the swamps.”

“Sayin’ more’n that.” Rishak scratched at her neck, stretching it a little. “Hm...Ya know what they’re sayin’, yeah?”

Leok’s eyes narrowed. “That there’s a Demon Lord risin’ up.”

Rishak nodded. “Last one’a those...think it was back when ya weren’t even crawlin’ yet. Name was Orast. Kinda a prick.”

That was the moment it all fit together for Leok, truth hitting her like a rock to the head. “So why’re ya stayin’?”

Rishak winced, let out a little sigh, and stared at her much more evenly and seriously. “Cause not everyone can just up an’ leave their homes. So someone has ta make sure they're safe.”

“Then-Then we'll sta-”

“No, ya won't. It's yer job as the chief to protect the tribe. So keep ‘em safe, and keep ‘em movin’.”

“...Only if ya stay safe too.”

“Ha! I lose one fight and ya think I'm just a pushover?”

“...”

“...Look, Lee, I'll be alright. I'm the second strongest orc on all’a Estus, I won't go down that easy.”

“Why d’ya need ta do this? Just tell me that.”

“...” Rishak let out another sigh and scratched her head. “... I made a lotta mistakes in the past. Teamed up with the wrong folk ‘n treated my tribe like trash. Eventually, it all caught up ta me, but I was lucky enough ta make it out alive. ‘n once I met this tribe, I made it my mission ta keep them safe. And now that they have you, I'm gonna keep others safe.”

“And what about you? Who’s gonna keep ya safe?”

Rishak snorted. “I am, a’course. Seriously, ya can’t be-”

“I could order ya ta stay here.”

“...”

Leok tried to keep her gaze steady on Rishak. “I’m yer chief. We both know I can beat ya in a fight. I could keep ya here.”

“...” Rishak sighed. “Ya could. Yeah.”

“...Rishak, as yer chief, I’m orderin’ ya not ta throw yer life away.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Lee-”

“I ain’t orderin’ ya ta stay.” Leok took a little breath. “...Ya can go out, ya can protect people. That’s fine. Just don’t die. No playin’ hero, no grand last stands, no old warrior sacrificin’ herself against a stronger fighter. Yer survivin’, ya got it?”

“...” Rishak visibly swallowed, her voice tight. “Y-Yeah Chief. I understand ya.”

“...And when yer out there, rescuin’ folk ‘n all...tell the ones that can go out that the Beast-Bane tribe’s acceptin’ any refugees. Orc or folk, long as they wanna travel with us. Even if it’s just ta the nearest safe town.”

“...Heh. Geh heh…Yer a good...A real good chief, Chief.” Rishak smiled wide. “I’m gonna meet up with ya again. Promise.”

Leok smiled back. “And I’ll be waitin’ fer ya. Promise.”

Despite their big, sappy goodbye there, it took some time for Rishak Folk-Bane to actually leave the tribe. A lotta people needed to be said goodbye to, after all, and Leok was pretty sure her old chief was putting off leaving, at least a little.

Still, the time came, as it had to, and Leok saw her mentor off with a tight hug and a promise that they’d see each other again.

And sure, it would be some time before they did, but it was, thankfully, a promise they both kept.

–2 Years Later–

So Irascagan got fucking dead after two years of being a jackass. Woo.

Some lightlander brats offed him and his band of murdering monsters–good riddance to bad garbage–and with him gone, all the tension of the last two years just melted away.

Leok also met up with Crow again in those two years. Took a little while, lots of travel time, lots of transporting people through all the marshy, rainy lands of Inrapaba–which was a real pain in the ass, especially since it seemed like everybody out there was way into the idea of “taxes” and making sure her caravan “paid their dues”–and a few moments of punching out asshole bandits–or “gangsters”, since apparently they were more organized than the normal sort–but she eventually ran into Crow and the Fire-Art tribe outside a decently-sized city called Lordsgrave.

“Holy shit, y’look awesome,” was how Leok greeted the gal she hadn’t seen in 19 years. Though it was a plenty appropriate greeting, considering how awesome Crow looked.

“Yer lookin’ good yerself,” Crow greeted in turn, her black-painted lips quirked up in obvious amusement and matching the pitch-black tattoos curving all around her taller, broader and much more muscular body. Though she was still at least two inches shorter than Leok, much to her own amusement. “Beast-Bane Chief now, huh, Lion-Bane?”

“Yup. Been it fer a good seven years now, Crow…?”

Crow’s grin took on a smugger look. “Shaman Crow Black-Art. At yer service, Chief.” And then she bowed low, her feathered, hooded cloak almost making her look like the bird she was named for. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

“Ha! D’ya even need ta ask? Welcome ta the tribe!”

And that was that. No dramatics, no big event, just a simple transfer of an awesome shaman from one tribe to another. Sure, there were more big goodbyes and such, but that was mostly the Fire-Arts just saying they’d miss Crow and giving hugs and all, and Leok did offer to join up their tribes, but their chief, Rola Red-Art, declined, saying that he and his people preferred performing and all.

Leok didn’t consider that an issue, so more fond goodbyes were said and the Beast-Bane tribe moved on. And after that, things fell into a pretty peaceful routine, for an orc tribe.

Plenty of things happened, sure. Lots of traveling tended to bring lots of adventures, like hunting down deadly beasts that were bothering towns, having some sporting competitions with other tribes, and punching out some wereshark prick and his weird gang of other therians that were calling themselves the “Menagerie” for some reason, like they were some dumbass zoo, like in the bigger cities.

Speaking of, the Beast-Banes had gotten a decent reputation in a lotta cities and towns, both in Korikala and Inrapa, and that meant plenty of travel, trade, and good opportunities for growing the tribe and making sure everyone was taken care of, to the point that they’d turned into one of the biggest tribes out there.

And really, at that point, then and there, Leok thought she was pretty damn satisfied. Like she’d gotten almost everything settled, and now her life would just be one of peaceful growth, no need to worry about the assholes out there that could never beat her in a fight. Hell, she even fought an outworlder martial artist, using moves she’d never seen before, and still beat him. Granted, it was a slow-going growth, one that took a lotta time and a lotta work.

Maybe that’s why it took so long for Rishak to find them again.

–Around 5 Years After That–

“What the fuck happened ta yer leg?” was how Leok decided to greet her former chief and mentor who she hadn’t seen in seven years. Though it wasn’t exactly like she decided to say that. More like it just slipped out the instant she saw the brass prosthetic replacing her mentor’s right leg all the way up to the thigh.

“Is that how ya greet yer elder ya disrespectful little shit!?” was how her loving ex-chief and mentor decided to greet her back.

“It is when yer damn leg’s gone! And I’m only two inches shorter than ya!”

“Yer still shorter, and yeah, it is. It’s what happens when yer tryin’ ta get folk outta town and ya get pinned by rubble.”

Leok blinked. “...Oh. Ah, sorry. It just…” She paused. “...Is that what really happened?”

“...” Rishak glanced to the side, staring at the lounge’s wall as she scratched at her cheek. “...Well, uh...ya see, sometimes, someone loses a leg when they get pinned and it just gets wrecked beyond fixin’. Other times...they might pick a fight with a beastfolk general and wind up gettin’ their leg torn off by a direwolf when they weren’t lookin’...”

Leok just sighed, then hugged Rishak tight. “I missed ya.”

“...Missed ya too.”

“...Hn.” Leok paused, remembering that there was someone else still in the room. Two someones.

She glanced over at the young, dark-skinned human woman in all white who’d made that small, conflicted noise, who just looked away and took a sip of her tea while her way paler and blatantly vampiric friend chuckled at his own chair. “Oh no, don’t mind us, please! Enjoy your reunion!”

“...Right.” Leok let go of Rishak and took a seat at one of the remaining chairs around the tea table, which was in the lounge–or a lounge–in Bleaksky Manor, which was in Blekhon County, which was a county in Inrapaba. Noble territories worked in some weird ways, but all Leok really knew was that they hadn’t had to pay any taxes while in the county, so she was already pretty damn sure these nobles hosting her reunion with Rishak wanted something. “I think we’ve been ‘reunioned’ enough here, and I’d like ta get down ta business here. Why’d ya put this meetin’ together?”

Turned out, the answer was a really simple one. The young lady, who was apparently Countess Valondrac–which was weird, because the vampire was the actual Bleaksky there–wanted Rishak to join her household as some kinda commander, but Rishak decided somebody else would be better suited for the job.

“...Yer kiddin’, right? Rishak, I got the tribe ta take care of-”

“No no, see, that’s the nice part. In exchange fer becomin’ Claire’s general here, she’s gonna give our tribe free reign ta go wherever we want in the County.”

“That I will,” Valondrac added in with a grin, “No travel tax, no worrying about permits, you’ll have complete freedom to go wherever you feel like, and even settle down if you want to.”

“...Yer willin’ ta give us that much?”

“Yup! It’s part of the price I negotiated with Miss Folk-Bane, so transferring it over your way should be fine, no?”

“No.”

Valondrac blinked. “No?”

Leok shook her head. “No. That’s a good deal, but I ain’t lookin’ ta join up with some noble’s guard. I appreciate the offer, but I’m gonna hafta decline.”

“...” Valondrac studied her for a moment, then smirked. “I’m not looking for a guard. I’m looking for a general. After all, I need strong people by my side if I’m ever going to take over the world.”

“Look, I appreciate what yer-...” Then it was Leok’s turn to blink. “...Take over the world?”

“That’s the plan! Though you may want to keep it a secret for a while. Jonny pointed out that I’ll need to build up my base a lot more before I go all out and declare myself the newest Demon Lord.”

Leok looked to “Jonny”, who grinned and waved, then over at Rishak. “...Did ya know about this?”

“Yup.”

“...I thought ya didn’t like Demon Lords?”

Rishak grinned. “Most’a ‘em. But her honesty appeals ta me, and...well, let’s say she reminded me a lot’a some other proud brat I know.”

Leok paused there, then looked at Valondrac, who was frowning at Rishak for the “brat” comment. “...Hm. Alright, ya got my interest. But. I ain’t workin’ fer someone weaker than I am. Protectin’, sure. Guardin’, sure. But if ya want me ta call ya my boss, my actual, full superior, ya gotta prove yer worth it.”

“Huh...Alright, you’re on.” Valondrac grinned. “Don’t go easy on me. I want this to be fun.”

Leok snorted, grinning back at the arrogant kid and definitely seeing why Rishak liked her. In that moment, the thought crossed her mind that, when Claire lost to her, she might just stick around anyway. She could train the brat up, like her chief did for her… “Don’t go cryin’ when ya lose, ya got it?”

Claire’s yellow eyes gleamed. “Got it~.”

And that’s how Leok met the second person out there who could consistently kick her ass, along with the only one she still couldn’t beat in a fight. Not that she minded. Working with Claire gave her tribe a good chunk of land to live and her plenty of opportunities to try again.

And hey, it wasn’t like her Boss was a bad person to work for. Hell, considering everything she knew about the world, maybe it needed someone powerful enough to take charge.

Still, she couldn’t help laughing when she realized Crow’s vision had come true. Her shaman just made one little mistake about who was actually leading that army.

#writing #fantasy #the demon lord's generals #dlg #story #my writing #orcs

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tarashima · 6 years

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Hiya :D I was hoping if I could ask you a question, if that's okay? Ever since episode 58 came out, I've seen a lot of debates about whether or not Yusaku has Stockholm syndrome towards Revolver. I've done a lot of research on the subject, and from what the series shows, Yusaku doesn’t seem to have the syndrome at all, towards Revolver, Dr. Kogami, or any of the Knights of Hanoi. But I’m seeing the term being misused a lot. So, I want to ask: What are your thoughts on the matter?

Thank you for asking this, anon, and I‘m sorry for the late reply. I feel like this response/post is a bit overdue since I know there a lot of fans out there concerned about the misuse and application of the term.

Because canonically, Yuusaku doesn’t, and has never, suffered from Stockholm syndrome.

To truly answer your question, anon, we’ll have to first analyze Yuusaku to see if he meets the criterion to develop the syndrome and then continue by figuring out if he displays the symptoms in the series.

Now, this is going to be pretty picture heavy and long, so bear with me. Also, this will contain spoilers.

All through season 1, Yuusaku is hunting for the truth behind the Lost Incident. He did at one point make the connection between it and the Knights of Hanoi, due to its other name, the Hanoi Project, hence why he hunts them as intensively as he does. He wants revenge and he won’t get it until the ones responsible pay for their crime.

Early on in the series, he states that the Knights of Hanoi are the only ones he hates. Does that mean he also hates Revolver?

Yes, he does. Revolver is just another piece to use in the search after the truth. However, Yuusaku never makes the guess that the leader of Hanoi is the same person as the mastermind of the Hanoi Project. Yuusaku is heavily driven by logic and never makes hasty assumptions but rather conclusions and only when he’s absolutely sure.

But we all know Yuusaku’s perspective shifted when he learned Revolver was his special person, as well as the one who made the anonymous report to uncover the incident. Shifted in the sense of learning where Ryouken came from, hence turning part of his mission into no longer being about crushing Revolver as a part of Hanoi but dragging him away from it. That’s important to remember.

Now, let’s move on to Stockholm syndrome.

The most common description of the term that most people uses, and the very basic one, is “a hostage developing sympathy for their captor”. Which isn’t entirely correct; it’s closer to the truth to instead say that the victims start to identify with their captors, especially when they to cope with the fact that they’re captured, feeling like their old life were empty and meaningless, or to sum it all up in one sentence; a psychological alliance as a survival strategy during captivity.

What everyone agrees on, however, is that it’s generally considered as a highly irrational condition, so no further argument is needed on that point. But just like any other psychological term, there is way more to it than just that.

And when it comes to Yuusaku, we don’t have to continue before it already falls apart.

Let’s go back to episode 58 that started this whole debate in the first place:

VRAINS tells us it was eight-year-old Ryouken.

The show has so far not shown us how exactly the kidnapping happened, other than it was child Ryouken luring Yuusaku away, a method not uncommon to use when luring away others into captivity, and it’s clear that Dr. Kougami used it to his advantage.

Here’s the thing, though, and what most people may have missed or forgotten about; Ryouken luring Yuusaku away doesn’t make him the most responsible for Yuusaku’s captivity. The ones to blame entirely are the adults involved, and, most specifically, Dr. Kougami.

“But Ryouken is equally guilty since he was a part of it!”

Yes and no. Ryouken’s guilt complex has its origin from this since he did lure away Yuusaku (if he lured away the others is still unknown, but so far, it doesn’t seem like he lured away Spectre and/or Takeru). But Ryouken also confessed that he didn’t understand what was going on, which shouldn’t be too surprising due to being as young as he was. And putting such heavy blame solely on a child is questionable on too many levels.

Yuusaku himself has stated himself as well that Ryouken was, indeed, too young to be blamed for the Lost Incident.

In this specific case, the roles as kidnapper and captor aren’t shared by the same person, or even on equal grounds since that would mean Ryouken was just as involved in the project as Dr. Kougami himself, or even Vyra, Dr. Genome, and Faust. But he wasn’t due to his age, and it’s even implied that he was left in the dark, which would be more than understandable.

It’s worth mentioning as well that Dr. Kougami did admit guilt over dragging Ryouken into the mix to begin with, implying even further that he wasn’t involved more than the show suggests.

This is what we, the audience, get to know. But Yuusaku is aware of this as well, at least in a matter of it being a different person guilty for locking him away. In other words, Yuusaku never developed sympathy or psychological alliance with his captors; he makes a difference between captor and kidnapper just like the show portrays it. Furthermore, he thought for ten years that Ryouken was imprisoned as well:

Based on all this, it’s not too far-fetched to assume that Dr. Kougami took Yuusaku away when Ryouken wasn’t in the same vicinity. Otherwise, he should’ve known that Ryouken was in cahoots with Dr. Kougami.

All Yuusaku’s hatred towards Hanoi is because of them imprisoning him, something a hostage with Stockholm syndrome doesn’t feel since the lack of hatred and negative feelings is the main factor for the condition developing in the first place. Wikipedia uses a quote from the psychologist Thomas Strentz: “The victim’s need to survive is stronger than their impulse to hate the person who has created the dilemma.” Nothing we see in the show indicates that that was the case with Yuusaku. He was a tortured, starved child who just wanted it all to end so he could go home, never once showing any sympathy as a way of coping or attempts to lessen the experience.

Now that I’ve taken apart the basics of Stockholm syndrome that most people are used to, let’s move on to see if Yuusaku actually shows the symptoms or not:

“One criterion is how the victim refuses to cooperate with authorities and rather let their captor be left unpunished, and Yuusaku hasn’t reported Ryouken for the Lost Incident or any other crimes, despite knowing all the details.”

While that is true, it’s also obvious Yuusaku is in no position to do so. Not only because of reasons stated earlier but also:

Yuusaku has obtained all knowledge through illegal means (he is a hacker, after all), and while Yuusaku isn’t afraid of his identity being revealed, it doesn’t mean he’s willing to give it away. SOL knows that Playmaker has the information, and they’ll do all they can and even more to uncover the identity of the insufferable duelist that causes them so much trouble. And Yuusaku hasn’t shown any signs of allowing that to happen.

SOL Technologies covered up the Lost Incident, so the public, as well as the authorities, wouldn’t know about it. And they will most likely continue to do so in the future.

Yuusaku hasn’t shown any hint of trust towards authorities in the first place; he’s taken matters into his own hands instead, as well as stated that he keeps to his own justice rather than anyone else’s.

One can absolutely argue that the possibility of Yuusaku leaving an anonymous tip exists, but with all of these points stated, can he really? Would he really?

It’s not even about Ryouken specifically, because Ryouken isn’t the only person responsible. This is about the Lost Incident, SOL Technologies, and the Knights of Hanoi combined. A person with Stockholm syndrome refuses any sort of assistance from authorities, but that’s not the case here since no authorities have been actively involved from what we’ve seen in the show, not even after Vyra escaped.

“But he did report Vyra?”

He did, but because of the Another case and her being responsible for the computer virus, not because of her involvement in the Lost Incident, which he had no knowledge about at the time.

Also, it wasn’t as much as reporting the crime as it was calling an ambulance due to her unconsciousness/presumably death, and it’s doubtful he and Kusanagi actually stayed long enough to explain the situation, or even stayed at all until the ambulance arrived since that would’ve raised the question what they were doing there in the first place. The evidence of Vyra’s actions was right there in her apartment.

To be fair, though, the Knights do live on a boat at the moment, and while it hasn’t been outright stated, it’s easy to guess that it is probably to hide from authorities. The police, however, hasn’t shown signs of prioritizing catching them.

The only ones that have indeed shown signs of catching the Knights of Hanoi so far, has been SOL Technologies, which isn’t too surprising with all the havoc they caused back in season 1, havoc that most people in the VRAINS-verse know about as well. So, if SOL is the only ones prioritizing catching Hanoi, and Yuusaku doesn’t have any reason to work with them because of the LI and their plans about the Ignis, is it really only about Ryouken personally then? Looking at the bigger picture, SOL is the bigger enemy here, especially from what we’ve seen so far in season 2.

“But Yuusaku is clearly projecting an image of young Ryouken that doesn’t exist anymore on present Ryouken.”

Actually, he doesn’t. Yuusaku is well aware of who Ryouken is in the present and what ten years did to his special person. If he wasn’t, he would’ve treated Ryouken as a saviour in every regard of the word and brush off his crimes without a second thought, but that’s not what he does. While he is reluctant about fighting Ryouken at the end of season 1, he also knows it has to be done and doesn’t hesitate when it’s clear there’s no other way. Like I mentioned earlier, Yuusaku is a logical thinker and he can put his feelings aside to do what must be done. That determination is obvious all through that final duel, a determination that wouldn’t exist if Yuusaku had been projecting.

Yuusaku wants to save Ryouken, true, but that doesn’t mean he’s siding with him. They clash and argue constantly about the Ignis. Yuusaku wouldn’t be capable of doing that if he truly had Stockholm syndrome. Every time they’ve clashed, Yuusaku has tried to change Ryouken’s point of view, making him fail to fit the criterion of how the victim starts to side with their captor. While their current truce means they work for a shared goal, it doesn’t mean Yuusaku is willing to put their differences aside permanently.

It’s also worth remembering that Yuusaku has stated that he still isn’t saved from the Lost Incident.

Realising that Ryouken was his voice of hope didn’t change that. He wasn’t saved because he was given strength to continue endure those hellish days, all he knows/feels is that he can be saved, and that’s a huge difference.

Yuusaku also clearly doesn’t believe Ryouken is capable of saving him unless he walks away from the path towards self-destruction, but that doesn’t mean he’ll never be able to. Is it blind trust? Definitely not. It’s a belief in a brighter future for them both. Otherwise, Yuusaku wouldn’t spend so much energy on trying to talk sense into Ryouken over and over again.

Yuusaku wants to save his special person, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let Ryouken succeed with his goals. As much as Ryouken wants a rematch for the sake of pride as well as closure, Yuusaku wants to be the one to personally stop Ryouken just to make sure he won’t continue down the path towards self-destruction.

“It’s problematic that Yuusaku doesn’t view Ryouken as the threat he is!”

It would be if Yuusaku was, in fact, doing that, and he’s never really given any sign of seeing Ryouken as a threat towards himself. But just because Yuusaku doesn’t perceive Ryouken as a threat for him, it doesn’t mean he believes Ryouken doesn’t pose a threat overall. Yuusaku won’t accept Ryouken falling back into his old ways and will stop him if it comes to that. But as the show has progressed, it’s getting clearer and clearer that Ryouken’s improving (i.e. being less of a threat overall), an improvement that definitely comes from lack of influence from Dr. Kougami since Ryouken now operates differently from season 1. Again, it’s not blind trust from Yuusaku’s side, it’s a choice of believing in Ryouken’s improvement, which isn’t the same.

The only thing now that I haven’t dealt with that Wikipedia mentions is the criterion “no previous hostage-captor relationship”, but I won’t be doing that since it’s so self-explanatory that there’s no point. Yuusaku didn’t develop sympathy for Dr. Kougami or any member of the Knights of Hanoi, and he had already met Ryouken as a child and a voice before the shift in his perspective happened. It falls flat right away on its own.

So with all this said, it’s clear that Yuusaku fails to meet any of the criterions necessary for developing Stockholm syndrome and he doesn’t display any of the symptoms mentioned, making the label heavily misplaced.

If it hasn’t been clear, this is not meant as a criticism against headcanons; people are free to play around however they see fit. It’s the misuse and misapplication of the term that is problematic, as well as it being treated as canon rather than fanon/headcanon. Carelessly labelling anything as Stockholm syndrome without fully understanding what it is should be avoided, because such labelling could trivialize the experience of those who may have actually developed the syndrome.

Thank you for staying with me to the end, I appreciate it :)

#Anonymous #vrains #ygo vrains #vrains spoiler #playmaker #fujiki yuusaku #revolver #kougami ryouken

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ghostofvixx · 5 years

Text

First Disgrace- ML

Asbolo was a centaur that could predict if something good or bad was going to happen based on the flight of birds. Mark, as his descendant, lives a quiet life until, by chance, he meets Pandora’s box guardian.

Words: 4k

Genre: fluff

Warnings: Cringey at times?? + It’ts not exactly just like greek mythology, I’ve made up some things sorry ksks. Idk what this is tbh, but I felt like doing one of these projects and BAM Mark happened, so I hope you enjoy it uwu.

Mark is guided by signs, therefore, he’s not an Oracle.

To be a descendant from Asbolo sometime’s is fun, but people tend to confuse terms and end up coming to him to ask things about their future.

Like at this exact moment.

“Mark, can’t you try it even once?" Chenle pouts. "I'm tired of being lonely."

"You're an elf, can't you just focus on your job?"

"How can I focus on my job when I'm a lonely elf?"

"Just... Okay, forget it." Mark rolls his eyes and looks at his friend. "Look, I can't tell you anything about your future, I can't see it, you should ask the Oracle instead."

"Do you think the Oracle will listen to me?"

"I don't know how busy they are, but they can give you an answer at least."

"Okay, goodbye buddie, have a nice day." Chenle cheers up a little and leaves Mark's house. He sighs once again.

Why can't people understand he's not an Oracle?

Mark's power is way much different, maybe not as powerful, but still very useful. If there's a white pigeon, he knows that something good is going to happen. However, if the bird he sees is a black crow, that means disgrace. Sometimes, by instinct, he knows what is going to happen and to whom. Some others, it's very difficult to crack the code and he can't tell exactly. Maybe, if he's feeling lucky, he knows what to do: if he should follow the bird, if he shouldn't because it may be dangerous, etc.

Asbolo was a centaur, one of the wisest ones. He could tell destiny only studying the bird's flight, just like Mark does. How he died remains being a mystery that happened twenty years ago. Right after that and since the world needed to keep its stability, Mark was born as the one who would replace the great Asbolo.

In spite of being well known because of his power and having guests every day, Mark considers his life boring. Through all his life there hasn't been a single disgrace, he has seen some, but nothing serious. Why does he have that power if nothing is going to happen? All he does is smiling when he sees a white pigeon and has a good feeling, and get worried when he sees a black crow.

And, like that, his day goes on. He takes a walk to see his friends, he visits Chenle once again and cheers him up, they talk a little about Jisung and Haechan since they haven't seen them in a while, he gets a few things to cook and then comes back. His days are always as boring. When he gets to his small house, he tries to cook, as always, when he sees it.

A white pigeon.

He smiles, wondering who will that white pigeon make happy that day. Then, the pigeon flies away and Mark feels his curiosity building up.

He begins to walk faster and faster until his feet gain speed on their own, and he finds himself running after it. His little town gets lost and suddenly he only sees a big field and mountains. He doesn’t know where he is, but that doesn’t stop him from following that white pigeon into the mountains, where the relief gets more uneven and it’s hard to orient yourself.

He doesn’t feel tired in spite of running such a long way, in fact, he doesn’t feel nothing at all. He doesn’t come to his senses until the white animal finally stops flying and lands in front of what Mark thinks it’s the entrance of a cave. He turns around to look at the small animal, as if it could have the answers, but it was no longer there, so he supposes that he has to get inside.

It’s just the way he thought it would be: dark, humid, very cold.

“I’m Asbolo’s descendant, what am I doing here?” He whispers to himself, not expecting to listen to his voice as loud as if he had just said it out loud. Suddenly, he hears some weird noises coming from deep inside the cave.

“Is anybody here?” He asks, knowing he probably wouldn’t get an answer.

But he does.

“What are you doing here?” A feminine voice asks rudely. The voice makes Mark open his eyes widely as he feels his hair standing on. He doesn’t answer, too scared to talk. “I asked you a question!” The voice says again, angrily.

“I- I got lost and somehow ended up h-here, I‘m s-so sor-ry.” He apologises when he finds his voice.

“Did Renjun guide you here?” The voice asks, this time more calmly.

“Wh-which Renjun? My Renjun?"

“I don't know who your Renjun is, he's my guardian angel.”

It's his friend then.

He thinks of the white pigeon that has brought him there. Angels have the ability to turn themselves into whatever they want to, could it be him?

“I-I don’t really know, I just followed the pigeon and ended up here, may I know who am I talking to?“

The voice sighs deeply.

“I guess Renjun sent you here, so why not. I’m the guardian of Pandora’s box, the box that contains all the evil things that could deeply hurt both, the human’s and the god’s world.” Mark then pictures an old woman and that makes him feel more relaxed. He has been told a lot of time how the guardian looks like."Who are you?”

“I’m Mark, Asbolo’s descendant.”

“Nice to meet you, Mark.” The woman takes a few steps to the front and, in spite of the low light, he can see her perfectly.

She’s not the way he had been told.

A young, beautiful girl comes to his encounter. She can’t be older than him, he supposes she might have around her age.

“N-nice to meet you eh-”

“Y/n.”

“S-sure, y/n.” Mark is beyond embarrassed, he wasn’t expecting to find such a young person looking after something so important.

“I don’t know if Renjun is the one who brought you here, Mark, but I guess you don’t want to be here, nobody would. I suggest you to go back to the place you live.”

And if you're surprised to find out that someone has gotten into your cave for no apparent reason, Mark is even more surprised. He takes a quick bow, showing his respects to such an important person in the god’s world, and turns around to leave. He doesn’t know how, but he will find his way back home and forget all this mess happened.

The following day he is still confused. It is his first interesting experience ever, so he isn’t sure how to react.

“What does it really mean?” He whispers to himself. “Did Renjun really wanted me to look after her? But why would he?“

He knows the angel, he considers him a friend, but since he’s a guardian angel, he’s always in some type of mission or is too busy to hang out with his friends. He would have warned him about something like this, even if they barely talk.

He shakes his head and puts on his clothes, then walks down the stairs to go to the kitchen and have breakfast, exactly the same thing as yesterday. But then, when he looks through the window, he finds a white pigeon

He ignores it, maybe that's the best thing to do, right? But when he doesn't even look again to the white pigeon, the animal gets angry for no reason and starts to chip Mark's shoulder, without hurting him.

"What?" He asks. "What are you doing here again?"

The animal ignores him as it continues to chip the boy's shoulder. Mark sighs once again.

"You're here to take me there, right?" He asks the pigeon. "If anyone comes here and finds me talking to an animal, I'm sure they'll think I'm crazy instead of wise." He knows he shouldn't listen to whoever is behind the animal's behaviour, but he does in anyways. Only because it won't go away and the constant attempts to catch his attention are getting more and more annoying.

So he finds himself running again, behind the small creature. This time, he knows he has memorized the way there.

"You're here again?" He hears when he comes into the deepest part of the cave and sees you sitting with your legs crossed right in front of a small box, looking at it.

"I don't know why I'm here either." He answers.

"Well, I guess I have no choice but to listen to Renjun." You sigh. "I told him I could handle this on my own, but apparently he thinks I'm too weak."

"Where is he?" Mark asks, feeling curious about his friend's location.

"He's acting as some demigod's guardian angel. Apparently that boy needs a miracle or else he would retire." You explain.

"Can you retire from being a demigod?"

"No, but you can always give up." You shrug. Mark doesn't think he's going to have a real conversation because you won't even dare to look away from the box.

"Do you have to be looking at that box all the time?"

"Are you aware of what would happen if I don't?" You snap.

"Well, I guess you have a point." He takes a seat right beside you.

"Don't you dare to talk to me, stupid."

"There's no need to insult!" He defends himself. "Besides, what else can I do? I have to find out why Renjun sent me, we barely talk nowadays because he's always busy, now I know why though. Still, why would it be me?"

You stay silent, but don't stop the boy from rambling all day long about this and that, about his friends, about traditions and myths. You've been alone your entire life, only Renjun was there to help you and make you company, and he's not the most cheerful of the angels, he loves to nag and tease you but still, you love him. However, now that there's another person... You don't know how you feels, but it's somewhere between "can this boy just shut up" and a "well, it doesn't feels as bad."

Any of you realise how the pigeon's wings, as white as sugar, slowly turn black.

***

Days went through, Renjun was nowhere to be seen, but any of you cared as much as before. Mark didn't even need the white pigeon anymore, he would just go by your side by instinct, he would talk to you about anything and wait for you to slowly tell him about yourself and your life.

He wasn't successful biggest part of the time, but sometimes you would open up.

"So, how did you meet Renjun?"

"Is it really important, Mark?" You answer tiredly, knowing that the boy won't ever give up.

"Come on, you know my entire life, tell me something about you!" He cheers.

You sigh.

"I know your entire life because you won't stop talking." You tease. "But anyways, there's nothing interesting to tell. I've been locked here ever since I was born."

"And still you're such an interesting person, how do you do it?" He whispers out of the blue.

"What?" You pretend you haven't heard him.

"Nothing, I was just thinking random things." He blushes. "Back to the point, how did you meet Renjun?"

And maybe it's because nobody has really ever wanted to get to know you, and that makes you have a soft spot for that adorable blonde boy, or maybe because you finally have someone to talk to apart from Renjun and that makes you feel excited, but you end up explaining it to him anyways.

"I've always lived here, since I was born, so from a young age I've been aware of the importance of this box." You look at the small object in front of you, as you always do. "Since it's an important job and nobody wants me to be as irresponsable as Pandora was, I need supervision. A lot of different creatures offered, but Renjun was the only one who could fit what I really needed."

"Why?"

"He became my friend. In spite of nagging me a lot, he always told me about how's the world outside from here and warned me about everything, he takes good care of me even when he has to be someone else's guardian angel." You ramble.

"I have a theory." Mark comments.

"Huh?"

"You like him." You slap his arm strongly and he complains.

"Drop that theory, he's like my little brother." You scoff.

Because actually truth is that ever since you learnt about love, you think you may like the boy you had always seen like a brother, but you don't want Mark to know.

"Don't worry, I understand it." He comments, but you don't add anything else. "He may be listening to us though."

"That's right, the pigeon may be him." You comment sarcastically. "Is it here though?"

"To be honest it's been a few days from the last time I saw it, I've memorized my way here."

"That's brave, you're the only one who could."

"It's my first adventure, I have to." He smiles and puts a hand on your shoulder. You freeze.

Your heart feels warm by that gesture.

"O-okay."

Mark stand up and makes his way outside the cave when he stops.

"Look! It's here!"

"What?"

"The pigeon, it's here." He specifies. Suddenly, he frowns.

"What's wrong?"

"It's wings and a part of his head are black."

"And?"

"It wasn't like that before, and I don't have a good feeling about this."

"Make your way to your house fast and safe, then." You warn him without thinking about it. You think you may have sounded creepy, but he smiles widely, and your hear stops.

"I will! See you tomorrow!"

Mark is dangerous.

No, actually, the way you keep forgetting Renjun and your heart jumps at the thought of Mark is.

***

“Then, if you see a white pigeon you always have a good feeling?” You ask him, making some small talk while both of you have your eyes fixed on the box, just like you've been doing these past months since your first encounter.

“Not always. Pigeons in general, but overall white pigeons, represent good things, but for me to have a good feeling about them, there have to be more factors that just the animal.”

“Such as?”

“The way it flights, the direction, if it approaches any creature living in this world or stays away. Not all pigeons have good intentions, or intentions at all, that’s why it’s important to study them very well.”

You stay quiet, because you have no words. You’re fascinated about him, he’s nothing compared to the clumsy boy you once met. In your eyes, he has completely changed. But you know that even if you accepted that you have feelings for him, you wouldn’t confess, because he doesn’t like you back.

How do you know? Well, it’s easy. He has a life outside the cave. When Renjun comes back from wherever he is, Mark will return to his house and forget all this happened, he would probably end up forgetting the hermit he met in his first adventure as Asbolo’s descendant.

But you know your feelings will remain intact.

“It’s not fun if you don’t give me a reaction.” You chuckle at the boy’s comment.

“It’s so cool Mark, I wish I could do something like that. I admire you a lot.”

But you obviously don’t know how crazy Mark’s heart beats at your words too.

“Th-thank you y/n. I actually admire a lot what you do, it must be so hard.”

Yes, it is, when I can’t give you what I want to give you.

“Anyways.” He continues. “Only the great Asbolo can do it the proper way, I’m still learning by interpreting what he left written in books, but I can give you some tricks to know the basics.”

“Okay.” You agree. Any bird would get inside a cave, so you know you will never use it, but it still sounds interesting.

“You may not know what is going to happen and to whom, but if you see a pigeon then it will deliver a good message, as I’ve said before. However, if you see a crow, then is totally the opposite.”

“Bad news?”

“Yes. Crows usually mean death or bad signs, so if you see a crow, then a disgrace will happen, to anyone from this world or the human's world. That's why there are so many pigeon as well as crows."

You nod in understanding.

“I don’t think I’ll ever use it, but thank you though.” Now that you’ve grow some confidence in him, you feel brave enough to ask about more things. “Have you contacted Renjun?”

“No.” He answers. “But maybe I should convince a pigeon to do so, we have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“Absolutely. He has some explaining to do.” You smile, but it fades away when another question crosses your mind. “Do you regret wasting your time here?”

“Absolutely not.” Mark says, his heart beating as fast as yours. "How can I regret being with you?"

***

Mark did as promised, he sent his friend Renjun a letter explaining the situation.

From there, the first disgrace happened.

“Mark, I’m glad to hear that you are taking good care of y/n when I’m not there, but you should know I’m not the person who sent that pigeon, so I know nothing about all that. My adventure with this demigod called Jeno might end up soon, so please, wait for me.

Keep looking after y/n too, please.”

“But if Renjun is not the reason behind that theory, what is it?” He thought out loud. Then, all the suspicious things he had noticed -such as why would a bird guide him to Pandora’s box guardian, or why would a white pigeon have black stains- were slowly lining up.

And all that he could think of you being in danger. Not even the cursed box was important when you could be in danger by just looking after it, so he made the way he had already memorised, his feet were once again moving on their own just like that day, but this time they knew exactly where to go.

On the other side, you began your morning just as usual. You didn’t usually sleep at night, and had never ever felt the need to, you were born with just one purpose and it was to never lose the box of your sight, but lately you had been feeling more tired, distracted, and even caught yourself daydreaming about how would your life be if you weren’t doing this. By his side, of course.

You were too busy on your own thoughts when you heard something that made you freeze in fear. A cawing. What was a crow doing in a cave if they didn't get inside caves?

"What is someone is in danger?" You question yourself. If this bird has approached you out of all the people in both worlds then the only person that could be in danger is... Him. "Mark's in danger!" You shouted, scared.

Then you did the most stupid thing you’ve ever done.

You ran away, not even caring about the box, or that your life was in danger, and everyone else’s, you just had to. If a crow had found your cave and Asbolo and his descendant say it means no good, then it can’t be good.

You had been running without knowing where to go for a few minutes when, by chance, you saw him. His eyes widened and he ran towards you. You did the same.

“Are you okay y/n?” His eyes scanned you looking for a wound as he held you tightly

“I-I don’t k.know. I s-saw a crow in m-my c-cave and I thought you may be hurt and I was so scared." You tried to explain.

"I'm fine, don't worry, I'm here." His words made you feel finally at ease, you hugged him without thinking. It was nice to know he wasn't hurt.

He did it back, as tightly as he could.

You stayed like that for a while, until you tried to break the hug.

"Don't." He said. "Let me stay like that a little longer you don't know for how long I've been wanting to do this."

And you didn't know.

Maybe he liked you back?

"I'm glad you're not hurt, seriously, I was on my way to see you." You decide to say to break the silence.

"You were going to check if I was alright? Were you that worried about me that you were going to look for me when you don't know where I live?"

"Stop teasing! You already know the answer." You broke the hug, successfully this time, pretending to be mad.

You just weren't expecting him to press his lips softly against yours in a sweet kiss. You didn't move until you were able to register what was happening. Then, you kissed him back, feeling his smile growing as you did.

Everything was going great, until something interrupted you. A cold, black fog spread through the field you were in, making it almost impossible to know what was right in front of you, black clouds appeared in the sky, blocking the sun. But the creepiest thing was what you could listen to: all types of creatures, from your world to human's world, shouting in fear as the ugliest creatures to ever exist roared.

Then everything went quiet and everything went back to normal. But that silence was the worst, it meant that the biggest disaster had taken place.

"Pandora's box has been opened." You say, terrified.

Mark looked as terrified as you, he was unable to move.

"B-by who?"

"I don't know Mark, but I wasn't there to stop it from happening."

***

Everything happened so fast.

Pandora's box had been opened. In a matter of seconds everyone knew what had happened. The gods called you, you knew you were going to be killed when you stepped on The Olimpus. In that moment, you could only think of Renjun and Mark and how much suffering you had caused to them.

"You didn't do your job properly." Athena, the goddess that had always supported you knowing how hard your job was and that had always given you the best advices, the goddess that introduced you to Renjun, was looking at you disappointed.

"I know, I deserve to be punished." You bowed, giving up.

"You do deserve to be punished." She answered solemnly. "But we suspect that there's something behind all this situation. A crow opened the box because it had been ordered to do so. We've also discovered that it had gone through a process of metamorphosis. At first it was a pigeon. Probably it was created to distract you and someone else from your initial job."

You shivered.

"That's why all of us have decided that you will live until everything is fixed, since you may be helpful. By the moment, you are exiled and you can't come back to the god's world unless we need you."

Not seeing Mark and Renjun again, but being alive to suffer the pain was just as bad as being dead. And to only be able to say goodbye to one of them only was even harder.

"I trust you Y/n, but it's for the best." Athena said, then she turned around and left.

You found Mark when you left The Olimpus, he already had been communicated your sentence.

"Renjun is nowhere to be seen." Mark read your mind.

"I hope he's doing fine. Tell him I say goodbye if you ever see him."

"I will." He remained quiet until you turned around and made your way to leave. "Wait y/N."

You stopped abruptly.

"Let me go with you." He suggested.

"Are you crazy? Mark this is not-"

"Look, I know." He interrupted you and held your hand. "This is a mess, this whole situation is, but I'm sure that you will eventually figure out what to do because you know that box better than anyone else. Let me go with you, we'll think together."

You were touched by his words, but you didn't want him to go through that.

"Mark you belong here, you can't just leave."

"I'll hide well, I promise!" You remained cold. "Look, you don't have to take the blame all by yourself, let me be with you, please."

You considered it.

But inside your head, everything that was happening could only be solved if you were with him.

"We will find a solution together, okay?" You answered and Mark kissed the top of your head. It was a difficult situation, but you knew that at least you could count on him.

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