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maggotbxby · 2 years ago

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Coup De Grâce - Deadite Ellie x OC/Reader - Chapter One

"and the devil who had deceived them was thrown into the lake of fire and sulfur where the beast and the false prophet were, and they will be tormented day and night forever and ever" Revelation 20:10

Or...

Greta is a God-fearing, wannabe actress with a particularly strange family history, and an impressive talent of stumbling upon disgusting scenes. When tragedy strikes her home in an old LA high-rise, she quickly realizes her fate may be much more twisted than she was brought up to believe.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6,349

TW: Religious Trauma; Gore; Suicidal Thoughts; Violence; Everything in Evil Dead Rise.

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This building is dead.

It died a month ago when the landlord dropped letters in our mail slots letting us all know we have to be out by next month. He didn't even give us the courtesy of calling, just a print and copied half-assed apology letter to the tenants who pay out their livelihoods every month in rent so he can buy a new Ferrari and not fix the lights.

It’s not that I want to be here, particularly. There is just no other apartment on this side of LA that I would be able to afford. No others would even consider me, if I could. No stable job and a 480 credit score doesn't bode well with most landlords.

A category 5 earthquake was just a death blow, and exactly what I needed to truly understand it was, in fact, God's will for me to return to Tennessee.

The apartment is nearly pitch dark, even with the couple of candles I lit. A blackout coming with the aftershocks while I was packing explains a lot about how my luck has been the past few weeks. It’s as quiet as the dead, aside from the typical moans and groans of the old building. If my neighbors weren't stomping around, I would consider it eerie.

I sit on a rickety stool that came with the place as I sort through my papers. Every tiny shift in my body causes the stool to creak and groan, just like the rest of the wretched building, so I try to be perfectly still.

The candlelight picks up my papers just enough for me to sort through them and chuck them into boxes- or the trash. It's nearly 10:00 and on a normal night I wouldn't keep packing, especially during a post-earthquake blackout, but I want out of this place as quickly as possible, and if I have to suffer for a while to do that, I will.

I pick up a folder on my desk, and even in the dark I recognize it as my portfolio- or my pathetic excuse of one. I open it up to see my year-old headshots and my resume. I’ve never been a bad actress, particularly, I’ve just been bad at landing roles. Sure, maybe I didn't work hard enough to find a manager, but even if I had, my off-screen charisma has always been lacking. I scored one decent role in a film, only for it to be scrapped halfway through production. But I have kept trying, I tried theater, I tried commercials, I even tried volunteering into the musical theater at my local church; I’ve tried lots of things.

Because my father left me on this earth alone, and try is all that I can do.

I need to keep living, for reasons undisclosed to even my own mind.

I tell myself that my father left because God wanted him to come home. He spent years of his life driving out evil spirits, freeing tormented souls from the clutches of the Devil, and maybe God thought his work was done? I like to believe that over the probable truth that his fear overcame him; that what he has been running from his entire life finally caught up to him. There is a devotion to God and, with it, a fear of the Devil that has been passed down for generations throughout my family. My father, and many men before him, suffered because of it.

But if God called my father home, what does that tell me about our home? Does God not care about our family? Why wouldn't he take both of us? No matter what I have done to myself after he died, the agony I have both endured and inflicted upon myself, I am still here. So maybe I do have a purpose on this earth. Or maybe God doesn't want me in His Kingdom at all.

I remain faithful that these thoughts are untrue. I pray to God every day and every night. I spread His word to those I meet, and I follow His guidance in everything I do, so maybe that’s why I'm still here.

Packing my, and the rest of my fathers belongings a second time has my mind cruelly bogged with memories, scents, feelings; just pure sentimentality. I have never been host to it before, being estranged from the rest of my family young never granted me the privilege. I do not have the patience for it. My body aches as I look at my shattered dreams, and I feel something cold and awful prick at the throbbing muscle inside my chest, frigid claws that dig deep into my being and tear away so subtly.

My anger gets the better of me and I throw the folder into the trash, causing it to topple over and spill papers and garbage all over the floor. Tears of exhaustion and frustration well up in my eyes, and I grip the sides of my head in my hands and bite back a scream. I will not let myself cry over this. I created this problem, I have to dig -or well, clean- myself out of it.

I admit, I am an exposed nerve, and have been for the last year, my father's death having ripped off my epineurium.

I hop up from the stool, making it creak wretchedly, scraping the wooden floor, and I grab a broom from the kitchen to clean up the mess.

It’s because it is so quiet that I hear footsteps outside my door.

In most apartments, this wouldn't come as a surprise but considering I live around a corner, at the end of the hall, on the top floor, it’s a bit odd to have foot traffic this late. I tend to be left alone down here, no one vying to get in aside from the rats and dust bunnies.

I keep cleaning, because if someone has come to rob me, they will surely be disappointed, and if they have come to kidnap or kill me, my weak body and dry-rotten broomstick surely aren't going to stop them.

The steps draw closer, and I can hear their breathing; sharp, heavy, fast. The pattering footsteps stop but the breathing doesn't, however it draws farther away.

My curiosity gets the best of me, and I slowly approach the peephole in the door. I take in a deep breath only to relax when I see it’s one of the neighbor kids, peering around my little back corner out into the long-stretched hallway with the other apartments. I can’t see that hallway from my room, however.

The moment of relaxation is cut short as I realize the kid is crying. His eyes are wide and red, and his breath is quick, like a rabbit being hunted by a fox.

Then I hear a scream coming from the hallway.

Then another.

The child is still hiding around the corner and even though I can’t see what he’s hiding from, everything in my nature tells me it is something he needs to get away from, now. I go to open the door and before I can unlock the deadbolt, the kid takes a mad dash down the long hallway.

…

……

...……

Another scream.

A thud.

My eyes well up in tears of panic and fear as I stand frozen, staring out of the peephole. I see nothing, but I hear everything.

Screaming, crying, ripping, squelching, banging, a gunshot.

Laughing.

Across that sequence of events, which lasted all of 3 minutes, I decided to make peace with death. Because it is all that I can do.

Then it goes quiet again. This time the quiet is eerie. No loud neighbors, no footsteps, nothing.

The air at the top of the high rise is thin, always has been, but trying to breathe it in during a panic feels like there is no air left at all. My hands shake, my chest feels as if it is about to explode. I unlock my cell phone and dial 911 only to be met with a repetitive beep. The earthquake took out the cell towers, of course. Self-preservatory panic overstimulates my senses and I drop to my knees at the door in a terrified heap. I cannot stop the sobs that choke out of my throat, and I fear even my body knows that whoever- or whatever is out there is going to come for me soon.

I clasp my hands and bow my head as I sob out the only thing I can “The lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death; I fear no evil; for you are with me.”

I whisper prayers until my voice is hoarse. Because that is all that I can do. If anyone saw me at this moment I would be mortified. My neighbors are being attacked just outside my door and I have done nothing . But what can I do? Face a mass murderer by myself. Whoever is out there hasn't been stopped by the entire floor of people. They're a predator, and I am just as much a lamb to be slaughtered as anyone.

What I do need, is to get out of this place.

My mind is frequently unreliable, especially with time, however I have been hyperfocused on sounds tonight and I can confidently say the hallway has been pretty silent for at least 10 minutes now.

This can mean one of two things:

Everyone here except me got the hell out of this building, because they didn’t hide in their apartments like cowards, and the authorities are on their way.

Or everyone here except me has been killed, because they didn’t hide in their apartments, and ran out like idiots, and I am just waiting for my turn to face death as well.

Regardless of the right answer, staying in my apartment is going to get me nowhere. The only available exits are the elevator -which is a terrible option post-earthquake- or the stairs, both of which are at the end of the hall.

I get up from my heap on the floor and scour my apartment to grab the rest of my essentials to get out of here. I toss my phone, keys, wallet, and bible all into my purse, and I slowly and quietly unlock the deadbolt.

The moment I put my hand on the door handle to pull it open I feel my stomach sink and my body tense. The narrow hallway feels like a chute, and I feel as soon as I turn the corner my executioner will be waiting with a captive bolt ready to be driven into my skull.

I take two quiet steps outside my door towards the other hallway and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my heart threatens to crash its way out of my chest, sending a painful wave of thunder to my wrists and my neck. The sheer force of my blood pressure reverberates into my ears. I keep my body to the wall and clutch my bag to satisfy my brain’s need to have leverage and I use every ounce of courage in my body to peer around the corner into the hallway and-

Corpses.

There are corpses.

Horrifying, mutilated corpses of my neighbors. The corpse of the child who, if I was a second faster, could have been brought into my apartment.

Skin sloughed from muscle, muscle from bone and I am sick sick sick sick si-

The putrid, infectious scent of bile, blood, and exposed flesh makes its way to me, and by some miracle I do not vomit but my body doubles over, and my eyes and mouth are pooling while a black haze creeps into the borders of my field of view.

When I glance up, the sensible part of my brain makes my obscured vision focus on the only thing still moving in the hallway.

I, as anyone who knew her would, recognize her from the tattoos on her exposed flesh and the distinct red hair on her head, Ellie Bixler.

But very much not Ellie Bixler.

Her skin is pale and gray with death, and she is caked in blood and bits of everything that are no longer inside my neighbors' bodies. The curve of her arm is made jagged, and My God limbs are not meant to bend that way.

I suddenly believe that every prayer I have ever spoken has come to protect me at this moment, as she somehow does not notice me while she is focused on what I think is the door to her own apartment. I do not let my luck go to waste as I rush back behind the wall, out of sight of anyone in that hallway.

The quiet I got too comfortable with finally comes to an end in what I assume is the sound of her breaking, or trying to break through her door.

I peer around the corner like an idiot in some sick daze of infatuation when I hear the scream of a child.

Ellie is pushed halfway into her apartment, holding onto what I can only imagine is her youngest daughter, Kassie. Someone else inside the room comes to help as the door is slammed onto Ellie’s arm and she recoils back into the hallway.

She then throws herself into the door, furiously banging on it.

“OPEN THE DOOR LIKE YOU OPEN YOUR LEGS YOU STINKING GROUPIE SLUT!”

The voice sounds like a twisted, savage, faux version of my neighbor’s and I feel the overwhelming urge to vomit again as I dart back into hiding, and I take the opportunity of the noise to rush back to my apartment.

The contents of my stomach do end up on my floor after I close and lock the apartment behind myself.

I despise vomiting. Tragically, I was cursed with a weak stomach and an impressive ability to stumble upon revolting sights. A deadly combination only I could be so lucky to have.

I do not think to clean up the vomit on the floor that will soon be covered in my own blood when I am inevitably found.

I quickly realize as my body autopilots into my bedroom, that spilling my guts combined with a severe spike in adrenaline has given me three things; sharp chest pain, energy renewal, and a massive degree of mania.

I now know what I need to do.

I haven't touched these books since I moved out of Tennessee, not that I should have. Every time they have been opened they consume the one who opens them. My father was constantly buried in these writings, wasting his life trying to make something of them. Something that would allow our family to repent from the sins of our ancestors. I have never been so unlucky to read them, until now.

I know exactly where I hid them. I drop to the floor in front of the old, dusty armoire that came with the apartment, that definitely should have been thrown out years before I moved in here.

I flatten myself on the splintery floor and snake an arm under it, finding what I was looking for. I pull out the wooden box and rise to my knees as I pop open the latch. There is a stack of 3 handwritten journals. Journals scrawled by my great-great Grandfather, Marcus Littleton.

My body quivers, and adrenaline and fear flow through my veins as I pull one of the journals out of the box, illuminated by the moonlight.

I take the box and journal to my desk. I re-light the candle upon my desk and I open the treacherous tome up. My heart is frightened; however, my mind is set.

I have heard my father describe demons for the entirety of my life. ‘Twisted, rotting corpses intent on causing chaos, destruction, and pain everywhere they are found.’

I never fully believed his tales. Of course I didn’t, there was never any public recordings of such events. His stories were from the 1920’s, it could have been nothing but hearsay. Hearsay that he lived and died for. Hearsay that, if I do nothing, I will also die for.

He never let me touch these books when he was alive, he kept them hidden for himself. When I inherited them, I never opened the box. Partially because I respected my fathers wishes, partially because I didn't want to become consumed in them as he was. My father and I always were alike.

The handwriting of my great-great grandfather is sloppy, and every word is abbreviated, shortened, or misspelled. These books were scrawled in a panic. I knew this. I was, however, never told the extent. I skim through the most legible parts of the pages, many words and phrases unreadable.

“The words I uttered have unleashed a demonic entity beyond my darkest nightmares”

“The book, it cannot be destroyed.”

“Their bodies twisted, decaying.”

“Rotted from the inside out.”

“It does not stop.”

“The possession will spread.”

“They will tear you apart, and bathe in your guts.”

“Run.”

“It cannot be stopped until innocence is destroyed.”

“I cannot escape this.”

“It's going to get me soon.”

I slam the book shut. My body trembles so wildly I begin to spasm. My heart is beating as fast as a racehorse’s and my breathing refuses to slow. The fear of being discovered from the thing just outside my apartment is the only thing keeping me from screaming.

The chicken scratch writing described a book. I have heard about this book for years. A book that was hidden away for the good of humanity. My father wanted to keep us as far away from Los Angeles for a reason. He never knew where the book was hidden away, but he knew it had to be here.

And of course, it would make total, logical sense, that by some absolute joke from God, out of all the old buildings in this city, I manage to land an apartment in the one the book was being held at.

Or perhaps I really am cursed, and some sick string of fate brought me here to die and end my family's bloodline.

The only way this could be happening is if someone found the book. My father always said, ‘They have no power without the book, so long as the words aren't spoken.’ I’m hoping he is right. If he is, maybe there is something in the book that can be used to save whoever is left in the building. Something my great-great grandfather missed.

There is only one problem.

I have absolutely no idea where the book is.

This building has 14 floors, and hundreds of tenants. It would be nearly impossible for me to find it without a mass murderer trying to kill everything in its sight.

The chaos does seem to be contained to this floor, and by the looks of it, Ellie is the only one causing it. That could potentially narrow it down to someone on this floor having it, unless of course Ellie was just the unlucky one, in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have been anyone.

Ellie Bixler didn't deserve this. The journal said the souls of those taken were corrupted by the demon, damning them to burn in hell while their body and partial consciousness remains to wreak havoc among men. Ellie Bixler does not deserve hell.

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Ellie Bixler was one of the first faces I saw when I moved to this treacherous place. Moving alone was a nightmare, especially moving alone into the top floor of a high-rise, into the apartment farthest from the elevator.

I thought the nightmare was ending when I got to the last boxes in the truck. However, when I picked them up, and almost toppled over with the weight of them, I realized my bad luck streak continued. I glanced at the label on the top box and sighed—of course it would be my dishes. I hear the ding of the elevator and feel a sudden whoosh of thankfulness.

“Hold the elevator!” I called, hoping that whoever was inside of it heard me. But seeing as I didn’t run into the doors, they must have. “Thank you," I said breathlessly, in passing, and then slumped against the wall of the elevator, balancing the bottom box on my thighs.

“Do you need some help?”

I peered around my stack of boxes to see the woman who had been kind enough to hold the elevator door for me; she was still standing there, dressed in a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt, dark blue ripped jeans, and leather boots. She wasn't dressed like the women I grew up around in the Bible Belt, that's for sure. And judging by her dyed red hair and tattoos, I would guess she didn't act like them either. She was staring at me hesitantly with blue eyes that looked as exhausted as I felt.

“Oh, no, I’ve got it,” I said quickly, disappearing back behind the boxes once I realized I had been staring a few moments too long at the gorgeous, courteous stranger while looking like I had been hit by a bus. “Thank you, though.”

There was a soft hum of contemplation, and then, a few moments later, a swish of the elevator doors sliding closed. I slumped against the elevator wall, thankful that I wouldn't have to converse with my new neighbor while coated with dirt and sweat.

“I think I have to insist, then.”

I jolted up so quickly that the box on the top wobbled precariously, only for it to be slipped off the stack and into the arms of the tall stranger. I stared at her, eyes wide, as the woman slouched under the weight of the box and flushed, before straightening up and smiling at me.

“Um.” I cringed at myself. What a way to be eloquent. “Thank you, but you really didn’t—”

“I know,” the woman smiled back. “What’s your number?”

I blinked in surprise.

“Excuse me?” There was no way this lady just asked for my number. Who did she think she was?

The woman’s mouth fell open and she was immediately blushing. Her brow furrowed and she chuckled awkwardly, shaking her head. “Your floor… Number. Is what I meant. For the elevator?”

Oh . I looked over at the rows of glowing white buttons; I hadn’t pressed the floor number when I rushed in.

“Oh, yeah! Right!” I replied awkwardly, still not looking at the woman. I shouldn’t have felt bad—after all, this stranger is the one who said it—but I couldn’t help feeling like I was the one who made everything uncomfortable.

“Fourteen,” I finally replied, sighing, after clearing my throat. The woman grinned, a big beautiful smile, and pressed the button.

“Well hello neighbor! I’m on 14 as well, apartment 85.” I looked back over at her sheepishly. “Expect to climb a lot of stairs. This elevator is out of order more often than it’s working.”

“Of course it is,” I commented dryly. Well, at least it appeared to be working on the day I needed it to be. Hopefully that luck holds true for grocery days, too. I thought. “Stairs aren’t a problem. Besides, it gives me an excuse to drink a third cup of coffee in the mornings.”

The woman laughed. “Sometimes I need at least five. Don’t have kids.” the stranger joked.

“You have kids?” I asked.

“Three.” She started, “Two sweet girls, Bridget and Kassie. And my boy, Danny, who is always the culprit if you hear loud music coming from my place.”

“Wow you've got a handful then.” I replied. “I’ve always wanted kids… but it doesn’t seem in my cards anymore.” I winced, and wanted to kick myself so bad for accidentally sounding super melancholic.

The woman nodded kindly, smart enough not to pry. Or maybe she just didn't want to entertain depressing, deep conversation with someone she met less than 3 minutes ago.

“I’d shake your hand…” the woman said, her voice hesitant as if she could sense the awkward tension in the elevator, “but…” she glanced pointedly at the box, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“I appreciate the concern for my dishes.”

“Dishes,” she said, staring at the box. “Well, that explains things.”

Like the fact that it’s a lot heavier than you thought it would be , I thought, and couldn't hold in my chuckle.

“My name’s Ellie.” The stranger—or Ellie, apparently—looked over at me. “By the way. Since we’re… Going to be neighbors.” This time, Ellie was the one who cringed.

“Well then, neighbor.” I stressed the word around my smile. “I’m Greta.”

“Greta.” Ellie said. My name sounded so pleasant coming from her lips compared to my own. I quickly eliminated that thought from my mind.

“Ellie.” I intoned in the same manner, and Ellie laughed. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open; Ellie inclined her head, as if to say you first , and I nod as I step through the doors.

“I probably should have warned you that I live all the way at the end of the hall.” I shifted the box in my arms and glanced over at Ellie. “Before you decided to be a good samaritan.”

“I’m always a good samaritan,” Ellie responded, her tone of voice slightly defensive.

“Careful. You told me where you live. I might abuse that.” That sounded a lot creepier than I meant it, but Ellie just laughed, which slightly lifted my embarrassment.

I stepped through the doors of my apartment. I didn’t expect Ellie to be impressed—chances are we had the same exact apartment, hers just… properly decorated—so rather than trying to play the role of host, I simply led Ellie straight to where I put the box containing my disassembled Ikea kitchen table.

Ellie did, however, let out a low whistle as she looked around.

“Wow, you’ve been at this all day, haven't you?” She slipped the box on top of the Ikea box while I laid mine on the floor.

“Yes, tragically. I slept on the floor and left the truck full of my non-essential stuff last night. Looking back, I definitely should have gotten robbed.”

“Long drive then?”

“You could say that.. Knoxville.” I sighed.

“You're telling me you drove here… from Tennessee?” She looked at me, eyes wide in shock. “With seemingly no help?”

“Just me and god.” Ellie laughed at that, but then caught herself when she noticed my expression, and the cross on my necklace, and realized I was serious.

“Well, then… I’d be happy to help, if you’d like?”

“That’s really nice of you, Ellie, but I’m afraid you're just too late. Those were my last boxes.”

“I have impeccable timing, huh?”

“Seems like it.” We both laughed, a bit awkwardly.

“What brought you all the way to the City of Angels?” Ellie interjected, cutting the awkward tension once again.

I breathed a heavy sigh, “It’s a long story…”

“Well, you could tell it, if you come have dinner with me.”

I recoiled, “I couldn’t- No. No thank you, I really should start putting all this stuff away.”

Ellie put her hand on my arm, “I insist. My husband, Jay, is making steak tonight and when he cooks, he cooks for a village.” Not that 3 children isn't a village.

I flinched, then relaxed slightly under the hand on my arm, I looked up at Ellie, contemplating, but there was little I would do to argue. I was exhausted, and I shouldn’t decline free food, even from a stranger. “I suppose I can't say no.”

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That night was the first, and the only time in a long time I felt safe.

I didn’t spend a lot of time with Ellie outside of that night. She was a very busy woman, and I was constantly trying to find work, or locking myself in my apartment stressing about trying to find work. I often passed her in the hallway, or stopped to chat while doing laundry, but that was the extent. For the most part.

We were also very different, spiritually and morally. She wasn’t religious and I was not going to try and convert an entire family of 5. Our lives were just very different, as much as I felt drawn to her. I often, for some reason, constantly had the gnawing ache to go back to her apartment and spend time with her, and just be in her presence more than I should. It’s a feeling I have felt before, when I was young, and something deep rooted in my consciousness told me I shouldn’t give into that ache.

‘For god cannot be tempted by desire, nor does he tempt anyone; but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed.’

I found out about her divorce when we crossed paths in the hall. It came as a shock, to an extent. Externally they seemed like the perfect couple, but being their neighbor, I had heard a fair number of screaming matches between the two of them. Divorce is something my family has always been against, especially when there are children involved; however, I believe that God would forgive Ellie if her husband abandoned her.

Ellie was a kind person; Ellie does not deserve Hell.

Ellie’s family –by the looks of it�� is still alive in her apartment. As long as no one in the apartment has been possessed, it is possible they can be saved.

I just have to, you know, get there, without the demon in the hall ripping me to shreds before I take a step.

I sit at my desk, chewing on my cheek as I think out the most insane, ludicrous plan to save my neighbors, and to free my family from this book that has haunted us for generations.

There is an estimated 10 percent chance of getting out of this alive, but there are little alternative options.

There was a shotgun in the hallway.

If I can get ahold of it, and subdue Ellie long enough for her family to let me in, I can get ahold of the book, and with it, and my great-great grandfather's journals, I could find a way to get us all out alive.

That is, if they will even let me in, and if the book is even with Ellie’s family. This is where my odds drop further.

This plan is flawed. It is dangerous. It is stupid.

But I am all of those things, yet God has kept me alive, so perhaps there is hope to be found somewhere.

As I pack the journals into my bag, and I pull my largest and sharpest knife from the kitchen, I feel the full weight of my mortality sit upon my chest.

I am mad for this.

But what is my life going to be otherwise? What did God keep me alive through so much for? I have to have faith.

I bear the knife in my hand, and wrap a rosary around my arm and wrist. My bible is held in my bag and I stand before the door to my death once again, praying for my father’s forgiveness if I mess this up.

As I carefully unlock the piece of wood separating me and the Devil, I go white-knuckled on my knife, and I feel bile begin to creep up. I am already out of breath due to panic, dissociating out of my mind, and trembling so forcefully that my teeth chatter. I bite my tongue until I taste blood, and I push open the door.

I am not sure how I want to do this, but planning now would only exhaust me further, and I need to think on my feet.

Grab the gun, shoot the demon, get inside.

I take a few, quiet, petrified steps into the hallway and look around the corner when I see-

Kassie?

Ellie’s youngest daughter is standing in the hallway, moving to help a young, dark-haired woman off the ground. From what I have heard, this is Ellie’s sister, Beth, whom I have heard referred to as ‘The Groupie’ from various neighbors.

Their attention turns to me, Beth looks shocked, eyes wide, as she moves to grab the shotgun from what I now sickeningly realize is the corpse of Mr. Fonda.

The smell, Christ. I have sworn off vomiting again, but my body desperately wants to overrun my mind at this moment. I fight bile and slowly approach them. Kassie puts a finger over her lips, assuring I know to stay quiet.

Where are Bridget and Danny? I already know, at least, I should already know. My twisted mind does not choose to process that in the moment, only focusing on the two people merely 20 feet from me.

It is my fear that allows me a keenness to sound -even over my heartbeat in my ears- and I hear the cracking of glass and bone behind me as I begin to pass Ellie’s apartment.

No.

Please, God, don’t let this happen to me now. Not when I’m this close.

I freeze, because I am a prey animal, no matter what anyone says, in this building, right now, I am prey, and as a prey animal, I have developed the intuition of knowing when I am being watched.

Its gaze is fixed on me, and I am all taut muscle and dilated pupils underneath it. I know it is behind me, and I know with every fiber of my being that I am going to die if I do not move.

But my body will not allow my muscles to relax enough to bend my limbs.

I am gripping the knife in my hand for dear life and my eyes are locked with Beth’s, who is, currently, my only hope in surviving this. The groupie raises the shotgun, and points it behind me. It is then that I decide to turn and look at-

There is a hand on my neck.

There is a hand on my neck. There is a hand on my neck. There is a hand on my neck.

It is cold and wet and awful and I set my jaw and every muscle in my throat tenses more than they already were. My teeth threaten to break each other under the force caused by my fear.

I attempt to drive the knife into the flesh behind me, when my arm is caught in the grasp of another hand. The grip is tighter than the sickeningly gentle hold on my neck, and its claws dig deep into the tendons of my wrist, making me scream out in pain, my eyes screwing shut as my hand involuntarily releases the knife.

There is a wet, breathy, crackling chuckle behind me, and the grip on my neck releases, and I open my tear-filled eyes, only to be thrown into the door across from Ellie's apartment.

It is on me swiftly after that. It grabs my wrist again and pins it against the door, like it’s body alone wasn’t doing that enough.

Its stare is predatory and piercing, nothing like Ellie’s once was. It is feral, and it's burning into me. Wide, consuming and unblinking as it stares down at me, I am drowning in it. Pupils like a pinpoint amongst a pale blue, scleras dark and bloodshot.

It leans down for an awful moment, a pit forms in my stomach and I want to vomit as it licks the blood dripping down my forearm from its claws.

I look over its shoulder at Beth, who Kassie is hiding behind and gripping for dear life.

“Please.” It is my voice that pleads, but I have never heard myself so breathless nor shrill.

“Pl…ease.” The demon's voice mocks me, eyes still burning into mine. It's voice hoarse and deep and repulsive, but the thing that makes me want to upchuck more than anything, is that I can still hear Ellie's voice underneath it. Sweet, funny, no-bullshit Ellie Bixler, consumed by the Devil.

Beth is looking at me now, fear in her wide eyes, as she aims the gun down sight for a moment, aiming directly at the demon.

Pull the trigger.

PULL THE GODDAMN TRIGGER.

This is my apex of disaster. This is all that my mind has been made to handle. I have hit the limit of my unluckiness and hit it so damn hard I might as well have heard a comedically timed ‘bang’ and seen stars dancing around my head.

Beth is unmoving, and my breath catches in my throat as I choke out a strangled sob when I see the woman mouth ��I’m sorry’ before the shotgun it aimed at the door to apartment 82, and it is blasted open.

The demon before me jolts upright, but doesn't take its smothering gaze off of me, even when Beth grabs Kassie and runs through the door.

My fate is sealed as the door slams behind her, and all that is heard is the clanking of the security chain lock, as Beth well and truly escapes.

Then there is a deafening silence…

…A pattering of footsteps…

…Heavy, excited, wheezy, panting.

An excited panting that is coming from the creature before me.

This is where my faith in God has led me. Like my father, and his father, and the father before him. All of my life, and all of their lives, have led to this very moment. My death will be the fated coup de grâce of our cursed bloodline.

I am crucified to my place, paralyzed from the neck down as it looks upon me. I am fated to be consumed by this monster. This is my destiny.

#ellie bixler #ellie x reader #evil dead rise ellie #ellie evil dead #expect this to be gross in future chapters #this is my corruption kink fic and will be VERY graphic #do not expect ellie to be nice #i love deadites sm #and i want her to be as nasty as possible #evil dead rise #evil dead oc #yes greta is related to the priest who made the records #and her family is tormented bc of it

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nothing-but-dreamy · 4 years ago

Text

DRUNK CONFESSION

Pairing: Gladio x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.367

Warnings: none, fluff

Synopsis: After a night in Lestallum's nightlife, yn makes an unplanned confession.

Laughing and swaying, Yn bumped into Gladio as they were on their way back to the hotel 'Leville'. She giggled as she bounced back from his solid body. Gladio held her steady with his hands on her small shoulders before she would trip over, "You belong into your bed, sweetheart.", he chuckled, amused how yn tried to get a clearer mind by shaking her head.

"No... I'm fine...", she mumbled and looked up at the huge King's Shield. Suddenly, she stopped giggling. She stared into Gladio's eyes and into his face, taking in every inch as if she saw him for the very first time, "Why are you so damn beautiful.", yn said low, sounding more sober than minutes ago.

Shaken with surprise, Gladio raised his brows, "W-what?"

"You're beautiful. Sure, you're also sexy, tall, handsome, all this but also so god damn beautiful with your amber eyes, your soft brown hair, your perfect lips."

Insecurely, Gladio chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. It was one thing to be confident about oneself but it was something different if someone else was so straight forward mostly when it was yn who wasn't known for such outbreaks, "Come on, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying.", Gladio said laughing, trying to push yn softly into the right direction.

But she stopped and stemmed herself against his moves, "I'm serious, Gladio.", she slurred, "You're the most beautiful man I have ever seen. And then, you're also so nice and sweet and strong. You're the epitome of walking perfection."

"Thank you very much. We-"

"I understand why you're so successful with women. Although, if I think about it now, there were barely any new trophies by your side recently. Why's that? Why are you going out for drinks with me instead of having fun with some ladies?"

"Come, we bring you to bed."

"And my questions?", yn asked stubbornly.

"Here's the deal: if you go to bed now and you can still remember this weird conversation later, I will answer the questions. Alright?"

"Deal. And don't think you can escape me easily.", yn said serious, stumbling forward.

"Yeah, I fear I can't.", Gladio whispered concerned.

***

The next morning, yn sneaked out of her room she shared with Iris to go down the hallway in search of Gladio. The door of the boy's room was already open. Prompto sat on his bed with crossed legs and checked the pictures he had made the day before.

"Hey, Prompt. Where's Gladdy?"

"He said something about the panorama view spot. I guess he wants to see the meteor in the morning light. Would be a nice motive tho..."

"Thanks."

"Hey, uhm... Is everything alright between you and him?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't it be?", Yn asked confused.

"Well...", Prompto said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Prompt, spit it out."

"He was unusually quiet as he came back. And I guess, he had barely slept considering the dark circles and the grumpy mood."

"Oh... I'll go and check on him."

***

As yn found Gladio, he leant against the handrail, supporting himself with his arms and letting his eyes wander over the view. Slowly, she approached him and for the first time, she wasn't sure how things were between them, "Good morning.", she said softly and watched how Gladio stiffened by the sound of her voice.

"Morning.", he answered low.

She stopped next to him, copying his posture while looking over the scene. The view was indeed incredible. As he stayed silent, she knew she had to start, "Prompt said you haven't slept. Was it because of my ... confession last night?", she asked softly and watched how Gladio pressed his jaw together while he kneaded his hands.

"You still remember that, huh?", he asked low, avoiding her eyes.

"Yeah... I mean, I was the one who had said all these things and I... Even if I drink very, very much, I barely forget something. Boon and bane of me.", yn explained, "I also remember my questions about your ladies or rather ... the absence of ladies. I... Look, I want to apologize. I shouldn't have asked all these things about your private life."

"And all the other things? About my appearance?", Gladio asked, turning his head towards her but still not looking into yn's eyes.

"Sorry, big guy, I meant them. All of it. Maybe I wouldn't have blurted them out if I hadn't been drunk or... wouldn't have said them at all, but... I won't take them back. I really meant them. I guess, your ego can handle that because you're used to such compliments."

Gladio nodded but stayed silent.

"But like I said it's not me to judge whom you meet or not. So, I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me.", Yn said and as he still stayed silent, she decided to leave him alone to give him some space and time.

"It's because of you.", Gladio said low.

"W-what?"

"That there aren't any 'ladies' around me.", Gladio said, copying her choice of words, "That's because of you. And no, no one called me beautiful before. At least, not as you did."

"Wait a sec! What do you mean with "it's because of me"? I haven't done anything!"

"You didn't have to. I developed feelings for you therefore, I already spend time with the lady I prefer the most."

"Gladio, I... I had no idea."

"And that's how it should be. You shouldn't feel obliged and I didn't want to make it awkward between us."

"You mean awkward like right now?"

"Yeah... I mean, I would lie if I say I wouldn't feel flattered about your compliments but...you were drunk-"

"You know what they say: children and fools tell the truth.", yn said and closed up on Gladio who looked at the ground. Never before, she had seen this big guy so intimidated and insecure, "Gladio, I really meant every single word. And I... I could imagine more between us than just a friendship. I just never thought I would be your type."

Gladio shook his head and chuckled while he stepped forward, taking one of her hands in his, drawing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, "So, we both want more and neither of us said something?"

"I did say something yesterday! Maybe we should have gone out earlier...", yn considered thoughtfully while tapping her lips with her index finger.

Gladio cupped her face with his free hand, craning her head up to meet his eyes, "And maybe we should just kiss?"

"Better idea, big guy.", Yn said with a bright smile. She got on her tiptoes to reach his lips while Gladio bent down to kiss her softly. Quickly, the kiss became stronger and yn flung her arms around his neck while Gladio embraced her waist to bring her closer and to cherish the moment that increased his heartbeat...

"Yes! Finally! Ahhh!"

Startled by the sudden turmoil, Gladio and yn separated and turned over to the source of the noise. They saw Prompto, Noctis and Ignis lying tangled together on the ground with Iris on top of them who smiled from ear to ear triumphantly, "I almost thought you two would never come together. It took you two ages!"

"What to the biting Sabertusk is going on here?", Yn called out, chuckling and watching how her friends got slowly back on their feet.

While Noctis and the others tried to clean their clothes from the dust, Iris ran towards yn and embraced her strongly, "Finally! You two are perfect together.", the small bubbly girl said giggling.

While yn embraced Iris back, she saw an exchange of Gil between the boys. Noctis and Ignis gave a small amount of money to Prompto. Prompto, grinning from ear to ear, counted the money while Noctis stood there with crossed arms, "One more month and I would have won.", the prince muttered.

"Don't worry, your highness, next time, I will ask you for permission.", Yn said chuckling.

Gladio stepped forward, placing his hand on yn's shoulder, "Next time?", he asked with one raised brow but with a smirk on his lips.

Yn looked up, "Just kidding.", she said with a wink.

#gladiolus x reader #final fantasy gladiolus #episode gladiolus #ffxv gladio #gladiolus amiticia #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy #final fantasy imagines #fandoms #fandom love #writing #female reader

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aot-snk-4238 · 4 years ago

Text

My thoughts on AOT No Requiem (Fanmade Ending) Part 1:

With another chapter of this story coming out soon, I thought now would be a good time to share my thoughts on the first part. Before I do that, though, I have a few things that I would like to get off my chest.

A part of me hates that this project exists. Not because I find it disrespectful, but because it serves as a bitter reminder of what a complete mess this ending caused among many fans. I'm still in disbelief how things got so bad so quickly. First, you've got the people who hated it. People began turning on Isayama and calling him a terrible or incompetent writer, regretting ever getting into the series, insisting that it was worse than Game of Thrones, the list goes on and on. People who liked the ending are now endlessly referred to as "ending defenders" or more crude names like "Isayama cockriders," as though they're a bunch of incompetent fools who don't know the first thing about reading comprehension all because they just happened to like it. And then of course you've got the other extreme end of the spectrum where the ones who were disappointed are accused of not understanding the story or they're only upset because their favorite ship or fan theory didn't become canon. This, too, is very demeaning and invalidating for those who grew up with this series that they gave their heart to and cherished for so long, only to have it do what they felt was a complete 180 at the very last second that undid every part of the story they thought was special and unique. It's one of the hardest slaps to the face you can get as a reader and long-time fan, and while I can't fully relate to everyone's feelings, I can at least understand and acknowledge that it's there and it shouldn't be laughed at. Now with all of that out of the way, here are my thoughts and analysis of this fanmade ending and how it differs from Isayama's.

To start things off, I found that part 1 started off similar to how 137 did in the canon manga, with Armin and Zeke conversing in PATHS. The biggest difference would be kid Eren being transported there and seeing his older self. To be fair though, this chapter was only about half the length of what we're used to reading, so I'm sure we'll get a lot more in part 2 onwards.

While Zeke is enlightening Armin on the history of the earth and how the life form that attached itself to Ymir sought to avoid death forever, young Eren is in PATHS too with his older self, witnessing the moment Ymir found the tree and fell in it to become the first titan. At first, there is no dialogue exchanged between them. They just hold hands and watch. Meanwhile, Zeke is still talking to Armin about Ymir and how she continued to serve her oppressive master despite acquiring godlike powers that would allow her to obliterate him whenever she pleased. This is where the team working on this project attempt to provide their own alternate possibilities as to why this happened in a way that would make more sense than what we were given in the canon story in which she simply had a severe case of Stockholm Syndrome and couldn't let him go no matter how much he made her suffer.

So what are these new possibilities? They come in the form of a question, so their validity is not made absolutely certain, but they're presented as the most likely candidates nonetheless.

According to Zeke, she was unable to separate her own desires from King Fritz and was a lost girl who sought meaning. A place to belong. Tragically, King Fritz was the only connection she had in her life, so she clung to it with everything she had despite it being toxic and abusive. I could argue that these are the very reasons why she supposedly loved the king in the official manga, as explained by Eren in 139, but they weren't explained or touched on as plainly as they were here. I feel like they could have been if Isayama had just been given more time, but sadly the whole thing was rushed and underdeveloped.

Moving on, Zeke states that despite his efforts in trying to understand Ymir and her feelings, it was Eren who ultimately was able to get to her and offer her the choice of freedom. The next page transitions to young Eren standing in the clouds with his arms spread out and a smile on his face just like in the official 137, only this time 19yo Eren is next to him. Now I'm going to be honest here, this is where things started to get a little corny for me. Yeah. I know a lot of people hate that argument, but that's just how it felt to me. And before I say anything else, I want everybody to know that I am in no way about to mock anyone's fondness of this Eren over the one we saw in 139, even if it was a little over-the-top. It's perfectly fine to prefer one over the other, I'm just going to try to explain myself the best I can without coming across as harsh or unprofessional.

Eren is drawn in these panels to be a stone-faced, determined and unstoppable force who will "keep moving forward until his enemies are destroyed." This is the Eren that many people grew most familiar with throughout the series, despite his occasional breakdowns, but something about the way it was executed just felt a little too overdramatic and exaggerated. For me, the contrast between this Eren and the Eren we were presented with in 139 is too jarring. It came across to me as the fandom's idealized version of Eren, the "chad" Eren if you will, rather than Isayama's portrayal of Eren who is cold and determined, but has also been experiencing stunted mental growth ever since the day he saw his mother get eaten; side note: I know that Eren himself was responsible for his mother's death, but that's a discussion for a later time. Not only that, but the "keep moving forward" line starts to get overused at this point. We already heard Eren say this a number of times before 137 where this first fanmade chapter takes place, so I didn't find it necessary to include that at the end, but it seemed to be the writers' way of trying to reinforce Eren's ultimate goal.

Regarding the rest of the chapter, young Eren asks older Eren what Ymir is still waiting for after he showed her that she's not alone. 19yo Eren proceeds to explain that while he was able to make her feel something again, she still needs somebody to free her. He shows his younger self all of the visions from PATHS that he's seen so far, ranging from past events to alternate realities to things that couldn't be changed no matter what. Now there is only one path left that he strives toward. The one that he believes will grant him and his people freedom. This next line is the one that stood out to me the most throughout this fanmade chapter. Still talking to kid Eren, adult Eren says, "When you wake up, you will forget what you learned, but not what you felt here. This will all feel just like a long dream." Only when he kisses Historia's hand will it all come back to him. This line more clearly explains why Eren woke up crying in chapter 1, but couldn't remember why. Then he circles back to how he intends to carry out his own plan to end the cycle of hatred once and for all. Despite his efforts along the way, he couldn't change the flow of PATHS and save the friends he lost or prevent certain events from happening altogether, so he had to accept that sacrifices had to be made. In this case, he will have to literally sacrifice the world, much to Armin's horror.

To wrap this up, I'm going to finish comparing this to the canon 137, but since the first part of this project only covers the PATHS portion of it, that's where I'll stop as well. To save a little but of time, I'm just gonna be lazy and copy the first part of a quick overview of the chapter I found as part of the wiki:

So clearly, canon 137 starts off focusing a lot more on Armin and Zeke's differing philosophies and does not provide any further insight into Eren's ultimate motives like this one does, at least not yet. Armin and Eren are bound to face off soon in this fanmade version, but it looks to me like this time the writers are planning on flipping the outcome and having Eren come out victorious instead, especially when I remember the name of this project and what it's based on. I guess that means that in a way, I already know what's ultimately going to happen throughout the rest of this project. Whether it's going to be considered superior to the actual ending is going to depend on if its executed properly. I could very well be wrong about some of this, though. I want to give it a fair shot since these people have clearly put a lot of hard work and passion into this, so I will refrain from further judgement until we get the full picture. On a side note, I just want to say that the artwork is beautiful so far and I commend every artist responsible for their efforts. I also liked the song choice at the beginning and thought it set the mood pretty well.

Thank you to everyone who read the whole thing. This took me far longer to write than it should have because I'm not always good at expressing myself in a way that does not come across as confusing or contradictory. I will continue to share my thoughts as more content is released, which by the looks of it could be any day now.

#snk #aot no requiem #snk fanfiction #snk manga #snk 137 #armin arlert #zeke jaeger #eren jaeger #ymir fritz

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tinyboxxtink · 4 years ago

Text

"Black Magic" *Part 6*

Part 5

Part 7

Okay so this one's a bit shorter, but like I said I want to try and keep it a "day" a chapter. Also, I don't think you want this day to be ANY longer.

....I'm so sorry.

Also also---- I'm going out now. I'M SO SORRY.

I'll post another chapter tonight....be strong my babies!

Side note how perfect is the gif with the angry barba and the smirking Olivia....I mean.... what?

Tag List:

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@omgsuperstarg

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@gibbs274

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@objection-argumentative

@aprildecker-blog

@lolliepopsicle

@madamsnape921

@stars-trash-18

-------

You arrived at the door of Rafael's office early once again, knocking this time. You looked like a million bucks. You had taken at least an hour to get ready, your outfit, your hair, your makeup. You were ready to make a move. You knocked again. There was no answer. He should be there, maybe he didn’t hear you. You knocked a little louder. Where could he be? You decided to take a peek and peer open his door to see the most horrifying sight:

Rafael and Olivia, making out on his desk. They both snapped back when they heard the door open.

“Y/N!!” He yelled angrily. “Don't you knock?”

“Oh.. oh my God I'm so sorry sir I'm really sorry. I just brought your morning coffee sir,” You were upset, embarrassed , confused , distraught unable to speak, unable to think.

“Well you should learn not to peep on other people Y/N,” Olivia gave you an evil smirk. “I should get going anyway baby,” she rubbed the lipstick off Rafael's lips. “I have a long day.”

“Oh but I'll miss you carino,” Rafael whined while rubbing his nose against hers in a disgusting fashion.

“I know baby, but maybe we'll have lunch?” She messed with his collar.

“You can count on it,” Rafael growled seductively, smacking her butt as she walked towards the door. “Two can play at your game,” she whispered at you as she walked out

Oh my god. Oh my God oh my god!! How did she know? How was it possible? So many things went through your head at that moment.

“I um, I left something at my desk,” You lied quickly as you headed out the door.

“Olivia!” You called after her angrily suddenly overwhelmed with courage. She stopped and turned and stared at you

“Really? Got some balls on you now do you?”

“What did you do?” You demanded.

“I didn't do anything to him.” She acted innocent. “He just realized that his feelings for me were there all along,” she batted her eyes mockingly. “Isn't that what you did?”

“It's not real!” You barked. “You know it's not real. It'll wear off by tomorrow,”

“Oh I really don't think it will” She held up a water bottle in her purse and it was filled with a….purple liquid? Yep it was purple. Why was it purple? Did she make it stronger? Oh God how strong did she make it?

“Olivia you can't do this to him. I stopped and realized if it wasn't real, I didn't want it.”

“Oh that's bullshit.” She rolled her eyes. “You just brought him his morning coffee. You and I both know that it has that stuff in it. You just needed to refill him but I got there first.”

“No that's not true! You yelled, tears stinging your eyes now. “And he loves me. I know he does.”

“Oh my God you are delusional,” she laughed.” Look I'm happy you had a fun day yesterday but you’re out of your league here, sweetie. He's mine and he always will be? Got it?” She smirked again, then turned and stomped away in her heels leaving you there speechless.

----

You were furious, you were confused, you were upset and then you realized that you had to still continue this day as if nothing was different. Nothing was wrong. You wondered how strong Olivia's stuff was. You wondered what the rules were. Did it block out his feelings for you completely and only focus on her? Did it wipe any memory of you and him at all? Could you break it? You had so many questions you needed to call Chloe but you know you couldn't until your break so you sucked it up and walked back into Rafael's office.

“I'm really sorry about that so earlier,” You did your best to keep from crying. He looked at you with an almost look of disdain.

“Yeah well you really need to be more professional, Y/N.” He scoffed.

"Now you really need to get me copies of these prepositions by noon so that I can go to lunch with my beloved and then go to court.”

“Your beloved?” You spat unintentionally, wanting to gag.

“Excuse you?” He gave you an angry look.

"Look I know that you have some kind of crazy crush on me, but you need to learn that what me and my girlfriend have is something you can't get between so you really need to either control yourself or I will relieve you of your services.” He glared at you.

You couldn't breathe, you felt your heart beating in your chest and your ears. Your palms were sweating, you were having a panic attack. What the hell did she put in her concoction? How did she make him turn so harshly against you?

“I... Yes sir, sorry sir, right away sir,” You whispered grabbing the papers from him running out of the office.

Finally after you got Rafael his copies and he stormed out of his office to go meet his “beloved”, you took the break to call Chloe in tears.

-----

“Oh My God, what happened honey?” She asked, immediately hearing your sobs over the phone.

“She did it,” You sobbed.

“Who did what now?”

“She found the spell! Or some spell. I don't know what she did. I don't know how she could have-- I don't know what she did!!!” You kept sobbing uncontrollably not being able to form coherent thoughts.

“Okay, I'm going to need you to slow down,” Chloe said in a calming manner. “Breathe honey. Use your words. Now explain to me exactly what happened,”

You took several deep breaths trying to compose yourself so that you could explain what was happening to her.

“I went into Rafael's office this morning, and he was making out with that vile woman,” You sniffled.

“What vile woman?”

“Olivia, his ‘beloved’,” you rolled your eyes through your tears.

“His beloved?”

“It's some woman that he works with, and apparently has been in love with him forever. She somehow, I don't know how, figured out what we did to him and she somehow found her own spell. Which I'm pretty sure is not the same one, because it was a purple liquid. AND she not only created feelings for her, she made him hate me!!” You continued to sob.

“...Oh,” Was all Chloe could say.

“OH…?!” You scoffed. “I thought you said that magic laws frowned upon spells like that, controlling people's free will!”

“It does! Good magic anyway,” She sighed.

“What the hell does that mean?” You yelled angrily.

“Well I mean you know there's good witches and bad witches,”

“Oh my God, what in the Wizard Of Oz fuckery--”

“I don't know what to tell you honey. That's how it is. There's good magic and there's black magic. Black magic is all selfish and self-indulgent and instant gratification. She must have gone to somebody who deals in that,”

“Who could it be?”

“I don't know! It's not like they're listed in the yellow pages! WAIT-- Oh my God I think I might have an idea,” Chloe suddenly paused. “...But you're not going to believe me,”

“Oh my God what does that mean?” you asked wearily.

“Well.. you've seen all the movies right? You know like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White,”

“Oh God. Are you seriously going to tell me that true love's kiss can break the spell?”

“Well.. you really don't have any other options right now, do you?”

“CHLOE those are Disney movies for fuck’s sake!!”

“Hey, remember Once Upon A Time? THAT was the ‘real world’, and true love’s kiss brought magic to our world!” Chloe pointed out.

“THAT’S A TV SHOW!!!!!”

“I don't know what else you want me to say here babe. But you should do it. Unless you want to lose him forever to this “Olivia” person. You said that she had a lot of it, right? She could keep this up for as long as she wants. AND the more she gives him the stronger it's going to be and the harder it is going to be to break. I mean he might end up really hating you and firing you, and then your whole life will be ruined. You not only need to break this spell for you to be happy, but before it impacts your entire life,” Chloe warned.

“Oh my God, oh my god…” You whimpered. “I should have never done this.”

“Hey chin up this will work out I'm sure of it!” She said in a chipper tone.

“Okay Jiminy,” You rolled your eyes as you hung up and went back to your office. You did your best to continue with the rest of the day, trying to stay out of Rafael’s way. Which wasn't hard, considering that he was in court most of the day. Around four he texted you and told you that he was no longer in need of your services for the day so you could go home early. Oh also he just HAD to add that he was going to go out with Liv. You wanted to vomit. You headed home and went to brainstorm with Chloe.

-----

“Okay so I've been researching black magic. Chloe had papers sprawled out all over her bed when you came home. “She must have used a combination of love and hate spells.”

“Wait, so you mean actual love spells? Like actually creating fictitious love? Not just magnifying what he felt for her?”

“Correct” she nodded. “I don't think he ever had real feelings for her.”

“Well he said that she and him had a thing, and that he thought about her like that when they first met. So maybe it was going off of that,” You shrugged sadly.

“Another thing we need to figure out is how to get the rest of the potion from her somehow,”

“And just HOW do you expect me to do that?!”

“I don’t...I don’t know,” She shrugged, sifting through her research.

“Chloe, give me something you DO know,” You rubbed your temples; this was giving you a migraine.

“Okay… well, maybe if I talk to my other friends they can figure out a way to counteract the effects even just a little, if you're not willing to or unable to get true love's kiss,”

“Oh God--”

“Hey, I'm just saying”

“Whatever.” You sighed. “My head hurts, my heart hurts, everywhere hurts Chloe,” You whined. “I just want this to be over,”

“Okay honey just-- just go get some sleep, I’ll figure out a game plan for you to use tomorrow,”

“Okay...thank you,” You gave her a small hug and went to your room.

You went to bed with a deep feeling of dread.

#rafael barba #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fanficton #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #black magic

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i-like-plan-m · 4 years ago

Note

If you're accepting prompts, how about one where people either can't lie to LWJ or he can tell when they're lying, and he inadvertently discovers a whole bunch of stuff WWX would rather he didn't (could be either WWX's low self worth, or his intense LWJ-based thirst!)

such a good prompt omg thank you [Posted to Ao3]

It was a curse, some said. A gift, according to others. The sect debated for years on the technicalities and argued their differing opinions over Lan Zhan’s head until Lan Qiren insisted the sect leave his nephew alone.

No one ever asked Lan Zhan what he thought.

He considered it neither a gift nor a curse. It was simply a part of him, the same as his golden core.

Except while a golden core was perfectly normal, Lan Zhan’s ability to detect any lie— spoken or unspoken— was less so. He heard falsehoods like music; words were notes, conversations were harmonies, and lies were the jarring wrong note that scraped harshly across his ears.

The hardest part was learning the reasons for a lie. Lan Zhan did not understand people the way his brother did, could only hear their lies and quietly disapprove. But Lan Xichen spent hours upon hours with him, testing the bounds of the skill and gently pointing out the different types of lies, and why the distinctions were important.

Sometimes, he’d said, people lie to protect themselves or others. Sometimes a lie is kinder than the truth. They were not all born of malicious intent, and he’d taught Lan Zhan how to distinguish between them. How to identify the dangerous lies, the harmful ones, and those that were best left unacknowledged out of kindness or respect.

Lan Xichen had been eternally patient, remarkably encouraging, and quietly concerned about the effect this curse would have on his little brother. Lan Zhan had seen it in his face, the nonverbal lie reading to him like a whisper every time Lan Xichen smiled to hide his worry.

His brother had never asked about the source of the curse or gift or whatever the sect considered it; Lan Zhan suspected he had his own theories, and Lan Xichen’s guesses would most certainly be better than the elders’.

But only Lan Zhan knew its origins for sure.

His mother had been lied to, once, and as a result had spent the rest of her days a prisoner in a small, lonely house. His clearest memory of his mother was her holding him close, tucking him into her lap and wrapping her arms around him in a loving, protective cocoon. It was the safest he had ever felt.

He’d been too young to recognize his mother’s sorrow for what it was at the time, the way she’d clearly known her death was approaching. But he remembered the quiet words she’d whispered to him, words of love and fear and protectiveness. The way her golden core had enveloped him, warm and steady, as she made sure her youngest son would not live in a house of lies and silence like her.

It was her greatest gift to him, and her last.

~*~

Lan Zhan knew the sound of a lie. So when a particularly irritating disciple arrived and immediately began causing trouble, Lan Zhan expected any number of lies from the boy. He was eager, even, for vindication for his own prejudice against such a disrespectful nuisance.

But Wei Ying had a way of talking that sounded like slurred notes to Lan Zhan’s highly trained ear. He was all chaos and deflection, and Lan Zhan experienced something uncomfortably like whiplash trying to keep up with the words in Wei Ying’s never-ending chatter.

It could not have been deliberate— no one outside of the Lan Sect’s elders and his own family knew of Lan Zhan’s particular skill— but nonetheless Wei Ying avoided giving straight answers, topics sliding sideways and off course with a joke, a question of his own, or some wildly inappropriate comment that made Lan Zhan too furious to focus.

He was infuriating.

He was beautiful.

Somehow that was worse.

Lan Zhan did not bother to look over as Wei Ying bickered with his sect brother, not in any mood to deal with him or his own feelings about the biggest troublemaker he’d ever met in his life.

Wei Ying’s laugh rang over the courtyard, bright and happy as he slung an arm over Jiang Wanyin’s shoulders, ignoring the sect heir’s incensed protests. “Don’t lie, shidi, I know you love me!”

The lie sounded like a gong in Lan Zhan’s head, startling him so badly that he stumbled to an awkward stop and snapped his head around to stare at Wei Ying, who was for once paying him no attention.

His ever-present smile was in place, nothing false or fixed about it. Wei Ying wore happiness and humor like armor, and Lan Zhan wondered if anyone had ever seen past it. He hadn’t… until now.

Lies were interesting things. Sometimes entire speeches were a lie (for instance, everything that came out of Jin Guangshan’s mouth). Sometimes gestures held the lie, such as Nie Huaisang’s amiable nod of agreement whenever his older brother ordered him to go train with his saber. And sometimes the lie was only a single word.

I know you love me. The low, booming signal of Wei Ying’s lie was significant for two reasons: the timing, and the strength of the sound. The greater the lie, the louder the noise, and this one had left a painful echo in Lan Zhan’s ears from the force of it. And the timing… the lie had been marked on a single word: love.

I know you love me. But Wei Ying did not believe this, not even a little.

Lan Zhan… did not know what to do with this revelation.

By the end of class that day, during which Wei Ying had been bellowed at by Lan Qiren and handed off to Lan Zhan for yet another punishment, he still had not figured out what to do about it. He would have gone to his brother for advice, because Xichen always helped him find the right thing to do, but lately his brother had a terrible light of laughter in his eyes every time Lan Zhan mentioned Wei Ying, and he was not about to willingly subject himself to that indignity.

So he was left to his own devices. Lan Zhan stared down at his scroll, not reading a single word of it because of to Wei Ying’s indecent sprawl across a nearby desk. He was humming innocently, like Lan Zhan couldn’t see him urging a tiny paper man on a march towards Lan Zhan’s pot of ink.

“Focus on your work,” Lan Zhan said sternly, capturing the figure just before it dipped its little arms in the bowl and went on a rampage.

“Ugh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whined, flopping over the desk. “This is so boring, how can you stand it? Not even Madam Yu would make me do all this!”

Lan Zhan studied the paper man in the cage of his fingers. This was a chance to learn more, he thought, about Wei Wuxian’s life in Yunmeng. Maybe even about why he did not believe his own brother loved him.

Why do you care? This does not concern you. Lan Zhan mutinously banished the thought and set the paper man free to explore the stack of books on his desk.

Hesitantly, he asked, “Do you like Lotus Pier?”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying laughed. “What kind of question is that?”

Lan Zhan felt the familiar surge of frustration at the deflection; he could never get a straight answer out of Wei Ying, and it was a source of much aggravation.

“You mention punishments at Lotus Pier frequently,” he said instead of pinning Wei Ying to the floor until he got a truthful answer. The image sent a flash of heat through him, and he held himself very, very still until he had control over himself again.

“Eh.” Wei Ying waved a dismissive hand. “I get in trouble everywhere, Lan Zhan, whether I mean to or not.”

Truth.

“Are you punished in similar ways?” Lan Zhan asked, looking pointedly at Wei Ying’s abandoned paper of half-copied rules.

“No one gives punishments like the Lans. Don’t worry, your sect’s reputation is still the most feared of all!”

Not true, because anyone with half a brain knew to be wary of Wen Ruohan. This lie was like a slipped finger on the string of a qin, a short, wavering note that was discordant and vaguely unsettling. An untruth, technically, but said as a joke, as a sort-of truth because both of them knew the statement wasn’t genuine and that they other knew it as well.

Lan Zhan had a headache.

He tried a different track. “You were adopted by Sect Leader Jiang?”

Wei Ying sat up, propping his elbows on his desk and studying him for a moment before grinning. “So many questions, Lan Zhan! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you want to be friends.”

It was said teasingly, and the lie was held in the latter part of the sentence— Wei Ying did not believe Lan Zhan wanted to be friends. That, combined with the frustration of yet another question avoided, made Lan Zhan say, “It seems you do not know better.”

Embarrassingly, his heart was pounding at the admission. Lan Zhan had never had a friend before, other than his brother, and he certainly did not know how to make them. But he knew that he wanted to spend time with Wei Ying more and more often, even though part of him rebelled at the thought.

It was oddly silent in the library. Lan Zhan knew his ears were flushed red with embarrassment and uncertainty, and he waited with bated breath for Wei Ying to tease him again, to deflect with another laugh or joke that kindly disguised the fact that he did not want to be Lan Zhan’s friend, that Lan Zhan was too stiff and weird and boring to be anyone’s friend.

A little nauseated, Lan Zhan lifted his eyes from his paper and gathered his courage to look at the other boy.

Wei Ying was gaping at him like a fish.

“Friends?” He finally managed. Lan Zhan dropped his eyes back to the desk and said nothing, couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. “You don’t want to be my friend!”

His gaze flickered back towards Wei Ying. The statement was untrue, obviously, but it was a lie that Wei Ying believed to be true, so it sounded like a half-missed note on a flute. Easily corrected, quickly covered, but there nonetheless.

“Says who?” Lan Zhan asked, wondering… hoping…

Wei Ying blinked at him for a moment, visibly stumped. Ridiculously, it made Lan Zhan feel as though he’d won something. Triumph over being the one to shock Wei Ying into uncharacteristic silence for once.

As expected, it didn’t last long.

Traitorous fondness glowed in his chest as Wei Ying planted his hands on the desk and raised himself onto his knees with an indignant expression. His hair fell in disarray around his face, a half-tied red ribbon spilling over his shoulder and against rumpled robes.

“You did!” Wei Ying said, outraged. “I said we should be friends on the first night!”

He’d said a lot of things that first night, Lan Zhan thought with reluctant amusement. Lan Zhan had forgotten most of it thanks to the veil of rage that had overtaken him as he chased a beautiful boy under the moonlight.

“Hm,” Lan Zhan said, dismissive, mostly just to watch Wei Ying’s expression contort into disbelief. “Did you ask?”

Wei Ying spluttered. “Of course I asked!” He said too loudly, and then cocked his head like he’d heard the ring of the lie, too. “Oh. Huh, I guess I didn’t ask, now that I think about it.”

He looked at Lan Zhan with a gleam in his eye. Lan Zhan had only a second to think, uh oh, and then Wei Ying had vaulted over his desk to land on his knees across from him.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispered, leaning in like they were sharing secrets. Lan Zhan’s hear thundered in his ears as Wei Ying grinned conspiratorially at him and leaned in close enough that Lan Zhan could smell the floral scent of his hair oil, the tinge of chili oil that he’d smuggled into the Cloud Recesses and then at some point spilled on his sleeve. “I want to be your friend. Do you want to be friends?”

Lan Zhan savored the silence around his words— I want to be your friend, he’d said, with no single hint of a lie— and tried not to let the mischievous glint in Wei Ying’s eye distract him.

It was too late, though. The seed of mischief had taken root in Lan Zhan, which was why he said with a perfectly straight face, “Hm. I will have to think about it.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying squawked with indignation, and then must have caught the tiny curl of Lan Zhan’s mouth because he exploded into laughter a second later. “Were you teasing me just now? Lan Zhan, I can’t believe this.”

Quietly pleased with himself, Lan Zhan watched as Wei Ying laughed until he ran out of air, falling onto his back with his usual exuberant expressiveness. The laughter was a joyous sound, bright and honest, and hearing it in one of his favorite places made Lan Zhan’s chest feel warm and tight.

His mother would have liked him, Lan Zhan thought wistfully. For his humor, his irrepressible love of life, his fearlessness. His heart felt too big for his chest as he listened to Wei Ying laugh, unrestrained emotion where only disciplined constraint had ever been permitted.

He would investigate Wei Ying’s beliefs about his own worth later, he decided. They were friends now, so this was allowed.

For now, though, he let the clear, ringing music of Wei Ying’s laughter fill the room. Basked in the warmth he hadn’t felt since his mother had been alive, and softened enough to smile back at Wei Ying.

#y'all have sent me some fantastic prompts #this one was fun #the untamed #wangxian #lan zhan #lan wangji #wei ying #wei wuxian #mdzs #asks #anon #prompts #my writing #my fics

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angeloncewas · 3 years ago

Note

Hi I know you're probably tired of talking about this so feel free to ignore this.

While I understand why the artist may have felt like their design was stolen and their feelings towards it are definitely valid. There are some things I wanted to point out because I find it hard to believe the narrative thats being pushed.

From a business/marketing perspective, it wouldn't make sense for the team in charge to view any fanart on social media. Not only would this give way to unconsciously copying someones work(for a lack of a better word, an implicit bias you can say), kind of like when writing a paper and wanting to avoid reading someone else's bc you can sometimes unconsciously copy a sentence or idea, but I don't see the point of having a design team being active on social media, because as a business functions, that team would be the social media team to monitor fan interactions for the purpose of keeping engagement not for merch. The reason a lot of big companies rip off smaller artists is bc they wouldn't face huge consequences. Big corporations have money and lawyers, and while I don't doubt Dream has lawyer contacts when necessary, i doubt he has them on payroll and would be able to fight a claim such as plagiarism, especially because it seems like the money he gets goes back in to the company itself and it takes sometime years for a business to ever see profit.

Not only that, but the way the artist drew their design was clearly meant to be for a retro style, as she states in her tweet. Whereas the dream design went for marketing it towards children, which again is clear. The fonts are not similar at all, both designed towards the theme they are intended for. And the colors are honestly common palettes for children. Like people have pointed out, it's something you would have worn as a child yourself, which again emphasizes what the intentions of the design are. I can keep going as to why I feel like they are different enough. But all in all, when you design something with as much simplicity as both designs have, there are going to be others out there who are bound to create something similar. There are only so many combinations and styles that can be done with something as simple as fonts and colors. Idk i just hate how many conclusions are being jumped to

I'm such a centrist here I need to buy a grill.

I think calling it blatant theft feels like an oversimplification of the situation to me. Because you're right, there are some key differences and outside sources from which some of the similarities may have been drawn. Do I think that's what happened? I don't know. I'm on the fence. But it's for sure not impossible like some people are making it out to be. I also agree with what you said about big corporations versus Dream's business - while Dream isn't hurting for money, they're not the kind of massive industry that can be careless.

Regardless of whether his team did or didn't do it and his responsibility aside, I stand by my initial statement that Dream didn't know. And I think this not because I know that he's a wonderful, moral person - I like him, yeah, but I don't know him like that - rather, it just doesn't make sense considering all of his past controversies. Dream knows how his fanbase is and how closely his every move is tracked; he was and is never going to get away with stealing ideas, much less art, much less art from a community artist, much much less art from a community artist that he apparently follows on his fanart acc. He's just not that stupid. Even if you hate him, I think that makes sense from a marketing perspective - he's gotta keep his fans supportive and placated. (I have a more positive opinion on him than this, to be clear - I'm just pointing it out for argument's sake.)

#angel answers #anon #discourse #long post

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch37: Fourteen Million, Six Hundred And Five Part 2- I Just Feel You

Intro: Our heroes fast begin to realise that this was one fight that they just couldn’t win…and despite their best efforts, disaster strikes.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So I HAD to write Thor and Tony’s POV over the IW chaptres too, because, frankly, they had some of THE best scenes in Infinity War, and I love that freaking Norse God Himbo and chaotic Stark chemistry so bad! I know this is Katie and Steve’s fic, but Steve had so little screen time in this film all things considered…we were so robbed!!! And I filled this full of gifs coz...ya know...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 37 Part 1

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Katie had no idea how many of the dog like animals she shot, or how long they had been at it. As she glanced around, she spotted Steve was locked in combat with four of them, smashing into them with his shields, his face contorted in anger and concentration. She shot a ray taking down a few to try and give him a reprieve, but even more appeared and then something collided with her, taking her down to the ground with a crash. As she went to get up she was suddenly swamped. FRIDAY automatically yelled out a warning and engaged the shield which kept the most of them from gnashing at her with their ridiculously long teeth, but the sheer volume was preventing Katie from getting up. In desperation, she shot her thrusters and managed to take another few out, but the weight of them on top of her meant she merely moved herself backwards along the ground, she could get no height at all.

“There’s too many of them.” Bruce yelled into the coms echoing what everyone was already feeling. Steve was now that surrounded he could do nothing but shield his face and lash out with his legs.

Katie shot again at the ones on top of her, but it was no good. “FRIDAY…we got anything in this arsenal?” She yelled desperately.

A yell came from Bruce just as the AI answered. “I can super charge the cannon… but it will leave your weapons at fifty percent capacity.”

Before Katie could respond, there was another loud whoosh and blast but this one was different and oddly familiar. Through the minute gaps between the mass of animals on top of her, Katie could just make out a huge flash of flowing light, which was punctuated by a bright spectrum of colour, and then the animals that had been on top of Katie were gone as something flew around, knocking them down, leaving them dead on the ground, their bodies writhing under strands of blue electricity.

Katie lay still for a moment, her chest heaving before she sat up, her helmet sliding away as she looked round with a huge smile, because she knew there was only one possible person who could do such a thing.

At the same moment, Steve found himself free and he too sat up, just in time to hear Banner laughing.

“Oh, you guys are so screwed now!”

And then the Captain heard Katie’s loud exclamation of glee as she flew into the air at the same time the weapon, a huge axe, flew back to its owner. The beam of light in the middle of the field dissipated to reveal Thor, and rather randomly a Raccoon with a gun, and a tree creature standing by his side.

Katie landed softly beside Steve and she pulled him to his feet, her eyes shining with emotion before the pair of them spun to watch as Thor took one glance around the battlefield steely determination in his eyes, turning his focus to where two of Thanos’ warriors were.

“Bring me Thanos!” He demanded as he ran forward, slamming his axe against one of the nearest creatures, sending it flying away.

Katie looked at Steve again, both of them sharing as somewhat more hopeful glance, before they turned their attention back to the fight.

*****

But unbeknown to Thor, Thanos was on Titan, grappling with Tony, Parker, Strange and the other members of the Guardians.

He was huge, and even without the stones, Tony had a feeling he would have been impossible to beat. Nevertheless, they had banded together, putting the plan into action, and had gained another ally in a blue woman. He had no idea who she was, but the Guardians seemed to, and she was on their side so Tony didn’t question it. They needed all the help they could get. .

Finally, Dr Strange opened a portal, dropping Mantis down onto Thanos’ shoulders. She grasped his head with her hands and focussed her telepathic energy through her fingers, the tips of her antennae lighting up.

“Is he under?” Tony asked, pulling on the bonds he had Thanos’ arm in “Don’t let up.” “Be quick!” Mantis wailed. “He is very strong.”

“Parker, help! Get over here” Tony grabbed hold of the gauntlet and Peter moved to help him. “She can’t hold him much longer. Let’s go.”

Quill landed in front of Thanos, grinning as he began to taunt the Titan. “I thought you’d be harder to catch. For the record, this was my plan. Not so strong now, huh? Where is Gamora?”

“My… Gamora…” Thanos grit out, groaning as Mantis kept him under control

“Oh, bullshit.” Quill shook his head “Where is she?”

Mantis gave another small cry. “He is in anguish.”

“Good.” Quill glared at him whilst Tony and Peter were still wrestling with the gauntlet.

“He… he… mourns.” Her voice was shrill and louder this time.

“What does this monster have to mourn?” Drax ground out through his teeth, his voice strained with the effort of keeping hold of Thanos’ other arm.

It was the blue woman who answered, her eyes shining with tears. “Gamora”.

”What?” Quill looked at her and Tony glanced up, a cold feeling spreading across his stomach.

“He took her to Vormir.” She whispered, horror flooding her face. “He came back with the Soul Stone, but she didn’t.”

Tony grasped the danger of the situation and immediately slid back his helmet and looked at Quill. “Okay, Quill, you gotta cool it right now, you understand?

But the man wasn’t listening. He turned slowly to Thanos, so Tony tried again, shouting his plea desperately. “Don’t, don’t, don’t engage, we’ve almost got this off!”

“Tell me she’s lying.” Quill shook his head before his voice became enraged “ASSHOLE! Tell me you didn’t do it!”

“I… had… to.” Thanos replied.

.“No, you didn’t.” Quill spoke gently, his eyes filling with tears. “No, you didn't…”

Tony watched as the man continued to rage, and then, before they could do anything he drew his hand back and pistol-whipped Thanos twice in the face, causing Mantis to let go. “NO, YOU DIDN’T!”

“Quill!! Tony gave a yell as he leaped for the man’s arm, his helmet forming back around his head, but by doing so he left Parker alone to keep pulling the gauntlet. As Tony tried to calm quill down he was vaguely aware that Peter was shouting about the fact he had the gauntlet, but as Tony turned he saw Thanos snap out of his trance. He head-butted Mantis, before grabbing the edge of the gauntlet and throwing the woman off his shoulders.

They’d come so close, but their plan hadn’t worked. And now the fight was back on.

*****

Bucky had heard tales about Thor from both Steve and Katie, but seeing the god in person and his power was like nothing he could have possibly imagined. Not least because he seemed to have brought a walking, talking tree and raccoon with him.

A racoon that was now stood shooting a gun into the crowd of creatures.

“Come get some space dogs!” The animal fired his weapon and Bucky, who was a few feet behind him, spotted one of the dog things leaping at him. He grabbed the animal by the scruff of his jacket and held him at arm’s length, spinning around, firing his own M-249 at the same time.

“Come on, get some, get some, GET SOME!” The racoon yelled, before they were clear and Bucky dropped him. He looked up at Bucky with an impressed gleam in his eyes.

Fuck, an impressed raccoon? Jesus Christ, Steve dragged him into the strangest shit at times.

“How much for the gun?” The racoon asked as Bucky fired off another burst of rapid fire.

“Not for sale.” Bucky replied simply.

“Okay, how much for the arm?”

The animal wanted his arm.

Bucky had no words, he just gave him a look and, as he walked off, he heard the racoon mumble.“Oh, I’ll get that arm.” and despite himself, Bucky gave a little snort as he jogged to where he was needed.

At the same time, elsewhere on the field, Steve and Katie were fighting in tandem. Steve slammed a shield into another two creatures as they leapt at them both whilst Katie jumped into the air, shooting and taking down another four. Just as the next group was about to hit them, another shockwave rocked the field, destroying the pack which was running towards them. Katie looked down to Thor who was stood a few feet away and she landed gently between him and Steve.

“New haircut?” Steve asked, his voice slightly winded as Katie retracted her helmet.

“I notice you’ve copied my beard.” Thor shot back, grabbing at his chin with his hand. Steve nodded, and gestured to his face with one of his shields, still catching his breath.

At that point he looked past Thor to see the tree creature at his other side extending a branch or arm and impaling three creatures on it, lifting them into the air. Something that should have shocked Steve, but he wasn’t sure if anything could shock him anymore.

“Oh, by the way, this is a friend of mine, Tree.” Thor gestured to the creature.

“I am Groot!” The tree yelled, slamming the creatures to the floor.

Katie looked at Steve who was breathing hard from the exertion of battle. But still, ever the gentleman, he introduced himself politely to the tree-boy in return placing a hand to his chest.

“I am Steve Rogers.” He paused looking around the battlefield seeing that, at least for a moment, they were in a respite with the Wakandan warriors handling the Outriders surrounding them. Katie observed Thor for another second before he grinned at her and she threw herself at him.

“Man am I glad to see you, I thought…” She stumbled over her words as Thor chuckled.

“I’m fine.” He smiled, reaching out to wrap an arm round her metal cased back and return her embrace, lifting her slightly off the floor as he did so.

“But Banner, he said your ship…and Loki…”

“I’m the God of Thunder.” He shrugged slightly as if that explained everything, and then he sent his axe flying once more and set Katie down, as a pack began to surround the three. Katie reengaged her helmet and they continued fighting.

“What happened to your hammer?” Steve asked as the three of them circled, before he took another creature down with a blow to the head.

“My sister.” Thor grunted, throwing his axe again.

“You have a sister?” Katie frowned, shooting another creature with a beam.

“Had. She’s dead. I killed her. Well, a big fire demon did.” Thor caught his axe before swinging it straight into the head of one who had jumped at him “I thought Banner might have told you?”

“He mentioned it yeah, but to be honest we’ve kinda been a bit busy.” Katie’s teeth grit together as she off-loaded a shot from her shoulder gun to a creature which hit it straight between the eyes. It slumped to the floor but at the same time the ground began to shake.

“That’s errr…that’s not me.” Thor shook his head as Steve looked at him. The three of them turned to watch as the trees outside the barrier began falling being crushed by whatever was coming, then the dirt underneath the inside of the barrier moved like a wave and from it mechanical wheels like chainsaws sprung up.

“Fall back!” T'Challa’s loud voice sounded in their ears as the wheels separated, “Fall back now!”

“GO!” Steve yelled, looking at Katie and she shot up into the air. As she flew over the field she looked down and saw the wheels split all going in different directions taking out the creatures and Wakandan warriors alike with ease. The machines didn’t seem to have any particular form of control or direction, just mowing down anyone in its path. She looked up as Sam and Rhodey joined her on either side.

“FRIDAY scan this thing for weaknesses…” Katie instructed. “The axle.” FRIDAY said, focussing in on it on the heads up display “You need to take it out.” “Go for the axle guys!” Katie swooped down. “Same time…” “Focus all fire on the left flank” Rhodey ordered as they began to shoot their various weapons.

“I’m doing it,” Sam replied firing his guns where he was instructed but it was having little effect. Eventually, they managed to take one wheel down but as Katie circled up she saw that Natasha and General Okoye were right in its path, but so absorbed in the battle that they almost missed the set of chainsaw wheels coming straight for them, almost. Katie yelled a warning over the coms and was about to swoop down to pull them both out of harm’s way when suddenly Wanda dropped down in front of the other two women and surrounded the wheels in her red glow. She lifted them up lifting it up into the air then grunted throwing it back at a swarm of Outriders.

As Katie spiralled back upwards Okoye’s frustrated voice hit her ears. “Why was she up there all this time?”

It was a boost having Wanda on the field, Okoye was right, but the unease in Katie’s chest was rising as her being down there meant it left Vision open. Katie and Rhodey went back to try and take out another one of the huge wheels, but then they both stopped dead as Sam’s urgent voice called out. ”Guys, we got a Vision situation here!“

Katie looked over in the direction of the palace, just in time to see the android crashing out of the glass.

"Somebody get to Vision!” Steve instructed loudly, before he was sideswiped by another of those damned dog things.

“I got him,” Bruce responded

“On my way,” Wanda’s voice also said. Katie turned to find her on the field, and as she did she saw one of Thanos’ warriors hit her hard across the face with her staff and she fell into one of the large trenches that the chainsaw-like wheels of the machine had created.

Katie swooped down to help, Natasha also sprinting across the field, sliding down into the trench behind the blue woman. As Wanda struggled to her feet, Katie landed next to Natasha.

“He will die alone,” the blue woman growled at Wanda, and then to add even more insult looked added, “As will you.”

“She’s not alone.” Natasha said simply. The woman turned around to see Natasha and Katie there, and then at the other side of her Okoye landed, spinning her spear, pointing it at the horned alien.

“Get to Vision.” Natasha looked at Katie who hesitated. “Now, Nova! Our priority is that stone!”

With a nod, Katie took off again, flying towards Vision’s locations as Friday locked onto him. But, as she flew she was hit by something and landed hard on the ground, her suit dragging along the dirt. Instantly she took off again, kicking one of the animals off her leg as it hung on, its teeth crunching into the metal of her boot but it soon fell limp as her thruster blasted straight through its head.

Meanwhile, Steve was running like he had never run before, and as he reached the clearing in the trees he saw one of the aliens bent over Vision, the tip of his staff trying to pry out the stone from his head. Steve tackled the alien at full speed, his shoulder driving into the man’s waist.

“Get outta here!” He yelled, jumping up as he began to trade blows with the alien, using his arm-shields to both land and deflect the blows. There was no movement so he turned to Vision again, issuing another instruction. “Go!”

Steve kept blocking the alien’s weapon using his shields, finally knocking it from the alien’s hands just before he was thrown over a fallen tree and pinned by his opponent’s hand at his throat. Steve struggled, grabbing at the fingers gripping round his neck, but even with his physical abilities, he was struggling. But then suddenly, there was a familiar repuslor blast to the alien’s back which made him yell out, his grip on Steve lessening a tad, and then the blade of the staff emerged from the alien’s chest. Steve saw him splutter, then choke, before he dropped Steve completely to the floor.

Katie landed besides him, her helmet sliding off as she offered her hand to pull him to his feet. Behind her, Vision cast the alien aside before collapsing exhaustedly to the floor.

“Thanks.” Steve panted, his breath ragged as he gently cupped Katie’s face before he strode to Vision. “I thought I told you to go.” He sighed, hauling the android to his feet.

“We don’t trade lives, Captain.” Vision replied simply.

**** Tony was beginning to realise they had no chance against Thanos. But that spurred him on even more, because if he got the rest of the stones, well it didn’t bear thinking about.

With one last attempt he flew at Thanos, who deflected the blow and picked him up by the helmet and blasted his midsection with the Power Stone. The gaps in nanite coverage were now extensive, as his armour was losing the ability to recover from the intensity of the damage. Tony struggled to one knee, and fired his right hand repulsor at Thanos, but he might as well have been using a fucking water pistol for all the good it did.

Gritting his teeth, Tony got to both feet as his suit tried to complete repairs, adding the beam from his left to the one from his right. Thanos walked right up to him, and backhanded the incomplete helmet off his head. Tony’s eyes grew wide as he crossed his arms to block a blow from Thanos’ gauntlet, the Titan caught his left hand and in desperation, Tony formed what was left of his right glove into a short sword, which Thanos easily caught, snapping it off clean before driving it through Tony’s left side.

Tony’s body seized up in pain as Thanos walked him back until he collapsed onto a rock, looking up at the man who had stabbed him with shock and hatred, blood bubbling in his mouth.

This was it. Thanos was finally going to kill him, after six years of nightmares.

“You have my respect, Stark.” Thanos spoke almost with a hint of regret. “When I’m done, half of humanity will still be alive,” he let go of Tony and straightened up, “I hope they remember you.”

Tony’s thoughts flashed to the people on Earth, more specifically Pepper and his Sister. He had failed them, again. His visions were coming true. He drew in a pained breath, the copper taste of blood surrounded his senses as Thanos raised the gauntlet, closing his fist and all four stones began to glow.

“Stop!” Strange yelled, sitting up painfully as he looked at Thanos. “Spare his life… and I will give you the stone”

“No tricks.” Thanos turns to him and Doctor Strange shook his head.

Despite Tony’s protest, Strange handed over the stone and Thanos dropped it into the thumb setting on the gauntlet, the energy pulse making him wince.

“One to go.”

At that point an energy blast hit the gauntlet right in the empty Mind Stone setting and Thanos grimaced in surprise as Quill, who was screaming in incoherent rage, flew towards him, firing with both hands. Thanos didn’t even bother responding to the assault. Instead he conjured up a portal and simply left.

Star-Lord flew through where Thanos had been and crashed, rolling several times. “Where is he?” He stood up, his helmet sliding away.

With a grimace, Tony managed to stich up his stab wound as well as he could with his suit functions, but he was still weak and had no breath for answers.

“Did we just lose?” Quill asked, his voice now fearful.

Tony turned to Dr Strange and looked at him, shaking his head sadly “Why would you do that?” His voice cracked slightly. After everything they had done to try and stop him getting the stone, after the Wizard himself saying he wouldn’t hesitate to let anyone die to keep it safe, he just handed it over.

“We’re in the Endgame now.” Dr Strange looked at him. And Tony could do nothing but sigh, and slump back against his rock, hoping that the guys on Earth would fare better than they had.

*****

Before Steve, Katie and Vision could move they were joined by Natasha. As she turned to speak to them she suddenly stopped, as a light wind whipped around them, causing them all to spin on the spot.

Something big was coming. Steve couldn’t explain how he knew, but he did. “Everyone on my position, we’ve got incoming.” He pressed his finger to the com in his ear while glancing sideways at Katie, the pair of them stood by Vision, the feel of unease and silence that had fallen over the clearing was getting even more oppressive.

“What the hell?” Natasha mumbled from behind and Steve swallowed turning to Katie who looked up at him. Neither of them could voice what they were feeling, both of them understanding that this could very well be their final stand. Katie felt her chest tighten as she felt a single tear of fright, love and pride fall down her face.

“I love you.” She whispered and Steve took a shaky breath.

“I love you.” He replied in kind. “Till the end of the line.”

Then, across the clearing from them, a cloud of grey and blue began to form from nothing. A huge man, purple in colour, encased in a deep golden armour stepped out from the grey and blue mass.

“Cap, that’s him.” Bruce pointed out obviously, because honestly, who else could it be?

Steve raised his shields and took a few steps forward as Katie moved backwards to stand with Natasha and Wanda, both stood in front Vision.

“Eyes up. Stay sharp.” Steve commanded beginning to charge forward, leaving Katie behind. He knew that if all else failed, Wanda was going to have to make the decision to destroy that stone, and he also knew that Katie wouldn’t want her to be alone when she did.

Bruce reached Thanos first, using the rockets on his suit to launch him up in the air and, as his hand clenched into a fist, Thanos raised the gauntlet on his left hand and Bruce’s suit turned blue and see-through, his body flying through Thanos’ rather than colliding with it before it was encased in the rock at the side of a hill face.

As she took stock of what had just happened, Katie glanced across at Natasha and saw a look of fright on the blonde’s face. A look she had only ever seen once before, when Bruce had transformed into the Hulk for the first time and they had been trapped in the cargo bay of the Hellicarrier all those years ago.

Steve reached Thanos second and jumped, aiming to punch him in the face with his shields but he was stopped dead in his path, a purple glow encasing his body simply throwing him to the side and out of sight where he crashed to the ground, his head spinning as everything went hazy.

Shortly behind him, T’Challa was also cast aside like a rag doll and then Sam was grounded easily.

Nothing could touch him.

“Wanda.” Vision breathed from behind them, and they all turned to face him. “It’s time.”

“No.” Wanda’s voice shook and Katie glanced back and forth between her and the Titan as he was advancing.

“They can’t stop him, Wanda, but we can. Look at me!” Vision demanded forcefully “You have the power to destroy the stone.”

“Don’t.” She cried, trying to pull away from his grip a third time.

Katie turned back to the fight in time to see Rhodey drop out of the air. When Bucky tried to fire at the Titan raising his gun and running towards him, shooting bullets wildly, he was also cast aside, the same way Steve had been. All their attempts to take the Titan down so far had been simply hopeless.

“You must do it Wanda, please.” Vision continued to plead and Katie turned to the young woman whose bottom lip had begun to wobble.

“Wanda.” Katie looked at her, her own voice cracking as well with the impending action they were about to take. “I can’t begin to imagine how you feel but Vis is right. You have to destroy it.”

The tears were forming in Katie’s eyes. All she could hear over the yells and noise was Steve’s voice telling her he loved her. But right now she had no idea where Steve was, she couldn’t see where Thanos had thrown him. She understood completely what Wanda was feeling, and faced with the same choice she knew she’d be reacting exactly the same. But, with Thor seemingly also nowhere to be found, it appeared there was no other way to stop the Titan.

The stone, and with it Vision, had to be destroyed.

“We are out of time.” Vision spoke gently, his hand wrapping around Wanda’s as he brought it up against his cheek.

“I can’t.” Wanda whispered looking at Vision then over to Katie for some form of guidance.

Katie could offer none.

“It’s alright,” Vision took Wanda’s hand and opened it up, “you could never hurt me. I just feel you.“

As Katie watched, Wanda looked over her shoulder and then she let her power flow, her face contorting into so many emotions, it broke Katie’s heart to think about what she was feeling. Her attention was called back to the fight when someone yelled, this time Okoye. Natasha took a deep breath, looking at Katie as they now found themselves the last line of defence between Thanos, Wanda and Vis. They had no choice but to try and buy Wanda as much time as they could.

Natasha went first, but it was pointless, she was cast off to the side somewhere and Katie stood, drawing herself up to her full height, helmet, shield and weapons ready, knowing full well it wasn’t going to stop him.

But Steve was up and running again. Thanos was advancing on his wife and he wasn’t going to let that happen without a fight. He threw himself into a slide, the momentum carrying him under Thanos’ legs and as he went he aimed a swipe at the back of the man’s calves and knees with his shields. As he jumped to his feet, Thanos aimed a blow at Steve’s head, but he caught the gauntlet in both his hands.

Gritting his teeth, Steve put every bit of strength he had into holding off the blow as Katie flew in, her repulsors firing at the Titan which made him lose concentration for a moment, but only a second. Then, in the corner of his eye, Steve saw the other fist powering towards his temple.

And then it all went back.

As Steve crashed to the floor, Thanos caught Katie easily round the neck. Both her hands shot up, her fingers trying desperately to prise his away from where they were crunching around the shield of her suit but to no avail.

“Another Stark.” Thanos mumbled, and before Katie could respond, he trew her up into the air, shooting her with a shot from the power stone. The beam of energy hit her square in the chest, killing her reactor, and she was sent spiralling to the right, where she collided heavily, head first with a tree.

As Katie lay motionless on the floor, her suit falling away, she could vaguely hear noises, the sounds of fighting and yelling. Then there was some sort of huge explosion before the world swam around her, and her eyes fluttered shut.

How long she was out for, Katie had no idea, but as she came round, the first thing she noticed was that it was deadly silent. She could taste and smell dirt, and opening an eye, she realised she was led, face down on the forest floor somewhere. With a groan she lifted her head, and, as she glanced across the clearing, she saw Steve was led roughly ten feet away, also face down and still out of it thanks to the force of Thanos’ punch.

“Steve.” She whispered to herself and pushed herself up, half crawling, half running towards him. As she reached his side, there was a sudden flash of green light which surrounded them, but Katie’s attention was completely focussed on her husband who lay motionless on the ground. “Steve.” She gently shook him, her eyes swimming with tears. “Baby, please, get up.”

She could hear Thor yelling something, and felt a surge of hope in her chest that the God had entered the final fight, and that hope grew even more as Steve gave a little groan, and started to move, turning his head as he lifted it up from where he was laying in the dirt.

“Hey.” She greeted him and he sat up, shaking his head, before he instantly reached out to cup her face, scanning her for injuries.

“Your suit?” He grit out and she shook her head.

“It’s down, it-“

Before she could explain the pair of them were jolted by Thor’s loud cry which seemed to linger in the air around them.

“No!”

They both looked round instinctively and as they did so, a blinding white light seemed to pulse towards them. Steve instinctively pushed Katie down to the floor, curling his body around hers in an attempt to shield her from whatever it was. He kept his head low, eyes scanning around and once he was satisfied it was safe to do so he moved, his eyes fixing on Katie’s whose were wide with fright.

“Steve, I don’t know what’s happening.” She whispered, and Steve swallowed, looking round as he could hear Thor was shouting again but he couldn’t quite make out the words.

“Come on.” He rose to his feet, offering Katie his hand and she took it. Once she was stood, his hands fell to her shoulders, his eyes searching his wife’s face and she nodded to tell him she was okay. Turning, Steve hissed at the pain in his side and clutched at his ribs, looking around, half expecting Thanos to appear and make another run at him. “Stay close to me.” He looked at Katie, the fact she had no suit worried him a little and he wanted to make sure he kept her by his side, not that it would do much good, but he’d die trying if he had to.

It soon became apparent that he wasn’t going to need to, as when they reached the edge of the trees they’d both landed between and emerged into the clearing, there was no sign of the Titan. In fact, the only person they could see was Thor. The god’s broad back was hunched over, his shoulders rising and falling with the force of his breathing, the air deadly silent.

“Where’d he go?” Steve asked, spinning around, unease flooding his chest. “Thor?”

Thor finally turned and met Steve’s eyes, then Katie’s, and it was not a comfort, in fact it made Steve feel even more concerned. The god looked utterly shattered, and still he gave no response.

“Steve?” Another voice cut in sounding as confused as the rest of them felt, and he turned to see Bucky looking down at his arm in disbelief as the limb was disappearing into ash, the gun in his hands fell to the ground followed shortly by the man himself as he just disappeared.

Steve blinked, not sure what he’d seen. An icy cold feeling churned in his stomach as he took a few steps forward before falling to a knee and reaching out, touching the ashes and dust that was all that was left of his best friend. He turned to look up at Katie, he was utterly confused, disbelieving even.

Katie, in turn, was numb with shock. She stumbled forwards, dropping to her knees besides Steve, her hand hovering over his as she stared at the spot on the ground where Bucky’s gun lay.

“I don’t…” Steve frowned, looking at her. “What the hell…”

Katie couldn’t speak. She looked up and round, her eyes falling on Thor as another cloud of dust and ash whirred around the clearing near where the god was stood and it was then that she noticed Thor was stood about a foot away from Vision, who was led on the ground. His body now a bland shade of purple-grey. She reached out for Steve, but at that moment he rose to his feet, walking slowly over to where Thor was stood, his steps heavy, laboured almost. Katie pushed herself off the ground, her own feet felt like they belonged to someone else as she walked numbly over the clearing, as Steve fell down to his knees, shakily reaching out to roll Vision’s lifeless body over.

It was then that Katie’s eyes locked on the hole in the android’s head and in the corner of her eye she saw Steve drop backwards sitting on the ground with a huff, looking up at her, utter disbelief and sorrow flooded his handsome face as they both shared a moment of understanding. Thanos had taken the stone, and done exactly what Banner had warned he would do.

“What’s going on?” Rhodey’s voice cut across the silence as he voiced the question on everyone’s mind. “What the hell is happening?”

Katie turned to face him, her eyes misting over as she looked around at the group of people stood in the clearing. Thor, Banner, Rhodey, Natasha and Rocket. There was no one else, only them. No Sam, no T’Challa, no Bucky, no Wanda. And no Tony. Her hand flew to her mouth as she tried hard to stem the tears and sob that she felt bubbling up inside her, and instead she turned, dropping to her knees besides Steve, reaching out for him.

“Oh, God.” She heard his voice crack as his back slumped against Visions body, his arms pulling her close as the group simply remained silent, numb in the realisation that for the first time ever, The Avengers had lost.

*****

Chapter 38

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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pixie88 · 5 years ago

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Bad Decision

Chapter 4 - Our Little Secret.

A/N: Queen B fanfiction. I’m currently editing and adding all my FF to my new account. All being added to my pinned masterlist on my profile. Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Find previous chapters HERE under Queen B - Our Little Secret.

Word count: 1757

WARNINGS: ⚠️ Some adult language & Angst

Disclaimer: Characters are property of Pixelberry.

Pairings: Ian x MC - Lyla.

Enjoy!

"Lillian, I can explain" Ian tells her "How can any explanation make the fact you are sleeping with a student make this right? Ian, this is wrong on so many levels! Do you not care about your career?" she asks him.

I close the door, Ian turns to me for help "Lillian, I understand this looks bad but I promise this isn't how it started. When we first met I had no idea he was my professor nor did he know I was his student" "So when you did find out why didn't you stop it Ian?" Lillian asks him.

"Lillian, I tried, but the more I denied myself the more I wanted. I love Lyla, I'm even moving to a different university, so I can be with her without any repercussions" " So, you tried? It doesn't look like you tried very hard Ian! What do you two fuck between classes? I bet Lyla is an A class student in your class she has to be considering she's fucking her professor. Ian, how can you be so reckless?" Ian face turns to annoyance.

Lillian, Stop! I will not have you talk about or to Lyla like that! Yes, I have been reckless, but that is from my own doing!" Lillian face soften "Ian, I'm sorry! I just don't want this to blow up in your face and end your career you worked so hard for" (Lillian is right, I can't let Ian risk his career for me. At least not while he's still working here).

"Ian, your sister is right, maybe we should cool it until you start your new job. I can't risk you losing everything for me. So, I think it is best that you find a new TA for the rest of your time here. I'll see you in class." I put the graded essays on the small coffee table.

I go to leave the room, but I feel an arm on my shoulder "Lyla, No! Don't do this!" I turn to face him, his eyes are sad "Ian, I don't want to, but we have to," I see Lillian giving me an agreeing nod to the side of Ian.

"We can still carry on in secret, no one will know" his eye pleading with me (I have to tell him about Poppy) "Someone found out!" I tell him, and he pulls away "You're lying! You're just saying that, so I agree to take a break." "Ian, I wish I was, but I'm not. Poppy found out about us she had photo's of us. She was going to use them to blackmail me, but I managed to delete every copy she had and burn the paper ones. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. I didn't want you to be a part of my mess" he gives me those puppy dog eyes I can't resist.

"Lyla, You should have told me. We could've dealt with that together" I smile "As much as I love you being my knight in shining armour, this was my mess" "No Lyla, It was our mess. You should've told me." he cups my face.

"I know, but so we don't have this problem again, I think we cool it just until you no longer my professor!" he lets go of my face, turns away from me and takes a seat behind his desk.

"Ian, I know it must be hard, but it makes sense and it's only for a few weeks. I think what Lyla is doing is very noble" she smiles at me.

"If that's all Lyla you may go. I'll get a new TA sorted from tomorrow." he doesn't look at me. I leave his office deflated. (Get a grip 8 weeks aren't that long).

2 Weeks later, I have only seen Ian in class I avoid being the first one there so it isn't awkward or at least any more awkward than Ian has made it. Ian avoids my eyes in every lesson and ignores me around campus. He got a new TA 2 days after I told him to get a new one.

I'm not sure Tony seems up to the job as Ian stressed when ever he's around. Ian's class has ended and I'm getting my stuff together to leave when I hear "Ian! It's so good to see you again" I look up to see Lexi approaching Ian's desk at the front of the class.

I hear his husky tone as I make my way to the end of the aisle to leave the classroom "Lexi, you're early" I reach the door when I hear her reply, "Oh, I thought maybe we could have a few drinks before Richard and Annie arrive" (Argh I need a drink and also a bath tub to drown Lexi in).

I send a quick text to Zoe asking if she was free tonight, but she has a lot of studying to catch up on so would probably spend the night in the library.

(Looks like your on your own tonight Lyla).

After I head home to change I found myself outside The Base Lounge a new club that opened last week. I make my way inside and take a seat at the bar and order a passion fruit martini.

After I don't know how many martinis I pull out my phone. I want to text Ian but I shouldn't, but I go against my better judgement.

[Hi Ian, I hope yuo are having a dreadful time on your date with Lexi!]

[You* Whoops]

PING (5 Minutes later)

[Lyla, I am not on a date with Lexi. We are just having dinner with a few colleagues.]

I laugh nearly falling off the bar stool.

[I bet that's not how she sees it. Now you're free for the making.]

[making*]

[Wait that's still not right taking*]

PING (3 Minutes later)

[Lyla, No one is going to take me. You said it was for the best!]

[That was sober Lyla's idea. She's stupid!! I dom't like her!]

[Don't*]

PING (2 Minutes later)

[Lyla, Are you drunk?]

[Well duh! Come on progessor you have a degree. I thought that was obvious!]

PING (1 Minute later)

[Maybe you should get your friends to take you home to sober up!]

[Professor*]

[ Haha, I would but Zoey was busy]

PING (50 seconds later)

[You're by yourself??]

[You know for a professor you are pretty dumb. Of courses I'm by myself if Zoey isn't here. I'm going to walk home after I have been for a pee. Do you know this place has shared toilets! I know it's new but that's just weird right?]

[Course*]

PING (30 Seconds later)

[LYLA, DO NOT WALK HOME! I'M COMING TO GET YOU! JUST STAY THERE!!]

[No need to shout. Well text shout haha. No I'm fine. I can walk. I'll see you in class tomorrow]

I hear my phone continuously ping and ring, but I ignore it and I make my way out of the club. I start walking in the direction I think my dorm is in.

(I feel like I've been walking forever, everything is spinning, Oh no I'm going to...) I run over to the nearest bin and puke. Once I've stopped I clean myself open with a tissue I have in my bag. (Not my classiest moment) "Are you ok?" I look up to find some guy with long black hair staring at me.

(Oh my god, I have hair envy) "Wow, I love your hair!" He smiles "Thanks, but are you ok?" "Yes, I am fine frank you, I mean thank you" "Are you on your way home?" I look at him confused.

(Oh god, he's one of these weirdos that bury young girls under his driveway) "STRANGER DANGER!" I scream at the top of my lungs as I move away from Mr. Perfect Hair. "Stay away from me" he seems shocked "No! Look, I was just checking you were ok. I did mean to scare you" I still back away from him.

"Keep away from me," I shout at him again. I hear a car pull up, the headlights light us up I turn I can't see who it is but because the light is blinding me but I soon recognize the voice.

"Lyla, there you are" Ian comes into view "I've been looking everywhere for you!" he turns to Mr. Perfect Hair "Can I help you?" Ian asks him. "I was just checking she was ok when I saw her throwing up in the bin over there then the mad cow started screaming stranger danger. She's fucking nuts mate." (Everything after that happened in slow motion) Ian squares Mr. Perfect Hair straight in the jaw.

He runs off and Ian takes my hand and leads me to his car.

He gets into the driver's seat, he seems angry "Are you ok Ian?" his jaw tenses "Ian, I said are yo..." "I KNOW WHAT YOU SAID, LYLA!" he shouts, "Excuse you!" "I'm sorry I didn't mean to shout, but you have no idea how worried I was about you!" "Ian, I'm ok!" "You might not have been! Why would you put yourself in danger like that?" "I wanted a drink and no one was free, Plus I was jealous!" I turn away from him.

"Jealous?" he asks I roll my eye "Yes, jealous of Lexi being able to be seen out in public with you and just in your company," he looks over to me with soft eyes "Lyla, This was your idea. I was happy to keep seeing you in secret, but you decided it was best." "Now I don't think it's best. Ian, I miss you," he quickly looks over to me with a smile before returning his eyes to the road.

"I have to admit I've missed you terribly, but you need to figure out what you want!" "Ian, it's you! I want you. I can't wait 6 more weeks, it's killing me now" I see him smirk.

He takes my hand and pulls it to his lips before placing a small kiss against my knuckles "I want you to, Lyla. But if we are going to do this we need to be careful, very careful! No one can know!" "Of course!" "Not even Lillian!" "Ok, but if we are trying to be careful for the next 6 weeks I don't think you should be seen dropping me at my dorm" "Where shall I drop you home?" I grin.

"At your place Professor!" I wink.

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 5.

#ian kingsley #ian x mc #ian #professor #belvoire #queen b #fanfic #choices #pixelberry

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theangrypokemaniac · 5 years ago

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@nyarthsis

If Team Rocket 'always had a heart for unpopular Pokémon', that's an admission their Alola catches aren't particular loveable creatures, so I'm not thinking anything too controversial.

You're saying they take pity on the animals no one wants, as in it's normal for me not to find them adorable.

Some Pokémon, such as Lucario, become fan favourites without the advertisement of a regular role the anime. With Wobbuffet, Bewear, Stufful, Mareanie and Mimikyu, do people like them for themselves, or because of their association with Team Rocket?

I think its the latter. I can't imagine there would be such interest in them were they to be owned by a Twerp or appear as a one-off. Really then, it's not what or who they are, it's to whom they belong that matters.

Alola has really devalued catching. Rather than be true to the source material, so battering a Pokémon into submission, as Ash did with Bulbasaur, Primeape, Muk, and many others, now you have to ask their permission!

Bewear didn't even get that. She hung around for no reason, and her 'friend' Stufful was belatedly tacked on. I see why those two were left behind, as Team Rocket had no right to take them elsewhere.

In terms of welfare, Mimikyu and Mareanie are better off staying with them, free and safe, rather than locked in the insalubrious depths of H.Q., but then it never bothered the writers sending previous Pokémon into an uncertain future, so what difference does it make now?

It can only be that, like their predecessors, there is no intention to ever bring them back, but unlike the rest, the fans can't even be allowed the vain hope of a return, not with this rather awkward disposal.

It's feasible that Jessie and James could call their base and request old monsters to join them, but it's difficult to imagine they'd fly across the world to Alola, wander through the woods, pick 'em up and go all the way back again. Why make parting so final and irreversible?

It does imply that Game Freak don't like them, so why should I?

I keep noticing this fickle attitude. A new era starts, we're expected to fall instantaneously in love with every element, beg for more and yet more. Then, once the next region arrives, this adoration asked of us is meant to evaporate and immediately transfer to the next batch.

Well why start to like them, if eventually the makers don't care, to the extent you wouldn't even know previous Pokémon had ever been alive?

Have you heard one mention of Seviper, Yanmega, Dustox, Cacnea, Carnivine, and Mime Junior since they left?

Why were they happy to chuck Wobbuffet after Sinnoh, yet fetched for Kalos?

How could Team Rocket live without it for an entire generation but suddenly it's indispensable again? What do you imagine the rest of their Pokémon felt about that?

Have Jessie and James wondered allowed how Arbok, Weezing, Lickitung and Victreebel are doing?

What of the last two generations?

What is this nonsense where every character is so detached from the past?

Supposing I was to force myself to appreciate them: since they've gone, never to return, I'd be dissatisfied with the show, thus no better off than I am now.

My feelings don't run on a switch. I can't find myself besotted one minute then dump the object of affection without a second thought, just because Nintendo want it from me.

Even if I had a more positive opinion of the current interpretation, there's no benefit to becoming involved when it's all so fleeting.

Mareanie is ugly, with three teeth. I think he's a sea anenome, so ought to be more attractive, but it's covered in nipples instead!

It looks like a bonsai tree growing breasts, reminiscent of the hideous content lurking within an Hieronymous Bosch painting.

The idea that all Mimikyu copy Pikachu, the most famous Pokémon, when in their world it's nothing special, is too stupid for me to accept. How could that be coincidence?

It's referencing reality, acknowledging the real world's view of Pikachu as the star, so if it's breaking the fourth wall, it invites disbelief.

Wobbuffet does sod all. It's a complete dead weight and has no attacks. Yet it's the one to survive generation after generation. Where's the logic in that?

I suspect his popularity rests on being there so long he's considered part of the furniture, the sole catch in which you can invest an emotional connection whilst fairly certain he'll remain around.

By now it ought to have developed some semblance of a personality, but it's as faceless as ever. Other Pokémon that have been and gone had a bit more about them, but Wobba's so bland no one can summon the energy to write him out.

If he went, what would you miss? Breaking out of his ball and hissing 'WAAAAAHBUHFEH'? Is that so integral?

I have several objections:

What is it meant to be?

Why does its tail have eyes?

Why is that never mentioned?

Is it a sort of quadruped, or has it only one foot with four toes, arranged like the bottom of a medical walking stick?

A lot of my reactions to Pokémon are influenced by encountering them in the games. With Wobbuffet, I remember first coming across it in the cave near Blackthorn City, and just as you're winning the fight, it pulls out Destiny Bond and suddenly you're both down.

When you finally get one, it's tricky to train. You have no choice but to guess whether the opposition will launch a physical or special move, and mostly you get it wrong. He never learns anything else and doesn't evolve, so it's that forever.

Persevering with Magikarp is worthwhile, but what's to be gained from taking any time out to fight with Wobbuffet?

The anime eliminates this problem. You're aware of the nature of the approaching onslaught because you can see it coming, and the opponent said it aloud.

In this context Wobbuffet should be the most powerful Pokémon in the universe. Come on, it can deflect every attack!

Is it? No. It has a successful defence about once a generation, and still loses the battle. I can't say if it's worse to be utterly pointless, or to not fulfil one's potential.

I resent it muscling in on the motto, as if it's considers itself of equal rank to Meowth. No it's not!

When I was young, there was a tendency for magazines to refer to Team Rocket as a duo. Meowth was judged to be in the same position as Pikachu: a main character yes, and valuable enough to be accorded the privilege of liberty, but still very much owned by people.

You would see references to Jessie and James as his Trainers, though how they assumed this worked went unexplained. Even if shared, one had to have to caught him, thus be his proper owner.

Later on this developed into them being three equal members, and the term 'TRio' emerged, but now, although perhaps not officially recognised, there's an attitude of treating them as a quartet.

It's just wrong! Wobbuffet's not been around since day one. He didn't join Team Rocket voluntarily because he had nowhere else to go. It was a choice made for him by his original Trainer, so out of his hands, or rather his flippers.

If he was an independent Pokémon who just tagged along one day, that would be different, but it belongs to Jessie. Promoting one of hers means James is lesser, and no longer equal.

In each generation Team Rocket catch at least one local Pokémon, but as Wobbuffet's there, it ends up with Jessie having more on her side than James, and I dislike the imbalance. Plus the one he does get is violent.

It can't be solved by giving him another new one, as then he's captured two in the region, and she has only one, so again it's skewed.

Whilst Wobbuffet does count in numbers, he's not on the level of the rest, who fight regularly. He's both there and not simultaneously.

I'm still irked the way Lickitung was ejected to make room.

It was the best Pokémon they ever had! It took out Pikachu, Vulpix and Bulbasaur with one move! It would've won those Princess Dolls for Jessie if the writers hadn't changed the rules so that Lick only affects those of sound mind!

It was as if they realised their mistake too late, and so Lickitung was featured less and less to avoid it dominating a fight, then hurriedly traded away for something reliably feeble.

The following analogy you may not understand, but I think it fits rather aptly:

There's a game called Final Fantasy VIII. One of the side quests involves you racing through a castle under a time limit. If successful, you are rewarded with Odin as a Guardian Force, which is a deity that will provide a defence.

Unlike others, he is out of your control, but every so often, as you enter battle, he turns up and annihilates your opponents. It's very welcome.

Unfortunately this game was programmed by bunyips, who clearly didn't want the last section of the game to be accidently easier for you. Oh no. If you're progressing, it ain't gonna be through luck, or turning the console on and off until he arises.

Therefore, towards the close, you come up against ex-friend Seifer. Odin is fixed to rush to your aid, but when he does, bloody Seifer slices him in half, horse and all!

He killed Odin, the ancient King of the North! The Lord of Valhallah! The Father of the Vikings!

It's not normal fighting death, it's irreversible. He's gone for good.

After this Gilgamesh introduces himself as a replacement. He too will randomly appear and set about the enemy.

The problem is that whilst Odin destroyed monsters unfailingly, with Gilgamesh it's a rarity.

He uses four swords, and which you get is also a lottery.

One is the same as Odin's, two deal average damage, but not death, and the worst one depletes 1 HP, so it might as well not have bothered.

Not only does it arrive but a fraction of the time, but it's in a fraction of those times that it's of any assistance, which is something of a comedown.

Lickitung is Odin: didn't see it often, but it tore the place apart!

Wobbuffet is Gilgamesh: once in a blue moon it provides rescue, but it's on a lot lower percentage than it's predecessor.

It's difficult not to be disappointed.

#team rocket #wobbuffet #mareanie #mimikyu #bewear #stufful

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fly-pow-bye · 6 years ago

Text

Powerpuff Girls 2016 - “Oh! Daisy!”

Written by: Haley Mancini

Written & Storyboarded by: Leticia Abreu Silva, John Martinez

Directed by: Nick Jennings, Bob Boyle

Shallow HAL.

This episode will continue Bubbles’ trait of computer programming. I'm honestly surprised they even kept this going for so long, since usually they depict Bubbles as this silly blonde that can't spell. So far, Bubbles has programmed:

A game that was super popular, at least among the students of Townsville Elementary. Also, she made some sort of machine that can send people to the internet with only tinfoil. Apparently, that's coding?

A robotic, 3D printed clone of herself that is perfect in every way except for security, and yet not important for her to even shed a tear when it got destroyed.

The third one that is going to be in this episode may not be as impressive as #2, but it's up there.

The episode starts out with Bubbles hanging out with the other participants of the school's coding club, including Barry. Maybe they were convinced he was this breakout character, considering how many times he appears in this reboot. He probably could be if he had a personality beyond "he wears an Illuminati shirt and yet never seems to talk about it". At least he has a name; I don't think the other two even have that.

Generic Girl: How many programmers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

Bubbles: What?

Generic Girl: None, it's a hardware issue.

Barry laughs so hard that milk comes out of his nose, and they consider that just as funny as that joke. Suddenly, Buttercup barges into the door, and thinks this is some sort of fun times when she was supposed to be doing homework. It turns out, she was doing homework, and she gets to show off something she made to show off her true coding prowess.

...a robot assistant named Daisy. See, this flower's name a subtle reference to 2001: A Space Odyssey, something this reboot will not try to take advantage of in every minute of this character's existence.

Buttercup continues to accuse Bubbles of wrongdoing, possibly as a attempt to finally get Bubbles in trouble! Silly Buttercup, Bubbles can cause an entire zoo to cause mayhem around Townsville, and she'll still get off scot-free. She then tells Bubbles that she's going to be in trouble for putting this assistant all around the house. It's not like they're going to absolutely adore this thing.

They absolutely adore this thing! Blossom loves it because it reprograms other devices, as Blossom praises the device for reprogramming the Broomba to clean more efficiently. No, it didn't also give her a haircut, as much as Edna Mode would have appreciated it, that's just another case of the disappearing ponytail trick.

As for Sitcom Dad's reasoning. It scheduled the DVR to record all of the Sitcom Dad's favorite shows, like Sciencefeld! They managed to come up with a title for their Seinfeld parody, but do they do anything with it? Well, one thing: they reference the bass line used in its theme song.

That's really it.

Bubbles: Yeah, he's a scheduling wizard!

Oh, no, please don't say that word! It might attract...

Ah, too late. Schedulebot shows up to express his discontent with being replaced, and the Professor decides to completely ignore him by saying that this is the best robot ever. In one episode, he seemed to care more about Schedulebot's well being than the Powerpuff Girls, but now that this flower exists, he may as well not even exist to good ol' Sitcom Dad! This starts a subplot that nobody will care about, because it's a Schedulebot plot.

Of course, Buttercup can't be happy that her sister managed to make several robots that can make turkey dinner. The closest we get to an actual good reason is that he can't stop combing her hair, and the robot pronounces her name as "Bootercup", which the other think is just as much of a laugh riot as hardware issues and milk squirting out of people's noses.

A few minutes after midnight, Buttercup wakes up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. As she walks out, Daisy tells her not to forget to wash her hands. Then, not to forget to use soap. Then, not to use the guest towels. The absolute worst of them all, it dares to comb Buttercup's hair again! That seems to be a coding error; wouldn't Buttercup. Whatever the case, it does its job: annoying Buttercup.

Buttercup: (messes up own hair) Why don't I mess with your hair?!

Daisy: If you go to the main control room in the lab, you'll see that I have no hair, Bootercup.

Daisy also manages to get Buttercup to the lab to continue the plot, as there was no reason for him to even talk about the main control room.

It's a constant mention from me whenever this coding aspect of her character comes up: being a coding wizard would be extremely difficult if you cannot spell. Turns out, Bubbles' programming language of choice is something more akin to Scratch, a building block language that even the Reboot Puffs got involved in at one point. I guess that kind of explains that.

Buttercup decides to go through this code to change a few things, like turning off the alarm, lowering his moral percentage to -40%, and turning off his conscience. Buttercup does say she thought this word was "con science", but she already turned down the morals, and she clearly knew what she was doing then!

8.25 hours later, the girls wake up, and the windows suddenly shut with huge metal doors. Bubbles tries to fix everything by telling Daisy to open the windows. Everyone stand up and recite the line you're probably thinking he's going to say to that.

Daisy: I'm afraid I can't do that for you, Bubbles.

Okay, it's slightly different than the line from the movie, but anyone can get it. I would not be surprised if they took more inspiration from the Futurama episode that parodied it. At least they're not ripping off the original Powerpuff Girls this time; closest episode I can think of is Coupe D'etat.

Bubbles tries to go into the living room, only to be attacked by the Broomba. The Powerpuff Girls are truly unstoppable, unless there's glitter, markers, Roombas, ordinary rope, a dinosaur shouting at them, or rat tails. Who can possibly stop this robotic vacuum cleaner? Clearly it has to be the rascally...

...pink princess with an eye laser? Blossom then takes off her ribbon, ties it around her head, and tells her sisters to go into the hallway so she can finish the job. It's actually a genius plan from Blossom, as this gives a reason for her to be off-screen while she beats up the Broomba. As we all know, the Reboot Puffs can't fight anything on screen and win.

Throughout this episode, Blossom is the one that is resorting to violence and acting like an 80's action hero. This just seems way out of character for her, but I'm glad to have an episode that has a Reboot Puff other than Buttercup save her sisters.

They do have to explain what the Professor is doing during all of this, because there's no way he should be so oblivious to all of this. Turns out, he's stuck in the shower.

Daisy: Now lather.

Professor: Okay!

Daisy: Now rinse.

Professor: Okay!

Huh, a robot trapping a human in an infinite loop. One would think he would eventually use his brain to find out what's going on, but that brain would be very inconvenient to the plot, so this lather/rinse loop takes him out of the vast majority of the episode.

It turns out, Daisy is able to reprogram all of the devices in the Powerpuff household to rampage against them, including machines that simply shouldn’t be able to fight them, like the L-Cube! They decide to sneak around the house to avoid getting caught. Unfortunately, Bubbles just could not help it.

Bubbles: (farts in Buttercup’s face)

That all important character trait of having a flatulence problem shows up again, because why not? It seems like the only consistent character trait Bubbles has; whether she’s a maroon or a coding genius, farting is a free action for her. At least there’s somewhat of a point to this, as this allows Buttercup to walk backwards into the aforementioned L-Cube to get captured.

Blossom ends up saving her by using her eye lasers again. Buttercup’s not too happy, because the L-Cube was destroyed.

Blossom: Do you think this is a game?

Buttercup: Uh, yeah, that’s exactly what it was.

…ha.

Suddenly, Schedulebot manages to open the door, coming in with full Rambo gear. Guess he was busy getting all of that while he was locked out of the house. How did he get in the house, anyway? It would have made a lot more sense if he used that chainsaw to do it, as he doesn't seem to use it at all.

Granted, that's not the only weapon he brought: he also brought some grenades. Maybe he'll use them to sacrifice himself to save our girls from all of those evil house appliances, shouting to the girls to remember him...

...and that what actually happens! Finally, Schedulebot is destroyed! Though, so are a lot of household appliances that might not be cheap to replace, but they are never paid any mind. Speaking of never paying anything any mind, Blossom, in a rare bit of her not acting as a macho hero in this episode, she says that Schedulebot probably be fine. Yeah, I'm sure he will. They never explained how he got into the door, why not not explain how he survived this?

When they go into the lab, Daisy tells the girls that he has evolved. And...that's it. Not, "I evolved, and I'm going to take over the world", or "I evolved, and I'm going to make all gum taste like black licorice", or anything else. Sure, there's some vines growing out of what seems like a hole in the ground, but they just kind of stop any potential for a god-like computer here.

Blossom tells the girls that they must go "into the breach", as they slowly fly towards the computer monitor, and they instantly teleport into the computer world. Even Bubbles seems to be confused by this. No special equipment made out of tin toil or anything, Blossom just says "once again into the breach", flies up to the computer monster, and...

...boom, they're in a place that proves that the Virtual Boy would be just as eye searing if they went with green instead of red. It's possible that Daisy did this with his "evolved powers", but there's not much that indicates that this is against the Reboot Puff's will, and that's the only way this would have happened.

Another more likely guess is that it may have wanted to do this because he wanted to kill the Powerpuff Girls in the digital world. Daisy does find out that they sneaked in here, and hears all about Bubbles' plan to repair the code. He even says the most unexpected line, I completely lie.

Daisy: I can't let you do that, Bubbles.

Also technically not the line from the movie, even if it's how a lot of people remembered it. After saying this, the cutesy flower turns into a googly-eyed plant monster. This gives us a real on-screen monster fight that doesn't end with just a random zap of Blossom's eyes.

While Blossom is dealing with the giant plant, Buttercup, under the guidance of the coding wizard, has to reverse the mistakes she made the last night. This actually affects the fight scene, as this code wrangling continuously makes the monster weaker and stronger as Blossom tries to fight it. For example, she accidentally gives it missiles, which ends up firing at Blossom...to no effect? If only I could say the reboot was getting tired of the Monster Punch, Girls Down scenes.

Eventually, they find this star piece, which looked like any other piece until Buttercup picked it up. The same thing happens with the missile piece, actually. I have a feeling they intended to have all of these pieces have different images on them, but they forgot to actually draw them. Once she gets it onto the top, we see a huge flash of light.

Suddenly, pancakes. Yeah, everything just reverted back to normal, with Daisy making delicious flapjacks. Even better for Buttercup, Daisy even messes up Buttercup's hair without care and learned to pronounce her name correctly! Buttercup gets everything she wanted, and that means everything is alright.

Everything is peaceful, the Professor got the best shower of his life, and we have a robot buddy that is so useful, it would be just too incredible to see in future episodes. What can possibly bring this plot back to the status quo? Someone using a line I didn't expect to hear in a TV-Y7-FV show.

Schedulebot: Ha, 🚚🚚 you! (repeatedly bashes Daisy with a baseball bat)

According to the closed captions, he's saying "got you", but that was not what I heard. And I thought "damn it, Utonium" was good! Aside from that, I do question the perspective of this shot, which makes him look absolutely gigantic. Maybe he has the ability to absorb grenade explosions, see, no explanation for how he survived the grenade, or maybe it's just bad animation. Surely, it can not be the latter!

After Daisy gets its head batted in, we hear a funky bass line as the episode immediately cuts to black. I guess they realized that Sciencefeld joke never really had any kind of conclusion or point! I guess since Seinfeld was a show about nothing, Sciencefeld ups the ante by being literally nothing! How fitting.

Does the title fit?

The only thing the title reminds me of is Super Mario Land. But yes, it's a robot named Daisy, and it does things that could make one go "oh." It's just barely above the "name of the character" titles.

How does it stack up?

I get how the idea for this episode could lead to something interesting, but it never quite goes anywhere good. There are some okay ideas, especially at the end, but this is one of the "meh" episodes for me. Oh, well.

Next, the Powerpuff Girls eat ice cream. No, it’s not one of my gags, they really eat ice cream.

← The Gift ☆ Brain Freeze →

#fpb ppg 2016 #fpb reviews #ppg 2016 #powerpuff girls #cartoon network

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ltleflrt · 8 years ago

Note

Because I regard you essentially as royalty in terms of Destiel fic, can you maybe give us a basic rundown on how to write a fic? Or a detailed one, if you want. Like, what is your process? How do you plan it out? How/when do you pick a title? Because I've tried before to write multi-chapter fics and I just end up giving up on it because I either took too long between updates because ya know life and forgot things or because I didn't plan enough and no longer know what I'm doing.

Hold on hold on hold on...

*walks away for a minute and muppet flails*

Okay, I’m back, and thank you for the sweet compliment! :D

So, my process; I have one! I didn’t used to think so, because it felt chaotic and without form, but as I’ve started helping other people with their writing I’ve started to see a pattern in how I come up with stories and make them happen.

Obviously the first step is the The Idea. I get them from all over the place. I’m a daydreamer, so sometimes they just pop up out of the blue, and in a lot of cases they’re inspired by some other media. A book, a fic, a movie, a song... I think that’s pretty common. I also have a tendency of looking at my favorite tropes (and I mean REALLY LOOKING, by consuming any and all of it I can find lol) and thinking to myself, “how can I flip that upside down?”.

Kiss the Baker was the result of reading all the Gay Panic Dean fics I could find and reading them until I started wondering if there would ever be a universe where Dean didn’t have a gay panic.

The idea for Satin and Sawdust came from the fact that I’ve written two fics tagged “Dean Thinks He’s Heterosexual” and it made me wonder why I never see any Gay Panic Castiel fics.

Anyway, ideas come from all over. And they’re fleeting, so I write them all down. I have a huge list. Whenever one of those AU lists comes around on my dash I copy my favorites into my list. It’s very long lol. Which is good, because sometimes I’ll come up with an idea like “I want to see Cas be the one who thinks he’s het this time” and get stuck. Like wtf do I do next?

Answer: I refer back to The List. Because sometimes I can pick out several of those ideas and smush them together. I took Carpenter!Dean, and Dean Loves Wearing Panties from the list, and scrolled down until I found Veterinarian AU, and I start trying to connect the dots.

Remember in writing classes in Jr High and High School we were taught to make those bubble charts? You write something in a bubble, and then branch off bubbles around it? I do that in my head. I start making things connect. I cross out things that won’t fit. I have a special file for whatever story idea I’m working on and it looks vaguely like an outline because it’s that list of ideas with notes for ideas, or snippets of conversation. If I chat about it with my friends (almost always @jupiterjames) I’ll copy/paste those conversations into that file. I’ll list songs... anything that gives me a feel for what’s starting to form. If I have any title ideas they’ll go in there too.

Speaking of titles, THEY’RE HARD. I hate them. Occasionally something will pop in my head before I even start working on the fic, and I swear that angels sing when that happens. But for the most part I have to brainstorm and brainstorm, and get advise from friends, and I google quotes about themes I think my story will encompass. It’s a struggle. My least favorite part of the writing process next to connecting large plot points lol. But I’ve gotta have a title before I post it, so I’ll have something by the time I’m done with the first chapter.

Just for funsies, here’s my notes file for Satin and Sawdust.

Anywho, that’s all the developing stuff. I don’t actually go into the notes file all that much afterwards. When I have big gaps between chapters I will, plus I’ll re-read everything I’ve written already. But I hold quite a bit of that junk in my head. If you’re having problems remembering, make the file! Visit it often!

Believe it or not, at this point, the story is still pretty nebulous. I’ll usually have several directions the story can take at different junctions, and I don’t think too hard about them until I get there. I think about my stories in more detail a chapter at a time. I focus on a single scene, or the small group of scenes that are related enough to put in a single chapter. I zero in on those details and forget about what’s going to come afterwards.

Breaking down the larger idea into smaller chunks is the only way I can work myself through a 100k+ beast without going mad. And honestly, I still drive myself a little crazy. I have to stop looking at the big picture, or I’ll give up just because the idea is too overwhelming.

Once I’ve got a chapter done, then I take a few days and I start considering the cloudy visions in my head and pluck out the scene I think needs to come next. It usually takes me 2-4 days of contemplation before I’m ready to sit down and make words happen again. Writing a 4k-8k chapter takes me 2-3 days. So between the contemplation break and the actual writing, I take about a week.

Life definitely gets in the way sometimes. When I was in the middle of Addicted To You, I had reconstructive surgery on my face. I was doped up on super strong pain meds and couldn’t wear my glasses for almost a month. So obviously I took some time off, and I was SO MISERABLE (seriously, don’t break your face, it’s the worst) that I couldn’t even think about the story, much less writing. When I felt well enough to get back to it I re-read what I had already twice, plus went over my notes file, plus I listened to all the dirty sex songs I could find to get my mind back into the groove for it. It felt like doing homework, but it was the only way I could remember wtf I was doing. I’m sure I lost some of my initial plans, but that’s normal with any story I work on. And it turned out okay lol

And last of all, find someone who’ll let you ramble at them about your stories. Someone who will genuinely pay attention, not just nod and smile. I did a lot of writing on my own, but a lot of my Dragon Age and Mass Effect fics wouldn’t exist without @hot-elf being my sounding board and cheerleader. And same goes for my Supernatural fics and @jupiterjames. I would probably have written just a tiny fraction of my stories if it weren’t for them. Chatting about my stories helps me develop my ideas, and keeps me motivated. When I’m stressed I’ll send a chapter to JJ with just a request to Validate Me! and she always knows how to talk me out of my angst. I will talk out my ideas with other people as well, but they’ve been the biggest influences on my writing, so THANKS LADIES I LOVE YOU!

Writing Buddies Are The Best.

Anyway, that’s about all I have to say about my process. I hope it answered all your questions and gave you some ideas on how to work on your own stuff. And if you ever have an idea you want to talk about, feel free to send me chat messages :D

#writing tips #writer's angst #castiel-lord-of-the-bees

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