#just leave me in my marvel trash heap

[thisbravegirl]

My dream casting for Ares was Chris Evans, and I’m still sad it wasn’t him

Just imagine this face but with flames for eyes

I mean he plays a cocky bro/jerk really well

But also, and this is just my fangirly fantasies here, the amusement park scene could have been so much funnier (even though it was great, esp the tunnel of love scene, and don’t get me wrong bc im loving the show)

Like when they try to find the shield they keep finding shields but not the right one and one of the wrong ones is a cap shield and they’re like “oh that one looks cool- if you want a dinner plate as a shield” or something snarky just bc it would be funny. To me.

But yeah even that aside, I really wanted Chris Evans to be Ares but this guy is good too

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

Consequences

Word count: 6,250

Pairing: Loki x reader (no pronouns used) - established relationship

Warnings: Ruthless Loki, though still fluffy (and a little mushy); mild swearing

This took me forever and a day but at last, here it is! I struggled hard with writers block on this... I feel like it's not my best work, but I hope you like it just the same 💚

This combined two prompts: one Prompt where reader pranks boyfriend Loki and faces the consequences, and another prompt where reader becomes invisible and pranks the team. I hope I was able to cover both prompts adequately!

"Yikes. This place is a total mess."

You gazed out the window of the ship, taking in the cluttered landscape of Sakaar's vast junkyard. Littered with broken fragments of spaceships and other various metals, it was easy to see how someone could spend hours sifting through the trash for something valuable.

"How the hell are we going to find what we're looking for here?" you asked incredulously, turning to your travel companions.

"We'll need to split up," Thor declared, rising to his feet as Bruce landed the ship in a mostly empty patch of land. "If Banner's calculations are correct, the crown should have landed within this 400-foot radius."

"Well that narrows it down..." Loki muttered under his breath as he, too, stood from his seat. He turned to face you, holding his hand out. "My lady."

"Thank you, my prince," you giggled, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to help you to your feet. Bruce made a fake retching sound as he stepped out of the cockpit.

"Can't you two get a room or something?"

Smirking, Loki turned to look at you, sliding his arm around your waist. "Hmm... darling, do you see a room here that might be suitable?"

"Nope. Not a single one in sight." You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, earning a groan from the other two men.

"Alright, I'm searching the patch furthest from the two of you," Bruce grumbled, brushing past the three of you and heading down the ramp of the ship. Thor followed close behind. With a chuckle, Loki unwound his arm from your waist and motioned for you to head down the ramp in front of him.

You and Loki had been together since shortly after you'd joined the Avengers team. It wasn't clear what drew him to you, but it was painfully obvious he'd developed a crush on you fairly early on. Fortunately for him, his feelings were reciprocated.

And now, years later, the pair of you were one of the strongest duos to work together in the field. Neither had to speak to know what the other needed. You just... knew. It was instinct. He had something of a sixth sense that told him when you were in trouble, and you just had a gut feeling when he was considering doing something reckless. You were the perfect match for one another, both on and off the field.

"I can't believe you lived here," you marveled as you stepped over half a ship engine, nearly stumbling over the hunk of unidentifiable metal hidden behind it. "This place is..."

"In all fairness, I landed in the city," Loki interjected. "While not exactly on par with the royal Palace of Valaskjalf, it did have its perks."

Together, you and Loki searched through the piles of junk and clutter for any sign of the black opal-bejeweled crown. The task began to seem more and more impossible the further out from the ship you wandered. Stacks upon stacks of useless machinery cluttered your view, potentially burying the artifact you were searching for, making it difficult to navigate through the heaps of junk.

"Remind me why we need to find this thing so badly?" you huffed, tossing aside a metal slab that appeared to have once been the door of a vintage car.

"Would you prefer to leave the crown that could control the minds of millions to be scooped up by the nearest villain?"

"You know what? If they find it in this trash palace, good for them." You sighed, wiping the sweat off your brow and pausing for a moment. "We should probably split up to cover more ground. Otherwise we'll be here forever."

Loki's face contorted into an anxious grimace as he glanced around for nearby threats. "You know I hate leaving you alone."

"And you know very well that I can handle myself." You stepped closer and laced your fingers through his, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. "I promise I'll be fine."

Reluctantly, he agreed to your proposition. You could feel his eyes boring into your back as you walked in the opposite direction to search a nearby pile, kneeling down and beginning to sift through the shards of metal and plastic.

After hours of searching, you were beginning to reconsider offering to join this mission. Your eyes were starting to sting from the high noon sun reflecting off the assortment of metal panels. Sweat dripped down your forehead onto your nose. If one of you didn't find this damned crown soon, you were going to-

"Wait. What's that?" you whispered to yourself as your eyes landed on something sparkly amidst a nearby pile. Shifting a couple of metal slabs, you were able to pull out the shiny object. Much to your relief, it was the exact artifact you'd been searching for. "Found it!!"

"You found the crown?" Thor's voice echoed from afar.

"Yeah! I- hey!"

The crown was suddenly snatched out of your hand. Whipping around, you caught the glint of sunlight bouncing off the gold metal as it vanished into the rucksack of a short, masked being standing behind you. It wore tattered black robes with a hood shrouding its head, and you quickly noticed it was armed with a small pistol in its belt.

"Give me that!" you growled, charging at the scrapper as you ripped your dagger out of its sheath at your hip. It shouted something in a foreign tongue, snatching its gun off its holster and aiming it toward you. You dove swiftly to the side as a laser blast exploded from the barrel of the gun, swinging your leg out to kick the legs from beneath the scrapper. Scrambling to your hands and knees, you lunged for the rucksack, fingers grazing the handles just as the bag was swiped from your reach by its owner. With a grunt of frustration, you wielded your dagger, preparing to drive it into the scrapper's leg.

A sudden green blast of light slammed into its chest, sending it sailing a few dozen feet into a junk pile. Scraps of metal tumbled down from the impact, burying the scrapper from view.

"I could have handled that myself, you know," you scoffed without glancing up at your savior, snatching up the rucksack where the scrapper had dropped it upon being struck with Loki's blast of seidr.

"Oh, I'm well aware. But it was just so satisfying," he quipped, smirking.

"Is everyone alright?" Bruce called, bounding over to the pair of you after having heard the crashing metal. Thor wasn't far behind, a concerned look on his face. You held up the rucksack, reaching in with your free hand and pulling out the crown for the others to see.

"All good! Let's get the hell off this planet."

As the four of you trapsed back to the ship, Thor engaged Loki in conversation, leaving you to bring up the rear of the group. Curiously, you reached into the rucksack and dug around to see if there was anything else of interest. A few small ship components... a battery of some sort...

Your fingers collided with the cool metal of a small object. Curiously, you scooped it up in your fist and pulled it out into the light to inspect it. The object appeared to be an amulet of some sort, endorsed with a single gem. The stone was a gorgeous, opalescent, sparkling ocean blue color. It was a perfect, polished sphere, attached by an intricate silver clasp to a delicate chain.

For a moment, you considered showing the others. Then you recalled the last time you'd found something interesting, when Bruce had snatched it out of your hands and insisted they take it to the lab for testing before you touched it. By the time he'd finished experimenting, the object had been reduced to ashes.

No - it was best you just keep this to yourself for the time being.

You'd have considered telling Loki, of course, but you didn't want to chance anyone overhearing your conversation on the ship. And maybe a small part of you wanted to inspect it for yourself. You could take care of yourself, after all. No need to have a demigod hovering over your shoulder while you investigated a simple jeweled necklace.

So, when you arrived back at the tower that evening, you declared you'd be heading straight to your room under the guise of wanting to take a shower. With a swift sleight of hand, you scooped the amulet out of the rucksack and concealed it in your fist, slipping it into your pants pocket before turning to hand off the crown to Bruce for safe keeping. Loki pressed a kiss to your lips before you broke away from the group to go to your room.

You shut the door gently behind you, unable to contain your excitement any longer as you slipped the amulet out of your pocket. It shimmered in your hand; a perfect sphere, magnifying the lines of your palm where it rested. Looping your fingers through the chain dangling from your hand, you paced over to your full length mirror and hung the amulet around your neck.

It was difficult to suppress the instinctive yelp of shock when you watched your reflection disappear.

"What the..." Turning your gaze downward, you held your hand out in front of your face to try to elucidate if it was merely your reflection, or if you had indeed become visible. The sight was disorienting - you couldn't see your hand, nor your feet where they were still planted on the floor beneath you.

Curiously, and with a nagging touch of anxiety that this could be irreversible, you slipped the amulet back over your head and held it in your hands. A sigh of relief puffed through your nose as your reflection faded back into existence as the magic of the amulet vanished. When you hung the amulet around your neck once again, you vanished the same way as before.

Perhaps dating the God of Mischief was beginning to corrupt you. The first thought that ran through your head once you'd fully processed the power held within this amulet was the vast array of pranks you could pull on your teammates under the cover of invisibility. Nobody would suspect it was you - partially because you'd be invisible, of course, but also because you never played pranks on anyone. In fact, you were often the victim of the others' tricks; particularly Loki's. Now was your chance to get harmless sweet revenge, and you'd barely need to put any thought into your pranking efforts.

You knew from the start you'd want to save Loki for last. It would be easier anyway, considering you knew his daily routine well by now. As mischievous and chaotic as he purported himself to be, Loki was a true creature of habit. Pranking the master of tricks and getting away with it would be the sweetest trick of all, and so you had to take the opportunity to get some practice on some of your teammates first.

Over the days that followed, you began to carry the amulet around in your pocket, observing the tower around you in search of opportunities to prank your unsuspecting friends. It was difficult to keep this secret from Loki. You typically shared everything with him - you wholly and completely trusted him, and so it was natural for you. But you couldn't spill this secret to him if you wanted to be afforded the sweet opportunity to play a prank on the unsuspecting God of Mischief. So, somehow, you managed to bite your tongue.

Your first opportunity to trial the amulet came a few days after its discovery.

It was an average Thursday morning, and you had been shuffling groggily down the hallway toward the kitchen to make yourself some coffee. As you passed by the common room, you heard the music and blasting sounds of Peter's game system echoing from within. He was alone this morning - you suspected he may have stayed up all night playing, based on the redness in his eyes and the rumpling of his clothes. What better time to trial a prank than now?

Glancing around, you quickly slipped into a closet and threw the amulet on around your neck. As before, your body below you disappeared from sight the moment the amulet fell to rest against your chest. You poked your head around the closet door before stepping back into the hallway, knowing it would be suspicious if someone suddenly walked into an invisible solid being.

You crept silently into the common room, undetected by the teenager engrossed in his racing game. Beside him, you noticed there was a lone controller sitting on the sofa cushions. Likely left there by Thor the evening before, you thought to yourself. As Peter suddenly leapt to his feet in a fit of protest over something that happened on the screen, you swiped the controller off the sofa and hid out of sight crouched beside the arm.

"What the..." Peter suddenly tilted his head in confusion as you entered the game as player two. You got to work selecting your character as he glanced wildly around the room, brow furrowed in confusion. Without waiting for him to change anything on his own character, you hit start and selected a map. "Mr. Stark! I know you're in here..."

You swiftly slid the controller under the sofa as Peter rounded the side you were seated on, careful to scurry out of his way so he wouldn't trip over your invisible form. He continued on around the back of the sofa, and you grabbed the controller and selected start to begin the race.

"Woah - wait!" Peter stumbled to the sofa to scoop up his own controller as the race began. By the time he'd started, the rest of the cars were already a few corners ahead, including your own. It was easy to smoke him this round, coming in first place.

Rubbing his eyes, Peter suddenly dropped the controller back on the sofa and walked out of the room, muttering something about needing sleep and ghosts under his breath. You had to hold your breath to prevent yourself from bursting into laughter on the spot.

Loki gave you a quizzical look when you wandered into the kitchen tardy for breakfast later that morning. You, of course, had already removed the amulet and hidden it away in your pocket before entering the room, not wanting to let anyone in on the secret by accident.

"Did you oversleep this morning, darling? I've never known you to be late for your morning coffee," he queried as you wandered closer and kissed him sweetly on the cheek.

"Yeah, a little bit," you fibbed, heading straight to the coffee maker to pour yourself a cup. "I hope I didn't make you worry."

"You know I always worry for you."

"Unnecessarily, yes." You scooped a teaspoon of sugar into your mug, stirring it into the bitter liquid. "I promise you, I've taken care of myself for many years. There's no need to worry about me all the time."

"Mm, yes, but something possessed you to decide to date the God of Mischief," he teased, trying to lighten the mood as you took a seat beside him at the table. "Clearly something isn't right up here" - he tapped you on the forehead, making you giggle - "for you to have done such a thing uncoerced."

"And how do I know it was uncoerced? Maybe you've cast a spell on me," you countered, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

"No spell is powerful enough to tame someone like you, darling."

You blushed a bit at that.

After breakfast, you decided to forgo any additional prank attempts for the remainder of the day. Better to go about your usual routine to throw off any mounting suspicion in Loki's mind that something was up. It didn't stop you from plotting, however.

And so, a few days later, once you felt as though Loki had grown complacent once again, you executed your next prank.

This time, your target was Clint. This weekend, he'd brought his kids to visit the compound and practice some archery in the state-of-the-art training facility Tony had constructed. There was a whole section devoted to archery practice, complete with both physical and virtual targets within a safe and contained space to avoid accidental injury of other teammates.

"Alright, Nate - you remember how to hold the bow up, right?" he instructed, assisting his youngest son with getting into stance. You watched silently, amulet securely hung around your neck to render yourself invisible to the eye. While you knew the kids would find it amusing, you couldn't bring yourself to trick them while they were practicing their own archery skills. Best to wait until Clint was demonstrating.

Nate shot a couple of arrows and quickly grew frustrated with his inability to hit the target. Your opportunity was fast approaching, you realized, as Clint slipped one of his own arrows out of his quiver and docked it in his bow. You had to be swift.

"Watch me, kiddo - make sure your elbow is pointed straight back when you pull the- what the hell??"

Clint shouted in confusion as you snatched the arrow out of his hands and removed it from the bow, tossing it across the training arena like a dart. To him, it would have appeared as though the arrow ripped itself from his hands and hurled a few feet away of its own accord. He appeared rather frazzled, although his kids all thought it was absolutely hilarious, laughing hysterically at their father's furrowed brow.

"Alright, very funny Cooper."

"What?? It wasn't me!" the older boy insisted indignantly.

"Yeah, sure. So some ghost came in here and stole my arrow, then? You expect me to believe that?"

"Sure looked like it to me," Lila interjected with a smirk.

"Uh-huh. I'm checkin' for strings this time. No more funny business."

Before he could reach behind his shoulder for a new arrow, you swiped the lot of them from the quiver and held them in your hands. It was difficult not to laugh when you watched his hand feeling around for another arrow, coming up short.

"Cooper! I just said no funny business!" Clint scolded, albeit with a playful undertone to his voice as he turned to his older son. Cooper held his hands up innocently.

"I didn't do anything!" he insisted.

"Alright, was it you then, Lila?"

"Nope."

"Dad!" Nate suddenly shouted, pointing straight at you. Clint spun around just in time to see his arrows seemingly hovering above the floor before you dropped them all unceremoniously to the ground with a clatter. The archer stared motionlessly at the floor, blinking in disbelief as his arrows rolled around haphazardly from the momentum of the fall.

"That... was weird. Alright kids - we're gonna go get a snack. I've got a bone to pick with Stark," Clint declared, leaving the arrows on the ground and motioning for his kids to follow. You stepped out of their path so they wouldn't run into you as they exited the training arena. The boys chortled at their father for his bewilderment as they made their way down the hallway toward the elevator. Only when their voices were out of earshot did you remove the amulet, revealing yourself to the now empty room.

That went even more perfectly than expected! you thought to yourself as you slipped the amulet back into your pocket for safe keeping.

That afternoon, you grabbed a book and headed to the common room to read for a while. As you were beginning to become engrossed in the story, a familiar baritone timbre sounded from the doorway.

"I thought we were going out to lunch this afternoon."

You slammed your book shut, whipping your head up to look at Loki with wide eyes. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! It completely slipped my mind!"

"I see." He stepped into the room, gazing down at you where you sat on the sofa. "Forgive me, but you seem to be somewhat... distracted lately. I certainly hope everything is alright."

"Yes! Everything's fine, I promise." You patted the sofa cushion beside you to invite him to sit down. "I'm sorry if I seem distracted. It's just... been a while since I went on a mission. I'm itching to see some action. You know how restless it makes me."

His face softened, almost as though he was relieved. "Yes, I'm well aware you're a reckless daredevil at heart."

"Hey! I'm not reckless!" you retorted in jest, glad he seemed to believe your white lie. "In fact, I've saved your ass on a number of occasions when you have done something reckless."

Loki scowled, reaching over and pinching your side ticklishly. "I have done no such thing."

"Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that."

When you'd finished bantering, Loki pulled out his own novel and began to read alongside you in silence. Your eyes skimmed the pages of your book, but your mind was elsewhere. The trickster was growing suspicious that something was up with you. It appeared you were running out of time - you'd have to execute your prank on him before he managed to figure out what you were doing.

For a few days, you bided your time, brainstorming the perfect prank for your mischievous love. It had to be subtle - anything extravagant, and he'd quickly realize someone was tricking him and seek out the culprit. Repetitive, small tricks would be your best shot at really getting him back without detection.

The perfect opportunity struck the following Saturday morning.

You'd recently shown Loki how to make pancakes - the god had a sweet tooth, despite the fact he refused to admit it - and so lately he'd been making them once a week for the pair of you for breakfast. It was very sweet of him, of course - you expressed your appreciation each time you sat down to a steaming hot stack of golden brown pancakes in the morning made by the god. You almost felt badly about using this as your opportunity to prank him, but you couldn't pass it up. It was such a predictable part of his Saturday morning now. So many utensils, so many ingredients that you could secretly move around behind his back without his knowledge. It was simply perfect.

With the amulet around your neck, you crept silently into the kitchen while Loki had his back to you. As chaotic as he could be, when he was in the kitchen, he was meticulously organized - setting out all his ingredients and utensils before starting, ensuring the countertops remained clean... You loved watching him cook. But not today - today you'd be stirring up a little mischief.

He'd begun gathering the ingredients from the refrigerator already, so you snuck over to the utensil drawer and stole the dry measuring cups before he ducked his head out of the fridge to see what was happening. It was like clockwork - the moment he'd set the eggs and milk on the counter, he went straight to the drawer, looking a bit put out that the utensil he needed wasn't in there. For good measure, you placed it on the kitchen island behind him for him to find when he finally decided to turn around.

When Loki had started preparing the wet ingredients, you snuck over to stand beside him, undetectable under the cover of invisibility despite your proximity. He opened the egg carton and removed an egg, and while he had his head turned to focus on cracking it into the bowl without making a mess, you removed two eggs from the carton. In the meantime, he'd cleanly deposited the white and yolk of the first egg into his bowl, turning back to reach for another egg.

"What in the name of Freyja..." His brows knit together as he mentally clocked the fact that the carton was more empty than it had been only seconds ago. Spinning around, he glanced behind him for any sneaky bystanders who may have decided to mess with him. It was then that he noticed the measuring cup you'd placed on the kitchen island. "I didn't put you here..." he muttered under his breath, snatching it up and moving it to sit with the remainder of his cooking utensils. While his back was turned, you'd returned the two eggs to the carton, setting them in different spots than they'd been in originally.

It didn't take long for him to notice the eggs had magically returned. Scowling, he took another egg in his hand to crack it into the bowl. Clearly this was getting on his nerves, but you still hadn't gotten quite the reaction you were looking for. You had to plot something truly mischievous.

And so, when he began measuring the dry ingredients, you snatched up a spoonful of flour when he wasn't looking and turned it over on his head.

The angle of it had caused powder to tumble down into his face, causing him to yelp in surprise. You had to physically bite your tongue to keep from laughing as the white powder settled into his dark locks, despite him shaking his head. Before he could start glancing around wildly, you'd returned the spoon to the flour container where you'd found it.

"Who's there??" Loki demanded aloud to the visibly empty room, running his fingers through his hair to shake some more of the flour from his head. His eyes roamed around the perimeter of the kitchen, his gaze intense as he searched for the culprit of the flour dumping. After scanning the room for a few moments, Loki warily returned his attention to the bowl of dry ingredients in front of him. Feeling impish, you picked up an egg and prepared to crack it on the back of his head.

What happened next, you weren't expecting.

Before you could succeed in smashing the egg, Loki suddenly spun around with the bowl of flour in his hands, launching the white powder straight at you. You dropped the egg to the floor in surprise as the flour stuck to your hair, face, and shirt, revealing your invisible outline in a thin layer of white. The shock of it made you gasp, which caused you to suck flour dust into your mouth and nose. Immediately, you began to cough as the powder hit the back of your throat.

"Yohou... ack... how... ahem... how did you know?!" you exclaimed through your spluttering. "I'm invisible, aren't I?"

"Yes..." Loki reached out and grasped the amulet, lifting it up and over your head. "... but do you honestly think I haven't known about your discovery of this little artifact the whole time?"

You stared at him, blinking for a moment as heat prickled in your cheeks. "You... did?"

He smirked mischievously. "I knew you were hiding something the day we traveled to Sakaar."

"But how-"

"You were nearly silent on the walk back to the ship. I know you well enough by now to recognize when you're lost in thought." He absently spun the gemstone between his thumb and index finger. "And you've never been good at those little tricks you Midgardians call 'magic.' I saw you slip something in your pocket."

"Oh... is that right?"

"At first, I was bothered that you wanted to hide something from me - especially a potentially dangerous mystical artifact." You scratched the back of your neck sheepishly at that. "Then I witnessed the trick you pulled on Parker before I could discuss it with you. So I decided to let you have your fun." Loki's smirk broadened. "After all - I knew you'd eventually try to prank me..."

"How did you know that? I never get to pull pranks on you!"

"Come now, darling. After years together, I know everything about you." He suddenly stepped forward and wrapped his arm around your waist, hoisting you up and tossing you over his shoulder.

"Hehey!! Loki! Put me dohown!" you demanded, albeit only half-heartedly. He ignored your pleas, carrying you out of the kitchen and down the hallway as he continued on with his little monologue.

"I know you love my pancakes more than your own..." He turned and entered the common room. "I know you avoid eye contact when you're trying to lie about something..."

"But-"

"I know you've always wanted to successfully execute a prank against me, but you've never had the heart to go through with it." He turned and sat down on the sofa, shifting to dump you gently onto your back on the seat cushions beside him. "Am I wrong?"

You narrowed your eyes, folding your arms defiantly across your chest. "I refuse to gratify that with a response, you smug little-"

"Ah-ah! Would you like to know what else I know about you?" His eyes were sparkling with an impish glow, which made you somewhat uneasy. You propped yourself up on your elbows and tilted your head in confusion. He responded by grabbing hold of your ankles where your feet rested beside his leg, tugging them both into his lap and making you squeak in surprise as you slid a few inches across the sofa.

You knew where he was going with this before he said it out loud.

"I know your ultimate weakness."

"N-no, Loki, wahait!" Your eyes went wide and pleading as you attempted to tug your ankles from the crook of his elbow where he'd gathered them. He paused, the fingers of his free hand mere inches from the soles of your feet as he gazed at you expectantly. The nervous giggles were already bubbling up in your throat. "D-did I really wrohong you so badly to warrant such p-eheh-punishment??"

He grinned devilishly, tightening his arm around your ankles. "You lied to me, hid something from me, and you attempted to prank me-"

"Succeeded in pranking you."

Loki growled at your interruption. "Darling - you've only served to seal your fate."

With that, he began scratching at the soles of your feet, sending you into immediate hysterics. Your reaction only encouraged the mischievous god as he skittered his fingertips up and down the lengths of your soles.

"Honestly - you had to have seen this coming, love. You are well aware that my favorite form of revenge against you is to tickle you senseless."

"LOHOHOKI! NOHOHO, PLEHEASE!!"

"And after all these years, I know exactly how to pinpoint the spots that drive you mad with laughter," he teased, ignoring your pleading. "For example..." He grazed two fingers directly up the center of your foot, smirking as your leg jolted at his touch.

"I-HI CAHAN'T!!" Tears of mirth were already forming in your eyes. You truly didn't mind when Loki tickled you - you adored this playful side of your love. But he hadn't been exaggerating when he said he knew your 'ultimate weakness.' He knew quite well how unbearably ticklish your feet were - so much so that he usually spared them during the occasional playful wrestling and tickle fights you had. But if you happened to get too cheeky with him, he wouldn't hesitate to initiate a very precise and targeted attack.

When he shifted to scratch at the soft spot just above your heel, you jerked so hard you actually managed to break free of his hold, rolling toward the edge of the sofa in an effort to escape. He threw his arm out and caught hold of you by the waist as you rolled onto your stomach before you could reach the edge.

"Where do you think you're going?" he sneered playfully, reaching over with his other hand to knead at both sides. You screeched and giggled, swinging your legs involuntarily in protest and grasping at his hands above your hips. "Oh-ho, trying to kick me now, are you?"

"Noho, I-hi didn't mehean toho- WAHAIT NOHO LOKI PLEHEHEASE!!"

He'd snatched hold of your ankles again, swiftly shifting with them locked in his grip so he could plant his weight on top of the backs of your thighs, rendering you trapped on your stomach across the sofa. Protests laced with giggles spouted from your lips as he grasped one of your ankles and lifted it from the sofa, forcing a bend in your knee.

"Still think it was a good idea to try to escape?" he asked facetiously as he wrapped his arm around your ankle to pin it tightly to his chest. You turned your head as much as you could to flash your pleading eyes at your Asgardian lover, but he'd already made up his mind. With a sly smirk, the fingers of his free hand descended on the sole of your trapped foot, tracing along the outer edge.

"NOHO!!" You screeched before burying your face into the sofa cushion, muffling the vibrant laughter tearing from your chest. You could feel the vibration of a laugh in his chest against your leg where he'd trapped you.

"My, my... and this isn't even the worst spot," he hummed ominously. You gasped, fighting to beg him not to target the spot you knew he'd be moving to next. "Oh, but darling, I can't possibly leave the other foot neglected."

"YES YOU CAHAHAN!"

Continuing to ignore you, he ceased his attack on the trapped foot and swapped his grasp to scoop up your other ankle. Desperately, you curled your toes to try to hide as much ticklish skin as possible. He tutted at you for that, tightening his arm around your ankle to allow himself to reach your foot with that same hand, prying your toes back.

"W-WAHAIT!"

To your surprise, he paused, turning to gaze at you without releasing his hold on your foot. You began your last-ditch desperate effort to convince him.

"Loki, I'm sohorry! I swear I'll nehever hide anything frohom you again! I'm sorry I-hi lied!"

"Mm, I believe you." He moved his free hand toward the hypersensitive spot underneath your toes, and you shouted once again in protest.

"BUT WAHAIT!!"

He raised his brows, tilting his chin down expectantly. "I'm listening."

"L-Loki... dohon't you lohove me?" you squeaked, face burning hot.

A soft smile crossed his lips then. "Yes, darling. I love you. Very much."

You smiled sweetly in return. "I love you too."

For a moment, you thought you'd managed to convince him. But then, his expression hardened once again, and that devilish smirk made its way back onto his face.

"In fact, it's precisely the reason why I must ensure the message sinks in."

Without allowing you time to continue pleading, he dug his fingertips into the deathly ticklish spot beneath your toes.

One last loud shriek was all you had before dissolving into silent, shaking laughter. He knew exactly how to tickle you to make the sensation unbearable, after years of opportunity to practice. His fingers scratched and flitted against the soft skin until you began to weakly slap your hand against the sofa in surrender.

With a fond chuckle, Loki finally relented and released your ankle, rubbing a firm, soothing hand against the back of your calf to prove he was finished tormenting you. You coughed a bit as you caught your breath.

"Gehet... get ohoff me, you're heavy!" you griped teasingly. His eyes flashed dangerously.

"If I didn't think it would kill you, I'd repeat the lesson," he warned, standing for a moment to allow you to turn over and shift your legs off his seat. When he sat back down, he reached over and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, lifting your back off the couch so he could scoot you into his lap. You rested your head on his shoulder in exhaustion.

"You're damn ruthless, you know."

"Mm. I'm well aware." He winked with a grin, causing heat to rush to your cheeks. "In all seriousness, darling - I must insist you heed caution when it comes to strange magical artifacts. I would be absolutely devastated should something terrible befall you."

"I... I'm sorry," you whispered, pressing your forehead lovingly against his cheek. "I just wanted to take care of myself for a change. I know you do it because you love me, but you don't have to protect me from everything."

Loki laughed once, deep in his throat. "You are one of the strongest mortals I know, darling. I'll try to remember that on the battlefield."

"Thank you." You smiled, tilting your head back to press your lips to his. Grinning cheekily, you added, "And I promise I'll run all my magical finds by you before using them to torment our friends."

"I'd appreciate that, thank you."

You sat in silence for a moment, simply enjoying the feeling of being wrapped safely in Loki's arms. Now that you thought about it, you were surprised and flattered to learn how deeply he knew you. He had clearly been observing you closely, perceptive to your little quirks and traits. It made you feel... cared for. Loved.

You recalled, then, that the pancake ingredients were still sitting out in the kitchen. And so, as the pair of you finally stood at your suggestion to return to breakfast, you began to brainstorm how you might finally be able to pull a successful prank on your boyfriend.

But, for today, you didn't have the heart.

[fizzydrink-fanclub]

Hi! Hope you’re doing well can I request ponyboy and his s/o having a heated argument? Feel free to ignore if uncomfortable (happy ending please)

Aww, thank you, friendly anon :) I couldn’t really think of anything Pony and his s/o would argue about, so I tried to make this work. I hope you like this, I wasn't sure if I got the fighting aspect right so I'm sorry about that. Ya'll can remember that you can send a request to another writer in the fandom if you don't like my work!

Content warnings: Fighting, arguments with s/o

Summary: You, a very neat person, get in an argument with Ponyboy about cleaning.

You came from a very orderly household. Your parents were very neat people, and so were you, and your childhood home was  always very tidy. You figured that when you grew up, your house would be just the same. The only problem, though, was Ponyboy.

Nobody said that he would do a good job at keeping the house clean. You could tell that much by his old room at the Curtis's. There had been compromises made- Pony helped out in keeping the house clean, and you would agree to relax your expectations.

It took a lot of restraint, but you really tried not to meddle too much with the bedroom or areas like the garage, since you didn't want to mess up anything he was working on. But you had reached your breaking point with the desk, or specifically, his desk that he kept in the bedroom for drawing and writing.

The desk had become marvelously cluttered, along with the bedroom itself, and its surface was covered with mountains of loose paper, pencils, and who-knows-what lost beneath the heaps of stuff. You were tired of looking at all of it, and it was by far the messiest place in the house. It was the frustrated confrontation about it that had escalated into the full-scale argument that was happening now.

"You're such a neat freak!" Pony fumed, exasperated

"It's not my fault that I'm tired of you trashing our house!"

"I'm not 'trashing' the house. And it's my desk." He said, irritated. "I thought we had a compromise."

"'Compromise' doesn't mean being a slob." You retorted.

"I clean! You never bothered me about this before. Can I at least have some freedom..."

"Freedom! Yeah, you can have your 'freedom' when clean up and not leave our room like- like a barn!"  You held a stack of books that you had picked up from around the room and dropped them  on the chair to emphasize your point.

"Hey-" He exclaimed, stepping forward, "Be careful with those!"

Be careful with those? "Be careful with those? High talk from you!"

"At least I know where everything is!"

"Why can’t you at the very least stack and organize?"

He scowled. "I guess I'm just a disorganized person!"

"Well, you know what? I'm fed up with you. I'm fed up with your mess, with carelessness, with your- everything!" 

You swept your arm around the room. Clothes on chairs, books stacked on the bedside tables, change strewn on the tables and drawers. Your anger amplified every corner of mess, harshening your judgement. Seething with frustration, your growled, "I’m not letting this house turn into a pigsty!"

"Oh! So I'm a pig?"

"Well, you sure live like it!"

"If it bothers you so much then why don't you just leave!"

You stared at each other for a moment as the fiery words settled in the air.

Your eyes widened as you both realized what you said, searching for a way to take back words spoken in anger, to no avail. Pony bit his bottom lip, silently begging you not to go. The angry tears in his eyes mingled with new tears of pain and regret. You were cemented in place. This had gone too far. All this, over tidying up...

"Y/N..." He shook his head, "Y/N, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that." Ponyboy looked up with pleading eyes, the tears threatening to spill. "You know I didn't mean that."

You nodded, turning wipe away the tears that had slipped down your cheeks. You swallowed, trying to lose the lump in your throat.

"I shouldn't have gotten angry like that." He continued, slowly,  "At all. I shouldn't have yelled at you. You do so much. I know how much it means to you. So I'll try to be neater."

You shook your head, looking down at your feet and back up at him. He did a lot to help out, and you had started the argument.

"It's alright. I'm sorry." You paused. "We had a compromise. I got a bit... carried away. I shouldn't have gotten so angry. So I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more understanding."

Pony reached out for your hand, giving it a squeeze. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a tender embrace and stroking your hair.

"Neither of us should have let it get this far."

You nodded into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close.

[newcaptainofsquad9]

To Be Loved And Deserved~Myoui Mina x black! fem! reader

Pairing: Mina x reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance, angst, smut, hurt and comfort

Summary: With the distance you created due to your anxiety and self doubt, Mina sought to lessen it and show you how much she cares about you.

Word Count: 1, 962

Author’s note: A continuation/sequel to this fic. Smut ahead, so there’s your warning, 18 plus from this point. Also, sorry if it’s trash I’m having a hard time focusing and finishing things so I finally got something done! Hope ya’ll enjoy!

Cosplay is always fun for you, especially when your girlfriend, Mina joined in the fun. At first, she loved to only gush about you and your presence and flair with the craft (her words), but with enough pleas and kisses, she gave it a try. The first cosplay the both you did together was Korra and Asami from The Legend of Korra, and the first you both shared on tiktok. It wasn’t the last as the both of you delved into some of your favorite pairings/partnerships, or ships in general from media: Renji and Rukia from Bleach, Jon Snow and Daenarys Targaryen, and various Marvel characters (Mina insisted of course).

There was one that people criticized you the most for and that was your cosplay of Princess Bubblegum, in all her pink and pretty glory, yet many commenters didn’t feel the same way about you. Like how they thrashed you of your sailor moon and other anime cosplay, they stressed over how Bubblegum wasn’t black and how you weren’t built for cosplay as much as Mina was. It hurt, damaged you as much that you began to distance yourself from your girlfriend. You only told her you need space, of course being Mina she didn’t question until it became weeks--your phone blew up with texts from a worried Mina which escalated to calls, tik tok and Instagram messages. You cut yourself off from her and the comments, only leaving your room when necessary. The calls soon stopped. 

Instead, a knock echoed throughout your home, jerking you from your burrito like position wrapped around your comforter. You knew she’d come over eventually, but the conversation isn’t something you’re looking forward to. Did Mina want to break up with you? You didn’t, you loved her so much that it hurt but she wouldn’t understand how much you felt. People only praised her when she tried, not calling her ugly or telling her a cosplay isn’t right because of her race. 

You got up from your bed, sighing at the cold that fit your tummy and toes once your comforter fell. It took a few shuffles but you found the front door as more knocks continued. Your heart pumped with each thud before you gathered enough courage to open it. 

Mina’s fist was still raised as she ceased knocking.

“Y/N,” she said.

“Mina I--”

You were cut off by Mina throwing her arms around you.  

“Thank God,” she whispered against the skin of your cheek. “You’re OK, you’re actually OK.”

Your arms wrapped around her back instantly as the emotion that bubbled up inside you came crashing down through a heat of tears that rushed. 

“S-So, does that mean you don’t want to break up with me?” you asked.

Mina pulled back immediately. 

“What? Did I do something wrong?” she said. “Y/N please just--”

You cut her off with a deep sob, no longer holding on without her. Mina’s arms wrapped around your waist, cooing softly as she cupped your cheeks. She stepping with you, slow and steady as the both of you moved as one towards your room. 

Once you reached it, she lay back against the bed next to you with enough space between you both.

Your eyes dart to the covers beneath you as silence fell. Mina opened her mouth to speak, yet closed it as you began to speak as well.

Mina’s hands flew back to your face as her face flushed with a bit of red.

“You should go first,”she said. 

You nodded, it’s the least you could do since you kept her in the dark for awhile.

“You did nothing wrong Mina,” you started. “I-I had a bad time on Tik-Tok, my anxiety got out of hand and--”

The sound of Mina’s gasp cut you off, her face serious yet again. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said. “I always check in with you when things are hard for me.”

You nodded; the sadness Mina expressed breaking your heart more and more. 

“I know, and I wanted to talk to you, believe me I did but,” you paused. Mina tilted her head.

“But?” she asked before silently telling you to go on.

“My problems, are completely different from yours, you get so much praise from our cosplays,” you said. “I scrolled through thousands of them all commenting on how accurate your cosplay is, even if it wasn’t completely all there--no one called you names or sought to stereotypes to discredit you.”

Mina’s lips parted, looking to speak but she only nodded and rubbed your back. 

“A-And I’m not blaming you, it has nothing to do with you,” you declared. “But seeing how they brought you up, just to yank me down made me resent you--just for a moment! That’s why I needed space.”

Mina blinked away tears, forcing your own to build up as she wrapped her arms around you. 

“I’m sorry Mina,” you whispered against her chest. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” she said. “You let me back in, even if we have different problems, I’m always here to listen and support. OK?”

Her hands traveled up and down your sides, making the shirt you wore ride up a bit to bare soft skin. You nodded, then a shudder rippled through at Mina’s contact; your girlfriend noticed and narrowed her eyes. 

“I missed you,” she whispered. “Every part of you.”

Her words followed with a few pecks to your lips, across your jawline then down to your neck. 

“I-I missed you too.”

Mina smiled. It was her toothy smile with her adorable gums and the shininess of her eyes. 

“Yeah? I hope you didn’t just miss me and lay here all day,” she said with a hint of teasing. 

“No,” you said, heat flushing to your cheeks. “I-I watched a lot of Netflix, thought about things and ate some cookies.”

Mina giggled.

“Oh? What kind of cookies?” she asked while her hands still lingered at your sides softly. 

Her touch almost made you lose your train of thought. You shifted around the bed, flopping to the other side before reaching over to the dresser to grab the pack of cookies. 

“Strawberry cream ones,” you said in between a few bites. “Want some?”

Mina smiled as you chewed, then eventually swallowing.  

“No, but I’d much rather enjoy lovely strawberry kisses,” she whispered. 

You nearly choked on the rest of your cookie as Mina giggled and caressed your face, gently while you finished the few cookies you decided to eat. 

“Is it OK, if I kiss you?” she asked, leaning in to touch your forehead with her own. “And show you how much you are loved?”

Her words were tender, you barely reacted as her lips ghosted across your throat, jaw then cheek. A sigh escaped you; Mina’s kisses got harder, most likely leaving bruises and marks but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the warm feeling your girlfriend spurred within you. Mina noticed your silence and pulled back with soft eyes. 

“Y/N? Are you OK?”

You nodded. 

“Yes,” you said before initiating the kiss this time.

Mina moved fervently against your lips, hands moving down your sides to lift your shirt just enough to caress more skin and soft noises from. 

“Mina,” you moaned. 

“What would you like me to do, baby girl?” she whispered. “Anything you want, just let me love you.” 

Your hands tangled themselves in her curly hair while she trailed kisses down your neck and parts of your chest exposed to her thanks to your v neck. 

“I just want to get lost in you,” you said. “Make me feel good. Make love to me, Mina.”

Mina’s kisses ceased once you told her, eyes sparkling with as much love and passion that you almost cry again. She kisses you once more. It’s softer now while her hands gently pull up your shirt; you help by taking it off completely. A knowing smile spread while her eyes wondered down and your bra-less chest. 

“Y-You, I-I,” she paused as she tried to get her words together. “S-Stunning.”

You pulled her back to be flushed against you. Hands and fingers moved everywhere and all at once: Mina’s tracing each curve and stretch mark she could find; you tried to chase and follow her movements by unbuttoning her own shirt and tossing it on the floor. 

The both of you ended up panting on the bed. Mina straddled you with you lain on the bed in a heap of breathless giggles. She continued marking you to the quick moves of her hips, making you gasp at her clothed heat.  

“M-Mina-”

You were cut off by her getting off of you for a moment to pull you to the edge of the bed where she sat on her knees. The pajama bottoms you wore slipped off by Mina carefully, underwear following as she slipped them off in a matter of seconds. Her lips traced your legs, up thighs and lingered near the place you needed her the most.

“I need to gear you up, baby,” Mina whispered against the softness of your skin. 

Her fingers swiped slowly at your folds. The sensation had moans slipping from your mouth; Mina smiled and coaxed you through are her movements as she slipped a finger inside you. 

“Please, Mina--”

She finally followed your request, leaning up to climb over you, pulling her jeans down and kissing you fiercely. Her tongue slipped through, both of you not fighting for dominance over one another but the lust that was pent up for weeks. Your hands traveled down to Mina’s forearms, gripping tight as she sunk down: both of your soaking cores meeting. Her thrusts started up again with each kiss from your lips, jaw, chest then neck. The sensation wasn’t enough for you to handle. Mina smirked at the mess you were already with the moans building from you. When your eyes met, your heart-rate spiked up and the breath you barely had left; her eyes were shiny, careful and too pretty to look at. So much so, you couldn’t help but get teary eyed--you wanted to blame yourself again but Mina’s movements grew softer as her thrusts lessened.

“I love you so much,” you said, choking on the sobs that rocked your body. 

Mina bit her lip at the slowed movements, both of you so close to climax while being lost in each others feelings and emotions. 

“I love you too,” she panted. “Every part, do you understand? You’re beautiful OK?”

You nodded, adverted your eyes. Mina shook her head before gripping your chin.

“Say it, babygirl,” she purred. “Tell me, look at me. Tell me you’re beautiful.”

The deep, huskiness of her voice sent you over the edge, climax taking over while the words spilled from your lips.

“I-I’m beautiful!” you cried. 

Mina beamed down at you with a sense of passion mixed in with enough cockiness to force you to climax yet again. 

“I’m not the one you have to say that to,” she said. “But it is sexy seeing how I could make you do that and come.”

You rolled your eyes, then tried to roll over only for Mina to hold you by the arms while slipping from between you and onto the soft sheets beneath. 

“Are you still thinking about what happened with those disrespectful people on Tik-Tok?” she asked while playing with rubbing her fingers softly down your arms.

“No, not when my girlfriend is here cheering me up and telling me how loved I am,” you said. “And you’re right, I need to start learning how to love myself better.”

Mina pressed a hard kiss to your forehead before burying her face into your neck.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way baby. 

[nerdyfangirl67]

My Angel - Phantom of the Opera (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Phantom/Erik x reader

Warnings: Erik insecurities, dark thoughts and feelings, a very oblivious reader

Word count: 2278

A/N: I hated the way I ended this one. I really wanted to make it one of my longest ones yet, but I have really been struggling finding the inspiration to finish this. I am sorry for all of y’all that were excited to follow the journey of this story. After time passes, I may come back to it, but right now, I am not in the right mindset for it. 

---- Chapter 3 ----

He plays into the early hours of the morning, with you sitting next to him on the velvet covered organ bench. Sometime in the short few hours you are with him, he wrapped his large, velvet black cloak around your shoulders, chasing away the chill that had been reaching towards your bones.

As his music starts to trail off, you remember about work. You scramble off the organ bench, tripping over the long edge of your, or rather Erik’s, cloak in your haste and fall in a heap on the floor. A few unladylike words slip from your mouth and a short bark of a laugh behind you catches your attention.

A lightness dances in his eyes as he looks at you. “Mon cher, I did not expect you to be so foul mouthed. Your appearance deceives your nature.” Despite his mirth, he reaches out a hand and effortlessly pulls you up.

“I have work. If I am late again, I will lose my job.” You mumble, an intense feeling of sudden sadness weighing on your chest. The thought of leaving him so soon after you ‘found’ him, had your heart aching.

A gentle hand brushes a wisp of hair out of your face. “Mon cher, you have been up all night. I will deal with your employers. You need rest.” He takes your hand in his, you don’t even try to protest, and allow him to lead you to his large four poster bed. You hesitantly sit on the bed, a tentative hand reaching out to run over the velvet covers.

You search his face, your heart beating fast with both the anxiety of ‘skipping’ work and the thought of being left alone in his space, his home. “A-aare you sure?” You stammer with uncertainty.

He kneels in front of you, making him eye level to you for the first time. “Oui mon cher. Rest.” He unties his cape from around your neck, pulling it loose from underneath you. He urges you to lie down before covering you with the large black velvet material.

You don’t even hear Erik walk out of the small alcove the bed resides in and you can’t bring yourself to see if he did. You were exhausted. As much as you had enjoyed, no, as much as you had loved listening to your angel play his music, you hadn’t stayed up until the early hours of the morning since you were a young girl and it had drained you. It wasn’t long before you were in a deep slumber, the rich musk of your angel filling your nose.

----

Rapid, lifting note phrases bursting from the organ wake you. You laid there for a moment, listening to the stirring, joyous composition. You could hear in the music alone how much happier he was and it warms your heart. Stretching you feel the stiffness in your joints, which was telling you that you had been asleep for more than a few hours. You push yourself out of the bed, grabbing Erik’s cloak as you do. Pulling it up over your shoulders, you walk slowly towards his organ, intently watching him as he plays with fervor.

He must have heard you approach, as he stops playing and turns to look at you. “Ah, mon cher, are you feeling bien reposé?” His easy switch between English and French had your cheeks heating up as you think of how you’d like him to really use this skill, and it wasn’t in casual conversation.

You nod your head, joining him on the organ bench. He turns his attention from the keys to you. He stares at you for a long time, analyzing your face before speaking. “Mon cher, you do not have to continue as a maid if it makes you unhappy. You can stay here with me, si vous le souhaitez.”

Your heart leaps repeatedly in your chest at the thought of staying with this man, this angel, in this place you find ethereal. It is like the accumulation of all your dreams in one. You would have the man you had come to love, you would be at the forefront of all his musical creations, and you would be free of the job that made you dread every morning, or more specifically, every day.

The excitement dancing around in your chest and tangling in your thoughts is making it hard for you to string words together enough to answer. As you struggle to voice your thoughts, you can see the crushing disappointment taking over his features. You can practically see the wall sliding back in place over his heart.

You rapidly stand up, giving yourself a few inches on his seated figure. “Erik, I want nothing more than to be here with you.” You state, staring into his dark eyes. You tentatively reach out a hand towards the masked side of his face. He flinches away from your hand, putting distance between it and his face.

The act alone has a lump of hurt forming in your chest. You had had no intention of removing the mask, rather you had wanted to show him, that injured, dark, scared part of him, the feel of a gentle touch. You’d thought he would trust you enough at this point to know you were not going to remove the mask or to hurt him in any way.

“I-I do not intend to remove your mask Erik.” You state simply, staring deeply into his eyes. His eyes were swirling with emotions. There was a deep fury emanating from their depths, coupled with a dark sadness.

“I have seen that move before, mon cher. A beautiful temptress removed it, not once, but twice. She revealed a part of me to the world that I will never get back. They know who I am now, I cannot hide it.” His voice echoed brokenly in the large cavern and each word tore at your heart.

You carefully closed the small distance between you. “I would never disrespect you like that.” You said softly as you slowly, so slowly, move your hand to his covered cheek. He doesn’t flinch this time, but he is sitting as stiff as a board. You rub your thumb gently over his masked cheekbone and hum the tune of his composition softly as you do. With your other hand, you reach up to comb back the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. His eyes are the softest you had ever seen, like the clear night sky, brightened by the soft lights of the city below. One of his hands reaches up to cover the one you have resting on his face, as he leans into it.

“You are nothing like they believe you to be. You are a man that brings light with his marvelous musical compositions.” You pause, leaning forward ever so slightly until your forehead is barely touching his. “You are a man of mystery yes, but you are also a man with a deeply hidden gentle soul.” His eyes soften at your words, soaking in the kind words he wasn’t accustomed to.

“Mon cher, stay. Do not go back. Now that I know what it is like to have you, I cannot be without you. You are truly my sweet and beautiful muse.” His words, spoken with a gentle tenderness have tears beading up in your eyes.

“I will. I will stay with you Erik, my angel. I just have to return to work tomorrow to receive what measly amount of money they owe me.” You answer, frustration coloring your voice. You want nothing more than to never have to return to that small, dingy room you shared with the two other cleaners. You despised the way you were treated as if you were nothing more than common trash, how you were nothing more than a replaceable worker.

His hand moved from where it was gently covering yours, up to your cheek to wipe away the tear that had managed to fall from your lashes. “I can take care of them, mon cher, if you want. They would never bother you, or anyone else, again.” His tone is sharp and chilling, sending a cold chill down your spine. A deep breath rushes from your lungs as you stare at him. You wanted so badly to say yes, to never have to see those who had spent the last year telling you your work wasn’t good enough again. But you couldn’t. You could not bring yourself to wish harm on someone, regardless of how little you liked them.

“No. You are better than that.” You state firmly. “You are not going to draw back into the darkness, especially not for me.” You stand, slowly slipping from his grasp. “I am strong and I will do this on my own.” Despite your words a feeling of irrational fear was creeping up on you. It wasn’t as if you were doing anything you should not be. All you were doing was asking for the meager amount you were owed, yet you couldn’t get over the feeling of anxiety rising in your chest.

He seems to sense your unease and delicately pulls you into his embrace. You press half of your face into his chest, inhaling his unique musk and listening to the beating of his heart, which mirrored your own. After a long moment, which didn’t feel nearly long enough for you, you pull back.

“I must go now. I want to get them before they leave for the day.” You murmur, your eyes never leaving his. A part of you was urging you not to go, to take Erik up on his offer to help and to stay here in the comfort of his music and his arms.

You turn reluctantly, making your way back to the man sized entrance to the tunnels. The walk back to the opera house seems to take the longest it ever has. With each step you take away from the cavern, you feel as if a string is tugging against your heart.

You get to the door of the tunnel, but stop. Something is holding you back, keeping you from opening the door that will bring you back to the opera house, and your old life. Memories flash through your mind as you think of all the good that has taken place since you had entered these tunnels only a month before.

You had found a place to call home, a place where you could indulge your love for music. You had found a future, something that made you want to get out of bed in the morning, something that made you want to live. Most importantly, you had found someone that made that future seem worth living. Conviction steels your nerves and you turn from the door and move much quicker back the way you had come.

It isn’t long before you are back in the cavern, the sounds of your angel’s melodies greeting you tenderly as you enter. He hears the echo of your footsteps because he turns, his nimble fingers pausing on the keys.

“Mon cher, I know I get lost in my music, but I believe you just left. What are you doing back so soon?” As he speaks, he moves forward, his shiny black cape streaming out behind him. You move forwards as well, meeting him halfway.

“I came to a realization that I don’t need anything that is on the other side of that door because all I will every need is right here,” You whisper, your breath caressing his face as you lean forward, closing some of the distance between the two of you.

He tentatively continues to close the distance, until his lips are only a hair breadth away from yours. “Puis-je t'embrasser ma chérie? May I kiss you my dear?” He repeats the question in English, not wanting anything to get lost in translation.

You nod, your nerves racing with excitement. His lips are on yours only half a breath later, caressing them softly with his own. The kiss sends your nerves abuzz, dancing with his music, almost as if he was sending it straight to your soul.

After a long moment, he pulls back. “Thank you mon cher.” His voice is breathless as you stare at him, your mind racing. “Thank you for believing in who I really am. And for being patient with me.” With that he steps back, causing you to furrow your brow in confusion.

As you watch him, Erik slowly lifts a hand to his face, removing the pristine white mask that covered over half of his face. As he pulls it away from his face, you become transfixed. It is not the puckered skin or the scars that draw your attention. Nor is it the thinning hair near his hairline on that side of his face. No, it’s the utter terror and brokeness that has taken over his face that draws your attention.

You reach up a hand, gentle laying your hand on the marred side of his face. “You are beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Body and soul.” You whisper, your hand tracing over the lines you know he despises.

It is in this moment that you realize just how much you have come to love this man. You cannot imagine a life without him and knowing he wants you to be a part of his life, has you feeling unrestrained joy. You also realize that you are finally complete. This man and his music has fixed the broken parts of your soul, healing them in a way that you never thought possible.

[samthemarvelfan]

Graveyard: Prologue

Summary: Waking up on a trash heap is never ideal. Getting imprisoned on a planet you’ve never heard of? That’s way worse. Ella was one of Asgard fiercest and most cunning protectors, but when Loki’s rebellion threatens her people’s safety, she’s made it her mission to do one thing and one thing only; kill him. By any means necessary. 

Pairing: Loki Odinson x OFC

Warnings: Imprisonment, fight scenes, general calamity, canon typical brouhaha. 

A/N: So idk where this is gonna go just yet, but here’s a lil tasty morsel. This is my first non-Bucky fic! and it features my first Marvel love--Loki <3 Tags are open :)

The acrid smell of rust and filth surrounded you as you woke.

Sitting up, you realize that, once again, you’d awoken in your cell. Wishful thinking kept alive the hope that this was all a dream.

“Raaagg!” The guard with the tentacles shouted as he chucked the tray of mush under your door.

You grimaced at the sight of the chunky grayish-blue mush. “Thanks a lot.” You mumble as he walks away.

“...asshole.”

The substance jiggled when you poked it. Begrudgingly, you spooned some into your mouth. How could something this color taste like rotten carrots?

“Morning, Ella.” Korg said through your bars.

You smiled halfheartedly at him. “Hi Korg. Where’s Miek?”

“Ah, he’s part of the welcome wagon today.” He said cheerfully. “I guess a special guest arrived last night.”

You nod, eating your mush. “Really? Who is it this time?” You didn’t care, it was just nice to have a conversation with someone who could actually speak your language.

“Not sure, you know. But rumor has it he’s a King.” He said.

Rolling your eyes, you looked to him, “Aren’t they all.” The words dripped with sarcasm.

“No. Not everyone.” He said plainly. Korg was a...simple guy, sarcasm often escaped him.

“I know, Korg...I—forget it. I’ll see you tomorrow?” You ask.

“Actually, rumor has it a few prisoners are being released to the work shed to make room for new ones. I put a good word in for you!” He said happily.

Your head perked up. “Really? Thank you, Korg!”

“No sweat. Well, I have to go draw and quarter some Skartelians. Bye-bye, then!”

When Korg had left your cell front, it was once again just you, your slop, and the first glimmer of hope you had. A chance to finally be out of this fresh hell.

You’d forgotten how long you’d been in this place; a week? Maybe two? A month?

The days were long and they all blurred together. Your only solace was plotting your revenge against that repulsive megalomaniac who put you here in the first place.

The day before your capture:

“We must get to Heimdall.” Sif whispered to you. “The people need to leave this place before he enslaves them all.”

Your bloodshot eyes scanned the area. The sound of the riots outside grew louder, and guards patrolled every exit.

Almost every one.

“Sif, look.” You said, nodding to the archway just off the main corridor.

Your stealth is something you were known for. Being as clever and cunning and careful as any warrior before you. Not only that, but Sif had been the one that trained you for battle. You were just as fierce and skilled as she was.

The cold stone of the pillar pressed against your back, “I’m going. One of us needs to tell Heimdall to open the bifrost.”

Loki had cloaked the palace in a spell, blinding those in and around it from Heimdall’s sight.

She nodded, “I’ll give you as much cover as I can.”

You crouched and rolled a ways to get to the next pillar. Your steps and movements were so light, not even you heard them.

The palace guards had just done a rotation to the next corridor, and that’s when you made your breakaway.

You slipped through the archway with ease and began running down the stairs. The cobbled flights of steps were your last hurdle, then it was just a long, but mad dash down the bridge to get to Heimdall.

“Going somewhere?”

You froze. Your foot had just touched the last step, but it was too late. You’d been caught...he had caught you.

“Hm, it looks like you are. Perhaps running to that golden eyed oaf to tell him what I’ve done?”

Loki.

You swallowed thickly.

“What’s the matter, darling? Cat got your tongue?” He smirked.

“Another cheap trick? Had to conjure up a spell because you couldn’t find me yourself?” You spat back at him.

Loki began circling you. When he was right behind you, he spoke next to your ear. “Why don’t you make a run for it and see?”

It was a test. But you knew Loki would never be out here, so close to the riots. The ‘scourge of the kingdom’ rebelling against his reign and rule over Asgard.

“Alright.” You turn quickly on your heel and sprint.

You made it 20 feet when a log appeared out of no where right under your feet. You hurdled forward, stumbling and rolling on the ground.

The slam of the dirt knocked the wind clean out of you.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk...” Loki tutted. “Next time toss a pebble. That’d be a much wiser test.”

You stood as quickly as you could, and charged him. “I’d rather toss a dagger.” Your blades dropped from your sleeves into your grasp.

Slashing at him, the blade narrowly missed his throat. He stepped back smoothly, circling himself around you, before casting his duplication spell.

Suddenly you were surrounded by dozens of him. Each of them taunting you.

“Come and get me.”

Slash

“I’m over here!”

Slash

“Did you miss me?”

All attempts futile. The God of Mischief certainly was worthy of the name.

“You coward! Fight me!” You shout.

In a snap, the copies disappeared. Loki stood behind you, and cleared his throat. “Would you really kill your King, Ellaria?” He asked, using your full name.

“I’m not loyal to a throne, nor am I loyal to a murderer.” You seethe breathlessly.

Loki’s jaw clenched as he took a step away from you.

“Guards?” He said simply.

Suddenly, a dozen Asgardian soldiers surrounded you. “Please escort this little minx to the dungeons.”

You were trapped. The golden men circled you as Loki watched, enjoying the torment.

“Ella! Now!” You heard Sif shout. She had her crossbow at the ready, and fired on the guards. At her fastest, she could fire 30 arrows a minute, plenty to take out a dozen guards.

In an instant, their shields went up, and Loki crouched behind them. “Stop her!” He shouted, staring at Sif.

“Loki...” you called.

He turned quickly, and you slashed you dagger across his face, leaving a small gash on his cheek bone.

His fingertips went to feel for blood, and sure enough, it began to drip.

Loki laughed, his teeth chewing on his lip.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” You smirked.

You planted your boot on the shield of the guard next to you. They were all crouched so it was easier than expected. Backflipping out of the circle of them, you ran as fast as you could down the bridge, praying Loki’s spell didn’t cast that far.

“Heimdall! Heimdall!” You scream.

A quick glance over your shoulder confirms your wonder if you were being chased yet.

“Heimdall! Open the bifrost!” You’re screeching now.

Suddenly, the bridge shakes. He’d heard you!

“Ellaria, stop!” Loki shouts from behind you. You glance to see he’s on a horse, riding fast.

Your lungs expand once more, but before sound escapes you, you see a tidal way approaching you. Angry water pulled from the sea beneath you barreling down from behind you.

“Heimdall! Open the bifrost! Please!” You’re desperate. The maniac chasing you had indeed cast a spell; one to end your life. 

You watched as the bifrost began to spin, he’d heard you at last!

Suddenly the wave over took you, launching you down the length of the bridge towards Heimdall.

You were rolling and churning in the waters Loki had cast, running out of air fast.

You’d gotten sent so far by the massive wave, somehow you been forced past Heimdall and into the still-turning stream of light that was the bifrost.

The surge of energy sent your body into a whirlwind. You were soaring through the universe in an iridescent ray of light made of enough energy to light up a continent.

After what seemed like mere seconds, you felt yourself enter and atmosphere. Shortly after that, you’d landed on a pile of...trash?

The tingles rushing through your body drained you. You’d never been in the bifrost alone before, and it was clear your body couldn’t handle the amount of power surging around it.

Clicks and pops made you open your eyes. Shielding them from the sun with your hand, you found yourself surrounded by humanoid creatures of every size and color. 

They were speaking. Communicating to one another.

“Help me. Please help me.” You begged, hoping feigning weakness would stop any unwanted hostility.

The orange creature reached his hand out--a hand with eight fingers, and you took it. He hoisted you up to your feet, and gave you a half smile. 

“Thank you.”

He nodded, “Mezbanjala fo tutu.” He clicked his tongue quickly.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t understand you.” You said, shaking your head.

The group of creatures eyes suddenly widened, and the lot of them began shouting and running away.

“Hey! Wha--”

You felt a sharp pain in your neck, and then everything went black.

[viktor-noctis]

The Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll McSh*tFace

This is my review for the film: The Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll McShitFace.

Enjoy.

Tagging @christopherleefan because I think you might enjoy this? Also, I wrote a fic for Taste of Fear (or Scream of Fear for us Americans), and you can expect one for this film as well.

Pre-face: Okay, okay……………………………… Let me compose myself.

………..

………………..

……………………….

……………………………..

Alright, hit the play button.

London 1874 – I paused just to be sure this was the actual date when the book was written.

It was originally published in 1886.

We’re off to a roaring start.

Ew. Children.

Playing in a garden, yep, this is about what I remember.

Little boy shoves girl’s flowers to the ground, and McShitFace talks about “dumb human animals” when referring to children. We agree on that, at least.

“Play out when they cannot speak out.” Jekyll McShitFace suggests they’ve mentally blocked the ability to speak, due to the fact that they are letting another part of them be free to express itself…. What a load of garbage.

You resigned? Here I thought they fired you for being a creep. The fact that Ernst believes he really is a genius makes me want to punch something.

They’ve been married for six years??

No servants, no friends, and Jekyll has cut all professional ties to study the mind… Like a madman. Yeah, I can see Kitty hating this.

Beyond Good and Evil? Beyond the reach of society?

“A very dangerous man, my friend.” No shit, Ernst. Jekyll is suggesting the ‘higher man’ is the one within, while Ernst suggests that the weaker man maybe the ‘evil’ one. Or what we deem ‘evil’. Jekyll, like some, has come to some crackpot conclusion that by drawing out the ‘evil’ man, the ‘weaker’ man within him, that he can isolate and destroy him… Or something to that effect.

Jekyll never answers Ernst when he asks if he’s used it on anything other than a monkey and I find that telling.

Paul is here. Ernst is leaving.

Jekyll is quite charitable to Paul, if nothing else, and Kitty is putting up a marvelous front. Kitty even tries to get him to spend time with her here, but I have a feeling she knows where this is going. She’s probably done this a million times. This is another for the till.

I can tell Kitty is tired of this. Jekyll spends night and day in the lab. All the time. Yeah, that’d wear on most women. Considering the time period, this is all very strange. Then again, this is a ‘Strange Case’, or it was supposed to be.

Kitty telling him about Jekyll shouting to himself in his room, along with a strange voice that wasn’t his own, for an entire night… “Married to a man of great talent.” Ernst, my dude…

Kitty’s asking if he is insane enough to be sent away. Ernst says he isn’t: “we must both try to help him.” Right.

Christopher Lee! Damnit, he’s so tall. How tall is this actress?

They’re so cute. Terrible, but cute.

The top of her head reaches his nose or so. He’s a damn good kisser…

Kitty looks lovely in blue.

And is an extrovert.

Jekyll is an introvert.

Still hate him.

Don’t bash the girl for liking to go out. Or ask her to: “take the evening off”.

“I need you tonight, Kitty. Stay.” That’s not creepy. After years of being ignored, that’s not creepy in the slightest.

Okay, this might be just me, but… I see Kitty’s perspective. I sort of see Jekyll’s? It’s a grey area. I’ve paused it to explain my reasoning –

Kitty, is an extrovert, as I’ve stated. She gets her energy from going out, being around people, and having a good time. That’s great. Good for her, you have fun girl, and take your boytoy (he really is, as often as he gets in money trouble) with you. Jekyll is decidedly not. To say they are incompatible would be an understatement.

Kitty is the type of woman who glows under attention, who craves it from both her partner and others. But mostly, her partner. Enter Paul, who’s proven to be attached to her mostly through money, but there’s so much more there. Again, I love these two, because they’re so terribly flawed, but so clearly in love.

Jekyll, meanwhile, cut all attachment to “live like a hermit in the center of London”. Ernst’s words straight from the beginning of the film. I bet you Kitty was stifled, for years, before Paul came along. Now, not much is revealed of the how Jekyll became friends with him, when he did, or even why he did, but I want to bet it was during University or something. That seems the most likely theory, given Jekyll’s nature.

The Jekyll side is a bit more convoluted. Again, I don’t think Kitty is being unfair here. There’s no telling how long she stayed lonely, cooped up in that house (reference back to when Ernst talked about no friends, no company, and no servants), and was just… bored, sad, and upset.

Ernst even mentioned the house being ‘in ruins’.

She calls him selfish for making it such an issue. I get the feeling he sort of deserves it. Also, she’s in love with Paul now, so that adds another layer to their relationship not working and being incredibly strained.

“I’m not going to insult my friends for the sake of your whims.” Is what her argument amounted to. Again, the movie is making her sound like the selfish one, but you really have to take into account the history, nature, and aspects of each character. In doing so, I don’t really think she is. I think she’s in love with another man, bound to a farce of a marriage, and is doing the best she can by not staying near her creepy husband.

And yep, human experimentation time.

Yeah, go ahead McShitFace, sit at your desk and wait to become The Literal Worst.

Party time. I’m shuddering. Too. Many. People. Ew.

They’re both terrible.

I love them.

Awful.

Paul complains of being bored, and yet she is bored doing the things he likes. They jab and jibe. He looks at another woman. They jab and jibe some more.

They’re bickering like they’re already married.

Get a room.

Terminate their relationship?

They bring up their attachment, again, always with the money. Kitty likes a man free of shame, Paul thinks he might lose her to a man who had even less. Hahahaha. You nerds. You’re in too deep and you both know it.

The Literal Worst has arrived. And he’s uglier than ever.

The Sphinx? That’s the name of this trash heap ballroom?

Hyde looks like a Tool. Barely two minutes on screen and he’s got the Creep Smirk going.

Hoes do not stand together, I see.

Paul and Kitty smiling at each other, having a grand old time. I love them.

Hyde showing his true colors already, by eyeing up Kitty, while dancing with another girl (though I’m pretty sure she’s a prostitute. Or just a woman who gets around, living off other men’s money). Wow, he also says some not-so-nice things to her before heading after Paul and Kitty, who’s having a hell of a time. Paul can also be a jackass –

“Don’t drink too much tonight, my darling.” She says it with such tenderness, while taking the glass from his hand.

“Cunning little kitty cat. Rather a dull husband than a drunken lover, eh?” Paul’s already slurring. He’s entered cad mode. Feel free to kick him to the curve, my dear. He deserves to nurse his hangover by himself.

She just looks disappointed.

Kitty’s creep alert is going off. Listen to it, honey. Run. Run, far away.

She’s trying to take Paul home.

Then going to dance with Hyde. Fuck. Kitty, listen to your Creep Radar.

Friendship with Kitty? Honey. No. Run. “Can I trust you?”

?? Kitty. No. Do not trust the creep.

Prostitute girl is back, claiming Hyde tried to force her, and some dude wants recompense. Kitty just wants to go home. Paul refuses to leave, to help Hyde.

Has common sense become a commodity that only Kitty is buying??

“Give the lady a few sovereigns, and there’ll be no trouble.” Yeah, sounds like a prostitute. Kitty bids them all goodnight. Paul looks sad to see her go. Should have thought about that before you acted the bastard.

Hyde tells them to go to hell and take the trollop with him. Dude dives at them, Paul knocks him out… And Hyde keeps hitting him. Paul stops him, telling him not to kill him, and then asks him if he’s ill.

“Let me alone, Jekyll. Let me alone.” Dumbass. Jekyll voice coming out of Hyde. That’s not creepy. Paul looks amused by the creep show. Hyde leaves the place, screaming, and being weird.

Lots of voice changing. This actor is actually really good. Jekyll realizes what he did, because Hyde says: “I will be back, Jekyll. I will return.”

Jekyll: “Never. Never.”

So he knows this was a bad idea?

Goes into Kitty’s room, whose reading, and she starts talking about her ‘party’. She wants to go to sleep. Jekyll still comes closer, being a creep. Creep Radar is blaring.

“I need you, Kitty. I need you desperately.” And he comes in, trying to kiss at her, mouthing at her neck. Like a creep. I know this is a parallel to later in the film (yeah, it’s terrible), when Hyde is in control, but I still hate this.

I had to pause during the next scene to do a deep character analysis –

Kitty pushes him off, telling him she’s tired, and even says “please”. As if she should have to beg him to keep his damn creep hands to himself. He still has a wild, crazy look in his eye, and asks: “What are you really like, Kitty?”

“I’m your wife, that’s all I am.” She answers it with such evenness, barely disturbed, and it reminds me of what Paul said to her –

“From perfect wife to perfect mistress, and back again to perfect wife.”

This movie has a lot to do with the masks we wear. We change them, depending on who we’re talking to: family, friends, strangers, lovers, etc. All the different relationships we have require a mask, shadowing the core of who we are, because letting someone see everything of ourselves is too terrifying to consider. We don’t show our true selves out of fear, pride, or some other convoluted mixture of emotions.

However, every mask has a basis, a template of origin.

I feel as if, at some point, Kitty really did love Jekyll. She must have. She married him not for his intelligence, not for his money, but because she genuinely loved him. Kitty loves too deeply, too strongly, and has all the hallmarks of a woman who has been burned by that depth of attachment.

“It’s my fault, a woman who shows her feelings always loses dignity.” Kitty says this during the first bit of the dance she has with Paul, which reveals so much of her character. She doesn’t look at him when she says it, the pain of her admittance is too much, and she shies away from anyone witnessing it. Even Paul.

Her relationship with Paul is strained right now. It’s weird. It seems like neither of them knows where it’s going, too afraid to continue, but even more horrified by the prospect of letting the other go.

When speaking of breaking their ‘arrangement’ (look up ‘affair’ in the dictionary), Kitty suggested Paul wouldn’t be able to get along financially without her. Paul rebuffed her, saying that Jekyll and he had been friends for years, and she was just his dutiful wife… despising him.

There’s an ease between them that feels years old, yet I doubt it was from the get-go of hers and Jekyll’s marriage. No, she probably did hate him quite a bit, in the beginning. But there’s a thin line between love and hate, one that can be crossed with loneliness. I like to think it was physical at first, a build up of tension between a woman caged in a house, and watching this man go out and spend her husband’s money.

It was probably Paul who convinced her to come out with him one evening. Fuck it. Jekyll wants to stay in his lab all night? Well, why should you stay too? Kitty probably said no at first. Why would she go out with this smarmy bastard, who gambles, who sleeps with anything that has legs, and drinks himself silly? But then there’s the wanting, the listening to her husband tinker away, watching life go by without her…

She probably went to Jekyll. She tried to talk to him, have dinner with her in the house that night. Without any servants, she’s learned to cook. He makes a point of trying to be nice but talks about his work… Always his work. She asks him to kiss her, as if that’s something she should have to nearly beg for. And what did he do? On the verge of some great breakthrough?

“Not right now, Kitty. I’m busy.”

Kitty, who is strong, vibrant, and beautiful, is not enough to stir a man from the wake of progress. From pride.

Humiliation and defeat, a loathing that breaks through love, stuffs her chest and nearly throttles her on the spot. Retreating, glassy eyed to her room. She probably cried, mourning her broken heart.

After that, she demands to go with Paul.

There’s probably a touch of shock, then a knowing smirk. He’s probably seen lots of women with husbands who ignore them, falling into his kind of life, dancing and drinking and laughing their nights away.

He’s not ready for this one.

Alright, hitting play again –

“But the woman inside of you, is that woman my wife?”

No. No, she’s not. She belongs with Paul.

Stop shaking her. She’s right. Get out.

Take your: “Who am I?”s and get the fuck out.

Cut to Paul being a cad again. Ugh. Go home to Kitty, you absolute tool bag.

He and Hyde are sitting at a table in The Sphinx with two bimbos. Wonderful.

Hyde is a creep. I will say that no less than ten times in this review. I probably already have.

The fuck is this?

They’re doing something weird.

Really weird.

A snake charmer dance.

Am I to assume they wish us to believe that snake is venomous?

Okay, to be fair, all snakes and spiders are venomous, but the potency of their venom varies in such a way that they effect most human bodies on different levels. I say ‘most’ because you can be allergic to something, and receive a far more harrowing experience than 98% of the population.

However, that does not excuse the fact that the creature in question is a ball python and is therefore basically harmless. Minus some swelling and bruising.

I had to pause to write that, okay, playing again –

Yeah, this poor animal is being abused by being forced into a ‘sensual dance’ with this woman. ‘Tigress’, they call her, kill me now. Paul says she’s exclusive to the elite. Kill me twice over. This dance is the worst. That poor snake is confused.

Paul is looking worriedly at Hyde as he stares, transfixed, at this woman. Dude, he wants to get bitch slapped, let him.

Christopher Lee’s eyebrows are doing things to me. Paul is the real eye candy in this shit show.

UGHASDKFJASDKFNAMSDKFJNASDKF

Jkljasdfklajsdklfansdkfnj

Klasjeirkmaskdfnjkasdjf

Klasdmfnkasndf

JKLASJDKLFNASKLDFNJ

UGH

SHE

SHE PUT

THE SNAAEK

HEAD

IN

MOTUH

WHY? WHY? WHY would –

WOULD uuo –

That poor animal.

Tell me that was fake.

She did not really put that poor creature’s head in her mouth.

This is abuse.

Not to mention, really gross. Salmonella, and a million other diseases could potentially exist on the skin of a reptile. Do not handle reptiles and then touch your face, or eat, or put any part of their body inside your mouth. Wash hands after handling, thank you.

Disgusting.

And people are clapping. And cheering.

Is this what passes for ‘exotic’ in the 1700s????

Maybe it’s my modern cynicism, but I am not impressed. I am shuddering in revulsion.

Mostly because of the snake in mouth bit.

Gods.

End me.

I’m about to shriek.

“Forget it, dear boy. She’s not in the prep-school class. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Paul. Paul.

Have you ever considered:

She’s blind.

You’re gorgeous.

And you have a gorgeous woman waiting on you at home.

Why do you bother with the bimbos?

Girl on the right is pretty, okay, she’s like… an 8. Chick on the left is… also pretty, but like a 7.

Kitty is a damn 16, she blows them out of the water. There is no competition. When you’ve already had it all, why bother even looking at anything less? She gets bumped up to a 30 for the fact that she has a brain, she snarks, she jabs with the best of them, and is not afraid to leave you to your well-deserved hangover.

I will fight for Kitty’s honor.

Paul. I’m about to throw down.

He calls the dancer over – Maria – and I can already tell he’s going to –

Yep. Be a bastard.

“She only uses Christian names in bed.”

He deserved that drink to the face.

Even Hyde looks surprised. Then impressed.

Pft – HA! I have to quote this:

“Well, ladies, it seems that I must entertain you both.” He says, while soaked with what one can assume is scotch. “I trust that you will not be too disappointed.” Girl on the right looks like she expects to be disappointed. Ms. Left has her game face on.

“Oh, we’ll just have to manage.” Left is already up and at it.

“Somehow or other.” Right is playing along for now.

“Thank you for your confidence.” Paul’s reply does not sound confident in the slightest. He follows them through a curtain doorway. I’d say, ‘poor bastard’, but he doesn’t deserve my sympathy right now.

Hyde is creeping on Maria now.

“Keep away from him, he is dangerous.”

Yeah. To medium sized rodents.

Actually, considering Hyde is nothing more than a big, smelly, greasy, slimy rat –

Nah, wouldn’t want to give the poor thing indigestion.

“Your friend talked to me like a common whore.”

I assumed you two knew each other? I don’t know, they are weird and vague on that. Alan says he’s tried, then claims what names she uses in bed, and she did throw the drink on him afterwards. I’ve no idea.

I will give this to Hyde: He is a smooth talker. He is also, however, still a bastard.

And the makeup they used on this actress is not flattering at all. I’ve seen pictures of her, and she was beautiful. They somehow made her look hideous. ‘Impertinent’ is a word, though not quite the one I would use for this piece of garbage.

I love putting subtitles on. They’re so dumb.

(Soft sensual music) my ass.

Of course they shag. Why wouldn’t they?

She’s given him an in, now… “You do not buy, you do not beg.” A man who ‘takes’. No, do not give him that.

“A nice, cold wife.” I’m so furious.

They do have a servant! An old woman. Probably a concession after years.

“Mr. Hyde.” Creep.

‘Nanny’.

“Lately, this house has become unused to visitors.”

“The wife of a recluse…”

Trying to sweet talk a woman in love will not go over well for you.

Paul’s??? Paul’s friendship. What a save.

“The question of trespass hardly arises. Mr. Allen has no property rights in me.”

And as for Henry: “Henry leads his own life. He doesn’t seek my approval, and I don’t seek his. Is that wrong?”

OOOOOOFFFFF.

Sweet talk till you talk like that.

“To the boredom of being a neglected wife, and the humiliation of being a rejected mistress.”

It almost felt like she was into the flirting till he said that, but I still get the feeling she wouldn’t have slept with him. You can enjoy flirting, some people do it for a living, but not the act that comes after. As I said before, Kitty wears many masks. This one is short-lived. Hyde has insulted her, and the change in her demeanor is like a switch.

Kitty loves too deeply, to be reminded of her first failing, and the possibility of her loss of Paul is a kick in the teeth. Is she not worth loving? Is science, money, knowledge, other women – is she just no match? Can she have nothing out of this?

“I must say, you are honest. A trifle obvious, perhaps, but honest.” And too close to the surface, too close to the proverbial nail. Kitty is genuinely afraid of losing Paul, and it shows. She’s clinging onto something she feels she can’t hold onto, whether for her already damaged pride or because she doesn’t want to be hurt again. Her face only really started to shift when he said mistress.

“My great affair has already begun.” She’s pulling herself so easily from his arms. He talks about great love since he felt her in his arms, and she just turns away with this casual walk of a knowing woman.

“It was well advanced before ever you appeared on the scene.” She looks almost proud, though there’s still this edge to her. She expects it to crash and burn. She’s just waiting for it.

“I wonder what is the special quality in a man as weak, unscrupulous, and utterly unreliable as Paul Allen?” This really bothers him. Hyde is essentially Jekyll unchained, a copy of the inner, dark urges of one man laid bare, and given free run of the place… And he’s a total rat bastard.

And Kitty is smiling. Kitty is overjoyed.

“I don’t question your description, Mr. Hyde.” She’s radiating with delight. Even that description of Paul in all his awful glory stirs nothing but happiness in her.

“Well then, but why…” And he’s reaching for her, stroking his fingers over her back. It’s this odd mimicry of how Jekyll tried to hold her that night. Ugh.

“I merely happen to love him.” Yes! SHE SAID IT!

“Love? Love is an idiocy!” And she’s laughing again. I’m beginning to believe Kitty uses laughter to cover her pain. Hyde/Jekyll McShitFace uses rage.

“An idiocy of mine, perhaps, but a fact.” Then we get this beautiful close up of her face, the vindication with which she says it has me living –

“I love Paul Allen.” Love, you must be so blind and so wonderful.

(Ominous music). As Hyde descends back to his basement to turn back into Jekyll. Back to the sewer, your garbage monster.

Ernst is here. Okay, something weird is happening again. Jekyll has a heightened metabolism. Probably from sustaining two rat bastards instead of one. I’ve no idea how much time has elapsed, but quite a bit I’m guessing. A week? A month? Another year? Nah, probably more like a week or so.

Jekyll’s life is “burning out at a much faster rate.”

Kitty is fed up with being Paul’s ‘bank clerk’. Yeah, let’s bring Henry into this. ‘Let him deal with life’s little problems and leave us its gaiety’? You are a cad. Why do you love him again, Kitty? You can do better.

She’s sick of being used.

“How can you talk of our love in this way?” Love? Is this the first time you bring it up to her? While asking for money? Aklsjdfkasjdf

Men are annoying.

“You hypocrite!” Thank you.

Debts of honor, my pale ass.

He’s going to Henry.

Ernst knows he’s addicted to something. He says it’s more damning, whatever it is.

At least Paul is honest. Jekyll is being cold to him now. He knows about him and Kitty now. He goes back to his work desk. ‘Going away’. Right. Run.

Paul gets nothing. Notes something must be wrong with him.

Kitty is worried about Paul now.

And fuck – Jekyll is giving full power of his shit to Hyde. His estate, his money, his assets, everything goes to Hyde. This happened in the book, of course, but this completely cuts Kitty off as well.

Also, he even says he’s using Hyde to ‘learn all he can’. You pretty much know it all. Kitty, your wife, is in love with your ‘friend’, Paul. It’s not that hard. You’ve effectively been gaslighting them from the beginning.

“For do I want to return to a life of frustrated isolation and loveless misery?”

I.

I have…

So many problems with this statement alone.

You left your wife, even said it yourself, neglected. For years. So much so, that she’s alone as well. Of course she searched for something beyond you, when you chose to isolate yourself first… And you know what? I’m happy for Kitty, she found something, someone to love and love her in return. Is it perfect? No, but –

Anything and everything can be traced back to you, you sorry sack of literal shit. I’m about to lose it. He’s reaping what he’s sewn, and now he’s trying to escape it.

I’m so pissed off.

He drinks more stuff. Great. The return of The Literal Worst is upon us.

Wow… Never heard Christopher Lee say that before –

“Damn bad luck you’ve been having, I hear, Allen, old man.” Some man comments on the state of Paul’s life, which has gone to hell in a handbasket.

“Damn bad luck.” Paul’s agreement seems to taste as bad as the cigarette he’s smoking. I wonder how many are his, in that overflowing mound of ash and stumps, at the center of the table.

“Oh, well, luck’s a bitch, old boy.” Not sure that was a saying yet, but maybe this is the one that starts the trend.

“Oh, I shouldn’t think so.” Paul looking like he’d like to swallow down the rest of the decanter on the table, with Hyde being the creep that just walked in. “I’ve always had the best possible luck with bitches.”

I just about spit my tea. Not even kidding.

“Almost always, anyway.”

You’re terrible. Kitty should leave without either of you.

How is this review over 4K words? Who’s still reading this?

“Women aren’t a weakness they’re a recurrent necessity.” Paul. Paul. What are you doing?

‘Oldest mistress’.

Paul. You’re awful with money and it’s obvious.

They’re going to go out on the town. Like bastards. Hyde is The Literal Worst.

Snap shots of London’s underbelly during the 1700s… Brawling, lots of drinking and bad singing, and… smoking? Opium? Hooka? Who the fuck knows anymore.

Paul’s out. Hyde is doing the 100-yard Creep Stare.

Paul is out making debts again. ‘Honorable’ ones, at least.

Now he’s out of ideas. It’s been a week. He spent all that money – 5,000 in a week. Ouch. “But you, are a fool.” We agree on that. That is the only thing Hyde, and I will ever agree on.

“And I’ll try Kitty.”

Ha.

Haha.

You can see the wheels turning unpleasantly in Paul’s head. His brow is doing that furrowed thing when he’s confused.

“What the devil do you mean, Hyde?” You know what he means, you just don’t want him to go on. You’re hoping he doesn’t mean what you think he means.

“Well, that should be simple enough for even you to understand.” Again, insulting people while mixing in kind words, though his next ones are far from kind: “I am telling you to obtain your mistress for me.”

Paul is rising out of his chair. His brow is still doing that furrowed thing, but it has gotten even deeper. The rage is coming, a wave that was slow to foam, but quick to rise.

“You unspeakable devil.” There’s still some disbelief, but there’s no denying the shock.

Hyde is doing the creep laugh with a – “How very amusing.” Now you can see the anger, it’s chiseling its way into his features, hard and sharp.

“Paul Allen, breaker of every law in the moral code, is shocked into morality.”

Full blown: I’d punch the ever-living hell out of you. I’m about to.

“You vile, disgusting degenerate.” His lips are quivering. He’s barely holding it together.

“Be rational, my friend.” You’re pushing him far beyond ‘rational’. “I’m asking for the temporary loan of a proven adulteress, of whom you yourself have grown somewhat tired.”

First of all: fuck you. Second of all: Kitty already said he has no property rights to her.

“You go back to hell!” Paul. Punch. Him.

Oh… Wait… Yeah, he’d probably get in trouble for that. And then be sent to jail. And I doubt he wants to be in there while Kitty is out here with this lunatic. Yeah, running out before you lose it seems wise.

Still should have throttled him a bit.

Now what is The Literal Worst doing? Going back to the house…

And sneaking into Kitty’s room. You creep. I’ve never wished to jump through a television screen more.

They only have one servant, ‘Nanny’, is her name.

He’s blackmailing her. With Paul’s notes. Fuck. ‘Buy him back’.

She’s laughing. Yes, that is Kitty’s response to being uncomfortable.

“You utterly repel me.” YES! Go girl! She laughs as he storms out, tossing the notes away. Then she closes and locks the door, pressing her back to it. She was probably more than a little terrified.

Hyde assaults a homeless man, shoving him down, and steps over him. That was in the book… Then back to some cesspit that Paul showed him.

There’s something weird going on here with Hyde and this girl.

Cut to Kitty and Paul snuggling. And kissing. This is the quality content I came for. He’s wearing the same shirt from earlier… Which means he probably took a good long walk, had a small conniption, and then went straight to her.

“Why does love make us behave so hatefully to one another?” Yeah, well, Paul has been the terrible one here.

“Because we’re cowards, my darling. We want everything.” I’m not sure what Paul’s deal is, why he is the way he is… He could just be an ivy league guy who grew up, not knowing how to handle money, he might not come with as much baggage as the rest of them.

Why can’t they just be happy and cute?

Go away? Start a new life? Yeah, do that.

Right now.

Leave.

Before Jekyll McShitFace gets back.

Ah, they planned to mug Hyde, using the girl as a means to dupe him. Seems about right. Also deserved.

Ah, Kitty is leaving Jekyll. About bloody time. Also, the wrong time, considering the whole Hyde business.

Jekyll has destroyed his drugs, though admits that Hyde’s grip is too powerful. Right. As if Ernst didn’t warn you it was an addiction. “No degeneracy is low enough to satisfy him.” You mean you, right? Because, he is, after all, you.

The kids are back in the garden. This can only end well.

Oh, they’re leaving. Good…

Paul and Kitty are making out again. Good for them.

Jekyll shoved a kid. Bad for him.

Same little girl who’s always trying to give him flowers. Yeah, he’s losing it. Rushing back into lab to pen a last will and testament one can hope –

Nope, no such luck.

‘Exorcise him’. Right.

Handwriting switch. Interesting.

Paul admitting to Kitty he’s in trouble with Hyde.

If looks could kill.

Hyde lures them with an invitation from Jekyll, about their last evening together being ‘gay’.

Kitty doesn’t want to go, she’s frightened. Listen to your gut.

Paul wants to stay, because they think he’ll settle. Kitty agrees.

Fuck.

Cabaret. Ugh.

Someone get me out of here. Lots of underwear. This is painful.

Hyde making plans to meet with Maria before meeting with Paul and Kitty, who’s dressed for a funeral. Paul. Don’t. Go. Of course, he does.

Up to Maria’s room. Piss it.

More cabaret. I’ll hand it to you ladies; you can cartwheel and front flip. That is impressive. Also, I’m completely serious, because the amount of muscles it takes to do that are insane. Flexibility is also key. Congrats ladies.

Paul meets with Hyde.

“Surely we can keep Kitty out of this.” He knows something’s up and didn’t want to involve her. Smart, but also stupid.

“Hardly.” Hyde’s reply sets my teeth on edge.

Paul. Don’t go into that room. To meet him in private. Fuck me. Backwards. Paul.

A ball python. How dangerous. Paul. There’s a table right there. Squish the fucker. I mean, I’m against animal cruelty, but in the case of the story, that thing is supposed to be deadly. Squish. Squish. Otherwise, leave him the fudge alone and he’ll leave you alone.

Kitty… Don’t go with the creepy man. Listen to your Creep Radar.

Paul’s dead. Kitty doesn’t deserve this. Don’t –

I hate this. I hate this. Paul is literally dead in the other room.

I’m writing so much fix-it fic for this, you won’t believe.

This review is 18 pages long. If you’ve made it this far, may the gods have mercy on you, because my wrath at this point is endless.

Maria is in Jekyll’s house. He told her to go back to that house, put on Kitty’s clothes –

“The pattern of justice is complete.”

Rot. In. Hell.

Paul and Kitty deserved better. They deserved each other.

Kitty waking up, gods’ I hate this. She’s a wreck. Her hair, her clothes… You can tell she’s about to be sick. She’s barely holding it together. There’s a fucking note… A note leading her to the snake… She finds Paul dead. She’s already shellshocked. Out onto the balcony…

“Paul.” Her last word.

She plummets over the balcony, through the glass roof, and –

Cut to Maria saying: “I love you Edward.”

“I can’t love.” We can agree on two things. Those two things.

“I must be free.” Right before murdering Maria.

Jekyll finally takes back over, rightfully horrified, and runs back to his lab. With three corpses under his belt.

What an interesting mirror effect…

“Why must you destroy?”

“I must be free.”

Then we go back-and-forth, about who murdered, who revenged, and who was wronged. They weren’t in Hyde’s way, but Jekyll was. He doesn’t ‘feel’. Yeah, right…

Hyde is every dark, terrible impulse Jekyll has had, given life and form. His desire to be free, to run rampant, has been a desire of Jekyll’s since the beginning. Free the beast so he could kill it… Then proceeded to twist it to gaslight his wife, his friend, and everyone else. He was living a life, a lie, a sham. The desire for freedom from persecution for our desires, to be allowed to do what we want, when we want, without judgement has been an overarching theme in all of society. People are persecuted for what pronouns they want to use, for how they eat, how they dress, how they talk –

However, because Hyde is merely a reflection, one can assume his desire for freedom is mirrored in Jekyll’s continued desire for the same. Jekyll wants to continue to exist, so Hyde must desire to exist in turn. He’s still composed completely of Jekyll’s desires.

He says he doesn’t feel, yet there is a desperation, a fear in his voice when he says: “You must lose, Jekyll.” Because he’s afraid he won’t. He’s horrified by the idea of being trapped forever, of their relation being found out…

Cut to Inspector being on the case at The Sphinx.

Wow, a lady in gentleman’s clothing runs The Sphinx. Nice.

Jekyll trying to leave a letter to Ernst. Yeah, that’ll go over well. He calls a street cleaner over to take his note to Ernst, but of course, Hyde has to upset that plan.

Again, I give props to the actor for the massive amount of voice switching, and playing the ‘tortured’ scientist, and the King of the Creeps.

Hyde is about to kill this street cleaner. Mate, why did you come into this guy’s house to randomly move something for him? He shoots him in the back, of course…

The Inspector arrives! Not in time…

Hyde is about to torch the place. Of course he is.

He puts up a performance for the police, saying Jekyll is nuts… Whole place is on fire, with street cleaner acting as a sub-in for the body of Jekyll.

I swear, if this fucker gets away with this, I will riot.

Is nobody seeing the Creepiest Grin of the Century?

No, of course not, they’re trying to fight a raging fire.

And of course, there’s a court hearing over the whole thing. Jekyll went nuts. True. He was addicted to drugs. Also true, though it’s not any kind ever seen before. Sought vengeance for imagined slights. True again.

“Fortunate to have escaped – “

Screw you.

Death by suicide. If only.

Do not tell me this is how this movie ends.

“A fine man. A fine – “

Shut up Ernst.

“The higher man.” Shut your face hole, Hyde.

Jekyll is coming out.

“I must leave immediately.” Oh no, you don’t, you bastard.

“Help me.” Keep talking, Jekyll. Get out of there. Confess. You deserve it.

Lots of struggling here. Again, props to the actor.

Inspector, Ernst, and everyone are watching. Do it now, you bastard.

He turned back into Jekyll!

Finally! You did something useful!

He looks really old. Apparently being Hyde aged him decades.

You can still rot in hell.

“I have destroyed him.”

“And yourself, my poor friend.”

“Only I could destroy him.” Dramatic pause. “And I have.”

He’s arrested.

Abrupt Hammer Horror Ending.

Kitty and Paul deserved better.

This review is 20 pages long, over 6K words, and it took me 4 hours to get through it because I kept pausing and rewinding to quote.

You’re welcome.

[bbbrats]

baby, i don’t feel so good

pairing: idol!jungkook x reader

genre: domestic au, whole lotta fluff, tiny bit of angst, established relationship

rating: 16+

warnings: nothing too bad really, jk is mad at you, cuddling, throwing up, so much fucking domesticated fluff, jk is a really good boyfriend, but no jk is like really fucking mad tho, SO MUCH FLUFF

summary: you didn’t mean to miss the award show, but by god you were sick as hell. and you didn’t mean to miss all of his phone calls and texts, but how were you to reply when you were passed out in the bed with a headache and fever?

A/N: this is just a slight drabble since I got this idea last night. i guess this is a boyfriend!au drabble series cause i’ll be doing the other members as well so hehe ! (this also ended up being longer than I expected so im so sorry)

You were passed out in the sheets, the feeling of sweat sticking to your skin along with your soaked clothes and wet spots on the pillows from your face. Your very flushed and clammy face.

You were so fucking sick.

Eyelids feeling heavy, you threw yourself out of the bed and rushed to the bathroom on wobbly legs, tears falling out of your eyes as you threw up just barely making it to the toilet, the gross and chunky substance coating the pristine white and covering your tongue in bile, only making your stomach clench harder and you sobbed as you felt another wave come up and gush right out of you. This was not fun.

At the moment you didn’t even have the energy to stand, until you heard the front door opening and then slamming shut with a loud BANG, your heart lurching in your chest and stomach tightening at the loud noise. “Y/N!”, you heard your voice being yelled from the living room and connected kitchen. It was your boyfriend, Jungkook. He sounded pissed, and you stood immediately causing a wave of dizziness to slap you across the face hard, yet you pushed through, navigating your way through the poorly lit bedroom and out into the hallway, the edges of your vision blurring as you stepped slowly down the stairs, clutching the railing for dear life.

As you stepped into view, Jungkook’s hands balled and unballed, and you flinched as you felt his fury seeping off him in waves. You had never seen him this mad before, and you were wondering what could’ve possibly happened that could make your sweet bunny boy so furious- oh.

You fucked up.

You knew you fucked up as soon as the thought clicked. 

“The fucking award show”, your mind screamed.

Instantly you started spewing apologies, trying to explain to him why you missed such an important night but he cut you off with a firm snap of your name, and you shut up instantly, legs weakening when he inhales and stares straight into your eyes, his mouth twisted in a angry frown, “Not only did you miss one of the most important nights for me, you didn’t even answer your fucking phone, Y/n!”, he snapped, a scoff leaving his lips when he watched you sway slightly at the brutal tone, “I needed you there for me! That’s your fucking job, in case you didn’t know; to be by my side when I need you”, and your mouth opened and closed repeatedly in fear and guilt. 

In all the four years you’ve been with Jungkook, you’d never missed a thing, and never seen him this pissed off. It hurt you to know that you did this, remembering your voice promising him no matter what that you’d make it. And even when you made that promise a week ago, you were sick. Tears welled in your eyes as he stared at you, unmoving and unwavering in his complete anger. It scared you when Jungkook was mad in general, but at you, it was almost unbearable.

“Can you even answer me”, he screeched, his voice suddenly loud and primal, and it shook you, your mind screaming in pain and the edges of your vision blurring once again. You felt your knees shake, and you whimpered, bringing a hand up to your ear that particularly felt damaged, and you heard the faint laugh come from Jungkook. It was a humorless laugh that struck fear into your heart as you tried not to utterly drop to the floor in a heap of utter pain. 

Everything hurt. Your knees felt weak, your legs felt wobbly, your head was pounding, your stomach churned and twisted until you were doubled over, tears streaming down your face and your lower lip trembling. Not only did you feel like shit on the outside, now you felt like shit on the inside for abandoning Jungkook. 

Across the room, this all looked like you were just crying in disappointment, and it hurt Jungkook but he was just so angry, and he couldn’t help what he said next, “Get away from me, Y/n. Just go, I don’t wanna see your face right now. I need to calm down”, he whispered, his head turning away from your figure. 

The words mixed with the blood rushing in your skull caused you to sob out loud, your body protesting as it whipped around so you could run up the stairs and throw up, but you barely made it to the fourth step before your legs crumpled and you went tumbling back down the stairs. 

Jungkook’s head whipped around in shock as he watched you try to make one final attempt to pull yourself back together and stand up, the edges of your vision blurring one last time before everything went dark and you heard a voice yelling your name, and then nothing.

In horror, Jungkook watched your body limp and hit the table next to you before crumpling to the ground, a slight choking noise coming from you and he rushed over, turning you roughly onto your side to keep you from choking to death. Just as he though, puke started to dribble out of your mouth, and once he was sure ou were finished, he cleaned you up with paper towels and carried you upstairs to the bedroom, his heart tangled in heaps when he realized what was really wrong with you. 

You were so sick. 

His eyes traveled from the sweat damp sheets to the strewn about covers with used tissue and cough drop wrappers, to the faint smell of vomit coming from the bathroom. His gaze then dropped to your limp figure in his arms and his eyes watered, his heart breaking at remembering everything he said to you in his stupid fucking tantrum. 

No wonder you didn’t come. You never missed something, and you were obviously sick as hell. He placed a kiss on your forehead and laid you gently on the couch in the living room before running back upstairs and changing the bed sheets, cleaning up the wrappers and tissue, cleaning the bathroom, and running you a bath in the newly disinfected bath tub, remembering to toss a vanilla scented bath bomb in and going to your shared closet to pick out clothes. 

He choose his favorite basketball shorts and a pair of boxers, choosing to leave his torso uncovered because he knew how much you loved to be held against his warm body, and opting to pick out one of his white tees, some fuzzy socks, and a pair of panties for you. 

After he prepared the bathroom and placed fresh towels near the bathtub, he crept downstairs to see you still passed out, so he walked over and picked you up into his arms again, carrying you back up the stairs and into the bathroom, before stripping you and himself and getting into the tub with you between his legs, your back flush against his chest as he placed butterfly kisses against your skin to wake you up.

Eventually it worked, your form turning in his arms and his heart shattered at the teary eyes staring up at him, “J-Jungoo”, you murmured, your head obviously still swimming and he hushed you, kissing your lips in four quick pecks to silence you further before beginning to wash the front of your body, and then gently sitting you up to wash your back.

After he washed himself and rinsed you both, he pat himself dry and got dressed, and then did the same to you, only deciding to apply vanilla body oil to your skin to keep you soothed, knowing that you loved the smell of it. Once you were rubbed down and dressed, he lifted you into his arms again and walked you over to the bed, sitting you gently in the middle of it before going back to straighten the bathroom back up a bit and hitting the light switch on his way out. 

He sent a boyish smile to your confused features, the flash of his bunny teeth instantly put relief on your face, and your eyes softened and lips pulled into a weaker one. 

Just as he blew a kiss at you, and you caught it of course, the doorbell rang and Jungkook winked before going to answer it. Meanwhile you dug yourself further into the fresh sheets, the cotton rubbing against your bare legs as you let your eye lids slip shut, awaiting for your boyfriend to return. 

Once he did, he came back with three pizza boxes, two bottles of 2 liter Coca Cola, and a bag full of sour gummy candies, chocolate, and other delicacies that you loved. Your eyes immediately looked up at his suggestive face and you laughed softly, lifting your hands and making grabby gestures to get him to come to you, and he did, setting things up and turning the television on Netflix. 

After three Marvel movies, a horror movie, and two comedies, the clock was ticking on 2:45AM, and you were knocked out sleep on the pillows next to him, curled into his side as he stacked up the trash and put it on the floor to toss away in a few hours. Turning the TV off, he pulls the covers up over you both and pulls you against his bare chest, hearing a satisfied sigh leave your lips and he smiled, his heart doing flips as he tried to get to sleep next to the love of his life.

He loved you so much.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Absolute Beginners

Chapter two: Of Oubliettes and Tunnels 

Make sure you’ve read chapter one first!

“The goblin king!” Sarah yelled, as she pounced on him, wielding a wooden spoon in what was supposed to be a menacing manner. With a cackle of glee from Jareth, they both went down laughing, falling onto the wooden floor of the kitchen. Sarah kneeled over him, waving her spoon above his face as if preparing to strike. Jareth could do nothing but laugh, his hands resting on her hips from when she had pushed them to the ground.

 In an instance, everything seemed to freeze, the light breeze that had been allowed entrance into Sarah’s apartment after Jareth’s marvellous arrival had fallen still. No birds chirped from the tree’s outside, and the Goblin King himself lay frozen on the floor, his hands holding onto her hips tightly, as his eyes glossed over. Sarah looked down at the King, the hand holding the wooden spoon falling to her side, as she raised an eyebrow at the curious turn of events. As quickly as it had come, all life seemed to return to everything around her, and Jareth’s eyes flickered until they found hers.

“What was that all about?” Sarah asked, as Jareth slowly sat up, moving Sarah until she sat on his lap.

“A summons, someone has wished away a child and the goblins are unsure of what to do.”  At Sarah’s quizzical look, Jareth quickly continued. “We have not had a summons since yours precious, and many of the goblins who took Toby that day, are now too old to deal with summons. I now have younger goblins, none of whom have dealt with taking a child before.”

Sarah nodded in understanding, at least she thought she understood what Jareth was saying. Though she had always assumed the goblins were born with the knowledge of how to kidnap wished away children.

“Do you think I could maybe come with you? To the underground that is, not to the summons. I would quite like to see things from your perspective, as opposed to that of the runners.”

The look Jareth returned was one of both surprise and absolute shock. “I, you, What?!” He gasped out, his grip on her hips tightening. Neither human nor fae seemed to remember, or at the very least mind the close proximity they currently shared.

“I’m going to take that as you not wanting me to come?” Sarah blushed. It had been a long shot to ask such a thing, but she had hoped that maybe he would say yes.

Jareth frowned, shaking his head as a smirk crept onto his thin lips. “Dearest Sarah, I would love for you to accompany me to this summons.” He purred, lifting one of her hands towards himself, before brushing his lips against her knuckles. This was certainly not something he had ever thought she would ask. But yet, here they were, Sarah truly was a mystery to him.

The blush that covered Sarah’s cheeks as he kissed her hand, was one to rival the colour of a fresh tomato. “Just give me a moment to change, then I’ll be ready.” She grinned, before leaping off Jareth, and jogging up the stairs to her bedroom. Jareth watched her go, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

 Ten minutes passed, and Sarah came racing back downstairs, wearing a fresh pair of jeans, combat style boots, a simple shirt with a denim jacket over the top. “I’m ready!” She declared with a joyous grin, as Jareth stepped towards her, chuckling softly at her excitement. “I see that.” He teased, before reaching out and taking her hand.

“Hold on tightly, I do recommend closing your eyes, especially for this first journey. I would hate for you to be sick in my castle.” Her fingers clasped tightly around his, and despite the ferocity in which she held onto him, neither could deny the slight spark they felt at the mere connection. “1,2,3” Jareth whispered, and suddenly Sarah felt as if the world was turning upside down. Lights seemed to flash before her closed eyes, and the floor seemed to disappear from below her feet, and suddenly she was floating. “Open your eyes.” Jareth whispered in her ear, as he released her hand. Slowly, she peeled her eyelids open, her eyes adjusting to her new surroundings. They weren’t in the underground, or at least not in a part that she was familiar with. They were surrounded by lush greenery, not a single trash heap, chicken or goblin in sight.

“Where are we?” Sarah breathed out, turning in a circle to gain a better view of where they had landed. Jareth grinned beside her, gazing over the land which was his kingdom, attempting to compose himself before he responded. He found himself still attempting to process the news of Sarah wanting to join him here. The last thing he had ever expected was for his champion to wish to come back.

“The underground of course, just a part you did not see the last time you were here.”

“I don’t see the Labyrinth though? Isn’t that the entrance to the Goblin City?”

Jareth chuckled, his sharp teeth peeking over his lips. “There are many entrances, I would hardly expect all of my guests to reach me by having to make their way through the twists, and turns of my Labyrinth.”

“So, the Labyrinth is only for runners then?” Sarah surmised, as she finished her circle, standing beside the larger than life King. “How far out from the city and your castle are we?”

“Quite a far ways, however there are tunnels that run beneath the entire kingdom, you just need to know where to look.” Jareth gestures towards what appeared to be a large oak tree; however the leaves were in various shades of purple. The lower branches were decorated in lilac, slowly growing darker as they went up, finishing in an eggplant colour. “It is easy to mistake one of the many oubliettes for a tunnel, you must be cautious.”

Sarah moves towards the tree as Jareth follows closely behind, she reaches out to the trunk, the bark deceptively smooth. “It looks like bark , but it’s not rough?”

“Remember precious, everything is not always as it seems.” Jareth whispers behind her, leaning an arm over her shoulder, resting her gloved hand over her own. He guides her hand over the smooth tree trunk, until it lands on what felt to be a door handle. It was cold to the touch, and smooth like metal. She clasps her fingers around the circular object, and twists, pushing out until a door which had no been visible before opens, revealing a dark, dusty tunnel. Instantly Sarah felt a wave of panic wash over her, the tunnel looked exactly as the oubliette she had fallen into had looked.  Surely, she couldn’t have been so foolish as to fall for another one of Jareth’s tricks! Had this nice guy behaviour all been an act?

“’Ello there.” A gruff voice pierced through the blackness, before a torch came into view. Shortly after, the one and only dwarf Sarah had ever know stood before her.

“Hoggle!” Sarah squealed, as she leapt forwards, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around her first Labyrinthian friend. “It’s been far too long!”

Hoggle made slight sounds of disgruntlement, though he was desperately trying to hide the smile the had crept across his wart covered face. He couldn’t have the king see him get all mushy over this girl, even if she did beat his Labyrinth. “Go on, ge’ off. We spoke jus’ last week. You was showing off the new bed spread ya got.”

Sarah blushed as she pushed herself back to her feet, bending over to brush off her dusty knees. She could hear Jareth stifling a chuckle behind her, but decided to ignore it, just this once. “I didn’t have anyone else to show it to! Karen is away at the moment, and all of my friends are out of town!” She protested, resting her hands on her hips.

Hoggle rolled his eyes, before turning his attention to his King. “Tha goblins are goin’ crazy, majesty. They’ve even started tryna set up traps for tha runna. Not sure how ta stop ‘em. Sir Didymus ‘as been tryna get ‘em to calm down. But he ain’t been havin’ much luck.”

Jareth groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his middle finger and thumb. “Hoggle, will you please take Sarah to the castle, I will go and attend to the lunatic goblins, and then to the summons.” He turned to face Sarah, a tired look crossing his features. “I’m so sorry Sarah, I had intended to walk with you myself, though I fear if I do not hurry, my kingdom may be in ruins within the hour.”

“That’s fine, it gives me a chance to catch up with Hoggle, but promise you don’t start the timer for the runner until I can watch!”

For the millionth time that day it felt, Jareth was surprised by Sarah. He understood her wanting to see what the Labyrinth could look like from behind the scenes, but he hadn’t expected her to want to witness the runner. He wasn’t sure whether to be shocked or honoured by her taking such interest in his work.  After a moment of pause, he nods, he blonde halo of hair swaying at the motion. “I promise you, the timer will not start before you are there with me.”

“Thank you.” Sarah smiled, before Jareth vanished from sight, once again, a cloud of glitter sprinkling down to the ground around where he had just stood. “Well, come on feet.” She smiled, as she turned to Hoggle, who chuckled deeply.

“Do ya say that ev’ry time ya go ta walk?”

Sarah frowned slightly, tilting her head to the side in though, come to mention it, she didn’t, it seemed to be a phrase she kept for the Labyrinth. “So, is it a long walk to the castle?”

“Nah, no’ really. It can be if ya stop an’ look at everythin’ ya pass. But if ya just keep walkin’ straight, ya reach tha city and castle pretty quick.”

“What sort of things are there to stop and look at?” Sarah queried, as the two began a casual walk through the tunnel. Neither were in a hurry, as they knew Jareth would stick to his word, and besides, who knew how long it would take for him to gain control of his subjects.

“All sorts’a things, there’s short cuts ta that Firey forest, tha junk city, and all differen’ places ya didn’ see tha last time ya was ‘ere. I’m sure tha Rat King will show ya aroun’ some time.”

Sarah rolled her eyes at the nickname Hoggle insisted on using, even despite know she and Jareth were rather good friends now, he refused to call him anything else, unless speaking face to face of course.

“Let’s try to avoid the firey forest, yeah?”

“Had no intentions of goin’ there. Don’ like the buggers either.”

The two walked in companionable silence, occasionally being broken by Sarah as she asked what certain things they were as they passed them by. Before long Hoggle came to a stop, a door made of wood panels in various shapes stood before them to their left. “And ‘ere we are. This door leads righ’ ta tha castle.” Hoggled declared, as he pulled the door open, the bright light of daylight momentarily blinding Sarah.

“Oh, good lord!” She cried, shielding her eyes from the harsh light, they had only been in the tunnel for half an hour or so, but she had become accustomed to the dim light the torch Hoggle carried, provided.

“Sorry love, just me.” Came Jareth’s accented voice, as he stood in the doorway. Sarah pried her hand away from her eyes, and her vision slowly returned to her, finding herself now standing in the throne room of the Castle beyond the Goblin City. Unlike her previous visit to the castle, this time the throne room was bustling with life, of course the ever-present chickens were nesting around the large, stone room, but there were also countless goblins, all wearing various articles of ‘battle’ gear.  Some with saucepans and colanders on their heads, and others with actual knights helmets on.

“Please tell me they aren’t armed.” Sarah gasped, as she watched two goblins in particular run headfirst into the wall, one wearing a helmet, the other not.  The helmet clad goblin stumbled away, with a dopey grin on his face, whilst the other lay motionless on the floor. A bruise already forming on his head.

Jareth chuckled, shaking his head at the antics of his subjects. “Do not fear, they are armless, and also about to be legless I am sure. He sighed, spotting two large barrels of goblin ale being rolled into the throne room.

“This runner is about to walk straight into something directly out of a Lucas and Henson film.”

“What is a Lucas and Henson?”

My Masterlist

[u-jin]

IT’S ALL DARK

status: headcanon ft. @lockekatirci  situation: first meetings location: somewhere near market zero time: hour unknown, the streets are swept black, even the late crowds have quieted TRIGGER WARNINGS: death, blood, mutilation, gore

DEMON CAT OPENS, POURING TERROR ONTO THE STREETS:

It’s like an animal bent over prey, a darkened image of a not-quite man bent over a not-quite corpse, a carving knife in one hand, fingers stained red and face sprayed, blood dripping from the ends of his hair as he works in the back alley of an abandoned pub. This, he thinks, is art. He reels back and slices down again, a horrible tearing sound, a dull thud. He leaves his knife protruding for a moment, bare hands reaching into a gaping crevice, past bone, past the squishy, slippery texture of human insides, seemingly searching for something, a growl of frustration. He pulls back again, the cold air freezing the wet texture of his skin, and is stopped by a feeling like ice, a slow prickle running up his back, a sensation familiar to one thing -- someone is watching him.

Then he looks up, red up to his elbows as he draws the knife out of the body's ribcage, the air moving and transforming, a face somewhere in the darkness. He stands slowly, making the shadows writhe and shift around him, the light cascading into the dark, his own person being revealed like a feral dog, eyes wide and face beautiful in it’s stoicism, it’s in freedom from hunger in the one moment after hunting, covered in blood and chunks of flesh. He finds him, a being more wraith than man, appearing as if conjured. The knife hangs loosely in Ujin’s hand, curious and open, he takes several steps towards the shadowed figure, face cast like the undead in the way the darkness hangs over his eyes. He pushes light closer, plays with his own mind in the form of illusions, the slow, clandestine drip, drip, drip of scarlet falling past his arms to the concrete, a mutilated corpse lying motionless in the background.

He’s curious, treacherous, he creates the illusions and yet he isn’t sure if he conjured it himself, sanity sometimes slipping in his ache for blood, his draw to the macabre, then the light reveals a face and he realizes that it cannot be a creation of his own because he doesn’t make beautiful things. He draws closer, eyes narrowed, knife heavy in his fingertips, something in the back of his mind saying that he must take this one too, that he has to reap every last creature he sees, he has to devour, consume. He can’t stand the sight of something that appears so clean despite the way the blackness clings to him, something untouched despite the intensity in his stare, but there is no fear, not exactly, instead something that looks as starving as he is, and Ujin wants nothing more than to slice him open and chew on his bones.

The shadows are domain to the beasts and the butchers, and the man appears well at home, he steps closer, eyes molten gold and tinged velvet, narrowed and curious. Who are you? What can you do for me? How he loathes pretty things, hates those that mirror himself, delicate features and dark dispositions, is it possible to be this empty? This angry? He sears molten lava, mouth spitting ash, the ground rumbling with the tightening suture of an oncoming storm, a building intensity in the locked stare of two monsters, two unholy creatures, one caught feasting in his right and the other a watcher, an onlooker, an uninvited guest.

His head turns carefully to the side, his mouth opens his mouth as if to speak, reaches out as if to touch when behind him there’s a clatter, and he turns, paranoid and sharp. He sees a rat scurry from beneath a heap of trash and just as quickly he turns back, greeted with only the image of a brick wall and, for a moment, he appears thoughtful. Eventually his tongue clicks behind his teeth, as if this occurrence was nothing strange, as if performing for an audience of one. He still feels the presence nearby, but worse things have burdened him, far worse has happened, and he turns back around, head cocked and smile returning, wild and wrathful. Another monster in his midst, one he does not recognize, one he’s surely meant to hunt. The features linger, transparent, almost crystalline, not solid or definable but just as vivid.

He’ll be back, he decides, before drawing his knife up and returning to his art project.

AND SO RETURNS HELL HOUND ( @lockekatrici ) , WATCHING FROM THE SHADOWS:

Through static darkness; suspended in the shadows like an invisible fly on the wall; obscured by all living creatures, Locke almost becomes the dead in the way existence no longer stands tangible. Only the nearly inaudible breaths whisper his presence in amongst the night and he’s simply watching. It’s not clear how much time has passed, but in the veil, there’s a weightlessness that keeps time as an illusion; a figment of reality that no longer cares for such trivial cogs in a clock. Not even the metal hands under the steel of Katirci’s watch can attract his attention when such a display of vehemence captures his admiration. A sickening snap echoes; evidence of tendons tearing from tissue, an explosion of liquid bursts from the hacking of meat where silver carves deep, splits open the disfigured animation like a fountain and allows arteries to spurt red and paint the streets in colour. Like a mosquito that pierces with the same necessity to thrive; saps life; energy from a being, a strange obsession with needing to inch closer starts crawling under Locke’s skin. It’s as though that craving for a knife to cut open his own flesh overpowers reasoning; he wants to be in the place of the canvas currently being maimed to forge a new entity. It evokes a memory, the harsh sound of bones cracking a small boy’s shoulder blade in youth; a wail that’s fast silenced when another comes down and drives deep the venom that in elder years swarms the man’s veins like a parasite; a poison that builds him to something beyond becoming ruination.

He’s the god of the night and deities like to be seen; worshipped and offered sacrifices as favoured by most sentients; Lokman as a divinity is an image formed entirely of delusion, though, diluted by his own deep rooted belief he is greater than his own beasts.

Because he stares in awe at the one before him; sees everything in the hues of the man – if he could be called such a thing, the frenzied ghoul that appears to be the reaper of offerings; such a beautiful thing that Katirci’s own false illusion of playing silent spectator falters and he steps out to meet the other; as if only to see his face close up, marvel in the features that are blessed with the sangria that peppers warm skin, melts down perfected features; a jaw that even belonging to something with ferocity; untamed in the actions of the blade he holds can only belong to something of primal nature. Would you take my hand if I wiped red from your face, if only to see deeper? A madman’s misconception, because he already sees it all.

And above that, the stranger sees him. A kind of outlandish stare that’s a myriad of perplexion and the hunger behind the man’s eyes; matches Locke’s own if only by a single shade, so he believes. There’s no shift of eyes to the knife in the other’s hand, knowing that Locke’s own is sheathed in the rear of trousers; a personal measure, opposed to that of protection. For a moment, both men are still, admiring each other and any third eye could assume a standoff, but it’s nothing of the kind; there’s only a drawn need to the grisly and Lokman’s lip ticks in one corner, not as a taunt, but as an unorthodox manner of greeting. It might have been as prominent as firing a bullet, the only shift that begins the shift of the two that’s evident past the two heaving chests that indicate they’re alive.

An abrupt clatter of tin resonates, tears the other’s gaze away, offers Lokman opportunity to disappear; create a new diversion in the beams of black that shape inconsistent waves between the pub’s alleyway. He’s become a ghost again; once more opportunist, stealthy in becoming absent to the other who’s own speed is admirable. But it’s never quite fast enough, he can see the momentary flicker where lowlights project amber street lights over the features of the stranger. It could easily be a dream manifested from hauntings; memories that plague Locke’s head from years prior. But it’s far too real, he can sense it like a false sixth sense that is all in his mind, the need to still capture a streak of red on his own fingertips if only to become closer to the man; so Lokman can be seen by him as Katirci plays witness to his misdeeds.

Then, like it never happened, the brief encounter of two monsters in the dark, the other begins hacking at the mutilated mass, unhinged and ignorant perhaps to any ghosts gracing him. It seems so pitiful to be disheartened, that Locke’s not accustomed anymore to feeling forgotten so swiftly in situations with such merciless intentions. The stranger’s got something better in the dead in front of him. A demon in the rear of Locke’s head, coaxing lies; truths? Into him like sweet pumps of that delicious poisonous venom he’s drowned in.

The briefest emotion, unrecognised – entirely unfamiliar; so fast to fleet from his body like a powerful force uses him as a conduit to another world for just a split second. More so that it’s such an old feeling, he’s forgotten what it’s like; rejection; being unknown once more to the person he’s spent perhaps hours staring at in the mists for the other man to only see him for seconds.

Unlike the stranger who’s hijacked his thoughts; all rationality – if there ever was any, Lokman does not forget such a moment and there’s no denying the bloodied face that he’s memorised isn’t the last painted picture he’ll leave with; a promise. He’ll be the ghost that haunts the man.

[coffeecomicsgalore]

A Night to Remember

The night of the dance is here and Marinette has rung up the team to get the gym looking great. But how will she react when Lila comes along to thwart her plans?

Ao3

Chapter 18 – Planned Disaster

“Ivan, Kim. That needs to be moved over there. Rose and Juleka. The balloons need to be on that table. Alya, the buffet tables need the black tablecloths, not the white. Nino, the stage is ready for your equipment. Adrien, could you help Nino set up the speakers...”  

Marinette stood near the edge of the gymnasium, calling out orders as her friends walked in to assist. It was the day of the event and everyone knew Marinette was stressed. Clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other, Marinette could not lose focus. She only had eight hours until she had to be back.  Being in charge meant that she needed to be early to direct M. Cessaire and her team to where the food would go. She would also need to make sure Jagged Stone and Kitty Section were comfortable and in their respected rooms to hang out and warm up until their performance of the night. Weeks of preparing were finally coming to fruition and the last thing she needed was something to happen and ruin everything.

“Hey, Marinette?” Alix called out as she brought out the large rolled up paper. “Where do you want the mural?”

Marinette looked around and tapped her chin. “Uhm. Right. It goes against that wall. I brought over the clips you’ll need to hold it up.”

Alix saluted and walked over to Nathaniel and Marc to set up the mural.

“Mylene and Sabrina, could you place all the tablecloths on the tables? Every other is pink and yellow. I drew up the idea to follow.” Marinette handed the sheet of paper to the girls. “Once Rose and Juleka finish with the balloons, have them help you with the lanterns and vases. The florist will be here in the next hour with the delivery. Make sure that the vases are partially filled with water – a third of the way is fine – and that the candles are all placed in the lanterns.”

Marinette became lost in her own world, focusing on what has been done and what still needs to be worked on. Everything on the clipboard was meticulously written on a time table to ensure everything will be done before everyone left to prepare for the dance. Thank goodness she was able to wrangle up her friends to help or else she would never have time to complete everything before the event.  

Things looked great. Everything was coming together just fine and was almost completed. Marinette placed her hands on her hips and smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment over the sight. Alya walked up to Marinette and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Girl, this place looks great! I can’t wait to see all the lights and candles lighting this place up. This masquerade was the perfect idea, too.”

Adrien walked up and wrapped his arm around her waist. He pulled her in close, placing a lingering peck to her temple. “She’s right you know.” He gleamed. “Your ideas are amazing and the fact that this cold, old gym looks like a warm, magical evening waiting to happen... well it’s absolutely perfect.”

Marinette smiled brightly and sighed a breath of relief. “I wouldn’t have been able to pull this all together if everyone didn’t come in and volunteer their time.” She turned to Adrien, “And thank you for helping me come up with the theme and working through my crazy ideas.”  

“You know I’m here for youuuu.” He said in a sing-song voice as his eyebrows wiggled in enthusiasm.

She ducked her head to chuckle as grabbed her phone to look at the time. “I’m grateful that I was able to save some money on the decorations and am able to use it to take the volunteers out to lunch.” Alya and Adrien salivated at the thought of the delicious meal waiting for them. “Let’s wrangle everyone up and head on over to the bistro down the street. They are expecting us.”

----

Lurking in the shadows, Lila watched the group huddle together as Marinette mumbled something to the team. The snarl that released from the brunette’s throat almost ousted her and the slight pang of fear escaped heart when she noticed Adrien. As if he had some secret ability, Adrien’s ear twitched at the strange sound causing his head to turn in search of it. Bracing herself against the stone wall, she hid further into the shadows waiting a few heartbeats before looking back in his direction. She only felt the calmness from her tightly coiled nerves when Adrien’s attention turned back to the raven-haired girl.

As soon as the team left, Lila sauntered towards the tables and surveyed the area. She crossed her arms and tapped a finger to her lips. “My, my Marinette.” She purred. “It looks absolutely wonderful in here. It would be a shame if someone destroyed it.” She laughed menacingly for a moment before turning her attention to the room. She made note of what she could do and ruin the repulsively-sweet look Marinette had come up with without looking like Lila wanted to destroy it out of revenge.

Because that’s the real reason she’s doing it. Too bad she needed to avoid being caught, because Marinette deserved all the disastrous things coming her way and she would just love to rub it all in that brat’s face.

Lila walked up to the mural and noticed how much detail Alix put into it. Looking to the side, she noticed a lone paint brush with a few tubes of paint beside it. She picked up the black tube and poured some in the paint tray and took a heaping glob across the mural. “Oh, no. I can’t believe a pigeon flew in here and just smudged the mural!” She said in mock horror. “All that hard work, gone to waste.”

She walked to the table near the entrance and found a pair of scissors. She then walked to each table and started snipping the flowers from its stems, leaving the buds sprawled on the tables. She then took the candles and threw them in the trash. “Oh dear, I wonder who could have damaged all these flowers?”

Lila looked at her clock and decided that she still has a little while longer to continue her rampage before needing to leave and avoid being caught. With the scissors in hand, Lila walked up to the balloons and started popping them. Seeing how long the popping was taking, she decided to just snip the strings and allowed them to float to the ceiling. It’s not like anyone would be tall enough to fetch them anyways.

She turned to the stage, and ran her hand across the speakers. She saw the wires that led to the DJ booth and smirked at her next thought. She unhooked the connected wire and threw it in the trash. Before jumping off the stage, she sauntered over to the microphone and threw it in the trash, untuned the guitar strings to the point of it needing to be restrung, and snapped a drum stick in half.  

Lila stood near the entrance, and marveled at the handiwork. Feeling satisfied, she flipped her hair back as her eyes turned dark with wickedness. “I’d like to see how you get yourself out of this one.”

----

After their delicious lunch, most of the team went on their way home to get ready for the night. Marinette needed to go back and grab a few things that she left behind and Adrien was happy enough to stick around to keep her company. Alix needed to go back and grab her paints, while Nino and Alya tagged along for the short walk. The small group conversed over the Kim’s most recent dare and joked about how much Alix made off of said dare.

But all the laughter subsided when Marinette opened the door to the gymnasium and noticed the atrocity that was left in their wake. Marinette walked in hesitantly, her hand slowly clasping her mouth as she scanned the room. Warm tears threatened to fall and a silent sob tried to escape. Adrien stood shell shocked, but the sound of Marinette’s stifled cry pulled him out of his revere and quickly ran to her side, pulling her close to rub her back in an attempt to console her.  

“Dude.” Nino reluctantly said as he removed his cap to scratch his head.

Alya clenched her fists and growled as Alix narrowed her eyes and spilled colorful language from her pink lips.

All their hard work was destroyed. Someone purposely walked in as soon as they left and vandalized the room.

“Who would do this!” Alya finally stated.  

“Whoever did this is going to get a serious pounding from my fist!” Alix growled as she punched a tight fist to her palm.

Adrien looked down to notice the shocked look on Marinette’s face. The tears subsided, but the look in her eyes matched those of her alter ego. “Bug? Hey.” He watched her lips purse to a thin line. “Listen, we’ll fix this. We’ll all be here to he-”

Marinette straightened her shoulders and pulled out of Adrien’s grasp. Adrien cocked his head to the side as he watched his girlfriend walk towards the entrance.

“Marinette, wait!” Adrien called out. “Don’t leave. We can fix this.” Alya, Alix, and Nino stopped and watched Marinette’s actions. They were worried; they have never seen Marinette go down without a fight. Was this the straw that broke the camel’s back?

Marinette continued to walk, ignoring his troubled cries. But instead of walking through the doorway, she suddenly stopped and turned to face the group.  

A devious gleam twinkled in her eye and a smirk curved her lips. Adrien noticed the quick change in her demeanor and straightened himself as he watched her next step. She turned back again, but instead of walking out, she stuck her hand into the shrub that Kim and Ivan had placed earlier that morning. She fished for a few seconds, wandering through the fake leaves until she found the treasure.

“Here it is!” Marinette shouted as she pulled out a camera. “I almost forgot I put this in here. Now let’s see who trashed this place.”

Alix crossed her arms. “Who wants to bet?” A smirk curled her lips.

Adrien laughed. “I bet it was Lila.” Nino shook his head to agree. Alix did the same.  

“Would she really?” Alya questioned, but she knew deep down that she was the most likely candidate. All her lies were exposed and caused the downfall of the green-eyed monster. It could easily be believed that she would do this out of revenge. She was just hoping that it wasn��t the case.

Marinette walked towards her friends as she fast forwarded the video. Adrien snorted at Marinette’s peace offering to the camera the moment the group left the gymnasium to grab lunch. A few minutes later, the brunette walked in and started her monologue. Marinette stopped the footage as the group let out a gasp.

“That bitch!” Alix and Alya said in unison.

Nino, Adrien, and Alix started mumbling to each other, trying to find the best way to destroy Lila for what she did. Alya grimaced at the stilled shot but then looked to Marinette to see her reaction.

Marinette looked determined. She wasn’t angry or upset, but the fierceness she showed could only mean one thing – Marinette had a plan and she was ready to attack.

“Guys.”

“Guys.”

“GUYS!” Marinette yelled until the four companions went silent. She looked at her clock. “We only have three hours until the event. I need everyone here to help. I can’t call anyone for backup, so we need to do this quickly if we want to finish and get back home.”

Everyone nodded as they waited for their roles.

“Alya, bring the trash bin with you and chuck the stems. Take the buds and put them all in the vases. I’ll help and fill up the vases. We’ll have them as floating flowers instead.” Alya nodded and started.

“Nino, check the stage to see if she messed around with anything. If you need the camera to check, go ahead. If nothing needs to be fixed, come back and I’ll give you something else.”

“Adrien, go and throw out all the popped balloons. We won’t worry about the ones on the ceiling now. It looks like she removed the candles from the lanterns too. Can you go and grab the box of candles from the kitchen and start refilling them? Also, there should be another lantern or two hidden back there. Go ahead and bring those out too and put it where the balloons were. We’ll surround the lantern with any leftover candles from the box.”

“Got it, bug.”

“Alix. Is there a way to fix the mural? I have an idea if you don’t.”  

Alix had a thought but was curious to what Marinette had in mind. “Humor me.”

Marinette and Alix walked up the painting as the former stated her thoughts. “What about if you take the black smudges and smudge it more? Give it kind of an airbrush effect since it’s dead set in the center anyways. Once that’s set, you can then spray paint a graffiti tag with the words “A Night to Remember” across it.”

Alix smirked. “Looks like we had the same idea. I’ll get started now.”

While the team worked on their tasks, Adrien pulled out his phone and called his driver. “Hey, I need a guard to stay at the gym until the dance starts. Know of a guy who could help on short notice?”

Alya stopped as she overheard Adrien’s call and quirked her lips as she thought of something a little more conniving. “Hey Nino? Let me see that camera. I think this liar needs to be held accountable tonight.”

[freudensteins-monster]

There’s Something About Darcy

Found this in my DEAD folder. Apparently I was planning on doing more to it but giving it a read through now (two and a half years after it was started) it seems like a decent enough one shot. According to my notes it was inspired by THIS POST.

There’s something familiar about Darcy Lewis. It takes a while for it to register with Tony at first because no sooner had they been introduced than he attempted to prove himself more knowledgeable in the field of astrophysics than Thor’s girlfriend. Tony maintains that it was a draw, no matter what Foster says.

It isn’t until a few days later, after Foster and Co are settled in, that he really notices her. He finds his way to Foster’s lab in the hopes of arguing with her further over one of her published papers (his own work was going nowhere fast and he was in want of a distraction) but finds it empty save for Darcy. She’s kneeling on a stool, the innards of one of Jane’s machines laid out on the lab table in front of her.

“What the hell did you do, kid? Foster’s going to kill you for messing with her babies,” Tony warns though his tone is light, full of his usual wry amusement. He thinks about helping the intern (he’d completely forgotten her name) put them back together but the thought of throwing the heaping piles of scrap metal out and replacing them with shiny new ones to piss Foster off even more held him back.

“Relax bossman, I’m fixing it,” Darcy assures him without bothering to look up from motherboard she’s inspecting.

“And when exactly did you become an astrophysicist?” Tony demands to know, peering over her shoulder.

“Not until I graduate next year, but I’m pretty sure my computer engineering degree will do for now.”

“Computer engineering? I thought you majored in the soft sciences?”

“Yeah, at 20. But I got my computer engineering degree from MIT at 17. You actually gave my commencement speech,” she adds, offering him the smallest of smirks as she stares at him over the top of her glasses.

It’s that look, that barely there smirk, that sends Tony’s mind spiralling. Tony’s seen that look in hundreds photos and videos and various reflective surfaces. He knows that look. He’s pretty sure Pepper hates that look. Tony has to remind himself to breathe. He leaves Darcy to her work and rushes back to his lab under the guise of getting back to his own, but instead he has JARVIS pull up everything he can find about Darcy Maria Lewis.

Maria? Really? Tony groans, feeling the colour drain from his face. What kind of woman would have his kid and never tell him about it but still give her his mother’s name?

He looks up Elizabeth Anne Lewis (nee Benson) next and tries to answer that question. For the life of him he can’t remember her, but that does little to reassure him. He and JARVIS spend the night looking into the Lewis women – they’re both incredibly smart and accomplished, and Tony would be pretty damn proud to have Darcy for a daughter, once he got over the shock of it - but when Pepper comes to drag him to bed several hours later he’s still got no proof to support his theory. For all appearances Darcy Lewis is the daughter of Michael and Elizabeth Lewis. Tony really wants to believe that, wants to believe that they were/are happily married and that he didn’t sleep with an older, married woman and father her illegitimate child.

Ugh. It’s enough to make him want to take up drinking heavily again. He quickly throws all his research in his virtual trash can and follows Pepper to bed, blaming the minor obsession on lack of sleep.

He tries to forget about it, he really does, but every time he sees Darcy he can’t help but see bits of himself in her; brown hair, brown eyes, smart as a whip, never-ending sass, and that goddamn smirk. He has JARVIS triple check his credit card statements and travel itinerary against Darcy’s mother’s but the results are the same.

He keeps his crazy theories to himself until Cap’s birthday blowout. That night he witnesses Darcy drink Barton under the table and then proceed to put together a fully customised iPod (after Thor accidently stepped on hers) until she passed out on the finished product.

“Tony, what’s wrong?” Pepper asks in the early hours of the morning after rolling over to find Tony sitting up in bed, a haunted expression on his face. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Darcy Lewis is my kid,” he mumbles.

“That’s a weird nightmare,” Pepper replies drowsily.

“No, Pep. I think Lewis might actually be my kid.”

“What? Why?”

“Look at this!” he snaps, waving the Darcy’s iPod in front of Pepper’s face. “She made this from scratch after doing shots of Asgardian mead. Who else could do that?”

“Tony, alcoholism and a knack for electronics aren’t exactly hereditary traits.”

“I know, but…” Tony sighs irritably.

“But what?”

“She’s got my smile, Pepper,” he says, his own lip twitching as an example. “She’s got my eyes, my smarts, my sense of humour… my taste in music,” he adds in frustration, throwing Darcy’s iPod onto the bed. “Her middle name’s Maria, for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s just a coincidence, Tony,” Pepper tries to assure him as she rubs slow circles over his back.

“That’s a hell of a lot of coincidences,” Tony mutters, but he leans into Pepper’s touch, eventually lying down next to her and drifting off to sleep.

 A few days later Pepper is making her way to Tony’s after a meeting, an espresso from the communal kitchen in hand, when she spies Darcy sitting at her desk in Jane Foster’s lab. She fully intends walk straight past but Tony’s crazy theory is still keeping him, and her, up at night so Pepper decides to talk to the girl and perhaps come away able to poke a few more holes in Tony’s theory.

“Hello Darcy,” Pepper beams startling the girl.

“Ms Potts! Um, hi!” Darcy babbles nervously, almost knocking over her own identical cup of coffee. “What are you doing here? I mean, I’m sure you can go anywhere you want, but did you want something? I will totally give you whatever you want.”

“I just wanted to stop by and say hello, and see how you fared after Tony’s party. I hear you over indulged in some Asgardian mead,” Pepper teases.

“Ugh,” Darcy groans. “I swear I’m never drinking that stuff again. I totally lost a day. I mean it, I have no idea where the fifth of July went.”

“I’m sure JARVIS could help you figure that out, if you wanted him to.”

“Oh, no, I think I’m better off not knowing.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better now,” Pepper smiles. She turns to leave but hesitates when another topic of conversation occurs to her. “Did Tony return your iPod? I remember seeing him toying with it the other day and I told him to give it back to you…”

“Yeah, he did. He left it on my desk for me to find.”

“And he didn’t try and improve it or make it sentient or something, did he?”

“Nah. It’s fine. Though I don’t remember ever owning quite that many Black Sabbath songs,” Darcy smiles, that barely there smirk, and once Pepper sees it she can’t unsee it.

“Oh my god…”

“What?” Darcy startles.

“I… I think I stepped in gum,” Pepper replies, cringing at her lame lie, not that Darcy’s noticed.

“Oh no, not your Louboutin’s!” Darcy cries, leaning down to check Pepper’s heels for her. Pepper sets down her coffee cup and leans on the desk as she lifts one foot and then the other. “No… they look okay.”

“Oh… good,” Pepper mumbles, picking up a decidedly lighter coffee cup as she straightens up. “Maybe it was just a sticky bit of floor.”

“Probably,” Darcy nods in agreement.

“Well… I should be going… and make sure Tony hasn’t blown anything up,” she adds weakly, spinning on her perfectly clean heels, hoping against hope that if Darcy notices the switch that she doesn’t chase after her.

 “Tony!” Pepper all but shouts as she bursts into his lab. “Tony, you need to test this,” she says, holding out the coffee cup like she was offering him communion wine.

“Did Natasha switch the coffee out with decaf again?” he teases.

“It’s Darcy’s.”

“Darcy doesn’t drink decaf. Wow, awesome alliteration,” he marvels.

“No, it’s her cup, her DNA. You need to test it.”

Tony freezes then glances from Pepper to the cup and back again.

“I saw her smile,” Pepper shrugs as way of an explanation. “I hate that smile.”

 Even with his top of the line private lab the DNA results still take the better part of a day to come back. JARVIS makes sure the results are for Tony’s eyes only, but he waits until Pepper’s by his side before he looks at them. His eyes flick over the DNA comparison, Pepper squeezing his free hand, and what he sees confuses him. It’s not what he thought and it takes him a second to understand what he’s seeing.

“Sonofabitch.”

 Darcy is ensconced in her Stark Tower room catching up on the astronomy reading Jane assigned her when there’s a knock at the door. To say she’s surprised to find Tony Stark on the other side of it is an understatement. When he wasn’t straight up ignoring her he was just plain weird and Darcy didn’t know what to make of it, but she filed it away as pretty standard as far as her interactions with eccentric geniuses went.

“Darcy,” Tony greets with a small nod as he fidgets nervously in her doorway.

“Hi…” Darcy replies warily. Tony’s never addressed her by her name before and she has to wonder why he’s starting now. “What’s up?”

“Can I come in?” he asks, gesturing at her couch with the tablet in his hands.

“Uh, sure. Can I get you something to drink?” she replies automatically.

“No, no, it’s fine. You might want one though after I’ve said my piece,” he adds morosely.

“Am I getting fired? Wait, you can’t do that, you’re not my boss. Am I getting kicked out?!” she demands shrilly.

“No, Lewis. Jeez, just sit down, would you?”

Darcy drops onto opposite end of the couch to Tony and regards him silently, waiting for whatever horrible news he has to tell her.

“What do you know about your grandfather?”

“Whhhhyyy do you want to know about Papa Lewis?”

“No, not that one. Your other one. Your mother’s father. Did she ever tell you about him?”

“She didn’t know him,” Darcy answers slowly, humouring the troubled looking billionaire across from her. “All my nana would ever say about him was that he was a sleazy sonofabitch and I’d do well to avoid men like him.” The silence stretches on so Darcy tries to think of something else to fill it. “She mentioned once, after a few glasses of wine, that the sonofabitch was rich and that he’d paid for her first house, even if he didn’t know it.” When Tony still remains quiet Darcy loses her patience. “Seriously, dude. You’re weirding me out. What does my absent douchebag of a grandfather have to do with anything?"

Tony offers her a sympathetic smile as he starts playing around on his tablet.

“There was something about you,” he begins. “When I met you I just felt like you were sort of familiar, and the more I learnt about you the more convinced I was that we were related,” he says passing over the tablet. “I was right. Sort of.”

Darcy’s mind reels as she scans the DNA results.

“Wait… where did you… Pepper,” she sighs. “You got Pepper to steal my coffee cup.”

“No, Pep did that on her own. After talking with you she saw what I saw and wanted to get to the bottom of it. Can’t tell you if we’re happy that you’re not my kid or not, but I suppose niece is still pretty awesome.”

Darcy gawks at Tony’s all too familiar smirk and then back down at the DNA results.

“Sonofabitch.”

[mogadichu]

SOAST DRAFT TWO CHAPTER TWO

The Monastery of Kelsh stood at the heart of the green island, rich burgundy wood carved in patterns of leaping carp and blooming water lilies swept up in lapping waves. A gleaming gold sun stood at each curved tip of the green tiled roof. The inside was paneled with dark wood, the walls varnished with oil murals of sailing ships and groves of cherry trees. The floors were inlaid with shining squares of gold and turquoise stone. Sahn’s footsteps echoed as he weaved through the maze of the corridors, pausing at the cavernous scriptorium, where graying monks copied sacred texts by the light of an arsenal of candles and lanterns, their necks growing forward instead of upward. Tentatively, Sahn peered over one of their humped shoulders. With steel fingers, they painted a map of Kelsh along the thick beige paper.

Kelsh and only Kelsh.

“Did she fix them, Ue?” Kale poked his head out of the library’s threshold, hearing Sahn’s footsteps echo throughout the stone corridor. He reeked of sweat and grass, his clothes stained from his morning work in the fields. Sahn grinned, holding up the mended scrolls. Kale huffed in relief. “Thank the Baltha and all who came before.” Sahn followed his father back into the room, barely wide enough for a grown man to lay down in. The walls were lined with octagonal shelves stuffed to the brim with scrolls, each covered in a fine layer of dust, from the molded wood floor to the timbered ceiling, skewed slightly like a lopsided honeycomb. This held all of Kelsh’s knowledge. This was all they knew of the world, and Sahn and Kale knew every one forward, backward, and sideways.

The monastery was meant to be a beacon of knowledge, a scholar’s jewel, a place for every Kelshin, no matter their station. Most of the population being illiterate was either an unfortunate accident or a cruel twist of fate.

The monastery may have been a marvel to behold, but the scrolls remained unread, the gleaming stone never grew faded from the feet of a curious reader. All but few of the people of Katha ate and slept and plowed from the cradle to the grave without ever learning their letters. “I’ve got no time for letters,” Old Og, a rice farmer with thin arms and a pot belly, grunted when Sahn had asked about it. “I wake up in the morning, I plow, I muck, I seed, and I go home and sleep. Besides, knowing your letters doesn’t make you smart.”

“But my ma and da know their letters,” Sahn had protested, “and they’re smart.”

Old Og had scoffed. “If your ma were smart, she would have stayed and been obedient, not run off and opened her legs to foreign trash.”

Tongueless monks glided past the door as the two worked, dust swirling around their thick wool robes as they walked. Sahn breathed in the room’s musty scent, wanting more than anything to vanish among the hundreds of scrolls that surrounded him. He trailed a finger across one of the carved wooden covers, nodding in satisfaction when it came back clean. Not a speck of dust would touch these shelves on his watch. He ascended the ladder, sliding the scrolls back into their proper place. The ladder’s bottom step was missing, obliterated from its brave attempt to hold his father’s two meters of muscle. Kale’s massive feet never left the ground again after that day. Instead, he unrolled one of the scrolls, surveying Maudra’s handiwork. “Amazing,” he said. “You can’t even see the tears. How much did you owe her?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, come on. She always makes people pay. How much?”

“Nothing,” Sahn repeated. “She was… busy.” He went still, the runes on the wall barging back into his thoughts. He repeated them over and over like a catchy song, wondering what they could have meant. “Da, could you pass me a pen and parchment?” He drew the symbols in a straight line, forming a sentence. It was surprisingly maddening. They looked like Old Kelshin, but they didn’t make any sense. Open there a to gate with… with… the final three runes, he had never seen before. “Can you read this?” He passed the parchment to Kale, not needing to look too far down to meet his eyes.

Kale studied the parchment for a long while, saying nothing, his eyebrows, like two mice resting above his eyes, knit together in puzzlement. He stroked his thick shallow beard, his chest rumbling in a low, constant hum. Then, he looked up, smiled, and tossed it back. “Ue, if your making up your own language, again, you should know that I won’t understand it.”

“It’s not a fictional language, Da. It’s Old Kelshin.” Sahn hopped back down to the floor, recounting the incident in the temple. “So, is Sister Maudra going mad, then?” It made far too much sense. The Daughters of the Moon had been fading for years, each one dying off with no heirs brave enough to take their place. Sister Hada was the only one left. Sahn had tried to give her as much company as he could. But the poor woman was still alone in that great empty temple, day in and day out. Moons, Sahn did not even know her age.

“I heard where you were this morning.”

Sahn and Kale both turned to stare at Shay, bent backward slightly from the weight of the crate in her arms, overflowing with jars and packages filled with fresh apothecary herbs. Sahn looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. Kale’s face glowed as red as the clover fermenting in its jar. He rushed to her, seizing the crate. “Let me take that, my love.” Shay’s amber eyes never left Sahn as her arms fell away. Sahn went back to work, suddenly very interested in the alignment of the shelves. Behind him, he heard her footsteps padding closer and closer, until he felt her warmth at his back. “You went to the Daughters’ Temple today,” Shay sighed. “You know how I feel about them.”

“Sister Maudra just mended some scrolls, Ma,” Sahn mumbled.

But there was no fooling Shay Darru. “She’s mad,” she pressed, more forceful than usual. “She’s always been mad. That’s why she’s alone.” Sahn flinched as though she had slapped him. “Of all the people on this island, why do you go to her?”

Sahn said nothing, putting scrolls in the wrong places, then the right, then the wrong again. The first warm day of spring wafted into the open windows of the outside corridor, blocking in the heat like an oven. Specks of dust waltzed about the sunbeams. Sahn wished he could be one of those specks, dancing out into the corridor, into the courtyard, anywhere but here. “First there was the old man in the northern monastery,” Shay went on. “Then, there was that homeless boy. Then, your cousin- oh, your cousin.” He could hear her rubbing her brow. “I just don’t understand-”

“Am I not allowed to talk to anyone, then?” He had not meant to sound churlish, but it came out as such.

“Listen, Sahn. We…” she trailed off. Sahn still did not turn around, but he knew she stood there now, her hands on her hips, her eyes on her feet. His irritation began to melt like ice in the sun. Of course, his mother wanted him to talk to people. She just didn’t want him to talk to Kelshins.

In her eyes, he may as well have been talking to skoiias.

Shay tried again. “There isn’t anything for us here, Sahn. These people won’t… Ever since Jehra…” Her voice fractured. Now she truly could not go on. Sahn faced her then, touching his brow to hers. He breathed deeply, prompting her to do the same, in and out, in and out. The pain, the heaviness in her eyes made her somehow look both too old and too young at the same time.

It was the one story that she could never tell; the story of a girl who ran away from a man who bought her, and returned ten years later with a Vyornish husband, a toddler son, and a pregnant belly. Both she and Kale thought their children did not notice the scornful glares, the pointing fingers, the giggles and smirks. It weighed on them like boulders, their shoulders hunched, dragging them through the mud and muck. The monastery was the only place that gave them work (the pension was barely enough for coal, but it was better than sleeping in a rubbish heap). Kale could help in the fields, but that was expected. The other men could only work for a few hours at a time, but Kale could glean until the sun Tuma made his leap across the sky, pulling the plow himself, leaving the munts to graze happily to the side. Shay sighed heavily, turning her head to rest on the hollow of his shoulder. Sahn wished he could take her pain from her like a dirty cloak and throw it in the river. But all he could do was hold her until, finally, she pulled away, meeting his eyes.

“We’re leaving soon,” she whispered. “Don’t forget that.”

Oh, Ma… Sahn stifled a sigh, forcing a smile to his lips. Shay kissed his temple before trotting off back down the corridor, leaving Sahn to lose himself in the silence.

 “You can’t kiss a goddess, Da.”

     “And why not? You can kiss a ghost.”

     “You cannot.” Sahn’s laugh sputtered into a groan as his stomach twisted again, reprimanding him for leaving it unfed. He hadn’t realized that he had missed both lunch and teatime until the library grew suddenly, immensely hot. He looked up from his scroll to see the sun Tuma searing in through the windows. It mercifully vanished behind the slope of Gleaner’s Hill as Sahn and Kale ascended the zigzagging streets.

     “I’ll show you,” Kale scoffed. “One day, you and I will both climb up to the Baltha itself and-”

     “Kiss a goddess?” Sahn asked, wry.

“Well, now. I didn’t say that. I said-”

But Sahn had already accelerated his pace, hollering toward the glowing windows of their house. “You say you’re going to kiss a goddess, Da? I hope Ma knows.”

“Quiet, you.” Kale slung his gargantuan arm around Sahn’s neck, silencing him with a deep, throaty laugh.

The Darrus’ house stood tall and lopsided, built upward rather than outward, squashed between two squatter buildings like a scroll shoved into a too-small space. The street was bare, everyone else already inside enjoying their dinners. Smells wafted from the string of open windows; fish and rice, wines and sweets and frying bread. But the cloying perfumes of Shay’s apothecary herbs could not be masked. Despite the previous heat of the sun, the evening but with cold, and Sahn craved the delicious warmth that awaited him inside.

“Halt.”

Sahn and Kale stopped short, turning to the threadbare curtain draped limply beneath the front steps. “You are not taking another step,” the voice announced, “until you witness my latest creation.”

The curtain flew open in a flurry of metal shards catching in the dim light. Every inch of Arelya’s cloak was covered in assorted gears and screws shoddily sewn. Some held fast, some dangled precariously from their strings, clattered to the cobbles as she twirled around. The noise was like tinkling bells. “What do you think?” she asked, beaming.

Sahn’s mouth hung open in humoring amazement, but Kale was blunt. “What is it?”

Arelya shrunk a bit. “Well, it’s nothing, really. I just decided to sew everything to my cloak.”

“Why?”

Arelya only sighed. “I’m unappreciated in my talents.” With that, she hopped onto Sahn’s back, her knees pressing into his sides, arms constricting around his thin neck. “Onward, my prized stallion,” she cried. “There is food to be eaten.”

“Ari,” Sahn chuckled through his startled coughs. “Please. If you keep this up, I’ll gain a hump on my back.”            “Good,” said Arelya, planting a hard kiss on his cheek. “It will make it easier to climb. Now, hush. Horses don’t talk.”

Sahn began to walk- hobble, actually- up the steps. “Come on, Da,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m sure Ma didn’t hear your intentions.”

His smile fell immediately at the sight of his father’s face. Kale gaped down the dimly lit street, his face blanching from copper to beige, as the two hulking figures stalked up the hill toward the three. Sahn was suddenly unaware of Ari’s weight sliding down his back. Kale backed away deliberately, placing a steady hand on Sahn’s shoulder. One of the men nodded. He nodded back stiffly, herding Sahn and Ari into the house, leaving the door open behind him.

“Finally,” Shay called from the dining room. “I nearly started without you. Come and eat.”

[sineala]

I wanted to ask about Cpt Marvel, since we got some new info. What is her relationship with Steve and Tony in the comics? With whom she's closer? And what are your hopes for A4 and their interactions in the movies?

Currently my hope for Captain Marvel in the MCU is that we get to see her punching some Skrulls to the dulcet strains of “Head Like a Hole.” (I just want the soundtrack to be every song I ever liked on the alternative rock station in, like, 1998, plus maybe some Sleater-Kinney. I don’t think this is unreasonable, Marvel.) I want to wait and see how her solo movie is before really having any A4 hopes. Mostly my thoughts are “eeeee” and “should I wear my Ms. Marvel t-shirt or my Warbird t-shirt with my Captain Marvel hoodie to the first possible showing?”

As for the comics, I am putting lots of panels under the Read More.

The first thing you should probably be aware of is that Carol’s relationship with the Avengers in general was kind of rocky at the start and she had some terrible things happen to her in the 80s (mind control + rape + creepy alien pregnancy and childbirth, and then getting her powers stolen by Rogue and then getting dropped off the Golden Gate Bridge and left to die and, surprise, she has amnesia)  and basically the Avengers didn’t care (I told you it was terrible) and she told them to fuck off and she went to space. But they’ve patched things up a lot since then.

If Steve/Tony/Thor was the classic Avengers triumvirate, Steve/Tony/Carol is pretty much the new Avengers triumvirate, I think is the best way I can put it. All three of them are experienced heroes and good leaders who work well together on and off the field. They’re a good team, and any Avengers run where they’re all on the team is probably going to be worth checking out.

Carol’s relationship with Steve these days is generally a good one. He’s Captain America. So like most Avengers do, Carol looks to him for advice and support, and occasionally some armed-forces trash talk. You can see both of these things in Avengers: Endless Wartime:

I’m really fond of this moment back in in New Avengers v1 #15 when Carol comes to Steve for reassurance after House of M. Steve gives great hugs:

That panel was the first thing I thought of when you asked about Steve and Carol, honestly. I love it so much.

Steve is also the one who urged her to take Captain Marvel as a codename, here in Captain Marvel v7 #1:

So, yeah, she’s close enough with Steve that she does not hesitate to go to him with problems, concerns, and so on. I think it’s a really nice friendship. Camaraderie between fellow soldiers, I would say is a part of it. Steve doesn’t so much go to her with his problems in return, but that’s mostly because Steve likes to deal with his problems by (a) punching and (b) sulking.

Tony’s relationship with Carol is a little bit more complicated, both because of their shared history of alcoholism and because being Tony Stark’s friend usually means you will be called upon to prevent him from doing something stupid to himself. Probably a lot.

If you’re interested in Tony’s relationship with Carol, an absolute must-read is Busiek’s Iron Man run (IM v3 #1-25). Carol – at this time going by the name Warbird – has recently lost her Binary-level powers and has begun drinking to cope, at which point she starts failing hard at superheroing and gets kicked off the Avengers.

So in IM v3 #7 Tony starts trying to help her, because he figures, hey, he’s been there. He ends up revealing his secret identity just because he thinks he can help her:

However, this is also one of those times when wearing the armor is killing Tony, and, slightly later on, in IM v3 #12, Carol is called on to help him because he’s being an idiot flying around nearly killing himself:

And then she gives him a pep talk once he’s better:

Look how great they are! Aren’t they great?

It takes her a while to actually stop drinking – rock-bottom is her drunkenly drop-kicking Tony through an airplane in IM v3 #24 and putting an entire plane of civilians in danger:

So then in #25 she decides she’d really like to stop drinking, and Tony gets her to go to AA with him:

It’s really an excellent arc for both of them and I highly recommend it. I was under the impression that Tony is Carol’s AA sponsor, but now that I am looking I can’t find on-panel confirmation of that. If anyone knows of any, that would be great.

After Civil War, when Steve is dead, Carol is basically Tony’s one remaining actual friend, and she helps run the Mighty Avengers (the official team) with him and also provides a lot of moral support, as in Avengers/Invaders #2 here, when Tony is essentially attempting not to have a breakdown because he has to deal with a time-traveling Steve from WWII while his Steve is dead and he blames himself:

Man, I love Avengers/Invaders.

More recently in Tony and Carol’s relationship, there was Civil War II, which… yeah. Rhodey died and Carol and Tony were both sad and Carol was in favor of profiling and Tony wasn’t and Carol punched Tony into a coma and the only issue you should read is the tie-in where Justin Trudeau hugs Tony gently and tells him it’s all going to be okay. (Yes, it’s a real issue. Civil War II Choosing Sides #5.)

Okay, okay, if you’re here for Tony and Carol’s relationship, you should also read Invincible Iron Man v3 #14 – there are too many panels for me to post but the wiki has a good summary – which is about Tony and Carol both ending up at the same AA meeting accidentally and having a nice long talk about feelings. It’s probably my favorite issue in Bendis’ entire IM run.

Steve and Tony and Carol are all on the main Avengers team right now but… not much has happened and it’s really too soon to tell what the team dynamic there is like, I would say.

There’s also the recent Life of Captain Marvel #1 for some quality Carol & Tony (and Carol & Steve) content; again, you should really just read the whole thing.

Steve’s got her! And then Tony takes her to the lab, and then they have a heart-to-heart:

Man, I wish Margaret Stohl wrote Iron Man.

In answer to your question, I guess you could say she’s closer to Tony? But Tony and Steve do handle their friendships with others differently, generally speaking; the way Tony and Carol are friends is the way Tony is friends with a lot of his friends, with a heaping helping of emotional vulnerability and large amounts of feelings and/or tears. The way Steve and Carol are friends is the way Steve is friends with a lot of his friends, which doesn’t so much involve that kind of vulnerability, although Steve will be there in a heartbeat if one of his friends needs him. You can definitely see that. It’s just a different kind of friendship style, I would say.

(And of course, the way Steve and Tony are friends with each other is something terrifyingly intense and intimate that neither of them are with anyone else, period, but this is not My Steve/Tony Shipping Manifesto so I will leave it there.)

Also if you ever read Ultimates, Tony and Carol date in that universe. Unlike basically everyone else Ults Tony ever dates, she doesn’t want him dead, so that’s a big plus. (She’s not a superhero in Ults; she’s with SHIELD.)

Anyway, I hope that was what you wanted to know! Carol & Steve & Tony are THE BEST.

[minimickzy]

Betelgeuse || Peter Parker

Where you get trapped in a Ally with Spider-Man for eternity

Characters: Peter Parker x Reader

Word count: 1508

Warning: death (you’re a ghost), dark humor? mugging

AGE 17/18

a/n: this is a Beetlejuice AU 3 part series, I uh, it’s really somethinG and i;m kinda proud so it would mean a lot if y’all would read it <3 PLEASE LEAVE SOME FEEDBACK or let me know if you want to be tagged!

Nothing had ever happened to you as you were walking home before. It was sometimes a bit windy or maybe you’d step to hard and splash yourself with a puddle, but nothing worth noting. But if course that wasn’t the case tonight or otherwise there wouldn’t really be a story to tell.

It was dark out and all you could hear was the traffic slowing making its way down the block. It was so loud that you didn’t even hear them coming. A few men pulled you into a ally, one held his hand on your mouth to stop you from screaming.

You kicked and twisted your body as fast and hard as you could, if they were going to mug you or worse than you sure as hell weren’t going to make it easy for them. The struggle suddenly stopped when Spider-Man, the queens local hero, showed up on the spot. He pulled two of the guys off of you and started to fight them. You took your foot and dig your heel into the man’s own foot causing him to wince in pain and giving you a second to break free of his grasp and run down the alley. Before you made it to the street you heard a loud ringing noise and felt a sharp pain hit the middle of your back.

That was that. You woke up face down on the pavement. Semi warm liquid pressing your clothes against your skin. You felt light headed which you guess made sense as you seemed to have lost a lot of blood. You could remember some of what happened. At least enough to come to the conclusion that you had been shoot in the back by one of the muggers. But it seemed to be morning? The bright sunlight blocking your vision so how had no one found you?

You used the wall to help yourself to your feet and quickly looked around the alleyway before your eyes landed on the red and blue heap on the ground near a dumpster. “Hello?” You called out but the pile didn’t move. You made your way towards it slowly and then tapped it with your foot. No response. You tapped it again and this time a groan escaped it’s lips.

You jumped back, “shit, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He rolled over to be face up towards the sky. There were two bloody spots on his chest, both looked deep- probably caused from gunshots. “Oh my god! Shit shit shit! Help!” You were near hysterics. He started to try and get up and upon seeing the light bleedthrough the wounds, you screamed, “There’s a hole in you! You have TWO holes! Oh my god, I DO TOO!” You pointed right we’re his heart should have been, in its place a hole that you could see straight through. He looked down and let out a yelp.

You took a step back and felt your heel catch on something before you feel back down to the ground. You huffed as you looked for what you tripped on. It seemed to be a book. You picked it up and read over the cover sending new fear through you. “What?! What is it?” Spider-Man asked, “it- it says the handbook for the recently deceased. Which means we’re dead. We’re dead!” “That doesn’t make any sense.” You glared at him, “and us having fucking holesin us does?” “Well no.” You groaned before laying back on the ground.

“I’m gonna go and get help.” You sat up and raised an eyebrow at him, “who do you think can help us?” He completely ignored you and took off yelling towards the street. “Hey wait!” You stood up and started after him but as soon as he went past the sidewalk he vanished. “Shit! Hey? Where are you?” You yelled but there was no response. The people on the street just Kept walking by, they didn’t even flinch.

It was near dark again before Spider-Man fell back into the ally way. “Welcome back.” You said as he stumbled over to you, “did- did you see that? That giant worm thing.” “I don’t- no I didn’t. You’ve been gone all day.” “What? That was like two minutes.” You shook your head, “look the suns setting.” “Wow.” He sat down next to you on the wall. You watch as his expression changed from confusion to Exception. “Then what’d you do all day?” You shrugged and pointed to the mirror you had set in front of you earlier, “look, no reflection. I thought that was kinda cool, also no one can hear or see us. I smashed a bottle and then a women screamed and ran away so they can hear that. Oh and this.” You pulled out a newspaper that someone had dropped. The headline read: Local Student and Spider-Man shot dead in Queens.

“It didn’t say who you were though. Said the Avengers and family decided it would be best to not reveal the identity of the fallen hero.” You smiled at him, “really, it said that? It said I’m a hero?” You chuckled at his reaction to the word. “Yeah. But tell me, who are you spider-man?” He looked to you and then back to the paper. “I’m sorry but that’s a secret.” You laughed, “We’re dead! Who am I gonna tell?” You could almost see the gears turning in his head. “I guess you’re right.” He reached up and pulled the mask from his face. He was slightly younger than you’d expect, you had assumed his voice was just high. He had soft eyes and almost curly chocolate brown hair, cute. “My name’s Peter.” “(y/n).” “Nice name.” “Thanks.”

The two of you sat in a heavy silence. You could hear the city around you but it seemed muffled, or maybe just far away. “Can ghosts sleep?” You asked half-heartedly. “We can find out?” He slide himself away from the wall and laid his body on the ground. “I hope we can, I feel exhausted and I’m really hoping I don’t feel like that for eternity.” You added mirroring his actions.

You woke up to Peter pacing in front of you, the Handbook for the Recently Deceased in hand. “Morning.” He jumped a little startled by your voice and then sat down right in front of you. “Okay so I know you just woke up but i was reading and- Listen to this Geographical and temporal perimeters. Functional perimeters vary from manifestation to manifestation! Like this book is insane! Did you go through it?” You shrugged. “The second rule is the living usually won’t see the dead. I put it down after that.” He nodded but you could tell he wasn’t actually listening and insead quickly reading through the pages.

You got up and became curious of your surroundings. You noticed that someone had started a memorial for yourself and Spider-Man. You weren’t surprised for the outpouring of love for Peter but you were taken aback by the amount of things there were for you. You were just a no one walking too late at night in the wrong place, You didn’t deserve all this. You watching as more and more people brought Flowers and small gifts to the allies entrance.

You sat at the edge, there wasn’t much to do as Peter was reading and the ally was empty except for trash and sometimes a few cats or rats. You realized how much you wanted to go home, see your family and friends again. Be in your own room with your own stuff. Watching the people walk by hand in hand or laughing, it hurt a little to see something you’d never have.

Just as all the sadness and anxiety set in about truly being trapped here forever, a flyer found it’s way, blowing through the street, right into your hands. “Bio-exorcism? Hey, Pete. Come look at this.” You heard him shut the book and walk over to you, “what is it?” You pointed at the paper in your hands and started to read off the words, “Betelgeuse, The bio-exorcist. Troubled by the living? Is death a problem and not the solution? Unhappy with eternity? Having difficulty adjusting? Call Betelgeuse.” Peter furrowed his brows, “Thats is? There’s no number or instructions?” “Nope.”

Peter took the paper out of your hands and looked it over a few times, “are you not happy- is there something wrong?” He looked slightly offended. “Peter, it’s just that we’re stuck in an ally. Don’t you miss your family? Or your friends?” He shrugged, “I’ve been trying not to think about it.” You scoffed, “you can’t not think about something forever.” “I can try.” He ran his hand through his messy curls and took a deep breath. “Look, I say we give it a few more days, we can try to make sense of this book and then if we don’t get anywhere we can call the beetle guy.” You gave him a tight smile, “thank you.”

General taglist

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Peter Parker Taglist

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[aquaticalay]

Coffee (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Here’s an imagine I wrote a long time ago, for my old blog. Decided to post it here!

It’s about the reader in Bucky who are hallmates, and goes for morning coffee everyday, until one day the reader has a depressive episode. Enjoy!

(Y/n) never really had a lot of neighbors. Maybe that old lady down the hall, or that single father with two annoying boys on the other end of the hall. Not that she didn’t like them. She even loved helping the old lady, Mrs. Lewis, with her garden work and laundry, and she often babysits for Mr. McHale, the single father whose wife died a few years ago out of lung cancer. Boys were a handful. The thing is, there was nobody her age here to keep her company. That, was why she was excited when she heard that someone was moving across the hall from her.

When she heard about the rumors, she also heard that it wasn’t just anyone; it was an avenger. That made her extremely happy, now that she could probably count on somebody to help her when she has one of her depressive episodes again.

When her neighbor moved in, she knocked on his door.

A man with a metal arm opened the door.

No, Bucky Barnes opened it.

She felt like she was about to faint, but she tried to keep herself steady. “So It’s true,” (Y/n) had said the first time they met, “The new guy really is an avenger.” Bucky chuckled and held out his hand.

“I’m (Y/n),” She introduced herself. “Bucky,” he replied. “I know that,” she said, laughing quietly. “Would you like to come in?” Bucky offered. (Y/n) nodded, stepping inside.

The first time she went in there, it was a wreck. The paintjob was ruined, the furniture misplaced, and boxes scattered around like heaps of trash. “A lot of work to do, huh?” (Y/n) asked slowly, a smirk growing on her face.

“I’m probably gonna start tomorrow,” he said, running his finger through his luscious brown hair. “What?” (Y/n) questioned, “Does it mean you’re gonna sleep here tonight?”

Bucky arched an eyebrow, “Is there a problem?” (Y/n) just laughed, “No offense, but this place is a wreck.”

“You got any other ideas?”

“Well I’ve got a couch,” said (Y/n), saying it like it was no big deal. “So you’re saying I should bunk with you?” Bucky asked, slightly delighted. (Y/n) shrugged, “Why not?”

“I’d love to,” he smiled.

“How about we go get some coffee first? I know a nice place just a block away. I feel like should get to know the man who’s going to be bunking with me.”

Bucky looked shocked at first, but he smiled widely, “Sure.”

-

That was how they started their morning coffee routine.

Every day, (Y/n) would wait outside her door, waiting for Bucky to come out, normally because (Y/n) always woke up earlier than Bucky. Then they would walk to the exact same coffee shop they did when they first met. She never considered it a date, just some friendly interaction between a regular civilian and an avenger.

Since Bucky came into her life, she never had a depressive episode. She was happy now, knowing someone would look out for her. They even exchanged spare keys, in case anything bad happened.

Sure, being an avenger, Bucky would go on some missions, but when he left, he usually came back after two or three days. He’d tell her face to face whenever he has to go, but when he doesn’t have the time, he’d leave her a note. He refused to text or call her, because where’s the fun in that? Every interaction with Bucky was personal, and (Y/n) wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

Bucky woke up to the sound of his alarm.

Shit.

He was already twenty minutes late. Sure, it was Sunday, neither he nor (Y/n) has work to attend to, but he wouldn’t miss coffee for the world. He got off his bed and got dressed, not even bothering to take a shower. He knew he stinks, so he just rolled on some deodorant and frantically opened the door, expecting (Y/n) to be a ticked off by his tardy behavior.

But instead he saw an empty hall.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. It wasn’t like (Y/n) to wake up late. He knocked on her door and called her name. “(Y/n)?”

No answer. She is probably already on her way to the coffee shop. Bucky decided he would for her there.

-

The walk was frustrating. He got so used to (Y/n) on his side, now that she wasn’t beside him, he felt empty. Over time, he had gotten to know (Y/n). It was pleasant, having someone to hold on to when everything was falling down around him. He also developed feelings for the girl. Something he never knew the winter soldier could even feel: Love.

That was why he loved being with her. It made him feel like Bucky Barnes, and not the assassin Hydra made him to be.

When he got in the coffee shop, his eyes scanned the room for a familiar sight. But she wasn’t there. He decided he’s use his phone. Not that he was actually any good at it, but at least he was better than Steve, thanks to (Y/n).

‘(Y/n), I’m in the coffee shop. Where are you?’

Send.

He waited for a few minutes, but she didn’t reply. So he decided to call her. Sure enough, the phone rang. But that was all it ever did.

She must’ve put it on silent, Bucky thought.

He decided he’d get (Y/n) and himself some coffee and headed home.

-

When he got home, he saw the old lady outside her apartment. “Hello, dear,” she greeted. Bucky smiled, struggling to remember her name. “Hi, Mrs. Lewis,” he replied, smiling triumphantly when he managed to snatch her name from somewhere in his mind. Mrs. Lewis reminded him of his sister, now that she was had grown to an old woman and Bucky stayed young over the years. The first time Mrs. Lewis saw Bucky, she marveled him, addressing him as Sergeant Barnes who served in the Howling Commandos, thanking him over and over again for saving her husband, who was now laying peacefully in his grave. Bucky managed to remember her husband as a soldier in his platoon from his days in the 107th. “You seem restless,” she pointed out. “Um… yeah. It’s just, I can’t find (Y/n),” he answered, hoping that Mrs. Lewis would have a lead to where she is. “I haven’t seen her either,” said Mrs. Lewis, “She should’ve been awake by now. I’m getting worried.”

“Well then, I better start searching for her,” he smiled and resumed his walk down the hall, finding himself knocking on (Y/n)’s door again. “(Y/n)?” he called frantically. “(Y/n), are you in there?”

He eventually gave up knocking and pressed his left ear to the door, letting her heightened senses do the work. He wasn’t able to hear much, but he got even more worried when he heard soft sobbing from the other side. He knocked again, louder this time. “(Y/n), I know you’re in there.”

No answer.

He sighed stressfully as he unlocked his own door, grabbing the spare key to her apartment. Those were for emergencies. This was an emergency, wasn’t it?

He unlocked her door, searching for any signs of her.

She went in her bedroom just to find her squeezed in between the wall and her bed, her eyes red with tears and exhaustion. Bucky cursed under his breath, kneeling, trying to get (Y/n) up. “Oh my god, what happened?” he asked worriedly, lifting her up.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m really sorry, these things- these things just happen and- and I thought I wasn’t going through another one I-”

Bucky silenced her, lifting her chin so they were looking each in other’s eyes. “Don’t be sorry,” He said softly, walking to the bathroom. “I assume you haven’t taken a bath yet,” he guessed.

“That bad, huh?” she whispered, trying to amuse herself.

Bucky took each article of clothing off piece by piece, both of them blushing red when she was completely naked. (Y/n) even tried to cover herself. “No,” Bucky told her, before stripping off himself “You’re beautiful.” She grew redder at his words, and even redder when he’s completely stripped off. (Y/n) started, “What are you-”

“Relax,” Bucky reassured. “We’re just taking a shower.”

They both stepped in the shower, Bucky turning it on to a warm medium pressure. He caressed her, slowly rubbing the soap on her body like she was the most fragile thing in the world.

And out of nowhere, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Bucky?” She called, whispering in her ears. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you,” said Bucky returning her embrace, “Don’t be.”

After the shower, he dried her, dressed her in comfortable clothing and carried her to the bed.

He pushed her back slowly so she was half-laying down on her bed. Bucky grabbed her coffee and gave it to her, smiling softly. “I got you your favorite.”

(Y/n) returned the smile and took the coffee, wiping her tears. “Have you eaten breakfast?” he asked getting off her bed. (Y/n) just shook her head. “Stay here,” he ordered.

An hour later, he returned, with a bowl of soup on his hand. (Y/n) took the bowl and Bucky turned on her favorite movie and sat comfortably next to her. “I’m sorry it took so long,” Bucky apologized. “I had to do your laundry and dishes.”

(Y/n) smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me, you idiot. I needed that.”

He hugged her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “I love you,” He confessed, suddenly blurting out the words. “You don’t have to return it, I just thought you should know.”

(Y/n) smiled softly placing her lips to his.

“I love you, too.”

Bucky laughed. “You taste like coffee.”

-

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