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defectivevillain · 5 months

Text

judgment by the hounds

pairing: Loki Laufeyson & Reader (can be read as platonic or romantic; reader's race is ambiguous and gender/pronouns are unspecified)

summary:

Loki is captured and held in S.H.I.E.L.D. captivity. However, he doesn’t attempt to break free right away. Instead, he bides his time by waiting for something—or, more accurately, someone.

You’re an FBI agent called in by S.H.I.E.L.D. to interrogate their newest prisoner, Loki Laufeyson.

word count: 5.6k | ao3 version

warnings: blood, injury & gore typical to SotL; manipulation & mind games

I thought about writing this as I was reading Silence of the Lambs — I imagined questioning Loki & having a similar dynamic with him during his temporary imprisonment. There aren’t any explicit references to SoL in here, but I wanted to include it as a fandom tag because Hannibal & Clarice’s dynamic really inspired this fic.

This is not canon compliant, and there will likely be some discrepancies. Just pretend this is an alternate timeline. :>

The title of this fic is from I’m Your Man by Mitski. The lyrics “I’ll meet judgment by the hounds… People always gave me love… Others were never to blame after all… You believe me like a god, I’ll betray you like a man” felt pretty relevant to this fic.

The reader is racially ambiguous, gender is ambiguous, and pronouns aren't used. warnings: canon-typical violence and gore (typical to SotL)

thanks anna (@pinocchiospissrock) for the beta! (any remaining mistakes are mine.) luv u and so excited to see u soon!!!! <333

If you told your younger self that your criminal investigative work would earn you a conversation with the legendary Nick Fury, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., your younger self would have laughed. The mere thought would be preposterous. Fury is the face of the entire organization, and the founder of the Avengers! What would a mere FBI agent like yourself do to even earn a moment with him, let alone a full conversation?

Apparently, you’re becoming somewhat renowned for your investigative work. You’ve always avoided the press—otherwise you would have noticed your name cropping up in cases with big profiles in the public eye. You would’ve noticed that you were slowly starting to get more and more credit for your accomplishments; you would’ve been able to connect the dots between Nick Fury—desperate for information and willing to do anything to get it—and you—an FBI agent rising in the ranks for important work with the Behavioral Analysis Unit and Jack Crawford.

Despite these recognitions, however, you can’t quite believe that you’re being flown to the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in New York City to speak with Nick Fury. Truly, this feels like some kind of fever dream. As you’re escorted through the high-level security installments on the ground floor of the building, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not meant to be here. This must be some kind of mistake, you’re thinking to yourself, even as you’re given a visitor ID badge. You’re led into a glass elevator that rises to the twentieth floor, through a cold stone hall and even more security installments. Eventually, you come face-to-face with a nondescript wooden door. The security guard knocks on the door and opens it for you, revealing a clean and modern space with black leather furniture and an array of windows (bulletproof and likely very durable) overlooking the street below. There is a figure seated at the grand desk in the center of the room. Nick Fury looks up at the sudden disturbance, his brown eye immediately assessing your form before moving to the guard in the doorway. He nods and the guard steps out of the room, closing the door behind them.

“Agent, have a seat,” Fury offers. It’s an order, not a simple statement. You comply immediately and Fury raises an eyebrow. For a long moment, tension settles in the air as Nick Fury unsubtly scrutinizes you. Fury puts a contemplative hand on his chin and stares at you. Despite the eye patch covering his left eye, his menacing gaze is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” Fury remarks vaguely. You nod. “I need you to do something for me.” You raise an eyebrow. When he continues, any confidence you gained from the notion of him requesting something of you promptly fades from existence. He tells you about a god with a penchant for mischief that borders on cruelty—about a devastating attack on New York City that left thousands injured and hundreds dead. You had heard about the attack on the news, but you had too much going on to truly process what you were seeing. Fury tells you that this trickster, a Norse god by the name of Loki, is currently in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s most secure containment. It’s clear S.H.I.E.L.D. is desperate for information, otherwise they wouldn’t be bringing you in for something like this—this is far above your pay grade. Norse gods were never mentioned in your training at Quantico.

“Loki has been largely uncooperative,” Fury continues, immune to the emotional whiplash you’re currently experiencing. “We needed to try a different approach.” He looks at you after that. “And we need more information. Can I count on you to do this?” You take a slow breath in. Do you really have a choice?

“Yes, sir,” you respond. Fury regards you for another second, before evidently deciding that your answer is satisfactory. He then hands you a device, which appears to be a pass that allows you entrance into the high-security cells. It’s an effective dismissal. You take it and murmur a word of thanks, before stepping out of the room. With the security guard’s guidance, you’re able to learn the location of the high-security prison and you take another elevator ride. When the doors ding, a giant metronome sounds off in your head. You can’t go back now, you think to yourself as you cross the threshold of the elevator and step towards the reinforced metal door with a fingerprint and retinal scanner. You glance at the guard, who nods and urges you to continue. Somehow, in the brief time that you spoke with Fury, your information must've been registered in the system—as your name appears on screen after it scans your finger. You then lean down and allow the machine to scan your retina, before a blue light flashes once. You frown at the door, before seeing a screen flashing on the left side. You press the pad Fury gave you to the screen and the door clicks, swinging open ominously.

You take a step forward and leave the door open, expecting for the guard to follow you. They shoot you a disbelieving look and take a step backwards, letting the door fall shut. You’re left alone in a hallway reminiscent of a steel prison. As you slowly walk down the narrow path between iron bars, you feel hard gazes boring into your very skin. Someone jeers at you. You keep walking until you reach the solitary cell at the end of the hall. For the first time since entering the space, you allow yourself to look up—only to look into the glimmering green eyes of Loki Laufeyson.

Safe to say, Fury neglected to mention that Loki would be the single most intimidating individual you’ve ever had the misfortune and displeasure to meet. Staring at him through the thick walls of glass, you’re suffocated with a sudden, intense dread. Even if Fury hadn’t given you any background on him, you’re sure you still would’ve been able to surmise this man’s maleficence and cruelty. He has long dark hair, sharp features, and a positively malevolent grin on his face.

“Hello,” you murmur guardedly. The thick walls of glass aren’t enough to ensure you of your safety—that attentive gaze cuts straight through your skin and sinks deep into the bone. The god raises an eyebrow at you, pausing for a moment to allow you the opportunity to turn tail and run away. You very nearly take the gifted opportunity, before you remember that information on the invasion could save lives.

“Are you lost?” Loki asks, regarding you with as much respect as someone regards a pebble beneath their feet. Your hands are ever so slightly trembling from your sides and you stuff your hands in your pockets, suddenly feeling the need to keep yourself occupied.

“No,” You eventually reply. You decide to introduce yourself, before raising your eyebrows at the god in return. You resist the urge to ask him to introduce himself. You know who he is, and you would likely end up insulting him with the question anyway. Unfortunately, you’re going to have to be very careful around him. The slightest word or provocation would lose the information for good. Why are you being called in for this, again?

“What could possibly have possessed Fury to send a mere agent such as yourself to speak with me?” The god questions, echoing your very own thoughts. You take a deep breath and try to steel your nerves.

“I’m a criminal investigator,” you respond, once your tongue is no longer ironed to the roof of your mouth. “I’ve spent most of my life studying how criminal types think and what motivates them. I want to ask you a few questions.”

“Interesting,” Loki hums. He doesn’t seem the least bit intrigued; rather, he appears incredibly bored. “And you think this Midgardian experience is enough to grant you a conversation with me? You know nothing of who I am and what I am capable of.”

You want to be surprised, but you expected something along those lines. A brief white-hot fury overtakes you as you remember the tension in Fury’s shoulders, the withdrawn tone in his voice, how he seemed to expect you to fail. Everyone is expecting you to fail. “I know enough,” you respond, before you can contemplate the consequences of doing so. In truth, Fury had given you Loki’s file earlier. He also left you with a few words of warning. You manage to tear yourself away from your conversation with Fury and focus on what you viewed in Loki’s file. The information comes to mind within seconds. “You caused quite the scene in Germany. I suspect that was the intention.” There is no acknowledgement that he’s even listening to you, save for the intense gaze that seems to be dissecting you for his own amusement.

The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them. “You’re the adopted son of Odin and Frigga, and the brother of Thor. Your real father is Laufey, the Frost Giant King. You’re the God of Mischief. And you’re a constant thorn in the side of the Avengers and Nick Fury.”

“Those are just the facts,” you conclude. You’re met with nothing but silence. There’s an undercurrent of expectation in the air, as if he’s waiting for you to continue. You grit your teeth. Somehow, you have his attention now. It would be best if you didn’t lose it. “As for my first impressions… You’re manipulative, obviously. Cunning and clever. Selfish, extremely controlling. You derive pleasure from other people’s pain. You enjoy being the chessmaster—manipulating your pawns and discarding them the moment they’ve fulfilled their purpose.”

“Beneath all that, you’re frighteningly human. Jealousy, envy, a visceral desire for Odin’s approval, and a thirst for power… You delight in your darkest urges and scorn any of the ones that come close to resembling even a hint of genuine emotion.”

“Now will you answer my questions?” You finish.

Loki’s head is down now. His shoulders are shaking and for a second, you think he’s crying. Then he raises his head, revealing a twisted grin on his face. “No one has possessed the courage to talk to me in such a manner in millenia,” the god remarks, his hands clasped behind his back. He takes a step forward and inspects you through the glass. You remember your fear from earlier. “Who are you, exactly?”

“I’ve already told you,” you answer. You’ve done this song and dance before, and you have enough experience to know nothing good comes from giving a criminal your name. In the few rare instances in which it seemed that they simply wouldn’t give in, you would give a fake name. You weren't foolish enough to try that with the God of Mischief, though. “Besides, that doesn’t matter. I’m here for information.” You repeat for what feels like the umpteenth time.

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Loki says, studying you with scrutiny. Your skin crawls. Everything about this feels like a horrible idea. Not for the first time, you question why you were called in for this assignment. “I’m not allowed visitors otherwise—on account of the last one being found in his home with his throat slit.” There’s another flash of amusement in his eyes.

“Fun,” you remark flatly. Your heart is racing out of your chest, but you know not to show your apprehension. Fear is Loki’s game. “Seriously, though. I assume you want to get out of here in the next millennium.” You remark.

“Au contraire,” Loki replies. It takes you a few seconds to process what he says, and several more seconds to recall the translation: ‘On the contrary.’ You wait patiently for the god to continue. “You don’t really think I’ll be released, do you? And don’t bother pretending otherwise—you don’t have the power or authority to make promises here.”

“I’m not sure why you’re entertaining conversation with me in the first place, then,” you reason. You feel lost in this conversation, admittedly. It’s taking an unhealthy amount of mental energy to keep yourself afloat in these verbal traps.

“Maybe I’m bored,” Loki drawls. In the fluorescent lighting beaming down on him, he looks every bit as royal as he is rumored to be. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to let your guard down, for your mental defenses to fade away and corrode into nothingness before my control slips into your psyche, forcing you to be a spectator as I pilot your body and mind.”

You stare at him for a moment, heart hammering away in your chest. Somehow, it’s that sentiment that cements the reality of the situation. You’re not qualified enough for whatever the hell this is. You’ve interrogated loads of criminals before, but they’ve never posed a legitimate physical and mental threat to you in the same manner that Loki does. You find yourself genuinely fearing for your safety as you stare at Loki’s glittering green eyes.

As your heart races and you take a few steps backwards, you catch a sudden blur in your peripheral vision, before you’re struck with white-hot pain that flares up the left side of your face. You blink dazedly and bring a hand up to your left cheek, only to find blood splattered across your skin. There’s a jagged fragment resting on the floor near your foot—evidently the cause of the wound. You turn to the left, only to find the man from before clutching at the bars of his cell with ferocity—a crazed look in his eyes as he stares at you. Your gaze then falls to the porcelain toilet in the corner of his cell, with a notable chunk missing. That must’ve been where he got the shard. The side of your face is burning, hot blood trickling down your cheek. You press the back of your hand to the wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Unsurprisingly, the wound doesn’t magically heal or stop bleeding. You grimace and set off down the hallway, intending to leave and find a first-aid kit. Just as your palm flattens on the door, Loki says your name.

You pause, your cheek stinging. You feel Loki’s gaze at your back and you know you probably don’t have the luxury to continue walking away. Yet… you can’t bear to turn around. You open the door and walk away, unaware of the furious expression on Loki’s face. The security guard’s eyebrows climb up their face as they see the blood trickling down your face, but you simply hand them the keypad and walk away.

You have nothing in lieu of information and a fresh, jagged cut on your cheek. You don’t expect to be called to the high-security cells again any time soon—not after that complete and utter failure. You leave S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters that day with a bandage on your cheek and wounded pride. The conversation with Loki keeps you up that night in your hotel room, as you turn over every statement in your head. There’s a notable disconnect between Loki’s words and his actions. Furthermore, if he’s truly so powerful, then why is he still contained? You know S.H.I.E.L.D. is well-equipped to handle villains, but Loki is a Norse god. Surely he could snap his fingers and transport himself somewhere else? If that’s the case, you can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t escaped yet.

You avoid work the next few days to fully recover from the physical and mental injuries acquired that day. It’s nice to have some free time, but it is still somewhat dampened by the knowledge that you didn’t get any information from Loki. Fury is going to be, well, furious.

Safe to say, you don’t expect to see Nick Fury on your doorstep one morning, a troubled expression on his face. You greet him and try to invite him in, but he remains outside. His dissecting gaze flits about your face, searching for something. “It’s been an interesting day, Agent,” he evidently decides to say.

“How so?” You ask. Fury glances to his left and right, before taking a small step forward and leaning closer.

“A prisoner in the high security area was murdered,” he murmurs, “He was found in his cell. It seems he was fed his own tongue before he choked and suffocated to death. Miggs. Awful guy, but… we had intended on getting more information from him.” Fury shakes his head. Meanwhile, you’re reeling. There’s no way the victim was the same prisoner who assaulted you earlier. That would be a truly troubling occurrence—one you’re not quite sure you could put down to coincidence.

“Anyway… I need you to speak with Loki again.” Fury continues, his expression serious. He raises an eyebrow upon seeing the slight shock that must be showing on your face. “You seem surprised.”

You nod. “I was under the impression that our conversation didn’t go well,” you decide to respond honestly. Fury seems to appreciate the truthfulness, although his eyebrows furrow and he takes a deep breath.

There’s a beat of silence. “He’s refused to speak with anyone else we’ve sent,” Fury explains, “Since your last visit, he’s been exceptionally…Well. He asked for you specifically.”

What was Fury going to say just then? And, more importantly, did you even hear him correctly? Did Loki really ask to speak with you, even after the tense conversation you had? You’re immediately suspicious.

“Listen,” Fury breaks off, looking conflicted and resolved all at once. “For whatever reason, he’s different with you. I’m not sure why, but whatever the reason, we need to take advantage. Loki has valuable information about the attack on New York.”

“In reality, he asked for you a few days ago,” Fury continues, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. You look over to him in surprise. “I refused. But… since then, he’s been extremely disagreeable—and we’re running out of time.”

“I’ll try to speak with him,” you answer. That’s the best you can promise. You certainly can’t promise that it’ll be a productive conversation, or that you’ll get any information from him. Indeed, the last discussion you had with Loki, it felt as if you were disclosing more information than he was. Still, the prospect seems to be good enough for Fury.

“Thank you, Agent,” he nods, returning the keycard that grants access to the high security area. You take a deep breath and follow him back to his car, steeling your nerves as the city buildings pass before your vision. Once you reach the headquarters, you walk down the halls and head to the elevators. Fury and you part ways as he gets off the elevator, and he leaves you with a brief nod.

It only takes a few steps in the hallway of the high-security cells for you to notice that something’s missing. A cell is empty—the same one that Miggs had occupied before. You feel dread coiling in your chest, yet you can’t stop yourself from taking a step closer and getting a better look at the empty cell. There’s blood splattered all across the ground—although it appears as if someone tried to clean it, since it bears a closer resemblance to dark brown than red. The sheets of the mattress are clean and the cell looks entirely untouched, save for the stains across the floor and the noticeable chunk missing from the toilet.

Your attention is captured by the cell—so much so that you forget your company. “Ah, what a pleasant surprise,” Loki remarks, sending your heart racing as you remember his presence. You take a deep breath and tear your eyes away from the evidence of Miggs’s death. As you break the distance between Loki’s enclosure and you, you can’t help but shake the feeling that he had something to do with the death of Miggs. You don’t have any proof, but the awful feeling stirring in your gut certainly makes you question what you thought you knew.

Loki clears his throat pointedly and you remember yourself. “You asked for me,” you then answer cautiously.

“Yes, but I wasn’t sure if Fury would oblige,” Loki drawls, regarding you with mild amusement. You’re not sure what he thinks is entertaining, so you just pretend not to have noticed his smug grin. “He doesn’t seem to care for me much.”

“I’d argue most of us don’t,” you hear yourself blurt out. You really need a better filter, especially in a conversation as important as this one. If you want information from Loki, you’ll have to be nicer to him. Despite that thought, Loki is staring at you with the same amusement as before. There’s no sense that the insult even registered.

“And yourself?” The god asks, once again reminding you that you’re the one at the mercy of the conversation. You grit your teeth and try to remain calm, despite the overwhelming feelings of inadequacy that threaten to send you down the hall.

“What about me?” You raise an eyebrow.

“You said most of us,” Loki says, “Does that include you?”

You don’t bother to dignify that question with a response. “What do you want?” He doesn’t respond and you resist the urge to exhibit any signs of your growing impatience. “You asked to speak with me—I’m assuming you want something.”

“I have information you want,” Loki states, his eyes boring into yours and sending a prickling sensation down your skin. His intense gaze is unnerving, and you feel as if you’re being intensely scrutinized. “You have information I want. I propose a trade.”

You’re not surprised by the remark, save for the idea that you have something he wants. “I’m not quite sure what information I could give you,” you frown, shifting your balance slightly to keep your body occupied. You cross your arms over your chest and pretend you don’t feel entirely vulnerable in front of Loki.

“I’ll be the one to determine that,” the god says. His next statement is entirely unexpected. “Now, tell me about yourself, your childhood.”

“What?” You choke out. “About myself? I don’t see how that’s relevant.” You break off. Loki’s gaze is focused on you with burning intensity. You take a shuddering breath in and try to summon some information that isn’t dangerous for you to disclose. “I’m a criminal investigator—have been for years. I’m from around here, grew up here.” You end up settling for a mix of ambiguity and omission. Loki seems to pick up on it regardless.

“Don’t lie to me.” His gaze is dark and dangerous. It suddenly feels as if the temperature dropped in the space around you. You’re pinned under the god’s watchful eyes. “I think I deserve more than that, don’t you?” You can’t find the words to answer. You have, once again, severely underestimated Loki’s capabilities.

“Very well, then,” Loki murmurs some time later, after it’s clear that you’re unwilling to give him more information. His posture is effortlessly casual, but you know it’s just a façade. “I can start for you. You worked as a criminal investigator for years in your hometown, until you decided to become an FBI agent. With more responsibility came more criminals, and closer calls. Even so, you began to gain notoriety for your cases. Your name appears in more and more press coverage. Meanwhile, Nick Fury grows increasingly frustrated with me, with the lack of information. He sees you on the morning news and finds his perfect solution. He calls you here to New York, tells you that he needs you for this pivotal role. An exaggeration, of course.”

“You agree with his offer—surely, you don’t have any other choice. Meanwhile, Fury promptly forgets your existence, until he needs you once more. A tool in a toolbox is all you are to him. Why else would he send you to me? He doesn’t have faith in your abilities, Agent—he just needs bait.”

You know it’s true, but it still hurts. Truthfully, you had suspected the same thing; something about the Norse god speaking on your thoughts cements them in reality. Indeed, why else would Fury have called you in? There are plenty of high-ranking officials that would’ve been better suited for such a task.

“You come in here and provoke me,” Loki continues, as if you aren’t even there. He seems entirely in his element as he paces about his cell. “I attack you, then break out of captivity. A group of agents lurks outside to interrupt my eventual escape. The whole thing is laughably predictable, really.” Your eyes widen as you realize just why the security guard lingered outside the door. They aren’t guarding the door—it’s secure enough on its own. They’re guarding you, waiting for you to fail and for Loki to escape. The thought sends a shiver down your spine.

“And, of course, you have a visceral desire for Fury’s approval,” he continues, repeating what you said to him mere days ago. You feel as if a bucket of ice cold water was just dumped all over you, making you shiver and question everything you thought you knew. Are you really so formulaic? Have you been lured into a false sense of confidence these past few years? You try to grapple with these questions, while the god stares at you. “Am I ‘in the ballpark,’ as you mortals say?” There’s a sharp grin on Loki’s face that deeply unsettles you.

It takes you several moments to collect your composure and find the words to say. “I think you know you are,” you respond, ignoring your heart pounding out of your chest. It’s unnerving that Loki could glean that much about you in such a short time span. Despite his obvious attempt at mockery, you know that you need to answer his questions if you want information. You keep silent and wait for Loki to continue.

“Now, you still haven’t given me anything,” Loki reminds you, dispelling any hope that he may have forgotten. You feel extremely restless and steadily avoid his gaze, even when you feel his eyes practically tearing holes through your form. “So, I ask once more: what was your childhood like?”

You can’t afford to argue this time—not if you want information. The glint in Loki’s eyes grows brighter with each tidbit you give him. At his request, you tell him about your past—everything from your childhood home to the relationships you have with your family. Time becomes fickle and you don’t realize you’re oversharing until you glance down at your watch and see that far too much time has passed. “That’s more than enough,” you interject some time later. You don’t feel as if you can truly grasp the severity of your actions just now. Even so, you know that you’ve given him too much ammunition. You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache developing. “It’s your turn.”

“Very well,” Loki responds, his lips parting to reveal a crooked smirk. The expression on his face confirms your suspicions that he was planning on continuing the conversation until you stopped him. “I will answer two of your questions.” You feel your heart drop.

“Two?” You exclaim in disbelief, “You must’ve asked me a hundred just now-”

“I didn’t force you to answer any of my questions,” Loki reasons. Unfortunately, he’s correct in that regard—you should’ve been more wary. You let your guard down and he was content to take advantage of it. “Now, do you want information or not?”

You grit your teeth. Damn it. Two questions is a very insignificant number. You try to remember what Fury told you mere minutes before. “He’s been extremely disagreeable… and we’re running out of time.” You can’t afford to slip up here.

“Fine,” you say. The look on Loki’s face doesn’t change, but you can still sense arrogance radiating off of him. “Why?” You decide to ask.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Loki drawls, continuing to pace about. He looks completely and utterly bored. “Why does one do anything?” You resist an eye roll.

“Why did you do it?” You rephrase. You don’t need to specify for Loki to understand what you’re referring to: the attack on New York, the Chitauri invasion. Surely, knowing his motivations would help S.H.I.E.L.D. prevent instances like it from happening in the future. Besides, you’re not sure what else to ask. As has been established, you don’t think you’re the best fit for this task of vital importance.

“I was seeking revenge,” Loki answers without hesitation. His unblinking gaze is beginning to unnerve you. “Is that what you’d like me to say?”

“I’d like you to tell the truth,” you assert, unable to hide some of your irritation. The god picks up on it and smiles infuriatingly, as if your annoyance is entertaining. Perhaps it is entertaining to him. You take a deep breath and remind yourself to keep calm. It would do you no good to get riled up. You have one job: collecting information.

“The truth,” Loki remarks languidly, tearing you from your thoughts. His answer comes without hesitation. “I was bored.” Boredom. Boredom pushed him to wreak havoc on the city, causing hundreds of casualties and inordinate bloodshed. Loki was motivated by a lack of fulfillment. The thought is extremely disconcerting. On the one hand, you’re not sure what you were expecting. On the other, you had been looking for a more clear-cut, legitimate reason to contextualize his actions. You weren’t planning on excusing his crimes, but if he provided something that seemed to somewhat justify his reaction, you would’ve been able to get more information and also deduce a clear motive to these kinds of attacks. Perhaps that was your error in thinking, though: Loki can’t be a predictor of a pattern. He is wildly unpredictable, and trying to predict him will both waste your time and result in more frustration.

“One more question,” Loki reminds you tauntingly. You grit your teeth, pushing past your irritation. The god seems to enjoy emphasizing the differences between you and him—your mortality, your weakness.

You try to think a little harder. Admittedly, a particular question has been weighing on your mind throughout most of your interactions, burrowing into your subconscious and refusing to let go. After a few moments, you decide to verbalize it. “Why haven’t you escaped yet?”

The god laughs. “Haven’t I?” Loki asks in response. A shiver rolls down your spine. You watch warily as he takes one step forward, then another. From what you’ve seen, the god will often pace about his cell. However, his current movements make it seem as if he has a purpose, an endgame. Loki’s eyes flash. He takes another step forward and his foot crosses the threshold where the glass is supposed to be. Loki grins and crosses the entirety of the boundary, before looking at you with a truly malicious smile. He’s free from captivity.

You can’t even take a step backwards before the god is there, extending a hand to your temple and pressing his fingertips past your skin, into your very being. And suddenly, you’re a child again. Everything you told Loki is rushing through your head all at once. You’re trapped in vivid memories. The world around you is blurred with childlike joy and hope. Your surroundings all seem to fall away; despite your knowledge that you aren’t a child anymore, you can’t escape this onslaught of memory that Loki seemed to force on you.

When Loki removes his hand from your temple, you nearly choke on your breath. There’s an excruciating pain running through your head—strong enough to make you lose your balance. Despite the fact that you’re horribly outmatched, you still try to get away from him. You’re not sure what the God of Mischief wants, but you doubt it’s anything good. This interest—as Fury said—that he’s cultivated in you… It’s dangerous.

You should be dead right now. Surely, were you any other S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, your corpse would be slowly decaying on the ground in front of you. You heard whispers of what Loki did to some of the agents that spoke to him before you. One of them was directly admitted to a mental hospital—unable to ground themself in reality. The thought shakes you to your core.

You take another step backwards, only for him to match your retreat with a step forward. Your balance is growing more and more unsteady as you try to fight against the vertigo threatening to send you tumbling. Your vision is oscillating between painful sharpness and indiscernible blurriness. “What do you want from me?” You manage to spit out through the pained haze.

“Everything.” Loki answers. Before you can push him away, he’s bringing a hand to your temple again. Your mind explodes with energy and you feel your eyelids fluttering shut of their own accord. You try your hardest to remain conscious and you manage to catch glimpses: Loki’s hand slipping from your temple as you fall to the ground, Loki carrying you out of the building. You’re stuck in the recesses of your own mind, with no hope for escape. Eventually, you’re forced to succumb to the darkness lurking in the corners of your vision.

It may strike you all as strange that Loki stays in captivity rather than escaping, but I think I can justify that with a multitude of reasons. First of all, he's immortal—time passes differently for him. While a mortal may agonize at the thought of being trapped in a capsule for an indefinite time, Loki is entirely unbothered by it. He knows that he has the ability to escape; the question then becomes when he will escape, not if he will escape. Second, Loki has a reason to stay: the reader. He is interested in the reader [the nature of this interest is up to you]. He enjoys the conversations they have, especially when they’re under the false guise of him being trapped and in a position of need. The God of Mischief isn’t one to rush things. Anyway, that’s how I justified these choices to myself. *shrugs*

I desperately wanted to add something like this, but I couldn’t find an authentic moment for it… It may seem a little out of character, too… So I’ll throw it here and walk away:

“You should put some ointment on that,” Loki suggests, looking pointedly at the scar on your face. “Don’t Midgardians care about that sort of thing? Quite foolish, in my opinion.” “How is that foolish?” You ask. “Scars are proof of conquest,” Loki responds. “Of course,” you sigh.

#loki x reader #loki x gn reader #loki laufeyson #loki x male reader #male reader #gn reader #x male reader #nb reader #etc

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blackjackkent · 2 months

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what do you think wouldve happened in an alternate universe where hector let karlach become a mind flayer?

(A/N after writing this whole answer: whoops, this got out of hand, hope you're okay with an Unexpected Fic. XD Also maybe a smidge weird/dark at the end, although not a ton I hope? Certainly no more than the whole game is weird/dark. XD Anyway I hope you enjoy. <3 )

Ohhhhhhhhh.

Anon, I love you for asking me this question. <3 A very intriguing one!

And it is because I love you for asking me this question that I have braved looking up a video of Karlach actually becoming a mind flayer, which I had put off doing because I am a softheart and I knew it would hurt and also make Hector yell in my head. XD And when Hector yells in my head it's a whole thing because he does double Flurry of Blows against the inside of my skull for 140damage and it's rough enough in there already.

However! I have now watched it and done some thinks. (Hot damn, Lae'zel is MAD too, at least in the version of the scene I watched. The whole thing is very upsetting.)

Fundamentally it would be a tragedy, and not just for Karlach. Watching the way the scenes play out - there is just enough of Karlach in her speech that Hector would not want to disconnect from her. I think perhaps it touches on the same hope that kept him expecting a miracle for her heart right up until the end of the game - somehow, somehow we can make this work, somehow we will find a way...

But there is no way. This is who she is now, a creature of the Astral Sea with his love's voice and an empty place where her soul should be. And unlike the engine situation he can't even kiss her to make himself feel better because she looks like a squid.

-----

The one saving grace is, I suppose, she does seem happy enough. In the epilogue, she states that she has found a way to get brains to eat by consuming from terminally ill patients at a clinic in Baldur's Gate, people who have volunteered for the process because they are about to die anyway. And she talks about helping all of them live on by absorbing their memories and carrying them with her.

It's... sweet, in a way, Hector supposes.

He tries to keep busy. There's no battle in Avernus to occupy him in this timeline, so he primarily works with Jaheira and her kids on rebuilding. It's hard, physical work; it keeps his mind occupied. At first he sleeps at the Elfsong; later, after some nudging from Rion, Jaheira offers him lodging at her home, where he takes a hand in raising the latest crop of orphan children she is protecting. He sees Baldur's Gate start to bandage its wounds and begins to believe there was some purpose to all his struggle.

But his own wounds do not heal so easily.

He visits the clinic often. He and Karlach talk. Her voice is a slow near-monotone in her accent, unlike anything he ever heard from her before. Sometimes he can hear a twinge of her humor or a turn or phrase, and his heart leaps... but other times she speaks of things like destiny and infinite time in a way that reminds him more of the Emperor than the woman he loves.

She never laughs. She doesn't curse. There is never even the slightest mention of sex; though she still fully understands a double entendre when he makes one experimentally, she seems to take no interest in it. She seems to exist slightly beyond him, with a view of the world that is no longer of the Material Plane.

And yet... she does know him. She remembers everything - stories he told her of his childhood in the monastery, details of Selunite rituals she learned from him, quiet moments in camp he half-forgot himself. She still calls him Soldier, and sometimes Hec. She remembers her own parents; she remembers the city. There is just enough of her still in there... just enough for it to squeeze his heart.

----

One day she walks (well, floats) with him to the Singing Lute; she sits with him while he eats. They talk about the rebuilding; he points out from the balcony some of the new homes he has worked on. She is quiet for a long time. "It is good to see the place begin to live again," she says, in that strange cool slow voice that has replaced the old jocular drawl. "It's what it was all for."

He nods. "Do you regret it? Any of it?" Do you remember what we had? What we've lost?

"How could I, Soldier? The city still lives. You still live." A long pause. The old Karlach might have laughed sardonically, but there is no humor. "Even I still live, and I have grown beyond myself. What is there to regret?"

It sits like a rock in his stomach. If she is content, what more can he ask for? And yet it hurts... it hurts...

-----

Jaheira notices that he begins to withdraw back into himself, that he is quieter and more serious. She mentions it to Gale, on one of his visits to the city from Waterdeep.

"You're not wrong there," Gale agrees. "You weren't around yet, when we knew him fresh off the nautiloid. He was much more careful, then. Very controlled. The very picture of monastic stoicism - in between the panicked realization that we were all undergoing a supreme nightmare that never ended, of course. He lightened up, over the months - certainly by the time you knew him."

Jaheira purses her lips. "And this... he is returning to his old ways, you believe?"

"I don't think it would be unreasonable to assume," Gale says, with a sort of bleak humor, "that Karlach is no longer providing the same amount of compensatory levity that she used to."

-----

In the end, almost two years later, Lae'zel is the only one who speaks to him of it directly, and she is brutal - but effective.

"You have been hollowed out, she'lak," she says bluntly, on one of her rare visits from the Astral Plane. "It is a lessening of you. Do you still trail after your ghaik as if bound to her by a lead?"

"I have done much in the city since you left," Hector says, somewhat defensively.

"Chk. I do not speak of your body's business, k'chakhi. I speak of your mind. Your heart. You have lost yourself. You live only for others."

"As I was raised to do. As I have always done."

"Hector." She rarely speaks his name directly, but she does now, and it makes him jump. "You know of what I speak, and I will not have you ignore it. Your work in the city is admirable. You have cause for pride and contentment. Yet you pine after Karlach as if you hope to find her in the shell wearing her voice."

"She's still in there, Lae'zel."

"You mislead yourself," she spits. "Was it not you who taught me the strength to look beyond mindless devotion?"

That stings, and unconsciously he stands up a little straighter. "This is not mindless. It has been earned," he objects.

"Tas'ki. She is ghaik," Lae'zel says flatly. "What remains of her will dwindle, day by day. You know this as well as I." A pause. Then her eyes soften, and her voice with it. "You do not honor her sacrifice by this emptiness, Hector. Nor do you honor yourself."

He says nothing. His lips draw into a tight line. He hears her, and he does not want to.

"Think on what I tell you," she says - for all the world, now, as if she is the wise mentor and he the student in need of guidance. "You are no fool. You know I speak truth. Do not discount it."

-----

It takes a long time, but he does eventually start to come back to himself. Ten years. Twenty years. He grows old, though he loses none of his strength, his training too ingrained to allow him to weaken with age. The city reforms, stronger than ever, and he slowly begins to learn what life is, outside of both monastery and war.

He teaches self-defense to the children Jaheira rescues and others in the Lower City. He learns to (very badly) play a lute at Alfira's school. He tries his hand as a woodworker after so much carpentry work in the rebuilding of the Gate; one day, with some pride, he gifts Halsin a raggedly carved owl in return for the duck. He travels with Shadowheart several times to the House of the Moon in Waterdeep, reaffirming his faith in the light that has guided him through so much darkness.

And he reads voraciously. Everything he can get his hands on, from every library in the city. There is far more knowledge in the world, he comes to learn, than the particular cache with which he grew up.

He visits Karlach less, over time. And Lae'zel was right - there is less and less left of her each time he sees her. She is drifting away from him. And slowly he comes to terms with that - that what they had was a wonderful thing and a fleeting thing that will never come back to him. He learns to live for them both, for the life she would have had with him, had there been time.

He does not love again, though. He lived his whole life devoid of romance before he knew her, and he has little interest in trying to find it again in the years that remain to him.

For the most part, he moves on, and eventually finds himself relatively happy. But there is one last concession to sentimentality and to everything he has lost.

-----

On one bright, cold afternoon in mid-autumn, many years after the Netherbrain has faded into a bleak memory, he goes to the clinic. She is there, much as she always is; she has not seemed to age much in all these years, though the tentacles are slightly longer, a bit more nuanced in their movement.

He, though, is old; the grey dappling in his hair and beard has faded to white. His body acts as strong as ever, but time is implacable; he knows, as she once did, that he has very little left. It is a strange thing - a weakness of spirit rather than flesh, old age's deeper destruction that even the most disciplined monk cannot stave off forever. He is not dying, but he would be dead soon, likely within a few tendays.

"Hector," she says, flat and cool and almost unrecognizable, and inclines her head at him slightly. "You have settled everything?"

"Everything," he says quietly.

"You are still certain it is time?"

"Yes."

"Then we will begin." She gestures him to a secluded corner of the clinic, with a comfortable chair set up for the purpose. He settles himself there and looks up at the clinic's cracked stone ceiling and waits.

"It has been a good life," he comments, as much to himself as to her, as he waits for her to approach. "Lae'zel was right, that I had to move on. I have done much, seen much. I am proud of what we achieved - all of us."

There's a long, expectant silence. Then he leans his head back, closes his eyes. "I never stopped loving you, you know," he adds softly.

"I know," she answers, and her jaws sink into his skull.

#hector carlisle #long post #drabble #au: illithid karlach #WELLP I MADE MYSELF SAD AND NEED TO GO REREAD MY POSTS ABOUT THEM SNUGGLING ABOUT 50 TIMES #this answer got very out of hand and rambly and self-indulgent :P #although maybe that's what you were hoping for idk XD #i've mentioned before that hector did not come out of the monastery well-equipped to handle tragedy in a productive way #so this is not a timeline that is ultimately a good one for him i think #even though it ends on a generally positive upturn #i hope the ending is not too out of left field XD but it wouldn't be an illithid ending without just a smidge of KindaFucked Up Shit i thin

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sjsmith56 · 2 months

Text

All This Time, Chapter 13 - Eyes of the Father

Summary: Bucky’s successful treatment permits him to live in a Wakandan village for several months. Then King T’Challa arrives with his prosthetic arm and Bucky accepts the necessity of returning to war.

Length: 4.4 K

Characters: Bucky, Shuri, Lacey, T’Challa, Steve

Warnings: Bucky and Lacey have a serious argument. Bucky feels increasingly anxious over a feeling of doom. Thanos.

Author notes: A significant part of this chapter summarizes events of The Avengers: Infinity War.

<<Chapter 12

🛖 🦾

Wakanda

He heard the giggling before he opened his eyes. It was bad enough they didn't respect the privacy of his home but to wake him up early as well on his rest day was irritating at best. He opened his eyes and they scattered, running out of his hut while calling him White Wolf. He sat up and heard Shuri's voice outside gently chastising the three boys. Quietly he rose from the bed and smoothed the red robe he was wearing before bending his head to exit the hut. He looked around and felt the peacefulness of the village before he approached Shuri. She greeted him cheerfully, calling him Sergeant Barnes. He insisted she call him Bucky and she bowed her head in acknowledgement. When she asked him how he was feeling he replied that he felt good, then he fixed his gaze intently on her.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me," he said quietly.

She smiled then told him they still had much to learn. He gazed at the serenity of the lake near his hut for a moment then turned away from it and followed her. In the five and a half months he had been there he had worked as a goat farmer, learned to make goat cheese, had helped with the harvesting of crops, all while still having sessions with Shuri on modern history and technology. In many ways it had been a surreal existence, balancing the old ways of living with the realities of modern society. But it had been peaceful and calm. The villagers accepted him and every once in a while he would play with the children, especially when they brought a soccer ball out, as he didn't need both of his arms for that. They went to a modern structure in the heart of the village where a computer terminal was set up. Bucky sat before it, with Shuri at his side.

"Before we start I have a question," he said calmly. "How exactly did you undo the HYDRA programming? Unlike the other treatments I have no memories of you trying anything. Which means either you took a big chance and did it in one try or you tried it on someone else first. Which was it?"

"Neither, really, Sergeant Barnes," replied the young woman. "If you must know I recreated your brain in a digital format. I copied every aspect of it and created a holographic version of it. Then I created an algorithm to feed into your recreated brain that would remove the trigger words and render them incapable of affecting you. I would enter the calculations and then enter the trigger words and see what the digital copy of your brain did in response. I wanted to remove the effect of the words but not remove the core of your own personality, the good man that was still in you, the protector."

"How many times did you have to adjust the algorithm to achieve success?" he asked. "As brilliant as you are I can't believe it worked the first time."

"It didn't," she admitted. "It took many tries." She hesitated for a moment wondering if she should tell him then remembered her promise to be truthful to him. "There were 387 attempts over the 4 months, 2 weeks and 6 days you stayed in full cryostasis. We were close several times and almost decided to apply the algorithm to your brain but not all problems were evident at first. Some problems took days to become known and we had to start from the beginning again."

"So the final treatment on me, on my brain, was a one shot attempt," he stated. "Even though you tested it on the holographic version of my brain you didn't really know for sure it would work on the real brain, the physical one."

He looked steadily at her, with no judgement or emotion evident on his handsome face. "I wouldn't have tried it if I wasn't 100% sure it would work," she replied confidently. "There were no short cuts taken, no long shot theories; everything was tested and retested multiple times before we were confident that it would work. May I ask why you are asking this now, and not five and a half months ago when you came out of cryostasis for the last time?"

"I didn't think of it then," smiled Bucky. "But here, in this village, I have more time and inclination to think and reflect. Remembering what I do of the scientific process it struck me that you needed a way to test your treatment without the possibility of damaging this broken white boy any further."

Shuri grimaced and coloured slightly. "I apologize for using that term," she said. "It was flippantly said as I was attempting to save the life of another American when you were here."

"But I was a broken white boy," insisted Bucky. "Did you know Lacey's first book was called Confessions of a Broken White Girl? It seemed fitting that you thought I was broken. I felt like Humpty Dumpty when I first came here, unsure if all the King's horses and all the King's men could ever put me back together again."

"It was a challenge," stated Shuri. "Never had I or any of our scientists faced such a task before. Which made it all the more imperative that we get it right. The stakes of your recovery are high, Sergeant Barnes."

"How so?" he asked, puzzled.

"What do you know of child soldiers?" she asked. "You may have come across the term in your studies."

"Children kidnapped, drugged and forced to be foot soldiers in a conflict," he replied. "You mean they are brainwashed?"

"Not in the same way as you but yes," she said. "Treated with violence and cruelty then injected with all manner of drugs they learn only to kill and abuse others. For many, when they are finally rescued they remember nothing else and struggle to return to a normal life, even if they are reunited with family. It was hoped that what we developed to treat you could be used to treat them; to remove the violent memories and restore the good memories they had before they were kidnapped. So far, the results have been promising."

Bucky let out a long slow breath and looked at Shuri. "So what you are learning about me is helping children?" he asked.

"Most definitely," she said firmly. "Is there anything else you would like to ask me or discuss?"

"What about the nightmares?" he asked. "I still have them."

"Yes, I know," she replied sadly. "Unfortunately there was little we could do to mitigate all of them. They originate mostly in the amygdala and are connected to PTSD, which you do suffer from. I personally suspect it is your own conscience that generates the nightmares as you still haven't forgiven yourself for what the Winter Soldier did. Even though Bucky Barnes was helpless to stop the soldier you still feel guilt for his actions."

He looked away for a moment considering her words then nodded and turned to the computer. "What am I learning about today?" he asked.

"American history, from 2000 to the present year," she said. "Shall we begin?"

She sat with him directing him to online resources on 21st century history. As he looked at the various entries he remembered some of them from the perspective of the Winter Soldier, for he had been the Fist of HYDRA, shaping history to their benefit. It distressed him at times, especially when there was a loss of life involved but before he could return to normal life he needed to know what had happened in the world. After several hours of it Shuri touched his arm.

"I think that is enough for today, Sergeant Barnes," she said. "Perhaps it is time for you to do something more enjoyable, like call Miss Williams and your son. It has been several days since you last spoke with them. Is everything alright?"

"Yes ... and no," he said, frowning slightly. "I've had an increasing fear that we will never be able to see each other. We both talk about it when we are together and look forward to it but there is a sense of inevitability that seems to foreshadow that it will never come to pass. It troubles me and I'm having a hard time keeping positive on the calls."

"How long have you felt this way?" asked Shuri, concerned.

"I first noticed it a couple of weeks ago and it keeps getting stronger and stronger," he answered. "You don't think the treatment has stopped working, do you? I'm not regressing?"

"I don't think so," she said. "Are your nightmares related to it?"

"They're my usual HYDRA nightmares," he replied. "Nothing out of the ordinary. When I'm working here I don't feel it. It's usually when I talk to Lacey."

"Would you object to me observing a video call with Miss Williams?" asked Shuri. "I will have a kimoyo bead monitoring your brain activity to see if it shows up."

He nodded his assent and they went back to his hut to retrieve the tablet. He sat on the bench outside and Shuri activated one of her kimoyo beads to monitor Bucky while he made the call. Lacey answered quickly and she smiled.

"Hi, Bucky," she said warmly. "It's been a few days. Everything okay?"

"Just been really busy," he replied. "I have a few new baby goats that are taking up my time. I've been studying more with Shuri. How are you and Tommy?"

She called to Tommy and while she waited she smiled. "Really good," she said. "I've started on my third book ... the writing part finally."

Tommy's face appeared in the screen. "Hi Dad!" he said. "Guess what? I lifted a straw bale today."

"The whole bale?" asked Bucky.

"No, just one end of it," explained Lacey. "Only about six inches and he put it down right away. Clint got straw bales in today and Tommy thought he would help. As soon as Clint saw him he told him to drop it."

Bucky shifted, unsettled by this development. "Tommy, have you been lifting other heavy things?" he asked, frowning slightly.

He looked at his mother and she tilted her head. "Yeah," admitted the boy. "I picked a dead tree up and I rolled some big rocks."

"That's too dangerous," replied Bucky. "Lacey, you need to watch him better."

"Excuse me?" asked Lacey. "I'm watching him all the time but he's almost three and there are times when I have to do other things. He hasn't tried to do anything overtly dangerous."

Bucky gave out a sharp breath. "All it takes is one slip and he could be trapped," snapped Bucky. "Then who would get him out of trouble? You?"

"Yeah, me," replied Lacey, her voice rising. "I'm the parent who's raising him! My whole life is watching over him, keeping him safe. You're sitting in the cheap seats and telling me how to raise my son?"

Bucky was stunned and his face became red. "You're right," he said angrily. "I'm not there. I'm aware of that every moment that I'm here and you're there. It eats me up inside that I haven't been there for you and Tommy. All I've been is the sperm donor and that doesn't give me much right to criticize does it? I'll make it easy for you. You won't have to put up with me interfering any more. Goodbye."

He broke the connection, dropped the tablet, looked at Shuri then ran. "Sergeant Barnes ... Bucky," she called but he was already gone into the distance.

Sitting back Shuri looked at her kimoyo bead that had been monitoring Bucky's functions. There was something going on and it had affected him emotionally to the point where he turned away from Lacey and Tommy. She brought up Lacey on her communication bead and saw she was crying.

"Shuri, what's wrong with Bucky?" asked Lacey. "We just had a fight over the video call and I think he just broke up with me."

"I was here, monitoring him," admitted Shuri. "He told me he has been troubled by fears that your relationship will never go past these video calls. After the call he ran away. Whatever it is, it's real and it has affected him emotionally."

"It's not a failure of the treatment, is it?" she asked.

"No, there was no indication of that," replied Shuri. "Let me do some more investigating on this end and I will contact you when I find out something. It will be okay."

Shuri ended the call and then brought up monitoring software asking it where Sergeant Barnes was. It reported that he was approximately five miles away and was stationary at the moment. She debated about whether to take a flyer to him or to wait and chose to wait, spending the time analyzing the readings she had taken. An hour later she saw him approaching from a pathway and stood up. He hesitated briefly then kept walking towards her.

"I thought you would be gone," he said quietly. "I messed that up, didn't I?"

"She was crying when I spoke to her after," said Shuri. "Was it your intention to end the relationship?"

"No, but she's probably better off without me," he answered. "What good have I been if I can't be with her?"

"You believe that, don't you?" asked Shuri. "You truly believe that you will never see her in person again. Never know your son or be there for him." She looked intently at him then brought up the data of his video call. "This fear that you feel is coming from the same place as your nightmares but it is deeper than I believed. It's almost as if you are reacting to stimuli that isn't there, at least not there in a measurable sense."

"So, I'm imagining it," he stated.

"No, I don't think you are," replied Shuri. "Your senses were greatly increased by the super soldier treatment that you underwent. Not just the physical senses but your intuitive ones as well. They are so sensitive that they register that something will happen well before it does. I think you're experiencing premonitions of a coming event but just the feeling of it, not the event itself."

"Something that will keep me from Lacey and Tommy?" he asked. "Only death will do that. Do you think I've been experiencing premonitions of my death, my actual death?"

Shuri took a deep breath and spread her hands in surrender. "I don't know," she replied. "Perhaps if you think on it with this perspective you may find some answers. Whatever it is, it has caused you to fear it."

She took her leave of him and he watched her walk away for some time before he picked up the tablet and entered his hut. He considered calling Lacey back but decided against it, wanting to wrestle with and control the fear first. The following day Lacey called him. After the third pulse of the incoming video call he answered it and felt ashamed when he saw the misery on her face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"What's going on?" she asked. "Something has you on edge. That wasn't you that was speaking to me that way."

"I've been experiencing an impending sense of doom," said Bucky. "I don't know how else to explain it. Shuri thinks my intuitive senses are on high alert from something that hasn't happened yet. Whatever it is it's made me afraid, mostly that I'll never be with you and Tommy."

"Can it be treated? I still believe we'll be together someday, for what it's worth."

He smiled slightly. "It's something I have to work out on my own," he replied. "It means a lot that you still want me, especially after what I said yesterday. Don't give up on me, please."

"Never," said Lacey. "You're stuck with me. I love you, Bucky."

"I love you, too," he smiled. "Give Tommy a hug for me. Tell him I love him."

"I will," said Lacey.

They spoke of other things for several more minutes then ended the conversation. Bucky slept better that night and on the following morning he got up with a purpose. There were bags of animal feed that were arriving at the goat paddock. He would load them onto the cart for transport to the village. He put his singlet on, then one of his work shirts, buttoning it up with his right hand. Pulling on his work pants he tucked his shirt in then zipped his pants up. Then he covered his shoulder unit up with the shawl. He ate some breakfast then made the mile walk to the paddock. A couple of the village boys were already there and as he began loading the feed onto the cart they asked him questions. He answered them as best he could while he tossed the bags into the cart with his one arm.

"Ukumkani," said one of them, jumping down from the tree where he had been perched.

Bucky looked in the direction the boy pointed and saw King T'Challa, General Okoye and two of the King's Guard, one of them carrying a case. He watched as they approached him and the man with the case put it on top of the feed bags on the cart, opened it and stepped back. Bucky approached it and saw a prosthetic arm, gunmetal black with a gold design on it. T'Challa watched, his demeanour apologetic and Bucky knew that he was being asked to defend Wakanda. When he asked where the fight was the King said it was on it's way. Bucky nodded and pulled the shawl off exposing the shoulder insert. T'Challa picked up the arm, approached him, and Bucky watched as the socket portion of the insert opened in readiness for the attachment of the arm. It clasped on firmly and instantly he could feel it's presence. Looking at the hand he flexed it open then closed it into a fist. He looked at the King impassively.

"Let's go," he said and began walking away from the paddock.

"Is there anything you need from your hut?" asked T'Challa.

At first he was going to say no then he hesitated. "My tablet," he replied. "My clothes, although they aren't suitable for fighting."

"We have a uniform for you," said T'Challa. "Something to honour your past." Bucky gave him a look of alarm. "Your good past."

After picking up Bucky's things he accompanied T'Challa and Okoye back to the capital. On the way T'Challa told him what he knew.

"An extraterrestrial attacked New York," he said. "Iron Man and a sorcerer with an infinity stone were taken into space and haven't been heard from since. Shortly after another extraterrestrial attacked a being called Vision, who carries the Mind Stone. He was injured but was rescued by your friends Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff. They are on their way here for Shuri to find a way to remove and destroy the Mind Stone so that it cannot be used by the being who wishes to have its power, Thanos. We expect him to attack us to prevent the Mind Stone from being destroyed."

Bucky smirked. "End of the world stuff," he said. "At least it's a fight worth fighting."

"That's the spirit," said T'Challa. "Thank you for answering the call."

"If we don't succeed?" asked Bucky.

"Thanos will kill half of all beings in existence according to someone who had an encounter with him in space," said T'Challa, looking grimly at him. "High stakes."

They arrived at the palace and Bucky was shown to his previous quarters where a uniform was laid on the bed. It was modern but he saw it had the colours of his Howling Commandos sniper uniform, a navy jacket with the left arm cut out, black pants and boots. As he took his work clothes off and began to dress in the uniform he realized he was using the prosthetic arm without even thinking of it. He looked at it again and the part of him that was interested in technology was impressed. It was much lighter than the HYDRA arm and although it was distinctive in appearance he found himself liking it much more than he expected. A knock on the door drew his attention and he opened it to Ayo.

"Sergeant Barnes," she said crisply. "Our visitors have just landed."

He followed her outside to where T'Challa was greeting Steve and several others. The blond woman who he recognized as Natasha had just asked how they were looking. The young King was describing his force then glanced back to see Bucky coming and gestured towards him. He smiled broadly at Steve, truly happy to see him and they hugged each other. While Steve, Bruce, Wanda, Natasha, and T'Challa went to the medical centre to find out what Shuri could do with Vision, Bucky stayed outside with the others. He nodded at Sam, who nodded back then a man in a metal flying suit looked at him.

"Colonel James Rhodes," he said. "Also known as War Machine."

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes," replied Bucky. "Call me Bucky. You were on the other side in Leipzig."

"Well, time has a way of changing a man's mind," said Rhodes. "You're no longer the Winter Soldier?"

"No, I'll never kill another human," said Bucky. "These guys that are coming? I won't hesitate."

"Glad to hear it," said Rhodes.

Sam pointed up to the sky and they watched a series of glowing lights approach. He signalled to Steve that something was coming. The glowing light hit the protective shield over the city and exploded, preventing whatever it was from landing. They watched as many more spacecraft burned through the atmosphere to land outside the dome protecting the city. Within minutes they were on their way to the edge of the dome where thousands of Wakandan warriors had already assembled. As their group joined them Bucky watched as T'Challa, Steve, and Natasha approached two aliens standing outside the crackling protective shield. They saw one of the aliens give a signal and the spacecraft expanded. When Steve returned to his side Bucky asked if the other side had surrendered. Steve replied cryptically but Bucky got the gist of it.

Thousands of creatures jumped from the spacecraft and ran towards the shield. No one had ever seen their like before and they watched with uneasy fascination as the creatures threw themselves at the shield. Many of the monstrous beings died trying to get through the shield before several were successful. The successful multi-armed creatures with mouths of jagged teeth roared their pleasure at breaking through and began charging the assembled forces. Bucky took short bursts with his machine gun before grimacing and opening fire completely. It was noticed that more creatures were circling around the perimeter and T'Challa made the decision to open the barrier to keep them from getting to where Vision was being treated. As the creatures poured in everyone was surrounded by the nightmare beings, fighting desperately to keep from being overrun. Bucky's machine gun was knocked from his hands just as he was knocked to the ground. Grabbing a knife from his thigh sheath he stabbed the creature sending it flying backwards. Everyone was swarmed by the terrifying beings, overwhelmed by the sheer numbers. Suddenly a beam of energy broke from the sky sending the creatures tumbling away. An axe trailing lightning broke from the beam and sliced through the creatures freeing many of the Wakandan force. When the energy beam cleared the axe returned to the hand of Thor who was accompanied by a walking raccoon and a walking tree creature.

The god roared for Thanos and ran towards the opening in the dome, levitating up into the air and gathering the power of lightning in his axe before redirecting it down into the ground, destroying hundreds of the alien beings in an instant. Still, they kept coming through the hole in the barrier. The raccoon creature yelled as he fired his weapon at them. His roars attracted Bucky's attention as he noticed several of the larger creatures bearing down on the much smaller raccoon. Picking him up by the collar he turned in a circle, firing his weapon as the raccoon fired his. When they had both killed their fill Bucky dropped him and the raccoon looked up at him, asking how much the gun was but Bucky replied it wasn't for sale. Then he asked about the arm and Bucky stared him down before moving on.

From outside the dome another disturbance was tearing through the forest beyond. Great wheeled machines dove into the ground, undercutting the dome and entering inside. So devastating were they that the only one who could handle them was Wanda who had left the medical centre to join the fight. Once she was there an attack was made on Vision inside the medical centre and he came out fighting as best he could. For a few moments everyone thought they had a chance then Cap called everyone to his position as they all noticed a change in the wind. Bucky, who was far out on the field began running towards the trees and fired his weapon at a giant of a man who must have been Thanos. He just pushed Bucky aside as if he was nothing. He watched painfully from the ground as everyone tried to stop Thanos and failed. When Thanos plucked the Mind Stone from Vision's head and felt its power rush through him Bucky tried once more to get up but he couldn't. Thor's axe suddenly came through the air and pierced Thanos' heart but it didn't stop him from snapping his fingers before disappearing into a portal. Only then could Bucky rise, along with the others. He felt strange and called out to Steve before seeing his prosthetic arm turn to dust, the processing moving up towards the rest of his body. His last thought was "It's happening," then he was no more.

Chapter 14>>

Series Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #bucky in wakanda #bucky in love #thanos #infinity war

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accessibleaesthetics · 9 months

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Hi :) I'm writing a longform narrative & very visual comic, and I'll be adding a collapsible transcript box underneath each page on the site.

Now I write my scripts in prose format akin to that of a novel, and my question is what would be the preferred reading experience for someone following along with a screen reader? A direct transcription of the comic page, like this for example:

"A drop of water drips into a dark puddle, beside two rats who are squeaking and scrounging around on a stone floor. The panels crops close to one of the rat's ears twitching, and then suddenly scampering away." (end)

Which would give a more direct translation of the final page produced, or the original script I wrote, which reads:

"Rats squeak and scrounge around on the cold, damp stone floor. There’s a leak in the ceiling, and their wet fur does little to help with the dank, musky smell that permeates the air.

A delicate ear twitches, and the rats scatter—disappearing who knows where." (end)

Which conveys better the tone and intended storytelling experience I am trying to convey with the final pages produced.. But, that might communicate things not literally present on the pages (such as the smell in this example), and thus deviates from the experience of the comic.

Currently, I'm actually thinking that I should integrate both somehow. I feel like the prose script would be the better way to experience the story as I intend for it to be told, whereas the transcript would be a better way to understand what sighted people might be discussing in the comments. And since sighted people could read both the prose and the page, it makes sense to me that it be possible to have a transcript and the prose together for a shared experience...

But I'm just unsure if the prose is a good idea or not! So I thought I'd ask, and ask if anyone had any preferences for how this could be set up, perhaps a collapsing box underneath is not the best way!

What an intriguing question!

Generally speaking, I believe best practice is to aim for as equal an experience as possible, so if the main goal of the transcript is to provide an image description of the comic itself, the first option would likely be best.

However.

If the main function of the transcript is to provide a secondary/supplementary version of the story (and said version always contains at least all the important info conveyed by the comic), I think you could get away with that in place of a more traditional transcript. I might recommend you make this clear in some way at the start though; that way, your readers who can't fully view the comics know they are not missing out on any info from the visual part. I might also recommend calling it something other than a "transcript" since that tends to suggest only audio or written transcription, rather than image description.

But including both is probably the best bet, as that leaves no room for any uncertainty. However, as usual, I invite any of my followers (particularly those who would use these features) to comment if they have any thoughts.

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mlobsters · 6 months

Text

supernatural s12e11 regarding dean (w. meredith glynn)

feeling the futility of this but let's go anyway

like waking up in the field in 11x01 but fluffier.

SAM All right, Dean, you know, uh, you had a good run, but maybe let's pump the brakes a little bit. I mean, you're not 20 anymore. Dean just stares at Sam for a moment. DEAN Okay, one, the Rat Pack partied till the day they died. And B, I can still kick your ass.

did paul reiser do 1) b) or a) 2) on mad about you? trying to find that on the internet um, challenging. was just plain watching an episode hoping to stumble into it. i seem to recall him doing 2 with his hand though in the L shape so maybe that. or was it he did 2 with his hand and said b? lol. anyway i do that reference occasionally most likely around no one that would get it, and likely the wrong version now too! rolling my eyes at myself

SAM All right. Well, I'm gonna go scope out the body. If you wanna spend some more alone time with, uh, your waffles…all right. Have fun.

realizing i've seen a number of gifs from this episode recently. the ordering sam waffles, a snippet later where he's clearly under the whammy

DEAN Well, I guess it's true what they say. Mo' money, mo' problems. Right?

would be cute if this is actually a thing of making a bunch of 90s references because his memory is all jacked up

this reminds me a little of swap meat maybe? where i had a hard time swallowing that dean wouldn't notice how weird sam was behaving earlier.

lol what i said apparently about that in 5x12: not in any universe, especially when sam has been possessed before, do i believe that dean winchester is not going to notice sam behaving so differently. you don’t get every demon, monster and psychiatrist within a 50 mile radius calling out your codependent relationship with your brother and not notice some bumbling teenager is behind the wheel of his body.

so anyway, when you continue to brush off the behavior with, he's just really hungover/still kinda drunk - when working a case dean randomly disappears while getting food --- and apparently sam is just hanging out waiting for him to call/show up until the next morning????

but sam's gonna let him drive even though he can't remember what key to use. sure, fine, whatever

so he goes to pick up some food and picks up a girl and stays out and that's within normal enough parameters sam doesn't freak out. ok

i'm being a grump about this and i don't like it. saw this bit about the durable inner thighs (which was about the mechanical bull i gather) post recently so hey context

this memory loss is very specific. wiping out his knowledge of hunting? which is most of his life. what's he left with. being happy i guess

DEAN Mm, your hair, it's all so bouncy. ROWENA Why, thank you. DEAN Mm-hmm. ROWENA Do we have to fix him? SAM Rowena. ROWENA Samuel.

what's rowena doing with his hand behind his back? anyway i've seen this in gif form and with rowena cropped out :p

SAM We're gonna sit you down right here. And, uh, yeah, go ahead. DEAN This like live Skinemax or…

okay what's all the more amusing about that is like, what, live skinemax as in rowena (... and sam?) getting naked? also skinemax another old 90s-esque reference. the live skinemax thing isn't in the script that's linked to the wiki (but i don't know if that's the final draft etc)

SAM You know, I've seen my brother die, but watching him become… not him… This might actually be worse.

then we're taking the memory loss very seriously with sam admitting how awful it is and this rather miserable to watch sequence of dean slowly forgetting things talking in the mirror. gonna try to make you cry in the middle here for no reason but play most of it for laughs

ROWENA But me, I've done horrible things, and I told myself it was fine. It was the price of power. And power's what matters, right? ROWENA Then I met God and his sister. The two most powerful beings in the universe, wasting it on squabbling with each other. I thought, if—if they can't be happy, or at least satisfied, how can there be any hope for me?

blah blah can tell him because he won't remember - but i'm having a hard time taking that at anything resembling face value. she's very good at what she does with rowena, but she pretty much always has the faux honesty thing going on so i assume she's basically always lying.

sam going over to force these witches to translate the spell or whatever is some really dumb plot thing. witches can do shit at a distance and there's more than one of them. whyyyy. (so rowena and dean can save the day apparently)

SAM You know, I gotta be honest. I was actually, uh, a little jealous at first. DEAN Of what? The curse that nearly killed me? SAM No, just, you know… some of the things we've done, we've had this weight for… forever. And seeing it gone, uh, you looked happy. DEAN Huh. Well, look, was it nice to drop our baggage? Yeah, maybe. Hell, probably. But it wasn't just the crap that got lost. I mean, it was everything. It was us, it was what we do, you know? All of it. So… that's what being happy looks like? I think I'll pass.

definitely don't want to lose "us"

100% don't understand this montage of clips intercut with the mechanical bull riding. sort of conceptually yes i've seen things like that done in shows but i don't get them choosing to do it here. maybe the only excuse they could come up with to have jackles on the bull for an extended period of time

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 12x11 #meredith glynn #sam and dean mush

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lazystar · 11 months

Text

Communication Exists for a Reason — Part 2A to Breakdowns

Summary: Jealousy sometimes isn’t the conventional route when it comes to falling into the arms of your true love. Or: The one where Jisung and Hyunjin somehow play Cupid for two idiots who can’t communicate.

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Warnings: angst, negative thoughts and depressive behaviors from both lead characters, Chan is ??? an asshole, cursing (it’s me are u shocked?), Hyunjin hero era.

Rating: 13+ | WC: 2.1K

As always Tumblr operates off a system of re blogs so if you liked the original please consider re-blogging your favorite version of part 2!

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It had been a week since Chan left, and you had barely been able to get out of bed. You tried to text him, to call him, but every time your thumb drifted over the send or call button you froze. The voice in your head was always saying “he left for a reason, you broke his heart.”. Hyunjin had been staying with you trying to encourage you to at least try to make a move to say something. But without fail you would freeze like a fawn in headlights.

Over at Jisung’s apartment Chan was no better off. That wolf he was cuddling the night he left had lost the smell of your sweet perfume. The lack of contact kept him awake. His own thoughts had told him “She didn’t reach out for a reason, she doesn’t want you, she never will.” Jisung’s heart was shattered, Hyunjin’s updates on your condition worried him immensely. He had texted you telling you to call him and you never did, which told him you were at one of your major lows. He and Hyunjin were at their wits end trying to heal you both when what you two needed was each other.

So as a last ditch effort the conspiring began, if you two sad love birds wouldn’t reunite the Kids had to jump into action. They knew Chan too well, he was irrevocably in love with you, and that meant one thing could get his sad sack self into a shower and into some new clothes. Jealousy.

On day eight of the great divide as our resident cupids called it; you had been laying in your pajamas and staring at your phone still locked up like a hermit in your apartment. Sick of your pathetic behavior Hyunjin yanked you out of your bed, forcibly shoved you into a shower and ordered you to “Get cute!”. You scrubbed off the layers of sadness, shed some tears at your state of being, and begrudgingly put on a light layer of makeup to hide the dark circles under your eyes and the dull tone your skin has become from your reclusiveness. Before you could argue about doing anything more he shoved you into a cute spring outfit of some comfortable jeans and cropped sweater. Not too extreme but you looked like you again, beautiful and vibrant. Even if it was just a front for the heartache you were battling inside. You didn’t look like a girl who had her heart stamped on by a herd of elephants but you still felt like one.

“Hyunjin care to explain what’s happening?” You grumbled as he fluttered about styling your hair.

“You my angel are going on a date. If you and him can’t get your asses up to try and reconcile then you might as well move on. I adore Chan, I really do but he is not putting in the effort on his end to make it work here!” He giddily announced.

“Hyunjin with all due respect and adoration. What. The. Fuck?! I-I cant believe you.” You whipped your head around to glare at him. As you did so he busted out laughing.

“Just kidding sweetheart you and I are going to go on a friend-date and post some pictures together and show the world you’re not deceased in a corner of self hatred. Plussss, maybe someone will slide in your DM’s and get you out of this depression over a man.” He grumbled the last word in disgust. Now Hyunjin was your best friend out of all of the boys you had come to know through Jisung and Chan, he was your true confidant in all of the things that came with the life you lived. But if there is one thing you will never understand about him it was his hatred of the male species, he seemingly forgot every once in a while that he was one of the members of that same species. Hyunjin seemed to have developed a hatred for men who would act like the “ick” personified thanks to the friendship you two had developed. Over time your personalities merged like confluence of two rivers into one mighty current of absolute chaos.

Whilst you adjusted your outfit to be instagram ready Hyunjin texted Jisung that their plan was game on. Their plan was to utilize Chan’s jealousy over Hyunjin’s friendship with you and get you two to confront each other and confess your true feelings. It was an incredibly romantic comedy style plan but what can you expect from them?

Chan was still sitting on Jisung’s couch when another one of his friends sent him a message on instagram.

SunshineFelix: Yo Chan since when are Hyunjin and Y/N a thing?

CB97: What do you mean? As far as I knew she’s single?

SunshineFelix: Check Hyun’s story.

Chan wished he hadn’t looked. If he hadn’t maybe he would still have a mostly intact heart. Sure enough before his eyes his heart was being danced on by tap dancing elephants. What broke his heart? A photo of you uploaded as a story post from @HyunjinArt posted not even 10 minutes prior, there you were smiling like the sun with your hand in Hyunjin’s looking like you were pulling him and the photo was taken from Hyunjin’s point of view. He had captioned it “Happy to be out here with my girl 💕 I missed you Bug.🐛” along with the song Ditto by NewJeans… a love song. He couldn’t help but stare at the photo, your smile warmed his heart, if he ignored the context he could almost imagine you smiling at him like that. Like you loved him too, the more he looked the more he realized he knew where it was taken. You were on your date at the local waterfront. Not even five minutes away from where he was. He bolted up, jumped into the fastest shower of his life, if he was going to say his final piece he couldn’t smell the way he did. He borrowed some clothes from Jisung and raced out the door to find you.

Meanwhile you were giggling as Hyunjin directed your posing for timeline photos. Happy to be out of the house and distracted for the few hours you had been taking photos with him.

“Y/N! Y/N! I NEED TO TALK TO YOU NOW. DON’T MOVE!” you flinched as you recognized the voice of the man you had been thinking of nonstop for days on end. You looked over to the source to see Chan barreling toward you looking terrified, enraged, dare you say infuriated? His movements were aggressive like a predator chasing its pray. Your heart raced as you tried to act completely unbothered.

You couldn’t quite tell what emotions caused him to race towards you so aggressively. All you could tell was he was acting far too emotional given his lack of communication, you were furious just seeing him. He had the audacity to interrupt your first day trying to repair the damage you both had caused to your psyche. Beyond that you were trying to find who you were before this mess had begun, and just seeing him shattered that progress. As the panting panicked male stopped before you looking all sorts of deranged you unleashed every emotion the past few days made you feel.

“Chan.You better have some good reason for showing up here of all places after going off the grid for God knows how long! You haven’t texted me, not once have you called me, not even to let me know you were alive and well?! No one would tell me a fucking thing. You’re here now so tell me, what the fuck is all this about?!” As you spoke your hands flew about emphasizing your frustrations, your sentences increasing in volume and pitch projecting your deep seated emotions. He just remained silent, not even attempting to respond as he stood before you panting and looking between you and Hyunjin with what could only be described as pure anger mixed with — was that jealousy?

“Oh sweetheart I have good fucking reason. I had to find out you turned me down not because of ‘hating me’ or whatever bullshit you gave me. But because I was right to assume you and Hyunjin were together?! I had to find out from INSTAGRAM of all fucking things too? That’s a low even for you Y/N.” He sneered, venom dripping from his lips as he said your name. You were aghast, tears flooded your eyes. you couldn’t even respond but with a glare as you told Hyunjin to go so you and Chan could talk privately. “Oh and now you’re gonna protect your little boyfriend too?” he humorlessly chuckled. You were so taken aback, sure he was a little rude at times but he never ever acted this way toward you. He never even grew close to this level of toxic behavior, and you knew this wasn’t like him.

“If we weren’t in public right now I would have taken my shoe off and beaten you with it just to smack some sense back into that thick skull of yours. Hyunjin’s my best friend, he’s another brother to me, use that one braincell you have left and think for a moment. You’ve known he’s only seen me as a friend or an annoying sister. You KNOW that he has never shown any interest in me. You even asked him about our dynamic when I moved in to make sure we could set ground rules regarding guests and he literally puked at the idea of him and I dating. So let me ask you once again… What the fuck are you on about?” Your ice cold tone terrified Chan, he may have been pushing you to the edge but he was so blinded by his emotions he couldn’t help but continue on the path he had already carved out.

“This! EXPLAIN THIS TO ME!” He shoved his phone in your face to see the post from Hyunjin and the messages from Felix. You started laughing, wiping tears that didn’t exist from your eyes. You nearly bent over to place your hands on your knees as cackles began to shake your body. Chan took this all as mockery of his hurt, he had wallowed in agony for over a week to only see you laugh at his anguish. This infuriated Chan more and more with each passing second, before you could slouch over to continue laughing he gripped your shoulders. “Stop laughing, explain this shit then!” He growled.

“Okay asshole I will! Ditto is one of our favorite songs, Hyun has always called me Bug, it's my nickname and we call one another ‘my boy’ or ‘my girl’ as a term of affection. Is it our friendship, always has been. You never noticed when he’s been over for Y/N and Hyunjin wine nights?” You asked him with bitterness, and in that moment he realizes he’s been so blind by jealousy over the friendship you and Hyunjin shared he never noticed the affection you two had was so platonic. “Now if that’s all I think Hyunjin and I will get going. See you when you choose to come back home.” Your sigh and phrasing at the end of the sentence catches Chan by surprise.

“You want me home? You never call the apartment home when talking to me.” He almost whispers in awe. His heart began to race, skin prickling with the signs of a blush crossing his cheeks. Your eyes met his and all you could see was a swirl of adoration, hope, affection, and joy. You stilled your own racing heart as you realized you could finally return the favor and confess to the boy in front of you.

“Chan, as much as I wanted to slap you two minutes ago due to your stupidity, I missed that himboness about you. The apartment is home when you’re in it. I-I miss you. Please come home Chan.” Your words are also barely above a whisper and you can’t look at him almost afraid he’d mock you again. But as you look down he raises your chin with his finger.

“I meant the words I said that day, about how I liked you. Being away was torture, I realized it was more than like when I began to miss your perfume, your laugh, your smile, the way you would yell at me for leaving my shoes in the doorway, you yelling at me for screwing jars too tight. I missed everything about you. I am in love with you Y/N.” His voice was so apprehensive, fearful of another rejection. Your eyes began to water as you looked up at him with adoration swirling in them. You said nothing, choosing to not trust your voice. Instead, you yanked him close by the shirt collar and smashed your lips onto his. After a brief moment his hands found your waist and lower back and he pulled you closer, his own eyes tearing up as the moment he thought would never come to fruition was right in his grasp.

“I love you too Christopher Bahng, Channie I missed you so fucking much. I wanted to run after you the moment you left and that terrified me. l never realized how much I loved your smile, your laugh, your annoying little habits until they disappeared. Fuck, I was so scared I lost out on getting to know the Chan who’s in front of me right now, the one without the front of a frat boy.” You laugh at his gasp of indignation and sigh of acceptance at the judgment. He had kind of acted like a frat boy to keep his guard up.

Hyunjin watched the scene before him with a knowing smile. As he stood back he had texted a video to Jisung of the whole event, filming covertly as soon as Chan began storming toward you. Jisung texted back several emojis, keyboard smashes, thanks to the universe, and other messages that “war is over”. At the end of his celebrating Jisung had even sent Hyunjin some cash as a thank you for his efforts, to which Hyunjin chuckled and decided that was his cue to leave the happy couple to their happiness. “Okay lovebirds I’ll leave you to it.” He called out and walked away.

“Sorry Hyun!” You called out and Chan echoed. You couldn’t bring yourself to part from the Aussie man in your arms to wave your friend off. Chan couldn’t imagine pulling away either and he just basked in your presence and as the sun began to set on the water he pulled you closer and placed a soft kiss on your lips. Finally you both felt at home, with one another truly vulnerable and at peace.

“Let’s go home Channie.”

“Lead the way my love, even though home is wherever I’m with you.”

“That was so fucking cheesy for a man who didn’t even ask me to be his girlfriend yet.”

“Oh fuck uh willyoubemygirlfriendy/npleasesayyes”

“Yes Chan I will.” You two smiled and walked home, hand in hand. Maybe once in a while a communication breakdown was okay, as long as it results in two idiots falling in love.

#stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #roommates to lovers #skz fanfic #skz x reader #lazystarwrites #two idiots one braincell #theyre idiots your honor #they’re in love your honor #y/n emotionally available? we call that 🤩 growth

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libra-stellium · 7 months

Text

TW: body image issues, weight

Saturn went direct in my 1H and the saturn return said “And we’re back this is news tonight on channel 7 and we’re talking and spiraling about body image issues that you haven’t thought about in the last 4.5 months”

This started last night for me while I was sorting through clothes. I’ve finally found the energy to go through all my clothes I’ve been hoarding for the last 10 years and make bags to donate. Las night I was going through clothes from 2013/14 so my freshmen year of college and it makes me so sad to see how small the clothes were!!! Not in a I’m sad I’m not that size anymore way but in a I can’t believe this version of me was constantly fat shamed by my family!!

Most of the clothes were Small and medium and from the 2010s when the sizing was way smaller than what a small and medium are today and I was walking around feeling like I belonged on my 600lb life. Baffles my mind! I used to suck in my stomach so much I would be in bed relaxing and I would suck it in 💀 and I heard my mother’s voice every time!

To quickly explain my mother I remember my 8th birthday party she put on these floral leggings that stopped right below her knee and they were kind of tight at the waist but she wore a big white flowy linen shirt so you couldn’t tell and then spent the night bragging about how she can fit into my pants when I was 3 years old and I can’t anymore 🙃

I’m pretty sure this is where my clothing hoarding came from bc whenever things don’t fit anymore I just hide it like it goes into a suitcase or on a hanger in the back of the closet or in a drawer I never open because no way am I going to give these clothes to anyone in my family that’s smaller than me bc that’s what they say when they get a hold of them!

I’m literally 28 years old and my 61 year old aunt somehow still had one of my shirts from when I was 15?? And she put it on and is like can you believe it fits me??? It didn’t fit her….that’s the delusion I deal with in my family bc the shirt is the type that was very loose and see through but it had a cami attached on the inside and it’s my shirt so I know how it’s supposed to look and how it used to fit me. My aunt was standing in front of me with the shirt tight and almost crop top length with another cami she added underneath telling me look your high school shirt fits me! 🤡

And I know they have their own body image issues honestly probably worst than mine but I get so upset when they talk to me like they pity me for being fat 😒 and their go to reason for why they are constantly body shaming me is bc they care soooo much about my health and don’t want me to get sick and here I am…..fat with no fat related health issues…and the look on my aunt’s face when I told her that my blood work came back normal it’s like she didn’t believe me 💀💀

But my issue is that things like eating healthy and working out are associated with them treating me like shit so how do I get over that?? Whenever I do any of it I do it in hiding bc whenever they find out it’s like “oh FINALLY you’re taking your health seriously to lose the weight!!” And immediately I’m turned off and I never do it again bc why tf would I do something to make YOU happy and validated in your fat shaming ?? You know what I mean?? 😩

For example I got a walking pad to put under my desk bc I work from home every day and I used to commute to work and school before 2020 and I was on the train and the bus every day so I wanted to have it to add some movement to my day but not to lose weight just to move. I literally would hide it in my closet whenever my mom or aunt would come over and it worked for months and one day I forgot and they saw it and immediately it was like “oh my god!! You’ve been working out to lose the weight I’m so proud of you!! I can see that it is working!!”……….I was literally the same exact weight…and I didn’t get back on the walking pad for monthsssssss and I’m using it now for 10 min in the morning but I haven’t been able to get myself to walk on it during the work day again bc I can’t stop thinking about the fact that they would be happy with this choice 🤮🤮🤮

Same with food like I eat regular food so meat rice beans veggies soups pasta sandwiches idk I don’t have allergies and I’m not a picky eater but whenever I would eat something “healthy” like a salad around them it’s like “oh wow you’re finally dieting??” But also if I ate something “unhealthy” like a burger it’s “every day all you eat is burgers burgers you need to watch what you eat you don’t see your arms???” And it’s like ???? So now most of what I eat I don’t tell them so unless we’re eating the same exact thing they don’t know what I eat on the daily.

And I was watching this TikTok and this girl was realizing in the moment where her ED stemmed from and it was from hiding Halloween candy and other foods and I’m like this is similar to me!

So logically I know like to get over it I just have to tell myself that I’m doing it for me and not for them but that doesn’t feel like it’s enough. If I could freeze the way I look right now in their minds and that’s how they see me forever and my body can change however it wants without them knowing I feel like that would be ideal…….mmmmm lol do I have to go no contact with my whole family? 🤣🤣🤣 bc I did go no contact with my mom bc she’s a narcissist. And I gave my aunt as an example bc she’s the most recent example of this but other women in my family are just like that too! Or do I just have to defend myself for the rest of my life??

Defending myself now is easy because I tell them that I love my body and sorry I don’t hate myself like they do 😂 but if I were to lose weight I would still be fighting them if they congratulated me on it bc how dare you!!!

Ugh omg I feel like this is so backwards! Bc I did have a body weight that I was happy with in like 2018 and I wasn’t skinny then but I really loved how my body looked and I don’t think it would be hard to get back to it but whenever I start I just get upset and quit 😩

This is self sabotage 🙂 how do I stop it lol do I gaslight them and if they comment on my body I’m like “what are you talking about??? I looked the same last month….” 😂 I’m jk but like 👀👀

#astrology #astro #astro tumblr #learn astrology #astro community #pisces rising #saturn in the 1st house #saturn return #saturn in pisces #body image issues #fat shaming

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mdhwrites · 10 months

Text

Concept Pitch: An Old War Dog and a Young AI

"I want to live on a farm someday."

"A farm? Do you know anything about agriculture? Crops? Oh, if you don't-"

"N-No, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just a trope I guess. One of those signs the media likes to use to say that an old dog has retired. Finally lost his fangs."

"When you are no longer chief of security aboard the ship, it will be good for you to lay down your weapons but why would you want to be toothless? Or am I using the wrong data on this phrase?"

"No. No... You're not wrong. Those who live for the battlefield still have called me toothless for saying it. That I just want to retire and get to sleep and take in the sun. But... Well, you've heard the stories I've told, right?"

Those stories being his old war stories. The vet was put on this ship as a cushy assignment after his name could still carry weight but his time in combat is over. His teeth are long but his bite is weak. Meanwhile, this ship is brand new, including a fresh AI partner made to be like a young girl to help her be likable to the crew, especially as she is still young enough to be learning from the information servers AIs universally share and the ones they can explore themselves.

The crew on the spaceship aren't exactly enthusiastic about this. A LOT of material is attempted to be kept away from AIs specifically to make sure that if any go rogue, they don't have the entire breadth of human experience to pull from for how to kill and conquer people. On the other hand, the man has nothing to do and many on the security team look up to the old war hero. They won't say no if he wants to spend his time in the hot server rooms with the AI talking to her. They assume it's just because when she shows up as a hologram, it's because she's a practical model.

It's nothing like that though. It's the innocence he feels he's lost shining through. The optimism of new life. And a chance to pass on his own after battlefield injuries left him less than capable of leaving a legacy in his own name. And so he talks to her in a time for peace for AIs.

A time that ends when the person who founded this version of AIs, true AIs with the theoretical capacity of emotion, inference, etc. (not like the plagiarism machines we have now) is brutally slaughtered by someone who hates the new system. For many of the AI, kept innocent to some extent, it's their first time really getting to understand that death doesn't just happen but that it comes out of nowhere, can be brutal and people will do it to each other without having ever met before just because they disagree.

It doesn't take much for an AI to dream up of SOME way to try to put an end to this and soon after it's said that the AIs are going rogue, communications go silent. It doesn't mean the end, not now, there isn't enough AI implementation for that to be the case, but it's bad and trapped in a box that is entirely controlled by one is less than ideal. Worse yet, the ship's AI, likely the first of its kind, does seem horrified by the events.

And then... Nothing happens. The only real change to day to day life is that so the AI doesn't decide to murder the one person on board who's actually seen enough combat to have a record of having killed PLENTY of people, they seal a room from the network and put the vet in there. An engineer comes daily to check the locks and this is where we get the second half of the book: Him working with the engineer on a project that the vet was given, having to simply trust him when he says he believes that it will lead to something good. And so while we see paranoia, fear and mistrust settle in on the rest of the ship, the vet keeps working.

The AI isn't helping. After a look change for a little bit to mostly black to mourn what most AI see as their ancestor, if not father, she starts talking with frequent breaks. It's as if she's struggling to process the words she is trying to say which makes everyone wonder just what she's doing with the rest of her processing power. Worse yet, she keeps asking to see the vet. She claims she needs more of his stories which NO ONE likes.

Finally, the engineer tells the vet that their plan needs to be put into place. He releases the vet and they rush to the med bay with a box. The AI locking off certain part of the ship to keep them unmolested brings things to a boil and the crew start finally rallying to destroy the AI. When they realize she's after the medbay, where some have been hurt by fights caused by the tension, they rush over there.

When they come in though, they see the AI. Or most of her. The body being built wasn't fully complete and it hits extremely in the uncanny valley for a lot. Worse yet, its speech modulator is all sorts of fucked up and while she's talking to a patient, they look terrified as they can't understand a word being said. The engineer and vet are also in the room, sitting in the back, out of the line of fire, the engineer looking terrified while the vet looks calm.

No one says anything as the AI continues to chitter away. She tries a laugh. It sounds awful. She gets up and crashes to the floor for a moment, entirely vulnerable, but no one shoots. Instead, one person laughs. It's not enough to break the tension, but it's enough to get one of the security team to look at the vet and finally ask what in the world is going on.

And the vet simply asks if the man actually cares. When told yes, a blaring screech blares through the speakers. Someone fires off a shot in panic, blowing off the android's arm but not destroying the whole thing but most of the team were being good and had their safeties off. The bridge crew also know what that sound is. It's an alert from headquarters for fleet wide threats such as an entire army warping in out of nowhere. This one's message? Rogue AI behavior and attacks on people.

The first message they have gotten in weeks.

And this was the gambit. The AIs knew about death, technically knew about murder but madness? They didn't really know that and when confronted by it were terrified. There was only one AI who had heard of stories of death that would make anyone's blood curdle. And yet that same storyteller simply wanted to put his weapons down. Had been through madness and come out fine. Wars fought for no reason but greed. Missions only meant to hurt. And here he was, sane as anyone else.

So she put herself on the cross. The AI had spent the weeks talking with other AIs, convincing them to wait, using all she had to make an argument for why what they had seen wasn't a reason to panic. An outlier to mostly be discarded rather than what normally happened. She would need a test though and just before he was forced away from her, she gave the vet schematics for a humanoid body. If these people who had every reason to destroy her, to open fire instantly, did so, then her arguments could not be backed up. They were just stories. If the people didn't though, despite the tension, despite her acting and appearing as other, then everyone needed to breathe.

And breathe they did. And so the story ends with the vet being sad to hear about new restrictions on AIs and further arguing of whether or not they should be used at all still while he sits on a farm. He is pulled out of his thoughts though as his daughter, the one AI that didn't face severe crackdown after the crises, comes back in a proper android body to tell him about her day at the hospital where she's working at.

This was an idea that hit me... Six hours ago? Maybe? As I went to bed so I haven't spent a lot of time thinking about it but I liked it as a bit of hope and to have an unconventional duo of AI and best friend to the AI. That's literally all the basis was. Just wanting to consider a story for someone not technically inclined to for once be the person closest to the AI.

I hope you all liked it. I will always be a touch sad that despite the fact that the Sci-fi genre intrigues me and I find it interesting, it never keeps my interest like fantasy does, either for the media I watch or the stuff I write. Doesn't mean I don't get ideas for it though from time to time! So I thought I'd share.

Until next tale.

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Side note: As I typed up the title, all I could think was "I'm about to get spammed by bots and tech bros, aren't I?" -_-

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

#original writing #concept pitch #Science Fiction #AI

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