#yeah i am the definition of lord i worry love is violence | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luminnara · 4 years

Text

Victor Zsasz x Reader NSFW | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey/DC

I don’t see nearly enough BOP!Zsasz appreciation here, so I’m determined to change that. Reader is fem, but if there’s interest I can definitely write stuff for male or nb! The reader also has a whole backstory because I’m way more into world and character building than I am reader inserts so this is practically a little OC fic lol

This is sort of set pre-Birds of Prey, don’t worry about it too much, it’s just fun

Warnings: Violence, Zsasz being Zsasz, reader is an assassin who unalives people, light smut

This is short because I’m testing the waters! If there’s interest, I’ll write a part 2!!

Requests are open!

When Roman announced that he was hiring a new girl, Victor was less than thrilled. He liked what they had going--Roman was the money and the brains, and Victor was the muscle, the devout follower, and the one who loved to spill blood. They didn’t need anybody else, especially not a new hitman, and especially not a girl.

You had grown up in Gotham City’s East End, a district that was infamous for harboring all sorts of crime. You knew every street, every dark alley, every burnt out shell of a once-great building. The East End was a far cry from Gotham’s nicer neighborhoods, with their shining skyscrapers and big fancy department stores, but what could you say? The East End was home. It was dark and gritty and dangerous, but you loved that about it.

Besides, it’s not like you could really go anywhere else.

You had developed quite a reputation for yourself over the past few years. Places like the East End have a tendency to breed criminals, and you were no exception--as soon as you left home, you followed right in your mother’s footsteps and became a gun for hire. Thanks to your family name, you had no trouble taking on the odd merc job here and there, working for mob bosses who didn’t mind the mess you tended to leave behind. Silent, sneaky kills weren’t really your thing, but you never really got into the whole...artistic thing that a lot of other killers did. You didn’t sit there and fuck around with the blood and guts, you just...weren’t very tidy. You were quick, but you weren’t clean. If somebody wanted their enemies taken out quietly, they knew not to even look in your direction, because you were not the girl for the job.

If somebody wanted to make a statement, though...

You were more than happy to crush some skulls and splatter some blood across the sidewalk for the right price.

Of course, so much killing got to be exhausting after a while, and even brutal assassins like yourself needed to relax every so often. So, that’s how you found yourself finishing up a job and heading back to your modest little apartment, hopping in the shower, and scrubbing all the blood and dirt off your skin as if you had just spent a long day at the office. It was all normal for you--the killing, the shady bosses, the weirdos you worked with--and you treated it the same way any of those prim and proper office people in Old Gotham treated their day jobs. It was a way to make ends meet, something to pay for groceries and take care of the bills...only, in your case, you were generally paid fully in cash, and sometimes that cash had some suspicious stains on it.

But hey, work was work, right?

That night, you headed to a club you had yet to check out. Done up in a little black dress and wearing some very expensive pearls you had nabbed off of a target a few months back, you took a cab and found yourself entering The Black Mask.

It was a nice spot, the booths and bar all packed with socialites and crime lords. Waitresses and shot girls flitted around, there was a band playing on the stage, and the atmosphere seemed to be cheerful. Honestly, it wasn’t what you had expected, given what you’d heard about its owner.

Roman Sionis was a businessman, as he liked to call himself, who had been steadily growing his empire. He practically owned the entire East End now, and word on the street was he was looking to expand further into the rest of Gotham. You had never met the man, but you had enough mutual connections that Roman knew exactly who you were the moment he spotted you at the bar.

“Zsasz, go get her,” he said, gesturing towards you with a gloved hand.

Zsasz followed his gaze and tilted his head slightly. “You got it, boss.”

You were minding your own business, ordering yourself a gin and tonic and elbowing drunk men out of your way as you carved a little spot for yourself at the bar. They were rambunctious, leaning towards you with wide grins and beady eyes that told you they were hoping to get lucky tonight.

As you were getting ready to throw another elbow, the men suddenly scattered, vanishing into the crowd as if something had scared them off. The bartender set your drink down in front of you, and just as you raised the glass to your lips, the scent of musky cologne filled your nose and you looked up to see none other than the notorious Victor Zsasz standing before you.

“Boss wants to talk with you.” He said simply, his voice rough and hoarse.

But you were too busy taking in his facial features to really listen to his words. His short hair was the lightest blonde you had ever seen, almost snowy in color, a stark contrast to the black stubble that covered his jaw. He was wearing a silky dress shirt the color of red wine, or dark blood, the kind that was thick and coagulated and dripped off of knives so beautifully.

As he stared right back at you, you saw the scars that cut into his face, straight, meticulously carved lines that you were sure he had given himself. After all, just as you did, Victor Zsasz had a reputation, and while you had never met him, you had heard plenty about the sadistic assassin who kept tally marks of all of his victims.

Part of you wondered just how many he had.

You took a sip of your drink, eyes never leaving his. “I only just got here. I haven’t even paid for my drink.”

“On the house, courtesy of Mr. Sionis.” Zsasz said, regarding you with heavily lidded eyes as he looked down at you.

Just as you knew of him, he knew of you. Even though he was pretty much locked in place with Roman now, Zsasz heard plenty about everyone else in the East End. You practically ran in the same circles, and he had to admit, he was a tiny bit curious about the lady assassin everyone was raving about. He almost admired the messiness of your kills, but he also thought that you were sloppy and too quick, never taking the time to truly appreciate what you were doing.

Now, as he glanced down at the swell of your tits as they practically spilled out of your dress, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kill you, or fuck you, or both.

“It’s rude to stare, Mr. Zsasz.” You teased as you caught him.

“It’s rude to keep the boss waiting.” He shot right back.

“Fine.” you sighed, pushing away from the bar. “Lead the way.”

He offered his hand and you took it, holding onto him gingerly. The crowd parted for Zsasz in a way that they never would for you, smoothly and easily, club patrons giving him polite, frightened nods as he pulled you past. His grip on your hand was tight and harsh, squeezing as if you might try to run, but in all honesty, you were marveling at how warm his skin was around yours. You didn’t hate the way he led you over to his employer, and you knew that he was being gentle, or at least his version of it.

When he brought you before Roman Sionis, he immediately let go of you, moving to stand next to his boss. Roman himself was sitting in a booth, sinking into the lavish red velvet upholstery as he held a drink in his gloved hand. He regarded you with a calm smile, immediately gesturing for you to take a set across from him.

So you did, and the rest was history.

Roman Sionis had heard of you, and when he realized that you lived in the East End, in his East End, he had to have you. He had to own you. So, he did what he always did with people, and he bought you. All you had to do was complete one little, simple job for him, and he would keep you around on a regular salary, giving you all the benefits of joining his tiny little family. You passed his test with flying colors, taking out your target faster than Roman could have hoped for, and the next thing you knew, you were spending your days lurking around Roman’s penthouse.

You stayed quiet and obedient, not wanting to give Roman any reason to get rid of you. It was a good, steady gig, one you didn’t want to pass up, but you could tell that Zsasz wasn’t pleased. He scowled at you, always waiting for you to trip, always ready to watch you fall. You got the feeling that he viewed you as an intruder, someone who was messing up his life even though you gave him more than enough space. He would raise his lip in a sneer whenever you passed, showing off gold teeth in a maddeningly handsome way that always had you hoping and praying that he wouldn’t notice the way your cheeks sometimes flushed. He never seemed to care, as he never made any other moves. Maybe he was under strict orders not to fuck with--or just plain fuck---you, or maybe he legitimately didn’t want to.

You didn’t know why you had started to care so much.

You didn’t know about the way he watched your ass when you walked away from him, or the lewd way he sometimes palmed himself right out in the open. You never heard his pants and moans as he got off to the thought of you wrapped around him, and you never got to hear your name rolling off his tongue as he spilled into his hand, hips rocking of their own accord.

Yeah, Zsasz was pretty much head over heels. He was fucked.

He didn’t know why he liked you so much. There was just something about you, something about the way you walked and talked that always made his cock hard. He had reached the point where you would enter a room, and his pants would grow tight. Did you even know? Could you possibly fathom the torture you were putting him through every single day in Roman’s penthouse? Zsasz wanted to grab you and bend you over something, anything, hike that cute little skirt up and just go to town on your cunt. He dreamed about it at night, he wanted it, he craved the taste of your pussy...

But he couldn’t have it.

Not yet.

He would wait. He could be patient. After all, Roman came first. Roman always came first. Zsasz needed to focus on keeping his boss calm and happy, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted, no matter how much he wanted to press you up against the windows and fuck you so that the entire East End could see who you belonged to.

No matter how badly he wanted it, Zsasz would wait.

#victor zsasz #victor zsasz x reader #zsasz x reader #bop zsasz #birds of prey zsasz #birds of prey imagine #birds of prey x reader #roman sionis #dceu #dc imagines

233 notes · View notes

awed-frog · 3 years

Note

Hey, I saw your post about unschooling and have a question. I'm training to be a teacher and enjoy it an awful lot. I have a great deal of respect for the profession and think it's an important job but have seen a number of Americans share horror stories about school- how they wake up in cold sweat in the middle of the summer holidays 17 years after leaving school thinking they'd forgotten to do their homework, talking about how school has no merits but to prepare children for a life of /1

work under capitalism and that fear is the underlying mechanism which makes the whole operation work and the school to prison pipeline. Now, I don't dispute that there are things we could do differently. (I also have no affiliation to the US and think of it mostly as a failed state but that's a separate issue.) But? am I insane to think that free and compulsory schooling is a good thing? Cause it's the only way to get mass literacy and therefore... access to art, critical thinking, history....

Hi, first of all kudos for training as a teacher! What a great job, congrats!

As for your question, yeah - it’s a complicated issue, and the one system I know well is my own, so I can only offer a half-assed opinion here, but if you’re insane, then so am I, because compulsory education for a number of years (ideally up to sixteen)? Yeah, that’s definitely the way forward.

Now, obviously there are some parents out there who want to (or need to) homeschool and do a great job, but I believe that’s a very small minority, and that homeschooling should still be monitored in some way to check that kids are okay and are actually learning something.

Beyond the obvious, which is access to basic literacy, I believe there are two big reasons why good, free and compulsory education is absolutely fundamental:

It shows kids their family is not the entire world and the way they do things at home is not universal. For lucky kids, this ‘simply’ means learning more about others, discovering other point of views, and learning to relate to different people; but for unlucky kids, it’s 100% necessary to get them in contact with the outside world so they can see what their parents do is not normal and hopefully teachers can also realize those kids need help. The idea a random adult (because if you have biological children, you’re literally that: a random adult, nobody ever checked to see if you’re fit to raise kids, and in some countries nobody asks if you need help either) can keep a child at home for eighteen years or more, strictly control their access to the outside world, and tell them whatever about anything...that’s terrifying, tbh, and 99% of the time people who actively want to do this do not have their child’s wellbeing in mind.

Another thing is that even in superficially non-abusive situations, the decision not to follow a normal curriculum can have devastating consequences. As flawed as it can be, school is meant to give you an idea of all the things you can possibly learn and help you understand what it is you’re good at and interested in. But as an unsupervised parent/teacher, or - even worse - an unsupervised faith-based school, you get to decide from the start what matters and what doesn’t, what a kid should be learning and what should be ignored. In the long run, what this means is that you’re making it more difficult for your child to leave you - and I mean, this is difficult for any parent but something every child must at some point do. So a homeschooled kid, or someone who grew up in a strict religious or ideological web, ends up being 100% dependent on his family or community for a job. If you’re taught no literature, no math, no basic science (and if you’re told universities are sinful, or government propaganda, or not for the likes of you) - how the hell are you going to survive in the world without your family? So this is a subtler form of abuse, but abuse nonetheless. And public school, for all its faults, gives a fighting chance to every kid to have the life he actually wants, and not the one his parents chose for him.

So, yeah, I would change a lot about schools and as a hormonal new mom I’m daydreaming about homeschooling my kid in a darling little home-made classroom full of kittens and terraria (and hopefully move to the country and raise goats and forget about society entirely, because look at this mess), but I still believe compulsory education protects children and helps children to develop their full potential. This is why it’s so infuriating to see American Manichaeism at work on this issue - how the reaction to a bad system is homeschooling, unschooling, religious schools, and not teaching kids at all (I know I mention this, like, once a week, but I’m still shocked by this new idea Black kids shouldn’t learn math because math is now violence or something). Bad systems need fixing, but the very opposite of a bad system is not necessarily a good system. And what’s dangerous rn is that social media are connecting all sort of extremists to one another, so a common response to those unschooling problems I keep seeing are more insane parents chirping ‘Oh, don’t worry, my son is 14 and doesn’t know the days of the week! Just plays COD 24/7, but it’s fine! He will learn the alphabet when he’s ready!’ and that’s terrifying, it’s honestly so easy to fall into a hole these days and just keep falling, I was talking about this the other day with my partner and how I truly miss the days we had facts, you know?, real facts you could base an opinion on and have an argument about, whereas now 90% of the heated discussions I have with people is just us throwing links at each other and if you want to believe kids are better off living upside down inside a giant teacup, I’m sure you can find an ‘expert’ who’ll support that view and statistics you can use and entire communities offering tips on how to build giant teacups and ‘My toddler loves his teacup! Here is how to customize it so it won’t look girly!’ and my God.

(Man I hope we’ll all be alright, what a dystopic timeline this is turning out to be.)

Anyway never mind all this noise, you’re doing the Lord’s work doing something you’re passionate about and helps people to boot - my only advice would be, remember to listen to kids who have trouble with school because very often teachers are people who loved school, so it’s important to understand what ‘bad students’ go through and take the time to help them as much as possible. But really, that’s it. Getting rid of formal education helps no one but billionaires and profiteers and bad, bad people.

#ask #school #education #the us is one weird country #i mean there would be a point 3 #about nation building #but americans aren't ready for that #so we'll just need to keep it a secret

37 notes · View notes

janaikam · 4 years

Link

My second to last commission for the @mlbforblm drive. This one was a pool request by @chatnoirinette for a djwifi date with marichat/ladrien. Because I’m marichat trash I decided to make this one with djwifi and marichat. I hope you all enjoy!

Thank you @marikittynoir for betareading!

Summary: Walking back home one night, Alya spots Marinette letting Chat Noir into her room. Alya and Nino accidentally uncover a bit more than expected when confronting their friend about the situation.

“Nino, I’m fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve walked back home alone.” Alya held her phone close to her ear as she glanced from side to side, watching for cars before crossing the sidewalk.

She was passing by her old college, Francois Dupont, which meant she had only a ten-minute walk left until she got home safe and sound.

Unfortunately, Nino wasn’t having any of that.

“Yeah, you do, but normally you’re walking in the daylight not the middle of the night!” Nino exclaimed on the other end. She could just imagine him pacing in his room, worrying about her. Nino was super sweet and she loved that he cared so much, but times, like this, it could be really annoying.

“I didn’t mean to stay so long at the library on purpose, but hey, at least I didn’t stay until dawn again! Plus this time I called you,” Alya pointed out.

The library Alya had just come from was this new 24 hour one that opened up. They had regular library hours, but if you wanted to stay behind and do your own research they let you pay for a membership. Alya had jumped on the opportunity as soon as she heard that they had a whole section on superheroes. There had been many times when she either stayed at the library all night or fallen asleep and Nora had to come pick her up because it got too late.

Tonight she really tried to leave at a decent time. She had even set an alarm, but that darn snooze button would be the death of her. She had been doing some research on past Ladybug miraculous users for the Ladyblog, and by her probably 10th time pressing snooze, she had noticed a bunch of college-aged students glaring at her. She had packed up everything really quickly and exited the building before checking the time on her phone. It had been 11:00 P.M.

“Do I have to start coming with you to make sure this stops happening?”

Alya rolled her eyes as she stopped at the crosswalk not too far from the Dupain-Cheng bakery. The bakery lights were off, but she could see Marinette’s bedroom light still on. Hmm. Maybe she could throw pebbles at her window like a little Romeo. But then Marinette would convince her to stay the night and she couldn’t afford to do that.

“No, dad. I’m fine. In fact, I’m about to pass by Marineee…” Alya trailed off, staring blankly at Marinette’s balcony.

Alya watched as Chat Noir landed on top of the balcony. He knocked twice before Marinette’s head poked out of the trapdoor and she kissed him on the cheek before moving so Chat could enter her room.

“Alya?! Are you there? What’s wrong?” Nino’s panicked voice interrupted Alya’s racing thoughts.

Alya gulped as the crosswalk light turned green, but she didn’t move an inch too scared that she might unravel what she just witnessed.

“Nino, I think Marinette is dating Chat Noir.”

XXX

No one could ever say Nino never supported Alya.

Alya wanted to be the power duo at Just Dance? He broke out his best dancing shoes and helped her climb to the top.

Alya wanted to chase akumas? Nino was there by her side, making sure she didn’t kill herself in the process.

Alya wanted to be a superhero? Nino was Rena Rouge’s number one fan and everyone knew it.

Alya wanted to help track down Hawkmoth? Well, Nino was more than happy to give the old fart a piece of his mind.

But when Alya suggested her best friend was dating the cat-themed superhero of Paris? Well, that was just a little too hard for him to believe.

Ignoring the fact that Marinette has a giant crush on his best friend, Chat Noir just wasn’t her type. Marinette never seemed to be interested in the boastful arrogant types. At least from what he remembered about her. But then again he could be wrong about her. Heck, he could even be wrong about Chat Noir. Yet none of that even began to explain why the two of them would be spending time with each other that they would start to even date.

It just made 0 sense.

“Nnnniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooo,” Alya drawled. “I know what I saw. Marinette kissed Chat Noir and then proceeded to let him into her room!”

“Maybe it isn’t what you think it is?” Nino suggested hopefully.

“What am I supposed to think, Nino!? That my best friend is just sneaking a boy in a leather-looking magical catsuit into her room in the middle of the night for the heck of it?”

Nino shrugged. “They could just be friends who are hanging out? Chat Noir doesn’t always have to parade around as Paris’ superhero. He’s probably just a normal everyday person and Marinette decided to help him feel normal. I mean Marinette is super nice about those things.”

“But the kiss! The Kiss, Nino!”

“Uhh...maybe they’re friendly? I mean we’re French. We kiss in greeting.”

Alya gave Nino a deadpanned look.

“What else am I supposed to say? There are so many other logical explanations for why Marinette would kiss Chat Noir as he snuck into her bedroom.” Nino paused for a second. “Okay, that sounded really bad as I said it, but c’mon Alya. You really think Marinette would start dating Chat Noir?”

Alya tapped a pen on his cap. “That’s what I’m going to find out!”

Nino groaned, knowing Alya she’d devise some crazy scheme to get Marinette to confess that she was dating Chat Noir.

“Alya, please, don’t do anything stupid,” he begged.

“Stupid? Who me?” Alya blinked innocently as she walked towards the door. “Relax, I’ve got it all figured out.”

Alya winked at him as she exited the apartment.

Hopefully, Marinette has better luck than me convincing her.

XXX

“On your left!” Adrien shouted as he moved his cat-themed character across the Marshmallow Marsh.

Thanks to Adrien, Nino just narrowly avoided a sugar bomb. Maneuvering around the sticky mess left in its wake, Nino was able to catch up to Adrien’s character as they reached the end of the marsh and the end of the level.

Candy Chompers was one of Adrien and Nino’s favorite games ever since they discovered it two months ago. They had been enamored by the sugary sweet world and all the characters and adventures that came with it.

It was really a nice change from the games that guys their age played. Less violence and gore. More cute adorable animals wanting to save their world from being overrun by the evil Candy Lord.

As the next level loaded, Nino felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He shifted his position on Adrien’s couch so he could reach the phone.

Nino groaned as he read the text from Alya. So Marinette failed at her job yesterday.

Adrien glanced at Nino. “Everything okay?”

“No.” Nino paused the game, running his hand through his hair. “Apparently, Marinette and Chat Noir are dating and it seems Alya is making us go on a double date Saturday.”

“Wait, Alya found out Marinette and Chat Noir are dating?” Adrien asked, almost fearful.

“Yeah, crazy right?” Nino set his controller on the arm of the couch. “I always thought you two would get together.”

“Heh, yeah, Marinette and I. Definitely won’t happen now. Cause she’s with Chat. Hehe.”

Nino raised his eyebrows. Adrien was acting weirder than usual. And that was saying a lot, considering he always had the lamest excuses when akumas happened. Nino never really questioned the excuses though. Whatever he was doing when they occurred was Adrien’s business.

“So you’re going on a double date with Chat Noir?”

Nino nodded.

“Awesome. Great. Amazing.”

Before Nino could ask about Adrien’s weird response, Adrien unpaused the game, forcing Nino to refocus on the level ahead.

Adrien’s behavior was weird, but maybe he just had more feelings for Marinette than Nino thought. Man, he really shouldn’t have mentioned the double date in front of Adrien. Poor dude.

XXX

“I still don’t see why you had to invite them over for a date,” Nino said, watching Alya pull out her famous chicken casserole from the oven. The smell of the dish alone was enough to get Nino’s mouth watering.

Placing the hot dish on the stove, Alya turned towards Nino. “I needed to see if this little kitty is good enough for our Mari.”

“Alya. He’s a superhero. You’ve had interviews with him. How can you say he’s not good enough for Nette?”

There was the sound of voices coming from Alya’s front door, so Nino moved to go open it. From what he could tell the two people outside of it were arguing.

“For all we know, Chat Noir could just be keeping up appearances. Knowing the entirety of Paris is watching, he could have just put on this fake personality, and underneath he’s just this ugly troll, trying to hurt our precious Marinette.”

Nino rolled his eyes at his girlfriend’s antics.

“Why are you dressed like that?” One of the voices in the hallway said. Kind sounded like Marinette if he really focused on the voice.

“I thought that this was appropriate.” Wow, that sounded a lot like Adrien. “Especially considering they think that—”

The voices stopped as soon as Nino opened the apartment door.

Huh, so it was Marinette’s voice he heard, but definitely not Adrien’s.

Marinette and Chat Noir looked like little kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Both of them looked extremely stiff as they stood next to each other right outside the apartment door.

“Oh, you’re here!” Nino jumped at Alya’s sudden appearance behind him. “Nino, don’t make them stay out there all night.”

“Yeah, c’mon in!” Nino moved aside to let the couple in.

“You came at a perfect time, I just took out the food. I’ll bring it out in just a second!” Alya said, walking back into the kitchen.

“Okay, Alya. We’ll be at the dining table,” Marinette responded, leading Chat over to the table in the dining room.

Nino wasn’t sure if it was just him, but Marinette seemed extremely tense like she was a mouse stuck in a field of mouse traps.

There was an awkward pause at the table once the three sat down. Neither of the couple in front of Nino seemed very eager to strike up a conversation. Probably just nerves.

Considering the circumstances, Nino figured that they never really expected to go on a double date ever, so now being on one was likely very weird.

“Uh, so, Chat, what do you like to do for fun?” Nino asked.

“Oh, you know. Everyday teenage boy things. Play video games, flex in the mirror, save princesses. Normal everyday activities. Hehe.”

“What games do you play?”

“I play a bit of Ultimate Mecha Strike III and Cand—OW!”

Nino watched confused as Chat Noir brought his foot up to his face and cradled it. Marinette didn’t seem at all concerned by her boyfriend’s antics. Instead, she was glancing back towards the kitchen where Alya was adding some finishing touches on her casserole.

“Oh, so you and Marinette must’ve bonded over your love for UMS3. She’s like the queen of that game. I still have yet to meet someone who could beat her at it.”

Chat Noir scoffed. “I’ve beat Little Miss Constipation Girl here at UMS3 multiple times.”

Of all the names to call Marinette, that had to be the weirdest one ever. He definitely had to ask about that later. As far as he knew , the only people who knew about the constipation incident were him, Alya, the girls, and Adrien. Well Nino only knew because Adrien had told him about his trip to London and Alya filled him in on some minor details after the fact.

Marinette either blushed in embarrassment at the nickname or at the fact that she wasn’t an unbeatable mastermind at UMS3. “You only won both times because you cheated by distracting me!”

“A true champion knows not to get distracted by the tiniest of things.” Chat had a smug smirk on his face as he watched Marinette turn as red as a tomato.

“Why you mangy little all-”

“Dinner is served!” Alya announced, interrupting Marinette.

Whatever the incident was surrounding UMS3, Nino was definitely never going to bring that up again for fear of his life or Chat’s life.

“So what were you guys talking about?” Alya asked, taking the seat beside Nino.

“Nothing much. Wow, babe this looks amazing. Let’s dig in!” Nino exclaimed, quickly grabbing a serving of the casserole.

Chat and Marinette followed suit while Alya gave Nino a look that read, ‘What the heck is going on?’. Instead of answering the exact question she was thinking, Nino turned towards his plate and started filling his mouth with food.

Alya shook her head at his antics, grabbing her own portion.

The next few minutes were spent in a comfortable silence as everyone dug into the food.

Alya really out did herself this time. Maybe Marinette should sneak around with superheroes more often if this is how Alya ends up cooking.

“You’re a hungry little cat aren’t you?” Alya asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Looking up, Nino saw Chat with his claw (paw?) on the spoon for the casserole dish.

“Sorry, I didn’t get to eat a whole lot today and this is really good food, Ms. Ladyblogger.”

Nino, along with Alya and Marinette, looked at Chat concerned. Of all people, Nino would’ve thought a superhero would eat enough to stay healthy. Superheroes like Chat and Ladybug were always out there running around stopping akumas. Not eating enough food? That was practically a death wish.

“Nino, could you go get the leftover coleslaw from our lunch earlier. I think Chat needs it more than Ella and Etta.”

Nino immediately complied, more than eager to help out the poor boy who consistently saved Paris.

“No, you don’t have to!” Chat started shaking his hands, trying to stop Nino.

“Dude, we have a model friend who doesn’t eat enough as it is and I always make him eat some of my leftovers. As far as I know you’re not a model, but you save Paris like everyday so a healthy diet is a must.” Nino pushed the bowl of coleslaw into Chat’s arms. “Here, take as much as you want.”

“Oh, um, thanks. I’m not really sure what to say.” Chat blushed.

“You don’t say anything. Just eat.” Marinette grabbed the coleslaw from Chat’s hands and filled his plate with a nice serving. Alya did similar and picked up the casserole dish, piling even more food onto his plate.

“Oh, okay then.” Chat picked up his fork and stared at his plate now full of food.

“I don’t see a lot of eating going on there.” Marinette had her hands on her hips, watching Chat to make sure he would eat. Chat clearly didn’t want to test Marinette on the topic of food, so he complied by eating the food in front of him.

“I think I finally get it. Marinette is dating Chat to make sure that he would be eating enough!” Alya shouted after a few minutes watching the two.

“Wait what you think I’m dating Chat!?” “That’s exactly the reason!”

Marinette and Chat blurted at the same time.

Nino furrowed his eyebrows at Marinette’s statement. That didn’t make a lot of sense considering they were currently on a double date.

“Wait, what do you mean you and Chat aren’t dating?” Apparently, Alya also picked up on Marinette’s statement.

“Um, well you see Chat is here, umm, filling in for Adrien because you mentioned how you saw me with my boyfriend and I’m dating Adrien hehe.” Marinette smiled unconvincingly.

“So you’re not dating Chat Noir?”

Marinette shook her head. “I’m not...did you think I was?”

“Uh, yeah! I saw him sneak into your room one night and you kissed him on the cheek!”

Marinette glanced at Chat. “Oh, uh, you saw that? Chat and I just hang out sometimes. Giving each other cheek kisses and all.”

Alya blinked while Nino grinned at the explanation. It was practically the same explanation he had given Alya when this whole thing started.

“Oh. Then that means you’re dating Adrien?”

Marinette nodded.

“And Chat filled in because Adrien couldn’t make it?”

Marinette nodded again.

“Uh, I have a question.” Nino felt the entire table’s eyes on him as he spoke. “Why did Chat volunteer if you and Adrien were keeping your relationship a secret? Why not just say Adrien couldn’t come instead of outing your secret to three people?”

“Adrien and I are bad at keeping secrets?” Marinette said more so as a question.

“Clearly.” Alya sighed. Nino could tell she was just as confused as he was.

There was just something about her story that didn’t add up. It was really bugging him, but he couldn’t place his finger on it.

Unless it was…

“Hey, Nette, did you ever tell Chat about the prescription incident?”

“No, why?”

That was it. That was what didn’t make sense. “Why did Chat call you ‘Little Miss Constipation Girl’ earlier?”

“Uhh…”

“There was another constipation incident!”

Alya gave the pair a look of disbelief. “As much as I could believe Marinette had some separate constipation incident. I feel like your actions suggest otherwise.”

“I mean it’s not like there’s anything ba—Oh my gosh, Chat’s Adrien.” The answer just hit Nino like a bullet train. How could he have been so blind. Adrien was the only dude who even knew about that stupid constipation incident. And then his actions lined up almost perfectly with how Chat acted. Even his reaction at the dinner invite. He was probably completely confused on who he was supposed to show up as.

“How could I have been so blind!” Alya exclaimed next to him.

“I guess we let the Chat out of the bag, huh?” Chat whispered to Marinette.

“No, you did!”

“Nah, it was a team effort.”

#miraculous ladybug #mlbforblm #my fic #my writing #janai's writing #double date fiasco #marichat #djwifi #marinette #adrien #alya #nino #double date #post reveal post relationship

93 notes · View notes

bxthharmon · 4 years

Text

Never Go Home Again, Pt. XIII || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words:2715

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: abuse / being a fugitive???

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy. teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: In a desperate attempt to sort everything out, Y/N finds herself in the ones place she least expected to be

A/N: ok ok ok i promise im writing my requests oops anyway love yall send more requests cuz im always bored. Also, yall dont understand how sad i am that this is ending :( BUT started writing another series so lemme know if u wanna get tagged in that <3

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

“John B, what are we doing at the police station?” JJ asked, breaking the stuffy silence that was consuming the vehicle.

“Somebody’s gotta tell them what happened.” He justified.

“Need me to come in, like, as a witness?” you asked. He shook his head.

The heavy quiet was broken by Pope, coughing like he’d inhaled chili powder. “Easy there, chief.” JJ reprimanded, and you took the blunt away from your friend. “Alright,” JJ leaned through to John B, “I’m just gonna be real with you right now,” You watched his red cap, “You might end up in the lion’s den, but you don’t go there on purpose. It’s fundamental, just like my old man always told me, you should never, ever trust cops. No matter what the circumstance is.”

“Your old man’s an abusive liar.” Kie countered.

“I agree with JJ.” Pope spoke, and you frowned, holding back the giggle in your lips as he continued, “Fuck the police.”

“You going to the dark side now?” Kie snarked.

“When was the last time the police ever helped us?” He countered.

“Peterkin looked out for me, alright?” John B interrupted, “Or tried to, at least.”

There was a moment of thick quiet before he continued.

“They need to know.”

He looked around, none of you willing to argue as he got out of the car and entered the station. You looked over to JJ, who was determinedly ignoring your stare. You wondered what the fuck was going on because last time you checked, you had been on good terms with him. You sighed, looking out the window and waiting impatiently for John B to return so that the awkward silence would end. You took a hit from the blunt you’d taken from Pope, letting the smoke swirl around in your lungs before gently blowing it out, ignoring the frustrated looks you got from the other three.

Next thing you knew, everyone was shouting and the car was accelerating, the officer trying to open the car door discarded as the shocking adrenaline rush took ahold of the speeding car. Eyes wide, you took another hit from the blunt.

“Good news for residents of the Outer Banks, Dominion Power says their underwater transmission line, which will restore power to 95% of the area, should be functional within 24 hours.”

Sirens passed, but in the hazy atmosphere of the car, no one moved, other than to make sure the car didn’t turn. Pope and Kie sat in the front, JJ and John B to your right, seats reclined as you all attempted whatever kind of rest was possible on the worried heat of the day.

“And still no arrest for the shooting death of Sheriff Susan Peterkin. The state police have issued a statement regarding a local person of interest, a juvenile from-”

Kie clicked the radio off, glancing over at the three of you in the back.

“Let’s game this out.” JJ suggested, “Maybe you guys can help, being the smart ones and all, but… who are the cops going to believe? Ward Cameron or us? So the accuser is a big shot developer, kind of lord of the island, got the governor on speed dial kind of person, and the accused…” he looked over to his friend, “is John B, who is pretty much a homeless 16-year-old boy at the moment.”

“Thanks.” came the hoarse voice of the boy across from you.

“Shit.” you muttered, running a hand over your face and sitting up straight for the first time in hours. You twisted so that your back was leaning on the back oh Kie’s seat, and you were facing the three boys.

“Okay, man, Yucatan, alright?” JJ said, swiftly avoiding your arm as you stretched, “I’m saying, that’s the only option, what other option do you have?”

“Enough with the Mexico bullshit.” John B shook his head. “Sarah’s gonna bail me out.”

“She did witness the whole thing.” Kie pointed out.

“So did I?” you reminded, “So what? She’s gonna snitch on her brother for her dick appointment of the week? No offence, bro.”

“It’s not happening.” JJ reiterated, “We’ve gotta get you off the island.”

“The ferry.” Pope said, “It’s the only way.”

“Exit stage left while you still can.” JJ added. “Before the entire island is on lockdown.”

“Get down.” You reminded him softly, and you all ducked. You reached for JJ’s hand, but his simple gesture of pulling it away made you feel embarrassed, unsure of whatever was going on between you. You turned away from him, looking out the window again.

“Sarah’s not a pogue, John B.” Pope reminded.

“Yeah, you can’t stay here, man.”

“Let’s go then.” You muttered, and Pope pulled out, driving carefully to the docks. They were crowded, and you got out before anyone could argue, thankful for even two minutes out of the suffocating atmosphere. You walked to the sign, reading the notice about the ferry closure and ripping the wanted poster off its staples. You walked back to the car, reading it as you reached the vehicle, then passing it through Pope’s window and shaking your head solemnly. You got in next to JJ as they passed the paper around, JJ making a joke.

“Okay, so the whole island’s looking for John B right now.” Pope said.

“Well at least you know how much you’re worth.” You joked, receiving a frustrated look from Kie.

“Congratulations, John B,” JJ smirked, “you’re famous.”

“We gotta get to the HMS. We need small, no running lights-” kie began to reason, but John B cut her off.

“It’s at the Chateau, Kie.”

“And I wonder if the cops have got the entire place staked out.” JJ said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “Let me think. Yeah, no, they definitely have that place locked down.”

“Hey Jay?” you nudged him, an idea forming, “Like, a couple of weeks ago, you mentioned your dad’s boat? The Ghost? Spectre?”

“The Phantom!” JJ and Pope caught on.

“He still got it?” Pope asked.

“Maybe.”

“You could get that right up the coast, no problem.” Pope said.

Bickering followed, and then the sudden realisation that Pope’s car was on the poster. Suddenly, someone was hitting the window and the car wasn’t starting and everyone was shouting. The car lurched forwards, straight into another car, and then took off, driving away as people watched, shocked.

The car sped forwards, crashing around as you all shouted for Pope to stop, his high ass was definitely not fit for driving.

“JB,” you shouted over everyone, “you need to get out.”

Pope braked, all of you thrust forwards with the force of it, and you found yourself pushing John B out of the car while JJ shouted instructions at him.

The two field tents were massive, rows of chairs on either side as swarms of people worked, talked, and typed. You wandered around for a minute or so, watching the officers interact, always being pushed back when you tried to talk to anyone. You could feel the eyes of the security team burning into you as you looked for Shoupe. Eventually, you saw him, talking to a taller man in an SBI windbreaker. You walked towards them slowly, finalising your plan in your head.

Shoupe saw you, and stepped aside from the conversation so that he was facing you, the agent turning as well, a frown forming as he took in your scruffy attire and the faint smell of JJ’s weed that was clinging to your clothes. You looked between them, “Uh, Officer Shoupe, I have some info.” You greeted.

“Who are you?” The agent interrupted, looking you over again.

“Um, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I know John B.” you clarified, and he nodded.

“What have you got for us?” he asked, and you breathed in, and out, pinching yourself slightly.

“I saw everything on the airstrip.”

The SBI agent introduced himself as Bratcher, then they sat you down in one of the tents, letting you explain what you saw, uninterrupted, and asking questions when they saw fit. They told you that your account, while plausible, was a hard one to argue, especially against Ward Cameron, unless you had a second account to back it up.

Sarah Cameron, you thought. Talk to Sarah.

After taking your statement, they left you to sit in the field tent, shivering in the cold breeze and no coat, watching them call your dad, listening out for any relevant information you could gather.

You could feel their eyes on you, discussing what to do with the information you had for them. An officer, you couldn’t remember her name, had draped a jacket over your shoulders at some point, then led you away while the SBI agent gave a briefing.

You waited at the end of the tent, looking for anything to cease your worry and boredom.

Then you saw her. She looked as lost as you had, trying to work out who to talk to, just like you had a few hours ago. You stepped towards her.

“Sarah?” she turned to you, going to hug you, but an armed officer stepped between you, pulling you apart. “No, she’s my friend!” you struggled towards her, another officer holding her away from you, both of you shouting.

“What’s happening?” Bratcher asked, all of you stopped struggling.

“This is Sarah Cameron,” you explained, “she was there, like I said.”

He looked between you, and nodded, asking her if she was able to make a statement. They took her away, sitting her down at the other end of the tent, letting her talk. You saw Ward approaching.

“Y/N?” he frowned, and you raised your eyebrows.

“How do you know who I am?”

“Sarah’s mentioned you.” he looked around, “have you seen her?”

“Oh, is she no longer locked away in her room?” He tensed, confusion and anger contorting his features.

“How do you know about that?”

“Can’t say.” You said, “Not a great parenting strategy, just saying.”

He leapt forwards, a madness in his eyes that you’d never seen before. He grabbed you by the throat, screaming in your face while you clawed at his grip. Within seconds, other bodies were pulling him away. Your panic subsided, and you looked at Bratcher. You could use the situation to your advantage.

“See what I mean?” you yelled, pointing at him as you faced Bratcher, “He’s crazy! I told you, he attacked Big John, he’s the reason this is all happening!”

Bratcher sighed, signalling for his men to take away the older man. “I have to say, Miss Y/L/N, your story is making more sense. Two stories matching perfectly, his temper. But we talked to your father, you’re free to go, we’re almost done with Sarah.”

“What’s going to happen to John B?”

He sighed, “We’ve gotta bring him in, you understand that.”

You nodded, “I hope I shed some truth to the situation.”

You walked away, leaving the jacket on a chair as you passed, sending a reassuring smile to Sarah on your way out, you wandered the streets, finding your way to JJ’s house.

By some kind of miracle, you arrived at the same time as Kie and JJ. He was getting out of the car when he noticed you, and instead of making any move to hug you as normal, he froze.

“Look, JJ,” you sighed. “Why are you mad at me?”

You stood opposite him in his front yard, staring at the way he sighed, an odd mix of relief and defeat adorning his features. “I saw some texts, from Tyler.”

You nodded slowly. “I rejected him, if that’s what upset you. Since I met you, no guys have been the same, you know?”

His eyes pulled in slightly, as if realising that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t one-sided. “Did you sleep with him?”

“Yeah.” you glanced at the floor, “I don’t really know why. Things were weird between us and I just - I missed my old life. But it was like, the confirmation I needed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I love you.”

His jaw dropped slightly in shock, running you words over in his head, working out whether you were genuine. You began to step back, and before you could think about what had just happened, he was kissing you.

It was urgent, emotive, full of everything that you couldn’t put into words. You broke apart, still slightly shocked at the confession. You looked at his front door.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

He looked to Kie, who was pretending she hadn’t watched, and nodded apprehensively, slipping a hand into yours and leading you to the door. He opened it, leading you through into the mess. You stepped over shoes and bottles as he led you in, calling out for his dad.

You ventured into the living room, seeing his dad passed out on the sofa, a half empty bottle of something on the table next to him. “Dad, I need the keys to the Phantom.” a snore sounded, “Dad?”

You looked down, noticing the sleeping pills and picking them up, showing the bottle to the blond boy next to you. Watching him, you could practically feel the hurt resonating off him, masked by his strong resolution as he looked back at his dad. Noticing the chain around his neck, between you you found a pencil and pin to get the keys with.

You stood a couple of feet behind him as he knelt down, preparing himself.

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you.”

The voice was a murmur, almost soft, and your heart was beating in your throat. You knew what he was capable of.

“You’re back.”

This time, Luke had more clarity in his voice, and was more awake. He hadn’t noticed you yet.

“Just checkin’ in.” JJ said, backing away as the older man sat up, taking a swig from a beer bottle.

“School out already?”

“What?” JJ frowned.

“Did you ditch? It’s alright, you can tell me.”

JJ nodded slowly, “Yeah. I hit the break, you know?”

“I hated school too. My boy!” Luke chuckled. You felt intrusive, like you were standing in on a moment that wasn’t yours to see. But the moment felt intimate, hitting you where it hurt as your eyes went glassy. “You know what? Listen, hey.” he stood shakily, “Hey, look, I know I’m hard on you sometimes.” JJ hummed, fear mixing into his pain, “But sometimes I - I see your mother in you, and it gets me a little tweaked, you know?”

You wiped a tear away, the scene before you hurting more than you would like to admit. The man looked at you, and you could see JJ’s shoulders tense.

“You got a girl?” he didn’t look away from you.

“Uh, yeah, Y/N.” JJ looked over at you, worry seeping into his eyes.

“You treat my boy better than I could, okay?” You nodded slowly, more tears slipping down your face.

“Of course.” your voice broke slightly, “I love him.”

“Me too.” His head turned back to his son, “I love you, son.” He pulled JJ in, “Come here, I love you. I love you, son. I love you.”

More than anything, you wanted to call him out. Tell him that if that was true, then he wouldn’t hurt JJ like he did. But whatever this moment was, it wasn’t the right one to do so.

You could hear JJ sniffling, letting his hands find their way onto his father’s back. When he spoke, he sounded like he wanted to be stronger than he felt, his voice thick, pained, struggling. “Love you too, Dad. I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t got nothing to be sorry for.” His father muttered, the sleeping pills pulling him back out of consciousness, slowly as ever. JJ helped him down onto the sofa. “You’re a good boy.” came the murmur.

JJ let out a shaky breath, not sparing you a glance as he pulled the chain from his father’s neck and stepped away. He looked back at you, almost embarrassed to have let you see him in such a vulnerable state. He turned to leave, your voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

“JJ, you don’t always have to be strong, you know that, right?”

Tags: @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @lolitstiana @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @teamnick @thoughtsofthestars @obxmxybxnk @pcterparxer @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @sxcretinhuman @alexa-playafricabytoto @angvelics @badwolf00593 @coloradogirl07 @mendesmaybank @jiaraendgame @5am-cigarette @emerald-xcd @haharudy

82 notes · View notes

canyouhearthelight · 4 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 88

Sophia, the day after her conversation with Tyche.

Thank you to @satan-parisienne and @baelpenrose for keeping me going and on an even keel! Sorry the Author’s Note is so short... I didn’t realize until I had about 10 mins before I had to be back at work that I forgot to queue this for today *facepalm*

The next day was an entire education on new places I could be sore. A hot shower and analgesics only took the barest edge off, and I ended up needing a transport to get to my office instead of my routine walk. I did my best to ignore the grin on Conor’s face every time I moved too fast and winced. After the third time I scowled at him, I brought up my datapad and did some research, careful not to tap my legs as I gestured, which had become something of a habit.

“That snot,” I gasped. Conor glanced at me, so I clarified. “Tyche had me doing fencing footwork yesterday…. Intermediate footwork, it turns out. No wonder I’m so sore.”

“Least it wasn’t sparring,” he pointed out cheerfully, gently lifting my chin to get a look at my lip. “You should have let Noah heal that, love.”

I brushed my cheek against his hand. “I want the reminder. May even let her do it again once it heals.”

This time, it was his turn to scowl. “Not funny. That face has been bruised enough for one lifetime.” He gently rubbed my cheek as the transport stopped. “Okay, time to go be the boss. No fighting with the other kids.” Despite the joking tone, his eyes were serious as he leaned in to kiss me before he headed to his shift.

I realized that Alistair not only beat me to work, but could apparently hear me groaning as I tried to walk, because the door opened before I was even within three feet of it. True to form, he gave me an appraising look before his expression settled on my face. “Door get a bit mouthy today? Or did your feet decide you needed to stay home?”

“Tyche punched me, actually.” My tone was light as I inched my way to my desk. “For defending myself. And then she decided I need more ways to defend myself, so now I can hardly move.”

“Solid logic,” he deadpanned as he handed me a cup of coffee. “I feel obliged to point out that the coffee is hot, seeing as you display a disturbing propensity to get hurt.”

“Very funny.”

“You have been warned, et cetera, so on, so forth.” He waved a hand nonchalantly as he turned, bringing up my agenda for the day. “Your first meeting is the one to discuss medical testing ethics, criteria for volunteers, and determination of the necessity of the procedures. Then you have time set aside to review the status of the Galactic Core Curriculum, along with proposals for expanded learning topics and their existing analogues in the education systems of other planets - “ He paused and tilted his head. “I will never cease to be caught off guard when sentences like that exist.”

I restrained the urge to nod - or more accurately, my back twinged with a warning not to even consider it. “Believe me, I understand. Noah and I were talking about other species a few weeks ago. Did you know there is a species of avians out there who essentially live on a planet with no surface atmosphere?”

“The Preeyar, yes,” he sighed wistfully. “Knowing that Fermi was simply impatient has been quite eye-opening, so to speak.”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” I conceded. “We were too young for extraterrestrial civilizations, we weren’t listening properly, they apparently weren’t trying to contact us until recently… But they do exist.” A smile crept on my face at the idea that we really hadn’t been alone in the universe.

My office door opened without warning, and a familiar voice chimed in as Alistair turned with clenched fists. “I do argue that we are entirely too dangerous to have been contacted.” Arthur Farro stood leaning against the frame, and Alistair relaxed marginally. “At least we were until relatively recently…. Throwing nuclear ordinance at each other the moment killing each other in the thousands - rather than the millions - stopped scratching that vicious itch. Who does that? We’re like demented eight-year-olds who got bored of burning ants and started setting each other’s hair on fire instead.”

��You really should keep that door secured,” my assistant sniffed as he closed out my agenda, right around the time he caught Arthur squinting at it.

“He has the code,” I admitted.

“Or maybe that was accidental,” our resident history teacher continued, ignoring us. “I’m a big fan of assuming stupidity instead of malice where possible. And, dear lord, does our track record make it plausible.” Finally entering the room, he flicked a finger at my face. “That was not, however.”

Before I could stop him, Alistair took one glance between me and my friend, and strode to the door. “No.”

“Alistair…”

“I’ll clear your calendar. No. Have a good day.”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Arthur asked as the door closed behind my soon-to-be-ex assistant.

“That he’s a coward,” I muttered.

“You know damned well that’s not what I mean.”

“Tyche already decked me.” I gestured at my split lip and the bruise that bloomed on my chin overnight. “So, yeah, I know - “

“No, you really don’t seem to.”

“Arthur, stop.”

“I will not.” He stepped forward and placed both his hands, palms down, on my desk. He knew I hated that gesture. “Bjornson’s entire narrative hinges on you being more dangerous than anyone realizes, and you putting up a display of false helplessness to make everyone trust you. By decking one of his followers, not only did you show that you do, in fact, have violence in you - meaning that it’s now entirely plausible you’re as Machiavellian as they claim - but you’ve also gone and indicated for whatever reason that Jokull is enough of a threat to drop that premise.” Straightening, he crossed his arms in clear disappointment. “If you wanted to give him more credibility, good job. You succeeded.”

I swallowed every bit of hurt I felt at his words, reminding myself they were nowhere near as barbed as the ones Tyche had given me the day before. Instead, I tilted my head and arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you done? Did you say everything you needed to say?” I paused, giving him a chance to respond. When he didn’t, I poked harder. “Feel better?”

“Not particularly, but big picture? I’m not a terribly gleeful person, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. But yes, it is your turn now.”

“Gracious of you,” I cooed sarcastically. “Tyche made the same points yesterday, after punching me in the face, with the added gravitas of a guilt trip served with that special seasoning of having watched me almost die and thinking I abandoned her as a child. Also three hours with a rapier, whipping my ass. So. Far more impressive, I assure you.”

“Foiled again by the smaller Reid,” he sighed dramatically before catching himself. “Rapier, you say? I was going to say no pun intended, but I’ve decided I did that on purpose. Yep. Totally intentional.”

I rolled my eyes before pulling up my tunic to show the bruises on my midriff. “I’m not very good at it, for the record.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, saber’s a better style anyway. And I’m not just saying that because it’s my favorite.”

“Uh huh,” I nodded, not entirely convinced. “As far as Bjornson… seriously. She gave me the scoop. I seriously fubared the entire situation yesterday. Apparently, our suspected cult leader only believes in physical attacks on those who would defend themselves. No honor in beating a beaten foe, et cetera.”

“Mmm hmmm,” he nodded, like I was a student he was letting reach her own conclusion.

“Which means I just made it open season on Sophias,” I groaned.

“Really, saber is much better for brawling tactics,” he hedged.

I laughed bitterly. “Doesn’t matter. My walking privileges are revoked until further notice. Must be accompanied by one of six people, or two out of another ten, and on a transport.” The last word came out like a profanity. It was a known fact I hated using them.

Hence why I was now being forced to, unfortunately.

“If you think there is any possibility that I’m going to argue against Tyche on that decision, I need to talk to her about that head scan,” he told me pointedly. “Then again, you and I have different definitions of the word ‘think’, but I’ll be clear - it’s not happening. Moving target, faster than a walking pace, with a protective attachment? Which roster am I on, again?”

“Very funny. You already know.”

His expression softened slightly when he realized I was actually upset. “There is some good news in all of this.”

I threw up my hands and spun in my chair. “Oh, do tell, great military historian and warlord. What is the shining silver lining to the fact that I just gave a man who thinks I am the only thing standing between him and his New Start a golden ticket to sic his followers on me?”

“Okay, first off, sassy shit, my main career is a school teacher. I only moonlighted as a warlord to pay those apocalypse bills. Not my fault I was good at it.” Suddenly, he got serious. “The good new is, if he was too stupid to realize that your talent for inspiring loyalty meant you were a massive problem for any takeover plan, and a problem he’d have to deal with sooner or later….. Well, he’s probably too stupid to keep his little cult together much longer. Leaders who don’t recognize more than one kind of strength never manage to build a lasting legacy.”

“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair…” I said, half to myself.

“Yeah, our guy is no Ramses II,” Arthur replied. “Besides, those who seek power are rarely good at keeping it.”

“I would have given him my seat on the Council if he’d just asked,” I admitted.

“Besides the fact that you literally just proved my point, if he was suited to the Council, he’d be on it. It’s not like you were the only candidate.”

I shrugged. “No idea. I didn’t even know I was on the Council for the first week. I think it was a week.”

When I turned to look at him, I was met with a flat stare. “I know it was explained to you at some point. How does that search function work?” He reached forward like he was going to tap my head before I swatted his hand away. “You were appointed to the Council to replace Simon, you represent a specific population on board the Ark, when we arrive at Von, you will serve an additional two planetary standard years before elections are held, of which you cannot be a candidate….”

Ugh. “I was put forward as a recommendation by Simon. The other Councillors put forward their candidates. The population I represent voted based on my personnel file, since no one even knew any of the candidates at that point. We’d only been on the Ark about six months. Some of us, anyway.” Glaring, I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t know how you figured that out, but I have a feeling I’m going to kill someone.”

He waved a hand at me in a very familiar gesture. “I see other people do it all the time. Jog your memory, and some phrase or word triggers it. Cool to watch, though.” With a shrug, he continued. “Point is, Bjornson wasn’t even a candidate, same as me.”

“How do you know that?” I asked incredulously.

“Fuck, Sophia. You really need to keep track of your constituents.”

“Hey, I didn’t even want to be a - Wait. You are one of my so-called ‘constituents’!?”

“Even voted for you,” he grinned. “Didn’t know it was you-you, but… Communications background, peaceful but intelligent attributes to balance out our resident warhawk, fair enough to offset Huynh, and you seemed like the type to actually listen to Grey, Pranav, and Eino.” He shrugged. “To be fair, I was right.”

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #humans are weird #aliens #apocalypse #science fiction #original fiction #my writing #earth is space australia #humans are space orcs

64 notes · View notes

padawanlost · 4 years

Note

yes, but is treason always necessarily a bad thing? treason against dictatorship and tyranny? sometimes it’s called rebellion and revolution, but it could just as easily be called treason. you quoted the rots novelization. in that novel, there were also senators who had tried to make a dent in palpatine’s power, insinuating the desire to do more drastic things should palpatine not comply.

But, as far as everyone was concerned, the Republic was not a dictatorship or a tyranny. Nor was the Jedi coup included any kind of popular involvement. It wasn’t a reaction of people clamoring for freedom or democracy. It was not a revolution. It was 12 people deciding that the democratically elected leader of the Senate had to be forcibly removed because they didn’t like his policies. It’s important to keep in mind that at his point they had no idea Palpatine was a Sith Lord. They suspected the Sith had influence over his office but that was also true about the rest of the galaxy. So, yeah, it was treason and yes, it is a bad thing. treason is a crime against the government and even when it’s done with its best interests at hearth can still lead to violence and tragedy. that’s why it’s used as a last resource, not the first.

That’s why it’s so important to separate what we know as the audience from what the characters knew. We know Palpatine was evil, the Republic was finished and the Empire was about to rise. They didn’t. and when you don’t know the future, walking up to a Chancellor and arresting is never a good option, especially when you don’t have any legal claim or public support. Because that is what separates treason from revolutions: legitimacy.

They had no real evidence, no witnesses and no legal or public support. Worse yet, they made no attempt to acquire any of that. they decided he should be removed because they believed they knew better. Also, to make matters even worse, Palpatine was immensely popular. He was loved by the people in a way the Jedi never were and the moment people found out what the Council had done (arbitrarily arrested the Chancellor) there would be civil arrest. And civil arrest in a society ravaged by a war would definitely lead to more death and suffering, especially in the most vulnerable population.

The senators, on the other hand, were looking for legitimacy by following legal procedures.

“Which is the purpose of this petition,” Mon Mothma said, laying her soft hand over Padmé’s. “We’re hoping that a show of solidarity within the Senate might stop Palpatine from further subverting the Constitution, that’s all. With the signatures of a full two thousand Senators—” “—we still have less than we need to stop his super-majority from amending the Constitution any way he happens to want,” Padmé finished for her. She weighed the reader in her hand. “I am willing to present this to Palpatine, but I am losing faith in the Senate’s readiness, or even ability, to rein him in. I think we should consult the Jedi.” [Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith]

It was only after the Empire was declared that actual talks of treason began.

“We can’t let this happen!” Bail lurched to his feet. “I have to get to my pod—we can still enter a motion—” “No.” Her hand seized his arm with astonishing strength, and for the first time since he’d arrived, she looked straight into his eyes. “No, Bail, you can’t enter a motion. You can’t. Fang Zar has already been arrested, and Tundra Dowmeia, and it won’t be long until the entire Delegation of the Two Thousand are declared enemies of the state. You stayed off that list for good reason; don’t add your name by what you do today.” “But I can’t just stand by and watch—” “You’re right. You can’t just watch. You have to vote for him.” “What?” “Bail, it’s the only way. It’s the only hope you have of remaining in a position to do anyone any good. Vote for Palpatine. Vote for the Empire. Make Mon Mothma vote for him, too. Be good little Senators. Mind your manners and keep your heads down. And keep doing … all those things we can’t talk about. All those things I can’t know. Promise me, Bail.” “Padmé, what you’re talking about—what we’re not talking about—it could take twenty years! Are you under suspicion? What are you going to do?” “Don’t worry about me,” she said distantly. “I don’t know I’ll live that long.”[Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith]

And even if they had been talking about treason, that doesn’t exonerates the Council. the “someone else did it to’ is not a valid justification.

#ask #anon #gffa politics #jedi politics #sw meta #txt

40 notes · View notes

vintagedaydreams · 4 years

Text

The Story That Never Ends (Part ONE-The Hobbit)

Alright, people! I have an absolutely freakin’ awesome person that is going to be collaborating with me on this Never-Ending Story. Give it up for @ramblingwritings who is awesome enough to be with me on this out of control wagon! This is just the first part of The Hobbit section– I am working on the other half and will have that updated soon! Once that happens, the next fandom install can be written and uploaded. 😊

This is going to be the story that jumps from Fandom to Fandom as the Reader dies in each. SO, it will be long and probably never really finished. Who knows. There are so many Fandoms to do this with!!

Enjoy!

(If you have a Fandom you’d like to see in it, feel free to drop a line! We have a list going already. But beware, you may be roped into writing some of it if neither of us are familiar with that Fandom! LOL)

Warnings: language, some violence/disturbing imagery (battle, wounds, etc), fantasy (is that an actual warning at this point?)

So without further ado…

@kettnerjanea

You were born as you, a human, lived in present time and had knowledge of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.

You liked all the races, Elf, Man and Dwarf – and sometimes Wizard – but you had really fallen in love with all of the Company of Dwarves during The Hobbit storyline. One in particular!

You had been on your way home from a friend’s house where you had all binge-watched the movies, when a drunk driver hit you. You laid there, broken and bleeding and in so much blinding pain you were sobbing, before you felt darkness finally take you.

You jerked awake, a cry of pain on your lips, but saw that you were in a bed and a room that looked familiar but unfamiliar at the same time.

A dream. You just had a bad dream.

Then you heard voices coming from somewhere else in the house and you swung your legs out from under the covers to get up and saw…hairy feet?!

And then, two sets of memories came hurling at you.

Your life as you remembered: your job, your family, your friends, your slight Tolkien obsession, the walk home, the pain…

And then another set: your life as a Took, running wild with other fauntlings, climbing trees and having adventures, being thicker than thieves with one cousin of yours in particular – Bilbo, your second set of memories helpfully supplied, while the other side of your brain was floundering at the implications.

What was going on?!

And then you were bombarded by a male Hobbit – a Hobbit! – one set of your memories recognized as your Took father and you were bid to hurry up, your coming of age birthday party was that day and there was so much to do!

As you got ready on auto-pilot, you sifted through your memories and yep, you had the last 33 years all there as your life as Juniper Took.

Boy was that going to take some getting used to. No one seemed to be acting any different towards you, but you were definitely out of sorts which thankfully your family chalked up to your excitement of being of Age and able to go and do whatever with no one to ask permission of.

Uh, yeah, that was great too – considering that you’d felt that way long before you became a Hobbit. Thank goodness you “woke up” when you were of Age and not too long before!

And thank goodness you were a Took! That alone could explain away a lot of your oddities you were sure were going to pop up with double memories and the ridiculous amount of confusion you were feeling.

When Bilbo showed up at your party, himself a few years older than you, you were sad to say that you inner fangirled and actually had your favorite Hobbit worried and wondering what on Middle Earth was wrong with you.

You promised to visit him the next day and spent the rest of the party just listening to the instincts and memories of your Took self to not draw too much more attention to yourself. (Thank goodness the Juniper before you got two sets of memories already picked out all the presents for the Hobbits there. You wouldn’t know where to begin as confused as you were now.)

You wanted to listen to your Took side and fully embrace being Juniper Took, but how could you when you could still remember all of your life as a human? And you felt as if you’d been plucked from your life as a human to being thrust into being a Hobbit and how could you just…forget all of who you were and become a Took fully?

You’d lived through your life as human, but you only had memories of living through your life as Juniper Took. Didn’t that mean you were Y/N first and Juniper second?

You’d given yourself a mega headache by the time the party was over and even though you didn’t sleep at all, you were knocking on Bilbo’s door bright and early, worked up into a horrible state – even though your Tookish side was warning you that it was far too early for any Hobbits to be up after the late hour of the party last night.

Bilbo had blearily opened the door, though both sides of you were pleased to see that his tiredness vanished in the wake of your -probably awful- appearance.

He’d invited you in, got breakfast started and then…then you’d broken down.

“Bilbo, I think I am…crazy.”

The proper Baggins’ blinked at you from the kitchen counter where he was slicing up tomatoes. “Juniper,” he snarked, and you flinched at the unfamiliar name, though he missed it when he looked back down at his counter, “all Tooks are crazy. You’ve known that since you were born – and the whole Shire is aware of it as well.”

Apparently, he was expecting some snarky remark – at least that part of your personality remained the same – but when none came, he looked back up at you.

“Juniper?” he asked and this time, he didn’t miss the flinch you gave. Suddenly, he was standing right beside your chair at the table.

“What is it? Why do you think you’re crazy? What happened?”

You looked up into warm, worried amber eyes and felt tears gather in your own.

“Does this have anything to do with how…odd you were acting yesterday?”

You nodded miserably, finding your gaze landing on the dress you were wearing. Catching sight of your large, furry – furry! – feet you felt a few tears fall down your face.

Who were you now? Not fully Juniper, but certainly not Y/N anymore. You really couldn’t fit in anywhere! Not with two sets of memories, one feeling more real than the other Tolkien one.

“Bilbo…I…” You heaved a sigh. “Perhaps it’s best if we just forget about it.” You didn’t need your close cousin, or one of your favorite characters, to shun you now. The rest of the Shire was only loosely mentioned in the books and movies – Bilbo was the only real tie to the life you knew before at this point!

“Jun—listen here, Favorite Cousin,” Bilbo said firmly, cutting off the use of your Hobbit name when you winced and changing it to the title you’d both bestowed on each other as young fauntlings years ago, “I can see that something is wrong. I’ve been worried since last night, though I thought maybe it was just you finally getting your freedom. But that obviously isn’t it. So tell me: what is it? What is going on?”

Taking a deep breath, you looked up and found both sides of your mind not able to help trusting the warm, gentle Hobbit beside you.

So you told him everything. It took all day and many meals, but you unloaded all of your past life, your present fears and how lost you felt at the moment.

Bilbo had responded by quizzing you on past memories you had of the both of you and you passed with flying colors. Though he looked just as heartbroken as you when you admitted, with a sob, that while you had the memories, you didn’t remember doing them. It was like watching a movie of someone else’s life, just with a lot more detail.

And then, you had to explain what exactly a movie was, which actually made Bilbo believe what you thought as a crazy story.

But then, no Hobbit, Took or otherwise, was able to come up with such things as the life and the technology you described from your…past life.

The thought of your past life made you start crying all over again.

You’d lost your friends, your family, your life, both figuratively and literally.

Bilbo seemed properly appalled for you and had done his best to comfort you.

And he really was good at that.

It wasn’t until you began to tell him that you…well, you knew what was going to happen, that he seemed to be a little less believing.

At first.

“Wait. What do you mean I am going to leave the Shire and travel with a company of Dwarves? Dwarves! And I’m going to go willingly and do what to a dragon?!”

You gave a slight giggle, swinging your now somewhat beloved furred feet as you both sat in the much more comfortable chairs in front of Bilbo’s fireplace.

“Exactly what I said, Bilbo,” you smiled, taking another sip of the delicious tea your cousin always had on hand. (That was one thing you were quite content to embrace about being a Hobbit – the seven meals a day thing was glorious.) “You meet Gandalf the Grey, or…re-meet him I guess?, then the Dwarves and agree to go on their Quest with them. It is an amazing adventure for you. I think…well, I don’t think you’d be complete without it to be honest.”

Bilbo just stared at you, mouth agape before he suddenly hummed and leaned back further into his chair.

“Alright. Say that…say that I believe you, Juniper.” Your flinch was much less pronounced now, though Bilbo still paused.

“There was another name you went by in your…other life, wasn’t there?” the observant Hobbit asked gently, and you found yourself sniffling a bit.

“Yes. But…I’m not that person anymore, apparently.”

“I think you are,” Bilbo said quietly after a moment. “You’re just as much her as you are Juniper. Maybe even more so. You said yourself that you had memories of us throughout the years, memories of your life here, but no memory of actually doing it. But…you remember doing all those things you told me of in your life as a Man, right?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. It feels…wrong to just embrace Jun-Juniper so readily when I don’t really feel that I am her. Regardless of how I look or where I am.”

There was silence before Bilbo suddenly jumped out of his chair, startling you.

“So! What do I call you?”

You looked at him in confusion, but before you could open your mouth he continued, “Your name in your other world. What was it?”

“Y/N,” you said after a hesitant moment. “It was Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well, I don’t think we could get away with calling you by your last name here, not with you being a Took all this time in everyone else’s memories, but I could definitely call you Y/N. No one would blink at a new name, we’ve certainly called each other all sorts of names throughout the years. This would just be another of our oddities.”

The Hobbit before you suddenly swept into a deep, polite bow. “A pleasure you meet you, Y/N. Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

No matter what your Took side said, though it didn’t put up really any protest at all, you flung yourself out of the chair and into Bilbo’s arms.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you practically sobbed, the sound of your own name the only grounding thing you had here.

Bilbo had sent a letter to your family and had invited you to stay with him for awhile. No one questioned it – everyone in the entire Shire knew of the Took and the Baggins who had made a right nuisance of themselves since they met when you were born.

And wasn’t that an odd thing to think of? Bilbo was older than you but you knew about a lot of his life that not only had happened but that was going to happen.

An evil thought crossed your mind. Perhaps… a little event changing would not be too amiss on the adventure you were going to wiggle your way into with the Company? By your calculations, you still had quite a bit of time left – Bilbo was only a few years older than yourself – a respectable forty to your newly christened thirty-three.

If the Company wasn’t supposed to come until Bilbo was fifty…well, that gave you ten years to try and make your gentle Hobbit a bit more burglar and less ‘grocer’. And if Thorin could find it in himself not to be a dick straight away, well, it’d make your job all the easier. Why couldn’t Bilbo stay in Erober? Why couldn’t the Thorin line survive the Battle of the Five Armies?

Besides, you’d been thrown into this Juniper Took’s body for a reason. And even though you didn’t remember Bilbo being close to really anyone other than the Gamgees in the book and movie, you and him obviously were still close, even before you got another set of memories.

So, if you were thrown here and were already this close to the main character, might as well change a few things up, right?

Right.

-----

It only took you two months to not only grow as close to Bilbo as you had been before you’d added more memories, but also to convince him that an adventure right now, when you weren’t on a time frame, was a really good idea.

You’d needed someone to confide in so much, you’d brought Bilbo into your confidence about everything. Minus your more radical plot changing ideas. It’d be better if he came to the conclusion to stay in Erober on his own.

But he now knew every detail of not only the Company, but the Lord of the Rings storyline too. And he was not thrilled about his coming nephew in the line of fire and danger if he could help it.

He’d agreed that once Erebor was retaken in a decade and some change, he’d help destroy the Ring he was going to pick up along the way.

You’d been adamant that some things had to happen, some bad things. Otherwise, if the Company wasn’t attacked by goblins, how was he supposed to find the Ring Gollum had?

(You’d also wrangled a promise out of Bilbo that he was take you with him, contract be damned, when the time came.)

But for the moment, you were off to see the Elves in Rivendell, as it was the closest.

You had a plan. One that you obviously told Bilbo about as well.

If you two could travel a bit, befriend at least some of the elves, men, what have you, that you’d meet up with on the way to the mountain, maybe the journey would be easier is some spots. Not just for Bilbo, (and yourself), but for the poor Dwarves who had been driven out of their home for decades now.

Bilbo had been almost beside himself hearing about the plight of the Dwarves and their lost home. You’d practically had to hold him back from leaving for the Blue Mountains to find this soon-to-be-king Thorin and start early.

You managed to talk him into not doing that, since it’d screw everything up. No, best to just familiarize yourselves with at least part of the journey’s roads and meet some hopefully helpful characters beforehand.

Though befriending Elves wouldn’t endear either of you to the Dwarves, especially Thorin, but…well, they were Elves and Bilbo was over the moon. Once you’d mentioned Elves, well, it was all you could do to make sure you both actually gathered supplies for the journey, rather than just run out the door.

If you knew that Bilbo’s excitement for the Elves would be this bad, (and you should’ve), you would’ve mentioned Elves two months ago.

Honestly – who was supposed to be the elder of you two? You or him?

You finally got everything situated and had only just left the Shire when who should you both come across but Gandalf the Grey.

His timing really was uncanny at times.

“Bilbo Baggins and Y/N Took. I should have known.”

You and your cousin, (that still took a little getting used to), just gaped at the older, wizened man.

“What….oh! You must be Gandalf then?” Bilbo asked first, (since he didn’t remember him at all from meeting him so long ago), while your brain was still trying to catch up to the fact that the wizard had called you Y/N, not Juniper.

Bilbo cottoned on to that too, because his brow furrowed and he leaned over the pony he was somewhat successfully riding to mutter to you, “That is a little creepy. Like you said. Does he know everything?”

“I am honored that I have been spoken about,” Gandalf cut in, eyes twinkling. “And no. Alas, I do not know everything, but in this case, I think, I may know just enough.”

You were aware you were an odd sight, a female Hobbit, Took or no, astride a pony in breeches and a blouse and vest, and gaping quite unattractively at the wizard.

But…he’d called you by your real name!

Well, it definitely made things easier if he already knew everything. There were still things you had probably forgotten to tell Bilbo – it was hard to remember every little thing between four books, six movies and all the years of your previous life. Not to mention the thousands of fanfictions.

Yes, there was probably something you had forgotten to pass on – Gandalf knowing everything already would be so much easier.

“Off to see the Elves?” Gandalf asked from his own horse and you and Bilbo both grimaced.

“Yes,” you muttered after a moment, “that is creepy.”

The wizard laughed.

“And yet, you know more than I about events about to unfold.”

“Yes, but I have a good excuse,” you said somewhat petulantly. “And I don’t have any idea what’s going to happen in the next ten years. Only when the Company arrives. Before that I’m just as lost as everyone else.”

“Then this will be good for the both of you,” Gandalf decided with another eye twinkle. He really was starting to remind you of Dumbledoore. Huh. Dying and ending up in the Harry Potter world would have been fun too.

“Perhaps you would allow a lonely old man to accompany you on your travels. It has been some time since I’ve seen my old friends in Imladris.”

You and Bilbo exchanged another glance and then you both shrugged in tandem. The past few months, you had been speaking with Bilbo not only about your life as human you and the story of what was to come, but also more in depth about the memories you had as Juniper.

You had never felt closer to anyone than you did you Bilbo. And, he’d told you one night, he felt closer to you now than he did when you were just Juniper with only Juniper’s memories.

Cousins, nothing. You and Bilbo acted like twins, despite the age difference.

“Sure, Gandalf,” you said with a grin, “we’d love the company. Might as well get to know you well know, yes?”

You three started off again and then Gandalf cast you a sidelong look.

“I assume you’ll be joining the Company then in a few years’ time?”

You gave as innocent a grin as you could with Took blood, “What on earth would make you think that?”

Gandalf chuckled yet again.

“Two burglars for the price of one. I think Oakenshield will find that acceptable.”

Gandalf’s eyes widened a bit when Bilbo didn’t react at all – no questions, no concerns, just a placid smile.

“He knows all about the Company and the…Adventure then?”

You gave a grin, not even bothering with trying to be Innocent. “Yup! Gandalf, I can’t keep secrets from my brother!”

“Cousin,” Gandalf corrected, though it was more a question and you felt something warm unfurl in your chest when Bilbo spoke up, “Brother.”

The three of you traveled slow and sedate, giving Bilbo, (and yourself), much needed practice on the ponies. It wouldn’t do for the Company to see you as burdens right off the bat. Better to lull them into a false sense of security first.

Gandalf was ridiculously helpful once he realized that you and Bilbo both planned to help the Company as much as possible.

You didn’t tell Gandalf all, but just enough for him to understand that the Dwarves were going to have a hard journey. But that you and Bilbo were determined to spend the next ten years trying to smooth the way as much as possible and learn as much as you could to actually be helpful. Right from the start.

Arriving in Rivendell was amazing for both you and Bilbo. While you had seen it in the movies, it was so much more magical and breathtaking in person.

Bilbo wasn’t fairing any better, being in absolute awe himself.

Lord Elrond came and greeted you by your human name as well and you gaped, once again, unattractively at the Elf lord.

Gandalf knowing made sense but how did – then you remembered Elrond’s gift of foresight.

“You saw me coming!” you pretty much accused the Elf lord, much to Bilbo consternation and Gandalf’s amusement.

“I did, Lady Y/N,” Elrond affirmed, his own amusement shining through. “Myself, as well as Lady Galadriel, saw what would happen to you in your own world and how you would come to be here in ours. I must say, you have shown remarkable adjustment to the situation. And much quicker than we had imagined.”

You flushed, but sent a very thankful, meaningful look to Bilbo.

“If it wasn’t for my brother, I wouldn’t be half as adjusted,” you murmured and gave a soft laugh as you saw Bilbo flush as well. What a pair you two were.

“Come,” Elrond said after a moment, “you are most welcome here, for as long as you wish. I have seen great things in store for the both of you.”

Bilbo looked at the Elf lord in surprise. “For the both of us?”

You snorted before Elrond could answer.

“Bilbo. I may be from another world, well…half of my mind may be from another world, but you are the main character! If anyone should be asking if we both have great things in store for us, it should be me. Not you. Besides, I already told you at least part of the great things you have in store for you.”

“Yes, Master Baggins,” Elrond said with a gentle smile, still with amusement dancing in his eyes, “great things are in store for the both of you. But before we get into any of that, you must be tired. I imagine that traveling this far, and on ponies, is different for you both. Come, let us show you to your rooms and get you settled.”

It hadn’t taken long before you and Bilbo were both settled, fed and asleep in your rooms. It had been a long journey, even though Gandalf had not been in any hurry and you had had frequent stops and rests.

The next morning at breakfast, Bilbo had laughed at how much he had appreciated a soft bed after only a week on the road. He admitted, as you agreed wholeheartedly, that it was a good thing you were both traveling now and getting used to this before the Company arrived.

Ten years sounded like a lot to the human half of your mind, but the Tookish half didn’t seen daunted. Ten years wasn’t much to a Hobbit and you had to use the next years well.

The journey to the Elves had given both you and Bilbo a yearning for more adventure and an excitement for the Company’s journey.

When Elrond suggested you stay for awhile in Rivendell to get familiar with it and its people, you and Bilbo both readily agreed.

After all, that was the point of all this traveling – to try and make the journey as easy as possible for your soon to be Dwarven companions.

“You and Bilbo are quite brave to undertake all of this extra journeying,” Elrond had said one day as he found you standing on the balcony of your room. Honorifics had been dropped the second day you were all there – mostly for your benefit. It wasn’t your fault that honorifics weren’t a thing in your world, or high in priority for the Took side of you either!

“I’m not sure brave is the best word,” you laughed, turning to the Elf lord beside you. “But I wasn’t sure I could stay in the Shire any longer. A few months was bad enough with my…confused state. And I’d been at Bilbo’s almost the entire time – we needed to get away. I couldn’t go…home.”

Because your home was worlds away.

A large hand settled gently on your shoulder.

“Galadriel and I have been watching you since before the day you awoke here in this world. You have shown remarkable bravery, Y/N. Your world is a lot different than ours and while the Took side of you is helpful in settling you here, we are aware of how torn you feel. How…unreal this body and the memories of Juniper Took are to you.”

The Elf lord paused for a few moments, though his hand did not leave you.

“I had elves ready to come to the Shire and take you here so we could help you adjust, but Galadriel had sent a message to tell me that she had foreseen your Took side’s cousin – Bilbo – helping you and becoming an invaluable companion. We were both pleased, though not shocked as we have come to know you before and after you awoke as Juniper, that you chose to use the next few years to help smooth the way for your Company. Erober is almost ready for its rightful ruler to return. It does our old hearts good to see how you and Bilbo are preparing yourself for the journey. You shall be invaluable to them.”

You blinked back tears, feeling a small piece of yourself settle. Elrond and Galadriel, they knew. Yes, Bilbo knew about your time, but only because you had told him. The two Seers knew of your time, of who you were because they had seen it. They knew you.

And it was a wonderful feeling.

You felt yourself get pulled gently into Elrond’s embrace and let loose a soft sob.

“I miss technology,” you muttered into his chest and the answering chuckle, the knowledge that Elrond knew what you were talking about without you having to explain it, made you sob just a little bit harder.

Elrond had escorted you to dinner, (seriously, best thing about being a Hobbit was the enormous capacity for food!), and then you and Bilbo had gone to the library to begin some research.

Just wandering around the whole of Middle Earth was not probable, especially with Orcs, Goblins and bugs out there, so you both needed to learn as much as you could bookwise. At least for now.

You also didn’t want Bilbo to be presumed dead, so no super long adventure yet. Hopefully, with you and Bilbo taking short adventures that turned into longer and longer adventures, Hobbiton would be used to Bilbo being gone and he wouldn’t have to chase down his silverware. (You were dying to meet Galadriel, Haldir and Thranduil, but you could be patient. …Probably.)

All of the Elves had been ridiculously nice and welcoming.

You and Bilbo had found kindred spirits in Elrond’s twin children; a bond that the majority of Rivendell looked on with good natured suspicion. You and Bilbo were terrors in your own right, but coupled with Elladan and Elrohir’s pranking…well. Rivendell was a bit livelier while you were there.

Being Elrond’s children, the twins knew of your…origins and had question after question for you. But they were also observant and kind enough to see when it pained you to speak of what you’d lost and they’d find excellent ways to distract you. (You felt kind of bad that Lindir was so traumatized so many years before the Company came, but as he seemed to have a soft spot for you Hobbits, you didn’t feel bad enough to stop.)

Both you and Elrond had felt it better that Estel not see you. At least, not at this time. He wasn’t even two decades yet, had a few more years to go, and really, you didn’t trust yourself around how adorable he was.

Being as small as you were, (and that was another thing that had taken some time to get used to!), it wasn’t hard for you to avoid the human young man. Though you couldn’t help but sneak a peak as often as you could without getting caught. You were right – he really was just too cute! Arwen was going to be one lucky lady.

You and Bilbo had been in Rivendell for almost two months when you decided that you’d need to head back to the Shire. Reminding Bilbo of the trouble he would have getting his stuff back from those who thought him dead after his trip with the Company, Bilbo quit arguing and was more than willing to head back. (He had to admit that your idea of slowly getting the Shire used to him being gone for months at a time would be beneficial in the long run.)

Gandalf accompanied you all the way to Bree and then you and Bilbo were on your own back to Hobbiton. You had already sent word to your parents that you were unofficially having adventures and now living with your honorary brother. Your parents, proud and adventurous Tooks that they were, were overjoyed that you’d come into your own adventures – and drug along a Baggins too! You secretly thought they were just thrilled he was ‘embracing’ his Took side.

“I think,” Bilbo’s voice cut you from your musings, “that we have had a very successful first two months of Adventuring.”

You gave a laugh, both of you so much more at ease on your ponies than you were when you first started. Elladan and Elrohir had been more than willing to teach you the Ways of the Pony.

“Yes, Bilbo. We did good. Very good. Those notes you took about the people and the copies of the maps in Elrond’s study – those will give us a good place to start for a game plan. Then, maybe in a month or two, we’ll head out again!”

“In a month or two?” Bilbo said, somewhat disbelieving. “I would have assumed you’d want to head out as soon as we found a good direction!”

You gave the Hobbit you seriously loved like a brother a small smile. “I’d love to, but…well, let’s ease into this just a bit. Not just for our sake but for the Shire’s. Give them a little time to get used to the fact that a proper Baggins has been corrupted by his Took relative. And a month at least will give us a solid foundation of where to go and a good rest. Neither one of us are quite used to this, Bilbo.”

The Hobbit riding beside you puffed on his pipe a few more times before nodding decisively. “Another brilliant idea, Y/N. Besides it will give me some time to see what I missed taking care of before we left last time so I can do better this next time around.”

You grinned, feeling the excitement that never truly left you, bubbling up again. Oh, to have such a willing travel partner!

You and Bilbo stayed in the Shire for exactly two months. In the beginning, you listened to your Tookish instincts and made yourself and Bilbo present all over Hobbiton. At the market, at the Green Dragon, everywhere you two could. It showed that Bilbo was still a respectable Hobbit, at least somewhat, and that you were still the wacky Took they all knew. (Even though you were more different than any of them could ever possibly know.)

After Hobbiton had gotten over your sudden disappearance and reappearance – and for such a scandalous thing as an adventure of all things! – you and Bilbo stayed in Bag End more often than not, pouring over his drawings and notes to see what the best route would be. You didn’t know every route exactly that the Company was going to take, but you did know major landmarks.

So you and Bilbo crafted a couple of routes that Company could possibly take and hit those landmarks, as well as a couple of routes the Company could take to avoid a few of those landmarks, (like the Trolls).

“I’m not 100 percent sure,” you murmured thoughtfully one day, puffing away at a pipe that Bilbo had gifted you with your first month here, “but I think that the whole journey only should take a few months. Frodo and Sam take about six months to get to Mordor to destroy the ring, and that’s with a few months stay over in Lorien and Rivendell.” You shot a grin at Bilbo. “Seems like a love of Elves is genetic.”

Bilbo snorted in amusement before turning back to the maps spread out on his dining room table.

“So, only a few months then to get to Erober for us as well?” You both looked at the maps before Bilbo suddenly looked up at you with a wide grin and sparkling eyes.

“We could potentially take the trip multiple times, on multiple routes before the Dwarves even get here!”

You blinked at the once respectable Hobbit – you had created an adventurous monster!

But…

“That is not a bad idea,” you mused thoughtfully, puffing away. Granted, it would be far too dangerous of a trek for two Hobbits by themselves, but if Gandalf, or even an Elf or two went with you…

“I wonder if Elrond would let his sons come with us. Or another Elf or two,” you continued to muse. At Bilbo’s furrowed brow, you started to point out places on the map.

“The Misty Mountains are far too dangerous for us to go on our own. And the Trolls,” you pointed to a spot marked by Rivendell, “doubly not good. Our soon to be companions are going to be a huge help, Bilbo. Alone, you and me? We’d not last more than a week. Especially not through Mirkwood.”

You gave a shudder. Giant spiders you could well do without.

Bilbo hummed in agreement and the two of you lapsed into silence.

A knock sounded on the bright green door and Bilbo huffed before he went to answer it.

“It’s not even tea time,” he grumbled as he passed you and you giggled at his surliness towards anyone the last few weeks that interrupted your planning.

You heard the door open, but nothing else. No greeting, so well wishes, no grumbling.

Feeling uneasy, you slowly crept to the doorway to the dining room so you could peak around the corner.

“Haldir!” you exclaimed, old fangirl tendencies rushing to the surface. Forgetting all propriety, (did Tooks even know what that was?), you flew passed Bilbo and collided with the Marchwarden’s legs.

Bilbo stared at you in shock, but thankfully, the Elf who’s legs you were embracing, just chuckled.

“I have never doubted my Lady’s word, however I must admit I was a bit…hesitant to believe. I’m glad to see my faith in my Lady was not unfounded. You are Y/N and you already know all about me and the Lady’s Woods, yes?”

You didn’t even let the blush that tried to work its way onto your cheeks see the light of day. So you were brash and literally just glomp attacked an Elf. Haldir. Marchwarden.

Who cared?!

“Yup!” you chirped, drawing a chuckle from Bilbo as well. “I do know you, Haldir.” You took a few steps back, getting a better look at Haldir and the small party of Elves standing a few feet behind him.

“Won’t you please come in?” Bilbo offered, taking a step back out of the doorway and grasping your sleeve to pull you with.

You went with him easily, still grinning. Sue you. You freakin’ loved Lorien’s elves. Especially this particular one.

“Thank you, Master Baggins,” Haldir said smoothly, entering past you both. The few other Elves followed and you and Bilbo shared a look that would have been followed by an excited high pitched squeal if you were alone without Elven visitors.

In no time, food was prepared, Elven guests were attended to and Haldir was finally explaining what he was doing in the Shire and at Bag End, when he had never met either of you before.

“We have an audience with the Elvenking Thranduil,” Haldir began, “but do need to see Lord Elrond before we arrive in Greenwood. As we had to cross the Misty Mountains anyway to reach Imladris, my Lady Galadriel suggested we stop by and see if you both would like to accompany us. She has informed myself and my small party here as to your plan for the next few years. It is admirable. My guards and I saw no reason to not lengthen our journey by a mere few weeks to come and escort you all the way to Greenwood, should you wish it.”

Thankfully, you were not the only Hobbit gaping this time. Bilbo’s jaw was also hanging down practically to his waistcoat buttons.

The Elves said not a word while they waited for your response, but you could feel the amusement radiating from all of them.

Clearing your throat, you squeaked out, “Yes! We would be honored to accompany you.”

Bilbo finally shut his own mouth, nodding along with your statement. Honored indeed – this was perfect! Just what the two of you were needing!

Haldir bowed his head in acknowledgement.

“Excellent. We would like to get started as soon as possible; as soon as you can set your house to rights.”

“Well,” Bilbo said, throwing a grin at you, “we’ll be ready by tomorrow morning then. We’ve been preparing this house to be vacant ever since we got back a couple of months ago.”

Haldir’s eyes twinkled as he looked from you to Bilbo and back again.

“We are glad to hear it,” he murmured with a small smile.

You and Bilbo just had a few more odds and ends to tie up, both with the neighbors and around the house before you got to packing for your journey.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, the Elves had slipped in to the Shire mostly unnoticed and so you were able to let the neighbors know simply that you off again on another adventure.

This time, few brows were raised, though there were some head shakes.

For the hundredth time, you were thankful you were shoved into a Took’s family line! How boring it would be to live all your long life in such a nice, but boring place as the Shire!

The next morning, right before daybreak, the Elves, Bilbo and yourself headed off towards Rivendell once again.

The Elves had mentioned that they were on foot as they were used to it with the close, tall trees of Lorien, though they mentioned that they could get some ponies and horses at Bree, should you both prefer it.

You and Bilbo had both elected to stay on foot – as long as the Elves wouldn’t mind the slightly slower pace.

At the elegantly raised brows, you had mentioned how often the Company would have to walk. Might as well get used to it on at least part of your journey at some point!

That started off some questions from the Elves and you and Bilbo both willingly answered them all. Elves were a calm race that you both trusted implicitly to not go and try to bungle things up. It wouldn’t hurt to have them know some of the finer details, and indeed, they actually contributed quite a bit of useful information.

Along the way, they all pitched in to help you and Bilbo learn of both edible and medicinal plants. Being Hobbits, (one of you perhaps more of a true Hobbit than the other), you and Bilbo took to learning more about plants like ducks to water. Bilbo, begin a Baggins, did have more knowledge than you did as a Took, but even he learned new things along the way to Rivendell.

Your stay in Rivendell was much shorter than last time. Only two nights while Haldir met with Elrond and you and Bilbo enjoyed the Elvish comforts.

Elladan and Elrohir found you the last night you were there, having just come back from Orc hunting. You were once again on the balcony of your room, looking out over the beautiful city.

“Y/N!” they greeted in tandem, making you smile fondly. These two did remind you of the Elvish version of Fili and Kili – you were getting more and more excited to meet the Company, even though not even a year had passed yet!

“Greetings, my Twin Terrors,” you grinned as they stopped in front of you, greeting you happily.

Elladan gave you the puppy eyes as his hands rested on your shoulders and with a good natured eye-roll, you nodded.

With a wide grin, the Elf reached down and picked you up. It was a habit they had formed the last time you were here – carrying you around and manhandling you onto chairs or tables.

Unlike Bilbo, you really didn’t mind being carried or helped onto ponies, beds, tables, etc. You found yourself still thinking you were your human height more often than not, especially now that everyone you spent time with called you Y/N instead of Juniper. So extra help to get front point A to point B, especially in a ‘tall folk’ city – that was perfectly fine with you!

Placing you on his shoulders, Elladan headed out of your room and down the hall, he and Elrohir pestering you with questions about what you were doing here.

As soon as you told them, they both ground to a halt.

“You’re going to Greenwood? Across the Misty Mountains?” Elladan gasped and you flicked him in the forehead.

“Elladan,” you started, sickly sweet, “I know you’re not about to protest that I can’t do it.”

“Well…no,” the twin hedged and you flicked him again.

“And I know that you’re not implying that Haldir and his wardens can’t protect Bilbo and I—”

“Of course not!” Elladan said vehemently and you grinned, wrapping your arms around his head.

“Good!” you chirped. “I am glad to hear it.”

“However,” Elrohir cut in, “you should still be prepared.”

You looked down at him from your perch on Elladan’s shoulders.

“What? Prepared? How?”

Elrohir and Elladan shared a grin before they announced, “A weapon!”

Surprisingly, it didn’t take much for both Elrond and Haldir to agree that you and Bilbo both should have some weapons.

You grinned at Bilbo’s face but causally just said, “Sting.”

Bilbo gave up his protests after that. Haldir and his wardens had already sworn to teach you as you travelled to Greenwood and it would give you all something to do while you walked that far.

Before the night was out, you and Bilbo each had weapons – Bilbo an Elven sword, (that you already claimed once he found Sting years down the road), and you with two Elven daggers.

You were actually quite excited to learn how to use them. You were not going to be useless when the Company came around! (And if there was a certain bald dwarf you had been thinking of the more you and Bilbo talked about the Company, and that same bald dwarf you wanted to show you could hold your own to, well, that was for you and you alone to know. Besides, it would be years before you saw any of the Company. By then, you’d probably forget what they all looked like with no visual reminders anywhere.)

You all left Rivendell the next morning, Bilbo up in front of the line with a few of the Elves telling him stories of Lorien, and you and Haldir more in the middle, enjoying each other’s company and silence. You were only a few hours away before Haldir finally turned to you.

“Y/N,” he said suddenly and you looked up at him with a grin.

“Yes, Haldir?”

“I noticed that in Imladris, last night, Lord Elrond’s sons seemed to…that is…,” the Elf trailed off and you frowned in thought before suddenly laughing.

“You mean they liked to carry me around? Yes, they found it incredibly amusing last time we were there a few months ago. Their favorite past time according to them.”

The Elf’s brows rose. “And that doesn’t offend you?”

You giggled – something you never did as a human. Must be a Hobbit thing.

“No,” you assured, “it doesn’t offend me at all. I am used to being much taller, you see, and especially in places made for taller folk, it’s actually quite nice to not have to walk all the way.”

You threw a glance at the back of Bilbo’s head with a grin. “Though, I think I may be one of the only Hobbits that feels that way.”

“And why, do you think, the Sons of Elrond found such delight in carrying you?” Haldir asked a moment later and you gave a shrug.

“At first, I honestly thought they were doing it be annoying,” you confessed, delighting in Haldir’s chuckle, “but…I don’t know. They just seemed to do it all the time the last few weeks were there and I guess I got used to it too.”

There was silence again for awhile before you felt a hand on your shoulder. Quizzically, you turned to look up at Haldir who was smiling down at you.

“May I?” he asked and you laughed with a nod.

You’d gotten some looks when Haldir first lifted you up, though instead of putting you on his shoulders, he carried you bridal style in his arms. Which was fine with you. It was much easier to talk and you could admit that you were still not used to traveling as much as you were.

Teasingly, you called to Bilbo to see if he wanted a ride as well, and when one of the Elves moved as if to pick him up, you all laughed at his indignant squawk.

Well, you and him did differ in a few obvious ways.

Haldir and a few of the other Elves carried you on and off and your trip to Mirkwood. You did try and walk frequently, but after all, you still had about nine years to get used to traveling. If the Elves didn’t mind carrying you, well, you wouldn’t mind being carried!

Bilbo was holding up very well. While the Elves set a decent pace, it wasn’t anything as rushed as what the Company would be doing later on, so it was easier for both you and Bilbo to get used to it.

It wasn’t until the morning after you all camped at the edge of Greenwood, while you were all packing up to enter the gloomy forest, that you approached Bilbo about being carried himself.

“Absolutely not,” he denied, curls flying with his shaking head. “I am not going to be carried like some—”

“Careful,” you sing-songed to him. “Don’t offend me now, brother.”

Bilbo fondly rolled his eyes. “I have absolutely no issue with you being carried. In fact, I think that pretty much every male you come into contact with has some desire to protect you or something and feels better about being able to carry you around. But, I am not going to join in!”

“Bilbo,” you said quietly, seriously, “we’re at the edge of Greenwood. Now called Mirkwood. You remember the awfulness I told you about that is in Mirkwood? This is not a place you’re going to want to walk. And even if it was, this is not a place we’re going to want to stay in any longer than we have to! The forest is not good, Bilbo. Not good. Please? Would you just allow yourself to be carried until we reach the Elvenking’s palace?”

You pulled out the puppy dog eyes you discovered you excelled at a month into knowing Bilbo. You only used them in very dire situations – you didn’t want him to become immune.

Bilbo glared at you for a moment before heaving a sigh.

“Alright,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Alright. You haven’t led us astray yet, or kept anything from me. If you…if you think it’s really necessary, then I will let someone carry me.”

“Excellent choice, Bilbo,” Haldir said as he walked up to you both. All the Elves were ready to go and waiting. “We are ready if you two are.”

You finished tying up your pack before you were scooped up into Haldir’s arms.

Bilbo was still grumbling as another Elf scooped him up into his arms.

You tried to smother your giggle as Bilbo continued to mutter under his breath. You had meant it – it was good for Bilbo to not walk through Mirkwood. But…boy, were you still going to enjoy this!

It didn’t take long for Woodland Realm Elves to catch up with your procession.

Lady Galadriel had already sent along a message to inform King Thranduil that you and Bilbo would most likely be accompanying her Marchwarden, so you were not a surprise to the scouts.

However, they surprised you. One minute, you were in Haldir’s arms, looking around at the tall trees, dark they were, and the next, you were staring into the very close face of a very familiar looking Elf.

“Legolas!” you greeted with a large grin. The blonde Prince blinked, exchanging a glance with Haldir before turning his eyes back to yours.

“You know of me, Little One?”

You blinked too, for a moment. Oh. Seems Lady Galadriel hadn’t told them of you. Well, it was going to be different having to explain all of this again. And…how much to tell the Woodland Elves? After all, there was no love lost between them and the Company… And while Thranduil was one of your favorite Elves, he was actually the root cause of quite a few problems. Not to mention that the Company pretty much hated him…

Shoot.

“Uh, yes,” you said after a delayed moment. A very delayed moment that was a little worrying, if the tightening of Haldir’s arms around you was any indication.

Okay, you could admit it. The whole ‘let’s visit Mirkwood’ idea was actually not one of your better ones. Since Thorin and Co. never told Thranduil exactly what they were doing and where they were going, it stood to reason that you shouldn’t just blurt out their plans like you did to the Lorien Elves. Since Lorien wasn’t even on the way to Erober, they didn’t matter but Thranduil? Oh, he mattered.

Double shoot.

“Legolas, my friend,” Haldir’s voice brought you out of your increasingly panicked musings, “it has been a long road. Perhaps we may continue this in a more comfortable venue?”

Legolas spared you one more glance before nodding and saying something in Elvish and you all moved out.

‘Nice job, Juniper,’ you hissed mentally to yourself. ‘How the hell you gonna get out of this one?’

Maybe Haldir and his Wardens would play along – you and Bilbo could claim you were just here for an adventure! Of course, you know, you’d have to explain exactly why you’re tagging along with a Marchwarden doing his duty, and how you got invited along in the first place, since you’d never met them before… Hey! Now there’s an idea!

You can tell Thranduil about who you are, but just tell him that you took Bilbo along with you to explore the area you’d read about and seen in movies! No mention of the Company, no mention of Erober.

Perfect! Sorta. Granted, Thranduil would figure out you kept things from in in about nine years, but it’d be better than betraying Thorin’s confidence before he’d actually even given it to you. Hopefully Thranduil would be okay with you leaving out some information… You’d hate to have him turn against you in nine years. He really was one of your favorites.

Now, the only problem: how to get Haldir, the wardens and Bilbo to all follow your lead without actually telling them to follow your lead.

Legolas wasn’t stupid. Suddenly shouting to ‘not say anything except for the fact that we’re traveling for funsies’ probably would garner some attention.

Triple shoot.

Your mind had been in a whirl since you met Legolas, trying to figure out all the ways this could go wrong, (and there were quite a few), and then come up with a plan to bypass those ways. In this, you were less successful.

Thankfully, Thranduil was kind enough to have you all escorted to room to rest for what remained of the day before having an audience with the Lorien envoys and meeting his other guests.

You were able to corner Bilbo, as well as Haldir and the other Elves, and told them you’d like to run point on this. Haldir and his wardens agreed easily that your business here was your own – if the Elvenking wanted to know, he could ask you and Bilbo himself.

That part taken care of, you took Bilbo aside, (you were put in adjoining rooms), to quietly hiss to him that he was NOT to mention the Company. You and your origins, sure. And he could say that you and him were just traveling to the places that you’d read about, seen in movies, etc. That would, hopefully, be enough to satisfy Thranduil.

Bilbo was hesitant at first, (lying, even by omission!, to an Elvenking was not really good practice), but when you reminded him that Thorin did not want his quest known, and reminded him of the….slight bad blood between the Dwarf and Elf, Bilbo was suddenly very passionate about keeping all details of the Company to himself.

You had to grin to yourself at that. Okay, so maybe you had been talking up Thorin a bit to Bilbo. Nothing too personal, just enough that Bilbo was growing attached to him, his family and his plight. And hopefully wouldn’t be so put out by his demeanor.

This ‘manipulating the plot’ thing was actually going pretty well – and you still had nine years left!

You were brought dinner in your rooms, were able to wash up, and then you both turned in. You had been informed by Haldir, on his way to his own room, that King Thranduil was going to summon you both to meet with him the next morning. Neither Bilbo nor yourself wanted to screw something up because of sleep deprivation.

Early bed time it was.

#To be continued #The Hobbit #Its Gonna Keep Going #You ready?#I'm not #fandoms galore #Reader Insert #Pairings?#NO CLUE on that

19 notes · View notes

degenerate-perturbation · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 16/29 Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe, Oghren (Dragon Age), Justice (Dragon Age), Sigrun (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras, Isabela (Dragon Age), Male Hawke (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Blood Magic, Prostitution Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one shackled next to you, save for the chains that bound you both?

Hawke let go of her, embarrassed, and stepped aside to let her in. “I’m sorry it’s a bit of a mess. I haven’t been taking visitors.”

Yvanne looked around the enormous, beautiful home, with hardly a single decorative pillow out of place. “Yeah, real pigsty,” she said, and immediately cringed. Why would she say that? Did she want her single remaining family member to hate her? Assuming he really was family.

While she boggled at it all, she dripped rainwater steadily onto the carpet. Hawke noticed before she did. “Oh, no, you’re soaked—of course you are, it’s pouring. I’m sorry I kept you waiting—Orana, could you get Yvanne a towel?”

Right away the elf girl disappeared, reappearing moments later with the fluffiest towel Yvanne had ever seen. It felt strange against her skin. What was it made of?

“It’s fine,” she said, haltingly. “It’s not even cold out.”

“Yes, but still. Do you like tea? Let’s have some tea. Orana, could you put on some tea?” Orana left for the kitchen to put on the tea. Yvanne didn’t particularly like tea, but she wasn’t about to mention that. With Orana gone it was just her and Hawke in the foyer, her patting her hair dry, him nervously twisting his hands.

“Er, you should probably have a change of clothes, too,” he said distractedly. “You look about my m-mother’s size—afraid I don’t have anything else. Orana, could you show Yvanne—? Blast, she can’t hear me, she’s in the kitchen making tea. I’m—”

“It’s fine,” Yvanne said before Hawke could apologize to her again. “I’ll dry fast by the fire.”

“Oh. Yes,” said Hawke, visibly relieved. “Yes, I should build it up. Tea by the fire...and we can talk…”

A fire was burning in the fireplace, low but alive. Hawke puttered around in its vicinity, nudging it with a poker, and it leapt implausibly higher, though he’d barely touched it. Yvanne came over to stand by it, feeling the cold leech out of her bones, but not feeling quite comfortable enough to sit. The silence between them stretched more and more intolerably awkward, until Orana finally brought out a tea tray.

“Please,” Hawke said as she set it down, “do sit.”

Yvanne sat, even though she was still damp, and probably ruining the upholstery. Neither of them touched the tea.

“So, ah,” Hawke cleared his throat, but seemed to have misplaced the rest of his sentence. He scratched his beard. It looked a few weeks old at most, coming in patchy and uneven. He looked like a man who shaved under normal circumstances. “I’m sorry, not that you’re not welcome, but—why are you here?”

And she’d so hoped he wouldn’t have asked that right away. She bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

He blinked at her.

“Look, I get that this is weird,” she said, all in one breath. “I don’t even know what I want from you. If anything. Certainly you don’t owe me anything. But I haven’t laid eyes on any of my family since I was nine years old. And I heard the name Lord Amell spoken in Highever. And I wanted to know about my family, and you were the only one I could find, and...here I am.”

He looked at her with sudden and impossible compassion. “I see,” he said. “And ah, you said you were Revka’s daughter?”

“I don’t really remember her. I hardly remember Kirkwall at all, even though I was born here. It’s certainly, uh…”

“You get used to it,” Hawke said, trying for an encouraging smile. “It’s not so bad once you acclimate to the smell.”

“How long does that take?”

“I don’t know. I’ll let you know when it happens to me.” He gave a weak laugh, but it came out almost creaky, as though laughter hurt him.

He picked up a tea mug and held it in his lap, not drinking it. “If you’re Revka’s daughter, then...pardon me, but I thought all of Revka Amell’s children were found to be mages and taken to Circles.”

All? thought Yvanne. She knew about her eldest sister who she’d never known...but all? All five of them? When she had first been taken to Kinloch, Yvanne had spent long hours fuming at the thought of her father and sisters getting along perfectly fine without her. Better without her, even. How she had hated them, for daring to be happy without her, for daring to continue to live their lives together when she was suffering alone.

But that hadn’t been what had happened.

Hawke was still waiting for her answer. She had to force the truth out of herself water from a stone. "I grew up in Kinloch Hold.”

“Kinloch,” Hawke repeated. “So you’re from Ferelden.” He gave her a watery smile. “I was born in Ferelden, you know. My family lived in Lothering until the Blight. We came here as refugees along with everyone else. That was a time, hah. I had to work as a smuggler. That first year my brother and mother and I lived all in one room in my uncle’s house, can you imagine? We were so desperate to get out of there, but now I miss it more than anything. Odd, isn’t it?” He laughed uncomfortably.

She stiffened. The Blight brought back uncomfortable memories for her of a different sort. But Hawke was lost in his own memory and didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve been to Lothering,” she said absently instead.

A clock was ticking somewhere.

“Look, if,” Hawke cleared his throat, “if you need a place to stay, my home is open to you.”

He cut her off before she could object. “I won’t ask you how you left Kinloch or how you got here, I can fill in those blanks myself. Tell me as much or as little as you want, I won’t press, or judge. I know how it is out there for a mage.” She must have looked doubtful because he continued. “I promise you’ll be safe here. My partner is active in the Mage Underground, he helps apostates all the time. Look—I’m a mage myself.” To demonstrate he conjured a bright sphere of spirit energy and held it in his open hand before letting it dissipate.

This did catch her off guard. “I heard a rumor that you were an apostate,” she admitted. “But I heard a lot of rumors about you.”

He laughed a little more easily this time. “Varric does like to encourage them. Probably for the best that there are so many that nobody believes the true ones.”

“Right. Well, you definitely weren’t at Kinloch, so what Circle were you in?”

He blinked. “Oh. Oh, I was never in a Circle. My father trained me, and my sister."

That stunned her. She imagined what it might have been like, to be trained in magic by her mage father. Would she still have hated her magic then? Perhaps not. Perhaps her whole life could have been different. Perhaps she would have been the one living in this estate, not this man who didn’t even use the name Amell.

“But I really mean it,” Hawke went on. He stood and approached, hovering, threatening to embrace her. “We’re family, so you have a home here. For as long as you need. There’s plenty of room here, of course—too much, if you ask me. You can sleep in my mother’s old room, I never go in there anyway. Orana does all the cooking, so no need to worry about that. Do you mind dogs? Flower is around here somewhere. My partner doesn’t care for him, claims he’s a cat person, but I know better. You’ll love him—my partner, not my dog, hah—he’s a mage, too. He runs a clinic in Darktown, that’s why he’s not here right now. He’s working late again. Really, he’s wonderful, I’m sure you’d get along…”

Yvanne was getting entirely sick of Hawke mentioning his partner. She hated the way he said it—‘my partner,’ in that syrupy way that made it obvious that the relationship was new. Every time he did it his eyes went soft and gooey. She’d been like that once, with Loriel. Her mood, already ambivalent, took a decided turn for the sour.

“Sorry,” Yvanne cut him off, “could you explain to me exactly how we’re related?”

Hawke brightened. “Yes! There’s a family tree around here somewhere. I’ll show you. Come, come!” He went to one of the gleaming, polished chests and rummaged in it, withdrawing a handful of heavy parchment scrolls. He picked out one particularly wide one and laid it out carefully on a nearby desk, weighing down the corners with four beautifully polished stones. Eagerly he waved her over.

The family tree was beautifully illustrated with tiny portraits of each Amell, richly dressed and ornamented. Beside each portrait was a block of close-written text in such an elaborate hand that she could not make it out, along with lines and lines of annotations along the edges. The tree stretched so far up that surely the majority of the people in the document were now long dead

Hawke plucked a little golden hand-shaped pointer from somewhere and used it to indicate the parchment, avoiding touching it with his hands. “Here you are—and your sisters of course—daughters of Revka and Kiran Amell. I never realized that he must have been Rivaini...I don’t know much about him, I’m afraid. Perhaps you could tell me and I could add to this document, ah? That might be a pleasant pastime.” He produced a cracked smile and moved on.

Yvanne had never thought of her father as being Rivaini. He looked like her and her sisters, and not much like other Fereldans, but she had always taken that as a sign of their nobility, like Queen Asha Campana of Antiva. It had never occurred to her that her father was from anywhere, that he hadn’t simply sprung fully formed from the aether as her father.

“Revka was the daughter of Fausten Amell, and sister to the unlucky Damion—accused of smuggling, and bankrupting his poor father in the process of futile attempts to prove him innocent. Fausten was the son of Lord Thaddeus Amell, our great-grandfather. So I suppose that makes us third cousins! Thaddeus had another son, Lord Aristide, my mother’s father…”

Hawke carried on in this fashion well past Yvanne’s capacity to listen to him. Instead she stared at the little oval portraits of her estranged noble clan. How strange it was to think of these ink-and-paper people as her family, as people who might have loved her, had her life gone a different way.

“...but they’re gone, now, too.” Hawke fell silent, pained.

Yvanne was still looking at the portrait of her mother. Had she really looked like that, pale-haired and long-chinned? The woman whose scraps remained in Yvanne’s memory smelled of rosewater and clean linen—but her face was a cipher. She did not recognize the woman in the portrait. Strange how Hawke had known right away who she was, when Yvanne herself didn’t.

“Do you know where my mother is?” she said, not knowing that she intended to say the words until they left her lips.

Hawke gave her a pitying look, and she felt a hot flash of hatred for him, just for that. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I don’t. Nobody does. There were rumors, I’m to understand, that she went to be her husband’s family. I suppose that would be in Rivain—Dairsmuid, probably. But that’s just rumor. All I know is that she took the loss of her eldest quite hard—but you know that, of course,” he added quickly.

Yvanne imagined her already-mostly-imaginary mother weeping in the streets, begging on her knees for salvation, all out of love for her eldest child. Revka had never cried for Yvanne like that. Revka had left Yvanne on purpose.

“You really don’t know anything, then?” she said despondently. “What about my sisters?”

Hawke shook his head. “I’m sorry. Only that none of them would be the Gallows, being Amells. They try to keep families separated, you see…but you know that.”

She did know it. And now she had lost a hope that she hadn’t known she even had. Some part of her had been imagining that Lord Amell—Hawke—would somehow be her gateway to the rest of her family. That perhaps her mother would be here, against all odds, waiting for her. That this could be her home.

But it wasn’t. All there was was this man, surrounded by riches, living a life she would have killed for, totally unaware of everything he had taken from her.

So she simply stood there with her fists clenched, holding back ridiculous, childish tears.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help,” Hawke said, worrying his fingers. “You have to understand, I’m an exile here myself. I only know anything at all about the Amells from my mother. And she was always closer with Carver, before he...well.” He sighed. “I wish more than anything that I could ask her about our family now.”

Yvanne had nothing to say to that.

“Maybe we can find something later,” Hawke said, with an almost manic optimism. He grabbed her hand. “We have some leads. I have contacts I could write to. The Amells aren’t what they were, but I still have some pull. And money always loosens lips. My partner has contacts as well, he might know something. We can ask him when he gets back from the clinic! I know it seems very hard right now—I remember how hard it was for me.”

How hard it had been for him! How hard for him, here in his golden palace, swathed in silk, waited upon by cringing elven servants, him who had never so much as seen the inside of a Circle!

“But we’ll figure it out!” He smiled at her. He still hadn’t let go of her hand. “Here, let me show you to mother’s room—it’ll be your room now. You look about the same size as she w-was, you could certainly fit into her things. And anything that doesn’t fit Orana will alter. Better they get used by somebody, rather than eaten away by moths. What a depressing thought. Let’s not think it. Come, come!”

“Wait—” He tugged her up the grand staircase to the second floor of the estate. The red carpet was decadently soft on the soles of her thin shoes.

“It’s a bit dusty in here, I’m afraid—I haven’t gone in there for weeks, and it felt wrong to ask Orana to clean an unused room, but that’s all different now. Are you hungry? You must be—I’ll have Orana send something up. Of course feel free to arrange the furniture however you like, I’ll help you.”

Yvanne looked around the darkened room as Hawke flew from corner to corner, lighting the gas lamps to reveal more and more of it. It was finer than any quarters she had ever known, even as the mistress of Vigil’s Keep, which had after all been a military posting, and not a nobleman’s estate. “Hold on—”

“—and tomorrow I’ll show you around Kirkwall properly. It can be a little overwhelming, even for an experienced Kirkwaller. My friend Merrill still gets lost all the time. It’d be charming if it didn’t make me so worried. To be honest, it would be good for me to get out of the estate. M-my mother died recently, and I lost my brother and sister not long before that, and it’s been, well—well, it’s been difficult. You know, if it weren’t for my partner, I don’t know what would have happened to me these past couple weeks, haha!” The manic edge was back in his voice.

Then he clasped her by the shoulders and beamed again. “So I want you to know, I’m really glad you’re here. Really. I have some wonderful friends, a wonderful partner, but nothing can replace family. We’re each all the other has left”

This sent her over the edge. All he had left, indeed! Him with his silk robe and servant and wonderful friends and his oh so wonderful partner. She struggled out of the embrace, skittering to the corner by the door like a feral dog. “Actually, ” she said, breathing a little heavily, “I don’t plan to stay.”

He drooped like a puppet with its strings cut. “Don’t plan to stay? What do you mean? Of course you have to stay—”

“I don’t have to do a damned thing,” she said, feeling for the doorknob behind her, finding it, and escaping.

“Wait—” He nearly tripped over the finely woven Orlesian rug as he chased after her. “I don’t understand. Have I offended you somehow? Please tell me!”

“You haven’t offended me,” she lied. “I’ve simply achieved my aim in coming here. I’ve found out everything you had to tell me about my family. We have no further business together.”

“That’s not true! We haven’t exhausted our leads! I know you don’t know me—but you could!” he pled.

She was struck by how pathetic he was. This was the legendary Lord Amell, who consorted with apostates and pirates and smugglers. Near as she could tell all the stories she had heard were true, and what did all that add up to? A sad unshaven man in a stained robe, begging a woman he didn’t even know to come live in his house.

“And I could help you find the others! I’ve been known to achieve remarkable things, you think those rumors about me are totally baseless? Please, you don’t have to stay here if you’re uncomfortable , but at least let me have Varric put you up at the Hanged Man.”

“Stay in Kirkwall?” Yvanne made a disgusted face.

“It’s not so bad, once you get used to it.”

“I could hardly get used to Templars roving every street like weevils—”

“You don’t have to worry about that!” he insisted. “I’m a very powerful man in this city. The guard, the Viscount, even the Knight-Commander, they all look away if I ask them to. Nothing would happen to you while you lived here. I could protect you. You’d be safer here than practically anywhere else in Thedas.”

“And have nothing but your personal power between me and the Gallows? With that wretched place barely a stone’s throw away?” She clenched her fists. She could hardly believe the nerve of this man. “You have no idea the kind of terror of that place I grew up with. Kinloch was bad enough, but as long as the Gallows existed, they always had something worse to threaten us with.”

“I do, though—my father—my partner—”

“Your father!” she said, furious. “Your partner! Their lives, not yours. You have no idea what it was like. You have no idea what I have been through! We have nothing in common. Nothing at all.”

“But we’re family,” he bleated. How pathetic, she thought, to want things. How disgusting. “We’re all the family either of us has left.”

“We aren’t family,” she said coldly. “We happen to share an ancestor, four generations back. A thimbleful of blood. What could that possibly mean for the two of us now?"

“I still want you to stay,” he said, helpless.

“You don’t know me,” she said furiously. She didn’t understand why her throat was so tight, or why her vision was blurring. “You couldn’t possibly want that from me. You have no right to want that from me.”

Of course he didn’t know her. Who knew her? Loriel had—no, not even Loriel. Loriel had been with her all her life, through childhood and adolescence and adulthood, and at the end of it neither of them had known the other at all.

She paused with her hand on the doorknob. Then she forced it open, cutting her last tie.

It had started to rain harder while she’d been talking to Hawke, and it was fully the dead of night now. She was now right where she’d started before she’d come here—penniless, alone, with only a vague idea where to go next.

Well, not exactly penniless. She’d had to foresight to swipe one of Hawke’s candlesticks, and she was pretty sure the gilding on it had to be worth something

#dragon age #femslash #amell #surana #dragon age 2 #please read my wizard lesbian fanfiction

6 notes · View notes

djinmer4 · 4 years

Text

Letter (Dresden AU)

“Bitte, grrnk! I can bear no more, nmmmak! Shoot me, erk! Put me out of my misery.”

“Stop whining.”

“Du Unhold! You are enjoying this nnmph! This inhuman torture.”

A giggling reply. “Of course not. I just like playing doctor. Pity, a few snips and it will all be over.”

“Eeeungh! Nmmph! Glk . . . Gggnmmph!”

“Okay, okay. I’m finished already.”

“Aaahhh, wonne. Danke, Katzchen, danke. Ooaah, wunderbar . . . the itch was driving me wahnsinnig.”

Kitty helped pry away the last pieces of plaster. “You’re lucky Moira said it was okay to remove the cast, Kurt. I’d have left it on for another month.”

“To teach me the consequences of violence, I presume.”

“No, that’s a risk we all accept.” She carded her fingers lightly through the matted fur, carefully smoothing out some of the tangles that had formed in the past month. “I meant you’re lucky that you heal so quickly. Most people would take about another eight weeks to knit. There’s no significant muscle wastage either. How do you feel?”

Kurt stood and stretched, bringing his knee up to his chest. “Starr. And a little weak. Mostly I’m just off-balance- I have grown used to compensating for the weight of the cast.”

“You’ll just have to take it easy for the next few days.”

“I have not the time. I received a letter, via Jean Grey, from an old friend, Jutta. She needs my help so I am leaving for Germany within the hour.” He hesitated then looked at his young friend. “Would you like to come?”

Kitty gave him one of her lopsided smiles. “Sorry, I can’t. I got a letter too, from one of my cousins.”

“Wer?”

“Connie Barrowill, on my dad’s side. No, you don’t know her, we’re not close. But she’s in college right now and apparently having a bit of trouble. Since she’s only a few years older than me, her dad asked that I fly over and see how she’s doing, maybe give her some advice.”

“Ah, well, family is family after all. I wanted to introduce you to my friends from the circus, but it looks like it will have to wait for another time. I will bring you back a souvenir.”

~~~~~~~

“Connie? Connie, are you there? It’s me, Kitty.” Shadowcat looked around the campus. She supposed all colleges had similarities, but while Chicago had had a mix of gothic stone and modern concrete architecture, Oklahoma was all brick, much more cohesive. Also, flat as a pancake.

“Kitty? Hey, I wasn’t expecting you!” Connie was just a few inches taller than her, with blonde hair, tanned skin, and blue eyes. She looked like a stereotypical cheerleader actually, which never failed to annoy Kitty a little. Everyone else in the Court looked like a supermodel and she just looked like the girl next door. And if what Thomas told her was right, she’d keep looking like that for the next hundred years or so.

“Yeah, your dad called me. Said you were having some difficulty with . . . school and that I might be able to answer some questions for you.” Kitty felt stupid trying to convey her meaning with pauses and eyebrows, but they were in public.

“Oh? Oh! Yes, just some stuff you’ll probably find easy. Here, come in!” Connie stopped standing in the doorway and let Kitty into the dorm. They walked up three flights of stairs to Connie’s single room. Kitty was surprised, there was an aura of lust in the corridor so thick she was surprised normal humans couldn’t detect it.

Once the door was shut, they both dropped the pretense. “So what happened?”

“Well . . . I take it you know all about our-”

“Our little nutrition problem. Yes, I do. But you . . . “ Kitty gave her cousin a good once over. “But you haven’t changed. I’m surprised, Lord Raith doesn’t allow fledglings to be told about their heritage until-”

“Until it’s too late. Yeah, that’s the thing. Um, Dad said you . . . had an unusual transition.”

Kitty stared at her cousin. She let out a sigh. “Yeah. Mind control. A body jumper took over and he knew my background. Decided he wanted all the perks that came with being a vampire, and arranged for the right circumstances then did the deed.”

“So there wasn’t any decision making involved,” muttered the blonde.

“Connie, what exactly happened to you?”

“Oh, um,” her cousin took a deep breath. “I brought my boyfriend up to my room to make-out. We didn’t go all the way,” So that explained some things. “But it was enough to trigger the Hunger.”

“Soo . . . I don’t understand. Do you want to complete the transformation? Just invite the boy over and drain him. Simple enough.”

“No!” Then Connie’s voice dropped. “Or well, it’s not that simple.”

“Do you not want to be a vampire? I can understand that.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. How would you go about doing that?”

“Hmph. Normally I wouldn’t tell you this information, but since you already know about the Masquerade . . . there’s really only one chance at this. The first time you have sex and-” Kitty side-eyed her cousin. “-go all the way. If you have sex with someone who truly loves you and who you truly love in return, it poisons the demon and kills them. Then you’ll live the rest of your life as a normal human, and have normal human kids. But if it’s anyone else, you’ll kill them and become a Pale Hunter.” She paused. “How did the guy last long enough that this became an issue?”

“Oh, it turns out he’s the son of a Forest Person. Dad apparently did some mojo so I’d screw him to death, but he’s got enough resistance that he was unaffected.”

“That explains the aura out in the corridor. Was that all you needed?”

“Er, no. Some of the other Forest People blocked Dad’s influence, said they’d give me time to decide if I really wanted to become a vampire or not. I told Dad that since I actually had a choice, I wanted to know more about it. So I guess he sent you.”

Kitty leaned back in the chair she had grabbed from Connie’s desk. “Pros and cons then. You already know what it’s like to be human, so I’ll leave that alone. Cons: once you turn into a vampire you have to feed, you have no choice. If you go too long without it, or something causes you to drain your resources too low, the demon will take over and attack and kill people to feed. And every time the demon does that, it takes a toll on your mind. Go into a frenzy often enough, and eventually, you’ll never come out of it. You’ll just be a mindless monster.

Are you taking notes on this? You’ll remember it better if you write it down.”

Connie grabbed the notepad Kitty held out to her. “You’re not worried people might come across proof of the supernatural?”

Kitty snorted. “The Masquerade isn’t that fragile. If anyone asks, tell them you were brainstorming a story with me. Shall I go on?” The blonde nodded. “Okay, pros now. You get enhanced senses and strength and durability. Feeding regularly will give you a healing factor, feed enough and you can survive being set on fire and almost being cut in half.” At Connie’s wide-eyed look, Kitty continued. “That’s not hyperbole, I’ve actually seen Laura do the exact thing. It’s not the most powerful healing factor I’ve seen but it’s definitely up there. Anyway, going on. It enhances all your physical characteristics, strength (“You said that already”), speed, endurance, dexterity. Your lifespan also increases, Lord Raith and Laura have lived for centuries.”

The older girl continued to make notes. “Any drawbacks? Sunlight and things?”

“Nope, that’s a different court. No problems with sunlight or silver or iron or religious symbols.” To prove her point, Kitty opened up the collar of her shirt to show Connie the Star of David she wore. “Um, you can cross thresholds without being invited, but that does limit your abilities to human norm though.”

“So no weaknesses at all?”

“A few. We’re definitely not as strong as the other vampire courts. Also, we have a vulnerability to some types of positive emotion.” Kitty though for a second. “You and you’re dad are part of House Ashma that feeds on rage. So trying to feed off of someone who’s serene or coming into contact with symbols of that could hurt you.

There are some other things that pertain to magic, but that’s not going to be an issue unless you actually become one. Anything else you want to know?”

“So if I,” Connie hesitated then continued. “If I don’t want to become a vampire, I don’t have to swear a vow of celibacy or anything like that?”

“And what’s wrong with being celibate? But no, you just have to make sure that your first time is with someone who really loves you and who you love in return.”

“What about your mutant powers? Does it help those?”

Now it was Kitty’s turn to look wide-eyed. “Charles told you that?”

“It was supposed to be a secret?”

“Well, not really I guess. I haven’t been hiding it, but I haven’t been advertising it to the rest of the family, that’s all.” She shook her head. “Honestly, it’s hard to say. I pretty much got them at the same time. But I don’t think so? I can still use my mutant ability even when my vampire ones are cut off, like when I go somewhere uninvited or warded with a magic circle. And it doesn’t depend on my feeding either.”

The elder looked over her notes. “This is all really great information, Kitty. But it doesn’t answer my question.” Summer blue eyes looked into paler, icier ones. “You weren’t given a choice. But if you had been given one, would you have become a vampire?”

She hissed out between her teeth. “That’s a very difficult question. On one hand, I really hate how I transitioned. I hate the fact I wasn’t given a choice, that someone else was puppeteering my body around, that he chose to kill an innocent to kick-start my powers. But on the other hand, I love the abilities that being a vampire gives me. I don’t think I’d be nearly as good a fighter without those abilities and they certainly make me a much more valuable member of the X-Men and Excalibur. And of course, on the gripping hand, there’s the whole fact I had to kill someone to be like this and can enthrall people and may kill other people in the future.”

“That’s not a yes or no answer.”

Kitty sucked in another breath. “If this was a question with easy answers you wouldn’t need my help now, would you?” Connie closed her eyes and dipped her head. “I think, when it comes down to it, I do like being a vampire. And if I had a choice I would do it again, even with how traumatic the transitioning was. I’d prefer to do it under different circumstances, I mean, I could think of a lot of people who need killing after all, but even if I had to do it that way, I still would.”

“Thanks, Kitty.” If the two of them had been closer, Connie might have risked hugging the younger girl. As is, she settled for a firm handshake. “That’s all I needed to know.”

#dresdenverse #Kitty Pryde #white court vampire shadowcat

4 notes · View notes

lovemesomesurveys · 5 years

Text

What was the brand of your first ever cell phone? Cingular Wireless.

What are your 3 favorite internet sites? Tumblr, YouTube, and Twitter.

Do you have a favorite pair of blue jeans? Describe them. I like all my jeans, they’re all dark wash skinny jeans.

What profession do you respect? Anyone who works with the disadvantaged and is paid pennies for it – social workers, homeless/domestic violence shelter employees, animal rescuers, etc. High-stress jobs with no financial reward, basically. <<< Yes!

Have you ever been the recipient of a practical joke? No.

Have you ever ate something you’ve dropped on the floor, if so what? Nooo. That 5 second rule is a lie.

Would you consider being an Uber driver if you needed to make extra money? I don’t have a car, nor can I drive, which are both kinda necessary. IF I could, I still wouldn’t. I’d be scared to have strangers in my car.

How do you know when you’re in love, what’s the main sign? I actually want to be around the person for long periods of time. <<< Ha, yeah that’s definitely a sign for me as well.

Have you ever gotten anything autographed, if so by who & what was it? Jim Carrey, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Drake Bell.

Do you prefer Walmart or Target? Target.

What do you long for? My vacation next year.

If you could be a personal assistant to anyone, who would it be? No thanks.

What is the most important thing you can do to improve yourself? Take better care of myself. What makes it hard for you to keep your focus? My mind will just start to wander after awhile and if I focus on trying to stay focused, I become too focused on being focused. Did you follow any of that? lol.

Do you think society has become too PC (politically correct)? I think in some cases people are too quick to attack others. Some people truly may just be ignorant about a topic or accidentally misspoke about something, but people are so quick to attack and make them out to be the worst person in the world. Try educating others instead. Some people act like they know everything and never say the wrong thing ever.

What tragic love story do you relate to? None.

Has your intuition or “gut” served you well? In some cases.

What’s the longest you’ve ever waited in line for something and what was it? Midnight premieres. My friends and I would get there an hour or two early and you just hang around until they start letting people in. It was fun, though. We’d bring blankets and a bunch of snacks.

Who is your favorite model? I don’t have one.

What have you done that is out of character for you? I used to be the friend everyone could come and talk to. I was dependable. A few years ago I pushed everyone away and became distant and withdrawn. I’m not that dependable person anymore.

Would you rather get a gift card or a gift that someone bought for you? I appreciate either one.

Who is the most visionary person in your life & how do they inspire you? Uhhh.

How do you handle a betrayal? I’d be hurt, but I’d also likely blame myself.

What do you feel strong enough to protest about? I’ve never protested before.

What’s the biggest blooper you’ve never lived down? My life.

If you owned a restaurant what kind of food do you want to serve? To play along with your hypothetical game I’d have a cafe.

What will we find if we look in the bottom of your closet today? Medical supplies and shoes.

What kind of car did you learn how to drive on? I still haven’t learned how to drive.

What is the best thing you have done just because you were told you can’t? I don’t know.

Have you ever had to go to court or testify and if so what for? No.

Do you believe in karma? No.

Are you more worried about doing the things right, or doing the right thing? I can worry about both. They are not mutually exclusive. <<< Yeah. They’re not even the same thing. Doing things right can be like following instructions and such, while doing the right thing is like what you think is morally right.

Do you believe in the term “Mother knows best? My mom often does. If I would have just listened to her advice some things would certainly be a lot different. Even now. I’m so damn stubborn.

Who is your favorite movie action hero? Iron Man, Spiderman, Ant-Man, Star Lord, and Thor.

What is one thing you can get in your hometown you can’t get elsewhere? Hm. Nothing is coming to mind, honestly.

How important are looks in someone you’re in a relationship with? I just answered this in another survey. They’re not the most important thing, it’s gotta be deeper than just looks, but I can’t say they don’t matter at all.

What freedom do you feel is not really free anymore? Uhhh.

What are you most thankful for? My family.

Do you have any favorite talk shows or talk radio programs without music? Well, as far as talk shows go I like to watch Daily Pop and Dr. Phil. Sometimes The Talk as well.

What was the last book you read? Because of Bethlehem by Max Lucado.

What’s your favorite online store? The places I shop online the most are: Hot Topic, BoxLunch, Kohl’s, Amazon, and Etsy.

What band would you love to tour with or be a roadie for? I don’t wanna do that. I couldn’t handle it.

If you were to throw a message in a bottle into the ocean, it would say? “Hi.” lol.

Do you have common sense or do you think people are lacking in it? It doesn’t seem to be very common sometimes. You either got it or you don’t, and it does seem to be lacking.

What’s your favorite non-alcoholic drink? Coffee.

How do you feel about thrift shops or flea markets? Not my thing.

What do you like to put gravy on? Mashed potatoes, stuffing, turkey, and ham. I love country gravy on my eggs.

Have you ever gone canoeing/kayaking? Nope.

What one thing in particular makes you feel good about yourself? Nothing.

What is priceless to you? Time with my family.

What do you wait for discount sales to buy? I always look for a good sale and use coupon codes whenever I can.

What is one thing you know about your family history you’re proud of? I honestly don’t know a whole lot. I’d really like to do that ancestry test.

What 3 songs will always be found at the top of your playlist? It changes.

What is the craziest thing you’ve ever done for someone? Hmm.

Do you keep a budget? I try.

If you could cast a spell on someone what spell would you cast and on who? Nah.

What makes you feel rested and refreshed? Spending time at the beach is the only thing that can make me feel that way.

What is the funniest joke you have ever heard about? I don’t know what I’d say the funniest joke I ever heard was. Who depends on you the most? No one.

Could you ever be someone’s bodyguard? Ha, no. I’m very thin, weak, and in a wheelchair. No offense to anyone else who may also be any of those things, but I know I couldn’t protect anyone. I’m also a scardy cat, easily intimidated, and non-confrontational, so... I’d really be of no use at all.

Has one of your biggest fears come true? Yes. And some will eventually... they’re inevitable. :(

Is there anything about the opposite sex you just don’t understand? There’s a lot I don’t understand about people in general.

Did you create a checklist for your ideal spouse? If so, what were two things you wanted? I only list things like that when asked in a survey. It comes up a lot.

Have you ever ridden on a subway or train an what did you like about it? Nope.

What song on your playlist gets played the most? My Spotify wrap up thingy listed all that, but I don’t feel like checking it again right now.

Do you prefer sporty or academic members of the opposite sex? Academic.

Do you have to experience something to fully understand it? No. I have a strong instinct for empathy. <<<

Has anyone in your family ever served in the military? Yes.

Finish the next line in your style: Roses are red, violets are blue… I’m tired, how are you?

What embarrasses you instantly? When I start mixing my words around when I speak. <<< Saaaame. I trip over my words, too.

Do you think you could be a firefighter, why/why not? Nope. Well, there’s the wheelchair for one.

Do you often read your horoscope? I never do.

What current event are you tired of hearing about? Trump.

Are you a daredevil? Ha, nope.

What common pitfalls do you find yourself dealing with in your work life? I don’t have a job.

Describe your “poker face”. >> My resting face is a poker face. People tend to read all kinds of things into it (usually negative things), because I guess they can’t stand a simple blank slate. <–Me. We’re so misunderstood. Haha. <<< Me, too.

What do you think should be censored? I don’t see the issue with curse words being censored. I just never understood why you can say some, but not others.

Are you related to anyone famous or historical, if so who? Possibly.

Would you ever donate a kidney to anyone, and who? I don’t know.

How do you encourage yourself when you go through hard times? My relationship with God.

Have you ever fired a gun? Yes. I went to a shooting range once with friends.

Do you think people, including yourself live up to their full potential? I’m not doing anything with my life. :/ I don’t feel like I have much potential, either.

How are you different from most people? I’m different from people I know in a lot of ways. Like, people I know are functioning adults and I’m not.

What is the main quality you think makes a great parent? Understanding is definitely one. There’s a lot of things, though.

What creature do you admire for its ability to adapt? Dogs.

Have you ever stayed up for an entire 24 hours, why? Yeah. I’ve stayed up for over 30 hours. I honestly don’t know I ever did that. I could never now.

Who is a female role model in your life? My mom.

What childhood dreams have you neglected? The ones where I was doing something with my life.

How often do you reevaluate your life? I don’t. I am aware of what my life looks like at any given time. I don’t need to sit down and think deeply about it to realize I need to change something I’m doing; I am well aware of my faults and negative habits. <<< Just gonna keep all your answers.

What’s your favorite place just to hang out? My bed.

What gives you a zest for life? This makes me think of this thing I saw on Twitter that said something like, “I thought it would be easy peasy lemon squeezy, not stressed, depressed, lemon zest”, ha.

What do you have trouble seeing clearly in your mind? My mind is a jumbled mess.

What three things do you think of most of each day? God, my health, and my life.

Would you travel to space if possible? Nopeeee. Just the idea of space is terrifying to me.

Name a famous person you wouldn’t mind for a business partner. I don’t want a business partner. I’m not doing anything in business.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

2 notes · View notes

thelazyenvironmentalist · 5 years

Text

So Now I’m Back, From Outer Space

(Kidding, but I did go to The Kennedy Space Centre and I’m obsessed.)

I stopped writing this blog over a year ago. The last two posts here weren’t even originally written for this page, but were op-eds for the school paper that I’d written, once I’d returned to university to finish my undergrad. You see, I’d left school for two years -- largely as a result of being able to reckon with what it meant to study at an institution that cared so little for my future, and that of my fellow students.

(For a backstory you can control+F “Divestment” and skim any number of pieces I’d vomited forth whilst desperate/angry/disillusioned with the lack of action said institution was taking on climate change.)

There are a myriad of reasons (is this the correct way to use “myriad”?) why I stopped writing as “The Lazy Environmentalist”. Not least among them was that, for a while, I wasn’t sure if I should be speaking up at all -- even if it was just to an audience of a casual dozen. As douchey and self-righteous as it sounds (is) I refer to myself as a climate justice activist or organizer, and a couple years back, I realized I was showing up to climate justice spaces in a pretty shitty way. I figured because I wanted to be there that I should be there. I thought that because I wanted to speak up that I should speak up-- somehow not realizing that my being there meant that I was taking the place of someone else, or that in speaking up I was speaking over other voices. I needed to learn to be quiet. Not silent necessarily, not absent by any means, but simply more aware of my surroundings-- who was missing because I was taking their space, who wasn’t being heard, because I’m so fucking noisy.

In this way, it was good that I took a break from writing for a little while, because it helped me to see that sometimes (most of the time) my voice isn’t the one that needs to be heard-- especially when it comes to discussions regarding climate change and climate justice.

I also need to acknowledge that because this whole exercise is largely self-indulgent, when I stopped writing I was really just letting myself off the hook. This blog, like it says in that gross yellow font at the top of the page, exists so I can hold myself to account, and that still rings true. Did I pull out my laptop in a frenzy tonight because I’ve decided that I once again need to stuff my trash in a mason jar and make my mom feel bad for taking me to restaurants that send home leftovers in styrofoam? No-- behaving like that was pointless at best, and harmful otherwise. Me toting around my trash in an instagrammable jar does nothing to reduce the amount of plastic choking a baby Laysan Albatross, and my saint of a mother doesn’t need to carry the guilt of the lack of plastic materials regulation around on her shoulders simply because I don’t feel like finishing my zimarika at our favourite Greek restaurant.

No. When I say this blog exists to hold me to account I mean that the act of writing is one of the best things I can do when it comes to working against the forces driving climate change. Not because anyone reads this-- we’ve already established no one save my big sister (hey, Kayla) does-- but because its through writing that I force myself to sit with my thoughts and digest the literal constant deluge of terrible news about human-inflicted damage on the planet and all of its inhabitants. When I stopped writing I gave myself permission to be intellectually lazy (not cute, contrary to my chosen moniker). When I say I’ve been in a cognitive fog the last few years I’m not even being that obnoxiously hyperbolic-- I honestly feel like I’ve retreated into a world of podcasts and quickly skimmed news articles-- I’ve eschewed my own ideas and feelings because when things are as desperately, existentially terrifying as they are in the year of our lord (lol, there is no God) 2019, its easier to let someone else, someone smarter, tell you what to feel, what to worry about, and how to think. I think when I opened my laptop 21 minutes ago it was on a whim that maybe thats not what’s best for me anymore. I think if I want to devote my time, my brain, my heart to saving what I can of my home that I need to push myself to dig a little deeper into the recesses of the ole’ lobes (ew?) and try to figure out why I’m here, doing this fucking work in the first place, and also what I fucking mean when I say “this work”. “This work” sounds vague and self-aggrandizing and I’m in a time of my life where I think I need specifics and tangibilities.

Finally, I stopped writing as “The Lazy Environmentalist” because I wasn’t sure . if that’s who I was anymore. I’m definitely a fucking lazy individual-- even at this moment I’m lying in bed at a somewhat cramped and awkward angle because I can’t be bothered to shift myself into a seated position (lol @ the misfortune of my neck). However, I don’t like the idea of letting myself take the easy way out because I’ve accepted that I am fundamentally a lazy person. Is my aversion to accepting my habitual sluggishness perhaps rooted in questionable puritanical christian societal values? Like, ya probably. Does that mean that it’s a good thing to watch 6 hours of Criminal Minds and tell myself that its okay to buy that dress from Zara because there’s no such thing as ethical consumption under capitalism, so fuck it? No. Obviously. Criminal Minds is gross (though Reid is still hella cute) and fast fashion is terrible for both people and planet (so props to me for actually putting that dress back on the rack last week even though I didn’t look terrible in it and honestly I could use another shapeless sack in my wardrobe).

As for the “Environmentalist” part of “The Lazy Environmentalist”I also feel more than a little weird about that too. The term is fucking loaded, and carries a lot of terrible history with it. The environmental movement has and still does a really god-awful job of caring about people (despite people being animals - woah who’s really eschewing anthropocentrism now, Tim*?!) But for real, forgetting the fact that from the purely cold, calculating, strategic reality that we can’t save the planet unless we have more people on board with the concept, and that we can’t do that effectively if we don’t speak to those in marginalized communities (those always most at risk to climate catastrophe) environmentalism has been not only ineffective and alienating for a fuck-ton of people over the decades-- environmentalists have been intensely harmful to people -- there are still environmentalists who think the best use of our time is to devastate Northern Communities by rallying against the seal hunt, and pushing veganism in communities that it simply doesn’t make sense for from a cultural/historical/geographic standpoint. Old school preservationist environmentalism is based in super gross settler ideas of manifest destiny, and protecting an “untouched” wilderness, ignoring the fact that Inuit, Anishnaabe, Mi’kmaq, Tsleil-Waututh, Cree, and hundreds of other Indigenous Nations lived QUITE HARMONIOUSLY on this land for EONS (and still do) before we settlers got here, thought of ourselves as separate from the land, parcelled it up, sold it off, decided to ~protect~ a fraction because God said so or whatever, and generally started fucking shit up.

So yeah, the term Environmentalist kind of makes me feel uneasy, as it should, because it carries with it a history of violence-- a history that is still being perpetuated today.

That being said, the term environmentalist also makes me think of my Grandma (cute, right?) I don’t necessarily think she would have considered herself an environmentalist, but she was the single most compassionate, loving person I’ve ever known, and yes I idolize her and hold her to a standard that no one else will ever meet but that’s okay, because she was my Grandma and I’m supposed to think she was perfect and magic. I mention my Grandma (her name was Lecetta) because she’s who made my into a little lazy environmentalist. She took me on trips to see Manatee rehab centres in Florida, walks through the Carolinian forest near her house, and swimming in Lake Huron. On the days we were inside we watched PBS nature documentaries and read books about wildlife in North America and on Saturday mornings she’d sit with me as I sobbed during WWF infomercials in what I realize now was a pretty weird weekly self-flagellation ritual. What I’m trying to say with this bizarre tangent is that the term “environmentalist” still holds some pretty earnest intention for me, and I’m remiss to entirely abandon the roots of what compels me to defend our home.

So, circling back to what I’d initially tried to start saying with this post- I think I’m going to start writing here again. I think I’m going to see if this helps me be the sort of person I want to be: the still sometimes lazy, but still earnest environmentalist- trying to figure out what my place is- in the movement, in my community, on the planet, and simply within myself.

*There’s no one named Tim

#climate change #climateaction #climate crisis #climate justice

2 notes · View notes

silviasutton1989 · 6 years

Text

The True Kings Ch. 3 “Suspect”

-AN: Hey guys!! ok so I told myself I would try to put these chapters out twice a week (Mondays and Wednesdays or Thursdays) I made my goal today but if you see any grammatical errors (yeah I know I’m the run on sentence queen) please look over them as best you can

Pairings: Everyone interacts with everyone.

Summary: The morning after the attacks Liam faces his council

Word Count: 2000

Rating: NSFW violence and course language.

*Catch up on previous chapters here: Chapter 1 Chapter 1.2 Chapter 2 (you should really read chapter to to understand the 2nd half of the chapter)

Liam’s feet jitters under the table. It was a bad habit that even at the age of 8 his father had constantly reprimanded him for. He can still feel his father's firm grip on his thigh.

"Liam! Royalty has no place for such foolish nervous habits. We are living breathing epitome of perfection. We don't hide our flaws under a table WE DO NOT HAVE THEM." Constantine rubs his forehead in frustration. "Just look at your brother Leo. He will be a great king because he has no use for anxiety." The young boy fallows his father's eyes to see his brother at the end of the room. He is looking out the window chewing unconsciously on his thumb nail"

"LEO!!!" Constantine shrieks.

Liam smirks at the memory of his father's shocked face. It was that smirk that started the domino effect of commotion during his meting with the privy council.

“Our Kings sits here and listens to the damage and destruction of his country and what does he do? He laughs!” Lord Scribes, a boisterous delegate, who was inherited his council seat by the way, looks the exact definition of a red pear. Even the last stubble of black hair he had left unruly stuck straight up on the top of his head. “King Liam, if the matter of terrorist attacking your country amuses you…maybe you should meet with us in a time when you take something seriously…maybe when half of Cordonia is dead from famine!”

The floor erupts in applause and boos. Men were on their feet pointing and waving all in a commotion.

“The King should have you head for such insolence!” Liam hears.

“The King should more worried about his own head!” someone else yells.

Liam allows them a moment their screams and taunts do nothing to faze him. He was trained for this. He stands and raises a hand and the room quiets. He gives each man an unyielding look. Then like a chill wind he speaks, his voice so clear and unmoved that even Lord Scribes takes his seat.

“I know that the attack last night has left many of you afraid and troubled over Cordonia’s future, or even the future of yourself and your love ones. But I am not one to run this country on fear. I am your King. And as your king I advise you to do your job and assist in the council of this country."

Liam takes just a moment to stare into Lord Scribes' direction. "Unless you want to sit here and chit chat about your displeasure in my facial expressions like some cackling hens."

Lord Scribes looks away, his checks even redder than before. Embarrassment didn't suit him any better than fear.

"Now." Liam starts again siting back in his seat, his leg jumps back to the beat it was before. "Who are we suspecting in the attack?"

The crowd of men all murmur between one another. They bring up the usual suspects which are combated with several members doubting their involvement.

"Well there is one person we have not mentioned." Colonial Martian, an older but still in great physical shape man, stands on his feet. He looks to the men sitting close to him as if they had had all spoken on the matter in private before.

"Your highness there is the matter of Duchess Nevarkis…given her family history with your own and her absence since the attack. The council thinks she should be our main focus."

Liam stirs in his chair all eyes are on him, not like before but more like they were waiting for his response, as if they expected him to respond to Olivia being a suspect in an irrational way.

“Main focus.” His fingers begin to drum to the same beet as his feet on the table. “Why is Oliv—Duchess Nevarkis’ a main focus over all the other suspects?"

“Well like I said your majesty she has a history with—“

“Colonial Martian I believe you mean her parents- who are deceased- had a history of treason. She was 5 years old at the time. Surely you don’t think a 5 year old could be involved in their parents affairs.”

“Well, Sire, she isn’t here to say otherwise.” The Colonial didn’t need any other explanation, to him and many other men of the court she checked too many boxes not to be the hot topic in the room. The questions on their lips were not if Olivia orchestrated the attacks but if Liam, who has been her friend since such a young age, would have the back bone to accuse her.

Liam sits back in his chair, he must choose his words carefully in front of the court. “I agree…and I motion that we investigate all of our suspects with great detail. Now if there are no other pressing issues as today let's reconvene this meeting in a few days with developments.”

The court is quiet as the men begin to walk out the room. Liam takes his private exist Bastian right on his heel.

“Can you believe them…they think Olivia did this…that she planned to have me killed?” He scoffs at the thought. He walks at such a fast pace but Bastian keeps up with him.

“Yes I heard…do you not think she is involved, Sire?”

The question stops him in his tracks.

“No I do not.” He stares Bastian square in his eyes, that was enough for Bastian.

“Then we will find her and prove her innocence.”

“Yes, thank you.” A sigh of relief leaves him but his stride doesn’t falter. “But you will need a different set of Intel….I believe my council has been compromised.”

“Liam the baby is crying”

Olivia finds herself saying. She says the words unconsciously as if she has said them a thousand times before.

The baby’s screams continue to ring out.

“It’s your turn Liv. Just give me 5 more minutes.”

Olivia pulls herself from their bed and reflexively walks over to the cries. She stands over the golden bassinet where a chunky baby wails away. The infants arms are reaching up for her. Olivia bends to pick up the child but all too quickly reality hits her.

Wait…whose baby is…this is my baby? What the hell is going on?”

The ear splitting cries of her baby continues.

“Liv come on just let me sleep please!” Liam shouts.

“Yeah! Give the poor man 5 more minutes."

Olivia looks up to see Riley in their bed. She wears a blood red nightie as she combs Liam’s exposed back with her matching red nails.

“Our King needs his rest.” Riley orders her before kissing Liam’s back. Liam quickly rises from the pillows. He wraps his arms around Riley and they share a heated kiss. They quickly disappear under the covers of the bed the sound of Rileys flirtatious laughter fading before the sound of the baby grows even louder than before. It seems to shake the whole room.

What do I do? I’m not a mother!

“Pick up your baby Peppa.”

That voice….She hadn’t heard that voice since….She didn’t want to think about when, or the last time she was called Peppa, or the only person in the world who ever called her that. But she had to think about it because she begins to hear the soft footsteps coming up behind her.

The voice, places a hand on her shoulder. And from that touch Olivia says the word she hasn’t said in 20 years, when she realized that no one would answer to that name ever again….until now.

“Momma?” she breathes.

“Yes Peppa. Now pick up your baby.”

Olivia does as she is told and the baby soon quiets in her arms. Pleased with herself Olivia smiles and looks to see her mother’s expression. The sun, for some reason, shines directly above her mother. It’s so bright in fact that she cannot see her face. She can only see her familiar smirk, the soft curls on the ends of her red hair, and the cream silk shirt that was always her mother’s favorite.

“See, he just wanted his momma.” Her mother tells her. Her hand moved from Olivia’s shoulder to the top of the baby’s head. And the moment is so warm so touching that Olivia doesn’t want to move she doesn’t want to even breath too deeply in case this all went away. So many things she wanted to say, she wanted to ask but at that time only one thing could come out.

“Momma…I… I don’t know what I’m doing?” Olivia’s voice cracks as she speaks she holds her baby closer to her chest. Her mother’s hands run back to her shoulder to comfort her. She strokes her gently before applying a firmer grip.

“You will learn, Peppa.”

The words for some reason send pain to Olivia’s neck.

“What did you say, Momma.”

Her mother’s hands move from her shoulders to her neck. As she steps forward, away from the glare of the sun, she places her other hand around her neck as well. Olivia can now see her mothers mangled face. Her skin has festered to dark colors of black and grey and insects creep and crawl through the crevice of her missing eye.

At the sight Olivia holds her baby even tighter to protect it but…there is no baby. Nothing in her arms.

“I said you will learn. You will learn. You will learn! YOU WILL LEARN!!!!”

Olivia can feel so clearly those fingers clutching around her throat tightening more and more, her breath becomes shorter and short with each grasp of breath she tries to take.

“Momm….” She tries to say but her mother’s hands are stifling.

“You will learn."

In the blink of an eye her mother’s face changes. Her skin is back but a beard forms around her mouth her eyes no longer green but brown. It was Mick’s face.

“You will learn!" he says.

Olivia rises from the floor in a high shriek her hand covering her neck. Her nightmare over but...not really.

"Look Boss I couldn't take her to the hotel I needed space--"

"You complete idiot you weren't suppose to take her at all. You weren't even suppose to touch her!"

Olivia rushes to the door of the room Mick had thrown her in. She could hear the conversation Mick was having with "Boss". She presses her hear into the oak desperate to hear ever word.

"Last night we made some mistakes but we can fix---"

"Oh you think last night was a mistake? My idea to find assassins for cheap was a mistake. Your baboon of a mother having you was a mistake but what you and your asinine crew did last night THAT was failure! You failed! You killed no one!! And not only did you fail, you shit for brains, you brought a duchess to my estate MYY ESTATE!!!! To do what? Kill her?"

"Look there's no need to bring my mother into this ok. I brought the mistress here thinking maybe we could ransom her. How was I to know she was the wrong mistress?"

"SHE IS NOT A MISTRESS!!!

And I gave you pictures you dimwit! I laid out every single detail I'm sure even your baboon of a mother could have done a better job."

"Cool it with my mom ok!"

"I will say whatever I damn well please you tin head. And if you want to still get paid you will do exactly....do you understand the word exactly or do you need a smaller word."

Mick doesn't speak.

"you will do EXACTLY as I tell you."

"Right....of course Boss. So... what do you want me to do with her?"

Tag List: @mfackenthal @darley1101 @butindeed @blackcatkita@jlouise88 @blackcatkita @speedyoperarascalparty @laniquelove @gingerjane15 @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerwhipped @snyggflicka @choicesfanatic86 @jadedpixiescribbles @agent-zephyrkah @walkerismychoice @missevabean

#trr #trr olivia #trr liam #choices fanfiction #choices #the royal romance #the true kings

36 notes · View notes

tomhollanduniverse · 6 years

Text

Creepy Parker (Peter Parker x Reader Oneshot)

Author’s note: This is my entry for @starksparker‘s 4k Writing Challenge! I don’t think I’ve ever written something so long in such a short amount of time. I’m still in the process of getting back into writing again, after going through some personal issues and having writer’s block because of them. So please go easy on me.

P.S. I wrote this as if Infinity War never happened. I’m still in denial, okay?

Warnings: Some cursing here and there, a little bit of angst, violence, some drinking, instances of sexual assault (nothing too extreme), and of course fluff.

Word Count: 2.9k (Yes, it’s long. Please forgive me)

“Would you mind if I still loved you?”

I am so late, and it’s my first day of class. I can’t understand this damn campus map to save my life. I ran by a sign that said “Psych building” and I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally found it! I looked back at my watch again, for the 10th time, hoping for some reason my watch was 10 minutes fast. I ran past a clock in the hall that said “8:20 a.m.” Nope. I was 10 minutes late. God, I hated being the center of attention more than anything and that’s just what I was about to be, walking into class. I was out of breath, when I finally found the room.

“Social Psychology: Dr. Caples” the sign read. I contemplated just skipping but I was already here. I reluctantly pushed open the door, and just like I feared, all 30 people looked up.

“Ahh, Ms. Y/L/N. Glad you could join us.” the teacher said, without looking up. How did he know it was me? 99 percent of the eyes turned back toward the teacher, but one pair locked onto mine. “Have a seat up here next to Mr. Parker.” the professor explained, pointing to a seat at the front, next to the weirdo still staring at me. Oh lord. I clambered down the stairs to the front row and he was still staring. What was his problem? I looked down at my feet as I found my desk. I situated my bag on the floor and got my old compaq laptop out to take notes. I still felt his gaze burning on me. Do I dare to look over there? As my laptop booted up, I slowly turned to him. His reddish-brown eyes met my (Y/E/C) ones and he was smiling. Whoa. A chill shot up my spine. He was gorgeous.

“What’s your problem, weirdo?” I whispered, angrily, the smile never leaving his face. I fought back my smile.

“N-nothing at all. I’ve just never seen you here before.” he stammered. The teacher had his back to us, writing notes on the board.

“It’s my first day and I’ve already made a hell of an impression on the professor. So before I get in trouble again, we need to take notes.” I said, logging onto my computer. I was afraid to look at him again, fearing I would start liking him. No, I swore off any relationships for a while after I got hurt last time. There was no way I was gonna let this one in.

“My name is Peter…Parker.” he smiled again, sticking his hand out. I looked at it but continued to type the notes. I didn’t want to seem rude, so I stuck my hand out and shook it softly.

“Y/N.”

“W-want to talk after class?” Peter asked timidly.

“Can’t. Sorry. I have to be on the other side of the campus by 9:40 for a creative writing class.”

“I know. Your class list is on the front of your notebook. I have that class also.” he said. “I could show you the way.” he said.

“Don’t need help. Thanks though, Creepy Pete.” I laughed quietly. He frowned and turned back to the board. I felt bad for being mean, but none of the guys that were mean to me before cared how I felt. Not to mention this creepy dude looked 20 or 21. Too young for me. I shoved back my feelings of remorse and focused on the teacher for the rest of the class. At 9:15am, we were dismissed and I packed up and headed for the door. I felt Peter walking behind me. I looked back as he was checking his phone. I situated my bag on my shoulders, took one last look at my map and took off in a sprint, leaving Creepy behind. It didn’t take him much time to catch up with me. Jesus. Could this guy not take a hint? Every twist and turn I made, he mirrored my moves. What a weirdo! A very cute weirdo, though. Suddenly he took a sharp turn and disappeared. Whew, thank you! After running for what seemed like forever, I reached the Creative Writing building. Peter was there already, holding the door open for me.

“What the hell?” I asked, out of breath. “How…how the hell did you do that?”

“I’ve been going here for a year. I know the shortcuts.” Peter explained, smirking.

“Don’t smirk at me, you weirdo.” Fighting back a smile, he laughed.

“That feels kinda like a term of endearment, coming from you.”

“You don’t know me, Pete. Don’t act like you know me. Please just stay away. You’re probably too young for me anyways? What are you…20?”

“21. I’ll be 22 soon.”

“Yeah, see. I’m 25 almost 26. Too old for you.” I say, walking through the door. “Not to mention you’re too clingy and you don’t know me.”

“Well, would you mind if I still wanted to be your friend?” he pleaded. “I’m not here to hurt you.” It’s like he knew. I sighed, giving in.

“No, I wouldn’t mind.” I said, his eyes sparkled. He grinned from ear to ear. Over the next couple months, we got to know each other much better. It was getting hard to hold back my feelings for him. Even when he canceled a few times because he had “stuff to do.” I told him why I was so guarded with my feelings and he understood. I could tell he had lost a lot too, telling me about his parents and how he had lived with his Aunt May. He told me a lot about her, and I felt like I already knew her.

“She seems really nice. I’ll have to meet her sometime soon, Peter.” He seemed really surprised.

“Really Y/N? Would you like to go back and visit with me, next weekend? Don’t worry, she knows we’re only friends.”

“I’m going to a (Your favorite band) Concert, next Friday, but we can leave Saturday morning.” A worried look spread across his face.

“Are you going alone?” his overprotective side coming out. It annoyed me sometimes.

“Yes, Parker. I’ve been to many concerts alone. I’ll be fine. Don’t start with me.” He sighed.

“But have you been to a concert in Brooklyn before?”

“No, Mom. But I have been to one in Saint Louis before. I was just fine. I’ll walk with a crowd at all times.” I promised. It was nice to have someone so worried about me. No other guy had ever been this worried about my safety before, but I didn’t want to admit it.

“What if I go with you?”

“You hate (your favorite band’s name). Not to mention, it’s sold out. I’ll be fine, dude. I’ll text you and tell you when I get there, when I’m leaving and when I get back home. Stop worrying about me so much.” Peter sighed in defeat. He learned quickly that I was stubborn and was gonna do what I wanted to do.

Over the next week, he tried talking me out of it several times, but I didn’t budge. It was my favorite band and I had a great seat. When the night finally came, I got dressed at my dorm, in a band shirt, tight black jeans and my favorite leather boots. I was so damn excited. Peter, on the other hand, wasn’t.

“Is your phone charged? Do you have that pepper spray that I gave you? Your concert ticket and I.D.?” He asked me over the phone. He was just completely smothering me, but I liked it.

“Yessss, Peterrrr. I gotta go. I’ll text you when I get there.” I said, acting annoyed. I grabbed my stuff and headed to my car. The concert doors opened at 7:30 and I was there at 6:30 to get a good parking spot. It did seem pretty sketchy around here, but I parked close to the venue. Before I got out, I texted my Creep.

“I’m here.” I texted Peter. I noticed a male silhouette in a red and blue suit moving on top of the brick building in front of my parking spot. It looked almost like …nah it couldn’t be. I shook my head and got out, dismissing the thought. I headed into the venue, trying to remember some of the things I had seen on the way in, to help guide me back to my car. As I got into the venue, I could definitely tell it was sold out. I got a beer from the bar and went found my seat. Peter wouldn’t be thrilled I was drinking, but he wasn’t here. Plus, he wasn’t my boss. Before long, the concert started. My heart pounded as the music started up. I couldn’t help but think about the red and blue silhouette I saw. Was that who I think it was? Once again, I shook my head and shoved the thoughts to the side. I couldn’t help but think about Peter, when the band started playing a lovey-dovey song that I really liked. I wish he liked this band…I wish he were here. I drank my beer down and went and got a rum and coke. Ballsy move on my part, but I needed to stop thinking about that weirdo. I drank that rum down like it was nothing and got another. I was a lightweight so I knew I needed to stop drinking. It was too late though.

Before I knew it, the concert was over and I was still feeling dizzy. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, seeing a fuzzy screen full of replies from Peter, but I couldn’t text him back because he’d know I had been drinking. He’s gonna kill me. Please don’t let him find out. I shoved my phone back into my pocket and I stumbled out of the venue, trying to find the main entrance, where I came in. It was dark as hell outside and I didn’t recognize anything. A group of people were walking down the sidewalk so I went to join them. Some of them started breaking off, going to their cars, when only 4 big men remained in the group. I hadn’t realized that they were looking at me. I walked ahead of them, acting like I knew where I was going. Before long, the group of men were talking with each other. They knew each other and were still following me. I knew I needed to text Creep, even though he’d be disappointed in me. I got my phone out to text him when one of the men shouted at me, causing me to almost drop my phone.

“Hey honey, You lost? Need some help finding your way back to our place?” they all howled with laughter. I started running, feeling for the pepper spray in my pocket. I had forgotten it in my glove box. Fuck. I ran ahead and hid behind a dumpster. I was still a little dizzy from my drinks when I realized I had ran down a dead-end alleyway. Shit. I was in some serious trouble. I heard their footsteps come around the corner where I was.

“You can’t hide, sweetheart. We know these neighborhoods.” another man shouted. I jumped. One of the men came into sight and shouted to the other men.

“She’s over here, guys. She’s a shy one!” he laughed. Before I knew it, the men were surrounding my way out of the alleyway, one of them holding a four inch blade in his hand.

“I have money. You can have all of my money. And my car. Please just let me go.” my body shaking in fear. The one with the knife came up to me and held it to my throat. He must’ve been the leader of the group.

“Oh, that’s not what we want, sweetheart. You’re pretty sexy.” The man put a little more pressure on my neck, sniffing my hair. I was crying, struggling to breathe behind the blade. I punched him, making him stumble backward.

“Fuck off, you bastard.” I shouted. He smiled, wiping the blood from his nose.

“God, I love the feisty ones.” he grinned through bloody teeth. He yanked at my long hair, making me fall to the ground. I groaned, struggling to get up. Another one of the men kicked me in the ribs, coughing from the impact. I could feel a knot forming on the back of my head.

“You ain’t going anywhere, honey. Just lie back and enjoy it.” I closed my eyes, preparing for what was coming next. I felt one of them unbuckling my belt and I started to picture Peter saying “I told you so.” I’m so sorry I didn’t listen. I hope I would get a chance to tell him, but I wasn’t sure I would. I confessed my feelings to him, in my mind, hoping somehow he could hear me. I love you, Peter Parker. Suddenly, I heard another person speak up in a strangely familiar voice.

“Oh you’re gonna enjoy this, assholes.” the voice rang through the air. I heard some crashing noises and some screams come from the four men. I opened my eyes to see Spider-Man completely destroying the men. So it was him that I saw on that building. How the hell…? It took me a minute to put the pieces together. Holy shit. HOLY SHIT. Could it be?! After he had the men knocked out and pinned to the wall with his webs, he came over to check on me. He kneeled down to me.

“Are you okay, Miss?” He put my head in his lap, brushing the hair out of my face, gently. “Everything is taken care of.” Just the sound of his voice comforted me.

“I think so. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, Creepy.” I said, weakly.

“Wh-why did you call me that? I’m not…I’m not creepy.” he stammered nervously, purposely deepening his voice. “We gotta get you to the hospital. I’m gonna call the police and I’ll take you there.”

“I know it’s you, Creep. Just go to my car, since you know where it is. Just drive me there.” He nodded in defeat, picking me up gently. He called the men in and explained what happened. Then, we swung back to my car and he laid me down in the passenger seat. He got in the drivers seat and we began driving to the hospital. When we got there, he looked around making sure there was no one around. He looked over to me and pulled the mask off. His fluffy curls were messy, his brown eyes sparkling like they always were.

“How did you know, Y/N?”

“I just did. I recognized your voice. Not to mention, who else has stalked me pretty much everywhere I go, since the first time we met?” I laughed weakly. He smiled too.

“Look, I know now is not the time for this, but I think I might be in love with you.” He looked down, his knuckles white from nervously squeezing the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.”

“Again, I know, Peter. I have since that day, also. I just know how some guys are. I wasn’t ready to trust anyone again.” He nodded in agreement.

“This whole situation probably doesn’t help your outlook on men, but would you mind if I still loved you?” he gave a half grin. With the strength I had left, I kissed him. He cradled the back of my neck and deepened the kiss. When we broke apart I looked into those red-brown eyes again just like on the day we first met.

“I thought you’d never ask, Creepy Parker. I love you, too.”

#kavys4kwc #Peter Parker x Reader oneshot #Tom Holland #Marvel #MCU #Spider-Man

83 notes · View notes

just-a-kj-blog · 7 years

Text

I Can’t Stay Any Longer - Part 7

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello! I decided to repost my stories on my new blog. If you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask or a pm. This was written about a year ago, so be nice heheheh

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Relationships: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are living together following the events of Ultron and, in the midst of a nightmare, Bucky does something he truly regrets. This follows Bucky’s confrontation with the group. Now, it’s back to the hospital... (Y/n - your name)

Warnings: angst, blood, injured reader, swearing, hospital scenario

Word Count: 3223

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I Can’t Stay Any Longer - Part 7 by just-a-kj-blog, previously nenyakj

-------------------------------------

Previously:

Bucky’s POV:

Steve looks up at me, eyes sad but determined.

“One day at a time, Buck. One day at a time.”

Leading me into the quinjet, I avoid the others and sit by the bay door, hunched over, staring at my hands, as Stark flies us back to New York.

How can I face her again?

-------------------------------------

Y/n’s POV:

The beeping of the heart monitor stirs me from a restless sleep. Prying open my swollen eyes, I glance around the hospital room. The only light shining is the glow from the space under the door, the distant sounds of nurses talking quietly the only thing I can hear in the hallway.

Sighing, I move to adjust the position of my butt and inhale sharply at the pain exploding through my chest. Oops, forgot about that.

Oh god, time for more pain meds. Oh but first…. Nature is calling like a bitch.

Xiomara and Jennifer had left, their shifts ending about, hmm what time is it? I squint at the plain white clock on the wall above the sink and cabinets across from my bed. Five in the morning. My idiot superheroes had left about midnight, leaving me to cry myself into a very miserable sleep. The lovely nurses had left about 3 hours ago, explaining that Dr. Sanders did not want me to have a catheter put in. He wanted me to get up, with help from the nurses, and walk the few feet to the bathroom, so as to help the blood flow and circulation. They promised to return tonight, wishing me a very peaceful and restful day. Sweet girls.

The nurse who replaced them is a very big man. Tall and muscular. Not like bodybuilder muscular but the kind that works out probably three times a week.

I really don’t want to bother Riddick at the moment. That’s the name I’ve given him in my pain med induced silliness. Dude is bald and ripped and just frickin built like a mountain. And I really don’t want him helping me lift my hospital gown to go pee.

Eyeballing the equipment attached to me, I twist my mouth to the side, humming.

Ok, I can do this.

I cheer myself on. I had watch the girls take everything off a few times, I can figure this out. Detach the clippy thingies from the stickers on my chest, tug off the auto blood pressure cuff, take off the pulse and oxygen rate thing on the tip of my index finger. And bingo!! I only have to wheel the IV stand with me.

Taking a somewhat deep breath, I slowly raise the head of the bed, wincing as it folds my abdomen, squishing the bruises and lower incisions.

Carefully moving both legs over the side of the bed the IV stand is on, I grip the stand in one hand and the bed in the other. Heaving myself up, I teeter for a moment, gasping at the rush of dizziness and soreness.

Ooh I forgot what it was like to stand up… c’mon legs, we’ve done this before.

Once my vision clears and my legs are somewhat sturdy, I step slowly to the en suite bathroom.

“Ha ha!!” I quietly cheer as I lower myself to the toilet. I relax and hum happily, taking in the large bathroom once again. I had oo-ed in awe the first time I came in here. It’s larger than any I’ve ever seen, and far more stylish. The walls are painted a lovely cream color. There’s a large grey vanity with a cushioned seat and a small vase of white carnations; a large walk in shower stall with white tile. My favorite thing is the huge, oval, black jacuzzi bathtub, fit with tons of little jets and the floor molded like a recliner seat, a vinyl pillow as a headrest. Definitely gonna have to try that out before they send me packing.

After doing my business, I realize I forgot about something. I have to clean myself. And that’s not happening with the tight wrappings around my torso and fresh incisions and the absolute agonizing pain I’m trying to ignore.

Shit.

In my moment of self deprecation, I fail to notice the alarms going off on the equipment by the bed. In hindsight, I really should have just told them I had to pee and am not currently without a pulse or oxygen.

The door bursts open, lights flickering on, as Riddick and a team of nurses pile inside, defibrillator at the ready. They come to a shrieking halt when they find the bed empty. I have a perfect view of this because I ingeniously left the bathroom door wide open, right in view of the bed.

Riddick turns and starts barking commands at the nurses, but freezes when he sees me propped up on the potty, staring at him like a fucking idiot.

Anger flits across his terrifying features and, for a moment, I think this is it. I’m going out in style, strangled to death by a mountain of a man, on the john.

“Y/n, what are you doing?!” he commands, turning fully towards me and stalks into the bathroom.

I stare up at him, my jaw hitting the floor. I’m absolutely speechless. No words. Nothing. Nada.

His eyes soften and he squats down in front of me so he’s not looming.

The other nurses murmur to each other, turning off the alarms and leave with the defibrillator, some not looking very happy, others cracking up at my apparent “escape to the potty”.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, looking me over, checking the IV insertion site in my elbow.

Thankful my hospital gown is long enough to cover my modesty, I nod.

“I uh… I had to use the restroom,” I stutter out.

He smiles back up at me.

“You could have asked for a female nurse to help you if that would make you more comfortable,” he says quietly like it’s a conspiracy and widening his eyes.

“Huh. Yeah, did not think of that,” I respond, smiling and tilting my head, watching him fiddle with the IV.

“Were you able to urinate?” he asks, looking back down at my arm.

Blushing, I nod.

“That’s good, means kidneys are functioning properly,” he smiles again, moving his head closer to my arm.

Frowning, I stare at his bald head. “Were you worried about my kidneys not functioning?”

“Well, with any emergency surgery, time is a factor. Sometimes things get bumped or nicked,” he explains, securing the clear square of tape covering the IV now that he’s fixed it.

“Huh,” I answer. “Good to know.”

Looking back up at me, he smirks. “How’s the pain? Scale of 1 to 10? One being almost none and ten being the worst you’ve ever felt.”

Taking a moment, I focus on the pain, my brow furrowing.

“About an eight,” I reply, wincing.

“Alright, it’s time for more meds. We really don’t want that pain level to be any higher than a four. Let me get one of the other nurses in here to help you clean up and I’ll bring you your next dose, yeah?” He pats my arm and stands as I nod my consent. Watching him leave, I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Bashing my head against the wall, I mutter, “Idiot.”

--------------------------------------

A lovely young nurse named Delilah came in about two minutes later. She was so cute, laughing and telling me that my “escape to the bathroom” story has spread like wildfire throughout the wing of the hospital.

Laughing along with her as she helps me clean up, I secretly hope it’s taken place of the “victim of domestic violence” story that was probably spread around when I first arrived. I know I have nothing to be ashamed of, it wasn’t my fault. But I hate being labeled a “victim” and only being seen as one.

“Ok, girlfriend, back to bed,” Delilah chirps at me, holding out her arm for me to brace myself on. I lift my arm and get a whiff of my body scent.

Oh lord I need a shower.

Giving her the best puppy dog eyes I can muster, I look up at her and pout, sticking out my bottom lip.

“Can I please take a shower?” I ask quietly.

She melts at my look and smiles sadly.

“Aw, sweetie, I wish I could let you take one. But we’ve got to keep those stitches dry while you heal. We can sponge you off if you like?” she offers.

“Yes, please, oh my god, I can’t stand myself right now. Just don’t let Riddick do it.”

“Riddick?” she asks, eyebrows quirked, confused.

“Oh, the um… the big guy?” I squeak, blushing to the roots of my hair.

Delilah stares at me for a moment, then throws her head back and bursts into peals of laughter.

“You mean Derek?? Oh my god, girl!!! Wait til I tell him that, he’s gonna freak!!” she shrieks as she holds herself up on the door frame, laughing her absolute ass off.

“Oh Jesus, don’t tell him!!” I beg, laughing at her completely losing it.

“Oh no. This is gold, queen!! I am gonna write this in the sky! Spray paint it in the boy’s locker room!!” she cackles.

I sigh and chuckle at her.

“Fine, just be sure he knows I meant it as a compliment. I really don’t need to worry about him coming in here a bench pressing me in my sleep.”

Delilah starts howling, clapping her hands and jumping up and down. God I love this woman.

“Oh my god!! I can’t breathe!!!” she gasps, bending over, holding her stomach.

We laugh together as she calms down, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Oh girl, you are my new favorite patient. I am so bringing you cheesecake next time I work, babe.” She gives me a big, gorgeous smile and helps me up and over to the bed. Her beautiful, long black hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, her lovely caramel-colored skin is flushed dark from her laughing like a crazy person episode. But the girl knows her makeup, mascara didn’t run a smidge from the the tears.

As she helps me lay back onto the bed, I can’t help but admire her name.

“You have such a lovely name,” I comment, looking at her name badge.

“Aw thanks, fam, you’re so sweet,” she giggles and squeezes my hand.

She is very gentle as she helps sponge bathe me, cracking jokes and laughing at my own attempts. She doesn’t even blink when she removes my bandages and goes about doing her job, being quick and sufficient. All clean and freshly bandaged up, I sigh in relief and relax back into the bed.

After pinky-promising another visit and a stolen cupcake from the cafeteria, she heads back to her side of the wing.

Riddick comes back in about fifteen minutes later, a huge ass grin on his gorgeous face.

“Soooo…. I hear you’re a Vin Diesel fan?” he asks nonchalantly, preparing my next pain med dose.

“Nah, he’s way overrated,” I lie through my teeth, studying the blanket and not making eye contact.

He bursts out laughing.

“I mean, geez, what’s so great about his stupid pretty face and huge bulging muscles and…. deep voice…” I trail off, not able to keep a smile off my face, peeking up at him.

He shakes his head, chuckling, and looks over at me.

“Whatever you say, Y/n,” he says in a deep voice, smirking and lifting an eyebrow at me.

I blush bright red and snort into a fit of giggles.

As he shoots the dose into my IV, we laugh and talk about our favorite Riddick movie, favorite lines, even arguing over which female character was the better choice for him: Fry or Dahl. My personal fave is Dahl, she kicks ass and I love Battlestar Galactica. Which transcended into a whole new conversation.

After about 20 minutes of straight up sci-fi talk with this total hunk of a man, he apologizes and promises to return later, maybe bringing a few dvds for me to pass my time with.

The sun is rising as the pain meds hit me, the warmth spreading through my limbs and curling around my stomach. As I doze off, I wonder where my team of superheroes are… and if Bucky is ok.

--------------------------------------

Shouting jerks me out of my happy warm slumber, startling me awake and sending my heart into a crazy fast rhythm. Bright sunlight peeking through the closed curtains momentarily blinds me as I blink into wakefulness.

Glancing at the clock, I see more than a few hours have passed. It’s 8:30 in the morning and people are running past my door, yelling stuff I can’t hear.

Scooting up, I raise the head of my bed, eyes focused on the door.

Heart hammering, the beeps sounding loud and fast from the heart monitor, I take in deep breaths, trying to calm myself, while wondering what the hell is going on.

I jump out of my skin when something bangs against the door, something that sounds almost metallic. Straining my ears, I gasp when I pick up Nat’s voice, growling at someone.

“He needs to see her, he needs to--”

“I don’t give a shit what he needs, ma’am,” a strange voice barks back. “I was given specific orders not to allow Sergeant Barnes anywhere near this room. I was even ordered to shoot on sight.”

More shouting and arguing follows that as my eyes widen, my hand grasping at my chest, wincing. I look down at myself, Buck’s purple-black handprint bruise peeking out from under the bandages covering me from chest to a few inches above my navel.

Thoughts fly through my head.

He’s here. Nat says he needs to see me. Why?? Do I want to see him? He said he doesn’t love me anymore. He said to stay the fuck away from him.

That he can’t stay any longer.

The door handle twisting jerks me out of my spiralling thoughts and I jump, jerking the blankets to cover my chest.

“Y/n?” Steve whispers into the room.

“Steve.” I relax a smidge, taking a deep breath, “What’s going on?”

Steve slides into the room, closing the door firmly behind him and turns on the overhead lights. My eyes widen as I take in his appearance. His cheek is bruised, his pants are scuffed with dirt and… a few pine needles are poking out of the khaki fabric around his ankles.

I straighten up fast, ignoring the pain dulled by the meds.

“Steve, jesus, what happened??” I cry out, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, wanting to rush to him and inspect his wounds.

“Whoa, hold on, Y/n!” He rushes to my side, putting his hands on my knees to stop me from rising. “Stay put, honey, you’ll hurt yourself. It’s alright, I just got into a tussle with Clint.”

“What? Why--” I start.

A loud thud sounds from the hallway and I jump again. Steve places his large hands on my shoulders and gently pushes me back onto the bed. Ignoring the sounds from outside, he lifts my legs up onto the bed, turning bright red when the blankets fall away to reveal my lower half.

“Oh no, shit, sorry, Y/n,” he stutters, turning away and blindly reaches for the blankets, only to close his hand around my inner thigh. He jerks his hand away and I laugh, having mercy on him and covering myself.

“It’s ok, old man, don’t go having a heart attack on me now,” I chortle as I pat his hand.

Steve sputters indignantly at that, turning his gaze to my face, relaxing when he sees I’m just teasing.

“Ok, that’s just mean,” he teases, still pink and a bit shy.

We both sober up as the door opens again and Tony squeezes in, slamming the door behind him. I gasp at the bloody tissue he’s holding to his nose, taking in his rumpled clothes and out-of-character messy hair.

“Cap, listen to me--”

“Not now, Stark,” Steve stands tall, balling his fists at his sides.

“Oh, we’re back to Stark now?” Tony scoffs.

“What, we’re back to Cap now?” Steve returns.

Tony shakes his head, a vulnerable look crossing his face, and looks down at the floor, then back up at Steve, determined and confident once more.

“Look, I know he’s your war buddy. That you would give your life for him. But she… is NOT… ready.” Tony gestures to me.

“Ready to see Bucky?” I ask quietly.

They both turn to look down at me, panicking a bit, almost like they forgot I was here.

“Y/n--” Steve begins, but is cut off as Nat swings the door open and stalks over to the other side of my bed, followed by a furious Sam, and a very red and seething Clint.

“This is NOT happening,” Clint growls, standing next to Nat, near the foot of my bed. He places a protective hand on my blanketed ankle.

“Jesus, you guys look like you took a tumble through the forest, what the hell happened?” My poor medicated brain is having a hard time catching up to everything, and is only able to process the state of their clothes. Sam is filthy, tiny twigs stuck snugly inside the tight texture of his hair. Clint is covered in dirt and bruises, his hair a complete mess with a few leaves woven in. Nat, on the other hand, is spotless. There’s a tiny smudge of dust on her ass, but her hair is impeccable.

They all ignore me as Sam shouts something I don’t hear, not anymore. My focus is zeroed in on the door. On the shaggy head peering inside from around the frame.

“Bucky?” I whisper, shocked as hell.

Everyone stops immediately. I have no idea what they do or say after.

All I can do is watch the man who was once the man of my dreams stealthily make his way a few feet inside the room. My eyes take in his haggard appearance. His hair is dirty and pushed back away from his face. A large bruise covers most of his lower jaw on the left side. His clothes torn and dirty, boots full of mud.

But I can really only focus on his eyes. Those startling ice blue eyes that captured me the very second I first met him. They had been full of laughter and mischief then.

Now they are drowning in sorrow and fear. Self hatred.

Bucky takes a another tentative step inside, his metal arm whirring from the tight fist he’s making.

His eyes take in my form; the bruise and wound on my cheek, the bright blue wrapping around my right arm, the IV plugged into my left. He stops at the horrendous looking bruise in the shape of his hand peering out from between my breasts.

He inhales a shaky breath, tears pooling in his eyes, sheer agony spreading across his face.

He lifts those eyes to mine.

“Doll?” he whispers.

To be continued...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

Tagging: @melissa-anne-rose @simplyme8308 @lucian-tate @lovekrystina @bolontiku @your-dark-magic-man-mysterio @thestrangedoctorisin @theweatherwitch @magellan-88 @torilovelytop @mymourningtea @mcuimxgine @magicalhufflehuggles @ramxna-marxtta @spinsterlocity @blackroseyaz @secondsandstars @the-squid-one @justreadingfics @justareader @suz-123 @papi-chulo-bucky @softwhispers @plumfondler

75 notes · View notes