#You’ve heard of laser beam that make you read one piece | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nicknellie · 3 years

Text

@chickwiththepurpleguitar requested: flarrie hurt/comfort something? Maybe Carrie’s losing her voice and needs to perform soon so she can’t talk to Flynn so they just communicate with notes and pointed looks but Flynn knows what she means cause they know each other so well?

This is so cute and I love it so much. They would 100% be able to read each other’s expressions like an open book. I had a lot of fun writing this, thank you so much for suggesting it! I think I might have aged them up a bit because I gave Flynn a car without really thinking, but honestly I don’t know how that works in America so it might be completely plausible. Anyway! I hope you like it!

I Can Wait

“What did the doctor say?” Flynn asked the moment Carrie opened the car door and plonked herself in the passenger seat. She was rewarded with a glare like a laser beam paired with an absolutely furious pout. Clearly it wasn’t good news and Carrie was none too happy about it. “Is it serious?”

Carrie shook her head and sighed quietly. Instinctively, Flynn reached across and took Carrie’s hand between her own. She watched as Carrie defeatedly tipped her head back and closed her eyes, obviously frustrated, and then she pulled her hand from Flynn’s grasp and dug around in her handbag for her phone. She quickly pulled up the notes app, tapped out a message, and brandished her phone in Flynn’s face.

Doctor says I need to rest my voice for two days.

Flynn frowned. She could already tell that this wasn’t going to be a fun two days for Carrie – she relied so heavily on her voice, whether that was for singing, bossing people about (though she would never admit that’s what she so often used her voice for), or just quiet calm conversation that was usually reserved for Flynn’s ears only. Carrie needed her voice and as far as she would be concerned she’d had her best tool and weapon snatched away from her.

“Poor thing,” Flynn said, stroking Carrie’s hair. She watched as Carrie breathed contentedly, soothed just that little bit. “Did they say what made you lose your voice?”

Carrie typed out another message: Using it too much, which is stupid.

Ah. Flynn should have been able to guess that. For the past two months, Carrie had been working herself to the bone for the biggest show of her life so far, a performance with her band set to take place in front of at least two dozen record execs and managers for an incredibly exclusive crowd. Along with the other devoted members of Dirty Candi, Carrie had been rehearsing almost non-stop – when she wasn’t singing she was composing, when she wasn’t composing she was dancing, when she wasn’t dancing she was working on costumes, when she wasn’t working on costumes she was getting some sleep with the one or two spare hours in her day. She had thrown herself headfirst into her work and was still yet to resurface.

That was the thing about Carrie, something Flynn loved dearly. She never did things in halves. If Carrie wanted something she would seize it with both hands, she’d drive herself harder and faster than any sane person was willing to just to reach her goals. Sometimes it paid off; other times she sang so much that she ran her voice dry.

“So that’s it?” Flynn asked. “You can’t say a word for the next two days?”

Carrie shrugged defeatedly. In that small gesture, Flynn saw how truly crushed Carrie was feeling. Maybe two days wasn’t really that long, but in Carrie’s mind it was two days being unable to work on songs at all, not to mention she would be unable to direct Dirty Candi’s choreography with anything resembling ease if she couldn’t speak to them. In her mind, it would be two days closer to her show and two days completely wasted.

“Hey,” Flynn said, finding Carrie’s hand again. “We’re not going to let this get in the way of anything, okay? You’re still you – you’re the most capable person I’ve ever met. If anyone is going to find a way around this it’s you. Okay?”

After a moment, Carrie met Flynn’s eyes and offered her a small smile. She leaned forward and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to Flynn’s lips before impatiently tapping the steering wheel which Flynn took to mean ‘let’s get out of here’.

Flynn knew that getting Carrie to rest completely would be impossible – she suggested it as they drove back to Carrie’s house, but Carrie sat there with her arms crossed, pouting petulantly and shaking her head until Flynn had to accept that she wasn’t going to take any more steps back than she needed to. So when they arrived back at Carrie’s place, Flynn followed Carrie through to the home studio where Carrie immediately went into the back room and started working on costumes.

It would have been easy for Carrie to get somebody else to work on Dirty Candi’s costumes – after all, she had more than enough money to hire a professional to make most of them, and if worse came to worst she could have just bought them from anywhere. But Carrie liked doing things independently so almost all of the band’s outfits were handcrafted by her (though Julie always helped when she had the time). It broke Flynn’s heart a little to watch Carrie at the sewing machine, threading bright pink fabric through it, launching herself back into preparation when she really should have been taking a moment or two to unwind.

“Do you want anything?” Flynn offered.

Carrie looked up from her work briefly and raised an eyebrow – ‘like what?’

“Water?” she suggested. “Or tea? How about honey and lemon, that’s meant to be good for sore throats, right?”

Carrie gave a quick smile, which Flynn interpreted as ‘yes please’, and not a moment later her head was back down and she was working again. Flynn hurried out of the studio to the Wilsons’ kitchen and busied herself preparing the drink. She mixed the honey and the lemon juice in with the hot water and brought it back to Carrie – she was rewarded with a bright smile and a brief hug before Carrie, unsurprisingly, got back to work.

For a while, they simply sat together in silence. Flynn texted Julie to fill her in on the diagnosis and how Carrie was doing while Carrie got on with bits and pieces she needed to do. In a way, Flynn thought, this would be good for Carrie. She was always complaining about the little jobs she never had time to get done, but now she couldn’t do much else she would be able to get on with them.

Flynn was just considering heading home and leaving Carrie to it when she was unceremoniously hit in the face with a paper aeroplane. She blinked in surprise and then looked at Carrie who was smiling innocently.

“What happened to just asking when you want attention?” she said, rolling her eyes.

Carrie just raised a judgemental eyebrow – ‘seriously?’

“Oh, yeah, that. What is it, then?”

Carrie mimed opening the paper aeroplane she’d thrown, so Flynn did. There was a message inside, scrawled in Carrie’s loopy handwriting.

I have a meeting with a manager later but it’s over the phone.

Flynn scrunched the paper up into a ball and threw it back at Carrie who caught it easily. “You’ll have to cancel,” she said apologetically. “You’re not breaking the doctor’s orders for this.”

At that, Carrie batted her eyelashes and smiled hopefully, and Flynn immediately understood what she was getting at.

“You want me to do the meeting for you,” she said disbelievingly. “I have no idea what I’m talking about! I’m not even in Dirty Candi!”

Carrie picked up a pen and grabbed another sheet of paper, hastily scribbling down another note and chucking it in Flynn’s direction. It hit the floor a metre or so away from her and Flynn kicked it towards herself, which probably took longer than if she had just stood up and collected it.

Put it on speaker phone and I’ll write down everything you need to say, it’ll be fine. Plus you’re our marketing team, you know how to make us sound good.

It was true. With Flynn’s help, Dirty Candi (and Julie and the Phantoms) had grown in popularity enormously with a fanbase well into the thousands even though they’d hardly played any live venues that weren’t spirit rallies or open mic nights.

“You’re sure?” she checked, and Carrie nodded. “Fine. When’s the meeting?”

Carrie held up five fingers.

“Five hours?” Flynn said.

She shook her head.

“Five days?” she tried. “That’s plenty of time, you’ll be able to talk by then.”

But Carrie just shook her head again.

Flynn sighed. “It’s five minutes, isn’t it? You’ve given me literally five minutes warning.”

Carrie smiled smugly – ‘now you can’t back out even if you wanted to’.

The meeting went surprisingly smoothly. Flynn blagged an awkward explanation as to why she was on the phone instead of Carrie and the manager didn’t seem to mind. There were a few awkward pauses when Carrie was taking a while to write down her response, or when Flynn was struggling to decode her unnecessarily ornate handwriting, but they got there in the end. When they put the phone down Carrie was smiling, so Flynn took that to mean she thought the meeting had gone well.

It was only then that she checked the time and realised how late it was getting.

“I should probably head home,” she said reluctantly.

She and Carrie had moved to the living room and sat themselves down on the couch, but instead of getting up and leaving Flynn laid back and rested her head on Carrie’s shoulder, getting more comfortable. She felt Carrie wrap her arms around her waist and press a feather-light kiss to her cheek. It made her heart flutter – it was good to know that Carrie didn’t need her voice to make Flynn lose her mind. In fact, this quiet solitude, no sound between them but gentle breathing, was more than enough to make Flynn’s heart beat too fast.

Flynn didn’t know how long they’d been sat there together when she heard Carrie sniffle. She had tried to cover it up and muffle it, which had made it more obvious if anything. She turned her head awkwardly in time to see Carrie turn away and sniff again. Though it was dark and neither of them had bothered to turn a light on, Flynn didn’t miss the way a single tear rolled down Carrie’s cheek.

“Hey,” she said, wriggling until she was sat in front of Carrie, cross-legged, holding her hand. “Care Bear. Come here.”

Carrie didn’t need telling twice. She practically fell into Flynn’s arms, crying quietly, her tears soaking through Flynn’s jumper. Flynn gently ran her fingers through the ends of Carrie’s hair and down her back, holding her close to calm her down.

In truth, she had been half expecting this since they got back from the doctor’s, it had just been a matter of time until it actually happened. Carrie worked not only to improve herself and get further than everyone else, but to distract herself and make herself feel like she was making progress. Flynn knew her well enough to have guessed that when she immediately set about continuing prep for her show it meant she was trying to make herself feel useful, like she could avoid the elephant in the room and actually do something.

It was just to hide how low and wasteful she was really feeling.

“I know this isn’t ideal,” Flynn whispered softly once Carrie had calmed down a notch. “I know you want to be able to carry on like normal, but you’ve got to see that you’re working yourself too hard. It might feel like a setback, but you’ve been working at this for months – you’re more than ready. These two days won’t change anything. Surely you can see that?”

Carrie just exhaled, somewhere between a sob and a sigh. To Flynn that meant ‘no’.

“Well, I’m right,” she said. “You’ve done one day, you can do another. Then you can ease yourself back into rehearsals and I promise you’ll smash it when the actual show comes. You still have two weeks left, that’s plenty of time.” She squeezed Carrie that little bit tighter. “You’ll be amazing.”

Carrie didn’t say anything, for obvious reasons. She didn’t respond at all – didn’t get her phone out and type out a message, didn’t even meet Flynn’s eye to say something in that silent language only they would understand. She just held onto Flynn like it was all she could do. So Flynn held on in return, telling her she wasn’t alone and she never would be, not if Flynn had anything to say about it.

The next thing Flynn knew, it was morning. The sun was streaming in through the living room’s enormous glass windows and she was still lying on the sofa, having just woken up, blinking sleep out of her eyes. She stretched and felt her joints crack satisfyingly, then shook her head to wake herself up.

Carrie was already awake, changed out of yesterday’s clothes (something Flynn hadn’t done since she hadn’t intended to stay the night – she would have to steal something of Carrie’s, which always made her feel a little giddy) and sat on the sofa next to Flynn, pen in hand, writing something.

“Good morning,” Flynn yawned. She laid her head on Carrie’s lap; Carrie sighed, inconvenienced, but didn’t move her away, instead reorganising herself to accommodate her girlfriend. “Did you sleep okay?”

Carrie nodded and gave Flynn a pointed look – ‘yeah, how about you?’

Flynn waved a dismissive hand. “You know me. I can sleep anywhere. What are you writing?”

In reply, Carrie picked up another bit of paper, scrawled a lengthy message, and handed it to Flynn before getting back to her work at hand.

I was thinking about what you said last night and I hate to admit it but you were right. I’m trying to write another song, but not to perform at the show. Maybe for another performance or not at all. I’m doing what you said, taking a step back for a bit.

Flynn smiled up at her, unsurprised to see that Carrie was blushing and avoiding eye contact. That message was about as close as Carrie ever came to pouring her heart out; admitting that she was wrong and Flynn was right was always a frustrating thing for her to do, but it was one of the purest ways that Carrie showed her love.

“What’s the song about?” Flynn asked, lifting her head up and trying to read to words at the incredibly awkward angle but to no avail.

If possible, Carrie blushed even deeper. In response, all she did was tap Flynn’s forehead twice with the end of her pen (which was garishly decorated with bright pink feathers and very tickly) and got back to writing.

Flynn felt her own face light up. “It’s about me?”

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Carrie’s mouth and she nodded. Flynn shoved herself into a sitting position and tried to read over Carrie’s shoulder, but Carrie hugged the paper to her chest, scowling as she hid the words from view.

“Oh, come on,” Flynn whined. “I want to read it!”

Carrie just shook her head emphatically. Flynn assumed it meant ‘not yet’.

“When can I read it? Or hear it?”

Carrie scribbled down another note: Not until after the big performance, and even then it’s only if that goes as well as you think it will. Otherwise I’m shredding this song and you’ll never hear it.

Flynn laughed and rested her head in Carrie’s lap again. A moment later she could hear the scratch of Carrie’s pen against the paper again. “Okay. I can wait that long.”

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @willex-owns-my-heart @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @teammightypen @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh @sunnysbright

67 notes · View notes

alias-b · 4 years

Text

sins of my youth. 007

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: New Year and school is back in session after winter break. Billy starts the grovelling process and observes some new things about Evie. TW: PICA-it's worse. Vomiting. Animal death mention. Student/Teacher relationship in the background. School bullies. Taglist open!!!

Chapter 7: One Bad Kiss Constellation

The first day back to school was uglier than Evie pictured. Fall of snow didn't get them out of classes.

Her stomach was already in knots, but that could have been the shiny things she’d eaten the night before.

Felt like a game. What would pass. What would tie her stomach up. These little trinkets she actually dug for, cleaned with bleach, and stacked on that empty shelf. Organized each item. Admired her display of will and control. Mostly keys and buttons. Couple nuts from a toolbox in their garage.

So far, everything came out. So far. Evie wondered what her insides would look like and tried to slow. Tried despite all the noise.

Calculus was first. Thankfully, she shared it with Heather who was all smiles. Chattering about her surprise mini trip with her parents.

They had it with Tommy and Carol too. All the fucking grins and looks Evie got burned. Tommy peering then shifting to Carol’s ear so she could giggle.

Evie’s pencil snapped within her fist so Heather glanced aside to see the pieces roll away.

“Okay, muscles.” She chuckled, passing a freshly sharpened one over.

“Thanks.”

“So, what’d you do for New Years?” All the scratching of lead on paper was driving Evie insane. Grating like an out of tune orchestra of vibrating strings.

“Just some lame party, the usual.” Evie was rubbing the back of her neck. Eyes glued to the page.

Carol giggled again. Fingernails sunk into the skin of Evie's hairline.

“Don’t know what her problem is.” Heather remarked to herself.

Evie shook her head. Lips pressing with no sound. Trying to focus on the problems along the page and not the ones fizzling in her life. Her desk was pressed into the far right wall next to all the campy posters teachers loved to decorate their rooms in.

About how there's always a silver lining and chase the morning.

Evie rolled her eyes at the thought. Caught sight of a sleek thumbtack there sticking out. Shiny and chrome. Lungs pulsed and she wondered about the weight on her tongue.

Strange how her mouth watered for it.

Two fingers subtly snatched it from the wall when the bell rang.

Second period was usually what she was excited about. English with Bowers and the sly smiles they beamed at each other across the room. Carol always looked between them. Jealous she wasn’t the hot teacher’s pet. She noticed a great deal there.

Evie shared the class with Steve also. And Billy who sat in the next row over just behind her. He stared at Evie, trying to read every twitch and shift of her body. A note hit her desk from Steve.

Brown eyes peered up as if to ask who it was being passed to, but he cocked his chin at her.

Fredrick sat quietly at his desk as they worked separately today. He didn’t see her unfold it.

What’s up with Hargrove? Looks like he’s trying to vaporize you with his laser eyes.

Evie hitched to stop herself from laughing at a picture with a stick figure and a mullet. Lasers blasting out of the eyes. She added some comically large muscles. Cleared her throat and wrote back.

He’s a creep.

Steve quirked a darling smile at her.

Billy saw a flash of stark, bloody red. Harrington made her grin without force.

“Okay, class, let’s see who read the material. Pass your papers up.” Fredrick stood to collect. “I’ll be reading these tonight and- Ah, Mr. Hargrove. Thank you for the scribbling of your Camaro. I hope the essay question is as detailed.”

“Been thinking about upgrading my girl, sir. Say, what do you drive?” Billy tapped his pencil, lazy as can be. “Cool guy, I bet.”

“Just a Plymouth. We muscle cars have to stick together.” Fredrick was pulling stacks of papers from the front. Billy didn’t drop it.

“That orange one? Yeah. I’ve seen it around.” Blue eyes drew to Evie at that. She felt a chill and peered back with a stony expression. “Bet the girlies all line up.”

A few classmates chuckled for their glorious king.

“It gets me from point A to B. That’s all I ask for.” Bowers only laughed.

"I'm sure it does." Billy mused coolly, fingers twisting his ring which caught the light.

The bell blared.

“Alright, class. We’re starting a new unit tomorrow. I hope you all have your Shakespeare hats ready.”

A collective groan sounded.

Evie rushed out to Yearbook with Jonathan, Nancy, and Heather. Only class she had where Seniors and Juniors mixed. Besides lunch if that counted. Got lost in dark rooms so the world couldn’t see her hands shaking.

"Here." Jonathan caught her trying to clip some photos up, fumbling with a stack.

"Thanks," Evie sighed, "too many pages for our losing sports teams, right?"

He chuckled at that.

"My thoughts exactly."

Jonathan went to help Nancy order some drafted pages when Heather crossed over. Eyes on Evie working.

"Something the matter?"

"Bourbon's not doing well. I expected it, but...he's just been with me through all of it. You know?" A frown etched. She didn't want to cry. Heather paused to hug Evie from behind.

"He's our little prince still. I'm sorry."

Her friend shifted out, pressed a smile and went back to work in silence. Groaned because Billy was in half these basketball photos. Alight and intense.

“Hey, I’m going to the library for lunch.” Evie spoke after that bell rang. “I’ll scarf my sandwich on the way.”

Heather observed her again. Watched how Evie avoided her eyes.

“Was...something else going on? I feel like I-”

“No, just missing the break.” Evie flashed her teeth to make it convincing.

She did manage to get half the sandwich down and tossed the rest out. Patted cold water on her cheeks once she was alone in the bathroom as everyone went to lunch. The hallway got quieter and Evie looked at her flushed face. Shuddered and reached for the pin in her pocket. Small. Deft. Dainty.

Stark point. Catching the light.

She washed it with soap. Opened her mouth to stick her tongue out. Cradled it there. Chrome and out of place against pink flesh. Lips closed. The point pressed down into her tongue. Evie winced. Tried to swallow and choked it back into her hand. Saliva dripping.

A spot of red welled. Loud and obscene and horrible. Tasting metal. Shame. Tears pooled.

So she pushed it back in like she’d done with the key to drown the noise out. Evie Fenny wasn’t a fucking quitter.

Swallow. Swallow. Swallow.

It scratched going down. Working around clenching muscles. Pangs fluttered. Fingers grasped the sink to bite a groan back.

Evie thought she heard the little plink of it hitting her stomach. Gasped to breathe. There wasn’t shame anymore, only pride. She powered through it. Had utter control.

Eyes locked with the mirror. Calm. Collected. Not in this body. Rust turned to sweet strawberries and rose petals.

Imagine stabbing something several times until it was beautiful.

Exhale.

** ** **

Carol and her gaggle still kept the laughter up in the cafeteria. She sat upon the table with Tommy next to her. Animated stories kept them hanging upon dripping syllables. Heather couldn’t stand it anymore. Pushed up to cross right over.

“What’s your problem today?” She cocked her hip.

“Oooh.” Carol clicked her glittery nails on the table. “So touchy, sweet pea.”

“What’s your problem with Evie, she didn’t do anything to you?”

“Other than her being a tart for Bowers. Nothing to me. In fact, she provides us with hours of entertainment. Had a hot date with the Keg King.” Carol nodded toward Billy across the way, sitting alone and clicking his lighter. Annoyed, he got up and went to sneak his usual lunch smoke.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Uh, isn’t Fenny your BFF?” Tina chimed in. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“Aw, that’s so cute, she didn’t tell you.” Tommy added with his crooked smile. “Must be so embarrassed. Poor girl.”

“You have five seconds-”

“I’m gonna tell you.” Carol decided. Finger curling to bring Heather in. “Only because it’s just too good.”

** ** **

Billy got one puff in before Princess Heather Holloway was smacking the cigarette from his fingers. Snarling and bright red to match the cute bow in her hair.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself, what the fuck?” She pushed Billy clear into the brick wall. Chilled him more than the breeze. A new flutter of snow began to fall with no peace in sight. Her face was flushed cherry with anger. “I know about your little Skirt Safari bullshit! You tricked Evie! You hurt my friend...you’re an asshole.”

Billy just sagged at her. Reached to pluck up his cigarette and got it slapped again. Heather crushed it with her expensive shoe for good measure.

“You had no right to do something so disgusting! Carol and Tommy filled me in.”

His brow lifted.

“...Evie didn’t tell you?”

“The last thing Evie wants is for people to see her in pain, so I know you hurt her bad.” Her arms crossed. “Well?” A cold breath puffed.

“It wasn’t supposed to-”

“You mean, she wasn’t supposed to find out about the bet. You’re so selfish. You’re a selfish little prick. Stay the hell away from my friend.”

She turned and a hand snatched her wrist.

“Heath-”

“What?” She shrugged with some extra ire. Eyes flickering like flames. “I think you’ve done enough.”

Billy let her go, looked elsewhere. No syllables to make her stop fuming. Heather huffed at him and marched back inside to find Evie at her locker. Shoulders dropped.

“Hey…” Heather’s slow approach still gave Evie a fright. Huge doe eyes looking far too somber.

A sigh.

“Who told you?”

“Carol and those jerks.” Heather pressed her lips. “Just scared Hargrove shitless, I think. I’m sorry, I wish you told me. You said you'd tell me things.”

“This thing... It doesn’t matter. He tricked me, whatever.” Evie’s arms went out then dropped. She faced her locker. Toyed with the handle and pressed her book closer. “It was all stupid. For a moment, I thought he… I thought a boy might-”

“He’s a little prick.” Heather turned her friend around.

“We had fun. We danced. I kissed him first. Did Carol tell you that part?” Evie sucked in some air.

"Oh?"

“Yeah, I kissed him and I was going to screw him too. I was gonna go to a motel with Billy Hargrove for New Years and, you know, I...I wanted to. I really wanted him... But, it doesn’t matter. They can talk about it all they like.” She moved to go, slamming her locker shut. “I don’t care. It won’t bother me. It's stupid. All of it.”

“Evie, don’t shut down, please.”

“I’m fine.” Sneakers skidded when Heather stepped in front of her. "Boys like Billy Hargrove don't go for girls like me. He doesn't want me. That's not news."

Evie remembered all the hot bodies jumping around. The crowds and fireworks blasting along with a musical beat. Moments where she'd felt incandescently delighted next to Billy and the lingering of their starry eyes. Like they'd been meant to find each other all this time.

"Getting mad about this is the same as being upset about the pattern of stars. It's pointless." Evie swallowed a thicker lump down.

No, that's what ached. Billy made her believe they could be rewritten. Made her want to defy the stars.

“Let’s hang out this weekend. A no boys party for both of us.” Heather smiled, taking Evie's hand. “He’s not even a boy, Eve, he’s a little prick. Let’s just have some fun. Friday? Sleepover. You pick the first movie.”

“I’m fine, Heath,” the words sounded funny now, “but okay. Sleepover.”

“Good.” A brighter smile crossed so Evie matched it. She let Heather hug her and managed to make it through classes all the way to her free period avoiding Billy’s eyes on her skull. Sneaking out was an art form she’d perfected. Quick steps to her locker and toward the door. Stopping only to see into the theater when stage lights turned rose red.

Evie peeked in. Beamed.

“Mr. B.” She shuffled inside after checking the hallway. "Fredrick."

“I’m alone, Evie, come sit with me.” He patted the table next to the lightboard he was working on. The glow changed to a softer pink. Made it all less menacing. Bathed in blush, she crossed the illumination and scooted up onto the cool surface. Skirt shifting over black tights. “Bad day?”

“Bad start to the year.”

"Classmates? I can always fail them for you." He'd joked.

She smiled, head shaking so he continued.

“They’re intimidated by you, Evie, because you’re too ahead and mature for them. Soon, you'll be out in the world and they'll be left stumbling.” He peeked up behind a pair of glasses. This was old times. Encouragement. Nurturing. “Much like the director of the winter show who asked me to fix this damn thing last minute.”

She giggled then, touching her lips.

“You look pretty in this light. You should wear pink more often, instead of red.” He remarked and she crossed her ankles. Hands gripping the edge.

“Red makes me look and feel older.” Evie asserted herself.

“What about that wet gloss you used to wear in class?” His finger brushed her knee before he was picking up a screwdriver.

“Thought you didn’t like to kiss me with gloss on, you said it was too sticky.”

“I appreciate it more now that I’ve lost it. Just like you, Evie. You were there for me. It's something special to have a person. Don't you think?” He winked. Fredrick Bowers made her laugh and smile. Listened to her and gave back. Most days.

All she longed for was to impress him. Please him. Be enough for someone.

"It's not fair that I cannot kiss you here." He uttered. "Now. I'd like to."

"Just kiss me?" Evie flicked some curls, drew her fingers across her collar so he fixated there.

Played this version of herself that came out around him. This woman in red with cool words. Always game. She bit her lip and he paused to see her again. A smile crossed before they were interrupted.

Evie looked up as the door opened and Carol stood there. A glare already on her pouty face. Fredrick scooted a good few inches from Evie. Quickly.

“Sorry, I just had some questions about the reading. Mr. B.” Carol flashed a smile.

"Of course, Carol. My door is always open. Evie, thank you for the inquires. I'll be getting back with you. Soon."

Evie perked and got up.

“I'll hold you to that... We just finished. Thanks, Mr. B. For all the help.” She seemed all too chipper at Carol going green with envy. The redhead knocked into her shoulder passing, but Evie gripped her bag and went out. Frowned at the snow piling because she’d ridden her bike in.

Still, Evie was stubborn, so she got on and pedaled down the street. Sleet making it more difficult when a fucking Camaro revved down the way behind her. Billy honked once and got ignored. Pulled up in front of her and skidded over which sent Evie into a pile of frosty, dead leaves. Tumbling.

“Hell.” She just laid there until Billy Hargrove was in the line of sight. Craning to see her and utterly stunning against the opal skies. “What’s it going to take for you to leave me alone, huh? Three hundred bucks?” She untwisted from her bike and Billy yanked her up, brushing snow aside until he got smacked off with two heated expressions penetrating.

“You’re screwing Bowers, aren’t you?” He’d hissed it.

Oof.

“You’re delusional.” Evie charged past him. Legs aching as she pushed her bike.

“Max saw you in his car. He’s always looking at you. Is that where you go when you sneak out your window three times a week?”

“No!” Evie swiveled. Breath ghosting.

“But, you’re still fucking him.” Billy slid in front, hands on the bike handles to stop her again. There was a struggle. Her cheeks puffing as she feebly tried to push him back. Teeth clenched.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Will you just move?” Her entire face scrunched together. All daggers. Slowing, Evie spelled it out for him. Drew closer. “And no one will ever believe you.”

“You think I’m trying to make your life worse, Angel? I just want you to admit it.”

"Admit, what? You have major issues? Fine! Easy! Now move!" She barely got a few inches forward with his muscles buldging. Two immovable objects.

"Open those pretty lips and say it. You're fucking our teacher. I wanna hear it from that mouth." Billy paused, chest shuddering. "You went to him after what I did. I should have stayed with you."

“I don’t owe you any of this. You're obsessed!” She shoved into him. No budging, the boy was made of steel.

“He’s a fucking pedophile. We had those in California too, chica. Maybe they don’t like the term round these parts. You think he's making you feel good, but he's setting you on fire to warm himself. That fuse is creeping, babe.” Billy pushed back until she was sliding toward his car. Slush wetting their shoes.

"You're unbelievable!"

“I’m not looking to tell anyone, got that?" Billy caught her gaze in the teetering. Held it. "I’m just saying you don’t have to do it. Anyone ever tell you that you don't have to do something, Evangeline?"

Evie stopped pushing to stare with bigger eyes as he continued. Expression crestfallen because something resonated.

"Being a good girl has a cost, you do everything people tell you to do until your organs start spilling.”

“I'm not the only one with a front. Fuck you!”

A beat.

“You almost did that night.” Billy cocked his head. "I would have made you moan so pretty. I wanted to." Evie’s mouth dropped before she shoved him into the snow. Bike falling away. He looked thrilled. About to pitch a fucking denim tent. “There you are. I would have fucked you so hard and so good, babe. Bet you even taste like heaven and stardust. Yeah? Fucking hit me.”

“Hit you?” Evie stilled over him. “You’re just trying to make yourself feel better. Fuck off, Billy.” She yanked at her bike again. He puffed there, chest sinking before he shot back up. Newfound vigor.

Growled.

“I’m sorry.”

Even the snow stilled with him. She swerved and saw him crack.

“Evie, I’m fucking sorry, okay? I’m shit at this and I‘m sorry. I’m sorry I took you to that stupid dance and screwed you over. I'm sorry you got hurt. I am sorry, got it!”

“You’re sorry that you got caught.” She pointed.

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Listen, Billy,” Evie spun and dropped her bike, “I don’t need anything from you. Nothing. Okay? Just let it go, I really don’t know why you can’t. Be sorry somewhere else. The stars are where they are. Life goes on.”

“Fuck the stars! They're too far away to stop us. I kissed you after midnight. I gave the fucking money away. I wanted out of it and I fucked up. I did. I'd change that, but I wouldn't change the night with you. Hear me? I didn't lie about that much." He strained to catch those brown eyes.

She opened her mouth and closed it quicker. Almost softened.

"I didn't fake that and I was shitty to take you to that place. That fucker Tannen used me to get back at you and I’m fucking sorry about it.” Billy seemed to rage the thoughts out. “You liked it too. The kiss. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

"If you call that a kiss." Sarcasm seeped out.

"Yeah, I recall us sharing a couple." Billy laughed. Dry and disbelieving. "I was drunk, but I remember every damn second of how you felt."

“You’re not fooling me again.” Evie crushed in on herself, pressed onward. Skidding to go away from Billy Hargrove. What the hell could he possibly want out of this?

“I’ll leave you alone,” Billy sprang forward and grabbed her back wheel, “if you kiss me again and tell me it’s nothing. Just one more. Redo it. Yeah? To hell with the stars, we'll change them.”

She looked in awe at him. Shoulders dropped.

"It wasn't even that good of a kiss."

"Then, what do you have to lose over another bad one?" Billy's head tilted up. Wild as can be. Evie matched it. Both of their curls moving up against the sweep of cold winds. Hungry looks about them. Billy undid her with a damning utter. "Prove me wrong, Angel."

He fucking triple dog dared her.

Evie practically kicked her bike aside, stomped toward him, and grabbed his face to smash their lips together. Billy pounced back with a barely there sound. Shoved Evie into the side of his car.

Another vehicle honked and went around them. Probably too shocked to do much else with teenagers unable to control their hormones in the middle of the road.

Moaning like he was in a porno, Billy made this one count. Hands palmed at her ass, bringing Evie up a few inches. Tongue down her throat near ready to prick himself on the pin she'd swallowed.

She hitched as he pulled her hair to see lush hooded eyes again. But, briefly.

"Yeah?" He twisted those curls around, both of them moaned. Challenge dancing. You like that, Angel? Evie's fingers were clutching at his jacket. A nod followed. She let him trail his tongue against her lips and opened her mouth for it again. Tasted spearmint.

Drunken bodies kept moving and smacking back into his car. Billy even tried to pull her shirt up out of her skirt to touch the flesh underneath. Evie jolted out from him, having not been ravished like that by a boy so unafraid to touch her.

And she shuddered apart. Kept her eyes closed so Billy did too.

It was the only way to prolong this. A softer kiss where their noses brushed after. Foreheads pressing together. Ardent and lovely. Total silence was a thrill. Billy nuzzled his nose into her own again, pulling her body into his. Fingers crept barely under her shirt. Caressed the tender skin. Lungs and hearts needy beyond repair.

Constellations twisting together until a single question dawned. Can I keep you?

Evie quaked for air and saw him. Lashes long and too beautiful. Freckles. Snow falling like confetti. An ache flooded back. The pin pricks in her tongue jabbed. Arms pushed up at him. Felt the thumping in his chest.

Holding his jaw steady, lipstick smeared to damn them both.

“Do you always kiss the same way a thirsty dog laps at water?” She shoved him backwards. A spit trail left their mouths. Red glistened on Billy’s lips and chin. A sleazy grin cracked, tongue wiggling out to taste her still on him. Neither could breathe right.

“Haven’t had complaints.” He gasped for air. “Are you judging my technique?”

“Yeah, it sucks.” Evie puffed with more force. “And I felt nothing. Got it? Nothing. Leave me alone now.”

“You’re a shitty liar.” He watched her swerve.

“And you’re a shitty person!” She wiped her mouth. Billy stopped dead, dropped everything he was feeling to let that pierce him. “I felt nothing! Leave me alone.”

“No.” Billy decided as she plucked her bike up.

“No?"

"You heard me." A child. "No. Nope. Nada."

"But, you just said-”

“I fucking lied and now you know how it’s done.” He went around his car. “Maybe I’m a shitty person, but at least I don’t hate myself enough to lie and screw-”

“Spare me!” Evie screamed over him. Chilling. She got onto her bike and went down a dirt path so Billy couldn’t follow her.

“Fuck.” Billy slammed his car door getting back in. Revved up again, hitting the wheel. “Fuck!”

He’d made it worse.

** ** **

Billy made an attempt to leave Evie Fenny alone. Sorta. Didn’t even stare at her in school. Didn’t bring up Bowers. Pretended he didn’t hear her sneaking out to wherever.

He even tried screwing other girls. Drinking and partying to forget.

Another problem came with that.

He couldn’t keep his shit up. Tried everything. Got into bed with two girls and stayed soft. Pretended he was just too smashed.

All he saw was Evie Fenny looking at him with her huge, sad eyes. It made him furious and he tried to hate her. Tried to jerk himself off and only thought of her lipstick smearing his skin. Her amber perfume drowning his senses. Her body flush against his.

Then, he was coming.

He felt like shit about all of it and that turned to rage. No hate came, it just burnt.

Meanwhile, Evie was lining pins and screws up for her collection. She wrote down every little thing she ate and what came out.

It was supposed to all come out eventually and she'd be there to control it.

She thought of the amethyst gemstone sparkling inside her and wondered how such a thing could make her feel so happy and alive.

Even when her stomach began to ache with little pricks through the day. Even when her appetite was often ruined. Even with she tried again at times to stop it for good. The cravings undid her.

She smiled through the pain just like she was taught. A woman's disposition.

I am fine. This is fine.

Something collided distantly. Two arrows through the same heart. Spitting blood everywhere.

One night, Evie wasn’t sneaking out.

Billy still heard her scratching around the side of the house. Couldn’t help peeking to see her dragging a shovel. Holding a painted square under one arm. She set a decorated shoe box aside and started digging a hole just at the back corner of her house. Struggling to break ice and snow. Head bowed so wet curls covered her chilled face.

He opened his window.

“Hey.”

“Go away.” She sniffled. Crying.

Billy hadn’t heard or seen her cry. Not even over him and what he did. Not for anything. The sound jarred him, he thought she might have been holding in laughter.

Blue eyes drew to the box again and he realized it. Bourbon. The strange cat hadn’t been spying on him lately.

“Please,” she turned her neck to barely peer at him through red rimmed eyes, “just go away.” Evie wiped her nose and let a fresh sprinkling of snow melt on her cheeks. She still looked pretty there, utterly fatigued. Wispy, wet curls framing her splotchy expression.

"You took good care of him." Was all he said. Evie turned back. Shoulders lifting.

Billy did the only thing he could do for once.

He left Evie alone.

Listened to her hum and dig to bury the beloved cat. Billy didn’t see Evie stuff a handful of soil into her pocket and go back inside to her empty house because her mother was always out with friends or working. She went to the phone in her bedroom. Luckily, Evie got her own line two Christmases ago. She dialed.

“Hello?” Her prince.

“Can I come over?” Evie sniffled. “Bourbon died.”

“Who?”

“My cat.” Dark eyes narrowed before she started to pick at some peeling wallpaper. “You remember?” She talked about the little ball of fuzz all the time.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate, Evie.” Fredrick sighed for her. “I’m not sure after what happened last weekend. I still think you need time.”

She spazzed out as the teenagers say.

“I just...wasn’t comfortable doing that. The ropes freaked me out, I can’t explain it.” She shook her head. "I can try again, can I come over?"

"So, now I'm just pushing you into it? Don't make me the bad guy, Evie, I won't be that. I'm here for you, but I want to go at your pace. You know that."

"No, no, you're not pushing," came the protest, "I can do it. I'll try. I just wanna see you. I need to be touched." That sentiment got her welling again.

“Evie, it’s like you don’t trust me to look after you.” He replied in a clinical sort of way. “I’m risking everything to be with you."

"I know."

He said it often.

"You couldn't stop crying," he sniffled like he might weep over it, "you make me feel so helpless at times. Do you realize that?"

"I"m sorry..." Evie crushed into the phone as he made it about him. His needs. His inability to keep her happy. That was her fault.

"Too often, I think your head is just up in the clouds. These nightmares you have and the way you press into the wall when you sleep. Like you don't want me to touch you. And last week, dear, you just...wouldn't stop crying."

"I promise I won't cry anymore." She's promised her mother that as well in silence. "I swear. I'll stop."

"This fixation on your little poems. We used to have adult conversations about the future. It's like a part of you is locked away. You don't want me to touch it. What’s the matter with you?”

“Songs.” Evie replied flatter.

“What?”

“They’re songs, not poems.”

“I just mean, you should be more practical."

"I don't know what's wrong with me." Evie decided at last. Clutching the phone cord in her shaken fist. Haunted. "I can't stop."

She didn't know if she wanted to. This cycle that was eating her.

"I got back into this because I wanted you. I see a future with us. Do you want me just as bad? Think on it. I'll give you the time. When you're ready, I'm here.” Bowers advised. He wanted her to want him so bad. “We’ll talk another day. Next weekend maybe.”

"Fredrick, please-"

The line cut.

She'd been too needy, he like that on his terms. Liked when she crawled and when she needed him so bad. When she gave into everything he desired without a fuss. Fredrick wanted Evie, but he wanted a specific version of Evie. The bouncy girls on television game for anything, who had every answer. Fizzling emotions unsettled him. They were childish. But, he wanted her lips to be glossy and pink. Wanted her to be an adult woman in a spring breaking teen's body.

You'd think he was still married to his uptight wife and fucking the damn babysitter.

Evie set the phone down. Stuffed a handful of dirt into her lips. Smothered herself with it. Gritty, it stuck to her teeth like an Oreo cookie. Tiny stones shifted as she tried to swallow too much at once. She got another handful in before her gag reflex choked her. Feet scrambled to puke brown and bile into the toilet.

The Lego she ate earlier came up too. Found it helping Claudia and Dustin clear their basement. Shiny and blue.

Her stomach curdled. A few tears squeezed before she was scooping that up. Slippery with acidic bile. Pushing it back into her mouth. With her throat raw, it hurt worse the second time but it went down.

Control. She was in total control. That’s what she told herself. Curled up next to the toilet. Scalp heating while her lips hung slack.

“Nothing is the matter with me.” Evie told herself because stopping meant that thudding ache in her chest would glow all neon and rose red.

** ** **

Billy wasn’t going to leave Evie alone. He decided that after a wet dream one morning. These things were not to be taken lightly by teenage boys.

I’m sorry. It didn't cut it. Actions, that’s what Susan advised, not that he’d admit prying advice from his chirpy stepmother. Vague as can be, Billy hung out in the kitchen doorway dropping rough hints.

Maxine was more blunt when Susan asked her later.

“Oh, yeah, he’s totally crushing on Evie and he messed it all up.” She said between the lazy crunching of salty chips.

“That’s what I thought.” Susan sighed. An hour of Billy barking and hiding around the doorway told Susan that much. She was young once.

“But, he did something. She’s mad at him.”

“Well, Neil works late tomorrow, I asked Billy if he’d take me to Mona’s salon. She wanted me to go out with her friends. A dessert and wine thing she likes to host.”

“Did you tell Neil?” Max was fixing a wheel on her skateboard and snacking. Poor thing wasn't getting use with all the snow fall. Susan only smiled.

“Would you like to go get your hair done?”

“Ick.” Max cringed at the thought of those huge rollers and hairspray.

“Max.” Susan replied carefully. “Evie works tomorrow, doesn’t she? Saturday.”

She got the idea with her eyes lighting up.

“Oh!” Max blew air out her lips. “Just this once, then.”

“That’s my girl.” Susan figured if Billy was convinced it was all her idea, the day would go smoother.

** ** **

Something else Billy Hargrove learned about Mona was her hair changed with the seasons. Locks big and bold but now a strawberry blonde. A head start for spring despite it still being January.

Evie peered up at reception and noticeably, her face fell.

Susan figured whatever happened had to be bad. She’d never seen such a reaction from a teenage girl to her drop dead gorgeous stepson. Hell, Billy Hargrove could bat his lashes and have eggs dropping in every uterus within a fifty mile radius.

Might have been why Neil preferred to lock him in his room like he was the dirty tomcat about to impregnate all the neighborhood strays. Although, Neil had a list of reasons for how he treated Billy. None of them valid.

Mona went right for Max. Squished her cheeks in smelling of lavender hand cream.

“I’m so glad y’all are here! Maxie, I promise I won’t shock you. Just a wash and freshen. Make your hair nice and bouncy. It’ll shine. I always say: the higher the hair, the closer to God.” Mona took Susan’s hand. “C’mon over here. My new girl, Shelby, will get you started too. Little pampering does everyone good.”

“Hey.” Evie piped up, twirling a pen around. She’d eaten the cap an hour ago. Not much for chewing. Always up to the task of swallowing whole because she was a big girl.

Big girls sucked it up and swallowed.

Billy thought to go back to his car. Swayed on his feet there looking around at all the plants.

Actions.

They speak louder than words. Billy was a screamer.

“Miss Mona, I was thinking we could… Uh, for me.”

“You want a wash too, Billy?” She perked, hair bobbing as her little platforms clicked excitedly. “Come, come, sit down. Evie can get you shampooed to start.��

Evie’s entire body locked. Billy smirked at her, but noticed an opportunity reach her eyes. The pen stabbed back into a cup. Lips spread in a devious way. He saw horns spring out of her big curls.

Fuck, she looked hot though.

It drove him wild. Evie with a fire behind her eyes. All plush curves and lingering allure. That amber perfume melted him.

“I’d be so happy to help.” She gripped Billy’s leather bomber and jerked him into a chair. He had a semi at this point. "Get comfy."

Hell, the girl was plotting a murder with that smoldering expression. Still, Billy was game because she was giving him attention. His tongue swept pink lips. Peachy skin glowing.

There was something off about Evie too. This sunken manner like her energy had been sapped. The slightest dark circles under brown eyes. Skirt Safari was barely three weeks ago. He removed his jacket when Mona reached for it to hang it with Max’s and Susan’s.

Dead boy walking.

Max snickered from her chair across the way. She and Susan sat with little floral capes, already getting their pampering. Evie moved Billy’s hair and pulled a lilac cape around his neck.

“Ack!”

“Oh? Too tight. My bad.” She snapped a button. “Put your head back. Into the sink now.”

Billy thought to pray for mercy, tilted back into the porcelain. He asked for this. The sink went on. Ice.

“Too cold?”

“Nope.” Teeth chattered. Evie had that devilish look still. Decided to make it warmer. Lifted the nozzle and hit his face.

And Billy took it. Sputtering.

“Oh, so sorry…” Her tongue clicked. Didn’t even try to sound sincere.

“Just a little water. No big deal.”

Her bottom lip pouted. She sprayed his face again. Billy snickered through the coughing, fists held the chair tight.

“You’re fucking waterboarding me, Fenny.” He'd spat, blinking rapidly.

“What?” Evie paused then kept spraying him as he tried to reply.

“You’re-”

“I’m, what?” She came off and Billy snorted before the water splashed again.

“Ngh-ffff- ”

“Can’t hear you, Billy.” Evie caught Max losing it across the way.

The boy took all the torment like a champ so she let up. He didn’t even snap when she pulled his hair shampooing it.

“I like it rough, Angel.” Billy hissed at her fingers pulling so she sprayed him again. Made him buck like a mad feline. He seemed to almost love it. This was foreplay to him.

“Creep. Don’t pitch a tent in that cape.” Evie stuffed a towel in his face. Smiled cheerfully. All syrup. “We're done, mommy.”

“Let’s see what I can do for these curls, Billy.” Mona let Claudia work on Susan while her new hire took over for Maxine. “I hope Evie gave you a good start.”

She certainly revved his motor, but he wasn't going to tell her mother that.

“So nice. I feel even more relaxed now.” Billy twitched a stressed smile. Earned himself a few good boy points.

Evie cracked a grin at him, arms crossing before she went back to reception. Unbelievable.

Mona had Billy chattering about his car and school and how he'd just turned eighteen in December. Life was coming his way. Evie took to doodling song lyrics in no order and tapped her pen. Mona either talked Billy into hair curlers or just started doing it. Which was another bout of amusement.

And Billy stared at Evie the entire time. Even when she made it a point to face away. Sat on the stool with her legs crossed, leaning forward to jot her little lyrics down. Susan swept her eyes between them.

Both relentlessly stubborn.

“Mona, I’ve been wanting to repay you back for the dinner this month. How about tomorrow? Our place this time.” Came her voice when a hair dryer shut off.

“We’ll bring the dessert.” Fingers played with Billy’s curls. Reminded him of his mother. Fluffed some life into them. He decided this salon was better than the places he used to go.

Music played, songs changing as time continued. Evie decided her luck couldn’t get any worse when Carol’s red hair appeared in her line of sight. Walking with her little friend group without Tommy. Likely headed to the nail place down the block.

Carol spotted Evie behind glass and whispered something that had her friends howling before they went.

“Bitches.” Billy sauntered up behind her. Golden hair sparkling.

“As if you had nothing to do with that.” Evie smacked her notebook shut. Sat straighter as he shook his locks out. Curls shining with lift. Like the sun just kissed them.

“How do I look?” One brow rose. Teasing.

“The same.” Gorgeous.

“Lunch?”

“Already ate.” Evie’s lips pressed when she said that. They spoke out of earshot under the music. Not noticing the glances on them.

“Guess I’ll still be seeing you for dinner tomorrow.” Billy counted some bills out. Snatched a pen and scribbled a note on a single. Dropped the money on the counter and pushed the one he’d written on into her pocket. She lifted an arm and glared, but let him. “We'll do this again some time. The back and forth. I pull your hair and you pull mine."

"Unlikely."

"Hm. Invest in waterproof red lipstick. Don't they have waterproof makeup now? Looks better on you than on me." His voice dropped.

"Wow. Cocky now, are you?"

"I just think it'll take us a lot of tries to get to a bad kiss. Don't you, Evie?" He replied pointedly, leaning over to speak in that low baritone. Pure amber honey.

"I think you're in denial, Billy. Gotta put pride aside." Evie bit her tongue and turned away. Loathed the blush glittering her cheeks.

"Takes one to know. I’ll wait for Max in the car. Need a smoke. See you around, Angel.” Billy swayed off after grabbing his coat. Out into the cold.

Evie put his money in their register and plucked the dollar out.

“Sorry. -A shithead.”

Billy had even gone out of his way to draw a little frowny face with a tear. Evie caught him looking at her from his car and rolled her eyes, stuffing the bill away.

Tried not to smile. Failed.

“Billy doesn’t do this kind of thing.” Max appeared a bit later. Glowy and red. Vibrant. “Just...so you know.”

“It shows.” Evie sighed out her nose. Watched Max say bye to her mother since she was staying with Mona before hurrying out into the Camaro. One rev and it skidded off. Snow flurries falling in its wake.

“She seemed mad,” Max had said in the car, “but, maybe less mad.”

“It was a big fuck up. She’ll be mad a long time.”

“And that bothers you.”

“No.” Billy flicked his cigarette out the window. Watched his sister’s lips press before he scoffed. “Max, I did something evil. You understand? Evie wants fuck all to do with me.”

And he couldn't throw her from his thoughts.

“What did you do?” Max leaned in to press the subject. “Just tell me.”

The gist of it came out by the time they parked at Cherry Lane.

Max just blinked at him. Flared. Billy cut the engine and paused, glancing at her.

“Why do boys do this to girls?” She asked, fists clenched in her lap. Rigid and puffy. “I don’t understand. Are my friends going to be like you when they get older?”

“No, Max, they’re not. I’m a piece of shit.” His shoulders came up.

“And you didn’t have to be… Keep groveling, you owe Evie that much.” She slammed the door when she got out. Expected to get barked at and slowed because he made no move. Just flicked his lighter open and closed there. Blue eyes on the steering wheel.

Exhaling into the frost, Max came around the car and jerked Billy’s door open.

“You suck at this. She doesn’t want you to do this self-deprecating game where you play the asshole victim. She wants a real apology.”

“I don’t know what the fuck she wants me to say anymore.”

“Maybe you don’t have to say anything to her.” Max paused. “Those girls and people at school, they’re mean to her. Aren't they? You’re the Keg King. Are you really going to let that happen?”

“They’re just fucking assholes, ignore them.”

“Easy for you to say being popular. What happened to Evie during the dance has been happening to her through all of high school. Don’t you see that? If you really cared, you’d do something to stop it.” The door shut on Billy before he could reply.

Max went up into the house, left him to stew on that until he followed her inside. Away from the snow and Evie’s penetrating eyes that were beginning to haunt him.

~~~~

Tensions are just shooting all directions with these two dorks. Thank you all so much for reading! Feel free to chat or ask about the taglist!!

TAGGED: @80sbxtch @nottherightseason @orxhidshavana @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @billy--hargroves

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #Billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #Stranger things #mine #writing #somy #billy x angel

53 notes · View notes

jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Text

Chapter 3 of As Lightning to the Children eased Aka that eldritch Anakin being terrifying AU

Read on AO3

“Do you know what every parent has to do?” Shmi asked Qui-Go over a cup of tea.

“Raise their child to the best of their abilities,” Qui-Gon answered easily.

Shmi hummed and turned to look at Anakin, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka meditating in the living room. Obi-Wan was the only one who actually sat like he was meditating while Anakin was draped over his lap and Ahsoka was resting her head on Anakin’s legs. Nevertheless, all of them were meditating, the Force swirling around them.

“I was prepared to leave Anakin here,” Shmi spoke up again.

“What?”

Qui-Gon couldn’t stop himself from exclaiming. Shmi smiled at him and nodded. He couldn’t correlate the idea of Shmi leaving Anakin at the Order’s steps with the image of the woman who just five years ago had forced Mace Windu to his knees with a single question. That Shmi, so headstrong and bright, hadn’t seemed like a woman who would cave in to the Council’s demands. She still wasn’t. She questioned the Council left and right, had made the crèche her chosen starting point for change. It was good for the Order. Qui-Gon was fairly sure that if his Master would just step into the Temple again these days, he’d actually stay, witnessing how much change had been quite literally forced upon them.

“If there was no other way, I would have left Anakin here because he needed to be here more than he needed to be at my side. This is what every parent has to do sooner or later. We need to let go.”

Shmi was looking at him and for all that she was still wondering about why the Force chose her, Qui-Gon knew. She had the same eyes as Anakin, the kind that saw right through you and stripped you bare.

“You need to let go, Qui-Gon,” Shmi repeated directly. “You’ve done everything you can for Obi-Wan. He is ready, more than most of young Knights I’ve seen. Now you need to give him the space to stretch his wings.”

“And fly away with Anakin?” Qui-Gon inserted, his tone bordering on the edge of upset.

Shmi smiled and sat her teacup on the table. “Why do you keep expecting everyone to always leave you?”

Because that was what people did, they left. But he couldn’t say that, probably didn’t even need to, Shmi knew anyway.

Let him go, the Force trilled. He’s not yours to keep.

“I want him to stay.”

Shmi rolled her eyes and with the mischief of a youngling, she actually kicked his legs under the table. “You are of the Force, are you not? Then he will always stay by your side.”

When Qui-Gon finally recommended Obi-Wan for his Trials, Yaddle had the audacity to cackle. The old Master had taken quite a liking to Shmi, it shouldn’t surprise Qui-Gon they had been gossiping. In the Jedi temple, the only thing traveling faster than the Force, was gossip. In fact, all of the Masters seemed to have been expecting it. The only one who hadn’t gotten the message was Obi-Wan who nearly lost his composure.

“A great Knight, you will be,” Yaddle said. “Your Trials you may take, Padawan Kenobi, if you think you are ready.”

Qui-Gon had talked to Obi-Wan about his Trials, of course. He wasn’t as sadistic as his own Master had been and just dropped him in front of the Council without any warning whatsoever. Still, Obi-Wan glanced at Qui-Gon for reassurance.

“I am ready,” Obi-Wan said, his voice not wavering once. Maybe he hadn’t been the one who needed reassurance.

Objectively speaking, Obi-Wan knew the Trials were difficult. They certainly challenged him and he hadn’t been able to sleep the night before because of his nerves, but during his tests, he was laser-focused and having fun. He’d become a Jedi Knight like he had always known he would and he’d be one step closer to where we ought to be.

He did his best not to smile too widely when Qui-Gon cut his braid and said “Rise, Knight Kenobi.”

No blade shall ruin you. Fulfill your calling, go, go, go!

All the pieces were suddenly assembling on the board. Obi-Wan didn’t know what game they were playing yet, but he had his sights set on winning.

“Honorable Council,” Obi-Wan began to speak and Qui-Gon was immediately about two seconds away from dragging Obi-Wan right out of the chamber. He knew that tone and his just knighted Padawan had no business sounding like that yet. “May I make a request?”

It was deceivingly polite; Obi-Wan used that tone when he was informing someone of a decision he had already made and couldn’t be talked out of. Qui-Gon suppressed a sigh. He had hoped his former Padawan would wait another year at least before committing to his bond. Obi-Wan had surpassed all of Qui-Gon’s expectation, already a much more formidable Knight than many were after a decade, but he was young still. He had time, another four years at least he needn’t take on such a heavy task.

“You may speak,” Mace said.

“I want to take Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan,” was what Obi-Wan said, but what Qui-Gon, and every other Master actually heard was “I am taking Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan”.

Master Yoda frowned and Qui-Gon wished he’d be able to determine what he thought. His relationship with Obi-Wan and the Skywalkers was strange to say the least. He claimed the Force was clouded around them, it made him wary, yet, like a clockwork, he showed up for tea at least once a week.

“Certain of this decision, you are?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes.”

Destiny, fate, my dear Chosen, my children, keep them close, the Force laughed and then, with the might of a karyt dragon, they pressed down on them like they were guarding their treasure, forcing the air out of their lungs.

“Then go fetch your Padawan,” Mace pressed out.

Ilum reminded Anakin of Tatooine in all the best ways. There were not so many people here as on Coruscant, listening to the sounds of the universe was much easier than it was on the crowded city-planet.

Obi-Wan had told him to have fun and enjoy the peace and Anakin was sure there had been a reminder in there as well about not causing any trouble, but he had been too distracted by how easy it was to breathe here. If not for the burning cold, Anakin was sure he could have stayed here for years and years to come. It was so easy to feel, his parent so close. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to pick just one crystal for his lightsaber. Not all of them called out to him, but he’d know how to use them anyway, how to shape them so they would fit perfectly.

“Anakin?”

Anakin turned around and saw T'Seely awkwardly standing behind him. Anakin didn’t have too many friends his age. It wasn’t their fault. He still didn’t always know how to whisper instead of shout, keep all the light inside instead of burning and how to cut off the decay infecting others without his teeth. He was much better with Ahsoka’s age mates who only knew him as Ahsoka’s friend who taught them that they were all infinite possibilities. Their minds weren’t restricted yet. T’Seely was Anakin’s friend though.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t like the dark,” T’Seely said. “Can I- can I go with you? You make it go away.”

Anakin beamed and all around him the crystals lit up, singing their own distinct song. Anakin was sure that if he concentrated, he could bring every Initiate the crystal they needed, but he supposed everyone else was supposed to face this trial on their own. “Sure!”

Anakin held out his hand and T’Seely quickly took it, staring at the caves surrounding them in awe. The artificial lights the Jedi had hung into the tunnels couldn’t even begin to this mirrored night sky surrounding them.

“It’s beautiful,” T’Seely said.

Anakin was glad he could make others see the universe the same way he did.

Training Anakin would be a lot easier if everyone else would finally start minding their own business. Life at the temple was almost back to normal for Obi-Wan again. The other Jedi had become accustomed to them and for all of their snide comments, Jedi were protective of their own. Once you become a part of their community, they wouldn’t abandon you. Obi-Wan was sure that if anything ever happened to him, or Anakin was in danger, their brethren would fight to protect them. They were stronger when they all worked together, were united in the Force.

But that didn’t mean that they could shrug away centuries of teachings about restraining yourself, even when the sun itself was scorching you.

“I still scare them,” Anakin murmured into the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck, tears dried by now.

Anakin always smelled like storms and fire, but this time his scent was tinged with the distinct burn lightsabers left when they cut through hair. Perhaps Obi-Wan hadn’t told Anakin to let loose completely while fighting. Anakin had been the strongest Initiate, but from practice Obi-Wan knew he had been holding back while training even then. His Padawan might be only nine, but Obi-Wan was fairly sure he could give even a couple of the older students a run for their money. They didn’t just drop into the Force entirely unless they were fighting for their lives, unlike Anakin who had troubles staying out of it to actually learn proper stances.

“I know, I know,” Obi-Wan said, trying his best to comfort his Padawan. “I’m sorry. It’ll get better.”

“I’m not scared!” Ahsoka proclaimed and sat up straight, her elbows digging painfully into Anakin’s thighs. The child paid no mind to the abuse she forced upon her older brother. “You’re not scary.”

No, Anakin wasn’t scary, he was terrifying. In all his blazing glory and chaos it was so easy to feel like you were drowning. He was always watching, you were incapable of escaping Anakin’s grasp and Obi-Wan honestly couldn’t claim that he wanted to. There was a sense of belonging pulling him in and for all that he knew Anakin was so small he barely reached Obi-Wan’s hips, an entire galaxy was lingering within in, painfully constricted so it wouldn’t devour everything within reach. Even Obi-Wan got a headache when he attempted to perceive Anakin for too long. The sensorial input was simply too much, leaving him with the vague impressions of stardust and blood dropping from razor sheep teeth, a darkness so void of life that the crown of light around his head was so bright it could cut, claws sharper and so much more dangerous than any ‘saber that Obi-Wan wasn’t even sure if Anakin had needed instructions on how to use his saber.

And the wings of stained glass that never failed to remind Obi-Wan of the meditation hall in the highest tower of the temple.

“Not scary,” Obi-Wan reassured Anakin. “Not to us.”

Ahsoka was a big girl. She was four years old already and the bravest of all her crèche mates. She would not cry when Anakin and Obi-Wan both had to leave the temple for a mission. If anything, Ahsoka should be celebrating. Skyguy was a Padawan now so he would be her Master very soon and then Ahsoka would be a Padawan and they would all go on a big adventure together.

“It’s our first real mission!” Anakin said excitedly.

He kept tugging on his Padawan braid. Ahsoka still thought it was strange that it was attached to him, though Obi-Wan’s had been the same.

“Just some diplomatic meet-up and Master Qui-Gon is coming, but we’re going back to Naboo!”

“What’s Naboo?” Ahsoka asked.

Anakin opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again thoughtfully. He frowned the way he always did when he thought about some very difficult things that didn’t seem all that hard to her. Like always, Ahsoka just held out her hands for Anakin to take. Ahsoka liked speaking, singing, telling stories and making noises, but sometimes it was just easier to let Anakin show her laughter, happiness, home and love and peace.

Oh.

“Are you gonna stay there now?” Ahsoka asked.

“No, not yet.”

Not yet, that only meant he would be leaving her in the future and suddenly all of Ahsoka’s resolve of before was broken and she started bawling.

“Don’t leave me! You can’t- I don’t- you have to stay!”

It wasn’t fair! She didn’t want Anakin to leave her, not even for some stupid mission!

I’m never leaving you, Anakin sang, voice like a thousand choirs. You’re mine.

Promise?

Her brother smiled down at her, gently tracing all her markings before wiping away her tears.

Promise.

Sometimes Shmi felt like she had just arrived at the temple. She still had a hard time calling any of the Jedi above the rank of Knight by their proper titles, nothing to say about her lack of education. Studying with Anakin had been for her own benefit as well, and her son was not lost to her, but Shmi wouldn’t be learning at his side anymore.

“Gone your son is now,” Yaddle said.

Shmi liked the mischievous Jedi. Whereas Yoda often hid his weariness beneath his amusement, Yaddle had no such troubles. She said what she believed and treated Shmi’s thoughts with the same importance she gave the great philosophers preceding even her.

“Ani will be fine,” Shmi said. “He has Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon.”

“Yet troubles you sense.”

There were always troubles when Anakin was concerned, but not so much that Shmi had to be concerned. She had raised her son well, he knew he was cherished and loved. It wasn’t a job you could be done with after a while, parenting and children didn’t work that way. For all that the Jedi said a lot about attachments, they were fiercely protective of their lineages.

“A mission I have for us, my Padawan,” Yaddle spoke up again after a while.

Other times, Shmi felt like she had lived at the temple all her life. She knew their customs,

“Master Yoda won’t be pleased,” Shmi said, her smile an exact mirror of her son’s.

Yaddle shook her head. “Pah! Never happy he is. His Padawan we must track down, lost he has become. Old Master Yoda is, and old his Padawan is. A stubborn lot they are and easily rile each other up. Good you are with younglings, good you will be for the whole Order. Help me cause some more chaos, my Padawan.”

Shmi began to walk beside her new teacher, retuning back into the temple and walking away from the ship hangers. When she had arrived at the temple, she’d never expected that her life would turn out like this.

“Yes, Dai Yaddle.”

Her teacher looked up to her, a proud look on her face. “A fine Jedi you already are, Shmi Skywalker. A great one you will be.”

#star wars #Anakin Skywalker #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #shmi skywalker #ahsoka tano #yaddle #fanfic #everyone gets an upgrade in this chapter #qui gon finally graduates from parenting

58 notes · View notes

f4liveblogarchives · 3 years

Text

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #225

Thu Apr 29 2020 [10:09 PM] Wack'd: So the first two and two-thirds pages are something strange. Or I guess they're strange from an in universe perspective. [10:10 PM] Wack'd: It's basically a condensed version of the back half of the previous issue, rather than a recap. So reading these back to back it feels like everyone's reliving a slightly different, slightly faster version of the same events. [10:10 PM] Bocaj: Yeah that happens [10:11 PM] Bocaj: I complain about comics not establishing context with recap pages enough that I can’t really say boo about this kind of thing [10:11 PM] Aleph Null: it’s just a jump to the left [10:11 PM] Aleph Null: and then a step to the right [10:11 PM] Wack'd: I think I might actually prefer it to the writer clumsily trying to give all of this information again in dialogue? [10:12 PM] Wack'd: It's basically a previously-on. [10:12 PM] Wack'd: Though the fact that it's not really marked as such is weird [10:12 PM] Bocaj: Like Aleph’s Japanese animes [10:12 PM] maxwellelvis: Remember recap pages? [10:13 PM] Bocaj: I’ve heard of them [10:14 PM] Wack'd: I think also what's throwing me is that they try to hit some of the same dramatic beats again? Like, you're not really going to convince me "the blind king weeps in crimson" is vital story information

[10:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Because it sounds cool [10:15 PM] Bocaj: Well that’s nightmare fuel [10:16 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, I've spent a weirdly long time talking about a recap, but I this is probably the normal amount of time I spend on the first three pages so be glad you're still getting content I guess [10:17 PM] Bocaj: I do like content [10:19 PM] Wack'd: Interesting thing about reading these blind and relaying that to you is that it's hard to know in the moment what information will and won't be relevant. For instance, I didn't really make much of this scene last issue:

[10:20 PM] Wack'd: But I wish I had, because it makes this moment look friggin bonkers in context:

[10:20 PM] maxwellelvis: "Consistency? What's that?" [10:21 PM] Wack'd: We've hit a new level of Sue as a blank-slate stock-woman-character: the same writer is making her either a nag or a worrywart one issue apart basically on a whim. [10:22 PM] Wack'd: Also: "just wants a normal life" Sue is the most boring version of Sue [10:23 PM] Bocaj: Just a receptacle for women stereotypes? [10:23 PM] Wack'd: Moreorless, yeah [10:23 PM] Umbramatic: the Ur-Woman-Stereotype [10:23 PM] Bocaj: Boo [10:23 PM] Bocaj: Defined personality women are great [10:24 PM] Wack'd: Agreed [10:24 PM] Wack'd: Moving along, we get a very long-winded explanation of the exact science of how this place works which I'm sure makes complete sense [10:24 PM] Bocaj: Science in comics is always to the highest standards [10:24 PM] Bocaj: Always [10:26 PM] Wack'd: Reed is like "I'm not really fine with being threatened and woulda saved your life anyway" and Korgon's like "y'know what, I trust you, we're cool now" [10:26 PM] Bocaj: See: he shoulda just said please to begin with [10:26 PM] maxwellelvis: "Oh, I shoulda thought'a that" [10:27 PM] Wack'd: Ha! He really does just send Vikings to go shopping for him

[10:27 PM] Bocaj: God. In a modern comic we’d see some Vikings at the supermarket and it would be great [10:29 PM] Wack'd: Have I mentioned yet Doug Moench seems to *really like science*

[10:30 PM] Bocaj: SCIENCE! :D [10:30 PM] maxwellelvis: Nah, like, not superscience. Real science. [10:30 PM] Umbramatic: i am glad that reaction image is making the rounds [10:31 PM] Wack'd: So Reed does a lot of research and asks a lot of questions and thinks really hard (all in narrative captions, you're not missing much) and eventually he's finally ready to operate! [10:31 PM] Bocaj: Woo [10:32 PM] Wack'd: Buuuuuut the Four's powers go haywire again. Korgon has a machine that cures them of the radiation to stabilize them, but Wiglif--suspicious guy from earlier--thinks they just wanna be at full strength so they can kill Korgon and escape. [10:33 PM] Bocaj: Dammit Wiglif! That’s such a Wiglif thing to think! [10:33 PM] Wack'd: To shut him up, Korgon gives Hrolf--trusting guy from earlier--a "Darkfield Rod" that will nullify their powers if they try any funny business. [10:34 PM] Wack'd: And then Korgon immediately falls unconscious. [10:34 PM] Umbramatic: that doesn't sound omnious at all [10:34 PM] maxwellelvis: I give it five minutes before Wiglif tries to steal it. [10:34 PM] maxwellelvis: NO! Five PANELS [10:35 PM] Wack'd: To be generous I will not count these three where we cut to Asgard

[10:35 PM] Bocaj: Oh hi Thor [10:36 PM] Bocaj: I didn’t know you’d be in this book [10:36 PM] Wack'd: "Just considering a crossover, m'boy! I just got the faintest whiff some other book is stealing our shtick!" [10:36 PM] Bocaj: I’m going to be imagining Odin speaking like the king of Hyrule forever now [10:37 PM] Bocaj: I want you to know what you’ve done [10:37 PM] Wack'd: I apologize for nothing [10:37 PM] Bocaj: =__= [10:37 PM] maxwellelvis: Sorry not sorry [10:37 PM] Wack'd: Anyway they do the procedure and we're not sure if it works. And then another cutaway! Sorry max it's been more than five panels [10:38 PM] Umbramatic: vsfb jnjgfdmkb ;zgl,;.' n [10:38 PM] Bocaj: To the punishment dome with you [10:39 PM] maxwellelvis: *the dome.gif* [10:39 PM] Wack'd: Hey what the heck does that third panel mean? Did...did Alicia just get a vision of the North Pole? Or, like...uh...I actually don't have a second guess

[10:41 PM] Bocaj: When did Alicia brunette [10:41 PM] maxwellelvis: She overshaded her hair this morning [10:41 PM] Wack'd: It's been orange for a while now, too [10:42 PM] Bocaj: She’s supposed to be close enough to Sue that she can be a bad imposter [10:42 PM] Umbramatic: technicolor anime hair [10:42 PM] Bocaj: It’s the foundation of a good 60% of the things I mock Johnny for [10:42 PM] Wack'd: I think we're all okay quietly forgetting that except you for some reason [10:42 PM] Bocaj: See also 60% [10:42 PM] Wack'd: Mocking Johnny is admittedly a pretty good reason [10:43 PM] Wack'd: Ben also had a crush on Sue in the very early days if you want to take that ball and run with it [10:43 PM] Bocaj: It definitely has layers [10:43 PM] maxwellelvis: You've both made it weird. [10:43 PM] Wack'd: Anyway the procedure worked! Probably! Korgon decides he's just gonna assume it worked.

[10:44 PM] maxwellelvis: Was he always that tall? [10:44 PM] Umbramatic: always a safe bet [10:44 PM] Wack'd: (Y'ever notice Reed's the only one who ever grows even a little facial hair? Did Johnny just never go through puberty from the neck up?) [10:45 PM] Wack'd: @maxwellelvis : Yeah, we've just seen him laying down on a nebulously high platform so far. Ben remarks on seeing him for the first time he's like 15 feet [10:45 PM] maxwellelvis: I think he just shaves regularly to keep up his heartthrob gimmick. [10:46 PM] Bocaj: Here’s Johnny with a beard [10:46 PM] maxwellelvis: When he gets on in years, he's probably planning to let it grow out so that the Human Torch can have a *flaming beard* [10:46 PM] Bocaj: How much do you hate this? [10:46 PM] maxwellelvis: Like that. [10:46 PM] Wack'd: Sure, but if Reed has stubble from tirelessly working on this procedure...well, I guess Johnny mighta found time to shave [10:46 PM] maxwellelvis: He can just burn stubble off and they're in a literal house of mirrors. [10:46 PM] Wack'd: That's not a bad look on him. He's like the hot version of a grizzled old sailor [10:47 PM] Umbramatic: dilf [10:47 PM] maxwellelvis: I want to imagine someone said to him at some point, "Okay, but consider: A beard of FIRE!" [10:48 PM] Wack'd: I feel like "flaming beard" is a gay joke somehow but like. If Johnny has a partner who's overtly stereotypically homosexual that's the opposite of a beard? [10:48 PM] Wack'd: Unless he doesn't want people to know he's straight, I guess [10:48 PM] Bocaj: Beard of FIRE? [10:48 PM] maxwellelvis: I mean he probably has some sort of LGBT following. [10:49 PM] maxwellelvis: Chamber? What are you doing in Japan? [10:49 PM] Wack'd: One of my earliest exposures to this character outside of the Story films was an essay on why he's definitely gay, so [10:49 PM] Bocaj: Having a flaming beard [10:51 PM] Wack'd: I tried Google to find the essay but it turned out the one piece of corroborating evidence I remember it is one that literally the entire Internet has picked up on at some point [10:52 PM] Wack'd: Do yourself a favor, google "johnny storm fire island". Or don't, and let it be a pleasant surprise in like 90 issues. [10:52 PM] Bocaj: Can doooo [10:52 PM] Bocaj: The latter [10:54 PM] Wack'd: "I think I might be Satan, we should talk about that later" is not a good way to make me eager to talk to you later

[10:56 PM] Wack'd: While everybody else is celebrating, Korgon loads up enough radiation to keep this place running for another hundred years, and then asks Reed to make him mortal again [10:56 PM] Wack'd: Wiglif ovehears and is going to do something sneaky [10:57 PM] Wack'd: The next day Reed tries it, but someone tampered with the machine overnight. Gee I wonder [10:58 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Korgon is now more powerful than ever and fucking pissed [10:58 PM] Bocaj: Dammit Wiglif! [11:00 PM] Wack'd: 'If you press this red button, you get godlike powers and life-giving laser beams, BUT everything looks real spooky forever"

[11:00 PM] maxwellelvis: *Sweating superhero guy* [11:00 PM] Bocaj: I mean you take the bad you take the good you take what’s left and there you have [11:01 PM] Bocaj: Spooky shadow monsters [11:01 PM] Wack'd: The fantasts of life [11:01 PM] Umbramatic: fucking paralasys demons [11:02 PM] Wack'd: Haha WHOOPS

[11:02 PM] Umbramatic: gee willikers, that was a curveball [11:03 PM] Wack'd: Anyway from here things get predictable [11:04 PM] Bocaj: Fucking Wiglif [11:04 PM] Wack'd: There's a fight, it looks like the Four are doomed, Thor shows up, the tide is turned [11:05 PM] Wack'd: For some reason when I first glanced at this panel I thought that second speech bubble was coming from one of the Vikings

[11:05 PM] Bocaj: Yay Thor [11:05 PM] Wack'd: "Uh, boss. Hey. You get that's the literal god of thunder, right? And you want us to, what, shoot him with lasers? Maybe think about this?" [11:06 PM] Bocaj: Lasers are just light and Thor’s Baldrother shines lights out of his armpits [11:07 PM] Wack'd: Korgon is so pissed by his impending defeat he's just like "fuck this, I'm just gonna destroy everything, including this dome" [11:08 PM] Bocaj: Hey sometimes you gotta cut your losses [11:08 PM] Wack'd: Wiglif: 😟 [11:10 PM] Wack'd: The Four and Thor are at a loss so Thor summons Odin [11:11 PM] Wack'd:

[11:13 PM] Wack'd: This is kind of a solution for a different problem than Korgon has. Like. He doesn't want to be a God? It was kind of thrust on him? I guess it's true that God needs followers and followers need a God, but if he's content to be a follower I don't really see an issue with that [11:13 PM] maxwellelvis: He also has a responsibility to these people. [11:13 PM] Wack'd: And it's not like he abandoned his people, he left them 100 years of free energy, during which time they could've solved things on their own in any number of ways [11:13 PM] Bocaj: Yeah I don’t really understand what Odin is getting at [11:14 PM] Wack'd: Also, outside the religious philosophy stuff [11:15 PM] Wack'd: It's a bit naff to just have an all powerful being show up and solve the heroes problems. Especially if it's not with superpowers but rather with delivering the intended message of the story [11:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Have the Four solved any problems on their own this entire run? [11:15 PM] Wack'd: Like you could've had Reed talk about the responsibilities of leadership or Ben talk about being a freak or Sue talk about how sacrificing a normal life can be worth it for the people you care about [11:16 PM] Wack'd: None of those would've been fresh or original but they at least would've been, you know, the main characters solving the problem of their own book [11:16 PM] maxwellelvis: They needed Gabriel to deal with Scratch, they needed Captain Marvel to deal with the Skrulls, they needed Thor to deal with Korgon [11:16 PM] Umbramatic: geez [11:17 PM] maxwellelvis: They've been reduced to guest stars in their own book! [11:17 PM] Bocaj: Oof [11:17 PM] Bocaj: FIRST FAMILY [11:18 PM] Wack'd: Things have been kind of guest cast heavy yeah! Don't know what's up with that and I suspect if you asked Moench or Sienkiewicz they wouldn't remember, besides Gabriel being Moech's baby [11:18 PM] maxwellelvis: Are there any stories from before the hiatus by them that I missed? [11:19 PM] Wack'd: It's weird thinking about the fact that I'm currently reading a run of comics that were written by guys with social media presences who seem fairly approachable [11:19 PM] Wack'd: I don't know if it would work but I could probably just ask them things if I wasn't a dick about it [11:20 PM] Wack'd: Not sure there's a kind way to be like "why are there so many guest stars in this year's worth of comics you wrote 40 years ago" but [11:21 PM] maxwellelvis: Something like, "Hey, I'm reading through your brief Fantastic Four run you had with Bill Sienkiewicz and there seem to be quite a few stories in a row where the Four's issue is solved by someone from another book? Do you remember what was up with that?" [11:21 PM] Wack'd: (Btw Moench and Sienkiewicz were doing a *Moon Knight* run simultaniously with this which is why Sue was reading an issue to Franklin last time. Go figure) [11:21 PM] maxwellelvis: Heh [11:22 PM] Umbramatic: oh huh [11:22 PM] Wack'd: Yeah there's really no way to phrase this that doesn't sound like "why did you write this so bad" [11:22 PM] Wack'd: Ah well [11:23 PM] maxwellelvis: The best-case scenario other than getting some hot scoop on the Marvel offices at that time is probably Doug Moench suddenly realizing that himself. [11:23 PM] Bocaj: Were they long term writers or doing some fill ins and one offs? [11:23 PM] maxwellelvis: They did like ten issues. [11:23 PM] Bocaj: I’m in a period of that in avengers. There’s not a lot of guest stars but they’re a lot of inconsequential issues [11:25 PM] Bocaj: Shame because there are one off villains and characters that would have been interesting to be picked up for more stuff [11:30 PM] Wack'd: Yeah, ten issues and Moench wrote an annual. [11:31 PM] Wack'd: But also, their first issue announced that we were sticking with them for a while--I suspect it was intended to be a longer run [11:31 PM] Wack'd: And then Bryne sniped them somehow

#1980 #Doug Moench #Bill Sienkiewicz #The Main Book

2 notes · View notes

silver-imagines · 5 years

Text

Bad Liar (Mysterio x Reader)

"Oh, hush, my dear, it's been a difficult year And terrors don't prey on Innocent victims Trust me, darling, trust me darling It's been a loveless year I'm a man of three fears Integrity, faith and Crocodile tears'

- Bad Liar (Imagine Dragons)

Summary: Aiming to live up to her sister’s legacy, a whole lot of trouble is in heading for (Y/n), trouble in the form of a Blue eyed devil.

Word count: 2.9k+

Hahaha guess who came back from the dead ! Me! This is the first part of what I expect will be a miniseries at the least, hopefully you guys enjoy it!

(Y/n) followed behind Fury and Hill, sharp eyes assessing the damage around them in the small Mexican village. Rubble, pieces of broken glass and wood, torn pieces of clothing, the classic aftermath of a tornado.

“This is merely a tragedy, not our kind of problem.” Hill announced, not knowing why there were investigating a natural disaster. “Locals claim the cyclone had a face, now that seems like our kind of problem.” Fury replied to her. Scanning the scene, (Y/n) spotted a young child, no older than ten, sitting on the ground with a bleeding knee and an old lady trying to help him.

Wasting no time, she leapt over the pile of rubble, kneeling down besides the kid and pulling out the small med kit out of her utility belt and helping the kid, completely oblivious to the cape clad hero that appeared out of nowhere.

He recognised her, of course he did, she was a regular face in the Stark Tower. He knew about her comings and goings, she was essentially an Avenger, well, more of a behind the scenes Avenger. Sort of like Black Widow but she operated at a more secretive level.

Seeing her in that Mexican village, his heart rate jumped, fearing that she would recognise him, and he’d be exposed, exposed for the fraud he was.

But it seemed like the stars and heavens were in his favour, and she looked right over him, not recognising him, gun out of the holster faster than he could blink with an intense ferocity that mirrored his rage for revenge. Her and Hill’s actions mirrored each other’s, both revolvers pointed straight at him as he raised his hands.

She was rather close to Stark, he’d heard him mention her name a couple of times, but Quentin struggled to remember, but whatever it was, all it mattered was that she didn’t recognise him and at this realisation, a devilish plan began to formulate in his mind as he thanked himself for keeping a ring on his finger, he’d make them all pay for the dead man’s sins.

“My name is Quentin Beck! I’m here to help!’ He announced, trying his hardest not to smirk.

_____

‘Mr Beck, if you would follow me, Director Fury would like to talk to you” (Y/n) announced, straightening her back, pulling her arms behind her back, standing up tall in front of the blue-eyed hero. He gave her a swift nod and she began to lead him through the maze of hallways.

She was different from what he had expected, in the time he had been here, the only words that had left her lips were short, one worded response. Perhaps it was the age that matured her mind, or the events of the last five or so years but whatever it was, it certainly made his job a little harder.

You see, every hero had their damsel in distress, Stark with Potts, Thor with Jane, the list could continue but Mysterio, he didn’t have a lady, and it would be a step up if his so-called damsel was basically an Avenger no?

______

“Peter!” (Y/n) gushed, ruffling the younger boy’s brown hair as he engulfed her in a tight hug, she hadn’t seen the kid for a while, not since the funeral.

“Ms (Y/N)!!” The younger boy beamed back at her, feeling relieved upon seeing a familiar, almost familial face. Quentin observed the pair interact, Peter telling her all about his plans for the trip and how Fury shot his friend with a tranquilliser. His eyes were set on (Y/n), she was almost an impossible book to read, the only advance he had made was the day he initially met her and all he could do now was give her long, calculative glances.

“Do you reckon you could talk to Fury for me? I really, really need this break, I, Mr Stark is gone, (Y/N) I can’t, I’m not ready for this” Peter rambled. The older girl felt her heart sink, he had suffered so, so much at such a young age. There was just too much responsibility on his young shoulders, shoulders that weren’t ready to carry the weight of the world yet. He was just a kid. Before she could respond, Fury appeared out of nowhere.

“Mr Parker, if you’d follow me.” He announced, his loud voice booming in the room, alerting every one of his presence and (Y/n) nodded and turned towards Peter, giving his warm hands a soft squeeze, knowing there wasn’t much she could do and gestured for him to follow the Director.

Peter gave her a dejected look before following Fury into another room, leaving the pair alone in the large space. Quentin quickly returned to the holographic map on the desk, pretending he hadn’t been staring at the (h/c) girl.

“Why have you been watching me?” (Y/n) soft voice echoed through the room, causing Quentin’s head to shoot up. She had noticed, of course she had, there was a reason she was one of the best in SHIELD, she never missed a detail. Of course, when she noticed a pair of blue eyes following her

It was working.

“I uh, I don’t know what you mean.” He replied, leaning back against the table as he faced her, she was no longer in her SHIELD uniform, but rather black jeans and a baggy grey hoodie.

“Don’t pretend to be naïve, I’ve seen you, you’ve been watching me, I'm a trained spy, I know when someone’s watching me Mr Beck, this got anything to do with that night in Mexico?” She asked, folding her arms and leaning sideways against the pillar, eyeing the blue-eyed man. He dropped his head as he fidgeted with the gold band on his middle finger, drawing her eyes to it.

“I uh, I should have apologised earlier Ms (Y/n).”

“Yes, maybe, but that doesn’t answer my question, why have you been watching me?” She continued, slightly enjoying the fact the hero was getting flustered.

“You just, I uh, you remind me, you remind of my wi- of someone I knew’ He mumbled. (Y/n) straightened up, a clueless expression taking over usually emotionless face and she tilted her head sideways.

“Whatever it is, just keep your eyes to yourself Mr Hero.” She chuckled, standing her guard, it wasn’t in her nature to let any of her emotions take control of her.

“Who are you? Director Fury called out, aiming his own gun towards the cape clad man. Ushering the old lady to take the kid and leave the scene, (Y/n) stood up, keeping her gun still pointed towards the mysterious man.

Luscious brown hair, a scruffy beard, light coloured eyes, she couldn’t judge the colour properly from this distance, a gold armour and a red cape, was this another Asgardian? Thinking that this would be another New York situation, she rolled her eyes, an action Quentin didn’t miss.

“My name is Quentin Beck, I’m here to help!” He called out, raising his hands in the air, praying they wouldn’t shoot him thinking he was the bad guy, but like come on, how much more obvious could it get that he was the hero? He had a cape on for crying out loud.

“You’ve got five seconds before we shoot!” Fury called out, knowing better than to be naïve and believe everyone he encountered.

“I’m from another Earth, these creatures, the Elementals, they destroyed my Earth, and now they’re using portals to attack the other Earths, and this was the wind one.” He explained, coming closer to the trio. Fury nodded, amused at the explanation and motioned for him to continue.

‘I know where the next one will strike, the Water Elemental, it’s the same coordinates as the attacks on my Earth.” He continued to explain, hoping that they would believe him. Fury motioned for Maria and (Y/n) to lower their guns and they reluctantly did, still being alert in case the situation went south as Beck continued to explain.

Another Earth, creatures called Elementals, the loss of his Earth, tear from Thanos’ snap, what a story. He was in the middle of explaining the next Elemental’s attack when a strong gush of wind appeared again, in the shape of the large animal.

“Stand back, you don’t want any part in this.” Beck yelled, flying upwards as green mist surrounded him, shooting green laser beams at the creature. Hill and Fury dove to the left side, taking cover under a half-broken stone building, whereas (Y/n) dove under the protection of a half standing wall.

Beck continued to fight the wind creature, shooting lasers at it, as the ones around it took cover. (Y/n) knew shooting at it wouldn’t help so she stood her ground, staying crouched next to the broken wall, constantly keeping her gaze on the scene, instantly spotting the same young kid she was helping before, crying as he tried to limp away, barely away from the battle itself.

Seeing her options, she crouched down, gun drawn as she moved along the length of the wall, reaching the end and waiting for the opportunity to cross the empty field. Seeing that Beck had gotten the creature down, she made a run for it.

She was so focused on the child in trouble that she didn’t see the large rock that came flying her way, hitting her on the side of her abdomen, knocking her down. She groaned in pain, feeling blood seep out as her shirt began to turn red. Grunting, she got back up, making it to the small pile of rubble the child was hiding behind. “Shhh, it’s ok’ She spoke, hugging the kid as he cried in her arm, no one else was dying on her watch, certainly not this young kid. Wrapping one arm around his torso and one around his head, she kept him close to her body, making sure to shield him from any rubble that flew at them.

Beck defeated the creature, well, of course he did, but he couldn’t keep his gaze off of the (h/c) haired girl, her shirt was obviously covered in blood in the abdominal region, a small cut decorating her left cheekbone as she limped over to walk the kid back, out of the rubble.

She really was something, this was going to be fun

________

It was in the late hours of the night that the Director announced for them to disperse, knowing that the next predicted attack wasn’t until a week later. Excusing herself, (Y/n) made her way to the bathroom, grabbing the first aid out of the cabinet, she sat down on the edge of the small tub, groaning in pain she lifted the hem of her shirt, exposing her wound.

It was now covered in dried blood, she hadn’t gotten the chance to clean it up all day, Fury had assigned her on the clean-up of the village and when she got back to base, it was nothing but more discussion with Beck.

“Ah fuck.” She groaned, feeling the alcohol burn the wound, it was pretty deep because as soon as she cleaned the dried blood off, it started bleeding again. She had been so focused on the wound that she had forgotten to lock the door and the minute she pulled her shirt off, the door opened wide.

Quentin’s eyes widened as he saw her, sitting on the tub, a massive gash on her stomach, her shirt off, just in her sports bra. “Oh I’- uh, I must have forgotten to lock the door.” She mumbled, grabbing the towel on the counter and pulling it over her stomach.

“It’s ok, I-I should have knocked” He replied, his eyes scanning her, toned arms, glowing (s/c) skin, her hair no longer tied up but rather a mess on her shoulders, dried blood on her face and all over her abdomen.

“Do you need help with that?” He asked, pointing towards her stomach, there was no way she’d be able to bandage herself easily. He was no longer dressed in his hero outfit, but rather in sweatpants and a black tee. “I wouldn’t want to bother” She replied, not wanting to bother him as her gaze fell to the floor. “Ah it’s alright, here, don’t think you can do it yourself” He gave her a soft smile, and she handed him the disinfectant.

He crouched down in front of her, his blue eyes fixed on her stomach as he moved the towel away and began to apply the disinfectant. “It’s a deep cut” He remarked, continuously wiping the dried blood that was all over her abdomen and the sides of her stomach. Her face began to warm up under his gaze, it wasn’t everyday someone saw her half naked.

“I wasn’t going to let the kid get hurt, I’ll live” She chuckled, as he looked up to her, giving her a good view of his blue eyes. Brown hair, light skin, a scruffy beard, plump lips and most of all, eyes bluer than the ocean, actually no, they were lighter than the ocean, more like when the sun shone on the ocean and it twinkled a light blue, yeah, like that colour.

“I admire that, wait, I never actually got your name before.” He awkwardly chuckled, putting the bottle of disinfectant away as he threw the used cotton in the bin. “(Y/n), (Y/n) Romanoff.” She replied as he placed the ointment on her wound.

Romanoff? As in Natasha Romanoff? Holy shit, she was the Widow’s sister?

Shaking off his surprise, he continued to apply the ointment, causing her to hiss from pain. “That’s a beautiful name (Y/n).” He replied, beginning to bandage the wound. “Here, raise your arm up a little more.” He instructed her and she nodded, lifting her arm around so he could wrap the bandage around her waist, his face coming in close contact with her chest, causing his ears to turn red, hey, just because he was evil doesn’t mean he wasn’t human. Finishing up the bandaging, he looked up at her face, seeing the cut on her cheekbone.

“Here, there’s another cut.” He smiled at her, holding up more cotton and disinfectant and moving towards her cheek. She hissed again in pain as he placed the disinfectant on her cheek.

“Shhhh, its ok, almost over” he spoke softly, blowing air onto the cut to soften the stinging as she flinched. He finished up and placed a small band-aid on her cheek.

“Thank you for the help Beck.” She smiled, giving his shoulder a soft pat. He gave her a smile in return, leaning forward, placing a hand on her other cheek as he placed a kiss on her forehead, “Take care (Y/n)’ He mumbled against her skin, before getting up and leaving the wide (e/c) eyed girl alone in the bathroom, with a tinge of red coating her warm cheeks.

_____

“Hey kiddo, how’d it go with Fury?” (Y/n) asked, she had been given the job to escort Peter back to his hotel along with Demetri.

“I said no Ms (Y/N)-” He began but she cut him off. “How many times have I told you not to call me that, geez you make me sound old Peter, it’s just (Y/N)” She chuckled, allowing him to continue.

“I said no (Y/n), I just, I need this break, I really do, he, I-” He stuttered, not being able to find the right words to put his feelings into words.

“I get it Peter, we all need a break, but you’re so young, you have so much to do than to be dragged into this mess.” She gave him a weak smile, giving him a soft pat on the back, earning death glares from Demetri.

“Thank you for understanding.” He replied, leaning into her shoulder as she put her arm around his shoulder. “How’s the trip been going?” She asked him, rubbing his shoulder. She could still visualise Peter from the funeral, bloodshot eyes, messy hair, a loose tie, he had been crying that entire morning, she found him in the backyard, all alone. She had offered to fix his tie, to which the young boy agreed to with a weak smile. At that point, she had only known Peter for a little while, she had initially met him during the Sokovia accords situation.

She had sided with Tony on that situation, but she was fiercely against him bringing in a 14-year-old kid to make his point. He was just a kid, and he had literally picked him out of his life and put him into a situation that even the grown-ups around him couldn’t comprehend. And of course, then came Thanos, the mad Titan. One minute she was in Wakanda, fighting along with her sister, and the next, she came back to a world where she no longer existed.

‘It’s good Ms- (Y/n), there’s this girl I really like, and I, I’m th-thinking of con-confessing’ He mumbled, playing with his hands.

‘Peter that’s amazing!’ (Y/n) gushed, ruffling his hair as his face heated up, the younger boy’s face broke out into a massive grin, his pure smile melting her heart.

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so happy, but alas their boat ride came to an end and she big farewell to Peter with a hug as he entered the shabby hotel his schoolmates were staying at.

Nat would be proud of her, she always had a way of making (Y/n) smile, and if she could make an innocent boy like Peter smile, she was content with herself.

AN: Slow start but I promise it’ll get so much better! I have some (hopefully) great things planned! Got any other requests? Shoot them through!

#spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #mysterio x reader #mysterio #spiderman ffh #spiderman far from home #mysterio imagine #quentin beck #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #spider-man far from home #quentin beck imagine

276 notes · View notes

krizaland · 4 years

Text

Enter the Zimvoid Chapter 11

First Chapter Previous

Be warned: We have officially reached spoiler town! If you haven’t read issue #48 yet I recommend you do so before continuing. If you’ve already read issue #48 or just don’t mind spoilers then feel free to read on!

Also there will be an attempted kidnapping in this chapter.

With all that out of the way, onto the story!

You gazed up in awe at the massive metallic fortress before you.

“Wow! This place is a LOT bigger than I expected!”

“Look! there’s no one posted in the guard station!” Palindrome chirped as he gestured to the empty guard window.

“YES! This single strategic error will make all the difference!” 2k sang as he waved his arms in the air.

“Those doors look locked up tight! How do you think we’re gonna get in?” You asked as you hopped off of Brutus’s shoulders.

“Worry not, Sweet Y/N! I, the ULTIMATE ZIM, shall get us inside!” Your Zim boasted as he shoved past Brutus and Specs.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Your Zim begun to rapidly punch the large metal doors.

“Babe. Babe! Stop! That’s not gonna work!” You groaned as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Y/N’s right. Those doors are made of pure titainuous alloy. You’re more likely to break your knuckles rather than break down those doors.” Specs explained as he put his hands on his hips.

“Guys, it sounds like there’s a lot of large, heavy, partially burned Zims on the other side of this.” Dib said as he pressed his head against the door, “Are we really sure a frontal assault in broad daylight is the best strategic-ACK!”

Dib was cut off by Brutus clamping his massive fingers around his body.

“BRUTUS IS A MASTER OF STRATEGY! BRUTUS HAS EMBRACED INTELLECTUAL SIDE!” Brutus bellowed.

“Brutus! What are you-”

BASH! BASH! BASH! BASH!

You were cut off by Brutus slamming Dib’s big head into the doors.

KRACK!

With one final smash, the doors burst open!

“Victory for the ultimate Zim! I opened those doors all by myself!” Your Zim boasted as he flexed his arms.

Before you could respond, 2k piped up.

“CHARGE! For the glory of Zim!”

“We’re all Zim!” Palindrome replied as he punched a shark-headed Zim in the face.

“For the glory of Y/N then!” 2k sang as he gestured for the other rebel Zims to join the battle.

The rebel Zims let out loud war cries as they rushed into battle.

Guns fired and hands were thrown! Teeth went missing and bones were broken! There were even flamethrowers that set the battle field ablaze!

“Stay behind me, Y/N! Trust me, neither of us want to be caught in the crossfire!” Specs commanded as he tried to shield you.

“But Specs! I can-”

“No you can’t! It’s going to take a lot more than beauty to make it out of here in one piece!” Specs snapped as he deflected a laser with his book.

You pouted and folded your arms. You were about to push past Specs when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist.

You let out a shriek before a hand clamped over your mouth. With one swift moment, you were pulled into the shadows.

“Y/N?! Y/N?! What just happened?!” Specs yelped as he frantically looked around the room.

You let out a few muffled screams and thrashed about as Number 2 dragged you away from the scene.

“There, we should be safe now….” Number 2 panted as he gently took his hand off of your mouth.

“Get off of me you creep!” You seethed as you pulled your arm out of his grip.

“Please forgive me, Oh beautiful one! I know I was brash but it was for your own safety! I promise it won’t happen again!” Number 2 pleaded as he literally threw himself at your feet.

“Ugh. Get up! Stop making a fool of yourself!” You huffed as you put your hands on your hips.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you, beautiful one!” Number 2 blubbered as he peeled himself off the ground.

“Whatever. Look, can you tell me where I can find Number 1?” You grumbled as you rolled your eyes.

“Such lovely eyes….And such a wonderful scent…You must be one of the fabled Y/Ns I’ve heard so much about….” Number 2’s eyes widened in awe as he gleefully circled you.

“Yeah, I’m a Y/N- Wait fabled?! What does that even mean?! Don’t you have a Y/N in your timeline?!” You replied as you folded your arms.

“No. Sadly, I, Number 2, am one of the very few Zims who haven't been blessed with a Y/N! I’ve only heard of Y/Ns in stories told by the other Zims! I never thought I’d have the honor of meeting one in person! You’re even more beautiful than I imagined you’d be!” Number 2 gushed as his PAK sparked.

“Right….Anyway, I’ve been trying to find Number 1. Do you know where I can find him?” You sighed as you backed away a bit.

“Oh that’s right! Number 1 has been requesting to see you! Come with me right away, beautiful one!” Number 2 grinned as he grabbed you by the hand.

“Hey! Take it easy! You’re gonna rip my arm off!” You yelped as you tried to wriggle out of his grip.

“Oh! My apologies! I just got excited is all.” Number 2 replied as he loosened his grip a bit.

“Anyway…What makes Number 1 so special? Why does he get to be in charge?” You asked as you let Number 2 lead you down the halls.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Haven’t you heard? Number 1 comes from the perfect timeline, beautiful one! The one where we Zims got what we deserved…..Where our true potential was respected!” Number 2 beamed as he led you to a hall lined with three red statutes.

“Number 1 conquered his Earth!” Number 2 gestured to the first statue.

The first statue depicted Number 1 standing, proudly on a conquered Earth and wearing a large crown.

“Number 1 destroyed his enemies!” Number 2 gestured to the second statue.

The second statue depicted Number 1 triumphantly standing on top of a defeated Dib.

“Number 1 ate a very large sandwich!” Number 2 gestured to the final statue.

The final statue depicted Number 1 eating a very large sandwich.

“However, there was but one thing he lacks! Do you know what that is, beautiful one?” Number 2 turned to face you.

“Positive qualities?”

“Nope! He has schmillions of those! He lacks a Y/N!” Number 2 corrected.

“What?! I thought he came from the perfect timeline.”

“Oh he does! It’s just that his Y/N lost their life when he conquered his Earth!.” Number 2 explained nonchalantly.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Number 1 has been eagerly awaiting the day a Y/N would grace him with their presence! Once he has found a Y/N he would truly be the ultimate Zim!” Number 2 beamed as he continued to lead you down the halls.

“So does he want me to date him or something?” You asked as you took in your surroundings.

“Oh no! He doesn’t want you to that!” Number 2 chuckled as he hurried you along.

“Oh? What does he want me to do then?” You felt a pang of discomfort in your gut.

“He wants you to marry him, beautiful one!”

#Invader zim #Invader zim x reader #Invader Zim comics #Invader Zim dib #Invader Zim spoilers #spoilers #invader zim into the zimvoid

39 notes · View notes

goldenhour-goldenboy · 5 years

Note

I will send you ask until I'm out of breath!! You're awesome! I think the number is 25? Anyway, the line is "You're so fucking hot when your mad" if I can, I'd like to ask that Will's S/O says it to him

Thank you bb! i’m terribly sorry that I took so long but I’m finally getting to the bottom of the asks and I just had this wonderful scenario popping into my head when I thought the prompt. I hope you love it as well! This got kinda long so I put the rest under the cut, also this is not proof read and I should probably wait until tomorrow to edit and post this but I’m just so excited! (guys, it’s 2:40 in the morning, I better get my ass to sleep, lol) ALSO: I hope there’s not an author named Joseph Clarke out there. If so, sorry! I just had to made up a name real quick, lol

You’re on your after-work-routine as you step through the door of your shared apartment. Get your shoes off that have been hurting you all day, drop the bag on the kitchen counter, put the tupperware with your lunch into the dishwasher, spot Will through the door on the couch, reading, ask what’s for dinner - spot Will on the couch reading?

“Will?” You have to lean back, glancing through the opened door to see that his usual space is indeed empty. For a moment you’re puzzled. You swear you’ve heard him greet you back as you first stepped into the place.

“WILL?”

“In here!” His voice echoes back to you, coming from the other end of the apartment and you pat out of the kitchen, dishwasher still open and bag only halfway unpacked, to go on the search for your lost boyfriend. Not only is it an unusual sign for Will not to be reading after getting home, it’s almost a worrying one. It’s his time to unwind, to relax and calm down and whenever he skips it, you’ve found him with raging thoughts and a racing heart.

You round the corner to your bedroom almost carefully, stopping in the doorframe as Will comes into view, hunched over the small desk near the window with his back to you, typing away furiously on his laptop. Clearing your throat and making your presence in the room known, you approach him with caution, making your way into the room slowly, almost holding your breath.

“Hey …”

You stop. Will’s brows are knitted together tightly, his jaw set as he barely looks up from typing out words, fingertips punching so hard you fear for the keyboard to actually come apart. The look he gives you through his glasses is one of restrained anger and you settle down next to him, your eyes skipping over the desk, trying to make out what has him this enraged.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Will doesn’t stop writing until you muster up the courage to place a soothing hand on his shoulder. He pauses, hands hovering over the keyboard with his fingers clenching into fists before he sighs deeply, trying to gather his thoughts and then finally leans back against the office chair that seems to small for his bulky form.

“I’m writing a letter.”

Whatever you’ve expected, this was not it. “Okay?”

“I’m writing a letter to Joseph Clarke.”

“Who?” You can only stare at him. Will heaves another sigh, eyes darting over to a book that lays open next to his laptop, worn out pages and faded colors. You spot his name on the cover. “An author?”

“The author.” Will corrects you and grabs the book, eyes glowing behind his reading glasses. “The one fucking author that - .. Look, I have supported him through everything! Miranda and Clarke breaking up in the second book? Fine, whatever. Him taking the job even though that means they have to move halfway across the country? Sure, have it your way. But after everything, everything that he’s put them through - and me, especially after everything he put me through - he just let’s him die? From the fucking plague?””

Will looks at you with wide eyes, holding up the book as if he’s presenting you a sacred texts and preaching to someone who knows who those characters are. You can only stare back at him, lips spreading into a smile slowly as your bad feeling seeps away and you realize this is the reason Will hasn’t been in his spot.

“So you’ve finished your book?”

“I finished the goddamn book alright.” Will almost slams it down on the desk. “Never would’ve picked it up if I knew it ended like this.” He glances over to his half typed email. “And Joseph fucking Clarke is going to know exactly what I think about it.”

A soft snort escapes your lips as you watch Will reading over the paragraphs he’s already written and you notice how attractive he looks, eyes glued to the screen with a concentrated look, his shoulders tense over his disappointment about the ending. He’s still ranting under his breath about the plot as you make your way into his lap, arms closing around you on instincts while both of you try to settle in a way where he’s still able to go over his ‘letter’.

“Really, what a fucking asshole …”

“A book … ” You laugh to yourself, resisting the itch to reach out and pick the glasses from his nose to prop it on your own. Curled up in his lap you have the perfect view of Will’s jawline, deliciously moving as he mouthes And although you know is very … emotionally invested in his email, you just have to lean forward and press your lips to his neck. Will’s response is a grunt, he doesn’t even move his eyes from the screen as you travel up to his ear, leaving small wet kisses along the way. It’s only when you start to suck on that one spot right beneath his jaw that you feel his leg jerk underneath you and his eyes dart down to you.

“I’m trying to start a revolution here, Y/N. The people need to know about this injustice done to his readers!”

You follow up with another kiss on the spot, teeth teasingly pulling at the soft skin and now you swear you can feel his heart skip a beat in his chest as his breath hitches in his throat.

“Can’t help it.” Your tongue darts over the spot you just nibbled on and this time you’re sure you hear Will let out a soft moan, although his eyes shoot laser beams as you blink up again. “You’re just so fucking hot when you’re mad.”

Your hand grips Will’s shoulder to move yourself on his lap, swinging your legs over so you get much more comfortable straddling position and Will’s head slowly leans back as your lips connect with his neck again, your hands making their way into his hair, fingers tucking at little pieces gently as -

Will shoots forward, nearly knocking you into the desk as he spots another point he needs to elaborate on, finger’s already typing away eagerly. You wrap your arms and legs around his torso in the last second, clinging onto him in a desperate attempt not to fall from his lap as a string of curses leave your lips.

“WILLIAM MILLER!”

#alrighty #william ironhead miller #william miller #triple frontier #william ironhead miller x reader #william ironhead miller imagine #william miller imagine #william miller x reader #i had my earphones in the entire time writing this #and no music playing #i need to go tf to BED

135 notes · View notes

malereader-inserts · 5 years

Text

Tribulation

Fandom: Kingsman Pairing: Harry Hart x Son!Reader Summary: tribulation/ˌtrɪbjʊˈleɪʃ(ə)n/noun : a cause of great trouble or suffering. OR a state of great trouble or suffering. Word Count: 1993 A/n: HEY HAPPY ONE YEAR OF THE BLOG! 5TH OF JAN I MADE THIS BLOG AND LOOK AT US - ENJOY THIS FIC

Harry loved his son with his whole heart.

The problem was the fact that it was hard to show it, as a Kingsman you were never supposed to have a relationship and having a kid could risk the agent and the child itself to more potential harm.

You knew of your dad’s line of work, you were twelve years old - a wide-eyed boy with curiosity in his eyes and a lot of admiration to his father. As you grew up older, you grew to resent the man.

With the lack of affection and care, you’ve assumed that your father had even forgotten you had existed. Most mornings he had left the house and returning days later or late into the night. When you manage to bump into each other in the house it’s often awkward.

Harry wished he could be a better father, but he felt like he was too late to try. Moments when he returns home for tea, you always take your food away from the kitchen, refusing to eat with him. When he has a day off and suggest that you both should do some bonding, you would scoff and make up an excuse to do some University work.

He tried being a dad, telling you off and scowling when he sees the butterfly tattoo on your upper arm on your left. Tried to scowl at you when you end up getting jumped by taking a shortcut through the rough ends of London. Yet you dismissed them with equal rage and annoyance.

You somehow ended up calling him Harry rather dad, he just hadn’t been in your life so he had no right to be called a dad.

You wished he had tried harder when you were younger, you remember the nights when he would tuck you into bed and read you a bedtime story. Or telling tales of his missions and what Merlin had been doing lately, visiting your uncle James but he takes pride being called Lancelot.

When you turned ten, everything just seems to wash away. The tales of the missions, your visit to the headquarters, your worth to your father just gone.

It was amazing how your dad barely knew how old you were. He had assumed that you were the same age as Eggsy with the ripe age of twenty-three yet you stood younger than the desirable son at the age of twenty-one. Not much of a difference, yet Harry saw everything between the gap.

“Where you going young man?”

“Out,” You mumbled, shrugging your jacket on, “Not like you would care anyway, see you whenever.”

“(Y/n),” Harry had a warning tone, a glare that you basically became immune to.

“Harry!” You mocked.

“You know I care for you, don’t ever say that,” Harry scowled, and yet here you were rolling your eyes again, “Those people are bad news, the-”

“The world’s a piece of bad news and I’m here to protect you from the dangers of it,” You voiced back his words from a previous similar conversation, “Forget it, Harry, you make me feel like I’m not good enough.”

Typical attitude of a teenager/young adult as you slam the door shut. Harry could barely stop you when he hears the engine rev up outside his house, with you shouting in joy and glee. He watches a car speeding off, he shakes his head and sits back on his office chair.

An hour later, Eggsy came through the door with a grin, “Hey Harry!”

The boy was cheerful, sent a wave to the older man as he holds a white plastic bag with a takeaway.

“Eggsy.”

“Merlin’s on his way too,” Eggsy smiles, “He heard I bought KFC and wanted some - lads only, amirite?”

Eggsy grinned as there was a knock on the door which he had answered, Harry softly smiles, sitting on his office chair. Elbow leaning on the armrest and his hand covering his lips as his eyes flicker to the picture of you when you were eleven on his desk.

Eggsy making himself at home as he shrugs off his jacket whilst Merlin unpacks the takeaway on the desk, which Harry couldn’t complain.

“Hey, Harry, is this when you were young?” Eggsy asked, looking at a bookshelf, noticing a picture of you with your rugby uniform, aged fourteen, a grin on your lips as you hold a trophy in your hands, mucked from head to toe with dirt.

Harry looked over, remembering how he was on a mission during that game, but your mother had visited you and took the picture, it was one of the few memories you had left of her.

“My son, (Y/n),” Harry responded as Merlin looked at him with his eyebrow raised at the mention of you, “He’s currently out.”

“I didn’t know you had a son,” Eggsy continues, sitting across Harry and next t Merlin, “Why’d you pick me rather (Y/n)?”

“(Y/n) is emotionally driven rather logic paving the way, that and I never wanted to see my son in the field, he’s never showed any interest really.”

“That and Harry and his son don’t have the best of relationship,” Merlin continues, addressing the elephant in the room. Merlin gave his friend a sheepish smile, “Sorry.”

Eggsy looked awkward, he had noticed photos of you in the office, barely outside the room. He wondered if there was any reason behind them, but brushed it off as Harry continues to talk about you.

“I don’t have a good feeling tonight,”

You knew your father had bad guys, enemies, but you never thought as yourself worthy to be held against you will to be bait to your father. But, all you remember was going out with your friends for the night and calling for a taxi cab to take you home.

Next thing you knew, a needle was in your neck and everything was becoming fuzzy. So, here you were awake, your hands tied behind the chair and your legs roped with the legs of the chair.

“Where is Harry Hart?” A masked man with two other men with sharp objects stood behind the main man.

“Fuck knows,” You spat at him, “I’m not his fucking GPS.”

The man in the middle chuckled, “You’ve got an attitude, kid, tell me where your dad is or this will be less painful.”

You knew your dad could be home, yet, deep down inside you, you just couldn’t tell where he was because he is your blood. You don’t betray your own for your own safety. You clenched your hands into a fist as you glared at the three men.

“Give me your best fucking shot.”

“He’s missing, I know he is,” Harry gritted his teeth, “He might hate me, Merlin, but he would never run away - not having his whole life here.”

Merlin nodded, his finger typing furiously on the keyboard trying to locate the chip in your necklace, which was given by your mother. Your mother wasn’t part of the Kingsman but suggested to Harry if you were ever lost, missing, kidnapped or something along those lines the necklace would guide him to you.

You had been missing for two days and Harry hadn’t been thinking well. At first, he wondered if you were with your friends, but they had shown up wondering where you had disappeared off to which made the worry and anxiety sink into Harry.

Meanwhile, within the two days, you have never felt your body endure so much pain and aches. You didn’t know that different knives could do different damage and yet by now, you could identify which knife out of the six they had they were using on you. You’ve felt the burns from the lighter, cigarette burns on you as they smoke a couple and put them out by pressuring the lit end on your skin.

Sometimes, when they had a few drinks down them they would use their fist, the number of times you’ve been sent flying on the chair from their heavy punches where high. What you hated the most is when you refused to speak they would tip the chair onto its back legs as one covers your mouth and nose, flushing loads of water on to you. God, drowning wasn’t pleasant.

“Wanna talk yet?”

Lifting your head up slightly, the black eye, cut face as you spat blood out from your mouth. There was still a glare on your end if this was your head then fuck it.

“I’m never going to tell.”

The man stood in front of you, looked up at the two men by your side awaiting orders. He nodded, “Hold him down,” a swizz blade snapped out, “I’m skinning that butterfly tattoo off.”

Your eyes widen, pressure on your shoulders grew heavy. Despite your ever-growing hatred for your father, that was the only thing that kept the good memories of the older times alive. The blue butterfly was your dad’s favourite as you remembered correctly.

You tighten your grip on the chair and closed your eyes.

It was the last you saw the tattoo on you.

Harry knew he shouldn’t have burst into the enemy base camp, but the only thing he cared about was your survival whilst Roxy and Eggsy can take care of other matters. He wanted to grab you and take you to the agency hospital.

“Alright, to find (Y/n) you’ll need to use these directions...”

Merlin’s voice was drowned out in Harry’s thought as he gripped the rifle in hand. Eggsy and Roxy taking the lead in killing any people that tried to stop Harry from reaching you.

“Harry turn to the next room on the left!”

Harry didn’t hesitate as he holds the gun up and sees you, passed out he assumed, guarded by two men.

“Don’t touch him, don’t you fucking touch him.” Harry sneered as he starts to fire the gun, killing both the men.

Dropping to his knees, not caring if he was staining the suit, he placed the gun next to him as both his hands went to your face. His right hand to your neck to feel a shallow, weak pulse whilst his left hand tried to push your head upright.

“(Y/n)?” He murmured, “Oh, my child, I promised to protect you.”

You stirred softly, gently waking up as Harry took out a small Kingsman gadget to use a laser beam to untie you from the ropes. You were fast to open your eyes when you feel someone throwing your arm over their shoulder.

You whine, groan and moan - one after the other.

“I’ve got you.“ You hear your dad speak, holding your weight as your feet were just carrying as much as they could hold out, often stumbling over themselves, “Please be okay.”

“Dad?”

Your voice was broken, almost sounding like you were about to lose your voice. It was quiet and Harry was sure you’d probably start having delusions and hallucinations if you don’t stop the bleeding from a concerning stab wound. Your voice was soft as well, yet there was comfort within the tone.

Pressing your forehead against your father’s shoulder, your speech slurred as you felt your dad carry you to safety.

“I’m sorry I failed you, I should’ve been there,” Harry was guilty but there was movement in you, a tighter grip over his shoulders - as if it was a bad attempt to say that you disagreed.

“You could never fail me, dad, you always make me proud.”

Harry could have broken down in tears just then, you were so close to making the helicopter as Roxy and Eggsy shoot down people behind you two. Harry softly smiles.

“You got to stay awake,” Harry mused as you mumble about something it hurting and it was too difficult, “You know, your mum would be proud of you.”

“I don’t need her to be proud of me, I need yours.”

“Then you’ll always have it.”

#harry hart x reader #harry hart x male reader #harry hart imagine #kingsman imagine #x male reader #angst #kingsman #platonic

381 notes · View notes

jaydcstories · 4 years

Photo

Read this and previous chapters of THE RETREAT on my blog: JOHN DEE COOPER'S ALL-MALE SLAVERY STORIES

14.

Unsure exactly where they were heading, or if he was ever going to set eyes on his boy again, Paul followed Charles and Geoffrey through the concealed doorway at the back of the Barn. Confused noises — laughter, muffled screams and a sharp sound like the snapping of wood –- came from behind the closed door at the foot of a dimly lit staircase.

Their descent was hindered by the boy that Geoffrey had picked out to bring down with him. His hands and feet were in chains — at Geoffrey's insistence — which made it difficult for him to negotiate the steps. He was a handsome muscular boy, well endowed with a meaty cock. There were visible scars on his body that suggested he was no stranger to the Barn vaults.

Passing through the door at the bottom of the staircase, they found themselves on a ledge overlooking a subterranean chamber, the further reaches of which were lost in darkness. The area closest to them was bathed in an eerie blue light and was bustling with activity. Guests, many of them still wearing their Arabian Night costumes, were leading slaves around on leashes watched over by three or four men in black leather brandishing whips and canes. The activity was focussed around six large booths, three on either side. Only when Paul followed the others down to floor level did he get a full sense of the intoxicating atmosphere, the excited murmur of the guests, the drone of boys groaning, pleading — screaming!

This was a torture chamber!

Paul's first instinct was to turn round and run back upstairs. This wasn't for him. The granite faces and fixed stares of the guests dragging frightened boys around made him feel uncomfortable. The only thing that stopped him making his escape was Charles's hand on his shoulder.

"Take it easy," said Charles. "It's not as terrifying as it sounds. The slaves make a lot of noise, but it's all part of the game."

"What game?"

"Survival," said Charles with a grin. "Come and have a closer look."

Reluctantly Paul followed his uncle round from booth to booth but found little to settle his qualms. Everywhere healthy young bodies were being tortured, crushed and mangled, lashed with whips, burnt with hot wax, electrocuted or simply being used as punch bags.

In one booth Paul watched a boy being dangled upside down over a tank of water. His wrists were bound to his thighs so there was nothing he could do to protect himself as he was lowered headfirst into the water. Paul couldn't see the point of it, but neither could he take his eyes off the slave's sleek muscular body tensing up as he struggled to keep the water out of his lungs despite being beaten and prodded by the two men who were playing with him. Several times he tried to lift his head out of the water but was roughly forced back down.

"He's a tough beauty, this one," said the man holding him down when he noticed Paul hovering. "They don't usually last more than four or five dips before they go limp. This one's been under so many times I've lost count. If you put your hand on his stomach you can feel his muscles bunching up in panic. Do you want to see him come? He's got a hungry cock that just gets harder and harder. We've worked him off twice already."

But Paul had seen enough. The boy had gone into spasms, thrashing about trying to get his head out of the water, to the delight of the two men who were stroking his cock and rubbing his balls with glee. Paul wanted to grab hold of them, fling them out of the way and stop the boy from drowning. Instead he backed out of the booth and left them to it. He walked straight into Geoffrey who was dragging his boy about on a chain.

"Can't make up my mind what to do with him," he said. "Most of the booths are taken up. I'm waiting for a gap. What do you think? I rather fancy doing something with his balls," he said, grabbing the boy's testicles. "They're big and bouncy. I fancy stringing him up by them, see how far they'll stretch — or there's that thing they have with screws for squashing balls. I think there's one round here somewhere. I've always wanted to have a go at that."

Paul said nothing. He could see that the boy was trying desperately not to react to what the old man was saying, although he must be churning up inside, thought Paul. What a contrast between his cool control and the lecherous ramblings of the old fool who had him in his clutch.

"Have you seen my uncle?" asked Paul. He was sick of all this cold, heartless cruelty and just wanted to get away.

"He's down the end there, playing with a crossbow of all things!"

Paul's immediate thought was to leave his uncle to it and find his own way back to the house, but he still needed the old man's good favour and didn't want to upset him, so, turning a deaf ear to the mounting cacophony of shrieks and groans, and trying not to look at the trolleys piling up with limp, possibly lifeless, bodies, he went in search of Charles.

What upset Paul more than anything else was the contempt these stony-hearted guests seemed to have for the slaves that had been put at their disposal. They appeared to have no inkling how privileged they were. Of course they had every right to inflict pain on the boys if they wanted to, they were slaves after all, but surely there should be a genuine purpose behind it, and if that purpose was to gain pleasure then that pleasure had to be on a higher level of sensitivity than the blind brutality that was on display here. Apart from anything else it was a terrible waste of healthy slave stock. He wondered what the Baron would think about it. No wonder he'd stayed away. He was a man who appreciated the true value of a slave.

He found his uncle at the far end, past the last of the booths, standing in front of a curtain with two of his cronies. He was holding a crossbow, just as Geoffrey had said. He was aiming it through a gap in the curtain and his cronies were egging him on. He took the shot and they shouted "Bravo!"

"Ah, here he is," exclaimed Charles, catching sight of Paul. "I thought I'd lost you. Come and look at this."

Paul was about to make his excuses and leave when he paused in astonishment. Through the gap in the curtains he could see, buried in a pool of soft light at the far end of what looked like a second dark chamber, three naked bodies hanging on crosses, with hoods draped over their heads. At first Paul thought they were wooden effigies then he noticed one of them move. They were real. This was some kind of archery game with living slaves as targets. Paul was speechless.

"It's really quite simple to get the hang of," explained Charles holding out the crossbow, clearly expecting Paul to want to have a shot himself. "There's a telescopic eye-piece and it sends a laser beam to help you find your target. But don't worry. They're not real arrows. They're electrically charged darts that just pierce the flesh enough to administer a nasty shock. Cunning little beast."

Paul muttered something about not feeling too good and needing to get some fresh air, but Charles was having none of it. He thrust the crossbow into Paul's hands and took him to one side.

"Don't be a fool. You've made a good impression so far. These fellows have influence. You don't want to behave like an idiot in front of them. Enter into the spirit of the game. Have some fun. You don't have to hit anything. Just look as if you're enjoying yourself."

Right now Paul hated his Uncle. He hated this place. He wished he'd never come here. But his life was a mess and his uncle was the only one who could help. He had to play along. Once he'd got back on his feet then he could take control of his life. Maybe get in touch with the Baron. Yes, the Baron...

"Alright. So how does it work?" he said at last. "Good boy. Here let me show you."

Peering through the tiny lense, Paul was confronted with the close-up of a living torso. He was pointing the crossbow at the boy on the far left, intending to hit the section of wooden cross just above his head, but something made his eye linger on the boy's body. It hung so still and vulnerable Paul wondered if the boy was already unconscious. He was breathing — he could see the stomach move — but there was something of the likeness of a corpse about it, the way the head drooped and the arms were stretched taught and the knees were buckled. Like all the slaves in this weird establishment, the boy had the smooth body of an athlete. He was also sporting an erection which Paul found curious. Perhaps the darts were harmless after all.

He fingered the trigger nervously. The tiny red laser spot was hovering around the boy's navel. Charles was leaning in and whispering, "Just squeeze gently" and before Paul could stop himself the shot was on its way hitting its mark smartly with an impact that rippled through the boy's entire body. There was a muffled yelp. The boy hauled himself up to catch his breath and with an immense and painful effort shifted his position, then after a second's pause was still again, moaning pitifully underneath his hood.

Paul relaxed his hold on the trigger and took a deep breath. That had been more exhilarating than he had expected.

"Bulls-eye!" exclaimed one of his uncle's friends who had been following the shot with a tiny pair of binoculars.

"Super shot!" cried the other, giving Paul a triumphant pat on the back.

"He's a natural. Straight off the mark! " said Charles proudly. "Paul, meet Mike and Tom Bronson. Old friends of mine."

The brothers said they'd heard a lot about Paul from his uncle, who had been singing his praises. They hoped they'd get to know each other a whole lot better.

"Now how about going for the middle one?" Charles whispered.

He's up to something, thought Paul. "Why are they wearing hoods?" he asked.

Charles said it was so they couldn't tell when the next shot was going to be fired. Paul wasn't convinced that was the only reason, but at least it was clear now that the darts only caused superficial damage to the slaves — and it was certainly a novel sport. Using living flesh as a target was pretty exhilarating.

Following his uncle's suggestion, he focussed on the boy in the middle. There was something familiar about him, but it was difficult to be certain because the body was constantly moving. It was more contorted than the others and seemed to be struggling with a lot more pain. Then Paul noticed there was no actual cross. The boy was suspended in mid-air with his ankles fixed in such a way as to make it impossible for him to hold himself upright for more than a few seconds. It was annoying and made him a difficult target, so Paul switched to the boy on the right, who was spread out on a normal cross, and shot him in the chest. The boy howled a lot and threw himself about but like the first one quickly settled down again.

While he reloaded, his uncle explained about the "crucifixion without a cross" and how the slave's continual shifting made him a challenging target.

"Now let's make it a bit more interesting," he said, with a wink to his friends. "These gentlemen have wagered that you can't hit the middle boy with three clear shots, one in the stomach and one on each thigh."

"Well, I think we're getting a little bit ahead of ourselves," Paul protested. "I've only just got the hang of it. It's hardly a fair bet."

"Nonsense. I know you can do it. Three shots. Stomach and both thighs. They've generously wagered enough to cover your debts. If you succeed you'll be made up."

"And if I fail...?"

"Well — I lose and you'll get nothing. Don't worry, I'll find another way to win the money back — I always do! And you'll just have to hang on to your creditors a bit longer."

"I don't know..."

"I'll buy the slave for you as well, if we win, as a little extra reward."

"Well..."

"Ah, now," said one of the cronies, "if the slave is going to be part of the bet then I think we should have him if you lose."

Charles seemed satisfied with that and they shook hands. The bet was sealed.

Paul was feeling under pressure now.

"I don't know that this is a good idea," he protested.

"Have another look at the target" said Charles, signalling to someone on the other side of the curtain. "I think you might change your mind." When Paul looked again, the hoods had been removed. The three figures were looking more human, as human as slaves can ever look, and more pathetic, with misery sketched all over their faces. They must have been suffering a long time, thought Paul.

It took him a while to register who the middle boy was, but when he did he realised with a flash of anger that his uncle had set all this up. It was another one of his tests. He'd kept the boy hidden, probably tortured him, and now he'd had him crucified and to win him back Paul was going to have to shoot him in the legs and stomach.

Was it worth it? The boy was so wrought and twisted that he hardly resembled the boy that had been such a delight to play with last night. There was even something extremely unattractive in the way his body kept lurching about on the ropes.

Paul was all ready to storm off and let the boy suffer his fate, when it occurred to him that by doing so his uncle would probably lose the bet by default and there would be no money to bail him out. He'd be right back in the same old mess as when he started.

So reluctantly, and still simmering with anger, he picked up the crossbow and took aim.

1 note · View note

thewildwaffle · 6 years

Text

Abduction - Chapter 9

If you’ve been reading along, or if you have a comment of some kind, please leave feedback! and thanks to everyone who has been - it’s really helped me stay motivated. This is the longest I’ve actually stayed with a story like this, which is seriously amazing! Thanks everyone!

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

***

Loud! Oh my heck it’s so loud!

It sounded like the most annoying fire alarm ever created - and he had heard a lot of annoying fire alarms in his life. He’d even started a few.

The equipment on the walls rattled with each ship quake. “Ooooohhhhhh, we are going to die,” Mike droned.

“Those big laser beams are still getting through the shields!” Wenona had been sitting by the window in her usual spot when the Gladius arrived on this hellish mess. She’d stayed frozen to the spot since. The ship shook violently again, knocking Mike to the floor.

Oh freak, this can’t be how I go out, not after everything else I’ve been through.

“Human Mike, Human Wenona! Are you alright?” Demfar scrambled into the room, his four tentacle-like legs were spread wide to help absorb much of the ship’s tremors and shudders. “It’s the Burnti Blockade - it’s an all-out war now and we’ve shown up right in the middle of it!”

“Really, Demfar?” Mike grimaced as he was nearly knocked over by another particularly strong blast to the ship’s hull, “Really? We hadn’t noticed.”

“Human Mike, how could you not have noticed? We are very much under attack as we speak! This is not normal!”

Demfar looked up worriedly at the light panels as they started flickering. “Oh, I do hope the med bay’s generators hold up. I fear we might have a few new patients in here once this is done.”

“We’re returning fire!” Wenona yelled from the window. She was standing now, pressing her face closer to the glassy surface to get a better view. Mike could see around her as yellow bursts erupted from canons that must have been beyond their view, which shot out in rapid succession towards the looming enemy ships.

“About time,” Mike murmerred. He felt so helpless.This wasn’t something he could just punch or fight his way out of. What could he do? Nothing. Just sit by and watch while his life was on the line. We’re going to die.

“Mike! Wenona!” Mike jumped as a familiar deep voice shouted right behind him. Jebannuck ran into the room, hardly stopping as he grabbed Mike’s arms while still in motion and quickly crossed the room and reached for Wenona’s hand. “Humans, with me, NOW.”

“What? Where?” Wenona pulled her hand away but stood and took a step towards Jebannuck.

“I’ll explain on the way,” he extended his arm hurriedly as a gesture for her to follow. As he turned, he nodded to Demfar, “Orders from the captain, you’re relieved from their care.”

Demfar looked like he was about to respond, but at that moment, the main lights went completely out. After a few seconds, there was a low hum and blue emergency lights started glowing from inset panels along the walls.

“Frewan,” Jebannuck cursed and pulled the humans with him through the door. Neither one of them protested as they ran to keep up.

Mike could feel his heart beating faster and faster. His eyelids felt like they were frozen open at the widest they could go. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, but his senses felt so alert that it was hard to process everything. There was one thing he knew though. He felt certain of it. They were all going to die.

He’d felt fear before. This wasn’t that. He’d felt panic and primal rage before, when he and Wenona escaped their confines on the Montauk ship. This wasn’t those either. This was dread, as he had never experienced it before. Heavy. Final. Absolute. Everything around him felt distant and detached, like it was happening to someone else and he was just watching, doomed to whatever outcome they all ended up with.

Jebannuck was talking as they ran. He tried listening, but the words felt meaningless in his ears. There was an escape pod. Somethings about an escape pod. They’d be back later? Jeb was talking so fast, it was hard to keep up. It was all Mike could do to keep up with Jeb’s near sprint of a pace. They turned corners and rushed past corridors. They reached a wide section of the hall with door and window ports all along one wall. Mike had seen this place before, had passed it before. He’d seen crew members watching stars pass at warp speed during their lounging breaks. None of that now.

Jebannuck headed immediately to one of the small control panels next to a door panel and began punching in commands.

“Both of you, over here, now.”

Mike felt his legs moving forward, but his eyes wandered towards the window ports just off to the side. There were a lot of lights and beams flashing in various colors. A lot of ships. One ship with a red hull looked like it was heading straight at them.

A loud “woosh”-ing noise brought Mike’s attention back to the interior of the Gladius. The door next to Jeb had opened. Inside was a small room.

Oh, duh, Mike thought, Escape pod. We’re getting out of here.

The pod had four belt harnesses inside, two on each side. In the middle was a small navigation console, like the ones on the bridge, but much, much smaller. There were also what appeared to be, storage bays overhead and under the harness seats.

“Get in. Quickly. Don’t mess with the controls, I’ve set it up for you. Gamnut 4 is a habitable planet, but by no means the safest. You’ll be in one of the planet’s more temperate zones. We’ll be back to pick you up the moment it’s safe here. Don’t wander off from the pod,” He inhaled and pointed directly at Mike, “Don’t. Do. Anything. Stupid.”

Mike didn’t feel like he had the capacity to fire back with a snappy comeback. He didn’t have the time either. Jeb ushered them both into the pod and made sure they strapped in. As soon as they were secured, he bounded back out the door and entered a few more commands to the control panel.

“Human Mike, Human Wenona, please be sure that you-”

Jebannuck was interrupted. Loudly.

Whatever he was going to say was swallowed up in the loudest explosion Mike had ever heard. Glass, metal, and debris were flying everywhere. The concussive wave knocked Jebannuck, headfirst, inside the pod, throwing him onto the floor where he rolled and smacked hard into the base of the navigation console. A few broken beams flew in behind him, and hit the floor. Then they began sliding back out. In fact, a lot of dust and debris were starting to slide back. If Mike’s ears hadn’t just been bombarded by the explosion, he would have heard a loud sucking sound.

Before he could put together what the heck just happened, the doors to the pod slammed shut and sealed. Mike felt the pod blast off from the ship. He could see the Gladius out the small porthole window on the door. There was a jagged hole near where they had just shot away. It was getting harder and harder to see it as the ship grew smaller and smaller.

The pod must have been really speeding along.

Mike looked at the navigation console. He felt his hands twitch. He wanted nothing more than to reach over and take control. Too bad he was strapped in. It also didn’t help that the controls were all in standardized Juntag code. He hoped that whatever Jebannuck had entered earlier would get them where they were going, and get them there in one piece.

Jeb. Oh frewan, Jeb. He still hadn’t gotten back up. The pod jostled on its course and it looked like Jebannuck was maybe starting to stir and shake his head, but once their trajectory was stabilized, it was clear that the only movement actually from Jeb were the dark gray bruises spreading across his skin. His chest rose and fell slowly, but shallowly.

Mike scrambled and fumbled with the clips and straps that held him fastened to the harness.

“Mike, no! What are you doing?” Wenona’s voice was low and sounded more like a raspy whisper. “Stay buckled up, what if we crash?”

Mike had finally gotten a few straps loose and was nearly able to wriggle free of the remaining bindings. “If we crash, then Jeb’s gonna die. We’d all die, probably. I’ll hurry.”

Once out of the harness, Mike crouched down by Jebannuck’s side. The pod jostled again, making Mike nearly lose his balance on top of Jeb. Instead, he caught himself before completely falling over, but not before he smacked his head on the navigation console’s base. He saw white stars flash in his eyes and he muttered a few choice Earth swears. “Are you okay?” Wenona began unclipping her buckles and straps before Mike, through clenched teeth, grunted and waved for her to stop. She stopped, bit her lip, and refastened the few buckles she had managed to get loose. “Whatever you’re doing, do it quick and strap back in. We’re still in a war zone, remember.”

Mike pressed his hands hard against his forehead where he’d hit, took a deep breath and set back to work. He reached under Jebannuck’s arms and tried picking him up.

Nope. Too big. Not going to work. Dumb idea.

Mike did get Jeb up into a sitting position though, and that allowed him to grab the unconscious alien around the torso and drag him under the empty harness seat next to his own. He braced himself against his harness when the pod bucked and trembled again. Taking another deep breath, Mike tried again to lift Jebannuck off the ground and into the seat. He got him halfway and tried reaching for the loose straps against the wall. Using his shoulder, his elbow, and a few times, his head, Mike was able to prop Jebannuck up long enough to strap, clip, and buckle the comatose sefra into the harness seat. More or less.

“Mike, the controls are beeping. I can’t see what it’s about from here.”

Before he could get to the console, the pod lurched hard to the side. The lights from the ceiling panel went out. Mike flew off his feet into the wall above the last spare harness, but before he hit, something… changed.

The impact was soft. Well, it still kind of hurt, but not nearly as much as it should have. Mike’s first cognitive thoughts were that maybe the wall was made out of a spongy material. Or maybe he died and was now a ghost. That would maybe explain why he was floating.

Oh wait. This is space. Stuff floats in space usually.

“What hit us, or we hit, or whatever, it must have knocked out the artificial gravity,” Mike pushed off from the wall. He glided across the pod then he launched himself into a slow motion backflip. The lights flickered back on slowly.

“I freakin’ hate space. We’re gonna die out here. Not even on the ship. Just, out here by ourselves,” Wenona was fighting a panic in her voice. It was subtle, but Mike heard it.

He caught himself on the top of his harness and pushed himself back down to the floor.

“We’ll be okay.” He wasn’t sure about that, but what else could you say? Yeah, you’re right, we’re all going to die?

“We’ve got to be almost there by now.” He strapped himself back in, and looked at the navigation display. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what the writing was about, but one of the graphs seemed to be mapping out their trajectory. “Got to be getting close,” he mumbled, mostly to himself.

They were getting close. It didn’t take long before the feeling of gravity returned - natural gravity - from the planet. The pod shook again, though much less violently than before, as it entered the atmosphere.

What’s this planet’s name again? Gambit? Gamner? It had a number with it too. Don’t remember what that was.

He took a deep breath as he glanced out the port window again, hoping to get a look at the planet. The window was facing the wrong way and showed only the stars as they slowly faded into a teal sky.

He hoped he wouldn’t be calling this planet “home” for too long.

#abduction #chapter 9 #wenona #mike #jebannuck #gladius #ess gladius #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #aliens #space #novel #writing

237 notes · View notes

tyrantisterror · 6 years

Note

We've heard about your ideal Godzilla portrayal and design - do you have a similar ideal for kaiju like King Ghidorah and Gigan, who mostly don't have a characterization beyond "bad guy"?

Well first off, I take issue with the idea that they don’t have characterization. While they may not be the cunning Joker-esque supervillains a lot of fans turn them into, Ghidorah and Gigan do have personalities beyond just being “bad guys.” The combination of the puppetry and sound effects give Ghidorah a distinctly manic vibe no other kaiju in the series can match - he’s a giggling monster who flails around in hysteric glee while razing the world, shooting gravity beams in random directions haphazardly. There’s a distinct chaotic joy in how Ghidorah goes about his rampages that no other kaiju in the series has. As for Gigan, his creator said he was designed with the theme of a “dirty fighter,” and he totally lives up to it - he’s a thug with a billion tricky weapons who runs the minute things go South.

Are they the most in depth characterizations in the history of film? Nah, but they suffice.

If I were to build on those... well, I like the implication that Ghidorah is what Godzilla could have become had the story gone the route it always threatened to, i.e. a monster that destroys worlds. That’s the big concern in every movie where Godzilla plays a villain - that, if he isn’t stopped, Godzilla will annihilate all of humanity and end life on earth. Ghidorah is a monster that has destroyed at least one planet, and if we take that to be as meaningful a connection as I do, then the difference in Ghidorah and Godzilla’s behavior is pretty stark. Godzilla’s default emotion is fury, whereas Ghidorah’s is glee. Godzilla treats his rampage as revenge, whereas for Ghidorah it’s pleasure. Godzilla still has a purpose behind his fury - there’s a wound he’s lashing out over. Ghidorah’s motives devolved beyond that - he’s not the wrath of nature, but just a force of destruction for the sake of destruction. If you take the idea that all the kaiju are essentially nature spirits in varying degrees of corruption, Ghidorah is what happens when the corruption is TOTAL - he’s past the brink, a monster that is incapable of returning to his former balanced state.

I really like the idea that Ghidorah and Mothra are the two extremes that all other kaiju form a spectrum between - Mothra is a kaiju as it should be, a guardian of nature, and Ghidorah is what happens when civilization’s relationship with nature completely deteriorates, becoming little more than just a wild force of destruction and entropy. Godzilla is firmly in the middle between them.

I think a lot of that interpretation is already in the text of the Godzilla series as is, just subtly - but I’ve never been shy about admitting that I can be guilty of reading too much into things. Regardless, if I were to “alter” Ghidorah I’d just make these things more blatant. I don’t think he actually needs a lot of added characterization - a giggling golden space dragon that spits gravity beams in all directions and constantly spasms with manic glee is pretty good material to work with. There’s a great tonal dissonance in having this beautiful, glittering dragon move in a completely daffy fashion while unleashing unimaginable havoc - there’s something so obviously off about it that makes him work really well. Not a lot needs to be changed.

(for even more words to say the same shit I said here, please check out my Ghidorah ICHF)

Likewise, I don’t feel like there needs to be a lot added to Gigan. He’s already got a great punk rock look going, and loads of dirty tricks up his sleeves - buzzsaws, hammer claw hands, laser beams, etc. Just make what’s already there more blatant - play up the sadism and the cowardice, maybe give him a few more hidden weapons (there was one piece of art I saw where Gigan’s hammer claw hand popped open to shoot a spiked ball and that would be cool as heck to see), and you’ve got a perfectly fine villain.

As for designs...

Some people try to play up the “space monster” angle for Ghidorah, often going in some very Cthulhu mythos directions, but I think that misses the point. A dragon that comes from the stars is a very classic mythological image, and the mythological roots of the monsters in the Godzilla series are often overlooked by western fans. I’d like a design that plays that up rather than downplaying it - which, in the end, is what the originaly design did, with the crescent moon shaped horn and mane of hair. I’d like to throw in the crown of horns from the Heisei design because they look cool, and the spikey tail clubs of the GMK suit because they’re another set of weapons for the golden king of terror.

As for Gigan, I prefer the Showa colors - they’re a little less obvious for a bad guy and very striking. I also think it’s be nice to have a design that’s more obviously a cyborg. Showa Gigan looks mostly organic, while Final Wars Gigan looks like a robot that’s super into bondage. There’s gotta be a middle ground with some more clearly defined robot AND fleshy bits, and I think it would be neat to see.

#ask-drakos

58 notes · View notes

ermalmeta · 6 years

Text

i was tagged by @willevince, thanks!!

RULES: answer the 11 questions. Make 11 of your own and tag 11 people!

(okay i’m like halfways through the questions and sto scrivendo la divina commedia so i’ll put this under a cut)

1. If you could change one thing in your life, what would it be and why? as shitty as it might sound, i would want my father to be away from me. i don’t want him dead, just away from me.

2. If you were given three wishes, what would you ask for and why? good question. 1, to be in the point of my transition i want to be in now. which means be on testosterone and have had top surgery. might seem like a shallow wish, but other trans people would understand that it’s not just a matter of how you look. dysphoria upsets me greatly and if i could already be transitioning, i would be a happier, healthier person. 2, to live near my boyfriend. not sure if with my boyfriend, maybe we’re both not ready for that, but at least like... not live on opposite parts of the world. because as much as i believe in long distance relationship and our relationship is great, it’d be so much better if i could be physically near him whenever we both want and need to be. 3, for all my mental health issues to be... not gonna say cured because i’m not sure i want that. i just want my mental illnesses under control. i want to not be so affected by them. i want to be sure i won’t end up in the hospital with tubes in my stomach or whatever again after a moment of weakness (or courage, honestly not sure), you know.

3. Imagine you found out the world is gonna end in one hour, what would be the last things you do? realistically speaking, i would probably just be really quiet, hug my cat if i were able to do that and do whatever the people around me told me to do. i’m not good with endings, i don’t know what to do when i have to say goodbye, i would just suck at like... doing what i would want to do, because i wouldn’t know what that’d be.

4. What is the one artist/band/actor/whatever that touched you the most/changed your life? How did they do it? honestly, this is a hard question to answer, because i have to pick just one. i’ve had various people be that one person (or people, whatever) in different times in my life. pippo inzaghi, marco mengoni, fernando torres, doors, heath ledger, muse, petrarca (shut up i know i’m lame), twenty one pilots... a lot. i’ve kinda always needed someone to be my reason to go on, my reason to be strong, all that. BUT okay i need to answer the question. i can’t pick one though because it’s 2 people and they both changed my life. so, first: steven gerrard. he honestly was, is and always will be my hero. i’ve been a liverpool fan for 10 years and although the very first reason why i started watching lfc games wasn’t stevie (that’s how i call him, that’s how we fans call him so i’ll call him that from now on), he was a huge factor in why i stayed with this club. and believe me, i stayed through really tough times. now, you might think, what could a football player possibly do to change your life so much that he ends up being in this answer? the thing is, it’s not one thing stevie did, it’s just the way he is. the person he is. because that’s what is most important about him to me, although he also is my favorite football player ever, it’s him as a human being. he wasn’t afraid of showing his weaknesses, but at the same time, being a leader of his team, of being strong for himself and for others. he was always the one to metterci la faccia (idk how to translate, the one who stands up for something?). he deals (or dealt, mostly, i think) with anxiety and it was known among fans of english football, journalists, everyone, he seeked help for his mental health issues. that meant so much to me especially some years ago when i first heard about this, because i myself struggled (i still do) a lot but couldn’t talk about it with anyone. now i’m gonna tell you about a really personal thing, also trigger warning for self harm ahead, but i think it really shows how much stevie has helped me. so, i’ve struggled with self harm for 5 years now. but the first time i wanted to hurt myself was more than 5 years ago. i was laying in my bed and i just couldn’t stop thinking about it, i couldn’t move, i couldn’t cry, anything. then i looked up at my wall and saw a picture of steven gerrard that i had there. i still couldn’t move or do anything, but i remember i was like, no, no, no. don’t do it. he wouldn’t want you to. after a bit it was my cat who came to me and managed to make me come out of that state completely, i hugged her and felt better. after that, thinking about him has saved me from hurting myself countless times. i did eventually, as i said, give in. but still, even now, he helps with not relapsing sometimes. he’s just so important to me, i want to write a million things but i already wrote too much. sorry about that. and since i already wrote too much, i won’t talk about the second person, i mean you all know how much he means to me and if you wanna know more, shoot me an ask. it’s ermal meta obviously. seriously, if i start talking about him i will never shut up. so i’ll save you all from it.

5. Imagine you were given the power to rule over your country singlehandedly, what would you change first and why? god do you know how fucked up italy is, how am i supposed to choose, what the fuck. i think i would simply put in positions of power people who actually care about the citizens and actually know what they’re doing, because i’m not the right person to rule over a country. but also first i would just finally fucking give lgbt+ people fucking equal rights because come the fuck on we EXIST

6. Do you think it’s more important to love or to be loved? Why? i think in a healthy relationship of any kind, you need to have both. you need to love and be loved. but i think that when you’re growing up, when you’re a kid, it’s more important to be loved. especially by your parents or guardians. because if those people don’t love you, it’s gonna fuck you up long term.

7. If you could have one and any super power (mind reading, flying, teleporting, laser beams shooting out of your eyes…) which would you choose and why? turning invisible because i wouldn’t have to worry about how other people see me and my body, i could take a bus without my mind screaming at me “see, no one here sees you as a man so you’re clearly Not Trans Enough” and shit like that. also i could probably sneak into some places like concerts... but i would feel too guilty to do that honestly dfjsjk

8. What is your favorite movie and why? What does it mean to you? i don’t think i have one DEFINITIVE favorite movie, but right now it’s moonlight. because it tells an important story and it tells it in a brilliant way, with amazing cinematography and acting. it’s not really about me because i’m white and the characters being black is a core part of the movie, but i’m a gay man and it means a lot to me to see stories about gay people. (and black gay people need stories like this one)

9. Imagine for one night everything is legal (woo, Purge!), what would you do, if anything? Why? i would vandalize salvini’s house with the gayest shit i could think of i would do more serious damage to him because he deserves the worst but i’m not a violent person like i literally would not be able to and i would do the same to fontana’s house and every single homophobic, racist, fascist piece of shit in this fucking country. why? i mean, do i need to explain?

10. What do you desire the most and why? freedom. freedom from my father, freedom to be myself, freedom from my “demons”. just freedom. because i’ve felt trapped for as long as i can remember and for as long as i can remember when i thought about what i wanted all i could think of was ‘to be free’. i’ve tried to be free in ways that were just bad for myself. but i’m still not free. perché la libertà è sacra come il pane.

11. Is there anything you need to get off your chest right now? ... don’t get me started. i feel like no one cares about me and how i feel, to sum it up

MY QUESTIONS:

what’s the most important lesson you’ve learned in your life so far?

would you rather learn and be fluent in a language in one day or learn how to play an instrument perfectly in one day?

what’s your favorite movie genre? why?

one of my favorite lyrics is “in una spiaggia resta unico ogni granello di sabbia” (“in a beach every grain of sand remains unique”). what do you think about it?

what’s your biggest regret?

if you could tell the person or people who’s hurt you the most in your life everything you want or have always wanted to tell them, what would you say to them?

what’s a book that you couldn’t stop thinking about for hours after you read it and why?

do you have any song lyrics tattooed? if so, which one(s)? if not, would you like to someday?

are you a person who cries a lot? do you think there can be strength in crying?

what’s the best purchase you’ve ever made?

think about this last year. have you changed? how so? and do you like that you’ve changed?

i tag @biziometa, @italiangorilla, @tanhaiyaan, @the-infamous-wine-bottle, @kseniazhuk, @f-michielin, @carometamoro, @ermal-metal, @etalambda, @gentlepluck and @pensierieforme

#oh my god tagging so many people made me anxious i feel like i'm annoying you all #just skip my answers and go to the questions TBH!!!!!#i wrote poems not answers #or don't read at all it's fine you don't have to do this #no pressure #about me

10 notes · View notes

chaoticremedy · 6 years

Link

Sera entered the cave, the torched lighting up the vast cavern, the sound of running water coming from deep below. Her boots crunched on the gravel as she went farther into the cave.This mountain had taken everything they had, there had been no other beings in sight, no wild animals, not even a bird.“It’s supposed to be here,” Boris’s deep voiced boomed as he viewed the map. He held it at different angles trying to figure out how to fold the map back up into the small layers it once was. Growling he gave up and shoved the paper into his backpack and zipped it back up.Sera turned around to look at the large man behind her, “Did you just -” She looked at his backpack and then at him after the paper crumpled. “You did didn’t you?” She rolled her eyes and walked towards her.“I could have helped you you big orge.” She smacked his shoulder lightly. “What if we can’t read it anymore!”Boris waved around the cavern “It’s supposed to be here, why would we need that piece of garbage any more?”Sera looked at him in awe, “You’re kidding right? We still need to get back to the village!”Boris shrugged his large shoulders, “We’ll figure it out once we have the relic.” He grabbed the torch from Sera and walked to the back of the cavern.He found a cliff there, overlooking a large underground river. He looked around, the map gave a location, but nothing more. It had to be here, his sources were never wrong.Sera was running her hands against the large cave walls, he gazed over at her and admired as she focused on her goal. She was the opposite of him, soft, kind, gentle, he was rough, loud, and dealt with no one’s shit.He was surprised when she had came to him, after not talking for many years, offering him a job. Saying she needed his expertise, and nothing more. It was like the seven years apart had never happened.She had only said she had been contacted, they were paying good money for an ancient relic, but the trek was rough, they couldn’t find anyone else to take the job.He walked over to her and started reaching above her, combing the rocks in the same patterns she was doing, however above where her shore sature could reach.“So,” he glanced down at her, “What exactly are we looking for?”“I was told it would be in a room, and looking at this place, there is not obvious rooms!”“What if it’s down there,” He motioned to the edge of the cliff.“We used all of our rope getting up to this place, may as well take our chances here before we commit suicide climbing down that wall.”The continued to search, as they got to the cliff he looked down once more.“Are you sure it’s not down there?”“No,” she snapped and went back to looking, “but, come here will you?” he walked over to her. “Try to move this.” She motioned to a rock on the ground. She pushed it with her foot and it didn’t budge.“I know you said you needed muscle but Sera, jeez it’s just a rock.” He picked her up playfully, she let out a loud yelp, and he set her aside. Reaching down to move the rock he grunted, it didn’t move. “What the?”She nodded, “Told you it wouldn’t be down there, now how do you think it activates?” She knelt on the ground and opened her pack.“You were the one with the information,” he watched her rummage and pull out a small figure. It looked like a small cat. “Sera, please tell me you haven’t turned into some crazy cat lady?” she glared up at him.“No you baboon, Look at the rock,” She pointed to the rock and he bent down to take a closer look. On the top of it was an indent, it made no sense and iaf it was just him, he would have ignored it.Not bothering to get up Sera crawled over to the rock and set the small cat figure inside the indent. It fit perfectly. Moments later a loud scraping sound came from in front of them as a large sone started moving revealing a tunnel leading deeper into the mountain.“A cat key? Sera, what is this we are after?”“I told you no questions.”“But, it’s a cat.” She glared at him, stood and went to retrieve her pack. She motioned to him to enter the cave. He entered, the torch light illuminating ahead of them.They looked at the walls, covered in pictures of cats and dogs, pictures showing great battles fought between the two species.“Sera,” Boris’s voice was all but scolding.“No questions” she cut him off quickly, grabbed the torch and moved forward.The tunnel eventually opened into a grand room, and in the middle sat a large stone table with something small in the middle. Nothing ordained the stone slab, but there was nothing else in the room.Sera walked to the slab and looked at the item on it. She slowly reached to pick it up, but heard a loud bark behind her.Boris and she turned to look, quickly filing into the cave, in an unbelieved orderly fashion was an army of corgis. Each stout body covered in head to toe armor, their teeth showing, they weren’t normal dog teeth, but looked to be much sharper, each one snarled at the two as they liked up blocking the only exit.“What the fu-” Boris let out, moving to stand between Sera and the dogs. One of the larger dogs stepped forward and let out an echoing growl.“Dear Sera, you’ve found what we need. This alone will stop our enemies.”“They can talk?” Boris’s mouth dropped open as he looked at the furry figures in front of him.“You think humans are really the smartest beings on earth? As you tear eachother apart and kill our planet?” They couldn’t tell if the dog let out a bark or a laugh.Sera stepped around Boris and scanned the army, there had to be at least fifty of them, fifty little poof tails, small snouts, and vicious teeth.“Who are you?” Sera’s hands clenched into fists as she took as step closer. The volume of growls increased with each step.“I am Xanos, leader of the Corgmy”“Corgmy?” Sera questioned.“Yes, Corgmy you stupid human, it is the uprising of corgis against the races that are determined to kill this land.”Sera was speechless as she looked at the leather clad dogs in front of her.“What?” was all she managed to say.“You think you were really sent here for some relic, by some human? Oh dear girl this was all a set up. See we do not have opposable thumbs, and needed someone to assist us in getting this far.”Boris turned around to look at the table, to see the relic they were sent to get. It was a large bag filled with herbs.He grabbed the bag and turned to face the floof in front of him. “What is this?” He held up the bag, one of the dogs Jumped for Sera teeth bared. She jumped back and the dog landed where she had just been standing.Xanos let out a loud bark and the dog whimpered, backing up to its place in line.“That is how we defeat the cats idiot human.” Boris looked at the bag then to the group.“Cats?” He looked closer at the bag, “Jesus christ you’ve got to be kidding me.” He opened the bag and sniffed, “Catnip? Sera we came here for Catnip?”Suddenly the wall behind them crashed down, rocks flew by them, Boris grabbed Sera and covered her with his body. He grunted as he felt his back being cut up by the debrie.Loud barks came followed by a slight hissing sound.“Xanos!” A high pitched voice came from behind them. Boris looked up and cursed, jumping through the newly made entrance, and up onto any surface they could find were cats, they also wore armor like the dogs, but as far as he could tell, their teeth were not sharpened.“What in God’s name is Going on here?” Boris yelled as the dust settled. He stood and helped Sera up.Suddenly a large cat growled “Ssssilence Human!” Two laser beams shot from it’s eyes making a tight burn circle around the two humans from it’s high up perch.“Sera, what have you gotten us into?” Boris pushed her to the side, however the cats started hissing, the dogs growling as the two leads of the races looked at eachother.“Perseus, it has been a few years.” Xanos growled, is snout sniffing in the large cat’s direction.“Did you think I would just forget about all of this? And not hear of two bare skins climbing the sacred mountain? You were a fool Xanos!”Boris held the catnip looking back and forth, still not believing his eyes.“Wait, let me get this straight, we have War Corgis and Laser Cats?”Both leaders looked directly at the pair, “And now we’ll have to kill you, this must never get out. Give me the catnip and I promise to make your death fast bare skin.” the cat’s voice was almost a purr.The dogs growled “Give me the catnip and I may let you go.” The rest of the dogs looked at their leader with shock in their eyes.Boris looked at Sera questioningly, “are you a cat or a dog person.” She smiled playfully. “Why not both?” via /r/Tiix

#IFTTT #reddit #life #story #author #inspiration #writers #WritingPrompt #Reddit #thedailytype #write

1 note · View note

componentplanet · 4 years

Text

Researchers Create Particle Accelerator on a Chip

You’ve no doubt heard of the Large Hadron Collider (LHC), the massive particle accelerator straddling the border between France and Switzerland. The large size of this instrument allows scientists to do cutting-edge research, but particle accelerators could be useful in many fields if they weren’t so huge. The age of room-sized (and larger) colliders may be coming to an end now that researchers from Stanford have developed a nano-scale particle accelerator that fits on a single silicon chip.

Full-sized accelerators like the LHC push beams of particles to extremely high speeds, allowing scientists to study the minutiae of the universe when two particles collide. The longer the beamline, the higher the maximum speed. Keeping these beams confined requires extremely powerful magnets, as well. It all adds up to a bulky piece of equipment that isn’t practical for most applications. For example, cancer radiation treatments with a particle accelerator could be much safer and more effective than traditional methods.

The team from Stanford’s SLAC National Accelerator Laboratory didn’t set out to build something as powerful as an accelerator that takes up a whole room. The chip features a vacuum-sealed tunnel 30 micrometers long and thinner than a human hair. You can see one of the channels above — electrons travel from left to right, propelled by 100,000 infrared laser pulses per second, all of them carefully synchronized to create a continuous electron beam.

The LHC does the same basic thing as this chip but on a much larger scale. Credit: Maximilien Brice/CERN

The chip is currently a proof-of-concept, but it’s not powerful enough for medical research applications at just 0.915 kilo-electronvolts (keV). The team estimates you’d need 1 million electron volts (1MeV) to make the system useful for medical research. That’s the equivalent of accelerating electrons to 94 percent the speed of light, and the prototype is 1,000-fold short of that. Still, the team is hopeful this design can scale up. The chip is a fully integrated circuit with all the necessary components built in — an increase in channel density should yield an increase in beam energy.

The team’s current goal is to improve on the current design to add 1,000 stages of acceleration, up from the current single-stage design. That would mean 1,000 acceleration channels like the one seen above, which should fit on a chip about one inch across. That would give the resulting accelerator-on-a-chip enough power to be useful in medical research. This could happen as soon as late 2020.

Now read:

Scientists Create Miniature Sun in Wisconsin

New Photonic Microchip Mimics Basic Brain Function

Massive 10-Petawatt Laser Can Vaporize Matter

from ExtremeTechExtremeTech https://www.extremetech.com/extreme/304129-researchers-create-particle-accelerator-on-a-chip from Blogger http://componentplanet.blogspot.com/2020/01/researchers-create-particle-accelerator.html

#Researchers Create Particle Accelerator on a Chip

0 notes

fatima-hanan-30 · 5 years

Text

MY HONEST THOUGHTS ON 30 THINGS TAYLOR SWIFT LEARNED BEFORE TURNING 30

I just finished reading Taylor Swift’s article on ELLE MAGAZINE. Every single word that @taylorswift wrote expresses her lively, vivacious and elegant nature. It reminds us of all the vibrant colors that elate our life's and gives us some awesome advice's about life. Even her recent photo shoot on ELLE MAGAZINE is giving us colorful and bubbly vibes. This article not only shows how brilliant her song writing skills are but also shows us that she is an inspirational and motivational speaker as well. Life is all about managing to overcome your hard ships, treating people kindly, conquering love and forgiving yourself for your wrong decisions. I want to thank her for uplifting herself from anxiety and depression and giving us some truly remarkable piece of advice's.

LOVE MYSELF, LOVE YOURSELF, PEACE 30 Things I Learned Before Turning 30 By Taylor Swift Mar 6, 2019 Photographed by Ben Hassett; Styled by Paul Cavaco According to my birth certificate, I turn 30 this year. It's weird because part of me still feels 18 and part of me feels 283, but the actual age I currently am is 29. I've heard people say that your thirties are "the most fun!" So I'll definitely keep you posted on my findings on that when I know. But until then, I thought I'd share some lessons I've learned before reaching 30, because it's 2019 and sharing is caring.

. I learned to block some of the noise. Social media can be great, but it can also inundate your brain with images of what you aren’t, how you’re failing, or who is in a cooler locale than you at any given moment. One thing I do to lessen this weird insecurity laser beam is to turn off comments. Yes, I keep comments off on my posts. That way, I’m showing my friends and fans updates on my life, but I’m training my brain to not need the validation of someone telling me that I look 🔥🔥🔥. I’m also blocking out anyone who might feel the need to tell me to “go die in a hole ho” while I’m having my coffee at nine in the morning. I think it’s healthy for your self-esteem to need less internet praise to appease it, especially when three comments down you could unwittingly see someone telling you that you look like a weasel that got hit by a truck and stitched back together by a drunk taxidermist. An actual comment I received once.

. Being sweet to everyone all the time can get you into a lot of trouble. While it may be born from having been raised to be a polite young lady, this can contribute to some of your life’s worst regrets if someone takes advantage of this trait in you. Grow a backbone, trust your gut, and know when to strike back. Be like a snake—only bite if someone steps on you.

Photographed by Ben Hassett; Styled by Paul Cavaco

. Trying and failing and trying again and failing again is normal. It may not feel normal to me because all of my trials and failures are blown out of proportion and turned into a spectator sport by tabloid takedown culture (you had to give me one moment of bitterness, come on). BUT THAT SAID, it’s good to mess up and learn from it and take risks. It’s especially good to do this in your twenties because we are searching. That’s GOOD. We’ll always be searching but never as intensely as when our brains are still developing at such a rapid pace. No, this is not an excuse to text your ex right now. That’s not what I said. Or do it, whatever, maybe you’ll learn from it. Then you’ll probably forget what you learned and do it again.... But it’s fine; do you, you’re searching.

. I learned to stop hating every ounce of fat on my body. I worked hard to retrain my brain that a little extra weight means curves, shinier hair, and more energy. I think a lot of us push the boundaries of dieting, but taking it too far can be really dangerous. There is no quick fix. I work on accepting my body every day.

. Banish the drama. You only have so much room in your life and so much energy to give to those in it. Be discerning. If someone in your life is hurting you, draining you, or causing you pain in a way that feels unresolvable, blocking their number isn’t cruel. It’s just a simple setting on your phone that will eliminate drama if you so choose to use it.

. I’ve learned that society is constantly sending very loud messages to women that exhibiting the physical signs of aging is the worst thing that can happen to us. These messages tell women that we aren’t allowed to age. It’s an impossible standard to meet, and I’ve been loving how outspoken Jameela Jamil has been on this subject. Reading her words feels like hearing a voice of reason amongst all these loud messages out there telling women we’re supposed to defy gravity, time, and everything natural in order to achieve this bizarre goal of everlasting youth that isn’t even remotely required of men.Every day I try to remind myself of the good in the world, the love I’ve witnessed and the faith I have in humanity. We have to live bravely in order to truly feel alive, and that means not being ruled by our greatest fears.

. My biggest fear. After the Manchester Arena bombing and the Vegas concert shooting, I was completely terrified to go on tour this time because I didn’t know how we were going to keep 3 million fans safe over seven months. There was a tremendous amount of planning, expense, and effort put into keeping my fans safe. My fear of violence has continued into my personal life. I carry QuikClot army grade bandage dressing, which is for gunshot or stab wounds. Websites and tabloids have taken it upon themselves to post every home address I’ve ever had online. You get enough stalkers trying to break into your house and you kind of start prepping for bad things. Every day I try to remind myself of the good in the world, the love I’ve witnessed and the faith I have in humanity. We have to live bravely in order to truly feel alive, and that means not being ruled by our greatest fears.

. I learned not to let outside opinions establish the value I place on my own life choices. For too long, the projected opinions of strangers affected how I viewed my relationships. Whether it was the general internet consensus of who would be right for me, or what they thought was “couples goals” based on a picture I posted on Instagram. That stuff isn’t real. For an approval seeker like me, it was an important lesson for me to learn to have my OWN value system of what I actually want.

. I learned how to make some easy cocktails like Pimm’s cups, Aperol spritzes, Old-Fashioneds, and Mojitos because…2016.

. I’ve always cooked a LOT, but I found three recipes I know I’ll be making at dinner parties for life: Ina Garten’s Real Meatballs and Spaghetti (I just use packaged bread crumbs and only ground beef for meat), Nigella Lawson’s Mughlai Chicken, and Jamie Oliver’s Chicken Fajitas with Molé Sauce. Getting a garlic crusher is a whole game changer. I also learned how to immediately calculate Celsius to Fahrenheit in my head. (Which is what I’m pretty sure the internet would call a “weird flex.”)I believe victims because I know firsthand about the shame and stigma that comes with raising your hand and saying “This happened to me.”

. Recently I discovered Command tape, and I definitely would have fewer holes in my walls if I’d hung things that way all along. This is not an ad. I just really love Command tape.

. Apologizing when you have hurt someone who really matters to you takes nothing away from you. Even if it was unintentional, it’s so easy to just apologize and move on. Try not to say “I’m sorry, but...” and make excuses for yourself. Learn how to make a sincere apology, and you can avoid breaking down the trust in your friendships and relationships.

. It’s my opinion that in cases of sexual assault, I believe the victim. Coming forward is an agonizing thing to go through. I know because my sexual assault trial was a demoralizing, awful experience. I believe victims because I know firsthand about the shame and stigma that comes with raising your hand and saying “This happened to me.” It’s something no one would choose for themselves. We speak up because we have to, and out of fear that it could happen to someone else if we don’t.

Photographed by Ben Hassett; Styled by Paul Cavaco

. When tragedy strikes someone you know in a way you’ve never dealt with before, it’s okay to say that you don’t know what to say. Sometimes just saying you’re so sorry is all someone wants to hear. It’s okay to not have any helpful advice to give them; you don’t have all the answers. However, it’s not okay to disappear from their life in their darkest hour. Your support is all someone needs when they’re at their lowest point. Even if you can’t really help the situation, it’s nice for them to know that you would if you could.

. Vitamins make me feel so much better! I take L-theanine, which is a natural supplement to help with stress and anxiety. I also take magnesium for muscle health and energy.

. Before you jump in headfirst, maybe, I don’t know...get to know someone! All that glitters isn’t gold, and first impressions actually aren’t everything. It’s impressive when someone can charm people instantly and own the room, but what I know now to be more valuable about a person is not their charming routine upon meeting them (I call it a “solid first 15”), but the layers of a person you discover in time. Are they honest, self-aware, and slyly funny at the moments you least expect it? Do they show up for you when you need them? Do they still love you after they’ve seen you broken? Or after they’ve walked in on you having a full conversation with your cats as if they’re people? These are things a first impression could never convey.

. After my teen years and early twenties of sleeping in my makeup and occasionally using a Sharpie as eyeliner (DO NOT DO IT), I felt like I needed to start being nicer to my skin. I now moisturize my face every night and put on body lotion after I shower, not just in the winter, but all year round, because, why can’t I be soft during all the seasons?!

. Realizing childhood scars and working on rectifying them. For example, never being popular as a kid was always an insecurity for me. Even as an adult, I still have recurring flashbacks of sitting at lunch tables alone or hiding in a bathroom stall, or trying to make a new friend and being laughed at. In my twenties I found myself surrounded by girls who wanted to be my friend. So I shouted it from the rooftops, posted pictures, and celebrated my newfound acceptance into a sisterhood, without realizing that other people might still feel the way I did when I felt so alone. It’s important to address our long-standing issues before we turn into the living embodiment of them.

Photographed by Ben Hassett; Styled by Paul Cavaco

. Playing mind games is for the chase. In a real relationship or friendship, you’re shooting yourself in the foot if you don’t tell the other person how you feel, and what could be done to fix it. No one is a mind reader. If someone really loves you, they want you to verbalize how you feel. This is real life, not chess.

. Learning the difference between lifelong friendships and situationships. Something about “we’re in our young twenties!” hurls people together into groups that can feel like your chosen family. And maybe they will be for the rest of your life. Or maybe they’ll just be your comrades for an important phase, but not forever. It’s sad but sometimes when you grow, you outgrow relationships. You may leave behind friendships along the way, but you’ll always keep the memories.

. Fashion is all about playful experimentation. If you don’t look back at pictures of some of your old looks and cringe, you’re doing it wrong. See: Bleachella.

. How to fight fair with the ones you love. Chances are you’re not trying to hurt the person you love and they aren’t trying to hurt you. If you can wind the tension of an argument down to a conversation about where the other person is coming from, there’s a greater chance you can remove the shame of losing a fight for one of you and the ego boost of the one who “won” the fight. I know a couple who, in the thick of a fight, say “Hey, same team.” Find a way to defuse the anger that can spiral out of control and make you lose sight of the good things you two have built. They don’t give out awards for winning the most fights in your relationship. They just give out divorce papers. There’s a common misconception that artists have to be miserable in order to make good art, that art and suffering go hand in hand. I’m really grateful to have learned this isn’t true. Finding happiness and inspiration at the same time has been really cool.

. I learned that I have friends and fans in my life who don’t care if I’m #canceled. They were there in the worst times and they’re here now. The fans and their care for me, my well-being, and my music were the ones who pulled me through. The most emotional part of the Reputation Stadium Tour for me was knowing I was looking out at the faces of the people who helped me get back up. I’ll never forget the ones who stuck around.

. I’ve had to learn how to handle serious illness in my family. Both of my parents have had cancer, and my mom is now fighting her battle with it again. It’s taught me that there are real problems and then there’s everything else. My mom’s cancer is a real problem. I used to be so anxious about daily ups and downs. I give all of my worry, stress, and prayers to real problems now.

. I remember people asking me, “What are you gonna write about if you ever get happy?” There’s a common misconception that artists have to be miserable in order to make good art, that art and suffering go hand in hand. I’m really grateful to have learned this isn’t true. Finding happiness and inspiration at the same time has been really cool.

. I make countdowns for things I’m excited about. When I’ve gone through dark, low times, I’ve always found a tiny bit of relief and hope in getting a countdown app (they’re free) and adding things I’m looking forward to. Even if they’re not big holidays or anything, it’s good to look toward the future. Sometimes we can get overwhelmed in the now, and it’s good to get some perspective that life will always go on, to better things.

Photographed by Ben Hassett; Styled by Paul Cavaco

. I learned that disarming someone’s petty bullying can be as simple as learning to laugh. In my experience, I’ve come to see that bullies want to be feared and taken seriously. A few years ago, someone started an online hate campaign by calling me a snake on the internet. The fact that so many people jumped on board with it led me to feeling lower than I’ve ever felt in my life, but I can’t tell you how hard I had to keep from laughing every time my 63-foot inflatable cobra named Karyn appeared onstage in front of 60,000 screaming fans. It’s the Stadium Tour equivalent of responding to a troll’s hateful Instagram comment with “lol.” It would be nice if we could get an apology from people who bully us, but maybe all I’ll ever get is the satisfaction of knowing I could survive it, and thrive in spite of it.

. I’m finding my voice in terms of politics. I took a lot of time educating myself on the political system and the branches of government that are signing off on bills that affect our day-to-day life. I saw so many issues that put our most vulnerable citizens at risk, and felt like I had to speak up to try and help make a change. Only as someone approaching 30 did I feel informed enough to speak about it to my 114 million followers. Invoking racism and provoking fear through thinly veiled messaging is not what I want from our leaders, and I realized that it actually is my responsibility to use my influence against that disgusting rhetoric. I’m going to do more to help. We have a big race coming up next year.

. I learned that your hair can completely change texture. From birth, I had the curliest hair and now it is STRAIGHT. It’s the straight hair I wished for every day in junior high. But just as I was coming to terms with loving my curls, they’ve left me. Please pray for their safe return.

. My mom always tells me that when I was a little kid, she never had to punish me for misbehaving because I would punish myself even worse. I’d lock myself in my room and couldn’t forgive myself, as a five-year-old. I realized that I do the same thing now when I feel I’ve made a mistake, whether it’s self-imposed exile or silencing myself and isolating. I’ve come to a realization that I need to be able to forgive myself for making the wrong choice, trusting the wrong person, or figuratively falling on my face in front of everyone. Step into the daylight and let it go.

0 notes