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#also i think bruce has a very unique voice like i could recognize his voice instantly

jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-Cold- Loki Laufeyson x Female Reader

☼-☪-☼

Kody: First Loki imagine, let’s do this. DISCLAIMER. MOST OF THE DIALOGUE FROM THE CANONICAL CHARACTERS IS TAKEN DIRECTLY FROM THE MOVIE TO MAKE IT MORE REALISTIC. YOU CAN TELL WHICH PARTS I WROTE AND DIDN’T WRITE. OKAY? okayyyy

Movie/Show: Thor: Ragnarok- but you somehow know strange. Don’t question me lmao.

Summary: while staying with Dr. Strange for a bit, you end up meeting your old friend again, Thor. What you don’t expect is too meet with his adopted brother Loki. Who turns out to be your perfect match (Vague for reasons)

Possible Triggers / Warnings: Very long story, Slowburn, Steven and Tony being a dad, cursing, Val being kinda great

☼-☪-☼

sometimes being stuck in the avengers base was.....stressful. with Vision being like a newborn baby around everything, you constantly had to help him understand certain things. Like a microwave or a stove since he wanted to learn how to cook for Wanda. Kinda cute actually.

you could hear Natasha cry at night about Bruce vanishing during the battle against Ultron. You tried to comfort hr once or twice, but she was adamant about handling it on her own. You wish you could have helped more. It’s not like you could hug her without layers of clothing covering almost every inch of your skin.

oh yeah, the whole reason you were even there is because Tony Stark had found you with Wanda and Pietro. You were slightly different from them, no telekinesis, telepathy, or enhanced agility and reflexes. Your mercular DNA was ripped apart then put back together with enhancements, unique ones.

your body was now able to freeze anything with just a touch and manipulate it, but with all powers. There were side effects. You couldn’t touch anyone without giving them frostbite. Your powers were too much for you too handle so your body was constantly below freezing.

it was terrible. You had lived so long without the feeling of another's skin on yours. You could never, hug, hold someone's hand, kiss, do....that. You were condemned to a life of touch starvation. It sucked, but you still kept a smile on your face.

during a errand run in new york you had met Steven Strange. You had recognized him from his work as a doctor and gave him your condolences for his accident. He seemed to take some sort of interest in you, which you later figured out that he knew you had your ‘enhancements’ from the news.

he explained to you that with his help he may be able to train you to keep your body temperature at a normal human one. You were a bit off put by his offer and he gave you a simple address in case you changed your mind and with that. You left.

☼-☪-☼

a month later

“Tony it’s just for a little while-”

“No! your running off with some rando voodoo doctor who could kill you and steal your kidneys!”

your face twinges a bit in confusion. You had told everyone that you’d be leaving for awhile and they all wished you luck on your solo adventure. You had also decided to wait till the actual day you were leaving to tell Tony. He was a tad overprotective of you when it came to strangers.

“He’s not going to steal my kidneys- Tony my car is waiting i have to go” you say as you pick up the bag you had dropped on the floor as the whole ordeal again. “Didn’t know you had such little trust in me” he exhales deeply, pressing a finger to his temple in visible frustration.

“I do trust you. I don’t trust the world outside of these walls” Tony admits. you will confess, you liked his weird fatherly side. “Well- the world as you call it can freeze if they touch me. You have to let me do things on my own Tony” you give him a half smile.

Tony expression turns into his thinking one, which is either a good or a very bad thing. He digs into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a jewelry box “Are you trying to bribe me with diamond earrings?” you ask, slightly unimpressed with him.

he rolls his eyes and lifts the lid. You see a silver necklace with a star pendant. You could faintly see a small blue crystal in the middle. It reminded you of his reactor, Clever. It was still technically a bribe, but it was indeed a beautiful necklace.

“No. I made this about a month ago and could never think of the right time. It’s a necklace with a beacon. If you need help press the blue button under the silver lid and i’ll come get and save you. Like always” Tony finishes his sentence off with a smirk, which makes you chuckle.

you reach and grab the box with your gloved hand “Thank you, Tony” you say and pull the necklace out the box. You undo the clasp and wrap it around your neck, clasping it back. Tony gives you his proud dad smile and pats your shoulder “If this witch man is able to help you. I get to be your first hug”

you break out into laughter, nodding “Of course” you say and he chuckles along with you. You hear a honk from outside “I’m coming. Chill out Happy!” you shout. Tony gulps and waves you off “Go ahead, i’m not keeping you any longer.” he says.

smiling, you sling the bag over your shoulder and nod at him “I’ll see you soon Tony” you say and turn around, heading out the door and towards the car waiting outside. Happy rolled down the window, same unhappy expression on his face “what took you so long!”

rolling your eyes, you open the passenger door and throw your bag on the car floor before hoping in. “You know Tony, stubborn as ever” you reply, closing the door. Happy replies with a small hum before starting up the car. You pull out the card with the address and hand it to Happy.

Tony watched you walk out, his face dropping a bit “Come back home kiddo”

☼-☪-☼

two weeks later

in your short time with Strange he showed you the most incredible things that you never knew. It also hurt your brain to think about how big the multiverse really was, but Strange was able to explain it in simple terms. He had also given you a meditation regiment that you followed everyday.

it was supposed to help you calm your mind enough that you could force your body to warm up. It hasn’t changed anything so far, but Strange said it was normal. While reading a novel across from Strange who was- looking out a window. “Great” he grumbles under his breath.

you lower the book, sliding the juice bar stamp card you used as a bookmark between the pages. “Is something wrong?” you ask, tilting your head. Strange’s eyebrows furrow “Someone who isn’t supposed to be here. Is here. Along with his slightly intelligent brother”

what- “I don’t follow?” you say as he makes his way downstairs. You quickly jump out the chair and go to follow him. In a quick movement his cloak unclipped from his body and stopped in front of you, blocking your movements “Um Strange?” you call out.

he stops at the bottom of the stairs and turns his head to look at you “You stay here. If there is a fight it could be dangerous” he spoke. “I can help fight with my ability-” he holds up his hand, stopping you from talking. It reminded you of Tony a little bit.

“That is the exact reason you need to stay. Using your powers could throw off what you have worked for so far” he spoke. Sighing deeply, you nod “Okay, i’ll stay. I promise” you say to reassure him. Strange nods and his cloak returns to him, clipping back on.

“Thank you” he says and lifts his arms up, he starts performing what you assume is a spell while mumbling under his breath. It lasted a couple seconds before he walked off to the lower floor. You had to ask him how he did certain spells like that portal one, just to mess with Steve.

you heard your stomach grumble and sighed “Strange needs to invest in a fucking microwave. I want a hot pocket so bad”

☼-☪-☼

you guilt tripped wong into magic-ing a microwave in the sanctum. Poor dude, but hey- hot pocket. You also changed out of your pjs because wong said you were ‘lazy’ what a tool. You did anyway and ended up wearing a long sleeve black turtleneck, matching gloves with heather grey and white plaid pants.

As you took your last bite you heard talking, but not just Stranges voice, a deeper one. Sounded somewhat familiar, but you couldn’t quite recognize it fully. It came from downstairs. You look at the steps and bit your bottom lip, thinking. Strange told you to stay, but-

screw it

slowly you step down, making sure it didn’t creak too loud and alarm Strange to your presence. Once you made it all the way down the voices stopped. What the hell? Oh wait they were coming from the first floor now. Was Strange just teleporting throughout sanctum.

yes

the talking got louder and you peaked around the corner. First you spotted Strange, twisting a strange of hair in his hands? He ended up throwing it in the air and it created a portal. Okay then. Then when you looked beside him, you saw- no, it can’t be.

“Thor?!”

you ran down the stairs, tripping over your feet a bit. The god turned around and smiled upon seeing you “Lady Y/n! It has been quite some time. You have grown indeed!” he says. You nod, almost reaching out to hug him, but stopped. Thor noticed and gave you a sad smile.

“I thought i told you to stay upstairs?” Strange spoke. You chuckle nervously and gesture to Thor “I haven’t seen him in a long time. I’m sorry” you say. Strange looks like he wants to stay mad at you but exhales deeply “Your forgiven, under the circumstances”

you smile brightly. Strange was a pretty cool guy. You turn away from him and back at Thor “So, what’s going on? Why are you back on earth? What happened to figuring out your vision and going back to asgard?” you ask a multitude of questions.

Thor shakes his head “My witch of a brother has hidden my father on earth and i need to get him back. This wizard has offered me help in return that i take Loki back to asgard where he belongs.” Thor explains. You nod slowly, you had never met the god of mischief himself, only heard stories.

“Loki is here?” you ask and gaze around the room.

you heard Strange gasp before lifting his arms “Oh yeah right” he swirls his hands as a portal forms on the ceiling. A distant scream was heard before a man with long black hair and a matching suit popped out and crashed onto the floor, Loki.

Loki slowly lifts his head, whipping his hair out of his face and propping himself up on his elbows “I have been falling, for thirty minutes!” he shouts. Damn- thirty minutes? “That’s cold Strange and that’s a lot coming from me” you say, making Thor snicker a bit.

“You can handle it from here?” Strange nods towards Thor who does the same, reaching over to shake his hand. “Thank you very much for your help” Loki lifts himself off the floor and turns to look a Strange, glaring daggers at him. “Handle me?” he snaps, venom lacing his tone.

Oh! Look actual daggers. Oh wait- Loki came towards Strange and in an instant your eyes turned a bright white, no pupils and your skin turned an icy white, with the nose and tips of your ears and fingers a light blue. You stepped in front of strange as cold fog emitted from your hands.

you were breathing heavily which came out as fog as well. Thor had seen you like this before so this was pretty normal for him. Strange stared at you for a moment, just blinking. He had seen this before- “Don’t touch the wizard” you breathed out.

Loki’s angered face turned into a smug look “And who do you think you are to challenge me, mortal?” he questions, drawing closer towards you. Before any harm could be done to either of you, Thor stepped between, looking at his brother “Brother, you will not harm Lady Y/n. She is a friend”

aw how sweet. Loki takes another look at you before his daggers retreat “Fine” he grumbles. Your skin turns back to its normal S/c and your pupils return “Thanks Thor” you say and he nods at you. Strange coughed before gesturing to the portal.

Thor exhales before smiling lightly “Right. Thank you so much for your help again and it was lovely to see you Lady Y/n” he spoke. You smile “Just Y/n is fine. I hope you find what your looking for” you spoke. You couldn’t imagine what you’d do if Tony went missing. Thor must have been going crazy.

“You’ll have to tell me all about it once you get back Y/n” Strange spoke suddenly, making you turn your head to face him once again with a confused expression. “What are you talking about?” you ask. Thor steps beside you while Loki stood s a few feet behind both of you.

“Oh you’ll be going along with them” Strange spoke casually as he began to make his way up the stairs. What the hell? “Um- why?! What about my regiment?” you question. Strange stops at the top of the stairs and faces the three of you, hands behind his back.

he studies your face, then Thor’s, then Loki. “Trust me” is all he says before disappearing into a portal of his own. You blinked mindlessly for a couple seconds “Uh-” “Lady Y/n- i mean just Y/n. I suppose you’ll be accompanying me and my brother. Once we return to asgard, will send you home.”

you looked at Thor, thinking. Should you go? You had never been to another planet before, so you were completely unaware of what was too possibly happen. Even if you were afraid of the unknown, you could not pass up this opportunity “Let’s go”

Thor pats your clothes back and smiles “Alright, into the mystic portal we go!” he cheers, making you chuckle. “Not only am i stuck with my oaf of a brother, but also some mortal quim” Loki snarls from behind you. Oh isn’t he a breath of fresh air “Yeah, cry about it antlers”

yikes, you’ve been around tony too much.

Loki’s fist clench before all three of you walk through the portal.

you all ended up in a grassy field. It was beautiful. The smell of the sea nearby filled your nose, causing a calm feeling to course through you. “I don’t see father” Thor spoke, looking around. You gaze about as well and spot a man at the edge of the field.

placing a glove hand on Thor, you tap him. The god looks at you as you point at Odin. Thor sighs deeply “Let’s go Loki” he spoke and waved for this brother to follow. You stayed put as Loki passed you, his arm grazing yours for a moment. There is like so much field to walk around you, but okay-

You turn around and began to walk in the other direction, giving them some space. It wasn’t your business to put yourself into their family drama.

☼-☪-☼

You walk mindlessly for a couple minutes, making sure to stay relatively close to the brothers and his father. You stop and look at them for a moment just as Odin had turned to a fine gold powder/dust and blew away into the sky. Oh no- Odin, he’s dead.

just before you could even think another thought the sky began to crack in thunder. From the distance you were at you could Thor’s fingers spark up as he turned towards Loki. Oh god he’s going to kill him. Your previous thoughts of not getting involved were thrown out as you began to run towards them.

you couldn’t let Thor hurt his brother, he would surely regret it later. A green energy ball formed couple feet in front of you, stopping you from running towards the brothers. You had stopped your feet so harshly it caused you to fall back onto your butt.

the green energy grew bigger as the brother began to draw close to it. A flash of thunder changed Thor’s clothes into his original asgardian armor and Loki used to Magic to change his to a green leather outfit. Seemed very Loki-ish. The energy stopped forming and you were sure that Thor or Loki couldn’t see you.

just as fast as the green energy appeared, it vanished to reveal the back of a women, she had long black hair and a matching outfit. Who was this? That didn’t matter right now considering Thor look liked he was ready to fight which means that you had to be.

“So he’s gone?” the woman spoke, referring to Odin you presumed. She gazes around for a moment before looking back at the boys “Such a shame, i would have liked to have seen that” she said. Oh- well that’s just rude. “You must be Hela” Thor spoke. So that was her name.

“I’m Thor, son of odin” he continued. He just had to introduce himself right now? How formal of him. You slowly began to stand up. This woman had not noticed you, which means you had the upper hand. “Really?” she asked, a amused tone present within her voice.

“You don’t look like him” Hela adds. you thought Thor looked like Odin- just a tad. Why are you thinking about this right now. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement?” Loki spoke. Well at least Thor isn’t trying to kill Loki right now. Now that you think about it Hela and Loki kind of looked alike.

Hela lifts her arm a bit to pint at Loki, before dropping it to her side a second later “You sound like him” she says before taking a step closer “Kneel” she commands. “Beg your pardon?” Loki leans forward as if he had not heard what he had just said. Uh oh.

Hela’s arm twist, a long blade forming in her hand. “Kneel...before your queen” she repeats once more. Queen?!. You take a deep breath, pupils disappearing, skin turning white and blue, and fog emitting from your hands. Let’s do this. Thor takes a step forward, gazing at you for only a second “I don’t think so”

Loki took a glance at Thor. You both knew what the god of thunder was about to do. Thor lifts his arm and throws his hammer at Hela, but- she caught it. She caught Thor’s hammer?! Oh shit. Both Loki and Thor’s face turn into a grim and confused one.

“It’s..not possible” Thor spoke in disbelief. “Darling, you have no idea what’s possible” Hela spoke before squeezing her hand around Mjollnir. She was crushing the hammer. In a split second a burst of electricity and wind was sent everywhere.

you lift your arm and cover your face to protect your eyes. Once it died down you move your arm and saw Thor’s hammer in pieces on the grass. What was she? Who was she? Hela lifted her arms to her head and slid them back along the base of her skull, forming a large spiked crown.

she repeated her hand movements from earlier except with both her arms. Two blades in each hand. You had to move now. You close your palms together and pull them apart, an ice spear forming in between. You ran up to her and jumped in the air to get a higher advantage.

“Y/n, no!” Thor shouts as he runs up to Hela as well. Loki looks up in the sky and shouts “Bring us back!” Hela turns around quickly and spots you running towards her. Just as you were about to land on her, she grabs your neck. “Now who are you?” she asked. but you didn’t answer.

instead you rip a glove off one of your hands and press it to her face. Hela screams in agony and throws you towards Thor. You landed on him with hard thud. That’s going to hurt in the morning. Suddenly a portal formed around all three of you and sent you into the sky. It was the same one Thor usually left on.

Your body felt weird all over like you were about to vomit or pass out- maybe both. You looked up and saw Thor a few feet up above you and you assumed Loki was under you. Thor looks down at you, then Loki “Loki!” he shouts and the black haired god looks under him, you so as well.

Hela was just behind you all “She wasn’t even in the portals range!” you shout, earning now answer from either brothers. Lok reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a small blade. He lifts his arm and chucks it at her, but she dodges it easily and sends it flying back towards Loki.

Loki had another blade in hand and used that one to dodge the other hela threw at him, but it sent him flying out the portal “Y/n! follow loki! I’ll find you both. I promise!” Thor shouts and without a second thought you use your spear to stab into the portal and push yourself out.

sometimes you wished you thought about things first.

☼-☪-☼

your head was throbbing and aching in the worst way possible, like you had crashed into a wall. Your eyes slowly open and you see a regular sky with purple portals spread throughout it- okay maybe not so normal. “Hands off of me you mewling quim!” you know that complaining tone from anywhere.

you push yourself off the ground, using some random junk metal to lean on. Looking around you would think you were in some junk yard. No time to wonder where you were because you had a god to help. You push things out your way before you spot what looked like scavengers, mostly wearing masks.

they were holding onto Loki’s arms. Couldn’t he just use his magic? Guess not. Anyway, you jump down from the ledge your on, catching most of their attention “We just got on this planet and your already pissing the natives off?” you question Loki.

he narrows his blue eyes at you as he struggles against the people holding his arms “Get on with it!” he shouts at you. No please? Whatever. You activate your powers, slowly pulling the other glove off of your hand “Hand over the god will you?”

“You’ll have to get through all of us!” one man shouts. They hold up their weapons at you making you sigh “Alright, have it your way” you shrug, flicking your hand, a dark blue blade with a silver handle forming in the palm of your hand.

the scavengers ran towards you. One swung a club at you, but you caught his arm in your hand. The man screams in agony as his whole arm turns black with frostbite. You take that opportunity to slice his now very crunchy arm off. Then it’s kind of a rinse and repeat for the rest of them until one is left.

The man lets go of Loki and begins to run away. Good choice. Loki drops to the ground, trying to catch his breath “Why did you follow me?” Loki asked suddenly. You look down at him and shrug “Thor asked me to in the portal. He said he’d come find us” you explain.

you pull out the extra pair of gloves from your back pocket and slipped them on. They were a plain black leather pair. Once they were on, you hold out your hand for him to take. Loki takes one look at your hand and scoffs before standing up himself. Rude.

“If my brother went off to fight Hela alone. He’s most likely dead already” Loki says curtly as he dusts off his outfit. Your eyes widen a bit. Thor wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be. “Who is she anyway?” you ask. Loki’s jaw locks, glancing at the ground before you

“Our sister”

your E/c eyes went wider this time. Since when did Thor have a sister? Was she adopted too? She claery had a disdain for her father just as much as Loki did. Maybe Thor was the one who was actually adopted. “Oh- wow” you comment.

“Enough about my family. I have to figure out what planet i’m on” Loki interjects as he begins to walk away “Hey! Whether you like it or not we’re in this together, I could have left your ass to die, remember that!” you shout at him. His walking stops and he faces you once more- oh shit.

he steps towards you and you back up until a piece of debris. Loki stops inches from your face, his hand reaching up to your neck to hold it in his hand “Don’t assume for a moment that you and i are some sort of friends like you are with my brother” he speaks lowly.

you glare right back at him “Let go of me before i put a icicle through your eye” you snarl at him. A small smirk forms on his face “You put up this illusion that you are as tough as nails, but i can see right through you. Your just as broken as the rest of us. Let’s explore that shall we?”

Loki reaches up and places his hand on your forehead.

☼-☪-☼

two years ago

Loki opened his eyes and looked around the room. Where was he? He was in the darkest memories of your mind. “Put her in the chamber” Strucker spoke as three men went over to grab a pale woman on the floor. You. You were wearing a hospital gown and your hair was overgrown.

you flaid, kicked, and screamed “Please! No! i’ll try harder i swear! Please!” when you had first developed your powers and the doctors realized they couldn’t touch you Strucker thought you had been doing it on purpose. So mean with full body suits would put you in a heat chamber.

the intense heat had a even stronger effect on you because of your unique enhancement. Strucker opens the door as the three men throw you in. You land on the ground with a hard thud and stand up quickly, running towards the door but it had already shut.

Strucker stands outside the glass window that showed you inside and looked towards a woman sitting at the desk “Turn it on, the highest it can go” he spoke and she nods, pressing a green button before pushing a dial up. Loki looks confused for a moment as he stands beside strucker.

the room starts to heat up and you fall to the ground your tears sizzling as they ran down your face. At the moment Loki took a step back. Heat exhaustion. A form of torture he knew all to well. something he hoped to never witness again. You let out screams of agony until you eventually passed out.

back in 2012 when earth was attack by Loki he was under the control of Thanos who had kidnapped him and tortured him with the same methods because of his Jotun side. It worked nonetheless and he was under Thanos’s control.

☼-☪-☼

Loki opened his eyes and snatched his hand away from your head. You slid down against the debris until you hit the ground with a small thud. He had made you relive your worst fears like it had just happened only moments ago. How could he do such a thing.

“I’m so-” before Loki could say another word he felt something bite at his neck. He hissed and reached for his neck and felt something cold and metallic. He tried to tug it off, but instead got harsh bursts of electricity shot through his body over and over again.

he fell to the ground, shaking violently, turning his head he saw you. You were holding your face, still shaken up. Loki watched as someone came up to you and hit you with a blunt object, knocking you out cold. Loki reached his hand out to you, but it seemed his body gave up on him and he passed out.

☼-☪-☼

Loki awoke with the sound of people talking around him. He went to move his arms first but they were chained behind his back “Oh look he’s awake good! Hello! I’m the grandmaster, ruler of Sakaar.” a man with blue strips on his face spoke and a robe type outfit.

“May i ask why i’m in chains?” Loki questions with his usual ‘i could kill all of you’ smirk. The grandmaster shrugs his shoulders “Had to make sure you and your friend weren’t hostile. It’s only temporary of course” He says. Friend? Who was he talking about? Y/n.

Loki looked around instantly, trying to find you of course “Oh yes, she’s currently in the infirmary Our scraper hit her a bit too hard. Anyway, whats your name?” the grandmaster asked, gesturing to the scraper next to him. Some random girl with light brown skin and white markings over her face.

he would kill her later.

“Loki of asgard, god of mischief” he spoke, giving his best presentable grin. The grandmaster laughs. Rude “God of mischief, how spooky. Tell me god of pranks, did you fight on asgard?” he questions. Loki raises a brow. What was this man playing at?

“i was used for my intelligence more then my strength. Battle plans, strategies, political consultant and such” Loki explains, slightly lying out of his ass. the grandmaster looked impressed, at least that’s what Loki thought. How would we get out of this one?

“Hm. Well- you will be spared from fighting in the contest of champions as well as your lady friend. As long as you swear your undying loyalty to me and my planet” The Grandmaster stands up from his chair and walks to Loki. He waves his hand at one of the guards.

the guard beside Loki reached down to uncuff his hands and took off his neck chip. Loki shrugged them off before standing up, rubbing his wrists. The Grandmaster stood in front of him with his hand out. Loki gave him a grin and grabbed his hand, shaking it “I swear” he spoke.

the Grandmaster smile before his eyes trail him up and down “How bout we get you into some yellow. green’s a bit tacky”

“Pardon?”

☼-☪-☼

later that night

a guard escorted Loki to his accommodations in his new green and yellow suit. “Green is not tacky, it’s a very classy color. What a moron” he grumbles under his breath. Once the door open, he stepped inside and looked around. (similar to Hulks, but dark green and white)

it’ll do for now. He only got to take one step before he was pushed against a wall, something cold and sharp jabbed at the side of his neck, pressing firmly but not enough to break skin “Oh- it’s just you” a voice spoke. Yours. Loki looked down at you.

your head had a bandage around it and your top was missing leaving you in a black sports bra and your plaid pants from earlier. loki couldn’t help but notice your delectable figure, making him breath heavily “Eyes up here you son of a bitch” you snap, pressing the icicle further in his neck.

Loki looked at your face and notice a bruise forming on your jaw. It made him....angry to say the least, but he couldn’t understand why. “Would you kindly get that out of my face. I just saved us” he says. You give him a ‘what’ face and slowly remove the icicle, your body turning back to normal once again.

“How?” you question, walking towards the bed in the center of the room, Loki following “I have made good with Grandmaster so he wont make us compete in some barbaric tournament” he spoke, boosting his own ego really You roll your eyes and take a seat on the bed “How does that help us, were still stuck here”

Loki scoffs “I just made sure you weren’t going to be killed. You could at least say thank you” you felt a anger boiling within you “Thank you?! You want me to say thank you?! Remember we aren’t friends. I should have stayed with Thor, but for some reason i cant comprehend, he still cares about you”

Loki felt his chest tighten a bit at your words about his brother. You were right. No matter how much he betrayed Thor he would always be at his side to fight alongside him, but he never admitted it. “I should have used my necklace. I should have never left the base” you thought aloud

the god looked puzzled “What necklace?” you look at him for a moment then at the ceiling “Tony gave me this necklace with a beacon. I had forgotten all about it until some bitch nurse took it away because it wasn’t aloud. I tried to get it back, but she pushed me into a wall” you replied.

Loki looked around the room once more and spotted a conjoining room, before he could say anything you stood up, grabbing your shirt and all of your dignity along with you “Goodnight’ you spoke before walking into said room and slamming the door shut.

this was going to suck

☼-☪-☼

‘Put her in the chamber!’

no please..

‘Your worthless!’

no i’m not

you sat up in a cold sweat, more literally then normal. You looked around the room and noticed a cold fog. Turning your head, you look out the window. Pitch black. If you squint hard enough you could see your reflection. Yep white skin You change yourself back.

the door burst open and standing in the doorway is Loki, hair no longer slicked back but disheveled and wearing a simple black shirt and matching pants. he had daggers in his hands, looking ready for a fight “What are you doing?” you ask.

Loki looks confused “Why did you scream? I thought you were being attacked” he spoke, annoyance in his voice. You narrow your eyes and turn to your side, facing away from him “Get out” you spoke, not really wanting to see his face. He had no right to ask that.

“Pardon-”

“I said get the hell out!”

☼-☪-☼

three days later

you never left the room. To the Grandmaster, you were Loki’s property so he didn’t really care much. The servants came and brought you breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Some brought you books to read and others didn’t. You had also been avoiding the god himself.

he had tried starting a conversation with you once or twice, but it never really went to his plan. Mostly ending up with you threatening to kill him or you telling him off. Loki was stain in your life all you wanted was to be rid off him and go back home.

you had just wrapped a towel around your body, hair dripping from being in the bath. As you went to open the door the god was standing just outside the door, holding a towel in his hand. His blue eyes trailed up and down your body. You pushed past him and walked into your room, shutting the door.

Loki felt his body tingle in way it hadn’t before. He exhaled deeply before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door

☼-☪-☼

later that night (again)

you sat up screaming bloody murder as you gripped your head. Instead of nightmare you had a nighterror instead. Your body was thrashing around like someone was attacking, but no one was. Just like last time Loki opened your door, almost breaking it off the hinges.

he looked at your state and practically jumped on your bed. His face made him looked..worried? You back away instinctively “No you can’t touch-” Loki cuts you off by wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. How- how was this happening. You couldn’t touch anyone before, why now?”

you didn’t notice the cold tears running down your face as Loki rubbed your back in soothing circles “How is this possible? I thought that-” “You can’t touch anyone because of your ability, but...what a i am, what i really am makes me immune to the cold in any form” he explains.

so this is what another's skin felt like. Soft, a little different from yours. You pull away a bit and began to touch different parts of his face. You run a finger along the side of his face, making him inhale sharply “what’re doing?” he asked in a low tone.

“I have never touched another person with my bare hand. Im curious” you say. Loki sighs and lets you continue your weird- whatever this could be called. After a couple minutes you let go of him, wiping your face “Your still a dick for what you did” you say.

Loki sighs, nodding his head ‘I’ve been told, by multiple people. I hope this makes up for it just a little” he says. Hope? You nod once “Yeah, your getting there. Now out antlers i have to sleep” you say, a grin forming on your face. Loki grumbles “That’s just rude”

☼-☪-☼

two weeks later

“I don’t even like parties” you spoke, looking at the words in your book. “You’ve been cooped up in this room for two whole weeks. You need to try and have some fun” Loki insisted. You look up and him and sighed, damn god. “fine, but no promises i’ll be having any fun. I also have nothing to wear”

Loki’s smile turned into a grin “stand up” he instructs. You roll your eyes and place the novel down before standing up from your seat “You better not do anything mischievous Loki” you say and he shrugs his shoulders. In a split second your hair was done and your outfit had changed.

the top part of the dress was a blue and a tad bronze lined leather that connected with some icy blue tool that made the bottom part. You looked, beautiful. “This doesn’t look like Sakaar attire?” you question, looking from the dress to him. Loki nods once, stepping towards you.

“That’s because it isn’t. It’s a tradition asgardian dress” he explains. You hummed in response “Really? I don’t think i do it much justice then” you spoke with a small laugh, turning around to face the large decorative mirror that was behind you.

you look at yourself in the dress, touching your face and squeezing your waist a bit. as you do so, Loki walks forward and stops a couple inches behind you. he leans down so his chin his hovering over your shoulder. You could feel his breath on your neck “I think you look lovely. Now, shall we?”

☼-☪-☼

it was a couple hours into the party and Loki was chatting it up with some people. Telling them life stories that he clearly altered to be in his favor while you sat beside him, silent. “And in that moment, i let go” the people around you laughed while you rolled your eyes.

“Y/n!”

“Loki!”

you and Loki both turn your heads to the right at the sound of your names being called. Oh my gods. Thor?! You stood up quickly, Loki following you hesitantly “Excuse me for a second”. “Loki, over here!” Thor yells again, catching the attention of a few people.

Loki stood in front of his brother while you were beside Thor in the chair “Shh, Shh. Shut up!” Loki snapped in a hushed tone. “What?” Thor replied in the same hushed tone. “Your alive?” Loki looks his brother up and down while Thor just looked confused “Ah yes of course i’m alive!”

“What’re you doing here?” Loki questions. “What do you mean ‘what am i doing?’ I’m stuck in this stupid chair! Where’s your chair!?” Thor asked, making you stifle a chuckle. “We didn’t get a chair” Loki says, waving his hand towards you.

Thor glances at you for a moment and you give hima half smile before he turns back to his brother. “Well get me out of this one” Thor commands, struggling against the metal clasps that held his arms in place. “I can’t” Loki replies. What? Why couldn’t he help him?

“Get me out!”

“I can’t”

“What?”

Loki points into a random direction “I made friends with this man. he’s called the Grandmaster-” he explains. Oh yeah- the whole loyalty thing. Thor shakes his head “What’re you crazy?!” Thor accuses. You asked yourself that sometimes. “-I’ve gained his favor. The bifrost spat me out here weeks ago”

“He thinks i’m Loki’s property, so yeah your right. Crazy”

where has Thor been these past two and a half weeks? Thor looked extremely confused now “Weeks ago?! I- i just got here” he tries to say. You look up and see the face of the Grandmaster across from you “Oh shit!” you jump, holding onto the glass in your hand.

“What’re we whispering about?” he says with that creepy guard lady behind him, holding the melt stick as he called it. Thor jumps up at the sound of his voice ‘Uh Ah!” he shouts while Loki grabs your arm and pulls you a few steps back from Thor along with him.

“Time works real different around these parts” He starts, turning the records on his dj table? I don’t know. “On any other world i’d be like millions and millions years old, but here on Sakaar” he finished explaining then just smiled expectantly like he was waiting for someone to say something.

you felt Loki tighten his grip on your arm a bit. What’s got him so tense? Loki opened his mouth to speak, but closed it right after. the Grandmaster waves his hand “In any case you know this uh- this uh. What do you call yourself? Lord of thunder?”

“God of thunder” you and Thor say at the same time. Thor nods towards the Grandmaster “Tell him” he says to Loki. the black haired god begins to laugh nervously “i’ve never met this man in my life” he says, pointing to Thor for a brief moment “Loki!” you say, hitting his shoulder. What a dick.

Loki looked at you with a ‘what’ face. “He’s my brother!”Thor growls, mostly upset because of Loki. “Adopted” Loki interjects, making you hit him again. The Grandmaster looks up for a moment “Is he any kind of a fighter?” he asked. It’s Thor- duh.

Thor begins to laugh irritably “You take this thing out of my neck and i’ll show you” he threatens. You sigh deeply. Men am i right. The Grandmaster laughs along with him “Oh look at that he’s threatening me” he coos like Thor was some sort of baby.

“Hey sparkles-” the Grandmaster starts, making thor struggles against the chair once more “-you want to get back to ass..place. Ass berg-” he says. Oh he did not just say that. “Asgard!” You and Thor shout in unison. Loki gives you another look “Oh shut up your not helping, Loki”

“-any contender who defeats my champion there freedom they shall win” you had heard about the Grandmaster’s contender =, but had never saw him. He was supposedly undefeated, but this is Thor were talking about here. “Fine! Then point me in the direction to whoever's ass i have to kick!”

the Grandmaster smile and waves his fingers at Thor “That’s what i call contender” he says excitedly before lifting up this remot like object “The direction that would be in this way lord” he presses a button and Thor’s chair begins to move away.

“Loki!” Thor shouts. You pull yourself out of Loki’s grip and lift the bottom of your dress off the floor so you could run up to the chair. You face Thor and smile “I’m going to get you out okay?” you say before two guards grab both of your arms. Damn- they had gloves on.

“Remove your arms from Lady Y/n you buffoons!” Thor shouts before he disappears around the corner. You struggle against there grip for a second before managing to rip your arm from one of them. Your skin turned it’s icy white and blue and your pupils vanished.

just as you formed a icicle, someone grabbed your arm. You looked at who it was and saw Loki. “Think for a moment before you kill somebody. Now let’s go” he didn’t give a chance to reply before dragging you out the party hall. What a hypocrite honestly. He killed people all the time.

☼-☪-☼

“You are insufferable, you know that!” you shout as Loki closes the door to your shared room “I’m insufferable!? You almost got yourself killed and for what?!” Loki shouts back. “To tell Thor that everything was going to work out. All you did was make it worse Loki. That’s all you ever seem to do!”

Loki’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening into a fist “Don’t talk as if you know me!” he snaps at you. Loki walks up to you and pushes you up against the wall, his hand grabbed both of yours and held them over your head. Kinky- not now, just not now.

“Oh screw you and your I’m misunderstood bullshit! You left Thor hanging out to dry again and in the end of it all he still called out for your name! You know one day Thor is going to give up on you and your going to wish you had at least tried to be a good brother”

Loki was breathing heavily as his blue eyes bore deep within your very soul. He looked at your face, studying every inch you had to offer. In a quick motions he dips down closer, his lips centimeters away from yours. Loki’s face scrunches up. He was debating in his hand. A battle in his own mind if you will.

he backs away from you, letting go off your hands “If you want to talk to my brother, follow me” he says and heads back towards the door. You felt almost disappointed that he didn’t keep going. Was that wrong?

☼-☪-☼

in the end you and Loki could not physically find away into the holding room that Thor and the other contenders were in, but Loki said he could create an illusion of you both to talk to him. As long as you got to see Thor “Ready?” Loki asked and you nodded once.

you only blink once and suddenly your in this brown, dirty, circular shaped room. What a mess. “Odin-” you heard someone speak dn turned to your left to see Thor. He was kneeling over some homemade shrine. “I bid you take your place in the halls of Valhalla-” he spoke.

it was probably a some sort of prayer they used after a loved one has died. “- Where the brave shall live forever. Where thine enemies have been vanquished, Nor shall we mourn but rejoice” this what heartbreaking to hear honestly. Thor was always the toughest guy you knew and now you were witnessing this.

everyone has feelings though. Even witches like Loki

“For those who have died The glorious death” Loki chimed in with Thor. The god of thunder turns around and sits against the wall “Lady Y/n” he nods towards you. You give him a small smile “Hey” you reply. “Hurts doesn’t it, being lied too?” Loki started. Oh for fucks sake.

“Being told your one thing then learning it’s all a fiction” Thor looked at the ground before picking up a rock and tossing it in Loki’s direction. The rock went straight through Loki, making him chuckle lightly “I mean- you didn’t think i really come and see you did you? This place is disgusting” Loki gestures to the floor.

you sigh deeply “There were guards outside- after my stunt at the party. i’m not allowed out anywhere without Loki” you explained “That’s quite alright lady Y/n. I understand. Those men didn’t hurt you, did they?” Thor asks, grabbing another rock from the floor. You shake your head “No, of course not”

“Good” Thor replies, throwing the rock through Loki’s face “One less person i have to kill before we leave this place” he says. Still over protective of you. Some things never change though do they? “Does this mean you don’t want my help?” Loki asked, noticing how Thor only addressed you.

“where did you offer help in any of the words you just spoke?” You question. Loki didn’t reply to you though. Petty bitch. “I couldn’t jeopardize our-” “-Your, don’t pretend to care about lady Y/n” Thor interjected. Loki sighed before continuing. thor had clearly touched a nerve.

“our position with the Grandmaster. Took me time to win his trust. He's a lunatic, but he can be amenable.” Loki replied. You shake your head “Is everyone amenable to you, Loki?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. Loki glances at you for a moment “No”

Thor lifted another rock from the ground and threw it through Loki’s face “What I'm telling you is, you could join me at the Grandmaster's side. Perhaps, in time, an accident befalls the Grandmaster, and then...” Loki points to his brother mouthing ‘you then you ‘Y/n’ then himself ‘me’

“Oh wow- you really do suck” you say going over to Thor and pointing at a rock “Can you throw that rock for me?” you ask and he simply nods with a smile before picking it up and throwing it at him. You smile lightly. Good friend things. You look at Loki who takes a step forward.

“You're not seriously thinking of going back, are you?“ he asked with a questioning look. “i would” you mumble before stepping backwards. Thor looks like he had just been punched in the face, but had his hands folded casually. Thor was stubborn.

“Our sister destroyed your hammer like a piece of glass.“ Loki says, holding his hands out. “She's stronger than all of us. She's stronger than you“ he adds. No offense, but you definitely could’ve done some damaged if Thor had not shouted your name back at the field and alerted her to you.

“You don't stand a chance. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?” Loki’s tone gets more aggressive while Thor just scowls at him “Loki” you say, trying to get him to shut up. After a couple seconds Loki lets out a bitter laugh “Fine” he says.

“I guess I'll just have to go it alone. Like I've always done.”

Loki’s comment makes Thor smirk. One that Loki notices “Would you say something?” Loki asked. You sigh deeply. Why do you feel as if there was going to be yelling? Anyway- Thor stays silent, looking at the ground for more stones he could throw at Loki.

“Say something!” Loki shouts in a louder tone

and he does “What would you like me to say?” Thor starts. This felt awkward, being there you mean. “You stole the throne, stripped Odin of his power, stranded him on Earth-” Loki went to say something, but Thor keeps talking “-To die, releasing the goddess of death”

“he didn’t know that would happen Thor-” you say, but are quickly shut up just as Loki was “Have I said enough, or do you do you want me to go further back than the past two days?” Thor asked. You look at Loki who looks like he’s holding back tears at his brother cold stare.

nonetheless, he composes himself “You know, I haven't seen this Beloved Champion he talks of, but I've heard he's astonishingly savage. I've placed a large wager against you tomorrow. Don't let me down.” he spoke as his illusion starts to vanish. Your time is almost up.

you look at Thor as he lifts a glass bottle from the ground and throws it at the wall where Loki was. “Thor, your going to do great out there. I’ll be watching” you spoke and gave him a small smile. Thor looks at you and nods “Goodbye” you said and just as you blinked you were standing next to Loki.

☼-☪-☼

you both walked back to your room in silence. Loki looked awful. Like he wanted to breakdown at any moment. You felt bad for him. He had lost both his parents, just as you had. You could relate to some of his pain. so you should try to comfort him, right?

when the door shut behind you both, you reached up and placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder “Loki- i’m sorry about Odin. I know you say you love him like Thor does, but he had to have meant something to you” you spoke as calmly as you could.

Loki’s body tensed under your touch “I never stopped loving my father” he says, which surprises you “He raised me I was just so angry that they lied about me. I was never truly there child” he spoke, his voice beginning to waver.

“Odin and Frigga took you in as their own. They didn’t care that you weren’t biologically there’s. They gave you a home when no one else did Loki. That’s what being a parent is.” you spoke and left go of his shoulder “You can have some time alone. I’ll be in my room”

you walk past the god and towards your door, “Thank you, Y/n. How did you know what to say?” Loki spoke, making you turn around “Just what i wished someone had told me when avengers came to save me” you shrug and walk into the room, shutting the door.

☼-☪-☼

“I can’t believe you put a wager against your brother” You said, walking alongside Loki. wearing another tradition asgardian dress that Loki had picked out for you. It was another icy blue dress that had a soft brown leather as the straps. iIt was flowy and had a slit down the side.

“It was only a joke” He replies, holding your hand as you walked through the crowds of people. The Grandmaster had invited you and Loki to watch Thor’s fight from the ‘Grandmasters box’ stupid bastard and his stupid terms. As you walk, you pass by where the contenders are being held. Thor.

you didn’t have time “Will seen him soon. I can tell your worried about him” Loki spoke, squeezing your hand softly. “Thor was one of the first people to help me when i got out of Hydra. I owe him everything” you say. Loki sighs deeply before you both continue walking.

as you drew closer you were able to hear the cheers and roars of the crowd. jeez it’s just a bunch of idiots fighting- go watch some Tv or something. Suddenly you heard the Grandmaster speak. What a loser this guy was. Thinking that you were just some mans property.

“ow! Look at all of you. What a show, WHAT-A-NIGHT! Who's having fun? Please, I'm your host. Big round of applause for all of our undercard competitors who died so gruesomely. Good sports. What a show! What a night! This is what you've come for and so have I.”

when he finished speaking is when you and Loki entered the very bright room, filled with different people from different worlds. Bruce would have love to see this, sometimes you forget he’s gone. You just hoped that you’d find out what happened to him one day.

Loki leads you towards the front, skillfully grabbing two drinks and handing one to you. What a gentlemen- wait no. Damnit. “Making his first appearance, though he looks quite promising, got a couple of tricks up his sleeve. I'll say no more, see what you think. Ladies and gentlemen...”

you look down from the glass and see a latch lifting up. That has to be him. “I give to you...Lord of Thunder!” the Grandmaster shouts. You smile as your eyes landed on Thor “Oh my god they cut his hair!” you exclaim “It’s just hair” Loki replies, taking a sip from his drink.

you scoff “Okay, let me cut yours” you say and he glares “I’d rather die” he says and you nod “Told you so” the crowd was booing Thor, along with a couple people next you. “Oh screw yourselves” you grumble under your breath. Loki wraps his free arm around your waist and pulls you flush to his side.

“Try to behave darling, will you?” Loki leans down to whisper into your ear. You feel a tingling feeling in your stomach. Was he using his magic on you. “Yeah yeah, whatever” you huff, earning a smirk from the god holding you “That’s a good girl” he says- and there goes the stomach again.

you both turn back to watch Thor as he walks to the center of the arena. “Watch out for his fingers. They make sparks.” the Grandmaster says, making you roll your eyes at his statement. Thor puts a helmet on his head and pulls the small latch down.

The Grandmasters hologram began to rub his hands together “Okay, this is it. Let's get ready to welcome this guy. Here he comes. He is a creature. What can we say about him? Well, he's unique. There's none like him. I feel a special connection with him.” he gets the crowd riled up.

green bombs of dust or some kind of pigment begin to explode in the sky and over the crowd. “He's undefeated. HE'S THE REIGNING...HE'S THE DEFENDING...Ladies and gentlemen... I give you...” he spoke in broken sentences. Now he was getting you scared.

the door begins to open from the other side. It only happened halfway when it was smashed through by some green, big, angry...Hulk?! You feel as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders “Bruce?” you whisper to yourself, almost dropping the glass in your hand.

Loki on the other hand turned paler then he already was and let go of you “I have to get off this planet” he spoke and turned around to leave the room, but the Grandmaster was right behind him “Hey, hey, hey! Where are you going?” he questions, but Loki has no words. Neither do you.

the Grandmaster leads you both to the long couch and you and Loki sit side by side. You could hear Bruce screaming Hulk into the crowd. What was going on? Thor suddenly turns from the Hulk to where you guys are “Hey! We know each other. He's a friend from work!” then we went to talk to Hulk.

you didn’t notice your hands were shaking as Loki placed his on top of one yours “Are- are you alright?” he asked and you reach up to wipe away a forming tear “I haven’t seen bruce in two years. I thought he was gone- dead” despite Loki being in fear of his life he gave you a smile. “Well, that’s good”

“Loki! Y/n! Look who it is!”

you both look away from each other and look at Thor who was gesturing Hulk to look at Loki. Loki looked like he wanted the world to swallow him up “You’ll be alright. If he does come up here i can protect you. Hulk loves me” you say with a toothy grin.

suddenly Hulk charges at Thor “What is he doing?!” you shout as both Thor and Hulk begin to fight each other. This is not according to plan at all. A couple seconds later it looks like Hulk was about to grab Thor's hand “Oh thank god” you mumble to yourself a little too soon.

Hulk picked up Thor by his leg and through him repeatedly onto the ground before tossing him to the side. Loki shoots up from his seat “Yes! That's how it feels!” he exclaims. Jeez. You stand up and grab his arm. Loki turns to see the Grandmaster staring at him strangely.

“I'm just a huge fan of the sport.” Loki explains and the Grandmaster just laughs. You sit Loki down as well as yourself “Real calm and classy there antlers” you say with a small grin. Loki growls under his breath “Really? How ‘bout you let that green moron smash you into the ground”

you couldn’t help, but laugh “I’m sorry. That sounded so wrong” you say, your mind going to straight to the gutter. Loki looks at you weirdly before cringing “You are a perverted girl” he says. You shrug your shoulders “Yeah whatever. Do something about it” you say jokingly, going back to watching Thor.

you feel Loki’s hand being firmly placed on your thigh, his other hand sliding behind your back to grip your waist “I can show you what i can do about it later if you so desire” error error Y/n.exe has stopped working. You feel that fluttery feeling in your stomach again. Damn god of teasing.

you somehow manage to keep your cool and grinned at him “No offense, your highness. You couldn’t handle me” you say. His brow raises in amusement. No one has ever said such a thing to him. Just as he opens his mouth you see in the corner of your eye the Grandmaster pulling out the chip remote.

he presses the button and Thor falls to the ground. That dirty cheater.

☼-☪-☼

hours later

it was after the fight and you were pacing back and forth in your room while Loki sat on the bed “Will you cut that out?” Loki suggested and your skin change quickly. You form a icicle and throw it towards him. He catches it in his hand swiftly “Do not tell me to calm down! That dirty freak cheated!”

Loki sighs and goes to open his mouth when the door opens. “The Grandmaster has requested your presence Loki of asgard” a guard spoke. Your skin changed back to normal as Loki stood up. You go walk along with him when the guard stops you “Only Loki” he spoke.

you sigh and nod, giving Loki a small smile. “I’ll be here once you get back” you say and he sighs before leaving with the guard. Now, your stuck here. All alone. You go over to the bed and sit down. The sheets were still messed up from where Loki had slept the night before.

why were you thinking about that?

the door flies open, revealing a brown skinned woman with asgardian armor and white markings on her. “Hello Lady Y/n. Thor asked me to come find you. Noe let’s go” she spoke quickly. You got up instantly and walked to her. Wait “Will be we getting Loki?” you ask

the woman looks at you for a moment and nods “Yes- later now lets go princess before i’m late for a meeting with the Grandmaster. I heard you can fight by the way so i got you some good clothes to move around in.” you nod as you both alk out the room

☼-☪-☼

the woman, who told you to call her Val had dropped you off at the junkyard, but let you get changed first of course into a black leather warrior outfit. . At first you were confused as why she had dropped you here, but when you saw Thor leaving a quinjet.

as you ran up to him you saw another person leaving. It was Bruce in Tony’s clothes? “Bruce!” you yell. He turns around and looks at you with a confused stare “Y/n? Your taller and older. Wait- Why are you here?!” he questions. You chuckle and look at Thor “It’s a long story, where are we going?”

☼-☪-☼

with Val and Loki

both asgardians had just walked out the Grandmasters hall to find and capture Thor and Hulk. They were both walking fast since Loki said he could get them back in one hour. “What have you done?” Loki accuses only full well she had something to do with the escape.

Val takes takes one look at him and scowls “I don’t answer to you, lackey” she snaps back. Loki stops and grabs her arm “It’s Loki and you will answer to the Grandmaster” he says. Val pushes off his arm and punches him in the nose. Loki stumbles back a bit and pulls out a Sakaarian blade

“Why would you help me brother escape with that green fool?” He questions, pointing the blade at her. Val pulls out a blade of her own “I don’t help anyone” she quips back and the two rush each other. Hitting, kicking, dodging, the whole ordeal. at one point Loki grabbed her arm and saw her mark.

“You're a Valkyrie. I thought the Valkyrie all died gruesome deaths?” he says, knowing it would rile her up and it did. Val escapes from his grip and pushes him against the wall, holding the knife to his throat “Choose your next words wisely” she seethes down at him.

Loki looks up at her, smug “Terribly sorry. Must be a very painful memory...” and puts his hand on her forehead. Val was taken back to the moment the Valkyrie were sent to fight Hela for the thrown. Val watched them all die again as well as her girlfriend.

once she came back she was pushed back onto the floor by Loki. She stands back up quickly and pushes him on the ground, straddling him “You know your majesty, i have some terrible news for you. I went to your little girlfriends room after you left” she started, making Loki’s eyes go wide.

“she was a pretty one i’ll give you that. That was until i slit her throat and watched her bleed out” It was Val’s turn to rile Loki up. “Y-Your lying!” Loki shouts, struggling against her. “Oh really?” she says and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a piece of blue tool from your dress, stained with blood.

Loki felt his heart drop into his stomach, like he wanted to vomit and cry all at the same time “No...’ he mumbles and grabs the tool from her hand. Val looked stunned for a moment before punching his face and knocking him out. She was not expectantly that kind of reaction from him.

☼-☪-☼

you, Thor, and Bruce were walking through the crowd of Hulk worshippers basically when Val had found you. She had led you all inside safely. She was a pretty cool gal. You had to get her number after this. Does she have a phone. You all walked down this hall when she stops.

Bruce stopped behind thor and you stopped behind Bruce. “Look, I've spent years in a haze trying to forget my past. Sakaar seemed like the best place to drink and forget and to die one day.” Val spoke, making you frown slightly. Thor nods.

“I was thinking that you drink too much, and that probably was going to kill you.” Thor spoke. Val gave him an annoyed look before walking towards the door “Also, i have a piece offering” she said vaguely before opening the door. Thor walks in first, then Bruce.

Once you walk in you noticed Loki, chained up and hanging his head in shame, he was looking at a piece of tool that rested on the ground in front of him “Brother?” Thor spoke, crouching down to look at his face “Loki are you alright?” he asked

“she was so much like me you know, we both didn’t know where we belonged. Both too cold and felt like monsters. I had never felt that way about anyone. I don’t think i’ll ever feel that way again. I don’t want too actually, not if it isn’t her” everyone in the room could notice his voice breaking.

just as you were about too console him Val put an arm in front of you and pressed a finger to her mouth. Telling you to shut it basically. You are confused, but nod slowly “Brother. I don’t understand. Who are you talking about? What has made you this upset?” Thor questions.

Loki’s body started to shake as he sobbed “Y/n. That scraper killed her. she took her away from me, now i’m all alone again.” he explains solemnly. Thor looks confused “Loki, lady Y/n is right here” he spoke. Loki lifted his head up and Thor was right. There you were, alive.

Loki didn’t know whether to be relieved or angered, but he stuck with relieved. “Let him out!” you shout, walking over to Loki to pull on the chains. “Y/n i don’t think that’s such a good idea-” Bruce started, but you didn’t care. You got the chains undone and Loki instantly wrapped his arms around you.

“Hey, i’m here” you say as he holds onto tightly, almost like you would disappear if he let you go “I know” he replies before pulling away. You look around and notice everyone staring at you “What?” Loki spots Bruce and tilts his head “Hello Bruce” he spoke, standing up from the chair.

Bruce looks at him “So, last time i saw you, you were trying to kill everybody. Where are you at these days?” he questions. Loki looked at you then Val who was grabbing something out the closet “It varies from moment to moment” he spoke before completely ignoring him.

Loki studies your face “I’m alive Loki” you say to reassure him and he sighs “i know, just wan’t to keep it that way” he says. You muster up a smile “That is the nicest thing you have said to me since we got here” you admit. He rolls his eyes and looks down for a moment then back at you

“I need to tell you something-”

“Loki come here!” Thor says, waving at him from the otherside of the room. Loki sighs and look at you, going to say something “It’s okay. we can talk later” you reassure him and he smiles.

☼-☪-☼

you, Loki, and Thor were assigned to get a ship for all of you to leave on, but throughout the whole time you were fighting to get there Loki and Thor were talking about leaving each other or staying together. You wished you stayed with Bruce and Val.

now you were in a elevator, with you standing in front of the two, skin icy white and blue and no pupils. “Here's the thing. I'm probably better off staying here on Sakaar.” Loki says. You turn around and look at him with wide eyes “Loki-” you say, but Thor interrupts “That's exactly what I was thinking.”

okay what? “Thor-” you say this time, but the same thing happens. “Did you just agree with me?” Loki asked, stunned. Thor shrugs “Come on, this place is perfect for you. It's savage, chaotic, lawless. Brother, you're going to do great here.” Thor says, glancing at him once- ouch.

Loki looks forward and you wished you hadn’t come at all “Do you truly think so little of me?” Loki questions. Thor pauses for a moment before looking at his brother. “ Loki, I thought the world of you. I thought we were gonna fight side by side forever. But, at the end of the day, you're you, I'm me” he starts.

you watch as Loki’s face changes from different emotions. To hope, then sorrow. “I don't know, maybe there's still good in you-” Thor says and gestures to you “-but let's be honest, our paths diverged a long time ago.” he finished. You stepped aside Loki and reached down to grab his hand.

Loki sighs and looks at his brother one last time “Yeah... It's probably for the best that we never see one another again.” he replies, nodding his head. You look down. Stupid boys. “That's what you always wanted.” Thor says and pats his brother on the back, you noticed he place the chip on his back.

strange, but you trust Thor’s judgement. Doesn’t mean you weren’t going to swipe the remote off of him though.

Loki looks away slowly letting go of your hand. It was silence for a few moments. Awkward silence filled with tension and emotion. Jumping through the glass and falling to your death didn’t really look so bad right now “Hey, let’s do get help” Thor pipes up.

“What?” Loki asked, turning to look at Thor again

“What’s get help?-”

“Get help” Thor repeats with a cheery smile on his face.

“Oh come on, you love it”

“No i hate it

“It’s great. It works every time”

“Its humiliating”

“Do you have a better plan?”

you got to speak when they just start talking again “No” Loki replies and Thor just looks back forward with a smile “Were doing it” he says and Loki does the same “We are not doing get help” Loki says, thinking that’s the end of it. You look at both of them and groan “I hate both of you”

☼-☪-☼

as the elevator door opens, you are stuck clinging onto the ceiling. You wait a couple of seconds “Alright. Come down” Thor calls and you jump down from the bar “Get help huh?” you chuckle, looking at Loki who turns and glares at you. You smile and walk behind them.

“Now which one is the ship she told us to get?” Thor asked. Loki pointed at a bright orange ship “The Commodore” he says. You all begin to walk. A second later he walks away, grabbing your arm to follow along with him and leaving a illusion walking alongside Thor. What?

“Though I feel it won't make much of a difference” the illusion spoke. Thor sighs “Oh Loki” and turns to see you and Loki at the control panel “I know I've betrayed you many times before, but this time it's truly nothing personal. The reward for\ your capture will set Y/n and i up nicely.”

Y/n what now? Loki presses a button on the panel and the places starts to go off “Loki, you didn’t” you gasp as you rip your arm from him. “Never one for sentiment, were you?” Thor asks. Loki grinned “Easier to let it burn.” he replies in a low tone.

Thor reaches into his pocket as his eyes go wide. You slowly back away from Loki “Y/n-” “You self centered prick!” you snapped, pulling the remote out of your pocket. His face drops and he takes a step forward “Y/n, please-” he tries to explain, but you had already made up your mind. “No!” you shout.

Loki goes to speak again, but you press the button, watching as he drops to the floor. Thor walks past you and towards Loki “Oh that looks painful” Thor mumbles. You follow after him, walking much slower. Thor kneels down beside his brother.

“Oh brother, you're becoming predictable. I trust you, you betray me. Round and round in circles we go.” Thor speaks, looking down at Loki. See, Loki, life is about, it's about growth. It's about change, but you seem to just wanna stay the same.”

it hurt to see Loki that way, but in the end if he could betray Thor so easily. he’d do it to you too and no amount of love could change that “I guess what I'm trying to say is that you'll always be the God of Mischief, but you could be more.” Thor sighed and stood up “I’ll start the ship” and with that, he left.

you look at Thor then Loki. You go to where Thor was kneeling and do the same “You almost fooled me i’ll give you that. The whole touch thing and flirty comments. It almost made me think you felt the same. What tied it in was the tears.” you say, watching as he turned to look at you, pain on his face.

“Maybe you do care about me, but in the end you would betray anyone to save your own skin Loki. Thor’s right, you could be so much more. To him, the world...to me” You looked up to stop the tears forming in your eyes to fall down your face. You quickly wipe them and look back down.

“Thank you for being my first hug” You stand up and throw the remote a few feet away from him. “and my last” and with that you turned away leaving Loki on Sakaar along with any feelings you had for him.

☼-☪-☼

after fighting your way out of Sakaar on a orgy ship you passed out. Bruce was the first to wake, then Val and Thor with you being the last “I never thought i’d be back here” Val spoke. You and Bruce undo your seatbelts and stand behind Thor and Val.

Asgard.

“Though it be a lot nicer” Bruce spoke up. “Bruce- dude” you say, shaking your head. He noticed all of your collective disappointed stares and sputtered “Not- noth that it’s not nice- it’s just- it’s just on fire” well he was right about that. You assumed it was Hela’s doing.

the dashboard started going off and Val looked at it “Here, up in the mountains. heat signatures, people clustered together. Hela’s coming for them” she explained, pointing at the 3D diagram. You sigh as you power up your abilities, Bruce giving you a odd stare. Guess he’s not used to it.

“Okay, drop me off at the palace and i'll draw her away.” Thor spoke up. “Thor she destroyed your hammer like nothing. You can’t do this alone!” you protest. Thor shakes his head and looks back at you, “Then you’ll come with me Lady Y/n” he says “And get yourselves killed?” Val questions

“The people trapped down there are all that matters. While we're dealing with Hela, I need you two to help get everyone off Asgard.” Thor instrucks. Bruce pokes his head in between and looks at both of them “and how the hell are we supposed to do that?”

“I have a man on the ground”

☼-☪-☼

Thor looked up at Val as her and Bruce flew away. Hm, strange.

once you two got to the castle, you noticed rumble all over the floor, even a piece with Thor’s face on it. Thor looks up at the ceiling and you follow suit. What you see in horrific. Pictures of Odin and Hela destroying worlds.

you look over at Thor and notice his grim face “Thor? Are you okay” you say. Thor sighs and nods “Wait behind a pillar. Hela should be here soon” he says and you nod, walking away to find a hiding spot.

Thor sat in the throne and began to band Odin’s scepter on the floor, causing loud booms to flow throughout the castle. Only seconds later did you here Hela’s heels down the hallway.

she was here

“sister” Thor says. You couldn’t see them, but you could hear them. “Your still alive” she says back, soundly somewhat surprised. “ I love what you've done with the place. Redecorating, I see.” Thor spoke. Was this a time to be making jokes??

“It seems our father's solution to every problem was to cover it up.” Hela snarls at him. Okay she’s getting upset. “Or to cast it out. He told you you were worthy. He said the same thing to me.” Thor responds, solem in his tone. You could hear the bitterness in his tone

“You see, you never knew him, not at\ his best.” Hela sighs like it’s a fond memory to look back on ”Odin and I drowned entire civilizations in blood and tears. Where do you think all this gold came from? And then one day he decided to become a benevolent king.”

Hela’s voice becomes more sour “To foster peace, to protect life.” she starts “To have you” ouch- that has gotta sting. “ I understand why you're angry. and you are my sister, and technically have a claim to the throne. And believe me, I would love for someone else to rule. But it can't be you. You're just the worst.”

Thor no- you hear the swish noise like the last time she put on her crown “Okay, get up. You're in my seat.” she said, done playing games with Thor. clearly. “You know, Father once told me that a wise king never seeks out war” he says, you could hear his heavy footsteps.

“But must always be ready for it.” Hela replies, drawing closer

that’s your cue

you jump down and ice the floor just as Thor jumps in the air. Hela goes to throw a blade at him, but it ends up missing because she couldn’t balance. her head snaps in your direction and she snarls “You again?!” she shouts, charging towards you.

pressing your palms together and pull them out quickly, forming a silver sword with a blue base and handle. You lift your sword, but Thor hits her away with the scepter. Hela is knocked back, but for only a moment as she gets up and charges at Thor.

she manages to knock the scepter away pin Thor against the wall “Here's the difference between us. I'm Odin's firstborn, the rightful heir, the savior of Asgard.” she spoke before throwing Thor to the floor “And you're nothing.” You run up at her and hit her away from Thor.

“and your a bitch!” you yelled. Now you two her going hand to hand “Who are you? Your not asgardian is that for sure, but i sense a power off you stronger then any human could bare” she spoke, kicking you to the ground “You have the power of a infinity stone. Now that’s interesting darling”

Hela forms a blade “Too bad that power will die with you” she smiles wickedly as she goes to plunge it into your stomach, but Thor tackles her to the ground. “Y/n leave now!” Thor shouts, as Hela knocks him in the face “But what about you!” you shout, forming a icicle in your hand to throw at her.

“This is my fight and i will not lose you. Now go!” he shouts just as Hela sliced his eye. You almost choked before you got yourself together and ran and ran and ran. “Thor i hope you know what your doing”

☼-☪-☼

as soon you headed out the castle, you used a burst of cold fog to send you into the sky. The bifrost! it’s being attacked by Hela’s knights and a large wolf. That’s where to go you guess and you another burst to send you towards the bridge.

the wolf was running towards a bunch of unarmed asgardians. You dropped onto the bifrost just as bruce came flying out the ship and landing face first “Bruce! This is why i said to keep your seatbelt on!” you shout. he’s lucky he’s mutated or he’d be dead.

the wolf sniffed Bruce for a few seconds before running your direction again. You form a blade and have it sending his way, but he wasn’t stopping. You look over and see a dark skinned man with long hair, Heimdall holding a sword “Nice to meet you i guess?” you spoke with nervous laughter.

he looked your way and nodded “You too Lady Y/n” wait- how did he know your name. Nevermind that- both you and Heimdall hold your swords in ready position. The wolf is inches away when it suddenly stopped? You watch as it’s pull back and thrown to the other side.

Hulk!

“Yes!” you shout, throwing your arms in the air. Hulk lets out a thunderous roar, hitting his chest. The wolf comes after him and they both fall off the bifrost. One problem down, two more to go. More knights begin to run towards the group and you and hemdall began to fight them off.

you are so telling Tony about this!

Heimdall gets hit in the knee and you rush over to help him when a rock guy come out of nowhere and blasts the knight into nothing. Wait- wasn’t this Thor’s friend- from back on Sakaar? “Hey man and woman. I'm Korg. This is Miek.” he introduces himself as a purple worm robot appears.

you might need therapy after this one actually “We're going to jump on that spaceship and get out of here. Want to come?” he asked. He was rather polite. You smile lightly “We’d love too Korg, just after we kill these things.” You reply. You suddenly hear something off in the distance

you and Heimdall turn to see a figure amongst the mist. Please don’t be Hela, please do not be Hela! Once the figure came to view you gasped. “Your saviour is here!” Loki shouts, standing on top of the landing pad. What a narcissist! A narcissist that you were in love with, but technicalities don’t count.

as the ship lands people of asgard begin to board “Did you miss me?” he says, you smile lightly. he had come back to save his people “Now everyone on the ship!” he commands and asgardians begin to flood in. Loki pushed through the people and made his way towards you and Heimdall.

“Welcome back. I saw you coming” Heimdall speaks. Loki purses his lips together and nods “Course you did” he says and looks at you “Surprised to see me, darling?” he says with a small smirk. You shake your head slowly with a smile “I was hoping you do the right thing. Your just boosting my ego”

Loki grinned at you for a moment before pull out two asgardian blades “Will talk more in a bit” he sends you a wink as the Knights charge you all. You fly into the air and slam into the ground, causing a cold breeze to freeze about a dozen. You watch as they crumble and fall apart.

“Didn’t know i could do that” you shrug and pull out your sword once again. The bright sky turned a dark grey as electricity struck the castle, causing a big explosion “Yes! Thor!” you shout. “Hopefully it killed that bitch, no offense since she is your sister and all” you say to Loki.

he shrugs and slices a Knight in half “Unrelated note. You look very sexy while fighting” he smirks. You shake your head as your form multiple blades and send them at the Knights behind him. Loki goes wide eyed and watch about seven fall to the ground

“Me and you definitely need to talk later” his voice came out in a growl, which honestly sent shivers up your spine. You let out a chuckle as you watch Thor crash onto the bifrost “Why not now? Your brother seems to be keeping most of their attention”

Loki raises a brow “You wan’t me to confess my undying love for you in the middle of war?” he questions. Well that was blunt. “You do have a thing for undying don’t you? Anyway, just tell me now. one of us may not live till the end of this war” you spoke.

you notice Loki’s face change to a grim one “Your not dying on me, i won’t allow it” he said, almost as it was a command. “Loki- be realistic. Now shut up and tell me” you say as you stab through a Knight “Okay- from the moment i laid eyes on you, i could tell you were like me” he says.

“How so?” you question. “You question who you are and wonder if you belong anywhere. You think of yourself as a monster just as i do to my Jotun side. I wont ever question you and we can belong to each other. I do not see you as a monster Y/n. I see you as a goddess”

wow- he could sure smooth talk a gal into anything. Jokes aside his words meant everything to you, he meant everything to you. You use your ice to put up a bubble around the both of you. Loki looks confused for a moment before turning to look at you.

“Just say you love me Loki” you chuckle. He smiles slightly and grabs your hands “Y/n, i am in love with you. I think that’s better” he quipped back. you both laugh for a moment “Do asgardians use the term boyfriend and girlfriend?” you say.

Loki shakes his head “We like to use more gender inclusive terms. So, Y/n would you like to be my forever and i yours?” you could have passed out right then and there. Also- how was asgard more woke then earth? That’s some bullshit right there.

you break away from your thoughts and nod “of course i do” you say. Loki is unable to control his smile as he dips his head down. He was leaning when Boom! the bubble is destroyed. You smile and pull away “i guess you have to wait my prince” you tease, forming your sword again.

you could tell you touched a nerve because Loki squirmed a bit “Your such a vixen, darling. I can’t wait to have you all alone” he spoke in a low tone. You take a deep breath and try to compose yourself, but the thought of you and Loki- alone. It just took over your mind.

“Can this fucking shit be over with! Hurry it the hell up Thor!” you shout as you jab your sword through two Knights and push them off the bifrost. Loki’s helmet fell as he was fighting one. You run and slide across the bifrost to grab it. Ha antlers- not right now!

Once you do you chuck it at Loki who uses it to knock the Knight of his feet and push a sword through its stomach. Loki looks up at you and you grin at him “Teamwork, my prince” you say before bursting into the air “Stop calling that in public!” he yells.

Thor comes walking up too Loki, both breathing heavily. You drop down beside them “Your late” Thor says and Loki sighs “Your missing an eye” he replies back. Huh? You look at Thor and wave your hand over it, causing a cooling effect for him “Hopefully it’s stops the throbbing” you say.

Thor nods and gives you a tired smile as Val walks past you three “This isn’t over” she breathes out. Well- she’s not wrong on that one. All four of you walk together. You all stop to catch your breath “I think we should disband the Revengers.” Thor spoke.

“Good. It was a shit idea” you comment, making Val stifle laughter. “Hit her with a lightning blast.” Loki suggests “we already did that and she rose from the dead still” you say. Thor looks at his brother in disbelief- he did just like shoot her into the sky and she’s walking.

“I just hit her with the biggest lightning blast in the history of lightning. It did nothing.” Thor gave his brother a know it all look. You all looked forward as Hela stalked towards you all “She is so fucking creepy” you say, forming a couple blades.

Val nods in agreement “We need to hold her off until everybody's on board.” she instructs. You all nod. You really didn’t want to fight this deer looking bitch. Antlers just run in the fucking family at this point. You stretch your back a bit. Your positive you have scoliosis after all this.

Thor shakes his head “It won't end there. The longer Hela's on Asgard the more powerful she grows. She'll hunt us down. We need to stop her here and now.” he says. “If she’s growing more powerful from just being here then how do we stop her” you look at Thor.

Val nods along with you “She’s right, so what do we so?” she says, putting an emphasis on the world ‘what’ . Loki pauses and looks at Thor “I’m not doing get help” okay that was funny, no laughing right now though. Thor steps forward and glares at Hela before looking back at the ship of people boarding.

he’s going to give a speech isn’t he?

“Asgard's not a place, it's a people.-” there it is “-This was never about stopping Ragnarok...it was about causing Ragnarok.” he says, turning his attention towards Loki. “What’s Ragnarok?” you ask, expectanting no answer, but hey gotta love Val

“It’s this big fiery demon that was literally made to destroy Asgard and everyone on it” she explains. At that moment you honestly thought about marrying her “Wait- You want to send a demon to destroy Asgard? Shit-” you say.

Thor walks over to Loki and places a hand on his shoulder “Go to the vault. Surtur's crown. It's the only way.” he says. Loki fights against himself for a moment before nodding “Bold move, brother. Even for me.” he admits before walking over to you.

“I’ll see you soon, darling” he says with a small smile. “Well aren’t going to kiss me then?” you question, his smile turning into a grin “No..i rather give you something to look forward too” he says before running off. What a dick. You look back towards Hela “Shall we?” Thor asked the both you and Val.

Val looks at Thor and smiles lightly “After you” she says. Thor jumps into the air and destroys two of Hela’s blades. Hela kicks throw out the way as Val charged at her, but she ended being thrown too. Your turn. You burst into the air and throw four blades at her. She dodges them all and sends you away with Val.

Thor picks up a Knights discarded sword and tries to plunge in into Hela, but she dodges that too. Thor turns to Heimdall and shouts “Go! Go now!” and Heimdall gets onto the ship. Hela throws a spear at him and it jabs right through Thor’s shoulder.

the ship starts to lift into the air and Hela notices. She uses big spikes from the ground and shoots them in, keeping the ship in place “I’ll handle that. You two keep her busy!” you shout and fly into the air. How were you going to do this? You watch as Knights begin to crawl the spikes and up towards the asgardians.

you had to make a move now.

just as your about to land you hear..gunshots?! Since when her guns on Asgard? Just as you got close enough a man holding to large guns jump off of the ship and onto the bifrost, breaking the spike in the process. He lands on the bifrost and you jump down next to him.

“What’s your name? Weren’t you working for Hela?” you question suspiciously. The man looks ashamed “My name is Skurge. Yes i did work for Hela temporarily, but i know now that she is not a true queen and i wan’t to make it right” he confesses.

you smile and nod at him “Good for you dude. Now prove it!” you shout and charge into battle. You love a good redemption ark. You and your new friend Skurge fight off the Knights. “Hela!” he shouts, catching the goddess’s attention. Well fuck.

as you two fought off the last one Hela sent a blade in Skurge’s direction. You didn’t think. You should have thought before you acted, but you didn’t. You were just too nice to strangers. You jump in front of Skurge and catch the blade in your back, causing you to gasp out.

skurge looks at you in shock as you slowly drop to the floor. From a distance Thor and Val watch in horror as there comrade is smite down. “No!” Thor screamed, lighting bursting in every direction “Hela enough!” he shouts, standing up “if you want Asgard. It’s yours”

Skurge moves you and pulls the blade from your back. Your vision became spotty “Loki?” you murmur as you look up “i’m so sorry” Skurge cried. Hela looked towards Thor “Whatever game you're playing, it won't work. You can't defeat me.” Hela says with a evil grin.

Skurge watched the life drain from your body as it turned to ice. A statue of who you used to be cold and frozen over. “I’m so sorry ma’am” he breathes out as he touches your face. He felt so guilty. It should have been him is what he kept thinking over and over again.

suddenly the Sakaar ship lands next to Skurge and Loki jumps out. His whole world came crashing down once he saw you. A frozen corpse. “She saved him so i stayed with her” skurge explains. Loki lifts a hand and waves him away, which is what Skurge does so.

Loki drops to his knees and touched your frozen skin “Even in death you are beautiful my love. I should have kissed you when you asked me too, but i just had to be cheeky” he says, tears forming down his face and falling onto your frozen body.

“No one can ever match your beauty, your skill, or your big heart and i will never love again. You taught me what it’s like to love and to be loved and i- i-” Loki broke down and let his tears fall like a waterfall. He was alone again. Now he would have to live his miserable life without you

☼-☪-☼

you sat up, breathing heavily. You were in a castle. Thor’s castle. How? Where’s Hela? Where’s Loki. You push yourself off the floor instantly and look around. “You must be terribly confused” you heard a woman speak. You turn around and see a older woman with light auburn hair.

“Who are you and where is everyone?” you snap at her, but she just smiles “My name is Frigga dear” she spoke kindly. You look at her in horror “You’re Loki and Thor’s mother- but....your dead. That means that i’m-” you almost gag on your own words.

“i’m afraid so dear” she speaks and gives you a sad smile. “No! I have to get back! Loki is expecting me to be there. I have to help stop Hela!” you say. This couldn’t be happening “Ragnarok has already begun and Asgard is to fall any moment. Don’t you want to rest?”

your whole life has been nothing but pain and hard work. You had never ‘rested’ a day in your life. As much as it sounded like a treat, you still had responsibilities “No. I chose to stay and fight Hela because Thor is my friend and i’m not giving up on him or Loki, Val, Bruce or the asgardians.

Frigga gives you a proud smile “That’s what i wanted you to say. I’ll bring you back” she says and rolls up her sleeves “You have to do something for me though” she spoke. You stepped towards her “Anything” he say hastily “Marry my son. Loki deserves it more then ever and so do you”

you give your future mother in law a smile “Of course. How are you going to bring me back anyway?” you question. Frigga grans both your hands and smiles “Ancient magic that is far to complex. Now when i bring you back it will be with an asgardian soul” she says. You looked confused.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’ll be an asgardian along with your abilities.”

you smile lightly. You could live as long as Loki now and truly be together forever. “Okay, i’m ready” you say and she nods “Tell my sons that i love him and tell Loki that choosing to be his mother was one of the best days of my life and Thor...that he doesn’t have to rule Asgard to be a great leader.”

you nod, locking the words into your memory. Frigga starts mumbling a spell and you feel your body become lighter and lighter until you feel like you pass out.

☼-☪-☼

Loki lifts his head up from your body as it starts to defrost. His eyes go wide as underneath the ice is your beautiful face. Your eyes shoot open and you fly into the sky. Your whole body emitting a white and blue aura. You flew towards Thor, Val and Hela.

Thor puts his hands on his hips and points behind him “No i know, but he can” he says and Surtur comes crashing through the castle. As Hela stares at her downfall Val takes the opportunity to pierce her sword through Hela’s chest. Your form an ice spear and launch yourself down, stabbing it straight through her.

Thor sends and burst of electricity and you back away, slowly landing on the bifrost. It was over. Hela was doen for and you wanted to leave this retched planet.

☼-☪-☼

you walk through the ship until you find Thor and Loki in one room. Loki was holding a cap to a liquor bottle. “Hello boys” you spoke and they both turn to look at you “Lady Y/n, the girl who cheated death! No wonder you and Loki are perfect for each other” Thor announced, bowing at you.

you smiled and walked over to a loveseat, Loki following suit and sitting next to you “Yeah uh- i didn’t cheat anything. I actually died” You said “But how, your right here?” Loki says, grabbing your hand “I came back with a little help of a certain someone” you say.

Thor walks over and sits down across from you two “Who?” he questions and take a sip of his drink “Frigga” you said, making the brothers look at you in shock “Mother, how?” Loki asked. “I woke up in the castle and she was there. She said she could bring me back and gave me a few things to say”

both boys inched closer “She said she loves you both and Thor, you don’t have to rule asgard if it isn’t what you wan’t. Your still a great man and Loki” you turn your body to face your forever “one of the best days of Frigga life was choosing to be your mother and love you like her own blood”

Loki’s face said just about enough as well as Thor’s. They both looked at there laps, smiling to themselves. “I’m also asgardian now” you say, grabbing a drink from the table. Thor drops his glass on the floor, smashing it into tiny pieces. That was a nice cup.

“What!?” they both shout.

☼-☪-☼

Loki had found you both a room on the ship with a perfect view of the unknown outside. You were currently looking through it now, thinking. A pair of arms wrap around you from behind “I still owe you a kiss” Loki breathes out. You smile brightly and turn around in his hold, facing him.

“I believe you do...my prince” You say at the end just to tease him. Loki growls under his breath before pressing his lips to yours for a hungry kiss while his hands pulled you flush against him. You thought your first kiss would be sweet and short, but Loki’s was needy and passionate.

you both pulled at each others clothing, wanting it off but not having the strength to pull away and do so. After a minute of two Loki pulls away “I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks” he admits, making you chuckle. “Good thing you have me all night then, my forever. i love you Loki of asgard”

Loki grins at your words and kisses your forehead “i love you as well, Y/n, my forever”

☼-☪-☼

Kody- I want no one to talk about how long it is, it hurts to even mention.

200 notes · View notes

lovelylogans · 3 years

Text

the warmest hello (to the coldest goodbye)

once a spy, always a spy forever, forever the warmest hello to the coldest goodbye remember, remember -spies are forever, the tin can bros

warnings: undercover spy work, mention of weapons, drugging someone into unconsciousness/giving someone a roofie, essentially the start of an enemies to lovers fanfiction

pairings: virgil/logan, offscreen roman/patton

words: 4,465

notes: this is for day 7 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “free day” and i have decided to write a combination soulmates and rival spies au! please enjoy!

⁂

Not that Virgil would admit it, but, like literally every other marked person, he's tried to imagine how he might meet his soulmate. He just didn't ever spare any thought on what he'd do if it happened on the job.

His official cover to his friends (which was mostly his cousin Roman and Roman’s husband Patton) was that he was an analyst—he was always vague about what exactly it was he analyzed, but since neither of them were particularly mathematically inclined, and both were maybe a bit too trusting for their own good, they took him at his word.

Even when he was sent off on various unusual "business trips.”

It’s not like Virgil’s mark is very specific about when and where it’ll happen. Virgil knows that variations of "sorry about that” make for a large percentage of common soulmarks.

There’s protocols in place, of course, but Virgil had never really paid attention to those classes while training to be a spy. The Lewis clause is the kind of thing Virgil didn’t pay as much attention to, because it didn’t seem as useful as understanding the technology or how to make a cover. The Lewis clause is what to do when someone meets a soulmate on the job—there are specifications for if the soulmate is a target, a team member, or an enemy.

Virgil hadn’t really cared at the time. He’d kick himself for that later.

Any number of meetings occurred accidentally—knocking something over, bumping into someone, or, like his cousin Roman's soulmate did, take Roman's coffee thinking it was his own hot chocolate. They got married two winters ago, just so they could serve hot beverages in cold weather.

He thinks the iteration stamped in black along his left inner arm, "I'm very sorry about this," with the addition of "oh no, it's you” tacked on at the end of his makes it likely that whatever he says will, A, likely be first, B, be somewhat unique, or unique enough to be immediately recognizable, and C, be in the aftermath of some kind of accident.

He ends up being partially right. What he says is first and it is somewhat unique. What his soulmate apologizes for is no accident, though.

Virgil does undercover work, sure, but it's very rare for him to enter the James Bond style locale he's at today, and that he’s been working for the past couple months; the marble ballroom he's circling is dripping with gold chandeliers and matching heavy, velvet curtains that accent the floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s a string quartet in the corner, barely audible over the chatter of rich socialites. Virgil, deeply uncomfortable in his white-tie attire, is circling the room in an attempt at looking like he attends charity balls all the time.

He sucks at it.

As if on cue, his earpiece crackles to life.

"How the fuck did you ever qualify to be a spy?" Janus, his tech man and eye in the sky, snickers into his ear. "Your acting skills are horrendous. If you auditioned for The Room right now, they wouldn't let you into the cast.”

"Fuck off,” Virgil fake-coughs into his shoulder.

"Christ, at least try to look like you're mingling, not like you've stalked the target here."

Unable to stop himself, he glances toward the target he's meant to be watching.

The target, who is so staggeringly wealthy it could make Virgil, who is trying to pay off his student debt on a spy's salary (not as high as one might think) burst into tears. Or, much more likely, start ranting about the myriad flaws of capitalism. If so inclined, he could honestly probably steal the amount of money necessary from one of her offshore accounts, and it would be as unnoticeable as someone taking a penny from him.

Mary Lee Truman is standing amidst a flock of suited men, like a dove amidst a flock of dour crows; her dress is slinky silk, a shade of champagne that glimmers rose-gold in the right shade of light. She’s standing leaned to one side, her hip popped out and an arm crossed over her stomach, a crystal-cut champagne flute dangling in her fingers as if she was born to hold one.

Her husband, Lee Truman (fuck if that wasn’t confusing, it was really easier to think of them by their codenames) is off by the bar, seemingly getting himself another drink.

His eyes stray to Mary Lee again; he can tell a couple of the suits are hired muscle, bodyguards, which makes sense, as the Trumans are allegedly a massive crime family, doing their dirty dealings in plain sight. A couple of the suits he recognizes from dossiers; one is a business partner of Lee’s father, who might not even know what the Truman family really gets up to; one absolutely knows what the Truman family gets up to, as Virgil’s read his rap sheet and knows he’s been in and out of jail due to his assignments from the mob.

There’s one suit there that really doesn’t seem to fit the mold of either category.

For one thing, he’s around Virgil’s age; for another, he isn’t rippling with muscle. Not that he doesn’t look fit; his well-tailored suit shows off his broad shoulders, his biceps, his lean waist. He’s dark-haired, and pale, and blue-eyed, and he’s standing next to Mary Lee with a look that Virgil would think of as dour, but now that he’s looking closely, the blue-eyed man looks almost... calculating.

This man wasn’t in the dossier.

Almost everyone at this ball was in the dossier.

Virgil looks away from Mary Lee and the handsome man, and instead decides to start taking up Janus’ advice; he slowly moves through the room.

Well. He's doing it to get closer to Mary Lee, but sure, he can attempt to mingle.

He traverses through the room, his fancy shoes clicking on the marble floor, mindful to not step on any dress hems—he has it easy, as his directive was simply to wear his white tie with his hidden weapons, his ear piece, and his lapel pin that records everything he's seeing. The women in the room provide the only splashes of color outside of the black suits and white shirts of the men, the gleaming marble, the gold- accented glasses and dishware. Even what little art he's seen follows that color theme -- white marble busts, abstract black and white paintings in their gilded frames, a gold statue outside the front steps, as if to greet the partygoers.

But the women of the party aren't beholden to this strict color scheme. Gowns of pink chiffon, red lace, blue taffeta, deep violet velvet, Virgil passes them all, keeping one eye out for rose gold silk.

He ends up instituting himself in a ring of people listening intently to an art history professor talking about the architectural significance of his building—he introduces himself with his cover name, James Walker, to the man next to him, who Virgil already knows is a Truman cousin. He gives a fake first name too—he says his name is Alex, when Virgil knows it’s really Bruce. Okay. Something to take note of.

He listens to the art history professor talk about art deco with just one ear, the other straining to eavesdrop on Mary Lee and her suits.

“Do you think our beneficiary approaches?” Mary Lee murmurs to the blue-eyed one, the one that wasn’t in the dossier.

“Oh, I know he does,” the blue-eyed man says to her. He has a pleasant British accent, the kind of voice that would be right at home on a nature documentary calmly narrating the eating habits of wolverines, or something like that. “According to all my research, our previous beneficiary is no longer within our purview. A new one will have been instilled in hasty time. As a matter of fact, I believe I would be able to point him out to you right now.”

Mary Lee sighs, a little, and the man continues talking about their charity. Virgil’s mind races. He knows the Truman’s “charity work” almost always acts as a sieve to run dirty money through, so what would it mean, that they got a new beneficiary? A new target, maybe? A new directive?

Either way, this is almost definitely some kind of code they’re talking in. He tunes a bit more into the art history professor’s impromptu lecture—he’s taking a brief tangent into talking about Tamara de Lempicka—as he ruminates on that particular conversation between the blue-eyed Brit and Mary Lee.

Then he ends up in conversation with an elderly woman beside him, who wants to know who he is—James Walker, I run a business a state or two over, I’m interested in diversifying my assets—and if he’s been to any art museums in town. Both he and the man he is meant to be have not, but it turns out she’s a curator and has numerous suggestions for him.

He also knows this woman, Ida Kelly, has been paying into the Truman business for quite some time, and has potentially ordered hits using the Truman’s muscle.

“Madam,” a suited waiter shows up at her side, as if on cue, and hands her a small glass full of what looks like a gin-and-tonic.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” she says, taking her drink immediately.

The waiter turns to him. There is a singular champagne flute on the tray. “Sir.”

“I didn’t order anything,” Virgil says stupidly, before he realizes that almost everyone here is taking champagne flutes off of trays, and he supposes this waiter just wants to clear his before he has to double back and get more. “Oh, all right.”

He takes it. It’s a delicate, crystal-cut glass. He’s almost a little afraid that if he holds it wrong, it’ll break.

“Really, we’re doing an Impressionism exhibit, and it is positively divine,” she says.

Very suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder, emanating warmth through his suit and Virgil jumps, a little—he hopes whoever it is didn’t feel one his knives. Or, God forbid, his gun.

He turns to see no one, when a hand touches his opposite arm, and he turns again. It turns out to be the blue-eyed Brit, who is staring only at Ida, brushing past him, allowing his hand to trail down Virgil’s arm, touching his hand as if to say, please stay there, I do not want to bump into you.

At such a close range, Virgil can smell his absolutely incredible cologne, see his defined jawline, the way his blue eyes gleam.

Ida brightens. “Darling!”

“Ida,” the Brit says warmly. “I visited that display myself, it was simply wonderful.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” she says, clearly drinking up the praise. Virgil looks between them, feeling even more awkward than he has all night.

“Wait a goddamned minute,” Janus murmurs in his ear, after such a long stretch of silence that it makes Virgil jump again. There’s the sound of rapid typing.

“A victory!” The man says, lifting his glass—it looks to be full of whiskey. “A toast, to your latest triumph.”

“Oh, now,” she says, but when the other surrounding suits start lifting their glasses, Virgil lifts his, as well.

“To Ida Kelly,” the Brit says. “One of the finest artistic minds to walk the earth at our time!”

Virgil takes a sip of his champagne at the same time as everyone else; another woman in a deep green gown with a shawl edged in feathers takes Ida’s arm, rhapsodizing about the Impressionism movement and the latest event that her art gallery had put on.

It takes about a minute for Virgil to notice his vision going blurry in the corners.

It takes him about ten seconds of blinking hard and rubbing his eyes, hoping to clear it, to stumble over his own two feet.

It takes five seconds for Janus’ voice to buzz to life in his earpiece, urgent, “Virgil, get out of there, get away from that man, that’s Lo—”

It takes him about two seconds after that to notice that the blue-eyed Brit is looking at him with an expression clearly lacking remorse.

It takes him about half a second to realize the finger tapping one shoulder, his hand at his hand—the same hand that had been holding his champagne flute. He hadn’t been looking at his drink. The Brit had made him turn away from his drink.

The Brit put something in his drink.

Virgil’s been made.

“Good God, man,” another suited man says, when Virgil stumbles over his own two feet, “had enough of the bubbly, have you?”

Virgil ignores him; even as his vision is growing blurrier and blurrier, his eyes are intent on the Brit, staggering towards him, and he doesn’t even really know why. He’s been made, he should be running, but—

"Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?" Virgil slurs, and his sudden lack of physical control resoundingly answers the question before the Brit can; the arms that catch him before he can full flat on his face are muscular and warm. He’s distantly aware of the crystal-cut grass slipping from his hand and shattering on the marble.

The warm, muscular arms are more pressing than that. And, for a dirty rotten criminal who has probably killed people, the man is quite handsome. His bespectacled face swims in Virgil's vision.

"'I'm very sorry about this," he says smoothly, before his eyes widen in alarm. "Oh no.”

As Virgil is on the verge of unconsciousness, he hears, "It's you."

His last three thoughts before he slips under: did he just fucking say what he thought he said, then, good God his eyes are so blue, then, fuck, I should have paid way more attention to the Lewis clause.

⁂

Virgil is aware of three things as he wakes up: one, he feels like he has a dreadful hangover. Two, he’s pretty sure he’s in a plane or train or car or something moving, which makes him feel motion sick.

Three, he’s been stripped of his earpiece and his weapons.

He blinks his eyes open slowly, squinting; it’s night time, but even the low light is making Virgil’s eyes hurt.

This is a limousine, he can tell that much off the bat; the partition is closed, the glass tinted as dark as it legally can be, the interior leather light-colored, the bar fully stocked with different sodas and crystal-cut decanters full of various liquors, which makes him wince in memory of the champagne.

He feels like shit, but when he looks over and sees the blue-eyed Brit—his soulmate—his soulmate who had fucking drugged him and was working with the mob—it makes him feel even shittier.

“Ah,” his soulmate says. He’s sitting with one ankle resting on his knee, a squat glass of whiskey in hand. He has glasses on now that he hadn’t had on before. Also, his accent is no longer British; he’s got a nice Italian lilt to his voice, now. “Good. You’re awake.”

Virgil stares at him. He doesn’t say a word.

“I’ll admit this,” he gestures between them, “rather put a cinch in my plan on how to deal with you.”

“Would you have killed me?” Virgil asks. His voice comes out a croak. “If we weren’t...”

He trails off.

The man’s eyebrow arches, before he shrugs, and rolls up his sleeve. His soulmark is in the same place as Virgil’s—stamped across his left inner arm, in the spiky handwriting Virgil only uses in his personal notes, not the more uniform one he writes reports with.

Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?!

Undeniably a matching soulmark to his.

“My parents were quite bemused by it, when it showed up,” the Brit—or American?—the blue-eyed—his soulmate says. “I suppose we have our answers now.”

“Do we?” he says.

The man takes a sip of whiskey. Then, he says, “Your predecessor was FBI. Are you the same?”

Virgil tenses. The man rolls his eyes again.

“Please,” he murmurs. “For an organization meant to be secretive, your lot are quite obvious when you trade moles in and out. One comes in, goes out, and coincidentally someone new is knocking on the door within the week. It’s absurdly simple to pinpoint who’s reporting back to your government. So. FBI, CIA, military...?”

“Who gives a fuck,” Virgil says.

“One should know what one’s soulmate does for a living, shouldn’t they?” he says. “This is a very unique situation. I’m simply trying to find out—”

“What do you do for a living, then?” Virgil snarls. His head is pounding, his mouth is dry and it tastes dreadful, his soulmate is an asshole working for the other side, and he’s being carted off to God knows where. This day is one of the worst of his life. Why couldn’t he have had a nice little café meet-cute, like Roman had had?

The man smiles at him, not particularly kindly. “I diversify.”

Virgil pulls a face, because he knows that’s poking fun at his cover.

“What,” Virgil says, “poison people on Monday, go to Ida Kelly’s resort on Tuesday, with a fun little Friday jaunt of killing people who cross the Trumans?”

“I’ve never actually been to the museum Ida Kelly curates,” the man admits. “It was an easy way to insert myself near you, to put it in your drink. And for goodness’ sake, it wasn’t poison.”

“Roofie. Drug. Whatever.”

The man’s eyebrows pull together, in a rather petulant expression. “I designed that myself, you know.”

“Well, it’s shit,” Virgil snaps. “I feel like I have the worst hangover of my goddamn life.”

“Yes, that was part of the design,” the man says, and offers him a glass of water.

Virgil stares at him. “Seriously.”

“No trust between soulmates?” He says.

“Yeah, well. Fool me once.”

The man shrugs, putting down the glass of water into a cupholder, before digging out a sealed water bottle. Virgil takes it and places it into a cupholder near him. No fucking way he’s accepting any food or drink from this man.

His lips quirk up into a smile.

“Where are you taking me?” Virgil says, ignoring the way that smile makes his heart pound.

“That rather depends,” he admits.

“On?”

“Well.” He says. He uncrosses his legs, planting both feet on the floor. “I’m assuming that now the man in your little earpiece—he was rather rude—is aware that you have been, what is it you say? Made?”

Virgil nods.

“Well. Now that he, and therefore your employer, knows that you are made, you won’t be poking your nose into Truman business anymore, will you?”

Virgil grits his teeth. “Not undercover.”

The man ignores that. “And I know that no matter which you work for, the Lewis clause has been adopted across every arm of that government, and as such you’ll be prohibited from any mission that might bring you into contact with me.”

God damn it. How does he know the spy lessons better than Virgil does?

And then it occurs to him: Janus knew that man. He warned Virgil to get away from him, to get away from Lo—

He rolls this information around in his head. The Lewis clause isn’t exactly a widely advertised part of being a spy; there was a whole trilogy of novels that got adapted into secret agent movies, years ago, that concerned opposing agent spies coming to face each other again and again, and the secondary soulmate agents teamed up together. Which the Lewis clause would prevent, but the public who went and read those novels or saw those movies wouldn’t know that.

So either this man—Lo? Lo what?—either knows a lot about spies, because he’s one of those know your enemy types, or...

Or he sat down and learned about the Lewis clause the same way that Virgil did, except he actually sat down and listened. Maybe he defected, maybe he’s dirty? Or maybe Virgil’s just overthinking it.

Look. Virgil’s got a lot of questions here. Chief among which:

“Where are you taking me?”

“Away,” the man says vaguely, looking at him. “Are you gay?”

Virgil gapes at him.

“I’d be perfectly fine with a platonic soulmate, but for the sake of disclosure, I am gay.”

“For the sake of disclosure,” Virgil repeats disbelievingly, and pinches the bridge of her nose, rubbing it. God, his head hurts terribly.

“Bisexual, or pansexual, perhaps?” He prompts. “Asexual? Or... you could be straight, I suppose.”

“Ugh,” Virgil says reflexively, then shakes himself. “I’m not—okay. Fine. Yeah, I’m gay too.”

“All right,” the man says, as if noting it. “What’s your name?”

Virgil snorts.

“What?”

“Okay, I don’t—” he gestures to the limousine around them. “Again, you just drugged me. I don’t know where you’re taking me. You probably would have killed me if I hadn’t said those words.”

The man makes a moue of distaste.

“Or had someone kill me, I don’t know,” Virgil amends. “Either way, you’re working with that family, who I’m assuming aren’t pleased at having a spy getting caught trying to work himself into your ranks, so I’d rather you not know all that much about my life, thanks.”

“It’s not like I’m asking for your,” an infinitesimal pause, as if he’s wracking his brain, trying to remember something, “social security number or anything. A name.”

Virgil stares at this man. Lo—. Lo something. Lochlan? Loyd? Or was it a codename?

“Yours first.”

The man pauses.

“You drugged me,” Virgil says.

He smiles at Virgil. “Will you hold this over my head for the rest of our lives?”

The rest of our lives. Yes, that’s meant to be the fairytale ending for soulmates, isn’t it? A nice little meeting, the swell of overdramatic violins in the background, falling into each other’s arms and forming a life together. That’s the popular answer.

More and more recently, though, people have been advocating for choice; that soulmates are not always the best person for you.

Virgil doesn’t know which camp he and this man will fall into, just now.

“Yes,” Virgil says quietly. “Yes, I think I will.”

The man sets aside his whiskey.

“Logan.” He says at last, and his accent has changed again; it’s vague, almost indecipherable, but if Virgil had to guess he’d say Midwestern American. Virgil wonders if it’s his real one. “My name is Logan.”

Logan.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Since discovering you’re my soulmate? I haven’t lied to you at all. Not a word.”

“Except for the accent.”

Logan laughs.

“Habit, sorry. It’s a long story that perhaps the man screaming in your earpiece will be able to tell you one day.”

Virgil jolts with surprise. “You know—?”

He cuts himself off before he can say Janus’ name.

“Reputationally,” Logan says, and, as strange as it is, Virgil believes him. In this, at least.

His soulmate’s name is Logan.

“Virgil.”

Logan smiles, his blue eyes glittering. “It’s nice to meet you, Virgil.”

There’s the sound of a soft knock on the partition, and it lowers; Virgil can’t see the driver.

“Sir? We’re here.”

“Right,” Logan murmurs, shaking himself. He reaches into his jacket and withdraws an envelope, offering it for Virgil.

Virgil hesitates.

Logan rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve laced it with anything. I’m holding it with my bare hands.”

Virgil huffs, but he takes it, opening it and pulling out a thin piece of paper.

It’s a commercial flight ticket to Washington, D.C.

“Why D.C.?” Virgil says quietly.

“Most of those organizations are based there,” Logan says. “Is it too far a jump to assume that you are, as well?”

It is actually too far a jump; it’s not even remotely close, he lives in an entirely different part of the states. But. To be fully honest, he doesn’t want Logan to know the state he lives in, and therefore the state that Patton and Roman live in, until Virgil knows if he can be trusted or not.

Logan opens the limousine door from inside, revealing they’ve pulled up to the local airport.

“What, no private plane?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t trust that,” Logan says with a shrug. “The Trumans may be powerful, but you know as well as I that manipulating a flight of this nature is well outside their purview.”

Logan’s right, he absolutely wouldn’t have trusted that, but. This limo’s pretty swanky. For the time he wouldn’t have been obsessively running over every crack and seam in a private jet and interrogating the pilot, he probably would have had a pretty swell time.

Virgil swallows, looking up at Logan. “There are programs, you know? If you wanted to be a witness. Be in service to—”

Logan smiles at him in a way that’s almost pitying. “I left that life behind a long time ago.”

Virgil looks to the airport, then back at Logan.

“Will I see you again?”

Logan shrugs again, almost delicately. “Who’s to say?”

Virgil nods, once, and he says firmly, “I’ll see you later.”

Logan grins at him. “Not if I see you first.”

Virgil slips out of the limo, slams the door shut, and, with what feels like Herculean effort, manages to get into the airport without looking back to see if he can see Logan through the tinted glass.

He does exchange the ticket for another that’s an hour and a half later, though. He’s not a total idiot.

He gets through security pretty quick, and sits in one of the incredibly uncomfortable chairs, his brain pounding with his headache, the questions swirling around in his head making it even worse. Virgil puts his head in his hands.

He just met his soulmate.

His soulmate is working for a mob family.

He just met his soulmate.

His soulmate is apparently smart enough to specifically engineer a roofie.

His soulmate, though!

Janus knows his soulmate. Janus recognized his soulmate.

His soulmate knew about the fucking Lewis clause.

Was his soulmate a spy too? Was his soulmate in deep cover? Had he betrayed his organization? Was he a good person, or had the universe seen fit to hitch Virgil to someone awful?

How had Logan gotten entangled with the Trumans in the first place? Why wasn’t he in the dossier?

Where was Logan even from? Did he like coffee? Hot chocolate? What had he studied in school? What was his favorite food? If they were normal people, would he have asked him on a date and not drugged him and dragged him off in a limo?

Who was Logan?

Whatever the answers to his questions are, though. Virgil knows himself enough to know that he isn’t about to let this case go. Not the Trumans. Not him.

Lewis clause be damned.

#my post #text #my fic #analogical #analogicalweek #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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leonicscorpio · 3 years

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Y'all, I'm so excited for Gotham Knights.

Both as a batman and bat family fan. This game is looking to offer a lot in terms of both gameplay and add an extreme amount of story. I especially am excited to see what they end up doing with Jason.

Right off the bat (lol) I love his design. They show that he's large and imposing. Physically intimidating. As well as bringing back his white streak with a clean short haircut and s scar that extends from his mouth all the way up his head. His design is just *chefs kiss*

However upon looking at his promotional information I was immediately grabbed by his bio. They mention something very specific about this universe's Jason that is very unique and peculiar.

The top text pretty much establishes what is already canon and what we know about Jason to be true. The death, Lazarus Pit, his anger, etc. This also poses the fact that we will probably see a Jason in-game that is very volitile and easy to anger. (That's hot) but what's most interesting is the bottom text. "After reconciling with the Batman Family, he's embraced Batman's non-lethal combat methods" what's so striking to me is that Jason and Bruce seemingly made up prior to the events of Bruce's death. As Jason got the message of Bruce's death, and as seen in the image prior (the one with Jason's face) we see Jason is visibly hurt and shocked. He's taken aback by the announcement. While I think any iteration of Jason (Pre-New 52 straight up-villain Jason or New 52 Anti-Hero who is half trying to get Bruce to love him, half telling Bruce to fuck off) would be shocked of Bruce's death announcement. We get to see Jason's reaction first and foremost and it's very personal and emotional. This brings up a point that's been bugging me ever since I saw the announcement of Gotham Knights.

What happened to Jason that made him reconcile with Bruce?

This post is speculation as to what I think may have happened to Jason to cause him to turn around and be welcomed back into the Bat Family.

I think that the events of Under The Red Hood still happen but either Bruce or Jason kill the Joker.

It's a stretch. But hear me out. We know the most defining moment in Bruce's and Jason's joint story is the confrontation between Bruce and Jason over the Joker and Jason trying to force Bruce to kill the Joker.

Bruce decides he cannot kill the Joker. Now the movie and the comic differs on how they handle the ending. In the comics, right as Jason is about to pull the trigger, Bruce reacts and throws a Batarang at Jason. Slicing him in the neck. Severely injuring him but not killing him. In the Under the Red Hood movie, Bruce, when faced with the option of having to chose between killing the Joker and just letting Jason kill him. Bruce turns and walks away. He readies a Batarang because he predicts (correctly) that Jason will retaliate out of confusion because he sees Bruce as rejecting him again. Not understanding that Bruce is simply chosing not to be involved in the situation.

I think Jason turning around to Bruce could happen most likely because the events of Under the Red Hood transpired differently. We know Joker still exists in this universe because Jason's death and resurrection is implied to be the same. But we also know that Barbara Gordon's paralysis during the events of The Killing Joke are still canon in this universe.

What if this universe follows the canon of the movie in that when Bruce turned away from Jason, either Bruce verbalized to Jason that he doesn't care what happens to the Joker, right now, he's chosing Jason, and although he doesn't want Jason to kill the Joker, he's letting Jason decide.

What if Bruce still throws a Batarang at Jason and instead of staying still, Jason brings the joker up and uses him as a shield? Killing the Joker or severely injuring him as a muscle reaction to protect himself from the Batarang. We know that the reason why Jason is so antagonistic towards Bruce is because Bruce didn't kill the Joker and let him continue to kill and injure people after Jason's death. And that inaction is directly what happens

The WB Montreal team (the team making Arkham Knights) hasn't confirmed if The Joker is in thw game. We know the confirmed villains are The Court of Owls and Mister Freeze. With Two Face being hinted at through promotional material. But there is no direct references that The Joker will be in the game.

I may be looking too deep into this. Jason may have just turned around as a result of Bruce's demise. But I like to think of the potential character interactions we could see in Gotham Knights. I want to see a Jason that has properly reconciled with Bruce and is trying to make amends. Only for him to lose Bruce and run the risk of falling back on bad habits. Is Jason still antagonistic towards Dick and Tim even if Bruce accepts Jason as The Red Hood and is able to help reform him? Is Jason still the bitter, almost acidiccly snarky and biting character his in Scott Lobdell's characterization of Jason if he reconciles with Bruce? Does he still call Tim "replacement" and such if he's accepted and recognized and given the support he needs? How does the rest of the family react to Jason? Are they apprehensive?

There's so much to look forward to with Gotham Knights and I'd love to know what other people think. With an exciting new take on Jason's character (as well as being able to play as Jason in an RPG based setting) we get to have an extremely diverse cast. All of the Robins are played by Asian American voice actors and Barbara is played by a Latin-American voice actress. Stephen Oyoung is a fantastic casting for Jason because he already has a lot of exposure as a VA who plays villains. Christopher Sean is going to bring so much fun as Dick (for those who don't know he voiced Kazuda Xiono in Star Wars Resistance and Ludwig in Epic 7) America Young is the current voice of BARBIE and is also going to bring so much to the role of Barbara Gordon. And while Sloane Morgan Siegal is the new face of the bunch, from what we saw from the promo he's bringing a great new take on Tim Drake that's going to be refreshing and exciting.

Let me know you're thoughts!

#Gotham Knights #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #barbra gordon #Batgirl #Tim Drake #Red Robin batman #Batman #under the red hood #The killing joke #Stephen oyoung #Christopher Sean #America Young #Sloane Siegal #gotham knights spoilers

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Text

Whumptober 2020, Day 2

Kidnapping

A03

Warnings: violence against a minor, kidnapping, panic attacks, near death experiences

-o-o-o-o-

There's the sound of people moving close by. Shuffling and mumbling amongst each other. It's grating on Damian's nerves.

Not that he'll let them see that he's unnerved or anything close to it. It's just, well, he's currently tied to a chair with miles of duct tape around his wrists and ankles—connecting him to the arms and legs of the chair—and wearing a hood over his head to obscure his vision. There's also a slap of tape across his mouth to keep him somewhat gagged.

He's been kidnapped. Off the streets like some hunted animal, into a van filled with people waving guns and shouting. The effects of the chloroform they used on him are still wearing off, making it so that even though he's been awake for quite awhile now, stuck in this room and restrained to a chair, he can still hardly find the strength to lift his head or summon the coordination in his fingers to test his bonds.

Kidnapped.

This is… his first time being kidnapped as Damian Wayne. Not as Robin. Not as an Al Ghul heir.

Just: thirteen year old Damian Wayne.

And Damian had never believed Richard about how scary it was when the older man had explained to him what to do in case of abduction via civilian identity. Damian's starting to see it now.

He's starting to understand now.

And, admittedly, it is scary. More scary than any of his other identities. At least when he was kidnapped for his connections to his grandfather, the kidnappers knew how dangerous he was. And as Robin, there's no need to hold back. But as he is now… they want him as Bruce Wayne's tiny little son.

So there's no slipping his binds, no glorious escapes with flying kicks and powerful punches. He can only sit here and be expected to whimper and cry like any other child hostage. He hasn't had any contact with the kidnappers yet, since waking up, but he can already tell it will be humiliating.

But he will do it, because Richard told him to. It's how you keep safe in situations like this. You act weak like they expect you to be, and you don't make yourself anything close to a threat to them.

The mumbling around him continues and Damian's head is still too muddled to pick the conversations apart. He's pretty sure he's heard ransom and Wayne a few times, so hopefully, this shouldn't take too long or be too traumatic. Damian knows there is no price his father wouldn't pay for him.

Or at least… he thinks he knows.

He quickly shoves that doubt to some corner of his hazy mind to focus on trying to fight past the lingering effects of chloroform. He doesn't remember much from the initial kidnapping, just chaos and yelling and not being able to breathe as he's dragged away, but they must have given him just a little too much. Feeling sick to your stomach is a common effect of the sedative, but Damian's been trained since his first memories to be able to have an immunity greater than most adults to these kinds of drugs.

They must have given him too much. Must have. Because he can't bear the thought of finally getting weaker like his mother and grandfather always says he will if he spends too much time with his father and his family.

Somehow without Damian having noticed anyone had come up to him, the fabric bag over his head is ripped off, adulting his sensitive eyes with light too bright for him to meet straight on. He lets his first instincts run, the ones that don't make him force back whimpers and flinches to put on a show that he's more mature than what his age may imply. He cringes away from the light, squeezing his eyes shut, but then the bag of his head is grabbed and calloused fingers dig into his cheek, tugging the tape off his mouth in one huge rip. Tears sting his eyes as his entire mouth goes numb. He's pretty sure the tape took skin from his lips with it, causing the metallic taste of blood to enter his mouth.

Before he can try to even recover from that, something is pressed against his ear. He thinks he hears something like his name being called out to him, but everything is so fuzzy and far away.

It's a slap to the cheek that gets the fog to clear a little. The first thing he hears is the sound of his father yelling to not hurt Damian.

Father. The thing pressed against his ear. A phone.

Ransom.

Proof of life.

"Say hi ta daddy," a man's voice says, his voice tight and angry like he's had to repeat himself multiple times. He probably has had to.

Slowly, Damian takes a deep breath, fighting the fog that is already beginning to creep back in. He tries to open his eyes, but the light is so bright. It's all he can do to open his mouth and say "f'ther…"

But apparently, that's enough for the kidnappers, because the phone is ripped from his ear and a hand slaps another piece of tape over his mouth, replacing the bag immediately after.

Damian huffs, quickly becoming annoying of being restrained, blinded, and silenced like this. Quickly beginning to very much dislike the lingering effects of drugs. Everything is so far away and muted, but so overwhelming at the same time. It makes something tighten in his chest as the kidnapper (kidnappers, right? There are multiple? There's multiple voices in the room…) speaks to Damian's father with tight, angry, and overly confident words.

"And I want the money by midnight tonight, or else you're never seein' the brat alive again," the man says. How far away is midnight? How long does Damian's father have to gather the ransom? (And… how much is it? How much is Damian worth? No, no that doesn't matter. Father will pay any price).

The call must end after that, because a short time later, Damian feels a rough hand grab the top sections of his hair through the bag. Damian's now very much aware of a presence right in front of him. The nauseating smell of cigarettes assaults his sensitive senses.

"You're goin' ta sit here and not make a sound, yeah?" The man says, the same one who was talking to his father. Damian can recognize him by his unique accent, which is lazy. If you're going to kidnap someone, at least copy the accent of the area the person lives in. That way, the victim won't be able to predict where you come from and narrow down your identity and… and how drugged is he? Criticizing the tactics the kidnapper has used to kidnap him? Get it together Damian. "Cooperate, and no unnecessary harm will come ta ya, kay?"

He doesn't wait for Damian to even attempt to try and answer, because with a rough shove, Damian's head is forced down so his chin hits his chest.

His head spins at the sudden movement, and it takes him way too long to realize the voices have shifted around him. Fading in and out until Damian manages to crawl back to awareness and realize everything is silent now.

No movement. No talking.

Nothing.

Just the sounds of his own breathing and the freaking of the chair he's tied to every time he shifts.

He focuses on that silence. On the internal noises. Meditating until the traitorous feeling in his stomach begins to settle—until the muffled feeling in his brain begins to clear.

He flexes his hand, scowling at the numb feeling that still lingers in the joints of each finger. He wonders slightly if it's because of the ever-persistent after-effects of drugs or if it's because the tape is so tight it's cutting off circulation.

He slowly works his sluggish fingers into a fist, then he tugs on the tape. He feels weaker than a newborn kitten, but judging on how there's a bump in the groove of the wood near his left wrist that hasn't shifted at all with his tugging, the tape is definitely tight.

Damian released a breath through his nose, deciding to now risk opening his eyes. He doesn't see much, just vague lights shining through the pitiful thread count of the bag, but that's not all bad. With the holes between each woven fiber of fabric shining through with light, he'd be able to see vague forms of people and things around him.

There's nothing. Just light. Nothing moves, nothing changes.

Damian must be alone in the room.

He curls his fingers, picking at whatever tape that's in his reach, trying to decide where he needs to go from here.

He could force himself to disregard the nausea swimming in his body and lean forward to grab the hood with one of his tapped hands, then rip the tape off his mouth, then chew the edges of tape around his wrists until he manages to get it loose enough to slip through. He'd then free his other arm and his two legs, stand up, and break the legs of this creaky chair to have a blunt force weapon. Then, using the walls as support until the adrenaline kicks in, he'll leave the room he's trapped in and find a way hopefully unnoticed. If he is noticed, well, that's what the chair leg and the adrenalin is for.

Damian is a skilled warrior. He was trained by the best of the best, the most deadly of the deadly. He knows how to kill a man so many ways it's impossible to really narrow down to numbers.

He'll take down his kidnappers, leave the building, then find the closest road. Hail a car. Ask for a phone. Call father and ask to be picked up and for an ambulance; not for him of course but for the men and women he left drooling on the floor behind him.

It would be spectacular. A daring escape that these buffoons wouldn't expect. A tale to be praised and retold.

Or he could sit here, pretending to be a frightened, privileged rich thirteen year old boy like they think he is. Like what Richard told him to be.

Don't make yourself a target. Be what they expect you to be, and wait for me to find you. Don't out yourself unless you absolutely need to. Life or death, Damian. Promise me.

Damian promised. Unless he was in an immediate threat to his life or physical well being, he has to keep up the act.

That was when Richard was Batman. And even though father is back, Damian can guess the same rules stay in place. Richard was raised by his father, after all, and he has the family record of most civilian abductions.

Which also means he has the record of most civilian abductions survived.

But… technically his life is being threatened. If father doesn't pay the ransom, they'll kill Damian. Or so they say. But... but father will pay. Damian shouldn't have to be worried. In fact, he isn't worried. All he needs to do is sit tight and wait for this all to be over. They said midnight tonight. Yes, that could mean a minute of waiting here or a full twenty four hours, but that's fine.

Father will come.

Batman will come if it so demands. He always does.

(Except for when he doesn't).

And maybe it's the fuzziness still in his brain. Maybe it's the weak limbs or the confusing situation or the half-formed memories that won't let him remember what he was doing walking out in the city to be kidnapped in the first place.

But that thought… the thought that maybe father won't come… it sticks in there. No matter how hard he tries to shove it away.

Because what if… father doesn't come? If he were in his right mind, this train of thought wouldn't even cross his mind.

But now it's all he can think about.

Because Damian… and his father... do not have the best relationship. Being Robin hasn't been the same since he came back. Living in the manor hasn't been the same. There's so many arguments in each other's presence, so many tense interactions that has Damian not even bothering to go downstairs from his room unless he needed to eat. Father is always angry and distrustful with Damian, like he's waiting for Damian to slip up and ruin something. Kill someone.

Damian is Bruce Wayne's biological son.

But he's also the only child he didn't choose.

What if… what if he uses this as an opportunity to finally be rid of Damian? Let the kidnappers off him and then wipe his hands clean, saying there was nothing he could have done. No one would mourn him, except maybe Richard. But everyone else, especially Timothy…

He's shoving down the urge to throw up and bending down to start trying to escape before he knows it because it feels like such a fact that everyone wants him gone… but Damian doesn't want to be. He's already died once, and he promised himself that he'll get better. He won't go back down to hell. He'll make things right. He'll be normal, and kind, and gentle. He just needs a little more time to fix himself. Time that can't be taken away from him now.

It takes a few tries, tries that have his wrists straining against his binds, to get the hood off his face. He squeezes his eyes shut at the assaulting light, but forces them open again to get a read on his situation. Blinking tears from his eyes, he studies the room he's placed in the center of. Well, it can't be called much of a room, it's more like a small, square storage closet, one that—judging by the flattened carpet near his feet—recently had things moved out of it to make room for Damian. The walls are an ugly yellow color that would have Alfred the Butler wrinkling his nose to, especially if he saw the dark wooden baseboards. There's a door immediately in front of Damian, and the knob doesn't look like it has a lock. They must have faith in the binds they've put Damian in to place him in a room that doesn't lock.

They're going to regret that.

Still squinting his eyes, Damian bends forward again and twists his wrists raw against the tape in an attempt to reach the strip on his mouth. It isn't as difficult to do this time because he can see now, even if his sight is limited thanks to the persistent blurriness and sensitivity that comes from the lingering effects of chloroform. The feeling of the tape leaving his cheeks and mouth is sharp and painful, and he tastes more blood enter his mouth at the action thanks to various sections of his chapped lips deciding they'd rather stick with the tape.

Now that that's over, Damian moves his free mouth to his wrists, trying to lash his teeth to the cut end of the tape. The tape on his left wrist ends near the joint of his thumb, which he figures will be easier to get to than the where it's located on his right wrist: under the chair arm. It takes a few tries, but he eventually manages to dig his lower teeth under the end and begin the process of unraveling. He clenches his teeth, then jerks to the side, the tape following the motion.

He forces it as far as he can bend within his trapped position—and thankfully, by the time where contorting like this begins to become painful, the bit of tape is long enough for his fingers to grab if he strains against the bindings.

It takes a short amount of time for the plastic to reach a point where he can grab at with his teeth again, and he's in the process of doing so when he suddenly hears voices on the other side of the door.

He freezes for a second, heart fluttering up to his throat, and immediately begins to try and listen to the muffled voices.

"Three million," a woman's voice says, her tone in a whispered sigh. "Can you actually believe that the kid in there is worth three million."

The number is so shocking that Damian almost misses what is said next by a man's voice this time. Though, it's different from the man who made the ransom call.

"Oh, I can. Wayne is up to his balls in money. I'm sure he's spent more on whores."

No. No that is not true. Three million?

That's... That's...

The door suddenly opens and Damian realizes he's accidentally fallen still while listening to the conversation. It's comedic, almost, how the woman stops in her tracks after opening the door, a man behind her looking shocked with his mouth open.

Then, the woman rushes forward and wraps one hand around Damian's halfway freed wrist and then bunches a chunk of hair in her other, forcing him away so his back slams into the back of the chair. He bites off a cry at the harsh movement. He's failed. He's gotten caught. Pathetic.

Weak.

"Don't just stand there, you idiot," the woman practically screeches towards the man, "go get Dee!"

The man nods, then turns tail out of the room in what could possibly be a sprint.

The woman snarls under her breath, tightening her grip so it's harsher than what the tape initially was. "You shit," she hisses. "How'd you get this far?!"

"The money," Damian says instead of answering her questions. "You're not going to get it. It's impossible."

Her grip tightens. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"My father doesn't have that much money just... Just sitting around. It takes time to get that much money. More than twenty four hours."

"Don't bullshit me, brat," the woman hisses, her voice just barely a little louder than the distant sound of approaching footsteps. Angry footsteps. "I've seen the numbers. He donated more than that to the fucking water plant just a bit ago."

"It's true. That money, he had already been saving up and setting aside months prior. And the rest of his money he has in stocks- or on the way to charities or into the funds meant to financially support Batman and the Justice League-" Damian cuts off with a wince as her fingers tighten. Her grip is grinding on his ulna and radius. "There's no way you're getting the money. You have to give him more time- or let me g-"

"Are ya insane?!" A newcomer shouts. Damian almost flinches at the noise. Here he is. The ransom call man.

He must be in charge of this dumpster fire of a kidnapping.

Damian flicks his eyes away from the woman still holding him towards the man. He looks… normal. For a white American man. Medium build, barely any neck, dirty brown hair and black framed glasses that aren't shaped like anything exciting.

It's then that Damian realizes that none of them are wearing masks.

There's only one reason why an abductor wouldn't wear a mask or cover their face in some way.

They don't intend on letting the victim leave.

Or maybe, this man is the only one that doesn't intend to see Damian go. Maybe the others are all naive enough to follow his every order and get there cut of three million. Whatever the case, the look in the man's pale eyes are furious, his lips turned down into his five o'clock shadow.

"I don't know how this happened, D-"

"Don't use names!" The man screeches, walking forward with his finger held towards her like it was a wand casting a horrible spell. "Get the tape! Tie him back up, and someone get me the chloroform."

"The chloroform, boss?" The other man, the one who had been talking with the woman earlier, asks. Damian remains stiff and antsy as the woman finally lets him go to grab a roll of tape which just happened to be on the floor and Damian hadn't noticed. "So soon? But, isn't that dangerous-?"

"What does it matter?!" Dee snarls, causing the other man to quickly walk back out of the room like a dog with its tail shamefully tucked between its legs.

There's the sound of duct-tape being unwound, the noise cutting through the air like a swinging sword.

"So your plan is to bleed my father dry of everything he has," Damian hisses towards the man as the woman begins to re-wrap his wrist to the chair, "and then kill me anyway when he can't get you everything."

And maybe Damian shouldn't be gibing at the already livid man. He realizes this when red fills his face as he stomps forward, shoving the woman out of the way to wrap Damian's wrist the rest of the way up, and then takes a separate strip and practically slaps it onto Damian's mouth.

"I told ya not ta try anythin'," the man snarls when Damian glares at him. He doesn't back down at the glare either, even though Damian made it as intense as he possibly could. A "batglare" as Richard so lovingly puts it. Except most bat leveled glares are depleted by the lack of mask and milky eyes. "I told ya you'll get hurt if you do."

Damian's heartbeat kicks in and he jerks in his restraints when the man moves his hand towards one of Damian's trapped ones, digging through Damian's clenched fist until he grabs the middle digit and starts bending it backwards.

Damian does his best to free his finger and bend it back down, but unfortunately, the finger strength of a thirteen year old is destined to always be weaker than a full grown man. He prepares himself for the pain before it hits, oftentimes, broken fingers are more shocking and painful than one expects.

When the sickening snap hits the air, Damian's left with a split second decision to bite off his grunt or verbally shout. It's painful. Definitely painful enough to warrant a shout. Richard has always told him to go with his first instincts when kidnapped in a civilian's identity.

But this man wants to kill Damian. He had been planning to kill Damian all along, judging by his lack of surprise or confusion when Damian called him out.

This man will kill Damian in less than a day's time. Perhaps exactly at midnight.

Damian doesn't shout. This man doesn't deserve to feel more powerful. He doesn't deserve to let Damian play into his hands. If he's going to kill Damian anyway, he should at least be honest about it! He hates Americans and their sleazy ways, always hiding behind secrets and double meanings. If Damian were back with Grandfather, no one there would lie about desiring Damian's death.

So he doesn't shout like he wants to. Just grunts and pants through his nose as his finger is released, a pulse in it that's in time with his heart, making the hurting practically vibrate in intensity.

He can barely contain his shouting when the man begins to add more duct-tape to his wrists, wrapping his hands down so they're flat to the arms of the chair. There will be no using his fingers to try and escape now. They're pinned, and all Damian can do is continue to glare; taking deep breaths through his nose, and ignoring how the pressure of the tape on his broken finger presses down with horribly sharp pins and needles.

The other man returns now, holding a brown tinted glass bottle that looks like it should contain iodine of something similar.

But it doesn't. That fact is clear enough when the bottle and a rag is handed to the leader.

Damian really isn't looking forward to this one.

He wonders slightly, as he watches the man pour some of the substance onto the cloth and tries to jolt his head away from grabbing hands, if he'll be awake when midnight comes. If these are his last moments alive. There's no hope to escape now.

Stupid. He should have ignored the rules earlier on and just escaped. Disregarded being a typical and normal child. It's not like being a normal child had ever done him any good. It always just gets him hurt, even if for a while he truly feels comfortable in his own skin being a child. It's safer to be jaded and angry and full of killer's instinct. Things like this don't happen to Damian Al Ghul.

Eventually, the hands in his hair win and the cloth presses over his nose. Immediately, a suffocating chemical reek hits his nostrils. He writhes in the grips, terror and panic beginning to slip into his chest cavity.

Ever so slowly, he can feel the chloroform weakening him. He tries to not breathe in, but he also knows that they're not letting go until he's unconscious. Might as well finish this already. Let it end.

Let Damian Wayne end.

His fingers and toes tingle. It's painful. And scary. And he… he wants to cry.

But he doesn't, because nothing on his body is his own anymore. His eyes slip shut and unconsciousness is winding it's cold embrace around him, consciousness becoming similar to the fine sands of his home country. Thin, fine, and slipping away.

The cloth leaves his face, as do the hands in his hair, and his chin hits his chest.

-o-o-o-o-

Voices. There are voices. In front of him, behind him. Everywhere. His stomach rolls and his sinuses feel like he's been stuffed full with cotton. He gags, trying to open his mouth but something keeps it shut. Vaguely, this feeling becomes oddly familiar. The intense urge to vomit, the tape over his mouth, the aches and pains that reside between every cell of his body.

His brain is a million miles away, floating in the strong currents of the sky, out of reach but trying to take Damian with it.

There's a shout. It echoes in his ears. It makes him flinch.

Flinch from what? He doesn't know. All he knows is that he's confused and in a numb agony that makes him want to curl up and not exist.

Light attacks his senses. Sounds echo and stab. He cringes away, squeezing his eyes shut, but a hand falls into his shoulder, spending shards of glass down his spine.

This hand… it's dangerous. Unfriendly. An enemy.

He forces his eyes open against the crusty gunk that's trying to keep his eyes shut. Everything is a swirl of blurry shapes and figures moving in front of a splash of ugly yellow. There's one blob, in particular, that's right beside him.

Damian doesn't like this man. Why does he not like this man?

Why can't he open his mouth? Why can't he move? His finger hurts. He needs to throw up.

"Where's the rest of my money, Wayne?!" The man screeches, causing Damian to wince and try to retreat from the grating voice. It doesn't work though. The hand on his shoulder is strong, along with whatever is keeping him sitting in the chair.

Duct-tape, his mind sluggishly supplies.

Duct-tape. He's been… kidnapped. Ransom. The money... too high… impossible…

"I told ya, if I don't get my money I'll kill the kid!"

Die. Damian's going to die.

He writhes weakly in his bonds, his muscles no stronger than paper. He doesn't… he can't...

"I'll get you the money!" A new voice says, one that's muffled by the speakers of a cell phone. Worried. Anxious. Deep. Father. "I just need more t-"

"I gave ya enough time already," the man sneers, fingers curling into Damian's collarbone.

"I'll get you more than three million if you just give me time! A few more days, that's all I need t-"

Something hard and cold is pressed against Damian's head. Damian closes his eyes, doing his best not to flinch as the safety is loudly clicked off.

"Ya didn't meet the requirements, Wayne. Now, yer goin' ta pay fer that."

Scared.

Damian is scared. He doesn't… he's hopeless. He wants to cry. He wants to throw up.

He wants to go home.

Damian's father yells angrily over the phone. Desperately. It almost sounds like… he actually cares. Like Damian dying will affect him just as much as any other of his chosen children dying.

Damian's died before.

But that was before he and father had spent this much time together. This much time to learn what they like and dislike about each other. When father saved him, he was saving a boy he thought had potential, similar to how Richard gave Damian Robin because he thought he had potential. Potential to be good.

Damian always messes things up. Especially when those things involve being good. Perhaps, this time, when life leaves him, father won't feel guilty about it. Richard won't be depressed about it. Timothy could have Robin back. Jason would have a bullet point on his list of reasons to not visit the manor knocked off. Duke and Cassandra won't be burdened with his prickly personality. Hell, maybe even Stephanie will be better off without Damian this time around.

Suddenly, there's a loud bang, and Damian is immediately sure he's dead. In a haze of panic and fear and terror, Damian's barely aware of the crashing that follows the bang, nor does he pay much attention to the sharp boom which was much louder than the first one.

All he can think about is that he's dead again. He's dead and he doesn't want to be. He doesn't want to go back to Hell. He promised himself he'd be better. He promised himself he'd be the boy father wanted him to be, the boy Richard believed he could be.

He doesn't want to be dead again. But he's dead again.

He's dead and there's nothing he can do about it now besides mourn his own life, because he knows no one else will. There will be a funeral, but it will be a formality. There will be revenge, but it will only be because the people who killed him are criminals and deserve to be put behind bars.

Not because they loathe them for taking Damian's life.

Tears slip through his dead eyes. His dead chest rattles with sharp, dead gasps.

He's dead. He's dead. Dead dead dead dead dead-

"got you-" a far away voice whispers. "Feel that? I'm breathing, you need to too, Dami-"

Expanding. A warm body under his cold, dead, fingers. Going in and out, and Damian subconsciously begins to try and copy that. Breathing. Something that doesn't belong to him anymore.

But he tries.

"There we go," the voice says, "you're going great!"

Is he? Is he breathing correctly? A thing only the living can do?

He gasps, his lungs shaking with each breath he tries to copy. The voice encourages him until Damian's able to keep breathing on his own. Until he opens his eyes and sees a familiar face with bright blue eyes, a body wearing a black suit with a splash of blue right where Damian's freed hand is pressed against.

Around them is a mess of unconscious bodies, all restrained with zip ties and cuffs. It's horribly difficult to focus, but things are so much sharper than what they were the last time he had his eyes open. He can see a second familiar face, picking through the mess of unconscious bodies as if looking for something. It's Timothy.

Richard smiles at him. "See? I have you. You're okay-"

And Damian launches himself forward, hardly even remembering that last he remembers he was restrained to the chair. They must have cut him loose. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because Richard immediately winds his arms around Damian, careful of his broken finger, and begins whispering comforts so soft and genuine that Damian… Damian feels heat gather in his eyes.

Besides them, Timothy finds what he was looking for, quickly putting the cellphone the leader had been using to his ear. "It's okay, Mr Wayne, Nightwing and Red Robin found him. He's safe."

Safe. Alive. Damian's alive. He curls his good fingers into Richard's suit, his chest heaving from sobs that want to tear out. He didn't die. The drugs and stress made him think he did. Richard and Timothy came and saved him. Dragged him out of a panic attack, and are going to take him home.

Home. Where father will hover like a worried mother hen until he's sure Damian is alright. Where Richard will convince Alfred to make something high in carbs and sugar to comfort Damian. Where Timothy will invite him to play video games with him to give silent support. Where Cassandra will give the best hug and whisper that she's glad he's okay. Where Duke will talk with him until his sides hurt from laughing. Where Jason will visit and ruffle his hair and grumble quietly that he's glad Damian isn't dead.

Home.

He curls tighter into Richard's embrace.

Home.

---

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated <3

#damian wayne #robin #dc comics #batman #batman comics #dc #jin writes #whumptober2020 #no.2 #Kidnapping #fic #fanfic #violence tw #kidnapping tw #child abuse tw #whump #whump tw #gun tw #panic attack tw

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ink-splotch · 5 years

Text

You’ve all said this before and I probably don't need to say it again, but Clint should have died.

He is less useful than Natasha, practically and narratively. He's less interesting. We've invested less time in him. He's always been the least important Avenger, and giving him this redemption arc, the central spot in the narrative, this fall and this sacrifice, would have elevated his position instead of cheapening Natasha's.

The directors and writers have spoken some about wanting to give Natasha this choice. Not wanting to take this away from her. They wanted to do something surprising and impactful and powerful. She chose her ending, they said. She saved the universe. She saved her best friend and let him go home to his family, which matters to her.

(And that was a story they could have told. If they had focused a little harder on the ways Clint's family is Natasha's family, too, I think it would have worked better for me.

If when Clint came out of that test run with his daughter’s voice still ringing in his ears, if he had turned to Natasha then and gripped her hand and said, I saw her, I saw Lila-- and she had gripped his hand back, because that kid matters to her--

That would have helped. She would have been dying for something important to her, not just something that mattered. Little Lila Barton matters because she’s a person, a life, a voice, and she should be saved. But she should have mattered because she’s specifically and uniquely a young girl who says “Aunt Nat!” when Natasha walks into the room.

The stakes have got to be personal. And it's their job as writers to show us that they're personal. They didn't.)

But even in a story where they made Natasha's connection to the Barton's stronger and more obvious, I still think Clint's death and specifically Natasha’s survival would have been valuable.

That twist on the cliff would have been far more revolutionary if it had been about expecting her sacrifice and not getting it. I wanted the story they were telling to say: Natasha Romanoff, you deserve to survive. You’re valued and valuable. You are loved, and this time someone gets to save you. You get to rest.

It's what they gave Steve. It's what they gave Tony. It's what they gave Thor, roughly, amid a series of poorly thought-out jokes. It's what they gave Bruce, who finally learned to live with himself.

But especially Steve and Tony got a story of earning their rest. Their peace. Of being brave, and tired, and not knowing how to have a life. And I like that story for heroes. Where was Natasha's?

It's as though they forgot, or as though they never knew, that she has been giving everything in every movie she has been in. I don't think they know, I really don't. In every movie, she comforts. In every movie she bleeds--and, yes, everyone bleeds--but Natasha always bleeds for someone else's story.

And I didn't need this story to be hers. It can be Tony's, that’s fine. But she should have been given a life. This was a story about heroes learning how to live again, or how to rest, but no one even really recognizes that she's tired. Maybe her makeup’s just too good.

And while I think a story where Natasha lives would be a better story, I also specifically and honestly think a story where Clint dies would have been a better story.

They start this movie with Clint covered in blood. They start the story with Clint where Natasha was once-- a killer in the rain, being offered the open hand of a friend, a new chance. They start the story with the type of red in Clint's ledger but Natasha has been cleaning out for years. I agree with the writers that Natasha does not feel like she has earned any peace. I agree with the writers that Natasha doesn't judge Clint for his worst mistakes, and I agree that she does judge herself. I agree with the writers that she would have tried her hardest to go over that cliff.

But narratively, thematically, in every way, it should have been Clint.

She should have fought for it because I agree with the writers that she would have, but the story should have told her no. Like it did when Tony tried to leave the game, and the story pulled him back in. Like it did when Steve tried to “move on.” Like it did when Thor tried to hide in his house. Like it did when Clint tried to go dark, and Natasha showed up and told him there was still hope.

They didn't think they were heroes. They didn't think there was a path forward. They didn't think they were strong enough. They thought they could turn their back on who they were and still rest at night, but they couldn’t.

Their stories are not quite like Natasha’s: Natasha never stops fighting, but she doesn't think she's a hero either. Not because she's not strong enough but because she's not worthy enough. Because she's not good, not like Steve, not like Clint, not like Rhodey.

And the story should have told her no, you are good. You are a hero, and we need you.

Clint should have told her no. He should have told her that her life was worth something. Even worth his own.

We started the story with his family-- that was the very first shot! He lost them. And then he fought for them through all of it. That was his motivation, his goal, his central character note. He was fighting for his family. He should have died for one of them so that she could go back and save the rest of them.

Everything in the last half of the movie that Clint did, Natasha could have done. She could have stood beside that lake and mourned him, snapped at them all that there was no bringing him back. When Laura called his cell, Natasha could have picked up, hands shaking with grief and relief. She could have run through the flooding corridors of the Avengers base, protecting the gauntlet her best friend had died for and shooting the monsters chasing her.

I wanted that scene at the end. I wanted Natasha to walk up the steps of the farmhouse that Clint had run up during the test run for the time machine. I wanted her to walk up the steps and knock on the door, and Lila to run into her aunt’s arms. I wanted her tell Laura she was sorry. That she’d done everything. That she hadn't done enough. That she couldn't save him. And I wanted Laura, who named her third child after Natasha, to step forward and wrap her arms around her.

Sometimes a family is three kids, their mom, their father’s bow collection, and their assassin spy aunt.

This was a death-by-redemption arc, but Natasha had already redeemed herself-- over and over again. They put blood on Clint’s hands, but had Natasha’s forgiveness and Natasha’s sacrifice be what cleaned out the red in his ledger.

I agree with the writers that she would have fought to go over that cliff, with everything that was in her, but the story should have told her no. You’ve done enough.

#avengers endgame #just some thoughts

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msephy · 5 years

Text

Upbringing: chap 6/?

Yep, writing on some older Batman fanfic for Nanowrimo :) I hope I can get this one to the end, if I manage to figure out what that is XD

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Cross-posted to AO3

Earth ? - Jason Todd

Jason waited near the car while Bruce reassured Dick and explained to him that no, he wasn’t his uncle, and that he was dangerous, and to stay away from him, all the while glaring at Jason. So, alright, he shouldn’t have punched the kid – but what did he expect, really, showing up like a nightmare from the past?

The Perfect Dick Grayson, as he was back in the time of the dynamic duo. The one Jason had spent his teenage years trying to live up to, without ever quite managing to.

Anyway, this one should learn to recognize his local Jason and not to jump so close to dangerous-looking strangers. Or strangers, period. (Jason hadn’t even punched him that hard, in any case.)

Bruce seemed to finish giving his explanations and left Dick to come at Jason, still glaring. Like he had anything to say about the whole thing!

“Child endangerment, B., really?” Jason spat without giving him the opportunity to strike first. “Don’t look at me like that. How can you do that? Putting a child in the streets? Face to face with people even you can’t handle!”

Bruce winced – strike!- and Jason snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re the worst parent ever. Some things just don’t change from earth to earth, do they?”

“Shut up!” Dickie squealed, always the knight in shining armor whenever Bruce was concerned. Dickie dick. “He doesn’t put me in danger at all!”

“Contrarily to what you might think, he can’t protect you from everything and everyone, Dickie,” Jason answered. “He isn’t invulnerable himself and certainly isn’t infallible.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh? And what did you mean?” Jason spat again, going in his direction – only to be stopped by Bruce’s hand on his chest.

“That’s enough,” Bruce growled. “You’re going to stay away from him.”

“I’m not going to break the baby bird, you moron. You are!”

“I’m not allowed out in the streets!” Dick screamed. Jason froze. Dick nodded at his expression. “I’m not allowed out until I reach 18, I’m only helping from the computer. And, you know, training. It’s boring, by the way.”

“But it’s safe, mostly,” Jason whispered before looking up at Bruce, who still had this faint guilty look on his face. Jason frowned. “Why do you look so fucking guilty if I’m talking bullshit?”

Bruce frowned, debating whether to tell him or not, then shrugged, his lips corners turned down. “Because it’s not my rule. It’s yours. I mean, Jason’s, my brother’s.”

Jason’s eyes widened, then – he couldn’t help it – he started to laugh. He didn’t know if he was amused, or relieved, or annoyed. Maybe he just wanted to annoy Bruce, which seemed to work.

“It doesn’t make the rule any less important,” Bruce was adding toward Dick. “As you can see for yourself.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Jason said, swallowing back the laugh that kept wanting to bubble out. “The street is no place for a kid to be. Little Robins get killed on the job. It must be real fun to inforce it with Damian, too, by the way, so congratulations I guess.”

Dick frowned, as if the words didn’t make sense. On Bruce’s face, though, the shock was clear; for anyone who knew him well enough, that’s to say.

“Anyway, adopting kids is fine as long as they’re kept safe,” Jason continued, feeling giddy.

“Who died, in your world?” Bruce interrupted, looking very pale. “If I can avoid it here…”

“Oh, no need to worry. I’m sure your brother would be able to defend himself and he doesn’t seem to feel the need to look for his biological mother,” Jason answered with a smirk. “I suppose she really is Catherine in this earth, on account of his father not being good old Willis.”

Bruce frowned, matching Dick’s expression so closely that Jason felt the laugh come back up from his belly. He managed to swallow it back, this time.

“So, I’m exhausted. Can I sleep upstairs? Or shall we contact the league first?”

“I hoped to serve some dinner before anyone headed upstairs,” said the familiar voice of Alfred from the top of the stairs. “Also, shall I prepare a room for our guest?”

“Yes, thank you, Alfred,” Bruce answered absentmindedly, still obviously worrying over Jason’s sibylline comments.

Jason himself was staring. Alfred. Jesus. The old man looked – well, less old, for one – and also much less tired than he ever had. Jason bit his lip. “Do you need help? I mean. I’m not from around here, but I can use a mixer. It would be soup, at this time of the year, no?”

“Thank you, sir, but I have everything ready and merely need heating it up.”

Alfred disappeared through the door. Jason didn’t insist, turning back to Bruce instead. “So, can I user your showers or what? And maybe steal one of your sweatpants?”

He hated the idea of stripping out of his weapons but there was no way Bruce would allow guns upstairs. If he played it right, he might slip one, or at least a couple of knives.

Bruce eyed him suspiciously, but nodded. They both smelled after their earlier spar. “I’ll find some of Jason’s.”

“Right.”

Jason headed for the showers, turning his back to them as if he didn’t care. He wasn’t safe here, he reminded himself. He wasn’t home.

###

Earth 1 – Jason Wayne

The next day was a busy one. Jason woke up in an unfamiliar guest room and sighed as the events of the previous day came back to him; but that was the least of it. He found Damian and an unknown teenager in a suit in the kitchen with Alfred when he went down for breakfast.

“Sir,” Alfred salutated him. “Do you also care for English Breakfast?”

“Always,” Jason said, accepting the cup with delight.

“And maybe some toast? I made some freshly for Master Tim.”

So that was his name. The teenager was eyeing him suspiciously over his cup of coffee, looking away and pretending to be sleepy as soon as Jason glanced his way. Jason pretended not to notice and sat down to enjoy his meal, to which Alfred added orange juice (freshly pressed) and an apple (all bitter, from the garden).

“Thank you so much, Alfred. You’re the best, in this Earth as well as mine; and likely all of them.””

“I do try, sir. Though the multiverse certainly removes any pretention one has about being unique.”

Jason nodded at that. “Doesn’t it? Even though this is my first encounter with it. So far, I’m not impressed with my doppelganger, if I have to be honest.”

Tim snorted in his cup, earning himself a frown from Alfred.

“Master Jason had a troubled youth and is still searching his path,” the old man commented with a fain disapproving tone.

“Of course,” Jason corrected right away, “and I apologize. I shouldn’t judge, not knowing him.”

Alfred nodded.

Tim shook his head. “He hasn’t given us much not to judge him badly.”

That attracted him another frown, but he ignored it. Damian, though, seemed ready to bite. “He’s trying to follow his own path,” he said, trying to keep his voice level.

“And it’s the wrong path,” the older teenager insisted.

“You’re Tim, right?” Jason intervened. “I’m… well, Jason, obviously. The other one.”

“You’re not in the clear yet,” Tim warned, while nodding to indicate that yes, that was his name. “But Cassandra seems to like you.”

“You still had to come and check?”

Tim emptied his cup of coffee and smiled a perfectly insincere smile that would have suited Lex Luther. Jason fought back the need to applaud. “I’m only the first,” Tim said. “I arrived early because I live in town. I heard Dick was on his way and Barbara, of course, but Barbara is a decent human being who doesn’t show up at people’s doors before nine.”

As to underline his words, they heard the doorbell, and Alfred abandoned the plates he was washing to go answer. Jason was curious and somewhat wary to meet Dick. He didn’t know Barbara well enough, admitting Tim was referring to Barbara Gordon, Jim’s daughter. Was she part of this whole vigilante business as well, here? How many of them were they?

He probably didn’t want to know the answer to this question.

He wondered if he should talk to Cassandra about where he could find her, in his world. She might not have a traumatic past, but then, she also might, and if Jason could help her earlier rather than later…

Chattering noise came from the corridor and, soon enough, Alfred introduced Dick and Barbara. She was definitely Jim Gordon’s, and also in a wheelchair, which shocked Jason slightly. He smiled with the ease of someone who raise funds regularly and therefore had to dwell in politics and got up to shook her hand, then Dick’s.

The latter raised his eyebrows, looking up at him. “Christ, you’re taller than our Jason. It’s Jason Wayne, right?”

“It is. And you must be the local Dick Grayson. I do hope our Dick, I mean, the one from my world, will grow quite that tall and handsome.”

“Most of them do,” Barbara intervened, accepting a cup of coffee from Alfred. “So you also have a little robin at home?”

“And Damian, too,” Jason admitted easily. “I’m afraid I didn’t know Tim and Cassandra until now.”

He didn’t like to give information like that, but felt much more relaxed after his exchange with Bruce the previous night. He wasn’t at home, he realized that much; but it wasn’t so far off that he needed to worry. Those people were worried that he was dangerous to their family. He could understand as much, and try to put their minds at ease.

“I used to live next door,” Tim offered.

“With the Drakes? Ah yes, now that I think about it, they do have a son. I don’t spend as much time as I’d like at the manor, much to Alfred’s distress. I’ve started to use the flat back in town, just not to drive back when my work day extended beyond reasonable hours. Of course, Alfred keeps telling me that I should get a drive…”

“That would be most sensible.”

“… But while I like providing jobs, I prefer them to be community oriented. The flat is perfectly serviceable, in any case.”

It felt weird to have this conversation with an Alfred who wasn’t the one he knew, and from the looks of the people around, seeing a Jason so comfortable in the manor weirded them out. Jason cleared his throat.

“Sorry. I got carried away.”

“It’s alright,” Dick said, conveying their shared feeling. “Just unusual.”

“That, I entirely agree,” Jason sighed, earning a fugitive smile from Barbara. “So what did you plan for today, apart from quizzing me?”

“Master Dick and Miss Gordon can do whatever they wish, but younger people have to go to school,” Alfred said, taking away the remaining plates from the table.

“I will tell Bruce that you called Wayne Entreprise ‘school’,” Tim commented, sounding amused, but he grabbed the suitcase he’s left on a chair and saluted everyone before heading out.

Damian, however, was harder to convince. “I already know all that stuff!”

“We went over that when you arrived,” Dick reminded him in a paternal tone. “You need to learn how to socialize with kids your age. Jon doesn’t count!”

Damian grumbled but allowed himself to be sent away. Jason was trying very hard not to laugh. He had the exact same conversation with Damian every morning when he was in a mood.

“Sounds familiar?” Dick sighed.

“Wish it wasn’t. I really should let Bruce handle it but he’s hardly ever at breakfast. Is he still sleeping, or already downstairs?” Jason asked, turning to Alfred.

“Still asleep, thankfully.”

“Did he tell you he was hurt? The stiches were done properly, but the dressing will have to be changed and he can’t do it himself,” Jason said, allowing his exasperation to show.

Alfred looked at him, then nodded, once. “Thank you for pointing it out, sir. I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”

Jason nodded back, satisfied. Dick and Barbara were looking at him with a strange expression on their faces; he grimaced. “In my world, he’s my little brother. It’s hard to break the habit even here where he’s ten years older than me.”

“I’ve never seen anyone else than Alfred fuss over Bruce,” Dick said in an amused tone.

Barbara rolled her eyes. “I have. You, for one,” she added, pointing at Dick. “And Dr Thompson, of course.”

“People who knew him when he was a kid don’t count!” Dick protested.

“He is still a kid at twenty and, apparently, at thirty,” Jason grumbled.

That startled a laugh out of Dick. Jason relaxed. Whatever the day prepared for him, it would be fine.

#byme #jason todd #bruce wayne #fanfiction #batfamily #jason wayne #my fics #upbringing

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violetsmoak · 5 years

Text

Philtatos [5/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47690671

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #secrets

First Chapter

Author’s Note: Someone mentioned in the comments about the characters ages. As I mentioned at the beginning of the fic, this story mostly follows the New Earth canon. I disregarded anything in the New 52 that directly contradicts that. So the ages of the characters are about as follows: Bruce: 44 Dick: 25 Cass: 20/21ish Jason: 20 Tim: 17 Damian: 13 Ages have been approximated based on clues from the comics. I may eventually tag this as Underage, but it depends on whether I decide to write a certain scene or not.

________________________________________________________________

Tim’s first instinct is to go after Jason, which is why his irritation is entirely justified when a caped shadow detaches from above and lands in front of him in a crouch, blocking his path.

“Father says to check to the condition of Hood’s victims, then wait for medical units,” Robin informs him.

Tim frowns. “Good for him. You don’t need two people to do that.”

He begins to head off again, only for Damian to bar his way again. “Obviously. But he was adamant about it.”

“And since when do you listen to everything he says?”

Damian’s mouth thins, nose wrinkling as it does when Tim does something irritating to him, like exist. It takes him a moment to catch up.

“Wait—he meant me?”

“He meant both of us, for whatever reason is beyond my comprehension.” His permanent scowl slides more to the side of a pout, suggesting he isn’t pleased with the directive. “He was determined to reach Todd on his own when he requested help.”

The kid sounds like he is confused and disapproving all at the same time, which Tim can kind of agree on.

Reaching out to Bruce for help is not something he saw coming. Though, maybe he should have, since Jason always did have a unique ability to act outside the parameters of his own established patterns. It’s why it was so hard to pin him down when he first returned to Gotham.

It’s practical, too, I guess.

Jason’s the sort of no-frill logic kind of guy. He knows out of everyone in the family, the person best suited to take him down if he needs taking down is Bruce—and much as he cares about him, Bruce will do it, too.

He really must be rattled to go with that option.

Tim’s heart thuds a little in sympathy at that, understanding exactly what Jason’s afraid of.

Before he died, he acted rash and could be violent, and was already justifying why certain kinds of people should be forfeit their lives. That conviction magnified when he came back to life. Killing another person, that might not have been something outside the realm of possibility—in a purely utilitarian way. But this—the idea that he might lose control of himself to an extent where he has anything in common with the creeps he’s killed?

Tim wants nothing more than to go after Jason himself, to assure him that he’s nothing like those criminals. But he also recognizes why it’s not a good idea right now.

Besides, B has him. Just have to hope their…usual issues don’t get in the way.

“I’m going to find the kid that was here,” Tim tells Damian. “Got to make sure he’s okay, maybe explain what happened.”

“Whatever,” Damian replies, toeing at the faintly stirring bodies.

Nice working with you, too…

Tim finds the teenager three blocks away, ducked into a corner to avoid the wind, sucking down a cigarette from shaking hands. When Tim rappels down in front of him, he gives a curse and jumps backward, nearly upsetting a trashcan.

“What the hell, man?” he demands.

“Sorry,” Tim replies. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t go anywhere.”

“Why, so you can have a go at me to?”

“I need to know what happened back there.”

“Twenty bucks.”

If this were a gangster or some rogue’s henchman, Tim would probably just beat the answers out of him. But he recognizes that this is a scared kid, who needs to feel safe right now, and who needs to feel like he’s in control. Given the background Tim suspects, it’s not something he gets very often, and will determine how helpful he could be in the future.

So, he counters, “Thirty, and you also give me your name.”

The kid snorts, but nods; as soon as he pockets the cash, he says, “Matt. Smith.”

“Nice to meet you, Doctor,” Tim deadpans, and the kid smirks, but he lets it go. It gives him something to call him, helps ground himself in the fact this case is now involving actual people.

“Okay, Matt. Tell me what went down.”

“Usual thing. Some guy wanted to, uh, show me somethin’ in the alley. Turned out he had a bunch of buddies waitin’. Pretty sure I’d’ve gotten worked over if it weren’t for the guy in the helmet showing up.” Matt hesitates here, his eyes flickering with vulnerability in a way that tells Tim he hasn’t been on the street very long. “After he wiped the floor with ‘em, he went weird. Got real quiet, and he started lookin’ at me like…” He shrugs. “Like, I couldn’t see his face, but it felt like the way some of the junkies look when they think you’re easy pickings. And…”

The kid actually shivers here.

“Man, I thought he was supposed to be cool?” he snaps. “That’s what the girls all say. But if he’s a creep too, why d’you Bats let him go around like he does?”

“He was exposed to a mind-altering substance some time ago, and it’s messing with him,” Tim replies. “He’s not entirely himself right now, but I’m sure he’ll be fine after a bit of detox.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Matt continues to look distrustful. “We done here?”

“Yeah, we’re done.” Tim digs into his belt and passes him a card for the Neon Knights foundation. “Take this, too. It’s not just for younger kids, you know. There’s a program set up for teens and young adults that have aged out of the system.”

“So?”

“I’m not saying you have to go there or even asking you to trust them. But for tonight, at least, a bed and a hot meal are probably a safer bet than working a corner.”

Matt’s shoulder slump a little in defeat, and he looks away. “Whatever.”

“Second person that’s said that to me tonight. I might develop a complex being brushed off so easy.”

The teen’s mouth twitches.

Good sign. If you can still smile so easily, it’s not to late for you.

There’s buzz in his ear and Tim’s comm crackles to life. “B is bringing Red Hood back to the Cave.”

“Without a fight?” Tim asks, pressing the speaker to his ear.

“Hood asked him to sedate him.”

Shit.

If that’s not an indicator of how dire he thinks the situation is! Something like this only happens in life or death situations involving the whole Family, or the Joker. Or both.

“I’m on my way.” He turns back to Matt. “You going to be alright?”

“I’m always alright.”

That startles a chuckle out of Tim; he makes a mental note to track the kid down at as soon as he’s got a better idea of what’s going on

Hurrying back to Damian, Tim finds him watching with folded arms as an ambulance loads the last of the injured and unconscious men through their doors.

“Father, the clean up is finished. I am returning.”

Batman’s voice echoes in both their comms. “No. Continue with your patrol. Red Robin, he’ll stay with you for now.”

“Excuse me?!”

“What?!”

“Rendezvous at the Nest afterward and stay there until you receive further instruction.”

He signs off.

Damian and Tim exchange looks that are easily interpreted even behind their dominos.

“He knows that’s not happening, right?” Tim says. “You’d probably set my place on fire.”

“And I’m sure it would be an improvement. But no, it’s not happening.”

“Good. Glad we established that. How are you getting back to the mano? B brought Hood back in the car, so…”

“Obviously, with your bike.”

“Oh, obviously.”

“You would take issue if I stole a car. And you intend to return to the Cave anyhow.” Tim glares but doesn’t correct him. “I’m driving.”

“Fine.”

“Tt, you people and your antiquated—wait.” Damian sounds like his brain has to reboot. “Really?”

“You have an obsession with sharp objects, you’ve tried to kill me more times than Hood has, and you hate me. You really think I’m letting you sit behind me?”

Damian snorts. “That’s the first intelligent thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“That is, of course, assuming you can reach the gears.”

He’s kind of surprised he doesn’t get punched for that one.

It’s an awkward right back, made even more so when Tim insists they duck into a treelined cove on the way to the manor and hide the bike to change into their civvies.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“B’s probably keeping Jason in a holding cell,” Tim explains, “which is on the same level as the garage. We’ll be seen.”

“So?”

“So, you want to get sent off to bed like a naughty kid before you even step foot in the door, or do you want to go down the stairs and find out what’s going on before B can stop you?”

Damian thinks it over, and nods. “This is tedious, but very well. We’ll do it your way.”

Tim exhales a bit at that. Though none of that was entirely a lie, he’s more concerned that if Jason’s woken up, he might see Tim coming in through the parking area and get upset.

“Look at us getting along,” he murmurs as he struggles out of his boots.

“This truce is temporary at best. If you continue to patronize me, I will have Titus defecate in your shoes.”

They arrive in the manor, slipping in through the family entrance, where they are greeted by Alfred.

How does he do that?

It’s a question Tim is pretty sure will never be properly answered.

“Master Timothy, Master Damian—what a novelty, you two entering the house together.”

“We didn’t enter together, Pennyworth, he followed in my wake. As usual.”

Alfred and Tim watch him head toward the main study.

“He’s in a good mood tonight,” Tim remarks.

“Indeed. He spent the afternoon following his studies playing Cheese Viking with Master Colin.”

“Oh, well, the world will be forever grateful.”

“I am considering a gift basket.”

“Can we get some coffee downstairs, Alfred? I have a feeling tonight’s going to be a long night.”

Actually, I have a feeling it’s going to be a long week…

“Of course, Master Timothy.”

“Thanks.”

When they get down to the Cave, it’s both a relief and not to see that Bruce isn’t waiting. Mostly because it’s Dick sitting in the big chair at the meeting table.

Crap. Crap crap crap, what is he doing here?

“Richard,” Damian says, a frown in his voice. “I was under the impression you were on your way back to New York.”

“O caught me on the way, said there was a Family emergency and I might need to hang around for a bit. Here I was hoping she meant something else by that, but…”

Tim’s brain stumbles to come up with a reason why Dick shouldn’t be here. Either this will become the stuff of teasing material for years to come, or Dick will be disgusted at the possibility of Jason entertaining any kind of feelings for Tim.

He has no idea which option is worse.

“B’s handling it,” Tim says. “Maybe you should do a quick patrol, though, since we’re all back here right now.”

“It’s covered. O said Batgirl and Signal are covering any gaps in our routes tonight.”

And Cass is in Hong Kong, which is at least a bit of good news.

He has a hard enough time hiding his feelings for Jason on a good day; if she were here while all of this is going on, there’s not a prayer he gets out of it without someone knowing.

“So, who’s going to fill me in on what’s actually going on?��

“I will.” By now they’re all conditioned to ignore Bruce’s sudden appearances. He’s still in the suit, but the cowl’s off, granting Tim a good view of the glare he’s levelling at his younger sons. “You two aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Sorry. I didn’t care,” Tim replies, his discomfort starting to crack his usual composed mask.

“And I am your partner,” Damian adds. “I will not be kept out of matters because of some misguided attempt to pander to my age. I had thought we came to an understanding on this, Father.”

“This isn’t about that.”

“Then what is it about?” Dick demands; he’s getting impatient.

“Jason’s been infected by a toxin that manifests itself by triggering obsessive behaviour.”

Dick processes that, then furrows his brow. “Are we talking Sheldon Cooper obsession or Alex Forrest obsession?”

“At this point it could be either,” Tim answers, and gives a quick rundown of everything Cassie told him.

“And who exactly is the poor fool Todd’s supposed to be fixated on?” Damian asks, looking repelled at the very thought.

Tim battles down his own embarrassment, reasoning that everyone needs to be on the same page if they’re going to help Jason, and gestures wearily at himself. “That would be me.”

Silence rings.

Damian tilts his head to one side. “Are we positive we shouldn’t just allow this to play itself out?”

“Damian!” Dick snaps, scandalized.

“Well, the outcome benefits everyone. Todd gets to drag the object of his interests somewhere that’s elsewhere, and we get rid of Drake.”

“It’s getting really old, Gremlin,” Tim sighs, rubbing his temples.

“No one’s getting rid of Tim! And Jason’s not…doing that!” Dick snaps. “We’re going to fix this. Don’t worry, Tim, he’s not going to get a chance to do anything to you this time.”

Tim shoots him a sharp look. “You know it’s not his fault, right? It’s like being dosed by Ivy, only stronger.”

“If what Wonder Girl told you is true, though, the infection may capitalize on feelings that are already there,” Bruce says. “And the fact is—”

“Jason’s tried to kill me before? Yeah. I was there. But it’s been years, and things have been getting better.” Everyone looks skeptical at that, and he scowls. “They were.”

“Be that as it may, you shouldn’t be here. Damian either.”

“Todd’s not obsessing over me, thank god for small miracles.”

Bruce ignores the byplay.

“Since you are here,” he says, turning to Tim. “I want Eros transported to the Cave. We can better interrogate him here and find out if he’s holding anything back. I don’t trust that he isn’t manipulating you both.”

“Oh, I know he’s manipulating us,” Tim replies. “I also know you won’t be able to interrogate him the way you want to, not with his powers slowly growing more out of control—and yes, they are doing that, don’t make me explain how I know that.”

“How do you—?”

“Nair, Dick. In your shampoo,” Tim snaps, jabbing a finger in his brother’s direction without looking away from Bruce. “Also, there’s no guarantee he won’t try to escape and give us the sleep because we underestimate him. And since I can’t be around Jason, I can at least keep working on that angle of the case back in the Nest.”

Because no way in hell are you benching me from this completely.

He can work from his place, and if there’s anything important, he can send it over. And he cam patch into the comms to follow along with the investigation from afar.

Whatever Bruce wants to say to that is interrupted by a tweeting noise from the computer. A beat later, a holographic projection of Wonder Woman appears in the front of them.

“You got my message.”

“Yes,” she replies. “And I can only corroborate what you already know. Nothing mortal can be done about the boy’s condition. Only an arrow from Eros’ bow will be able to temper the infection.”

Bruce’s expression doesn’t change, but Tim can sense his disappointment.

“I must also warn you that the further his condition progresses, the less conventional sedatives will work. I am surprised they even worked this time.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Modern pharmaceuticals might be able to render him unconscious, but it will not stop his brain function. The fixation will continue, thoughts unrestrained, and could overstimulate his brain to a fatal degree.”

They are all silent, digesting this.

“You said ‘nothing mortal’,” Bruce says after a moment. “There’s another option, isn’t there.”

Diana sighs. “Yes. I do have access to a method of pausing a gradual descent into madness, or rather I can locate it.”

“Great!” Dick says. “Let’s do that.”

“What’s the catch?” Tim wants to know.

“The only means I know of stopping the progression is Stygian Sleep.”

“No,” Bruce says immediately.

“What’s Stygian Sleep?” Dick asks.

“It’s in the myth,” Tim says, his research brain kicking in. “In the story of Cupid and Psyche—or, Eros and Psyche, I guess—Eros wife was put into a cursed sleep. But I thought that was just a poetic way of saying ‘really deep sleep’.”

“No. It’s a philtre created using the waters of the River Styx. Extremely powerful,” Diana explains.

“What happened to Psyche?” Dick asks.

“From what I read, she got woken up by her husband.”

“Well, that’s good, right?”

“In the story,” Diana agrees. “In actuality, he was unable to wake her. Her body wasted away and her soul was trapped in one of the darkest parts of Hades, bound to the Styx itself.”

And…that’s less good. Explains why Eros didn’t want to talk about it.

“None of this matters, because it isn’t an option,” Bruce declares.

“Don’t be closed-minded about this, Bruce, it isn’t a magic potion in the sense you think it is. The Sleep functions as a means of preserving his brain function without allowing the same deterioration that would be caused by mortal medicine. It will freeze him in the moment, keeping him safe and preserved while you seek out the means of his recovery. But if you don’t act quickly, his condition will worsen, and even if you employ the Sleep, it will be far from peaceful for him.”

“And if we don’t find that cure, he’ll be effectively braindead. No. We will find another way.”

Diana makes an impatient noise. “While I know you have every right to be confident in your abilities, you’re talking about a life. Your son’s life. Hubris is not a condition that was lost to the ancients.” The translucent body of her hologram turns as if to leave the room. “I will procure some of the philtre in case you change your minds,” Diana says, not sounding pleased. “I would hope you choose to think of the boy and not your own feelings on the matter.”

And she leaves them alone to stare at each other, the choice hanging over them more tangibly than the bats.

⁂

Next Chapter

#jaytimweek2019 #jaytimweek #jaytim #jaytimbingo2019 #fanfic #jaytim fic #batfic #tim drake #damian wayne #dick grayson #bruce wayne #secrets #warriors #angst #drama #stubborn boys trying to save stubborn boys #undying love #reincarnation

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holyhikari · 5 years

Text

The Wayne-Todd Literary and Tea Society

In which Damian and Jason bond over books and complicated feelings.

Batman (Comics) one-shot. Characters: Damian Wayne & Jason Todd.

Word count: 2695. For General Audiences. No pairings.

Read on Ao3: The Wayne-Todd Literary and Tea Society by Beatriz Caelum

When Damian sees Jason Todd, he is always tempted to ask a few questions.

You see, differently from most, what he wishes to say usually isn’t about the killing that happens when Jason puts on the infamous red helmet. That he is capable of understanding. Damian didn’t use to kill for anything related to ethics — a natural aspect of his birthright more than anything else —, as grey as morality can get in both sides of his family, but he has blood on his hands nonetheless.

There isn’t much to say about dying, either. They’ve both been there, at different times, in almost different worlds, clinging to what Bruce Wayne once meant, but Death is timeless and the same to everyone it touches. (It is life that is different. Damian woke up to love and Jason to absence.)

Sure, there were some scattered talks about it over a rooftop or two, mostly questions, “What do you remember of it?” and “Do you feel wrong when you breathe?”, that were met with, “I’m not sure,” and “Being alive to me has always felt somewhat unsettling,” but it wasn’t long before they realized that it was the last thing they wished to talk about, even with someone who could understand.

Good thing they can work just fine with silence.

Even though almost a full year has gone by after Damian was bought back to the unfortunate land of the living, he still catches the Red Hood looking out for him more than what is necessary whenever they happen to meet under Gotham’s night sky. It’s something he does even when they are in different sides of a fight, “not opposite sides,” Hood would say, “you know what I want for this hell of a city is the same that you want, too.”

(Damian supposes it is the same in more ways than it is not, but Father has a more abrasive opinion on the matter.)

Regardless of how many times Damian has snarled for him to stay out of his way — like a little brother would be upset rather than an acquaintance or an ally —, that he does not need the extra protection, especially not from him, the Red Hood is insistent. Merciless even about this.

Father’s face twitched when he mentioned the gesture. Drake teased, “you complain when we don’t like you, you complain when we try to help.” Richard gave him a sad smile that Damian couldn’t shake off for days; Nightwing is also prone to reckless protection around Robin, closer to endangering himself than he would be otherwise.

It makes it harder to work. It makes it more painful to love and be loved by Richard. It makes him more sensitive to what persisted of Father’s grief. But, right now, Damian can only think of how it makes him more curious about Jason Todd — he could write a list. How can you be so ruthless, yet so caring? How much of your idiocy is staged? How was Father before he lost you? Do you truly not realize the hole you left inside his heart?

But, most of the time, he wishes to ask him about Mother.

Damian knows they spent some time together. What of her that he knows that her own son doesn’t? He wonders, sometimes, what would have been of their weird brotherhood — if you could call it that — if Mother was to tell him about the ex-Robin’s leap into the Lazarus Pit. They could’ve met. He was very young then, but his tender age had never been an issue to the League. Perhaps, after probably trying to murder Jason for planning to hurt the Batman of all people, he would grow to admire that… unique determination. Like he does now, although reluctantly.

However, what actually pulls the trigger and has Damian swallowing his pride has nothing to do with blood — in any sense of the word.

“What do I own the visit?”

The way Damian stiffs, full on Robin gear and with only one foot into the apartment’s window, could only be caught by someone trained under his Father. The Red Hood snorts, a sound distorted by the helmet’s voice modulator.

“I assume you let me in,” he chooses to say. “Otherwise your security methods could be compared to the skillset of a babbling infant. And that is me being polite.”

“It sure is,” Hood sits down, couch worn out and small like most of his safehouses, reaching for a mug resting on a table. The room smells like cheap coffee — the kind that offends Drake to a personal level —, but Damian suspects that this is tea. “Alfred called. Like, a few minutes ago. Said that if I let my window open I might catch a bird.”

Damian clicks his tongue, “I didn’t tell Pennyworth to inform you of my arrival.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

He presses the bag he is holding a little too forcefully to his chest. “No.”

The Red Hood hums and takes off the helmet. Then, Jason Todd blows on his drink. “You must have noticed by now, but Alfie kinda does what he wants.”

(Damian has very much noticed.)

“Were you about to go out to do any of your nonsense?” He asks. Then, more shyly: “I could come back another time.”

For a moment, Todd looks like he’s about to ask what Damian wants from him, but instead, he raises an eyebrow. “You don’t get to boss me. Weren’t you supposed to be getting ready to patrol now, baby bat?”

Damian frowns at the nickname. “We’re going in later tonight for a specific mission, but, for once, I am not here to discuss any crime-related activity. It is more… personal.”

“Oh, no.” He groans louder than Damian wants to hear. “Is this any kind of family meeting? I know I have been on kinda-friendly terms with most of you for a while now, but I’m not in the mood for anything personal. ”

“It is not a family meeting.”

“Whatever it is, go to Dick.”

He clears his throat. “I think it will be of your interest.”

“Surprise me, then.” Todd sighs, stretching his arms. The mug is now empty and there’s probably more where it came from, but he doesn’t offer any beverage to Damian. Rude. “Do your worst, but you know I’m badder.”

He refuses the urge to roll his eyes at the insulting use of the English language — Todd is above this! — and drops his bag’s content onto the living room table with little to no ceremony, almost pushing the mug off. Jason curses at him.

Then, nine bangs. One from each Sherlock Holmes book colliding with the wood.

Todd's expression shifts in a way that Damian knows he wishes he still had the helmet on.

“These are mine,” he draws out, slow.

“Indeed.”

“You —,” Todd narrows his eyes, the greenish blue glowing accusingly. “You stole my books?”

Damian bristles, “I am above stealing.”

“I don’t remember giving them to you,” he points out. “Or letting you borrow them.”

“They were in the Manor’s library,” he says. “With some other books that also belonged — belong to you, I believe. They had a special place just for them.”

“Wh—”

“Pennyworth.”

Todd’s shoulders are still tense, but the lines around his eyes soften at Alfred’s name. Damian can see that there’s some sort of internal struggle by the way Jason’s body carries itself in what he recognizes as the most unforgiving self-discipline; as if his fingers itch to run through the books’ covers, open them, press gently to the pages’ margins to see — to feel — if the notes he took so fervently all those years ago are still intact, but he doesn’t want to have this moment in front of Damian.

“You came here to tell me you found out Alfie is a good person,” Todd deadpans, but Damian catches the constipated emotion nonetheless. “Amazing job, Detective.”

“I came here,” he hesitates, “because I saw your notes.”

Todd wrote on all the nine volumes, a rushed, clumsy but determined calligraphy squeezed between the edges and Arthur Conan Doyle’s words, mostly untouched with the exception of a few phrases carefully circled by Alfred where Todd had made a grammar or spelling mistake. By the end of each and every book, there’s Father’s handwriting complementing Todd’s observations and theories about the plot, the mysteries and the characters throughout the pages.

It made Damian heart’s ache when he saw it all. Younger Todd’s excited rambling about what he was reading was very, very bright. More often than not, he grasped even the more obscure clues and foreshadowings Doyle left within the narrative — a detective in making. A natural.

Damian had imagined Jason Todd as this dense, unruly kid that would only pick up a book if someone made him. Someone who worshipped senseless violence. It’s what almost everyone says. It’s what Todd himself tells people.

I was Robin. The bad one.

“And you’re here to tell me how stupid they were? How much better you were at my age?” Todd scowls, getting up a little too fast, already walking towards him. “Because I don’t want to hear any of it. Get out.”

“Thank you,” Damian blurts out before the most Al Ghul part of him shuts his mouth and before Jason pushes him out of the window. “It was a privilege to read them.”

Surprise bursts into Todd’s face and he almost loses his balance when his steps come to an abrupt stop. “What?”

“You were — I saw your other books,” he says. “You have excellent taste in Literature and your notes were filled with very pertinent insights.”

“You’re complimenting me.”

“Yes,” Damian rolls his eyes. “It would be foolish of me not to admit it.”

Todd opens his mouth, then closes it. He repeats the action a few more times.

“You’re welcome, I guess?” He says, exasperation coloring his tone. “I wish I had a camera.”

“Only the Sherlock Holmes collection had notes on them,” Damian decides to push his look. “I checked it twice.”

Todd’s lips twitch, forming a thin line. A sort of bitterness clings to him and Damian is suddenly too aware of the fact that the boy who wrote what he read is lost to more than time itself.

“B gave me them so the deductive skills part of training wouldn’t be so boring,” he sits down again, not looking at anything specific. “He — we decided to make it a sort of game. The notes were for him. So he could see my progress.”

“We don’t do this sort of activity,” Damian finds himself saying. He swallows, hand to his throat. The words hurt to pass through.

"I'd offer you tea, but I just ran out of it."

"Next time."

Todd’s smile is tired, “You can just ask Bruce to do stuff like this with you, gremlin.”

“I suppose I could,” he mumbles. Then, louder: “There are many clean books.”

“Don’t touch my stuff,” he snaps, but there’s no venom to it. “You hadn’t read Sherlock Holmes before?”

Damian’s back straightens. He puffs his cheeks involuntarily, “Of course I had. I wanted to re-read it. Who do you take me for? I’ve read the most celebrated literary works to date from authors all across the world!”

“To Kill a Mockingbird?” He challenges. “One Hundred Years of Solitude? Beloved? Fahrenheit 451? The Color Purple? The Left Hand of Darkness?”

“Please,” Damian scoffs. “I could’ve written an award-winning analysis on all of these when I was four.”

“What’s the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything?”

“42.”

“Impressive.”

He shoots back at Todd a list of his own and isn’t all that surprised that Jason only stops him once, “Dom Casmurro? Never heard of it.”

“It’s from Machado de Assis,” Damian for once in his life tries not to sound arrogant when explaining something. “Brilliant writer from Brazil.”

“They’ve got Clarice Lispector too,” Todd’s eyes widen in recognition. “I’ll look it up.”

“No need,” Damian waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’ll have a copy delivered to you in no time. We can discuss it later if Capitu did or did not cheat on Bentinho and why it is unclear to this day.”

“I don’t know who these people are, but I bet she didn’t and, if she did, he deserved it.”

Damian almost smiles, “Good guess.”

“Uh,” he blinks. “Are you okay, Damian?”

“Do I not seem in a good condition to you?”

“You want to spend time with me,” Todd says, pointing to himself. “With me. ”

Damian tries to mask the disappointment that creeps up on him with his usual scowl. “If you find it unpleasant and does not wish to—”

“I’m just surprised,” he interrupts. “God. Did I wake up looking like Dick Grayson and no one told me?”

“You’re not entirely impossible to be around, I’ll give you that, but you aren’t Richard either.” He smirks wolfishly. “But you do have a chance to prove to me that you can discuss art better than anyone else in our family.”

The last two words envelop the room in a heavy sort of silence. No one dares to move for far too long, and, despite the stillness of it all, despite how little effort one has to make in order to unveil the exact pace of their heartbeats and what they hide, no noise from the outside is brave enough to interrupt whatever flows between Damian and Jason in this instant.

Damian doesn’t know if Pennyworth keeping the books made him sentimental, or if the Bat Signal is shining behind him for Father, or if the way he said our family was just like Richard says it, or if something about his careful way of approaching reminds Todd of how he and Drake started sorting out their own issues, or if the act of sharing words and finding meaning in it makes Todd’s mind wander off to Cain. Damian has no idea.

But, somehow, they’re all here. With them.

And Todd could run away. He could — and he doesn’t.

His hand finally finds its way to one of the books, with such care and devotion that, if it wasn’t for the bat plastered on Todd’s chest and the gun attached to his waist, no one would believe he’s the Red Hood.

“These stories,” Todd’s voice is not above a whisper, “made me feel like I had a home when you guys couldn’t.”

Damian’s eyes burn behind Robin’s mask. “You can have more than stories now. If you wish.”

The look in Todd’s eyes carries the kind of intensity that makes people afraid to live another day. Damian waits, without as much as breathing, for something to shatter; for having to turn his back and walk out with Todd’s rejection at his trail.

Instead, “Damian Wayne wants me to join his book club.”

Stunned, he almost falters. “If you want to put it that way.”

Todd turns away to put on his helmet before Damian can get a better look at his expression, but, if there’s anything feigned about Todd’s agreement, he isn't able to see. He seems to be getting ready for the night, back turned to Damian and a serenity to his movements that wasn’t there before.

“The things I do for art,” the voice modulator makes his dramatic sigh sound like static.

“I only expect the best,” Damian warns. “I choose the books.”

“Always?” Todd protests. “But then we’ll never know in which Hogwarts house you’re in, or who is your godly parent and if you’re in Camp Half-Blood or Camp Jupiter, if you’re Team Edward or Team Jacob, and I won’t get to see your face when Prim goes boom, or —”

Damian is almost regretting this already. “What even is this nonsense?”

“Oh, I’ll let you know.” Todd has one foot out of the window. “This is going to be priceless.”

“I won’t read any garba—”

“See ya in the Slytherin common room!”

“Where?”

Damian still has many questions to ask, but he is already gone, of course, and Robin is completely alone in the apartment.

But nowhere near as lonely as the other times Jason walked out on a conversation.

#Damian Wayne #Jason Todd #batfamily #dc comics #batman #my writing

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dracusfyre · 6 years

Text

Square S2: Like Dust, I Rise

New story for the following photo prompt:

Rating: General

Relationship: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Tags: Spoilers - Avengers Infinity War Part 1, Pepper Potts as Rescue, Pepper Potts POV, grieving Pepper Potts

Words: 2600

Summary: With Tony Stark missing, possibly dead, Pepper has little time to grieve before she realizes she has to try to fill the (gold-titanium) shoes he left behind.

Link to AO3

(@tonystarkbingo - now my S column AND R column are filled! Bingos everywhere!)

Even as she watched Tony walked through that portal with Bruce, Pepper had the sinking feeling that she was never going to see him again. It made her want to grab his arm or call him back, but she pressed her lips together tightly and kept silent, swallowing thickly around the lump in her throat as the glowing portal faded away.

“Hey, what happened to Tony?” Happy said, pulling up in the golf cart. “Did he leave? He knows he’s not supposed to-”

Pepper cleared her throat and quickly wiped away the moisture at the corner of her eyes. “He got called away, Happy. By something important.”

“Important?” Happy caught on when Pepper gave him a significant look. “Oh, you mean like…important.”

“Exactly.” Happy was looking at her expectantly, and Pepper knew she needed to go home and get on with her day, but she found herself reluctant to leave this spot, as if Tony were going to return any moment and she wanted to be here when he did.

“Is he, uh, coming right back?” Happy said after a while of them just standing there. They were going to gather a crowd at this rate.

“No. Um, you’re right, let’s…let’s go.” She climbed into the golf cart and let Happy speed her back to the car, not letting herself look back as they drove away.

She was in the shower when the other shoe fell. “Ms. Potts?” Friday said politely. “I think there’s something you should see.” Her voice was a little muffled because the AI’s speaker was in the bedroom and the bathroom door was closed. Pepper finished quickly and pulled on a bathrobe.

“What is it, Friday?” Instead of answering, the wall in front of the TV flickered on, showing shaky cell phone footage of a strange circular space ship hovering over the city. The news station switched to another video, also clearly taken from a phone, that showed four people standing in front of what was clearly, even at this distance, two aliens. The person filming zoomed in, but Pepper didn’t need that to recognize the four figures, especially not the one who was front and center.

“Dammit, Tony,” she whispered, and stumbled backward to sit on the bed. There was a couple more minutes and then the footage ended and the channel went back to the newscaster.

“We’re getting reports of Iron Man fighting one of these aliens in Central Park, while Spiderman is pursuing the other through the city. We go now to-”

“Oh, God. Peter.” Pepper pressed her fingers to her lips and inhaled shakily. “Friday, is there anything else? Any other videos of Tony?”

“I’ll look, ma’am. Would you like to call him?”

“Yes, please, right now.” Pepper waited for a moment, chest so tight she couldn’t breathe, and then she heard the call connect. “Tony!” She got to her feet. “Oh, my God, are you alright? What’s going on?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Tony assured her, but Pepper could hear the bad news in his voice and she dropped back onto the bed. “I think, uh, we might have to push our 8:30 rez.”

“Why?” But she knew why.

“Just cuz I’ll not…make it back for a while.”

Pepper couldn’t breathe. “Tell me you’re not on that ship,” she pleaded. The footage on the television was showing the circular ship quickly leaving the city, heading back up into space.

Pepper heard his deep inhale. “Yeah.”

“Oh God, no. Please. Please tell me you’re not on that ship,” she begged.

“Honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say, I-"

“Come back here, Tony! I swear to God, you come back here right now.” Whatever he said in response was garbled, and she knew she was losing him. “Come back!”

But the only sound was the call disconnecting. “I’m sorry, Ms. Potts. I’ve lost signal with his suit.”

“No.” She whispered. “No. Try again,” she said a little louder.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Potts,” Friday said after a moment.

Pepper laid down slowly and curled into a ball, tears streaming down her face. She had no idea how long she lay there; Friday spoke a couple of times to let her know that so-and-so was calling or somebody was requesting a statement, but after Pepper finally said, “Just handle it, Friday,” the AI fell silent. She cried long enough that she gave herself a headache and fell asleep, then woke up, remembered, and cried some more. She knew, intellectually, that she should probably eat something because she’d only had that bagel and a banana for breakfast, but the idea of eating made her nauseous.

“Ma’am, Colonel Rhodes is here, requesting entrance.” At Pepper’s damp sigh, Friday said, “He did try to call first, but I told him you weren’t available and he said he was coming anyway.”

“Fine,” she said dully. “Tell him to give me a minute.” Pepper managed to drag herself to her feet, still wrapped in her robe. She shuffled to the bathroom and avoided her reflection as she splashed cold water on her face, washing away the salt tracks of tears and pressing her chilled fingers to her swollen eyes. She dried her face and pulled on the first thing that came to hand; it wasn’t until she was pulling the shirt over her head and smelled it that she realized she had grabbed one of Tony’s.

She leaned against the wall and took a few sobbing breaths, palms digging into her eyes as she tried to hold back more tears. God, she’d done so much crying she couldn’t believe she had any tears left.

“Oh, no, Pepper,” Rhodey said as soon as he saw her, and Pepper realized that he had come here looking for news of Tony. “What-”

“He’s gone,” she said before he could finish, giving him the news like ripping off a bandaid. “On the ship.” She gestured vaguely towards the ceiling. “Into space.”

“Oh, Pepper,” he repeated, and she let him pull her into his arms, fisting her hands in his shirt and still trying to push away the tears. But the feeling of his broad, warm palm on her back just reminded her of Tony so with a hitching breath and a moan the tears started again. “Come on,” he said gently, steering her towards the couch to sit. He kept an arm around her shoulders like he was afraid she was going to fall apart if he let her go. “What can you tell me?”

She managed to get out the story around the tears, knowing it sounded a bit garbled. Some parts Rhodey probably knew better than she did, because she knew he was living at Avengers compound now and had probably known about the space ship before almost anyone else.

“Jesus, Tony,” was his only comment when she was finished. Through her tears she could see that the news had hit him hard, too, because he look like he’d aged years in just the few minutes that he’d been there. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Ok,” he said, looking a little lost. “Ok. Um, I need to get back to the compound. We need to write up some kind of statement for the press, and I’m going to have to make a lot of calls. I think you should come with me,” he said gently, putting his hand over hers. “We don’t know what’s going to happen, and it will be the safest place for you. And Tony will know where to find you when he comes back,” he emphasized, which like seemed very kind and infuriatingly stupid thing to say.

“Ok,” she said. Now that the first wave of grief had ebbed, she just felt numb. Rhodey’s logic was sound, and if she needed to, she could work as easily from the compound as she could anywhere else, Tony had made sure of it. With Rhodey’s help she gathered up what she thought she might need, and despite herself she hiccupped a laugh when she saw the quinjet on the lawn.

“I came as fast as I could,” he explained, apologetic because the engines had scorched the grass and the landing gear had pressed deep grooves in the lawn.

Being at the compound was almost worse than being at home, because this space was even more uniquely Tony; still messy from his last visit, with a pile of screws and nuts on a side table from where Tony put them in his pocket in the lab and carried them to his room, clothes draped over a chair, toothbrush and razor sitting next to the sink instead of in the cabinet. Everything whispered that Tony had just stepped out and would be right back, so Pepper left rather than more hours crying into a pillow that smelled like Tony. Eventually she found herself in Tony’s lab, surrounded by even more of his ghosts. She sat down at his work station and felt a sharp pain in her chest when she saw the various drafts of their wedding invites scattered across the desk.

I dreamed we had a kid, he’d said. God, she wished she were pregnant. Then there would be some part of Tony left other than the mute memorial of his lab.

Coming here was a bad idea. She needed some fresh air. Thankfully, the new Avengers compound was located in the middle of miles of untouched wilderness, so a couple of laps around the perimeter in the failing light of the afternoon, waving self-consciously to the guards each time she passed them, eventually made her tired enough that she thought she might be able to sleep.

She couldn’t sleep.

Or rather, she couldn’t sleep anymore; taking a sleeping pill at seven in the evening left her wide awake at four in the morning, body aching and head filled with wool. She wasn’t surprised when she got up and the found the coffee in the pot still warm; she doubted that Rhodey was getting much sleep right now. She gave a brief thought to tracking him down and getting a situation update, but she still felt emotionally exhausted to talk to anyone; instead, some masochistic instinct led her back down to Tony’s lab. DUM-E waved at her from his spot in the corner and she managed to muster a small smile for him as she wandered around the room, fingers trailing over tools and spare parts. When she sat down at Tony’s work station again, her elbow hit the mouse and turned on the monitor.

The main screen was his desktop, cluttered with projects and program icons, but the screen on the right was paused in the middle of a video. Pepper only hesitated for a moment before pressing play. The video was from recording of a Stark Industries board meeting and Tony was brandishing what looked like a holographic model of Steve’s shield. In the video she saw herself come through the door and he turned to her and said, “Pepper! Throw your shoes at me.” Pepper remembered this – Tony had been playing around in the boardroom with his latest invention and Pepper had been impatient to get the meeting started. She felt a stab of guilt, now, for being so short with him, and rewound it from the beginning to see Tony smiling again.

“Ms. Potts, Colonel Rhodes is requesting authorization for Bruce Banner to use one of the Boss’s suits,” Friday said. "Since he’s not available, it’s your call."

Pepper blinked, a little disoriented because the AI’s voice was coming through the computer monitor instead of through the ceiling speakers. “For Bruce?” She echoed in confusion. She’d thought he’d been with Tony. “Um, okay, sure. Do whatever Tony would have wanted, I’m sure he had a - a protocol for it.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Pepper hit play on the video again, this time focusing on the curve of his mouth, the way his eyes lit up when she came into the room, and felt her throat getting tight again. “He had a protocol for everything, didn’t he?” she said as she rewound the video again.

She was talking to herself, but Friday’s audio feed picked up her question. “The Boss has approximately 57 protocols in place, Ms. Potts, based on what the disaster scenarios he predicted to be the most likely to occur.”

“Only 57?” Pepper said with a ghost of a smile. As the video played, she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Did any of them include me?”

“Of course, Ms. Potts. One of the first protocols he enacted was ‘4.2: Pepper Potts to the Rescue.’”

“Oh, Tony.” Pepper put her head on her knees. That was when she understood – in a world where there were people like Steve and Bruce and Wanda, people with powers that the average person would never understand or have, Tony wanted to help the people like Rhodey and Sam and Clint and Natasha. People whose only powers were a sense of right and wrong and the will to stand up for what they believe in.

Tears stung her eyes again. “Come back, Tony,” she prayed. “I need you. We all need you.”

Two hours later, Pepper was picking at a godawful TV dinner she'd found in the freezer when Friday interrupted. “Ms. Potts, I think you should see this,” she said, and the TV came on amid scenes of chaos.

Pepper’s fork dropped from nerveless fingers as she tries to wrap her mind around the devastation on the news. “Happy?” she whispered hoarsely. Her lips felt numb.

“Mr. Hogan is not answering his phone,” Friday said after a moment.

“Rhodey?”

“Colonel Rhodes is not answering either, but his suit is reporting positive vital signs.”

“Bruce?”

“Mr. Banner appears fine as well.”

“Peter?”

“Mr. Parker’s suit is out of signal range, it disappeared at the same time the Boss’s did.” God, that's right, the news had said earlier that Spider-man had been in the thick of things as well. Selfishly, guiltily, she was a little glad; Peter’s aunt must be terrified, but at least Tony wasn’t alone, wherever he was.

Unless whatever was happening here was happening everywhere.

Pepper thought about that, about Tony watching Peter disintegrate in front of his eyes, just like all of those people on television, about him being lost and alone and probably still worrying more about the people he left behind than himself.

She pushed her food away and set her palms flat on the table. With a deep breath, she stood and said, “Friday, I think it’s time you showed me Protocol 4.2.”

***

“Hey, sweetheart. It would be nice to think that you’re using this suit I made you because you, I dunno, wanted to wear it to the wedding or something, but if that were the case then I would have taken this video out and put something else in, so.” Tony sighed and rubbed a hand over his mouth, glancing away from the camera for a moment. When he looked back, his whiskey brown eyes had a familiar look of determination and resolve. “If you’re watching this, then something has gone sideways and for whatever reason I’m not around to help. Hell, maybe it's my fault. So first of all, I love you and I’m sorry that I’m not there for you right now. Second, I know you’ve been in an Iron Man suit before – remember that one time at the LA house when you saved my life? That was so hot – but this one is a little different. Well, a lot different. It’s lighter, a lot more intuitive, and a lot less pinch-y in the sensitive areas. Friday can walk you through the basics, but the biggest thing is that you’ve got to concentrate…”

#tony stark bingo 2018 #tony stark #pepper potts #pepperony #iw spoilers

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afegrsg · 3 years

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drrjsb · 7 years

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YAY! so you've now seen Thor3. Whats your thought on Brutasha? or even Bruce, love him so much :)

We Bruce x Natasha shippers got everything we were asking for from Thor: Ragnarok. [Total SPOILERS]

1) Hulk left, not Bruce.

It’s abundantly clear that it was Hulk’s choice to leave Natasha and the team before the Avenger’s Quinjet was sucked into a wormhole and Hulk crashed landed it on Sakaar. As Bruce put it, they were no longer driving with each having a “hand on the wheel.” It was like Bruce was thrown in the trunk and Hulk had the keys–for two plus years!

2) The Lullaby is special.

It’s a method to calm or subdue Hulk and bring Bruce out that’s probably unique to Natasha and Bruce rather than a trigger phrase anyone (even a friend like Thor) can use. (It’s weird that anti-shippers think Waititi is slamming the ship; to the contrary, he’s using Thor’s failure to deflate the demigod’s ego. People who don’t get that should read this excellent commentary and get up to speed:

https://thespinoff.co.nz/atea/31-10-2017/thor-and-his-magic-patu-notes-on-a-very-maori-marvel-movie/ ).

3) Bruce flew Nat’s colors.

Bruce may be wearing Tony’s spare clothes, but the colors are ALL NATASHA. She wore green and purple for Bruce in Captain America: Civil War to indicate he was in her heart and on her mind. Bruce’s clothing flew Black Widow’s Red and Black right back at her in Thor: Ragnarok. (Come on fan artists, get those black and red Adidas right!) I’ve got nothing against ScienceBros getting its due, but Bruce x Natasha deserves some acknowledgement, too.

4) Bruce still loves Natasha.

Here is the dialogue from the wrenching scene in the Avenger’s Quinjet when Hulk breaks in to try and stop “Friend” Thor from leaving, and Thor trips the recording of Natasha trying to convince Hulk to return at the end of Avengers: Age of Ultron:

Natasha’s recorded voice on the video: “I need you … I need you … I need you …”

[Hulk is stunned, reaches out for the image, and realizes he’s losing control. He hits himself and repeatedly slams into the bulkheads.]

Hulk: “HULK! … No … No Banner! Only Hulk!”

[Lots of struggling until he falls on his hands and knees and transforms.]

Banner: “I need you.“

I found this scene to be painful, gut-wrenching, and beautiful all at the same time. Mark absolutely showed why he’s the best Bruce Banner and Hulk to ever take on the characters PERIOD. Hulk has been in self-imposed exile and had a chance to grow and become his own person. He was able to do this at Bruce’s expense. Hulk knows he’s hated and dangerous on earth, but while on Sakaar, he’s fought his way to Champion and out of slavery (mostly). He’s been welcomed and adored for what he loves to do. (He’s also killed his way to the top, but I’ll write about that in another piece.) Yet, he is still isolated and lonely, even at the top of the food chain. His friendship with Valkyrie is adorable, but Hulk is obviously distressed with the idea of Thor leaving (”Friend stay!”). When the video of Natasha triggers the transformation, Hulk faces losing everything he’s worked for and earned for two years: autonomy, appreciation, a home, and friends. This is everything Bruce had worked for and earned by the start of AoU–plus a chance at love! This was all taken from him. Thus, the internal fight between the two halves is made visible as Hulk hits himself, trying to regain the rage and anger that will keep Bruce at bay, and it is just devastating as both voices and bodies depict their wills battling it out. (Just wow! Kudos to Mark and the tech artists who bring this to life!) Thanks in no small part to the love he has for Natasha, Bruce wins out over Hulk’s fears. After Thor touches the dazed Bruce and recognizes him (running hair schtick/joke aside) Bruce immediately asks, “Where are we? How’s Nat?” which is a clear indication of his priorities.

5) Bruce wants to come home.

If Bruce had his druthers, he’d be headed straight back to earth and Natasha. He’s smart enough to know he can’t make it on his own, and he cares about Thor’s priorities to help save his home first because that’s what heroes do (even if it requires a sacrificial swan dive onto the Bifrost and letting Hulk take back over).

This Ship Still Sails!

I don’t think this movie could have done a better job of supporting our OTP, our

“Ongoing Relationship”

short of having Natasha showing up or having included that 10 minutes of improvised bro talk between Thor and Bruce/Hulk about the ship that Hemsworth teased during an interview. Bless Mark, Scarlett, Taika, Chris, the writers, the cast, the tech artists, the powers that be, and Kevin Feige for sticking with us. We kept the faith for the two and a half years since AoU, and it paid off! Hang on for another six months, and lightning just might strike again in Infinity War!

Thanks for asking, @anythingmarvel18

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2021laxteentour · 3 years

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Day Three (Reflection and Departure)

Thank you so much for this opportunity, I’ve learned so much more than I thought I ever would. This trip showed me how differently the two extremes of the United States live. Seeing all of the different kinds of people was very interesting and was a truly unique experience. On the last day we visited Bruce Beach which was absolutely beautiful. I would have never heard about his story or the beach without Dr.Mike.I am so grateful that I was able to attend the trip to LA and meet everyone else. -Ariyana L.

This whole trip has been amazing for me. I got to see Hollywood as it seems like on tv. I also really enjoyed seeing the parts that aren’t televised. This helped show how everything always isn’t glam as it is made out. Also with learning the history of Bruce Beach it made me appreciate the trip even more. It was truly a eye open ring experience and I can’t wait to travel with Dr.Mike again. -Paris B.

Dr. Mike, I thoroughly enjoyed this year's WECCAN! We had an amazing group and the energy was just right! The reflection time on Manhattan beach was great, I loved to hear the teens and young adults share their feelings about this weekend and how Skid row volunteering event impacted them, how they will share with their friends and family their experiences and how this is and will shape their future/lives. THIS IS what it's all about! So thank you for another successful year, love love love our WeCCAN family. -Rania A.

The morning circles were always times of reflection. Dr. Weaver would leave us with a history tidbit and outline the routine for that day. Today we were going to Bruce’s Beach (Manhattan Beach) for a time of reflection. This beach was condemned through eminent domain proceedings in 1924 from several minority families. The beach is my favorite place of refuge & reflection. After arriving, we formed our normal circle and Dr. Weaver gave the history as we stood directly in front of the land. The beach is absolutely beautiful. I think I saw a few minorities wandering about, whether walking, running or riding bikes. We were instructed to go separately and reflect on events that transpired during the tour, what are we thankful for. I think experiencing skid row was most impactful for me. I’m so thankful & grateful for my life, the opportunities & freedoms I have. To see the “super rich & famous” across town and in this area, those that could possibly die because of the decisions made. To see people not knowing where the next meal was coming from or even asking for water, was touching. The most populated homeless area in America….touching! I reflected on having family that care enough to see about my well being. After the reflection period alone, we gathered again in our circle and each person was given the opportunity to share his/her experiences. I can definitely go out & share with others the impact this organization has on others. -Pamela F.

Wow! What a awesome weekend we had. This was definitely one for the books. This service learning experience was well organized from start to finish. As I reflect over the entire experience I was touched by the way all of the teens conducted themselves and served willingly without complaints. I loved that the entire group bonded so quickly like we were all family. That made the experience even more rewarding. All of the places that were toured was worth the effort put into the planning. The entire weekend was very impactful! I look forward to continuing volunteering with this group. -Stephanie L.

Skid row, one of the most populated homelessness sections in America was quite an eye opener. Being able to help provide community service in this area was uplifting. The group was divided into smaller groups and we picked up trash and cleaned the area the homeless where the homeless people lived. It was difficult determining what was trash. The saying “one man’s trash is another’s mans treasure” goes a long way here. I learned that most homeless people are hoarders. They think they will never have enough. You can also see the “classes” of homelessness, better texts or better looking tents we ran across a gentleman who is now a minister. He used to be homeless as well. He came back to skid row and feed the hungry. He talked with us for a while and mentioned that he’s unified some family members. He also stated that women come looking pretty when they get off the bus, then a couple of weeks later, after the drug dealers have gotten to them, they are unrecognizable. He said many will die on skid row. It’s up to the individual to decide his/her fate. He encourage us to keep doing what we doing — it’s making an impact, it can change lives. He’s been recognized by LA with many certificates for helping the homeless and is part owner in a seafood restaurant around the corner from skid row. Our next stop was the Rose Bowl stadium which was very nice to see where all the games are played. One of the chaperones, Steven actually played in the Rose Bowl in 2019 while at University of GA. UCLA was a huge campus. We had the opportunity to see the swim team area walk the campus. Any campus that have an Amazon store on-site — well, you’re doing a lot of business! Venice Beach had so many activities - tennis, basketball, skate park, vendors, etc. A fun yet relaxing place to enjoy. The condolas neighborhood was awesome with the paddle boats to mimic Venice, Italy. The Sacramento Pier was a nice board walk with plenty of eateries and fun stuff to do. -Pamela F.

I’m very grateful to have experienced this trip, not with just the amazing people who were on it but going places and realizing and opening the minds of I and others about how things truly are in the world. I loved every part of it. I wish to go on MANY more with this group and see the world. And learn so much more things about what goes on in the world and other cities and countries etc. Thank you for this trip Dr. Mike! -Ashleigh F.

This was a morning of reflection. Looking back over the weekend I had some really exciting moments and some emotional ones also. I was emotional because I started to compare the places we visited. From visiting Hollywood and Rodeo Drive to experiencing Skid-Row and seeing the different social classes and life choices that people have made. But visiting Skid-Row made me confirm that I want to do more hands-on community service. Visiting Manhattan Beach, which was once owned by a black family and now after 100 years they regain their property was heartbreaking. Being there, made me reflect on the Juneteenth holiday and everything that it stood for. I loved the group that I met and the new relationships that formed and now consider everyone family. I can’t wait for more opportunities to explore the world and expand my knowledge. I thought the trip was overall a fun and learning experience. On the way back home I felt more inspired, thankful and energized as I share back home the memories, experiences and knowledge I received from this trip. Hopefully those who I speak to about what I learned gets inspired and want to join on the next trip that’s planned. -Morgan F.

Yesterday evening while on Venice Beach some of us got in the Pacific ocean. Yes it was as cool as it sounds. There's nothing quite feeling the crisp refreshment of being in an ocean. I slept like a baby when we got back to the hotel. This morning we went to Manhattan Beach and observed the land that will be returned to the people whom it was stolen from over a hundred years ago. This makes my heart joyous and reminds me to continue believing the world can constantly improve by the voices and acts of those who turn energy into action. Who translate their passion in progress in the world around us. That's the impact of SSA; to galvanize the volunteers to channel the energy gained from the tour into action within their own community. To inspire the next generation to continue to pay it forward. I'm honored to be a part of SSA and grateful for all the volunteers in the past and in the future; and incredibly grateful for the philanthropy of our donors who make this enlightening tour a reality. Counting down until next time. -Giovan B.

Being able to break the beautiful shell of Los Angeles and explore its “light and dark” sides showed me the importance of community. Skid Row is a community of people who may have or have not made the right decisions in life at one point in time. It exemplifies how even though you may be down or not as capable as the the next person with the support of people around you, you can still keep moving forward. The residents of Skid Row have developed their own form of civilization. What stood out to me the most from visiting this community was the inspirational people from those that still lived their to those that had found a way out, it was all inspirational. To be able to see one of Skid Row’s own people mural placed on his street was a show of how they uplift each other. Pastor Blue , a resident of Skid Row, showed us that nothing can stop you from your faith. You personally have to be willing to motivate yourself to higher heights. Since a child, I’ve always been told that “being able to talk amongst others is one thing but being able to liberate those that are listening is better.” Overall, being able to have the chance to Skid Row even more pretty than what it already was brought a sense of joy not only to my heart but to my soul because my life purpose is to serve,advocate, and grow. Alongside, going to Skid Row to do community service, I was also granted with the opportunity of visiting the beautiful campus of University of Southern California. While at USC I got to see how money is able to influence a lot on a college campus. This includes what amenities you may have, how the campus looks, and the opportunities that can be granted to you when their is more funds. Before going to USC I had the opportunity to visit the Rose Bowl stadium in Pasadena and catch an amazing photo with the Hollywood Sign. Later in the night we had the chance of not only visiting Venice Beach better known as “Muscle Beach” but also got the chance to explore the Santa Monica pier. Be able to explore gave me the chance to try new foods and see mew things. While at Venice Beach I was granted the opportunity of tasting Birria Tacos but I also tried Elote. Trying new foods allowed me to be able to explore the foods of a different culture and ethnic group of people. Lastly when visiting Santa Monica I was able to walk the pier and see the different rides and attractions that the pier had to offer. -Roderick T.

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theintuitivewildflower · 6 years

Text

Seven Events One May Experience When Choosing to Pursue a Calling

Soul Awakening Series

SEVEN EVENTS ONE MAY EXPERIENCE WHEN CHOOSING TO PURSUE A CALLING

Soul Awakening Series

I want to speak from my heart and ask; have you opened the door to your soul purpose?

Is there a hurt you haven’t healed and you wonder why you keep hurting other people in your attempts to move on?

Hurt people hurt people, this is fact! There are so many of us wandering around in victim mentality! We ALL have these thorns we walk around with; the hurt, the pain, the guilt, the shame and all those things we try to keep low profile, beneath the surface!

Then we go out and live life and expect no one to bump into our thorns because they hurt!!! HEALING, MY FRIENDS, IS DECIDING TO TAKE THE THORNS OUT SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THOSE BUMPS THAT CAUSE YOUR PAIN TO BEGIN AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN!!

Healing involves reopening old wounds, yes!! However, it’s a once and for all type of strategy! It is so worth it! Today I ask you this.....................

IT IS TIME TO DECIDE!! COMPLACENCY OR CLARITY?

It is no life wandering around warning people by saying something like...”Hey, watch out, I have a thorn there! Don’t touch it!!” or “Don’t go there with me”

WELL, I’M GOING THERE!

I CHALLENGE YOU TO REOPEN THAT WOUND YOU DIDN’T LET FULLY HEAL; IT’S TIME TO REMOVE YOUR THORNS!!!

Just before my second dark night of the soul experience began, this past December 2017, I picked up a book that I’d read years ago to, reread it. I believe very much in synchronicity signs and I like to think that me coming across this book just before my life began imploding on itself again, was a synchronicity sign; God and Universe collaborating to get me prepared for bumps in the road and to keep focused on the end goal of fulfilling my purpose.

In ‘The Dream Giver’ by Bruce Wilkinson, the main character “Ordinary” leaves the land of familiar to follow his dreams. Along the way he experiences many obstacles, naysayers, fear and then a dark night process in which he faces and encounters bullies, giants and the feelings of self-doubt along the way. He also finally takes some time to be quiet and have a one on one with God when he finally realizes his purpose is more important than the fear or the pain felt while pursuing his calling! Ordinary was meant to be extraordinary!!

I quickly realized that this is the story of one’s awakening to their purpose as I read the book for the second time over a decade after the first read. I am remembering points from the first time I had read the book, pre-awakening, about 11 years ago. This time, post-awakening, I recognized “Ordinary’s” struggles, fears, pain, and one on one with God; as his dark night of the soul! That is really what a dark night of the soul is; your one on one with Source, God, your higher power, higher self, God-within; whatever you call it, it’s all the same thing.

The author discusses the fact that throughout the Bible there is a pattern that is repeated when one answers their calling. You can get this best seller on amazon of course. Here is the link to their library of self-development books and audios! http://amzn.to/2G3WKRp

“In almost every instance they:

1.Become aware of a personal Dream or calling, then decide to pursue it.(Awakening to a calling, longing or purpose!)

2.Face fear as they leave a place of comfort.(Pushing self to the limits, major personal growth)

3. Encounter opposition from those around them. (Bullies, judgmental family/friends/associates, animosity)

4. Endure a season of difficulty that tests their faith. (Dark night of the soul, friends fall off, overwhelmed, fear, having to take ownership and accountability of mistakes, hurts and own role in wrong turns taken.)

5. Learn the importance of surrender and consecration to God. (learn to be still and listen)

6. giants that stand before them and the fulfillment of their dreams.(naysayers, haters, family, fake or fair weather friends, animosity...)

7. Reach their full potential as they achieve their Dream and bring honor to God. ……not to block our Dream but to help us break through to the fulfillment God promises.

Notice in the patterns above, what you must face before you ever complete your journey.

When you embrace your purpose you can expect opposition, fear, difficulties, bullies,having to surrender, a fight against your personal giants; this is your dark night. I know first hand that when you mention “ awakening” and people look at you cross-eyed or start calling you names like granola or star child; this fear of what other’s think is often the reason people reject their own calling. They want to be perceived as normal!

********note to self********forget about being normal! Your calling is ONLY going to feel normal to YOU! It’s your calling! YOU were made for it AND furthermore,

If you meet with your dark night of the soul experience try to remember it’s a process and you are being sharpened for battle, refined. You are being set up for a major comeback, a break through and blessings. This is your time to BE STILL AND KNOW THAT YOU ARE NOT ALONE! THIS IS YOUR ONE ON ONE CONVERSATION WITH GOD! BE PRESENT IN THAT MOMENT AND LISTEN. IF YOU CAN PUSH THROUGH YOUR FEAR AND EMBRACE THIS PART OF THE PROCESS; YOU WILL GAIN CLARITY YOU NEVER THOUGHT POSSIBLE! SOLUTIONS, SYNCHRONICITY AND SIGNS WILL BECOME APPARENT AND LET YOU KNOW YOU ARE ON THE RIGHT PATH, KEEP GOING!

ONCE YOU EMBRACE RATHER THAN RESIST THE AWAKENING PROCESS; INCLUDING THESE DARK NIGHTS OF THE SOUL MOMENTS, IT WILL NO LONGER MATTER WHAT PEOPLE SAY, WHAT PEOPLE THINK OR WHAT PEOPLE PERCEIVE YOU TO BE!

Why?

It’s hard work! Work only you can appreciate because it involves a calling unique only to you! You endured pain to get where you are! You reopened old hurts and wounds and did the personal growth work it takes to know who you are at your core! You triumphed over your tribulations! You evolved and you learned to love yourself! You learned to protect your energy, detoxify and de-clutter your life. You may even have been judged for choosing to pursue a dream, your purpose or calling but YOU, YOU PERSEVERED.

Even though the process of spiritually awakening was uncomfortable you saw enough worth in yourself to step out of the box of “normal” and create your own angles that are aligned with your soul purpose; what you were born to do! YOU OPENED THE DOOR TO YOUR SOUL! A DOOR MOST KEEP LOCKED UP TIGHT BECAUSE COMPLACENCY FEELS BETTER THAN BEING UNCOMFORTABLE!

JUST BE YOU! BE TRUE AND BLOOM WHERE YOU ARE PLANTED! THE DARK NIGHT CAN HAVE YOU FEELING LIKE YOU ARE BEING BURIED BUT IN FACT LOVELY, YOU HAVE BEEN PLANTED! PURPOSE HAS BEEN BORN FROM YOUR PAIN! EVERYTHING YOU HAVE EXPERIENCED UP TO NOW HAS PREPARED YOU FOR THIS!

I was just beginning my awakening process; still thinking it’s all rainbows and light! It was a lesson learned when I realized that there was some darkness to deal with in the process too! Here came my first dark night and it had me looking like this.....

I was clueless and thought my world was spinning out of control! However, what I realize now is this;

I’M ONE OF THOSE STUBBORN GALS WHO HAS TO FIND OUR FOR HERSELF WHAT IS WHAT! I REJECTED THIS PROCESS BECAUSE IT HURT AND AS I MENTIONED BEFORE; IF WE DON’T MASTER A LESSON WHEN IT COMES OUR WAY, IT DOES COME BACK AROUND AGAIN, UNTIL WE DO!

Therefore, my dark night was extreme! Universe kind of smacked me in the face with all the shit I needed to own up to and all the thorns in my side that I was refusing to remove! One of the reasons I share about this process is because I want people to choose their calling before they get smacked in the face with it and so no one waits as long as I did to listen to that voice inside that says we are made for more! WE ARE MADE FOR MORE!!

IN ADDITION, CARL JUNG , MY FAVORITE ANAYLYTICAL PSYCHOLOGIST BELIEVED THAT:

“WHAT WE RESIST, PERSISTS.” A PURPOSE AND CALLING IS THAT WAY, IT PERSISTS IN THE FORM OF THAT LONGING FOR THE MISSING PIECE!! RESIST YOUR AWAKENING AND DARK NIGHT PROCESS FOR TOO LONG AND GOD AND UNIVERSE WILL COLLABORATE AND SMACK YOU IN THE FACE WITH IT, ROPE YOU IN LIKE A CALF IN THE RODEO THEN, SIT YOU DOWN AND SHOW YOU WHAT IS WHAT!

YOU REALLY CAN’T RUN FROM YOUR CALLING; IT BELONGS TO YOU ALONE!

SO JUST LISTEN!! THE BEST ANSWERS ARE OFTEN HEARD IN SILENCE.

IT’S TIME TO DITCH THE VICTIM MENTALITY. IT’S TIME TO EMPOWER YOURSELF AND HEAL! IT IS TIME YOU BECAME THE VICTOR INSTEAD OF THE VICTIM! IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO BEGIN THRIVING INSTEAD OF MERELY SURVIVING! ARE YOU READY TO REMOVE THE THORNS YET??

Living in and losing myself to a 6 year toxic relationship had me mentally and emotionally living in survival mode. Subconsciously, it's what you do to get by and get through until you get out. Much like emotional abuse, you don't realize you have begun living in survival mode. It just happens right along with the abuse you don't realize is happening. They go together, abuse and survival mode. Even after the relationship was over I continued living in survival mode because it had become a habit by then. I was not living up to my potential! I had lost myself in the toxicity and was existing in complacency out of fear! I was afraid to lay my claim and take back my power! I was ashamed, humiliated, hurt, broken, depressed, broke! I was carrying around so many thorns it was painful even for others to be around me, I believe. Hurt people hurt people and so without healing, my thorns were just hurting me and preventing growth and they were also hurting those around me who I was shutting out. I had a wall up so high NO ONE could get in!! I thought that would keep me from more pain!

Yet, a small voice always remained, reminding me that this was not the end of my story! The longing remained for me to find the missing piece to my puzzle; my life’s purpose!

We are really good at building barriers to protect our feelings aren't we. We can choose to ignore things, put them on the back burner and hope they just go away. We can avoid situations and people in hopes that the problem we are having with them just disappears. We can also talk ourselves right out of progress with negative self talk. You know, that's when we say to ourselves " I am not good enough, strong enough or smart enough to handle this situation, opportunity or relationship." We can place blame or accept blame that doesn't belong to us to avoid conflict. This only stirs up conflict within.We get in our own way a lot. Sometimes we don't even realize that we are the problem. For example, we may be doing all we think we can to be our best self. We commit to growth and positive change, striving for balance in our lives. We may be thinking positively and for the most part working in a good energy and still on a higher frequency than those around us.However, something is usually holding us back. We know there is more in store for us that isn't manifesting the way we want it to.

Q: What holds us back?

A: Our thorns

When we are holding on tight to things like; fear, blame, insecurity, hurt, pain, toxic people, grudges, vengeance and regret because we don't want to face it, we don't any free hands to welcome or grasp the goodness available to us.

When the wall we build to protect ourselves gets so high that nothing can get in it's so easy to get locked inside behind our wall with our excuses. C.G. Jung, the Bible, Socrates and Buddhist teachings universally teach us that "what we resist, persists." Think about that for a moment longer. What is it that you are resisting. What is your thorn?

Whatever we fear we strengthen. We cant ignore things and ask for more things. We have to deal with what we have. If your trying to move past something ask yourself if you've accepted it yet. Only after you accept it can you let it go and release it.

In your mind is power; God-within, spirit-within. I encourage you today to tap into it.

Here is a small list of happenings I remember from the start of my awakening to the first dark night I experienced! I had a lot of thorns as you just read and then on top of that this .....:

...sudden decision to resign from job I was at for 6 years due to personal ethics not aligning with corporate policies and procedures.

.... full of great energy and then one day it was all gone... depression

....started to see past people’s masks, facades and fake ...could not tolerate lies or the facade sooooooo many in my life put on

....fake friends started to try to hurt me in various ways (it was as if I was hidden in plain sight; as if I was being SHOWN that these people are NOT SERVING ANY PURPOSE IN MY LIFE, GROWTH OR PROGRESS....and while I was thankful to learn the truth it seemed to be another thorn added to my growing collection

....decluttering of fake friends led to old friends from past returning into my life in strange ways....also meeting new people that are more aligned with awakened folks ; ) They say these people are your soul tribe and come when you need them! I can think of 2 people that came to me this way! AMAZING AND RIGHT ON TIME!!! One of them is out of state and I’ve never met in person but she was my angel in the dark night and to this day is my SOUL SISTER! Lorrie McBride was live on facebook one night in an EMPATH support group and I was just pulled to her! I did not know why but there was something telling me to listen. I watched her whole live feed and then I contacted her!! Turns out our stories are almost identical! She seems to have experiences just before I have mine and the timeline is exact as far as life events. However, I seem to be following right behind her in the process. She heals from her experiences and that is when I seem to be forced to face mine in another dark night! Lorrie is a healer and it was synchronicity when we met, the way we met.

Had I never vowed to listen to my intuition I never would have contacted Lorrie! This is how your soul tribe finds you! You declutter the toxic people to make room for better folks to come in!! The talk we had on the phone had me in tears and EMPOWERED ME to embrace this process! From that day on I have been owning and embracing every season of life and Lorrie is still a part of my life and our pattern is still the same.....She is one of my angels on earth and one of the first kindred spirits that flowed to me during my dark night of the soul moment!

🌻❤The universe will keep sending you the same lesson until you learn it. ❤🌻 Do you ever feel like you keep repeating history; noticing that you keep facing a similar challenge? Well, the universe will keep bringing the same lesson around until you have it mastered.

Too many dances with devils was my problem! A lesson I have repeated over and over my whole life and am just now healed and evolved enough to know that these patterns stem from things in my childhood I had repressed!! I try to save everyone and I always see the beauty in the beast! Not a bad quality if you can keep health boundaries. Healthy boundaries are only possible when we are fully healed!

The universe had to come back around and slap me in the face with it about 6 months ago because I was ignoring it, running from it; I was afraid to reopen an old wound to fully heal. I was afraid of who I would be if I took the thorns out! I was comfortable in victim mentality.

Now, I am facing it and changing it once and for all! I had so many thorns that two years later I am still removing them; but I’ve made progress! Many are healed and I’m now helping others to do the same; I AM FULFILLING MY PURPOSE!

MY PURPOSE WAS BORN OUT OF MY PAIN!!

You can get this best seller and many other self-development reads on amazon of course. I hope you choose to embrace your journey! Here is the link to their library of self-development books and audios to help you along your way; my favorites will be there to view as well! http://amzn.to/2G3WKRp

ONE LOVE TO YOU ALL, I HOPE THIS EMPOWERED YOU IN SOME WAY! KARYN DEE #THEINTUITIVEWILDFLOWER

@adventuresofawildflower-blog

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buddaimond · 7 years

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”Chris Hardwick, stand-up comedian, actor, voice actor, television host, writer, producer, podcaster, and musician, CEO of Nerdist Industries interviewed Robert Pattinson for 50 minutes. Listen to this great podcast:

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Highlights of Rob’s interview & my notes *Rob’s quote in bold:

Starts at 8:00

Explaining the current press tour, how the Safdie brothers (directors) are more focused than him.

Vaguely embarrassed about talking about his acting process “What if someone doesn’t like it?”

“Pretty much all of my drive and enthusiasm for anything is born out of chronic insecurity and self-hatred. It's kind of annoying. it's a vicious circle if you ever get out of that then you’ve succeeded in something, like you ain’t gonna be lost forever”

Shared that even Bruce Springsteen felt similar chronic insecurity and “visions of grandeur and sickness in equal measure”

His admiration for The Band, which he wanted to do a movie on, where these people who wrote “massive stuff” and “spectacular pieces of art” at only 22, recollected that he doesn’t even know what he was doing at 22.

He only thought he wanted to be an actor “ACTOR” at 25. "I always just think I approach everything thinking it's going to be my last time every single time, and a lot of my decision-making processes “is this the one you're going to go down for? Is that amazing decision for the right reason?”

Making movies whether it is a hit or whether people like it or not, at least he could take aways two things that were important to him from his past endeavours, prior to Twilight,

He was getting jobs up until a point that he thought "this is going to be my life” and then just suddenly hit a brick wall. Twilight came along to be his big peak, but he could quite successfully disassociate myself from that, because he could psyched himself in thinking that it could just be taken away, and it was another nut down the road of his career.

Praising the Safdie brothers for their incredibly organazied minds, phenomenal people skills (both of which he does not have), how they could imagine a movie in their head and know technically they could put it together, and he is only beginning to understand the relationships between a director and the actor.

“You just had to have more trust in yourself and because when you don't have trust in yourself then you can't trust a director either. And so I think I would constantly be thinking that I somehow needed to mold a story from inside. As the performance rather than just accepting that it's their medium, and also I just got better at choosing directors as well. I sort of realized because sometimes you do you work with a director and they're just not in control of it... You try and control it but you literally can't control as a director at all. It's impossible well...you have one small piece... you're just a cog and if you try and do your own thing you'll just break the machine”

“I guess now I just have quite a smooth relationship with everybody I work with, it's just way less contentious than it used to be.”

He recalled having to read the teleprompter the other day and having read his speech 15 times from his card (in the car) before finally understanding it.

”I get nervous when I think there's any kind of expectation that's in any form of my life. If there's any expectation then I'll freak out and fail. I just have to set up my entire life to make sure that I'm in my own lane and not competing with anybody. Otherwise I know, I can't compete. As I was talking about auditioning, I don't like it. but if you realized if you just invent your own game and no one else knows to rules aside from you, then its fine.”

He has auditioned twice and gotten one of them so far (post Twilight)

It is not a pick and choose situation at all for him when it comes to his projects. The big projects with well-known directors that he’d want to work with, he hasn’t done enough to be really recognized or sought after. For those that wanted him “to get financing” he doesn’t want to work with them anyway. He has recognized over the years that he really like to be the A&R (artiste and repertoire) kind of person who is trying to find something with true potential that the majority of people have not realized yet. Then he will “completely go in on them, committing a million percent” which is what he did on Good Time.

His love for movies, he watched a lot of them. Sometimes doubting himself imagining that he will ruin the movies if he were to play the roles he has his eyes on. He chose script by finding a fit to the kind of zeitgeist, the idea of the type of character that he wants to play and will search for it.

His preparation process before a project: his anxiety builds up before a project starts, when he gets really obsessed with the script and thinks everything is going to be amazing. When the date draws closer he just reaches a point of not understanding anything “it doesn’t even make any sense, it is not even written in English…the directors’ previous works are all shit…” and gets worse and worse spiralling out of control, and he will start to act out on everyone around him, getting their sympathy etc. Then one day his agent told him “you just like this feeling, you get high from anxiety” which he admitted about feeding on the adrenalin from anxiety.

In making the “fear” real. “The most real thing in the world is pain, and if you somehow figure out some kind of psychological or physical pain which is associated with the job” ….many artists or actors set up walls when they feel the devastation from pain (even when faking it) or doing it as an addiction, “whatever you still have to do it, ....you have to figure out a way, to trick yourself... to use everything inside of you...now I am going to make it real”

Funny story : My dad has always given me relationship advice. And my mom and dad have been married for nearly 40 years, and my dad said “You know, at the end of the day, love is just a fancy you’ve created for yourself. It’s only in your own head”…and I said “you shouldn’t this right in front of her (his mom). And his mom said “he’s right you know”

Living in character: “That is generally why I kind of stay in isolation if I’m trying to do something. It got so much easier because you create real arguments with everyone in that situation”

“I have those conversation the whole time (with my brain) every single decision I made, I consult my brain and especially like “is the yes bigger or the no bigger?”…. I don’t know, I think that’s a yes…”

"I always find it strange when someone's saying “oh yeah well this is because of this, and this or that” it's like, if you say something and someone acknowledges your unique individuality I think it's much more comforting.... It is scary to think you are part of a herd and you're just a number. I think I would almost prefer to be unique and alone.”

“I am very very in my own head like almost constantly. Since I was a kid. Need to be in therapy to be less afraid of confrontation. I hold grudges and never tell people because I don’t want to piss them off. I just don’t talk to them again, just ghost it!”

“I remember growing up, my dad was like “you can do anything you want, just don’t be loud” I was just very uncomfortable with that kind of people not thinking things through all the time, and I think that’s why now I’m very attracted to parts where people are very upfront, not really second guessing themselves.”

He never understood that acting to be fun (for some performers). It is a kind of hybrid therapy for him. “Some people see it as a job, but I think that’s crazy. What you’re doing there, so you’re making faces, practice making faces so people are able to hire you? I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, I have no idea what the skills are, I literally just know there’s something which I want to confront in my real life, I am going to use the excuse of this fictional situation, which is like a kind of reality safety net so I can do all these stuff, because it is not real.”

“It is just a way to experiment, how you would feel in a situation and you can have a safety net. Most of the time you avoid doing certain thing because you don’t want to have to deal with the consequences afterwards, whereas in a movie, you can do things and then sort of not really deal with it.”

He talked about Netflix, Cinephile videos where he can get an entire catalogue of directors from that place a lot of which is not on Netflix. He loved doing that. “I'd like being a sponge the things”

He felt Ciro Guerra’s Embrace of the Serpent (a Columbian movie) is an insane and magical thing from the first shot. He was mesmerised, and he doesn’t understand how it was made. He hassled Gueraa to give him a job which is happening early next year “How can you make something so magical?” “I want to know how you make it so magical!”. He doesn’t think anyone can really explain their thing in creating magic, he knows some will have innate talent. In general, it is putting in tonnes of time and practice and work till you get it right.

The story about his sister’s magician friend who did this card trick of always getting the right card (90% accuracy) he picked. He knew it is about certain patterns and work put in, and concluded that “if you are a true magician, then you are actually looking for the thing which is real...then the real matter is not a trick.”

He has waited for years to work with Claire Denis. “I think all these things are just like having a relationship with someone. You have that initial moment, you only fall in love with people of things so many times or that find something, you just get that feeling of falling in love with it, you might not necessarily know what it is but you should 100% chase it down afterward.” Like this next thing (Claire Denis project) “I remember seeing it, as it is directly clear to me, who is one of my favourite directors, but I remember seeing her first movie when I was shooting the last Twilight movie in Louisiana and it was on TV. I remember being so struck five and a half year ago, and I tracked her know. She’d never made a fully English language movie before and I just kinda stay involved...”

He was going to Jimmy Kimmel later and his mind is going crazy. What goes through his mind where there was a fans-”grabby period”. Luckily, when he is in a calm situation, his brain will be filed with anxiety and panic and then when he is in a panic-anxiety-inducing situation, his brain completely calms down (totally zen). He has no idea why and it is kind of helpful, like he gets dumped of serotonin. When something feels really nerve wrecking, his heartbeat will slow down and have this weird out-of-body-experience. In those situation (similarly to being on social media), he would have a desperate need to make everyone like him. “just like me, like me!” That is why he will never have social media, he will never go off his phone and will be staring at it all day which is 100% complete waste of energy.

Fight or flight situation. He is either zen and calm, or (a few times that happened) when someone confronts him said one thing, then he has compressed rage (built up from 5 years) thrown out at that person.

“To maintain any kind of career for long, somehow it will get out, people will get a feeling of who you actually are, it is impossible to keep something contained, especially now. Unless you literally never leave your house, but then, it reflects on what type of person you are”

#robert pattinson #The Nerdist #Chris Hardwick #Good Time Interview #Podcast transcript

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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The Legacy of Batman: Tom King, Kevin Conroy, and Scott Snyder on the Dark Knight

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This year, we talked to Tom King, Kevin Conroy, Bruce Timm, Scott Snyder, Jock, and Pete Tomasi about why Batman still matters.

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It all began with two shots in the dark, pearls spilling onto the blood-soaked cement. No, it all started when the bat crashed through the window. Actually, it was when the boy fell into the cave. Maybe it was that hostile takeover at Apex Chemicals? Dozens of stories have shaped the legend of the Batman over his 80-year history, tales that have made the Caped Crusader arguably the most iconic character in comic book history, rivaled only by Superman.

When Bill Finger and Bob Kane put pen and pencil to paper for 1939's Detective Comics #27, they had no way of knowing that they were creating a new American myth that would captivate readers and movie audiences for decades to come. They certainly didn't expect their first Batman adventure, "The Case of the Chemical Syndicate," to spawn 973 more issues of Detective Comics, let alone become a blockbuster franchise featuring movies, TV series, video games, and McDonald's Happy Meals.

But what bigger testament to the long-lasting appeal of Batman than March’s Detective Comics #1000, written and drawn by some of the best creators in the business? The giant-sized, 96-page issue featured stories by legends such as as Dennis O'Neil, Neal Adams, Steve Epting, Christopher Priest, Jim Lee, Kelley Jones, Paul Dini, Brian Michael Bendis, Warren Ellis, and Geoff Johns as well as the current custodians of the Bat-mythos -- Tom King, Tony S. Daniel, Peter J. Tomasi, Doug Mahnke, Joelle Jones, Scott Snyder, and Greg Capullo. And that's not even including the excellent covers by Jim Steranko, Bernie Wrightson, Bruce Timm, Frank Miller, Jock, Tim Sale, and more.

Batman is only the second DC superhero to reach such a massive milestone, the other being the Man of Steel. What is it about this character hellbent on avenging the death of his parents night after night that has kept him at the forefront of our pop culture?

“I think what makes him deeply enduring is that it’s a really primal folk tale,” Scott Snyder, who’s been writing Batman stories since 2011, says. “It’s a story about a boy who loses everything and turns that loss into fuel to make sure that what happened to him never happens to anybody else.”

While most of us aren't billionaire playboys with the resources to fight crime on a global (and sometimes cosmic) level, we understand pain, both emotional and physical, and a need to rise above it, even if we can't always do that. We sympathize with Bruce's biggest regret -- if only he hadn't made his parents take him to see that Zorro movie; if only he hadn't been frightened by the opera; if only he'd been braver and faster as the thug pulled the trigger. For Bruce, his crusade to stop evildoers comes down to replaying that single fateful moment over and over again and making possible a different outcome.

Yet, Batman perseveres despite all of this pain, which is why people flock to the character, according to Snyder.

"It's a story of triumph over your worst fears, worst tragedy, and about taking your loss and turning it into a win," the writer says. "There's just this kind of power to him that speaks to our own potential, the human potential, even when we're challenged by things that seem insurmountably horrible."

Snyder has spent the better part of a decade showcasing Batman as a symbol of hope for the citizens of Gotham, putting him through the ringer, reopening old wounds while also making new ones -- the writer even killed the hero off at one point -- just so that he can pick himself up again and keep fighting.

But the character isn't driven solely by tragedy. Who could hang with a downer like that for 80 years?

"There are the fun elements, of course, that are similar to James Bond, like the gadgets, and the cars, and the planes, and just the cool factor of his costume."

Tom King, who recently wrapped up an 85-issue run on Batman and currently has a Batman/Catwoman miniseries in the works, looks back to the character's real-life point of origin as the reason he has stood the test of time.

"You have to go back to the moment of creation with him. You've got [Bob Kane and Bill Finger], the children of immigrants, so we're like, what, 1938, '39, we're in Manhattan. And at that time, I mean, go back and look at the pictures, Batman was created like 20 blocks from Madison Square Garden where they had a Nazi rally that attracted a hundred thousand people. They were marching in the streets."

These tumultuous times shaped the fabric of Batman, according to King.

"[Kane and Finger] were living here and their literal cousins and grandparents were getting killed in Europe, right? And they created something uniquely American. Batman succeeds because there's something genuinely beautifully American about it."

According to Batman: The Animated Series voice actor Kevin Conroy, Batman’s continued popularity goes back to something primal. To the classically trained actor who was immortalized as the voice of Batman in the ‘90s cartoon, the Caped Crusader is a modern retelling of myths and stories humans have been passing down for thousands of years.

“He’s such a theatrical character,” Conroy says, admitting he was at first hesitant to audition for the role. At the time, he was a theater actor who'd never done an animated role. But when he read the script, the character clicked. Conroy recognized this story. “They were absolutely right to cast a theater actor, especially one with a classical background, because this is Shakespeare. They’re doing high drama. Batman is Achilles. He’s Orestes. He’s Hamlet.”

The tragic Greek character Orestes, in particular, was on Conroy’s mind when playing Batman. By that point, he’d performed several plays as Orestes, a son who avenges his father’s murder and goes mad because of it. By the end of the story, Orestes has gone through hell and back because of his thirst for vengeance. Naturally, Conroy brought that familiarity with Orestes to his portrayal of Batman.

“He’s a Homeric hero,” Conroy says of the Caped Crusader. “I think of it often when I’m doing Batman because Orestes is haunted by the Furies. He descends into hell. He comes back. He’s resurrected at the end, and I think so often, this is a very Orestial-like journey that Bruce Wayne goes on. His Furies are the memory of his parents’ murder. It haunts him through his life. It’s transformed him."

Conroy calls Batman a “classic character.” Like Orestes before him, Batman has become the protagonist of our very own mythology.

“He’s come out of such a fire and instead of letting life crush him, he turns that metamorphosis into something even greater than himself,” Conroy says. “They’ve been telling that story for thousands of years in different cultures, and this is our culture’s way of telling those stories, and I think they’re just as valid.”

Bruce Timm, who co-created Batman: The Animated Series and designed the show's iconic Art Deco aesthetic, is unsurprisingly most taken by Batman's look.

"I just think Batman looks great," Timm says during our chat at NYCC in 2018. "He's got the best costume motif in comics. Nothing comes close. He's dark, sexy, and broody. It's really intoxicating and compelling in a way that almost no other in comics can come close to it."

He also admires the durability of the character through the different eras of comics, from the Golden Age, to the sillier '50s and '60s stories of the Comics Code era, to the darker takes we're more accustomed to today.

"It is amazing to me how flexible he is as a character. That you could have something as silly as the Adam West show or the old '50s comics, and then you have stuff like Neal Adams and Frank Miller and what we did. And you know, even more extreme, [Grant Morrison and Dave McKean's graphic novel] Arkham Asylum and things like that. And yet their all kind of the same character. It's like that character can encompass all of those different things. He can do space aliens and serial killers, you know? Yet, it kind of works."

This flexibility has allowed plenty of writers and artists to experiment with the Dark Knight, creating different versions of the character over the years. There really isn't a definitive take on Batman. You can love the Batusi, Bat-Mite, or Mr. Freeze's cool party and still be right on the money about the Caped Crusader. You'd be remiss to call the character stale. The guy has done it all.

"It's almost like he's a force of nature, in which stories can happen around him, and there's something primordial, maybe, about the character and the way he looks, as well," says veteran Batman artist Jock, who most recently worked on a seven-part miniseries with Snyder called The Batman Who Laughs. "You could put Batman in a new pose, and he'd still flourish, and I think those kinds of characters are very rare."

Peter J. Tomasi, who is currently writing Detective Comics, puts it best:

"He's a character who can work across all genres. Somehow, someway, he can simply fit into every story, be it a war story, a western, a love story, a comedic angle, sci-fi, horror, fantasy, you name it, and of course any detective story you can possibly imagine."

Superheroes won't always be at the top of our pop culture food chain. It's inevitable that many of the characters we love today will fade with future generations, just as the Shadow, Doc Savage, Zorro, and the Scarlet Pimpernel did. Will we still be talking about Batman in another 80 years? We may eventually embrace new forms of familiar myths, becoming obsessed with new idols. But only a fool would bet against a character who's survived as long as Batman has. Remember, the Batman always wins.

John Saavedra is an associate editor at Den of Geek. Read more of his work here. Follow him on Twitter @johnsjr9 and make sure to check him out on Twitch.

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