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#and people who act high and mighty for liking phil and talk about how much they hate literally everyone else
dromaeo-sauridae · 3 years
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me watching parts of the fandom get up on their high horse and hate on actual irl people for liking a character
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Watched Mel’s tribute video (it’s on the EE Twitter and Facebook) and fuck I’m emotional now.
It really shows just how goddamn brilliant her character progression has been. Comes into Walford in the 90s as the feisty girl next door, and then slowly all that’s ripped apart as she’s lied to by Ian, then as she gets involved with Steve and finds herself caught up in his criminal activity, as she watches her best friend get herself into an abusive relationship, then when she loses Steve... and yet, despite the trainwreck of the previous three and a half years, she still leaves with a tiny glint of hope, carrying Steve’s child.
She returns nearly sixteen years later a hardened woman from all she went through before and from another fifteen years of added heartache: a marriage that only ends in disaster, a child she lies to because she wants him to believe his father was a good man, her best friend in and out of psychiatric wards.
But for a while, she’s on top of the world. She’s not that bubbly girl from ‘98 anymore, but she’s got everything under control. She buys and runs the club, she has near every man in the Square interested in her and she knows how to keep them keen, she has a happy relationship with Jack...
Then her ex-husband enters her life again and she discovers the extent of his wrongdoing, and in her plan to get revenge she ends up hurting her son, who simply wants a stable father figure in his life. She’s nearly murdered by Ray; he kidnaps the most important person in her life; in an attempt to stop all this, her son kills Ray to protect them both. And then he goes to prison for that and faces awful treatment from the other inmates and she’s devastated because she just wants her son home and happy, but for a second, just a second there’s a spark of hope when Hunter escapes and she thinks they can all run away, she and Hunter and Lisa/Louise/Keanu all can go to Portugal and be a happy family and it’ll be okay.
And then Hunter shoots up the Vic, he nearly kills several people and some part of Mel realises she hardly recognises her own son anymore and you know this is what she feared, she didn’t want him to turn out like Steve -- but Hunter is still her baby and she loves him and she does everything she can to talk him down. But it’s to no avail, and the police shoot him so he doesn’t go any further, and in so many ways this might just be the worst event of Melanie’s life thus far.
So what happens to an already traumatised woman who grew cold and detached and, in some ways, stronger as a result of that past trauma, who watches her son go on a killing spree and is left cradling his body outside the local pub, having stood only feet away as he was killed? What do you do with that character then?
Easy: you break her instead.
So Mel loses her son, and her mind goes with him. She’s consumed by her grief, and people are making her feel like she’s not allowed to grieve because Hunter was a murderer, and she can’t even give him a proper send-off because Phil won’t let her use the money she’s helped to earn to bury Hunter due to what he did.
And so she wants revenge, and at the same time, she’s falling into delusion; “the Mitchells will act all high-and-mighty about what my son did when they’re no better? They’ll show no respect to my pain? Fine then - I’ll make them feel it!“ So when she finds out about Sharon and Keanu, it’s the perfect opportunity to do this, to ruin the Mitchell illusion of happy families. She’ll blackmail Sharon with unreasonable demands until she gets what she wants; the Mitchells to suffer and herself, Lisa and Louise out of there. She’s hurting and she wants other people, especially the ones who have wronged her and/or those she loves, to hurt with her. She thinks she’s going to be the Great Anti-Hero Who Shall Expose The Mitchells Once And For All.
Yet she also just wants to run. She fixates on going away to Portugal because, according to her disjointed train of thought, Portugal will make it all better, just as Louise’s baby will make it all better. She wants everything to go back to normal. (I get the impression, between her suddenly very mothering behaviour to Louise and her obsession with the pregnancy and her often referring to Hunter in present tense, that she was not only trying to use both Louise and her child as a replacement for Hunter, but believed that the baby was Hunter reincarnated or something like that - but I don’t really know, and to be honest I don’t think Mel herself really did either.)
And then, in the end, these two contrasting sides of her come together. The side who wants to be the Great Anti-Hero crashes her car because of it, just as her husband fatally did eighteen years before.
But Mel, she survives... until she wanders into the traffic, incapable of her own distress like some sort of modern-day Ophelia, because she thinks she hears her son calling her. In the end, it’s not the delusions of grandeur that take her. It’s about something much simpler, more primal: a mother’s desire to be with her son.
Over the course of 21 years, Mel turned from a friendly girl next door, to a hardened woman who had seen too much but eventually found the world at her fingertips to, finally, an ill, grieving mother who just wants to be with her child and loses her life because of it.
Now that’s character development.
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dalyunministry · 4 years
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TOPIC: THE CRUCIFIED LIFE IN CHRIST
By. Pastor. Jeshurun Sogers
🔰
Blessed evening and afternoon to all Royalties in the house. May the good Lord continue to bless you all for the good works.
Let us pray: Heavenly Father we bless and glorify your holy name. We thank you for your works and transformation in our lives. You are the great Almighty God, the mighty man in battle, the everlasting King, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Ancient of days. You are bigger than what people say. As we come before you this moment, we pray that you show us your mercy. Holy Spirit open the eyes of our understanding as we look into the perfect word of liberty and increase our zeal for the word. We love you Lord. In Jesus mighty name we pray..... Amen.....
¶ TOPIC: THE CRUCIFIED LIFE IN CHRIST
Text: Galatians 2:16-20
Knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law: for by the works of the law shall no flesh be justified.
But if, while we seek to be justified by Christ, we ourselves also are found sinners, is therefore Christ the minister of sin? God forbid. For if I build again the things which I destroyed, I make myself a transgressor.
For I through the law am dead to the law, that I might live unto God.
• I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.
• Introduction:
Apostle Paul was a flesh-and-blood example of what faithful Christian living looks like in actual experience. He told the Corinthian believers, "Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ" (1 Cor 11:1 KJV). He told Timothy in one of his letter "Here’s a word you can take to heart and depend on: Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. I’m proof—Public Sinner Number One—of someone who could never have made it apart from sheer mercy. And now he shows me off—evidence of his endless patience—to those who are right on the edge of trusting him forever. " (1 Timothy 1:16) MSG.
Paul said to the Corinthians to follow him as he followed Christ, in actual sense he was saying that the day I stop being like Christ in my activities, my actions, my interaction, please don't follow me. This is a very big question, can actually say these to the people we are serving were the Holy Ghost has made us overseers.
• Does our life style really typifies Christ Jesus? This our generation is pitiable. Some Members are doing all the can to look like their Pastor even when the Pastor is not looking like Jesus. Scriptures says Heb.13:7 Remember your leaders, who spoke the word of God to you. Consider the outcome of their way of life and imitate their faith.
If we want to understand the high calling that God has on our life, we must always look first to Jesus. But if we want to see what it looks like for imperfect people like ourselves to turn from our sins and follow the Savior in a devoted way; if we want to see what it looks like for God to transform a sinner and turn him or her into a useful instrument in His hand; if we want to see a living example of the attitudes and priorities and beliefs and motives and aspirations that are to characterize us as followers of Jesus Christ while we walk on this earth, then we must look at Paul - because that's why he was given to us by God.
• I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me. Galatians 2:20
Paul believed that, God See's him as one joined to Jesus Christ by faith in an act of God's grace - being "baptized" into Christ (that is, placed spiritually into Him in such a way that everything that happened to Christ also happened to him); so that he truly died when Christ died, and was truly raised with Christ when Christ rose from the dead. Paul believed that this was true of all who are "in Christ". It's also true of you if you have placed your faith in Him.
Paul said, Do you not know that as many of us as were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death? Therefore we were buried with Him through baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life" (Rom. 6:3-4). Paul considered himself truly crucified with Christ, and now raised together with Him; and so this obligated Paul to live a whole new kind of life.
• NEVERTHELESS I LIVE, YET NOT I
There is two "I" in this statement. This mean that for the life of Christ to manifest in your life, for you to enjoy the fullness of God divine purpose, there must be a nevertheless in your daily activities because Christ now live in you.
• BUT CHRIST LIVETH IN ME.
Col. 3:4; 1Cor. 3:16; 6:19-20; 1John 4:4
God is talking to us through this scriptures. Christ is in us, the life that we now carry, is the exact life of Christ. It is the same quality, has the same power, holiness and all attribute of God. 1John 4:17. Christ in us, is the hope of glory. We need to feed the spiritual body daily with the right food even as we feed the physical body. You know what happens to your physical body if you don't feed it.
• WE SHOULD LIVE ONLY FOR HIM
2Cor. 5:15; ROM.4:7-9; 12:1-2.
We are no longer of ourselves weather we live or die. We have no personal reason any more to live here on Earth, except for Jesus. We are not doing ministry to live but rather we are living to do ministry. Christ has bought us.
• JESUS MUST BE MAGNIFIED IN OUR LIFE AT ALL COST.
Phil. 1:20-21
According to my earnest expectation and my hope, that in nothing I shall be ashamed, but that with all boldness, as always, so now also Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life, or by death.
For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.
For Paul, it is Christ, how about you? Is it your earthly possession?
As I conclude, I plead with you, Frustrate not the grace of God upon your life. Gal. 2:21; 2Cor. 6:1-2. God has done so much for us, much has been poured out on our lives, let it not be wasted. Do waste His death on the cross for the remissions of our sins. Keep on working with the master day by day. Remember it takes a dead man to resurrect. Stay bless and remain rapturable in Jesus mighty name Amen
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an-anaemic-pen · 5 years
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Project Phoenix Chapter 17
Navy | Cotton
The Manifestation || The Power Play || The Green-Eyed Fly || The Middle of The Night || The Alternative || The Attic || The House || The God of Mischief || The Kill  || The Night || The Collar || The Training || The Week Without A God of Mischief || The Routine || The Whole Truth
Greige | Lamé
Summary: Kate’s a normal teenage Midgardian girl; except there’s a Loki in her attic, and now S.H.I.E.L.D.’s after her, and also, she has powers. Apparently, she’s meant to save the world.
She just wanted to finish school and maybe fall in love—at least she’s accomplishing one of those.
Relationships: Gen, F/M (Loki/Original Female Character)
Rating: M (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Underage if you squint bit—nothing occurs while characters are underage, Sexual Content)
Mood: New World Order, Vanquish
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‘A few days,’ as Coulson had said, turned into far more than that. At some point, Kate got into the routine of tallying before her midday meal, so she could thoroughly scrub clean the little cut that never fully healed while she showered. According to her tallying, it had been 28 days.
She had hoped to be able to cut herself by now. Kate damned that awful little part of her, the part that wanted the adventure and made her hold off; she just wanted to hear what Coulson would say.
She just wanted to laugh in his face.
She hadn’t laughed in a while, she realized. The only thing she’d really done as of recent was sleep.
Well, sleep was an exaggeration. Since getting forcefully taken off her mental medication, her disorder had crept back into her mind, and now most nights Kate couldn’t fall asleep without vomiting due to an anxious adrenaline rush.
Her lights dimmed sometime after her evening “meal,” and it was at that time Kate would unzip her jumpsuit top, let it rest along her chains, and start pacing around the room. Sometimes she would sit on her bed and rock. The movement and stress warmed her up, but the lack of clothing outside of her bra helped cool off her chest.
It would always end the same way no matter what she did: curled up crying and chugging down water straight from the sink’s faucet. She would them vomit back up said water—attempting to lose one’s lunch when there was no lunch was never fun—then pass out at some point on the tile due to the inevitable adrenaline crash.
She’d tried talking to the guards, but neither said anything anymore. Talking to herself could only get so much done, so at some point, Kate started talking to an old friend of hers.
When she was little, Bella had always been someone to turn to. She was a pretty ballerina with porcelain skin and a perfectly-made bun of dark brown hair atop her head. She always walked on her tiptoes.
No matter how hard she tried, Kate could never conjure up a tangible face for her, so, she wore a plain white mask with no eyes, nose, or mouth holes. Bella’s voice was silky and smooth—it took Kate a while to realize it was Leanna’s—and she was always smiling.
“Hey, Bella?” Her voice was rough, and she cleared her throat. Kate sat on her cot, desperately attempting to draw up the comfortingly-cold chill she had learned to love so quickly; she was different, she was special.
Since her imprisonment, she couldn’t find the power anywhere.
“Yes, little one?” It was Bella’s favorite nickname for her.
Kate didn’t know what to say. “I dunno… I just like knowing you’re here.”
Bella, who had appeared in the corner and was examining the bloody tally marks, walked over. She sat down on the cot beside Kate, resting her nimble hand on her friend’s knee. “I am always here.” Bella curled a lock of hair behind Kate’s ear—Kate, in reality, doing it for her—and gave her a side-hug. “I will not leave until you ask me to.”
“I know.”
When Kate was ten, she’d decided she was a big kid and didn’t need Bella anymore. The ballerina had faded, and Kate had only felt a little bad for abandoning her. Hearing her say she didn’t mind made her feel better; Bella was not hurt by her letting go—by her growing up. I suppose I’m still just a child, then.
“There is nothing wrong with needing a friend, little one. You know that humans are pack animals.”
She smiled a little and hoped Bella wouldn’t know it was forced. “I know.”
A comfortable silence settled between them, the only sound disturbing it being Kate’s breathing.
“Hey, Bella?”
“Yes?”
“Should I still be mad at him?” Half her conscious was saying yes, but half of it was saying no. Her pride told her not to forgive him, but her mind was getting tired of being angry at him; it needed the energy to be mad at S.H.I.E.L.D. and herself. Besides, she wanted to be able to smile when she saw him again—if she saw him again. It was unlikely.
“What do you think?”
“I think he lied to me.”
“And he is the God of Lies.”
Her voice was barely a whisper when she next spoke. “But he also said he was trying to protect me.” She didn’t want to admit it.
“And he brought out your abilities.”
Kate looked at Bella. She knew Bella would know she had turned to face her. Bella always knew. “Are you trying to convince me or not?”
Bella laughed, her eyes shining. “I am merely stating the facts. What you decide it up to you.”
Kate blinked and let her eyes fall to the tile between her knees. She sighed. Bella brushed a light kiss on her temple.
There was a beep, and Kate looked up, Bella fading as her concentration went elsewhere. Her door slid open to reveal an oddly familiar face. It took her a moment, but Kate recognized the man as the third one who’d been in the van with her. He had a soft face and an even softer smile on his lips.
“Kate,” he said.
“Katherine,” Kate grumbled back. She made a vow to not get personal, no matter how desperately she wanted a friend.
“Very well, Katherine.” He walked up to her and offered his hand to shake. “It’s good to finally see you awake.”
Kate raised her eyes to look at him. She lifted her hand with a bit of a struggle, pushing his back down to his side. He didn’t seem offended.
“Why am I here.” She didn’t bother changing the tone of her voice to indicate a question.
Coulson sat down on the cot beside her. He was far enough away that they did not brush arms, but close enough Kate felt his presence beside her. “You put on a little show a few weeks ago, and it piqued S.H.I.E.L.D.’s interest.”
“If I piqued your interest, then why am I in chains?”
Coulson sighed. “I spoke against it, but Fury insisted.”
Her eyebrow quirked. “Fury, as in Nick Fury?”
“Yeah, I know—we tend to get that reaction. Most people don’t believe us at first.”
Kate sneered. “You start to believe things when you find out you have magic powers.”
Coulson huffed out a laugh. “Well, not exactly magic, but powers, yes.”
You don’t even know, she laughed to herself, but feigned arrogance. “Very well, have it your way—powers.” For a moment, Kate thought she sounded like Loki. “Now, let me free. You have no right to do this.”
“We have a warrant.”
“Somehow I tend to think your supposed ‘warrant’ is unconstitutional.”
Coulson laughed again and briefly hung his head. He tried to look her in the eyes, but she refused to meet his. “Act like you’re high and mighty around Fury and you’ll get a good few licks from him.” He stood and took the chair from where it sat in front of the table, carrying it over and sitting down. “I’m Agent Coulson, by the way, you can call me Phil. Ask any and all questions, and I’ll answer what I can.”
How oddly familiar, Kate thought. She was getting tired of not knowing things. “How am I still the same weight when I haven’t eaten any food in—” she glanced at the wall behind him “—twenty-eight days?” She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear Coulson say it.
“Thirty-one days, if you want to split hairs, and it’s the pills.”
Kate made a mental note to add three more tallies to her wall. “How do they work?”
“That’s classified.”
She scoffed. “So, you don’t know.”
His mouth thinned into a line, but he let out another little breath of laughter. “You already have me figured out, don’t you?”
She looked at him, once again not lifting her head, and decided she would let him buy into the idea that she thought she knew everything. “You’d be surprised what one can figure out when all they have is their mind.”
“Would I?” He dragged her chains a bit, so they had more give. “Who were you talking to?”
“That’s classified.”
He sighed. “I guess I deserve that.”
“You locked me in a room and left me here, the only words being ‘see ya in a few days,’ which turned into twenty-eight. If you think all you deserve is a bit of mouthing off, then you are the high and mighty one.”
He hung his head as if he felt genuinely guilty. Kate raised her lip. “Why can’t I use my powers?”
“It’s for the safety of you and us.”
“I want them back.”
He looked up at her and smiled. “Now, we’re getting somewhere. I can help you with that.”
She expected him to continue and cut him off before he could. “All I have to do is check the ‘I have read the terms of service’ box?” Her voice was thick with sarcasm.
“Not exactly.” Coulson leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We can’t have any sort of liabilities, so we’ll have to…” he faded off. “We have to—”
Kate filled in the words he was looking for. “Brainwash me? Erase my memory? Give me no reason to leave?”
His mouth opened, froze, then closed again. “How did you know that?”
Kate could feel her stomach drop and prayed Coulson wouldn’t notice. Be the Loki, she told herself. She let out a sigh, rolling her head around the collar and cracking her neck. “I’m a liability, aren’t I? And I’ve seen enough sci-fi movies to know how these things work.”
His shoulders sagged slightly. It was such a slight movement that Kate almost didn’t notice it. “Yes.”
She felt sick.
“So?”
Kate pursed her lips. “So what?”
“Will you join S.H.I.E.L.D.?”
She gave him a look. She wanted to say “who do you think you are?” but opted for a simple “no.”
Coulson sighed. He patted her on the knee. “Think about it.” Then, he got up, and walked towards the door.
“I want food.”
He turned around as the door slid open. “We need you.” Then, he walked out and it shut behind him.
Kate stared at the floor for a few moments. She closed her eyes, leaning forward to rest her head in her hands and sighing.
Suddenly, she let out a yell of frustration, kicking the chair across the room and letting it trip over the chains and fall to the floor with a clang. She could feel her blood pumping through her veins. She looked at the wall. Slowly, she got up and dragged her chains over to her little calender, and, with only a slight wince, reopened the little slit.
Three more bloody tally marks joined the others.
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Loki sat in the government vehicle, parked in front of a tailor shop. He was with one of the spare agents—one of the ones who wasn’t as easily recognized as the mighty Avengers. At the moment, he wore a simple glamour to change his appearance, and was waiting for his appointment to be measured.
“I do not see why we had to come here for such a simple task. I can dress myself.”
“Boss’ orders.” The Agent called Moore said from the seat beside him. He checked his watch for the third time in the past ten minutes. “Coulson says he wants to help you adjust to your new lifestyle by doing some of the activities civilians would do.”
Loki scoffed. “Am I going to be golfing with my coworkers next week?” He’d never understood the interest in wearing tacky clothing and strategically hitting a tiny ball across a field. The fact mortals considered it to be a ‘sport’ was mildly—very mildly—confusing.
“Unless you’d like me to suggest that to him, no.”
“If I find I will ever be doing such a task, I will personally hunt you down and, to put it simply, kill you.”
Moore shifted slightly. He was not Loki’s usual liaison—Agent Reid was mysteriously ill today—but the man looked determined not to show his fear. Loki would have even given him a bit of credit, were he not so easy to snap like a dead twig. Moore should have fallen to his knees and sworn to never do such a thing, then begged for his life.
Instead of making him do so, Loki simmered in silence as they left the car and went inside. Moore sat to the side while Loki was measured in various places across his form. Of course, he had done such things back in Asgard, but he had not grown in some time and knew his measurements. Loki knew it was just to keep him busy—keep him leashed.
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They returned a few days later and, after a few rearrangements, the suit actually fit him like it was supposed to. It was a ‘classic business look,’ as the tailor had put it. In truth, it was similar to what he would wear when trying to blend-in as himself, although he had on a white button-down rather than black one and the suit was navy blue. Despite the slight similarities, it felt different. Coulson had called it top-dollar, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. Asgardian fabric was much better.
Agent Reid was cured of his illness by the day of the meeting and he and a thin secretary looked Loki over before he walked into the room where the men of “power” awaited. Reid nodded, as if Loki needed approval, but the secretary cocked her head slightly. Rather suddenly, she rose onto her tiptoes and reached up.
It took every ounce of his rationality and pride to not grab her by the wrist. Loki stayed stock-still, allowing her to move a lock of hair to a different location before lowering herself back down. She was tall by Midgardian women’s standards—which explained why she was wearing flats rather than heels like the others—but still only came up to his chin. Loki noted that he preferred the smallness of Kate; he could wrap himself completely around her narrow form, and she would nuzzle against his chest and sigh.
It was always blissful when it was quiet like that.
He missed those moments, but any feelings of grief were buried underneath a thick blanket of rage. Loki had canvased the entire building, but could not find Kate anywhere; her magic was stifled. He’d been unable to get anything out of the other Agents thus far, although, it was no surprise—the chances of them actually knowing anything about her were slim. Even in the past, she’d been top-secret in S.H.I.E.L.D..
The secretary nodded her head, bringing Loki out of his thoughts, and opened the door for him. “Loki Laufeyson, sir,” she said to someone specific inside the room.
He entered, and she shut the door without following him in. Loki stood and looked around. Everyone was looking back at him. They were all old men in business suits, with serious expressions that looked as though he was wasting their time.
Fury looked horribly out of place in his usual leather, although his scowl was perfect for the atmosphere.
Loki did not like the amount of power they currently held over his life. If they deemed him unfit, he would be doomed to the palace dungeons for an eternity. He wouldn’t be given a chance of escape—let alone a chance of snatching the Eye of Agamotto and reverting time to try again—and it was there that he would most likely die.
He would fail.
“Have a seat,” Fury said, and gestured to a chair at the other head of the table.
Loki walked over, sat, and decided he wanted to kill them all. “I understand you are going to be assessing my behavior?”
“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” a mortal with nothing but a few wisps of white hair around his head spoke, and Loki inwardly laughed. Your Highness was much more fitting, yet they treated him like he was just another pawn. “Have you found your accommodations well?”
He sighed, pretending to contemplate. “Well enough. Although, I would appreciate not having to be stripped every time I return from a walk.”
It was Fury that spoke next. “Too bad.”
In the past, Loki could easily sway any mortal into giving him what he wanted. Seiðr was strictly off-limits now, and he was finding it to be an annoyance. He despised not getting what he wanted. A test of my patience, I suppose.
“I do not see why this meeting was necessary. I am aware you are watching my every move on your security cameras; could you not assess me through them?”
“We are.” Fury said. He seemed unable to mask his impatience.
“This is to get a feel for you in person, Mr. Laufeyson,” another man added. Loki didn’t care to pick out any discerning features—these men were all the same to him. “So,” the man leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands and resting them on the table. “Tell us about yourself.”
Loki quirked his eyebrow. “I’m certain you are aware as to who I am.”
“Yes,” the old mortal sighed, mulling over his words. “But we wish to hear it from the man himself.”
Loki let out a huff of laugher. I am no man. “Very well. What would you like to know?” He sat back, resting his ankle on the opposite knee and getting comfortable. He had expected at least a slight challenge.
“You lie, you die.” Fury barked. Loki briefly wonder how long it had taken him to come up with the mantra.
“I am aware of this, Mister Fury.”
Fury rolled his eye.
“Tell us about yourself, and we can go on from there.”
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It had been far longer than Loki found necessary, but finally, he was free. He was escorted back to his chambers—passing Thor along the way, although Loki didn’t engaged in conversation—and left there with a request to stay in for the rest of the night.
He ordered food and stretched out on the couch, staring at the television screen. He found no interest in watching his brother save yet another damsel in distress, nor of hearing about the horrors of another country, nor rolling his eyes at the “humor” of sitcoms.
Even after the time he’d been here, the apartment still smelled sterile. Loki stared at the ceiling and sighed, closing his eyes. He cast out his mind, traversing down the elevator and through the tower. He felt through every single nook and cranny, but was unable to find any hint of Kate.
He began to worry as he always did, taking off his shoes and pacing. The poor girl was probably terrified, and the chances of S.H.I.E.L.D. giving her her medications were slim; her demons were haunting her at full-force.
Loki showered and once he was dressed, he saw that his food had been delivered. Chinese was… strange, he’d discovered, but it had more flavor than most of the Midgardian food he’d tried, so he was willing to eat it.
He watched the world from his little tower, mortals going about their lives like little ants.
Loki looked at the door. He’d melted the cameras that monitored his chambers long before, and nobody had bothered replacing them. He knew he was not being monitored. Still, it bothered him that anybody could open it if they held a keycard, while he could not—his had been taken away for the night and would be returned in the morning.
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When Loki awoke the next morning, his keycard had been slipped through a small hatch where food and other supplies was delivered. He knew what it meant, and after eating, he was told of his new promotion.
Sadly, his allowance wasn’t increased. Still, Loki surprised himself with a genuine smile at the news. He was one step closer to finding Kate, and one step closer to ending his sentence. Three years, he thought. Normally, it was a miniscule amount of time, but every moment at S.H.I.E.L.D. felt painstakingly slow.
“You’ll be starting training tomorrow—Coulson wanted to give you a day to relax before you do the first bit of work you’ve ever experienced in your life.”
Loki decided to play along with the sarcastic smile on Stark’s face. “Yes, I shall spend the day as one like yourself might expect.”
“How’s that?” He sounded uninterested.
Loki was positive there was some sort of unspoken rule about being with coworkers, probably somewhere in the agent’s rules and regulations he hadn’t bothered to read. “As I said—one like yourself—there will be plenty of booze involved.” Loki could feel the offense taken rolling off of Stark in waves, although the only recognition he received was a twitch of the lip.
“There also happens to be a pretty little secretary who’s made herself clear enough,” he continued, “and with a rather unfortunate drought of Asgardian women, I might as well enjoy what I can scrounge up in this hel-hole. That is the way of the Midgardian man, is it not?”
Stark’s shrugged nonchalantly.
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It had been a little over a week since her meeting with Coulson. Kate had placed a small dot below the talley when he visited, so she knew exactly nine days had passed.
She stared at the razor. What was holding her back?
After her little fit, Kate had curled up in a ball, nursing the wound and struggling not to cry and laugh at the same time.
40 days, she though. 40 days and I’m already going insane.
She had also had a conversation with Bella a few days after Coulson’s abrupt departure.
“Should I apologize to him?”
Her inner voice replied before Bella could. And just how the hell are you going to do that?
Bella ran her nimble fingers through Kate’s hair, untangling it gently as she went. Kate didn’t have a brush, and her hair was getting increasingly unruly. Although, she noticed her roots growing back in brown now. “What for, little one?” She didn’t need to ask who Kate was referring to—Loki had become a regular conversation topic.
“It kind of is my fault I’m here.”
“Then shouldn’t you apologize to yourself?”
Kate had forgotten how wise Bella could be.
She swallowed. Slowly, her hand moved the razor to her wrist. So, she thought, this is the end.
She’d expected to go in a more noble way, maybe shoving a kid out of the way of an oncoming bus or something. But now, her self-preservation was poking at her, trying to scream the illogical train of thought she was currently riding out of existence.
She let the razor rest on her skin. The sharp blades felt smooth.
Then, there was a knock on the door. Kate startled, the razor falling from her hand and landing on the tile.
“Five minutes.” It was the voice of Agent Snyder.
Kate briefly looked down at the razor. She couldn’t bleed out in five minutes. Tomorrow, then.
She shut off the water, stepping out to dry off. As of recent, S.H.I.E.L.D. had provided her with a small box of bandages to apply whenever she shaved. It wasn’t uncommon for her to nick her legs, especially because they replaced the razor every three days. There was a small cut on her wrist where the razor has barely glided past her skin, now welling with scarlet blood.
Kate dressed the wound and looked in the mirror. Her eyes were still the same gray as always, but they looked like they had before she went on medication—no, that wasn’t true. They looked the way they had before she went on medicine multiplied by ten thousand. Large purple bags hung under her eyes, and there were stress-induced red spots in the whites of them.
Her skin looked paler, probably from the lack of sun. It was to be assumed the pills gave her the vitamin D she needed because she hadn’t felt the sun in—
“Time’s up.”
—40 days. “Gimme just a second,” she called to Snyder. “I need to get my clothes on.”
“Hurry up.”
“I will.” Kate fumbled for the new set of clothing, unfolding it and dressing. Once she had the fabric slightly tucked under her manacles, she opened the door. Snyder attached her golden chains once more and led her through the damp hallway. Kate ignored the glances from those passing by.
“What are these chains for? The golden ones, I mean.”
“To keep you from running.”
“But why are they golden?” As they rounded a corner, Snyder and Jones stopped. Kate took a couple extra moments to do so, but was successful before they had the chance to lightly yank her by the arms.
Coulson walked by, smiling as he passed. Kate had the sudden realization that she wanted to talk to him more. She briefly wondered whether or not to call out to him, and ultimately decided to do so. “Coulson!” She turned her body, her arm getting pulled slightly awkwardly as she did so.
Coulson turned, his eyebrows raised.
“I have more questions.”
“Would you like to discuss my proposition?”
No. “I want answers, first.”
He looked at his watch. “I have somewhere to be right now, but I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”
“What time?”
“Sometime in the morning.”
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Kate paced her room long after the lights went dim.
She had to formulate exactly what to ask, exactly what to reply, and exactly what to retort. She had to memorize what she would do so she could steer the conversation. Coulson needed to think she was changing her mind, but then he would say something, and she could decline with disgusted ease.
But she didn’t know what she didn’t know, did she?
Her mind was racing enough that she worked past the panic, and eventually laid down on the cot, got as comfortable as possible with chains strewn around her body, and closed her eyes.
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Her sleep wasn’t exactly fitful, but it was good enough to take her long into the morning—not that she knew what time it was, really. Time was all blurred now.
Kate remembered reading somewhere that the human body, once no longer subject to day and night, switched to a 48-hour internal clock. Perhaps S.H.I.E.L.D. was just rolling with the natural transition? It seemed unlikely.
Even so, it didn’t matter. She opened her eyes to the usually blinding lights. Adrenaline rushed her system when she was finally able to adjust to the stark contrast between light and darkness; Coulson was sitting in the chair, casually reading a book.
Kate forgot everything she was going to say as Coulson looked up, a soft smile gracing his already-soft visage once more.
She had to admit, S.H.I.E.L.D. picked a good liaison.
“Good morning.”
Kate sat up, wincing when the manacles scraped at the skin on her wrists. They were getting increasingly raw, although the showers certainly helped because she didn’t have the weight of chains pulling her down. “What are you doing in here?” She glanced at the door, wondering how she hadn’t heard the little beep.
“You’d said you wanted to talk.”
“I meant after I was awake.” Kate swung her legs off the cot, stood, and stretched. She needed to collect her thoughts. “I have to pee.”
“I’ll wait.”
Her face fell. “Can you leave?”
“I’ve got agents waiting for me outside.” He closed the book. “I’m kind of hiding from them at the moment.”
Kate swallowed. “Okay.”
She walked over to the little corner, and Coulson returned to his book. In the recent weeks, Kate noticed her arms and legs were getting stronger. They ached a bit from her pacing, but she could see the muscles beneath them, strong and taught. She was losing weight, too. It wasn’t a dangerous amount, just the excess fat on her thighs and stomach.
As she partially disrobed and sat down, she covered as much as she could with her shirt. She made sure to watch Coulson like a hawk to make sure he didn’t turn around to look—not that there was much to look at, really.
For once, she was thankful for having a shy bladder. Kate kept her eyes open, her focus switching between the two tasks, and cast out her mind. The room felt just as it had the many other times she’d cast out her mind—cold and concrete, she couldn’t see past the walls—but now Coulson was there; a single splotch of orange in an entire room of navy blue.
His mind was focused on his book, scanning the page and processing the words.
I creeched. "Stop, you grahzny disgusting sods. It's a sin, that's what it is, a filthy unforgivable sin, you bratchnies!" They didn't stop right away, because there was only a minute or two more to go—
Coulson was using a cockney voice for it all. He glanced at the page number, and Kate was able to see A Clockwork Orange in the header. She worked past it, searching further.
She imagined herself like a spy; Coulson probably wasn’t even aware she was in his mind. Or, perhaps he was, and he was only letting her view certain information. No, she realized, there would be resistance.
She had trained herself quite a bit in mental abilities in the recent weeks. It hurt less to cast out her mind now, and shifting passively through Coulson’s thoughts was a breeze.
God, she missed breezes. She hadn’t felt the wind in ages.
Kate didn’t know exactly what day she had been taken, but forty-one days later would place the world in mid-August.
She located a recent memory, one that sat in the forefront of Coulson’s mind as he got distracted.
It was… it was Loki? Coulson was giving him a tour of a building—though she couldn’t tell what building—and the God of Lies looked relaxed. He looked comfortable. Thor was with them, and he clapped Loki on the shoulder. “Look at you, brother! Already adjusting!”
Loki had lied to her. The whole time.
Kate receded abruptly, standing up in the same heartbeat and walking over to the sink after she had finished the task-at-hand. She watched a blurry Coulson in the mirror, still reading his book, and washed her hands. He had no idea what she’d seen.
She splashed warm water on her face, rinsing the tears forming in her eyes and grabbing the soap bar. She washed and dried her face, ignoring the ache in her chest, and filled a little plastic cup with water.
Kate picked up the pill on the table like she always did, swallowed it, and sat down on her cot. She knew what she was going to do now. “I’m ready.”
Coulson folded the corner of the page and put the book down on the table. He smiled. “It’s A Clockwork Orange—difficult to read since the language is a little strange, but interesting.”
Kate nodded without a reply.
“What did you want to ask?”
She sighed. “What are the golden chains for?”
“Agent Snyder told you yesterday; they’re to keep you from running.” Coulson shifted, getting more comfortable.
“But why are they made of gold? There’s glowing blue stuff underneath, too.”
He sighed. “It’s a new technology to help you with your powers. Your room and shower are lined with it, too. It keeps your power at bay.”
Kate hoped her eyes weren’t red. “Then why do I need to wear them?”
“The halls are traversed by other superhumans like yourself. We can’t have their powers going numb, as well. This is the solution.”
“Then why do I need to be chained while in here?”
Coulson blinked, his eyes trailing to the floor in thought. “Fury insists.”
“Why am I collared?”
“The same reason.”
An awkward silence fell between them. Kate picked at her nails. “Do you really get to see the Avengers?”
Coulson laughed. “All the time.”
Kate tried to act curious. Truthfully, she was. “What are they like?”
Coulson visibly relaxed. “Well, serums and powers aside, just like you and me.”
“Have you…” She pretended to be sheepish. “Have you met Loki?” She let a little smile of embarrassment turn up the corners of her mouth.
Coulson’s smile broadened into something more genuine. “Have you seen the movies?”
“Of course!” Kate let herself laugh a little. “He stabbed you, and you died. But you’re here now, and if his brother’s an Avenger, then you’ve seen him since his redemption, right?”
Coulson smiled. “Yes.”
“What’s he like?”
“Interesting.”
“Is he tall?” That was something fangirls liked to ask, right?
“Decently.”
Kate tried to suddenly hide her curiosity. “What’s S.H.I.E.L.D. like?”
“I’m afraid I can’t exactly say, but I’m sure you would love it.”
She didn’t reply for a little while.
Coulson pulled out his phone, typed something, then put it away.
He stood and checked his watch. “I’m afraid I have to go.”
Kate jumped up. “What? Why?” She hadn’t gotten the chance to decline his offer yet.
“I’ll be late for a meeting.” He walked over to the door. It took a couple of seconds, but it opened, and he left.
There were no agents outside waiting for him that Kate saw.  So, he was lying too?
She was silent for a few minutes, staring at a wall and processing what had just occurred.
She didn’t know what to think now. “Bella?”
Bella appeared in front of the sink, fixing her perfect hair a bit. “Yes, little one?”
Kate fell sideways onto the cot. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
For once, Bella had no words for comfort. When she walked over and began to sit, Kate waved her off. Bella disappeared as Kate rolled onto her stomach. She buried her face into the pillow, tears welling in her eyes for reasons unbeknownst to her and soaking into the fabric.
She began to cry—really cry—at the hurt, at the confusion of it all. She just wanted to go home.
“I hate you.”
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