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vinntea · 10 months

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Bsd spider-man au cus of course

Bungo Stray Spiders. Someone has to do it so that someone will be me. This half is just a list of powers and titles, if you want all the details and backstory you can read the other half below this one! Atsushi, Spider-Kachi: Spider sense, Strength, Speed, Agility, Walking on walls, Extra spider-like limbs sprout from his back, Spider-like fangs, Claws, and Self-regeneration. Dazai, Spider-Jisatsu: Intelligence, Some agility, some speed, and his own version of 'Spider sense'. He can stunt the spider abilities of others, other than that he's just kind of a regular guy with webs and a high tech suit. The suit allows him to walk on walls, enhances his physical mobility, detects danger, and acts as a layer of armor. Kunikida, Spider-Riso: Spider sense, Agility, Speed, Strength, Super Accuracy, Stamina, and Walking on walls. He often uses gadgets similar to guns to take advantage of his exceptional aim. Ranpo, Spider-Kojo: High Intelligence. His suit aids him similarly to Dazai, but the ocular part of the suit has technical modifications to further examine clues. Night vision and heat vision, for example. Kyoka, Spider-Kurai: Spider sense, Strength, Accuracy, Super Agility, Super Speed, Walking on walls, and a Spirtual connection with Spiders. Her suit gives her web shooters along with built in blades, taking advantage of her experience as an assassin. Yosano, Spider-Shi: Spider sense, Strength, Accuracy, Agility, Speed, Walking on walls, and a Healing ability. Her suit gives her webshooters, long blades along her arms, and butterfly-like extensions that act as medical tubes, connecting her blood with theirs to heal them. (She can heal through her breath, but any form of her dna works). Kenji, Spider-Arashi: Spider sense, Agility, Speed, Stamina, Super Strength, Walking on walls, and is Nearly indestructable. His suit has webshooters and magnets that give him a better grip on metal objects. Junichiro, Spider-Kyodai: Spider sense, Agility, Speed, Strength, Stamina, Walking on walls, and he Spews a gas that causes hallucinations. His suit has webshooters and a spider like pair of fangs that reach around his mouth where the gas comes out of. It helps to better manage the output of gas. Fukuzawa, (Retired) Spider-Samurai: Super Speed, Super Agility, Super Stamina, Super Strength, Super Accuracy, and Natural Webbing. His old suit merely acted as armor and a disguise. He of course also had a blade. Mori: Owner of PortCorp and leader of the Mafia. He has an endless amount of gadgets he uses if ever in combat. Chuuya, Fujin: Manipulation of matter, so basically the same except it's presented more like wind and weather. Akutagawa, Aku-Tako: Rashomon is essentially the same, just presented more like tentacles and sometimes spider limbs. Elise, Girl Goblin: She's a robot with a child-like appearance. Elise has a glider and various gadgets, mostly bombs. Now for the backstories! Instead of an ADA we have Agency Kumo (Kumo means Spider in Japanese) a spider themed collection of super beings working for the original Spider-man, who is now retired. They mostly fight to protect Yokohama due to its rise in crime the past few decades, but occasionally a threat comes along that forces them to fight for all of Japan and even the world. (Cough) the rat (cough).

Fukuzawa retired as Spider-Samurai (Spiderman) because he saw himself taking advantage of his power, even if it wasn't with ill intent. Soon after, though, a boy named Ranpo showed excellent intelligence into the minds of criminals that he in his prime could only dream of. Fukuzawa didn't want him to take the same path as he did, so he took Ranpo in. Little did Fukuzawa know that the local laboratory would soon lose several radioactive spiders, the same ones that bit him. Ranpo's hero title is Spider-Kojo. (Kojo meaning deduction in Japanese)

Fuku's childhood friend and old enemy, Mori, runs that laboratory and secretly experimented on Yosano, an orphan he took in. Yosano had a miraculous ability to heal people with her new powers, making it easy for Mori to experiment on people without permanently changing their lives. While they did agree to it, the non-stop torture of it drove them insane. The volunteers were under contract and unable to do anything until their time was over. Mori, determined to recreate Fukuzawa and Yosano's abilities, forced the girl to continue healing them which further prolonged their suffering.

Yosano ran away and eventually stumbled upon Fukuzawa who took her in as well. He trained her to have better control over her abilities and said she didn't have to use them ever again, if that's what she wanted. While she doesn't appear in public often, she'll become known as Spider-Shi. (Shi meaning death in Japanese and also a play on she since for a while Yosano was the only woman in the group.)

After getting bit and experiencing various unnatural sensations, Kunikida had to quit his job as a teacher and focused on finding any possible illnesses he could have with extensive research. He found his way to Fukuzawa who trained him as well. Kunikida decided to become the next Spider-man. Spider-Riso. (Riso meaning ideal in Japanese). He'd be the ideal Spiderman. This caused the creation of Agency Kumo.

Dazai was constantly experimented on, becoming nearly numb to the torment. He worked for a crime organization secretly led by Mori. The attempts to give Dazai any special abilities were all unsuccessful, except for one. Mori didn't know how, but Dazai gained the ability to stun other experiments' abilities. It was akin to something like stage fright but with their dna. One of the oldest experiments, Oda, was his best friend until he took revenge on a new nemesis. Dazai promised him he'd use his power for good, and joined Agency Kumo. Dazai becomes Spider-Jisatsu. (Jisatsu meaning suicide in Japanese)

Junichiro and Kenji were also spider bite victims who quickly became new recruits for the organization. Junichiro is able to spew a gas that causes hallucinations and Kenji has super strength more so than the others and is also nearly indestructable. Junichiro is Spider-Kyodai (Brother) and Kenji is Spider-Arashi (Storm).

Atsushi's abilities were so wild and chaotic that he'd been sleep walking and terrifying the locals of his village without a single clue. Dazai finds him, recruits him, and after lots of training, Atsushi gains decent control over his powers. Those being growing spider like fangs, extra spider limbs, and claws as sharp as his teeth. He is also able to regenerate himself, but if he doesn't do so within a few moments of the damage being done, it won't work. Atsushi is known as Spider-Kachi (worth/value in Japanese).

Kyoka starts out as another enemy in the Mafia, a reluctant servant to Koyou. While Kyoka is not a bite victim, her mother was and passed down her spider dna. Mori heard of it, and had her kidnapped from an orphanage. Her abilities consist of inhuman agility, rapid reflexes, and a spiritual connection to spiders. After Atsushi rescued her, Kyoka became part of Agency Kumo and picked the title Spider-Kurai. (Dark/gloomy in Japanese).

Chuuya wasn't a spider victim, but was caught up in a freak accident at a very young age. A mythical spider spirit saved him, giving him the ability to control matter just as he did, but it also had severe consequences. Chuuya couldn't remember anything from his past, and his abilities were far too much for his mortal body to contain. His villainous identity is "Fujin" a Japanese mythical god who controls the wind.

Akutagawa was very young when he was experimented on by Mori. He went through multiple years of torture to get his abilities just right and to reach his "full potential" as Mori and Dazai told him. He, similar to Chuuya, was also given power by a mythical being. The creature's name was Rashomon. It was trapped inside his body and retaliated against him for release. After those experiments, he was able to control it, but struggled to control himself. Almost as if the being had influence over him. To aid Akutagawa, Mori created a suit that both enhanced and contained his power. (If you haven't guessed it yet, he's this au's DocOc). Akutagawa became known as Aku-Tako (Tako means Octopus).

Mori is the Norman Ozborne and Elise is the Harry/Green Goblin of this au. Mori created a robot girl named Elisa as a daughter yet also a pawn. Mori gives her technology like the glider and bombs with a childish aesthetic to make her enemies hesitant to attack her. Little do they know she's not human and in fact an AI that if destroyed can be recovered as long as her chip is undamaged. Elise is known as Girl Goblin.

Katai makes all the suits for the members, but doesn't do anything else for Agency Kumo and isn't technically a member himself.

Naomi and the other clerics are the "Guys in the chair".

I hope you liked this au! If asked, I'll make another one for the characters I left out!

#bungou stray dogs #bsd fukuzawa #bsd yosano #bsd atsushi #bsd dazai #bsd kunikida #bsd ranpo #bsd junichiro #bsd kenji #bsd kyouka #bsd chuuya #bsd mori #bsd elise #bsd akutagawa #bsd katai #bsd naomi #bsd au #spider man au

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monkeyandelf · 9 months

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Sleep paralysis: a painful state of the brain or a real loophole to another dimension

The border of sleep and reality, a frightening state in which a person is already aware of himself, but cannot move a single muscle. Fortunately, few people experience such horror. To be precise, only 7% experience this condition once or twice in a lifetime. But why do completely different people see almost the same visions in sleep paralysis? If we take as a basis the medical term - awakening cataplexy, then everything should be purely individual. But the reality is quite different. Night time can be a frightening experience for some people. It is at night that supposedly paranormal experiences such as ghosts or aliens are often reported. Previous research has found a significant association between a small number of sleep variables and supposedly paranormal experiences and beliefs.

Official medicine claims that in such a state a person cannot physically open his eyes, but survivors of this horror say the opposite. They not only peered into the darkness with wide eyes, but also saw very strange and frightening things. Most often it is a kind of shadow, a silhouette of a tall man with a blurred face. This frightening figure appears to be woven from the shadows and usually stands right next to the bed of a paralyzed victim. In different cultures, this entity is called "black man", "shadow man", "old witch" and so on. However, official science considers folklore, supported by popular cinema, to be the reason for the appearance of all these names, and does not seriously recognize it. It is believed that sleep paralysis occurs most often in adolescents and in people with various mental illnesses. At least a third of those surveyed in this category claim to have experienced sleep paralysis at least once.

Most doctors are sure that visions in the state of sleep paralysis are nothing more than hallucinations caused by a state of drowsiness. “But why do so many different people from different countries and different cultures see such similar “hallucinations”? Why, in general, on the border of sleep and wakefulness, do they suddenly see a human figure near their bed or on the bed? It seems that our ancestors were much wiser than us. In ancient times, this state was considered a bridge leading the human soul to the world of spirits. The ancestors were convinced that the soul can travel separately from the body, for some time directly interact with the spirits of departed relatives or even with the gods. In such a state, a person could receive a prophecy about the future or other revelation. Judging by the latest data, there is quite a rational grain in this approach. Some researchers admit that visions with sleep paralysis are completely real. There is an opinion that it is at this moment that the door to a different, more subtle plane opens before us. But it seems that the inhabitants of a different reality do not particularly welcome outsiders into their possessions. This is quite natural, few people will like uninvited guests from another world. Maybe that's why we are so scared in this state? Maybe they are just trying to scare us away in this way? It would be great if this hypothesis turned out to be true. Indeed, in this case, nothing threatens people, and such conditions should not be feared at all. A completely different alignment comes out if the inhabitants of the subtle world are in no way the embodiment of horror in themselves. No one can guarantee that they are not capable of harming a person temporarily in their power. Indeed, in a subtle way, we are like blind kittens, completely unadapted to those conditions.

Many people with sleep paralysis do not see a black person, but they see some unimaginable monsters, strange animals, huge insects. Others do not see anything, but hear someone's eerie laughter or even smell unusual smells. Some experienced a growing hum in the ears combined with a gray-black amorphous approaching figure who basically forces the body to strain in order to get out of paralysis. These observations lead to the conclusion that there is no question of any identical work of the brain, of any hallucinations. Most likely, in this state, a person actually looks beyond the edge of our world and reveals another reality. Quite another question, but do we need to go there? Judging by what people who have experienced sleep paralysis say, we don’t need to go to that world at all. Read the full article

#sleepparalysis #subtleworld

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aquietwritingcorner · 3 years

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Writers Month Day 28: Fire/Winged Word Count: 1817 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: K/G Characters: Olivier Mira Armstrong, Captain Buccaneer, Doc Warning: Summary: Olivier Mira Armstrong will risk everything for her men, including herself. The good part is, they’d risk their lives right back. Notes: For some reason, I really love this story, which works out great, because it’s going up on my birthday! AO3 || ff.net

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Fire/Winged

Briggs was no stranger to emergencies. Usually, though, they came from the outside and not the inside. This time the emergency was inside Briggs, and the troops were scrambling to protect what they could of the fort. R&D was a dangerous section, and this time, despite the safeguards, the danger had manifested. The area was covered in a substance that was highly flammable, an experiment gone wrong, that had exploded, catching fire, and spreading fast.

It was a scramble to try to pull out as much equipment as possible. Many of these experiments were also volatile, and even with an internal structure set up to handle explosions and to contain disasters, the fort could not withstand multiple massive explosions. Every available man had been called in to help pull out as much as possible, even as the flames grew. It only grew harder when the stairs were taken out by something exploding, leaving them only with the elevators and a quick set up of pullies, wenches, and movable cranes.

It was a race against time.

The elevators were cut off by the flames at this point, and most people and goods had been evacuated. As soon as all of them were out, the vents to this section would be shut off, letting the fire burn itself out. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best they could do. One last load was on a pallet that was hooked to a crane, and there was a chain that had been used to wrap around heavier items still accessible as well. Most of the remaining men were on the pallet, just waiting for the last man, one of the new cubs, to get to them. A creaking sound caught Olivier’s ear, and she realized that the ropes of the pallet weren’t going to hold up against the flames much longer.

“Go!” she yelled to the men operating the crane and the pallet took off, zooming upward. The new cub was almost to her, and he looked terrified as he watched the pallet go up without them. Olivier didn’t waste time on words. She reached out, grabbed him, and put his hands on the chain that was waiting, hanging there. “Climb!” she ordered him, and he did, heading up the chain. As soon as he was far enough, she grabbed a hold of it, and looked up at the men waiting on the top landing. Buccaneer and Miles were there, and as soon as they saw she had a hold of the chain, Miles gave the order. The chain jerked as it started to move, winding up as quickly as it could.

It wasn’t enough, though. They were about halfway up when an explosion rocked the lab, the shockwaves slamming into the chain. It swung wildly and the cub managed to hang on, but Olivier, being at the end, was whipped around. Despite her best effort, her grip slipped, and she went plunging back down. The cub and the landing disappeared from view as she fell into the flames.

She hit the ground hard, mercifully not landing in a mass of fire, but bouncing hard against the ground. It took her a moment to gather her wits, coughing as she tried to pick herself up. She was against a wall, surrounded by nothing but flames. There was nothing in sight that she could use to protect herself, not that she was sure it would do much good anyway. She coughed again as she tried to pick herself up off the floor. Maybe there was another way to survive this. But her head swam, and her leg refused to cooperate. She tried to curse, but only coughed more. This wasn’t good.

She looked around herself, as if something might appear to help her. Flames. Nothing but flames everywhere. Flames and smoke and the flammable substance. Her head grew dizzy. She probably wasn’t getting enough oxygen. She tried to roll over, to get up, but her legs just wouldn’t seem to let her. A result of injury, or of oxygen deprivation? She wasn’t sure. She settled herself against the wall instead. It didn’t matter. If her men had done what they were supposed to, they’d be cutting off the oxygen flow to the fire shortly. The fire would burn through all the oxygen in the room, and eventually die. She, of course, would as well. There was no way around it.

Olivier coughed again, and her vision wavered. Was it the heat? Or was the smoke depriving her of that much oxygen already? She wondered what would kill her first: The smoke, the fire, or the lack of oxygen in the room. She supposed it didn’t really matter. Dead was dead, no matter what. At least her bears had gotten out. That was the important part.

The fire was quickly drawing close, and breathing was harder now. Her coughs were move like wheezes. She wasn’t getting enough oxygen. She had heard that oxygen deprivation could be just like going to sleep. That sounded preferable to burning to death. Maybe it meant she would dream. She had heard of people seeing things in fires. It was superstition as far as she was concerned, but right now it was one she wouldn’t mind being true. Dream of her men, or her family, or maybe even a miracle, like something swooping in on wings to save her.

She was gasping for breath now. Whatever was burning was burning hot and fierce, and eating up the oxygen quickly. The heat from the fire was closer. Her vision blurred even more. She couldn’t see anything but flames. So. This was it, then. Too bad. She had a few more things she would have liked to do. She tilted her head up to look towards the ceiling, towards the place she had fallen from. It was covered in flames now. This was to be her death. How ironic. The Ice Queen dying by flames. If she had been able to laugh, she would have.

And then, suddenly, something burst through the flames. No, not something, someone. She couldn’t see who it was, but the figure emerged from above, the fire looking as if it were wings behind him. She blearily stared at the figure. Was this to be her last sight before dying? What a glorious dream to have before death. She’d accept it. It wasn’t a bad hallucination to have before dying.

The apparition landed, looking almost ethereal even with its bulk, and hurried towards her. It wasted no words, just came straight to her. To her surprise, it had a warm, fleshy hand. It took her, and lifted her up, pulling her tight against him. Him? Yes. Whatever this was, it looked like Buccaneer. He had her clutched tightly to him, his other arm wrapped around something, and he was yelling something at the ceiling. Suddenly, it felt like she was flying, going too fast for her to comprehend. Was there a heaven after all, and was she going to it? Heck of a way to go.

But no. They burst through the flames, and she saw Miles and Doc and a handful of other men standing on the landing they were heading for. Maybe this wasn’t an oxygen deprivation dream. Maybe it was really happening. They landed, and then it was all moving too quickly for her to comprehend. She tried to breathe, only to weakly cough. She was shifted in Buccaneer’s grasp, and he said something, but she couldn’t comprehend it. There was too much going on. Voices, movement, shouting, hands. She was put on something, the world still blurring around her, something was put on her mouth, and Olivier passed out.

Olivier wasn’t sure how much later it was when she opened her eyes, but she did know that she was breathing much easier and that she was seeing clearer. It didn’t take her long to realize that she was in sickbay, and that it must be night, as Doc had the lights turned down low. A look to either side showed other Bears sleeping on cots as well, injuries bandaged and cared for.

Movement caught her eye, and Doc moved into her line of sight. “Ah, General,” Doc’s voice was soft, but still understandable. “I thought you might wake up soon.” She reached down, checking over Olivier, and adjusting a few things.

“How are you feeling? How’s your breathing?”

“Be—” Olivier started to talk, but was interrupted by a series of coughs. Doc reached down, helping her sit up, and ran her hand on her back.

“Just keep coughing, General. It’s good for you.” Doc’s hand moved to various places on her back and Olivier vaguely realized that she was listening to her lungs. This was only confirmed when Doc’s hand moved around to her front and Olivier could see the stethoscope. Finally, the coughing fit eased, and after a moment and some more listening, Doc helped her lay back down.

“Just take it easy, General,” Doc said. “You had some pretty bad smoke inhalation. It’ll take you some time to get over it.” She reached for something, and looped some tubing around Olivier’s ears, settling it in her nose. “This is some oxygen to help you for the time being. Do not take it out. I won’t hesitate to upgrade you to an oxygen mask again.”

Again? She must have needed the support earlier. Olivier didn’t fight Doc on this. She took a couple of careful breaths in. “…Status?” she questioned.

“R&D is a wreck, but the fire went out after we cut the oxygen. Miles and Buccaneer are going over the damages now. Neil’s been going over the inventory, but it looks like most things made it out fine. As for personnel, there are several injuries. Most of them are minor and either were released earlier or will be released after a night of observation. The most serious injuries were from the initial explosion, with the exception of you. I expect a full recovery from them, though. As for you…”

She fixed Olivier with a look. “You are not to move from here until I’ve cleared you. You have some minor burns, heavy smoke inhalation, a concussion, and you dislocated your knee. You need to rest. If you’ll stay in bed and not overexert yourself, then I’ll allow you to work from bed. But only if you rest when you need to.”

Olivier nodded. “…No arguments… Doctor.” Breathing was still not the easiest thing, and she would do little good wasting her breath arguing.

Doc gave her satisfied smile. “Good. Then for now, rest. The official reports can wait until morning.”

Olivier nodded, and let her eyes drift closed as Doc walked away. There was work to be done, but she had a competent staff that would take care of it for now. At the moment, she could rest.

#writersmonth2021 #fma #Fullmetal Alchemist #Olivier Mira Armstrong #captain buccaneer #Briggs doc #fma fanfic #fullmetal alchemist fan fiction

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zet-sway · 3 years

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Spiritual Shrios Summer - Release

PROMPT WORD: RELEASE - | - WORDS: 2686

Rated: "E" for Extremely Spicy - not for children AO3 Link: "Singing Southward" Pairing: Thane / FemShep Summary: "But her blood is singing southward, and that's a good thing, right? A reassuring, human reminder that maybe she's still Shepard - a woman - not just a Cerberus machine."

Full disclosure, this prompt fought me and kicked my ass the whole way. I can't look at it anymore. I hope it's more enjoyable for people who haven't been looking at it for like two weeks lmao. Many thanks to Rosenkow for that excellent playlist that really inspired my Shrios muse.

The heavy thrum of battle is where she loses herself. Shepard would take sweat and the pounding pulse of combat any day over the silence between stars.

Swirling winds whip sand across her face and body. It crunches in the joints between her armor and she hates the sound but it's easy to ignore as she slams another heat sink into her shotgun and charges into the last remaining crawler. It's thrown by the impact, the momentum of her body splits the carapace against her armored fist. The smell of viscera in the air, the humming of biotic barriers. Her body sings. She feels untouchable. The keystone slams the ground again.

The ground beneath her feet rumbles and she hears an unholy sound. A thresher maw. Her battle-lust is broken instantly and she snaps to attention, every sense laser focused.

Her shotgun and fists will be little help to them now. She exchanges glances with Grunt and Thane, waving them toward cover while she hunkers down on point, grenade launcher at the ready. It's not the biggest thresher maw she's ever seen but their size isn't the only thing that makes them dangerous. Positioning is critical when fighting something that can burrow and spit. Her combat HUD tracks its movements through the ground and she directs their movements, their gunfire to its next point of exposure.

But there's a problem. Her visor's sensitive electronics were never meant to be used in a sandstorm.

The maw dives again and this time the data is wrong, pinging across the arena, indicating wildly different trajectories that conflict with the laws of physics. Not great, but there's nothing she can do about it now. Adapt, improvise.

She tears the headset from her face and makes her best approximation of where it's going to appear next, signaling the team. They open fire, it dives again. Then the rumbling stops. Her best is not enough. There's a split second of silence before the beast bursts forth not twelve feet away from her position. Dust and debris erupt in a disorienting cloud and she can tell by the shadow cast over her that she's in deep shit, struggling to find her footing on the fractured, quaking ground.

A scorching heat envelops her and her vision goes dark. There's a shout in her comm, a weight pressed upon her, and the grenade launcher is wrenched from her hands.

Then a burst, an explosion, a blinding flash of light. Acid sizzles against her barrier and it pops, the sound rattling her ears in the darkness.

The orange sun of Tuchanka blinks back into existence as the dust begins to settle.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thane slumps into the stinking puddle of meat and organs, still clutching Shepard's grenade launcher. His scales are stinging and the pain is growing more intense by the second. Beside him, Shepard is calling in an evac while she rips at the panels of her hardsuit. Her under armor is a patchwork of holes beneath, and her skin is a frightening shade of red where the fabric is being eaten away. Thresher maw bile.

He's never actually seen a thresher maw before, much less fought one - he's more shaken than he would like to admit. Her voice is his anchor. By the time she's done shouting for Grunt to maintain a defensive position, she's torn the suit at the waist and stripped the top half from her body. She uses it to wipe the viscera from his head, chest, and hands before tending to herself.

Her ease of determination has him transfixed. He's trembling from their encounter, but Shepard- he's never seen her more focused. Brows knitted in concentration, voice firm, but calm. Her chest rises and falls with each measured breath. Wearing only her belt, legplates, and a black compression bra, she's slathering herself in medigei, a whirlwind of sand and dirt sticking to exposed burns across the hard expanse of her body.

Her skin is so vulnerable compare to his scales that she should be shrieking in pain. Instead, she seems completely unfazed. Adrenaline, perhaps. Or maybe she's every bit as otherworldly as he's coming to understand she is.

Their evac shuttle arrives and they pile on. Grunt is the first one to break the silence.

"Quick thinking back there, Krios."

Grunt looks at him with the same piercing gaze all krogan seem to have. Thane has always found them hard to read.

"Never thought I'd see a drell dive into the mouth of a thresher maw. You're tougher than you look."

He smiles, then. And Shepard smiles with him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Doctor's orders: 24 hours rest.

Shepard's armor clatters to the cabin floor and she strides into the bathroom, trying not to itch the scabs tightening over her skin. The burns are superficial - irritating, but not serious. In the mirror, they look worse than they feel. The sting is enough to drown out the other weird pains that live inside her reconstructed body. Her ears hurt. Her tear ducts feel swollen and pressurized. Her fingers are sore. There's a constant ache in her sternum and a soft wooshing in her ear. It's from her synthetic heart, and the abundance of blood it requires. But it means she'll heal faster, too.

The water hisses out of the showerhead and she sets to work cleaning the caked on grit and viscera from her skin. When she's focused on herself like this, it's hard not to think about all of the ways her body has changed.

On the SR1, she'd been in shape, perhaps even proud of her body. She'd thought of herself as a well oiled machine. She watched her nutrition carefully, spent just as much time honing nerves as she did strength and endurance. Her body, a product of her own work and service.

What she sees now is not what she remembers.

Notably, she's about 70 pounds heavier, almost exclusively due to her implants and the additional muscle she's put on to carry them. Adapting to the added weight of cybernetics and artificial bones had been an uphill battle since she rolled off that Cerberus operating table. Even her breasts are one cup size larger, and that one change carries perhaps the most bitterness. Her body is no longer her creation.

She sees herself as though through a stranger's eyes - a construct. The Commander they wanted. Not the woman she remembers.

Her new body is all about performance, both in the public eye and on the battlefield. Miranda had already told her she should be grateful for her various "upgrades." Her titanium fingers that never tremble, her artificial eyes that can see colors and details normal human's can't. Heightened olfaction, improved hearing, even joints with a higher range of motion.

A superhuman.

No, she corrects herself, with no small amount of vitriol.

A supersoldier.

The trouble is, being a soldier is what she wants. Control over her body is as much a necessity as a beating heart, and she demands it of herself every way she knows how. The problem isn't the upgrades. It's the autonomy ripped from her hands as soon as she was too dead to spit in their faces.

But this is the hand she's dealt, so she works with it, even if learning how to use her own body is still a learning curve. Testing her limits, evaluating response times, and sometimes... trying out shitty supplementary tech that can't stand up to a little bad weather.

Outside the bathroom door, the remnants of her visor are crumbled together next to her terminal. Thane had crushed it underfoot when he dove between her and the thresher maw. That split second confusion in the field could have cost her life if he hadn't intervened. She hadn't expected a lone wolf assassin to mesh so well with the team.

She towels off and stuffs her armor back in its locker. The automatic cleaning cycle hums to life, and her thoughts whirl with it.

Thane's opened up a bit more since the night they spoke about Alchera. He has a surprising way of coloring the air with his words. And, perhaps most alarmingly, the more time she spends with him, the time she wants to spend with him. She tries to chalk it up to regular team synchronicity, but there are moments she catches herself wondering him on more than just a professional level. Tiny curiosities slither into her brain. Does he kiss like humans do? The very notion warms her blood.

How long has it been since she'd kissed someone? It feels like a lifetime.

And then - just one impulsive little thought, summoning the things she's not even dared herself to think. Does he fuck like humans do?

Almost timidly, she allows her imagination to wander.

Greeting the morning together in the shuttle bay, the harsh fluorescent lights casting dramatic shadows over his body as he bends through another impossible stretch. All that tension coiled within him, the hard planes of his torso, those absolutely delicious ass-kicking thighs...

For a moment, she feels as though he's close enough to share his heat. There's an old, familiar warmth in her blood - exquisite, tiny shivers flickering just beneath her skin - arousal.

Her eyes drift closed. She owes her XO a mission debrief, and she owes her pilot new destination coordinates. But her blood is singing southward, throbbing between her legs, and that's a good thing, right? A reassuring, human reminder that maybe she's still Shepard - a woman - not just a Cerberus machine.

Maybe those obligations can wait a little bit longer.

Scooting up her unmade bed to rest against the headboard, she tentatively rests a hand against her belly and traces a line from her navel to the juncture of her legs, almost as if she's afraid of what she'll find. Her flesh is reassuringly warm, and she passes over her center, teasing and smoothing back over blood-warmed skin, testing its sensitivity. At least here, her body feels like she remembers.

Thane's unfamiliarity excites her. She's never spared much thought for bunking with another species before, but he's more than handsome. Shepard wonders if drell are as introverted as Thane. Likely not, but his guardedness only intensifies her intrigue. The idea of touching him seems forbidden, like a closely guarded secret. She wants to run her tongue over the darkened skin below his lower lip, wants to trace the ridges down the back of his neck and feel the warmth of the flushed skin at his throat.

Her mind fumbles with the thought of him, unclothed and willing. He could be any number of iridescent shades of green under that tight leather getup - by the tantalizing gradient of color across the firm swatch of his exposed chest, he must be. Those dark stripes down his shoulders are trails she's hungry to travel, winding paths across the exotic unknowns of his body. Her fingers itch to follow them wherever they lead - with any luck, all the way down.

And down to what, exactly? For a moment, Shepard considers pulling up the extranet to satiate her curiosity and then decides against it. If he's not biologically equipped the way she hopes, better to find out later, when she's not vividly imagining the shape and color of his erection. Maybe green? But then, he hopefully isn't packing scales down there. No, more likely a familiar blush of color, like the frills of at his neck, or the inside of his mouth.

Her fingers brush carefully over her clit at the thought of his mouth, those gorgeous clit-sucking lips. An excited chill zips down her spine, settling - picturing him in this exact spot, head bowed reverently between her legs to worship her with his tongue. It's been so fucking long since someone ate her out.

The memory is old and faded - breaking fraternization rules with a youthful dark-haired recruit in the barracks. They hadn't even finished basic yet. Shepard had come harder than ever before in her life, only to later discover that recruit had told nearly everyone that they'd hated every second of it. She wouldn't have been upset if Cerberus took that memory from her.

But there's something about Thane. He's nothing if not a gentleman, she likes to think he'd be wickedly good at this. Warm, firm lips, an agile tongue... those fused fingers edging her on.

She uses her own to test that hypothesis, biting her lip at the familiar slick of arousal concentrated in her core.

There was a time when she'd rather be incinerated than suffer gentle lovemaking. She wanted it hard and fast, pleasure so blindingly hot she'd sneak out to the airlock for a cigarette in the afterglow. But her new body is a labyrinth of unknowns. Sex in this new skin, not knowing her limits, how much she can take. She wants to take her time.

Middle finger first, then following with another, she tests her reconstruction. Maybe she's just imagining it, but she feels a bit stiffer than she remembers.

But in the blurry comfort of her fantasy, Thane is a gentle lover. He's slow and patient, giving her ample time to acclimate both her body and her racing thoughts. Her fingers slip inside as far as they'll reach, leaving her palm to flex against her clit. She sighs, luxuriating in sensation.

It feels so good to be touched.

It's been years, in fact, and the roaring flame of her lust is surprising even to herself. To have him here, moving inside her, filling her with every stroke...

When her hand curls against her inner walls, her eyes roll back and an unholy sound leave her throat. Holy shit. Either this is the pleasure time forgot, or Cerberus spared no expense reconstructing her nerve endings. It wipes every other thought from her mind.

She's lost in the fantasy now. Hopelessly spellbound beneath the roll of her own hand - Thane's hips - languidly pushing the heights of her pleasure in body and mind until she's deliberately edging her orgasm because it seems a damn shame to end it so fast. Her head is swimming, discomfort collecting dust in the rational corners of her brain until her nerves are burning with adrenaline and wanting. Scattered thoughts come in incoherent bursts. All that matters now is the caldera of pleasure between her legs. Her mind. His body.

She can almost feel his voice. The words are lost but the sensations are loud and clear, encircling her, flowing through her, filling her. She wants to feel his desire, wants him to come undone inside her, calling her name, riding the high of his climax and all but demanding she come with him. In her mind, they gasp together, his arms tightening around her, his face buried in her neck, her walls clenching around him.

The electricity of release pulses through her nerves - organic, synthesized, and everything in between. For one sweet second, she's weightless. Then the spots are clearing from her vision and she's floating down from whatever far flung corner of the galaxy her soul's been launched to.

In the silence that follows, the gentle hum of the ship is the only sound.

"Fuck," she breathes out into the empty room. He's gone. The reverie slowly evaporates, vanishing into the metal bulkheads of the hull.

The familiar guilt of indulgence tugs at the edges of her fading euphoria. She hadn't banked on masturbating to her crew, but here she is.

It's just a daydream, no harm done.

But as she gets dressed, she asks herself why it's been so long since anyone's crept into her mind like Thane.

Shepard shakes her head, straightening her back. A little movement to clear the errant thoughts trashing her rationality. Her scabs itch. Her mouth is dry. There are more important things to be doing. Things that will quiet the tiny voice in her head that whispers 'no one wants your weird cybernetic body.'

At least she can still show herself a good time. Small victories are perhaps even sweeter during wartime. Maybe she feels just a little more human than she did an hour before.

#shrios #spiritualshriossummer #thane krios #fshrios #spiritual shrios summer #zet writes things #me in the background screaming like that video of the old man in the mountains with the cowboy hat #ITT: femshep gets herself off #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

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k-writer1998 · 4 years

Text

Unexpected Answers

Prompt fic: lighthouse keeper! changbin x marine biologist! reader

angsty fluff

w.c: 2.4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You can't convince me that the ocean isn't haunted."

“Y/n you literally study the ocean for a living what do you mean?”

“Exactly, that’s why I’m saying this from a scientific perspective.”

“Scientific my ass.”

“Don’t you have a lighthouse to run? Felix has got to stop forgetting his access card,” I roll my eyes. “He’s just lucky he’s the best marine vet around or he would be in big trouble by now.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like having me come visit,” he teased.

“You’re right. The marine life like your face, it’s easier for me to check on them with you around.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you need me.”

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face. The fish may like it but I’m not a fan.”

I don’t know what it is about Seo Changbin but our personalities just don’t match, especially when he purposely annoys me like this. I’ve told him after meeting him almost a year ago that I don’t do well with flirty lines. At first it was funny, almost cute even, but it was relentless and the only way I knew to react was to give him flat responses. After all this time this is what has become of us. As per usual, he followed me around as I went to check on my animals and when I said they like Changbin… they literally flock to him. It usually takes a bit of coaxing to get them to come but with Changbin it's like they see one of their own. By the time I was on my lunch we ended up in Felix’s office so Changbin could return his access card.

“Ah, there it is. I had to get a temp from Nayeon-noona… she’s annoyed with me,” Felix laughs.

“Don’t worry Lix I always got you.”

“Yes worry, remember so Changbin doesn’t have to keep coming around.”

“Don’t be like that, I’m a fun friend to have around and you know it.”

“I wouldn’t say “friend” but we aren’t strangers I guess,” I say as I take a bite of my sandwich.

“Wow after all this time you can’t even call me a friend? You wound me y/n.”

“We barely know anything about each other, can we really call that friendship?”

I noticed Felix watching our bickering with careful eyes and decided to mind my business when he suddenly blurted to Changbin that they needed to talk in private before Changbin was practically dragged out of the room. I shook my head, this was literally Felix’s office. I could’ve just left. I continued to eat in this new found silence as I thought back to Felix’s odd behavior. I mean yeah him and Changbin have always been a bit odd but at least most of the time it was subtle or they covered it well but what’s this “news” that has Felix acting weirder than the normal amount he exudes? By the time the boys came back I had several possible reasons in mind but with all this secrecy I can’t ask up front. Changbin spent the rest of the day with me in my office as I inputted the data for the day where he asked countless questions. He really meant it when he wanted to learn more about me in order to be friends. After my fifth typo, because my fingers were typing the words coming out of my mouth, I glared at the boy.

“Changbin what’s with the questions? If you want to hang out can I at least finish my report so we won’t be here all night?”

“Well you said I don’t really know you so I’m trying to get to know you better…”

Unlike his usual loud cheerful, or sometimes flirty, tone he spoke in a small voice as he looked down at his hands like a child being scolded. He’s always so open to bothering me, to suddenly see him in this state… Was I too harsh earlier? I soften as my eyes analyze him.

“Does it really bother you that I said I didn’t consider us friends?”

“We spend a lot of time together, isn’t that already being friends?” He mumbles, a pout forming.

If I didn’t already have my preconceived notions- actually even if I do, that pout and this new side of Changbin were both endearing. Did something happen when Felix talked to him?

"Well spending time with someone doesn't mean you know them but I was a bit harsh earlier. We are friends, just maybe not the closest," I smile.

"Do you mean it or are you just saying that so I stop bothering you?"

"If I didn't mean it I wouldn't let you follow me around against regulations all the time."

This brought a smile to his face but there was still a distant look in his eyes. Okay whatever was said in that private conversation really got to him. The scientist in me was curious and although I’m never one to be nosy, this one eighty flip in his mood can be the exception.

“Changbin are you okay? You seem upset after talking to Felix.”

“Yeah… there’s just more on my mind now cause he reminded me of a promise I have to keep.”

“What kind of promise?”

“I can’t really say, but it’s a promise I have to keep even if I don’t want to.”

He gave a sad smile as his eyes searched my concerned expression. Even though I wanted to, I couldn’t ask further when it’s obvious that he wants to keep it a secret. After finally finishing my report, Changbin walked me to my car. Before I got in Changbin stopped me.

“You said we can hang out right? You’re off tomorrow so come with me somewhere.”

“How do you- actually nevermind, yeah sure. Where are we going?” I gave a confused laugh.

“It’s a surprise. I’ll pick you up at noon… be sure to wear a bathing suit.”

With a mysterious smile he was off before I could ask any more questions. The next day after a quick lunch somehow we found ourselves at a cave Changbin found that only appears during low tide. Staring down at the contents of his backpack, I understood the secrecy.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.This is payback for yesterday isn’t it?”

“Oh come on, I’m not that petty. This is completely safe, promise, I won’t let anything happen. At least I’m not taking you diving or maybe a ghost might get you,” he teased.

“Shut up, snorkeling is still… I don’t know.”

“I can’t have you being the only marine biologist to be scared of the ocean. Just trust me.”

“I trust you but I’m pretty sure you don’t have control over the ocean.”

“You never know, maybe I do,” he laughs before the look in his eyes soften, “It’ll just be for a bit okay? If you don’t like it after we can stop.”

I eyed him skeptically for a few moments before reluctantly agreeing. He beamed and handed me the snorkeling gear before we discarded our outer clothes. Let me clarify. I do not hate the water, I love swimming, but the ocean is vast and there’s still a lot we don’t know so it scares me a bit. Yet after getting used to using the gear, I let Changbin lead me under the water by my hand cause I was scared to go under. He led me to the cave’s outer edge to see a small reef hidden in the rocks. The coral and the sight of the little fish around us was breathtaking. With all the excitement my fears slowly ebbed away as I eagerly pointed things out to Changbin. After a while Changbin gingerly pulled my arm and we swam back, both of us beaming.

“Still think the ocean is haunted?”

“I’ll correct my statement, the deep sea is haunted,” I stuck out my tongue at him.

“Well glad you’re warming up to the ocean, but we need to get out of here before the tide rises.”

With that we dried off and headed back to the beach just walking and talking about everything. It was like the air around us changed for the better and maybe he wasn’t annoying after all. By the time he dropped me off at my house, the sun had started to set. At my front door, we were saying goodbye when Changbin started to lean in. My hand flew to stop him subconsciously as I tried to process this moment.

“What? I thought the date went well,” he blinked at me as his eyes scanned my face.

“Date? This was a date?”

“Wasn’t it? I thought you’ve realized it by now…”

The pain etched onto his features broke a part of me I didn’t even know existed. My brain whirred to process all this but before my voice could come out he quickly spurted out a dismissal and apology before running off, leaving me flabbergasted at the door. A whole storm of emotions swirled inside me since that day, one of the big ones being guilt. He hasn’t been to the institute or the lighthouse… it’s almost like he disappeared. A few days turned into a few weeks and still nothing. My only link to him, Felix, was no help cause he always danced around the questions or was too vague to get any real answers. All I know is that Changbin went home, he can’t use his phone, and he possibly won’t come back. Well… the last one is a deduction made literally because Felix can never give me a straight answer whenever I ask, the responses are just various forms of “it’s complicated”.

After yet another failed conversation with Felix today, I decided to get off early. Checking the time, I had ample time to go to the cave before the tide rose. I’ve been there a few times after that day because I miss him but I didn’t have the courage to go into the water since, but today was the day. After mentally preparing myself, I pulled on my newly bought snorkeling gear and swam down to the reef again but it didn’t feel as vibrant as that time with Changbin. It was dull, so after a while I swam back to the cave in defeat. Little did I know, the tide had risen and it wasn’t until I saw my bag floating past my face that it finally clicked. This is why you should focus on things at hand rather than about useless things like a guy who tried to kiss me then left town! In my panic to get back to the opening, I nicked my shin on a jagged rock and the burning sensation from salt on my would caused me to scream and lose what little oxygen I had left. I was close to the opening when shadows encroached my vision and to make it worse I started hallucinating Changbin swimming to me… but it couldn’t be, no matter how realistic it felt to feel his arms around my waist. My eyes fluttered closed and I was about to black out when suddenly I wasn’t in the water anymore. Instead I was sprawled on the sand, coughing up a lung to get the excess water out, when I finally took in the boy beside me and snapped.

“What the hell?! Where have you been Changbin?! I was scared you wouldn’t come back…”

“That’s what you’re screaming at me for? Not the glaring silver tail in place of my legs?”

“I mean yes there are a LOT of questions about that but I prefer to move in chronological order.”

He looked gobsmacked at my nonchalant response but I mean yeah I have questions about the fact he’s basically a merman but seeming as though he saved my life, I’m safe. I looked at him, waiting for an answer, and he took a moment to shake the surprise before he did.

“I wasn’t supposed to come back… I made a deal with my parents that I had one year to fulfill my desire on the surface world or I had to go back and assume my role as… uhm prince…”

“Prin- Wait, what was the deal and how would they know your desire was fulfilled?”

He held out his palm and showed me a pearl that was slightly pink. Naturally this darker shade of the color shouldn’t be a possibility but I mean a merman is literally sitting in front of me.

“This pearl was white, the closer I get to my goal the more pink it turns.”

“Well what’s your desire? It’s not completely white so you kind of did it.”

“Do you remember how we first met?”

“Yeah cause Felix forgot his access card and you brought it over, how is that relevant?”

“It’s relevant because that wasn’t the first time we met. We met on the beach one morning when we were sixteen and we both happen to “run away” from home… You were my desire y/n.”

Now it was my turn to gape at the boy in front of me. I remember that time, it was early and I couldn’t remember the guy’s face… His final statement repeated in my mind as the two lines of thought crossed. I could feel his eyes intently on me but I had to check something first.

“When was the first day you came to the surface world?”

“The day we met again.”

“Then why did you leave like that when there was still time?”

“I thought you hated me after how you reacted so I decided to take the L early.”

“Well if you stayed you could’ve figured out it wasn’t actually an L…”

“What?!”

“After that day we went snorkeling I realized why I was always mean when you said flirty dumb things. It wasn’t because I found them annoying, but coming from you they made me flustered. So while not knowing my own feelings, when you leaned in I panicked because-”

I was cut off by his lips crashing onto mine and after the events of the day, I just enjoyed the moment. Once he pulled away he had a boyish grin on his face. Not being able to take the full charm of the smile, I looked away and noticed the now bright pink pearl in his hand.

“So you like me too right?”

“See the pearl for yourself. Just a few days shy of our 1 year friendaversary too. You get to stay now right?”

“Yup. It’s all on my sister now,” he laughs.

“So now onto this,” I gestured to his tail sitting in the baby waves, “does Felix know or-”

“He’s a merman too. Before you ask, yes we understand what marine life says.”

“It makes sense why he always knew what was wrong! He could just understand the animals!”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #skz imagines #seo changbin #changbin scenarios #changbin imagines #stray kids oneshots #changbin oneshots #my writing #skz gc prompts

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shegoesbyarose · 4 years

Text

𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒍𝒍 𝑨𝒔𝒌 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝑴𝒆 ⟨𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑘.⟩

Words: 4.5K

Warnings: Some angst and intense scenes

Song Inspo: You’ll Ask For Me by Tyler Hilton

A/N: Lemme know what you think. I have two specific scenes for this pairing in my head. Not much more after that. This is a “whim” fic. OC is a WOC.

❖❖❖

“Do you really live on a plane?”

Artemis smiled as she tucked the brown carry-on into the overhead bin. If only she had a dime for every time she received that question.

Securing the bin, she placed a hand on her hip and wiggled her brows. “Maybe.

His green eyes widened. “Do you have your own room? I share mine with my brother.”

She feigned surprise. “You do?”

“Uh huh.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Do you have a brother?”

She paused and smiled. “I do. He’s around your age, actually.”

“Really? What’s his name? Does he like Pokemon?”

Artemis chuckled. Kids and their litany of questions, not to mention the constant bouncing back and forth between topics.

“His name is Kalep,” she answered, bending down to tap his nose. “And he loves Pokemon.”

“Awesome,” Bailey smiled, revealing the gap between his two front teeth.

Lana walked over and placed her hand on Artemis shoulder. “Bailey, just when I thought we were gonna be best buds. You switching out on me?”

Bailey grinned. “I like a lot of buddies.”

Lana and Artemis shared an amused look.

“You heard him. Stop being selfish,” Artemis taunted. “Be right back.” She moved down the aisle, answering a few questions here and there.

Artemis then moved onto checking the overhead bins. Rest assured, a couple would be incorrectly shut. As she reached for the third bin that needed to be properly secured, she first glanced down to notice that the passenger was being over, digging in a bag.

As she finished closing it and looked back down, she met striking azure eyes crystallized between black, thick rimmed glasses, and a warm smile.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

She returned his grin. “First time flying?”

“You could say that.” He chuckled. “That obvious?”

“Naw.” She shrugged. “I’m just pretty good at reading people, and you, sir, have the look of someone who’s never been privy to being 30,000 feet in the air. You’re in for a treat.”

“Well, thank you, ma’am—”

“Oh god, please don’t. Artemis, my name is Artemis.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Artemis. I’m Clark. Clark Kent.”

Her grin diminished as a flyer placed his hand on the small of her back, quickly shifting it downward to her ass. He gave a light squeeze before continuing his walk to his seat.

She retained an eye roll and resurfaced her grin, even as Clark’s dimmed.

“Nice meeting you too, Clark.”

“I’m sorry.” She paused, confused. He looked surprised too, only for a second. “The overhead bin,” he quickly added.

“Oh.” She waved her hand. “It’s the least of my problems.”

“I’ll bet,” he murmured.

“Let me know if you need anything—”

“Artemis!” Bailey stood on the seat, leaned over so he was grasping at the passenger in front of him headrest. She looked back at Clark. “Or any of us.”

He nodded. “Will do.”

That was the first time they met.

The second time would be under similar but very different circumstances.

❖❖❖

Artemis was a ready reserve for Lana who was set to fly a special first time joint venture with the air force. Artemis didn’t mind. Lana had a family emergency, and they were friends. That’s what friends are for.

The speaker was a bit of a bitch, but that didn’t bother Artemis. She’d come across so many different types of individuals, some nice, some not so much. It never mattered, though, as long as she got her paycheck.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Even with the kids on board. She didn’t quite understand why in the hell they had minors on board, but not many things made sense to her when it came to Metropolis.

She was chatting with one of said kids who was fascinated by her name. Apparently, it was the same as one of his favorite characters from some book series. She prepared to ask which one when everything went dark.

Artemis looked around. She’d been trained to respond to countless scenarios, but this was different. She quickly excused herself and stood up, moving down the aisle to correspond with the other attendants.

She knew something was wrong. Hell, she could feel it. This was something that just oozed of malfunction. That much was obvious. However, she felt all of the young, frightened eyes on her. Even though she was concerned, she refused to show it. She had to remain calm, not incite panic among the kids.

Artemis helped children get strapped in. At one point during the flight, they were all secured and yapping among themselves. Somewhere between the taxi and takeoff, they maneuvered out of their seats and moved about.

However, that plan went to hell at the same time the power went out again, and this time, it didn’t come back on shortly after. No, conditions quickly deteriorated. One minute she was helping the children secure their seatbelts, and the next, she was holding them against her body as the plane began to violently jerk.

In the event of turbulence, there was training. There was training for everything, but the fact that she just knew that this was beyond turbulence didn’t help. Still, she managed to keep her emotions at bay. Better than the other attendants who failed to hide their concern.

They too realized that something had gone terribly wrong.

And it only continued to worsen. Infrequent jerking transitioned into abnormal shifts in directions. The plane was moving about like a rag doll, simultaneously, forcing Artemis around and against various seats, walls, and armrests. She bit back her groans and moans of pain.

Help now.

Feel later.

Screams, shouts, beeping, and all sorts of chaos occurred around her. Still, she remained calm. In the kids, she saw Kalep. What if he were there? She’d want whoever was in charge to help him remain as calm as possible, no matter how grim the outcome appeared.

But, things only exacerbated.

The plane was angled almost entirely upward, and Artemis felt the absolute brunt of the trajectory as she continued to be tossed about the plane. Her shoulder was dislocated and the red liquid coating her fingertips after feeling on her abdomen told her that her injuries were becoming more severe by the minute, second, even.

Still, she couldn’t shake the terrified expressions of the children whose cries only increased in volume and intensity.

Even the adults were becoming choked up.

It was utter madness and chaos beyond comprehension.

For a second, she contemplated the most dire and maybe realistic outcome.

Is this how she would meet her maker? Thousands of feet up in the air, bloodied and battered, completely helpless to do nothing but make everyone as comfortable as she possibly could given the circumstances.

When was the last time she FaceTime’d her family? Purchased Kalep a game off of the Playstation Store?

Hell, she hadn’t seen the inside of her apartment for almost a month.

And now, she never would.

It was all a culmination of feelings and thoughts. Regrets at what could have been. Sadness at what would never be. Anger at the finality of it all.

Death.

And then a thought, if this truly was the end, did it mean the beginning of something else? A reunion she’d longed for for over a decade?

If only she knew it would happen like this.

Her eyes slammed shut as wetness pooled and spilled. Consciousness was a battle she was gradually losing.

But nothing had ever come easy, nothing that she really wanted, anyway.

She would hold on as long as she possibly could, as long as was possible.

And she’d spend the last of her energy making the children as comfortable as she could, even if it was only a fragment of comfort.

Plastered against the back of the plane, Artemis turned to the window. Everything was whipping by with such abnormal speed, red heat and flames of the fire lashing against the side of the plane.

She didn’t even want to imagine what the outside looked like, given the bedlam transpiring inside.

But what did still her was the quick flash of something that came and disappeared in under a second.

It was far too large to be a bird, much smaller than a plane, but the speed at which it moved…… It was almost beyond human comprehension.

I think hallucinations are a sign of pending death.

A macabre thought, but not entirely inappropriate.

Her eyes fluttered moments before her body dropped, moving in an unnatural manner. At that point, she’d managed to block out the searing pain that traveled through her body. What point was there in trying to address something she couldn’t fix?

It was meritless and a waste of time.

And energy.

The ability to remain coherent enough to guesstimate just how much time they had left waned with each struggle to keep her eyes fully open. Even when they were opened, she kept looking toward the children. As if she could will them to meet her gaze. Maybe then she could try to assure them that they were going to be okay.

She took a deep swallow.

That was such a lie, but she’d rather their last minutes be filled with hope, even if it was an empty box.

They didn’t need to know that.

As her body dropped to the ground, she took a sharp breath and managed to flex her fingers. They seemed to be the only thing she could use.

Voices called her name. She briefly recognized them as belonging to the attendants.

She lifted her head and saw black shoes and sheer stockings covering tan skin moving closer.

She moaned. “I’m f—fine.” Something caught up, and Artemis choked up something. She blinked. Red. Blood. “Kids. H—h—help them.”

The walking ceased. “Art—”

“No,” she growled, fisting her hand against the ground. Seconds later, she was shifted again, thrown forward, her head colliding with something hard. She blinked several times. Her vision was good and hazy. Artemis was almost certain that she was seeing duplicates.

The descent was steady this time, downward, and fast.

Every breath felt struggled against the invisible weight of the trauma that suffocated her body. Her fingers flexed and wiggled. If only she could bring her arm into her body.

The chain around her neck, the tiny cross that hung tucked into her blouse. Not that it would do anything to help her, physically.

But the emotional comfort, the connection is reminded her of, it would dim everything.

So she attempted to pull her arm inward, a burning shooting through that immediately ceased all movement.

So much for that.

That was when the tears continued. One could only remain strong for so long.

And just like that, everything stopped.

The movement, at least.

Everything was so still.

Too still.

Was this it? Was this how it was? A noticeable void of everything that being alive represented.

It was……subpar. Far from what she’d always imagined the afterward would be.

Halfway unconscious, Artemis missed the noticeable gasps and harsh whispers that spread through the plane as the door was easily ripped and tossed aside.

The question of if everyone was alright followed by heavy footsteps and a shadowed darkness that covered her back.

Hands moved to her side, gently turning her on her back. She gasped violently, becoming somewhat aware of her surroundings.

Eyes. Warm yet cool eyes bore into hers. However, her involuntary reaction was to fight. She struggled, mustering as much strength as she could, attempting to push the person away.

Then she heard it, the quiet whisper of her name.

“Artemis.” She stilled and tried to focus her vision. Everything was just so foggy. “It’s alright.” Artemis continued to moan and groan, determined to fight, so he continued to reassure that it was fine.

But, it wasn’t.

She was dead.

……Wasn’t she?

Artemis calmed herself down enough to stop moving. The stranger took that moment to speak again.

“You’re hemorrhaging internally, and If I don’t cauterize this bleed…..” He trailed off. If Artemis was in the right frame of mind, she would have cursed him. That certainly wasn’t the extent of her injuries. She didn’t like being lied to.

Her brows furrowed. How. Who. What.

All unasked questions he somehow detected.

“I can do things that other people can’t.” She shut her eyes and gasped. If breathing was difficult now, it was unbearable now. “Hold my hand.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, placing his over hers. She calmed down, ever so slightly. “This is gonna hurt.”

It wasn’t as though she was any position to speak, and even if she did, the scream that left her mouth seconds later spoke volumes more than any word could.

To her credit, the pain only lasted for a few moments, having lost the battle to consciousness.

❖❖❖

Hospitals sucked.

Of that, Artemis was 10000% sure of, to the point where she was prepared to defend it to the very end.

Every wall, floor, building, everything about it reeked of death. If not for you, for someone you knew.

Rarely anything good came from visiting one, let alone being admitted. Sadly, that was the case for her.

She’d been stuck at Metro General for over a week, and each day brought her that much closer to seeing if she could make a break for it.

Even though, deep down, she knew that was ridiculous.

She’d been significantly injured. Artemis lost count of how many times she was told that she was lucky to be alive.

More than she’d like to count.

Really, the fact that there were no other fatalities was enough for her. Sure, there were injuries, but nothing as severe as hers. From her knowledge, she was the only one still being held hostage.

And even if the hospital itself wasn’t bad enough, the damn people were just as bad.

Maybe not the doctors and nurses, and the staff. She admired them.

No, the damn people who visited her every hour on the hour, she felt like.

Lana had been at her beside from the moment she was rushed into the OR.

Guilt, she figured.

Artemis focused her gaze on the vase of flowers on the side of the bed. They were different from the one’s she received just this morning. However, the change wasn’t what circulated her mind.

No, it was the reason she was still alive.

Him. Her rescuer. She barely remembered what occurred, but she distinctly recalled his eyes, the way he looked at her, her name on his mouth.

Who was he? What was he?

She’d first thought she’d been dreaming. How could another person do what he’d done?

Flew up into the sky and separated a damn shuttle from a plane, stopped the plane from crashing, cauterized her wound, flew her to the hospital, and who knew what else.It was all too unreal, impossible to be reality.

But everyone else had saw him.

And Artemis heard him.

Whoever, whatever, he was, he knew her name.

And he’d saved her.

She was alive because of him.

For that…..she was beyond thankful. Still very much confused, but thankful.

Unfortunately, the world was also confused, and as the only person to have such direct contact with him, she was highly sought out.

Not to mention, everyone was praising her for being so “heroic.” Whatever that meant.

Reaching over the bed, she grabbed the card and flipped it over to see two letters followed by periods. Initials.

C.K.

Artemis frowned. Who?

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She prepared to give the same scripted reply to the nurse on duty. She then paused as she was met with the same warm smile she’d first encountered a few weeks ago.

She leaned back against the pillows and paused. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He stood in the doorway. “Is it alright—”

“Oh, yeah,” she waved him in, sitting up as much as she could. Her eyes then fell on the bouquet in his right hand. “Please tell me those aren’t for me.”

He squinted. “What happens if I say yes?”

“Add em’ to the rest,” she sighed and smiled. “Thank you. They’re beautiful. I just don’t know if I’m going to have any room in my apartment if I receive anymore.” He handed them to her. She sniffed and closed her eyes. Lillies. Her favorites.

“Clark, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” She leaned and placed them on the remaining free space oo her side table. They were smaller than some of the others, but she wanted them to be the closest to her.

“I’d ask you how you’re doing but—”

“I’m sick of hearing that question,” she finished for him with a small smile. “How did you—you’re a reporter.” The bag on his shoulder, the almost embarrassed expression when she said it, it was obvious.

She prepared to send him away as she did the rest, but there was something different about him. Something genuine.

Artemis was willing to give him something. Not much.

“Look, all I know is that I owe him my life. Me and everyone else on that plane. I don’t know anything else.”

Clark crossed his arms. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s what you’re here for, right? The mystery hero?”

“Not my story.” He smiled and adjusted his glasses. “I’m actually here for you.”

She stilled. “Oh.” Well, that was unexpected.

“I work for the Daily Planet. We’d like to do a story on you. The mystery hero wasn’t the only one who saved lives. They say a lot of those kids are alive because of you.”

She shrugged. “I just did what anyone else would have done.”

“Not everyone.” He frowned.

Artemis picked at the hospital bedding. “You have any siblings, Clark?” He shook his head. “I do. Two. My brother’s name is Kalep. He’s ten. The sweetest and most annoying kid ever.” She smiled softly, remembering his big brown eyes in the FaceTime camera as Artemis reassured her father that he didn’t need to fly down.

Unnecessary money.

“Did you know that the youngest kid on that flight was eight?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Eight-years old. Hell, you haven’t even started to live when you’re eight. I can’t imagine it all ending so soon. I’ve seen enough of this world. I would have been okay. No matter what happened.” She looked out the window and licked her lips before looking back at him. “I wouldn’t change anything I did. Not a damn thing.”

Clark said nothing, chuckling softly. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I am doing the story on the hero.” A beat. “But she’s not a mystery.”

Artemis caught his gaze. There was something both familiar and comforting about him. She couldn’t place her finger on it, though.

“Okay, they sure do know who to send to get a story.” She shifted again. These beds were so damn uncomfortable. “I do hope they find him, though. He deserves it. I won’t even bitch if they throw him a parade or some shit. It’s well deserved.”

They both laughed as Artemis looked down, nodding slowly. “I just want to thank him, you know.”

“You’re not scared?”

“Of him?” She laughed. “No. Why would I be?”

“I mean, a guy who can fly. You don’t see them everyday.”

“There are a lot of things to be scared of in this world, Clark.” A beat. “He’s not one of them.”

❖❖❖

Artemis had never been so grateful to be home.

It was one thing to be away because of work. It was another to be away because she was physically unable to be home.

Thankfully, she’d been cleared and discharged. That was a few days ago, but each moment was more than appreciated.

She’d dusted, rearranged, hell, even cooked more than she had in all the time she’d been in Metropolis. Even whilst ambling around in a boot on her right leg.

Near death experiences tend to have that effect.

Not one for much television, she’d even started to rewatch One Tree Hill and was halfway through Homecoming. However, too much time in front of the screen triggered headaches, so she decided to switch out programming for a book on her wall of books.

She had so many that she’d purchased, started, yet never finished.

One of her new resolutions was to change that.

She loved to read.

It was one of the many fond memories she had. Being read to as she lay in bed, forcing herself just to stay up because no one told stories in such distinct voices as her.

Artemis settled on The Chaos of Standing Still. She noticed a bookmark toward the beginning and pulled it out. She could barely remember the plot, let alone the little that she’d read.

She scratched at her hair and made a mental note to order the bonnets that were waiting in her Amazon cart.

Ooh, she also needed to pay her cell phone bill. Maybe automatic payments weren’t so bad, because if she garnered one more goddamn late fee—

Artemis turned around and nearly fell flat on her ass. Thankfully, the book took one for the team, stumbling on her carpet. The bookmark laid next to it.

Across her room, close to the backdoor that led to the small balcony, he stood, cape lightly flowing behind him. The lighting was dimmed, but even with the lack of illumination, he stood out in the darkness. Representative of who he was, whoever that was.

“Umm, hi,” she blurted, placing her hand on her forehead. “How did you—” Her eyes shifted to the backdoor. “Never mind. Stupid question.” She got the feeling that whether she welcomed him in or not, it made little to no difference.

“Hi.” She waited for more. Nothing else came.

“Can I—get you something to drink?” She asked. “Do you even drink?” Artemis wanted to slap herself. What the hell was wrong with her? Since when did she get so easily flustered?

Maybe that was another side effect of almost dying.

“I do.” He smiled and stepped forward. She remained where she was. “But, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“Okay,” she murmured. “How—why—what are you doing here?”

“I read the interview you gave.”

“You read?” She blurted.

He shrugged. “In my free time.”

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “For—for saving me, and everyone else.”

He lifted his a hand. “Don’t. You never have to thank me for that. No one does.”

She tilted her head. “What are you?” She continued. “I mean, you’re not human. I dated my high school’s quarterback, and we were all impressed by his ability to push his truck. Yet, you’re out here lifting planes?” She hadn’t meant to babble. It wasn’t in her nature, but she was so damn intrigued. Not to mention, everyone had been searching for the man who stood a few feet away from her, only for him to find her.

“What I am isn’t important. It’s what I do….that’s what matters.”

“What exactly is it that you do? Save people? There are occupations for that.”

He chuckled. “I think we both know it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Touche,” she whispered and danced her fingers against her legs. Artemis looked him over. He was solid, muscles rippling against the formfitting material of his….uniform? Costume seemed inappropriate. Costumes were for people who feigned what he really was. A hero. “What’s the S stand for?”

He looked down and then back up. “It’s not an S. On my world, it means hope.”

She bit on her bottom lip. Artemis wanted to ask him where exactly his world was, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t answer. “Well, here, it’s just an S.”

He chuckled. “Noted.”

Her next question was instant. “What’s your name?” He stared at her. Artemis kept his gaze, willing herself to affirm her assertiveness. She was never one to shy away, to back down, to retreat. That couldn’t change. Not even for him. “You know mine.”

His gaze softened, something that didn’t bypass Artemis.

“It’s Kal.”

“Kal,” she repeated, accentuating each letter, despite the shortness. Artemis smiled. “My little brother’s name is Kalep.” She cleared her throat. “So am I your first or last stop?”

He tilted his head. “I’m sorry?”

“You know, on your grand entrance to the world.”

He offered a small smile. “No. What I do….who I am….it’s not of importance.” A beat. “I’m not yet ready to reveal myself to the world.”

She quieted. “But you did with me, and I’m nobody special.”

“I wouldn’t say that. To those kids you saved, the ones you risked your life for, you’re the hero.”

She straightened one arm and grabbed her elbow, shrugging. “The cape takes the cake. Kids are fickle like that. Besides, I just did what was right. No need to make a big thing out of it.”

He nodded slowly, stepping forward. Artemis inhaled subtly. He was so big. “And that’s why I’ve told you….and only you.”

His voice lowered toward the end of his sentence as his gaze focused on her, meeting her eyes. At that moment, she understood. She didn’t know why or how, but he trusted her. Kal trusted her.

“Got it.” A beat. “Okay, I just have to ask. Is this like a disguise? I mean, your….skin….” His eyes crinkled in amusement, tiny lines forming. “You’re not really….like green or something, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Okay, good, cause then that would be really….weird.”

His smile deepened. “You have a good night, Artemis.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “You too, Kal.”

He nodded and prepared to leave.

“Hey, Kal.” He turned to face her, eyebrows lifted. “I—uh—I’m out of work for a while. Recovery and all. So, um, if you ever want. I mean, if you’re ever around.” She pushed her lips together and pushed a hand over her curls. “I’m just here.”

He said nothing, just a smile, and a second later, he was gone.

#superman #dc #superman x oc #superman x reader #man of steel #clark kent #clark kent x oc #clark kent x reader #clark kent fic #superman fanfic

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angelwithglasswings · 4 years

Text

The Woman in Red

Me? Writing a gay self insert x Reader fanfiction cause of a dream?

It's more likely than you think.

Also first time writing something like this, so be warned XD

Word Count: 1826

Pairing: Carmen Sandiego x F!Reader

////////////

A sigh escaped your lips as you stared down at the sketchbook that was laying on your lap.

"Art is a pain." You thought, thoroughly unsatisfied with your drawing of that beautiful orange sunset that you were seeing. The various pieces of crayon you had used were spread across the floor, already forgotten in your frustration with this piece. Your legs were dangling off the edge of the San Diego harbor, as you had had the intention to draw the sunset here this evening, after seeing it yesterday on your little walk around the city.

You felt compelled to just rip the page out and throw it into the ocean, but then again, you didn't want to be the reason any sealife died because they choked on your disgustingly bad drawing.

With a heavy sigh you closed your sketchbook and began collecting the crayons and assembling them back in their box, when someone caught your attention.

It was a woman.

A very beautiful woman, I might add.

She was wearing a long red coat - you wondered why, as it was quite warm for an evening, but you weren't one to judge - and a matching red fedora, which sat upon luscious brown locks that cascaded down her back.

She was sitting on the roof of that old factory building, and you wondered how she got up there. You could only see her face from the side, but nonetheless, you knew that this woman was one of the most beautiful ones you had ever seen in your life. The light of the setting sun illuminated her tanned face in a way that only further convinced you that she was an angel.

You hadn't seen her around in the city, but then again - you had only just moved here, and it was quite the large city.

Both afraid and inspired, you grabbed your phone out of your bag, and snatched a quick photo of the mysterious woman - you just needed a picture of her, the motivation to try and capture her beauty in a drawing later on clear in your mind.

But of course, your dumbass forgot to turn off the sound, and your phone made that incriminating clicking sound.

Her head whipped around, alarmed, and the only thing you could think when you saw her face fully was:

"Oh holy shit, I'm gay."

And then you panicked.

You knew she had seen how you had held up your phone in her direction, so she definitely knew that you had taken a photo of her. In a hurry, you grabbed your bag, sketchbook and crayons and began running - almost tripping over your own feet as you stood up.

You ran the whole way back to your apartment, never once stopping to breathe, fearing that she might follow and confront you - and you really weren't in the mood for turning into a stuttering mess in front of that angelic queen of a woman right now.

Your hands were trembling as you fumbled with your keys, trying to get into your home as quickly as possible. You managed it, of course, and almost collapsed as you took the last steps into your apartment.

It was small, the only thing you - the broke college student that you were - could afford at this time. You supported yourself with a side job as a waitress in a Café, and well, that job didn't pay very well.

The window in your bedroom didn't close well, and it always seemed kinda cold - but, again, it was the only thing you could afford.

Sometimes you really wondered if becoming successful was really worth all this trouble.

You slipped off your shoes and your mind wandered back to that crimson wearing woman. A blush crept up your cheeks at the thought of her, and you quickly shook your head. No, no, no time thinking about hot ladies - all you needed right now was one hotass shower, and your bed.

Later, as you laid in your comfy bed, wet hair tied up in a towel, the thought of her returned - and with it, your inspiration.

"I guess that means no sleep for me." You muttered to yourself and grabbed your sketchbook and pencil off the ground. You turned on your phone and scrolled through your gallery.

As you saw the photo of her again, the blush returned full force - how could this woman be so beautiful, cute and hot at the same time?

It was unfair!

You only sighed at the world's unfairness, and began sketching the pose and face. The movements of your hand were coming to you naturally.

Let's just say, you definitely didn't get any sleep that night.

But it was one hundred percent worth it.

The next morning, you awoke to your alarm clock going off at a sound frequency that could probably wake up a deaf person.

With an exasperated groan, you sat up, almost throwing your precious sketchbook off your bed in the process. You caught it just in time - with your awesome Spidey Sense - and looked at your drawings from last night.

You realized, surprised, that they looked... awesome. You didn't hate them - of course, there were a few mistakes, but the way you drew her face could almost rival the real thing.

You shook your head. No, no more thoughts about the mysterious woman. Today was a free day, and you would spend it as you always did - taking a walk through the streets of San Diego and find some inspiration.

You slipped into your shoes and left your house, your bag hanging off your shoulder and packed with the essentials - your phone, wallet, sketchbook, a pencil and your keys.

The bus ride to downtown San Diego was boring, but at least you had your trusty music to keep you somewhat entertained as you stared out of the window from your seat.

That's when something red flashed in your vision. You sat up straight - much to the annoyance of the woman beside you, who definitely didn't expect that - and frowned.

As quick as it was there, it was gone again.

You hummed in confusion.

Was your gay ass hallucinating now?

It wasn't the last time that day that your mind was playing tricks on you.

As you walked through the crowded streets of San Diego, you saw that color flash in front of your eyes again and again. You swore you weren't hallucinating, but it was hard to deny it. There was no was you kept seeing her, you told yourself, it's just your mind being stupid.

You sighed and went to sit on a small bench in the shadows to try and relax a bit.

As you looked at the crowd in front of you, there was a rush of inspiration flowing through you and you quickly grabbed your sketchbook and pencil from your bag.

You looked ahead and your heart stopped.

There she was again. The woman. That face was undeniably her, despite the fact she wasn't wearing the red coat and fedora.

You made eye contact with her, and you could feel your cheeks warming up immediately. You looked back down onto your sketchbook, and when you look back up - she was gone without a trace.

Your face fell. You had hoped to be able to admire her a bit longer, at least from a far. Talking was out of question, no way would you be able to talk to her.

You'd be a stuttering, embarrassed mess.

And that's when you felt someone tap your shoulder.

You turned your head to look at the person, and within seconds, your face was burning in a deep red color that was definitely noticeable.

How did that woman even appear so silently next to you?

How did you not notice that!?

You took a second to look what she was wearing. A red and white t-shirt paired with a pair of jeans and red converse shows. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, yet one strand still framed her face.

You were hyper aware of her hand that was still laying on your shoulder.

Did she know what effect she had on you?

By that smirk on her lips, she did.

"Can we talk?" She asked, and oh you melted at the sound of her voice. So smooth, it fit her perfectly.

You opened your mouth to talk, but opted to just nod instead. You weren't able to form one coherent word right now, you were sure of that.

"Good. I'm sure you remember yesterday, yes?"

You couldn't help but stare at her. Especially her lips, those beautiful, soft, full l- focus, goddamn it.

Again, you just nodded, and she continued talking.

"I'd like you to delete that."

You needed a moment to process her words, and when you did, you nodded hastily.

"Y-yeah, of course, I- Let me just, I.." While you were babbling nonsense, trying to find your phone in the depth of your bag, she was already talking again - so you quickly shut your mouth.

"I'm in a... situation where any photo of me is quite a risk. And I'm not willing to take it." She explained calmly, staring off at the crowds of people.

Again, you took a bit to respond. You had successfully deleted the photo of her, and when you glanced down to your lap, you noticed you had opened your sketchbook right at the page where you had drawn her quite a few times the night before.

You could close it, but she would notice.

"I- of course, it's gone-" You bit your lip to stop yourself from talking when you noticed her gaze on your sketchbook.

You really should've closed that.

"Let me guess. It's what you needed the photo for in the first place, right?" She asked and you took a deep breath. "You could've asked me to model for you."

You were dying.

"W-well, yeah... it's just, I just... I get so n-nervous around beautiful w-woman, and you're just-... so gorgeous and I didn't... I was scared you'd reject and-" Heat rose to your cheeks when you noticed you had been rambling, and it only worsened when you saw the amused smile on her face.

"Thank you." She took the pencil from your hand and wrote something down beneath one of your drawings.

It was a number.

"I hope I'll see you again."

She stood up, ready to leave, when you took a risk and grabbed her arm. She stopped and looked down at you.

"I... never got your name."

"I didn't get yours either. Carmen Sandiego."

"[Y/N] [L/N]."

A smile appeared on Carmen's lips and she winked at you as she turned back around.

"Don't forget to call."

And in a flash, she was gone, having disappeared in the crowd before you.

And you were utterly in love.

///////////

Hope ya liked it! ^^

Also I do not own Carmen Sandiego or the show.

#carmen sandiego #carmen sandiego x reader #first fanfic #how do i tag

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ieatmypizzawithaforkandknife · 3 years

Text

MAG 020 - Desecrated Host (part 2)

Summary: Jonathan reads the second half of the statement of Father Edwin Burroughs, regarding “his claimed demonic possession.”

I’d like to propose an alternate title for this one: “Bartleby”. I couldn’t help but see the parallel between Bartleby the Scrivener’s “I would prefer not to” and Father Burroughs saying, “seeing those bound corpses before me, I made the decision to take no action ever again.” Ah, Burroughs! Ah, humanity!

I mentioned in my last post that this episode was very heavy in the “altered reality” theme. I’d like to amend that: this entire episode was one long, terrifying fever dream. I’ve never been high but I think this might be what a bad trip feels like.

Jonny Sims et al. really outdid themselves on this one though, in both the writing and the performance. So many episodes really suck you in (not literally, fortunately - we’re luckier than some of the characters that way) and grip you ’til the very end. But this was one of the best so far for that. We get more than standard descriptions of things - we get things like that small, whispered “it was bright...so bright” in Father Burroughs’ description of the “church” and the resounding, gonging bell sound accompanying the bell-speech Father Burroughs hears. You can almost feel his throbbing head and blurring vision, and at times it just feels so real.

But it wasn’t. At least, not in the way that we like to think of reality. Whatever an outside observer might have seen that night, this statement was Father Burroughs’ reality. We do know that at least some of this episode was real in the normal sense of the word though. There are snippets, like Father Singh’s reaction to seeing Father Burroughs in the small chapel, and Father Burroughs later seeing Father Singh in the hallway, that seem like they were part of objective reality. Was this slip between reality and the illusion just so that we, the audience, knew that it wasn’t real? Or was it because whatever was affecting him couldn’t keep an airtight grip on his senses? I’d like for it to be the latter, but I’m worried that’s not the case. I do not like how powerful this thing seems to be.

During the “confession”, “Father Singh” recounted all of Father Burroughs’ past sins...so this thing either actually knew about all of those events, or it made Father Burroughs imagine that “Father Singh” was naming all of his sins (a la the psychic paper in Doctor Who). Also disturbing was the detail about its accent during the “confession” - it had “a crisp and clipped RP accent”, as opposed to Father Singh’s Indian one. The change in accent made it obvious for us that it was not Father Singh speaking, but otherwise it just makes no sense to me. Was it unable to imitate Father Singh’s accent for some reason? That might fit if it’s the same thing that spoke in a “low, grating voice” to Laura Popham in episode 15. But those are the only two times (that I recall) that the person making the statement has noted a change in the person’s voice when that static appears.

There are two possibilities I’m seeing for how this thing operates. Either it’s little more than an illusionist, or it can actually alter reality itself. The first would certainly be easier to deal with, but I’m leaning towards the latter. My main reason for thinking that is not strictly things seen in this episode, but more how things in this episode seem to relate to things in the rest of the season so far. We hear that recurring creepy static/interference twice in this episode, once when Father Burroughs reads Genesis 4:14 (after opening his Bible to Luke, no less) and once when “Father Singh” says, “Spiritual pride that has led to quite a fall.” And of course we have another appearance of creepy eyes: “the church’s large round window shifted as I watched, as though it were a tremendous eye that were turning to focus upon me.” The eye and the staticky voice tie these events to many others from the first half of this season, including a few times when reality itself seems to have been affected, rather than just people’s perception of it.

There were two Bible passages referenced in this episode. The second was Mark 9:14-19, which appears to be a pretty straightforward reference to Father Burroughs’ situation, as that passage tells the story of a boy “who is possessed by a spirit that has robbed him of speech” (NIV). But the first, as mentioned in the paragraph above, was Genesis 4:14: “Behold, thou hast driven me out this day from the face of the Earth, and from they face shall I be hid. And I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the Earth, and it shall come to pass that everyone that findeth me shall slay me.” And the writing around it seemed to swirl and was “obscured by dark stains”. This is obviously significant, given the static and the unexplained stains and the fact that this verse is actually quoted in the text (unlike the passage from Mark also in this episode, which was referenced but not quoted). But I can’t figure out the significance of this verse. Cain says the text of this verse to God after God banishes him for killing Abel. Cain is more or less saying that his punishment is too much to bear and that he fears for his life, presumably from others who will surely be angry about him killing Abel. The only possible parallel I can see between Cain and Father Burroughs is that they’re both cut off from God. If there’s anything more to this verse, I’m not getting it.

I’ve also been wondering about the various figures Father Burroughs sees throughout this hallucination. He sees shadowy figures along the street that “were always gone when I approached” - and then there were the parishioners in the pews at the “service”. Were the shadow figures the parishioners? Or were the shadow figures actual, real people, and his inability to reach them just a reflection of how trapped in this hallucination he was? And why did the parishioners come and go like that? Why were they leaving before the “service” was over? If they were real people then I think they had to have been members of the People’s Church of the Divine Host (episode 9). I just feel like there was something else going on at the “service” that Father Burroughs wasn’t privy to.

At the end of the episode, Jonathan calls attention to the man who met Father Burroughs at the Oratory door: “the altar server he described seems out of place with most of his other delusions, in that he appeared to have active agency.” We aren’t given much of a description of the “altar server” - he is tall, pale, and has thin, bony arms. None of that rings any particular bells (haha) to me, but I guess I’ll be on the lookout for a tall, pale guy with thin, bony arms. *shrugs*

“Cause of death was listed as blood loss from multiple lacerations all over their legs and torso, as well as removal of both their faces with a sharp blade, possibly a scalpel.” However, no tools or weapons were found at the scene, and “at no point did he perform any actions that might be analogous with the binding and actual murder of the students,” leading Jonathan to believe a second person was there. HMMM. I WONDER WHO THAT COULD HAVE BEEN.

The cause of death is very unusual, though, when you consider it from a real-world standpoint. It’s pretty easy to die of blood loss if, say, your carotid or jugular is cut. But lacerations on the legs and torso? Those lacerations would have to be extensive to cause fatal blood loss. It just doesn’t sit right with me - and it reminds me of another death we heard about previously. In episode 8, Ivo Lensik says his father was found dead in his study “with deep gouges along his wrists and arms”, and the coroner couldn’t identify the tool used on his arms. Robert Montauk (episode 9) also bled out, but that was after being stabbed 47 times, so it’s similar but not quite the same. The common threads I’m seeing in all three deaths are (a) cause of death being blood loss and (b) the idea that someone committed the murder who was not known to be there at the time.

Coincidentally, Father Burroughs was imprisoned at Wakefield Prison, the same place where Robert Montauk died a few years prior. I thought something might be up with that prison, so I did a quick search and apparently it’s a high-security prison for those who’ve committed crimes such as murder, rape, armed robbery, and kidnapping (Wikipedia). So there may not be any kind of supernatural connection there, but now I’m wondering if we’re going to get statements from or about anyone else in that prison.

One last observation. The sickly yellow color seen so many times in episode 18 made two appearances in this episode. Father Burroughs describes the parishioners at the “service” as having “fevered, jaundiced yellow” skin, and the stole that Mystery Altar Server gave Father Burroughs was “a pale, sickly yellow.” Oh, and that stole from Father Burroughs’ fever dream? An identical real one was delivered to the Oratory a few days prior to these events by Breekon and Hope Deliveries. And it must have been one of their last deliveries, since they liquidated some time in 2009, the year these events occurred.

Curiouser and curiouser...

This post is part of a series where I write my thoughts about each episode and obsessively connect dots in an effort to figure out The Big Mysteries of the series. All posts in this series are tagged “is this liveblogging?” Comments and messages are welcome but I have only listened to season 1, so I ask that you not spoil me for anything beyond episode 40. In the words of Jonny Sims…thanks for listening!

#personal #liveblogging #is this liveblogging?#The Magnus Archives #Bartleby the Scrivener #I'm tagging that in the hopes that some poor soul looking for help or commiseration on their high school English reading assignment #sees this post and is like 'what. pray tell. the fuck'

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heartslogos · 3 years

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newfragile yellows [953]

“I think that there are some people who are just meant to be together. Like. In every iteration of the universe, somehow, someway, Ellana Lavellan and the Iron Bull will cross paths, and they will — make no mistake — find some way to continue crossing paths and inevitably become hooked on each other’s existences. That’s really the only thing I can say here. Somewhere, some kind of god or power that be looked down on the planet, saw these two, and went, ‘those two? Absolutely must be put together’. Like salt and pepper, oil and fire, Orlesians and complications, Fereldans and dogs, Free Marchers and arguing. It just is.”

“That’s very touching, Maxwell. Thank you,” Ellana says. “But I feel as though you’re saying this in order to preface something incredibly pessimistic. Are you? You could just stop there, you know.”

“I know. But I’m not going to.” Max continues, “Because when the two of you do part ways the universe gets mad and does it's best to shove you two back together again, even if you two are only going apart temporarily for legitimate reasons. Like right now. When the Iron Bull was supposed to be holding things down at Adamant. Which is, quite notably, on the other side of Orlais. Now, how do you figure he’s gotten all the way here just in time to help us in the middle of Denerim of all places?”

“The power of love?” Ellana says. “Or maybe Evelyn had him come over because she had a premonition.”

“My cousin does not have premonitions. Do not even think about ascribing such a power to her, Ellana. Do you think we’d be in this mess if Evelyn had premonitions? At best she has a faint tingle of self preservation but it’s completely run down and pushed aside by her overwhelmingly staunch sense of justice and unyielding morals. If there’s anyone in the world I would trust to march right up to the Maker and pass Him a list of everything he’s done wrong it would by my cousin. Don’t get me wrong, she’d feel conflicted about it and all. But ultimately if she sees no one else doing it, good lord, she’d be the one to do it and she’d even have it annotated.”

“You put your cousin in such high regard, Max.”

“I refuse to believe that there isn’t a single Trevelyan worth listening to. It’s got to be Evelyn.”

“And not you?”

Max throws his head back, laughing brightly as he claps his hands together. Ellana pinches Max’s side.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

“Then you have a glorious talent,” Max replies. “Enough about me. Can we focus on how the Iron Bull is somehow here, instead of across the extreme edges of the map, and somehow found us when our own assigned team of soldiers, scouts, and various sundry aides hasn’t yet?”

“Well. He’s the Iron Bull, Max. He’s very clever,” Ellana says, sounding extremely serene and coherent for someone who’s been dosed with a truly troubling amount of magebane. “Max, do you think you can choke on your vomit if you’re upside down?”

“Ellana, I can assure you I haven’t the slightest idea. Frankly, I don’t know how we’re having this conversation whilst maintaining our composure. I think it’s the ludicrous appearance of your beau that’s finally snapped my sanity. I should be worrying. I should be attempting to get out of these ropes so I can get you out of your ropes and then rush you to a healer before you possibly die. And yet? Here we are. Strung up like hams from the ceiling, watching the Iron Bull — who I’m still not convinced isn’t a hallucination — absolutely demolish our captors with his crew.”

“Well we can’t both be hallucinating the Iron Bull. And if we were that would be saying something. I know why I would hallucinate the Iron Bull, why would you be hallucinating him?”

“Haven’t the slightest idea. Maybe we were both drugged and this is an elaborate illusion created by demons or some such creature.”

“This isn’t usually what demons show me when they’re trying to mess with me,” Ellana replies. “Seriously. If I throw up whilst we’re strung up like this do you think I’ll choke?”

“I seriously don’t know, really. I can promise you I’ve not had this experience before.”

Ellana hums. “If I throw up do you think it’d help get the magebane out of me? Or has it already worked its way into my system, do you think?”

“Ellana, I’m not a physician or a healer or an apothecary or a barber. I haven’t the faintest hint of an idea, I promise you. Now, if I were capable of drawing in enough breath to yell I would. But I can’t because they truly tied me up tight and every time I breath I can feel something grinding in my ribs.”

“That’s awful,” Ellana replies. “I think I’m losing my vision.”

“Well. That’s a sign that the magebane has most certainly gotten to you, hasn’t it? Are you capable of yelling to attract their attention and letting them know we’re in most dire straights?”

“Sure,” Ellana replies. “I’ll give it a shot. What should I start with, you think? That I’ve been poisoned and am slowly losing consciousness, you’ve got broken ribs and might cease being able to breathe pretty soon, or the fact that they’re fighting near several flammable items?”

“Oh, surely a woman of your talent can manage to fit in all of the above in one go. But if you can’t I think you ought to start with the last one.”

“Fair enough. You know Max, it might be because of the extremely powerful poison that I’ve been made to ingest that’s draining my magic and my wellbeing, but I think you are a wonderful person to have in a crisis. You’re thinking very clearly and you’re thinking for two.”

“Thank you. Please start yelling because I felt something inside of me shift in a way it definitely shouldn’t and I’m very concerned.”

“Right-o.” Ellana sucks in a breath. “There’s explosives in the crates behind you!”

“Well done. Now maybe the poison bit next.”

“You sure not your thing?”

“Positive.”

“They’ve got mage bane! And so do I! Cut us down quick, Max’s got something wrong too. We’re not exactly sure.” Ellana sighs. “Max.”

“Yes, Ellana?”

“I feel incredibly tired from that yelling. Be a dear and wake me up once it’s all over, will you? I’m just going to close eyes for a moment. I hope that when I open them again I’m in the Iron Bull’s arms and he’s looking extremely cross at me for getting into trouble.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

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ticklish-touch · 4 years

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Re-Introducing my OCs

SO then, before I start doing some meme and chart stuff with my babs, I figured it’s a good time to give you all a refresher on them. As it stands, all of my OC profiles can be found on my DeviantArt. https://www.deviantart.com/ticklishtouch/gallery/67142956/character-profiles My harpy boi Colby is on my non-TK account: https://www.deviantart.com/satin-bowerbird/art/Character-Profile-Colby-803304183 And a quick ref of everyone’s appearance is here: https://ticklish-touch.tumblr.com/post/616447513414811648/heres-a-look-at-all-of-my-ocs-to-date-im-glad-i BUT, there are a few OCs that I haven’t yet posted a profile for, mostly because I just haven’t had the chance yet, or haven’t fully finished their profile drawings. So I’ll give the rundown on those guys here and just let y’all know when I get their profiles added. Aeternius/Terry:

A Nephilim that was handed off to a Catholic family in his early childhood, and had most of his memories erased, to keep his birthplace a secret. Has very strong ESP and Divine abilities, which he uses to be a paranormal investigator and spirit medium to lost souls. Tall Gothic drink of water at 7'2". In his late 20s, but has stopped aging physically, and is very likely going to live centuries longer than most humans. Has resting bitch face and biting sarcasm, but otherwise is very kind and empathetic. Extremely ticklish wings and he loves hates it. Also very interested in meeting Incubi, even though he'd never openly admit it.

Seth (and Nova):

A Tortured Soul™ musician in his early 20s, also raised by a Catholic family, but an abusive one that mocked his dreams of becoming an electric violinist. His inner anguish drew the attention of an angel that made a deal with him: He would be a vessel for the angel (who told him to call them Nova), and in return Nova would protect him and give him counseling and encouragement. Now Seth experiences intense visions from various realities, and has gained the ability to sense auras and see paranormal entities. Nova has also taught him that the truth about angels and demons isn’t all black and white. An anxious bundle of nerves that is still overcoming the consequences of being sheltered for so long, but still a very kind soul that wants to improve himself. His worst spots corellate to Nova's extra eyes and their wings - Nova can't feel it but it translates to intense ticklishness on Seth's body.

Kevari:

Cecaelia (Octopus merman); appears to be in mid 20s; close to 400. A highly adept potion-maker, with mild psychic, hypnotic and premonition abilities. Extremely persuasive and flirtatious to get what he wants; makes ‘deals’ with other merfolk - but unlike Ursula he’s pretty true to his word and doesn’t really want to hurt anyone. He mostly just likes intimidating people. He’s also just horny on main and likes Master/slave play as payment, or having his clients allow him to test some of his more ‘fun’ potions on them. Lito is his favorite customer. Adores making people succumb to his tentacles and making them laugh for him.

Lee:

Spotted hyena hybrid with a gruff exterior. In his mid 20s. Comes off as a delinquent, but a lot of it just comes from being brought up in a tough neighborhood; he’s actually a big softie underneath. He loves to laugh and make other people laugh, and provokes people into ‘punishing’ him with his own ticklishness (or other steamy activities). Despite having The Kink™ and being pretty shameless about it, he inherited a tic from his animal counterpart: He bursts into nervous, eager giggles the moment someone does as much as wiggle their fingers at him. I can’t take full credit for him; A close friend of mine came up with his name, personality and a couple aspects of his appearance. Carver:

Shark boi, mid 20s. Haven’t really decided on a solid backstory for him yet but I see him being a lot like Lee, in that he comes off as a tough guy because of a rough upbringing, but is a sweetie deep down. Easily flustered by being tickled but gets into a very affectionate mood from it. LOVES FOOD and enjoys preparing meals for fellow carnivorous/omnivorous mers. Has a frenemy relationship with Lito, because dolphins vs. sharks, and because both of them are muscleheads that like to one-up each other. Yes, he has two dicks. Fritz:

An Alp - aka, the German origins of ‘Elf.’ Physically in his early 20s, but probably a few centuries old. An absolute gremlin and only 3ft tall. Has a tarnkappe, aka invisibility cloak, which he uses to sneak into homes and pretend to be a poltergeist, steal snacks and raid junk drawers. Not inherently mean-spirited (unless he thinks you deserve it), but not the easiest to get along with unless you embrace his feral personality. Will watch or sit on people as they sleep and sometimes snuggle up to them if he’s feeling lonely, often leading to “sleep paralysis demon” hallucinations. Absolutely loves wrecking ticklish people, but will screech and cuss you out in German if you manage to turn the tides on him - while secretly enjoying the thrill and the challenge. @shunfluff suggested Fritz for his name!

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bscully · 4 years

Note

Will Moonlight Boy lose his life trying to save Guts and Casca?

Hello and thanks for the ask! Sorry for the wait!

I’m going to answer this with the current knowledge/concept I have of what the Moonlight Boy is, how he came into being, and how he relates to Griffith/Femto. (my recommendation: In case you don’t understand anything in this answer, read or at least skim over those two articles)

I thought about that. In general, yes, there is a risk for him to lose his life saving his parents and in doing so, he’d also rid Femto of the base of his dream as well (given he needs a body to possess in order to rule over the humans).

Like, Moonlight Boy dies, everyone else is alive, Femto becomes powerless because no human body to use/possess anymore. The End.

Maybe. Lol.

If it’s true that the Moonlight boy’s power is similar or equal to that of Femto’s then only a force equal or greater than that would be able to kill him. The idea that the moonlight boy’s power must be similar or equal to Femto’s comes from the fact that the boy is strong enough to break free from the shackles of his spiritual possession during full moons.

So what or who could possibly kill or have the intention to kill the Moonlight Boy?

A powerful astral force, that means Godhand-/Idea of Evil-Tier and higher

A group of powerful apostles might be a little bit too much for the boy to handle, too (but that depends how effective his abilities are against other apostles - we only saw how he used his abilities against lost souls/wraiths and familiars)

Rakshas could possiby become a threat to the Boy, who did mention to lob Griffith’s head off. We even see him perform an attempt on Griffith’s life in volume 23 (see pic below). If we go by the assumption Femto possesses the moonlight boy’s body, Femto himself would be untouched from the physical body (= moonlight boy) being killed, because he is an astral, not physical entity; which again, for me begs the question: who or what in the fuck is “Griffith” then? I feel like Griffith at this point is just a farce of Femto at this point to get his castle in the sky: #GriffithDoesntExistAnymore ya’ll

Assuming the moonlight boy is something that is akin to an apostle, the abyss of souls might be able to suck him in too, in a similar fashion to how Guts and the Snail apostle were attracted to it in the Black Swordsman Arc

Last but not least, Guts is also a threat to him as well, because he might still want to go kill Griffith, not knowing Griffith’s body is actually that of his son.

I’m going a lil bit off topic here but the train of thought here might be interesting to some, especially if you have more questions about Moonlight Boy/Griffith/Femto and how that could look like in the finale, so here’s much more babbling below the cut:

Can Femto kill the Moonlight Boy?

I think Femto in principle can do whatever he wants with him, though if he did kill him it’d be of no service for him, at least not now.

It may be different once Femto deems it of no use anymore to appear as Griffith before humankind (e.g. in the event he ascends a level higher into the astral plane, like Ganishka did) - then I can see Femto having a reason to kill the Moonlight Boy.

Can the Moonlight Boy kill Femto?

To answer that question, we must see whether how strong the Boy actually is.

At least, we just by what’s happening in Berserk we do know that they must have very similar powers and abilities:

Manipulation of Mind and Od:

> Femto/“Griffith” showing up as ethereal body (?) before the King of Midland died (this happened before Femto descended from the astral plane during the birth ceremony)

> Femto/”Griffith” showing up as vision in Zodd’s day dream

> The Demon Infant being able to project a dream or vision into Guts’ mind to make him go save Casca (again, this happened before the birth ceremony, so he was completely separated from Femto)

> The Moonlight Boy showing up as ethereal body before Berserker Guts

> The Moonlight boy shooing away a crocodile familiar

Summoning Souls:

> Femto/“Griffith” collecting souls and sending them “back”

> The Demon Infant controlling the heretics (assuming Demon Infant = Moonlight Boy)

Looking at all of this, this begs the question:

Is Femto only borrowing the moonlight boy’s power (which are similar if not the same as the demon infants’) or is he actually using his own?

Honestly? I feel like Femto is only borrowing them, because we are NEVER actually shown how Femto uses his power in the physical world, mostly because Femto is strictly an astral being, so his area of influence is not in the physical world. When Femto attempts to kill Guts and Casca as Skull Knights saves them during the Eclipse does NOT count, because it happens in an astral dimension. He usually enters the mind of people in the following cases (the ones that I remember on top of my head):

he pays the King of Midland a visit before he dies, assuming what the King saw was “real” and not just a hallucination (= a mere product of his brain)

he cuts off Zodd’s horn in a day-dream or vision in volume 17. This is the only time Femto’s actions have clear consequence in the physical world. And even then, you could argue this was only possible because Zodd is an apostle (aka an astral being that has connection to the astral realm anyways)

For whatever reason, moments before the World Transformation, Femto (not Neo-Griffith!!!!) appears before an ascended Ganishka. This is most intriguing actually - To find out whether that bit happened in the ASTRAL world or the PHYSICAL world, and also find out all its implications, I’ll have to read up and take a closer look!

For the Moonlight Boy to lose his life saving his parents, they must be exposed to great danger. That danger can be various, ranging from mythical/astral beings and apostles to the God Hand members (except Femto), as pointed out above.

Only when Femto/Griffith is located inside an astral dimension, Femto can be killed without harming the Moonlight Boy, or even the Moonlight Boy himself would be possibly able to kill Femto. Meanwhile, the Moonlight Boy is always in danger and his own father might even be a danger to him (cause everyone else thinks Griffith is Griffith and not Guts and Casca’s son; readers included lol). At least, in case Guts will never understand what happened to his own son (I honestly hope Casca will change that).

Consider that…

calling a Behelit does open up an astral dimension, usually depicted in the shape of a tornado (!!!)

The moment the astral dimension is opened via the behelit, Guts WILL NOT hesitate to take his chance to land a strike on Femto. If Guts or Casca get in danger doing so (other apostles pose a major threat) the moonlight boy will very likely save them

as long as Femto is possessing the Moonlight Boy, he will NOT be able to kill Guts nor Casca because of the moonlight boy’s feelings for his parents; it might look very differently if Femto occurs before him in his astral form only, without possessing the Boy. This is when Femto will be able to kill them as he pleases, and this is also when the Boy might lose his life saving them. Eventually, if the moonlight boy is killed, it also effectively destroys Femto/“Griffith”’s dream of the castle in the sky. That’s why for now, it’s in Femto’s interest to keep him alive.

So these following events will likely happen all at the same time:

Guts’ behelit will activate by someone who is close to him at the moment in time (does NOT have to be someone in his party), without necessarily making a sacrifice

Because of the shifting dimensions when making a sacrifice, Guts and Casca get a chance to save their son by killing Femto

The moonlight boy might be able to break free from Femto’s shackles all by himself anyway, if we consider that the moonlight boy has changed (Schierke notes a change of od between the two encounters). If you examine how he might have changed (done in one of the articles I linked above), it seems like as if he is resuming his original form. Is he slowly breaking free from Femto…? Someone activating the behelit might help the moonlight boy break free.

So: Can the Moonlight Boy kill Femto? Perhaps. I mean, I can see him doing it. Will the Moonlight Boy die trying to kill him in an act to save his parents? Yeah, possibly.

The boy attempting to break free or save his parents and dying doing so would be quite a paradox, given Femto would likely be the one that is threatening their lives in the first place (directly or indirectly).

#berserk #moonlight boy #griffith #theory #analysis #ask #prediction #Anonymous

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bris-writing-space · 4 years

Text

We Meet Once Again part 2

This part has been in the works since before I posted the first part. VV sad and very cliche. So, with a total of 1,348 words in this chapter, I present to you part two. ________

Throughout the next few months, Jameson saw the pink haired man at various locations at random times and dates. There was no rhyme or reason, just that it was happening and it seemed he was the only one to notice. So, Jameson began pretending not to notice him. It was easier than the first time, but he supposed that this time he knew it was impossible for him to be alive.

And so life went on. Seasons changed, Jameson convinced Chase to let him get another plant(an aloe this time, he was only allowed to get plants that Marvin couldn't react to). Maxine accidentally broke a vase when she jumped onto the counter. (Jameson still maintains it's Chase's fault because he keeps feeding her human food, and she learned it's easier to steal food off the counter.) (He's also begin to suspect that Anti has been doing the same thing.)

One day, Jack and Mark decided that it would be easier to keep track of all their 'children' (a title Jameson highly detested, he was older than those two combined) in one household. After long planning and searching(Mark apparently had a lot of egos), they all (the egos at least) settled down in November. Just days after his own birthday and a few before William's. Jameson was still decorating his room and sorting stuff when the ninth rolled around. (He gets distracted easily, don't blame him.) (Blame Jack.)

That morning, he didn't get out of bed. All the vigor he usually woke up with was gone. He stared at the ceiling for God knows how long, before turning over and staring at the vase on the desk. It was a smallish vase with a white carnation, pink aster, and a yellow marigold in between the two. He set it out sometime last night, but a part of him began wishing he hadn't.

He sighed and buried his head into his pillows. He felt the bed bounce a bit and small paws walk along his leg and back. The paws stopped in the middle of his back before a warm body settled there. The feline began purring as they both laid there.

Some time passed before there was a knock at the door. Jameson didn't move. Nothing followed the knock, so Jameson hoped assumed whoever knocked left. There was another knock followed by the door opening. Oh great, Chase. Don't get him wrong, Chase is great, but he's also bloody stubborn when it comes to get others to talk about their feelings. And today, Jameson doesn't want to do that.

So, Jameson just stayed where'd he was, face down in bed. He heard the feline meow then felt her stand up and stretch. Chase cooed at her as he (presumably) pet her.

"Are you awake?" Chase's voice was soft and quiet.

Jameson considered giving a snarky answer, but decided against it. The room became silent except for Maxine's purring. Jameson started drifting again.

He opened his eyes to the white ceiling, feeling warm and contented. He turned on his side (away from the desk) and yawned. He didn't do much else that day.

The next day Henrik asked him if he was doing fine. Jameson replied that he was just tired from all the moving (not entirely a lie) and left it at that. The following days were better and life continued on. (Even if he didn't want to.)

Ghosts and hallucinations were strange, Jameson decided one day. He found that he couldn't differentiate between reality and imagination sometimes. Or maybe he's could see ghosts and just hasn't realized it yet(and finally was now). Either case, the apparition(?) never spoke to him. Sometimes there was a small wave or smile (maybe even a nod), sometimes it just... existed.

It was always the same person, too. Almost the same. There were some changes, but Jameson could never forget someone like that. (Not that he could when he was being haunted by their ghost.(And face because that's a whole other thing too.)) He's thought of the possibility of him being alive, but there's a few problems. One, no one acknowledges him whenever Jameson sees him. Not even so much as a glance. Two, Jameson's from the mid- to late-30's and so was he. Three, well, this wasn't the first time he was being haunted by visions of his dead husband.

When husband first passed, Jameson swore he could still see him. He looked as real as the bed sheets below him. After a few weeks, he went to a doctor. He was reassured that it was a somewhat-normal way of processing grief. In time, when his own noggin was ready to, he'd stop seeing the 'ghost'. Well, it'd been a few years before he finally stopped seeing the 'ghost'. He hadn't even realized it'd been appearing less until one day he realized it'd been gone for several weeks. Like an old friend that you slowly stop seeing until they're gone. It never returned. Not until he met Mark's egos.

Jameson blinked awake as the book that had been in his hands fell. He picked the book up and set it on the coffee table. He hadn't been reading it anyway. Jameson sighed to himself and wondered if this how Chase felt when him and Stacy divorced. Except in Chase's case, Stacy is alive. And Chase wasn't literally being haunted by her ghost.

Some days later, Jameson was awoken to the sound of gunfire. He sat up in bed and stared at the door, blood pumping in the silence. Part of him wanted to investigate, but part of him also realized that it was a quick way to die from an intruder and that they were about 18 other people in the house who could do something about it. So he kind of sat there, his brain a little sluggish as his body was rushing with blood.

About an hour passed before he got out of bed, dressed, and went downstairs. Some of the other egos were already down here. All of them were variations of tired (except for Google because he "doesn't feel anything"). William was already down here. He looked like he was just crying, and Jameson wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. Did his subconscious know something already that he didn't?

Jameson set that thought off to the side. He was to tired to care at the moment. He went into the kitchen, and decided to make some tea for himself. While doing so, Chase came downstairs and ruffled Jameson's hair while passing him. Jameson frowned and fixed it.

After making the tea, Jameson poured into a coffee cup. He leaned against the counter, looking over at the other residents. They were all usually silent. (He's excluding Bing and Google because, not only are they softly humming, they were emitting soft clicks and beeps. Some of which, Jameson thinks, are them communicating to each other.) Jameson hid a smile behind his mug as William made a morbid joke about how quiet they were. Damien Dark slapped the back of William's head in response.

The sound of shattering ceramic made most of the tired egos sit up straighter, a few making noises of surprise. A few looked over at Jameson, trying to figure out what happened.

Meanwhile, Jameson stared at William, his hands shaking. His body was tense, a feeling of apprehension filled him. A slide flickered above Jameson, dying the moment it appeared. 'You're alive?' he finally signed.

William stared at him for a few seconds before signing back, 'pretty sure.' He paused. 'Plant whore.'

'Dumb fuck,' Jameson signed back. He finally moved, dodging Chase and someone else. William met him halfway, arms wrapping around each other. They held each other tight, both crying into each other.

I missed you so much, Jameson tapped onto William's back. They said you were gone and I just- Jameson sobbed.

"I'm right here," William whispered to him, "I'm not going anywhere." He tightened his grip. "Never again, my bellflower."

#jameson jackson #william-j.-barnum #mentions of gunshots #tw shooting #We Meet Once Again #ships exist #wilford warfstache x jameson jackson #angst #lots of contemplation #Maxine the cat #I don't remember the tags I previously used #jse egos

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as-write-as-rain · 5 years

Text

Once Upon A Dream (remix)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: A Sleeping Beauty/Winter Soldier remix, featuring the reader as a SHIELD agent who might have powers (or just a really finely tuned intuition)

Warnings: None. If you’ve seen and enjoyed Winter Soldier, you shouldn’t find anything troubling here.

This is the first chapter of a Fairy Tale AU for @moonbeambucky’s 5k Writing Challenge. Congratulations, Tara!!!! Sorry it’s so late. Hope you like it!

Chapter One

Gunshots. Squealing tires. Explosions. Breaking glass. Screams.

The Winter Soldier’s waking life was chaos divided into clean lines, dissociated destruction by the book, mindless obedient violence.

Every kill, every mission – they all lined up in an orderly fashion, tidiness to the pandemonium. He was never really there; it was all like a walking nightmare, a hallucination that didn’t even seem real. Like watching a movie or being in the passenger seat – he witnessed all the carnage as though he were seeing it secondhand; and later, as he sat buckled in his chair, waiting for cryofreeze, the distorted memory of it seemed like he might just have imagined it all.

And then the ice would come.

And he’d drift off, to a world that seemed more real than anything he experienced during the day.

Here everything was vivid and detailed, instead of hazy and confusing. His senses seemed heightened rather than deadened, and it was only here that he ever felt truly alive or awake anymore. He was himself again, once more in control of his thoughts and his actions.

And she was here.

She’d been appearing in his dreams for as long as he could remember – although, the way dreamworlds work, there’s nothing to really indicate any long term passage of time, so it’s not like he could have pinpointed her arrival even if he’d tried. But she was there, every night, no matter how the surroundings might change.

The time he spent with her was a paradise. They’d explored forests and jungles together, wandered the streets of Paris and New York, ridden camels through the desert and dog sleds across the tundra. They’d watched the sunset on the beach, the sun-warmed sand beneath their feet; and lain in soft meadows gazing at star-strewn night skies. At times, their adventures could even be fantastical, filled with mythical creatures or impossible physics that allowed them to fly or breathe underwater. The one constant was her presence, and her love became his gravity.

Tonight, she met him on the banks of a quiet lake, surrounded by a forest ablaze with autumn color. At her feet lay two bundled blankets and a large lidded basket; several yards away there was a dock, at the end of which sat a rowboat. She turned towards him and stretched out an arm, beckoning him to join her, smiling that beautiful smile that made his heart leap.

There wasn’t another soul to be seen anywhere; just orange and yellow and red leaves, both on the trees surrounding the lake, and in their reflection in its clear waters. A small island floated in the middle of the lake, aglow with more fall foliage. The trees contrasted beautifully with the bright blue sky; the air was fresh and crisp. He inhaled deeply, relishing the scent, and joined her at the water’s edge, drinking in the gorgeous view. She leaned against him, and he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her close to his side. Her warmth was welcome against the chill in the air, but somehow he was dressed in weather-appropriate clothing, so he was comfortable either way.

He helped her into the boat, and then stepped in himself, taking the oars in hand. She was a vision, wrapped in one of her blankets and smiling up at him, surrounded by the riotous beauty of fall, and he was certain this must be paradise.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Her voice was nearly a whisper, so as not to disturb the idyllic scene; but he heard her with perfect clarity.

He gave a lopsided smile, shrugging. “Sometimes I just can’t believe you’re real.”

Her laugh was musical, as she dropped her gaze and flushed. “I feel the same way.”

He steered the boat lazily around the lake, with not so much a destination in mind as a desire to really allow themselves to steep in the gorgeous view. The sun slowly moved across the sky, and when he estimated it was probably close to four, he set his course for the island. He steadied the boat for her to climb out, and then he joined her on the gently sloping shore, securing the vessel so it would not float away and leave them stranded.

Just as he was turning to help set up their picnic, the scene began to change, colors spinning and whirling together.

The trees ballooned and stretched all around him, suddenly surging closer as though in movement. The reflection of their new bell-like shapes still danced across the water – though, now that he looked, the surface of the lake itself seemed to solidify into a glassy floor. Walls materialized in the distance, lined with elegant pillars and filled with windows revealing nothing but the clear night sky. The light in the air wavered and dimmed, seemingly cast from thousands of candles throughout the expansive room. Beautiful music swelled from a small orchestra perched on a balcony. Reflections of flickering candlelight danced on the burnished floor, as couples whirled by in a kaleidoscope of color.

He looked down to discover he was clad in a velvety jacket, complete with tails – and the strangest pants/boots combo he’d ever worn. But before he could further contemplate this, a sudden fanfare sounded. The whole room paused, turning as one towards the staircase, to glimpse the newcomer.

She was beauty personified, layers of fluffy tulle cascading from her waist, giving her the appearance of wearing a cloud – or perhaps cotton candy, as the iridescent sheen of her gown seemed to shift from silvery blue to pale lavender to a sheer pink when she moved. The gems scattered across her mask flashed in the candlelight as she turned her head. She stood tall and stately, serenely surveying the ballroom, but there was something in the way that she carried herself that quietly radiated power. He could tell just by looking at her that she was not someone he wanted to cross. He was instantly captivated, and felt irrevocably drawn to her like a magnet.

She descended as though she were floating, and he deftly made his way around the edge of the room to intercept her at the foot of the stairs. Their eyes met, and he struggled to catch his breath. Warm and welcoming, sharp and wise, sparkling with wit and mischief – how could one pair of eyes speak so much? He felt as though she could see through to his very soul.

They stared at one another for several long seconds, as he struggled vainly to find something impressive to say. Seemingly coming to her senses, eyelashes fluttering, she dipped into a low curtsy. He bowed deeply in response; then, when she delicately placed her gloved hand into his outstretched one, he led her onto the dance floor.

The rest of the world seemed to fade away as they waltzed together. “Do I know you?” He asked earnestly, searching her face. “I have the funniest feeling I’ve met you somewhere before…”

“I’m sure I’d remember,” She demurred coyly. He felt a shiver along his spine when he heard her voice. She was entirely bewitching, and he couldn’t fight the conviction that he knew her. His mind warred with itself, torn between wanting to discern why she was so achingly familiar, and the desire to simply lose himself in this moment and fully enjoy her radiant presence. He surrendered to the latter.

They swept along the dancefloor, moving together in effortless harmony, their bodies in perfect tune with one another. The music seemed to surround them, enveloping them in a reverie, and he felt like they were dancing across the sky. The way his heart was winging undoubtedly helped to sustain that sensation.

He didn’t know how long they danced, as one song bled into another; all he knew was that he held an angel in his arms, and he never wanted to let go. He was lost in her adoring gaze, vaguely aware that his own expression must be a mirror of hers. Finally, he could bear it no longer, and slowly, hesitantly, tilted his face towards hers, hoping she would meet him in a kiss.

But before their lips could touch, the music started to change, transforming into a brassy calliope. It mingled with distant shouts and whoops, as the chatter of the nearby dancers became gradually louder. Scents of hot dogs and popcorn and fried dough wafted on the breeze. The shapes of the couples throughout the dancefloor began stretching and shifting as though they were reflections in a funhouse mirror. The sky – when had there been sky? – brightened, and he could feel the sun warming his face. Someone jostled his shoulder as they strode past, apologizing quickly; and when he turned back around he found Steve walking beside him. Already he couldn’t remember what he had just been doing, and instead was filled with the certainty that the two of them had been here, at Coney Island for hours.

As they strolled down the avenue, examining the various games, they heard a commotion several stalls away. Turning a corner, they saw a woman arguing with one of the game attendants; apparently she did not take kindly to being called a cheater.

“I won the top prize, fair and square! Fork it over, buddy.” Her hands were clenched, her expression so fierce that Bucky wouldn’t have been surprised if sparks started flying from her eyes.

“There’s no way you hit all the targets without cheating, missy. You’re not going to get away with hustling me!”

Bucky noted with amusement how wide the man’s eyes grew when he and Steve approached the booth and leaned nonchalantly against the counter. He supposed they must seem rather intimidating.

“Something wrong, miss?” Bucky felt a strange sense of déjà vu, and a strong instinct to protect and support this woman. Maybe he’d met her before?

She turned her glare on him, her jaw set. “This bozo doesn’t believe a girl can shoot well enough to beat his stupid game. And if he doesn’t watch himself, I’m gonna show him just how good a shot a girl can be.” She reached for the plastic gun tethered to the counter and the barker’s expression grew even more alarmed.

Bucky turned away to hide a snicker, and Steve spoke up. “Why don’t you give her another free go-round and we’ll all see for ourselves? Sound fair?”

The man grudgingly agreed, resetting the game. She picked up the gun and fired several shots in quick succession, knocking over half the targets; in under a minute, she had decimated all of the tiny men, and Bucky had never wanted so badly to kiss a dame. She tipped the fake pistol up and blew away imaginary smoke, before dropping it back onto the counter. Cocking an eyebrow at the game attendant, she popped her hip and crossed her arms, practically daring him to say something. He looked like he was about to argue, but after the quickest of glances back at Bucky and Steve, he heaved a disgruntled sigh and grabbed the biggest stuffed animal off the shelf.

Crisis averted, the woman turned off her murder eyes and smiled brightly, thanking the man in a tone that wasn’t quite patronizing (but was awfully close). Then she turned to him and Steve, and in a much more gracious tone of voice, said, “And thanks to both of you, too. I was perfectly capable of handling that myself, but a girl does appreciate allies every now and then.”

“Oh, I have absolutely no doubt of that, sugar. But I do hate to see a man mistreating a woman, so I felt compelled to intervene.” He gave her an easy smile, feeling remarkably comfortable in her presence, though he couldn’t put his finger on precisely why she seemed so familiar.

She looked him over appraisingly, and her expression seemed to indicate that she liked what she saw. Her gaze flickered briefly over to Steve and back before asking, “Can I treat you two to some ice cream? As a reward?”

Both men agreed readily, neither one capable of turning down dessert, and soon the three of them were ambling towards the confectionery, discussing favorite flavors. She let Bucky carry her prize when he offered, and Steve gave him a surreptitious wink, falling back behind the two of them and allowing Bucky to dominate the conversation.

Bucky’s spirits were high, and he was really enjoying chatting with his new(?) friend. But when they got their cones, he found that the ice cream was cold, way too cold, and it made his joints feel weird. Then suddenly there was a jumble of other sensations and a jolt of pain, some muffled yelling in a strange language –

and then he was falling awake.

#taras5kwritingchallenge #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #fairy tale au #marvel #once upon a dream (remix)

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