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famwhy · 1 year

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Midnight Gardenias

Tangerine X Reader

Word Count: 3,439

Warnings: cussing, blood, little bit of gore (not too much detail), alcohol

This fic was inspired by the amazing @aeaean--bliss and their fic maybe. Please go check it out if you haven't already - it's a really good read, I promise 🙏

Weeks.

It had been weeks since he last texted. Weeks since he asked where you were. Weeks since you've had any form of contact with him.

Stupid. That's what it was. All of it. It was all so stupid.

Sure, you did kind of tell him to leave but that didn't mean you wanted him to leave your life. Granted, he wasn't a mind-reader but still. He should've used common sense to gauge as much.

Now that he was gone, ironically enough, you were just constantly being tortured with thoughts of him, him, him. Just him.

When you went to the ice cream parlour the other day, a man behind the counter had a tash and you couldn't help but think that Tan's was a hundred times better. Similarly, when you heard a hint of a British accent that sounded more Northern, you compared it to the Brit you knew's accent - quite obviously preferring it over the random man.

Hell, you couldn't even watch a West Ham game without thinking of him and his stupid socks with the logo printed onto them. West Ham was supposed to be your favourite football team, not something that reminded you of him!

And it was so dumb - it was just so dumb - that you were probably the only one suffering; that your feelings were probably left unreciprocated. It hurt so much. It felt like a giant claw ripped through your flesh to grab at your heart and dig its sharp teeth into it, all-the-while Tan stood there, watching with a scoff of derision, mocking you for falling in love with him like the little shit he was.

Frustration couldn't even begin to describe what you felt towards your whole situation.

"Dammit, what was I gonna do again?"

Ah, that's right, you were about to watch The Mandalorian.

God, you wished you had a man like Mando. A caring guy who was sort of stand-offish but not to a degree where he was a complete jerk; more so to the perfect degree of optimum mysterious-ness any girl would want in a guy. And the fact that he was a good dad added like, a hundred more attractive points to his list of desirable traits.

But nooo, you just had to get a guy who was so in over his head with every action he did, it was atrocious.

A continuous 'beep!' coming from your fridge had your foggy eyes clear up and scan through the open capsule for what you originally wished to source out. Unfortunately, it was almost completely empty. How wonderful.

"When will life ever go my way?"

With a swing of your arm, you slammed the door shut.

Now, you wished you could say that you saw it coming and were able to move out of the way just in time but— that would just be a lie. It had all happened way too fast.

The wobbling of the fridge as the door shut; the container at the top abruptly being thrown off balance; and the sharp spike of pain that erupted from the top of your scalp.

"Argh! Shit!"

That hurt like a bitch.

As your hand slowly rose up to rub against your poor head, a small 'ding!' came from your phone.

Seemed as though something wanted your attention.

Jerk r u home rn? 12:35 p.m.

What's this? Did someone decide they were suddenly on speaking terms with you again?

The thought had you rolling your eyes.

Jerk Y/N, i don't have time for games 12:37 p.m.

Ha, this was coming from the same guy who just loved to play games with your mind when it came to his feelings.

Just who the hell did he think he was? Going AWOL on you for a couple of weeks just to hit you up with a text at twelve-thirty in the night asking if you were home; as though he didn't just torture you with thoughts on whether or not you messed everything up and caused him to leave you for good; as though he wasn't causing you to lose your fucking mind trying to decipher what the fuck he meant whenever he parted his lips to say something just to not say anything at all; as though he wasn't the only thing on your mind since you first met all that time ago.

Ridiculous. His audacity was utterly ridiculous.

Well... from the looks of things, it seemed like he wasn't going to send another text.

Good riddance.

Him and his pride could go fuck themselves.

Jerk love, please, i need you 12:41 p.m.

He left you alone for weeks without any form of contact, weeks without any sort of apology.

He stepped all over you like a fucking doormat; left your body aching from head-to-toe from the constant rejection; had your eyes bulging out from how desperately you didn't want to give him your tears.

You should hate him.

So then, why...?

...why was it that you found your fingers gliding across the screen as soon as you registered that last text in your head?

He needed you.

He'd never said that before.

Maybe...

Maybe you could—?

You yh, i'm home 12:41 p.m.

No response, just a simple 'read' underneath - of course. Why did you even let yourself hope for anything more?

No sort of elaboration, nothing. Just left you in the dark with no explanation whatsoever for why he asked that question.

Weeks of not talking or contacting you at all and then he just hit you with that. He was probably on his way to freeload off of you right now.

Pathetic. Not just him, but you too. How could you let him bounce off of you like that? He was a fucking leech and you just let him drain you dry.

You almost didn't notice when there was a knock at your door - whoever it was could wait—

—except, no, apparently they couldn't - for, not long after, the knocks turned into several slams done in rapid succession. Those, paired with the migraine you were starting to get for trying to decipher the indecipherable, made for a killer ache inside your head; one that was really starting to grind your gears.

The knocking continued.

"Fucking— I'm coming, alright?!"

You grumbled under your breath, bitter feelings for the man you loved seeping into your current mood; ready to be unfairly unleashed onto the poor individual stood at your door.

"What the fuck do you...?" You trailed off, one hand against the handle of your now-open door, one hand losing its grip on your hip to flop by your side as you gazed on in astonishment.

There, stood before you, was Tangerine. Though, that wasn't what surprised you.

No, instead, what surprised you was the darker patch of blue on his waistcoat and the crimson seeping through his white undershirt, staining it and causing it to look grossly soggy.

He was hurt.

"Holy shit! You're bleeding."

"Is that so? I didn't fucking notice."

He hissed the sentence out, venom coating his tongue and frustration written clear on his visage - directed straight at you as though you were the one in the wrong here. The fucking audacity.

You parted open your mouth, ready to yell at him through unfiltered lips; burning with bottled up rage that was ready to spill over like a witch's wicked brew in a cauldron when—

"Argh! Fuck me!"

His knees started to buckle and his legs nearly gave out as he winced, buckling over with both muscular arms wrapping around his gut. The sight was foreign to your eyes. You had never seen him so weak.

"Holy shit," you cussed again, moving to aid him back up.

Of course, him being the stubborn little shit he was, he damn near pushed you away as soon as you offered up help. Luckily, he lost too much blood for the push to actually do anything.

...was it appropriate to call that lucky?

While you would have loved to ponder your fucked up morality further, the sticky substance that soaked through your fingertips seemed to call for your attention with a higher priority.

"Holy shit—" the cold substance ran down your arm, "—what the fuck? I should call the ambulance at least."

"No."

His voice was stern and abrupt; callous and uncaring. His brows had furrowed so deeply and his expression became near-deadly. He had never looked at you with such animosity before. It caused a pang of pain to shoot through your heart.

Just how much did you not know about this man?

"Argh! Fuckin' 'ell!"

He winced, eyes screwing shut and expression loosening up into one you would describe as more vulnerable than before.

Vulnerable was something you were around him, not the other way around. It felt strange. It felt wrong.

"You gonna let me in or have me fuckin' bleed out 'ere, love?"

"Shit."

Similarly to how he aided you back when you last saw each other - you looped one of his arms around your neck, the cold metal of his rings sending familiar, pleasant shivers down your spine, and helped carry him inside by shifting a majority of his weight onto you. It was almost a little funny how the role reversal came into play. If you were delusional, you might have even called it fate.

Lucky you weren't delusional.

"Jesus-fuckin'-christ," he cussed, anger as prevalent as ever while you slowly laid him down on the soft, plush couch, "can't believe that fucking bastard got me."

The blood was still seeping through his wound, not quite gushing out but certainly leaving an impression on your poor couch.

The wound was huge and utterly ugly. For a moment, you wondered what it would feel like if you had obtained it.

Your heartbeat picked up its pace. Perhaps you shouldn't have imagined that.

"What the fuck? What the fuck?!"

His pained expression wasn't making things any better— just what on Earth did he get himself into?!

"Holy shit! I should call Lemon at least, right?!"

"He's busy."

"He's busy?!" You stared at him, utterly bewildered, "what on earth could he be doing that stops him from helping out his injured brother?!"

He didn't respond, only choosing to grunt as he shifted in his seat.

It was stupid - utterly stupid - that he thought it was perfectly fine to pull up to your house in the middle of the night, crimson seeping out his stomach like a luscious waterfall only seen in fantasy movies, knock on your door, and stumble into your house while denying you the right to call the ambulance - the very organisation that was made to deal with these types of messes!

"Tan, do you know how fucked up this is?!"

He didn't respond again. Whether or not it was on purpose, you were unsure of. That wound was probably hindering his ability to speak but, knowing him, he also probably didn't wish to either.

"Fuck. Okay, okay—" you took in a deep breath through your nose, "—okay. Lemme just..."

Your knees thudded against the ground and your hands reached out, fingertips curling around his now-red, linen shirt.

"How did you even get so hurt in the first place?"

It had been an off-handed comment, whispered as such. You weren't expecting an answer so - when his hand shot to your own and clenched it with such strength, you had gasped and winced - to say that you were surprised would be an understatement.

His grip loosened not long after and your eyes trailed from his wound to his face, making contact with the softened hues that were almost laced in... desperation?

"Love, no."

At first, you thought he was talking about treating his wound - but that didn't make sense. If he didn't want you to treat his wound - to help him - he wouldn't have come to your house in the first place.

No, he must've been talking about your question. Of course he wouldn't want you to know how it happened. What did you expect?

"Fine," you lamented, "I won't pry. Just... let me help you."

He paused for a moment, as if letting the thought load, before ultimately letting go of your hand and leaning back - another wince making its way onto his face.

You took that as a sign to lift his shirt - and boy was it a sight to see.

Luckily, there didn't seem to be any green so it was most likely not infected, meaning he still had a shot to live. The wound was large but you were no medical expert, you had no clue whether or not he could die from it and, quite frankly, you didn't wish to find out.

"What's the ma'er, love? Can't handle a bi' of blood?"

How he had the capacity to be his snarky self while this injured was beyond you.

"No, I've just never seen such..." you trailed off, searching for the word, "...copious amounts of it."

"Ya get used to it after awhile."

Ha, so this wasn't new, was it? Made sense, you were freaking out more than he was and he was the one with the excruciating wound.

"How do I...? How do I treat it?"

He rose a brow. "You don't know how to treat a wound?"

"Hey, I got a degree in law, not medicine."

He grunted, shifting up a little. "D'you have a first-aid kit on ya?"

"Never had the need for one. I have bandages though?"

"No use if the wound i'n't clean." He sighed. "What about alcohol?"

You rose a skeptical brow.

"Not for me— well, it is for me but not in the way you think." He then gave you a pointed look. "I know you have alcohol on ya, you've always 'ad a problem with it."

Perhaps the timing was inappropriate but, you could feel your stomach flutter at the prospect that he remembered such a trait about you.

"Yeah, I've got some in the kitchen."

He nodded and you pushed yourself back onto your feet, gaze trained onto the entrance of your kitchen.

"Stay here."

"Yeah, well, I'm not fuckin' goin' anywhere, am I?"

"Really? Because with how you've been gone for the past few weeks, I'm inclined to believe that - even with a wound like that - you would get up and leave as soon as I turn my back on you."

His jaw stiffened and you could see it; you could see the urge to talk resting on his tongue. But - like always - he refrained from saying another word.

How disappointing. But then again, not unexpected.

You trudged to the kitchen, bare feet making contact with the cold ground as you stepped upon the white tiles that had slowly gone grey as the years went by, monotonous just like your life once was before you had the pleasure of meeting Tan. You couldn't exactly say you wished to go back to it.

Every day you would wake up, get ready, go to work, go home, then go out. Each time looking for a new guy to latch onto. The colours of your world back then were different to now, you couldn't say they were more vibrant or any less dazzling but you could say they were different. Back when you weren't hung up on a guy who had the balls to show up to your door at midnight with a huge, gaping wound in his stomach.

You tugged yourself away from your thoughts to retrieve the large, glass bottle resting at your top cabinet; fingers lacing around the rim with a certain level of experience only seen in an alcoholic. Many would describe you as one. You would too.

"Alright," you spoke, making your way back towards the male, "I've got it. Now what?"

"What d'you think? Pour it over the wound."

You could go without the snark.

With a roll of your eyes and a small huff, you crouched back down beside him, slowly lifting his shirt and dark waistcoat to once more observe the injury. That thing was really horrible to look at.

As you took the sight in again, his gaze trailed to your phone, still open with the texts you exchanged displayed clearly on the screen, and he rose a brow.

"'Jerk'? You havin' a laugh, love?"

"Yeah. And it's a damn good one too."

He just rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious, Tan. You left me hanging for weeks - almost a month - and then you come knocking on my door at midnight with blood all over you? What the fuck do you want from me?"

"Nothin', I don't—" he winced and let out a grunt as you poured the liquid onto the hole, "—don't want nothin'."

You didn't believe him. Not for a second.

"Really?"

"Look, dahlin', I really don't wanna do this right now."

"Too bad—" you gave him a pointed look, "—because we're doing this. Right here. Right now."

"I just said I don't wanna fuckin' do this."

"Yeah? And I don't give a fuck what you want right now."

"Love— argh! Fuck!— please."

"No, I—"

"Fuckin' 'ell," he cut you off, venom practically hissed through gritted teeth, "are you deaf or some'n? Just close your bloody mouth."

The room fell into dead silence. Not a word was spoken, not a chirp in the air - just the incessant ticking sounds of your clock echoing in the background, reminding you that - though you were going through the most frustrating thing right now - time still moved regardless. No one cared.

Once again, like the street lamps had back when you were in his car, your lights coated him in that warm blanket of orange. You just wanted to scream at them for being so misleading, for trying to trick your mind into thinking this man was anything but cold and ruthless.

Ha, you were going mad. Wanting to yell at an inanimate object? As if.

You stood abruptly, walking over to a nearby shelf to slide open another cabinet with a roll of gauze inside before silently returning to the couch - sight set on covering his wound. You may have just had an argument, but you were no monster.

Then, he spoke again.

"You changed up the house a bit since I last came."

'Oh, is that so?' you wanted to say, 'who gives a fuck?'

His attempt at a conversation was pathetic. He was pathetic.

'You're pathetic.' you longed to tell him.

But instead, you opted to muttering, albeit a little bitterly, "wanted to spruce the place up a little."

'Anything to distract me from you.'

"It's nice." He hummed before going silent.

Your nails then dug into the edge of the gauze, pulling and prodding at it until a corner gave way before you were able to further force it apart.

"Sit up. Away from the armrest." You muttered.

He did so without question or objection.

You then reached around his body - both arms mere centimetres away from embracing his abdomen; breath fanning against his toned chest and nose barely grazing his skin - before sticking the gauze onto his back and winding it around to his front.

"Ya go'a do it a li'le harder than that, love."

You frowned before tugging, with way more force than necessary, and adding, "this hard enough for ya?"

His wince made way for a small, fleeting feeling of satisfaction to blossom in your chest. A small bit of revenge for the acres of pain he had caused you these past couple of weeks.

Served him right.

You didn't say a word when you were done, didn't even give a snide look that would blatantly tell him what you were thinking. Just pulled away, one hand clenching tightly around the gauze, one hand reaching out for your phone.

He only spoke again when you reached the door frame, hand placed on it in the same position as his once was, back facing him and eyes trained on your staircase.

"For what it's worth, love, I really am sorry."

Yeah. You were too.

#tangerine #bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #x female reader #x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #bullet train fanfic

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yandere-daydreams · 2 years

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Dottore is not a man who can love gently.

Not that he tries especially hard to. In the past, in the privacy of his personal laboratory, he's confessed his distaste for attempting to preserve his test subjects, how tedious he finds administering anesthetics to be when a simple cut to the spinal cord can do the trick with half the fuss. His comfort is minimal, forced, limited to a few white capsules and vague promises of shallower lacerations and neater stitchwork for well-behaved patients, and he's rarely ever kinder to himself - often forgoing food and rest for days at a time when he stumbles onto a phenomenon that interests him, willing to cut away bits and pieces of himself if it means he might find something that hadn't been there before. It's a habit you can't help but encourage, if only to indulge the childish fantasy that one day, he might decide to cut away until there's nothing left.

You aren't exempt from his harsh affection either, although your days on his vivisection table are long past. He's come to see you as something of a lap dog rather than a lab rat, and while you're willing to admit that you're more content cleaning his scalpels than being the reason they need to be cleaned, he's still far from kind to you. There's no peace, not with him, no sentimental warmth or domestic treacle - your life is still as cold as it was when the only human contact you ever received was a guard's hand clamped around your wrist, when the only time you heard another person's voice was during the long, agonizing minutes Dottore set aside to explain exactly what your 'treatment' would entail that day. He's always liked playing physician, leaning into his namesake. You think he finds it entertaining, or failing that, ironic enough to be amusing. You think that he sees himself as a caretaker, in his own, sadistic way.

Even in his softest moments, he's still so cruel. Late at night, when you're stripped of all that soothes you and curled up in his bed, he likes to ramble, to run a finger over the name carved into your back as he describes just how he'd go about cutting open your chest and holding your heart in his hand, or draining out half of your blood and replacing it with his own, or plucking your eyes from your skull and fashioning them into a pair of rings the two of you can exchange when he finally brings you before the Tsaritsa, as the other Harbingers have done with their ill-gotten lovers. Gory things, visceral things, all soaked in blood and dredged up from the deepest trenches of his warped mind. He despises your delicacy with a quiet passion, as well, loathes the fact that there's only so much he can do to you before you break apart in his hands, but that rarely stops him from testing to see exactly where that limit lies. You can't remember the last time there hadn't been a ring of bruises around your neck, like an ever-present collar to remind you of his vicious love.

And it is love. You can't say that it isn't mostly obsession, an infatuation that's rotted from inside out, nor that what he does to you will ever manage to spark any kind of fondness in your heart, but by his standards, it is love, or something like love, at the very least. You've seen how he treats the other test subjects, the ones he never came to hold any tenderness for, and you know that he loves you, that he must love you, that you wouldn't be alive if he didn't. You can't help but imagine it, in the dull hours you spend on his lap while he reviews his underlings' reports - how your body might've looked, bleeding out on the floor of his laboratory as his next victim is hauled in, how long you would've lasted if he truly didn't care for you at all.

You can't help but wish that he loved you enough to put you out of your misery.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere prompts #yandere drabble #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin impact #yandere genshin imagines #yandere dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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shunshunrika · 11 months

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Jujutsu Kaisen characters and things/feelings they remind me of, Let's gO

YUUJI ITADORI

Collecting beetles, Fishing trips, sound of crickets in the summer, the feeling when classes are cancelled in the afternoon, grandparents' unconditional love, Planning trips with childhood friends, Helping out at local orphanages, orange flavored sour candy, waking up to see you have an hour till the alarm goes off, complimenting random people, blowing bubbles in the backyard, smiles that convey more than words. Beach Weather songs.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

Collecting seashells on the beach, aquarium visits, white and beige clothing, sunny skies and cool breeze, newspapers, broken phone screens and brand new headphones, forests, polished dress shoes, notes from sister, a hanky your mom made for you, a spare pair of round sunglasses you find under your childhood bed, blue lemonade, lifelong friendships, unwavering loyalty, moral compass. Conan Grey songs.

NOBARA KUGISAKI

Retro futuristic scene in modern Tokyo, lipstick on baseball jersey, Unplanned trips to Sephor and Ulta, a thousand pairs of clip on piercings, naval tattooes, chunky sneakers, acing tests to prove sexist teachers wrong, bathtub covered in hair dye, love letters to senpai, wired earphones, time capsule buried 10 years ago, first snow of the year, tumblr addiction, dad's rusty toolbox, random rips in clothes, finding money in pant pockets. Meghan Trainor songs.

SATORU GOJO

Being the relatives' favorite kid, pats on the head, well ironed shirts that wrinkle in an hour, karaoke booths, digimon figurines, blue led lights, early morning breeze, raindrops on glass, cloud-gazing, spa days, model united nations brat, your soulmate being your bestfriend, loneliness, dining in restaurants alone, train trips, broken promises, the pressure of being at the top. Periwinkle flowers. Baseball dates. Panic at the disco playlists.

MAKI ZENIN

Long eyelashes dusting your cheeks, Heels that push you over 6 feet, biker gang, Worn out karate uniforms, cracked glasses, scalp itchy from hair ties, cocoa butter lip balms, prioritizing one's ambitions, your parents never acknowledging you, minty deodrant and mouthwash, sour relations, gritting teeth, shoulders straight, skorts, dewy makeup, dead of fall, surprise birthday parties, Ava Max music.

YUTA OKKOTSU

Black and white wardrobe, manga addiction, gummy vitamins, straight A student, movie theatres after the crowd leaves, someone's watching me, self help book, under eye cream, calligraphy, kyoto visits, forehead kisses, everything's going to be fine, first friendship, traffic signals, overcast skies, stargazing, promise rings, last days of winter, Billie eilish music.

#gojo fluff #gojo smut #jjk fanart #itadori #jujutsu kaisen #megumi #geto suguru #gojo satoru #jjk #nobara fluff #maki zenin #yuta okkotsu #jjk fanfic #jjk drabble #jjk imagine #anime fluff #fushiguro #sukuna #thirst

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bloodyknucklesforme · 1 month

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First Course | Guest Check

Nina Irons lost her entire family in a car crash over a year ago. She's twenty five and struggling to find her place among the grief and anxiety. She hates her job as a server at 141, one of London's up and coming restaurants. Her only motivation is keeping up appearances for the two people who've always care for her, John Price, a family friend and owner/head chef of 141, and Kyle Garrick, her childhood best friend and occasional boyfriend.

(the official beginning of a serialized restaurant AU 💙)

“You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” Price assured, rubbing the back of her neck. The house seemed larger sitting at the top of the hill. It looked like she remembered it. Brown brick with a black roof, Edwardian. She didn’t know why it wouldn’t, Price had been taking care of it.

“We’ll support you no matter what.” Kyle said, reaching from the back seat to rub her arm.

“It’s been over a year. I have to do it at some point.” She sighed. A year since her family died. She should have gone back home sooner. She’d kept them waiting in that house. Ghosts or something worse.

Price pulled up into the driveway. She was the first out of the car. The gardenia bush out front was starting to bloom. Her mum always loved having flowers around the house. It made sense with her name being Poppy. Price slipped the key into hand.

“We’ll follow your lead, love.”

It was dusty but not as bad as she would have thought. Price had done a good job of taking care of everything. He always had. He and her father were good friends at one point though her mum never seemed to like him.

“It’s weird being back, isn’t it.” Kyle said, coming up behind her to rest his chin on her shoulder. Growing up they rarely played here, preferring his house or the woods. Her house was reserved for special events; Christmas Eve, New Year’s, Easter and celebratory dinners. Kyle’s dad was in the same regiment as Price and her father. Her father was their Captain and had them address him as such even when they both retired before him.

The house was always very white. White walls, white table cloths, white carpet in the bedrooms. Her father was a self proclaimed traditionalist and didn’t let anyone paint. Despite photographic evidence that the house was colourful when he was young. He had to have control over everything.

“C’mon.” She tugged Kyle’s hand and pulled him upstairs. The stairs creaked the same. A shiver ran down her spine when she stepped onto the rug in the upstairs hallway. “Oh, fuck we didn’t take off our shoes.”

She plopped down to take them off but it didn’t matter. Her father wasn’t here to yell at her or her mother to sigh at her. Her laces hung loosely in her fingers.

“Do you want help?” Kyle asked, crouching in front of her. He was the one that taught her how to tie her shoes when they were little. He always afforded her more patience than anyone else except maybe Price. Where was he?

“No, I’m fine.” She stood up, shoes still on.

She stopped by her brother’s room. All her bravery left when she touched the door knob. They didn’t get along well but he was her baby brother. Baby Sebastian. He was only sixteen when he died. He deserved better. All his football posters would still be up. His books for his A levels would still be on his desk. His bed unmade, clothes strewn over the floor. She left the door unopened.

Her room had been a time capsule longer than the rest of the house. When she left for Uni she never planned on coming back. It still looked like the bedroom of a little girl. White furniture with pink curtains and linens. The rug was floral and pastel. The closet had long been emptied, the bookshelf too. The windows were still secured with extra locks.

“Remember when you snuck me in one night and your dad came home early. Seb told us and I had to climb out the window.” Kyle chuckled.

It was back when they were dating as teens. They weren’t doing anything except laying on her bed and talking. Her mum had a “if I didn’t see it didn’t happen” policy. Seb always liked Kyle so he came rushing in. He was sweeter when he was nine.

“Piss off.” Nina threw a pillow at him.

“Dad’s home.” He said, dodging the pillow. “We have to hide Kyle.”

Her father would never hurt Kyle, just yell at him until his father arrived to pick him up. Her on the other hand. He never got over the rumours about her that floated around school. No matter how much she told him that it wasn’t true, he always looked like he was one infraction away from calling her a slut.

“Go distract him.” Kyle said. “This is now a special ops mission. You, Seb, are integral to this mission’s success. Nina will give you a signal once I’m away. Okay?”

“Understood.” Seb grinned, giving him a salute before running downstairs. It was lucky her room was on the corner. They waited till they heard the front door open before opening the window.

“Stay safe,” Kyle gave her a kiss before climbing out. It had seemingly worked until her father came upstairs to remind her that her room was above the dining room and he’d seen Kyle run across the side of the garden to grab his bike. The locks were on the window the next day. She’d just been glad Kyle hadn’t gotten in trouble with his parents. They’d always been more understanding.

“Thought you were going to break your ankle.”

“Almost did.” He chuckled. He kissed her cheek before sighing “Things you do for love.”

She only grabbed her old rabbit plush off the bed. He’d need a good wash but after that he could resume his usual position of guarding her bed. She tucked it lovingly into her bag.

She’d never really been in her parent’s bedroom while they were alive. It was always off limits unless her mum asked her to grab something.

The bed was made. The laundry all put away. It felt like it had been laid out for a magazine or an open house.

She dug around in her mum’s jewellery box. It was mostly dainty little pieces with the standouts being gaudy large gems for military balls and alike. Nina dug around in the dresser, pulling out jumpers that she wanted to keep.

There was a book in the back of the drawer. An old journal. Her mother was a religious diarist but this one wasn’t with the others by her desk. Nina flipped it open. January 1998. It would have been from before she was born. She’d never had much interest in her mum’s diaries. They all seemed uninteresting. She blamed her father for that.

Poppy could have had an interesting life. She could have been a starving artist, fluttering about Europe instead she got married too young to a too old man. Had a baby with him - a baby that he didn’t seem to want. It didn’t make sense to her to give all that up. Nina was the same age she was when she had her.

She didn’t feel ready to be married or have a baby. If she found out tomorrow Kyle knocked her up she’d probably get rid of it. He was a better man than her father but she didn’t know if she would be a better mother.

She slipped the journal in her bag as well. The air in the house was starting to feel stiff and heavy. Too much for today.

“Let’s find Price.” She said, bumping Kyle’s shoulder with her head.

He was in the conservatory. A little glass room off the back of the house. It was the one addition her father had made the entire time he owned it. A gift to her mum after Sebastian’s birth. A place for her to do watercolours. She was so excited and had Nina help her pick out the tile for the floor. All Nina could think of was that her mum didn’t get a gift when she was born.

He was sitting on the little stool in the centre of the room. All the easels were empty, all her paints and brushes put away.

“I had it all put in storage. Didn’t want them to sit in the sun.” Price said, noticing her concerned look. “We can get them whenever you want.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d do with them. Her mum was talented but had only focused on the same back garden landscape for several years. Years of skill and talent wasted in this little glass box.

“Maybe…”

She didn’t like grief. It was a weight tied to her feet in the open ocean. It filled her lungs with regret that she never told Sebastian how much she loved him, anger at how she never stood up to her father and sadness for her mother who died the way she lived - by choices made by her father.

“I think I’m ready to go now.” She sniffled. Kyle reached over and wiped her cheek before pulling her into a hug.

“You did well, love. I know this wasn’t easy.” Price patted her back.

The ride back to London felt longer than the way there. Kyle fell asleep and was snoring softly in the back.

“How do you feel?” Price asked.

“Exhausted.”

“Reasonable.”

“I never really felt like I belonged there so it's weird to go back.”

“I know you and your Dad didn’t get on but Poppy loved you. William was always just intense.”

“I wish it’d just been him. I know that’s a fucked thing to say but it honestly feels like a joke that as his last act he took my whole family from me. Driving too fast. So fucking stupid.” He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “I just wish I could have talked to her more without his presence.”

Price nodded.

“I think I might read some of her journals. Would that be rude? She’s dead so it's not like it matters but it's still her thoughts.” Price sighed, chewing on his upper lip.

“I won’t stop you but I want you to think about what you might find. She wasn’t always a happy woman.”

“I don’t know if she was ever happy.”

He looked like he might say something but instead just squeezed her shoulder again.

Price dropped her and Kyle off at her flat. It was dark by then. Kyle still yawning as they trudged up the stairs.

“Next time Price buys you a flat, can you ask for one with a lift?”

“He didn’t buy it for me. He already owned it. I’m just… living rent free.”

“Whatever you say.” He leaned against her back as she opened the door.

They had leftover pad thai and polished off the bottle of white wine in her fridge before finding themselves in her bed. Kyle’s mouth on her neck and her legs around his waist.

He’d always been good in bed even when they were awkward teens. He was attentive and loving, eager to draw anything from a laugh, smile or orgasm out of her.

It only worsened the pit in her stomach, one that had been growing since her family died. A voice came out of it telling her she’d lose him too. He might not die but she’d lose him some other way. She’d wake up one morning and he wouldn’t love her anymore. He’d grow tired or disgusted by her. Her nails dug into his back not out of pleasure but as a way to hold on. When he’d kiss away her tears, ones she blamed on over stimulation not fear, she wanted to break into sobs.

She let him fall asleep quickly, not bothering with pillow talk. Kyle could sleep through anything, giving her permission to turn on her bedside lamp. She flipped through the journal absent mindedly. She sighed.

It felt like an intrusion to read it. Her mother could never give her permission and it felt like another violation of her life. Her father controlled so much of it why should Nina dig her fingers into something so private.

She would have been pregnant when she wrote most of this. Nina was born in February of 1999. Did her mother want her? Was she excited to be pregnant? Was she scared?

The house had lit up when she was pregnant with Sebastian. She remembered that much. Had there been any of that same joy for her?

She thumbed through the pages, letting them glide like playing cards.

John Price ♡

The name stuck out to her. The heart stuck out more. It felt like a sickly reminder how young her mother was, that she still had crushes. John had always been handsome, still was. He was closer in age to her mother too. Two years younger compared to the ten years senior her father was. She read on.

He keeps coming up to me at the pub, always a little drunk, with boyish attempts at flirting. It’s working much to my dismay. He’s kind too. Ran a whole kilometre to get my book back to me the other night when I left it in the booth.

“Always the gentleman,” She smiled. Price was the one with the crush then.

She tabbed on.

August 1998

Her smile fell, the pit in her stomach opening up more and more.

I’m pregnant. I think it might be John’s.

Tag List: @queen-ilmaree@macravishedbymactavish@gogh-with-the-flow@water-bearz

If I'm missing anyone or if you want to be tagged in the next part lmk

#guest check

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egg-emperor · 1 year

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People forget there's actually foreshadowing of Shadow being gaslighted by Eggman into thinking he has no past in Shadow 2005 back in Heroes. Because even the Metal Sonic disguised as Eggman tells him that he has no past before the Team Dark Robot Carnival fight

Metal Sonic somehow knew to do this and help plant that seed of confusion for the real Eggman to further fuck around with later. It raises some interesting questions about how Metal knew to do this in Eggman's place but just like everything else the Metal disguised Eggman says and does, it's very accurate to all the things the real Eggman himself would do as he tries to emulate him, so it's like he knew and reacted this way in true spirit.

In this case especially, as cut to the real Eggman in Shadow 2005

Eggman having Shadow saved after SA2 was for nothing but malicious intentions. He selfishly kept it a secret to keep him all to himself, sealed him in a room in a capsule and had it guarded by an extremely aggressive killer robot, Omega. Eggman then used Shadow to make the Shadow androids for very selfish reasons, unlike how real Shadow was made with good intentions.

Then when Shadow gets out, Eggman lies to him and tries to manipulate him and gaslight him into believing he was created by him so he'll serve him, not caring that he's stealing credit from his grandfather who he idolized. He also acted entitled to him for being created by his grandfather and saw him as more of a tool, weapon, and puppet for his selfish use rather than a person.

Eggman planned to manipulate and gaslight Shadow into believing he created him as a way to keep him to himself and control him all long. It could also trick all of Sonic and co too, so they would've just seen him as another enemy android and not the same Shadow they'd want back on their side. I'm always interested in thinking of how it would've gone if the plot line had been fully executed.

He didn't just entertain the lie on the spot when Shadow ran into him and suggested it. It was calculated and pre-planned and I want to give him credit. He was already fucked up, cunning, and manipulative enough to come up with it himself and proof is not just in Heroes but also before the two scenes where Shadow actually confronts Eggman in Shadow 05 and asks him if he's an android.

He lies regardless of whether you get the scene of him lying to Shadow before the Egg Breaker fights in both Mad Matrix and Iron Jungle, as there's a line exclusive to the latter before this scene where Eggman says to Shadow in game, "that's another of my beloved androids, just like you!" without any idea that Shadow wondered this when he saw the androids lined up a little earlier.

Shadow may have ended up making the assumption and asking him directly anyway just like other characters assumed him to be an android like Team Dark did too but Eggman was always planning on gaslighting him and taking advantage of his amnesia anyway. Please give the man the credit where it's due for coming up with that fucked up shit himself lol

#dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #I'm very autistic about shth 2005 Eggman #my post #analysis #shth #shadow the hedgehog #sonic heroes #manipulation

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hebuiltfive · 1 year

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Hope was a Fragile Little Thing

I don't know if I need to tag it as such, but spoilers for the last season of Thunderbirds Are Go.

This was just a short piece that I thought up whilst I was listening to Bigger Than The Whole Sky, by Taylor Swift.

"I've got a lot to pine about; I've got a lot to live without; I'm never gonna meet; what could've been, would've been, what should have been you" got me thinking about how Jeff would have probably had doubts that he'd ever see his boys again, and that he would never see them continue to grow, especially his baby boy.

Thus, this drabble was born. It was written quickly, and comes in at just over 1,000 words, but I thought I'd share it anyway.

I hope you enjoy reading it. I'm sorry for any pain, and I refuse to take responsibility for any heartbreak caused. <3

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

It was cold out here, wherever here was.

He still wasn’t sure that this place wasn’t some kind of purgatory, that he was wrong in thinking that the blast from the explosion had sent him spiralling off into the depths of space, and that he was actually waiting to be judged by a higher power, whoever that might have been. Jeff Tracy wasn’t sure which outcome he would have preferred. Was that something to worry about? He didn’t know. All he knew was that it was so much colder than he could ever have expected.

After a few days inspecting the wreck, Jeff decided that he had indeed been flung out into space and that this wasn’t purgatory. At least, not in the biblical sense. He still wasn’t sure whether that was something to ponder on, or where he’d ended up. Apart from the cold, all he knew now was that he was far from home. From his family. His boys. The capsule in which he’d unwittingly ridden out here had plenty of rations that he could live on. For a while. When they ran out, he’d have to think up something else. His suit would protect him from the elements. Brains always built equipment to last. He could survive. That was the easy part.

Learning to live, however… That would be tricky.

For the first few months, Jeff grieved, not to dissimilar to the way his family were no doubt grieving his loss. Did they even know he was alive? He couldn’t bare to think about it. His mother would have been broken. His sons… They’d already lost one parent, and now he’d left them essentially orphaned. God, he hoped they knew he was still alive, if only so they wouldn’t have to grieve his (not-actual) death. He had hope that they’d find him, but despite what he had instilled in his boys, what he told the rescuees whenever he was on a mission, Jeff knew that hope was a fragile little thing. If they found a way to find him, they’d come. He knew that. Until then, he was alone.

So desperately alone.

Jeff tried to commit his son’s faces to memory, drew the island upon which their rescue service was built. It almost seemed ironic, how he was the one in need to rescuing now. Jeff refused to give up, however. Hope may have been fragile, but he would use each and every day trying to find a way back to his family. He would tinker with what was left of the Zero X. He would explore the rock which he was cast upon. Jeff Tracy would fight tooth and nail to get home, to get back to his family.

With only the thought of his boys to keep him going, he eventually passed the one year mark. One year of being trapped in a desolate part of deep space, with no way of reaching out to anyone. He had tried, and he would keep trying, but the odds of some ship flying in deep space picking up his signals were slim to none. Jeff Tracy had learnt to live with those odds. He had made peace with it. Yet his mind would constantly torture him by wondering what his boys had become, and about how his family had coped after so long without him. Jeff never had any doubts that they would thrive. The Tracy family fought hardships and continued regardless of the situation. That ethic was what helped International Rescue thrive.

International Rescue.

His sixth child, so to speak.

Was it still operational, or would the family shut down the service? Jeff found himself hoping for the former, and not because it helped keep that hope that they’d find him one day. He had built that organisation up so it could outlive him, even if he had banked on his demise being a fair few more years down the line that what it had been. Life never was fair like that. His boys were experienced enough to carry the torch now, his youngest fast approaching the rest of his brothers once he’d finished school.

Alan had always held a special place in Jeff’s heart, and whilst Jeff thought of all the boys everyday, it was Alan he found himself crying for. It was Alan he missed the most, because it was Alan’s adolescence that he would be missing out on. Jeff had watched each of his boys grow up and become the remarkable men that they were. Alan would be the only one he’d miss out on, and the thought of him not being able to see what would become of youngest broke his heart.

He had hopes and dreams for all of his boys. Though he wasn’t a religious man, Jeff found himself praying, to whoever would listen, that those wishes would come true for them. He hoped that Gordon would go on to win many Olympic golds in swimming one day. He hoped that Virgil’s art would hang in some prestigious art gallery somewhere. He hoped that John would help Alan realise his dreams of becoming an astronaut once he’d finished his schooling, and as for his eldest, Jeff just hoped that Scott wouldn’t ever blame himself for what had happened. Scott deserved more than that. He deserved to be happy.

As the days passed, and Jeff continued to try and make sense of time in the vastness of nothing, the bright, burning flame of hope began to dim. It never quite extinguished, but Jeff began to accept the brutal truth; that he’d probably never see his home again, that he’d never know if any of his dreams and wishes that he’d granted his boys had come true.

It was just another routine supplies run. He’d left his make-shift base for five minutes. He had to start thinking about getting off this rock before it disintegrated. Jeff wasn’t sure how he’d get off it, or where he would go, but he returned to find a familiar figure. Falling fast. He had no time to acknowledge how quickly that flame of hope reignited with fervour. Jeff wasn’t even sure if he was hallucinating. He’d done his best to stop himself from going mad whilst stuck out here alone, but time flies even when you’re not having fun, and perhaps it wasn’t who he thought it was. Perhaps he’d finally cracked. Perhaps the blue and grey helmeted silhouette, so similar to his own uniform that he still wore, wasn't real.

It didn’t stop him, though. His years of training kicked in and, working on autopilot, Jeff was running, and jumping, and catching… Scott. His boy.

He was real.

He was here.

“I’ve got you, son.”

He was saved.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderfam #this is my first time posting any kind of fiction so i'm nervous #i hope you guys enjoy it #jeff tracy #five fics

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chibi-lucca · 1 year

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Dragons: the nine realms rant

THIS WILL HAVE SPOILERS UP TO THE END OF SEASON 4.

“Do you really hate it, or are you just upset it's not Hiccup and the gang?”

me:

So a quick rant about this show.

I am a huge fan of HTTYD, ROB, DOB, RTTE. I have consumed so much information on the HTTYD universe I could write the book of dragons. - and I’m sure others out there can too! (honestly guys, let's do it.)

Going into this new show, I was skeptical, in fact I was going into this expecting to hate it.

I didn’t. Here’s why:

In the end of the third movie we say goodbye to the dragons, a choice that many despise. The movies and shows illustrate that people are greedy and cruel and only a few are friends to dragons. As for the real world - anyone remember the Tasmanian tiger? Or how about the number of rhinos and elephants? Wolves going extinct in Yellowstone, having to be reintroduced to the area? Humans can’t even protect the species we have on earth now, what do you think would happen if we had magical fire breathing dragons? This nine realms show give us these answers and much more.

In the beginning of this show we see very familiar drawings and characters, which means the writers are well aware who is watching. They know that this new show will draw in the generation that grew up watching Hiccup and the gang. With that, the show continues to add little easter eggs to tell us who our main character is. They also state that a real dragon is a dead dragon. Meaning the real world situations of humans being cruel to animals applies in this universe.

To me, this shows Hiccup did the right thing. He made the correct choice. The dragons stayed safe. They were not hunted to extinction, they were protected. As someone who grew up with the OG dragon riders, it does hurt to know they are gone, but this show helped me cope with that.

The nine realms reveals their legacy! It shows what happened after the movies and that one special. If they were leaving stuff behind, they had to be down there a lot, if not moved down! They weren’t separated forever. Not only that, we know who left behind everything. The Gronckle iron shield?! That was placed in a way to reflect light? It was made to be a beacon. But high enough up that walking wouldn’t work, and in a realm so hot you’d need dragon scale suits to get through. It was placed so only a dragon rider would see it.

The time capsule!? My gods we all know who made that. The fact that the key is a family heirloom?! Hiccup thought so far ahead you think he could see the future. And then the cave painting!? It also had Toothless! Hiccup was down there with the dragons for so long he left a leg for fuck sake.

Beside the easter eggs, I saw this new show as a very fun archaeological discovery of our favorite characters, our friends. To figure out what their story was by solving the puzzle like Hiccup would. Instead of being told, we're finding it alongside a descendant of the Vikings we know and love.

This is a great new story for the next generation who didn’t grow up with Hiccup and the gang; now they have Tom and the team. It's not the same because it's not supposed to be. This is Tom’s story, with added elements of the past so no one forgets the roots. Don’t hate it just because it’s not the same characters you grew up with. It's a new story in the same world. It's Berk's legacy and the start of Tom’s story.

Honestly I think people’s reactions to this is a good example as to why we don't deserve dragons. Learn to say goodbye. Yes, it hurts, but that's okay. It means you care.

I am here for DTNR, along with all the new dragons. Before I end this I’ll touch on some topics I've seen floating around.

Toothless descendants are inbred?!

Uh, I believe that's a no. For one they shoot lightning now, not balls of plasma. Which means they had to breed with another type of dragon. On top of that, who's to say there weren't furies below in the world before? They’d just never gone to the surface. There are nine caverns for the gods’ sakes, there had to be a handful of cave dwelling furies. And yeah they are all nightlights, but again, we’ve only known Toothless’s story, the nine realms are their own story. On top of that, idk if you know this, but after about 800 years, genetics don’t mean shit. So between having a handful of other furies, other dragons, and unclear lifespan, we can assume either one of two things: the genetic line is so muddled it's nonexistent, or dragons live longer than we think and we are still getting through the handful of cave furies. - also meaning Thunder is closer to Toothless’s genetic line (assuming he’s even part of it) than Tom is to Hiccup.

Hiccup abandoned their efforts and beliefs in showing people the truth about dragons?!

D-did we watch the same shows and movies? Is that what you got from those movies? If anything the new show just validates the third movie even more. (is that why ya’ll hate it?) They tried guys! They really did, but you saw how out of hand it got in the third movie. On top of that, the amount of people already trying to use dragons in various parts of the archipelago was just the beginning, the third movie showed leaders from all over the world. If Hiccup didn’t make that choice, dragons really would be just a myth. - they would have been hunted to extinction.

Canon cast is dead!?

I mean… death is a part of life. It's in the future. Like go through the stages of grief if you must, but this new show keeps them alive. Their legacy was keeping the dragons safe. They did, and still are, thanks to Tom and his friends. They live through Tom, and possibly Toothless through Thunder. (cue he lives in you from lion king 2) I find it nice learning about the old days while growing fond of the new.

The animation is shit?!

Well compared to the movies of fucking course it is. Now compare it to Miraculous Ladybug. -w- yeah, not so bad now huh?

If the animators had the correct time to work on it, I'm sure it would be better. It's a TV show that still has pretty good quality in animation for what it's worth, yeah it's not the BEST, but it's also not the worst.

Also look back at the ROB. That animation?! Bruh. Episode 1 had me crying.

Overall, if you hate still hate it well:

If you like it - tell me why and let's be friends.

#dragons the nine realms #httyd #httyd rant #rtte #hiccup #hiccup how to train your dragon #hiccup haddock #tom kullersen #toothless #night fury

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dragongirlteeth · 6 months

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Apotheosis

or, why Thorne has the prosthesis she does.

Today is unusual. The administrators have awoken us earlier than usual. 0300 hours. They tell us nothing, but direct us down unfamiliar hallways, through sectors marked forbidden, towards some unknown destination.

It's funny, following orders from things one third your height. It grates on the sense of pride I've been silently nurturing. But they control the facility here, disobedience is futile, an exercise in pain.

So I will bear it.

Concrete hallways give way to an atrium, large enough for all of us, but with no comfort offered. "Wait here," the administrators tell us.

Minutes crawl by. Most take a seat against the walls or lay on the floor.

"Oh-Oh-One!" a voice barks from the end of the room. The silver-scaled figure of 001 stands tall. She marches with guided purpose towards the door, following the diminutive administrator out of the room.

Minutes later the screaming begins. Faint, it echoes down the empty hallways. It's not an unfamiliar sound, pain is a fact of life here. It makes us stronger.

All too soon, it stops.

"Oh-Oh-Two!"

The violet scales of 002 make their exit, with trepidation.

---

Minutes crawl into hours. Sometimes the screaming seems like it will never end. Sometimes it ends unsettlingly quickly.

"Oh-Three-One!"

Me.

I stand, and tread with grim purpose towards whatever fate awaits me. There is no disobeying an administrator.

I follow them into a smaller room off the main hallway. The scent of gore, ozone, and ash fill my nostrils. Lab equipment is lined against the walls of an operating theater, many of its once clean surfaces coated in ichorous blood. Ash dusts the floor, a patchwork of grey dust over once pristine white tiles.

And among it all lay the damning evidence. Scales in near every color of the rainbow. Pieces of those gone before me.

But the administrators are not to be disobeyed.

I lay on the operating table as restraints are placed over my arms. I wonder what death will be like. Painful, no doubt. I simply wonder why, after all the effort put into training us, that the administrators would throw us all away. Too dangerous? Not useful?

A gantry swings overhead, bearing with it a machine bristling with needles. It lowers towards my chest, and with a sudden motion, ten high strength titanium alloy needles sharpened to molecular points pierce through my scaly hide. The pain is bearable, I do not scream.

Fluid begins flowing. Something is suppressing my nerves. Something is making me nauseous. A cold liquid runs in my veins, but my paralyzed muscles are powerless to shiver it away.

A vial drops through the center of this contraption. It glows, but more than that, I can feel it in my soul. A powerful ontological aura surrounds it. The capsule bears the markings of a gene therapy injection, but the contents are like nothing else in the universe.

Dragon Essence.

This is a truth that makes itself known of its own accord. However I was created, some deep, abiding instinct realizes that even in the abstract, the concept of a dragon is an existential threat. A fear soul-deep.

An eleventh needle plunges deep into my chest, piercing my sternum.

Amber light glows as a white hot ember is forced into my body. An ember that will not be contained.

My vision whites out as every nerve in my body echoes a pain deeper than existence. I cannot help but scream. A deep, howling, roaring scream tears itself from my lungs as if the air itself must flee from the god in my chest.

I taste metal, copper and iron and everything beyond. Heat scorches my very bones as the touch of a god caresses my atoms. Blue light echoes around the chamber as energy screams against the boundaries of the universe itself.

I feel a tingling in my right arm. It starts in my claws, and I will myself to see through the pain to witness my fate. The scales of my arm begin to peel away as the atoms underneath are rent into their constituent parts. The flaying light crawls up my arm, all the way up to my shoulder, until my arm ceases its existence.

My chest is near bursting with energy, and I can feel as the radiant light beyond light rips from my back and scorches a part of my wing to ash, no, finer than ash.

BUT I AM NOT TO DIE HERE. I WILL NOT LET THEM UNMAKE ME.

To rival the gods. That is our purpose. The administrators value us because we are built to devour all who would oppose us. If I am to succeed, then I will make this baleful light a part of me. I will take it wholly into my body as mine and mine alone.

The spark of divinity is a delicious meal. My soul tears into it piece by piece, flaying each part from the core, and suckling on the ambrosia within. And with it, the light begins to subside.

No.

The light becomes a part of me. And as the last morsels dissolve away, I breathe again. Ragged, gasping breaths. Blood pours from the socket where my right arm once sat. My right wing is nearly cut off at the joint. All is pain, but no pain compares to that I have now known. Blue light flickers under my scales as I breathe in deep, and release a bellow of pure radiant energy, scorching the air itself into electric light.

Darkness claims my consciousness.

---

I awake to the feeling of an unfamiliar body. I feel powerful, but at the same time so incredibly weak. Sensation once again fills my right arm, but it is... strange. I glance over and see carbon fiber sinew and titanium alloys now comprise that section of my body. A quick flex of my wings reveals that the severed joints there have been similarly replaced.

And a heavy, warm sensation sits on, no, half-submerged in my chest. Inspection reveals some sort of metallic core, emanating otherworldly, yet familiar, heat.

I begin to sit up and see others like me sporting similar augmentations, in various states of consciousness. I can see 002 a few beds down, 026 across from me, a few others I could maybe name if pressed. 001 is not present. Nor are many others.

"Survivors. Congratulations." breaks the cold voice of an administrator.

"You are the first beings ever to successfully contain the power of a dragon."

#oc: thorne #cw: gore #cw: body horror #cw medical abuse #please let me know if i need to tag more warnings this one is a real fucked up one

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deemacs · 11 months

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no but really there is something morbidly ironic about 60 people seeking refuge calling for help for 12 hours with more than half of them dying in the exact timespan where everything is done to search for 5 people who got lost because they just wanted to have a little fun for 250k. in the same timespan in which there's people saying calling attention to 500 dead/missing refugees on sea is whataboutism. now there's a direct comparison. but i guess these things aren't comparable because uh those 60 people could have easily died anyway if they didn't try to escape and uhhh the others would have been super safe extreme if they hadn't decided to sign a few waivers saying they could die if they got into the under water death capsule and then got into the under water death capsule.

#txt #schroedinger's refugees i guess #dead in their land possibly alive on the other land and a secret third thing on sea #oceangate #titanic #politics #2023 #i won't shut up about this #not saying the billionaires shouldn't be looked for just saying that EVERYONE should be #saskia talks

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bharat-moringa · 4 months

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BHARAT MORINGA

Title: Unveiling the Green Marvel: Moringa's Impact on Overall Health and Wellness

Introduction: In the quest for a healthier lifestyle, individuals are increasingly turning to nature's bountiful offerings to meet their nutritional needs. One such powerhouse of nutrients that has gained prominence in recent times is Moringa oleifera, often referred to as the "drumstick tree" or simply "Moringa." This remarkable plant has been celebrated for its exceptional nutritional content and numerous health benefits. In this blog post, we delve into the myriad ways in which Moringa contributes to the overall development of health.

Rich Nutrient Profile: Moringa is a nutritional powerhouse, boasting a diverse array of essential vitamins and minerals. It is a rich source of vitamin C, vitamin A, calcium, potassium, and iron, among others. These nutrients play crucial roles in supporting the immune system, maintaining bone health, and promoting overall vitality.

Antioxidant Properties: The leaves of the Moringa tree are loaded with antioxidants, such as quercetin, chlorogenic acid, and beta-carotene. These antioxidants help combat oxidative stress in the body, which is linked to various chronic diseases and aging. By neutralizing free radicals, Moringa aids in protecting cells from damage and supports overall well-being.

Anti-Inflammatory Benefits: Chronic inflammation is a root cause of many health issues, including heart disease and arthritis. Moringa possesses anti-inflammatory properties that can help reduce inflammation and alleviate associated symptoms. Regular consumption of Moringa may contribute to a lower risk of inflammatory conditions.

Blood Sugar Regulation: Research suggests that Moringa may help regulate blood sugar levels, making it a valuable ally for individuals with diabetes or those at risk of developing the condition. The plant compounds in Moringa have demonstrated potential in improving insulin sensitivity, contributing to better blood sugar control.

Cholesterol Management: Maintaining healthy cholesterol levels is crucial for cardiovascular health. Studies have indicated that Moringa may have a positive impact on lipid profiles, helping to lower bad cholesterol levels while promoting the increase of good cholesterol. This dual action supports heart health and reduces the risk of cardiovascular diseases.

Nutritional Support for Malnutrition: Moringa is an excellent source of nutrition, especially in regions where malnutrition is prevalent. The plant's leaves are a cost-effective and sustainable solution to supplement diets with essential nutrients, addressing nutritional gaps and promoting healthy growth, particularly in children.

Enhanced Energy and Vitality: The combination of vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants in Moringa contributes to increased energy levels and overall vitality. Regular consumption may help combat fatigue, boost stamina, and promote a general sense of well-being.

Conclusion: Incorporating Moringa into your diet can be a simple yet impactful step towards enhancing your overall health and well-being. Whether in the form of Moringa tea, powder, capsules, or fresh leaves, this versatile plant has much to offer. However, as with any dietary supplement, it's essential to consult with a healthcare professional before making significant changes to your diet, especially if you have existing health conditions or are on medication. Embrace the green marvel that is Moringa and unlock its potential for a healthier, more vibrant life.

Certainly! Here are some hashtags you can use to amplify the reach of your blog post on Moringa's health benefits:

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absolutebl · 1 year

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Hi absolutebl! First, i want to say thank you so much for your hard work!! Your posts are very helpful to me when deciding what to watch next. Every post of yours is deeply appreciated.

I want to ask how you manage your time so efficiently. You are able watch all the BLs on top of your job, travelling for work, your other interests, and rewatching. Please share your secrets.

Ha! Aw thanks.

Erm I'm a pretty bad insomniac and workaholic? Also I don't really watch or consume much other media beyond BL & Kpop these days (unless it's for work).

I also work really well as I'm traveling, so at airports and on planes are actually some of my more productive hours.

What else?

Oh! I tend to socialize with/for work, and see friends as I travel. (I often pick conferences based on whether I have friends in the area, not to mention who else is attending.) So consults/presentations etc all day, then drinks and meals out in the evenings. Ironically, I see the friends I live near the least - aside from housemates and parties thrown by other people.

I have NO savior complex although I am incredibly loyal, so said friends know I AM indeed the one to call to bail you out of prison or pick you up on the side of the road (suggest the best lawyer, organize your finances, clean out your wardrobe), but I may not be in town, and you will probubly get a lecture on your responsibilities as an adult to go with. If you wanna bitch about your love life for 3 hours I'm the friend who will tell you to your face that you are the problem and then jet in 20 minutes, so don't call me for empathy and mimosas. Being the least dramatic of the collective always saves me time and energy.

I have no dependents at all (well... aging parents and a dozen house plants) and no primary lover/mate. By choice and partly because I don't really have the time to put in the emotional labor. Plenty of FWB and lovers tho. I like to be the guest star. So yeah, light relationships without the heavy lifting is my preference, and saves lots of time.

I enjoy being alone and super independent - ironic since I'm so invested in BL's with HEA romances...

I minimize decision making in my life in general. So not much stuff, capsule wardrobe, travel gear always prepped and pre-packed and tailored to the different time frames/climates. One thing in, one thing (or more) out policy.

It's spartan (I wouldn't go so far as to say minimalist) or even lonely and I know it's a lifestyle that probably wouldn't suit most people, but I LIKE to hyper focus on tasks and I tend to design my life to take advantage of that personality trait (and capitalize on it) and minimize distraction.

I guess you could say I've leaned into the quirks of my (somewhat abrasive and obsessive) personality rather than try to fight or normalize it.

#it's amazing how much time you have when you aren't constantly cleaning up after someone #one way or another #asked and answered

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pagiecakewritesstuff · 1 year

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11. MORPHEUS|DREAM OF THE ENDLESS X READER/OC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Past the rampage outside the palace, the cellar was eerily quiet, not even the screams of the dreamfolk could penetrate the thick underground walls. The damp air clung to my hair and clothes, as my cloak dragged after me, heavily on the floor. The two gods wrecking the gardens above ground escaped a while ago and declared their rule over the Dreaming, throwing its rightful ruler into the dungeons. I was inclined to ignore the situation for a while, hoping that Morpheus has everything in his grip, but alas, he was still too young. I had no doubt in his capabilities, but governing a realm was completely different to protecting it. This was a steep learning curve. I came to see him, though bound by ancient laws I wasn’t about to help him, but I had to know if he still had the spirit to fight on.

There was only one cell. It's not often that someone has to be imprisoned in the Dreaming, and there are far better methods for holding someone. Yet they still decided to simply shut him behind bars. How beast-like.

He huddled in the corner, a fuming pile of black fabrics and chains. He was immensely angry and scared, but the ice of his desperation broke as soon as he caught sight of me. He leapt towards the door, a cuffed hand reaching through the iron bars. On the wall behind him, I noticed signs of the Endless, scratched into the stone. An ankh, a sword, a heart, a ring, a flower. He improvised a gallery for himself, unable to access his own. He tried to call his siblings.

“You came at last.” Even at a few thousand years old he still retained some of his boyish charm from before the time of his first love. Only now deep lines of loss and heartbreak grooved his elegant face.

“I’m not here to help.” His hopeful expression dropped and suddenly I realized that I don’t remember the last time I saw him. “You know I can’t.”

“Of course. Neither can my siblings.”

“Have you tried all of them?”

He shamefully looked away.

“Not Desire.”

There was bad blood between Dream and Desire, I had no need to ask why he didn’t call on his sister-brother sooner.

“You have to put aside your disagreements, otherwise you will rot in this cell for an eternity.”

“Or…”

“Again, I’m not about to break the rules.”

His hand fell limply to his side.

“Why you came then?”

“I felt like I have to be here. It's been a while since I saw you too.”

The thousands of stars in his eyes flickered then died down. He pulled his tattered regal attire tighter around himself, the fabric making a tearing sound in protest.

“You felt like you have to be here? Did Destiny set this up after he was unable to answer my call?”

“No. We’ve been distant, he has a lot to do. It’s based on pure instinct that I’m here.”

He quietly mulled over what I said, then returned to the corner of his cell, looking at the cravings that the etched into the wall longingly.

“Tell me, will I ever get out of here?”

“I believe so, though I cannot say for sure. The future is not mine to know.” I leaned closer to the bars, so I could link my sight with his. “But the lesson you will learn from this is important, never forget it. You might need it in the future. Call Desire.”

To my surprise, my personal room in the Dreaming is still intact. It’s a time capsule now, buried in the castle, collecting dust. I was free to leave and find it, the daemons don’t care much where I am as long as I don’t travel between planes. Invisibly the collar still clutches my neck and from time to time a strong hand yanks on it, checking if I’m still in line.

I grab the duvet and pull it off the mattress, creating a swirl of dust that gently dances towards the floor in the light streaming through the window that I just opened recently. The air is heavy in here with the musky traces of loneliness and tears. Did he ever come here to think about me? It’s strange that he didn’t order Mervyn to demolish it after I went missing.

Even my writing desk is here, tucked into a safe corner, away from the sounds and wonders of the Dreaming so I could concentrate. I should work now, but I can’t bring myself to do it. My mind is elsewhere, far, far away. Giving up I set my pen down, so it’s there as a reminder to do my job. But I will deal with it later.

Suddenly through the keyhole, a tiny dancing flame skips into the room, not bigger than the tip of my finger. It’s curiously bright, and only now do I realize that the sun had dipped below the horizon. The flying cluster of flames beckons and I follow without a question. It takes me through a labyrinth of hallways, big and small ones alike, adorned with framed artworks and delicate wooden inlays. I know where we are going, and we stop in front of the exact door I was expecting. The flame dissipates.

My hand hovers above the handle before I push it down the lock clicks open as a wave of darkness pours over the sill. This shadow of the night sky envelopes me as I enter.

He stands by his bed, his back turned to me, like a column of stars and bright galaxies in space. This is his personal chamber, one I’ve visited many times before. It looks the same as the day he escaped his captivity. He didn’t even make the bed since, the wrinkles outline our forms tangled into each other on his first free day.

“You called me.” For a moment I wish he wouldn’t turn so that I don’t have to face his blazing eyes, but then he does. His pupils are two effervescent pits, muddled with anger, yet there is so much pain that he tries to cover, but it bubbles to the surface. Over his hazy eyes, his eyelids flutter, fighting an escaping tear. His chin dips before he looks up again. I weather his silence.

“A year.” He speaks finally. “More than that.”

I step over to the bed.

“I would apologise, but that would only incite your rage.” As I pick up the blankets his hand lashes out, but he retracts it almost immediately.

“Death knew.”

“She found it out by an accident. And I didn’t tell her the whole truth.”

His timbre is a searing whisper that slithers across the floor and bites at my heels.

“So what is the truth?”

Tentatively I let the magic that hides my chains go. Wearing it after all these months I feel bare without it, overly exposed, but this is nothing compared to what he had to endure, I remind myself. His lips part in shock and I take this moment to make the bed and smooth out our past outlines. He observes without a word.

“I never meant to hurt you, Morpheus. I know I did, but I wish I wouldn’t have.”

“Who did this?” I feel his looming breath tickling the nape of my neck. It melts away the touch of the iron collar in an instant.

“The past Hell Lord, Lucifer Morningstar.” I turn, our faces inches away from each other. “There is no way to reach them now. We all know what happened.”

“And your leash? Who holds it now?”

“Azazel. Your hospitality demands that you don’t hurt him while he resides within your walls.” His closeness is encapsulating, and all of a sudden the room evaporates around us, bringing back similar memories from the past. His breath hitches in his throat and he bows his head, hands fisting by his side.

“May I touch you?” Softly my words travel into his ears and Morpheus shudders.

“Yes.” He speaks to the floor. “You may.”

I gingerly place my fingers on either side of his jaw and almost immediately he leans into my palms, putting some of his weight onto me. His chest heaves as his heart crash against his ribcage with every beat. I’m no different.

“Look at me please.” Reluctantly he raises his chin, clouded eyes staring into my soul and I can see the stars twinkling in them. “Can you forgive me for the pain I have caused?”

“Only if you can forgive me for ever doubting you.” A tear trails down his cheek freely as we inhale each other's essence. His is dark, like burnt pine on a summer evening when the wind carries wildflowers across the valleys, but something more ethereal than that. His body is pressing against mine now, arms finding their way around my waist, and he just holds me, soaks me in. Due to him leaning against me my legs press against the bedframe. Morpheus is all pleading, a resonating shout bouncing around his soul, asking for what he couldn’t have until now. I offer him what he wants by angling myself in a way that he barely has to move to take it and against all of his desires he turns into a statue of disbelief. Shocked he pulls away, then comes back, testing me, eyebrows drawn together in a perplexed frown. His quick breaths skim over my lips and I can already taste his mouth on mine. I press my forehead against his, our skins burning up.

His kiss is tentative at first, barely a touch before he breaks it, franticly searching for my eyes. I know he understands when his lashes flutter as he cups my face between his elegant, long fingers and pulls me in, flush against his torso. A low moan sounds deep from his throat as he takes my lips again, gently, needly. I embrace him and we fall on the bed, he is over me, still soaking in every bit of contact he can, afraid that I can evaporate from his hold in any given second. He has to stop for air, his cheeks flushed, overflowing emotions radiating from him in waves.

“My Dream Lord.” Combing his hair back with my fingers I start to feel his weight over me. “I’m so sorry. I was so blind.”

“Say that again.” He rasps, his words bursting with desire to belong to someone. “Say that I’m yours.”

“My Dream Lord.” I pepper kisses along his jawline, repeating this sentence. “My Dream Lord, would you let me love you when all of this is over?”

Doubting, he pushes himself up again, but I grab onto his coat, stopping him before he can get too far.

“Love of mine,” his arms tremble. “My kiss should be the only answer you need.”

And as he kisses me again it’s like velvet flowing over my body, light, gentle when he pulls me up on the mattress, laying me against the pillows, all without his lips leaving mine. My fingertips trace his spine, kneading through his back muscles and he tenses up a bit before his body goes limp. He doesn’t pry, he doesn’t initiate anything more, he is just content to be touched. And there is a certain comfort in him draping over me, like a layer of protection between me and my captors. As his cold palm soothes the burning inflicted by my collar I sigh into his lips and feel a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Stay with me tonight.” He asks. “I’ve been lonely for so long.”

I guide him next to me so that he rests on the pillow next to me.

“If you wish me to do that. I want to make you feel loved, I’ve been a fool not doing that before. But not tonight.” He tilts his head so he can look me in the eye. “Not while I have a leash.”

“I’m content even if I can only hold you.” Using his midnight black cape he covers both of us. “I will need time.”

“Understandably so.”

“Not how you think.” The stars dancing in his iris dim, and some start blinking as he is thinking back. “I haven’t shown myself to anyone since my escape.”

“I see.”

“I feel tied to this form, but I find it hard not to hate it.” His nostrils flare when he sharply draws in air. His heart is still beating fast. I draw him in so his head rests comfortably in the crook of my neck.

“Such things are hard to unlearn, but I will never ask you to do anything that you are not ready for.”

“I know.”

Of course, he does. He always did…

Taglist:

@sayumiht @intothesoul

#assorodus #the sandman x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #masterlist #the sandman #fic:assorodus #dream x reader #dream x oc #the sandman x oc #x reader

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xalygatorx · 5 months

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Worthy (2015) | Chapter 25, "Gems of Power"

Disappearing sporadically in public spaces quickly becomes Cora Dempsey's least concerning problem when suddenly she captures the attention of the forming Avengers Initiative, the World Security Council, and Asgard's fallen prince all in one week. And the universe is only just getting started with her.

Worthy is a slow-burn SFW Marvelverse (films) romance between Loki and a female OC. For additional details on what canon is used, see the Prologue post.

Summary: Cora and Loki attempt to head off the apocalypse with the recruitment of the Warriors Three to help them get to the infinity stones before Thanos can. Cora and Loki travel to Midgard to warn Thor and the other Avengers.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!OC

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.6k

When the power was pulled from the throne room, Cora could only liken it to being inside a vacuum hose as it finally turned off. The agony of the past few moments had left her weak and shaking, and Loki's reserved demeanor did nothing to soothe her. "What the hell happened?" she murmured, trying to push herself up even as her limbs felt like jelly.

Loki took his eyes off the high arch of the doorway and frowned grimly, his seithr replicating Odin again just as the guards burst in to make sure their king was all right. It threw her off how complete the illusion was and how good Loki was at playing the part of his adoptive father. Even his grumbling at the guards who were attempting to fuss over him was accurate.

He shooed them away to go help the others—who had apparently also been plagued by Thanos' mind-numbingly fierce infliction—before helping Cora to her feet. His eyes caught on a black mark at the inside of her finger and he turned her hand, studying the tattoo he was almost fully certain hadn't been there when they'd first met. Loki's brow furrowed faintly at it and Cora noticed immediately, having been about to ask again what was going on. "When did you get this?" he asked quietly.

"Before I got put in the capsule," Cora replied, bending her finger to better view the inch-long tattoo. "I saw it in the dream I had the night before." She frowned faintly, remembering that her parents had been in that dream. "What does it mean?"

There was an instant of hesitation before Loki said, "Ice," and then nodded for her to follow him, still wearing the facade of Odin's form.

"That's ironic," Cora murmured, walking at his side. "But it makes sense."

It also means Frost Giant, he added silently, wondering if she knew. If Frigga had mentioned it at some point in their talks. What exactly had they talked about? Suddenly Loki was insatiably curious, but he would have to ask later. There were more important things to worry about now. He was still pale from the news beneath the seithr.

"But if you're here, where's…," Cora began and she stopped, looking horrified for a moment before Loki glanced at her and rolled his eyes.

"I did not kill him," Loki grumbled. "Though he deserves nothing less."

"Then why didn't you?" Cora asked as she glanced over at him. "Because of Thor, right?" Loki shot her a glare and she held down a smirk. "I'm not teasing you, I'm just stating facts. At least, what I hope are facts…" She frowned slowly and finally asked, "What…happened out there? In the Dark World?"

The disguised prince's expression smoothed and he looked thoughtful as he began to climb up the spiral staircase leading to the library. "I nearly died."

"I know, Thor told me, but… Why?"

A slight smile that entailed an amount of irony curved his lips as he let the illusion drop, knowing no one would be up here after all the chaos. "Sentiment."

She squinted her eyes a bit at him and when he noticed, he arched a brow. "What?"

"You're taller than me again."

"…Yes?"

"I like it, but I don't." Loki laughed softly and teasingly messed up her hair before they walked into the library. Despite the very much impending peril, he was half-giddy to be in her airspace, much more to be able to just reach out and touch her again. He still harbored some of her warmth on his chest and within his arms from embracing her.

As she attempted to smooth it back into place, she asked, "Who is Thanatos? And the Ragnarök… I thought that was just a myth."

"His name is Thanos and, to your kind up until a short while past, we were all 'myths'," he pointed out calmly. Loki went to one of the tomes on a nearby golden desk, checking the cover before flipping it open and starting to turn the pages. "He is the epitome of madness. Thanos and the Other were the ones truly behind the Chitauri attack on your city, I just had a hand in leading the army."

"They were the ones who…?" she started, not needing to finish because they both knew what she meant.

Memories of the torture flashed through his mind. More vividly now that the familiar agony had refreshed their traces. "Yes." He was honestly surprised Cora had bounced back so well after the mental onslaught. Maybe her own pain had been less or, like so many other things, she was simply exempt from the usual rules. His, included. "The Ragnarök was not supposed to happen for another few millennia. We were going to prepare here, but it seems Thanos plans to act as a catalyst and bring the Fall early."

"Did he just come here to flex his muscles or was there some other reason? Why not just go through with things underhandedly, so by the time anyone knew, it was too late?" Cora looked over at Loki when he didn't answer her right away and saw the odd look on his face as he watched her. "What? I'm just asking."

"I'm going to have to keep an eye on you," he murmured teasingly before saying, "He would have been smarter to do so, but that is not his way. He glories in boasting and being recognized. Thanos is the universe's biggest romanticist of death and he positively relishes in it." Loki grimaced, remembering the uprooted vault. "He also needed the Tesseract. The relic that was used before to fuel the Chitauri scepter I had while the creatures laid waste to New York."

"Why would he need the Tesseract again? It didn't work the first time, right? What makes him think it'll work now?"

"Because I do not think he is intending to use it on its own," Loki murmured, his fingers stilling against the pages of the book. "Look here." Cora looked down, her eyes widening at the apocalyptic scene moving around on the page opposite one filled with runic scripture. "This is the interpretation we have of the Ragnarök. It is a destruction of all the nine realms, not solely Asgard."

"No one is safe," Cora murmured softly, finding it hard to think straight with this new information weighing her down. There was a small stretch of silence before she looked up at him and immediately went into her usual businesslike mode of problem-solving whenever there was a crisis. "How do we stop it? You said he wasn't using the Tesseract alone, what else does he need?"

Loki looked at her like she was mad. "Cora, it is prophesied, there is no—"

"Bullshit," she said firmly, turning to face him fully. "You said the Ragnarök wasn't supposed to happen for a few more millennia, right? If that bastard can change the course of supposed destiny, so can I and so can you, dammit. Now what else does he need?"

Loki blinked at her, always surprised by her fire, but flipped back a few pages to an ornate diagram of six differently colored symbols linked by black lines with a golden hand at the center. "The Tesseract is an infinity stone. There are six in total—mind, power, time, space, soul, and reality—and then the gauntlet that binds them all. If he achieves such power, he will be unstoppable."

"Then we have to get the ones he still needs, right?"

"You act like this is all so simple. You have seen just a small sliver of Thanos's power. He drowns in his own insanity and is reckless and merciless at that, you haven't the slightest idea what we are up against."

"We'll just need some help if that's the case," she said simply.

"And who do you suspect would help…" But the look on her face said it all. "No."

It took an extensive discussion and multiple attempts to keep both Sif and Volstagg—mostly Sif—from pummeling their fists into Loki's face, but Cora eventually got the entire explanation out. As always, the Warriors Three were perfectly willing to fight, now that they knew what they were up against.

"The Aether is, as far as we know, still with the Collector, where we left it," Volstagg pointed out. "Sif and I dealt with him last time. We will again, to start… Then we will attempt to track down the Ka Stone, which is said to be in the next realm over, in Alfheim. They've kept it safeguarded for the near-whole of its existence."

"The Tesseract is gone… We have been narrowed down to five stones to get and we are running out of time," Fandral sighed. "I can see if that odd doctor in Midgard who has been holding onto the space stone would be willing to part with it. Inside the Orb of Agamotto."

"What about the soul stone?" Cora asked, wondering why that one hadn't been brought up.

Loki shook his head beside her. "No one has seen it in millennia. It is likely the least of our worries because of that. I believe if Thanos already had it, he would be advertising it to all the Nine." Sif begrudgingly nodded in agreement with her comrades. "However, the Cask of Ancient Winters lies underground in Jotunheim now. The time gem lies inside it."

"You may be the best to retrieve that one, Loki," Fandral admitted with no malice, just simple truth. Loki gave a short nod and then kept his silence.

"Then it's settled," Cora said quietly, running a hand through her hair and causing her belongings to jingle a bit on her arm. She'd gotten her things from the room since they would be leaving and who knew what she'd need and if she'd be coming back here afterward. "First though, we're going to Midgard."

"For?" Sif asked curiously.

"Thor and the other Avengers," Cora explained. "They'll need to know and we'll need all the allies we can get."

"Did you not have to leave in the first place to escape persecution? You won't be safe there," Sif said worriedly.

"Nowhere's safe now," Cora pointed out logically with a small shrug.

The group was silent a few moments before Volstagg stood and gave a nod of his head toward the BiFrost. "Let us go, then. There is not a moment to spare."

The sheer force of Thanos's power had put Asgard in various states of rubble and ruin. As they walked, Cora glanced up at Loki, who looked tense and had a hard set to his jaw. "The outcome?" she wondered aloud, guessing that as his focus of apprehension.

"In a way," he admitted quietly. "A whole succession of outcomes."

Cora had a feeling part of his stress was seeing Thor again and having to explain why and how he was alive—again—and then have all-out war come down on their heads. When they reached Heimdall, the gatekeeper seemed slightly weakened, but did not give any notion that he was without his usual strength. It lay mostly in his amber eyes.

His brows rose when he saw Loki. "Back from the dead again, are we?" he jabbed lightly in his deep, bass-like voice.

Loki gave the faint hint of a smirk as Sif said, "We need your power, Heimdall. An induced Ragnarök is upon us."

Heimdall's look grew grim, but he slammed his sword home into the center of the BiFrost observatory, the golden arcs along the walls rearranging themselves. "Where to?"

"Sif and myself to the Collector's keep," Volstagg replied. "And Fandral, Loki, and Cora to Midgard."

"We will soon need transport to Jotunheim, as well," Loki added.

Heimdall nodded and bid them be careful before sending them through, one group at a time. Sif and Volstagg went first and as Loki, Fandral, and Cora waited their turn, Cora turned to Heimdall. "I sincerely hope this is not the last time we meet," she told him and he smiled.

"I do not think it will be," Heimdall replied confidently. "I've faith in you to stop this atrocity."

"Hope I can live up to your expectations," Cora said truthfully as Loki guided her forward to step through the spinning golden portal.

"If you go in fighting with half the attitude you carry in a normal day, Thanos will be groveling at your feet!" he shouted and Cora laughed just before she was sucked into the vortex with Loki and Fandral, en route to Midgard once again.

When the blinding golden beams released them in another adrenaline-rush of a transport, Cora vaguely heard the sound of a car horn before she was pushed down. Smoky city smell stung her nose as she scrambled to get up, sighing as she saw Loki with his fist buried halfway into the grill of a black, bubbly-looking cab and small masses of civilians stopping to shriek and gawk at the sight, some even recognizing him from the Chitauri incident. By the looks of it, they were in London, which made sense after all that Jane had told her.

Cora reached out and took Loki's arm before towing him down the street to the sidewalk, making sure to mention conventions whenever someone gave them a funny look in their Asgardian garb. "Where's Fandral?" she asked, glancing around worriedly, hoping he wasn't brandishing his sword at a bus after what Loki pulled with the truck. Even if he had done it to keep them from being hit.

"Wherever he needed to go to get to the space gem," Loki said. "Heimdall separated us as soon as we breached the realm… Do you even know where we are going?"

"No, I've never been to London," she muttered irritably before remembering the last bit of her conversation with Jane and stopping to dig around in her purse as a couple passed her and grumbled about American tourists on their way.

"Well then how do you suppose we will even find my brother?"

"Shut up."

As she picked through the loose bits in her purse, Cora heard the dialogue replaying in her head. "I should go. I don't want anyone to realize I'm here, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, by all means. But here." She'd gone to her jacket across the room and pulled a slip of from the pocket. "Take this and give me a call next time you're, well, on Earth. If we all survive this, that is."

Loki stopped and watched her pull out the business card Jane had given her and start to dial the number on her phone, which was on its last few percentage points of battery life. "Please pick up, please pick up," she murmured in a quiet chant just before hearing the answer. "Jane! Sorry, it's Cora."

"Cora? You actually get cell reception on Asgard?"

"No, I'm back in Midgard. London, actually. Listen, I need directions to your flat. We need to talk to you and Thor."

Jane gave her the instructions based on where they figured out Cora was and then remembered Cora's choice of words as they were about to hang up. "Wait, 'we'?" It was a question, but her tone hinted at her already having an inkling of what was going on. An inkling she wasn't sure was possible.

"It's probably exactly what you're thinking and we'll be there soon," Cora managed to get in just before her phone died. She dropped the device back into her purse and grabbed Loki's hand. "Come on," she said, towing him along behind her as she hurried down street after street that Jane had discussed with her, thinking how ridiculous it seemed now to remember that she'd led a boring life some time not too long ago.

Next chapter: Chapter 26, "Reunion"

#loki laufeyson #loki x fem!oc #loki x oc #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #thor odinson #thor movies #thor the dark world #avengers #marvel cinematic universe #angst with a happy ending #slow burn

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