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teconkaals · 10 months

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Walking With A Ghost Chapter 1

The mission Alone from Modern Warfare 2 (reboot) but from Ghost’s POV.

AO3 Chapter link: Chapter 1 Not So Cold

Fanfic Masterlist: Here

Next Chapter: Chapter 2: One More Heartbeat

Wordcount: 5819

Rating: Mature

Tags of the fanfic (some of them): hurt/comfort, taking care of each other, blood and violence, happy ending, non explicit sex

A/N: I know that there are phrases that aren't the same as in the game. I apologize, I'm not familiar with English slang and it would be weird if I used it in one chapter and not in the rest. I also apologize for a joke that only makes sense in Spanish (a lion that ate soap). In Spanish, foam is said "espuma" which, if you break it apart, means "es puma" (it's puma) and the joke is that the lion turned into foam (which is a pun on "es puma" and "espuma"). I know, explaining a joke is the same as dissecting a frog, but it's the only one that I haven't been able to adapt because there's an analogy that I haven't been able to translate either. I'm sorry. Hope you like it anyways.

I don’t give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform (I’m publishing on my Ao3 account both English and Spanish).

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY - TF 141 NOT SO COLD LAS ALMAS, MEXICO NOVEMBER 9, 2022, 02:15

“I copy.”

Ghost blew out his breath at the sound of his companion's voice. He knew it was him because of that horrible Scottish accent.

“We almost lost you.” When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

The other snorted and he knew he’d composed one of his usual smirks.

“Are you hurt?”, he added, remembering he’d fallen down a ditch.

“I’m solid”, Soap replied quickly.

Ghost frowned a little as he heard a grunt of pain hidden behind his words. He didn’t know if he was doing it to be tough or not to worry him, in either case, he had to keep him alive. All of this had happened under his command and he felt responsible.

“Well, let’s see how good you are”, he said, pretending not to notice. “Don’t lose blood. You’re gonna need every drop you got.”

“Thanks for the tip.” He paused before speaking. “Where’re you?”

Simon looked around. He’d made it to the city in one piece and had taken refuge in an alley, narrowly escaping from Grave’s men. The place was poorly lit, but he didn't mind: on the contrary, he appreciated the gloom. Going unnoticed was the most important thing at the moment, moving like a ghost. And he was really good at it. Still, he needed to meet with Soap. He needed to find a meeting point that was easy for both of them to recognize.

Who’d say…

“I saw a church”, he answered and stood up. “Good place for an RV. I’m going there.”

“Saw it”, nodded Soap and sighed. “Graves and his Shadows are making a mess.”

“They’re looking for Hassan”, answered Ghost, indifferent, and looked at both sides of the alley.

“Hassan and us”, he grunted.

“Don’t get distracted”, Ghost recommended. “You’re going to have to improvise in order to survive. Look for supplies, something to make tools and weapons.” He composed a bitter half smile. “Welcome to the guerrilla.”

At that moment, a memory tried to break through and Ghost pushed it back to its corner, weary. That had been a long time ago, when he was young. What the hell, he was still young. The problem was that his entire life, from childhood to adulthood, had been reduced to violence.

“Holy shit… poor fool…”

Soap’s voice distracted him and he stopped on the spot, looking around for enemies. He located one in front of him and he crouched, approaching slowly and in silence. Ghost prepared a knife and grabbed the Shadow, covering his mouth so he wouldn’t scream. He stabbed him in the throat twice and left him on the ground.

“What’ve you seen?” He asked softly.

“A bloodbath.”

The resignation in John’s voice reminded him of himself, when he joined the army.

“Worry about your ass… you’ve, exactly, zero allies here.

“I thought we’re friends”, Soap commented. There was a teasing edge to his voice, yet Simon didn’t fail to notice a slightly hurt tone in it.

“We’re teammates”, he corrected, choosing the dimly lit street at a fork. “Friendship isn’t in the manual, Johnny.”

“Neither does putting on a mask.”

Ghost accused the blow without saying anything. He didn’t know if there was a double meaning in that sentence, but his subconscious interpreted it that way. Put on a mask and pretend he was a tough guy? No. He was a tough guy. A feelingless killing machine. He’d never been allowed to have feelings, why would it be any different now? Why would he have to open up? Because that bloody Scot was hell-bent on treating him like they’re friends? No. They’re partners, nothing more.

Are you sure, Simon?

He closed his eyes briefly and forced himself to take a deep breath. A couple of Shadows were walking down the street, so he hid in the shadows of a doorway and waited patiently. As the two men passed by his side, he let them take a few steps before leaving quietly. He stabbed one in the chest and the other, who turned towards him quickly, pushed him against the wall and plunged the knife into his throat. He held him there, pressing his hand hard against his mouth, until he stopped moving.

Ghost pulled out the knife and wiped it on the Shadow’s clothing before putting it away.

Perhaps he fooled the rest of his companions, but not himself. Ghost hadn’t cared for anyone in years, except for Price. That guy, obsessed with cigars and hats, had pulled him out of the hole he had gotten into long ago. He’d dusted him off his clothes, patted him on the back, and spat out a handful of kind words when Simon needed them most.

He saved your ass too, remember?

Well, that too.

“I’ve found a flashlight. It’s not… far from its owner.”

Soap’s voice startled him. Again. That fool wouldn’t shut up even under water. He was alone, in the middle of enemy territory, and he wouldn’t stop talking. On the other hand… Well, hearing him meant he was still alive and that was fine.

He took a deep breath.

“Be careful with it”, he warned him. “You’ll see better, but you’ll attract more attention.”

Ghost didn’t like flashlights. They’re like putting a fucking neon sign on top of him with the words I’m here written on it. However, he knew that not everyone could move well in the dark. He steeled himself with patience when Soap snorted.

“What is it now?”, he asked, jumping over a fence and hiding behind some dumpsters.

“The mercenaries are killing everyone.”

Simon stared at the ground for a moment, his eyes blurring. Along the way, he came across the corpses of several families. Men, women, children. All killed in cold blood by the Shadows.

“War crimes”, he answered with a sigh, leaving his hiding place and entering a house.

“It makes me want to make a few.”

“Tyranny”, Ghost grunted, walking into the living room and stepping over the body of a woman. “It’s unsustainable.”

“Do you think they’ll give us the green light to go after these people?”

Ghost almost let out a bitter laugh out loud. Soap’s innocence and thirst for justice almost touched him.

Almost.

“No more green lights, Johnny. We’re alone.”

“Not at all.”

He stopped when he saw a flashlight. He backed up and searched for his location. Over there. Another pair of Shadows broke down a door to get inside. The tenants screamed and Ghost’s jaw clenched. He walked out the door and approached quietly. He was aware that he didn’t have time for this, that he had to move quickly to get out of there alive and save Soap’s ass; however, and despite everything, he couldn’t sit idly by. He pulled out a knife and threw it at one of the Shadows and left the house. He waited in the street for the other and tackled him before throwing him to the ground. He plunged a knife into his throat quickly and held it there until he stopped moving.

“What are you talking about?”, he asked Soap, remembering his comment.

“I’m sure Captain Price, and Laswell, would get us out of this joint.”

One corner of Ghost’s mouth turned up slightly.

“So you think? This time, Price isn’t here to save us and Laswell… Well, she’s close with Shepherd. Calling her would be a mistake. Alejandro is the only one who can be trusted… if he’s alive.”

Soap was silent for a few seconds and Ghost took the opportunity to keep moving through the city. The church was getting closer and he was certain that he would arrive long before his companion. John was getting too distracted by things that weren’t important, not right now. He had a lot to learn.

Are you going to blame him?

Of course not. In fact, a part of him was glad they weren’t the same. The other part felt a slight pang of envy. As a child, Ghost was always giggly, full of energy. Something that faded away, little by little, as he grew older. His broken family forced him to join the army to flee; however, it was late. The smile that always illuminated his face had been lost in tears, blows and pain.

“If they knew we’re here, they’d help us out.” Soap’s voice broke her train of thought again. “I trust them.”

“Choose well who to trust, Sergeant,” he growled a little bitingly. “The ones closest to you are the ones that can do the most damage.”

“Good advice, LT. I’ll keep that in mind.” He paused and, when he spoke again, it was with a hint of humor. “I think when I grow up I want to be like you.”

That made him sketch a tired half smile.

“I hope you’re better than me, Johnny.”

“Maybe I already am.”

Ghost sensed a smile on Soap’s lips.

“Then this is your chance to prove it.”

“Do you think I’ll live long enough?”

“Probably, not.”

“How ominous”, he replied without losing humor.

“Focus, Johnny”, he reminded him, shaking his head. “We’re not safe here.”

“I’m centere-Holy fucking shit.”

Ghost heard a dog barking over the radio and a pang of worry went through him. He hid in a portal.

“Johnny?”

“A fucking caged dog”, he replied with a snort.

Simon closed his eyes briefly, relieved.

“If it barks, shoot him and leave quickly. Don’t let them discover you.”

“How ruthless you are, Simon.”

Something stirred inside him when he heard Soap say his name. He’d always called him by his nickname, hearing his first name in his voice was… weird. Still, he didn’t dislike the feeling and he drifted with it for a few seconds before focusing again. Although he didn’t like people, John had earned his place near him. Despite all of Ghost’s attempts to keep him out, Soap always greeted him with a soft punch at the chest and a huge smile.

Fuck.

He cocked his head.

“What has two legs and bleeds?” he asked suddenly.

“What?” John asked in turn, confused.

“Half a dog.”

“What the hell…? Was that a joke?” He added, surprised.

“Maybe.” He left the portal and kept going forward towards the church. “Don’t let anything stop you, Johnny.”

The square was full of cars… and Shadows. On the other hand, there were many damaged streetlights, covering too many areas in darkness. This gave him an advantage. Moving in the shadows was a skill he’d honed over the years, something that earned him the nickname Ghost. He ran to the back of the church and jumped over the gate. He took out a handful of more enemies and got a sniper rifle. Ghost nodded to himself, removing all the ammunition from the corpse, and sneaked inside. John was still out there, alone and unarmed; if he could establish himself in one of the towers, and track him down, he could cover his back from there.

He glanced around until he came across some stairs. Simon didn’t meet anyone on the way up, though he wasn’t surprised either. The Shadows were searching the nearby surroundings of Alejandro’s base, Graves wouldn’t believe they had gotten this far in such a short time. And that had been a big mistake. Ghost was fast and, despite everything, Soap was too. The guy had earned his nickname for his remarkable speed, and precision, when it came to eliminating enemies; a handful of Shadows wouldn’t stop him so easily.

Even so…

“Where are you?”

“Out… in a dead end.”

“Get close to the walls and get down,” he ordered, adjusting his rifle. “You may get a brag rag for this.”

“A medal?” Soap asked mockingly.

“Oh, an award,”he replied helplessly.

He heard John click his tongue.

“That’s rubbish.”

“You said you wanted a win, right?” He reminded him. “Congratulations: you’re a winner.”

Soap laughed and mumbled something in Scots.

“English, MacTavish.”

“Sorry, sir,” he replied without losing humor. “Let me translate: Go fuck yourself.”

A smile drew on his lips.

“Much better.” He moved the rifle around the area, looking for a dead end, until he located Soap. “The church is north of the city,” he reminded him. “I’ve posted myself as a sniper in the tower. Fight your way up here and you might survive.”

Soap snorted in response and Ghost took another look around. He watched him make his way through the houses and surveyed the surroundings for enemies. Those near the church didn’t seem to have noticed that Ghost had passed by; the others… Well, he couldn’t see them all from there. Despite having a privileged position, the rain didn’t make things easier.

He located Soap again and fired at two Shadows that were nearby. He also saw several groups of narcos but, for now, they’re not a danger.

“Well… look at this,” John crooned. “Scotch tape.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow. Despite the time they had spent together, he was still surprised that his partner was so talkative.

“The tape can be very useful,” he just said, remembering all the uses he had given it throughout his life. None for good.

“In case I’ve to wrap a present?” Soap asked mockingly.

“It’s a way to look at it.” He couldn’t help but imagine Soap wrapping a present with duct tape and handing it to him. Ghost pushed that thought away quickly. “Keep it. It can be used to hold more than one thing.”

“Don’t forget I’m a smart boy, Lt.,” he replied, and Ghost heard the noise of the tape around something. Soap paused before continuing talking. “I’m about to play rough with the Shadows.”

Simon felt two emotions settle in this stomach. The first, fear for his partner. The second, the thrill of taking down those guys. He swallowed before speaking.

“I like the sound of this.”

His mate chuckled softly, like a child after a mischief.

“I’ve made a booby trap.”

Ghost raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“A man after my own heart…”

“Thought you would like it.”

Another smile that he couldn’t contain. That night he’d smiled more times than in recent years and it felt very strange.

“You thought well.”

“By the way…”

“Yeah?”

“Have you lost a knife?”

He moved the rifle and fired at a couple of narcos who were getting too close to the last spot where he saw Soap.

“Several.”

“Think I found one,” John crooned.

“Some of the dead Shadows are my handiwork,” he admitted.

“So you came through here.”

“Obvious. On my way to the church.”

“And you left me?”

Ghost raised an eyebrow at the tone of his partner’s voice. Soap sounded mocking, yet he had a hurt tinge to the bottom. Like when you drink a cup of fruity tea: at first it’s sweet but, in the end, it leaves a bitter aftertaste. He felt guilty for half a second. Nothing else.

“I’m used to working alone.”

“Thought no one was left behind.”

A reproach. The truth was that he’s right to throw it in his face. Despite being made up of people who had no relationship with each other, Task Force 141 behaved like one big family. That was one of its strengths… and weaknesses too. Maybe that’s why Soap seemed hurt by his comment.

Simon shook his head, suddenly irritated.

“Get to the church at once,” he snarled.

He looked around the area, trying to locate him. He couldn’t. Ghost supposed that Soap would continue moving through the interior of the houses.

“I’m trying to keep you alive, Johnny,” he added in a softer tone. “And that you get here in one piece. One of us has to live to tell the tale.”

His mate let out a soft laugh.

“So you like me now?”

“Not in the least. You still have a long way to go… don’t get distracted.”

Lightning lit up the city for barely a second and thunder followed, reverberating inside the tower. Ghost looked around and hoped the church had a good lightning rod. The sound of the rain hitting the roof grew more insistent and Simon forced himself to take a deep breath. The night was getting better.

John said something he didn’t understand and Ghost knew he was back to speaking Scots.

“Speak English.”

“It’s raining fucking hard!”

“Then say so,” he growled.

“I did! I’m going to give you a crash course in Scotch, Lt,” he added mockingly.

“Why learn a language when we both speak the same?”

Soap laughed.

“I’m a very good teacher.”

Ghost frowned a little. Had he noticed a seductive tone in his voice? No, it couldn’t be. Why would he flirt with him? He wrinkled his nose at the thought. Fooling around, as a concept, was something he didn’t do. Not even in his teenage years. Of course he had his moments, he wasn’t a novice at it, however, that kind of things was very low on his list of priorities.

On the other hand…

The idea of letting himself be loved by another person reared its head in his mind, testing the ground. Ghost let it through, curious to see where it took him as he struck down another enemy in the distance. His mother, and Amelia, had been the last to show him this kind of affection; the rest of the people he’d been with were just looking for something physical. He would never admit it, but sometimes he missed contact with another person. Nothing sexual, of course, just physical contact between two friends.

You don’t have friends, Simon, his mind reminded him.

He clicked his tongue and quickly pushed the thought away. It was also true. The only ones he had were Price and Amelia. And, well, maybe the Scottish fool. Ghost could have been gone for more than half an hour, yet there he was, perched on a church tower, like a demon watching over something that belonged to him.

“I’m more interested in you being a good student,” he finally answered. “Rain’s good. Will cover your tracks.”

“And theirs too…”

“We better worry about you, Johnny.”

“So…” again that mocking tone in his voice. “Do you like me now?”

“When you’re alive, yes.”

His partner chuckled and Ghost realized, too late, his comment. When you’re alive, yes. What the fuck was that? What the hell was he doing telling Soap he liked him? One thing was Simon knowing it and another thing was to release it to the four winds and for the rest to find out. Well, not everyone. As far as he was concerned, they’re alone on that channel for now. And through it all, Soap was discreet. Not that he cared about his reputation (something he didn’t exactly care about), but he considered it private.

And he didn’t share anything personal with anyone.

A small explosion, followed by the sound of gunshots, put him alert. He searched for the smoke in the rain and aimed the rifle there. His anxiety, and worry, climbed from his stomach to his throat at not locating Soap.

“Still upright, Johnny?”

Silence.

“Jonnhy?”

“I’m fine,” he replied with a huff. “Clear area.”

“Good.” Ghost sighed imperceptibly. “Stay alert and meet me at church.”

“Copy.”

He felt his heart calm down and unfocused his gaze for a moment. It had been a long time since he’d had a high like that. Adrenaline coursing through his veins after nearly dying from an enemy attack? Many times. Too many. A high for believing that he’s going to lose someone? Practically none. He could count the times with the fingers of one hand. And he would have plenty of fingers. He’d already told John and stood by it: he worked alone because loneliness was so much better than being forced to worry about those around him. Because that could cost him his life.

“I’m in a coffee shop,” Soap informed him.

A chill ran through him at the thought of a piping hot cup of tea.

“Bring me some tea,” he asked. “Though, right now, I’d kill for a whiskey.”

“Scottish, I hope.”

A smirk covered Simon’s lips.

“I drink bourbon.” It was a lie, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hurt his pride.

“Ah, you have no idea, Lt.” Soap snorted. “There’s only tequila here, anyway.”

“Don’t like it?”

“Tastes like dog piss.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Soap was silent for a few seconds.

“Do you also have a tactical use for it?”

Surprisingly, yes.

“Hunting wolves. The smell attracts them.”

“And, do you hunt with the mask on?” Again that mocking tone. Ghost was sure he had a smirk on his lips again.

“Of course. The camo version.”

“I’ll bet you sleep with that thing,” John gave a soft laugh.

“Soundly.”

“You’re out of your mind, Lt.”

“That’s for sure.”

It wasn’t true that he slept with the mask on. At least, not in his own room. In missions, and on the battlefield… there yes. He didn’t hide his face for privacy, he had no family left to lose if he was found out. No. The mask was for something else. Throughout his life he had discovered that, even the bravest soldier, was afraid of what he couldn’t understand. And more if there was little light. That someone like him (tall, robust and with a deep voice) approached with a skull for a mask, will scare anyone.

“You’re going to owe me one for this.”

Again, Soap’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He shook his head, trying to locate him. He couldn’t, so Simon deduced that Soap was still walking indoors.

“Why?”

“Because we’re fixing each other’s problems.”

“So you think?” He asked with some indifference. “And, what’s my problem?

“The mask…” Soap whispered. “Take it off.”

The way he said it made his hairs stand on end, raising goosebumps.

“Show my face?” He managed to ask.

“Yes, sir.”

“Negative.”

Soap chuckled.

“That’s because you’re ugly.”

“Quite the opposite.”

“I highly doubt it,” Soap continued using a mocking tone. “I’ll have to check it out. I think I deserve it.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Ghost asked. “Wanting to see my face?”

His partner was silent and Ghost felt that he had hit the nail on the head. However, when the silence went on too long, he grew concerned.

“Johnny?”

“Still here.” He paused before continuing with a more serious tone of voice. “It’s not all about seeing your face, Lt. There are other things.”

“Like what?”

“I’ve got a shotgun. It was tied to a trap, so I disarmed it and took it with me.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow at the obvious change of subject. He decided not to insist.

“Be careful with weapons. They produce noise and it’s convenient for you to go unnoticed.”

“Don’t worry, there are many ways to use a shotgun.”

The corner of his lips turned up a little, just for a few seconds. Then he took a deep breath and let it out gently. Soap hadn’t answered his question and now he was curious.

Damn.

That idiot was finishing turning his world upside down. And it was his fault for letting him do it. Yes, Soap was a charismatic guy, one of those who made others want to be around him, however, he hadn’t insisted so much with anyone else. Maybe he saw him as a challenge. Getting along with the grumpy and taciturn guy would be quite an achievement for someone like him. Was that how John saw him? No, he didn’t think so. The Scotsman was easy to read, like a bloody open book; that’s why (and because of his personality) people liked him, because he couldn’t fake something he didn’t feel. So, when John was looking at him that way, when he smiled at him and tapped his arm as he spoke, Ghost knew it was from his heart.

Simon closed his eyes when he was aware that the door he was trying to close was opening a little more. And he wasn’t sure if he liked it.

I need to think of something else.

“Hey, Johnny…”

“Yes, Ghost?”

“Graves is burning everything down to find us… why?”

Soap was silent for a moment.

“He’s just as involved as Shepherd,” he snorted. “Whatever it is, this is a complete bunch of bullshit and we need to get to the bottom of it.”

“These things are solved with precise and lethal fire, something we don’t have,” Simon sighed. “Besides, we’re not safe here right now.”

“We’re nowhere safe right now,” Soap growled bitterly.

He was right. Even if they made it out of Las Almas alive, the Shadows would be looking for them. They had to prepare a good plan, rescue Alejandro and his people and go after Graves. That bastard would pay for what he had done.

He looked around the city, looking for Soap. Simon located him a few streets further east, near a tunnel that led to the church. He better observed the streets and surroundings.

“The city’s full of tunnels, Johnny, and you’ve one very close that leads to here,” he informed him. “Although I warn you it’s flooded. If I were you, I’d prepare myself for a good cold bath.”

“Are you going to come down and swim with me, Lt.?” He asked in a mocking tone.

Tempting.

“I prefer to stay at the top of the tower. It’s much drier.”

“And more intimate. Are you seeking God's forgiveness?”

“God doesn’t exist,” he growled. “And if he does, he’s a fucking psycho.” Simon spied a group of people walking towards Soap. From the looks of them, they weren’t part of Grave’s men, so they’d to be narcos. “Have you entered the tunnel yet?”

“Nope.”

“Hurry up. If they catch you, they’ll kill you slowly.”

“Mercs or narcos?”

Ghost snorted.

“Narcos. They’ll take videos.”

“Oh, really? So, I should give them your email, so they know where to send them.”

“I don’t plan to see them. Not more than once.”

“You’re sick, Lt.”

Soap’s horrified tone of voice failed to distract him from the image that had just crossed Ghost’s mind. The idea that the narcos would torture his partner to death blocked him for a few seconds. He slammed the thought away and set his jaw, clenching hard on the rifle. If they put their hands on him, if they touched a single hair of his stupid hairdo, he would come down like a wrathful demon and rip their hearts out one by one.

He forced himself to take a deep breath.

Ghost had seen the videos that narcos recorded when they tortured and killed people. Not for fun, it wasn’t some kind of strange filia. It was, plain and simple, a way to feed him hatred; a way to remind him that his work was necessary. To remind him that people were the worst that had existed in a long time.

Well, not everyone is the worst, he reminded himself.

Of course he was generalizing, because doing so was so much easier. On the other hand, it made it more difficult for him to bond with people. It wasn’t something he wanted either, however…

This shit again, no.

He needed to be distracted again. And maybe Soap too. He took a deep breath and cocked his head.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…” He began tentatively.

An amused snort came to him over the radio.

“Is this another one of your jokes, Lt.?”

“Maybe. I’ve seen you a little tense.”

“Sure,” he chuckled softly. “Two goldfish are in a tank. What else?”

“One turns to the other and says, ‘You know how to drive this thing?’” There was silence on the other end of the radio and he shrugged. “Little army humor.”

“Very little…”

Despite his words, Ghost heard a smile in his tone.

“Another one?” He asked, encouraged. One of the few things in life that he liked were bad jokes.

“Why not.”

“Why don’t blind guys skydive?”

“No idea, tell me.”

“Because dogs get shit scared.”

Very bad jokes.

“It’s been terrible, Lt.”

“Could you do it better?” He challenged him.

“Sure. Why don’t shrimp share?”

He frowned, trying to find a suitable answer.

“Why?”

“Because they’re a little shellfish.”

Ghost stared at infinity for a second while a stupid smile formed on his lips.

“And you say my jokes are bad.”

“I’ve another one.”

“Tell me.”

“What happened to the lion that ate a piece of soap?”

Simon was silent. Was that an analogy? He was the lion and John the soap? He wasn’t trying to eat his mate… was he? Ghost envisioned a scene he hadn’t expected and instantly closed his eyes, shaking his head.

Fuckin’ Scottish bastard.

“Your brain is fried and I still haven’t finished telling you the joke.”

Soap’s mocking voice brought him back to reality.

“Sorry, I thought I heard a noise around here. False alarm,” he added quickly. “Tell me, what happened to the lion?”

“Now he’s a puma.”

He closed his eyes again and stifled a small laugh. It had been a very bad joke.

“Not bad,” he admitted.

“But you laughed.”

“At all.”

“Come on, Lt., the radio captures things better than you think. Fuck!”

“What the hell…? Freeze!” The voice of a Shadow yelled. “Attention, Shadows! There’s one near the church!”

Heart pounding, Ghost searched for Soap. When he located him, he fired without hesitation. The Shadow that was aiming at John fell to the ground, dead. Simon allowed himself the luxury of seeing if his partner was okay before moving the weapon to take down two more Shadows.

“Holy shit…” John whispered into the radio and Simon felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “Was it you, Ghost?”

He snorted.

“Who else?” He replied. “Come on, let’s move. You’re almost there.”

A noise behind him startled him. Ghost put the rifle to his back and drew the pistol. He checked that it’s loaded and waited. Simon heard gunshots down in the plaza and feared for Soap, yet he couldn’t be distracted now. His life depended on being sharp. A few minutes later, a group of Shadows appeared in the room and Ghost shot two of them. He pushed a third out of a window and he stabbed a fourth in the throat. Ghost left the tower and started down the stairs quickly. He fired at three more Shadows and reloaded the gun.

“Ghost, do you copy?”

Soap’s calm voice reassured him enough to know he was okay.

“I’ve got company at church, Johnny,” he replied, firing twice more, “and I doubt they’ll come to confession. Go to the stairs, I’ll see you there.”

“Roger, Lt.”

He sensed that Soap wanted to say something else, however, he must have thought better of it and kept silent. Maybe he was too busy trying to get out of the shooting alive, just like him.

The stairs were over there.

He ran down the ground floor of the church, turning only to fire, and out the front door. He saw Soap on the other side of the gate. Ghost breathed a sigh of relief and took a running run to jump over the grating. His partner opened fire, knocking out three Shadows. Simon took advantage of some boxes to push himself up and go over the fence, reuniting with Soap. Ghost glanced at him to make sure he was fine, except for a wound on his right arm, and he headed downstairs.

Of course he lied when he said he wasn’t hurt.

“Keep your eyes open, Johnny,” he commanded. “They know that we’re here… and that it’s us. They’ll send more men, so you’ve to be prepared.”

“Okay, let’s find a vehicle and get out of here.”

They positioned themselves behind a car and Ghost looked at Soap. He was smiling. Of course John was smiling, when did he not have one on his lips? He had a smile for almost any situation and, in those moments, Soap was giving him encouragement; telling him that everything would be fine. He was saying it to him.

Fucking Scottish bastard, he growled, nodding at him and stepping out of cover.

Someone fired from the left and they returned fire almost blindly, taking cover behind a van. Ghost looked around quickly until he saw a truck just up the road. The lights were on, which was a good sign. That could mean that, apart from having a battery, there was a high probability that it also had the keys in it.

“Soap, truck right ahead.”

“I see it!”

“I drive.”

They ran toward it and Ghost opened the driver’s door. He pulled the corpse out of the seat and checked to see if the keys were in it. He sighed in relief and closed the door, waiting for his partner to get into the car with him. He started the engine as Soap got in next to him.

“Alright, Johnny,” he congratulated him. “You made it”.

Soap turned to look at him and composed his sly smile, that one he had begun to appreciate.

“We made it, Lt.” He pointed out.

Ghost outlined a half smile under his mask. He didn’t last long as a burst of shots ricocheted off the chassis of the vehicle. Soap spun around, gun pointed, and Simon stepped into the clutch. He put it in reverse and turned around to get a better look.

“Hold on!”

He ran over the two Shadows that were shooting and braked. Soap laughed.

“That’s a good way to do it!” He said, looking at him. John looked away from him and drew the gun again. “Get back!”

Ghost struck to the seat and Soap fired, taking down another enemy. He looked at his partner, who still had the gun in the air, and noticed how the corner of his own lips turned into a small smile. At the same time, he felt a slight warmth in his chest, something familiar but distant at the same time. Something he hadn't felt in many years. Something that, perhaps, was not so bad.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

John turned to Ghost and smiled at him for a second. Soap patted his shoulder and turned in the seat, facing the rear of the vehicle.

“Drive, I shoot!”

Ghost nodded and floored the accelerator, taking down a couple of market stalls and an awkwardly parked car. Soap fired a couple of times before sitting up better in the seat. Simon glanced at him. He was smiling as he looked out the window. The bastard was smiling again and, worst of all, he was too. It wasn’t a smile like his, it wasn’t even a full smile. Perhaps, from the outside, it was perceived as a grimace. But for someone like Ghost, who hadn’t smiled in over ten years, it was enough.

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caroline-ds-world · 2 years

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I was tagged by @skz317cb97 to list 5 songs I have been loving recently. My music taste is kinda all over the place ive got at least 5 playlists by themselves.

1. Guerrilla by Ateez

2. Trouble with a heartbreak by Jason Aldean

3. Scars by Stray Kids (of course they're my babies!)

4 Play with fire by Sam Tinnesz( we'll blame this one on the tease that is Hwang Hyunjin 🥵 that dance lives rent free)

5. BOTH by Todrick Hall

I can't think of anyone to tag to pass this along but yeah. Thank again Cal for making me expose my weird taste in music!

#music is my favorite thing in the world #skz317cb97 #tags #moots #🎶🎵🎼

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writingfics-passingtime · 2 years

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Instinct

Thank you to the sweet anon who sent me this fun idea !! I had a great time writing a whole bunch of rough and playful tickles for this fic.

Word Count: ~7800 words of Loki fluff (ft. Thor)

Pairing: Loki x gender neutral reader (platonic), Thor x reader (platonic)

Prompt: What do you think of a fic where after Loki somehow works out that the reader likes t-words-(probably from people watching, as usual)-he catches her having a really bad day and just bluntly asks if it would make her feel better for him to t-word her? Like asking someone if they want/need a hug? Only after he's talked her into it would the loving but also deadly teasing start.

CWs: violence, brief mentions of killing/death, anxious reader, insecure reader, swearing, wounds/brief mentions of medical procedure (stitches)

“Are you okay?”

You’d flinched when Loki had leaned in to ask you the question, telling him he was a little closer than you’d anticipated anyone to be right now. He recoiled, only as much to give you the space you looked to need. You nodded to him, but he watched that ripple of tension in your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. He watched as it pulsed through you with every step up the ramp of the quinjet.

It hadn’t been enough of an ambush to overpower the team, but enough to make you all put up a reasonable fight. They’d really come out of no where, their guerrilla tactics impressive and terrifying and expertly executed. If it hadn’t been the Avengers, whichever unfortunately group had stumbled upon them would’ve been dead before they knew what was happening.

You’d grappled with one of them for several minutes, holding your own very well against the deadly fighter after you’d taken out one before him. It got to the point where you were so evenly matched that Loki had finished off the last of the men fighting him, and then turned to assist you. Just as the fighter was making a jab you were sure to have dodged, Loki struck down with both blades and ended his life. You’d stood, chest heaving, before nodding up to Loki with a shell-shocked thanks.

Now back on the jet, you were unloading your weapons at the work bench as others filtered on, and you look up warily whenever something moved into your line of sight. You winced and Loki saw you try to lower your shoulders, to loosen your jaw, but you just took a tense breath in and shook yourself out of your own head, falling into the routine of cleaning your blades and stowing them above a seat.

It wasn’t until you’d strapped yourself into a jump-seat next to Loki for take-off that you winced for a different reason.

“Ah, shit,” you whispered, quickly unbuckling the straps once again.

He shot his glance to you. “What?”

You sighed as you pressed a hand to your side over your black tactical clothing, and Loki saw a dark crimson begin to peak through the gaps of your fingers. “I’ve been stabbed.”

Standing up, you looked more annoyed than anything else, and Loki couldn’t fight his wry smile as you grumbled your way to the medical bay and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, Strange opened it and Loki saw you remove your hand and look up at him. A few more seconds after that, you were inside and the door was shut.

Several minutes after take-off, after everyone unbuckled and was going about their business, the door to the private med bay slid open once again. An exasperated Dr Strange shot his head into the main room with a bit of a huff. “I need some help in here,” he called, scanning the room before his eyes landed on the two people not doing much of anything. “You’ll do,” he clicked his tongue at Thor and Loki, nodding them into the room.

“What’s the matter, Strange?” Thor enquired as he stepped over the threshold. Loki listened on as he too stepped inside, hitting the button to close the door. You gave your own annoyed sigh from where you lay on the exam table, partially propped up by your elbows, shirt bunched up just above your lower ribs to reveal a sizeable gash on the left side of your stomach, an inch or two above the waistband of your pants.

“Nothing’s the matter,” you grizzled, although Loki saw a glint of amusement in your eye. “He’s being a drama queen.”

“Says the person who can’t sit still for eight stitches,” he shot back with an unimpressed look, elbows bent with his gloved hands held away from touching anything. Looking back to the brothers, he tilted his head towards where you lay. “I’m having some compliance issues.”

“Aren’t doctors tested on their bedside manner before taking the Hippocratic Oath?” A small stream of blood began seeping out of your wound and Strange gave a groan of frustration. You continued with your stroppy tirade, “Calling in two demigods to physically restrain a patient, I mean-”

“My patient is unwilling to sit still,” he countered, picking up a medical wipe to clean the wound again.

“Willing and able are two different things. A neurosurgeon should know that.”

“And an Avenger should be able to control their reactions.”

“It’s called instinct!”

“As enjoyable as this little show is,” Loki interjected with a hand held up, “What exactly is it that you require our assistance for?”

“Rendering your teammate immobile so I can administer stitches,” Strange smiled tensely, rounding the table to wipe away the blood.

“If pain is the issue, surely there’s-”

Thor’s question was cut off by your loud giggle and the slapping of your hand against the doctor’s as he wiped at the blood on your lower stomach.

“Ah.”

“I see.”

The brothers responded and chuckled, taking steps closer to assist on the mission.

“Wait, no!” You shifted and giggled nervously as Thor placed himself by your upper legs and Loki near your head, both of them on the other side of the table to Strange.

“The local anaesthetic has taken away the pain, but we’re left with all the other sensitivities which already existed,” Strange explained, nodding to the brothers. Thor immediately laid his upper body across your thighs, making you squirm and grimace at first, but ultimately resign yourself to it. With a defeated groan, you lowered yourself down onto your back.

“Why not use magic? I could heal this quickly.” Loki crossed his arms, looking at the wound. “A short incantation and this is all good as new. No need for brute force,” he side-eyed his brother.

Strange scoffed, hooking his foot around the trolley of supplies and pulling it closer. “I’m the best surgeon in the world.”

“This isn’t the only world-”

“Yeah, I like Loki’s idea-”

“We’re doing this my way,” Strange said firmly, then gestured down to you as he took the needle in his hand. “If you’d be so kind.”

The dark-haired Asgardian sucked his teeth before calming his demeanour as to not hurt you when he complied. It left a sour taste in his mouth, getting ordered around by this mortal who fancied himself a sorcerer, but fighting with him about it would only make life more difficult. It would get him benched as a insubordinate, and the boredom of that was unbearable. So he reached down and snatched your wrists without any warning, as to not give you time to try fighting him off.

“Traitor!” You growled at Loki as he put both your wrists in one hand, pressed them up to your collarbone and followed Thor’s lead by leaning his upper body over yours.

“Sufficient?” Loki seethed to Strange with a clenched jaw, being careful to not block your airflow as he ignored your squirms of protests.

“We should be sure,” Thor nodded. Loki caught the small smirk in his brother’s lips just before he reached his free hand out and placed his fingertips on a patch of skin well away from the wound.

“NO!” You squeaked, then erupted in giggles as Thor firmly scratched his five fingers at the bare skin just below your ribs, where your stomach was becoming your side. Loki grinned as they watched you squirm for a few seconds, then made a few minor adjustments to make sure your torso was truly immobile.

“I now see why you couldn’t use standard restraints,” Thor chuckled as he removed his fingers.

Loki turned to see your rosy cheeks taking in air. “Little hellcat,” he chuckled. “A fighter, you are.”

“S-shut up, Loki,” you coughed for a second then tried to peer around him to Strange. “Get on with it then!” You near-shouted with a sigh of defeat, but before you could fully relax you were twitching again and attempting to hold in giggles as Strange cleaned the wound for the third time.

Loki waited for your laughs to turn into winces of pain, but that medicine must have been incredibly well-developed, because the feeling of Strange stitching you up nearly sent you into hysterics.

The brothers could hardly believe their eyes and ears, easily holding your mortal body still between them, but amazed that such a small sensation was bringing about such strength in your searches for freedom. You didn’t bother begging or pleading, instead only trying, and failing, to hold in your laughs as Strange administered stitch after stitch.

Loki again looked back at you and was pleasantly surprised to see that pang of tension fading from your features. From the energy around you. You spluttered out laughs and pulled on your wrists in his grasp as your eyes shut tight, but he didn’t miss the way your shoulders seemed to release their locked-in stress over the short minutes it took to get you all sorted.

“Done,” Strange plopped the metal scissors back on the table. “I’ll dress it and then you can go.”

“Must we continue our duties?” Loki enquired, admiring the admittedly impeccable handiwork.

“Loki, you disappoint me,” Thor chuckled. “Are you not the God of Mischief?”

“Oh hell no!” You struggled, picking up the cheekiness in Thor’s tone.

Loki turned to smirk down at you. “Scared, Agent?”

“So help me, all your gods, I will pop a stitch if you- n-noho THOR!” You squeaked, an immediate smile pulling deep into your cheeks as giggles once again poured out of you. Loki casted a glance to where Thor‘s hand was tucked under your leg, presumably tickling at the skin behind your knees.

“The stitches won’t pop,” Strange said from where he was grabbing a dressing and slipping on a non-bloodied pair of gloves. “I know my work.”

“Guys, plehehease!” You snivelled. “Dohoc, help me OHOUT- AH LOKI!” Your head fell back against the table when Loki used his free hand to very lightly pinch at the bare skin stretched over your lowest ribs. He felt you practically melt beneath him as you burst in bright laughter.

“Norns, brother,” Loki chuckled and tossed a look to where Thor had paused his torment. “I’ve never met a mortal so ticklish.”

“SHUHUT UHUP!” You shrieked in whiny laughter, only serving to make the brothers laugh themselves, and even Strange cracked a small smile as he finished placing the dressing. Behind Thor your feet twitched and shuffled on the table, unable to move much with a demigod draped over your upper legs.

“Done,” the Doctor declared and Loki stilled his fingers.

“Good,” you gulped in air beneath the Asgardians and pulled on your limbs to signal for them to get off you. After a few seconds’ hesitation, and a traded look, they let you go without further torment. Loki slipped his hand around your forearm to help you off the table as you continued to catch your breath. Thor clapped you on the shoulder as you glowered up at the God of Thunder but, try as you might, there was no concealing the truth from the God of Lies.

He caught the way your stress was alleviated, the small smile still pulled into your cheeks and the way your steps seemed lighter. He also didn’t fail to notice the lifting of your spirits, obvious through your resumed usual chatter as you left the med bay. Loki pondered it quietly as the three of you passed Barnes, who had been stationed outside the door awaiting his turn to be patched up. He let his mind wander for a second to hope to the Norns Strange wouldn’t require their further assistance with the former Winter Soldier; your smaller frame was child’s play to incapacitate, but Barnes’… not so much.

Although Loki didn’t broach the subject with you over the following weeks, he certainly didn’t forget it. It simply stayed in the back of his mind, only being brought to the forefront when something seemingly inconsequential would jog his memory.

Things had been hard lately. Your world was falling inwards, socially-speaking, and there seemed to be issues arising at double the rate they normally did. Missions increased in frequency, in intensity, and in emotional toll. Stark and Rogers sometimes lost the good-natured tint in their arguments. Barton suddenly took a few weeks off and declared it was hard to justify keeping the world safe for his family when they could so easily forget his face. Wanda’s birthday brought about a whole host of un-dealt-with trauma at the death of her twin brother - trauma that had been harnessed to lay disastrous waste to an entire enemy convoy before Vision stepped in and they were also suddenly gone for a week.

Loki could see you that you didn’t blame them. He could also see how your workload increased. Sometimes you’d arrive home just to be tapped on the arm by a leaving team asking for your help. You never refused, as much as it was clear to see you probably should. But you put yourself in the zone, slept sitting up in a jump-seat, and switched yourself on for the missions.

The busy period eventually subsided, though its effects came in aftershocks. You seemed okay, just a little tired, until one night when most people were eating at the dining table. A door accidentally slammed near the kitchen and you, bleary-eyed, picked up a knife, stumbled out of your seat and threw your back against a wall with the blade outstretched towards the noise. Barnes, who’d been sitting next to you, quickly and gently disarmed you, then placed a firm hand on your shoulder to bring you back to the moment. Loki had never seen you look so embarrassed. You‘d muttered some kind of apology, some comment about needing to sleep, and then excused yourself.

That moment with the knife was probably why you weren’t called out on the next few missions, and it looked to be the best thing for you. Wanda and Vision had returned and the tasks for that week weren’t too daunting. Certainly not to the extent that the nearly burnt-out Agent would be absolutely vital. So you finally got to sleep a little more, eat proper meals, and rest.

On one quiet evening, when most people were away, save for you, Thor, Loki and Stark holed up in his lab, Loki entered the living room to find you in a somewhat peculiar position. With his brother, no less.

You were perched on the back of the couch with Thor’s broad shoulders between your knees as you twisted and played with the golden Asgardian hair. Loki bumped his eyebrows at the sight, wondering if this meant anything or if perhaps you just enjoyed the physical contact. He’d never seen you get overtly flirty with your touch, your words or with the looks you gave. Furthermore, if he were to think long and hard about it, he’d probably find some memory of you running your fingers through someone else‘s hair, or working the heels of your palms into a teammate‘s tense shoulders. All in all, mere idea of this didn’t seem too out of character.

“What are you doing up there?” Thor asked as you giggled and twisted a few braids together.

“Creating art,” you grinned. Loki properly entered the room with his drink and smirked at the sight he could now more clearly see. You‘d made a bit of a mess. Not a tangled one, but not unlike what one might expect a small child to do when given free reign over another‘s long hair.

“Are you attempting to make some home for a woodland creature atop my brother’s head?” Loki joked as he took his place in a nearby armchair and casted a glance to what you two were watching. It didn’t look all too entertaining. You certainly didn’t seem as interested in the movie as you were in messing about with Thor’s hair.

Thor scoffed and brought a hand up to inspect, but you slapped it away. “No touching.”

“Let me see.”

“Oh, it’s glorious, brother.”

“What’ve you done?” Thor chuckled and brought his hand up again. This time you used your foot to nudge it away with a giggle. “Let me see!” Thor grabbed your ankle and brought his other hand up, and you weren’t as fast to hit it away. His fingers landed upon the mass of his hair and he craned his next to give you a playful menacing stare. “You said you were braiding.”

“There are several braids in there,” you flashed a grin then brought your hands up to keep going. “Let me finish and I’ll take a picture.”

“Like Hel you will,” Thor grunted and used his one hand to hit your two away, finding you were able to get in little pokes to his hair as you laughed at the tussle. A more forceful push from you sent you stumbling a little backwards, but Thor’s grip on your ankle kept you anchored as you pulled yourself upright once again. “Careful!” He laughed. “I may have to let you fall if you will not yield.”

Loki smirked at the scene, as amused as he could be with someone messing with his brother so well. He narrowed his eyes as he saw you hook your free leg over Thor’s shoulder and push your foot against the hand holding your other ankle, trying to prompt Thor to focus his grasp there. It worked. Thor grabbed your free ankle and you once again took strands of his hair as your bright laughter bounced around the room. “You leave me no choice, mortal,” Thor near-growled.

Ah. Loki knew that tint of light-hearted malice. You were in trouble.

Thor swung your other leg over his shoulder and let you fall a bit backwards. You yelped and clutched the back of the couch as Thor let you slip, stopping you when your knees were bent over his shoulders. So there you sat, keeping yourself somewhat upright with a strong hand gripping the sofa, struggling a little in Thor’s grasp. You were in a bit of a helpless situation. If Thor released your legs in this position you’d go tumbling down the marble floor. But if you let yourself down to place your hands against the floor and bring your legs over yourself to land, you ran the risk of Thor not letting go and being hung there vulnerably.

You didn’t have much time to question it or to make a plan, considering Thor crossed your ankles, threw an arm over to pin them against his chest, and then made quick work of fluttering his fingers against the soles of your socked feet.

“H-HEY!” You squeaked, eyes widening in surprise. Loki smirked at your reaction, not grapsing how you could’ve possibly thought this would end any other way. It was mere weeks ago the brothers had been called in to hold you in place because you were unfathomably ticklish. Surely you couldn’t have expected them to forget about it.

No. That would be foolish and you were no fool. Peculiar indeed.

“THOR CUHUT IT OHOUT!” You squealed with laughter and pulled yourself up to wrap an arm around his neck and slap away his hands with the other. Thor, in turn, responded by tilting sideways to pull you over and dump you onto the couch next to him. His tickling hand left your feet and reached up to grab at something else.

“You should know better than to mess with an Asgardian,” he chuckled solemnly then shot a glance to Loki. “Especially an Asgardian raised alongside the God of Mischief.”

You collapsed into frantic giggles and pushed at his hands, wrapping your legs tight around his neck from instinct. It was as if Thor felt nothing, Loki observed, as his older brother turned and propped himself up, shooting forwards to hover over your squirming body on the couch and partially trap you with his knees.

“LOKI HEHELP!” You called to him through the belly-laughs Thor had pulled from you by wedging his fingers up under your arms. You kicked and screamed through your squeal-laden laughter, but you were more thrashing in reaction than in any form of attempt at escape. Loki smirked when he put the pieces together, seeing the under-utilised escape routes, that happy grin in your cheeks, knowing how you so clearly provoked this and provided the elder of the two with the perfect chance to tickle you to pieces. He’d half a mind to ask you exactly whom you wanted him to help, but decided to keep his little revelation a secret. For now, at least.

“You brought this upon yourself,” he drawled, opening his book and pretending to read for the next several moments as Thor reduced you to a panting, blushing little puddle who was genuinely begging for mercy. Once he released you, however, you did the most foolish thing and tried to get revenge.

You really were asking for it.

After another minute or so of Thor teaching you a final lesson, you stayed down and got to catching your breath as you focused on the TV for the first time that evening. Loki looked at you from the corner of his eye and smirked again. You appeared more relaxed than he’d seen you in weeks. Happier. Definitely less tense. He wasn’t sure if that little tickle fight was what you needed in order to get some pent-up energy out, to loosen up your tight muscles, or if you simply desired to physically engage with someone. The more he took note of your subtle content smile and the way you’d practically melted into the cushions, the more he got the feeling it was probably all three reasons.

He, again, filed this away, now much more confident in his assumption.

Another few days went by until you were finally called back out on a mission. It wasn’t anything catastrophic, to do with nuclear weapons or child hostages. It was to be a simple surveillance op, just you and Barnes. From all accounts he heard, Loki knew the mission to have gone well, you and Barnes having executed your tasks perfectly. So Loki couldn’t understand your shrivelled and stony demeanour when you returned. You’d arrived back in the morning, skipped lunch, skipped dinner, he saw you leave in a car late and night and return an hour or so later. You’d probably gotten food and ate it elsewhere.

The next few days were somewhat the same. You smiled and laughed at all the right moments but you seemed to have the weight of the world pulling you to the depths. Your usual confident gaze often fell to your shoes as you walked, progressively curling in on yourself.

After too many days of this and apparently no one else saying anything, Loki took it upon himself to knock on your door just after another dinner you missed. You called for him to come in, peeking over the top of the laptop perched against your upper thighs and bent knees. As Loki approached you closed the lid.

“What‘s going on?” You raised an eyebrow at the lack of his usual snarky or teasing greeting.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, perching himself on the edge of your bed as you put your earbuds in their little pod. He propped himself up with a casual hand against the bedspread, his arm gently pressed against the side of your knee. You sighed and snapped your laptop shut, putting it on your bedside table before playing with the open-close mechanism on your headphones’ pod.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, snapping the thick plastic shut before opening it again. You shrugged, “Just an off day. Or few days.” You snapped it shut again before catching yourself doing it. Probably fearing it was annoying him, you halted the action and instead played with the closed case in your fingers.

“Is there anything you need?” Loki asked, catching himself off-guard by how pliant he sounded. Never the matter.

“I’m fine,” you bit your tongue. “This’ll all go away in a few days. I’m not trying to be dramatic,” you made haste to explain, looking up at him with eyes willing him to believe you. “I’m not looking for attention.”

“I’m aware,” Loki nodded, and he caught the way the tension in your shoulders seemed to release, even just a little bit. It spurred an idea. A memory. Of times he’d seen that before... Suppose it worked? “Would it help if I tickled you?”

The case suddenly snapped shut with a loud click and you seemed to freeze with your eyes trained on it. You didn’t move for a few long seconds, licking your lips nervously before lifting your head but not quite meeting his eye. “The hell kind of question is that?” You squirmed in your seat, eyes no doubt taking note of how Loki was sat between you and your obvious exit.

“What?” Loki let a smirk come to his lips. “Was I not supposed to notice how it seems to relax you? Relieves your tension-”

“Lokihi,” you gave a nervous laugh. “This isn’t… that‘s not something people-”

“It makes sense, really,” Loki continued, outwardly ignoring the way your cheeks were reddening by the second, inwardly taking the utmost delight in how flustered he’d already made you. “Laughter is a natural stress reliever. It only makes sense tickling would make you feel better, especially since you enjoy it so much.”

“LOKI!” You squeaked, whipping your hands up to hide your burning face, pulling your bent knees closer.

“What?” He asked with fake innocence. He still wore his smirk, and you peeked your fingers from behind your eyes to see it there. “You seem a little flustered, Agent,” he commented.

“Stop it,” you warned, but your heart wasn’t in it. “This is ridiculous. I’m not gonna sit here and listen t- hehey!”

He cut you off with a deft squeeze at the muscle above your kneecap. You jolted your leg and gave him a serious look. Again, there was no heart in it.

“Loki…” You warned with your voice, but made no serious moves to escape. “Stop,” you set your jaw.

He chuckled and retracted his hand before smirking with a tilt of his head. “You don’t mean that.”

You blushed harder, apparently that was possible, and started stammering, babbling, trying to defend what little argumentative territory you had. However, he’d left little room for debate.

“I won’t make this too hard for you, Agent,” Loki chuckled again, making a show of undoing the latch at is wrist and rolling up one sleeve. “I won’t make you ask for it outright. After all, I did come here to help. All you have to do is not tell me to stop.” He shot you a wicked grin as he worked on his other sleeve. “Agreed?”

“L-Loki…” you scoffed. “Th-this is-”

“Agreed?”

You licked your lips again. You were nervous but you didn’t at all make any moves to get away from him, hold your hands up in defence, or give any outward indication of discomfort. Loki had to laugh, dropping his smirk in favour of a genuine smile. “Timid thing, is even that too hard to say?”

You scoffed again and rubbed your own upper arm anxiously. “You’re embarrassing me,” you admitted, hardly above a whisper. Then, your breath caught in your throat as Loki slowly moved his hand to rest against your side. His eyes locked with yours and he saw you bite your blushing lip. You didn’t say stop. So, he replaced his grin and pulsed his squeezing fingers at your hipbone.

“AHA WAIT!” You squeaked and already began sliding down from where you’d been leaning back against the headboard. “STOHOP!” You laughed loudly, but it died in your throat as Loki retracted his hand.

“Alright then,” he smiled kindly. He saw the regret flash across your face as he made to stand.

“Wait!” You rushed and grabbed his arm. Your mouth opened to speak, though you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to say the words he knew you wanted to.

“Instinct?” He smirked. You nodded, another bite of your lip. “Self-preservation.” You nodded again. “Do you need a different word to stop me?” He half-grinned. You didn’t nod. Was that a yes?

“I-I… I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Control my self-preservation instinct.”

Ah.

“If I have an out… I’ll take it.”

Some kind of excitement bloomed in Loki’s chest in a way he hadn’t quite experienced before. Oh, this was far too good. Was this permission? Something about the pure mischief, the pure trust, the implicit reliance on him to understand… oh, it was glorious. He grinned wide before he could stop himself.

“Then there’s no out,” Loki smirked wickedly, and your eyes sparkled in a nervous, excited anticipation. “But no more will I accept subtly, darling; you need to say “yes” if I am to proceed, lest I get this devastatingly wrong. Because once I start, it’s up to me to stop. Your pleas will not sway me.”

He saw you take a deep breath in, and then release it before you gave the world’s tiniest nod. Loki chuckled, bringing the mischief back to his voice, and turned to be kneeling beside you on the bed, looming over you, leering down. Taking your chin between his fingers, he lifted your face to make you look at him. “Your words, darling. Use them while you can.”

“Pfft,” your defiance kicked in as you shook your head from his grasp. “Make me.”

Loki chuckled and wrestled you for your wrists as you bit back grunts of exertion. He kept his smirk as he taunted, “Make you, you say? I tried to make this easy on you, but I suppose I’ve no reservations with making you beg for it.”

“Okay, okay! Fine!” You whimpered as he caught your wrists and pulled you to sit up right in front of him. You bit your tongue, then your lip, then blushed as you looked at his large hand around your smaller wrist. Then, you mumbled a whisper.

“Pardon?” He leaned in.

“Sss.” Was all he caught.

“I can’t hear you.”

You lifted your head with a defeated wince. “I said YES, Loki, don’t be such a-AH!” You yelped as he pushed you down and partially pinned you with his own body, your lower half still trapped beneath the covers.

“Such a what?” Loki scoffed, pressing your wrists to your chest to free another hand to flit under his body and grab at one of the more effective spots he knew. Frantic giggles bubbled over your lips as he firmly circled his thumb into the front of your lower ribs while digging against the sides with his middle and ring fingers. “Care to repeat that little comment?” You shrieked and fell into louder laughter as his thumb found a particularly sensitive space between two ribs, and he refocused his efforts there.

“Nuh-nuh-NO, NOHO!” You yelled through laughter, squirming hard underneath him as he kept kneading at your ribs without relent. He chuckled as your eyes closed and your feet kicked beneath the covers, then slowly moved his hand down your side in search of more sensitive places. His thumb pulsed into the side of your stomach the whole way down, drawing out hard laughter, but not as delectable as that spot on your ribs. “I cahan’t!” You squeaked, a grin pulled hard into your cheeks. “NO, DON’T GOHO DON’T- not theHERE!” You shrieked again as Loki paused just above the base of your hip.

“Bad spot?” He grinned, but your eyes were still closed. He moved his hand over your hip, fingers poised to strike, and your eyes burst open in shock. You looked at him a little desperately and he squinted a bit. “Worst spot?” He tiled his head. “So soon, I’ve discovered it?” You gulped, and he grinned. “Guess I’ll find out.” With that, he latched his fingers into the sides of your hips as his thumb dug into the soft spaces next to the bones.

Laughter exploded out of you as your legs scrambled hopelessly beneath the covers. Loki grinned as your eyes shut tight and he quickly learned that each time he veered off course slightly and targeted the lowest point on that soft space, a little shriek would pop through your lips. He had you laughing so hard you barely noticed when he removed his hand, until you felt it clawing and digging against the side of your lower ribs once again.

“AHNOAHA!” You squealed and tried twisting away, but that only gave Loki access to slip his four finger around the back of your ribcage as his thumb drilled into the side. You slammed that side of you back down with hiccupy laughter, shaking your head through squealing pleas that died at the tip of your tongue. The higher he moved to wedge his hand, the harder you clamped your arm to your side and thrashed beneath him.

“I think you’re hiding something,” he teased. You just shook your head and kept gasping with laughter as he dug his fingers in harder. “Tell me, darling. Are you nervous for what I’m about to do?” He kept tickling as he moved to pull your wrists up and remove the protective power of your clamped upper arms. “I witnessed Thor pulling some delightful squeals from you here a few days ago when you were pretending to be a helpless little thing. Pretending like you wanted to escape.”

“NOHO!” You gasped and fought hard to keep your arms clamped down, once again instinctively wriggling away from Loki’s evil fingers. He halted at once and got to his knees as you caught your breath, keeping your arms clamped firmly at your sides.

“Forgive me, it may take a bit of work to find the most effective way to restrain you,” he grinned as your eyes shot open and you started scrambling out from under the covers.

“L-Loki, you cahan’t, no,” you giggled as Loki tilted his head predatorily, eyes scanning over your body.

“I’m sure you’ll find I absolutely can,” he mused. “Why are you putting up such a fight? You’re getting exactly what you wanted, aren’t you?” He smirked as you glowered up at him.

“That’s not fair,” you huffed, finding yourself up on your knees next to him. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Does it make it worse?” He fake pouted, then morphed his face into a satisfied mischief. “Good.”

He lunged for you and you tried to dodge, but he caught you around the waist and pulled your body into his. You hissed and pressed your hands against his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around your waist, both of you kneeling there while you wrestled. It would’ve been much more effective for you to press against his stomach, to keep your arms clamped down, but your shoving at his shoulders made him know for sure: you couldn’t wait for him to exploit that little spot of yours.

So without warning, he jammed his hands upwards and trapped you hard against him with his four fingers wiggling deep into the softest space under your arm.

Immediately, your arms whipped down and clamped to your sides, effectively trapping Loki’s wriggling fingers in the hypersensitive area. You seemed to be caught off guard by the sudden viciousness of his attack, because your screech wasn’t just one of laughter but also of surprise. At least, that’s what it sounded like. It was hard for Loki to tell for sure, given how hard you’d started belly-laughing and the strength of your thrashing against him.

“NONOPLEASE!” The squealing begs fumbled through your lips before you fell into a new spout of deep and desperate laughter, doing all you could to push against Loki as he only dug his fingers deeper and faster into the spaces under your arms. Your feet began drove into the mattress in an attempt to push him backwards, to maybe shove him into losing his balance, so he responded by letting you both fall sideways with your heads at the pillows. He hooked his legs around yours and tightened his grip around your body, so the only thing you could really move was your arms, but they were preoccupied being clamped to your sides.

In no time at all you laughter turn to silent hiccuping and you began weakening considerably, so Loki, as best he could with your arms still stuck beside you, moved his fingers down to harshly scratch at the front of your middle ribs with his middle and ring fingers. You shrieked again and shoved at him, then fell back into that silent laughter.

Loki grinned as he focused on the spot and watched you weakly writhe in his arms, hitting half-heartedly at his shoulders, a seemingly permanent grin etched into your impossibly rosy cheeks. He even noticed a tear or two trickling down as you spluttered and gasped with laughter, sometimes trying to beg but it only coming out in incoherent squeaks and squeals before you fell back into that hard silent laugh and buried your face in his shoulder.

He kept grinning as you squeaked and gasped against him, bringing his fingers even further down to firmly scratch at the sides of your stomach through your thin t-shirt. Your laughter ceased its silence and resumed into helpless giggles as more tears flowed down your cheeks, but you’d stopped fighting him. Instead of pushing against him, your fists had closed around the fabric covering his shoulders and were tugging in ticklish reaction. You only yelped and fought again when his fingers slipped lower and spidered against the soft skin just above your hips. The belly-laughter came back in full-force and your legs tugged hard where they were encased in his, your grip on his shoulders now pushing as you instinctively tried to shove yourself away, finding his iron grip entirely unmoving.

“I think ten more minutes right here should suffice,” he called to you and you immediately gasped, opening your eyes through your hard laughter. He grinned and took his hands away with a wink to let you know he was merely kidding. You sat there, trapped in his arms, red-faced as you sucked air through your smiling lip. He released you and propped himself up beside where you were panting hard and trying to catch your breath.

“The hell!” You coughed. “I dihidn’t think it would be like thahat,” you took another deep breath in, then let it out all at once.

Loki chuckled and pinched at your cheek, “What did you expect?” You swatted him away, but his hand was already gone.

“I dunnoho,” you mumbled, opening your eyes to look at him. “I don’t,” you shrugged with a chuckle. “I suppohose that’s exactly what I should’ve expected.”

“Did it help?”

The question was almost rhetorical, but you answered it anyway, with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I think it did.”

“You appear more relaxed, at least.”

“Do I?”

“Here,” Loki beckoned you to sit up, and you begrudgingly obliged. He made to move behind you and you let him with only a small skeptical glance over your shoulder. His hands met your shoulders and his thumbs pressed into a place that made you sigh. “Your body holds tension here,” he explained, then ran a hand up to brush his thumb against the hinge of your jaw. “Which affects here. You find it hard to speak when you‘re tense,” he said. It was a half-statement, half-question. You paused, then nodded. He placed his hands back on your shoulders and whispered, “Release.”

He pressed his hands down and you let your shoulders drop as he pulled them back, forcing you stop curling in on yourself. You winced a little, but made a small noise of surprise, as if you hadn’t stood up straight in years.

Loki felt the way you relaxed into his touch and let him change your tense posture. Once he had you sitting up straight you sighed again, nestling a bit into his touch. “Touch is an important need,” Loki hummed. “It is okay to seek it out.”

You chuckled dryly. “Maybe it’s different on Asgard, but people on Earth can misinterpret that easily. I’m not in the business of making things awkward with my co-workers.”

“You need not be embarrassed to come to me,” Loki said, running his hands over your shoulders to squeeze your upper arms. “I’m not of Earth.”

You casted a glance to him over your shoulder. “Why are you doing this? Being so nice.”

Gods, it struck his heart to see those glassy eyes of yours. He squeezed your arms again. “You matter to me. And to Thor. You’re like… our favourite little mortal.”

You scoffed and giggled, turning back away, “You’re making me sound like a pet.”

“Well do you not need care and attention? To be fed and watered?” He teased with a grin. You fully turned and swatted his leg.

“You do too!”

He laughed warmly and leaned back to rest against your headboard. “For lives as short as you live, you Midgardians are insufferably and time-wastingly bashful when it comes to expressing your needs for affection,” he chuckled and picked up your laptop. Resting it beside you two as he opened it with one hand. “Now what silly little programme were you watching-”

“Loki, wait-”

It was too late. He’d opened the lid and seen what you’d been looking at. It floored him. He didn’t even know you’d been hiding something, that’s how well you hid how you truly felt.

“What in the Norns…” Loki breathed out sadly as he saw your search results in various tabs. You sunk a little lower in his hold and your hands met your face as he scrolled through the different open windows.

Jobs in NYC

Jobs in London

Jobs for people who suck at everything

Marines enlistment

Barista jobs Spain

“What’s all this?” Loki tried to look down to you but you wouldn’t let him see your face. Instead, you pulled your laptop away from him and he let you up. Shutting the lid, you placed it back on the bedside table and began gathering the courage to face him. He saw your arm caress the other in a self-soothing motion, so he placed his hand on your shoulder and gently squeezed. “You want to leave?”

“No, but… more days than not… I feel like I’m not cut out for this,” you quietly admitted, only half-turning to him. “I’m not super, or special, or enhanced, I’m just... like, I’d probably explode if you or Thor punched me with full force, my sharpshooting skills will never match Clint’s or Bucky’s or yours. I don’t know why I’m here, and it’s getting harder to pretend to feel like I belong.”

“Hey-”

“I feel like an imposter,” you sniffed, dabbing at a single tear in your eye before sitting up much straighter and composing yourself. “It’s fine,” you shook your head, your body revealing your lie. “I’m fine. Sorry, I’m not looking for attention or compliments or anything like that,” you told him again. He saw that tension creep into your shoulders once again so he placed hands across them both and gently forced them away from your ears. You let him calm you.

“You’re not an imposter. I’ve seen you run circles around your enemies,” he breathed out and pressed into your shoulders soothingly, satisfied when he heard you release a shallow breath and settle a bit more. “I don’t suppose I can prove it to you, can I? Being the God of Lies and all,” he chuckled sadly and you cracked a small smile, finally looking over at him.

“There’ll always be insecure days,” you conceded. “I’m too much of a coward to actually leave and serve coffee in Madrid.”

“You’re certainly not a coward,” he kneaded into your shoulders again, adding a bit of a scolding strength to his voice. “I may be the God of Lies, but I’ve also been trained as a warrior for over nine hundred years. I know cowardice when I see it. I don’t see it in you.”

He saw your eyes well up a bit more, but you smiled and nodded in thanks before looking back down. Desperate to bring you back to a happier place, he added a teasing edge to his voice. “Cowardice does not befall you, but foolishness certainly does. Honestly, provoking my brother into tickling you. Are you mad?”

You blushed, scoffed, stammered. “Wha-what do you-”

“You’ll learn one day that I am exceptionally perceptive,” he chuckled as you flushed even more red.

Then, he saw you smirk and turn to him with an inquisitive look. “You speak as someone who’s been on the receiving end of your brother’s onslaught.”

“Some younger sibling experiences are universal, much to my misfortune.”

“Come on,” you grinned and shifted to face him. “You’ve gotta tell me where you’re ticklish.”

“Not a chance,” he chuckled.

“Then I’ll ask Thor.”

“He won’t tell you. He believes such advantages are to be earned, not freely given.”

“Then I’ll earn it myself,” you jutted out your chin confidently and your eyes sparkled as your shoulders lowered even more.

Loki laughed brightly and then smirked. “Am I to pretend it’s true revenge you seek, and not simply further torment?”

You reached out and shoved his shoulder with both hands. “You’re an asshole.”

“Ooh, spoiling for more? Those are fighting words, Agent,” Loki grinned and you blushed, but less than you had been that evening.

“Not right now,” you laughed nervously, truthfully. “I think I’d just like to watch a movie. You can stay if you want.”

Loki looked at you silently until you looked back up at him. You looked confused at his lack of comment, then a gentle smile pulled at his cheeks. “Ask for what you want. Don’t be afraid to express what you want. You deserve what you want.”

You nodded and bit your lip before staring him dead in the eyes confidently. You were no coward, and you didn’t want to act like one. “I’d really like it if you stayed and watched a movie with me. I could use a friend right now.”

“I’ve got other plans, I’m afraid,” Loki teased, but picked up your laptop and nodded to the space next to him. You rolled your eyes and muttered something about him being a jerk.

He opened the lid, closed all those tabs and then passed the computer over for you to flit around the internet and find something of interest. When you finally found something that looked to please you, you almost turned to ask him if it was alright, but you then said, “I wanna watch this.”

“Very well,” Loki nodded, then pulled it back on his lap, forcing you to lean in a little closer. In no time at all, your head was against his shoulder, your breathing steadied, and, next to your true friend, you fell asleep watching your favourite movie.

#loki x you #loki x reader #ler!loki #loki tickle #tickle fic #tickle fluff #lee!reader #loki fluff #loki tickle fic #marvel fluff #Thor x reader #thor x reader #Thor x Loki x reader #Thor tickle

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white-queen-lacus · 3 years

Text

Frederica and Homura as potential love interests?

Ok, before writing this post, I must admit that this thought has been wandering in my mind for some time and I will do my best to be as analytical as I can in the explanation. First of all, I've truly and wholeheartedly supported Shinkane since season 1 and I am sure that before or after, they will be endgame (in Psycho Pass' meaning, well... offscreen if we're lucky enough), so this post is just an attempt to see what is happening.

Let's make a premise: PP3, among all the seasons of PP, is the one that addressed romance in a more evident way, somehow. Not that it is a priority and it's fair as it is, since the focus of the series is basically human nature and its reaction to a world dominated by AI, but among the three seasons, PP3 caressed the topic. Not that it wasn't already addressed in the previous installments (Shion and Yayoi, Kaori's wedding, Akane's growing fascination, and not-so-well-hidden attraction and love for Kougami, Mika and her schoolmate, just to say), but starting with Sinners of the System, something else happened. Masaoka and Sae, Sugo and his friend's wife (tell me whatever, but he seemed to care a little bit too much and I found something similar in Arata's behavior towards Maiko)... and in season 3, the already mentioned Arata, both with Maiko (the hospital scene) and Karina, but also with Irie and Mao (I loved the whole music box scene) and Mao *not-so-well-hidden* fancying Kei. Did I mention the brief and glorious Shinkane's scenes? The cherry blossoms in First Inspector screamed "LOVE" in caps lock.

Well, ladies first, so let's talk about the mysterious and glamorous agent of the SAD: Hanashiro Frederica. When her character was revealed, all of us (or at least, the majority) thought that she could be a potential threat or a possible enemy. So far, it seems that apart from bigger fanservice than all the girls in PP, a still-secret agenda, and the fact that she managed to recruit Kougami, Gino and Sugo in her team (as well as granting them some privileges), there isn't any evidence that she could be an enemy. Yes, the whole Ministry of Foreign Affairs/SAD goals and mission aren't clear, that's why I hope we might get PP4 or a dedicated special, in order to understand more about them and her apparently personal motivations too. Now... thanks to the lovely @kumapillow who kindly translated the SAD extra chapter, something made me wonder. I already said in another post that Frederica seems to have a soft spot for Kougami. Just a few words about Kougami. So far, with the exception of the novels, where his feelings are clearer, he's never shown particular interest in women (or relationships in general). In the profiling book, it's said that he doesn't remember his first love, but it's also said that he would let Sybil choose for him once the time comes, until the movie updated version when it's said that his favorite type of girl is a companion who can keep up a conversation. Considering that in season 1 he was revenge-driven and Makishima-absorbed, romance was practically out of question (also, if we consider that he's been a workaholic since he was an Inspector, I'm not this impressed if he never had a proper relationship). Complete silence in season 2, then in the movies he said that wherever he goes, he's punctually involved in some conflict, aka... no time for romance again (for ghost!Makishima's joy). I read sometimes that the fact that he declined Shion's advances in episode 18 with the sentence "I don't think we are each others' type" was eloquent about his sexuality, since he probably is gay or bi, at least. I don't think he is, but simply, being the kind person he is, Kougami just found a colloquial way to remember Shion where her heart truly laid (and in the novel, it's more obvious). No surprise, during the fight against Rutaganda, when the mercenary said that listening to Kougami made him happy like he was listening to some Wagner's piéce, Kougami promptly answers that he could have rather listened to those words from a glamorous beauty than from him (he used the word "bijin" there). I won't mention all the Shinkane subtle of the movie, but it was truly obvious how things had changed for Akane and Kougami and what could have been happened if the mercenaries hadn't come. Case 3 shows that his relationship with the fair sex still hasn't progressed this much... though I LOVED Kougami's interactions with Tenzing and the teasing of the little girl who said that he reminded her of her dad (ok, that's progress, since in a radio drama both he and Gino made a small child crying because of their idiocy) and I headcanon that in the years past Case 3 Kou had some chances to hear back from Tenzing (because of MoFA and Frederica's care), when it comes to the blonde colleague... I guess that things haven't changed this much. Now, so far, Kougami has NEVER shown any sign of reciprocating Frederica's possible feelings, but it seems that he's the only one who knows how to cheer her up or to understand her. Coming back to Frederica, after this digression, that's the core: she technically has all the qualities Kougami would possibly need. She's a glamorous beauty (hello there, reference to the gekijouban). She's a companion who could keep up a conversation. This point is trickier, because the conversation under the moonlight (now that it comes to my mind, it was also said that if he ever had to set a date, he would probably talk about work or taking somebody to stargaze), which largely reminds me of his conversation with Akane in the movie (I'm talking about the structure of the scene in general), shows that

Frederica too is perfectly able to lecture Kougami and pull the shits out of him about his true motives for keeping on traveling, she's been interested in him since the lessons with professor Saiga, but also... the fact that she mentioned his mother, I think was some kind of a rehash of the novel version of the conversation between Akane and Kou. I was under the impression that Ubukata and Shiotani were trying to test the waters... Also, Frederica is a skilled fighter, she has a no-nonsense attitude and she's pretty harsh in what she says, but she's also friendly, humorous, and caring (the days they spent together with Tenzing). Then the renowned scene of the two of them making the deal... ok, I need to admit that in the beginning, I didn't see it as malicious, neither I do it now, but... mhhh... sharing the same bottle of water to make a deal... well... kinda intimate, right? Not that Kougami made a fuss, but Frederica was... pleased? After all, she didn't do any of this with Sugo (also, her approach to him was more formal) and we still don't know how she recruited Gino (I think it happened because of Kougami, after Akane's demotion)... I don't know, but it seems to me that her approach toward Kougami (at least in Case 3 and in the manga extras) is more personal... after all, when she approached him the first time, she was quite intrigued, since she wanted to take a look at the face of a celebrity like him (all said while pleasantly smiling). The extra chapter shows that while Gino and Sugo's efforts to help their chief were wasted (not for us who read), only Kougami's proposal was well received by her. Shooting like in a guerrilla field... after all, Frederica is a tough one (just like Akane) and Kougami knows it very well... like Gino adds at the end, she's definitely a female version of him, but she also is somebody able to kick Kou's glorious ass (just like Akane). Now, time will say where the truth is, but I feel like that if Ubukata and Shiotani keep on following the route "there's a deep respect and a bond which goes beyond love and romance between Shinkane... and also Kougami doesn't see Akane in that way", and instead they choose to spice things up (but I don't think so) Frederica might be the one chosen. Luckily enough, our dear former Enforcer seems to have chosen the celibate warrior monk route, but I'm still sure that things can change and in the end, the most natural outcome will be Shinkane. Well... since the post has become longer than I expected, I'll write another time of Shizuka and Akane, but thanks for reading until now!

#psycho pass #psycho-pass #psycho pass 3 #psycho pass sinners of the system #sinners of the system #characters relationships analysis #kougami shinya #hanashiro frederica #tsunemori akane #shinkane #does a frederica-kougami ship exist?#I can't write fregami because in Italian has a certain mean XDDDD

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princess-stabbity · 3 years

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I'm intrigued about your "keep Alistair and Loghain AU" would you be willing to share? 👀

ah, thank you! sadly not much written yet. i was working on a "warden inquisitor" au, and i haven't decided yet if the alistair+loghain road trip part is going to be part of it or just alluded to and then played out its own fic. basically, the idea is amell managed to talk alistair into putting up with loghain by using duncan's memory (eg, "is this what he would want?") and saying this was the best way for him to pay for the warden lives he'd cost (and obviously she has like 100+ coercion lol). but, y'know, alistair spends the rest of the blight glowering silently at loghain from across the camp, and never comes to develop the sense of mutual respect amell and loghain do. and then loghain's assigned elsewhere, so he doesn't have to deal with it.

but cue the events of inquisition, where both of them are there to hear clarel's plan and go what the fuck no. and then both realize they have to go on the run, and that they have better chances together. so they reluctantly travel together. which is good because....listen, i love him, but it's a lot easier to imagine loghain using his sick guerrilla warrior skills to evade the other wardens than to imagine it with alistair, the man whose foot has never found a trap it didn't like.

from that point i'm figuring a lot of awkward nights sitting across the campfire, alistair dripping with hate, before they finally start really talking. and like...alistair has that line, right, if you talk to him at ostagar, about how he doesn't really think much of cailan but trusts loghain. and we see those little kids in denerim playing at being heroes, right?

well, my headcanon has long been that (when he could actually get other kids to even let him play) alistair never wanted to be maric. he wanted to be loghain.

maybe there's a better timeline for both of them where it's loghain who raised him, not eamon (i know you're with me in the eamon hate squad)

and loghain...i think he'll come to see alistair as the man he'd wished cailan had grown up to become. he'll see a lot of what he admired about maric in alistair...and be a little startled when alistair doesn't see that as some great compliment.

also i was thinking amell probably had barkspawn go with alistair and gifted a puppy to loghain, so maybe....mabari-based intervention?

by the time they finally reach skyhold, they've like.....reluctantly adopted each other. like alistair's like "ugh, i guess i've found another dad for my dad collection. gross."

and then comes adamant. bc...pain 🙂 don't think abt the previously mentioned mabari loghain's leaving behind, either...

i'll let you know if i ever actually write enough to constitute a fic 💖 here's an excerpt of what little i do have, so far

“So, I heard you blew up my wife,” Alistair announced across Skyhold’s courtyard. He and Loghain, bedraggled but whole, bowed slightly under packs weighed heavy with their Warden armor. It was too conspicuous to wear on the road, so they’d opted instead to strip armor from the first group of bandits foolish enough to target them.

Amell had always been broad and sturdy, and years of practice with heavy staves and eventually swords had only made her more physically formidable. This was never more apparent than when she sprinted down the stairs and threw herself at Alistair, who nearly toppled over from the force.

“She’s survived worse,” Leliana said dryly, descending the stairs at a much calmer pace. “I assume my scouts were helpful during the last leg of your journey.”

The scouts in question caught up to the group and saluted their spymaster. Loghain nodded approvingly at them. “You’ve taught them well.”

Amell was still wrapped tightly around Alistair, uncaring for the dirt and mess of the road clinging to his looted splintmail. “Maker’s breath, woman, you’d think it’d been a few months and several scrapes with death since we’d last seen each other,” Alistair teased, gently swaying them back and forth. “You’d better be careful, or people will begin to think you like me.”

Amell laughed, but a little shakily. “We can’t have that,” she agreed, and pulled back. A little embarrassed by the emotional display, she cleared her throat and turned to Loghain. “I’m glad to see you, too.”

#non-bunnary #unfortunately i seem incapable of sticking to 1 project at a time anymore so i just write a chunk & leave. write a chunk & leave...#and never in chronological order...

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sunsetcurbed · 3 years

Text

you showed me faith is not blind (miracles happen)

Pairing: Alex/Willie Words: 4,071 Rating: T Chapter Warnings: none Chapter: 8/11 read on AO3

Summary: "You what?" Willie's voice comes from behind him.

"Oh, thank god," Flynn breathes.

Reggie nods. "You're our only hope. Kiss him until he forgets about the embarrassing thing he did last night."

Alex gasps. "So you admit it was embarrassing!"

(*)

The dinner goes just about as well as Alex is expecting it to which is to say: terribly.

Well, no.

The night starts off fantastically.

His grandmother takes him around, introducing him to plenty of people both from Beasiga and from other countries, and he remembers all of the proper etiquette for introducing himself and getting to know them. There's a particularly gleeful moment when she introduces him to Caleb and Alex says, "oh, Covington—your ancestor was the main author of our Constitution, correct?" and Caleb's eyes show surprise as if he hadn't actually been expecting Alex to have been studying up on Beasiga all this time. And meeting Jeffry Marley is extremely pleasant as well. Alex doesn't come out and say 'hey, I'm gay too!' but Jeffry has his husband with him, and no one in the room bats an eye at them. Everyone seems to enjoy meeting Alex, and Alex genuinely enjoys meeting everyone.

Dinner goes well enough, too. He uses all the correct silverware, doesn't talk with a full mouth, manages to casually slip his boyfriend into conversation with Jeffry earning a small smile out of him, and is surprised to find he likes all of the food. Daniel, Jeffry's husband, starts asking Alex about his life and Alex freezes up for a second, but manages to get out a little bit about himself. The two men are fascinated with Alex's involvement with his band, and Alex sees Daniel pull out a pen and a business card and scribble something down, presumably his band's name, before slipping them back into his jacket. His grandmother keeps sending him approving looks from the head of the table and he feels grateful, and also a little hopeful, which is something that he's not going to think too much on right now.

So. That's all gone great.

After dinner however, there's time for talking in the hallways. And, well, it's been a long day. And Alex is used to wearing tennis shoes, not dress shoes, and he's used to double knotting his shoes, not single knotting, so he's not used to his shoe laces coming undone. He's not sure if he's ever had a shoelace come undone. So he's entirely surprised when he's walking with one of the diplomats from another small country talking to them about policy and doing really well, thanks, when he goes to take a step, only for his foot not to lift and he starts toppling towards the ground. Instinctively, he throws his hand out to catch himself but whatever he grabs doesn't stop him, it goes tumbling down too, and as it does it makes an ear splitting crash and clang.

At this point, Alex is on the floor along with whatever he knocked over, and he can't hear… anything. The entire hallway has gone completely silent—well, he thinks. His ears are still ringing. His eyes are squeezed shut, scared to see the damage, and scared to see the faces of people around him looking at him. However, delaying it is only going to make him feel more ridiculous when he does finally get around to opening his eyes, so he bites the inside of his cheek and peeks one eye open.

The diplomat he was speaking with, Mariana, if he remembers correctly, is staring down at him with surprise. She looks like she wants to say something but she doesn't, instead opens and shuts her mouth before flicking her eyes to the side. Alex opens his other eye and follows her gaze and just barely holds back a groan. An entire suit of armor is lying disassembled on the floor of the Beasigan consulate's main hallway. "Well… shit," he mutters, quiet enough that no one but him can hear, even in the silence of the hallway. He scoots over to the suit of armor and reaches for it, particularly, one of the hands that's lying nearest him. He picks it up gingerly and frowns. "Nice to meet you too," he says in a normal voice, and with the acoustics of the hallway, it travels.

Down the hall, he hears someone snort, and then someone else laughs. Then, the elbow joint of the armor falls off, and someone else joins in on the laughter. Alex joins them, trying to find the humor rather than the anxiety in the situation, and soon enough, the night is carrying on.

But oh, it sticks with him.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," Julie says the next morning as he mopes at his locker.

"I dismantled an entire suit of armor by tripping on my shoelace," Alex stresses.

"You what?" Willie's voice comes from behind him.

"Oh, thank god," Flynn breathes.

Reggie nods. "You're our only hope. Kiss him until he forgets about the embarrassing thing he did last night."

Alex gasps. "So you admit it was embarrassing!"

"Completely," Luke says.

"Luke!" Julie cries.

Luke pulls a face. "What happened to honesty is the best policy?"

Willie takes Alex's hand and uses it to tug him into his chest. "So, what happened then?" Alex sighs and recounts the story to Willie, who listens patiently. When he's done, Willie nods. "Okay. How'd the rest of the night go?"

Alex frowns. What about the suit of armor? "Uh… good, I guess?"

"You didn't set anyone on fire or anything?"

He scoffs. "You have so little faith in me?"

"Just checking," he grins, and squeezes Alex's hand. "Did you meet Jeffry?"

"I did. And his husband. Daniel. They showed me pictures of their daughter. No one in the room gave a shit when they walked around holding hands."

"Yeah? Did you tell 'em about me?" he asks in a teasing voice.

"I know you're joking, but I did actually," Alex admits.

The smile on Willie's face dims just a bit from where it was at—bright, easy, and teasing—and falls to something still brilliant but more… personal, earnest, and awestruck. His eyes flick between Alex's eyes and his lips. He leans forward and gives Alex a quick but ardent kiss, and then steps back. "I'm gone on you," Willie says, and Alex can't stop the smile from breaking out on his face, realizing that's Willie's way of saying Alex has affected him in some way in this moment.

To their left, Reggie lets out a noise of disbelief. "How does he do that?"

Alex looks away from Willie to his friend and frowns. "Do what?"

Reggie shakes his head and looks between Luke, Julie, and Flynn, who all also look surprised. Alex looks at Willie who smirks at Reggie. "Magic kisses," he says.

"Hey, you said those weren't real," Alex argues.

"Of course they are, hot dog," Willie says, and then kisses Alex.

It's not until almost four hours later, sitting in music next to his friends, that he realizes what Reggie might have meant that morning. Alex had been all but panicking about the suit of armor to them before Willie had shown up, and then with a quick back and forth, Willie had gotten Alex's mind off of it so sufficiently that Alex didn't even think of it again until now. Before him, Julie had been trying to reassure Alex for five minutes that it was okay, had been trying to calm him down. Now, Alex could understand Reggie and the other's confusion, because Alex wasn't sure how Willie did it either. He does it a lot, too. He kind of just… guerrillas Alex's anxiety and emotions sometimes—stops his anxiety in its tracks and elicits something else inside of Alex. It's like he knows Alex's mind to the point that, as long as Alex isn't hyper fixated on something, Willie can flip it and walk his mind away from whatever it is that is making Alex anxious and calm Alex down without him even realizing it.

But it's not even just that. The screaming on a mountain wasn't flipping his anxiety on itself. It was recognizing tension in Alex that had no other release and finding an outlet for it. Because Willie does that. He does that for Alex. He notices these things in Alex and then does these things for Alex. Willie understands Alex's anxiety well enough that he can beat it more often than not. Alex is only just learning coping mechanisms himself and yet, looking back, Willie has been doing things like this from the start. Which, well, it makes sense because sometimes Willie will come to him with sections of research, pieces and parts highlighted that he thinks will be useful to Alex, but Willie is the one to read all of it, is the one to actually process and understand it. And he does all of that for Alex.

And, Alex thinks back to Venice Canals, he's proud that he's been able to do all of that for Alex.

Alex looks at the clock. He needs music class to be over now. He needs it to be lunch so he can see Willie, because even though Willie has said, Alex has never fully understood, but now he does.

When the bell rings almost forty minutes later, Alex is up and out of his seat before anyone else in the class. He doesn't think he listened to a word that Mrs. Harrison said in the last hour and he might feel bad on a normal day, but today he doesn't. He doesn't wait for his friends, just heads straight for the cafeteria, and doesn't stop until he's at the back table. Of course he's there before anyone else, so he has to wait, but not long. Willie packs his lunch, so he's the first one to get to their table, and he shows up about two minutes after Alex gets there. He raises his eyebrows at Alex.

"Are you not eating lunch today?" he asks, setting his bag next to Alex's on the table.

Alex stands from the bench so he's in front of Willie and he smiles. Willie automatically smiles back at him. "You love me," Alex says.

"Yeah," Willie says, voice mostly sure but a hint of confusion creeping in. "I do."

Alex cradles Willie's face in his hands and kisses him. "You love me," he says again against Willie's lips.

Willie laughs and turns his face into one of Alex's hands. "I'm gone on you. Why?"

"Not—no reason. I just. I'm just realizing."

Willie reaches up and grabs Alex's wrists to pull his hands away from his face and steps back. "You're just realizing? I told you almost two weeks ago."

"Yeah, I was like, pretty sure I had dreamt that part up."

He slips his hands down Alex's wrists until his hands are holding Alex's. "Alex?"

"You love me?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, good."

"… Alex?"

"I love you."

"Oh, good."

(*)

Willie goes to prince lessons with him that afternoon. When Alex had asked his grandmother if it would be all right when they were getting ready for the dinner yesterday afternoon, she'd been overjoyed.

"Well, I invited him back for a reason, now, did I not?" she huffed.

"We weren't sure if you were just trying to be nice," Alex said.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I was, but I was also being genuine. On top of him being a lovely gentleman, he's your boyfriend, Alexander. If you're going to stay with him, that means he's going to need instruction, too."

"Oh."

She looked at him. "Had you not thought of that?"

"No!" Alex yelled. "Oh, god, that's so much pressure on him. This has been so much pressure on me. I can't do that to him, I can't—"

"Relax, Alexander," his grandmother attempted to soothe, though it did not work too well. "A consort would be important, yes, but not nearly as important as a ruler. What Willie would go through would be completely different from your experience. Much, much less stressful. And, he would not be pressured to learn so much at once as you have been. You… are in a very unique situation, my dear."

That did manage to calm Alex down, which is the only reason that Willie is here standing next to him now.

"Willie!" his grandmother sings, opening her arms for a hug. "It's so lovely to see you again."

"Louisa," Willie greets, stepping in to hug her, "nice to see you, too."

"And Alexander," she says as she steps back from Willie and pulls Alex into a hug, "your friend has been reassembled and put back on his stand." Alex groans and Willie laughs. She lights up at Willie's laugh. "Ah, so he told you about that, then?"

"Totally," Willie says. "At least now people won't forget him."

"Oh, no they won't," she smiles. She looks to Alex. "You'll laugh about it, too, in time. At my first event I spent too much time at the fondue fountain. Your grandfather encouraged it, of course. But not only did I end up with a chocolate stain down my dress, but I also ended up getting sick from all the sugar. I got such a headache after an hour that I stumbled into the table and spilled the fountain."

"That didn't happen," Alex says, fully confident.

"Your great grandfather took pictures, he found it so hilarious."

"No," Alex breathes.

"It took me years to get over it, but looking back on it, it was quite funny. I hadn't had chocolate in years. My mother was quite strict with my diet, so your grandfather told me to go wild. I took him too literally."

"Oh, man," Alex says. "You told me to ask about your early royal days but I still haven't. We should definitely talk about them today so Willie can hear them too."

His grandmother laughs. "I would love to, but today, we're dancing. Perhaps I can tell you a few stories while you two dance."

"Dance?" Willie asks, perking up.

"Yes. You dance, correct?"

"I do." Willie nods. "I'm actually at Los Feliz for dance. I'm assuming we're going to be doing ballroom which I haven't done for a few years, but I'm sure I'll pick it back up."

"I'm sure you will," she nods, and motions for them to take their place on the dance floor. She turns the music on low. "Now, I'm assuming Willie is going to be your date for the Independence Day Ball in December, so I figured you two could use some time practicing. While you're doing that I'm going to be quizzing you on Beasiga… and giving you a few stories about my early days."

They dance for almost an hour and then head to the library to discuss some upcoming policy changes. They end up talking and goofing off some as well, which isn't entirely unheard of the more Alex gets to know his grandmother, but Willie's presence certainly seems to encourage it. Then, they have dinner together so Willie and Alex don't have to find somewhere to eat. After, they make their way to the living room to just sit down and talk for a few minutes before Willie and Alex head out. At one point Willie asks about the cultural differences in Beasiga versus Los Angeles, and his grandmother looks at him for a long moment.

"If Alexander chooses to accept his position, his parents and I discussed him spending next summer in Beasiga if he'd like," his grandmother says. Alex blinks. Really? He wants to ask if he could do that even if he doesn't accept his position, but then his grandmother continues, "I hope you know you're more than welcome to join us as well. Of course I'm sure you might want to spend the time with your family before heading to college."

"No, uh, I could do both, maybe?" Willie says, looking between Alex and his grandmother. "I'd really like to see Beasiga, especially if Alex accepts his position." There's a weight to Willie's words, one that Alex doesn't really understand. The look that Willie shares with his grandmother though… he's pretty sure she understands, and he wants to yell that it's not fair that she's already got some secret communication with his boyfriend. They've met twice! But Alex is mature now, so he bites his tongue.

"I think that would be a good idea. You're certainly welcome to spend a few weeks with us, that would still give you time at home with your family," she says. "Have you decided what you're going to college for yet?"

Willie's eyes flick to Alex. He shifts in his seat. "I'm, uh, thinking about psychology."

"Really?" Alex asks, unable to stop himself from blurting out the question.

"Yeah," Willie nods. "It's… just a thought right now. I was going to tell you but I wasn't really sure how to bring it up? Seemed kind of random to just say. Just… with all the research I've done over the past few years? I've actually enjoyed it too. And I'm good at it, I guess. So, it's just. I've just been thinking about it."

"No, yeah, I get it. I think it sounds great," Alex tells him because, well, he does. Willie is absolutely right. Psychology is something he's good at and something he enjoys and something he's already delved into. It makes complete sense and Alex is just upset that Willie didn't think he could tell him before now. Alex would have loved to hear about this at any point, random or not.

"I think psychology sounds like an excellent choice," his grandmother says. "I'm sure you would be very successful with it. Well, I'm sure you would be very successful no matter what you choose."

Twenty minutes later they're in the car, leaving the consulate behind for the week. "That was fun," Willie says as he drives down the street. "Do you think she'd mind if I came again next week?"

"Uh, no," Alex shakes his head. "She'd probably love it again."

"Would you mind?"

"What? No. I'd love to have you there."

"All right. You should ask her next week then."

Alex bites his lip. "I should warn you though."

"Hm?"

"She—she does like you. That is one of the reasons she wants you around. But she also thinks—since we're dating—you should get some lessons too? Just—you know. Just in case," Alex says.

"Just… in… case?" Willie frowns, shooting a look at Alex.

"Yeah, you know, in case I accept the crown, in case I move to Beasiga, in case you… decide you want to stay with me if I do that," Alex mumbles, curling in on himself as the worlds leave him.

"Hey," Willie says, and Alex can tell from the way his body is angled in his seat that he wants to be looking at Alex right now rather than the road. "Well, wait." He flicks his turn signal on and turns into a parking lot. "Hey, okay, look," he says as he parks, and then turns to Alex. "D'you remember what you said when you told me you loved me the first time? Something like it's been a while and your feelings were only getting stronger with time? Well it's the same for me. For two years now I've been gone on you. And it hasn't gone away, and it's only gotten stronger. It's only getting stronger. I have wanted you for so long, and I have no plans to give you up. And I'm not going to pretend everything is going to be perfect. We're going to have to figure a lot of shit out, especially if you choose to accept the throne. Because there's still college, and me not fully knowing what I want to do with my life, and the fact that we're still just teenagers but. But I'm also not going to pretend that I don't love you. I want to make this work. I know we've only been dating four weeks, but I've loved you for two years, and you are the man I wanna be with in this moment and that's what matters." Willie stops here, and leans forward so his elbow is resting on the armrest. "I don't care if I need to take lessons to make this work."

"O… kay."

Willie smiles. "Okay?"

"Uh-huh," Alex nods. He pauses and then, "I mean, it's not like I'm even gonna accept the crown—"

"Alex," Willie says. Alex cuts off and frowns. "I know you've been thinking about accepting the throne more lately, even if you haven't told me."

"What?" Alex frowns. "You do?"

He laughs, reaches across his body with his left arm to take Alex's right hand in his hand. "You've started talking a lot more hypothetically. Like even just before, you said something about if I would stay with you if you were Prince. Why would you say that if you were dead set against it? Ever since you found out Beasiga has a gay Prime Minister, you've been referencing it different. Apart from just now, you haven't said 'I'm not going to accept the crown' since you found out about Jeffry. You've started bringing the country up more in conversation, which, yeah, you've been learning about it five days a week, it'd be hard to avoid talking about it, but you're so passionate about it. It's not surprising that you're thinking about stepping up, Alex."

Alex bites his lip. "The same night I found out about Jeffry, my mom let slip about Caleb. Covington." Willie squeezes his hand, pressing him to continue. "I figured out he wasn't a good guy even without my grandma telling me. So, yeah, I started thinking about it that night. Like, really thinking about it. And I have been since then." He sits back in his seat and runs a hand through his hair. "But, like, I still have the band, you know? And I still have the whole thing with not being able to be in front of people." I still have you to consider, he wants to say. "Those are major, major things. And I can't just, like, forget about them, you know?"

"Yeah," Willie agrees.

"But I also can't leave Beasiga to Covington. How shit of me would that be? Did you know he proposed to cut income assistance last year? Did I tell you that? And he—he suggested barring refugees from entering our schooling systems. Our country is only 0.8% refugees, so even a smaller percentage are children! What harm could they possibly be doing? And, and—"

"Yeah, but those didn't work, because Beasiga has a great Prime Minister, and parliament, and citizens. Caleb wouldn't just get to do whatever he wanted," Willie reminds him. "And Beasiga isn't your responsibility."

"Isn't it though?" Alex asks, his voice pitching up. "I mean technically until I—if I even do—renounce, I am their Prince. Which would make them my responsibility."

"You are your responsibility, first and foremost."

He grimaces. "That sounds a little selfish."

Willie shakes his head. "It isn't. Even if it were, and we're just speaking hypothetically here, the sooner you sort yourself out, the sooner you make a decision about Beasiga. Isn't that better for them?"

Alex hesitates. "I guess?"

"So right now, you're your focus," Willie tells him. He leans over the gearshift and draws Alex in for a kiss. Alex sighs, feeling tension start to drain from him as he processes the conversation they've just had. Beasiga's King does hold more power than rulers in some other countries—not as much as countries like Liechtenstein or others of the sort—but they're still not all-powerful. Willie was absolutely right about that, and Alex needed to be reminded of it. Caleb wouldn't be able to do everything he wanted. … But he would get to appoint the Prime Minister, and he would have more sway and he would—"Stop thinking," Willie hums against his lips.

Alex frowns and pulls back from the kiss. "Sorry."

"No you're not," Willie says, gripping his knee and squeezing. "But that's why Beasiga would be lucky to have you. I am serious though." Alex hums a question. Willie leans in and kisses him again, soft, then pulls away. "You are always my first priority, and Beasiga will be okay without you until you figure out what you want. Not what you think is best. What you want. Now lets go get tea."

#willex #willex fic #willex fanfic #jatp fic #jatp fanfic #ysmfinb #my writing

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jehaatiade · 4 years

Note

:,) a humble ask for hc’s for Din, Ezra, and Javier admitting they love you in an angsty situation :,)

This took me hours but it came together so well! Thank you for the wonderful prompt!

Din:

he has mixed feelings about taking you along on bounties. you’re the rare combination of a talented bounty hunter and a person who’s never tried to cheat him.

but on the other hand… the possibility of coming back from a hunt without you makes something deep in his chest ache.

you make him laugh. you like him, but you’ve never pushed him to take off his helmet. you make the Razor Crest and the flight time between planets seem more alive.

he’s kissed you. more than once. but only as a Mandalorian, the cold beskar of his helmet against your forehead. he doesn’t know if you understand what that means.

the two of you are on a nameless dump of a moon where the grey salt flats are studded with wreckage from a space battle, tracking a pirate with a hefty bounty on his head, when it happens.

you get a single glimpse of the pirate before there’s a hail of blaster bolts headed in your direction. you both take cover, and the Mando uses terse field signs to lay out his plan: you go right and flush him out. i’ll go left and take him down.

the plan does not come together nicely. in fact, the plan does not come together at all.

the mark is harder to scare than you expected, and by the time you’re in range to force him out from behind his cover, you’re close enough that he can grab you.

it’s a little embarrassing, honestly. you haven’t been in a choke-hold with a blaster to your head since you were sixteen and stupid.

“Let her go,” the Mando says. despite the anger in his tone, his voice is even and his aim doesn’t waver. you’ve admired that rifle since the first time you saw it: the faint iridescence of its prongs, the elegant curve of its stock, the meticulous modifications to its forestock. you’ve never had it pointed at you before.

“Of course, my friend,” the pirate says. “Because I have survived this long by being incredibly foolish. No, she is coming with me. If you ask nicely, I may even leave her in one piece once I reach my ship. If you try to interfere…”

he makes a nonchalant who knows? gesture, and for a second the barrel of his blaster isn’t pressed against your head.

you haven’t been sixteen and stupid for a long time. the heel of your boot comes down on his instep with as much force as you can muster, and when his hold weakens, you drive your elbow back into his nose.

the pirate crumples into a groaning heap at your feet. the Mando lowers his rifle. you make a show of dusting off your hands, because no one has ever accused you of lacking a sense of drama.

it looks like the Mando wants to say something - you can see it in his posture - but he doesn’t, so you fill the silence. “Don’t tell me you were worried, Mando,” you tease. “Like you’d miss me bouncing around the Crest’s cargo hold making a mess every time we go somewhere. You just love having me around.”

you’re not expecting him to reply, so you take the binders off your belt and bend to cuff the pirate. when you straighten, the Mando is right next to you.

“Yes,” he says. “I was worried. Yes, I would miss you. Yes. I love you.”

for once, you’re speechless, so you just watch your smile grow in the reflection of his visor. then you lean just a little bit forward, closing the gap and pressing your forehead to his.

(and then the pirate at your feet snickers, and you kick him in the ribs.)

Ezra:

taking this job has been one of your worst decisions to date. and of course, you did it because Ezra talked you into it.

“An absolutely unprecedented adventure, little bird!” he’d said. “A moon still molten from the fires of creation, spitting up gems like a baby with a colic? The harvest will be unparalleled; with the right gear, we will stroll through the lava fields collecting Niobe’s roses as easily as if we were berry-picking.”

it is, of course, not that easy.

calling the Red Moon molten is not an affectation; its broken crust oozes lava like a slow-clotting cut. you’re here for rhodoniobium, beautiful silver blooms that appear on the surface of the lava flows. it isn’t difficult to use the nets and poles to retrieve Niobe’s roses. what’s hard is staying alive while you do it. miners die in ugly ways every single day, and they’re rarely mourned.

liquid water is a thing of fantasy down here, for the most part, and everyone is forced to return to the base camp at Kīpuka when they run out. that’s where the two or you are headed when you get separated.

you’ve been examining plutonic rock formations since you arrived, looking for evidence of pegmatite mineral inclusions: rubies, sapphires, emeralds and other beryl gems. sure, they don’t sell for as much as Niobe’s roses, but you’ve never been able to resist sparklies.

Ezra usually indulges you, but in this case, he’s been looking forward to a bath for two weeks. so when you stop to chip a sample from a smooth dome of granite, he keeps walking. you don’t think anything of it, figuring you’ll catch up to him, until a sharp “Shit!” comes through over the comm.

“Are you all right?” you ask, quickly starting to pack up your tools.

“Hardly the finest way to introduce oneself, taking pot-shots at innocent passersby,” Ezra says, his voice fuzzy with distance. “If you have had your entertainment, I would be much gratified to be permitted to pass.”

you abandon your tools and set out after him at a run as a much younger man says “This is our gorge, and if you want to pass through to Kīpuka, then you’re going to have to pay our toll.”

“I am always enthusiastic to participate in the civil preservation of infrastructure, have no doubt,” Ezra assures the men who you suspect are holding him under rails. “My partner is a ways behind, and she is carrying our meager pickings. You’ll allow me to contact her and request her presence?”

a grunt of agreement, and a short pause, before Ezra’s voice comes through more clearly on your private channel. “May I assume you’ve been listening, little bird?”

“Yeah,” you pant. your lungs are starting to burn, and you’d be tempted to throw off your heavy insulating gear if you didn’t know that the average air temperature around here is high enough to bake bread. “How many?”

“Four. Alas, more than I feel confident dispatching alone.”

“Almost there. I’ll come in over the ridge. Be ready to draw.”

“I always am.” there’s a pause, and at first you think he’s finished. then your comm crackles again. “If this goes wrong, little bird-”

“Don’t,” you say, because it feels like bad luck.

“I love you. Most ardently. If I die here, then I die happy to have known you.”

the only thing you can say is “Damn it, Ezra.” because you can’t wipe the tears from your eyes, and that’s going to make shooting these bastards just that little bit more difficult. he laughs softly, and clicks back to the public channel.

Ezra chats away with the bandits, distracting them with that awful anecdote about the channelrats while you close the last small distance to the ridge above the gorge. you crawl to the edge, thrower rifle cradled in your arms, and take a sniper’s position.

“I’m almost there,” you say over the public channel. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course, little bird.” You can’t see Ezra’s smile, but you can hear it in his voice. He’s ready.

it goes very quickly, as most gunfights do: you push a stone over the edge to start a small rockslide, the bandits turn toward the noise, and you shoot the two men lounging in the shade while Ezra shoots the two standing in front of him.

“Ezra? You know what?” you ask once the bodies have hit the ground.

“What?”

“In spite of the fact that you have damned awful timing, I love you, too.”

Javi:

as Javier yells at you, you wonder idly if Murphy can hear you upstairs. “You could’ve been killed!”

“Just because you couldn’t have made it out of there, doesn’t mean I couldn’t!”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he hisses, stepping closer.

you shove him back. “It mean you strut around Colombia flashing your badge and shooting sicarios like that’s what you get paid for! You’ve got Kiki Camarena keeping you safe. You know what I’ve got? A fucking press pass! If my cover’s blown, I get auctioned to the highest bidder and tortured to death!”

“Which is exactly why you should know better than to go sniffing around Escobar’s planes!”

“I don’t tell you how to do your goddamned job, Javi! Don’t you try and tell me how to do mine!”

Javi snarls and digs the packet of cigarettes out of his breast pocket, tossing it carelessly on the couch once he extracts one.

“You’re upset because I could’ve died?” you ask derisively as he lights his cigarette. “Let me tell you something. You, breaking in guns drawn because you think you’re rescuing me, are a lot more likely to get me killed than any mistake I could make.”

“Shut up,” he growls. he won’t look at you as you move closer.

“What is your problem? If this is still about those papers on the guerrillas-”

he shakes his head and turns away. you fucking hate it when he does this, pulling away from an argument rather than just fighting it through to the end.

“Then what?” you demand. if he’s going to disengage, then maybe you need to hit the right buttons to make him change his mind. “Don’t tell me you’re pissed off because you’ve finally realized I really am a better operator than you-”

“Because I love you!”

Javi’s outburst startles you, and you take a step back without thinking about it. he sighs, the tense lines of his shoulders going lax, and turns to face you again.

“Because I love you,” he says more softly. “Because I don’t know what to do without you any more, and that scares me more than any narco son of a bitch. Because I can’t even imagine what I would do if you were killed. Just the thought makes me feel sick.”

“Javi…” you whisper.

he shakes his head to stop you. “You want to know why, every time you come here, I ask you how your articles are doing? It’s because I have this-” he huffs out a helpless laugh. “- idiotic, ridiculous fantasy that one day, you’ll do so well that you’ll leave the agency and actually be a journalist for a living. And you’ll come and live with me, and I won’t have to wonder if you’re dead every time you go longer than a week between calling me.”

“Javi,” you say again. when you take the cigarette from his loose grasp to put it down in the ashtray, he raises his hand to rub his knuckles against his eyes. “You’re right. Part of your fantasy is ridiculous.”

“Only part, huh?” he doesn’t quite manage to make his sarcastic smile look sincere.

“Yeah. The part where you don’t seem to realize that all you have to do is ask.” you cup the strong angle of his jaw and lean in, almost nose to nose. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Why would you want to stay with me?” he asks. “I’m an asshole. I work too much. I’d just make you sick of me.”

“Because I love you,” you say, and kiss him.

#the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian #narcos fanfic #javier pena #ezra #din djarin #rzrcrst #jehaatific

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writer-jamie · 4 years

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The Longest Ride Story

this is chapter 2 of my ao3 story, again make sure to check out the original and follow me there for more regular content! https://archiveofourown.org/works/23621281/chapters/56737924#workskin

Chapter 2: Wandering Eyes

Jill's chest rose and fell as she looked through the peep hole of her hotel room. She needed to make sure this was actually Carlos. She had nightmares often that Carlos was dead and that he busted in her room and begged him to kill her. It happened at the hospital too. She couldn't do it, she couldn't kill him. She just hoped that after tonight, her nightmares would go away and she could live again. Jill opened the door and stood behind the door as the man walked inside. She watched his movement and kept her eyes on him. Carlos looked Jill up and down before walking fully into the bedroom and setting down the snacks and beer that he brought for them to enjoy. Jill shut the door and looked at him, watching how his body moved in his new clothes. A tight black top and some tight jeans. When Jill says tight, she means tight. The outline of his body was extremely muscular and Jill was able to see more than she could when he was in that uniform back at RC. But he was very very good looking.

"I brought us some beers and snacks because I don't know if you've been eating. And I don't know what you drink, so beer it is." Carlos smiled and turned around and looked into her bright eyes. His smile light up the whole room and Jill couldn't be happier. The woman smiled and crossed her arms over her body and looked over at him, before smiling back. "Hey Supercop." Jill smiled at the nickname the man had given her as he walked towards her, putting his arms around her waist and stomach feeling the flatness of her stomach. "You definitely need something to eat. You've become half the woman you were." He joked and grabbed her hand, walking her over to the couch and sitting her down. "Now." He started, opening the bag that he brought with him. Jill watched in awe and pulled her knees into her chest as he was talking. "I haven't brought any hot food because those bastards downstairs said that they can't give me hot food as I've already had my hot meal for the day." Carlos waved his hands around as he was explaining the situation to the woman, who was just watching with love in her eyes. "So! I've brought you crisps and dips and chocolate because who doesn't like chocolate. Wait? Do you have any allergies? Fuck! I completely forgot to make sure you didn't have an allergies. I'm so stupi-" Jill cut Carlos off and put her hands on his face and looked into his eyes. "I have no allergies Carlos. Calm down. You did everything great. I love it." She smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek before standing up, grabbing a bag of chips and a salsa dip and a beer before sitting down on the couch again, moving back to her original position of her knees to her chest. Carlos took a few deep breaths and pulled himself together before grabbing a beer and joining Jill on the couch. He laid back and spread his legs, sighing loudly as if it was the first time he has relaxed or sat down in two weeks. "You quite relaxed there bud?" She teased him and put the chips between them, opening her beer and taking a sip. "Yeah I'm good." He ran a hand over his face and turned to look at her.

"Have you been sleeping?" Jill asked straight up, worried about his wellbeing. Carlos didn't answer her. He couldn't lie to the woman but he also couldn't tell her the truth. "Carlos." She warned him by saying his name and putting a hand on his shoulder. "No but have you? You look exhausted, no offence." Jill hit his shoulder and looked at him. "Wow thanks. You really know how to woo a woman, don't ya." She joked and laid back in the seat, sipping her beer. Carlos rolled his eyes and looked at her. "You know what I mean." The man looked around her room and smiled widely. "You room is nicer than mine. At least they have been treating you well. Maybe those punches to the face scared them." He joked and rubbed his scruffy beard. It was once kept very nice and neat but after two weeks and the stress from RC had made his beard grow twice as fast. He was given a razor but the man gave up caring after a week of trying to look his best, so he decided to let it grow. His hair was also more curly, after all it was the rain and gross shit that fell on his head that made his hair more shaggy and long. But Jill thought he looked good. I mean she fell in love with him when he was covered in blood and gore so why wouldn't she like him now he's clean. The man looked back over at Jill and he couldn't help but stare at her. She looked exhausted and haunted by the events but also, somehow, well rested and almost at peace.

"You would think I would be used to seeing horrible things. After all I've been involved in war and fighting for a long ass time. I was a part of the Communist Guerrilla before I was spotted by the U.B.C.S." Carlos thought back to his past life. "After all this, I would love to go back home. Back to Guernica." He smiled and looked at Jill. "What about you? What are you going to do after...after we are allowed out of here?" Jill shrugged her shoulders and looked into his deep brown eyes. Not only did his smile light up the room, his eyes sucked her in. She could get lost in them for hours on end. "I don't really have a home other than Raccoon City. I might go find Chris and see what he's up to. My mother was Japanese and my father was French. He would take me to France every summer and we would stay there for two or three months every year. Then I would go to Japan with my mother over Christmas. It was a lot of back and forth with them. Divorced parents aren't fun." Jill laughed and looked down at her hands. "But I lived with my father in America for most of my life." Jill's hands went cold suddenly as tiredness washed over her. "I'll be back." She jumped up and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She pulled her sleeve up to look at her stitches and groaned before splashing her face with water. "Pull yourself together, Valentine." She told herself and took a few deep breaths before heading back into her room.

"Well Carlos, I will never get used to the cold ass wat-" She cut herself off before looking up, seeing that Carlos had moved to the balcony, beer in hand. The night sky was a dark blue colour as the night had just begun and Carlos' body was illuminated by the moonlight. She had to physically close her mouth to stop from gawking at him. He looked...great. Jill composed herself and walked out to the balcony and joined the man. She looked down at the bust hotel car park but there wasn't anybody around. It was silent for the first time in weeks.

Carlos couldn't held but look at Jill, he looked at the side of her face, admiring the way the the moonlight hit her cheekbones and nose. He let his eyes wander down her body, noticing how the large grey top hung from her shoulders and down her thighs. Through the thin material he could see that her joggers were rolled up around her waist as they were far too big. Carlos hadn't noticed but Jill had turned her attention from the sky to him, seeing that he was hardcore checking her out. A scoff left Jill's lips and crossed her arms over her chest. "You looking for something?" She asked and looked at his face before pushing him back gently. Carlos put his hands up and looked at her. "¡Oye, no fue así!" Carlos joked and looked down at Jill. She knew some Spanish but not that much, so she was lost for words and didn't know what to say back. "You were checking me out!" She laughed and took the beer from his hands and drank the remaining alcohol. "¡Eso es mio!" Jill rolled her eyes. "Y ahora es mio." Jill bit her lip and looked at him, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"¿Podrías besarme por favor?" Jill asked him and put her hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer. Carlos didn't answer. 'Shit shit!' Jill's mind yelled out. She got nervous and shook her head.

"Sorry never mind. Forget I said th-" Jill was cut off by Carlos' lips against hers. He pulled away quickly and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked into her eyes, before kissing her lips again, pulling her closer to his body. "Shh. Let me enjoy this." Carlos smiled against the kiss and put his hands on her face. Now everything was normal.

#jill x carlos #carlos oliveira #jill valentine #resident evil 3 #re3make #fanfic

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carnistcervine · 4 years

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(Also, this makes me wonder how Sokka and Jet's respective loved ones and enemies react to their infections. May I get some headcanons? :O)

Okay, first, thank you so much for these lovely asks.

-When Sokka gets burned, he doesn't notice it at first. The adrenaline of the moment temporarily numbs him from the pain of the initial injury. However, as he comes down from the high of battle, he notices an increasingly painful burning in his arm.

-This is when Sokka realizes that he's been burned.

-He tries to hide the burn from Aang and Katara, and keeps them in the dark about his growing inner turmoil.

-Katara notices the change in her brother, but doesn't know about his burn. She notices how depressed and withdrawn he's becoming and tries to help or cheer him up in some way. She feels helpless when nothing she tries works.

-She feels horrible and does her best to hold it together and gently tries to get him to open up to no avail. But for the sake of her brother, she refuses to give up on him.

-Aang hasn't known Sokka long enough to know that something is very wrong with him, but as the Avatar he does sense a gradually shifting change in his energies. He has his own concerns, but leaves them unspoken for now.

-As Sokka's fire curse symptoms begin to become more pronounced, Katara takes notice. Sokka is able to still hide most of them, but can't hide his steadily increasing temperature.

-Katara suspects that Sokka is ill and tries to maybe slow or settle down until he feels better.

-But Sokka insists that he's fine and pushes them to keep going. They aren't safe staying in one place for too long.

-Not too long after this, the curse gets the better of Sokka and he passes out as he is officially converted into a firebender.

-Now Aang's fears have been confirmed, and Katara finally sees the true source of turmoil for her brother.

-When Sokka comes to, he's mortified to know that his friends have realized he's been infected.

-However, Katara and Aang refuse to leave his side. Despite Katara's grievances with the Fire Nation, she could never abandon her brother. As someone who lived before the war, Aang understands that being a firebender does not make you evil or bad in any way.

-Now knowing that he brother is a firebender, Katara refuses to let Sokka suppress his bending. She won't let her brother drive himself into madness.

-It's a hard battle, Sokka knows, and has personally seen his own mother succumb to the madness. Only able to helplessly watch as she clawed her own burning throat out and collapse dead in the melting snow.

-Of course, Katara also remembers this, and is her main motivation for trying to save Sokka. She desperately doesn't want to lose anyone else to such a terrible fate.

-She and Aang manage to get Sokka to use his bending a little, just enough to stave off the madness.

-Well, almost. Sokka does show some symptoms due to his refusal to get enough sun and his suppression of his bending.

-Sometimes he'll space out a little or say something that doesn't make any logical sense.

-And then Aang and Katara would make him stand in the sun and heat some water for tea.

-The group keep Sokka's firebending under wraps as best they can. Partly because of the fear that the Fire Nation will take Sokka away, and partly due to the paranoia surrounding firebenders.

-Eventually they do run into Jet and his group.

-The other Freedom Fighters don't realize this, but Jet knows right away that Sokka is a firebender. He confronts Katara in private about it. He agrees to help her and keep her brother safe as a way to further entangle her into his manipulation.

-But deep down, he already loathes Sokka, not for anything he's said or done. But simply for the fact that he's a firebender.

-While Aang and Katara are completely oblivious and naively falling right into Jet's hands, Sokka instincts are setting off alarm bells about Jet.

-Jet plots on how to get rid of Sokka, but can't seem to get him alone.

-Jet goes on his patrol mission without Sokka. However, Sokka has a nagging voice somewhere in the back of his head. It tells them to follow them, but in secret.

-Jet attacks an innocent old firebender who is minding his own business, going for a walk. He's about to strike the old man when Sokka finally lets out some proper fire in the form of a fireball. Jet leaps back and Sokka jumps down and takes a defensive stance in front of the old man, proclaiming that he's not going to let him kill an innocent person. Jet tells Sokka that no firebenders are innocent, pointing his blade at Sokka's throat.

-The two are about to go at it when Katara calls Jet from not too far away. He sneers at Sokka and he and his cronies leave him with the old man to distract Katara.

-Later that night, Sokka tries to get the group to leave, but Katara wants to hear Jet's side of the story. Jet of course claims that nothing happened, his patrol was completely uneventful and he hadn't even run into Sokka. Katara worries that Sokka's madness is worsening. Jet latches onto that, but Sokka tries his best to argue that he was completely lucid when it happened and Jet's a thug. In trying to argue his case, Sokka ends up letting it slip that he's been hearing a voice. Katara is deeply worried, but Sokka just storms off, unable to get through to her.

-Jet consoles Katara as she opens up about what fire madness did to her mother.

-Of course, now that his suspicions are confirmed, Sokka spies on Jet once again and finds out that he's going to flood a village. Sokka wants to warn Aang and Katara, but he already knows they won't believe a thing he says. So he tries to stop Jet himself.

-Being weakened from his deliberate avoidance of the sun and his suppression of his own bending, he fails and Jet has his cronies march Sokka off to be discretely taken care of.

-Of course, they can't match Sokka's Water Tribe superior knot knowledge, so he gives them the slip and runs straight for the village.

-The firebender soldiers are pretty shocked to see a beaten and out of breath fellow firebender approach them. He's shouting a rambling something about some thug trying to flood the place? It's clear to them that this poor firebender hasn't been properly cared for and is suffering from some terrible bout of madness. Judging by his clothes, he's likely been beaten and abandoned by his family, poor thing. So they try to get him to calm down and come along with them so they can help him.

-But the old man that Sokka rescued earlier, says that he ran afoul of the same thug Sokka speaks of. While, he admits that the youth seems to be suffering from a mild case of fire rabies, it may be in their best interest to evacuate. After all, if he's wrong, then all they did was waste a few hours or so.

-Thankfully, this gets the whole place evacuated just in time. The soldiers are absolutely mortified to see that the boy's predictions were true. They leave Sokka in the care of a healer. They intend to help him recover from his madness and then they'd have him sent off to the Fire Nation to be properly trained. But first, there was some retaliation due for this "Jet" character.

-Obviously Sokka isn't just going to stand by and be taken in by the Fire Nation, so he breaks out and finds his friends. Unknowingly helping the firebending soldiers find the Freedom Fighters.

-Katara is just coming to her horrifying realization, when suddenly, the forest starts going up in flames. Sokka bursts out from the trees and embraces Katara, gently teasing that he told her so.

-Jet is hit by a stray fire blast and is burned. He begs Katara for help, but Katara refuses. Maybe a little taste of the infection will teach Jet some empathy.

-At the moment, the Gaang manage to get away, as the soldiers are more concerned with dealing with the guerrilla terrorists that tried to wipe them out. However, it does not escape them that the young, maddened firebender is traveling with the Avatar and a waterbender. Word quickly spreads of another freshly infected firebender that needs to be trained into a proper firebender.

-For the Fire Nation, Sokka isn't just another nobody to be knocked out of the way. He's a potential asset. A mind to be molded to the ways of fire. A sign that they are edging ever closer to their goal of world domination.

-During their next encounter with Zuko, the Fire Prince only has to take one look at Sokka to know that he's been infected. Zuko promptly makes it his mission to not only capture the Avatar, but to see to it that Sokka is trained. Of course, Zuko and Iroh can actually agree on that second goal. Neither are interested in brainwashing Sokka into aligning with the Fire Nation though, they just both understand the importance being able to control elemental powers. And also, Zuko sees Sokka as being one of his own and refuses to let another firebender suffer.

-Zhao attempts to capture Sokka as well, seeing as corralling stray firebenders gets him points with his (increasingly fewer) superiors, and more promotions.

-When Azula comes into the mix, she also tries to capture Sokka. She sees him as a potential pawn. And also, a good future Fire Lord should know how control her subjects.

-The less said about what the Dai Lee want to do to Sokka, the better.

-The Northerners don't trust the firebender in their midst, and the only thing keeping them from dousing Sokka is the fact that he's the Avatar's companion. They do their best to keep a wedge between him and Yue.

-It doesn't work because Yue finds that she really likes this goofy firebender. Sokka has a heart to heart with her about his bending and she suggests to him that he ask the spirits to free him from his curse.

-When Zhao goes after the moon spirit, Sokka tackles him and scuffles with him while the Gaang and Iroh fight off his forces. Sokka is badly hurt by Zhao's superior firebending, but in an equally desperate and ingenious move he knocks both of the into the pool.

-The oasis pool is much, much deeper than it looks from the outside(seriously how is this physically possible?). Ominous shadows lurk in the dark and Zhao is dragged into the abyss. Sokka tries to swim to the surface, but he's weakened from his injuries and his inner fire has already used up all of his breath. However something does pull him back up.

-When Sokka awakens after being pulled from the water, he finds that the spirits have healed his wounds, but the curse remains.

-Sokka is initially very nervous to meet up again with his father. He's terrified that he won't accept a firebender son. However, firebender or not, Hakoda loves his son. He'd never abandon or forsake him.

-Suki is nice to Sokka's face but has her own reservations after seeing what the infection does to people. However, she does slowly grow to trust that Sokka has not been taken by the fire.

-In concerns with Jet, the Freedom Fighters disband after Jet is burned. Only Smellerbee and Long Shot stay by Jet's side, his two ride or dies.

-As much as they want to help Jet, and not have him become a firebender, the only water healers left are in the North Pole or Ba Sing Se. Both are too far to walk to before the infection would set in. Smellerbee convinces Jet to give up on this lifestyle and just live a quiet life as a refugee in Ba Sing Se.

-Reluctantly, he agrees.

-Smellerbee and Long Shot carefully watch Jet for signs of madness, as they know he's suppressing his bending.

-However Jet is an old hand at hiding the dark truths about himself.

-He starts to slip when he sees Iroh heat his tea.

-Jet is inevitably arrested by the Dai Lee.

-There are rumors that Ba Sing Se kills any and all infected with the fire curse. This is not true. Long Feng and his Dai Lee actually have much use for them.

-That being said, the less said about what the Dai Lee did to Jet, the better.

Lmao I think I went a little overboard. :'D

My inbox is always open to anyone that wants to talk or inquire about my AUs or ideas and such~

#ATLA #avatar #Bending Curse AU #Sokka #Jet #Yes I love this #Pls send me asks and stuff peeps #I love stuff like this

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animebw · 4 years

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Short Reflection: Psycho-Pass Movie

It’s been over a year since I last put pen to paper about Psycho-Pass, and in the time since then, I’ve only become further convinced of how damn good it is. It’s a searing political commentary on the nature of free will and sociological predestination, exploring countless fascinating (and severely fucked) dystopian concepts while backed by a fantastic, character-driven narrative and one of anime’s most iconic bad guys. It’s possibly Gen Urobuchi’s best work, with stronger characters than Madoka Magica and far less, well, Fate-ness than Fate/Zero, though they’re all of such similar caliber in my mind that I wouldn’t feel comfortable ranking them against each other. But the failure of Psycho-Pass 2 to re-capture its brilliance couldn’t help but raise the question of how much of a franchise there really was to this franchise.

See, part of what makes Gen Urobuchi’s work so great is how complete and self-contained his stories feel. You come to the end of any of this shows and all emotional loose ends will be tied up, all characters will have reached the natural endpoint of their arcs, and the story’s themes will have been analyzed and dissected to completion. Some writers excel at creating expansive, varied universes you just want to spend endless time in, but Urobuchi’s signature touch is getting in, saying everything he wants to say, and then cutting the cord not a second later. He’s a remarkably efficient writer in that regard, crafting wonderful self-contained mobius strips of darkness that leave you with countless thoughts to endlessly mull over. But because of that, his work just doesn’t naturally lend itself to sequelization. Despite the ambiguity of his endings, his work doesn’t leave behind any dangling threads to pull on if you want to tease out new ideas from the same universe, which means you have to throw entirely now playing pieces into the mix that just might not gel with the tightly crafted clockwork contraption they’re being shoved into. Sure, Psycho-Pass 2 not having Urobuchi on the writing team (as a result of him working on this movie, no less) was a big reason it was of such lower quality, but even when Urobuchi does work on the sequels to his own projects, like with Rebellion, you can’t help but feel like the focus isn’t as strong the second time around. As much as I love the dude’s work, the more of it I see, the more convinced I’ve become that it’s just not really possible to sequelize him without losing the magic that made it work in the first place.

Thank god, then, that the direct movie sequel to the first season of Psycho-Pass has arrived to put those doubts to rest.

It’s some time after Kogame killed Makishima and went rogue, and Akane is in the process of getting used to working as a superior officer under the Sybil System. But things get dangerous when a successful sting operation reveals connections back to an unstable South Asian nation called SEAM. Outside Japan, the world is a chaotic battlefield of warring nations and insurgencies, and the seeming stability of the Sybil System is beginning to attract many to want to adopt it as well. SEAM is holding a trial run on an artificial island created to house clear and clouded Psycho-Passes alike, turning those deemed dangerous into closely monitored slaves. But because the Sybil System is literally the worst and stomps on the unlucky under the guise of being “fair and balanced”, the citizens of Seam are suffering, and a guerrilla army is attempting to overthrow the chairman to stop the adoption of Sybil. And it just so happens that among that rebel army is non other than Kogami himself. At her request, Akane is sent in alone to try and bring him in, and once there, she becomes embroiled in the political scheming and chaos as she attempts both to track down Kogami and unravel the roots of the unrest plaguing the country... and what Sybil might have to do with it.

The best way I can describe this film is that it’s an epilogue to the first season, and somehow just as good a stopping point for the story of Akane and Kogame as the end of the first season. We do catch glimpses of the new characters from season 2, but they’re firmly in the background, which is for the best, because in case we forgot, none of the new characters were interesting. The focus here is on Kogame and Akane, as they come to terms with the people they’re both turning into and whether or not the paths they’ve come to follow are the right ones. And whenever the camera’s on them, it’s like we never even left. The friendship and conflict between these two characters was the true heart of Psycho-Pass, and this movie is a chance to give that bond proper closure, allowing them both a chance to determine how they want to keep fighting against the pain the Sybil System brings. And man, I can’t believe how fucking much I missed them. Their chemistry, the way they bounce off each other, the respect they hold toward each other, the newfound sadness as they try to make sense of the companionship they can never fully restore... god, it’s really fucking good. And without spoiling anything, by the time the movie’s over, it really does feel like a proper farewell to the old status quo. It’s possibly the most outwardly hopeful ending in Urobuchi’s entire oeuvre, a promise that for as hard as the world seems, thing are, and will continue, to get better.

That said, I’d be lying if I tried to pretend the Psycho-Pass movie fully escapes the Urobuchi sequel curse. Once again, now that the story has to expand beyond the tightly constructed parameters it set for itself, it has to start tacking on new additions that threaten to bloat the proceedings down. The politics of the new setting are all very well-realized, and it makes for a nice sort of “bottle episode” feel, but there are definitely a few too many new characters to comfortably fit. There’s a squad of cybernetic mercenaries, in particular, that feels like they’re only here to expand the runtime and give Kogami someone new to fight hand-to-hand. But the gadgets and gizmos they fight with aren’t interesting enough to make them stand out, and the one woman on the team wears the stupidest fucking fanservice outfit with her oversized tits just about spilling out of her shirt, so it just ends up feeling more stupid than anything else. It’s the one part of the film that feels like the second season in a bad way, a sloppy, juveline aping of the first season’s maturity, mistaking shock value for genuine darkness and tension.

But you know what? For all those complaints, the fact of the matter is, this movie accomplishes what the second season couldn’t even come close to: it felt like Psycho-Pass. It felt like a proper story set in the world of the Sybil System, with the same pitch-black-yet-doggedly-hopeful dystopian edge and an actual worthwhile addition to the franchise’s overall picture. It’s got great character work between its central players and provides proper closure to the first season’s ambiguity. It’s full of nasty, fascinating technological advances that raise dark questions about the possibilities of future societies. And while I’m still not the biggest fan of the franchise’s aesthetic- Production IG’s early-2010s washed-out bloom look is never not gonna make me have PTSD flashbacks to Guilty Crown- it still takes advantage of its movie budget to pull off some spectacular, evocative setpieces that hit hard and spray dizzying litres of blood across the pavement. It’s also got proof that CG elements can actually blend almost seamlessly with 2D shows, as long as they’re drawn in the same style and actually animated at full frames per second instead of like stuttering dial-up connections. Seriously, I was really damn impressed by how well the big 3D machines and robots integrated with the hand-drawn backgrounds and characters. Never let it be said that this franchise lacks for artistry.

In the end, what I most come away from this movie with is a sense of hope. Not just for the surprising optimism of its conclusion and what it means for the people living in the world, but for the franchise a whole. Urobuchi’s work is hard to sequel, but the Psycho-Pass Movie proves it can be done. It’s still possible to draw legitimately worthwhile follow-ups from his closely woven narratives, to find stories still worth telling even after the curtain falls. Whether or not the Sinners of the System films and third season can make good on that potential remains to be seen, but at the very least, I know this franchise still has life. So for being an entertaining, worthwhile epilogue and proving that Psycho-Pass can still give us stories worth telling, I award this movie a score of:

7/10

And next up, I see what the Sinners of the System films have to offer. Catch you next time!

#anime #the anime binge-watcher #tabw #psycho pass

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puroresu-musings · 4 years

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PWG BATTLE OF LOS ANGELES 2019 Final Stage DVD Review (Sept 22nd, The Globe Theater in Los Angeles, CA.)

Battle of Los Angeles Quarter Finals Match Dragon Lee vs. Jake Atlas ****1/4

Battle of Los Angeles Quarter Finals Match Bandido vs. Brody King ***

Battle of Los Angeles Quarter Finals Match Jonathan Gresham vs. A-Kid ****

Battle of Los Angeles Quarter Finals Match Joey Janela vs. Rey Fenix ***1/4+

Battle of Los Angeles Quarter Finals Match Darby Allin vs. Penta El Zero M ***1/2

Battle of Los Angeles Quarter Finals Match David Starr vs. Jeff Cobb ***1/2

Dark Order (Evil Uno & Stu Grayson) vs. Rey Horus & Aramis ***1/4

Battle of Los Angeles Semi Finals Match Jonathan Gresham vs. Joey Janela ***

Battle of Los Angeles Semi Finals Match Bandido vs. Dragon Lee ****1/2

Battle of Los Angeles Semi Finals Match David Starr vs. Darby Allin **3/4

Team Ugg (Caveman Ugg, Orange Cassidy, Jungle Boy, Artemis Spencer and Paris DeSilva) vs. Team Taurus (Black Taurus, Mick Moretti, Lucky Kid, Tony Deppen and Kyle Fletcher) ***3/4

Battle of Los Angeles Finals Match Bandido vs. David Starr vs. Jonathan Gresham ****

Photos.

It’s that time of the year again; Pro Wrestlig Guerrilla’s annual BOLA tournament. I’d be lying if I said this years line-up filled me with much enthusiasm (beyond living legend Daisuke Sekimoto’s inclusion, of course), but I’d heard this final day was worth checking out, and it certaintly didn’t disappoint. It featured a bunch on great matches, countless madman moves, and if you were playing a drinking game in which you were to take a shot every time someone slapped their thigh, you’d be in an alcohol induced coma by the midway point. PWG is a promotion I’ve sort of fallen out with in the last couple of years. Every now and then they’d have an occasional show that I’d really like (last years BOLA was mostly great), but generally, the roster since mid 2017 hasn’t sparked my enthusiasm, and their shows have just been average more often than not. Well I’m pleased to say this was a return to form of sorts.

Action kicked off with a bang with Dragon Lee’s fantastic, all-action victory of Jake Atlas, which left a lot to follow. Lee had the two best matches on the show here, and I hope wherever he ends up post CMLL split, that he’s featured at the top of the card. Atlas held his own here too, it must be said, though Lee was obviously the standout. There was a crazy sequence where Lee hit a Hurricarana out of the ring, and Atlas took out the front row, and another, straight out of the Hiromu feud, where they traded 8 straight German Suplex’s, then traded reverse rana’s, before Lee hit a running knee strike for a near fall, dropped the knee pad and hit another to advance in 10:55. Bandido’s win over the massive Brody King was good, but couldn’t follow that, and they decided to do a “Lucha” match, which was both impressive, given King’s size, and terribly messy at times. Bandido won with the 21 Plex in 10:40. The Octopus Jonathan Gresham’s win over Spain’s A-Kid was an excellent contest that started off as a compelling technical outing, then broke down into a heated hard-hitter, and was the most “real” looking fight on the entire card. Gresham worked over Kid’s leg all match, and won via ref stoppage after repeatedly stomping on it, and driving the knee into the mat at the 18:03 mark. This was great.

Joey Janela surprisingly advanced over Fenix in another good match. However, at 15:58, this was much too long, and had it gone 10 minutes, probably would have been much better. Fenix was roughly a hundred times better than Janela in this, but The Bad Boy got the upset after turning Fenix’s mask around, thus ‘blinding’ him, and hitting a super kick for the three. Darby Allin and (the sometimes) Pentagon Jr had a very good outing next which told a compelling story, and featured even better selling by Penta, after Allin bashed his knee with a chair in the early stages. The masked man pulled a tremendous sell-job, needing help getting his leg over the ropes whenever he tried to enter the ring. Of course, they fucked it by doing a piledriver and Canadian Destroyer off a ladder, neither of which were the finish, and Darby just popped up from them, hit some moves and won with a figure four cradle at 16:24. Had it had a different finishing stretch, this too would have great, but alas, they had to epitomise everything that frustrates me about indy wrestling nowadays. David Starr and Jeff Cobb had a very different bout next, it was a fun wrestling match which saw Starr pull off the upset by defeating last years winner, and current PWG World Champ, Cobb after nailing him with a belt shot behind ref Aubrey Edwards back (which would later play into Starr’s semi final bout), then hitting a massive Lariat to advance in 11:15. Post intermission, the former Super Smash Bros., now Dark Order defeated the Lucha tandem of Rey Horus and youngster Aramis. This was another good match-up, but I wasn’t too invested in this. Dark Order won after hitting their cool Fatality finish on Aramis at 14:48.

BOLA semi final action commenced with Gresham making short work (8:30) of Joey Janela, in a fun little sprint (which did needlessly feature Gresham kicking at one form a Package Piledriver). Apparently, Janela has won all his tourney matches with a super kick, but Gresham kicked out here, which threw the Bad Boy, resulting in him ‘losing it’ and throwing a bunch of chairs into the ring, which he was Germaned onto. The Octopus locked on the Manjigatame for the submission win. Dragon Lee and Bandido had the match of the night next. This was something of a dream match, and whilst it was a wild 12 minute all-actioner, I can’t help but wish they went maybe 5 minutes longer here. Regardless of this, the match was still excellent stuff indeed, and we know what to expect here; Lee hit a tope suicida maybe 4 rows deep, and Bandido hit an Orihara moonsault that literally grazed the balcony. They went full-speed, hit all of their signature spots, before Dragon Lee no-sold a top rope Moonsault Powerslam, and scored a near fall with a devastating top rope Desnucadora. Bandido countered a Powerbomb into a Destroyer, then hit the 21 Plex, but rolled through into a Deadlift German for the win. The crowd showered the ring in dollars in the post-match, whilst Bandido got them to chant “Please Come Back” at Lee. And in the third semi final, David Starr was victorious of Darby Allin in the weakest, and shortest, match on the show. The main story here was Starr trying to bully and intimidate referee Aubrey Edwards, pushing her around, before she finally shoved him to the mat to a huge pop, all the while Darby just... lay around. As Allin made a comeback, Starr caught a Coffin Drop into a Powerbomb backbreaker, then got the win at 5:39 with another big Lariat.

The prerequisite ridiculous BOLA 10 man of first round losers followed, and it was just as preposterous as previous years, if probably a little more entertaining. This started as just a comedy outing, but turned into a highspot fest. Team captains Ugg and Taurus’ exchange was the highlight here, as both powerhouses bealed their teammates into one another in order to bring the other down, but to no avail. There was all kinds of crazy shit here; everyone hit a big dive, Cassidy did a nonchalant balcony dive, Moretti was nearly killed in a terrifying reverse rana Tower Of Doom spot, the massive Ugg followed that up with a Phoenix Splash (!!!), the dinky Paris DeSilva hit a Shooting Star DDT (!!!), then Cassidy pinned Tony Deppen with a cradle at 25:49 to win for his team. Yes, it was silly, yes, it was overly long, but it was a ton of fun. And finally, Jonathan Gresham, Bandido, and David Starr faced off in the elimination 3-way 2019 BOLA Finals. As a triple threat, this was great stuff, they got so much out of a figure four, it was unbelievable. Starr was first eliminated after Gresham locked him in Manjigatame and started raining down hammer fists, which prompted referee Rick Knox to call for the bell for a ref stoppage elimination. This boiled down to Gresham and Bandido, and they had a nice back-and-forth, which saw The Octopus kick out of a 21 Plex. He then once again locked in the Manjigatame and started hitting the hammer fists, and Knox again teased the stoppage to great drama, but Bandido powered out with a Samoan Drop. The masked man then took Gresham up top and hit a reverse version of his Moonsault Powerslam, and hit the tournament winning 21 Plex to claim to trophy at the 23:26 mark. Bandido celebrated with his father and brother, and Dragon Lee in the post match, and promised to beat Jeff Cobb for the title in the future.

PWG is in a strange impasse at the minute; most of their key talent has been swallowed up by either AEW or NXT, and I don’t see either of their top guys, Bandido and Jeff Cobb, not being snatched up when eithers contracts with ROH are up, and where PWG goes then is anyone’s guess. I certaintly don’t see them knocking out shows of the same quality of years gone by. Of course, there’s always a chance they become a kind of unofficial developmental league for AEW. However, despite this potential black cloud, the Cali rebels produced a great show here. It was 3 and a half hours, but never dragged, and featured nothing that could be seen as less than good, and a whole bunch of great (though nothing could touch last years final, in my opinion). Also, I can’t review a BOLA without going on my annual production rant, but for God sake guys, it is 2019. Surely we’ve advanced beyond these shows being filmed on a single hardcam, and a lone handheld around ringside. It’s so RF Video circa 2002, its ridiculous. Especially when promotions such as AAW look great nowadays. Please sort the presentation of these DVD’s out. Thanks.

NDT

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