#their tragedy lies in how their past forms were once close and through a shared sin plus some stuff to inspire Blade’s vengeance that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 4/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Every single night, she was tormented by the same nightmare. Every single night, the same memory replayed behind her closed eyelids. She saw that fateful night, the night when she had decided she couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

It was the night before the great battle, and, as always, Levi fell asleep in her bed, curled around her body, holding on to her almost desperately, as though he was afraid that should he let go even for a second, she’d vanish.

Levi thought that his embrace could keep her with him. Hange wished for it to be the truth.

Getting out of the circle of his arms was a considerable effort, he held her too close, too tight, and Hange… Hange didn’t want to leave that sweet embrace. Levi was wrapped around her like a vice, he was a poison ivy that had its twigs engraved so deep it reached to the very depths of her heart.

Hange had to cut it out, to cut him out. And, by gods, was it an unwanted progress.

But after a few moments of quiet struggling, of silent curses and pants, she slipped out from his embrace and their bed. That small victory was well-earned, but not enjoyed. Hange felt her heart break the moment Levi’s arms were no longer around her. Without him, she felt so cold. With every inch she put between them, the ice that began covering her heart continued growing.

Next, she packed her scarce belongings. She wanted to take more, she couldn’t do it. Everything she’d take back home – her uniform with Wings of Freedom splayed proudly on the back, her heavy notebooks with dozens of notes and sketches done by her beloved assistant, that book Erwin had once given her, the scarf Mike had knitted for her, the flower Levi had gifted her, the very same one she treasured just dearly as the memory of him confessing after the gift had been presented, - all of it was going to be looked at and thoroughly analyzed. By her Marleyan comrades, friends and possible prosecutors.

She could take nothing that could be conceived as dubious, but that jacket, the one that was shared by both of them and still held his scent and warmth— she wasn’t strong enough to leave it behind.

So she put it on, praying for it to give her strength.

A long way home was awaiting her.

And Hange couldn’t leave without giving him, the one man she truly loved, a goodbye kiss.

“I know you won’t,” she whispered against his brow, her fingers caressing his hair with a feather light touch, “but please try to forgive me. It was out of my control, Levi.”

It was his fault too. When Levi came, the ground had been kicked from under her feet. And a simple mission turned into a tragedy.

When she gathered enough strength to leave the room, the hallway was empty. Hange knew it would be, she was familiar with the workings of Survey Corps like the back of her hand. She strolled through the well-known hallways without fear, trailing her hand along the walls.

The Military Headquarters back at Liberio was better built than this building. Even Warriors’ barracks, despite being designed to hold Eldians, were built so much better. Those buildings were sturdier, more technologically equipped, much more comfortable.

But, god damn it, she was going to miss Survey Corps’ headquarters, this shitty building that was situated in the middle of nowhere.

Compared to Marley, everything in Paradise was ancient, outdated, useless. But it didn’t stop her from loving that fucked up little island. It didn’t stop her from loving people that were living there, despite them being branded as monsters by her nation.

She turned the corner, took the stairs, and, at the end of it, just near the exit Hange saw a shadow.

She meant to duck behind the corner, to run and hide, but the form of that shadow was all too familiar, and she was just as familiar to that shadow. Hange had no choice but to stop and surrender to another cruel twist of fate.

“Squad Leader!” Moblit ran up to her, smiling and endearing as always.

Fucking hell, and Hange thought that saying goodbye to Levi would be the hardest task. However, Levi, at least, hadn’t been awake.

“Are you nervous, as well?" he asked, curiously peering into her eyes. Was she nervous? That was an understatement. "Personally, I can’t sleep! I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I even wrote a letter to my Momma, do you remember her?”

Of course, Hange remembered Moblit’s Momma, the soft and caring Mrs. Berner, a far kinder woman than Hange’s Momma was.

“I told her about our mission and how proud I am for participating in it. And… I added a second part, the one that would be sent in case…”

“No.” Hange shook her head resolutely, her hands clenching into fists. No, no, no, she refused to even entertain that foul idea. Impulsively, she took a step forward, circling her arms around her sweet assistant. “No, Moblit,” she repeated, voice muffled by his shirt. If he heard the quiet sniffling, Hange didn’t care. Moblit never minded her eccentricities. “You will survive. You will survive this shit and the next one you will undoubtedly face. You will make your Momma and everyone else around you proud.” You will make me proud. “And you will leave a glorious, happy and long life. You promise me?”

“Squad Leader…”

“Promise me!” she demanded, bordering on desperation.

In that moment, the dream always divided from reality.

In reality, Hange waited until he had given her a promise, and then feigned exhaustion, leaving Moblit to use another exit. But in a dream, Moblit made her stay, coercing her to have a cup of tea with him. And in the candle-light lit mass hall, they met Erwin, then Levi joined their impromptu party, gluing himself to her side and blinking sleepily at everyone who had gathered.

In a dream, Hange never left. She stayed under Moblit’s care, was guided by Erwin’s wisdom, was surrounded by Levi’s love.

And that’s why that dream was a cruel, excruciating nightmare. It showed her things that could never be. It showed her the future she desperately wanted to come true. Escaping from the clutches of that fantasy was hard, painful. And if that was complicated….

Well, waking up in that bed was pure agony.

Every single morning, Hange woke up lost and disoriented, and had to spend a few long moments, making sense of it all.

Her first instinct was to stretch her arms, to yawn and reach out – to warmth and comfort, to loving embrace, husky voice and reluctant kiss. To him. To everything she had lost. To everything she never actually had.

But she was alone in that bed.

There was no Levi, lying next to her, complaining about her morning breath. There was no Squad Leader Hange, no four-eyes , who would smile and start singing in Levi’s ear.

There was only she, a broken, empty shell of a person.

A Marleyan who fell for an Eldian. A war chief that devised weapons for her enemies. A fool with twisted loyalties and convoluted goals.

She betrayed her homeland, she didn’t have a home.

She was abandoned by her fellow countrymen, was rejected by the people closest to her.

But, strangely, as pathetic as she was, as miserable and wretched, she was not alone. Even in her sorry state, despite her vile betrayal, she still had a friend.

He was by all means her enemy, a monster and a devil, and yet he saved her life more times than she could count.

Even now, when her lies had been discovered and her villainy uncovered, he remained by her side, continued to care for her.

If all Eldians were truly as monstrous as she had been told since her birth, then how to make sense if the existence of one extremely brave, inexplicably kind Moblit Berner? Hange, as genius as she was, couldn’t understand him, couldn’t explain why someone as good and bright as him had decided to stick with her.

“Good morning!” he walked into her room with a smile, carrying her breakfast on a plate.

He had been repeating the exact same routine every day for the past month. He had been doing this ever since Erwin had appointed him as her assistant.

In that room, that bed, nostalgia, memories and regrets were impossible to escape.

Hange tried telling Moblit that he didn’t have to this, didn't have to care for her as though she was still his comrade. But Moblit was relentless. And she was too lonely and miserable to cut off the only kind soul that remained loyal to her.

“I managed to get your favorite biscuits this morning,” he continued, moving around the room to put the cutlery down on a table and open the curtains to let the sunshine in. “Almost got in a fight with Sasha because of it.”

Despite herself, Hange snickered. Moblit always had that kind of an effect on her. He possessed the uncanny ability to cheer her up with a simple, but heartfelt and caring gesture.

There was only one other person who was better at it than him. But after everything that happened between them… the hell would freeze sooner than she would hear praise and a comforting word from him.

Waving those sullen thoughts away, Hange stretched her arms and rose from the bed. She followed the sweet aroma of biscuits to the table Moblit had set for her.

“Any updates on Gabi and Falco?”

That was the first question she asked every morning. And every morning, Moblit gave her the same disappointing answer.

“I’m sorry,” he ducked his head solemnly. “We didn’t manage to locate them yet.

Hange expected as much. And yet, the lack of news still troubled her. Where were fierce Gabi and adorable Falco? Were they—

She shook her head, pressing lips together. Of course, they were still alive. They were candidates, the best of all best. Mentally repeating that mantra a couple of times, she forced her mind flow into different direction.

“What’s our plan for today?” she asked through a mouthful of biscuits. “Are we going to work on a new uniform again?”

Working on that project was fun. Having Mobllit as her assistant once again was fun. In the moments, when her brain was too occupied with an idea, she could almost pretend that everything was normal. That she was Squad Leader Hange, working with Executive Officer Moblit on a new project. Sometimes, Hange got so lost in that little game inside her head, she even expected for the door to burst open to let a grumpy Captain inside. But, of course, that couldn't happen.

These distant memories, they were comforting. They reminded her of the rare times in her life when she was truly happy. But the past... was in the past.

“Eh, you see…” Moblit raised a hand to his head, scratching the back of it with an apologizing smile. “Armin asked me to look into something. I was actually wondering if you would like to accompany me. I bet you’re getting sick of spending days in these four walls.”

She was starting to feel like a wilting flower, that was true. It would have been nice to go outside. However…

“Am I even allowed to leave this room?”

Moblit winced. “I’m not really sure about it… But I was assigned to look after you. I think it wouldn’t hurt if you go with me. Besides…” he sat on the chair next to her, looking at her almost pleadingly. Oh, Moblit and his perfect puppy eyes, Hange could never resist them. “I’d like to have your company. And, perhaps, your advice as well…”

“Advice?” Hange frowned. “On what? What is your task about exactly?”

“Don’t know if I can tell you,” nevertheless, Moblit leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “But they found out that one of the volunteers, Yelena, has been conspiring with Eren. They asked me to interrogate the other volunteer.”

“Oh?” that sounded both ominous and intriguing. Hange curled her lips into a grin and raised an eyebrow. “You want me to use my interrogating skills?”

“No!” paling slightly, Moblit frantically lifted his hands, shaking them from side to side. “No reaping out nails, please! No threats of bloody violence! Just… talk with him.”

She almost forgot how easy it was to tease and embarrass Moblit. Oh, how Hange missed him.

“Alright, I’ll do my best to control the violent urges,” she winked at him, laughing at his scandalous face. “And thank you for inviting me. It’s been ages since I saw the world outside that room.”

“There is another thing I have to ask of you...” Moblit cast his eyes down, playing with the sleeve of his coat. “Technically, I’ll be representing Survey Corps, so…”

Oh. Hange shifted her gaze to the wardrobe, where her old uniform was still hanging. That feeling inside her, she couldn’t quite identify it. Was it shame? Or trepidation?

She showed nothing of it to Moblit. As their eyes met, she faced him with an easy smile.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I do wonder if that thing still fits me.”

“It is. It always will.”

The remark was short, it could be read as meaningless. But Moblit’s voice was deep and gravely, full of conviction. Hange tilted her head, stealing a moment to study him more closely. He looked back at her, his hazel eyes honest and kind.

A lump in her throat was thick enough to make it hard to breathe. It brought tears to her eyes. Hange closed them tightly, to keep the tears from falling down.

“I need a moment,” she murmured, facing away from Moblit, “I’ll be ready in five.”

“I’ll be waiting in the hallway,” he said and let her be.

___

Walking through the streets of Sina was both pleasant and excruciating.

Feeling the sun on her cheeks and the wind in her hair after so many days of being confined to a one single room was enjoyable, enough to put a smile on her lips. And Sina, so very different from Liberio, was a lovely city with interesting architecture and narrow clean streets.

But these places were too familiar, the alleyways etched into her mind too deeply. And the uniform… the long green coat fitted her too well, and, at the same time, suffocated her. The shiny Wings of Freedom were burning her even through the clothes.

This proud emblem, it wasn’t hers. She wasn’t worthy of wearing it.

And the looks people had been given her, the awe and pride— fuck, Hange would rather prefer they cursed and flanged stones at her.

“Their smiles make me uncomfortable,” Moblit confessed. “They used to throw shit at us after every expedition. But now that Eren has killed a bunch of people, they suddenly decide that we’re heroes.”

“You always have been heroes.”

You, not we. There was nothing heroic inside of her.

“Remember that tavern?” Moblit’s cheerful voice and excited expression didn’t chase away the shadows completely. But the shadows took a step back, frightened by his light. “We had a glorious fight with MPs there.”

The fond memory brought laughter to her lips. “You almost got your arm broken in that fight.”

Moblit chuckled along with her. “Thanks to you I didn’t. I thought that punch of yours would get that guy obliterated.”

Hange touched her knuckles tenderly. Moblit was right, that was one hell of a punch. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel how the force of the hit had reverberated through her skin, tendons, muscles and down to the bones. Perhaps, that time, she had overdone it. She always had troubles reining in her anger.

“And remember that guy Captain Levi kicked? I see him around from time to time. Because of his broken jaw, he still has trouble speaking clearly.”

Ah, Hange remembered that guy as well. He was red-headed and had an ugly moustache. He also left a nasty bruise on her cheek. Levi’s kick to his jaw was a payback for that.

“Those were the times, huh?” Moblit nudged her, offering a kind smile.

Hange averted her eyes, feeling her lips quiver. Yeah, those were the times. Distant times, now they seemed more like a dream. A dream Hange wouldn’t want to wake up from.

Sensing her discomfort, Moblit steered them to the side, taking their conversation in another direction as well. “Speaking of Captain Levi, I sent him the new uniform. He wrote back that he liked it.”

The uniform she accidentally created with Levi’s size in mind. It was in no way intentional. She thought of Survey Corps’ soldiers when she was making a design. And in her mind, the perfect example of the scout was Levi. She was surprised she still remembered his size. Although, considering how much time she had dedicated to studying his body…

The new uniform was a sudden project, a product of the abundance of free time on her part. She wasn’t going to show it to anyone. Even Moblit found out about it by pure accident, when he stumbled upon her crude drawings. She was surprised he liked it. She was surprised Levi liked it. Did he really, though?

“He actually wrote so?”

“Well, he wrote that it could be useful, and in his words…”

Oh. As high praise as one could get from Levi.

“You write to him?” truthfully, that was another surprise for Hange. She didn’t remember Moblit and Levi have any sort of relationships, especially this close.

“We talk a lot,” Moblit shrugged, looking anywhere but at Hange. She was starting to wonder why, but his next words quickly unveiled the mystery. “Technically, we’re the only adults in Survey Corps, and after you left, we… found that we have a lot in common.”

Well. At least, her betrayal had one good outcome. It gave birth to a new friendship. And destroyed several old ones. Hange winced at the last thought.

“Oh, look where are we!” Moblit once again pulled her out of the abyss with his clear, loud voice. The wonder, added to it, however, seemed a little bit too faked. As smart and sharp as he was, Moblit could never excel at lying and pretending.

Not like she did.

Forcing these thoughts away, Hange followed the direction Moblit was pointing at. She couldn’t help but smile at what came into her sights.

Sina’s pastries. The best bakery in the city. In Hange’s humble opinion, the best bakery in the whole damn world. The one they had back at home, on the corner of the street in Liberio, right next to her apartment, didn’t even compare.

Just looking at the sign made her mouth fill with saliva.

“Moblit,” she grasped at his sleeve, her hold desperate. Her eyes were still trained on that shiny sign made in cursive. “Moblit, I know I’m asking a lot—”

He grinned. “Want me to get you that cherry pie you loved so much?”

Oh god, yes. Right now, Hange wanted it more than anything else.

“I understand it if you can’t. I mean, I’m a prisoner from a foreign country. Isn’t buying pies considered to be treason in this case?”

Moblit chuckled warmly. He looked at her, and his expression was kind and gentle enough to make the saints weep. He curled his hand around her shoulder, and from the place where he touched her, warmth spread through her body. “I wouldn’t mind committing treason for a friend.”

Fuck. Hange felt it once again. Her heart squeezing painfully, her throat constricting, tears welling in her eyes. She had to shut her lids to keep them from falling down her cheeks.

Her eyes still closed, with her voice cracking, she asked, “Would it be weird if I give you a hug right now?”

“Don’t know. Is it weird that I really want that hug?”

Her sob turning into a giggle, Hange surged forward, falling right in Moblit’s waiting arms. He pressed her close, his palm patting her on the back. Hange buried her face in his chest and relaxed against him, inhaling his faint scent of citrus and cinnamon. Sweet and pleasant, just like Moblit.

What was she doing all that time, without him at her side?

Moblit smiled at her as they separated. Hange meant to smile back, but in that exact moment— her stomach gurgled. Loudly.

She cringed.

“So… about that pie?”

“I’m on it,” Moblit promised and darted to the bakery.

___

Perhaps, it was fate. It was destiny, divine intervention, that led her to this moment. To the wooden bench in the park, to the bird’s singing in her ear, to the sweet, heavenly taste in her mouth.

The pie was perfect, so much better than Hange had remembered. It was soft enough to melt in her mouth, leaving a pleasant aftertaste. It was sweet, but not sugary, the cherry toping adding slight bitterness.

Fantastic, the pie was fantastic. If Hange could, she’d stay in that bakery until the end of her days, devouring those phenomenal pastries until she exploded. Ah, what a happy death that would be…

Moblit observed her with an amused grin. “Did they not feed you at all in your Marley?”

“Not like this.” Hange managed, despite her full mouth.

Food in Marley was more diverse than on Paradise. They had more resources, they had a bigger variety of products and ingredients. But Hange was a soldier. She either ate at barracks or she cooked for herself at home. Food, made by army cooks, was nourishing, but lacking in flavor. And the dinners, prepared by her, almost always consisted of something quick and extremely simple.

The only place where Hange could eat to her heart’s content, where food was made out of the best, freshest ingredients and prepared by the most skillful chefs, was the official events, organized by the brass. And as the leader of the research facility, one of the most recognized war chief and the only child of her father, one of the Marleyan’s biggest heroes, Hange was always a welcome guest on these events.

But they were so boring that not even a promise of good food could make her sit until the end of them.

“Well, wait until you try Niccolo’s food. He is a true master.”

“Already did,” her stomach once again gurgled, this time the embarrassing sound was provoked by the memory of Sasha and Connie treating her to some of the maestro’s masterpieces. Sasha certainly was a lucky girl. “I ate so much, I thought I was gonna puke.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” bashfully, Moblit rubbed his neck. “The first time he made food for us, I was eating like the man starved. I was so ashamed, but then I looked around,” he chuckled lowly, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “And realized I wasn’t the only one.”

“I see you had a lot of fun,” she said, swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn’t one of them, and never was. The suddenly appeared sadness was foolish and unwelcome. She had her own friends back home. Perhaps, they still thought about her. Perhaps, they still cared. “And what about that guy you need to interrogate? Is he also an amazing cook?”

“No, he is a soldier, he taught us so much about your technology! He was the one who was in charge of controlling the airship we used to get to Liberio.”

So their new friend was a pilot? And, apparently, a skillful one at that. Navigating through Liberio during all that chaos was certainly a challenge. Hange wondered if she knew him.

“So what is the name of that ace pilot of yours?”

Moblit lifted his chin, something close to pride appearing in his gaze. "He really is amazing. His name is Onyakopon."

Hange's jaw dropped. Her precious pie almost dropped as well. Hadn't she misheard? Onyakopon? The same Onyakopon who had spent almost a year as her understudy? Who taught Hange how to pilot the plane? That Onyakopon?

Could it really be? Could they really meet here, after so many years, on Paradis of all the places? Or was it some other Onyakopon who also happened to be an ace pilot?

"Hange-san?" a worried crease lay between Moblit's eyebrows. "Are the two of you—"

"Don't know," she shrugged, promptly finishing the last of her pie. "Shall we go and find that out?"

Moblit nodded resolutely. Hange felt something like nostalgia stirring up inside her.

___

For a man who was supposedly under a close watch and a possible suspect, Onyakopon had the nicest of accommodations. Much better than Hange's single room.

The house was small, but cozy, surrounded by pretty garden and vast green fields. If one were to ignore the lonely guard who was munching on an apple in the shadow of the tree, the front yard possessed absolutely no flaws.

Hange immediately shared her observation with Moblit, telling it to him in a faint whisper.

"Let's hope Onyakopon isn't a traitor and we won't end up dragging him from this heavenly place," he answered her.

If their Onyakopon was the same Onyakopon Hange knew, they wouldn't need to take the drastic measures. He was a smart, honest and good man. And, judging by Moblit's set expression, he knew that too.

As they approached the house, a man came in their sights. Dark-skinned, tall and handsome, he was reading a book on the porch, a look of complete concentration on his face.

All doubt left her mind. It was the same Onyakopon. The bright, curious young man who wanted to learn from her and who taught her something in return.

At the sound of their footsteps, Onyankopon looked up. And recognized her too, from just one glance. As their eyes met, his grew in size, almost comically. So he didn't know she was there as well. Strange, Hange would have thought he overheard the commotion she had caused on their trip back to Paradis.

But, perhaps, Onyakopon was too focused on piloting the airship and keeping all of them alive.

"Hange?" his voice was no louder than the wind's song. Hange nodded swiftly, having troubles finding her own voice. She wasn't sure it would obey her. "Oh I'll be damned!" Onyakopon jumped to his feet and all but ran to her. He squeezed her elbows, peering into her face in disbelief. "I'll be damned, Hange! I've heard the talks about some Marleyan soldier, but I could never guess that it was you! No one told me that you were captured."

Well, captured might be a strong word to describe what happened to her. Levi didn't capture her, he simply caught her - unaware and unprepared. Hange saw the face that was haunting her dreams and didn't even think of fighting against him.

She thought that Levi came to kill her then. She was almost ready for him to do it, to finish it once and for all. Being killed by the humanity's strongest - was there a greater honor? Being killed by the man you loved so dearly - was there a bigger joy?

Gently, Hange pried Onyakopon's hands off her. "It's a very long story."

"I have—"

"You don't," Moblit took a step forward, partially hiding Hange behind his back. "We need to talk, Onyakopon. I'm sure you've already guessed why."

"Yeah. Your friend here," Onyankopon threw an accusing glare at his guardian who was enjoying the afternoon shade, not disturbed by their conversation. "Already warned me. Alright," he let out a defeated sigh, "Do you guys want tea or coffee? Maybe, some snacks?"

Moblit gave him a tight-lipped smile. "We've already eaten, thank you."

"I— I'll bring some tea anyway."

He disappeared inside the house without another word. Hange and Moblit watched him go, then, when he vanished from their sight, they shared a look.

"He doesn't seem nervous," Hange remarked.

Moblit seemed to be of the same opinion. "He looks rather disappointed. I really hope he is innocent. But..." he shook his head and mumbled, more to himself than Hange, "I was always bad at figuring out liars."

Ouch. If after everything she had been through, Hange still possessed a heart, Moblit's words would have dealt a fatal blow.

Alas... She felt but a small pang. It didn't make her wheeze with pain, only forced to cast her eyes down.

___

Onyakopon returned after a few minutes, carrying a tray with three cups on it. Jerking his head into its direction, he led them to a table on the backyard.

Once they all took their places, heavy silence hanged over them. Onyakopon was the one to break it.

"So, no offence," he tilted his head to the side, his gaze slowly switching between Hange and Moblit. "If this is the official business, then… why Hange is here?"

"It's a long story," Hange said at the same time as Moblit claimed,

"Hange and I have been working together before."

"Wait..." a frown appeared on Onyakopon's face. It was almost immediately taken over by the look of shock. "Are you telling me that the famed Marleyan spy I've been hearing so much about, the one who spent five years on Paradis and almost became the Commander of Survey Corps, is Hange Zoe, one of the brightest minds of Marley?"

"Something like that, yeah," Hange took a cup of tea in her hands, hiding her embarrassment behind it.

"Wow... that's certainly... a lot to take in. I heard so many things about you."

"Nice ones, I hope?"

The corners of Onyakopon's lips slid down. "Not really."

"Ah... Understandable, I guess."

"But if you're the famous betrayer, why are you here? Are you—"

"We've been working together for a long time," Moblit repeated. "I trust Hange's judgement."

"I have an exceptional talent of picking out bullshit. And," Hange grinned, the curl of her lips just this side of being feral. "I'm a master of reaping fingernails out."

Onyakopon promptly chocked on the tea he was drinking. Sending her the most disappointing of his looks, Moblit jumped out from his seat to help the other man to cough it all out. His panicked face did awake a bit of shame in Hange.

"It was a joke," she hurried to assure.

"A very bad one," Moblit grumbled, softly patting Onyakopon on the back.

"I see nothing has changed about you, Hange," after returning his breathing under control, Onyakopon raised his eyes, giving her a joyful smile.

Hange wasn't sure if his words held any truth, personally, she hadn't felt like her happy, curious and driven self from years ago, but, nevertheless, she answered his smile with the one of her own.

"Now, let's talk about you," Moblit returned to his place, sitting down on the opposite side from Onyakopon. His back was straight, his expression relaxed but solemn. He grew, Hange noted absentmindedly. He was no longer that timid, shy man she had met all these years ago. "Do you know what happened with Yelena?"

"I understand that she is in the same boat as I am right now."

"Not quite," Moblit retorted. "We've recently found out that she has been talking with Eren behind our backs."

Onyakopon put the cup down, his hands a little more unsteady than Hange remembered them to be. "I... didn't know about any of this. Do you know what they were discussing?"

"Commander Pixis and the others are attempting to make sense of it as we speak."

"And in the meantime you decided to interrogate me." Onyakopon's demeanor changed, his eyes flashing. "Have I not done enough, Moblit? For you and for the people of Eldia? Haven't we helped you enough? And yet, you still don't trust me. You come here with—" his gaze shifted to Hange, but whatever Onyakopon wanted to say didn't leave his mouth, Moblit's hardened expression stopping him.

"You know how hard it is to earn trust," Moblit spoke calmly. "Especially now. Personally, I don't think that you're involved in Yelena's dealings. But I have to make sure of it. Wouldn't you do the same, if you were in my position?"

"Besides," Hange chimed in, "Even Eren is imprisoned. Do you really blame them for not trusting foreigners?"

Onyakopon took his time before answering. His jaw clenched, as he fixed his gaze on the wooden surface of the table.

"Maybe, you're right," he said at last. At his admission, Moblit relaxed. But Hange knew that Onyakopon wasn't finished yet. "But I risked my life to help get Eren back. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Yelena took part in that mission as well." Moblit reminded.

"I'm not Yelena." Onyankopon harshly retorted.

Moblit scowled. Onyakopon was glaring back at him, hands crossed on his chest. Hange decided it was time to intervene once more.

"Are we thinking of the same Yelena?" she interrupted their staring contest, easing the air around both men. "Tall, blonde and absolutely crazy?"

Not taking his eyes of Onyakopon, Moblit nodded. "She also has a strange obsession with Yeager brothers."

"Ah," yeah, Hange knew her. How could she not? Yelena was... "A lovely girl. Even I get chills from her. I doubt that Pixis would be able to get something out of her."

"That what worries me," Moblit confessed, rubbing his temples. The gesture was familiar to Hange - Moblit always suffered from headaches when under stress. "The Queen is coming back soon. If we don't secure the capital..."

"Historia is coming back?" Hange wasn't aware of it. When she asked Sasha about a little girl that once was called Christa and then grew up to become a Queen, Sasha said that she was also getting ready to become a mother. Was bringing her to the capital a good call then? With everything in such state of disarray?

"It was her decision, not ours," Moblit explained. "When the Queen learned what is going in, she deemed it necessary to intervene."

"Hopefully, the Queen is loved more than Eren Yeager."

Yeah, that would be the best case scenario. For everyone - even Marleyans - involved.

"In these uncertain times..." Moblit hanged his head with a deep, weary sigh. "Hope is all we have. Thank you for your time, Onyakopon. We'll be heading back now."

Having said that, he stood up. Hange meant to follow his suit, but at the last moment, Onyakopon stopped her, catching her sleeve between his fingers.

"About what happened in Liberio," he stiffly began. "Marley destroyed my hometown," Hange solemnly nodded. She was forced to take part in that particular operation. She hated every second of it. "I can't and I won't forgive them for that. But..." his voice softened, his thumb rubbed comforting circles around her pulse point. "Liberio was your home as well. So I know what you're going through."

Taken by surprise, Hange blinked a couple of times, gawking at Onyakopon. She expected anger from him. In the worst case - pity. But he offered her only his understanding. She was grateful for that.

“Goodbye, Onyankopon,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hopefully, that wouldn’t be our last meeting.”

Hange could very well agree on that.

___

When they were back in Sina, the sun was already setting, painting the streets and buildings into shades of orange, red and pink. While walking through the town, Hange was once again reminded of how beautiful it truly was. The abundance of trees and flower bushes, the shiny cobblestone and petite houses added to its charm, making Sina look almost magical.

“Pretty as a picture,” Hange had once called it, during a walk through the town with Levi by her side. Her fascination, that careless mishap almost got her lie uncovered.

“You look like you’re seeing it for the first time, four-eyes,” Levi had thrown that line carelessly, but his had narrowed ever so slightly and his frown had deepened. “Didn’t you say that you have grown up in the city?”

In that moment, Hange had almost started panicking. She could almost see it too – Levi finding out the truth, Levi dragging her to Erwin, Erwin getting everything he could out of her, him, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Nifa, Keiji, Abel, Levi and countless of others feeling disappointed and betrayed. The story would have ended with her standing on the gallows.

Perhaps, this end would have been more merciful. But that day, her joyful, only slightly forced laughter and a meaningless ‘Don’t you know me, Levi? I always have my head up in the clouds?’ had saved her from the early demise. And doomed her to many years of torture, heartache and self-hatred.

“Hey,” a gentle hand on her elbow broke her out of the internal misery. Hange looked up, meeting Moblit’s hazel eyes. “It will take some time until we reach the headquarters. Can we talk in the meanwhile?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “What do you wish to talk about?”

“I actually want to ask a question. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but…” Moblit trailed off for a moment, pressing his lips in a line. Hange smiled faintly, she knew that expression too – he always wore it when he was contemplating his next move. As soon as his mind was set, it vanished, the usual kind face returning. “I would like to know why… you came here in the first place.”

That was it? Hange almost exhaled with relief. She thought he was going to ask something truly awful.

“Didn’t I tell you already? Just like Hoover, Leonhart, Braun and Galliard, I was sent to retrieve the Founding Titan.”

“But you didn’t do it. You had countless opportunities to take Eren from us, and you never acted on any of them. So why did you really come here?”

That was… a question more complicated than Hange was ready for. She didn’t know what to tell Moblit, how much she was willing to share. She had never talked about this, not to a single soul. Her comrades and friends from Marley would never understand her anyway. But Moblit wasn’t Marleyan, he didn’t possess the same mentality. Perhaps, he wouldn’t judge her. Hange was counting on that.

Without another second spent on doubt, she began her tale,

“My father was a hero – a soldier, brilliant tactician, an even better politician. He was resolute, fearsome and absolutely merciless to his enemies. No surprise that many considered him to be an ideal Marleyan citizen. And I was his only child. Naturally, everyone expected me to be as brilliant as him. I began my training at the age of five, and by the age of twelve I was already a perfect soldier. However, that’s not who I wanted to be. I wanted to explore the world, to travel to distant lands, but as the child of my father, I had my whole life controlled by him, and then, when he passed away, by the expectations everyone had for me.”

Taking a pause, Hange chanced a look at Moblit, expecting him to be disgusted or annoyed by her whining. She had everything given to her on a plate, a bright future guarantied, and she still yearned for something more. It was pathetic, wasn’t it? She was pathetic. However, Moblit… didn’t seem to share that opinion. At least, his face didn’t show the signs of it. Instead of the outrage Hange had expected to see, she was met with sympathy.

It made the pain in her chest grew tenfold.

Nevertheless, she forced herself to continue.

“I could never decide for myself, my whole life was controlled by my father’s legacy. I wanted to break free of it, by whatever means necessary. So when I heard about the mission to retrieve the Founding Titan, I latched onto that chance, convincing the brass to send me there with the kids. But I’ve arrived earlier than them, and we got separated. And so… I decided to use that time to do what I always wanted. To study and explore.”

It was the most brilliant of her adventures. She loathed being a soldier and having to kill countless enemies of Marley. But there was no war at Paradis. The only enemies were Titans, and as much as Hange felt for their struggle, she managed to convince herself that she was killing them for their own good. That she was freeing them from their never-ending curse.

“No one knew me here, and I could be whoever I wanted to. And I liked being Squad Leader Hange, because Squad Leader Hange was allowed to be as weird and curious as I wanted. People here accepted me. For the first time in my life, I felt like I found the place where I belonged.”

Of course, that wasn’t true, a mere fantasy, a delusion on her part. She was a Marleyan, a child of the man who condemned thousands of Eldians. She had no place in their world. And yet, Hange was happy. It was the bitter truth she was afraid to admit for so long - she loved the persona of Squad Leader Hange. So much more than the persona of the Professor and war engineer, Hange Zoe.

But nothing could last forever. And when the time has come to return to Marley, Hange was devastated. She lost herself in playing her own game.

“That’s it, I guess,” she said, rolling her shoulders. Looking up, she saw they were almost by the stables where they left their horses in the morning. So deep inside her own head, she failed to notice how much time had passed. “I ran away because I was sick of my life back home. And I spent five years pretending to be someone else.”

“Were you really?” Moblit watched her, his gaze inquisitive. “Were you really pretending to be someone else, Hange-san? Or did you finally allow yourself to release your true self?”

That was… a scary statement. And much more loaded than Hange could deal with in that moment.

“I could be wrong, though,” Moblit shot her an innocent smile. Hange cursed under her breath, a true devil, that’s what he was. Getting her to admit to so much of her insecurities, Moblit surely had a talent for it. And to think he asked her to help him with interrogation. He seemed to be pretty adept at it himself.

“Stay here, I’ll bring our horses,” he started walking in the direction of the stables, but at the last moment turned away, and, meeting Hange’s eyes, added, “I’m glad that you took that mission, Hange-san. And I’m glad that I got to meet the real you. All of us are.”

Hange snorted, watching Moblit go. Perhaps, her father was right about something. Devils, all of them were. How else to explain the ease with which they wormed their way into her heart?

Her shoulders dropped as soon as Moblit had disappeared from her view, and she turned to stare at the setting sun. Certainly, it was one hell of a draining conversation.

But as her thoughts were still scattered in disarray, her heart felt so much lighter. She never shared this part of her with anyone, was afraid to admit it even to herself. But now she was glad she had finally done it. Perhaps, she should have done it a long time ago. Her life could have been easier then, the amount of regrets considerably lesser.

She swept her gaze around the plaza Moblit left her at. With the day coming to an end, not a lot of people were there. As far as Hange could see, the only ones still present were a happy mother with a two children, who were feeding the pigeons on the bench at the far side of the plaza, an elderly couple, and—

And a girl that sat at the edge of the fountain. The short stature, slumped shoulders, that luscious long black hair were familiar to the point of setting Hange's heart ablaze.

She couldn't see the face, was afraid to, but even so, Hange denied what her eyes saw. Surely, it was her imagination, her mind conjuring things that weren't there. This girl, she was—

A shadow, fathom. It couldn't be— it couldn't be her. Even the possibility of it was raising the hairs at the back of Hange's neck.

It wasn't Pieck, just a random girl. Hange was wrong, simply seeing things. Those familiar traits belonged to someone else. Pieck wasn't here, in Paradis, Pieck couldn't be—

"Hange?" she jumped, and whirled around so swiftly her head went dizzy. Before her stood Moblit, his eyebrows knitted together worriedly. "Everything alright?"

She exhaled with relief. "Peachy," she answered with a smile she didn't feel. Her eyes shifted from one side of plaza to the other, searching for the figure she had seen. But like all shadows do, she simply vanished.

"I brought our horses," Moblit gestured for her to follow him. Hange did, not looking back even once.

Even so, she felt someone's gaze burning into her back all the way to the headquarters.

___

"Sorry," Moblit stood at the threshold of her room, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I need to report to Zacklay and Pixis."

His expression was nearly apologetic. Hange patted his shoulder, touched by his not so subtle concern. "Stop worrying so much, Mob. Nothing would happen if you leave me for one evening."

Moblit kept frowning, looking as unconvinced as ever. "I'll tell Sasha and Connie to bring you dinner,” he nodded to himself. “And if you need anything, just tell the guard to call for me."

"Alright, alright. Now go!" Hange gave him a forceful push. "And make me proud!"

She didn't get an answer out of him, but she did see a faint blush appear on his cheeks. That was enough for Hange to chuckle victoriously.

Once Moblit had disappeared around the corner, Hange shoved the door closed and leaned against it. It was an exhausting, eventful day. She wanted nothing more than to rest. She headed towards the bed to fulfill that exact goal.

But no sooner than she had seated down, she heard the knock on the door. Albeit quietly, it was repeated three more times.

Sighing, Hange stood up again and walked back to the door. She swung it open, expecting to see Sasha and Connie. She was hoping to get a warm meal inside while gossiping with the two teenagers. A second later, the door stood open. And Hange's throat was closed up.

On the other side of the threshold— there was no Sasha, no Connie. Only Pieck.

And so the shadow finally took form.

Pieck was dressed similarly to her, in the dark green uniform. Her hair was gathered in a low ponytail, a smile was playing on her lips. The subtle differences in her attire only added to the sense of disbelief.

At the sight of her lovely face, all air left Hange's lungs. She desperately tried to take a breath, opening and closing her mouth rapidly. She wasn’t sure for how long she would have continued gaping like a fish fresh out of the water hadn't Pieck taken the matters in her own hands.

"It's been a while, Hange," as always, she spoke in a quiet, sugary sweet voice. Usually it calmed Hange down. Now it was sending shivers down her spine. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Pieck," Hange meant to sound leveled, controlled. But even a single word came out shaky and unsure. "Pieck," she tried again, this time with more success. "What are you doing here?"

Pushing past Hange, Pieck walked inside the room, heavily sliding down on a chair. "Serving my country. Something you have forgotten about."

Pieck stared straight at her, hands folded in her lap, a picture of friendliness and innocence. But the smile Hange always found so endearing, now seemed almost chilling.

"Tell me, Hange, is this the part of your plan? Have you decided to use your old history with these people to destroy them from the inside? Or," Pieck paused, tilting her head to one side. She didn't look angry, or disappointed. If anything, she seemed simply curious. But the atmosphere in the room was tense, air electrified with trepidation. Hange knew Pieck all too well, she knew how dangerous the shifter girl could be. "Have you already forgotten what they did in Liberio, in our city? How they destroyed it? How killed thousands of men, women and children? These monsters almost killed Reiner, Porco," her voice wavered at the names of her dear comrades. But even then, she didn’t drop the unassuming façade. "And do you know what happened to Udo and Zophia? Have you seen what become of them?"

Stunned, Hange could only stare at Pieck. The words left her, her mind unable to come up with anything she could have used to explain herself.

Indifferent to Hange’s internal struggle, Pieck continued.

"Do you even care, Hange? About Marley, about us?"

"Of course, I do." How Pieck could even doubt that? Udo and Zophia, those bright, adorable children Hange couldn't quite imagine them being gone. "Pieck, you misunderstand, I've been captured, I'm not—"

"Don't make me laugh." Pieck interrupted curtly. "You have your own room, you walk freely through the town, you wear their uniform. Is this how they treat all of their prisoners? Awfully kind of them then, considering the monstrosities these devils committed."

"Pieck, listen—"

Pieck didn't want to.

"You always were a strange one, Hange," gracefully, the girl stood up, taking a step closer. With her hands behind her back, she started pacing, circling around Hange. "I could never understand what was going on inside your head. I still can't. But, naively, I thought that I knew you. That after years of fighting side by side, we grew close enough. And after the disaster at Liberio," she picked up a sheet of paper from Hange's desk, gave it a quick once over before disregarding it in favor of focusing her eyes on Hange once more. "I kept looking for you. I was so afraid to find your body under a fallen building or see you with a hole in the head. But you were nowhere to be found. Everyone was worried sick, the brass was livid - the devils from Paradis killed the Warhammer, took our Beast and now our brightest mind was missing as well. And then I remembered what I have seen during the fight. A short man approaching you, the same one who nearly killed Zeke, that Ackerman. I thought he had captured you, I thought you needed saving. Seems like I was wrong about that, huh?”

Even now, Pieck was keeping her calm. Despite the harsh accusations, her voice remained gentle, almost soothing. The smile was still in place, and her head was tilted up, peering into Hange’s eyes.

Hange did everything she could to escape that unsettling gaze.

“I also came to because I needed you,” Pieck continued. “I thought you would help me with my mission.”

Would she? Should she? Hange didn’t know. She knew what Professor Hange Zoe would have done. She knew what Squad Leader Hange would have done.

But what would she do?

“I guess it doesn’t matter. Whether you help us or not, the outcome will be the same. Paradis will fall, Hange. Consider it my only warning. If you wish to witness its demise alongside these devils, I won't stop you. But," without looking at Hange, Pieck laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "If your decision ever changes, I'll be happy to fight by your side."

After that, Pieck left the room, closing the door softly on her way out. Hange, however, didn’t move, remaining frozen in one place, too stunned to follow after Pieck and demand a more thorough explanation.

However... what was there to explain? Paradis will fall. Plain and simple.

Right now, Hange couldn't quite believe it, although she was supposed to expect it. What could possibly happen to that little island after Eren's desperate rampage? But even before that, Paradis was already doomed. The events that transpired at Shiganshina proved to the outside world just how dangerous the Eldians could be. And Shiganshina was simply a plant that had grown out of the seed of Grisha Yeager's crimes.

There was no hope for Paradis. There never was.

Paradis will fall.

What could she do to save it? Could she do something, anything at all? Could she help them, expose her nation's plans? Could she betray her motherland like that? If she shared the truth with people of Paradis, would they even believe her? Would her people forgive her?

Hange didn't know. Her mind was in frenzy, her thoughts flying from one horrible outcome to the other. It was in that catatonic state that Sasha and Connie found her.

"Hange-san? Is everything alright?"

Hange looked up, meeting their bewildered gazes. In that moment she realized - she didn't want these kids to die. She didn't want for them to suffer any more than they've already done. And the others - Moblit, Levi - Hange couldn't bear the thought of them in harm. But—

She didn't want for her fellow countrymen to die as well.

Fuck. Why was everything so hard these days, why it was so damn complicated? When would her heart stop tearing into two pieces? Why was everything out of her control?

It was always an issue of hers, the lack of control. This time was no different. Caught between crossfires, Hange didn't know which side to choose. Perhaps then... she shouldn't choose at all.

Perhaps, she should take the back seat. Let everything transpire the way it was supposed to be. Let them fight, let someone win.

And so, with a heavy heart and troubled consciousness, Hange came to a decision. She would not alert Paradis about the threat hanging over them. She would not help Marley in their fight.

But there was another side to all of this. Another warning, another trouble that couldn’t be ignored.

There was a danger of Marley invasion, but equally disturbing was the events transpiring inside the Walls. Something was brewing, a storm ready to swipe everyone in its path. And Hange had a nasty feeling that at the center of it, two figures stood – Yeager brothers.

Nothing could be done about Eren, Hange had doubts that even his closest friends had a single clue of what was going inside the boy’s head, what dangerous ideas were forming there. But Zeke, Hange knew how to deal with Zeke. She also knew someone who could deal with him in the most efficient way.

She didn’t know what Zeke was planning. But she was confident that Levi would be able to find out.

She just needed to give him a little push.

“Sasha,” Hange smiled at the girl, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “If you would be so kind, tell Moblit to visit me before he retires for the night.”

Moblit had mentioned that he was corresponding with Levi. The time has come to use this detail to her and the world’s advantage.

The world as they knew was changing, perhaps, it was already at the brink of collapse, horrible destruction. What did Moblit say? In these uncertain times, hope is all we have?

In that case, her only hope was Levi.

#does someone still remember that fic? i for sure had almost forgotten about it jdfsdkhgsjgh #levihan

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vivilove-jonsa · 3 years

Text

a song incomplete

A gift for @chispas-and-broken-bindings who is writing a lovely soulmate AU of her own on ao3 and for Day 1 of the @jonsaseasonalbash event ❤️

***

Soulmates had become incredibly rare the past few centuries and were considered a curse as much as a blessing by many. Jon Snow could see why.

To have a soulmate, you must have a soulmark, a mark upon the skin which formed the name of your soulmate. For every person who bore such a mark, there should be someone out there who bore your name as their mark in return.

That was the way of it barring a very few unfortunate souls who bore the mark but had no one carrying their name as well. They were a song incomplete.

His sister Sansa would sigh and weep when Old Nan would share stories of soulmates by her fire on cold nights but who wanted to be half of a pair of star-crossed lovers from opposing houses bound by forces beyond their control to meet, fall in love and, usually, die tragically? Or worse, the ones with no true mate?

Naturally, it was just his luck that on his fifteenth name day, his own soulmark would appear to mock him…and to shame him.

What difference did it make though when he was already a Man of the Night’s Watch, bound by his oath for life to a celibate order that only his death could free him from?

And what would anyone think if they saw that his soulmark, the name of his supposed other half, was his half-sister Sansa? He knew she would never be cursed with his name in return. Clearly, the gods loved making a jape of him.

However, in addition to being rare, soulmarks were thankfully small. As it was in a conspicuous location though, his hand, he was glad that here at the Wall no one thought it strange that he should wear gloves as much as possible.

On the night he fought a dead man in Lord Commander Mormont’s quarters, he was cried out from the pain brought by fire. Perhaps it was a blessing though. The burn had seared the mark to the point it was illegible. The puckered, reddened flesh healed but never completely and only the S from her name remained.

It was better this way.

The morning Sansa’s soulmark appeared, she experienced a strange pricking sensation at the small of her back. It was only upon her skin and yet it felt as though it went deeper than that.

“Would you look and see if there’s something there? A cut or something?” she asked Myranda Royce in secret at last. The pain had started a daybreak and had yet to recede.

“Oh…oh, dear. You have a soulmark, Alayne.”

“That’s…that’s…”

She didn’t know what to say. She was set to marry Ser Harrold soon. And though she’d once thought the tales of soulmates romantic, she’d since come to the conclusion that the songs were all lies.

“What’s the name?”

Was it Harrold? Somehow, she doubted it. He was not marrying her for love and she didn’t love him either. He’d be tolerable at best as husbands went.

Myranda read the name once, twice. Sansa shook her head, confused and angry.

Why would she have a soul mate if it could never be? And where was he? Where had he been all this time? More than likely, she was one of the unmatched ones, the horrible few who bore the mark but had no one truly meant for them in return.

“I don’t know anyone by that name. It must be a mistake. Please, don’t say anything.”

“But your husband may see it or…”

“I’ll think of something. Please, don’t say anything,” she begged again.

“Of course.”

Alayne’s fingers soon became perpetually stained by the dab of black ink she used every morning and every night to cover the name. She would call it a birthmark and pray no maid nor future husband would study it too carefully.

It was strange being back here again. Even after fighting tooth and nail to win it back, Jon would wake wondering if he’d dreamt it just as he sometimes wondered if he’d dreamt coming back from the dead.

That had been no dream. The wolf had woken inside him for good during that dark sleep.

How else to explain his sick fascination with the way the firelight would dance upon his half-sister’s hair? The way he burned with shame and desire in her presence?

His initial joy to see family again had soon been tainted by the twisted longings that assailed him.

But she bore no mark. There was no conscious guilt in the way she’d looked at him upon their reunion, no deep secret she’d hidden all this time. He was a song incomplete, not her. No matter what she’d lived through, Sansa was still pure and fresh as snowfall to his eyes. That old mark, the blurred one where only an S remained, had crept into his soul, his blood and yet he had no true mate. She did not carry his name upon her skin.

But when Ser Harrold succumbed to his wounds received during the battle for Winterfell, Jon Snow had gone to offer comfort to his widow.

It was innocent, brotherly comfort so far as she knew. But the beastling dwelling under his skin had held her close…and known its own form of contentment at long last.

“I…I have something to tell you.”

His eyes were empty, lost. The raging fire, that white-hot temptation she always saw in them was not there for once. She always burned so in his presence, since that night their bare hands had first touched. She could not understand it. She could not help it either.

Carefully, she stroked his beard, cupped his face with one hand and looked into his grey eyes.

“Tell me.”

They were alone here. Here, they could just be…no matter how wrong they both were.

He blamed his death and resurrection. She blamed her tragedies. Together, they blurred the lines of what was familial closeness and comfort and what was more and pretended not to notice.

She drew a deep breath, preparing for heartbreak, fearing he would tell her that he was leaving again, for good this time, that what they’d been doing was a mistake and must be at an end now, that he could never love her as she loved him, that it was never meant to be.

What else would she expect? She had a soulmark but no soulmate, it seemed.

Tragedy was her fate. Harrold Hardyng’s name hadn’t been etched upon her flesh and neither was Jon Snow’s. One had been her husband and one was her half-brother. That she’d barely tolerated one and deeply loved the other didn’t change the fact that she wasn’t meant for either.

“Bran and Howland Reed came to me tonight, they came to tell me things that have long been a secret.”

He looked so heartbroken and she felt as if she could bleed for him and whatever this fresh pain was.

“I am not the man I thought I was, Sansa. Everything about me is wrong. It’s been wrong from the start.”

“That isn’t true. What do you mean? How can you-”

“My name is not Jon Snow.”

The last thing he’d expected was a relieved laugh when he told her the full of it.

No, that’s not right.

The last think he’d expected when he told her the truth was for her to start unlacing her dress.

“Sansa…”

True, they were not half-siblings as they’d believed and yes, there was still that S upon his flesh that had once been her name but she didn’t have a soulmark. True soulmates both had the marks.

But when she stood before him bare and wiped at that little black spot upon her back, the size of a thumbnail, the one he’d stroked a time or two which she had named a birthmark, he saw it. A name. The one he had been given by his mother before her death.

His song was not incomplete after all.

And neither is hers, he thought before he asked her to look closely at his hand.

#jonsa #jonsa fanfiction #jonsaspringautumn #day 1 prompt-soulmates #jonsa fanfic #vivilove-jonsa fic

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crusherthedoctor · 3 years

Text

Sonic Heroes: Sweet or Shite? - Part 1: SILVER

There are some heroes I like. And there are some heroes I don’t like. But why do I feel about them the way I do? That’s where this comes in.

This is a series in which I go into slightly more detail about my thoughts on the heroes in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, and why I think they either work well, or fall flat (or somewhere in-between). I’ll be giving my stance on their designs, their personalities, and what they had to show for themselves over the course of time. Two things to keep in mind:

1. These reviews will be focusing mainly on game portrayals. Though alternate media will occasionally be mentioned, it'll be for the sake of adding onto a point if a portrayal is similar enough, or to compare and contrast if a portrayal is different enough.

2. These are just my own personal thoughts. Whether you agree or disagree, feel free to share your own thoughts and opinions! I don’t bite. :>

Anyhow, for today’s installment, I decided to challenge myself by starting off with a complicated one. Born from the future, and never content to stay put in said future, it's the saviour whose debut came from the most unfortunate game... Silver the Hedgehog.

The Gist: Once upon a time, in the distant future, there was an idealistic young hedgehog named Silver, gifted with the power of telekinesis for reasons unknown. With his amazing potential, he was truly destined for a wonderful, prosperous li-just kidding, it was shit.

“All two of us.”

For as long as he knew, the world was forever plagued by Iblis, the terrible Flames of Disaster. Cities stood in ruin, flames stood high, the floor was lava... it was a bitter life to be certain, all thanks to Iblis. Not even defeating the titular creature did much good, since it would simply come back to be a shitty boss fight another day. What was he - and his friend, Blaze, a character we definitely never saw before and definitely didn't have a completely different backstory before - to do?

Trust the first person he sees, of course. Even if they look like they might be related to the same Flames of Disaster that he fights so constantly.

If he had eyelids, he'd be winking at the camera.

This mysterious fellow, Mephiles the Dark, informed Silver that if he were to wipe out Iblis for real, he would need to take a trip into the past, and eliminate the root of the problem... Sonic the Hedgehog? That was what Mephiles claimed, yes. What was his proof? There was no proof.

That was good enough for Silver.

Oh look, it's Fleetway Sonic.

After an elaborate series of events, which should sound exciting but really isn't because it was just Silver going “Iblis Trigger grrr” in varying tones of voice, he was finally able to corner the blue hedgehog... twice! And despite having less fighting know-how than the hero who saved the world plenty of times, he effortlessly came close to killing the blue hedgehog... twice!

This looks like a jobbing for...

Why twice? The first time was halted by Sonic's friend Amy Rose, who Silver had met beforehand after she mistook him for Sonic, an understandable mistake that even the keenest of eyes would be forgiven for making.

The second time was also interrupted, this time by Shadow the Hedgehog. There's only room for one controversial non-blue male hedgehog in this franchise, sonny boy. Actually, his reasons were more benevolent than that: he wanted to show Silver the truth about what was going on, by time travelling to the incident that gave birth to Iblis. Why was one able to to this, so long as more than one Chaos Emerald was present? No one knew.

That was good enough for Silver.

“I challenge you to a dumb-off.”

As it turned out, Iblis was one half of a sun god called Solaris, the other half being the aforementioned Mephiles. The Duke of Soleanna wanted to reunite with his late wife by harnessing Solaris' power, which succeeded from a certain point of view since he's dead now too. The resulting blunder split Solaris into two halves. One half was all brawn, with little capacity for intelligence. The other half was Iblis.

Understanding the error of his ways, and after making peace with Sonic, Silver went back to the future to try something different, which consisted of doing the same thing he always did. Luckily for him, the script decided it would work this time, albeit at the cost of Blaze sacrificing herself... Maybe? Sort of? It’s not entirely clear what happened to her, and it’s not like this was the last we ever saw of her.

~La laaaaaa, la laaaaaa, la laaaaaa, heading to a better game, la laaaaaa~

But ohhhhh nooooo, turns out THAT didn't solve anything either! In the present, Sonic was killed by Mephiles, after the latter realised he should probably do that already if he wanted to make any progress at all with his plan. This incident led to Iblis being brought into the present, and they fused to become the omnipotent Solaris once more. Such power... such divinity... such devastation...

Actually, he was really easy. The antlion from Underground Zone was harder.

Manchild robots - 1, god of time - 0.

With their super forms in tow, Silver, Shadow, and the revived Sonic joined forces to defeat Solaris, with Sonic in particular going the extra step in retconning Solaris out of existence entirely. Since time itself reset, meaning Iblis was no longer a memory, Silver's timeline was given a second chance. What was he to look forward to in this new, promising future?

Shit.

The Design: Let's take a closer look at Silver's appearance, shall we?

Or rather, a certain thing that's wrong with it.

He's holding up fifteen fingers.

Yes, you all know what I'm pointing to: the hairstyle. Let it be known that I'm very aware of the intention behind this design choice. It's supposed to be based on the Japanese Red Maple Leaf, which holds a lot of relevant symbolism for Silver's character. This is a fine idea in theory, and I can respect the intent and the creativity.

But here's the thing: If it looks like a ganja leaf, people are going to say it looks like a ganja leaf. I know some fans will gnash their teeth at me saying this, but the fact of the matter is that intentions and ideas, no matter how good they may be on paper, don't always translate well into the final product. Unleashed Secret Rings Black Knight Sonic '06 in general is certainly no stranger to showcasing examples of that, and Silver's hairstyle is no exception. There are ways to incorporate symbolism in a character’s design without making them look like meme bait in the process, and no amount of “umm ackshually” will change that, I'm afraid.

That said, there's another reason why I'm staying clean of Silver marijuana: it doesn't work for a hedgehog character. With the other hedgehogs, their hairstyles are simple and get the point across: Sonic's goes without saying, Shadow's is more angular to befit a slightly rougher hero, and Amy's is a cute bob cut of sorts. But Silver? Even without the ganja, you've still got the two tentacles making up the back of his head.

I'd rather not be reminded of hentai quills, thanks.

“I thought Crusher-san would like it :’(”

I do find it hilarious that they went through numerous designs for Silver, and this was what they chose to go with. Some of his prototype designs may have fared better had any of them been used instead... but we didn't end up with any of those ones. We ended up with this one, therefore I'm judging this one.

But don’t worry, it’s not all bad with Silver...

The Personality: As far as actual character goes, Silver's personality is as straightfoward as most characters in the series, yet it's no less interesting, because it took a while for it to fully evolve to what it currently is. The seeds of his character - a good-natured yet awkward and rather insecure kind of guy, who doesn't fully understand how the present time works - have always been there, but it was often downplayed in earlier titles due to him being hungry for Iblis Trigger blood... or being an arsehole for no reason.

Although to be fair, everyone in Rivals is an arsehole for no reason.

Eventually though, after the writers gave him a Snickers, these traits got more opportunity to shine. Mostly in side media admittedly, but it's been noted in the games as well. With no Iblis to angst over, he's proven to be a surprisingly bubbly chap, who just wants to know how you're all doing, fellow anthro kids. And whereas his naivety was previously used for intended tragedy to benefit the evil plan of a guy who thought taking the -istoph- out of Mephistopheles would make him inconspicuous, now it's been used for a bunch of low-key contexts that do a much better job at endearing him to the player.

Finally, something I can relate to.

Hell, he even seems to have learned from the Mephiles incident, as he was quick to make it clear to the next shadowy deep-voiced anthro with demonic eyes he met that he wasn't gonna fall for any of them fibs no more, ya hear?

“YouTube and Twitter don’t count.”

All in all, it works well enough, in my opinion. His personality does pave the way for some funny and wholesome moments, and since they’re no longer trying to build him up like he’s Shadow 2.0, he's nowhere near as much of a tool as he was before. So I guess you could say... I like it?

Does this mean I can say that I like the character as a whole then, design and '06-induced idiocy aside?

Well, not quite...

The Execution: This is where the complication part comes into play. We know now that I like his personality, not so much his design, but that's only the half of it. It would be more accurate to say that I like his personality... and dislike everything else.

Aside from that, obviously.

For starters, the creation process for his character and story was summed up with, in their own words, “Think Trunks from Dragon Ball Z”. So he comes off as rather lazy and uninspired. Now I'm not expecting my Sonic characters to be 100% unique, there's always going to be similarities to other franchises no matter what you do, even if subconsciously or by complete coincidence. Taking inspiration in itself is no big deal at all.

But... was that it? Copying a DBZ character to such a blatant extent? Was there no other thought put into it?

Naturally, this ties into an overarching problem: the franchise's mid-00's habit of trying way too hard to be the anthro Dragon Ball Z. Sonic has had DBZ influences since the early days, with the Chaos Emeralds and Super Sonic, but it didn't assimilate itself into every waking aspect of his universe. It was merely an additional flavor that added to the complete package, in the same way that a Death Star with a moustache didn't mean the franchise was suddenly Star Wars the Hedgehog.

But come the turn of the millenium, nearly every main title in the series ended with Super Sonic and/or Super Shadow saving the day, while everyone else either stood around being useless, or only helping in ways that no one actually cares about. Including the in-universe President apparently, since only Sonic and Shadow were featured in the photo on his desk.

Amy smiled. “I guess the rest of us can go fuck ourselves, huh?”

This reached its peak with - of course - Sonic '06, with Silver in particular being an obvious result of this then-ongoing trend. And yes, it would be unfair to use him as a scapegoat, considering it was already a problem long before he turned up. But moreso than even Shadow, it's an era that Silver is forever a relic of, for better or for worse.

But it doesn't stop there. Since Silver is considered a mainstay character, his gimmick of being from the future also creates problems of its own, because in order for him to make further appearances, he keeps turning up for little explained reason, and thus he suffers the Deadly Six problem of being shoved into places where he doesn't belong, for fanservice's own sake. Take Sonic Colours DS for example, where he went back in time JUST to check out Eggman's theme park... Okay...?

On one hand, I’d visit it too, since it's made by Eggman. On the other hand, I’d stay clear of it, since it's made by Eggman.

And when there IS a justification with more weight to it? It's just recycling the '06 routine of trying to avert his ruined future, which isn't much better. The cause may differ depending on the story, but if his future is a permanent shitehole for one reason or another, he might as well cut out the middle man and stay in the present altogether, since that's where his friends are anyway. But they seem intent on not doing that, despite the future schtick being a noose around his neck at this point.

In hindsight, maybe this was a hint to how the rest of the arc would turn out.

And then there's his dynamic with a certain purple cat... No, not Big. The other one.

“I’m here, by the way.”

Simply put: I don't like this dynamic. At all. Or rather, I don't like how they keep milking it. Blaze's backstory was radically changed to justify her presence in Silver's future, and it really shows, since she barely even shows up half the time, as if the developers themselves forgot she was in the game. But her backstory has since been restored to her original alternate dimension interpretation, so hanging around with the grey hedgehog is all good now, right?

To be brutally honest, I probably wouldn't care for this dynamic regardless. But I would be more willing to tolerate it, and I'd refrain from groaning every time they're seen together... if they weren't intent on playing it up so much in spite of '06 being wiped out, sometimes with a bit of commentary involving their thoughts and memories, which only succeeds at making things more confusing. If Blaze is around, Silver will be nearby, and if he's not at first, he will be soon enough. This franchise does have a problem in general with restricting who's allowed to interact with who (I personally believe Sonic Heroes may have led to this, or at least it accelerated it), but I'd argue it's at its most insufferable here, with Blaze's potential and her entire world taking a backseat to being the sidekick of Ganja Man.

And you might say “Well, it's part of the franchise now, so you'll just have to accept it”. To which I ask: Have you accepted Two Worlds? Have you accepted Solo Sonica? Have you accepted Sonic's friends not doing much as of late?

Yeah. That's what I thought. “It’s just how it is” doesn’t mean you can’t criticise it.

Meanwhile, Marine is lucky enough to get so much as a shout out.

So yeah, I have quite an extensive list of grievances involving poor Silver. But... very little of it has to do with him, right? They're all indirect problems that he just so happens to be linked to, as opposed to someone like Chris Thorndyke, who is genuinely a shit character through and through. This is more comparable to Tails being bitchy in Lost World, or Amy being manipulative in Chronicles, or Sonic being a smug dumbass in IDW, or Shadow not wearing a Hawaiian shirt in Boom. Frustrating, regrettable, but not really the character's own fault.

Yet even after all that, there's one last kick in the teeth... How do you fix all this? And how do you fix it when he's since gained a sizable fandom, many of whom like him for these very attributes? If you leave it as it is, you're stuck with this big, awkward mess that everyone pretends to ignore. If you try to do something about it, you'll get complaints about disrespecting the True Silver Spirit, and you’ll get questions about why you didn't create a new character instead... And if you did use a new character for the sake of a clean slate, THEN you'd get complaints about not using Silver.

It's a tough call to be sure, and it's such a shame because like I said, I do appreciate his personality, so I can't say he's bad outright. But with all this... clutter, I can only put him in the average category. So, in he goes.

Crusher Gives Silver a: Thumbs Sideways!

Well, I'm glad this one's out of the way. Putting my thoughts into words with Silver was harder than it should have been. I do slightly regret starting this series off on a rather downer note, but rest assured, it's a lot more positive from this point onwards, since while I have higher praise for some heroes more than others, the hero characters as a whole fare a lot better than the majority of villains not named Eggman.

I guess you could say that I hope to show why Sonic's friends aren't as shitty as the haters would suggest. ;)

#Sonic Heroes: Sweet or Shite?#Opinion #Sonic the Hedgehog #Silver the Hedgehog

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hysterialevi · 3 years

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Hjarta | Chapter 16

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A WHILE LATER

TEARS OF YMIR

Sigurd trudged through the snow-veiled woods, wishing desperately that he could veer off this path the gods had constructed for him. His mind was trapped in a perpetual state of fear, and the thoughts racing through his head only seemed to grow louder with every step he took.

He could feel it in his heart that Ulfar spoke the truth. There was merit in the accusations he threw against Dag, and Sigurd had even seen the man’s treachery for himself. He made it quite clear that he wasn’t on their side with the way he manipulated the assault at Kjotve’s Fortress, and the prince could no longer ignore the reality that was standing right in front of him.

But even then, Sigurd’s gut twisted at the idea of causing any harm to Dag. His entire childhood was formed of memories between the two of them, and he still saw him as the same little boy he once loved all those years ago.

He remembered the days they’d spend running around in the wilderness, only to end up covered in mud by the time they returned home. He hadn’t forgotten the way Styrbjorn would scold them for their reckless behavior, and how they’d make the exact same mistakes immediately afterwards.

The joy they shared, the sorrows they experienced, the burdens they had to carry -- it all stayed with Sigurd to this very day. He loved Dag like a brother despite the conflicts between them, and the thought of banishing him from Midgard tore a hole inside his chest.

But he was a leader now. A future king. With Ulfar dead, Sigurd would have to step up and protect the people he left behind. His position as prince would no longer be a mere title, and he would have to do whatever it took to keep his clan safe.

Even if it meant making a sacrifice as great as this.

“We’re here.” Sigurd said bleakly, stopping in his tracks once the waterfall came into view. He took a deep breath and gazed at the dreary environment, unable to even recognize the nature surrounding him.

This place once served as a sanctuary for the prince. It used to be a safe haven where he could take refuge when the troubles of his world proved to be overwhelming, and he often found a sense of tranquility in its earthly embrace. It always seemed to breathe with the spirit of the gods, and part of Sigurd even believed they walked with him sometimes when he ventured down this path.

Today though, the forest was barren of any life. The tragedies of the war had burrowed themselves into its very marrow, and it almost felt as if it could sense what was about to happen. The air was leaden with a suffocating anchor of dread, and it only seemed to crush Sigurd more and more the further he progressed.

He didn’t want to kill Dag. Every fiber in his being was screaming at him to stop.

Part of even him was even considering simply exiling the man in order to avoid further bloodshed. Deep down though, he knew that wouldn’t be enough. He knew that Dag would most-likely run back into Kjotve’s arms once he broke free from the judgement of his clan, and cause their people a plethora of problems that they didn’t need.

It seemed like death was the only option here, and Sigurd hated himself for it.

“...Sigurd,” Dag said, approaching the man from behind. “Will you tell me what we’re doing now? Why have you brought us all the way out here? Is this about what happened between me and Ulfar?��

The prince kept his gaze on the view before him, leaving his hand close to his axe. His back was currently turned to the other man, and yet, he felt as if he could detect his every move.

“...Do you remember the day we met, Dag?” Sigurd asked. “All those years ago?”

The warrior noticed how his friend skirted the subject, but said nothing of it for now. “Of course. How could I forget? I was what, ten years old? Maybe younger? I had just given you a black eye during a training spar.”

Sigurd chuckled softly at the precious memory. “Indeed. And if I recall correctly, it wasn’t too long beforehand that I was boasting about how easily I’d be able to fell you. I was the king’s son, after all. Nothing could touch me.” The prince smirked. “...It seems that arrogance was my greatest enemy back then. The day I met you was the day I learned humility. It was the day I gained a brother.”

Dag leaned against a nearby tree, crossing his arms. “And do you still feel that way?”

The other man paused, his voice hardening with a cold edge. “...Yes. But I suspect that the sentiment is no longer mutual.”

Growing restless with anxiety, Sigurd finally decided to put this game to an end and shot an icy glare at his childhood friend, practically boring through his skull. He approached the older man and looked him in the eye, trying to keep his breath as steady as possible.

“...Dag,” he whispered, “you know how I feel about you. We may not share the same blood, but you are my family. No matter how distant we may grow, there will always be a link between us. And I will always see you as my brother. That’s why... I need you to tell me the truth.”

Sigurd took a few steps closer, barely shifting his gaze. “...Are you the traitor?”

Dag scoffed at the question and shook his head, reluctant to give a direct answer. “You can’t be serious. You actually believe in the nonsense Ulfar was spewing?”

“I believe his words held merit,” the prince persisted. “You can call it nonsense if you like, but that doesn’t change the fact that you stand as an accused man.”

The warrior stammered for a moment, taken aback by the preposterous notion. “What are you talking about, Sigurd? You were there! You saw what happened. I defeated Ulfar in honorable combat. I cleared my name. Isn’t that enough?”

“Enough for the Allfather perhaps, but not enough for me. Everything Ulfar said was true. The way you handled the assault nearly got all our people killed, and I know you well enough to know that you’re too smart to make such a grave mistake. You did it intentionally.”

Still, Dag remained in denial. “I don’t believe this. You would trust the word of a paranoid old man over someone you consider to be a brother?”

Sigurd raised his voice slightly, unable to hide his anger anymore. “I trust what I see! And over these past few weeks, I’ve seen you do nothing but traipse through the shadows like a thief in the night, hiding like coward whilst our men died on the battlefield. I saw you return from Kjotve’s Fortress without so much as a scratch on your armor, and I saw the apathy in your eyes when they fell on Thora’s corpse.”

The prince’s expression darkened with ire. “You claim you are innocent, but innocence always speaks for itself. I see no good reason why I should question Ulfar’s accusations, and I doubt you can give me one. So I’ll ask again--” he leaned in, “--are you the traitor?”

Dag rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at the waterfall, furrowing his brow in disbelief. It was evident that he had something to say, but the stone shackles of pride hindered his ability to come clean.

“How do you know Ulfar wasn’t trying to save his own skin by throwing me to the wolves? He was in a much more powerful position than I. He could’ve done anything he liked and gotten away with it!”

“What reason could Ulfar possibly have had to turn against Arngeir? You really think he would’ve been willing to endanger Thora’s life? Or Eivor’s? He saw them as his own children.”

“Who knows? All I’m saying is -- he was awfully quick to pass judgement on me. We had hardly set foot on Bjornheimr’s shores, and he was already prepared for a fight. The way I see it, Ulfar wanted to use me as a scapegoat. He was the jarl’s right-hand man, after all. He knew he could’ve said anything about me without raising suspicion. I mean, just look at how easy it was to fool you.”

Sigurd’s glare only sharpened at that. “You think I’ve been fooled, do you?”

“Am I wrong? I know you held Ulfar in high regard, but typically, the largest shadows are cast by those who stand the tallest. He may have been a good warrior, but that doesn’t mean--”

The prince shook his head in frustration. “--Enough, Dag! Enough with the lies. Enough with the deflection. Just give me a straight answer. I’m done running in circles with you.”

The other man fell silent, completely at a loss for words. “...You still don’t believe me, do you?”

Sigurd lowered his head in sorrow. “...I wish I could, Dag. Trust me. I wish I could. But if I’m going to keep this clan safe, I can’t allow anything to hinder my judgement. Not even when it concerns you.”

Dag let out a sigh and nodded in defeat, staring blankly at the ground. It was clear to him that his arguments were doing nothing in terms of swaying the prince’s mind, and he didn’t know what else he could say to divert the man’s skepticism.

“...I see.” He murmured, looking back up at Sigurd. His demeanor had completely shifted compared to when they first arrived at the waterfall, and a grim sense of treachery clung onto his shrewd face. “...Very well then, old friend. If that’s how you wish to do things.”

Dag pushed himself off the tree and straightened his posture, finally deciding to reveal the truth.

“...Indeed, your conviction is rightfully placed, Sigurd. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to keep up this facade, but I see no point in maintaining it any longer.”

The warrior paused for a brief moment, taking a deep breath.

“I was the one who warned Kjotve.” Dag confessed. “I was the one who assisted him when he ambushed Bjornheimr, and I was the one who told him to flee his fortress before our clans could arrive. I told him of this alliance.”

Sigurd’s heart instantly shattered upon hearing the confession, and his jaw clenched in rage as a spark of betrayal flared inside his chest. He knew his suspicions had to be correct, but even then, nothing could’ve prepared him for the immense disappointment he’d receive from a revelation such as this.

The prince wandered away from Dag in shock and began pacing along the waterfall’s edge, uncertain of how to respond.

“...And why exactly... did you do it?” Sigurd questioned, his tone alarmingly quiet. “What led you to commit such... foolish treason?”

“I did it for the good of our clan.” Dag answered monotonously. “I did it to protect us.”

The other man threw a puzzled glance at him, bewildered by his justification.

“To protect us?” Sigurd gestured to the distant village, storming towards the warrior. “Bjornheimr lies in a bed of its own ashes thanks to you! The jarl’s daughter has been murdered, and you have the nerve to act as if this was an act of heroism? I grow tired of your deception, Dag. Just tell me the truth. What is the real reason you did this?”

The traitor’s nose crinkled in envy, and a newfound sense of contempt twisted his expression. He was behaving in a manner that Sigurd had never seen before, and yet, the prince felt as if he had known this side of Dag for his entire life.

“We don’t need the Bear Clan,” Dag said. “All they’ve done is weaken us. They’ve even weakened you. Especially that boy.”

Sigurd cocked a brow. “Boy? What boy? You mean Eivor?”

“Yes. He’s turned you soft, Sigurd. Everyone can see it. Before we came to this forsaken village, you were a warrior. A leader. A man worthy of holding a crown. You led raids on our enemies, and you crushed anyone who dared threaten our people. You were a king in everything but name. But now? You’ve just become another pawn.”

“What are you talking about, Dag? How have I become a pawn?”

The traitor laughed. “Are you joking? I see the way you look at Eivor. That man has you wrapped around his finger. He’s distracting you from the war, and you’re allowing it to happen.”

The prince’s face was plastered with a look of dread. “You know about me and Eivor...? Who told you?”

Dag waved a dismissive hand. “No one needed to tell me. It’s as clear as day. You may be wed to Randvi, but we all know where your loyalties really lie. You’re only fighting this war for one reason, and that’s so you can take Eivor to bed while the rest of us do the hard work.”

Sigurd’s eyes snapped onto Dag with an iron grip, and his voice dropped to a dangerously low level.

“Watch... your tongue, snake.”

The other man chuckled. “The truth is painful, isn’t it? Nothing stings quite like the bite of a harsh reality you can’t accept. But please, by all means -- continue to ignore it. Ignore it like you ignore everything else, and let your kingdom crumble for your own selfish needs.”

Sigurd brushed off the traitor’s taunts and got straight to the point, eager to put this to rest. “So you’re a puppet for jealousy now? Is that it? You did all this... just because you envied Eivor’s position?”

A scoff escaped Dag’s lips. “Pfft. I want nothing that man has. Like I said before, I did this for the good of our people. Whether or not you choose to see it that way doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. The gods know this too.”

“The gods spit on oath-breakers like you! Odin has no need for men such as yourself in his company, and neither do I.”

“Then deliver your justice, my lord. Strike me down with the judgement that you deemed so righteous you had to hide it away from prying eyes. The people of Bjornheimr may not be able to see you here, but the Allfather does. And he will remember.”

Sigurd turned away from Dag and rested a firm hand on his axe, using every bit of his strength to stifle the tears that threatened to spill. He wanted nothing more than to scream at the gods for putting him in such an impossible situation, and he could already feel himself breaking down from what he was about to do.

But he had to keep his promise. He had to. Although no longer in this realm, Ulfar was depending on him to protect their clans, and Sigurd didn’t have the heart to deny the man his dying wish.

...But he loved Dag. In spite of all of his crimes, the prince still saw the traitor as the same boy he grew up with, and his memories of their time together only seemed to be resurfacing with every second he spent delaying the inevitable.

What was he going to do when the man was dead? Sigurd may have despised Dag for going behind his back, but a piece of his soul remained bound to him nonetheless. There was a link between them that couldn’t be broken, and the prince felt as if he was about to sever one of his own limbs.

A part of him would undoubtedly go with Dag once the man departed from this realm, and Sigurd couldn’t imagine himself ever getting it back.

He just prayed he would be able to forgive himself someday.

“You... you were my brother, Dag.” Sigurd said, his spirit collapsing with every word. “I loved you. I did. You turned my childhood into something that I’ll always hold dear. I’ll never forget the time we spent together, or the joy I’d feel when you were around. Those memories are something that no one will ever be able to take from me.” He tightened his grip on the axe. “But I can’t let you walk free from this. I can’t let you hurt my clan anymore. I... I have to keep my promise. I’m sorry.”

Yanking the weapon out of its sheathe, the prince lunged at Dag without saying another word and buried the axe in his chest, immediately causing the man to stiffen in his clutch. The two of them toppled over onto the snow after a single strike, and within seconds, the traitor was already gasping for air.

He writhed in Sigurd’s embrace like a worm on a hook and desperately tried to pry the blade away from his heart, but to no avail. The other man simply held him down and forcibly kept the axe in place, pushing it deeper and deeper into his torso as tears began streaming down his cheeks.

Sigurd couldn’t believe what he was doing. As a child, he always pictured himself leading their clan into a glorious victory that would forever grace the lips of bards across the kingdom, and spread into endless sagas for generations to come. He thought his role in the war would be one of grandeur just like in the tales his father often told him, and he believed his path to Valhalla would be laden with silver and gold.

But now that he was actually here... he was finally realizing just how torturous the nature of war really was. He wept at the sight of Dag’s life vanishing from his eyes, and his stomach churned at the feeling of the man’s blood staining his hands.

There was also the fact that the traitor died without an axe in his grip. He left it with Ulfar back in Bjornheimr, and thus, paved the way straight to Hel’s gates. His soul would forever evade the magnificence of the Corpse Hall, and a part of Sigurd crumbled at the thought of never being able to reunite with his friend again.

Dag was gone for good... and it was all his fault.

Letting go of the axe’s hilt, Sigurd allowed himself to relax and climbed off of Dag’s body, taking a seat beside him as a series of breaths fled from his lungs.

...He did it. He actually did it.

The traitor had been removed from their midst, and their clans would be able to proceed without worrying about betrayal. Kjotve would no longer have an ally inside their walls, and Gorm would give them the last step they needed before taking him down at last.

Sigurd supposed he should’ve been relieved now that things were finally in their favor, but all he felt was emptiness.

His closest friend lay defeated under the blade of his own axe, and his world remained shaken by the multiple losses it had just suffered. He experienced no pleasure in the face of this so-called victory, and the only thing he had left to hope for was the sight of Kjotve’s head.

He just wanted this war to end. He wanted the constant turmoil of these never-ending battles to become a thing of the past, and he wanted to cleanse the seas of the blood that stained their shores.

Sigurd dreamed of a future where people wouldn’t have to share his clan’s pain, but deep down, he feared it would never become a reality.

The war had already lasted for a couple decades, after all. He saw no reason why the gods would allow it to end anytime soon.

“Sigurd?” Someone said abruptly, dragging the prince back to his senses.

The man glanced upward from where he sat and gazed in the distance, only to find Eivor watching him from afar.

“Eivor...?” Sigurd whispered, quickly wiping his face dry. “What... what are you doing here?”

The blonde viking stepped out from the trees and approached his lover, careful not to distress him even further.

“I saw you leave with Dag earlier,” Eivor answered softly, still drained from the shock of Ulfar’s loss. “The two of you were gone for a while, so I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He paused for a second, allowing his eyes to wander towards Dag. “...You really killed him.”

The older man stared helplessly at the sky, peering into the canopy of branches swaying above him.

“...Yes. I did.” He said, his voice trembling slightly. “I had to.”

Sighing morosely, Eivor pushed his way through the mounds of snow and walked over to Sigurd, crouching down in front of him. He comforted the distraught prince by gently caressing his cheek, and flicked away some stray tears with a simple swipe of the thumb. Afterwards, the young man reached over to the axe protruding from Dag’s chest and carefully removed it, wiping it clean before laying it in Sigurd’s lap.

“You did the right thing. I know it wasn’t easy, but our clan will sleep better at night thanks to you.”

Sigurd loosely met Eivor’s gaze, entirely devoid of life. “...I feel like a monster. Dag was... he was my brother. I know everyone else saw him as a traitor, but to me, he was always that little boy I met in Fornburg.” His expression sank with grief. “...That little boy is dead now because of me. I killed him.”

Eivor held the prince’s face in his hands. “No, Sigurd. You didn’t kill that boy. Dag did. A long time ago.”

The redheaded warrior offered nothing but silence in response, causing Eivor to return to his feet.

“Come, my love.” He beckoned, reaching an arm out. “We should return to the village.”

Sigurd remained motionless on the ground, simply looking over at Dag’s body.

“Wait. Could we... bring him back with us? I’m aware of Dag’s crimes, but even then, I’d like to give him a proper burial.”

“Of course,” Eivor assured. “Many in the clan will question his presence at the funeral, but I’ll send someone to retrieve him once we return. Don’t worry. We won’t leave him behind.”

Sigurd propped himself up on one knee and grabbed the other man’s arm, rising from the snow. “Thank you, Eivor.”

The Wolf-Kissed guided his lover away from the waterfall and called for his horse, leading the prince back home.

“Come on.” He whispered lovingly. “Let’s get you out of here.”

#hjarta #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #eivor wolfsmal #eivor wolfkissed #eivor varinsson #male eivor #sigurd styrbjornson #sigurd x male eivor #ac valhalla fanfic

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iwantutobehapppier · 4 years

Text

As It Was

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You and Steve had been hooking up on the sly for months now. Feelings are caught but is everyone adult enough to deal with them? And who caught them?

Warning: 18+ Only, Smut, Angst, sooo much angst. I’m not a nice person in this one. Described panic attack, cursing etc.

Word Count: 3,990

A/N: I’m in a mood and working through it. There will be sex and angst. Expect nothing more. Enjoy! :) Sorry not sorry. @sagechanoafterdark is gonna hate me after this but I will make her latkes to make up for it. Oh and def not MCU Canon. Everyone’s alive, I'm making it angsty enough don’t need dead peeps too. For now kekeke.

You were both truly naive to think you could hide from a group of spies and enhanced like this but your hopefulness coupled with Steve’s never-ending optimism pushed you into delusions. Or maybe it was just the lies you let yourselves live in, that this was only sex and there was no need for anyone else to know.

“How did that date go last night?” You tried to focus on Wanda’s idle chit-chat waiting for the rest of the team to file into the conference room for a debriefing on the newest mission. Steve stood to the side of the room talking with Bucky; you looked his way to find him staring at you. He shouldn’t be so obvious really but it was hard not to stare as you were in his bed just this morning.

“Hello?” Wanda waved her hand in front of your face. You jerked back giving her full attention but not without a bashful glance.

“Good. I mean probably okay?” You sighed, “No it went pretty bad actually.” Wanda’s frown encompassed her whole face; she had been trying so hard to help you with your love life. It wasn’t like you could fault her for meddling, Vision and she worked so well together and she wanted the same for you.

She just couldn’t know that it was hard to have any good date when you were hooking up with Captain America on the sly. They would all pale in comparison but this date had been quite the spectacle of tragedies.

“Never knew someone could talk about themselves for an entire night. Let’s not forget he flirted blatantly with the waitress then, made some innuendo at me blowing him in his car in the middle of dessert.” Giving a reader’s digest version of the story you wouldn’t mention to her the way his hand kept riding up your skirt or how he practically propositioned the kind waitress to partake in a threesome.

You may have also spared the details for listening ears, specifically the pair attached to a blonde centenarian, who would not respond well to learning you had not been entirely forthcoming with details when wrapped up in his bedsheets following the atrocious date.

“He tried to put his hand up your skirt?!” Wanda’s tone was harsh, her powers lighting up her hands in response to her rage.

“You promised!” You frowned at her, you had requested several times she keep her wandering mind to herself around you. Wanda blushed at being caught.

“I knew you were holding back,” She didn’t even vein remorse, “I’m sorry it went so badly but I am not sorry for prying.” She took your hands in hers about to speak but Tony interrupted.

“I know you all have missed me whilst away,” Tony held his hand to his heart “But I am here!” last to enter with this signature flair of dramatics, “Capsicle take it away!” Tony plopped down next to you with a side smirk that you reciprocated with an eye roll.

Facing forward Steve’s eyes landed on you first, the small frown marring his face indicating he had heard Wanda.

“Let’s get started,” Tightness in his voice made you involuntarily flinch, you knew, later on, there’d be a conversation or worse there wouldn’t be one at all.

~~*~~

You limp your way back to the personal quarters following a very long but successful mission. Not without the colossal share of setbacks landing Natasha in the med bay, Bucky stranded at one point without working comm, Tony’s suit damaged beyond macrobiotics ability to repair and you along with Steve ambushed. What did it matter though if the mission was successful?

Happy to finally be back in the sanctuary for your room you started the shower letting it warm up while you slipped out of your gear. Walking back into your bedroom the welcomed silence was interrupted by your sharp inhale through clenched teeth at the pull of the tight suit on bruised and battered muscles.

“Need some help?” You jump turning around at the sight of Steve leaning against your door jam. His arms crossed over his torn and dirty stealth uniform. Did he follow you to your room from the Quinjet? The jerk on your battered body nearly sends you to your knees in pain. You just wanted to be in that hot shower, let your body feel some form of relief.

“Yes, please,” All you can get out, working hard to keep the tears of pain at bay. There was no reason to hold them back except your own pride. Steve shut your door and strode over to you, helping you peel the catsuit down your back, over your hips, his fingers gentle trailing over forming bruises.

Steve clenches his jaw the more he exposes your injuries, a rather deep cut on your hip, dried blood trailing all the way past your knee. You place your hands on his shoulder when he ushers your legs from the suit. Left in your activewear bra and underwear you felt an unusual level of vulnerability.

You two had been fooling around for months but neither tended to each other in such a way outside of mandatory mission first aid.

“I’m going to wash this grime off, did you want to join?” You voice barely a whisper staring down at Steve, his head slowly trailing up your body to catch your gaze. With a brief nod he stands up and you step out of your suit, moving to face his chest and helping him remove his suit.

Soon the two of you are bare, under the harsh bathroom fluorescents and warm large showerhead’s rushing water. You stand there, your back to his front, almost touching. Almost something more than just a mutual need to clean. You close your eyes and tilt-up, letting the rainfall showerhead leave trails of water down your face. The two of you shampooed your respective hair, he opted to use your gardenia scented shampoo, his own shampoo only ever in his bathroom.

Having him so close and naked but not touching left an uneasy ache in your stomach. The sensation that something was wrong, but what could be wrong? You turned your head back to look at him, his eyes were already on you, they were always on you. His gaze felt different than any others and you weren’t sure what it meant. A storm burning behind those beautiful blue eyes. Often, you find yourself getting lost in those pools of blue. Clearing your throat you turned back around, closing your eyes and tilting your head back up to rinse the shampoo from your hair.

Maybe you imagined it all? Your desire to want more from him projecting your own wishes in his actions.

You are startled from your thoughts when you feel a soaped washcloth gently drag across the back of your neck, along your back and moving to your front. Rough calloused hands with a tender touch washing you clean of all the harshness of the past few days. A relaxed sigh escapes your lips, the coupling of warm water helping your muscles loosen and Steve’s attention pulls you into a cloud of comfort.

An involuntary hiss pulls from your mouth when he washes the deep gash on your hip. Muttered “Sorry” is his response, bending his knees to be low enough behind you to clear away the blood. Your eyes drawn to the crimson water swirling down the drain, but you were pulled to face him, his eyes assessing your front to find any speck of grime he missed.

Once he was satisfied you took the washcloth from him, ensuring to ring it clean and reapply soap you begin the task of cleansing him.

Petite hands run over the wide expanse of his chest following the washcloth, this feels different, you want to shake it off and pretend that was not true but it was different. Whatever it was between the two of you, it was growing, mutating, maturing into something more.

With both of you free of the missions burdens and dirt his lips crash against yours. The intensity of his kiss is startling, hands trailing up your sides to wrap around your back, pulling you flush to him. His touch was untethered in a way unfamiliar to you. Finally, he pulls his lips from yours, your lugs desperate for air. Wide eyes look at him, and he can only answer with a low lid gaze, licking his lips as he pulls you in once more to drink up all you have to offer. If he asked you’d give him everything and what was left after that.

Your hands grip his shoulders, needing an anchor in the rocking waves of his desire. His hardening cock presses against your stomach, a soft moan spilling into his mouth that he eagerly consumes it. Hands slipping down your waist, one hand gripping your wound free hip he hoists you up against the cool bathroom tiled wall.

Legs wrapped around his waist, his gorgeous cock sitting pretty between your lips. You rock against him, your slick coating him, he grunts into your mouth, not once pulling away, you take in much need air through your nose.

There was no need for foreplay, you were always ready for him, something you hoped he did and didn’t notice at the same time. After all the power he had over you, you wanted to keep him ignorant. Oblivious to your thoughts consumed by him, the way your skin craves his touch, your heart longed to keep him there with you forever. The dates you went on to keep appearance that this was still casual to you. That this was still whatever he wanted it to be so it wouldn’t stop.

Pulling you from your thoughts Steve manhandles your body to line you up. Releasing your lips you watch at his cock sitting at your entrance. You coo, watching him slowly push in. Your fingernails dig into his shoulder, Pushing forward until he’s reached your depths. There’s a lascivious way to how he feels inside of you. His head falling into your neck, peppering kisses on the wet skin.

“Feel so good around me,” he garbles into your neck. The pace he starts is slow at first, almost loving, but the jarring way he pushes the last few inches in reminds you what this is. Carding your hands through his hair you pull his head back to look him in the eyes.

“Fuck me Steve,” His eyes darken, following your command he pummels into your heat. Driving you both into moaning messes. Foreheads pressed together, slapping of flesh echoing against the tiled walls. He presses his lips to yours, the softness of it contrasting the carnal brutality of his cock driving into you.

Lowering his head he takes a pebbled nipple into his mouth, suckling and pulling. Knowing you love that pain wrapped in your pleasure. Your hands slap against his back, arching into his touch you cry out. Fingers digging into the corded muscles of his back you seek purchase on something, pleasure wrecking your body of any sense.

“Steve!” You holler, your body drawing tight as the ever needed orgasm nears. “Please,” the gentleness in your pleas pulls Steve’s head back up. A hand leaves your waist, cupping the side of your face. “Yes, I’ll give you whatever you want.” He gasps out face tightening as you both near.

“Come for me and you can have it all,” he continues hips never faltering. His cock stretching and dragging along your walls. A particular deep thrust sends you spinning, your legs tighten around him fingers digging into flesh enough to bruise if he hadn’t been a super-soldier.

His pace stutters, a staccato of groans fall from his lips and you feel that telling of warmth shooting inside you. God how you loved the way he felt cumming inside you.

There’s a peaceful silence in the oncoming dawn, the two of you wrapped in each other under your bedsheets. Legs tangled together, your head resting on his chest, entranced by the rhythm of his heartbeat. You woke before him, a first, drawing random patterns on his chest with your finger.

Idle thoughts race through your head, now that the mission is washed away after a night of rest you could not help but think on your date and Steve’s reaction to you withholding information. If it wasn’t addressed sooner rather than later it would just be a new topic for you two to not talk about, just like whatever this was.

When he wakes up, his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him. The embrace welcomed and certainly something you could get used to as a routine. He lets out an exaggerated yawn and smacks his lips together looking down at you with a sleep ridden smile. A smile tugs at your lips at his adorable morning mannerisms.

Better to get this all out in the open before the day began and you became a coward.

“About that date-” Before you can say more a shadow falls over him, lips downturned when he practically chucks you off him.

“You’re not obligated to tell me things like that,” his voice rough with sleep, he swings his legs off the bed sitting up with his back to you. “You’re really not obligated to me in any way outside of following mission directives,” the curtness in his voice is searing in your ears.

Right, right you two weren’t obligated to each other. Obligate meant you had to get something back from him other than orgasms.

“Oh right…” the silence settles between the two of you, heavy and uncomfortable. You pull your sheets up to cover your chest while sitting up. There are a few moments of controlled breathing, erratic heartbeats, and tense shoulders. Steve stands and makes for his dirty mission clothes, never looking back at you, covering his privates with the clothes but not putting them on. Your room was across from his, not like anyone would see him.

“I’ll see you around,” It wasn’t until he was out of the room that you realized the shared silence between you two was full of all the things left unsaid, or half-spoken.

You don’t see him again until the next mission briefing a few days later. Only looking for him once, and when he brushed you off to spend time with Bucky you weren’t hurt only upset he never came to you later.

Entering the familiar conference room you sit next to Tony who was surprisingly there before you. He smiles at you and you return it before facing forward. Steve not looking at you, for once. His eyes on the report in his hands, a grimace covering his face before he begins to discuss the upcoming mission. Eyes never leaving the paper.

“Are there naked girls on that paper man?” Bucky asks a soft chuckle is Tony’s input.

Steve huffs looking at his longest friend, “No.” a grumble under his breath.

“Then maybe look up, what’s wrong with you punk?” Steve’s eyes divert to you for a moment, so fast you almost miss it before he’s looking at Bucky once more.

“Nothing,” he clears his throat and continues, his eyes perusing the room but never landing on you. Your face downturned to the table, the uneasy feeling you had during the shared shower returned but tenfold. He calls out your name and it startles you, jerking up to look at him. His lips pinched before he continues.

‘You and Tony will be doing this one together,” You look at Tony who gives you a thumbs up with a soft smile. While the two of you had been paired before on group missions it had never been just the two of you.

“We’ve got this Firecracker, right?” Giving a tentative smile you nod in agreement. Looking back to Steve he’s staring down at his papers once more, brow furrowed and lips pursed. Whatever thoughts he had storming in his brain, not good.

~~*~~

Five days, you’re with Tony for five days on this mission. It wasn’t so bad except Tony loved to complain. You were used to the silence of Natasha and Bucky or friendly conversations with Steve. Not the never-ending complaints of one Tony Stark.

You escape to your room, leaning against the shut door with a relieved sigh. Silence, blessed silence.

However, that silence was short-lived when the echo of knocking on Steve’s door carried over. You should move further into your room and not eavesdrop but you were too exhausted to care enough about proper decorum.

“Hey Steve,” a soft familiar feminine voice greeted Steve as he answered the door. Your eyes narrowed. Who was that?

“Oh! You’re here.” He sounded flustered, “I’m so sorry I should have met you out front.” His words are rushed with an uneasiness to it. What was Steve hiding?

“It’s alright, Bucky let me in and honestly I was just excited to see you for tonight” the soft comforting words carry across the hall through your door. Just as you went to step away, not wanting to hear anything that would do permanent damage to your already fragile heart.

“I mean we’ve been tiptoeing around each other for years then it was radio silence,” there was an awkward chuckle from Steve in response “Was surprised when you asked me out.” There it was. You fall back against the door, the back of your head hitting the door with a thud.

“Oh, what was that?” The female voice questions but Steve dismisses it quickly and leads her down the hall. Away from you. For a date. A date that Steve was going on. Without you.

Your heart pounds in your ears, sliding down the door toppling onto your ass, the pounding on gets louder. Taking in large gulps of breath you try to gain a sense of reality, it's unobtainable. A buzzing noise is all you can hear. Whatever this was it made all torture you’d suffered in the past seem like child’s play. Crushing, that's what it felt like, being crushed from the inside out. Big fat tears made their way down your cheeks.

Oh, what a fool you had been. Why would you deserve to be cherished? How could someone see you more than a simple means to an end? Laying on your side, you curl up into yourself on the floor of your room. The buzzing in your head and straggled breaths the only sound you could make out.

~~*~~

Much later in the evening, there was a tentative knock on your door. Struggling to open your tear swollen eyes you make out your name being called. Another knock, louder this time, you sit up and with a deep breath, you rub your face. Slowly standing on your knees you open the door and look up to see Wanda’s worry stricken face.

“Oh no,” a soft sigh and suddenly your being picked up, she pulls your arm around your shoulder and leads you out of your room, down the hall where Steve left, with her. You feel the crushing sensation return.

Wanda sensing your ramping thoughts sets you on a stool in the kitchen and takes your hand.

“Deep breaths,” A soft hand on your chest, “In through your nose,” She takes a deep breath and you mimic holding it with her. The hand on your chest glows a soft red, you feel your body relax “out through your mouth,” together again you breath out. “Keep doing that I’m making some tea.”

Watching her movements you continue your breathing as instructed, a thought crept up. Did she listen to him as you did? Was her advice better than yours? Was he kissing her like he did you in the shower?

“Stop!” Wanda’s voice soft but tone harsh enough to still your thoughts. You hadn’t even noticed your breathing pick up. She brings the tea over and mimics the breathing pattern once more and you follow along.

“There was something I wanted to tell you before that last group mission,” Wanda pushes the warm tea in front of you. Steam raising out the cup, you curl your fingers around the mug. The heat emitting into your hands helps you realize you had been cold. Pulling the mug up you take a small sip, the warmth blooming down your throat to your stomach releases an uncontrollable sigh from you, shoulders sagging.

“I heard your thoughts, about the date, about Steve,” the way she stresses his name makes you tense once more a sharp breath in. She tips her mug to you and taking another small sip you let the warmth soothe you once more.

“You’re worthy,” she speaks so softly you almost miss it. “I heard it, the thoughts you weren’t good enough, weren’t worth love.” Looking down at the mug setting it on the table you have no words to offer in response.

“You’re worth so much more than this world has given you,” a hand takes your from your mug, fingers intertwining. A feeling of warm euphoria slowly seeps in your hand up your body. She says your name making you look up at her.

“It’s okay to say what you need,” you jerk your hand away at her words the feelings she provided evaporated.

You open your mouth to say something but the elevator doors ding, both turning you regret ever coming out of your room.

There he was, handsome as ever, hands in his pant pockets. Head bowed down with furrowed brows. It’s a few steps out of the elevator that he notices you and Wanda. Steve freezes, his eyes didn’t leave you. Trailing up and down your body you suddenly became self-conscious of the fact you had never changed out of your gear and eyes more than likely still puffy from crying. You certainly looked sexy right now.

He takes a timid step towards you, your back goes straight and you stand up from the stool. Whatever he had to say wasn’t going to help your current mood, you’d rather just avoid the inevitable. You were rather good at circumventing fate.

When he says your name you make your exit of the kitchen, seeking solace in the four walls of your room. His feet are pounding on the floor as he make chase for you.

A warm large hand grabs your upper arm stopping your progress. You whip your face around and look up at him. His lips pursed together again, there’s that look, the deepness of his blue eyes. The impossible futures you projected.

“I-” He pauses and clears his throat, his eyes shifting around you. “I know you heard Sharon and I,” you let out a hiss at her name. Sharon, fucking, of course, Sharon Carter. There was nothing wrong with Sharon, she was a great CIA agent, a remarkable SHIELD agent but she was also locked into Steve’s past.

Not worthy, unlovable, not his, not enough, never amount to that connection. Is all that runs through your head.

“Right, but you’re not obligated to tell me things like that,” You hate yourself right now, why were you throwing his words back in his face. “In fact,” Stop! Stop! “I’m not obligated to you in any way except following orders.”

Steve’s reaction to your verbal assault is similar to if you had smacked him, he takes a step back leaning away from you. His hand slackens on your arm and you use this to slip out.

Without another word you rip your arm from his loosened grip and make your way to your room. Shutting the door behind you, you walk into your closet and shut that door too. You go as deep as you can in the closet, far away from Steve. You didn’t want him to hear you crying, did not want him to hear your heartbreak.

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #jealous!steve #captain america x reader #steve rogers smut #captain america smut #angst #marvel smu #Marvel Universe #tony stark #wanda maximov #Bucky Barnes #fanfic

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absolutepx · 3 years

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So I've been playing Death Stranding lately. Wait, that's not what this post is about. Well, it kind of is. Hang on. What is Death Stranding about?

A: Norman Reedus getting bare ass naked B. Sneaking around ghosts with the help of your sidekick, an actual baby C: Carrying 50 Amazon packages up a hill while trying to not topple over D: Waking up in the morning and drinking 5 Monster Energy™ for breakfast

For those following along at home, the answer is actually none of the above. Despite the set dressing being bizarre to the point of near absurdity, what the game is actually about, like thematically, is actually really simple.

See, the development of Death Stranding was actually quite a trip. Hideo Kojima is the video game world's equivalent of an auteur director. He has a very recognizable personal style. It's thoroughly horny – he caught a bunch of shit for the design of Quiet in MGSV, but like, a lot of Kojima characters are just -like that-, including the dudes. Also, this is going to possibly be important later.

Anyway, so Kojima was going to do a rebootmakequel of Silent Hill, and the demo actually made it to the PS store and I could actually write a whole side essay about why P.T. (it was called P.T. for some reason btw) was brilliant game design for how it used the same hallway over and over and it was somehow beneficial to the overall feeling of horror. So Konami it turns out kinda sucks nowadays and they like, fired Kojima (they were huge dicks about it behind closed doors, too) and scrapped the project and kicked him out on the street and kept the Metal Gear series which was his baby (literally the baby in the sink in P.T., he snuck a bunch of messaging about the Konami situation into the demo like a breakup album) and Kojima would go on to form his own studio and poach some of the people who worked with him to boot. So the thing about Kojima is this: he's got a reputation for already putting some wild shit in his games, like a ladder that takes like 10 real time minutes to climb in MGS3 for dramatic effect, and a boss in MGS3 that summons the ghosts of all the people you were too lazy to stealth past and killed, or a sniper battle with a really old guy that he wanted to have last two weeks or some shit until he died of old age but he was "told that "this was impossible and not recommended." That is a real quote I just looked up. So he's coming off the heels of making this hugely successful game with MGSV and the hype of the P.T. Demo and he fucking, he like took all the people that were going to be working on P.T. Along like Guillermo Del Toro was going to co-write it and Norman Reedus was going to star in it, and he's like, I'm going to make this game called Death Stranding. And the first trailer comes out for it and it's completely nuts. Norman Reedus wakes up naked on a beach crying with a baby and there are floating people in the sky? So we're all like hooooooly shit, there's no one to tell him "this is impossible and not recommended" anymore. What's he going to make now!?

So the whole time the game is in development I keep seeing these tweets where it'll be like, Kojima and one of his homies smiling with some saccharine message about being spiritual warriors and changing the world. And not just Del Toro and Reedus, there was Mads Mikkelsen (another guy Kojima puts in the game just because he apparently loves him), and the band Chvches, and also like, Keanu Reeves at one point? You know how everyone has just kind of accepted that Keanu is a being of light? Here he was endorsing Kojima. The hype was pretty confused and frantic.

The game eventually comes out. A lot of game journos hate it because I think there was this expectation it was going to be, you know, less weird and have more of the conventional structure of a video game. That's not to say the average gamer wasn't also dismissive of it, but I think on the ground level there was more of an understanding that like, yeah, Kojima just be like that sometimes.

Because the game was a timed console exclusive and your homie don't play like that, I spent the first year or so cautiously viewing Death Stranding from a distance. I wasn't sure I was going to like it – except for being really impressed with P.T., I wasn't actually a big fan of Kojima's games as games – but I -was- sure that I was going to buy it, because of the way Konami fucked him over, just out of support. And the shit I was hearing was really out there. The primary mode of gameplay is just delivery packages. You collect Norman Reedus' bathwater and pee and use it as grenades. You get a motorcycle that looks like the one from AMC's The Ride with Norman Reedus, and when you sit on it, his character in the game says "Wow, this thing is like the one from AMC's The Ride with Norman Reedus!"

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But I didn't really want to know that much about it. Something has that much fucking crazy person energy, you want to go in mostly blind, right? So maybe people just weren't talking about this, or maybe I wasn't seeing it, but then I watched Girlfriend Reviews' video about it and they came right out and said it (link provided if you want to hear Shelby say it more articulately than me):

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Death Stranding is basically about the exact opposite of Twitter. It's about remembering how to be kind to each other, how to reconnect in a world where people are so often hostile to each other by default. Prophetically, it's about a world where people are afraid to go outside or touch other people and how damaging that is. It's not a game about carrying packages, it's a game about helping people by being brave enough to walk through a wasteland carrying their burdens because they can't. It's about rebuilding the lost connections between people, about restoring roads and giving people hope. I bet, for Kojima and the people close to him, it's about how to answer hostility with compassion. You can't kill people in Death Stranding. You can and are absolutely encouraged to fucking throw hands with people sometimes, but all the tools and weapons are nonlethal. So I think Kojima took all the Twitter heat he got over the Quiet nontroversy, and all the feelings of isolation he had from Konami separating him from his team during the end of the development of MGSV, and all the support and encouragement he got from his bros Del Toro and Mads and the rest, and decided to channel that into making a game that was a statement about all of it. And sure, it's a little heavy handed, and sure, it's a little saccharine, and sure, the gameplay sometimes borders on miserable in service of creating emotional payoffs. For me, especially in 2020, this message is a huge success. Social media should be an opportunity for all of us to feel more connected to each other, yet primarily it feels like one of the main forces driving people apart. Why is that? Why is the internet of today such a hostile place? I'm old enough to remember web 1.0: I can haz cheezburger memes; YTMND; the early wild west days of Youtube... What happened to us? I've thrown the blame at Twitter in the past, and I think the architecture of the user experience on Twitter is absolutely a big piece of the puzzle, because it fosters negative interactions. But in terms of the behavior, people have observed that 2018 Twitter was actually almost exactly like 2014 Tumblr. (For the record, Tumblr is now one of the chillest places left on the internet, because so few fucks are left to give.)

I think part of it is the anonymity. The dehumanizing disconnection of the separation of screens and miles. Louis CK, before he was cancelled, had a great point about cyberbullying, and why it's so much more savage than kids are IRL. When you pick on someone in person and you are confronted with seeing the pain you caused them, for most sane people it causes negative feedback and you become disgusted with your actions and eventually learn to stop being a shithead. Online, at best you can "break the wrist, walk away".

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At worst, you can become addicted to "clout chasing" and the psychological thrill of being cheered on by your social ingroup. It's even worse if you feel like it's not bullying and your actions are justified because whoever you've targeted is a bad person so you don't have to feel bad about what you do to them. This is where reductive, unhelpful catchphrases like "punch a nazi" come in. For every argument, one or both sides have convinced themselves that the other side is subhuman because their beliefs are so disgusting. And sometimes it's even true! A lot of times, especially these days, people really are acting like animals or worse online. Entire disinformation engines are roaring day and night, churning out garbage and cluttering the social consciousness. (Kojima talked about this bit, too, way back in MGS2. As if I wasn't already in danger of losing my thread through this.)

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The human brain was not built to live like this. You can't wake up every morning, roll over and open your phone, and be immediately faced with a tidal wave of anger and indignity. It wasn't built to be aware of fully how horrible the world is at any moment ALL AT ONCE, ALL THE TIME. And you will be. Because of another way that our brain works – the way we are more likely to share negative opinions. And because of the cottage industry built on farming outrage clicks, and because of constant performative activism.

It's not that I don't agree that being informed is important.

It's not that I don't agree that the causes people get riled up about are important.

They are. They absolutely are.

But we can't keep living like this. The constant, unending flood of tragedy, arguments, and hot takes. How much of the negativity we associate with online culture is the product of this feedback loop? What if the rise of doomer culture has been, if not entirely created by, has been nourished and exacerbated by our hostile attitudes toward each other? Incels and TERFs, white supremacists, radfems, tankies and Trumpers – it seems like on every side of every issue, there are people simultaneously getting it wrong in multiple directions at once and there are more being radicalized every day. They are the toxic waste left behind by the state of discourse. And any hill is a hill worth dying on.

So what am I actually advocating? I don't know. There are a lot of fights going on right now that are important and we can't just climb into bunkers and ignore our problems hoping that Norman Reedus and his fine ass are going to leave the shit we need on our doorsteps. We need to find the strength to carry those hypothetical packages for ourselves sometimes - and hopefully, for others as well. Humans are social creatures. We need interaction and enrichment.

We need love.

So just try to remember the connections between humanity. Try to put more good stuff into the world when you can. Share more shitposts and memes. Tell your friends and family that you love them. Share good news when you hear it. Go on a weird fucking tangent about Death Stranding. Find a way to "be excellent to each other, and party on, dudes."

youtube

#death stranding #hideo kojima #video games #cancel culture #essay #oc

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lefossile · 4 years

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Why is the Fullbringer Arc a meaningful plot milestone 3

This time I bothered to be picky and check some grammar;

links to part 1 / part 2

part 3/?

This time we gonna try and scratch the topic of SALVATION.

Now we’ve saved Rukia, Hime, Karakura, the world, but the topic continues to be a key theme here in the arc too. Salvation is as a fact constantly mentioned by the heroes themselves, and they are namely divided into two camps. Those who were saved by Kurosaki (99.9%) and those who were saved by Ginjo.

And if in the first case everyone is so happy and grateful how Karakura got prettier under Kurosaki-kun, then the latter cannot boast of such a thing. It intertwines many other topics that I indicated before, and evolves in a kind of tragedy of salvation from Ginjo. Which is because he is designed to mirror Ichigo to a certain level, the same with salvation. If Kurosaki is presented as pro-creative salvation, then Ginjo is destructive. Which is not precisely true of course, but only one perspective of their conflict as substitutes.

Together however, Ginjo and Ichigo form a Shinto dyad until the moment Kurosaki rescues / purifies Ginjo himself (on that later). Which is further indicated by their sun and moon themes respectfully. If you haven’t read a beautiful thread by @blue-dream-rhapsody, you should go and do it rn, because it’s really godly and eloquent composed and adds good perspective on the main events of the arc and symbolism.

Among the fullbringers, basically most words about salvation are heard from Riruka’s lips in the chapters Pray for the Predators, but we will try to analyze an example of a not very successful “salvation” using the example of Tsukishima.

What could go wrong? It would seem that by his act Ginjo should have saved Tsukishima as a child, like the others, from loneliness, but since salvation is presented as destructive (not at that point, but further into the narration to mirror Ichigo), instead of growth, as Ichigo’s friends show, we got hyper fixation up to codependency, which resulted in this

These are not the words of an adult, but the reaction of an abandoned child. And by his actions (most of which are behind the scenes), Ginjo really builds a similar hierarchy between Tsukishima and himself, thereby not allowing even him to approach and understand himself to 100% extent, which is tragic. That is of course due to the trauma Ginjo has to live through (and probably because he still fathomed sort of responsibility over Tsukishima, who was the only one left after the OG fullbringer skirmish), and it does certainly not discard the bond they have. Which is, namely, the closest bond probably between fullbringers, but still goes along “reach out, but not hold” lines.

That imbalance of their initial relationship left such a strong mark on Tsukishima psyche that it took Ginjo to die, so Tsukishima, who was experiencing a break with his mentor and father figure in real time, could finally understand the message. That’s, well, drastic.

If we look straight through every panel, you can see that Tsukishima does not approve of everything that Ginjo does (again read the amazing analysis mentioned above), but agrees, as he is afraid of losing the latter’s favor. And although he teases Ginjo and their verbal exchanges are the closest in dynamics of all fullbringers, they are still not equal (at least at that point, thank you CFYOW for the improvement)

Although I applaud how, by one (1) phrase, Tsukishima was able to understand what in and how Ginjo’s memory should be changed so that the complex flex of one actor’s theater should develop as intended. They are, if fact, that close, that Ginjo allows him into his past willingly, permits him to take action there on his own accord. And Tsukishima knows Ginjo to an extent, where he understands what should be changed, where the critical point of breaking lies and what role he himself has to undertake to be “the villain”. He, fully realizing that it’ll take him against the person he respects most, and wishing to “save” that person willingly is what makes him agree with it.

Hot take: Ginjo, knowing or not, could’ve to a certain extent altered Tsukishima’s fulbring, which is actually the result of the latter’s loneliness. If we look carefully - the ability itself was not originally a combat one or a method of violence. This is a way to get rid of loneliness, to establish bonds, which are a recurring theme in the arc too. Like all fullbring abilities, Book of The End is a reflection of the owner’s character, which we observe here. And in general, Tsukishima, who unlikely had any initial penchant for sadism suddenly turns into this, I wonder why.

Other Fullbringers, such as Jackie or Riruka, also realize how different their “salvation” is from the others, how it differs in it’s core and how the whole way they manage to live through it is different from people saved by Ichigo. Jackie says it directly, Riruka mostly mutters to herself, but both show this alienation from others, which correlates with themes of fullbringers and loneliness. (which is further explained in CFYOW)

In other words, the innate abilities belonging to Fullbringers, is the very source which causes them to grow alienated from the world, and at the same time, it is also the chain that keeps these isolated individuals tethered to it.

Even so all Fullbringers feel a great share of respect towards their leader, essentially and wholeheartedly want to repay him forv the salvation he gave them. The other thing is that they just cannot succeed and bring Ginjo the much needed closure, althought they try, because he separates himself. And it’s very distincly hinted in the raws after the chapters, where everyone is represented by their fullbrings, and we know how Cross of Scaffold looks and what we see instead of it? The Substitute badge. [here I blabbered what it also could mean] Yet I am sure everyone gets what this means.

And that’s also the intervening thought, that is subtly hinted: one saves others through connections, through being able to emphasize with others, being able to warm and open up to other people, through forging bonds. This way it becomes clear, why Ginjo is shown as destructive, because after the incident with his original group and SS betrayal he lost that quality (which is in itself absolutely credible and a very humane reaction which I love and can relate to). Although not completely, but up until he, himself, is saved by Ichigo and can be set to a metaphorical rebirth as a soul and get some closure, those “salvations” are incomplete.

I mentioned before the word purified, and I think it really passes here, because the moment Ginjo dies, where his “earthly” stuggle ends and he gets his closure with Ichigo (at least) and we see the “right” choice theme reaping the consequences, he then, as moon symbol, watches over the rest of fullbringers until they are, actually, saved and able to move on. The destructive turns procreative. We see, that there wasn’t as big distance and as much antagonism inside the group, as we could possibly suggest earlier.

This also goes nicely with the fact, that fullbringers are akin of Hollows, and as we know, Hollows often have these “attachments” they are unable to get over after death, and that’s what’s happening when I said Ichigo, in a form, releases Ginjo of this “chain, that tethered him to the world of the Living”, in the same way he purifies Hollows.

P.S It actually goes kinda nicely with the whole Amaterasu|Tsukiyomi legends but that would make another longpost.

Fullbringers still have these strong bonds (as antonym to the loneliness and another recurring theme through the arc), no matter what. They still care about Ginjo even when he’s in the afterlife.

SUMMARIZING:

The salvation theme is circular because everyone wants to save everyone: the gang wants to save Ichigo, the fullbringers want to save Ginjo, Ginjo wants to save himself from guilt and get revenge on SS, Ichigo wants to save himself from helplesness, but also saves everyone around, and those whom he saved before help him in doing so. He saves Ginjo, which the others failed to do, but not only once but twice.

The second time namely be when he does not give Ginjo’s corpse to the Tsunayashiro family for the removal of a piece of the Rey-o and asks for permission to bury Ginjo’s body properly. So that Ginjo can come to SS and finally make peace with himself and the whole situation.

[and i got emotional all of the suddent so i gonna dab out, pls stay tuned when i’ll stop wailing and will move on to cry abt ginjo some more]

#bleach #ginjo kugo #ichigo kurosaki #fullbringers #megamindbabble #i cannot stress enough how much thoughts i have about #*vague hand gestures*#all this #sorry this was not very eloquent of me #but i try #shoutout to two people who give me sm brain juice i gonna explode #ty #bless u <3 #now i go cry ahaha

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facepalming-since-chernobyl · 4 years

Text

My brain is rotting

Maybe isntead

All dumb shit - (x)

“ Whether or not you believe Lena Luthor was behaving out of character on Supergirl season 5 or not, there’s no denying that Lena has a lot to make up for and make right on Supergirl season 6. “

yeah, out of character. She was never manipulated by her brother, never killed people,never threw a tantrum, never did morally wrong experiments, never was sure she is right when she wasn’t, was never blinded by her emotions, blah blah blah

It’s clear that there is a lot to be done with Lena Luthor during Supergirl season 6 after a season of her siding with her brother and the writers consistently destroying the relationship between Lena and Kara over the big Kryptonian secret.

What a lot? All they need to do is put the bitch in jail. Tell me, why Lena won’t admit on public she was hapily helping Lex with lobotomizing whole fucking humanity? That she kidnapped and enslaved people? Why? Because she KNOWS she would end in a jail. What makes her a fucking coward. What makes her redemption a SHIT.

If there’s any way to make sure this is done (and done correctly), it’s to bring Lena into the fold and give her a pivotal role in these stories. Let’s start by making her a super friend.

Pivotal. LOL. She HAD pivotal role in season 5 and that’s why this season SUCKED BALLS. And she was a superfriend. And guess what? She used Kara and manipulated them all, put them in DANGER, because she was butthurt.

Making things right needs to be Lena Luthor’s top priority on Supergirl season 6. She really screwed up. (I personally don’t agree with the narrative that the show painted of Lena’s actions, as it was very clear that her past abuse and trauma was clouding her judgment and she was actively being manipulated by one of her abusers, but nonetheless…) Her relationships are in shambles, but for the first time in her life, she has the chance to put the pieces back together.

I’m dyiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing. Her top priority should be going to police and confessing her crimes. But we all know she won’t, because she is a coward.

Sure, you don’t agree because Boo Hoo Hoo Luthor showed her true colors. Yeah, sure, she had traumatic past and Lex and Lilian abused her all the time, we just don’t know how exactly. Plus, sorry not sorry, your traumatic past don’t give you the rights to kidnap, enslave, manipulate, lie and torture people. And plan to lobotomize whole humanity because you are too poor to go to theraphy... WAIT.

STOP excusing abusers and toxic people’s behavior. It’s fucking disgusting. Especially when all what they have to do is cry (crocodile tears) and help to fix shit THEY CREATED. ONCE AGAIN.

The abuser she first SHOT IN COLD BLOOD and then happily work with, when he was magically brought to life, because oh yeah, he made Luthors look good. LOL

Her relationships are in shambles and it’s her fault. What first? She had that chances in s2.

Lena’s finally seen the light and the truth about who Lex and Lillian are, so it’s given her a new lease on life, one where she can begin to put her past behind her and move forward for the first time in her life. She can, hopefully, start to have a life that isn’t constantly dragged down by her family. And I think the best way to do this is to make her an official super friend.

I’m dyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyying. Lena shot Lex with cold blood because she knew who he was. And then she was still manipulated by him. For the THIRD TIME. And she had that life in STARCITY and she threw it away, because she wanted to be a LUTHOR. Once again, it’s on HER. She could walk away every fucking second. But she chose to stay. And do horrible

On this point I’m pretty sure she is a dumb bitch that can’t learn on her own experiences what makes me wonder about people calling her a genius.

Lena’s often kept out of the loop until the very end when she invents some life-saving device and stops the villain, which is tiresome and shows that the writers truly don’t understand the complexity of the character and how impactful her relationships with the other characters could be.

How many times the shit she “helped” to fix was HER fault? Because she knew better and didn’t listen to her friends? This is IN character and writers know exactly who she is. Sorry not sorry, canon.

I’m not saying that Kara and company are going to immediately trust Lena to be on their side and always do the right thing. That will be part of the tension of Lena joining the group at first, proving that she’s capable of helping them and being a positive addition to their group. With Lex on the loose (hopefully not for long), this provides the perfect opportunity to begin Supergirl season 6 with Lena in the fold, finding more reasons to keep her there along the way.

Sure, once again Superfriends need to offer their hand to their ABUSER and invate her to their circle. So she can fuck shit again. Positive addition, yeah - butthurt, complains, eternal bitching about how people call her Luthor, being always right, not listening to the others. But oh yeah, she can produce more kryptonite to torture Kara. Once again, why keep her? Put her in the jail, case close.

(...)now is the time that Supergirl seems to be relying heavily on the team element, and leaving Lena out would be disastrous. The entirety of the Lena vs. Kara story on season 5 could have been avoided if Lena was brought into the fold earlier (and seeing only a few alternate realities doesn’t convince me that there was no way Kara could have told Lena earlier… that’s a pathetically easy way out of the story and the writers surely know it).

Sure. Blame Kara once again for rightfully protecting herself. And sure, CANON can’t convince you that telling Lena earlier would have changed a shit. Some people can’t understand that Lena is the pathetic control freak and has to know everything, because if not boo hoo hoo, people call her a Luthor.

This is canon Lena Luthor. I’m sorry she doesn’t fit your headcanon.

And aside from Kara, Lena needs to work out her relationships with the others, too. She had minimal scenes with Alex — which is the second most important relationship to develop next to Kara and Lena’s on Supergirl season 6 — on season 5 and Brainy, too. But have Lena and Nia even been in a scene together? That’s a tragedy in and of itself. Plus, Kelly was the only one on good terms with Lena, and that could grow into a beautiful friendship, especially because of the relationship that Katie McGrath and Azie Tesfai share off-screen.

Her most important relationships are: her and her ego, her and her last name, her and her mommy issues, her and her brother. What she needs to develope is a fucking conscience.

And Jesus Christ, leave Nia out of her fucking clucthes, we don’t need her corrupting poor Dreamer (aside of the fact Dreamer is protective of Kara and is going to show Lena her middle finger in s6). Why we need being tortured but going through Lena making friends with everybody?

Lena’s been a series regular on the show for three seasons, yet she’s continuously the person left out. Nia’s a superhero and knew Kara’s identity before her, Kelly has close ties with Alex and Kara even if she’s not officially in on the secret yet, and Brainy instantaneously became part of the group when the Legion showed up during season 3. Because of the ridiculous good vs. evil story, Lena has not been allowed to grow and develop real relationships after three seasons. Supergirl season 6 must rectify that.

LOL, she was in the cricle. All the time. She just didn’t know Kara’s secret. But sure, it kept her form growing up *dyiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*. All of the characters that knew earlier were worthy Kara’s trust. Canon showed Lena was and is not. She is ruled by her BUTTHURT. That’s the problem with Princess Lena. She was blinded by her emotions by MONTHS. And for sure it will happen again, because Miss Luthorgirl is unable to understand her own fucking flaws and blames everyone but herself.

After painting Lena out to be a villain for the entirety of season 5, Supergirl season 6 absolutely cannot follow their history of major interpersonal developments occurring off-screen with Lena, especially when it comes to her relationship with Kara.

Not painiting. She was the villain. Yeah, all we need is focusing on Lena’s being sad and uspet and Kara trying to fix shit again. Because we don’t suffer from it since s2.

Maybe instead of wasting time on a white privileged white bitch, who makes the same msiakes all the time and never paid for it, who kidnapped, tortured. enslaved and lobotomize people and her friends, let’s focus on dansen, developing Kelly, focusing more on Alex and Alex and Kara, giving Nia more screen time. I wonder, why the author thinks Lena and her whiny ass should get anything more?

This goes for all relationships, honestly, not just those involving Lena. While I do think everyone should get these moments on-screen, it absolutely has to happen with Lena if we’re going to believe her journey going forward. Making all of these moments happen off-screen is quite a bad habit that has constantly dragged Supergirl down, but should we actually get to see the emotions and growth exploring during Supergirl season 6, there’s a lot of potential, particularly because of how talented this cast is.

Sure. But the others, REAL representation, are not that important as Lena and her privileged ass. Who needs her journey going forward? She had her chance. She fucked it more than once.

And now, amazing how this person totally IGNORED that Lena kidnapped, killed, lobotomized, enslaved, tortured Kara and hurt her physically and emotionally like NO ONE EVER HAD, that she supported and happily worked with a mass murderer and terrorist, that she planned to DESTROY Kara and her family. Like all she did was some bad things, but it was not her fault that much, because her family abused her and Kara lied to her, what a crime!, let’s not talk about what she really has done. The shit since s2. The list is LONG. Because, ha ha haaaaaa, Lena doing bad things, while being “blinded by her emotions” is NOT only s5.

Lena Luthor is not a poor victim of circumstances and her family. Her crying and helping people fixing HER shit is not a redemption. Her apologizing to Kara is not REDEMPTION. All of she has done is still THERE. If she wants redemption, she needs to PAY for her SHIT and earn it.

The problem is, I don’t give a flying fuck anymore. She can rot in jail. And tbh, this is what she deserves.

Kara deserves better. Superfriends deserve better.

#anti lena luthor #anti sc #my shit #gmo lena #antilena

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ellewritesfix05 · 4 years

Text

Prince Charming

Characters: Sam x Reader, Maggie, Jack, Dean, Bobby

Warnings: Fluff, like one or two “bad words”(?)

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I was watching Mamma Mia 2 a couple days ago and thought up this little fic based on a song from the movie, Andante Andante by ABBA. I really hope you like it 💜 Listen to the song here . If you’d like to be added to my Sam Darlings taglist, let me know here ☺️

Here’s my full Masterlist if you’d like to read more!☺️

The bunker had never been so full of life. Being part of the large group of people that was rescued from Apocalypse World by the Winchesters, you didn’t know this but, seeing the way Sam and Dean acted, it was apparent that they were not used to a busy bunker. For the past two weeks, you’d tried your best to help around the place, earn your keep by performing as many tasks as you could, anything from going out on hunts to cleaning the common rooms.

For those two weeks, however, you’d also been getting close to the youngest Winchester. It was no secret to anyone that even though the whole family was to thank for your relocation, it was Sam who was the most involved with making sure you all felt safe and comfortable in this alternate universe you now called home. Working closely with him, you couldn’t help but develop a small, innocent crush on the tall hunter.

Admittedly, it had begun with physical attraction, and who could blame you really? Tall and broad shouldered with long, silky hair and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen, Sam quickly invaded your unrealistic day dreams of being swept off your feet by your very own Prince Charming. However, the physical appeal soon turned into an emotional affair. Not only was he devastatingly handsome, but he proved to be incredibly smart, strong, and most of all, kind. He didn’t know any of you but the way he took you in and took care of you would make anyone think you were his family. Not to mention, those hazel eyes that seemed to change color every now and then, like a beautiful autumn day.

Yeah, you had it bad for Sam Winchester.

“Earth to (Y/N), anyone home?” Maggie’s snapping in front of your face brought you back to reality.

Looking down at the soaped glass you were supposed to be rinsing, you chuckled in embarrassment, “yeah, sorry Mags. Had my mind somewhere else.”

“Thinking about Sam again, I’m guessing?” Maggie elbowed you playfully. Ever since meeting back at camp in Apocalypse World, you and Maggie had become very close friends. She was more talented in research, while you were a very skilled hunter turned fighter which meant you complimented each other. That and the fact that there weren’t many other people left around the place and those who were didn’t exactly share in your interests. Then again, with the world falling apart around you, who had time for anything other than learning how to survive?

Being your closest friend, Maggie had quickly noticed your interest in Sam. You rolled your eyes but agreed nonetheless, “I was. I just can’t help it. Despite everything we’ve been through, I’m still a hopeless romantic at heart.”

“I get that. It’s okay, it’s good that you didn’t lose that little whimsical part of yourself,” she replied.

“I guess,” you smiled.

“You know,” Maggie started, “with everything going on I was thinking maybe we could have a little party? Have everyone hang out, maybe a little barbecue… and who knows? Maybe you can use that beautifully melodic voice of yours to win him over.”

“Yeah, right!” you snorted. Truth was, while you weren’t the most self-assured person on earth, the one thing you’d always been proud of was your voice. Not that there’d been much singing during the past years, but once in a blue moon you’d have little get-togethers with other people at camp and sing soft melodies of better days. That usually got you compliments, and once even an invitation to dinner by a friend, days before he was killed while out on a supply run.

“Hey! I’m serious,” Maggie chuckled, “just wait until he hears you, he’ll be absolutely floored!”

You smiled and put the last dish on the rack for her to dry, “sure Mags, keep dreaming.”

After drying your hands, you walked out of the kitchen and back to your room. She could be on to something, you thought. Shaking your head at the ridiculous notion that your romantic life would play out like something out of a cheesy rom-com, you flopped down in bed and let sleep and your imagination create yet another impossible scenario for you to live in until morning came.

---

“So, I talked to Sam about the party and he said it was a good idea so it looks like it’s all systems go!” Maggie said, walking into your bedroom.

You placed down the copy of The Marvelous Land of Oz that you’d been reading, upon Sam’s recommendation, on your nightstand and sat up, facing your friend, “what systems? Please tell me this isn’t about your ridiculous plan to get me to sing in the hopes that Sam will magically fall in love with me like I’m the little mermaid or something.”

“What? No!” Maggie lied, “not at all! I just thought the barbecue could be a fun way to have everyone let loose for a night. Like a celebration, and a thank you to the Winchesters.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, completely unconvinced but still deciding to play along, “very well, then. Let’s head out to get some supplies.”

Getting up from the bed, you both walked out of your bedroom and headed towards the library. Maggie stopped in her tracks, “Shoot. We’re going to need to borrow a car. Why don’t you go ask Sam if we can take one of the cars from the garage?”

“Why didn’t you ask him when you talked about the party?” you asked.

“I forgot, sorry.” Maggie shrugged.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll go,” you said, “wipe that smirk off your face, Mags. I’m just asking to borrow a car, not for a date.”

Entering the library, you quickly spotted Sam sitting on a table across the way from Bobby. You walked over to them and cleared your throat softly, waiting for him to notice you since you didn’t want to interrupt their conversation. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait at all since Sam noticed you right away.

“Hey (Y/N), how’s it going? Do you need something?” he asked, flashing you his signature sunshine smile.

“Uh yeah. I think Maggie talked to you about the barbecue she’s planning? We were hoping to borrow a car from the garage to go get the stuff we need,” you replied in an abnormally soft tone that made Bobby puzzled since he’d never known you to show timidity around anyone before.

Sam’s smile widened, “Yeah, sure thing! The spare keys are in the cabinet down there by the war table, first top drawer from the left.”

“Great, thanks!” you replied, quickly walking away before he could see your reddened cheeks. It was almost unsettling how this one man could have such an effect on you, especially since you’d never felt like this before. Grown ass woman with a schoolgirl crush, for fuck’s sake.

Meeting up with Maggie in the garage, your annoyance at her antics made her laugh as you climbed into a light blue 1972 Dodge Dart, a car you’d seen Sam drive before when Dean wouldn’t let him take the Impala.

---

Six hours later, the food was ready and you were helping Maggie set everything down on the library tables for people to help themselves. Proud of the result, you sat on one of the reading chairs off to the side, sipping on a glass of whiskey as everyone else gathered around the feast. Soon enough, the bunker filled with music, chatter, and laughter as the large group sat and ate while sharing anecdotes of their past before tragedy hit.

It was a couple hours, and more glasses of whiskey, later when someone suggested a song from you. Looking up from your drink, you smiled sheepishly, “Oh I don’t know.”

“Awe, come on (Y/N), you always used to sing for us after a nice meal!” Maggie chimed in, and the rest of your group hummed in agreement.

“Maggie said you have a very nice voice, I’d really like to hear it too,” said Jack, who was sitting next to Sam and Dean.

“Uh, alright then since you asked so nicely,” you replied, rubbing your hands down your thighs in the hopes that the denim would soak up the moisture that had settled upon them.

Turning in their chairs to get a better view, the group placed their attention on you. Suddenly, you were painfully aware of Sam’s focus on you and closed your eyes to calm your unusually hyperactive nerves. Singing was your comfort, how could he make it any different by just looking at you?

Taking a deep breath, you began

Take it easy with me, please

Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze

Take your time, make it slow

Andante, andante

Just let the feeling grow

As your voice filled the room, smiles formed around you. Unbeknownst to you since your eyes avoided him, Sam had discarded his plate of food and found himself inexplicably more drawn to you than usual. While you thought he was simply showing you kindness, all this time he too had come to develop feelings for you. Feelings that the hunter refused to act upon, due to his own bad luck with previous relationships.

Even though he was mesmerized by your beauty from the moment he met you, your voice was now like a siren’s song; enticing and soft, tugging at his heartstrings as he found himself leaning forward, gravitating to the source of such dulcet, beautiful sounds. Sam couldn’t help but be fascinated by you; the way your brow curved, the slight fidgeting of your fingers that moved as though you were playing an instrument.

With newfound courage, you dared to look in his direction and the moment your eyes met, they locked on to each other in a way that made it so he became your sole audience. Everyone and everything around you dissolved until it was only you and Sam, together in the middle of a sea of infinite stars.

There's a shimmer in your eyes

Like the feeling of a thousand butterflies

Please don't talk, go on, play

Andante, andante

And watch me float away

Looking straight at him, you noticed a sparkle in his eye. It made you feel as though you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Without saying anything, those hazel orbs told you tales of pain and doubt, but also profound tenderness and, dare you say, love?

Andante, andante

Tread lightly on my ground

Andante, andante

Oh, please, don't let me down

Coming to an end, your voice faded into silence until the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you back to reality, breaking the eye contact with Sam that neither of you had realized was visible to everyone around you.

Light clapping broke the tension and you looked to the source, Maggie, who was looking around at everyone as if to silently ask them to join in, which they did. Standing up from your chair, you gave a small smile and excused yourself, not risking a look Sam’s way.

If you had, you would’ve noticed his disappointment at your escape as well as the teasing wink Dean gave his little brother.

Walking out of the bunker, you flopped down on a nearby bed of grass, silently begging to be swallowed by the earth then and there. Resting your head on your arms, you almost missed the sound of feet shuffling through grass behind you.

“Y/N? Can I join you?” Sam asked.

Looking up like a startled squirrel, you shot back up and ran your hand through your hair in an attempt to smooth it down.

“Sam! Um, yeah sure,” you looked around and noticed he’d come out to see you alone.

“Hey, uh, is everything okay?”

You nodded and sat back down on the grass, legs crossed, motioning for him to join you.

“I’m okay, just felt kind of tired. Long day,” you said as he sat next to you, his long legs awkwardly folded in front of him.

“You sure? I want to make sure that you’re feeling comfortable here. And I wanted to apologize if I made you feel awkward in there, I didn’t mean to stare,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair and making you wish it was your fingers flowing through the silky strands instead.

You felt your cheeks warm up as you looked towards the trees to avoid his gaze once more, “No. It was my fault, I’m the one that made it look like I was serenading you or something. Which, I wasn’t. It was just a thing that I did, but I am sorry for making you uncomfortable and you didn’t have to come and apologize, you didn’t do anyth-”

“Woah, Y/N, breathe,” Sam laughed, placing a hand on your knee, “I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. To be completely honest, it was actually kind of nice. You really are very talented.”

Widened eyes fixed on the large hand on your knee, your heart began to race and you found yourself speechless. He noticed your reaction and quickly removed his hand, the cold contrast of its absence making your heart drop.

You looked sideways at him, noticing a slight change in his demeanor as if he was saddened by the lack of touch as well, “So you don’t think I was being totally weird?”

“Not at all,” Sam smiled warmly, “I was flattered, actually.”

A new wave of courage took over you, and before you knew it, you were turning to the side to face the handsome hunter, “so, you really did like it?”

“I really did like it,” Sam reached out instinctively and pushed a strand of (Y/H/C) hair behind your ear, the contact of his fingers with your cheek sending an electric shock down your spine.

Before you could realize what was happening, he leaned forward and lightly pressed his lips against yours. The moment he did, it was as if fireworks went off around you. Though taken aback for a moment, you soon melted into the kiss, hands running up his firm chest until you stopped to grab at his jacket to pull him down with you. Laying on the grass, you felt tickles from the green blades surrounding you but that only added to the intensity of Sam’s touch. The way he ran a hand down your side, stopping at your hip to pull you closer. The way his kiss turned more passionate and fervent, something you wouldn’t have expected from such a sweet soul but that was nonetheless an incredibly nice surprise.

Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, you opened your eyes to a wondrous sight; Sam’s gorgeous features highlighted by an unusually starry sky above him, the trees surrounding you forming a canopy of sorts that reminded you of fairy tales. He smiled down at you, so close you could feel his warm breath on your skin, setting it ablaze despite the cold breeze that was beginning to pass through.

“We should probably get back inside,” Sam said, noticing your shivering body before you did.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you chuckled. Sam leaned down to peck your lips once more before standing up and offering a hand to pull you up. You both walked back to the bunker, hands clasped together as you did. He slowed his strides to match your much shorter ones, causing you to giggle; a reaction that warmed Sam’s heart in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Stopping at the door, Sam turned to you and leaned down to kiss you once more before you broke the news of your newfound relationship to the rest of the bunker residents. Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and smiled, ready to take the next steps to your new life by his side.

Pond Tags

@whispersandwhiskerburn @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @deathtonormalcy56 @samsgoddess @frenchybell @spn-fan-girl-173 @deandoesthingstome @deansleather @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @idreamofhazel @wevegotworktodo @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog @memariana91 @plaidstiel-wormstache @chelsea-winchester @becs-bunker @ageekchiclife @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @evilskank-inthemegacoven @maraisabellegrey-blog @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @clueless-gold @winchester-family-business @there-must-be-a-lock @just-another-winchester @emoryhemsworth @serenity-sam @cas-backwards-tie @sierra-grace1227 @firefly-in-darkness @emilyshurley @deanwanddamons ns @idreamofplaid

#sam winchester x reader #sam x y/n #sam x you #sam x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fluff #ellewritesfix05

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jawabear · 4 years

Text

(4) A Lesson In Want (Maxwell Lord x Reader)

A/N: Here is part 4 of the story. its a little long so I’m sorry about that but Max is really cute I swear. I don't really know how to summarise this part because quite a lot happens.

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: Smut, slight choking, sub!Max, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: Together again

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Epilogue

She stood in the mirror looking at the dress she was wearing. It was somewhat similar to the one she had worn before. Although, it was a little more concealing then the other. The mirror its self was dirty but she didn’t really care, it just matched how she saw herself, dirty. Her job wasn’t exactly the most respectable profession but she felt she wasn’t made for anything more.

The room was dark, but she was used to it, somehow accustom to living in the darkness, a small light above her that shone a dim orange light through the room. It was cold in her room, nothing more then an attic in a giant tall building that was just as dark and cold through out its lower levels. She often wondered if everyone else who lived in the building was used to the cold as she was, but she never thought to ask, it was rare she would see anyone else anyway, she was professional and couldn’t deal with others, aside from the girl who she shared her room with, although at times she was completely unbearable.

It had been weeks since she had last seen Max, since their wonderful night together. And since that night, she had been horrible distracted. She couldn’t do anything without seeing his face or hearing his voice in her mind. She could remember the face Max made when he looked at her when he saw her in that dress when she pulled him away to please him, he made her feel so special. And their night together was just the greatest night of her life. She wanted nothing more in that moment then to fall back into his strong chest whilst his arms wrap around her and he whispers to her how beautiful she looked. Her eyes slid shut and she held a dreamy smile on her face.

She could practically hear his hushed voice in her ear as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to replicate his warmth. She could hear his low whispers of praise. She could feel his soft lips pressing against her neck. She was once again in front of his grand fire, the heat from the flames was no match to what he gave her. His living room was bright but his eyes were brighter. His hands all over her body, caressing her skin with his rough fingers, his lips against every part of her making her feel as if she were dreaming. And she was.

“Having fun?” came a teasing voice from behind her. (Y/N) was pulled from her daydream back into the harsh reality of her life. Back into the cold dark room. She saw her friend Mia standing behind her reaching for a file. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in love” she smirked looking at the file.

“I don’t do love” (Y/N) argued firmly as she straightened her dress. She then stopped again and her friend came and stood next to her, looking at (Y/N) through the mirror.

“What is it about him that’s gotten you like this? You’ve done this a loads of times, this has never happened before. So he must be special, there must be something about him” (Y/N) didn’t answer and just walked away from the mirror over to her desk, she picked up the file that Mia had picked up moments before, which read “MAXWELL LORD” in bold black letters.

Mia let out a soft laugh from behind her “is it his money?” She asked “he could be the richest one you’ve ever been after”

“You know I don’t care about money” (Y/N) muttered. She opened the file and looked at the picture that was clipped inside along with pages of writing that she couldn’t be bothered to read. It was probably all lies anyway. About how vile and self-centred he was, he had proven to her that he was more then the news made him out to be. He was a sweet, caring man.

“So what is it then? His status? His connections?”

“He’s...he’s nice to me”

“He’s nice to you?”

“I’ve done this so many times...giving myself to all of those dirty men for the sake of completing the mission and after all these years, he’s the first person to ask me what I want. No one else has treated me with such care, to them I was an object, a pretty face, but to him...I’m more then that. He’s gentle and kind. He said he likes me. He said I’m the woman of his dreams...” she let a soft smile form on her lips as her fingers gently grazed over his picture “he said that he didn’t believe I was real...”

“He’s just another rich guy looking for a woman to hold on his arm to impress people, (Y/N)” Mia told her.

“You don’t know anything about him” (Y/N) scoffed defensively. “He’s not like everyone else Mia...he’s different”

“He’s different” Mia repeated “there’s no such thing as different. But I will say one thing, he must be quite something you get you in this state. You’re usually the most professional of us. You seem a little distracted all the time, thinking of Mr Lord no doubt. If he’s so different, maybe after this mission you should try it with him, leave this and be with him”

“You say that as if they won’t want me to kill him at the end” (Y/N) said and closed the file “Besides, I can’t see that he’ll welcome me with open arms when he find out who I am”

“If you think that, then maybe he isn’t so different after all”

As much as (Y/N) hated to admit it, Mia was right. If, one day, she told Max who she was, what her job was, and he hated her for it, then he wasn’t the caring person she had thought. But she didn’t want to think he wasn’t, he had given her no reason to suspect that at the first sign of trouble, he would drop her and move on, but she couldn’t deny that that thought was eating away at her mind constantly since meeting him. The thought that he would leave her and she would be alone again.

She quickly shook her head of the thought and grabbed her shoes, quickly pulling them on and storming to the door. “Are you ready?” She asked her friend, more like ordered.

Mia laughed and turned to face her holding out her arms to the side “what do you think? Can you recognise me?”

“I can when you open your mouth” (Y/N) muttered before leaving the room.

The gathering was a charity event at a local history museum. Max didn’t really try his hand in history that much, although he was quite fond of Greek literature, he loved to read about the gods and myths of the ancient world, the love and the tragedy. The museum needed extra funding and what better way to source money then to drain it from the richest people in the city. Maxwell Lord being one of them.

Max was used to the deal by now. Getting hounded by wealthy men and women who all want to flaunt how rich they were to each other, a test to see who had the biggest ego. Talking rubbish about history that they didn’t understand or care to look into. They would try and show off to him about how much they knew, Max was half tempted to correct them but he thought it was funny to hear them big themselves up.

Max tried to play along as best he could, nodding along to whatever they said but he had to admit that his mind was elsewhere. It had been weeks since he had heard anything of (Y/N). And he missed her everyday he was apart from her. He desperately wanted to see her again. He didn’t care what happened between them, whether they return to his home to recreated their night or simply just talk. He didn’t care, being in her presence alone would be enough for him. He had wanted nothing more then to see her smile, hear her voice, look into her beautiful eyes. Just to be near her again.

He figured if he were to see her again, it would be tonight. So he dressed up smarter then he usually would, not that he was ever scruffy looking. He wore he best and most expensive black suit. A crisp white dress shirt, black tie, shining shoes and his hair slicked back. He definitely dressed to impress this evening.

“I’m starting to get the feeling you aren’t a fan of these gatherings Mr Lord” the young gentleman in front of him, who had introduced himself as James Felis said pulling Max’s attention from looking for her to him. He was a clean looking man, clean shaven, dark eyes and dark hair, quite tall but a little shorter then Max. He was new to the business world, his name only just starting to get know. Max had spoken with him a few times at past events, he seemed nice enough, more genuine then most which Max found surprising due to his young age. Max was very arrogant when he was younger, figuring that’s how he would get what he want. He had however mellowed out over the course of his business.

“What makes you say that?” Max asked even though he was right. Max took a sip of his drink and tried to focus on James but him mind betrayed him, her beautiful face was at the forefront of his mind and he couldn’t stop his eyes from wavering around the room they were in. The ancient history wing of the museum, standing beside a painting that depicted the Trojans brining the famed wooden horse into the city walls of Troy that was soon to be destroyed by the Greeks that were hiding inside its belly.

“Every time we speak, your mind seems to be elsewhere. Either your looking for a quick escape or my voice just bores you”

Max let out a stiff chuckle “no, it’s not either really. Just...admiring the outfit choices, always different and of course be art work beside us” he said pointing to the painting with his glass.

“Looking for someone in particular?” James teased as he took a sip of his own drink. “I’m surprised you are not yet in a relationship. Women must be lining up to get a taste of Maxwell Lord. Can’t be difficult for you to find a partner”

“No, you’re right. But, I haven’t found the right one” Max shrugged. He had found the right one. He wasn’t sure if he should admit it, she was so secretive about herself, Max wasn’t sure if he should reveal their little ordeal to a stranger.

“Never would’ve taken you for the sentimental type. Thought you would be like any other rich man”

“And what’s that?”

“Well, you know, sleeping around. Waking up to a different woman in your bed every morning”

“Maybe when I was a little younger” he admitted “but I haven’t done that for a long time. Thought maybe it was time to really start looking. Is that the lifestyle you live by?”

James laughed and shook his head “no, there are a few occasions when I will bring a woman home with me to bed, but not every night, like you, I am also looking for the right woman”

“Excuse me gentlemen” came a soft voice as a woman with fiery red hair slipped into the conversation. Max’s eyes fell on her.

“Hello~” James drew out “and who might you be?”

“Scarlett Diaz” she introduced with an innocent smile holding out her hand to him. He took it and brought it to his lips pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles and winked at her making her giggle “and who might you be?”

“James Felis” he introduced. She then turned to Max. She had unreal blue eyes. Her lips bright red which matched both her hair and her dress.

“And you sir?” She asked in a smooth voice that reminded him of (Y/N). Their voices were almost identical. But it wasn’t her he was looking at. Maybe he was just too obsessed with her that now any woman sounded like her.

“Maxwell Lord” he greeted. He wasn’t as gentlemanly as James had been, opting for just shaking her hand instead.

“Of course, I should’ve know. I’ve heard all about you in the news. Quite the name you’ve made for yourself Mr Lord, I’m impressed. I myself am not much for the spotlight like you seem to be”

“Really?” He said. He looked her up and down and gave her a soft smile “you seem to stand out in a crowd. I’ve never seen hair so red before”

She smiled to him and brushed a strand behind her ear “yes, well, we all need to be a bit adventurous with how we look sometimes. Much better I think then wearing simple black or white. Adds a little colour to people’s lives. Wouldn’t you agree Mr Lord?”

“I would agree” he nodded “although red would not be my colour of choice”

“It would be mine” James chipped in, but he seems to be ignored for the moment.

“And what would your colour of choice be?” She asked him but didn’t give him time to answer “gold perhaps? Or maybe you like a woman in (f/c)”

Max was a little shocked at her words. Confused as well. It could’ve just been a lucky guess, but he felt it was something more then that, as if she knew. “Yes,” he mumbled “I think (f/c) would be favourable to me” he looked away from the woman and took a large swig of his drink finishing it off “excuse me” he nodded curtly to the two in front of him before leaving. He was heading towards the bar to get a drink but something in his mind had stopped him and told him to look right.

And he was gazing into the most beautiful eyes anyone could ever look into.

She was there.

And she was wearing (f/c).

He noticed her give him a soft smile before she walked behind a wall going deeper into the exhibit. He was quick to follow after her, not much caring for another drink now, he wasn’t going to loose her. At some point he had put down his empty glass but he couldn’t recall where.

He rounded the corner and saw her standing alone staring at a painting holding a half filled glass of champagne in her hands.

As he had the night she had first touched him, he straightened himself, regaining his composure before approaching her. He stood next to her but keeping a slight distance, trying his best to resist the urge to wrap his arms around her.

“Beautiful piece” she said not looking at him.

“It is. Are you familiar with the story of Dido?” He asked her, his eyes on her.

“The queen of Carthage. She was shot by Cupid and made to fall in love with the Trojan leader Aeneas by the queen of the gods, Juno’s orders. But he had to leave to found Rome and left her alone in Carthage. So hopelessly in love with him by the gods hands she throws herself onto Aeneas’ sword and dies” she summarised.

“Did you study the stories?”

“Only to make conversation” she shrugged making his laugh softly

“It’s nice to see you again (Y/N)”

“And you Mr Lord”

“Mr Lord?” He repeated raising an eyebrow at her. She turned to face him, taking a teasing sip of her drink.

“Is that not your name?” She asked him “I would’ve thought you would prefer me to call you by your title rather then your first name at such a formal event. Maybe we should keep the use of your first name for when we’re alone”

“Will we be alone again anytime soon?”

“Perhaps” she nodded

“I’ve really missed you”

“You have?”

“You sound surprised” he chuckled “did you think I would forget you?”

“Not exactly” she said “I just thought you would be done with me”

“Clearly you are not done with me” he retorted “if you were, I don’t think you would’ve made yourself known to me tonight”

“I guess you’re right”

“Just so you know, our night together didn’t mean I was done with you, I meant what I said (Y/N), I like you, more than just a sexual liking”

She gave him a light chuckle and sipped her drink again “and I like you too Mr Lord”

“Will you let me take you out to dinner?”

“No” she answered firmly

“Why not?” She paused for a moment “is it because of your job?”

“Partly. But also because I hate people”

“But yet you come to things like this, places full of probably the worst kind of people in this city”

“I know, but I never talk to any of them, I’m very good at hiding. I could stand in the middle of the room and still no one would pay any attention”

“Which I still find hard to believe. Someone as beautiful as you must’ve caught the eye of someone”

She smirked over to him “clearly I have, so what is it about me Mr Lord that interested you to take notice of me? Was it simply just my looks?” She was testing him at this point, seeing if Mia’s theory was right.

“You can’t blame me for being drawn to a woman as beautiful as you. But it wasn’t just your looks, it was how easily you managed to slip away in a split second. One minuet you would be in front of me, the next you would be gone. I was interested to know, as I’ve told you before, if you were real. I’m interested by you’re aura, you have the ability to disappear but then be so obvious like you are now” he brushed a piece of hair behind her ear “there’s something about you that draws me to you but I can’t tell what it is. Maybe it’s your eyes, you’re beautiful eyes, or maybe it’s simply that I don’t understand you, and I wish too”

“What about me do you wish to understand?”

“Who you are”

“I can’t tell you that”

“I know” he nodded “I respect that”

A silence fell over them as they both stared at the painting in front of them. It was a peaceful silence though, they could hear the busy chatter of the guests in the other room but it was mostly muffled but the wall that separated them.

“There’s a woman here tonight who is a lot like you” he said “she looks nothing like you but she has the same feel about her”

“What’s her name?” She asked him.

“I think she said it was Scarlett? Scarlett Diaz”

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of her before” (Y/N) shrugged

“Well, she seemed to talk the same as you. But maybe that’s just my mind playing tricks on me”

“Maybe”

“If it’s not to much trouble, would you allow me to take you back to my house?”

“What would we get up to there?”

“Anything you want to. It been a while since we’ve seen each other and I’d rather spend time together when I know you can’t slip away from me into a crowd”

“Very well” she nodded with a smile as she finished off her drink “I’ll meet you outside Mr Lord” she held up her glass to him and slipped by him, her hand gliding across his back.

He smiled as he watched her slide into the crowd, but this time he wasn’t worried about loosing her. He quickly made his own way through the crowd outside where his sleek black car was waiting. He leant against the car and looked to the entrance of the museum waiting for her.

It didn’t take long for her to emerge from the entrance. Looking like a queen, a goddess from the stories he loved to read, to be honest, he would be surprised if she was in fact a goddess in disguise. She seemed to glow as she walked carefully down the steps to the museum, holding her dress up slightly to ensure she didn’t trip.

He held his hand out to her and helped her down the last few steps and opened up the car door for her “after you my lady” he said with a polite smile, she couldn’t help but blush as she got into his car. He slid into the seat next to her and told his driver to take them back to his house.

He couldn’t help but look at her the entire way, how radiant she looked, the way she gazed out of the window, her eyes every so often catching the warm orange glow of the streetlights they passed. He couldn’t resist touching her anymore, it was warm gesture and it sent her heart into over drive.

He rested his hand on her knee. Her gazed was pulled from out the window to his hand and she smiled “you look so beautiful tonight (Y/N)” he complimented.

“Thank you Max” she said.

“Back to first name basis?” He asked with a soft smirk.

“Well, we are alone” she shifted slightly so her body was now facing him, her hand running up and down his arm. “You look a lot smarter than usual. Is this a new suit?”

“Newish” she shrugged “I’ve only worn it once, it’s my best suit. Only for the most special occasions”

“Did you dress up all nice and fancy for me baby?” She asked him in a seductive whisper “because I don’t think that event classes as a special occasion”

“Wanted to look my best for you baby” he said in a broken whisper. She looked to where the drive would be and saw a dark screen that blocked them from him.

“How long till we get there?” She asked him. Max looked out of the window.

“Maybe about...20 minuets?” He guessed. He heard the click of her seatbelt undo and she was quickly on his lap, straddling his waist.

“Do you think 20 minuets is enough time?” She asked as she bit her bottom lip. He nodded rapidly and swallowed thickly, his hands coming to rest on her hips. “I don’t want to make a mess on your fancy suit”

“I don’t care. You could fucking rip it to pieces if you wanted to” He panted slightly to her, he leaned forwards to kiss her but she smirked and pulled back.

“Well I don’t want to do that baby” she chuckled, she reached between their bodies and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. She reached into his boxers and pulled out his length. She stroked him a few times and he shuddered, his eyes never leaving hers.

She slowly sunk down his body and ran her tongue over the head of his dick “(Y-Y/N)” he whimpered. She then licked up his entire length and he let out a pathetic noise that was sent straight to her core. She hummed happily against him and took as much as she could of him into her mouth, what she couldn’t fit in her mouth she pumped with her hand. He whimpered and whined pathetically as he thrust his hips up into her slightly, his head falling back and his eyes sliding shut. “(Y/N)” he moaned, his fingers sliding into her hair. “I want to be inside you” he muttered.

She immediately pulled him out of her mouth, a small bit of drool sliding down her chin. She got back onto his lap and he lifted his thumb and wiped her saliva away from her chin. He brought his thumb to his lips and slipped it past them, sucking her drool off him.

She smiled to him and bit her bottom lip “such a good boy for me aren’t you” she praised lightly. He nodded and removed his thumb from her lips. She moved one of her hands under her dress between their bodies and moved her panties to one side and took him back into her hand. She aligned him with her entrance and slowly sunk down onto him. He let out a harsh breath when she did and he gripped her hips tightly.

(Y/N) began bouncing on him almost immediately, Max’s eyes grew heavy and eventually closed as his head fell backwards again “oh baby, you feel so good” he groaned. She hummed in response and placed her lips to his neck, sucking on the skin between his neck and his jaw. His finger tips dug into her hips as he moaned out her name multiple times, repeating it as if it were some kind of chant.

Her hands slid up to his hair and she grabbed the strands and pulled his head up “I want you to look at me while I fuck you” she ordered in a whispered to him. His eyes opened and met with her seductive glare that made him shake and whimper.

“Will...will you choke me?” He asked quietly, his cheeks flushing bright red at his request, he felt so small but he loved it, he loved the dominance she had over him in that moment. He loved the way she looked at him, the way she spoke to him, she way she felt around him. “P-please?”

He looked at her with wide eyes, puppy eyes. Big, brown and beautiful. Pleading her to grant him his wish and she was more then happy to comply, she just hoped that she wouldn’t be too hard on him. She moved one of her hands from his hair and wrapped her fingers around his neck, applying light pressure. “H-harder” he breathed when she pulled his hair.

She did as he ask, her fingers getting tighter around his neck as she rolled her hips against her. His moan came out broken and it made her groan. She could feel his dick twitching inside her and she decided to go faster. He was struggling to keep his eyes open, the pleasure and lack of air was making his head spin in the best possible way, he couldn’t help but smile as she fucked him.

“You like that?” She smirked into his ear, her heavy breaths going straight through him “you like to be dominated? You like having my hand around you neck?”

“Yes...yes I do (Y/N)” he gasped and nodded “oh fuck, I’m gonna come” he moaned shakily. He moved one hand from her hips and grabbed her wrist, pushing it into his neck. “Fuck! (Y/N)!” He yelled as he came suddenly inside of her, his hips bucked wildly up into, his body shaking. The warmth of his come and the sight of him falling apart was enough to send her over the edge, her walls clenching around him making his head fall back.

She removed her hand from his neck and noticed it was slightly red but she could tell it wouldn’t stay like that for very long. She slowly slipped off him and tucked him back into his boxers and tidied him up a bit, he was too fucked out to do it himself. She sat beside him again and slowly ran her hand up and down his heaving chest while he came down from his high.

He let out a low breath and turned his head to look at her, his eyes opened and they were blown black with desire. She smiled at him “did you like that Max?” She teased.

“Yes” he nodded “I really did...I’ve never...never felt so good...”

“I’m glad you liked it baby” she leaned forwards and pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss. He took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers together when he pulled away to look out of the car window. She looked at their joined hands and her heart swelled. Such a small action, but it meant the world to her.

“I think we’re nearly there” he said quietly, his breath slowly coming back to him. She hummed in acknowledgement and lifted their joined hands to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and smiled to her. “How about, when we get back, we take a bath together?” He offered. She shuffled closer to him, bringing their joined hands to rest on her lap while her head rested on his shoulder.

“I’d like that” she hummed. He pressed a soft kiss to her head and they sat in a comfortable silence for the remaining few minuets of the car journey.

15/04/20

#Maxwell Lord #Maxwell lord x reader #Maxwell Lord fanfic #Wonder Women 1984 #WW1984 #Fluff #smut #Pedro Pascal #fanfic

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cursedserpenthq · 3 years

Photo

(summer bishil, 33, woman, merperson) Blimey! Is that (BRIAR BRANDO)? (SHE) is the (CARPENTER) on the Cursed Serpent and has been onboard the ship for (TWO YEARS). Legend has it they are (QUICK-WITTED & PROVOCATIVE), but don’t get on their bad side, because I hear they’re (INFLAMMATORY & HEDONISTIC). Aye! Stop staring! (BRIAR) has their (FLINTLOCK BELT PISTOLS) out! (ooc: dea, pst, 24, she/her, rape/sexual assault)

THE CURSED SERPENT

After devoting several decades to living amongst her merfolk colony, conflicts of interest led to her choosing a more landbound existence. She found it easy to blend in with the lively energy Westburgh, having observed and the behaviours and dynamics of humans as well as the amount of traffic which crosses through the city. However, eventually, she found herself getting restless and in desire of a profession which would sufficiently satisfy her mind and body. She developed a fascination for metalsmithing and carpentry, shadowing masters of each field in exchange for fetching them supplies. Her good looks allowed her to barter fares for goods to a significantly lower amount, which paid off the space she took up. Otherwise, she kept a low profile and wore deliberately unflattering clothes, keeping her hair tied back and her words few; altogether generating an attitude aligned with a masculine demeanour that blended in better.

Time passed and eventually she grew restless in her apprentice positions, having understood what needed to be done multiple times over. Unfortunately, when Briar’s impatience flared an unfortunate event was soon to follow. Since her departure from the sea, she was careful to neglect using her sonic abilities — it was merely coincidence that the local lead carpenter happened to one night wander past the city limits and slip into a watery grave. With an open position, Briar seamlessly filled it and kept customers pleased and impressed with the speed and precision at which she worked.

Briar heard rumours of the Cursed Serpent throughout her years in Westburgh. Their reputation and the obstacles they’d surmounted preceded them — each one singing louder to Briar’s disobedient scallywag heart. To be a part of such a group always sounded enticing, although she was less interested in the prospect of being at the sea’s mercy for a prolonged period of time. Since leaving her colony, she harbours a hatred for the sea. The idea of swimming or being underwater to hear the voices of her kind leaves a sour taste in her mouth and a white hot anger under her skin. But, once again, she began to grow restless in her city-bound existence that followed the same rhythm everyday.

Considering life aboard a ship meant commanding the waves rather than falling beneath them, she reasoned with herself that it seemed a safe enough distance to submit to her heart’s longing for piracy. Soon, the siren call of adventure, prosperity, and infamy beckoned her over the edge. After following the trails of gossip, Briar found the Cursed Serpent and boldly pledged herself as the carpenter they needed to truly succeed in the rough times ahead. It remains her highest goal to maintain truth in the statement.

Briar enjoys being of aid and service to whatever the ship demands. She has a hungry work ethic and ability to juggle projects, likely to fly under the radar for stints at a time as she works in her preferred space — below deck. In the aftermath of storms she has remained acutely aware of any issues on board, and tends to stay an active member on deck taking initiative on repairs or reinforcements when others venture to shore, restock at ports, or find a rare moment of sleep. Briar mostly likes doing her own thing, but will readily take on tasks when asked. She works at an incredibly rapid pace without sacrificing perfectionism.

Briar fits right in with the lifestyle of a pirate with her rowdy attitude and hedonistic desires, likely to stir the pot whether she intended to or not. She finds it keeps things dynamic, and enjoys witnessing others as work almost as much as she likes bothering them. Although she likes the crew for their attachment to the Cursed Serpent, she has remained emotionally distanced and wary of everyone. Only shallow bonds have been formed with fellow members, in her reluctance to divulge much about herself nor interest in being close friends with anyone. At the end of the day, she wishes to find the Jewels more than anything else. Lives lost or injured along the way is inevitable collateral damage, hence her disinterest in growing too fond of anyone lest they be lost to the larger goal. Accordingly, in the face of any tragedy, she does not dwell in gloom or disappointment. Three modes govern Briar, at any given moment — rage, sardonic humour, and impulsivity.

The Captain’s death unnerved her, making the mistake of deeming him better than other humans for the kind of ship he ran and the notoriety he was responsible for. Briar deeply respected his leadership and intelligence, never in disagreement with the calls he made. His death had Briar, for the first time, considering him weak and tactless for not avoiding the final hit that killed him. It made her feel bitter. Human mortality was a heavy burden to live with and, with more dangerous waters likely ahead, above all else it frustrated her to think the Jewels may be harder to access without his level-headed order and discretion as the crew’s compass.

SECRET

In her spare time, on the down low, Briar likes to work on developing unique weapons. With a specific interest in fire and ignition; grenades, hand cannons, and other explosive projectile matter are her predominant under-development works. Most prototypes are too dangerous and volatile to work on in an enclosed space whilst active, and although it sacrifices swift progress, she ensures her materials are kept dampened until satisfied with her design. She remains confident that her awareness of the elements on board could curve any potential malfunction issues, but also knows better than to waste materials. In the meantime, she stocks up on ideas and their necessary frameworks as she awaits the day she can assemble something and put it to real use.

Briar was exiled from her merfolk colony for repeatedly breaking the law, branded for repeated fraternisation with a sorcerer that supposedly put her colony in jeopardy. Even though she claimed she was careful, travelling a great distance each visit, the relationship was deemed reckless for both the act itself and the (literal) dangerous waters she tread in the process. As a result of the mark bestowed upon her, Briar exclusively wears long sleeved shirts — high collared or tightly laced at all times, at the bear minimum. Even on sweltering days. She would say it’s for protection from any shrapnel or splintering that she may encounter during her work. Due to the painful treatment her colony put her through despite her efforts to explain herself, she is very wary of other merpeople until she learns where their allegiance lies. Merfolk wandering in disguise amongst humans make her paranoid that her cover of normalcy may be blown. She is only sympathetic for outsiders, whether by force or choice — she wouldn’t hesitate to help another in true and dire need, as it’s what she would have wished happened to her in her initial castaway phase.

KEY RELATIONSHIPS

ALLUDED APPRENTICE: Someone that wishes to learn more about carpentry. Briar didn’t like the idea of company at first, and was by no means interested nor in possession of the patience required to be a teacher. Initially it was purely through absorbing continuous examples of her at work from a distance that they were able to pick up a few things. Only when it became obvious how observant they were did Briar willingly begin to divulge a few techniques or skills that would enable better execution. Occasionally, she’ll make a game out of it and challenge them to making something in a limited amount of time. She’s far more critical than likely to praise anything they come up with, but she’s grown to appreciate having someone to share with and bond over her enjoyment of crafting.

CHARRED CAMARADERIE: Briar’s abrasive manner sometimes gets the better of her for its lack of discrimination. Anyone in her line of sight is fair game to rub the wrong way, even if that entails disrespecting someone ranked above her or twice her size. She doesn’t care much for rules and order, at the end of the day far more willing to be selfish if it means survival. It’s her unyielding audacity that this person can’t help but somewhat respect, yet they don’t want her to give her the wrong idea that she has any power in her beliefs. For the sake of order, no matter the weight of their personal opinion, they always make sure to shut down any instigative remarks she makes. Inwardly, she finds it both challenging and commendable that someone dares to keep her accountable and under some measure of control. At the heart of this dynamic, there is deep respect that goes both ways. However, on the surface, one wouldn’t be able to tell. It’s a lot of bickering and empty threats — a game of baiting and entrapping until one side concedes… until next time.

ALL THE FIXINGS: chock it up to plain clumsiness or one too many drunken stupors, this person is always causing bumps, scrapes, and breaks upon the ship’s materials as well as their own possessions. Briar fixes the result following each incident, no questions asked. It’s an explicitly need-to-know basis. The only thing she asks for her services is for there to be an exchange of some sort, which varies on her mood. Sometimes payment is as simple as a coin, other times a bottle of booze, or — for an undisclosed yet ongoing project — some pilfered gunpowder. The “don’t ask, don’t tell” rule goes both ways.

ANYTHING ELSE

Intended to play the assisting role in Lachlan Rhodes’ Guardian Angel WC.

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scoophilia · 4 years

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Nightfury- Apology

Last night was a nightmare.

My brother's rage haunted me, his hot breath ghosting across my skin. I thrashed in my sleep running away in my dreams. I woke before he caught me, breathing heavily. Turning my head, I looked to my right; I had dug myself a nest beneath a hollow tree. Nothing caught my eye through the raised roots. A twig snapped in the distance. Jumping to my feet, I lowered my head with fangs bared. A rabbit hopped passed the roots.

Sucking in a breath, I plopped back down.

Every little noise made me jump. All thanks to being chased through the forest. My nerves were shot. That dragon from earlier was not part of my pack. This I knew for sure. I would have remembered those eyes of his. Plus he had a human with him. My pack hated humans.

“Why a human? Mother said they were dangerous to us. Has he been brainwashed?” I asked myself, tail thrashing behind me. Fear began to swell in my belly. A lump formed in throat at the thought of brainwashing. My thoughts jumped to my pack and family.

I slipped out from the tree and flew back home.

My pack had come into view now on a different part of the island. A cloud of dust kicked up after I landed. I started running though. No one picked their heads up as a I ran by. Too preoccupied with each other. Mother came into view. She was talking to two members; her body straight and rigid. I ran over and skidded to a halt. They all looked at me confused.

Catching my breath, I stuttered out, “M-Mother...I..ah...I need t-to talk to you!”

Mother tilted her head at me. She waved the other two off who bowed before leaving us alone. Her brows furrowed together at me. A claw tapped impatiently in the dirt.

“Mother, I—“

“Where were you last night?” She snapped with a wing, she pointed towards the pack nest, “and don't lie to me. No one saw you. I didn't see you. I stayed awake as long as I could to make sure you came home. Now answer me!”

I slunk back, her words weighing my shoulders down. I said back, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I was scared to come back.”

Mother gave me a strange look. It seemed to dawn on her as her eyes grew wide. Nuzzling me, Mother said soothingly, “oh my poor baby. How insensitive of me... I was so worried when you didn't come home that I was being stupid. What happened should never have in the first place!”

“It's OK Mother, you were worried. Can we talk about this later though? I have something you need to know.” I asked, checking between the trees for the dragon and his human.

A harsh gasp escaped my Mother. She shook her head at me before she pushed me forward. Loudly she said, “Of course not! You could have been killed! Myself and others could have been killed! I will settle this myself.”

My feet dug hard into the ground trying to stop my Mother. She continued to push like I weighed nothing. We stood dead center in the pack. Mother stomped her foot once calling attention. Everyone turned and encircled us.

Jaw dropped I looked to Mother who just beamed at me. Clearing her throat, Mother proclaimed, “Yesterday a fight broke out. One that should never have happened. Thankfully tragedy was avoided thanks to quick acting. My poor daughter,” she jammed me into her side with a wing, “she disappeared last night but is here now. She is still with us, and that's all I could hope for.”

The pack nodded in approval and stomped their feet in rhythm. Satisfied, Mother looked at me and added, “someone has something to say to you.”

Right after she said this my brother stepped forward. My throat squeezed shut. He walked over to us standing right in front of me. He said, “I'm sorry. I lost my temper and nearly hurt you. That was wrong of me. It won't ever happen again.” He never looked at me.

Before I had a chance to react, Mother nuzzled him. She swept her gaze then across the pack.

“Let this be a lesson,” Mother said, “we all have our roles to play. My children have forgiven each other and are safe. They will continue their duties and take on newer ones. But we mustn't let anything deter us from it. Or fail at it.”

My brother jumped away from us, pouncing on a member. He slammed down on the member's chest. I tore myself away from Mother rushing over. I was yanked back my tail. Mother held it in her mouth. Dropping it, she walked past me. She stood behind my brother; the member shaking.

“This is what happens one fails a task. We all suffer,” Mother said.

Horror and panic washed over me. I cried out, “what are you doing?! She's done nothing wrong!”

Mother threw a nonchalant look over to me.

“There was too few a fish to feed us all. The hatchlings had to eat scraps. You and your brother fought over one, remember?” She said to me. I open and closed my mouth several times. It was only yesterday and I was hungry. There was a huge mound I thought, but was it enough?

I looked away and said, “we did fight. I thought there was enough so I didn't want to give up my piece.”

“Tsk, tsk, see what you've done!” Mother cooed at the female, “your laziness caused my daughter to misbehave! She knows better to share than steal.”

I perked up.

“I didn't steal it! I had it first!” I yelled.

Mother shakes her head at me and said, “oh no, my dear, you're remembering it wrong. Your brother had the fish first. That scare is messing with your mind. It happens.”

“But I...” I began to say before looking to the others. They all simply nodded. I looked back to Mother. Her gaze was soft yet firm. I finished saying, “I guess you're right. It was pretty scary.”

“Right! Now then,” Mother shot daggers at the dragon beneath my brother.

She spoke, her tone cold and tense, “you were our last hunter to return. The others brought all that they could, they were tired from a hard day. You had done nothing. Laying about all day. You had enough energy to gather more fish than you brought. My children could have died. Your pack could have suffered. This act will not happen again!”

I shivered as my brother said, “may I, Mother?”

“Do it.”

None heard the dragon scream as my brother ripped out her throat. He spat it out like it's trash. Mother motioned her head at the body. Within moments, the body was dragged off into the forest. My brother stalked off, his two members in tow. The pack dispersed returning back to their daily rituals. Only Mother and I remained.

Humming to herself, she walked past me. She pressed her snout atop my head. Softly she said, “that my dear is how you handle a problem. All better now, right? I'll make sure there's more fish to avoid any silly tussles.”

“Why...?” I asked.

“For our survival. I need you and your brother to close. Fighting will not help make your pack strong. She was an obstacle in that. Nothing more,” Mother said, she sighed when my eyes misted over with tears, “it was the only way. If I let her live, she may have done it again. She was always a lazy thing. I should have known. It is best to nip the problem in the bud. Do you understand?”

Blinking away the tears, I thought over what she said. I gazed up and beyond the treetops. I asked her, “if you take action early, there will be no tragedy?”

“Yes, that's correct.”

A rush of determination fueled within me.

“I understand,” I said.

Mother beamed at me. With the tip of her tail she patted my head. She had begun to walk away when she stopped. Not looking at me, she asked, “you said something earlier. That I needed to know something?”

My ears stood up. I lied through my teeth and said, “I just wanted to tell you that I hadn't slept well last night. Bad nightmares and all. So I was wondering if I could be relieved of my duties. Just for today!”

Mother's tail swished back and forth next to me. She sucked in a breath. I held my own. It felt like an eternity until she spoke, “you may. Just be back before the moon is high in the sky, alright?”

“Thank you!” I gave her a quick nuzzle before flying off.

I had to find that dragon and human. For the pack's survival.

Returning back to where I had first met them, I inched my way along. Each step I looked side to side. Several trees had the bark ripped off and branches missing. I was so busy looking that I failed to notice the ground change. My feet sunk into sand. I panicked like a hatchling, jumping backwards.

“Stop getting spooked. You're fine!” I hissed to myself.

The scent of the ocean soothed my sense. My body yearned to dive deep below the waters. It had felt so good swimming yesterday. I wanted to jump in. I pushed that feeling down deep into my heart. I had a mission to complete.

I scanned the stretch of sand and water. My jaw locked seeing nothing. I was about to turn around when it hit me. Burnt wood. Sniffing the air, I followed the trail down the beach. My search came upon a circle of stones. The wood was wet but the scent remained. Pawing at it, I let it be to walk around. Nothing else.

“Did they just fly off? That'd be great,” I said to myself.

I paused.

“I really should stop talking to myself...staaarting now!”

Diving back into the forest, I followed the path they made. I sniffed at the ground. His scent was mixed with strange smells. He ended where I slipped away. Sitting down, I just stared into the distance.

Yesterday came back to me. His eyes were so big and round as he stared at me. It was rather cute.

Shaking my head furiously, I got up and pushed my way through. I had no time to daydream. I had to make sure they were gone. So I spent most of the day searching. I found nothing. I had come upon a small clearing near the end. It held a pool of water at its center. Throat itchy and dry, I glided over to it. I drank large gulps letting the cool water relieve my throat.

Ripples rolled across the water breaking the surface. I gazed down at my reflection. Four large scars popped out immediately. I closed my eyes and curled my wing blocking them from view. Eyes opening I looked back at my reflection. Big, round, green eyes.

“You!” I yelled, side stepping away from the dragon.

“Hey, I'm Toothless!” he said to me, grinning.

I take another step back. I hadn't even heard him walk up. He drew in a breath to speak, but I bolted. I cursed myself as I ran. The element of surprise wasn't on my side and he was bigger.

Zipping through the woods, I stopped to catch my breath. A leaf had fallen onto my nose. Blinking, I looked up. This Toothless was sitting on a branch staring. I shrieked. I dug my way through under a pair of trees. He called after me but I ignored him. From the other side I emerged. I started running to hide.

“Why are you running?” Tongue sticking out, Toothless hung by his tail from a tree. I screeched to a halt. I nearly smacked noses with him. Doing a double take, I looked between him and behind me. I locked eyes with him.

“What are you?!” I screamed. None in my pack was fast and agile as this dragon.

He blinked at me. He said, “I'm the same dragon as you. Duh!”

My eye twitched. He swung gently back and forth, his gaze never leaving me. He was about to talk when I slapped him twice. He let out a yelp before falling to the ground. I hopped over him and flew up. I clawed my way up to the top and soared.

Looking back, I saw nothing.

“Phew he's gone.”

“Can we talk? I didn't mean to upset you!”

I flapped my wings hard to push myself back. Hovering before me was Toothless, my jaw dropped. He cast me a smile. Glaring at him, I dove down and under him. He never let up and followed. He then yelled to me, “I'm sorry!”

Genuine. That's how he sounded.

“Follow me,” I said.

We landed in a clearing. Toothless trotted towards me but stopped when I growled. He sat down. Eyes narrowed, I asked, “what are you sorry for?”

Toothless gave me a sheepish look. My heart skipped a beat. He said to me, “for chasing you yesterday. That wasn't nice. I'm really sorry.”

He sounded so sincere. I felt my stomach knotting up. I walked closer to him, caution in each step. “I take it you've been looking for me?” He nodded. I then asked, “why?"

He leaned in closer to me with his tail wagging. Those eyes of his seemed to get brighter. And happier? Bouncing in place, he said, “I was so excited to see you! I never thought it would happen!”

“You aren't here to take over?” I asked.

Toothless stopped bouncing. His nose scrunched up. Shaking his head, he replied, “no of course not! I didn't know anyone even lived here. I'm just exploring!”

“Mmmhhhmmm,” I murmured, turning away from him. He seemed harmless enough. He could have attacked at any time. He hadn't though. I remembered what Mother had said. Had to nip the problem in the bud.

Taking in a deep breath, I said, “you seem like a good dragon, Toothless. So I shall let you off this time with a warning. Leave my island and don't come back.”

“What? Why!” There was a whine to his voice.

“It isn't safe Toothless. You've shown me kindness, so I want to give it back. You aren't built for this island. You're too,” I paused. The word perfect came first strangely enough. I batted it away and said, “soft. You're too soft.”

I felt his gaze boring a hole in my head. His tail thrashed against the ground. I heard him say, “what's that supposed to mean?”

“You need to be bold, decisive, and sly. That is how one survives on this island.” I said matter-of-fact. Toothless was silent. I heard his footsteps then he walked past me. The sound of his wings unfurled saddened me. Silently I bade him goodbye.

His wingtip stroked down my back.~~~~~ Had this picture done for like week. Was gonna try and get all the current legacy chapters illustrations done last week. Did not happen. Dah well! Working on it now! Got next chapter done so there's that. 4 down, 5 to go! Enjoy and any constructive criticism is appreciated! How To Train Your Dragon franchise © Dreamworks Midnight © Myself

#how train your dragon #httyd #toothless #nightfury #dragons

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pocminiseries · 5 years

Text

At Midnight

➵❤︎ Pairing: Jackson Wang x OC ➵❤︎ Warnings: Mature, Adult Content, Explicit Language, Gang Relations, etc ➵❤︎Genre: Romance, Fanfiction, Smut, Interracial, Urban, Non-Kpop Related. ➵❤︎Synopsis: We always seek the forbidden things we know aren't good for us but to deny what your heart truly deserves is the real tragedy. And for Imani, her savior came in the form of someone who was tainted, a man with a past who did violent acts simply for the joy of it. To be unfaithful was a sin but how could one stay away from what they truly desired, regardless of the consequences?

"11:11-Listen"

____

"...Imani? Did you hear me?"

Tearing her gaze from the passing buildings, Imani turned her focus to the man beside her, a cloud of sadness shadowing her eyes. "Yes, Jayden, I heard you." She answered, giving him a small smile.

"Is everything ok baby? You've been quiet since this morning," The concern in his voice almost made her believe he truly cared. She began to question if he ever did.

"Yeah, I'm good, just a little tired," Imani lied smoothly. Trying her best to put on the fakest performance she could. This was the last place she wanted to be - anywhere near him. She could barely look him in the eyes anymore.

She had to fight the urge to not snatch her hand away when he reached for it, placing a kiss on the back of it. "You look beautiful tonight," He softly cooed, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles as his eyes admired her frame in the sexy but classy number she chose to wear for tonight's event.

"Thank you," She whispered back just when their limo pulled in front of the venue. Both a sense of relief and dread washed over her at once simply because she didn't know how she was going to get through this night, especially with how she's been feeling.

Once Jayden had stepped out, Imani took a deep breath in an attempt to get her emotions in check. She rathered be somewhere in her bed, crying out her frustrations, not here plastering a fake smile across her face as she displayed false happiness in front of people she could really give a fuck less about. Not to mention on the arm of a man she could no longer stand to be around.

They were barely inside of the ballroom for ten minutes when that familiar warm floral scent filled her nose. "Mr. Reyes." A soft voice greeted in that same seductive tone she always used whenever she was around him. Imani glanced up at Jayden seeing him smile brightly as anger began to run through her veins.

She was just a good friend he told her, that they've been close since their middle school days - and since trust was key in any relationship, Imani blindly believed him, no questions asked.

However, Imani always caught the way he looked at her. The sparkle in his eyes whenever she was around and the neverending smile that graced his face when she spoke, which he was proudly showcasing now.

"Faithe, it's good to see you," He beamed, letting go of Imani to pull Faithe in for a hug, leaving Imani standing there awkwardly to look at an embrace she knew was more than just a friendly greeting.

As if she had just noticed Imani standing there, Faithe finally acknowledged her once she pulled away from Jayden. "Oh, Imani...that dress on you is everything," Faithe complimented her, showing off that perfect smile of hers.

It was the fact that she could stand there and smile in front of Imani's face after what she's done was crazy. Imani wanted nothing more than to knock this bitches teeth crooked. "You look great too, Faithe,"

Sporting a red bodycon dress that showed a little cleavage, Faithe looked good, it was something Imani couldn't deny her and neither could the man she called her fiancé either. His eyes have been looking her up and down like she was a piece of steak.

"Thank you," Faithe nodded before turning her attention back to Jayden. "There are some people here who want to meet you to discuss the Bellmore project. You mind meeting them?"

With no hesitation, Jayden wrapped an arm around her small waist as if Imani wasn't standing right there. "Lead the way," He replies, his eyes had been fixated on her the moment she showed up and Imani wondered if he had forgotten she even existed.

"Imani, you don't mind if I steal him away do you?" Faithe questioned, causing Jayden to finally snap from his daze and look towards Imani.

Shifting her eyes between them, the level of hurt and betrayal she felt as they stood there in front of her...was too much. The images of them lying naked while wrapped up the sheets, sound asleep in a bed that she has shared with Jayden for three years hit her hard. "Go ahead, I'll be fine," Imani nodded, forcing that fake smile back on to her face.

Watching them walk away, Imani wanted to break down and just fall to her knees. Instead, she grabbed a glass filled with champagne and headed straight outside. She needed fresh air and a place to cool herself down before she truly lost it.

Stepping out into the cool night, Imani walked towards the balcony that was only occupied by a few others. Taking a sip from her glass, she looked over the massive backyard, taking in the lush green grass and angel water fountain that sat directly in the middle. She tried to force her thoughts elsewhere but she couldn't.

All the signs were there from the beginning.

The receipts she would find in the pockets of his pants when she washed his clothes. Hotel and restaurant visit that she was never invited to or knew about because maybe...just maybe he forgot to mention it.

But Imani wasn't naive, her gut has never failed her.

When she had become suspicious of his ways, she started to dig. He always handled the bills, paying everything because in his words, 'A man is supposed to take care of the woman he loves'. So she called the bank, requesting them to email her a copy of their statements, and what she found clarified her worries.

The five-day business trip he had informed her about wasn't to New York like he had said but Greece instead, Imani has never been to Greece. And the gorgeous diamond necklace he had purchased that she had come across in the bottom of his draw wasn't a gift he for her but instead for the beautiful woman on his arm who was currently wearing it around her neck.

A part of Imani had given him the benefit of doubt and thought that maybe it was a gift he had given to her out of friendship but once more, Imani knew better.

It was all for Faithe.

Being the good woman Imani was, she chose to stay in hopes that he would see what he already had in front of him but she realized that she didn't even hold a candle to her. Especially when she was everything he has always wanted.

Even if she wanted to leave, she knew that Jayden would simply call her parents and anyone else he could, make up some bullshit lie that they'd believe and drag her ass back to him once they gave her a good talking to.

They were so brainwashed when it came to him...everyone was.

Imani wanted to scream at the top of her lungs from her frustrations. She deserved so much better.

She wondered why she was even feeling hurt, their relationship wasn't something based off of love to begin with. An engagement that was somewhat forced upon them by their meddling parents. And while he was out being unfaithful, she was left to suffer in silence.

Although Imani was a strong woman who had endured a lot, there was only so much she could take.

Too many emotions hit her at once as she stood there staring at them from the balcony. She wanted so badly to run across the room and beat both their asses at that moment but she refrained. They would get theirs, she would make sure of it.

"You're too pretty to be crying,"

Imani tore her gaze away from the happy couple inside, to the person standing not too far from her. His sweet, benevolence tone catching her attention immediately. It was the type of voice that soothed her aching heart just a bit from those few words alone.

And as she stood there openly staring at him, her fingers had never itched so badly to touch a face quite like his before.

Her mind felt as though she was imagining things. She was witnessing an angel that had to be sent from up above and no one could tell her any differently.

"Am I?" She sniffled, seeing no reason in hiding her pain.

The handsome stranger gave her a sad look, reaching his hand to wipe away the fallen tears from her face. "He's a fool," He commented, observing her confused face until he softly grabbed her hand where a shiny engagement ring adorned her finger.

Imani glanced at the ring that was supposed to bring pure happiness whenever she looked at it, now though, she wanted to toss it into the depths of the nearest ocean because of the anger it now ignited inside of her.

Blinking back her tears, she tried to hide behind her hair only to have him softly grip her chin and turn her to face him once more. Those dark brown eyes seemed to look through her, searching deeply into her own. Imani wondered if he could hear how rapidly her heart was beating inside of her chest. His touch causing goosebumps to break out on her warm skin.

"I can fix it..." He states as his thumb lightly brushes across her plump bottom lip. His words holding a double meaning, one much more of a sinister than she realized.

"Fix what?" She asked confused. This isn't where she should be, much less allowing a man she didn't know to touch her like this. But there was just something so alluring about this man that pulled her in.

"What he has broken inside of you," Whoever hurt her had messed up...badly. Allowing Imani to freely walk into the madness of Leo Rén was a mistake.

Imani looked over him curiously, not knowing how to take in his offer. She wanted to slap herself for even considering it. She didn't even know his name for fucking sake. If he was any other man speaking to her like this she would've been walked away. Maybe it was the way he looked at her or the way his words caused her to fall deeper into his trap.

Infidelity wasn't something Imani wanted to participate in, unlike her fiancé. No matter how physically pleasing this man was, she refused to allow herself to become a cheater. It wasn't in her character to do so, even if she had the right to.

"I can't..." She denied, taking a step back. "I don't even know you,"

He smirked at that, understanding her hesitance. "Leo," He introduced himself, holding out his hand for her to shake.

"Imani." She whispered, sliding her hand into his, ignoring the tingles she felt when they touched. Fearing that if she acknowledged it, she'd have to admit she didn't want their mild contact to end. His face, to the sound of his voice and the way those dark eyes stared back into her own almost had her weak in the knees.

For the first time in forever, Imani was entranced by someone. A stranger that she truly felt was not entirely real. Maybe her imagination was playing a cruel trick on her. Could no one else see this perfect specimen but her?

"Stop..." She suddenly mumbles, slipping her hand from his to rub down her shoulders as the wind blew around them.

Tilting his head to the side, he gave her a knowing grin. "Stop what?" Imani seemed to lick her lips at the husky tone of his voice. It affected her more than she would like to admit.

"Looking at me like that," She answered, shivering from the dropping temperatures or maybe something else...she wasn't quite sure herself.

Leo looked away briefly, laughing softly through his nose before focusing on her once more. "If you knew what I see when I look at you, you'd understand my reasoning,"

His words tugged at something deep within her chest, sparking a new wave of emotions she didn't know how to handle. This wasn't what she needed right now, not in her vulnerable state. Her mind wasn't thinking clearly. To even think of him in the manner that she was shouldn't be considered but lord knows how badly she just wanted to know what his arms would feel like wrapped around her body. To lose herself in his warm embrace and bask in that masculine scent of his.

Imani even wondered what his lips would feel like against her skin...and in other places as well.

Quickly shaking her head, she turned her attention towards the backyard. "Tell me something Leo, do you know what it's like to be betrayed by someone you love?" She asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"More than anyone," He replied, placing his hands inside of his pockets.

Imani nodded, holding up her hand to look at the diamond ring that adorned her finger. "She's pregnant with his child, you know?" She began to laugh bitterly as she squeezed her hand into a fist. "They think I don't know about them but I have for a while now." Biting into her bottom lip, she tried to blink away her watery eyes, hating that she was still crying over them.

Leo remained silent as his eyes looked at the beauty in front of him, wanting to reach out and pull her close and cross a line he knew he shouldn't. Someone like him didn't deserve to touch someone so precious, not with the things he has done, or because of who he was.

Turning to face him completely, Imani took a step towards him under his curious gaze. "I don't believe in being unfaithful...it's bad karma but..." She paused and looked towards the marble floor for a few seconds. "What's a sin to the brokenhearted?" If Jayden could do his dirt, then why couldn't she do the same in return.

"Tell me what you want Imani," He gently says, placing the ball in her court. Whatever happens between them will solely be up to her.

Biting her lip, she went to reach out for him only to pause, hearing someone call her name. "Imani? Have you seen Jayden? A few people are asking for him," Looking towards the voice, Imani spotted one of Jayden's business partners and good friend, Marcus, walking towards her direction.

Dropping her hand, Imani lightly smiled, pretending as if she wasn't about to commit the ultimate sin. "No, I haven't. Wasn't he with Faithe?" She asked him, catching the look Marcus had sent in Leo's direction.

"I believe so but I can't seem to find either one," He answered, his eyes going back and forth between her and Leo.

"I see. I'll go find him for you then," She informed him, taking a step to leave only to feel a warm hand grab hers. Those familiar tingles shot up her arm from his touch as she turned to face Leo. Imani could feel her heart thump wildly once their eyes met before he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against her ear.

"When you need me, come find me," He whispered, pulling away to give her a final look.

Imani swallowed, forcing herself to step away and hastily walk Marcus who she had temporarily forgotten was there, barely sparing him a glance. It wasn't until she made it inside that she felt something in her hand. Lifting the card, she read his Leo's name written in cursive gold across the matte black design, his contact info at the bottom.

The small smile that formed on her face was quickly removed when she realized the mistake she had made. What the hell was she thinking? In a moment of weakness, she was willing to do something she knew better of and with a man she barely knew at that. Gripping the card tightly in her hand, Imani headed towards the first floor, searching for Jayden.

There was a funny feeling in her gut that something was up. Faithe was missing and so was he. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure what that meant. Still, she continued to search until she wandered down a hall when she had heard it. A soft giggle coming from somewhere in the seemingly vacant area. Slowly, Imani moved forward until she reached a corner, pausing to peak around it just as Faithe leaned up to kiss her fiancé in a manner that was nothing short of passionate.

Imani wanted so badly to do something, to say something but instead, she turned on her heels and headed straight for the entrance. She didn't want to be there any longer, not when she ready to tear shit up out of frustration.

Finding the limo that they had arrived in, Imani informed the driver that it would only be her and to take her home. Clearly, Jayden could find another way home.

Sitting in the backseat, Imani eyed the ring on her finger through blurry vision. It wasn't fair. She had done everything right or as best she could. Catering to him. Loving him. Taking care of him and still, he does her like this.

Angrily wiping away her tears, she began to think of a way out. Away from Jayden, Away from her strict parents and the only life she has ever known.

#kpop fanfiction #kpopfanfic #kpop smut #jackson wang #got7 jackson #got7fanfic #got7 #got7jackson #interracialfanfic #ambw kpop #ambwfanfic #fanfic #gangsta #gangsta series #pocminiseries #maturethemes #gangrelations #jackson wang fanfic #atmidnight

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blogmollylane · 4 years

Text

Extract from a much larger project

So this is part of something I hope to work into a much longer piece and I am interested to hear what people think. Please be nice, I think the internet has enough negativity already, lets not add to it.

The Tale of Kindred Sprits

Oblique osiria roses, in hues of silver-white and scarlet-red, encased in suspended bird cages above the reflecting pool. Sporadically roses had escaped their pendant confinements. These lucky ones had wound themselves serpentine around their former prisons, climbing the shackles in defiance. Surrounded by vaulted windows admitting in the last evanescent rays of the setting sun, there Tristian sat by the pool’s edge. Basking in the private serenity of the rotunda’s current kenopsia as sparrows’ euphonious serenades kept him company. Such a rare indulgence to savour in.

Exhaling, he let go another lungful of smoke, watching the grey wraiths waltz in obscure patterns before fading away. Only the rich oaky tang of its brief existence lingers in the floral air. Eying the fallen petals drifting on the still waters, he mused if like constellations, they too delivered prophecies. Their positions, giving inklings to the mysteries Providence like the lines on his palms. Perhaps if better skilled in the art of deviation, Fate’s past designs could have been descried ahead of tragedy striking.

Fingers swept back strands of silver hair from his face; he took in the left eye. Once there was a perfect carbon copy of its right-side twin, another bright sapphire iris. Now a pitch-black pit encircled by raw, angry scars stared back.

Enough tears were shed in the bloody aftermath of the mutilation. Ravenous wrath lived within him, binding it’s time for vengeance. Tristian acknowledged its rising presence, but held it back fast, never losing grip. Rage yield, remained patient and sharpened talons in preparation. The perpetrator may be roaming freely in the Diamond’s hall, their leverage sitting pretty for now. What seethed beneath Tristian’s skin, ardent in his veins, volatile in his soul was what drove him. Their eventual ruin would be worthwhile and wrath will have its feast.

Glass doors swung open. Startled birds flew from their perches and footfalls click-clacked on the ivory-ebony chequered floor. Lady Delacroix. Her trembling fists were clenched so horribly tight, her nails left behind miniature crescent scars and gained fresh scarlet specks underneath. Her long eyelashes brim tears yearning to break free, racing to the edge. Head hung low, flaxen curls ragged. Wisps of baby’s breaths woven into her loose braids drooping over.

Most people never took heed of these tiniest details. If they did, they left her in the hollow loneliness to put her self back together. Jagged puzzle pieces that didn’t fit, acting as daggers that pierced her unhealed heart, too alien to recognize shards of their former selves. Walls, meticulously built and exhaustedly rebuilt, in danger of collapsing again. Crumbling bricks already bearing the wear of prior takedowns. Sandcastles had better resistance. Moisture spring from her eyes, but crying was not a healthy release. Crying was a filthy habit and she didn’t want another relapse.

But Tristian caught sight of her a pigment of sorrow, a rosy glow exchange for red splotches. He didn’t know why he did it at that particular moment. Out of sympathy was the original hypothesis. He calls her by name, but not her real name. The name that was her purported birthright, but wasn’t truly hers. Followed by a stupid question.

“Lady Delacroix. Lady Delacroix, are you alright?”

Shoulders sagged, she picks up the pace.

“Erica?”

She halts, surprised. Discreetly wipes away a lone tear that had eluded her defences before gyrating around. Crooked her lips into a small, frail smile accessorized with verdure orbs that have banished their original sparkle.

“Yes, your Highness?”

“Are you alright? You seem upset.”

The automatic lie of “Oh no, I’m fine” slipped out.

Tristian frowned, inhaling fresh nicotine. His right eye, a lone spotlight fixated on her. This acute opia coerced that mastered grin a little too wide, glued two female feet to the floor. Far worse than the blinding journalistic flashlights; they were searching for faults. Erica couldn’t fathom what Tristian was looking for.

He came closer. Too close, far too close. Close enough for her to smell dried ink, ember and mint off him. Fingernails dig deeper. “You sure?”

“I... just needed a breather that’s all. It’s so stifling here this evening.”

Please let me go.

“I imagine that one so used to the wide open spaces that your old home back in Pyrite had to offer, you are still getting use to the confines of the Diamond.”

Actually, I left one cage to enter into another.

“Indeed,” Erica swallowed, “At least, we are safe here up in the clouds. That was your father’s initial intentions when he first drew up plans for its construction after the deaths of his brothers and your grandfather.”

“My father is not a practical man, Erica. He chooses style above substance. The Diamond’s main purpose is to be a personification of his powers first and foremost, a permanent grand exhibition celebrating his glorious eminency second. He did not want the royal residence to share the same ground as the common folk. Safety was not on top of his priorities. Image was.”

“You called me Erica again.”

“I think we can lessen the formalities in private, don’t you?”

Erica found it strange No one really pays attention to what she had to say regardless of content. Her voice was radio silence, background noise, insignificant...

“I should go. The evening star will arrive soon. Apologies for disturbing you.”

“No need to act contrite Erica.” He leaned in, “But if something has-“

“It hasn’t!”

A hard sigh and a mumbled sorry for the snap interruption. Obscure the splinter of the warring tempest below. Guilt rotting inside, its oxidization pricking beneath her unblemished skin. One of the many same old unresolved feelings piling up for years now. She didn’t mean it.

“I’m fine, really, I am.”

“Do I scare you Erica?”

“No.” Lies persisted on tumbling out. He didn’t believe her, of course. Let’s tell a rueful half truth then. “A... little,” she barely whispered, rich teal heels becoming fascinating.

“And what is it that terrifies you?”

“I don’t know what’s in your mind. I get the impression that-“she falter, vacillation halted any finished sentence transpiring, afraid of probable costs, rummaging around for safe words. “That there’s something that aggravates you, pestering at you, gnawing at you. You haven’t found the resolution yet. You believe that you have taken precautions, making a friend of it. But it wants to break free and when it does...”

Sparrows suppress their breath; no sing-song alleviated this silence. Faintest of changes in Erica’s heartbeat, at a higher volume than typical. Tristian contemplated on her words. Billowing cigarette smoke clouded his face, never phasing, masking his cerebral interior. Eyebrows narrowed intently as he gazed back up to the pensile art structure with its florid coils, as if asking it for advice.

“May I ask how you came up with that observation?” he finally said.

“Depends on how you will take it... Tristian.”

“I’m tougher than I look, Erica. Comes with the media saturated territory. I’m interested to hear your findings on me.”

“Well, if you say so,” she paused slightly before resuming, “Whenever we’re in the same room, you seem irate to be there with no proven cause. I don’t know if it’s my doing or just merely my presence that unnerves you.”

Tristian’s feature’s softened. “Erica, I don’t hate you if that is what you are assuming.”

“I wasn’t!” she panicked that he could interpret her thoughts superior to her own translation to his, unpleasant heat rising in her cheeks.

Erica had always preferred the comfort of what the stars pinpointed to, not ellipsism. That’s what terrified her most about Tristian, and to a much larger extent panoptical strangers. Their inauspicious indefiniteness, difficult to decipher unlike the movements of clinquant nocturnal auroras.

This decoding into the conundrum that was Tristian was convoluted even more when a masculine amused chuckle caused her to return her focus on the suedette fabric of her shoes. Perplexment conflated with discomfiture on her face. She stole a peep, purloining a faint smile from the spare, a concise vision far removed from the usual sullen presence.

“What is so funny?”

“Apologies Erica. I didn’t mean to be unkind. I am also sorry to have given you that impression. It was not intentional. Perhaps, we should have gotten better acquainted on our own terms before forming such opinions.”

“Then what do you think of me?”

“Of you?”

“I gave you my thoughts. Only fair if you give me yours.”

Tristian took another deep meditative drag. Erica was looking up at him, a bit braver now, waiting patiently for an answer. He studied her for a prolonged moment.

“You’re made of sunshine Erica. When people try to eclipse that radiance, you somehow find a way to let it shine through. An admirable trait to have.”

Quite the compliment to receive. Blinking eyes search for mistruths which turned out to be a fruitless endeavour. Mouth slightly tugs at the corners, almost curves upwards. Unsteady heat warms the back of her neck, escalating in her cheeks. Still found it hard to believe. Nonetheless, found her hollow self filled with warmth and flickers of light. She murmured thanks, for that was the polite thing to do, deciding it was best to leave it at that.

Thank you for reading.

#my writing #extract #fiction #romance #fairytale #writers on tumblr #and now for something completely different #kingdom #blushing #falling in love #fantasy #decopunk

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spookilyfingergunsoutofexistence · 5 years

Text

How do you measure power?

Chapter 2 of ?

Read on ao3 here

Prologue next chapter

This is the first chapter.

Enjoy

Tw: mentions of death, violence, blood, crime, mentions of cheating, Mentions of malnutrition, terrorist attack, mentions of bombing, coma

~~~~

“Sam! Hurry up. Visiting hours are nearly over.” Virgil was pacing the kitchen waiting for his girlfriend Samantha. She’d been at the hospital at the time of the attack. What had been at first reported as a chemical spill was soon reported for what it truly was, a terrorist attack. A bomb that contained a highly toxic, radioactive substance had been let off in the west wing of the hospital. Samantha worked on the east ring with Patton. The explosion alone killed over eighteen victims and within hours the highly radioactive substance had caused high amounts of radiation poisoning. Death spread throughout the hospital like the common cold. Months had passed since the attack and people were still under quarantine. Many like Patton who had been deemed to be in a coma had died and almost everyone in a half a mile radius of the hospital had high levels of radiation inside them; most fatal amounts but some were lucky. No one in that entire hospital walked out ok and yet here Samantha was- burn scars on her face from the explosion but only a low level of radiation. Virgil didn’t question it. He just felt lucky she was ok. Right now though he was just excited to see his best friend for the first time in months. Sure, he was anxious about the gas masks and hazmat suits and inspections he would have to go through to see Patton and he couldn’t even imagine what he was going to say to Logan. Logan had always been the quiet type and they had never really got along or talked much but they both shared an appreciation for space. Logan had visited since the day he heard about the explosion. He had gone every day since. He couldn’t even touch his husband without wearing gloves or having some sort of material between them. Logan had been forced to wear a suit and a gas mask for all these months. Not only that but he had to wear a radiation monitor which would beep obnoxiously when he had to leave. They wouldn’t let him leave the building without first washing himself down in their on-site cleaning station and taking some mandatory pill that apparently lowered any form of radiation poisoning. To Virgil the whole procedure sounded insane. By the time you’d got in or out your loved one could be dead.

Samantha walked downstairs and fondly rolled her eyes as she watched Virgil pacing the hall. She gently placed her hands on his shoulders and stopped him from pacing, “Virgil.. Breathe.. Breath with me storm cloud. Did you take your meds?” Virgil nodded and slowly breathed along with her feeling himself slowly become calmer. He built up his courage as he walked out of the door and on to the quiet streets of his small town. Virgil had grown up in this lively, little town. It had always been a colourful place full of cheery people and an uplifting atmosphere. To an outsider it didn’t have much to offer but to Virgil it was his safe place. Everyone was so friendly and in this place you knew everyone. Nothing ever changed. That’s why the attack had affected Virgil so much. It was like his entire world had changed. This lovely town that he adored with his entire being was now a place of tragedy, death and despair. No one left their homes anymore. Streets were filled with an eerie silence. Streets full of colour and joy, once filled with people and innocent young minds playing around in warm bustling markets and parks. Store fronts packed with flowers of bright orange and red hues now lay decayed. It was as though someone had painted over the town with dark greys and dull browns. A dismal, depressing atmosphere had taken over what had once been paradise. Virgil felt tense just walking down his street; a street he had walked thousands of times. The gloom was equivalent of a large boulder resting on each residents’ shoulders. Virgil had always been a sore thumb among the town. His whole aesthetic was based around darkness and edge but even he despised the inky black fog that now engulfed his town in darkness. In hard times most tight knit towns in fairy tales and stories are said to band together and ‘rebuild’ but this clearly wasn’t the case. People cared more about living themselves then risking their lives to help others and so the people of this town had locked themselves indoors. After the attack, many places of work had closed as a safety regulation for both the customers and staff causing many people to be out of work and lose money. People in the town had started to go hungry and many resorted to crime. Crime rates were at an all time high and now there was reports of superhuman robberies. It was truly a time of terror.

Virgil walked quickly, practically dragging Samantha along with him. His eyes frantically searched the streets in case of danger. He would be useless if any danger would befall them but if push came to shove and he was in a fight or flight situation at least he could run. Damn he was a fast runner.

“C’mon Sammy..” his voice was hushed, “If we go quickly we might not run into any trouble.” The pair hurried down the long, winding road towards the hospital in town centre. Sam looked ready to fight anyone who even looked at her funny. She had her fists clenched as she raced just behind Virgil and her eyes squinted, searching the shadows for any sign of life. Virgil would be lying if he said he was focused on the streets. He was more worried about the woman he had firmly clasped in his grip. They had been through a rough patch lately over the past months of the attack. Samantha had a habit of lying little and often- Virgil usually let it slide but he’d just been so paranoid lately and when Sam would spend her nights away from home and only return late at night it made him anxious. What was she up to? Was she off running some crime circle or maybe she was cheating on him? Maybe she didn’t love him anymore and had found somebody else. It would explain how she managed to survive the attack; maybe she never was even there at the hospital that day. He wouldn’t put it past Samantha to have lied but he couldn’t bare confrontation without having solid evidence. Part of him hoped he would never have to confront her, he loved Sam and he wanted her to be real with him. Maybe he’d forgi- No. He couldn’t forgive that but he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Maybe she was just lucky.

One bad turn. It took one bad turn before they were faced with bats and knives. All thoughts of Sam cheating flew from Virgil’s mind as he froze in the face of danger. Panic bubbled inside of him like a volcano ready to erupt but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. His basic instincts were stripped away as he just stood there gaping as though he was a fish. The men looked blood thirsty and cold. Much different to the fishermen they had once been. Virgil had been well acquainted with most of the men. He knew their names, their wives’ names and the names of all their children. He could tell you where each lived and had babysitted for many of them before. Whatever former relationship he shared with each of these men was clearly gone now as they all cornered the young couple. “Richard.. Buddy. How are the kids?” Sammy asked. She sounded calm- threatening almost. The man clearly flinched from the question, but the group got closer still. Persistent. Virgil felt like he was in the lion’s den. Perhaps he was already trapped within the lion’s jaws, his head ready to be snapped off at any second. If he reached Patton it would be a miracle. He could feel the breath hitting his face. The repugnant smell of fish encased him. This was not how he imagined death. He had imagined it to be slow and graceful. He had imagined it to be a welcomed experience once he had reached old age and was married to Sammy and had kids. Death was nothing like that. Cold metal burned his skin. The blade pressed against his sensitive neck drawing a fresh line of crimson blood. His eyes stung with unshed tears as he stared into the eyes of old friends. This surely couldn’t be how he died…

“Stop you fiends!” A loud, obnoxious voice yelled. A booming sound that send shivers down Virgil’s spine. The men all froze- not in horror but as though on command. Their angered faces turned blank and robotic. They all fell back into line as though they were military men and just stood there. “Go home and leave these people be!” The voice demanded. The men oddly left without argument. A man with neatly styled brown hair and caramel skin walked out from the shadows and towards the couple. He was wearing a dark brown oversized sweater and a warm smile. His faded blue jeans looked out of character for that of a super hero. He clearly was just some guy but to Virgil he was a hero. “Roman O’Connell?!” Virgil shrieked. Just his luck that he was saved by the guy he has spent the entirety of high school crushing over. Hard. Virgil had been an anxious bisexual mess all his life and of course that sexy budding author had managed to write himself back into Virgil’s life somehow. “I thought you moved to New York to try and get onto Broadway.” Roman chuckled at this. It was a low sound that bounced against the walls and brought a small smile to the young emo’s face. “Yeah. I moved for a bit, but I changed my mind. My first book took off and I decided I was better off at home. Who knew that weeks after I moved back the world would come crashing down on this small place?” Virgil nodded in agreement. He met eyes with his old friend. Roman had grown so much. He looked so much more mature and at peace. He’d always been an over-confident clown but now he had an air of responsibility around him. “So you’re playing superhero now O’Connell.” Sam commented. Her eyebrow was raised so high Virgil thought it might fly off her face. Roman looked shocked at first but he quickly recovered. “Why of course!” he exclaimed, “You know I can’t bear to leave a gorgeous damsel such as yourself fall victim to such a brutal attack, dear Samantha.” Virgil groaned at Roman’s theatrics. That was the man he knew. The man who flirted and hid behind walls. The man that constantly walked the line between fiction and non-fiction.

“But how did you do that? Those folks looked like zombies. Are you one of those superhumans?” The three fell silent at the question. Roman looked awkwardly between the two. The answer to the question was obvious and yet held such a level of secrecy. It wasn’t normal. “W-Why yes.. I am. The radiation… It changed me. It’s like writing a story. Everything I narrate comes true within reason. Pretty cool right?”

“Cure Patton.”

“What?” Roman and Sam both looked at Virgil shocked. “Bring all the people who died from the attack back. Bring Patton out of his coma. Narrate it. Just say, ‘Patton woke up and all the people who died were saved.’ If you’re some big hero now you should save them.” Roman stared at Virgil with soft, heartbroken eyes. He wanted to help those who were in pain more then anything, He knew Patton- he would love to help him and to bring back those who were dead, but the feat was just…. Impossible. It was beyond his reach. “Virgil my powers don’t work like that. I’m sorry. Truly, I am but I cannot just wish people back to life. I cannot perform the impossible.” Virgil sighed. He was asking the world from somebody he hadn’t seen in so long. It was unfair. They all stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence for a while until Sam spoke up, “Well Roman, it has been lovely seeing you but I’m afraid it’s time we go. Visiting times are almost over.” Roman nodded and Virgil went to say his goodbyes to his old friend before being quickly rushed away by Samantha off towards the hospital. Virgil sent Roman an apologetic look as he was dragged away which was met with a small smile. That stupid smile that made Virgil’s knees weak and his heart pound against his rip cage. He knew it was wrong to like Roman whilst he was with Sam, but he couldn’t help it. It was only a harmless crush and it was clearly obvious due to Sammy’s reaction. He let his thoughts whisk him away as they raced along the barren streets towards ‘Sunnyside hospital’. An ironic name for a place so dull and full of sadness, especially since the sunshine in a lot of the towns day to day life was currently laying half dead on a hospital bed. Virgil just wished he could do something to help his friend. He just wanted to see him. To be there for Logan. God, he couldn’t imagine how much this all hurt Logan. Patton and Logan were like the sun and the moon- one was bright and warm, making everyone’s days better and the other was mysterious and beautiful. They both worked together in making the Earth brighter and without one their would be complete darkness and despair.

“Virgil.. We’re nearly there. We’d be there faster if you’d hurry up.” Sam urged as she dragged him down the street. Virgil hurried behind letting his mind settle as his soul focus became the hospital. The building was in ruins since the explosion. The west wing looked like a post war zone. It was destroyed, rubble crumbling to the floor and overgrown plants growing into the walls. The building reeked of decay. The east ring wasn’t any prettier. Broken walls were covered by white sheets that blew in the wind. The entrance to the hospital had become a quarantine zone in which you would go through the prior mentioned process before visiting any family. The hospital had only been open to close family for the first couple months but now it was the first day in which friends could visit. Virgil sprinted the rest of the way to the entrance. The adrenaline finally catching up with him. He had to go see his friend right now. They both entered the hospital and went through the long, tedious process. Finally, after being suited up and ready they were walked down the halls towards where Patton was being kept. The hospital was full of agony. As Virgil walked he could hear the howls of patients in pain and the cries of family members in utter anguish. A pool of dread sat in the bottom of his stomach. Maybe he didn’t want to see his friend like this. Patton had always been the strong one. The guy that had been there for him when Virgil was at his lowest or was feeling his most anxious. Seeing Patton hurt felt like the curtain call. He didn’t want to think about a reality in which Patton was dead. It was silly right? Everybody dies but Virgil just couldn’t imagine a world without his best friend.

They reached the door. E34. His hand rested on the door handle. He knew his hand was shaking, the door handle rattled under his grip. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Click.

The door opened to a dimly lit room. Logan sat asleep on a chair beside Patton’s bed. Their hands clasped together. Patton’s was unmoving whilst Logan’s was gripping Patton’s limply. Both men looked broken. Logan’s black hair was long and greasy- a complete change to his usual buzzcut style. It flopped over his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t washed himself or eaten for days. His glasses were askew on his face and his shirt was dirty as though he hadn’t left in a long time. Virgil tried to avoid looking at his friend. The man’s curly blond hair had grown since he’d last seen him. It covered his eyes. His round glasses sat on the desk covered in a thin layer of dust. His normally red, freckle-filled cheeks were drained of all colour. He was unnaturally pale and sickly. His pink lips were as pale as his skin and he looked thinner then usual. Virgil found himself looking away from them both, gripping Samantha’s hand tightly who let out a sob once laying eyes on the couple. He ran his eyes over Patton’s limp body once more. He was still in his nurses’ uniform. He looked so at peace- as though he was ready to go. He watched his hand that Logan held intensely. The hand twitched slightly and as though by a miracle they intertwined. Despite the crazy, despite the blood shed and crime. Despite every odd fighting against it love had found a way. Love had wo-

A shrill scream erupted from Patton’s lips as though he were still in that explosion. The sound shook Logan awake. The sound thundered against the walls with ear piercing intensity and was laced with pure terror. As quickly as the hand was intertwined it was ripped away. Patton sat up quickly. His eyes that were once a deep ocean blue were now a pure white. Even the pupil was colourless. Virgil stared on in horror as his friend frantically looked around the room. Scanning every surface with his eyes.

“Patton! Patton! My love it’s ok. You’re safe I’m right here. You’re fi-“

“I’m dead.”

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@sandersfandersblog

#thomas sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #logic sanders #logan sanders #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #ts princey #ts roman #deceit sanders #morality sanders #virgil sanders #princey sanders #creativity sanders #roman sanders #anxiety sanders #anxceit #prinxiety

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