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wevegottogetaway · 3 years

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Coming full circle

Here’s a little blurb about the Grammy’s, because some things just simply can’t be overlooked. I’ve also wanted to try and write in second person for a while and I thought this was the perfect occasion. Tell me what you think, I’m interested in knowing what you prefer! Happy reading xx (gif source)

The anticipation has become unbearable at this point. Sitting on the couch of the hotel suite you’ve checked in the day before, you feel more trapped here than simply waiting for your boyfriend to come back - or should you say Grammy winner boyfriend now? Watching the whole show on a flat screen rather than with your own heart-shaped eyes has been a pain to begin with, but now that there is a tiny gold trophy topping off the night with a pinch of two gifted fingers, it is downright torture.

Your legs keep fidgeting in restless expectation as you know Harry’s return is now eminent. The suspense of the show had you going insane for hours and now that it’s all over and done with, you can’t wait to shower him with love and sweet devotion. All the passion, all the self-imposed high standards, all the hard work, have finally paid off in the eyes of the academy, and though he’s always had the encouragement of his fans, it feels good to be recognized within the industry as well. To get a hat tip from pears and musicians he looks up to. To be able to bring the six pounds momento back to you since an infinitesimal but still real part of it was your doing. Also, he can’t wait to share it all with you.

At last, after the umpteenth sigh whizzing from your mouth, you finally hear it. Footstep coming to a halt behind the door, the sound of someone rummaging through their pockets for a keycard, a few lighthearted curses when said key plays hard to get, and finally several seconds later, the soft click of the lock signaling authorized entrance.

As soon as the door starts moving on its hinges, you leap to your feet to stand a couple meters from the entrance, arms crossed behind your back. And there he is.

The charismatic superstar you’ve just worshipped on TV all night is now standing in front of you in all his charming dimpled glory, orange and yellow plaid Gucci suit still on, swathed in feathery boas. Because, yes, he’s brought back all three of them; green, purple and black fluff all tangling around his upper limbs as he attempts to remove his heeled boots without tripping. If his clumsier than usual demeanor didn’t give away his slightly inebriated state, then the rosy tint coloring his cheeks was a big telltale sign of the few celebratory drinks he’d indulged throughout the night.

Harry stops dead in his tracks once his eyes fall on your frame. A shy grin appears on his flushed face, before your own lips part to mirror his glee. And for a hot minutes, it’s just that. You and him, facing each other across the hallway like in a makeshift Western dual, except you’re bearing no guns to fire at each other. Your only weapons are your beaming smiles and unconditional support.

Then there is no greater feeling than the fireworks exploding in your chest when you finally cave and run to him. He catches you with two sturdy arms as your wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. The deep belly laugh vibrating in his chest against yours is music to your ears and you can’t help but whisper "I am so fuckin’ proud o’ you," in the shell of his, before squeezing him even tighter against you. He buries his joy in your neck in response, knowing if he tried to kiss you right now, it’d be more of a smash of lips and clash of teeth than anything.

Once your elation simmers down just enough to relax your distended smiles though, your lips meet in a passionate embrace, tongues softly licking at the sweetest of each others’ mouth; yours from the strawberries you’ve had for dessert and his from the champagne that had been served all night at the Grammy’s.

As your hands reach up to cup his jaw, his come off your thighs to unwrap one of the boas from his neck and swaddle it around you. You squeal and giggle in delight at the furry material tickling the nape of your neck and Harry’s eyes sparkle in satisfaction, "knew you’d wanna have one, now we match."

Your heart is positively soaring, you just extend your new accessory around his neck so that you’re both protected by the green boa’s higher guardian spirit, and then you lean in for another kiss. For a while the two of you are caught up in your bubble, reveling in this night of magic and well-deserved acclaims, pride seeping through your pore to sneak under his skin much like his love for you had at the beginning of your relationship.

"I love you," the three words leave your lips as you lean your forehead against his and Harry promptly echoes the sentiment while walking you to the king size cloud-looking bed awaiting you both. He gently lowers you down upon the silk sheets, you hair spreading across the pillow cases with a look of sheer bliss etched upon your delicate features. If he weren’t so in awe of you and in awe of tonight, his signature smirk would probably taunt you with the fact that it won’t take much to unravel you tonight.

Instead he just hovers for another languid kiss, all his senses heightened by the evening’s ethereality. The sound of his name falling from the Troubadour’s manager is still reeling in his mind alongside the buzz that has been coursing through his veins ever since he took those bambi steps all the way to the stage to receive the long-awaited award for the fruit of his labour. Now that he’s come home in your arms to share every bit of that success, everything feels magnified.

He swears he’s never love you more than tonight when he’s feeling at the top and you’re here to hold his hand.

It’s a high like no other and one fix is just not cutting it. This requires a myriad of caresses and affections trailed along smooth skin. This was born out of support and loving inspiration that need to be returned to their muse in kisses that match the heat of the passion that instigated all this dream. This needs to be spelt out in love language across your body’s every nerve-endings - twice - and shouted from each one of LA’s skyscraper’s rooftop.

So Harry gets to work, diligently covering every inch of your skin with his appreciation and traipsing his reverence all the way down to the waistband of your panties with your grip in his hair accompanies his descent towards your sensitivity. "Gonna put those Grammy winning lips on me?" the smug look on your face is immediately whipped out by a moan as he noses at your clit.

"Seems only fair," he sucks at your mound through the cotton, "won the damn thing writing about eating your pussy. Reckon I didn’t properly thank you in my acceptance speech." Slowly he drags the flimsy lace down your legs before tasting your arousal with a long fat sweep of his tongue. "M’just comin’ full circle is all." You can feel his amusement against your core as you let out a giggle of your own at his silliness.

Your playful banter is quickly replaced by a symphony of moans and gasps that leave the both of you absolutely spent by the time the night reaches its real peak. After all, your acknowledgment means so much more to him than any award he could possibly receive/ Especially if it comes as sweet as your gratitude always does.

➪ Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles grammy #harry styles smut #just a teeny bit in passing lol #harry styles fluff #harry blurb

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vannahfanfics · 3 years

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Heavenly Bodies

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Mina Ashido, Eijirou Kirishima

Additional Tags: Quirkless AU

Howdy, everyone! Today I have my story for the @ashidobigbang! I had the privilege of working with the wonderful @mallowfac, so be sure to go give her beautiful art some love!

The picturesque campus of U.A. High School was always abuzz with activity, even after the final bells rang to mark the end of the school day. As expected of the number-one high school in the district, the institution hosted a vast number of after-school sports and clubs, so much that it was almost unheard of for a student to be uninvolved in anything. Thus, even as the sun had sunk low across the sky, the halls were still packed with many students fervently discussing events and fundraising and planning, walking to and from their classrooms.

The exterior of the school was no exception; one would be hard pressed to find an empty sidewalk or field—except for today, when the American football team would be taking on the baseball team in an impromptu flag football game to determine once and for all the title of best sport. The halls and sidewalks and fields were abandoned, for the entire student body had crammed themselves within the confines of the spacious practice field nestled in the back corner of the campus. The baseball team had asserted that football was so easy that even they could do it, and the school had become divided on whether or not that was true.

“Kick their asses, Eijirou!” a particularly loud fan crowed from the top of the bleachers. He was standing tall, hands cupped around his mouth and stamping his feet as he cheered for the school’s idol and star quarterback. The bleachers sang with chants and stomps, trying desperately to smother the boos drifting from the opposite end of the field, where the baseball team’s supporters sat. Eijirou Kirishima, his grin blinding and his red hair gleaming in the spring sun, laughed nervously as praise was rained down upon him.

As Mina zeroed in on him in the lens of her binoculars, she knew she’d found her latest victim— er, recruit.

Mina Ashido was the president—and only member—of U.A.’s astronomy club. Well, it wasn’t technically a club yet since they needed two members for the administration to approve the application. An avid admirer of all things cosmological and an aspiring astronomer, Mina refused to allow her pride and joy to collapse before it had even begun. Thus, for the last few months, she’d been concocting hare-brained scheme after hare-brained scheme to recruit at least one more member and officially christen the U.A. Guild of Astronomers and Astrophysicists. All of her efforts, unfortunately, had crashed and burned brighter than a supernova.

At first, she’d just camped out in the hallways and leisure areas pitching her case and attempting to garner interest in the subject, but she’d been met with polite refusals or awkward avoidance. With so many extracurriculars available, sometimes drastic measures had to be taken to garner interest in a club— the Shakespearean drama club, for example, had performed Macbeth completely backwards in the courtyard, and their numbers had swelled immediately. Mina had cooked up a dramatic scheme of her own, which involved her running around the school screaming about a falling star and the end times. After inciting a mass school panic that led to a lockdown and police involvement, all Mina had managed to acquire was a fierce scolding, detention, and the label as a kook—not even one person expressed interest in joining her club even for the shits and giggles! No, it was clear that the inner workings of her mind were too sophisticated for humble high school students and staff, so she would have to try a more nuanced approach—manipulating the most vital high school variable: popularity.

Her first target had been gorgeous cheerleader and school sweetheart, Momo Yaoyorozu. Despite the stereotype that popular girls were great big bitches, Momo had been nothing but polite when refusing Mina, since her rigorous practice schedule would unfortunately not allow her to devote the time to the club it deserved (but they did regularly meet up for Sunday tea now!). The next one to fall into her crosshairs was the school heartthrob Shoto Todoroki. He’d entertained her for an afternoon, but he destroyed one of her very expensive telescopes while attempting a night viewing and she’d politely informed him that perhaps he wasn’t cut out for it. He didn’t seem too sad about it, though he did occasionally ask her how the recruiting was going when they met in the halls. Very sweet guy, but bless him, he was an airhead.

Thus, Mina had moved on to her next opportunity—the pride and joy of U.A.’s sports program, star American football player Eijirou Kirishima. Incredibly handsome, charismatic, and kind-hearted, Eijirou was beloved by everyone at U.A. If Mina managed to recruit him to her humble club, half the student body would be clamoring to join before it was printed in the school news the next day.

She snickered to herself as she watched him through her binoculars, hiding in the thick, leafy bushes lining the backside of the sports complex. Her cotton candy-colored hair blended well with the hydrangeas blooming amidst the emerald leaves, camouflaging her as she conducted her vital research. The redhead strode across the field with confidence, yet his sunny smile made him seem anything but arrogant. Though she couldn’t hear him, she could see his lips moving as he relayed orders to his team while they set up the play. The players seamlessly fell into an offensive stance, a testament to the faith they held in their captain—and how seriously he took their practice and performance.

A deep and bassy “huuuuup!” resounded through the field, and then the player hiked the ball. With a speed much at odds with his muscular frame, Eijirou took off down the field. Mina admittedly salivated a little as she watched his muscles ripple, his gray muscle tank displaying his biceps and triceps in mouthwatering detail. She could see the sweat shining on his skin and flicking from his hair as he whipped his head around to eye the ball that was sailing through the air toward him. The baseball team’s defense could only watch in awe as Eijirou leaped into the air over the endzone. The ball landed in his arms like it belonged there, his grip smug and sure as he landed in the touchdown zone. The supporting crowd erupted into deafening cheers, while Eijirou just smiled bashfully and gave a little wave.

Mina lowered her binoculars to compose herself, a blush dusting her cheeks. So effortless… And the crowd loves it! she thought in awe. No matter what, I have to get him to join the Astronomy Club! She snapped the binoculars back to her eyes, watching intensely. She really didn’t need to watch the entire game, but… damn, that was a mouthwatering piece of man. She had to find some way to entertain herself while she waited for the game to end and her chance to corner him to finally present itself.

Needless to say, the football team absolutely demolished the baseball team. The rival players marched back to their diamond in defeat along with their gaggle of supporters, while the crowd flooded the practice field to heft a very bemused but giddy Eijirou on their shoulders with chants of his name. They dunked the container of water over his head as soon as his feet touched the grass again, making him laugh jovially. Mina’s heart fluttered at the sound; his laugh was as sunny as the rest of him, so bright she almost felt the need to close her eyes. He was just blinding, like the most intense star.

And just like with a star, Mina gravitated toward him.

Eventually, the raucous crowd dispersed and the football team started heading to the locker rooms to change out of their sweaty gym gear. They came tromping onto the sidewalk, with Eijirou trailing in the rear dripping wet and trying to wring water out of his tank. Mina almost forgot to spring out of the bushes, too occupied with the planes of his abs being revealed each time he wrung the fabric. She remembered her mission just as he passed the hydrangea bush, and leaped out in front of him with a delighted trill.

“That was a wonderful game, Eijirou!” she squealed, throwing her arms up and hiking up one leg behind her in a cute little flourish. The redhead jumped back with a small gasp, startled by her sudden appearance and the leaves and hydrangea petals clinging to her clothes and the soft fibers of her pink hair. Once he recovered, however, he gave her a charming smile that nearly had her melting into a pile of space slush.

“Oh! Thanks. Hey, you’re, uh—” he snapped his fingers quickly as he struggled to recall her, then pointed his fingers at her in a gun-like shape once it clicked, “Mina Ashido! You have homeroom with Tsuyu from the Amphibian Care club. She talks about you when she helps run the concession stand sometimes!”

“That’s right! The one and only!” she chirped, trying to suppress the surge of anger at the fact that Tsuyu could recruit for her club about pet frogs and turtles but Mina couldn’t get one single underling. Not to worry; that will all change soon!

“This might be an odd question, but, uh… is there a reason you were hiding in the bushes?” he laughed awkwardly. Mina blushed when he leaned forward to gently brush the leaves and petals from her shoulders and hair, which made her short-circuit for a second. It was only when he looked at her inquisitively that her brain jump-started again.

“O-oh! I thought it would be fun to surprise you! Yanno, like in the movies where someone jumps out of a big ol’ birthday cake!” It was a bold-faced lie, but it wasn’t like she could tell him she was spying on him through binoculars while she schemed to reel him into her club. Trying to keep him from thinking too hard about it, she placed her hands on her hips and straightened up. “I watched your practice match with the baseball team and have decided that you’ll be a perfect fit for the Astronomy Club! So please join. <3”

Eijirou blinked owlishly at her, his bright red eyes swimming with confusion. He smiled bashfully, clearly trying not to let his utter perplexity show on his face. He rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle.

“Well, um, I’m really not sure how you made that connection watching me play…”

“The inner workings of a woman’s mind are quite an enigma~” she hummed with a waggle of her finger. Eijirou only scrunched his eyebrows in confusion and jumped when she slapped her hand down on his shoulder. “Seriously! You seem like a great fit! Please consider at least trying it out for a little while?” She batted her eyelashes demurely; if nothing else, her womanly charms could entice the burly football player to at least humor her for a while.

Sure enough, a pink blush dusted across his cheeks and a bashful smile curled onto his lips.

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt checking it out… Stars are cool…”

“Fabulous!” she squealed, making Eijirou flinch again as she clapped her hands together and jumped up and down in elation. Even if Eijirou didn’t join permanently, just the rumor of his interest in her humble little club was liable to attract attention. “I know that you’re busy with football practice, so we’ll schedule club meetings on Friday afternoons when you don’t have them, okay?”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I don’t want to inconvenience any—”

“Great! So it’s settled then! I’ll see you on Friday afternoon in Room 310!” With that, she jumped back into her bush, leaving Eijirou staring at the quivering leaves in confusion. Through the gaps in the branches, she saw him open and close his mouth like he wanted to say something, look around and then up at the sky with a pensive look, and then smile with a shrug of his shoulders. Mina clutched her binoculars to her chest as a smile bloomed on her own lips, but one of satisfaction. Surely this will work! The Astronomy Club will be booming in no time! She thought with a giddy snicker.

If nothing else, she could look at Eijirou’s absolutely dreamy body and face for a few club meetings and drive his fangirls nuts.

At the end of the week, Mina paced impatiently in front of Room 310, chewing her fingernails to nubs as her eyes darted back and forth around the hall. It had only been a few minutes since the final bell had rung and the students had scattered to attend to their Friday afternoon obligations (or lack thereof), but anxiety swirled in Mina’s belly at the complete emptiness of the halls. Has he stood me up? Was I too pushy? Is he secretly a great big jerk who is nice to people’s faces but scathingly berates them behind their back to his football teammates and they all laugh evilly at the unknowing victim’s expense?

With a dramatic sob, Mina flung herself against the classroom door and hugged it, her fingers just barely curling around the wide frame. Once again, it seemed that her recruitment plan had failed miserably, and she was still the sole member of the Astronomy Club. Was she a doomed stranded astronaut, left to traverse the stars in silence awaiting a bitter end? She sank to her knees, sliding down the door with a long squeeeeeeeeak and crying bitter tears. Stars were hella cool! Why did no one at this stupid high school appreciate them?

“Mina!”

Mina’s mood did a complete one-eighty when she heard Eijirou calling her name and his footsteps pounding around the corner. She jumped to her feet, her tears drying up instantly and her pout morphing into a giddy smile. The redhead came trotting up, a thin sheet of sweat on his forehead and an apologetic smile on his face.

“Sorry!” he panted. “I didn’t get a chance to warn you that my class is all the way on the first floor. I hope you weren’t waiting long!”

“No, no! I just got here mys— yeowch!”

She had still been hugging the door, so when she tried to turn to face him, she accidentally pulled it forward and smashed her fingers in the doorjamb. She screamed as her knucklebones crunched and the skin tore; the pain rocketing up her arm sprang tears to her eyes immediately, and she released a petulant whine as she retracted her bruised and bloody fingers from between the wooden door and concrete wall.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay, Mina?” Eijirou gasped, dropping his school bag and rushing to her side. Mina cradled her throbbing hand to her chest with little sniffles, curling away from the football player when he reached for it. He gave her an encouraging, sweet smile. “I know I look big and tough, but I promise, I can be gentle too. Let me see; you may have broken something.”

Whimpering but enticed by his soothing words and demeanor, Mina obediently allowed him to pull her hand forward to inspect her fingers. They were bruising already, big blotches of purple blooming around the torn and bloody skin. Eijirou leaned over her hand, and goosebumps sprouted on her skin as his warm breath puffed over her electrified skin and aching bones. With featherlight touches, he inspected her knuckles, prodding as gently as he could to feel for any deviations in the bone.

“I know this may hurt, but can you bend them?” he asked, looking up at her through his red bangs. Mina whimpered again, hesitant to comply for fear of the pain. However, the glitter in his vermilion eyes urged her to comply. She hesitantly bent her fingers, wincing as pain skittered up her nerves— but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as she thought it would. Eijirou smiled satisfactorily. “You crunched ‘em pretty good, but I don’t think anything is broken or fractured,” he said as he straightened up.

“Thanks… I can’t believe I did that,” she sighed, using her good hand to knock on the side of her head a few times. How embarrassing, injuring herself like that in front of him! “Well, now that all that drama is over, let’s go inside so I can tell you about the club.”

Eijirou followed her inside. While she rifled through the teacher’s desk for some bandages, he looked around at the desks, which were empty aside from a build-your-own-telescope kit, Mina’s completed telescope, and astronomical charts and textbooks. As Mina wrapped bandages around her fingers, he looked at her with knitted eyebrows.

“There’s no one else here yet?”

“There’s no one else to be here,” she replied with a shrug and a wan smile. “I’m the club’s only member.” When Eijirou’s eyebrows shot up to the roots of his hair, she sadly added, “If that information makes you want to leave, go ahead and do so,” she said with a wave at the door. She then looked down at the adhesive wrapped around her knuckles. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

“No, I don’t want to leave,” Eijirou said quickly. He marched up to the front of the desk, leaning against it. Mina didn’t know what to look at—his flexing muscles or his bright smile. He tilted his head slightly as he smiled charmingly at her, then said, “Tell me about your club, Mina. I want to know everything.”

Oh God, he’s hot! Mina screamed inside her head, her good hand flying to her rapidly-beating heart. It took everything within her not to absolutely swoon at the complete sweetheart of a man gracing her with his presence this Friday afternoon. Her eyes watered a little in gratitude, or maybe it was the sheer emotion at being witness to such a wonderful human being’s kindness.

Thus, Mina did as he asked. She first instructed Eijirou how to build the telescope that he would use on nights they did observations; he bungled through it a little, but remained patient and tried his best to follow the instructions. Mina had to giggle at the absolutely triumphant grin that plastered his face when he successfully assembled the telescope; he held it up over his head and pranced around—nearly giving them both a panic attack when he bumped into a desk and nearly dropped the telescope on the ground. Mina didn’t think she could handle a Shoto 2.0.

After assembling the telescope, she started him off with easy information—constellations. She unrolled her star map which had all the constellations displayed by season, explaining specifically which ones they could see at the moment. Eijirou was very excited to see them in person, so they arranged a meeting for the following week. True to form, he showed up that Friday night with his telescope and all his zeal, his smile brighter than the full moon hanging high in the sky.

“It’s hard to believe that people stared at the sky thousands of years ago and traced shapes out of ‘em!” he exclaimed as he plonked his telescope down to the ground. “And made up all these stories to go with ‘em. And all the stories and constellations are different based on what civilization was lookin’ at ‘em!”

“The stars have always been fascinating,” Mina hummed, gently setting up her telescope and adjusting the lens. “Sometimes I like to find my own constellations and make up stories about them.”

“Really? Tell me one!”

“Well, my favorite is the Alien Queen!”

“The Alien Queen?” Eijirou laughed, making Mina flush shyly. “Show me!” Not waiting for an answer, he shouldered in next to her telescope and peered into it. She flushed darker as his sturdy shoulder dug into the meat of her side, warmth blooming across her skin. With slightly trembling hands, she moved the telescope to the right section of the sky.

“Do you see that big, bright shiny star right there?” she asked, waiting until Eijirou confirmed. “Well, that’s the tip of the back of her head. If you follow them like this—” she gestated in front of the lens, tracing the star pattern— “it looks kinda like the alien from the horror movie!”

“Leave it to Mina Ashido to find the Xenomorph constellation,” Eijirou snickered, straightening up to smile at her in amusement. “No wonder you’re the club president.” Mina shyly played with the hem of her skirt, unable to control the giddy smile playing over her lips.

They spent the rest of the early evening finding the constellations and discussing the various mythologies behind each. Eijirou loved the Greek-based patterns and myths the most. Every time they pointed one out, he would flex dramatically and proclaim how much he loved the famous heroes of old—Hercules, Achilles, Odysseus, Perseus. Mina laughed at his sensational flexing and grunting each time, her giggles bouncing around the empty practice field to join the cricket song.

Monday morning, Mina was surprised to find Eijirou rushing down the hall towards her as she went to enter her classroom. His face was flushed pink and his forehead dotted with sweat, indicating that he’d sprinted all the way to her. He pin-wheeled to a stop, nearly bumping her with his broad chest, and his breath puffed in her hair as he grinned brightly down at her.

“Mina! Guess what I saw on the news this morning! The Creati comet is gonna be passing by this Wednesday, and it’ll be visible here that night!”

“Yeah, I know!” Mina cried. She’d been glued to the news program this morning as astrophysicists and space program officials discussed the once-in-a-lifetime event; it was rumored to be an absolute gorgeous comet, with a rare rosy pink-lavender tail due to its high concentrations of lithium and potassium chloride. She then blushed, warmed by the fact that Eijirou had found it so important to inform her that he’d run all the way across campus first thing in the morning.

“Yeah! We’re gonna watch it together, right?” he asked, clapping his hands on her shoulders. Mina flushed, fidgeting in place and chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“A-are you sure? I’m sure you’ll be tired after football practice.”

“Are you kidding? What kind of Astronomy Club member would I be if I didn’t see this comet?” he objected.

Mina felt her heart thrum at the statement. Does he enjoy being a member that much? She’d only recruited him as a means to an end, but was it really turning out that Eijirou liked being a member of her club? She felt her belly twist with guilt and a cold flush pulse through her body. She curled into herself a little, blood roaring in her ears and nearly drowning out what he said next.

“I know you’re planning on going to watch it, so let’s see it together, Mina!”

“Okay,” she found herself saying before she even processed it. The next two days were a similar blur of guilt and anxiety amidst preparations to view the comet Wednesday evening. All traces of excitement she would normally possess was swallowed up by the remorse poisoning her from the hard ball in the pit of her belly. She couldn’t help but obsess over the fact that she’d recruited Eijirou on false pretenses, abusing his kind heart to use his popularity for her own gain. She’d already received a flood of interest in the club once news had spread that Eijirou was seemingly an official member, but she’d evaded them with half-hearted promises that she’d contact them soon to set up a general interest meeting.

On Wednesday night she stood by the hydrangea bush, chewing on her bottom lip and tempted to hide within its emerald leaves and pink blossoms so she wouldn’t have to face Eijirou. Before she could take shelter in its branchy depths, the redhead came trotting up the sidewalk, his smile gleaming in the starlight as he called her name. His telescope flopped on his back in its canvas sheath.

“Hey, Mina!” he grinned when he came to a stop in front of her, panting slightly. Always in such a rush, she thought fondly. No wonder he’s the star quarterback. “Are you excited? I sure am!”

“Yeah,” she lied. There was no room to be excited with all the guilt filling her to the brim. Eijirou’s smile somehow managed to get brighter. Despite everything, her heart still jumped in her chest when he grabbed her hand, his thick and calloused fingers so strangely perfect around her slim ones, and pulled her onto the practice field.

“This is perfect!” he exclaimed, looking up at the starry night sky with his hands on his hips. Mina only hummed quietly, robotically unfolding a blanket and placing it over the grass. She’d arranged for the school to shut off the nighttime lights for the evening, giving them a clear view of the moon and stars. Thus, they were the only things that provided illumination as Mina and Eijirou sat down on the soft blanket together. “I didn’t know if we would want to get a better look at the comet, so I brought this!” he said excitedly, slipping the telescope off his back and setting it down between them. Mina hummed again, anxiety swirling in the pit of her belly. In the gloom, she could still see Eijirou’s bright red eyebrows scrunch.

“Mina…? What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. Mina debated lying for a moment; she nervously plucked at the loose fibers of her stockings, unable to meet his pretty vermillion eyes. The lie never got the chance to dance on her tongue. She knew she had to come clean, to tell him the truth before she toted him along even further.

“Eijirou… I have to confess something,” she admitted quietly. He shifted beside her, eyebrows raised.

“What is it?”

“I’m not as good a person as you think I am.” Her voice shook as tears flooded her eyes. She bit down on her lip as a sniffle slipped free. Eijirou looked at her in utter bewilderment, confusion swirling in those gorgeous vermillion eyes that had struck her the moment she had first seen them. He gently reached out to stroke his fingertips ever-so-lightly down her cheek; she turned away, a tear slipping down her cheek that was still tingling with his featherlight touch. “Don’t,” she begged, her voice nothing more than a strained whisper. “I don’t deserve your sympathy.”

“Mina…”

“I used you, Eijirou,” she said finally, choking the words out as her throat constricted with guilt. “I used your popularity for my own gain. I just wanted my club to be popular.”

She didn’t look at him as the silence hung heavy between them, like an anvil suspended on a slowly fraying rope. She waited with bated breath for the rope to snap and for it to plummet, for him to explode on her like he rightfully should, to tell her she was selfish and cruel and for him to storm away and never look back. She cringed when he inhaled sharply, already preparing for his raised voice.

He didn’t yell or scream or curse. Instead, his voice was heartbreakingly soft when he murmured, “That doesn’t make you a bad person. That just makes you lonely.”

Mina’s eyes fluttered as her heart swelled with hope. She didn’t resist when he cupped her cheek and gently turned her tear-stained face to look at him. Her watery eyes met his red ones, and she was so relieved to find them brimming with understanding, not hate or anger. He swept his thumb over her cheek to catch the tears still streaming over her ruddy skin.

“Mina… I knew that already,” he confessed with a small smile. She gasped in shock, while Eijirou smiled bashfully and rubbed at the back of his neck with his other hand. “As soon as you told me that you were the only member of the club, I figured that you wanted to use my popularity to recruit more people. I was a little bitter about it for a second, but… Then I saw how sad you looked.” He used both his hands to cup her cheeks and leaned forward to press his forehead to hers. “I didn’t want to see that look on your face. Even if you were using me, I wanted you to be happy.”

“Why?” she hiccuped, chest drawing tight like a balloon ready to burst. “Th-that was so horrible of me… And you still wanted to do that for me? Why?”

“Because from the moment you jumped out of that hydrangea bush, I’ve been head-over-heels for you,” he purred, mouth twitching up into a smirk. Her face flushed with a fierce, fiery blush and her mouth dropped open in shock. “And maybe I was a little hopeful that I could get you to be head-over-heels for me, too,” he added with a playful wink. Mina couldn’t help but laugh, mostly from the overwhelming relief bubbling up inside her body. She leaned into him, finding solace in how well her small body fit into his muscular one—like a lock and key, like they belonged together.

Sniffling happily, she curled her fingers into the leathery fabric of his varsity jacket and smiled joyfully.

“Well, you didn’t have to try very hard. How could I not be head-over-heels for you?”

Before they could say anything else, the sky was suddenly filled with bright light. They both turned to see that the comet had appeared among the stars. Its powdery tail streamed pinkish-blue behind the large white body, slowly traveling across the expanse of inky blue like a leisurely sailboat. Mina inhaled sharply as the pastel colors reflected in her eyes and the light danced over her skin and hair; it truly was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She was so entranced that she didn’t register Eijirou’s hand sneaking under her chin again until he turned her face back. The comet danced in his red eyes, making it a pink nebula of stars and space and beauty.

No. Those eyes of his were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

She almost didn’t want to close her own as he leaned in to kiss her, but as soon as his lips smoothed over her own, she couldn’t help it. They drifted shut as she melted against him, savoring the gentle motions of his mouth against hers. Her heart fluttered when his hand drifted up into her cotton-candy hair, twirling around the strands like he was memorizing the feel of the silky threads. He kissed her with rising passion, like an astronaut adrift in space who’d finally found the oxygen he needed.

They pulled apart slightly panting and blushing the same color as the comet streaming slowly above their heads. He stroked her face gently, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down on the blanket. She laughed when he hugged her tight, nuzzled into her hair and inhaled deeply.

“You smell like hydrangeas.”

“Eijirou, I thought we were here to watch the comet.”

“It’s pretty,” he remarked with a glance up at the sky. He then looked down at her with that dazzling smile she adored so much. “But I’ve got a heavenly body right here that I’m more interested in.”

“Oh my gosh! That’s so corny!” she howled, throwing her head back in laughter. Eijirou snickered and snuggled into the side of her face, making her laugh more at the ticklish sensation of his nose brushing her skin. He peppered butterfly kisses over every inch of skin he could find, making her squirm and giggle in his grasp.

Finally, he rolled on his side, one arm still snug around her shoulders while he watched the comet slowly make its way across the horizon. She pressed against him, warm and fuzzy and happy.

“You know, despite the circumstances, I’m still glad you asked me to join, Mina,” Eijirou said with a contented sigh. His fingers drifted up to play with the fluffy strands of her hair. Mina rested her head on his chest, smiling while she watched the comet.

“Me too, Eijirou. I can’t wait to spend the rest of the school year checking out heavenly bodies.”

Eijirou gave her a wan look as she snorted piggishly in laughter.

“You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Absolutely not. I’m already planning to sell tee shirts!”

Eijirou laughed, then rolled over to attack her with snuggles and kisses again. Mina welcomed his embrace and affections. Their laughter drifted up into the sky to join the stars and the streaming glittery trail of the comet, finding a home forever in the vastness of space…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#kirimina #mina x kirishima #kirishima x mina #mina ashido #ashido mina #kirishima eijirou #eijirou kirishima #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

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buckyskorpion · 4 years

Text

11 hours - part six

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: so i was gonna leave this on ANOTHER doozy cliff hanger but i genuinely thought i would get lynched so i decided to just leave it at a baby cliffhanger. a lot happened in this chapter and a lot of seeds have been planted for future chapters..... so lemme know what you think hehe. predictions?? angry letters?? pitchforks??? lemme know!! i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist | please donate to my ko-fi!

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“You’re very calm for someone with a gun to their head.”

Honestly, you had been thinking the same thing. Sure, your stomach feels like a snake pit and your hands are sweating and you don’t think you’ve ever been more aware of your own heart beat, but other than that - you don’t understand why you aren’t panicking more. There are three men standing in front of you, one behind, all with guns. They’re wearing matching leather jackets with an octo-head patch on the sleeve, and they all look very scary. Briefly, you wonder if Bucky has a jacket like this, with a patch on to match his family. It’s an irrelevant detail you can’t help but fixate on right now.

Bucky. Hopefully listening on the other end of the phone you have tucked in your back pocket which your kidnappers haven’t been bothered to check yet, thankfully. You flex your wrists against the zip ties holding you to a chair and ask, “Where am I?”

“You should know,” your stalker turned kidnapper says with a condescending sneer. “You followed me here.”

“The Lerna?” you clarify, for the sake of hopefully someone on the other end of your mobile picking it up. You glance around at the old-style bar; chipped wood and beer stains, a rickety pool table one of your stalker’s friends is using as an arm rest. You curl your nose up at it - a little proudly, you note it has nothing on Sam’s bar.

“Do you recognise the place?” your stalker asks. That throws you. You want to ask what he means by that, why you would recognise this gross bar you’ve never stepped foot in, but you clench your teeth and school your face.

Once your dad sat you down in a chair much like this one, in his office at the house you grew up in. You were eleven, maybe, and you didn’t quite understand why he was tying your hands to the back with a necktie but you went along with it. He did this, sometimes - would orchestrate some strange lesson when his nightmares got really bad, his ghosts chasing him inside the house until he saw enemies in lampshades and kitchen cabinets. To keep you safe, he would say, and then he sat opposite you and asked what you would do if anyone ever put you in this position against your will.

“Kroshka, they will use anything against you,” he had said, and you see that now with the way these men are looking at you for any weakness. But you didn’t understand then, you were a kid thinking your dad was spiralling again, so he had cast around until he found a beer bottle on the coffee table. “See, like this. When the label is flat it’s fine, but as soon as one little corner lifts you can’t help it - you have to peel it all the way off. Don’t give them any corners, kroshka.”

You blink, once. The man in front of you scowls when you don’t answer, presses forward into your space in a show of intimidation. You try not to flinch, but that fear you were missing before is starting to set in real fast. What did he mean, do you recognise it? And why the hell are you so prepared for a situation like this, almost as if your dad has been training you for it since you could remember?

“Fine,” your stalker says, his breath fanning over you with how he’s leaning into your space. “Maybe you can answer something else, about your boyfriend.”

“Dunno who you’re talking about,” you say. It’s not a lie - technically, you hadn’t had the ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ chat with Bucky yet. This man is not appreciative of your loopholes. He grabs your hair and yanks your head back, pressing his glock into your neck. You shiver, both at the pain and the cold of the metal. Through gritted teeth and mild hyperventilation, you say, “As a matter of fact, I dunno who you are either. That’s kinda weird, dontcha think?”

You can practically hear Bucky in your head telling you to shut up, but he’s not here right now. No corners, just like your dad said. Doesn’t mean you can’t try and find some corners of your own.

What you meant as a question to buy some time, with a bit of attitude on the side, sends your stalker reeling back from you. He’s confused, eyebrows drawn down low and his friends behind him look to each other with the same expression. Now, you’re confused as well. Everyone in the room stands (or sits, in your particular predicament) in a pure state of what the fuck is going on. It would be funny, if there wasn’t still a gun to the back of your head.

“You don’t know the patch?” the man asks, gesturing to the sleeve of his jacket. When you don’t respond he continues, slowly, reiterating his question from before but as a statement, “You don’t recognise this place.”

You have zero idea what’s going on, but whatever you’ve said seems have thrown your kidnappers for a bit of a loop, so you decide to roll with it. You say, and hope to god the man standing behind you doesn’t shoot you for it, “I’m starting to think you’ve lost control of this situation, pal.”

From the corner of the room behind you, a familiar husky-toned red head says, “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

Shots ring out, shattering the windows as one by one your stalker’s friends drop like dominos. Someone crouches behind you and cuts you lose with a knife, and you hear it clatter to the floor as they launch over the back of your chair feet first into your stalker. Natasha. The flash of her red hair over your shoulder as she sends him flying is unmistakable. You scramble from the chair, fumbling for the knife she dropped but your hand slides through something thick, wet. The man behind you with the gun lies dead, throat slit, his blood now all over your fingers. It mesmerises you in a sickening way, making your stomach turn and your vision go fuzzy.

You’d never seen a dead body before. Now they are all around you, the bar smelling like blood instead of beer and the sound of bullets pinging off glass the only noise other than Natasha grappling with your stalker. She’s so small compared to him but she has her thighs clenched around his throat and he gasps for breath, clawing at her legs. You watch, stunned, as he gets a grip on her and throws her off, sending her crashing into the wall with a groan.

She hits the floor and you see red - all you can think is that’s Bucky’s family and that man is walking towards her, his gun trained on her body as she tries to pull herself to her feet, so you stop thinking at all. You picture the back of your stalker's neck like the dartboard at Sam’s bar and you throw.

Bullseye. Just like your dad taught you.

The man drops, knife buried in his neck and haemorrhaging blood. He gurgles this awful, awful sound as he clutches at his throat, trying and failing to push the blood back in. Natasha looks from your still outstretched hand, trembling in place, to meet your gaze. You can’t begin to decipher her expression, nor do you want to. You feel like you’re going to throw up, or choke, or scream, or all three. The man you just stabbed in the neck groans in pain, eyes rolling, coughing blood from his mouth in thick clumps. You can’t feel your hands anymore.

The door bangs open and you flinch, stumbling back until you trip on the chair you had been tied to and fall to the floor in a crumple of limbs. It’s Bucky, eyes wild and larger than life with a rage you’ve never seen before. He has a huge sniper-rifle slung over his back as he strides into the bar, stepping right over the writhing body of your stalker.

“I’ll deal with you in a second, Rumlow,” he practically growls, kicking aside the man’s hand that tries to grab for him. You scramble to your feet, practically tripping over yourself to get to Bucky. Doesn’t it say something about you that you run towards the man responsible for the death all around you?

You crash into Bucky hard, the force of the impact knocking the breath right out of you and once it’s gone you can’t get it back. It feels like his arms encompass the entirety of you as he holds you so tight your feet leave the ground. His chest rumbles with words but you can’t hear him, your ears are ringing and your chest is tight because panic attack, you dumbass. You press your face into Bucky’s neck and hope that’s enough to escape the scene unfolding around you.

“Get her out of here, I’ll deal with this,” you hear Natasha say somewhere behind Bucky but you refuse to lift your head to see.

Bucky attempts to pull away from you to look at Natasha, you can feel him try and twist his head but the inarticulate whine that rips from your throat stills the both of you. It’s mildly embarrassing, the sound you’ve just made, but it’s out there now. Bucky shifts his grip so one big palm rubs soothing strokes up and down your spine and you feel yourself becoming boneless with every pass of his hand.

“I’m not fucking lettin’ him get away with this,” Bucky says, low, threatening - if you were this Rumlow guy bleeding out on the ground, you would be afraid.

“And he won’t,” Natasha says, and then like she has to remind Bucky of his own thoughts, “but you have other priorities right now. Get her out of here.”

You feel Bucky nod, his scratchy chin moving against the top of your head. He kisses your temple and holds the back of your skull with one big palm, pressing your face further into his neck. It means you don’t see the carnage of the bar when he moves to place an arm around your shoulder and steer you out the door, stumbling under his guidance on shaky, cotton-fuzzy legs. He’s hurrying you, but as gently as he can. Once you feel the bright burn of sunlight on your skin you pull back from Bucky’s neck, blinking in the now empty street and Bucky’s piercing gaze as he looks down at you.

“Are you with me?” he asks, his hand dropping from your skull to squeeze the side of your neck. You still feel like you’re sipping each breath through a straw but you nod. You can see in his eyes he needs you to be with him right now, to get out of here, so you try and blink away the fuzzies in the corners of your vision and focus on his face.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and christ, now is not the time for that stinging pressure behind your eyes you hate so much. You hope Bucky understands - sorry for not listening to him, sorry for getting you both into this mess, sorry for not being strong when he needs you to be.

Bucky shakes his head vehemently, tugs you in harsh and strong by the grip he has on your neck to press a bruising kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter close at the fierce way he holds you, presses emotion into your skin like the tattoos littering his skin - a brand of your own, in the middle of this eerily empty street with the blood of strange men on both your hands. The thought makes you shake, so you twist your fingers in the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt and breathe him in deep.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he says, then pulls away from you. He grabs one of your hands from out under his shirt and links your fingers, beginning to drag you down the street. Looking back over his shoulder, he says with a grimace, “We gotta go.”

He leads you to his bike, squeezed between a brick wall and a dumpster in a side alley a block away from The Lerna. It roars to life before you’ve properly swung yourself on the back, and you aren’t bothering with helmets this time as Bucky eases the bike out from it’s tight spot with unsettling ease. All you can do is hold on tight and close your eyes as Bucky leads you away, weaving through the city in nonsensical loops before you feel the air open up around you and the familiar sounds of Brooklyn.

Bucky takes you to Steve’s tattoo in Red Hook, the first time you’re been back there since that fateful run-in with Natasha. You’ve checked out completely by the time Bucky parks - he has to lift you off the back of the bike because your legs won’t work, and he all but carries you inside. Steve is quick to rid the shop of the two customers looking at designs out front as Bucky settles you on the couch by the tattoo beds. You sink into the faded red leather without feeling a thing. Distantly, you notice the kid who usually mans the tills looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, and you suppose you deserve that.

“Stevie, I think she’s in shock,” you hear Bucky say, and the childhood nickname makes you smile. You watch Bucky’s face crease up deep concern at the dreamy look on your face, so you suppose you should stop smiling like a crazy person. A giant blonde head swims into your view, just as concerned, and he drapes a blanket around your shoulders.

“Bucky,” you say, your eyebrows drawing down as you fumble for his hand. He squeezes your fingers and mumbles something to Steve who leaves you again, his voice mingling with the kid’s somewhere over Bucky’s shoulder but you can’t focus on that. All you can do is swim in the back of Bucky’s too-deep stare and say, “I killed him.”

“No, no,” he says, shifting closer between your thighs as he kneels on the floor in front of you. This would be funny to you in any other moment, something to tease him for as he takes both your hands in his and squeezes them together, silently imploring you to stay looking at him. He says, “That’s not on you, sweetheart, it ain’t. You didn’t kill him.”

You’re crying now, properly, which you suppose is a good sign because you don’t think people in shock can cry. You watch as something cracks in Bucky’s eyes as he watches you break apart, but you can’t stop now you’ve started. You say, “I did, I killed him. How do you do it? How do you just- I feel like my throat’s gonna close up. How do you live past this?”

Bucky’s face darkens, smoothing out to something stone cold and frightening. You don’t feel scared, though, as he leans into your space so close you almost feel cross-eyed trying to stay glued to the blue of his eyes. He searches your face for something and says, no room for argument, “You did not kill that bastard, you hear me?”

“But-“

“No,” he says, simply, and that’s that. “The only reason you were in that position is because of me, doll, so no. You didn’t kill him. It’s on me, and I live with that so you don’t have to. You got that? You don’t ever have to live with that.”

You don’t know how he makes you feel like he’s physically reached into your chest and pulled out your guilt through your throat, but he does. You can see it clenched tight in his fist, his eyes shuttering down dark as he shoves it between his own teeth to hold. It’s too soon for the feelings clawing at your ribcage but you feel them just the same, that cigarette burn he left on your heart aching so bad you could scream from it. You extract a hand from his to run down his cheek, along his jaw, cupping his face in your palm. He closes his eyes, shudders as though swallowing down the guilt for the both of you.

I love you for that, you think to the soft flutter of his eyelashes against his cheeks. I’ll love you forever for that.

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

When Natasha returns to the shop, and Sam bundles in not long after that, the four bikers sit around Steve’s prematurely closed tattoo shop and have a family meeting. You can’t help but feel like the kid who’s stayed up past their bedtime to try and hang with the adults, the words flying over their head and sleep pulling at their eyelids but they fight to stay awake anyway. Bucky pulls your head into his lap as he sits on the couch beside you, so you lie there and let him stroke your hair while they discuss what happened over the past two hours.

Two hours, and that’s all it’s taken for your whole world to spin on it’s axis. You’d learnt to throw knives at tree trunks with your dad as a fun, albeit unconventional after-school activity. And now you’ve buried a knife in someone’s neck, you’ve been kidnapped and tied to a chair and watched Bucky gun down men from a rooftop with his sniper rifle. He pulled the trigger with the same fingers he’s carding through your hair now, nails scratching at your scalp in a way that makes your toes tingle. How is that at all ok?

“We’ve started a turf war with Hydra, now,” Sam is saying, sitting backwards on a chair facing Bucky and spreading his hands out in a placating gesture as Bucky bristles. “It was unavoidable, alright, I’m just saying.”

“Not necessarily,” Natasha says. “Rumlow has had a vendetta against Bucky for years. He could’ve been acting alone.”

“It is strange we haven’t heard anything from Pierce,” Steve says thoughtfully. He is pressing an icepack to Natasha’s back, already bruising from where this Rumlow guy threw her into the wall. She’s lifting up her t-shirt and you can see a glimpse of a back piece standing out stark against her pale skin. Giant, feathered wings and a talon, a mosaic piece of what looks like a large hawk spanning the length of her spine.

“When Pierce finds out it was us that shot up his bar, though,” Sam says, making meaningful eyebrow movements to the group. They all nod thoughtfully and fall into silence.

None of these names make much sense to you - Hydra, Pierce, even Rumlow who you’ve gathered by now was your stalker. Was, because he’s dead now, and the thought turns your mouth dry and rusted. You shift in discomfort, drawing Bucky’s attention down to you as he gives you a concerned once over. He had done a thorough analysis for any injuries, even after you’d assured him you were fine, but you can tell he’s still unconvinced.

Unfortunately for you, all your wounds appear to be mental. They’re getting deeper by the second.

“I keep thinking,” you say to Bucky, “why was he so surprised I didn’t know where I was? Or who they were?”

“Hydra is our biggest rival,” Bucky says, and huffs a laugh at your crinkly brow so he clarifies, “They’re another gang, one we’ve had a lot of run-ins with. Rumlow especially. He wasn’t our biggest fan.”

“So he expected you to have told me about him, and Hydra,” you say, the name unfamiliar on your tongue. He nods, and you have to ask, “Why didn’t you?”

Bucky frowns at that. “I already told you - the more you know, the more dangerous it is.”

“And I already told you, no secrets,” you say, frowning just as deep. A beat passes and Bucky doesn’t budge, just glares down at you like he can physically bore his opinion into your brain and make it yours. Exasperated, you say, “Bucky, it didn’t matter anyway - the danger found me. Telling me things like that isn’t going to make a difference.”

“It would’ve if you’d listened to me and not done the stupid thing,” Bucky says, raising his eyebrows. He may have a point, but you aren’t going to back down that easily. Bucky knows you, he knows if you see a loose thread you’re going to pull it. The fact he thought you’d listen to him tell you what to do at all is laughable.

“This gang is your life,” you say, and you don’t bother to hide your frustration now, “They’re your family. I’m no safer not knowing what’s going on - I got stalked and kidnapped regardless. Clearly, it’s dangerous no matter what, so just tell me, Bucky. Whatever it is.”

Bucky stares at you for a long time. Steve, Natasha, Sam - they cease to exist in this room with you. Those first few weeks, when you refused to stay the night in Bucky’s bed and would only see him to fuck - you used to be scared of looking into those eyes for too long, for fear of getting lost. Now you dive head first, a part of you hoping you do get lost so you never have to find your way back out again.

Eventually, Bucky clenches his jaw tight and says, “You’re right.”

You blink, surprised. You hear Sam whisper to Steve, “did you record that?”, and honestly, you wanna ask the same thing. Except the way Bucky is look at you- dread curls thick and choking in your gut. You look up at Bucky and he seem so far away, out of reach even though you feel him all around you. He continues stroking your hair but it’s absentminded, his mind far away too.

You are drawn back to the tattoo shop by Sam saying, “I gotta say, Barnes, your girl is smart as hell. Keeping your phone on you and out-smarting Rumlow in a hostage situation? Pretty badass.”

Bucky smiles briefly down at you, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. You turn to Sam and say, “I got the impression out-smarting Rumlow isn’t really that hard.”

Everyone laughs at that, even Bucky, and it clears away some of the dread eating away at your stomach. But it’s still there, acidic and bubbling no matter what you do to smother it.

Eventually, they grow tired of talking in circles about Rumlow and Hydra and the possibility of the feds showing up (Bucky assures everyone the cops will find no rifling on the bullets and won’t be able to pin them to the crime scene, but Sam mutters heard that before and an argument erupts about some debacle in Bucharest so you tune out). Bucky takes you back to his apartment, tucked securely in his leather jacket in the best kind of shock blanket you could ever ask for.

For the first time, you noticed the tiny embroidered star on the sleeve of his jacket. You wonder if all Bucky’s friends have the same star on their jackets, because they’re not just friends, they’re a gang. One you feel suddenly, irrevocably intertwined with since they’re the only reason you aren’t sitting in a jail cell for murdering someone.

You feel jittery as you walk into Bucky’s apartment, almost nervous. It looks the same as this morning, the coffee cups you used for Steve and Bucky still in the sink and hoodie of his you’d worn last night draped over a chair. But everything is different, now. It’s all changed, there’s weird new shadows over everything long after Bucky turns on the light. You linger in the doorway to Bucky’s bedroom while he rummages around for sweats and jumpers, laying out a pair for you before he begins changing himself. He shucks off his t-shirt and you see his tattoo sleeve, the mottled scars hiding underneath, and your heart flies out of your throat before you can stop it.

“So do you guys have a fun, spooky name like Hydra or what?” you ask, closing your eyes with a grimace as soon as you ask the question. What are you, twelve? Bucky doesn’t answer and you’re too afraid to open your eyes too see the look on his face.

You’re startled when you feel him kiss your cheek, sensing his large frame towering over you and blocking out some of the soft bedroom light. You open your eyes to find him smiling down at you, laughing at you with his eyes as he says, “Not so spooky. Steve named us, he called us the Howling Commandos. The HC, for short.”

You crinkle your nose up at him and he flicks the tip with his ringed fingers. You say, “That’s very old-fashioned.”

“Nat teases him for it all the time,” he says, “She calls us her barbershop quartet.”

You smile, imagining Bucky in suspenders playing the accordion, and say, “Now that I like.”

The longer Bucky looks at you the more sober he becomes, mouth becoming pinched and jaw muscle ticking. He holds you soft by the biceps and walks you back until you hit the wall, still gentle, but bracketing you in now so all you can see is the weight of whatever complicated thing is running across Bucky’s face.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me today,” he says. He shifts, grips your jaw tight so his rings dig into your skin with none of the gentleness of before - he means this. “Never do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, twisting in his tight grip to press a kiss to his fingertips. He softens, allows you to pull him in flush against you by his waist, his bare skin so warm under your hands. “And, thank you. I don’t- I guess I’ve never had someone come save me before, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t thank me,” Bucky says, shaking his head. He kisses you, a rough press of chapped lips against yours and is gone again before you can react. Says, “I’m sorry, too.”

“Come back,” you say with a pout, and you have just enough time to see Bucky smirk down at you before he’s kissing you again. It’s just as fierce, almost painful, but the rough slide of it distracts from the burn in your chest and your racing thoughts like razorblades. You lick into his mouth, chasing away the ghosts nipping at your heels, and he presses you back into the wall with a thunk hard enough to leave a bruise on your tailbone tomorrow. You don’t care. It feels good to hurt in a way that’s physical.

The ease with which Bucky picks you up makes your head spin. It’s all you can do but pepper kisses along his stubbled jaw as he carries you to the bed, lips suddenly ripped from his skin as he dumps you on the covers. He is quick to follow, squashing you down with his tongue in your mouth before you can take another breath. This, you know. All the messy feelings and heartache and fearfearfear that beats in time with your heart, that maybe you’ll lose him or he’ll lose you and you came so close today, is unfamiliar to the both of you. But arching your back off the bed so he can take your shirt off, scrubbing your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck as he peppers kisses across your tits with a trail of goosebumps left behind - this is how you know Bucky best.

He makes quick work of your clothes and you fumble with his jeans, laughing into his mouth as he bats your hand away to do it for you. Bucky bites your bottom lip in playful admonishment and you chase his mouth as he tries to pull away. He places one big palm on your clavicle and pushes down, holding you against the bed. He shakes his head at you with a smile.

“Stay,” he says like he would to a dog, grinning wide as you glare at him. But you do as you’re told as he leans over you to grab a condom with his left arm. Maybe you bend the rules a little to trail kisses up the bits of his outstretched forearm you can reach. Over a shadowy skull, the stem of a rose, what looks like military windings near the crook of his elbow and tiny handwritten letters that spell S N S. Sam Nat Steve, because Bucky might be a tough guy to most but he’s a giant sap deep down.

Bucky shudders at your touch, and it makes you wonder if the scarring under his tattoos is extra sensitive. Or maybe he is just sensitive to anyone touching him in such a vulnerable place. You flick your eyes up to watch him watch you, lip drawn between his teeth and a dent between his eyebrows you ache to soothe if he wasn’t still holding you down. You don’t stop, even though he looks physically pained with every brush of your lips against his skin. You trace the edges of another small wolf with your tongue, like the ones on his chestpiece, and watch as his eyes flutter closed when you get close to the paper-thin skin of his inner wrist.

That hits Bucky’s limit. Suddenly his hand on your chest slides up to your neck and he’s leaning over you, left arm braced by your head and his mouth swallowing yours. You groan against his lips at the rough drag of his hands down your sides, gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. He makes your brain go fuzzy, the only coherent thoughts being Bucky and touch me more. He seems to understand. His fingers find your clit, smoothing slow circles which spark embers in the pit of your stomach. Bucky’s mouth falls open as yours does, as if to breath in the whine he draws from you.

“Fuck, you always sound so good,” Bucky groans. He buries his face into the side of your neck, taking advantage of your thigh trapped between his legs to rut against you while he continues playing with your clit. Every time Bucky gets filthy with you it’s like the first time, shocking and almost embarrassing in the sexiest way possible. Heat floods your cheeks and makes you lightheaded, unable to stop the moan he draws from you. You’re rewarded by Bucky’s teeth in your neck, the sensitive spot just over your pulse point, and if you’re being honest you could come just from this.

Bucky’s cock growing harder against your thigh, as his hips shift in rhythm with the circles he draws on your clit, becomes too difficult to ignore. To gain his attention you twist and nip at the closest piece of skin you can find, Bucky’s ear, and he engulfs you in a kiss which steals the breath right out of you. You buck your hips, hoping to nonverbally convey the demand get in me right now, and Bucky doesn't need any more hints than that.

He fumbles with the condom for a second and you take the time to sit up on your elbows and look at him. Bucky is so beautiful, drawn in harsh lines and stark contrasts. Tan skin turned paler against the opaque black of his tattoos, colour swirling in-between and it should be jarring, but you think he just looks like art. Bitten red lips, startling blue eyes pinning you to the mattress as he catches you staring - such bright, primary colours because he is a statement piece, and one you could look at forever.

Bucky grins almost bashfully as you stare at him, leaning back over you to kiss you soft and sweet in a sharp juxtaposition to the rough tumble which got you here. Again, he sends your head spinning when the tender kiss is punctuated by the unexpected push of Bucky’s cock in your cunt. He bottoms out before you can blink, throwing your head back out of the kiss with an untamed groan - both pleasure and pain, in the good way. Bucky drags his teeth from your lips down your chin and neck, biting a mark into your collarbone to set the tone for the bruising pace he creates as he pounds into you.

He doesn’t do anything in halves, you think. You gaze up at him with an almost dopey smile while Bucky fucks the literal breath out of you. You lift your hips to meet him as he bottoms out with every thrust, watching in awe as his face creases up in ecstasy - it’s you who brings him there. He palms your tits like he can’t help himself, loses control in your pussy because you make him feel that good, and the thought makes you giddy. Drunk, almost, as you drag your nails down his chest and nearly come once again just from the moan you draw out of this brilliant, dangerous, gorgeous man.

“You take it so well, baby, fuck,” Bucky pants, eyebrows creasing as the pleasure gets almost painful in its build. You know the feeling. Bucky’s mouth is always your undoing, rolling your eyes back into your head and the sounds you’re making turning positively feral. He kisses you again, more a slam of mouths than anything finessed, and says, “Never gonna get over this, never gonna get over how good you feel.”

“Bucky, you gotta-“

“I gotta what, huh?” Bucky grins at the pleasure-addled panic he brings you too, not wanting to come too fast but also needing to let go before you actually explode. He knows exactly what he’s doing, balancing on one hand to thumb harshly at your clit as he says, “You want me to stop? I don’t think so, sweetheart, I think you wanna come on my cock just like this, wanna hear me tell you how good you are, how sweet you are for me all laid out like this-“

Everything whites out as you come, hard, all your muscles spasming like crazy with the orgasm that rips through you. Bucky’s voice is drowned out, but it doesn’t matter what he’s saying anymore, he’s made you feel like you’ll never catch your breath again. Bucky thunks his forehead against yours, collapsing on top of you as the fluttering clench of your cunt around his cock becomes too much. His thrusts turn sloppy, his breath hot and ragged across your face as you press lazy, barely-there kisses to his cheeks - all you can muster in your fucked-out haze.

Bucky comes with his eyes closed, eyelashes tangling with yours, and you cling to him with all four limbs as he shakes through his orgasm. The release was so needed for the both of you, the events of the last twenty-four hours frying your nerves to the point where it was either fight, cry, or fuck. It feels so good to have Bucky on top of you, inside you, all around you in every single sense and it warms your heart in a way you didn’t know was possible until now. Until Bucky.

Maybe that’s the afterglow talking, and you should stop. But you can’t help but press another kiss to Bucky’s cheek, and another, over his nose and across his still-closed eyelids until you reach his mouth and he can kiss you back just as soft. You hope he gets it. You hope he feels it too.

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

You go to see your dad, eventually. The chaos of yesterday kept you attached to Bucky’s hip - you showered together in the morning, and he allowed you to pretend it was just the water and not tears soaking your face. But he made you cuddle with him on the couch and fed you an omelette like you were incapable of feeding yourself, and maybe you were, because the reality of what happened in that shitty Manhattan bar was starting to eat away at your executive functions. It took all of your strength to convince Bucky you would be ok and that you’d come back to him as soon as you were done, but it was time to pull on a thread you’ve been ignoring for far too long.

It turns out, that paranoid over-questioning part of your brain doesn’t turn off even during a traumatic event. Your dad lets you in without a word, tugging you into a side hug as you both walk to the kitchen to make tea.

The house you grew up in has taken on a different light since the Lerna. The kitchen chairs aren’t the same, reminding you too much of ziptied wrists and a gun in your face. Why can you superimpose the memory of Rumlow holding you hostage to one you have of being eleven and tied to a chair by your father? You shouldn’t be able to do that.

He nudges your hip, jerking you out of your staring contest with the dining chairs, and offers you a mug of tea. You both sit at the table, either end, the fruit bowl a mediator between you. He looks tired, old, like he always has somehow in your memories from childhood. He’s still your dad, the same man who always been there because he’s all you’ve ever had. He loves you, you know does. Ya lyublyu tebya, luna. But he has always been the first to say your paranoid streak runs a mile deep, and once you find a thread-

Well. Everyone knows how that ends.

“Do you want to talk about it?” your dad asks, and it’s like he knows you aren’t here to ask for boy advice or moan about a case or your skyrocketing rent.

There’s a lot you want to talk about. Why did I learn to throw knives instead of joining the soccer team, like normal kids? Why did I learn how to survive an interrogation instead of going to sleepovers, like normal kids? Why did you train me to question everyone and everything in this world, but I’ve always blindly believed you? Like a normal kid would, you suppose, the only normal you’ve ever really gotten. Always believing your dad is the superhero of six-year-old dreams, someone who would never keep you in the dark.

“No,” you say, taking a sip of tea. It burns your tongue to numbness, but you can’t bring yourself to care. We had the secret language for only us - why did I never think you might have secrets from me as well? You grimace into your tea and say, “Not right now, I’m sorry.”

“Tayny budut presledovat tebya vechno, malysh,” he says. Secrets will haunt you forever, little one.

You don’t dare look up from your tea as you say, “Ya dumayu, ty by znal vse ob etom.” I guess you’d know all about that.

He gives you leftover curry in a carry bag when you leave. Kisses you on the cheek and lets you go, but you can feel him watching you the entire time it takes you to walk down the street and out of sight. As soon as you round the corner you retch into the nearest bush, a well-manicured rose which you silently apologise to as it gets covered in your bile.

This guilt isn’t something Bucky can save you from - it feels like it’s eating you alive. You had never, ever thought you would get to the point where you’d be leaving a bug stuck to the underside of your dad’s kitchen table, but you suppose you never thought you’d be stalked and kidnapped either. You wipe the your mouth with the back of your hand as your stomach finishes emptying itself of tea and betrayal, and try to tell yourself you won’t find anything, you're just being paranoid. But you know you will.

Maybe you always have, and that’s why you’ve been too scared to pull on the thread you’ve known has been dangling in the back of your mind since you were a kid. Just one secret you wanted to leave, one dark corner you didn’t want to shine a light into. That’s never been in your nature. You spit the foul, acidic taste from your mouth onto a poor, innocent rose bud and think with just as much bitterness as the bile coating your throat, that’s not who my dad raised me to be.

Part 7

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #reader insert #reader insert fic #pov #pov fic #biker!bucky #biker!bucky fic #biker!bucky au #biker au #11 hours #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #brock rumlow

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years

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Could you write about the boys (separately) reading with S/O. Do they prefer reading or being read to? What is their go to book? What is their favourite part of that book? Do they prefer books from their pasts or more modern books? If they don't like reading, do they bother S/O while they're reading? How?

OH I LOVE THIS ASK. Thank you so much for asking this and I hope you enjoy

The Lost Boys x Reading with their S/O

David

This boy isn’t the biggest reader of the four, but he still reads a decent amount. The boys had seen the development of the “moving picture”, but silent movies were still the only movies available until the 1920s. So, reading was still a big part of their early lives, even when things started to go on screen

David prefers to read, but he doesn’t mind being read to. He just likes to have control, and he likes to dictate how fast you end up going through the book. This way, he also gets to choose when you two stop, and, more often than not, he’ll read you a book that he’s already read. Books that he hasn’t read he’ll read by himself, and he’ll offer to read them to you if he liked them. He likes to have you lay your head on his chest as he reads to you, and he’ll run his fingers through your hair as his eyes scan the page. He knows he has a nice voice, and he definitely uses it to his advantage during these times. If you’re the one that’s reading, he’ll only half-listen. He’ll have you lay against his chest as you hold the book in front of you, sitting up against the cave wall. He’d rather use this time to run his fingers through your hair and kiss your neck, only purposely distracting you just a little bit.

David likes horror books, almost as much as he likes horror movies. His go-to book is Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, only because he’s read it so many times. He likes how descriptive it is, and how the monster is portrayed in the book (He hated the movie so much he almost wanted to burn down the theater he saw it in). He relates far too much to the monsters disdain for his creator, and draws far too many parallels between Frankenstein and his monster with his relationship with Max. His favorite part is when the monster tells of how he’s lived before he confronted Frankenstein, and it reminds him of the life he had before Max had found him and his boys.

The only way he cannot relate to Frankenstein’s monster is with the loneliness the monster feels. David has always had his brothers, and, now, you. Though, he sees you as similar to the mate that Frankenstein’s monster had always dreamed of, and he smiles when he tells you that once after reading the book to you. You’d given his chest a small hit, reminding him that both the monster and his desired mate were supposed to be hideous. He’d smirked, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “We’re not exactly gorgeous when we wear our true faces, sweetheart.” He’d reminded you, and you’d rolled your eyes.

David likes gothic horror, but he’s a bit of a slut for Stephen King. King started releasing his books in the seventies, and David was just happy that more horror books were being written. He hadn’t expected to become such a fan, and he has a small collection of both his books and the movie adaptations. Though, he has varying opinions on all of them

Dwayne

This boy READS. He’s the most well-read of the boys, and, even as movies became more popular over the last century, he still reads more than anything. He’s had to see and sit through various movies because of the other boys, but Dwayne genuine prefers books. He’d rather spend two hours at the cave in his imagination as he scans the pages of whatever book he nabbed from the library than go to whatever movie the others picked. Movies are cool, but he didn’t really start paying attention to them until they were in color

Dwayne has so many books it’s a little insane. They’re stacked around the cave, and the other boys, if they want to read, never really have to go to the library or a store to find a new book to read. All they have to do is pick one from Dwayne’s stacks, and promise that it’ll be returned to it’s proper place. Dwayne has started writing his name inside his copies so none of the other boys can claim that it was actually theirs. He frowns whenever he sees a dog-ear or a ripped page, and he always gives whoever was responsible a death glare

Dwayne has spent so much time reading to himself that he practically melts when you offer to read to him. He’s not much of a talker, so he’s far too willing to cuddle with you on the couch and let you read your latest book to him. After that, he definitely prefers to have you read to him. Sure, he’ll read to you from time to time. Usually, when it’s late at night and you’re far too tired to focus on the pages. But, he’d much rather hear your voice make the authors work come to life. It’s a bit of a coin toss as to who will be read to, because you like to hear his voice as much as he likes to hear yours. Eventually, the two of you decide to take turns

His go-to book is a book that infuriates him. It’s The Trial by Franz Kafka, and the first time he read it he laid face down for nearly an hour. The others had asked him if he was okay, and he’d replied by giving them finger-guns. He proceeded to read the book over and over, trying to make sense of it because there had to be something he was missing. Something that explained the absurdness of the plot. His favorite part is the parable the priest gives him, and he once told it to Paul just to make him as confused as he had been the first time he read it. When you ask him for a book suggestion, he offers that one. A week later you throw your copy at him and yell at him for suggesting it. He laughs and catches it, as he knows exactly what you’re feeling. It’s a book he always suggests, mainly because, as far as he’s concerned, everyone should suffer reading it just as he had. The two of you will rant about it for hours

Dwayne will read anything. He’s not necessarily picky, and he’s read pretty much whatever book he could get his hands on. He can’t necessarily get a library card, so a lot of the books he has have to be found some other way. He doesn’t like to have to steal from the library, and prefers to either buy or steal a book from a bookstore on the boardwalk

Paul

Paul doesn’t read

The boy can’t sit still long enough to actually get into a book, and it wasn’t like movies weren’t already a thing. He quickly had a preference for them instead, though he finds it hard to sit through movies as they become longer and longer. Movies, specifically comedies, only used to be two reels long, which ran for about twenty minutes tops. As movies started hitting the hour and two hour marks, the other boys became accustomed to how much Paul would interrupt them

He will only tolerate books if you read them to him, but even then his attention isn’t guaranteed. He’ll spend the entire time kissing your neck and face, and he’ll try to tug any clothes that you’re wearing off your frame. Eventually, he’ll settle in bed next to you. It may take awhile, but Paul will finally lay down with his head on your chest and close his eyes as he listens to your voice. He’ll even lay still if you pet his hair, and he’ll nuzzle your chest if you begin scratching one of his sweet spots. Sometimes he’ll ask questions or make comments, just like he would if it was a movie. You’ll have to pause to answer them or respond, and there’s a chance he might use the distraction to start a conversation with you. If you’re really determined to keep on reading, he’ll sigh and roll his eyes as he lays his head back on your chest. There have been a few times where he’s fallen asleep, but he tells you it was purely out of boredom. Not because he was actually relaxed or something

Even if you’re reading by yourself, he stills spends a good chunk of time trying to get you to pay attention to him instead. Whether that’s just to talk to you or to get into your pants. He’ll walk around the cave, blasting his music and smoking a joint. When you give him a small glare for the loudness of the music, he’ll return his own bright smile. He’ll flop onto your bed in your nest, shaking the mattress. He’ll poke you and attempt to tickle you, before crawling up to kiss your cheek and neck. Then, before you can swat him away, he’ll flip to lay on his back and stare at you like a playful tomcat

If you tell him to stop, he’ll whine. “It’s not my fault!” He’ll sit up and prop his head up by his elbow. “C’mon, we’re already laying in bed. Why don’t we do something a little bit more...stimulating?” He’ll say with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows. He was using ‘big words’ on purpose, since he was convinced that since you like books that you must think those were sexy or something. You’ll roll your eyes, but he’s not nearly as willing to lay down and relax if you’re the only one hearing the story. He’ll rip the book right out of your hand, ignore your cry of “Hey!”, and will plant his lips on yours. There, that’s much more like it.

He genuinely doesn’t understand your interest in them, but he’ll support it anyways. He’ll knick books from bookstores for you and give them to you as gifts. He smiles whenever you thank him/like whatever he chose, and then tap his cheek for a ‘thank you’ kiss

Marko

Marko doesn’t read that much, but he’s not nearly as bad as Paul. He reads a few short novels here or there, but he was ecstatic when comics became a thing in 1933. He was quick to ditch novels in favor of whatever publication company had come up with that month. By the eighties, he has a collection that any comic book junkie would kill for, and even own a few ‘rare’ copies. He doesn’t let Paul, or either of the others, near them and god forbid the inclemate weather coming inside the cave ruins them

Because of his preference of comic books, neither of you can really read to eachother. Instead, you two will lay on the bed inside your nest, each with your own individual comic to page through. Marko chews on his thumb the entire time that he reads, and the two of you will pause to make comments about whatever you’re reading. Most of your reading material are comics that he’s lent you, and he only lets you touch them because he loves you. He swears that you’re the only one allowed to look through them, but he doesn’t go far enough as letting you take them with you

Due to his preference, he prefers new over old. He wholly believes that comic books have gotten better over time. With everything from the art style, the characters, and just the different writers that have come up over the years. He still reminisces about the golden and silver age, but modern is where it’s at! Of course, the bronze age only just ended in 1984

His favorite comic book series is Watchmen by Alan Moore. He watched the superhero genre grow and develop, so he loved when the writers decided to point out how flawed some of the caped crusaders could be. While also creating some pretty awesome ones of their own. He understands that they’re all caricatures of what’s wrong in society/people, and he lives for the symbolism. The characters, the plot, the dialogue? Marko loved everything about it, especially the ending. The giant squid monster? Epic. Marko geeked when it was revealed who the real villain was, and he wouldn’t stop ranting about it for hours

He’s really upset that the Frog brothers just happen to run the best comic book store on the boardwalk, and he has to be dragged away from the store each night. He still remembers when their parents ran it instead, and he’s been pissed about the “new management” ever since the kids were old enough to sweep floors and run the cash register. Marko may or may not be the reason they were tipped off about vampires, but he swears that it was an accident. He also swore that it wasn’t like they had any proof, so they didn’t need to kill the teens immediately (he just didn’t want the store to get shut down)

If you ever want to get him to read a regular novel, you’re gonna have to read it to him. He’ll take a page out of Pauls book and lay his head on your chest as you read, closing his eyes as he listens to your voice. He’ll actually keep his hands to himself, and will focus on just holding you tightly to him instead. He treasures these moments, especially because he just gets to listen to you for over an hour. When you decide to stop for the night, Marko will whine and beg you to keep going. You’ll giggle and promise to pick it up tomorrow, and he’ll sigh. He can be won over with kisses, and the two of you can have some regular cuddle time instead

#the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #paul the lost boys #the lost boys david #The Lost Boys 1987 #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys paul #david the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys marko

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theliterateape · 3 years

Text

I Like to Watch | Zack Snyder’s Justice League

by Don Hall

Mythology is fun.

As a kid I loved reading Edith Hamilton’s book on the Greek gods and the myths. Hercules, Perseus, Apollo, and Hera—this fell completely in line with my love for superhero comics. The strangely petty human traits of envy, greed, and lust combined with the power to level cities make for some great storytelling.

Zeus was basically Harvey Weinstein in the retroactive revision we’re mired in today. If Harvey could’ve changed into a golden animal and boned unsuspecting ladies looking for careers in Hollywood I’m pretty certain he would. The gods and demi-gods of the Greeks dealt with daddy issues, mommy issues, bad relationships, and fighting. Lots of fighting. Sometimes for the good of humanity but more often for the glory of winning.

Zach Snyder is in the business of tackling myths and reframing them with a style all his own. His career has become its own myth.

From Dawn of the Dead (not so much a reboot of Romero's zombie mythology but a philosophical reimagining of the genre that arguably jumpstarted The Hollywood fascination with it), 300 (a borderline homoerotic take on the myth of the Greek underdog), and Watchmen (a ridiculously ambitious attempt to put one of the most iconic takedowns on the potential fascism of the superhero legend machine ever written) to his nearly single-handed hack at answering the Marvel juggernaut with Man of Steel and Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice, Snyder is in the artistic business of subverting and re-envisioning the mythologies we embrace without even seeing them as such.

Snyder's style is operatic. It is on a grand scale even in the most mundane moments. The guy loves slow motion like Scorcese loves mobsters and Italian food. When you're tackling big themes with larger than life stories, the epic nature of his vision makes sense and has alienated a good number of audience members. With such excess, there are bound to be missteps but I'd argue that his massive take on these characters he molds from common understanding and popular nomenclature elevates them to god-like stature.

Fans of Moore's Watchmen have much to complain about Snyder's adaptation. The titular graphic novel is almost impossible to put in any other form than the one Moore intended and yet, Snyder jumped in feet-first and created a living, breathing representation of most, if not all, of the source material's intent. Whether you dig on it or not, it's hard to avoid acknowledging that the first five minutes of Watchmen is a mini-masterpiece of style, storytelling, and epic tragedy wrapped up in a music video.

Despite a host of critical backlash for his one fully original take, Sucker Punch is an amazing thing to see. More a commentary on video game enthusiasm with its lust for hot animated chicks and over-the-top violence that a celebration of cleavage and guns, the film is crazily entertaining. For those who hated the ending, he told you in the title what his plan was all along.

The first movie I saw in the theaters that tried to take a superhero mythology and treat it seriously (for the most part) was Richard Donner's Superman: The Movie. Never as big a fan of the DC characters as I have been of Marvel, it was still extraordinary to see a character I had only really known in pages to be so fully realized. Then came Burton's Batman movies. The superhero film was still an anomaly but steam was gaining. Things changed with Bryan Singer's X-Men in 2000, then Raimi's Spiderman, and those of us who grew up with our pulpy versions of Athena, Hermes, and Hades were rewarded with Nolan's Batman Begins. A far cry from the tongue-in-cheek camp of the 1966 TV Batman, Christian Bale's Bruce Wayne was a serious character and his tale over three films is a tragic commentary filled with the kind of death and betrayal and triumph befitting the grand narrative he deserved.

I loved Singer's Superman Returns in 2006 because it was such a love letter to the 1978 film (down to the opening credits) but by then, the MCU was taking over the world.

Snyder's first of what turns out to be an epic storyline involving perhaps seven or eight movies was Man of Steel. It was fun and, while I had my issues with the broodiness of Kal El, the odd take on Jonathan Kent, and a redheaded Lois Lane, I had no issue with Superman snapping Zod's neck. Darker and more tragic than any other version of the Kryptonian, it was still super entertaining.

Then came Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. By 2016, Marvel had codified their formula of serious characters wrestling with serious issues of power and responsibility peppered with lots of good humor and bright colors. Snyder's desaturated pallete and angst-filled demi-gods was not the obvious road to financial competition.

I'll confess, I hated it. BvS felt half-rendered. Lex Luthor was kind of superficial and played as a kind of Joker. The whole Bruce Wayne wants to kill Superman thing felt undeveloped and the "Martha" moment was just stupid.

When Joss Whedon's version of Snyder's Justice League came out in 2017, I was primed for it to be a turd and I wasn't surprised. So much of it didn't work on any level. I dismissed it as DC trying and failing miserably and was comforted by the coming of Thanos.

Following Thanos and the time heist was COVID. Suddenly, we were internationally sidelined and the movie theater industry caved in. Streaming services started popping up like knock-off smartphones and Hollywood was reeling, doing anything and everything to find a way back. Since Whedon's disastrous helming of Snyder's third act, fans online had been demanding to #ReleasetheSnyderCut but no one was ever really taking them seriously until all movie production was shut down for a year.

The stage was set to remedy a mistake (or at least make some bucks on a do-over of a huge box office failure). Snyder had left the production in part because of the suicide of his daughter and in part due to the constant artistic fights over executives looking for the quippy fun of the MCU but he still had all the original footage. Add to that the broiling accusations that Joss Whedon was "abusive" during the reshoots, the path seemed destined. For an additional $70 million and complete control, Snyder delivered a four hour mega-movie streamed on HBOMax.

Of course, I was going to watch the thing as soon as I could.

The Whedon version opens with an homage to the now dead Superman (including the much maligned digitally erased mustache on Henry Cavill). The SynderCut opens with the death of Superman and the agony of his death scream as it travels across the planet. It's a simple change but exemplifies the very different visions of how this thing is gonna play out.

Snyder doesn't want us to be OK with the power of these beings unleashed. He wants us to feel the damage and pain of death. He wants the results of violence to be as real as he can. When Marvel's Steve Rogers kicks a thug across the room and the thug hits a wall, he crumples and it is effectively over. When Batman does the same thing, we see the broken bones (often in slow motion) and the blood smear on the wall as the thug slides to the ground.

The longer SnyderCut is bloated in some places (like the extended Celtic choir singing Aquaman off to sea or the extended narrations by Wonder Woman which sound slightly like someone trying to explain the plot to Siri). On the other hand, the scene with Barry Allen saving Iris West is both endearing and extraordinary, giving insight to the power of the Flash as well as some essential character-building in contrast to Whedon's comic foil version.

One thing I noticed in this variant is that Zach wants the audience to experience the sequence of every moment as the characters do. An example comes when Diana Prince goes to the crypt to see the very plot she belabors over later. The sequence is simple. She gets a torch and goes down. Most directors which jump cut to the torch. Snyder gives us five beats as she grabs the timber, wraps cloth around the end, soaks it with kerosene, pulls out a box of matches, and lights the torch. Then she goes down the dark passageway.

The gigantic, lush diversity of Snyder’s vision of the DC superhero universe—from the long shots of the sea life in the world of Atlantis to the ancient structures and equipment of Themyscira— is almost painterly. Snyder isn't taking our time; he's taking his time. We are rewarded our patience with a far better backstory for the villain, a beautifully rendered historic battle thwarting Darkseid's initial invasion (including a fucking Green Lantern), and answers to a score of questions set up in both previous films.

Whedon's Bruce Wayne was more Ben Affleck; Snyder's is full-on Frank Miller Batman, the smartest, most brutal fucker in the room. Cyborg, instead of Whedon's sidelined non-character, is now a Frankenstein's monster, grappling with the trade-off between acceptance and enormous power. Wonder Woman is now more in line with the Patty Jenkins version and instead of being told about the loss of Superman, we are forced to live with the anguish of both his mother and Lois Lane in quiet moments of incredible grief.

To be fair to Whedon (something few are willing to do as he is now being castigated not for racism or sexism but for being mean to people) having him come in to throw in some levity and Marvel-esque color to Snyder's Wagnerian pomposity is like hiring Huey Lewis to lighten up Pink Floyd's The Wall or getting Douglas Adams to rewrite Cormac McCarthy's The Road.

I loved Snyder's self-indulgent, mythologic DC universe.

So much so that I then re-watched Man of Steel and then watched the director's version of BvS (which Snyder added approximately 32 minutes). The second film is far better at three hours and Eisenberg's Lex Luthor now makes sense. Then I watched Zach Snyder's Justice League a second time.

After nineteen hours of Snyder's re-imagining of these DC heroes and villains, I saw details that, upon first viewing, are ignored or dismissed, but after seeing them in order and complete, are suddenly consistent and relevant. Like Nolan or Fincher, Snyder defies anyone to eliminate even one piece of his narrative no matter how long. With all the pieces, this is an epic story and the pieces left at the extended epilogue play into a grander narrative we will never see.

Or maybe we will. Who knows these days?

#I Like to Watch #Zach Snyder's Justice League

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

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Love me, love me not ~ pt. 9

09: When Grayson has a good day

Summary: Five months passed, the pair finally reunited. Y/N comes bearing more good news he could even imagine...but life always counters good news with bad ones.

Warnings: fluff, angst, swearing, talking about sex

Word count: 3.3 k

Love me, love me not ~ Series Masterlist

She hasn’t seen Grayson in almost five months. She has seen him, but not really - photos don’t count. Dreams don’t count.

While the world speculated about their sudden break, or at least what they could assume is a break up considering the pair hadn’t been seen hand in hand for so long, Y/N and Grayson continued their lives to the best of their ability, just in different directions.

Grayson got his callback for Dimitri and after months, he was finally in the top three. He focused on his own mental health and physical preparations for the role he was gunning for, putting love on hold because he didn’t give up on Y/N. Just as he promised her.

Y/N decided to step down from the spotlight until she had to return for final rounds of auditions for major characters, a chemistry check sort to speak. She retreated into her own bubble, traveling the world as silently as possible, although she was caught in pretty much every country she visited.

She discovered thighs about herself she didn’t even know, learning that being alone and lonely are two very different things. You choose to be alone while loneliness is imposed on you. And she was lonely at first, twirling the ring she refused to take off, and thinking about the man who gave it to her for safekeeping. But then she was just alone, enjoying her own company and the beauty of self-love. She forgot about that for a while, but she rediscovered what it means to be human again.

And she missed Grayson.

She especially missed him when she saw the tattoo he had gotten shortly after their departure - a pink-haired woman, driving a convertible, just as she imagined Rose to be in her head…the tears on her cheeks must have been what he had envisioned, the same tears he saw her shed that night they last saw each other.

They didn’t completely stop talking. She’d shoot him an odd text or a photo of a sunset every once in a while, and he’d send her news on the casting progress.

It took her two weeks and five days to cave to Snapchat him a photo of a sunset over Machu Pichu, captioning it with: Made me think of you.

She’d like his photos and tweets and he’d do the same. It was what kept the fans alive and convinced the break wasn’t a breakup, simply a distance thing.

Grayson and Y/N knew they’ll meet soon enough. It was inevitable. Neither really cared to fight the sentimental smiles that pulled at their lips with each passing day, because every day brought them closer together, it meant she’d be back to L.A. and back to him.

And he missed her.

Grayson missed the smell of her hair and the way she’d tuck it behind her ear. He missed her lingering perfume and the way he’d smell her on his shirt for a week after they’d hug. And he missed her smile that warmed his heart and made him lay down his armor. But, what he missed the most were actually her cold hands and the way they would hold onto his as if he were the last source of heat in this world…and the ring he saw in her photos didn’t escape him. He knew she still wore it. Even if he somehow managed to miss it, which is impossible considering he looks for it in every new sighting picture as it symbolizes hope for their reunion, the fans and social media definitely didn’t as they made sure to zoom in every time and freak out over it just as Grayson does.

After all the longing and necessary healing, Y/N finally got to call to return home.

The very thought made her giddy, but also an anxious mess. She had changed since the last time they talked face to face and she worried if he would like the new parts of her soul.

Would he like the wanderer she had become?

She would know soon as his face is the first one that comes in view when she steps foot into the airport.

Despite her wanting to be calm, she couldn’t help but run straight into his arms. She didn’t care about fans taking pictures around them, nor the paparazzi. She didn’t care about her belongings as they remained discarded on the floor. She didn’t care about anything but the man who stood with flowers in his hand and the feel of his arms around her frame she missed so dearly.

She ran so fast, her heart threatening to burst, the smile on her face wide from the start. Grayson spread his arms, bending his knees just a little to make sure he didn’t drop her. He felt his heart swell with each stride she had taken in his direction because he knew she wouldn’t fake this for the photos. This was real. Her smile, her ecstatic squeal that echoed all the way to him, it was all real.

Her body collided with his, her arms wrapping around his neck as his secured her waist close to his, helping her legs wrap around him for stability. He twirled her in his arms, the flowers falling to the ground and the huff he let out when she crashed into him long forgotten as emotions ran high.

“You good, big boy?” She giggled, placing her hands on his shoulders as she moved her head back to see him. Her right hand decided his left cheek was a better place to reside, cupping it tenderly with a sweet smile upon his lips there to reward her.

“Yeah. You got heavier.” He chuckled, his hand lowering to her ass instead of her waist, keeping her up in his line of sight. He felt her squirm when he placed his hands low, but her cheeks darkened in a shy attempt to hide how it affected her. His touch had her reeling, needy, desperate. But she didn’t know if she was allowed to make a move after all the time had passed.

“Did you just call me fat, Dolan?” She crinkled her nose, furrowing her eyebrows as well, a playful tone to her words assuring him she’s joking and isn’t truly angry as he began walking, noticing the assistants run for her bags and flowers.

“Not fat, but you’ve definitely filled up there, dhampir princess.” Grayson teased, using her future nickname as a way to remind her he was steps away from being her dhampir prince.

“Says Mr. Buff! I can’t believe how buff you are!” She squeezed his bicep, still very much aware he’s got his hands on her ass and his bulge is rubbing against her clothed core with every step he takes. The worst part about it all is that she can’t even guarantee it’s because he’s horny, because he’s generally always got a bulge, because he is THAT big.

“You too, princess. Can’t wait to explore everything that’s changed.” He smirked, leaning in to whisper. “Every curve, every spot will feel my lips. I missed you.” The words had made her flustered, he knew they would. He enjoyed pushing her buttons after finding what buttons she has and how to operate them. She had become his, even before she knew it.

“Wait.” She needed to say it. “Are we back on, or are we taking his a little slower than last time because I still have commitment issues and I still feel like I’ll freak the fuck out if”, but he ended her rant when he turned them, pressing her back into the cool metal of his Porsche, his lips finding hers so easily. It was basic instinct, something he didn’t even have to think about as he pressed himself closer to her, his body keeping hers upright, her legs tightening around his waist as she pressed her heated core to his bulge…definitely a real bulge now.

“Stop thinking too much, princess.” He whispered between kisses, claiming her lips as his, over and over.

“Nice to see you two are cozying up to each other again, but we gotta go! Y/N has an interview with Ellen in three hours and they’re calling us for makeup.” Tracy interrupted, making Y/N groan into the kiss which used to be reserved for Grayson. It felt good, knowing she wanted him as badly as he wanted her now. She used to hide her emotions so well, he never knew where they stood. He never knew if her feelings for him were real or acting. But the way her legs pushed him closer and she almost dry humped him, that way enough to know at least lust was there, and this groan…there was something real there for sure.

“Can’t he come too?” She whined, her left hand lost in his hair, gripping it for dear life.

“Not today. We have a lot to go over. Meet up later or tomorrow before the last rounds of auditions.” Tracy shrugged, watching them untangle from each other as if it were a punishment of the highest sort.

Y/N stood on her tiptoes, puckering her lips for a kiss, her hand pulling at Grayson’s shirt to get him to lean into her.

“So needy, huh?” He snickered, kissing her once more, unable to contain his smile. He had imagined seeing her again going in many directions, but never once did he think she’d be so happy to see him or so affectionate. He didn’t know she had promised herself not to ignore her needs anymore – and he was just that – a need.

“I’ll text you.” He whispered, surrendering to her lips one last time for the time being, watching her unlatch herself, moving away from him. She glanced his way more than once as she walked away, sending him a tiny wave and he realized something…her hands weren’t cold today.

“Today we have a special guest here with us. The brilliant young actress who stole so many hearts over the past two years: Y/N Y/L/N!” Ellen introduced as Y/N came out, blowing air kisses to the crowd, waving to them as she smiled widely, the screaming fans never stopping, even as she sat down. And she missed that – the deafening sound of the people who cared about her, even if they had no idea how off she had been. She missed the thrill it brought and the way it had her adrenaline skyrocket…the feeling of being alive and in the moment.

“Wow, settle down now. You’re gonna scare her off!” Ellen chuckled, turning to Y/N with a mischievous smirk. “So, I think you owe me something, young lady.” She began, making Y/N look left-right, her left eye narrowing ever so slightly as confusion took over her facial features.

“I found you a boyfriend and this is the thanks I get?!” Ellen exclaims, pressing her lips together as she shook her head and Y/N laughed out loud, her cheeks darkening so quickly she felt the heat rush to her face. Hiding her face in her hands, she continued to laugh, finding it hard to speak about Grayson now when things got real.

“I mean, technically, fiancé, but yeah.” She corrected Ellen, wiping tears from under her eyes, hoping she didn’t ruin her make up.

“Do I get an invitation to the wedding? I mean…I should let you know I have a license to marry people now! I got ordained on www.igotordainedsoicouldmarrypeople.com!” Ellen kept a straight face, looking at the much happier looking young lady before her fondly.

“It would only be fair, yeah.” Y/N agreed, placing her left hand over her chest, catching a breath, not even bothering to hide her flustered face anymore.

“I see he still hasn’t gotten you a proper ring.” Ellen begins, but Y/N interjects.

“He did. This right here”, she points to the ring and the camera zooms in. “This ring is the most important thing I own in this whole world. Anyone who was a fan of the Dolan twins would recognize it easily – the ring his late father Sean owned. There isn’t anything he could give me that would ever measure up to this treasure right here.” Y/N spoke genuinely, from the heart, her voice cracking a few times, and for the first time in a long time, this wasn’t an act.

“Wow. I had no idea.” Ellen excused, feeling her own eyes tear up as she heard the story. But she had to light up the situation. “SO…Were you a fan?”

Y/N smiled again, feeling her face ache with so much joyous reactions, but she was about to disclose something she never had before. “I was. I was a hardcore stan actually…and he never responded to any of my tweets and I was salty about it. So, that’s why I ignored him when he first contacted me on Instagram.” She admitted, giggling at the camera before biting her lip innocently, waving to the camera. “Sorry honey.”

What she didn’t know is that the twins were seated at home, both watching the show. And Ethan couldn’t contain himself.

“I KNEW IT! No one could just tell us apart so easily on the first try!”

“She just said we’re engaged and you’re thinking about that?” Grayson shook his head vehemently. “She’s willing to go the distance with me after everything, and you’re excited about confirming your theories? Why am I even surprised? Of course you are.” Grayson chuckled, turning his attention back to the gorgeous woman on the screen.

“So, you’ve been traveling a lot. Any particular reason for that?” Ellen changed the subject discreetly, knowing she should let up and get to the point of their interview.

“It was a road of self-discovery. I wanted to be one with myself and nature as much as possible. I wanted to see everything I always wanted, but I couldn’t because I was working all the time. So, I’ve been to your gorilla resort as well! I absolutely loved the experience. I’ve done swimming with the dolphins and sharks thing…I walked with lions and actually got a chance to pet them in Mauritius. I’ve been all over, getting my mind ready for this next phase of my life. It’s been great. I missed L.A. – for obvious reasons.” Y/N winked at the camera, chuckling when Ellen suggested it was really her who she missed.

“I’ve heard you’re going to play Rose Hathaway for the remake of Vampire academy.” Ellen steered the conversation once more, allowing Y/N to gush.

“YES! I’m so happy I got this role because I’m such a fan of the books. I loved the original movie and I was so angry they didn’t get a chance to keep going, but I think this version we’re doing is going to be a little more book-oriented and detailed and while some of the aspects will have to be sacrificed to bring it to life on the big screen, I think fans will be really happy.” She clasped her hands, resting them in her lap, touching upon Grayson’s ring for peace of mind.

“And Dimitri still isn’t cast from what I understand?” This got Grayson’s attention, mostly because he was one callback away from signing the contract and he clearly had a personal stake in this.

“The last callback is tomorrow. We have three guys doing screen tests with the rest of the cast. As you know, Dove Cameron will be Lisa Dragomir and her boyfriend will play Christian. There’s a possibility of it being true for me as well since Grayson is actually in the top three for Dimitri.” She decided to divulge, hearing loud gasps in the crowd. This was intentional, knowing the public pressure might sway directors in Grayson’s direction. She wanted him beside her and that had nothing to do with her mixed feelings about him. Grayson was actually a good actor and his Russian accent was perfect. He was a perfect Dimitri, the only thing in question being his hair – both color and length, but she was gonna fight them to keep it short and brown till the death. The original Dimitri lost appeal because they grew his hair out. The actor was perfectly handsome with shorter hair and she hated how much the movie suffered because of a simple thing as a hairstyle.

“Wow!” Ellen looked around with wide eyes. “The rest of the guys are screwed. The chemistry between you and Grayson is undeniable. It’s impossible to ignore, cause – LOOK!” She pointed at photos of the pair on the big screen, making the blush return to her cheeks and Y/N felt herself melt.

“Yeah. We clearly have an issue keeping our hands to each other.” Winking once more, she added. “So, I’ll no longer be Mercy…as Grayson put it, I’m the Dhampir Princess.”

And the nickname stuck just as well, if not better, than Mercy.

Grayson didn’t wait for long as she strutted inside their home an hour later, without any warnings. She remembered the gate code and she knew they never lock their house since they got the gate. It was easy to surprise the boys.

Ethan got a hug first – a tight, friendly hug accompanied by a definitive “I knew you were a fan” thrown in there.

But Grayson got a kiss – toe-curling, passionate kind of a kiss that would lead absolutely nowhere as the two spent the night catching up. They talked about all that happened while they were apart, mostly about how much they missed each other – noses touching, lips locking, but they didn’t go all the way. No. Grayson wanted to make sure they had solid foundations to build a relationship on.

“How do guys usually say it? Just the tip, please?” Y/N chuckled, a little desperate with her need for Grayson who was very adamant on his no sex rule.

“Nope. Not having sex tonight. Tomorrow, maybe. But I just wanna hold you and look at you and convince myself this isn’t a dream.” He responded, dragging his knuckle over her cheek slowly, gently.

“What about a wet dream? Or dry humping? Or oral?” She listed, pouting when he laughed at her attempt to get him to cave.

“Babe, I can’t. Not gonna do something we might not be sure about.” He was clear.

“Not even if I tell you they’ll give you the role of Dimitri Belikov and having sex would be practice for filming?” She cocked an eyebrow, revealing information foreign to him, making him jump from the bed. Gripping his hair, eyes wide open, Grayson was struggling to accept the new information.

“They told me after the interview. You were a fan favorite as well, so you got the part.” She smiled from ear to ear, not even caring she wouldn’t get sex that night. His smile was pleasure enough.

“I GOTTA CALL MY MOM!” He screamed, running out of the room. She heard him stumble more than once, hitting a wall here and there and more of his screaming as he told Ethan first. It took him three minutes and a round of mutual Dolan twins screaming before Grayson ran back in, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Sorry I forgot to kiss you.” He grinned, calling his mother after that.

“Found some success and already forgetting all about me, huh?” She giggled, blissfully content with the way things were going for them.

Until she opened Twitter and found something horrifying: Meyson FAKE? Read all about their PR stunt!

Her phone rang at the same time, Tracy on the other line. She knew this was bad. It was really bad...career-ending sort of bad.

“FUCK!”

Tags: @xalayx @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @anything-dolan @peacedolantwins @maybgrayson @nowheredolan @graydolan12 @beautorigin @justordinaryjen @starrydolan @pitreshawn @grays-laugh @adventureswithmell @gia-kerks

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan series #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan au #ethan dolan

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hanniiesuckle17 · 5 years

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Guns and Blankets

A/n: not requested but I have been doing too many Stray Kids posts lately holy crap this got long. yes it is heavily inspired by BBC sherlock

ASKS AND REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Member: Jung Hoseok ft. BTS

WARNINGS: Mild violence, swearing, partial smut?, smoking (don't do it kids), alcohol

Summary: Y/n L/n is the world's closest thing to Sherlock Holmes. Her intellect was unparalleled by anyone, but her snide and sarcastic remarks and attitude kept her from joining the force. However, Chief of Police Kim Namjoon can't help but enlist the services of the consulting detective. To the outside, Y/n may seem cold, calculating, and emotionless, but her partner ( Dr.Jung Hoseok) sees a different side of her.

Genre: nonidol!au, detective!au, police!au, sherlockholmes!au, mystery, comedy, angst

I paced the floor of my dark apartment, mind running. "Is your goal to create a dent, because you are doing mighty good work." I scoffed at my partner who sat in the armchair reading the paper.

"I'm waiting. I thought domestic people like you understood that concept." The young man with dark hair chuckled as he watched me burn a hole through my wood floor. My head shot towards the window at the sound of a car pulling up. "Finally, Kim shows up with something to do!"

"A nice murder. That always cheers you up, love."

I could hear the grin in Hoseok's words. "Oh shut up! You love it as much as I do, Mr. Military Doctor." I couldn't kept the smile from breaking onto my face no matter how hard I tried. "Y/n!" The familiar voice of Chief Inspector Kim Namjoon came up the stairs to my apartment.

"What is it this time, Kim?" He stopped in the doorway, out of breath. "Body? Kidnapping? Attempted political assassination? All very fun." He shook his head and started to pull his phone out of his pocket. "No. This was sent to me twenty minutes ago." He showed me a picture of a shabby empty room, but something was ominous and familiar about it.

"I know this room. Where do I know this room." Hoseok came behind me to look over my shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by my cellphone ringing on the table.

Handing Hoseok the phone I went to pick up mine. "Y/n L/n speaking." There was silence on the other end. The two men spoke in hushed tones conversing about the photo. "Hello?" The line was live and my ears picked up the slightest sound of breathing on the other side. "You're wasting my very valuable time by-"

"Y/n."

"Yes, Hoseok. What is it?"

"The room. Isn't it the apartment downstairs?"

Hanging up the phone I looked again at the photo. Without a word, I took off down the stairs yelling for out landlady, Mrs. Yang. Grabbing the keys from her painted nails I rushed to the door and opened it, Kim and Hoseok hot on my heels. I froze when my eyes landed on the center of the room.

"What? What is it?" A pair of women's trainers lay side by side in the exact center of the room. Dusty light came through the old windows illuminating the area.

"Well that's not creepy."

The second I took a step forward my phone rang once again, breaking the heavy silence. Gingerly, I pulled out the device and put it on speaker. "Hello." I said quietly still examining the shoes from afar.

Heavy,shaky breathing filled the room before a women's voice spoke. "H-hello...s-se-sexy..." In my peripherals I saw Hoseok move to my right near the wall.

"Who is this-"

"I....s-sent you a...li-little p-puzzle.....Just to say...h-hi."

"Whose talking? Why are you crying?"

Kim's eyes moved between me and the shoes. My mind was reeling with the new information being shown to me.

"I'm n-not crying...I'm t-typing...and this stupid...b-bitch is reading my w-words."

My feet moved forward towards the shoes to examine them. "Careful!" Kim said. "This sounds like a power play. The guy could be a bomber."

Handing Hoseok the phone I crouched lightly on the floor, putting the pieces together.

"14...hours to solve m-my puzzle,...Y/n.....or I will b-be ve-very naughty."

More crying could be heard on the line. I turned to my right to see Hoseok with his eyes closed and head against the wall, a strained expression on his face.

"Time starts now..."

The line went dead and silence filled the room. Hoseok opened his eyes only to flinch as I lifted the shoes from the floor. "I know these shoes...."

"You have the department's full support. Anything you need."

"Oh, Yoongi will be happy about that."

Hoseok chuckled and slipped my phone in my pocket as I turned to him.

"Come on, Hoseok. I'm sure Tae is at the lab. We've got a puzzle to solve."

"I'm sure Taehyung will be very happy to see you." Every inch of Hoseok's voice was dripping with jealousy. Something I rather enjoyed hearing.

Five hours had passed as I studied the shoes. Taehyung was more than happy to let us use the morgue's lab once again. Hoseok idly chatted with me as I worked, something I had grown accustomed to but did not so much to say enjoy. The short silence was broken once again by my cell.

"Pass me my phone?" My eyes never left the microscope as I spoke to him.

"Where is it?"

"Pocket."

With a sigh, Hoseok got up and reach into my back pocket.

"Careful there, Hobi." A smirk played on my lips as I turned to him behind me. That small knowing smile creeped onto his face. He knew something the rest of the world didn't. I had quite the soft spot for him. In more ways than one.

As he opened my phone I turned to the computer screen to analyze the new results. "Text from your brother."

"Delete it. It's not important."

"He seems to think so. Something about national security codes."

"Codes are already out of the country by now. Nothing I can do about it. Besides he pretty much is the South Korean government he can fix it like a big boy. All by himself."

Hoseok tossed my phone beside me on the table and walked back to his seat on my right.

"Besides....someone else is being way more fun."

The computer finished just as the door opened to reveal Taehyung with starry eyes aimed towards me. "Any luck?" "Yes, finally." A warm body followed behind him shortly after.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Hyun- Hi! Oh my God! No come in."

The woman came over slowly to stand next to Tae, but I paid her no mind, continuing with my work.

"Hyunah, this Y/n L/n. And her.....Juny Hoseok." My partner politely shook hands with her but I could feel her stare on my back, though I ignored it.

"Hi...So....you're Y/n L/n. Taehyung has told me all about you." Her voice had a sultry tone to it.

"Yes, dear Tae has a tendency to do that."

"Are you working on one of your cases? I'm such a fan." She moved near Hoseok to try and peek at the screen. "Hyunah works in IT upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance!" My eyes scanned her over picking up every detail about her.

"Gay."

"Sorry what?" Tae said shocked.

"Nothing sorry. Hey."

Cast a nod towards her, she smiled and dropped a metal pan that rest on the edge of the table.

"Oh sorry! Oh my god!" She bent down to pick it up revealing the bright red skivy up her skirt, causing Hoseok to look away.

"I should be going." She placed the pan back on the table and bade a quick farewell to Tae with a kiss on the cheek before exiting.

"Gay? We're together."

"And domestic life must suit you Taehyung. You've put on three pounds."

"It's not three! Maybe two and a half!"

"Three."

"She's not gay! She's n- Y/n why do you have to spoil-"

"With that hair color?"

Hoseok scoffed beside me. "What because she died her hair orange. I've died my hair before." "No, love you've bleached your hair. There's a difference."

"She isn't gay."

"You failed to notice those tired clubbers eyes, the quite prominent pride themed tattoo on inside of her forearm, and obviously the short nails. Most women don't really like that you know feeling."

"Short nails?"

"Also the extremely suggestive fact that she slipped me her number before leaving."

Pulling the sticky note from under the pan Hyunah knocked over I handed it to Taehyung before looking back at the microscope.

"Call me xoxo. She quite straight to the point. I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain, Tae."

With a glare mixed with hurt Taehyung simply turned and left the room. "Charming. Well done, Y/n."

"Oh please. You are you jealous a girl has put more moves on me than you have."

Getting out of his chair Hoseok came to tower over me. "You know that's not my problem but yours." It was true. I liked fucking with him, but I was afraid to let my heart have precedence over my head.

Two and a half days later and two puzzles had been solved within the time limit. Now I was just waiting for something to happen. I sighed as I flexed my arm. Promising Hobi I'd quit smoking was maybe the hardest things I'd encountered.

"I've brought take out and vodka-what are you doing!?"

"Nicotine patch."

"Three of them?"

"It's a three patch problem."

He sighed and opened the bottle pouring himself a glass before downing all of it. "Why isn't he doing anything?" Hoseok collapsed onto my couch, his arm spread over the back behind my head and his other hand pulling my legs into his lap so we could both fit on the small couch.

"I don't know. I'm happy not to think about anything for a while."

"What's it like living in your head? It must be awfully boring."

"Not really, I have you to keep me on my toes."

See most people would recognize the consequences of hard liquor and sexual tension, but I honestly didn't care. So when the sky grew dark all other senses are heightened. Sound. Taste. Touch.

That seemed to be the favorite of the night touch. His hands felt secure on my body as the moved across it like paint on a canvas. My lips couldn't help but find pieces of raw skin waiting to be marked as Hoseok lay on top of me. The smell of smoke and alcohol filled the bedroom, leaving my mind a blur.

The feeling of Hoseok filled my entire body and was better than any alcohol or drug I had ever taken. I felt a lack of control and I loved it. Hoseok thrust into me at a deep and steady pace and his lips moved down to my chest and attaching themselves to my breast. My fingers pulled at his dark locks eliciting a deep melodical groan from Hoseok that fueled my need even more.

A heavy pounding on my door awakened me from a heavy sleep. Light was just beginning to break outside my window. Hoseok lay under me with an arm wrapped tightly around my stomach. Hoseok still stayed fast asleep so quietly I got out of bed and slipped on a pair of sweats and put my black bra back on. The pounding continued.

"ALRIGHT! I'M COMING!" I screamed before running to open the door. Opening the door I found Kim And Min Yoongi standing in the hall. "Yoongi."

"Y/n."

"Yoongi face the other way. You're putting me off."

"Nice sex hair."

"At least I can get off with fucking and not having to be an ignorant asswipe."

"Yoongi shut up. Y/n let us inside." I opened the door further and motioned for the two men to enter, but not without flipping off the idiot.

"Another one?" Kim nodded before responding. "Down by the docks. We got a call this morning. You have 12 hours. Sounded like an older woman this time. Aparently she's blind." I smiled, excited by the new development in our little game.

"Hobi, nice of you to join us. Sorry I left you darling." I turned hearing footsteps coming from the bedroom. Hoseok stood with messy hair in only a pair of sweats he kept at my place. "You're fine." He said with a small but sad smile.

Yoongi scoffed before turning to me, taking in both of our states. "I didn't realize a psychopath like you could have a soft spot for your little doctor."

"I'm not a psychopath, Yoongi. I'm a high-functioning sociopath, do your fucking research."

"Ladies, stop fighting. We've got a murder to solve."

After changing Hoseok and I followed the two officers in a taxi to the docks. A slight mist rained down on us as we arrived at the destination. Police tape bordered the area and several officers milled about a car parked near some shipping crates.

As we got closer, I could see blood dripping out of the driver's side door. My eyes searched the car over. "Car was hired yesterday by a Jeon Minhyuk. Looks like about a pint of blood." Kim said, crouching next to the open car.

"Not about. Exactly. Most likely planted here on purpose. Our victim-"

"Jeon Minhyuk."

"Yeah, whatever. Long story short. Abduction not murder."

My eyes caught the sight of a middle aged woman crying next to some officers. "Who's that?" Yoongi nodded towards her. "Jeon's wife. Got here just before you did."

I nodded and stuffed my hands in my pockets as I turned to Hoseok. "Let's go talk to her, darling."

I took a breath of cold air before approaching the crying woman. "Mrs.Jeon?" She turned and frowned at our presence. "Yes, look I've already spoken with the police-" "Yes, ma'am. We aren't police." Hoseok interrupted politely.

"Y/n L/n." I reached out to shake her hand with a broken look.

"A very good friend of your husband's. We-uh... we grew up together."Tears started to fall from my cheeks as I 'recalled' the memory.

"I'm sorry? Who are you?" She said shaking her head.

"This is my husband, Hoseok." He politely shook her hand while casting me a side glance.

"I-don't think he ever mentioned you."

"No-no. He must've- I just can't believe it. I was just with him the other day. Same old Minhyuk not a care in the world."

Her face changed dramatically. "I'm sorry, but my husband has been depressed for months. Who are you?"

"Strange that he hired a car?" I said looking back the car and wiping away some of the tears. "Why would he do that? But suspicious isn't it?"

"No it isn't! He forgot to renew the tax on the car that's all."

"Ah. That was Minhyuk. That was Minhyuk all over. Forgetting everything."

"No it wasn't!"

"Wasn't it? Interesting."

My face turned straight and I turned back to the car walking away. "Do you enjoy lying to people?" Hoseok asked with a smile. "People don't like to tell you things, but they love to contradict you." I couldn't help but smile at Hobi's laugh. "Did you notice?" I asked.

"What?"

"I referred to her husband in the past tense and she joined in. Bit premature. We've only found the car. She's in on it."

My eyes drifted to a sticker on the bumper. Janus Cars. "Hobi." Pointing to the sticker he crouched to inspect it. "Janus? The only Janus I know is the top headed Egyptian god."

"Well let's go see."

Five hours were down as we entered the office of Kim Hyojong, owner of Janus cars. "Yeah rented the car out to him yesterday." The man said as he scratched his arm. "Mazda Rx8 I believe. Wouldn't mind one myself." He smirked as he pulled up the sleeves of his shirt revealing an expensive watch.

"Is that one?" I pointed to a random picture on the wall as I walked around. When he turned I quickly inspected the back of his neck before turning around. "Uh... that's a jag. Not a car girl I see."

"Surely you can afford one, a Mazda I mean." Hoseok said, pulling the attention off of me for a moment as I inspected the man for a few more minutes.

"Have you got any change for the cigarette machine? I'm practically gasping." Hoseok shot me a glare as I held out a ten and watched as the man pulled out his wallet.

"No, sorry."

After thanking him the two of us walked out side by side. "If absolutely need to....here. I've got change."

"Don't need it, darling. Nicotine patches, remember?" I said pulling up my sleeve to reveal another two added on my arm. "Too expensive to smoke nowadays anyhow."

"So what was that all about?" He said pulling down my sleeve quickly. "Needed to see inside his wallet. Did you see? All foreign bills." My growing speech was interrupted by my phone ringing.

"Y/n L/n."

"The clue is in the name. Janus Cars."

An older female voice came through the phone. The blind lady. Yes almost forgot. Bomb and everything.

"Why are you giving me a hint?"

"Why does anyone do anything......I like to watch....you...dance...."

The line went dead. Hoseok looked to me with brows raised. "Phone Kim. Tell him to bring the car to the garage."

Eight hours in and I was sure. Kim and Hoseok stood with me in front of the car, waiting for my explanation.

"The blood was their first mistake. Exactly a pint. But it is definitely Jeon Minhyuk's, though frozen. There are traces. I had Tae run some tests. I think Minhyuk gave a pint of his blood a while ago and that it was Janus Car's spread on the seat."

"Janus Cars?"

"Yes, the clue is in the name."

"That God with two faces?" Namjoon asked.

"Exactly. Janus Cars offers a less than legal service to help you disappear from certain problems whatever they may be."

"So where is Jeon?" Kim questioned again.

"Brazil." I said closing the car door.

"What?"

"Kim Hyojong had a 20000 Brazilian peso note in his wallet as well as some change, the dick. Which means he had been abroad recently. When I asked him about the cars he turned and I saw an obvious tan line on his neck. Somewhere hot, but not for pleasure. No one wears a shirt on the fucking beach. Next his arm-"

"His arm?"

"Do stop interrupting. It's quite annoying and we have a bomb to stop. Yes his arm. He was scratching it and It was bleeding. Most likely because he had a booster jab. The therefore out Jeon Minhyuk is somewhere lying in a cabana in Brazil thanks to Janus Cars."

I pulled out my phone and posted the answer on my website like I had the past two times. "Y/n how long have you known?" "It was very simple. I knew the bomber had given us twelve hours so I finished this and was able to complete other things."

"Other things! That woman has been sitting there with a bomb strapped to her chest." Immediately my phone rang.

"Hello."

"Help me...." the woman cried out softly.

"Tell us where you are. Address."

"They were....so-....They're voice was-"

"No! Don't tell me anything about them!"

"They sounded...so soft-"

The sound of an explosion could be heard right before the line went dead. "Hello!" My shaking hand dropped the phone. I stood frozen in place. Hoseok took my face in his hands. "Y/n? Y/n, love? Look at me. What happened?" The words were stuck in my throat.

"It's-.....it's not fair. I answered! She started to describe him and she- Oh my god!" My fingers pulled at the roots of my hair and anxiety and panic started to kick in.

"Namjoon, there was an explosion go get a squad. I'll take care of her." Hoseok pried my hands away from my face where my nails where scratching at my hair and skin in panic.

"Y/n....I'm right here it's okay. Fuck!" My vision spun and it felt like nails were driving into my skull. Clutching my head I collapsed on the parking garage floor. "I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE! TAKE IT AWAY! TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME!" I screamed and pushed Hoseok's hands away as he tried to rip off all five of the nicotine patches, which certainly weren't helping the situation.

"I CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE! THERE IS TOO MUCH UP HERE! There's no room for me." I clutched my head even tighter as tears spilled onto my cheeks. Hoseok tried to pull me towards him in Hope's of calming me down.

"I don't want this gift! I don't want it! There is no more room for me! It's too much stuff in my head! Hoseok, please make it go away!" I pounded on his chest and cried like a baby as he pulled me into his lap on the ground.

"I don't want to be smart anymore.......It's too much......I can't be responsible for all of this!"

The last thing I remember was passing out in Hoseok's arms.

I woke up again to darkness. Sitting up, my coat was hanging on the door and I had been put in a tshirt that wasn't mine. The clock on my beside table read two a.m. Hoseok lay next to me, sleeping soundly. I sighed and pulled open the drawer searching for a pack of cigarettes. After finding a singular one I walked to the door and pulled a flash drive out of my coat pocket.

Lighting the cigarette I walked into the living room and to my laptop. Quickly I posted something on my website and got dressed. As I walked towards the front door, my eyes got sight of the bedroom. Hoseok shifted in his sleep a little bit.

With a sigh I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote a note.

1067 Hangguk Ave.

Trust me.

Taping it on the door, I closed it and grabbed a taxi to take me downtown.

I entered the large ornate library in silence. My footsteps were the only sound that echoed throughout the three store building. Hundreds of book shelves lined the area, the only light was from the bright moon as it shone through the huge glass window in the back.

"I've brought you a little getting to know you present." I said my voice echoing off the rounded roof as I held up the flash drive.

"This is what it has all been for right? All your little puzzles. Making me dance....Just for this."

The sound of a door opening made me turn around. It took all of my power not to let the look of terror show on my face. A figure walked towards me through the dark. A figure I knew. My half brother.

"Seokjin?"

He wore a black winter trench coat and a straight expression. "Evening."

"This is a twist, isn't it Y/n? Bet you didn't see this coming." My hand lowered to my side as I tried to regain my composure.

"What...would you like me....to make him say.... next?"

Seokjin opened his coat to reveal several bombs strapped to his chest over his normal suit. A little red dot was also now trained on his chest. Frantically I searched for the shooter in the balconies.

"Humpty Dumpty....sat on a wall.....Humpty Dumpty.....had a......great...fall-"

"ENOUGH!" I screamed.

"He is one of the only....people you care about....isn't that right.......Y/n."

"Stop it."

"I can stop his heart.....if you like...."

Seokjin's face fell and he gulped at his own words. It was true. Seokjin had always looked out for me, even though I was a huge smartass. He never complained once about his ten year old sister being in junior year with him.

"Who are you?" Another door opened behind me and the sound of heels clicked across the floor.

"Gave you my number. Thought you might call."

Shadows drifted across her face as she came to stand in the moonlight. A playful smirk was drawn on her painted lips.

"Is that .45 Dan Wesson Specialist in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Her voice was smooth like honey and dripped with confidence. “Both.” Keeping my face straight I pulled the gun out from my jacket. “Kim HyunA......Hi.” The woman stepped further into the light, revealing the rest of her sculpted face.

“Hyunah? Hyunah from the morgue? Huh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression on you? But then I suppose that was the point of the whole thing.” She stepped closer. Something about the way she spoke sent shivers down my spine. My grip on the gun grew tighter. My eyes flickered to my brother to see the red dot still there.

“Oh don’t be silly, love. Someone else is holding to gun. Don’t really like to get my hands dirty.” She circled to stand behind my brother, and evil smile on her lips. “All those puzzles; did you like them?” The look on her face told she wasn’t looking for an answer she was just toying with me.

“I’ve given you a glimpse, Y/n. Just the tiniest glimpse of what I have got going on in this big bad world. No one ever gets to me.” Her stare never left me as she whispered in Jin’s ear, chuckling as he shuddered.

“I did.” My fingers cocked the gun and kept it aimed towards her. She coolly moved to the right of my brother and towards me.

“You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.”

“Aww thanks.”

“Didn’t mean it as a compliment, love.”

“Yes you did.”

“Yeah, okay I did.”

Her words left a playful ring in the air and often went up in tone giving me chills. There was a fire beneath her eyes. Something dangerous. Something deadly. “But, the flirting is over, Y/n. Mommy has had enough now!” Her painted nails played with my brothers jacket. The most subtle sign of dominance. She was in control of everything.

“I’ve cut loose all those people. All those problems-”

“People have died.”

“That’s what people DO!”

Her voice echoed off the cavernous walls making me realize how alone we truly were. A moment of eerie silence followed causing me to reach into my pocket pulling out a simple black flash drive. My brother visibly gulped when he saw them. “Y/n you wouldn’t. Those codes are top secret.”

“This is what you want yes?” She smirked and came over, plucking the drive from my hands. “Oooo. Missile codes.” She eyes the small object in her hands before meeting my gaze again.

“I could’ve got them anywhere.” With that she dropped the drive on the floor and crushed it with her heel. “Y/n, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet but I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order if I wanted to at any second.”

She pulled a gun from under her blazer. “So take this as a friendly warning. Back off.” She brought up the weapon and clearly aimed it at me. “What if I was to shoot you now?” She gave a sing song laugh that rang throughout the room. “Well then you would be able to cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because, if you did, Y/n, I would truly be surprised. But, you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for long.” She loaded and cocked her own gun as well.

“As you might have figured out, I can’t very much leave you here after I leave, so......” With a shrug she pointed the gun back at me, a smirk on her face.

“Ciao, Y/n L/n-”

The sound of a gunshot sounded and I closed my eyes for the briefest moment and I felt blood splatter across my cheek. Opening my eyes, I saw HyunA lying on the ground. Dead. Turning around I saw a small hole in the window where the bullet must have come through. My eyes then looked towards the building across the street.

“Y/n?” My brother called out.

Rushing to him I hastily threw the coat as far away from us as possible. The both of us looked up at the sound of sirens and red and blue flashing lights coming from the front. Within seconds five policemen burst through the door and took us outside to waiting ambulances.

My feet dangled off the back of an ambulance as I sat there trying to get the EMT to take the stupid orange blanket off of me. Chief Kim interrupted the scene.

"Why do I need this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me."

"It's for shock."

"I'm not in shock. Nothing is shocking about a man getting shot." He scoffed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No sign of the shooter." Kim shook his head and looked to the building across the street. "Cleared off before we got here. We've got nothing to go on."

A single disapproving look from me shut him up. "I wouldn't say that." He nodded for me to continue with a smile. "The bullet the just dug from the bookcase is a handgun. A kill shot over that distance with that type of weapon is a crack shot we're looking for. Not just a marksman; a fighter. Hands wouldn't have shaken which means they're acclimatized to violence. They didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, so one would infer they have great moral principle."

My eyes wandered as I spoke, trying to recall every detail I could gather about the shooting.

"You are most likely look for a male with a history of military service, nerves of steel, who-......." My eyes landed on Hoseok who was standing by one of the police cars simply watching all that was going around him and my words sort of trailed off. He turned and smiled innocently at me, shaking me from my trance. "Actually you know what. Ignore me."

"Sorry?"

"Ignore everything I just said. It's uh-it's just the uh-shock talking. Yeah sure."

"Where are you going? I've still got questions!"

"Oh what now! I'm in shock! Look I've got a blanket and everything!"

Kim called out to me as I walked away towards Hoseok who smiled as I came closer. "What's with the blanket?" "It's for shock. Please take the fucking thing away from me." He laughed as I shoved it into his arms. We walked side by side to the nearest main street to catch a taxi.

"Nice shot by the way."

"Yes, must have been."

"You would know."

He looked at his feet, a smile creeping onto his cheeks. "Thank you, Hoseok." My hand reached over for his and quickly latched onto his fingers. "You were very dumb to leave alone."

"Yes, but I knew you'd follow me."

"How on earth did you deduce that?"

"You love me."

He smiled down at me, the tips of his ears turning pink. "A very good deduction." His hand came up to my cheek and stroked the skin their lovingly. "I'm impatient kiss me already." He laughed and lent down to place a kiss on my lips.

Masterlist

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lacquerware · 5 years

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Resident Evil 2 reflections

One crisp winter evening in early 1998, my friend “Kyle” sat me down on the floor of his room, which was twice the size of my room, and fired up his Sony PlayStation. “You aren’t going to believe this,” he said.

He’d said that a lot over the past several months, usually in regards to something happening on the Sony PlayStation, and usually he was right. He’d shown me Resident Evilfirst, always calling it “Res Eve,” and it had shaken my very idea of what a video game was. Real actors? Real voices? Real emotions? Indeed I could not believe that something as juvenile and recreational as a video game had actually scared me. But the efficacy of that first zombie head-turn was undeniable.

In the following months Kyle had shown me a Top Gun game with live-action cutscenes featuring the bald principal from Back to the Future; the original Dynasty Warriors, which was a 3D fighting game; Mortal Kombat Trilogy; and the Sephiroth fight from Final Fantasy VII where he destroys the entire solar system as a canned attack animation. It’s amusing in hindsight that these titles could ever have been lumped together in any capacity, but each of them was such a fundamental upset of my existing notion of video games* that it was initially impossible for me to discern any gradient in quality. With the exception of the live-action bits, I couldn’t even discern FMVs from in-game cutscenes, because neither concept had existed in my head at all. It was like if you’d gone back in time to the dawn of the industrial age and shown someone The Godfather and an episode of Married with Children back-to-back. However briefly, there’d be a moment where their reaction would be roughly the same to each: “THE PICTURES ARE MOVING AND TALKING.”

*Okay, MK Trilogy didn't exactly break new ground, but it made me realize my kopy of Ultimate Mortal Kombat 3 on the Genesis wasn't very ultimate at all.

↑↓ Keep in mind I saw these two things on the same day, prior to which the most visually impressive thing I'd ever seen a game do was accurately render comic strip characters (Garfield: Caught in the Act, I'm looking at you).

On this crisp, winter evening in 1998, Kyle showed me Resident Evil 2, which had only just released. We sat and watched the Leon intro in silence. There’s a very special stillness, an eerie electricity to the original RE2 intros that reminds me of the ominous feeling of the air and the sky before a big thunderstorm. It’s the same feeling I get when I watch the closing moments of the Who Shot Mr. Burns? Episode of The Simpsons, that sparse tension that is equal parts quieting and disquieting.

I watched, transfixed. Finally, the game relinquished control to Kyle, and he ran through a fiery city street teeming with zombies. Their numbers seemed to fill every shot. Everything was wrecked and burning and overrun, a fruition of the thing the first Resident Evil only hinted at while locking you inside that mansion.

Kyle ducked into an apparent safehouse and was immediately—seamlessly!—halted by a suspicious shopkeep with a shotgun. A dramatic, fully voiced conversation ensued, the shopkeep backed off, and Kyle was given freedom to explore the room until suddenly—seamlessly!—the horde crashed through the false security of the shop’s window glass and ate the screaming shopkeep alive, blood fountaining from his red-stained neck and torso. You know the rest.

I walked home for dinner at dusk, looking back over my shoulder every few feet, and marveled that a video game could generate such real-life fear.

I got my own Sony PlayStation about half a year later and devoured both RE2campaigns within three days. By the end I was as much a survivor as a player, and didn’t entirely know how to reconcile the good time I’d had with the immense feeling of relief that it was over. To survive a prolonged immersion in terror is an emotionally complicated experience, and not one I’d been accustomed to associating with “play.” It struck me how much scarier RE2 was than even RE1. RE1 put danger in the obvious place—a big, creepy mansion; in RE2, the evil had spilled out into the streets and overrun society’s most guarded spaces—a gun shop, a police station. The voice acting, graphics, and environmental design were also significantly better than before. The point is that Resident Evil 2 was a special game, in large part because it did things early, but also because it did things well. It was the sweet spot of the original RE trilogy—it did things better than RE1, at a riper time than RE3.

I might’ve thought any attempt to recapture that magic would be futile, had Capcom not already proven the potential for such a thing in 2002 with the GameCube remake of the original Resident Evil, which was where much of the demand for an RE2 remake came from in the first place. The RE1 remake had very cleverly used the players’ nostalgia against them, subverting our expectations in all the most notorious moments. It also made modest but smart improvements to the game’s systems and drastic improvements to its audiovisual elements, and threw in a few meatier surprises. Basically it succeeded in an impossible aim: to make fans feel like they were replaying their favorite game for the first time.

For the most part, RE2’s remake is just as much of a triumph as RE1’s, combining state-of-the-art tech and thoughtful self-reflection to make the old feel brand new again. The police station is significantly altered from its original layout, and yet similar enough that you feel like you know it. The more rote, later sections of the original game have been given new personality and contour—the greenhouse and sewer sections both stood out as impressively reimagined. The characters, too, have been smartly rewritten to feel more like interacting humans than archetypal action figures. Each one of them bore impressive nuance rarely seen in a Capcom title but crucial for good horror, in my opinion.

The action seems to lean heavily toward the “survival” side of things, with even plain-jane zombies sometimes taking an obscene number of bullets before they stay down. I appreciate how this adds to the “dangerous” feel of the game, but I sometimes felt like it had lost a little bit of the fun factor I associate with the shooting action of the entire series. Still, I see this as a stylistic choice rather than a flaw, and they also give you a handful of unlockable infinite ammo rewards in the post-game so you can go for a more action-packed “victory lap.” (Note: @jbsargent taught me that term :D)

Mr. X is worth his own essay, but I’ll just say he was always one of my favorite things about RE2 and he’s absolutely my favorite thing about the RE2remake. I wouldn’t change a thing.

Shortcomings

I’d be remiss if I didn’t talk about the remake’s glaring mistreatment of the A/B campaign structure. The whole point of this game’s dual-protagonist hook is to show the unfolding of events from two separate but concurrent perspectives. Here’s what happened to Claire. Now here’s what happened to Leon. The remake sometimes gives us this—Leon deals with Ada while Claire handles Sherry and the police chief—but sometimes inexplicably puts Leon and Claire through the same events, implying that only one of these campaigns is happening. How else can you explain that both Leon and Claire witness, for example, Mr. X lifting the chopper wreckage to make his chilling debut? What point is there to an A/B campaign if they nullify each other? They may as well have done away with the “2nd Run” concept altogether and just let you pick the Leon story or the Claire story. This is one of those things that bothers me the more I think about it. It didn’t affect me very much in the moment, but looking back I don’t know what to make of the story at all. Who did what? The 2nd Run is slightly shorter than the first, but I would have been content with something even shorter if it meant a more coherent narrative.

They’ve also cut at least a couple of the moments from the original game in which Leon and Claire check in with one another, which I found to be enough to greatly hurt the sense of connection between the two characters. The moments when they do interact are great, but I wished there’d been a few more. They also speed through the intro movie on 2nd Run, employing a “Last time on 24”-like highlight reel instead of giving it the space it needs to establish the crucial atmosphere and character dynamics. I didn’t like that.

Camera placement is a debate that will probably never die in the Resident Evil community, and it’s hard for me to even decide where I stand on the matter. The use of fixed camera angles in the classic games was a stroke of genius that allowed the games to mimic the tried-and-tested techniques of horror film, but occasionally the shifting angles caused player inputs to get tangled, resulting in unintended frustration. The over-the-shoulder cam used in the RE2 remake and most other recent RE titles gives the player complete control over what they see. This is a much friendlier interface for the action sequences, but it also means the game can’t force you to look at anything. On my first playthrough, I missed four or five classic moments including the first appearance of Mr. X because I happened to be looking elsewhere when they occurred. I see this as emblematic of the sometimes conflicting aims of game design, where a game is both a plaything and a cinematic experience targeting specific emotions. I’m not sure there’s a perfect solution to this, but I appreciate that the game essentially operates like an autonomous ecosystem. If you miss the action it’s your own fault, but it’s true to life in that sense.

↑ This is actually one rare moment where camera control is taken away and you have to look. Gah.

I don’t think there’s any fair way to conclude that the remake is better or worse than its predecessor, but I’ll happily submit that Resident Evil 2 is the best game ever announced via T-shirt. I think Capcom can look back with pride and say, "WE DID IT."

#resident evil 2 #re2 #resident evil #video games #games #gaming #remake #capcom #reflections #review #criticism #leon #claire #leon kennedy #claire redfield

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mynameislangdon-blog · 5 years

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If You’re Still Breathing

This story involves Michael, Mutt, Jeff, a main original character and some minor original background people. It attempts to fill in some of what happened between the Apocalypse and Michael’s arrival at Outpost 3. I’m a fan of being inspired by music, so each chapter (and IYSB) are named based on what I was listening to when I wrote it. There is also smut, but it’s pretty soft, I think. This is not complete, needing at least 2 more unwritten chapters to resolve the story.

Characters: Michael Langdon, Mutt Nutter, Jeff Pfister, mention of Ms. Mead. Original main character because I don’t like first-person. Tag requests: @thelangdoncooperative , @ccodyfern

Word count: 5,073

Chapters 1-4 Warnings: some sexual content, blood, gore, death. Chapter 1: “You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid” Outpost 2 was easily the largest, most technologically advanced of the bunch. The inhabitants wanted for nothing. Expanded from the historic Greenbrier Bunker in White Sulphur Springs, Outpost 2 had private rooms for 25, and dorm rooms for another 50. There were two 250,000-gallon water tanks, and 2 50,000-gallon diesel fuel tanks. All ventilation had radioactive particle filters and clean air circulators, plus there was water filtration, bunker to surface vault doors that needed 50 pounds of pressure just to unlock, and even recording and broadcasting equipment. The upgrades from the 60’s included hydroponic agriculture & livestock annexes, solar power, hydroelectric power, an armory, and for some reason a bowling alley. You name it and they had it. Unfortunately, it had a little too much of some things. And by things, I mean people. And by people, I mean two individuals in particular. Mutt Nutter and Jeff Pfister. They were the outpost designers, and they never let any of the inhabitants forget that they were alive because of them. “You want me to what?! Check the irrigation drains under the northwest crops? I don’t need to do anything; those fucking freeloaders can do it. I already saved humanity once!” They weren’t any better with each other. “You see this coffee, asshole? Tanzanian Golden Black Sky Desert Roast! If it wasn’t for me, you’d be eating nutrient cubes back in California!” “You’re the one who fucked up and put us here after I SPECIFICALLY said to put us in the Bahamas! I should be balls deep in Jennifer Lawrence right now, but instead we’re trapped with these fucking gremlins!” And that was just banter over breakfast. The others chalked it up to the price for surviving in splendor, and left them to their drugs and robots. The Outpost was light on entertainment personalities, but heavy on scientists, politicians and inventors. Many of the people who were meant to be there hadn’t made it, but certain people, mostly Cooperative members, had been given a heads up, and were already underground when the bombs hit. Grace had been one of the first people to arrive, but she wasn’t in the Cooperative or a billionaire. She was just a special education therapist who’d moved to White Sulphur Springs from California 3 years ago. *********

There at the base of the stairs, Grace smiled. “I thought it had to be you. You sent me the card with the Cooperative ID, didn’t you?” “I did. I wish I could have collected you myself.” “But why?” “I needed you. There wasn’t time then, but there is now.” Grace watched his eyes. The bright blue she’d grown so accustomed to now looked like moonlight on an ocean. “What’s happened to you? Are you okay? Where’s Ms. Mead? Did she… oh no. She didn’t make it did she?” “No.” He stared straight ahead, pretending he didn’t feel; a move she’d seen before when he was trying to not cry. A tear slipped out and she watched it roll down his newly chiseled features. She reached out her hand to wipe it away then stopped. He had never liked surprise touching. In a soft voice she said, “I’m sorry, I forgot to ask first. I won’t touch you without your permission again, I promise.” But he wasn’t the same boy next door she remembered that was full of anger, swinging from sweet to vicious with no warning. Surprisingly, he stepped closer and enveloped her in his arms. Suddenly buried in his cloak, she relished the embrace. It felt good to be held, and it felt good to know that Michael had become more comfortable with touching. There, in the folds of his cape, she breathed him in, inhaling the scent of burnt wood mixed with something metallic. Electric. Grace realized he smelled like a battery tasted. She had to fight the urge to lick him to see if her tongue tingled. Instead, she laid her cheek on his chest and sank into the hug. Then her former boy next door leaned in and whispered, “But you want to touch me, don’t you?” His lips brushed against her ear and she reeled, feeling like she’d just been sucker punched in the libido. She didn’t know what had come over her, but she could barely restrain herself from grabbing at him, pushing him to the floor, wrapping herself around him and eating him alive. Her hands tightened on him for a moment, threatening to tear his skin right through his clothes. Then she forcefully pushed him away, succeeding only in pushing herself back against the stairs. What was happening here? Grace thought she might faint from her sudden need for him, but he simply stood and observed her. It was clear that he was relishing the sight of her feeling so many things at once, her former role of protector wrestling with her baser instincts. She was literally clinging to the banister for support when he ran the tip of his tongue over the edge of his upper lip. With the cool nonchalance of tossing a valet the car keys, he cocked an eyebrow and said, “You have my permission”, then turned and walked into the conference room.

Shocked, she ran scurrying down the hall like a mouse chased by a cat. She could almost hear Michael’s laughter following her. Once she had reached her room and locked the door behind her, she collapsed on the bed and whispered to herself, “What the fucking fuck was that?!!” She replayed the reunion in her mind. Instead of finding answers, she found herself reliving the moment his lips touched her ear, over and over again.

Without even realizing it, she had pulled up her dress and begun touching herself. Her body ached for more, and Grace obliged, putting one, then two fingers inside herself, thrusting and rubbing, involuntarily moaning, “Oh yes, please, please, more!” Her hips squirmed, and the memory of Michael sent a spasm through her, pushing her over the edge into climax. Unaware of anything existing but Michael’s touch, she cried out with pleasure and release. “Oh! Oh fuck! Oh my god! yes! Yes! OH FUCK YES!!!!” She brought herself to orgasm over and over again until she lay on her bed drained, unable to move, aftershocks of pleasure still rolling through her in waves as she fell asleep on her bed, half undressed and limp like a doll.

******

The meeting with Mutt and Jeff was predictable. Them being overly solicitous to Michael with just enough questioning and doubt to show they still thought they knew better. This had been coming for a while.

“So, what’s going on out there, dude?”

“Most people are dead, the ones that aren’t are mutating and dying. Outpost One has been overrun and destroyed.”

“What?! No way, man. New York had a great defense system. Almost as good as this one!”

“Apparently not good enough.”

“Shit. So, what do we need to do to keep it from happening here?”

“There’s nothing you can do except… are you prepared to fight?”

Jeff started making Pew! Pew! Blam! noises and pulled a gun out of his waistband. “Oh, we’re ready. POW!”

Michael looked at Mutt. “I need to report back to the rest of the Cooperative of course. Why don’t you show me around so I can get an idea of where we stand supply-wise?”

Clearly uncomfortable, he said, “Oh, sure. But, uh maybe we should stay here, make sure everything’s ready for your dinner.”

Jeff chimed in, “We’re doing a special dinner to celebrate your arrival, man. Like, top of the line.”

Michael observed them both, having expected nothing less than avoidance. “M-mm, I see. Of course. Shall I just, wander about on my own then? See what I can find?”

Jeff gave a panicked, “No!” then added, “What I mean is, you wouldn’t want to miss anything important. You should totally have a guide. You want your special friend to take you around?” He exchanged a knowing look with Mutt.

Michael’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“You know, the nobody who you put in here with us, the one with no money or special talents who had a priority entry clearance? Come on, dude. We’re not stupid. Obviously, she’s somebody special to you. I didn’t even know the Son of Satan could have personal attachments. Beyond the Battlea…. Ms. Mead, I mean. So, what’s the deal, you two getting it on? Did you save her to be like, your post-apocalyptic sex slave, or what?” Michael’s eyes grew black, and the lights flickered. “That’s not your concern.”

Mutt looked around nervously. “Okay, we were just curious. So, you don’t want her to show you around? We can find…”

“It will be fine.”

“Yeah, okay. We’ve got some... stuff to take care of.” Before Michael could even leave the room, the boys made a beeline for the drink cabinet, and opened it to reveal a giant crystal skull half full of cocaine, several syringes, and the bar sink full of robotic arms clutching bottles of alcohol. As the door shut behind him, Michael heard a gunshot and a round of hysterical giggling. He put his hand over his face and sighed.

****************

Chapter 2: "The Distance”

The intercom in Grace’s room buzzed, startling her from her unplanned nap. Once she got her bearings, she went over to the speaker. “This is Grace, what is it?”

“Got a job for you, sweetheart.” Ugh, it was Jeff. Grace rolled her eyes at the intercom and prayed it wouldn’t be something humiliating.“What kind of job?”

“Langdon wants a tour of the bunker.”

The butterflies started in her stomach, and lower down her parts clenched in an agonizing ache. “Can’t Josie or Henry do that? I’m kind of busy right now.”

Mutt chimed in, “Nope. It’s gotta be you babe. Try not to have too much fun. We need him back for the big dinner at 6.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. He just left the conference room so get your ass up here pronto.” Grace hurriedly changed out of the rest of her clothes and into jeans, a t-shirt, and work boots. A full tour would include the livestock pens, and she didn’t want to look seductive anyway. She grabbed a hair tie on her way out the door and pulled her hair into a ponytail as she hurried down the hall. She rehearsed in her head giving a firm “no” if he tried touching or whispering to her again. But she also couldn’t help imagining what could happen if she didn’t.

As she rounded the corner, she saw Michael once again standing at the bottom of the steps, writing something in a small black notebook. Not knowing what to expect, nervous with anticipation, she walked up to him and tried a casual, “Hi.” Her voice came out hoarse and she began to cough. She thought back to all the screaming she’d been doing recently and grew warm with the thought. She hoped she wasn’t blushing.

“Sorry about that. Air gets pretty dry in here.”

Michael tucked the notebook into his jacket, then looked at her coolly. “Please lead on. We have a lot to see.”

“Okay, well you’ve seen the decontamination entrance and the overview/conference room, so let’s go down to the big stuff at the back.” As they walked down the corridor, Grace kept talking. She told herself it was because he would want to know as much as possible but truthfully, she was just trying to avoid thinking about what happened earlier. Michael either didn’t notice or chose to ignore her, as his only contribution to her running dialogue was the occasional, “Interesting.”

She pushed open a set of glass double doors. “This is the ER.” They walked past hospital beds and Michael peered into one of the operating rooms. There was everything a regular operating room would have: bone saws, ventilators, shock paddles, EKG machine, IV drips, and so on. “You’re quite prepared.”

“Mostly. And here’s the pharmacy. We have everything one needs for typical stuff, we even have a setup for chemo. But they went heavy on the painkillers and didn’t stock a lot of long-term meds, which I think was a mistake.”

They took a walk through the pharmacy rows, and as Grace talked, Michael would occasionally pick up a bottle or package. “If you have questions about any of these, we’ve got a basic guide and I still remember a lot from school so you can always ask.”

“These aren’t locked up? Anyone can access them?”

They’re unlocked now because I’m showing it to you. There’s a code on the room and on the shelves, plus the cameras are simply everywhere.” She pointed up and waved to the camera. “Josh is probably on camera duty tonight. Hi Josh!”

Michael glared at the camera, and in the observation room, Josh grabbed his heart and collapsed to the floor.

They left the medical area and walked down to the power room. Keying in another code, Grace opened the heavy door and they were greeted with a wall of noise. “They’re pretty loud. Sorry.” She flipped a few switches and the actual size of the room became apparent. “These are the diesel generators and tanks. We actually don’t use them much since gas is a finite resource, but the sky isn’t very bright some days thanks to the fallout, so… yeah. See these two tanks with the staircases attached? That’s all of our fuel.”

“And how full are they now?”

“What?”

He leaned in closer. “How full are they now?!”

“One hasn’t been touched at all, and the other has...” She walked over to the tanks. “This one’s at 89%.”

“And where’s your water source?”

“Oh, most of that is filtered and recycled. This was a great place to build a bunker because there’s also a naturally occurring deep spring underneath. The radiation levels for that are still holding, but we predict they’ll eventually succumb to runoff from the surface. The good news is even contaminated water can run a hydroelectric generator in a pinch.”

“You know a lot about this. Special interest?” Grace raised an eyebrow and smirked, “You mean survival? Yeah, I’m pretty interested in that. It’s in the best interest of the group that we all know as much as possible. We’ve got experts in certain areas, like the two chuckleheads and their robotics…”

“You mean Nutter and Pfister?”

“Oh, no offense, I know you three work pretty closely.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well… you saw them alone in the conference room, and they talk all the time about how they’re very influential with the Cooperative leader. That’s you, right? The leader? What’s the deal with The Cooperative? What’s the common goal?”

Michael hesitated, trying to avoid the topic

“Look, if you can’t talk about it, I understand, but how did that happen? Leading the Cooperative is a long way from lessons in my basement. I’m glad for you, I always knew you were too strong willed to let anything hold you back but…”

Michael rushed in and closed the gap between them pinning her against the tank. “You have no idea.” Then he kissed her, roughly. His lips mashed up against hers and she never even had a choice. She opened her mouth to him, nipping at his bottom lip, hungry and uncontrolled. His tongue slipped inside her mouth and they fought, her need matched by his hunger. Her hands ran through his long golden curls, grasping and tugging, trying to bring him closer. The kiss broke, and she sighed as he bent down to kiss her neck, licking and biting his way from her collarbone to her ear and back again. His hands roamed over her body, her skin burned hot wherever he touched her. It was too much for Grace, and she had to cry out, “Stop!, I can’t! I... Please, it’s too much!” Tears leaked from her eyes, not because she was in pain, but because she’d never wanted something so much in her life and for some reason, she couldn’t just let it happen.

Michael looked at her, glassy eyed and drunk on her need. He watched her hands opening and closing, grasping at the air instead of him. She wanted this. She needed this. This was rich, thick desire that he could taste and hear and smell and feel. The tension between them made the air shimmer with heat. Like magnets, they could only get so close to each other before they touched out of sheer force. He experimented, raising his hand to her waist and bringing it closer and closer until he felt the pull, breaking free only to do it again. She held her breath, afraid of what she might do if he touched her again.

A door alarm blared at the end of the hall, breaking the spell. Michael clenched his fist, ready to set ablaze the person who interrupted them, but remembered where he was and restrained himself to avoid an incident. Surprisingly, it was Grace who composed herself first and suggested, “Shall we move on?”

They walked through the kitchen, avoiding the hot pans and sharp knives, chopping and slicing, sizzling and flashing. The kitchen crew couldn’t help but stare as Michael strolled through with his blonde shoulder-length hair and elegant black clothes, nodding approvingly at one thing or another. He dipped his finger into the creamy mushroom soup and tasted it, saying simply, “Not bad”, giving a rare glimpse of his full-wattage smile. With that, he could have stabbed every member of the crew with their own knives and they would have thanked him for the privilege of dying by his hand. Grace was impressed. He had come a very long way.

She chimed in to say, “Almost everything you’ll have tonight was grown right here. The animals aren’t ready for breeding, but when they are, we’ll have fresh meat as well.”

“What kinds of animals do you have now?”

“Oh, you know, chickens, a cow and a steer, a pair of pigs… It’s like Noah’s Ark down there. But not all the animals are for eating. Come on, I’ll show you.” They walked through the green mist of the hydroponic vegetables and herbs, past the fruit trees in pots, past the composting, and entered the husbandry through an honest to god split-rail fence.

The animals came crowding around and at first Grace thought it was for her, but then she realized that they had all gone to Michael instead. And the oddest part was that they weren’t crowding him, they all just… sat there, as if in a trance. “Like they’re asking to be spared” ran through her mind. What a strange idea.

“You’ve got a way with animals.”

He looked a little uncomfortable. “Not really, I think they’re just interested in me because I’m new.”

“That must be it.” Grace knew better, but if Michael didn’t want to talk about this particular weirdness, that was okay. “But you haven’t seen the best part.”

“Am I going to have to walk through more mud?” His fancy Louboutin boots were looking quite muddy.

“Mud, no. Dirt, probably.”

Michael seemed to stop and consider his options. He sighed, “Fine.”

She led him around the side of the enclosure and whistled. Two beautiful black horses came trotting up. “Aren’t they amazing? Do you want to feed them?”

“Why?”

“Why? Because it will make them happy.” Michael seemed a little confused by the idea of making an animal happy, but took the shiny red apples that Grace gave him and held one in each hand for the two beauties. They gently nuzzled his hands and then methodically chomped away on them until there was nothing left. “Huh.”

“Good babies”, cooed Grace. And to Michael, “You see? That wasn’t so bad. Oh!” She suddenly beamed. “I forgot, check this out!” She led Michael into the enclosure and waved her hands dramatically. “Ta-da!” There stood a black carriage, like the ones you’d see in old movies. His eyebrows raised in quiet approval. Wooden wheels, curtains on the windows. He peeked inside. Leather seats, too. “What’s this for?”

“Well, Henry’s logic was that if the day came where we needed to venture out for supplies, that having a carriage would make much more sense than a car because we wouldn’t need to carry gas for it or rely on finding any later. If the horses can eat what we eat…” She was interrupted by an announcement blaring from the speaker in the ceiling. It was fucking Jeff again.

“Ladies and gentlemen! The time is now 5:00 and in an hour we will be having a celebratory feast in honor of Mr. Langdon. Please make sure you are tastefully attired and on time! Over and out!”

Grace and Michael shared a look.

“I guess the tour’s over.”

“We’ll finish it later.”

**********

Chapter 3: “Belief In God Is So Adorable”

The dinner was unnecessary, but Michael had learned that these kinds of things were easier to get through than call off. And besides, it would give him a chance to try an experiment. He looked around the table at the scientists, intellectuals and politicians and military men. He stood and raised his glass in a toast. “Fellow Cooperative members, as you may have heard, Outpost One is gone.” People nodded their heads and tried to look broken up about it. “But let us not ignore the fact that we are still here.” More thoughtful nodding. “I would like to raise my glass to Outpost two, and your efficient and sustainable colony.” Mutt and Jeff let out a “Yeah! Damn right!” and stood up to chest bump each other. Then they stepped away from the table to do a few lines and argue about which bottle of wine to open. Everyone else applauded politely, raised their glasses in return and drank. Individual bowls of soup were being placed before each person. “What do we have here?” asked Michael. The person serving said, “Mushroom soup, sir. Made from mushrooms grown right here. And fresh cream, too.” “Well, it looks delicious.” He winked at the server, who from that moment on would have gladly cut his own eyes out with rusty razor wire then sautéed them with rosemary and eaten them if Michael had asked him to. Michael dipped his spoon into the bowl and brought it to his lips then stopped, putting his spoon down and simply sitting while he watched the guests eat every last spoonful while they talked about some garden pests or fortifying a support girder or something else equally pointless. Michael frowned. It hadn’t worked. He wondered if it was a dosage problem or if it was the rate the pills dissolved in hot soup. But then, Henry started to drift. He looked so tired. Then Josie, then Doris too. They could barely hold their heads up. The three senators soon followed suit, then the General. The other diners were slumping in their seats and Michael began to smile. “Good to know”, he whispered to himself. Mutt and Jeff continued to argue in the corner, oblivious to anyone else’s condition. Michael sighed internally. No one appreciated subtlety anymore. Once everyone had succumbed and was face down in their soup or puddled on the floor, Michael stood up. “Gentlemen, since our companions seem to resting, I wonder if you could help me with something.” “Yeah, sure. Whoa, what happened? Are they going to be okay?” “Oh, yes. They’ll be fine. Just… napping. I still need a tour of the armory and I wanted you two to take me since I know it’s your area of…” Michael hesitated, barely able to say the word, “…expertise.” “What? Oh dude! Absolutely! Let’s go!”Jeff whooped and hollered the whole way there, Mutt egging him on. They unlocked the shooting range and took Michael to the armory. “We’ve got everything you need, man.” “I don’t need anything, I just need to know what you have.” “Oh. Well, you mind if we shoot off a few rounds first?” Michael waved his hand at them, “Of course.” He sat back in a green plastic chair, putting his feet up on the rail. He knew what was coming. “So, uh, let’s just do a few lines first, ok?” They opened up yet another unimaginative cocaine stash inside a target dummy then laid out a pile and bulldozed their faces through it. As they brought their heads up, they realized something was off. Weird. “Dude, you feel that?” “Like, that buzzing? What the fuck is that? OW!” Blood began to run out of Jeff’s nose. He turned to look at Mutt, who had sunk to the floor holding his head in his hands. He turned to Michael and yelled, “What is happening?!” Michael gave the most sardonic of smiles and said, “Oh, it’s quite simple really. My father has revoked your privileges.” Jeff’s eyes bugged in disbelief. He screamed hysterically, “What do you mean fucking revoked? We paid our dues man! We sold our souls!” Behind him Mutt began to rhythmically beat his head on the floor. “Yes, you did. But you haven’t exactly upheld your end of things, have you? Did you think I wouldn’t know?” “Auuugh! Fuck!” The nosebleed was hemorrhaging, leaving Jeff soaked in his own blood, woozy and thick-headed. “Wouldn’t know what?!?!! We gave you the apocalypse, dude!” Michael stood up, clasping his hands behind his back and cocking his head to one side. Speaking in a voice that was all gravel and bitterness he said, “You lied to me. You tried to manipulate me.” Jeff fell to the floor next to Mutt, trying to stand but slipping in the blood that was spreading around them. Michael continued, “You programmed Ms. Mead to say what you wanted to say. You used her. You took away her memories and gave her ones that you liked better. You changed her. And in doing so you worked against me.” He slowly walked his way over to the miserable pair. “You.” He looked at Mutt, who had slammed his head into the floor so many times that his eyes had rolled back into his head and pieces of his brain were flapping idly at the edges of his skull. He stepped closer, hand clenched. “Used.” He watched Jeff try to hold his head up, blood now flowing from his ears, eyes, and skin. He stepped closer, clenching the other hand. “Me!” He threw his hands open and they held roaring fire, flames licking and jumping in anticipation. “And my...” His face went ghostly white, black holes where his features should be. His voice boomed so powerful and angry it could have toppled mountains. “…MS. MEAD!!!” The flames shot to the ceiling and curved back down, igniting Mutt and Jeff. They wailed and screamed, slowly and painfully burning to a blackened crisp. Michael snapped his hands shut and stood stone faced, watching the ashes swirl across the floor. He casually brushed a stray lock of hair off his face and straightened his jacket. One last loose end to tie up. ******** Beginning of Chapter 4: “I Am a Rock”

Grace thought back to when she first met Michael. When a boy of 16 comes knocking at your door and he isn’t selling something for school, one gets nervous. And here was this boy, all ripped black jeans and combat boots, unsure of how to say hello to a stranger. He stood there on her doorstep, just looking at her, as if she was supposed to just know what he needed. “Where’s your mo…Ms. Mead?” she asked, looking around. The tall boy with icy eyes and curls like an angel looked around too. “I don’t know, I mean she was here, but now she’s not and the car’s not here…” The boy was clearly not comfortable being alone, and seemed anxious. “Is there someone I should call?” He looked sheepish and said, “Can I just wait here?” “Sure. We can do that. Let’s wait outside so we can see her car when she gets back.” And she thought to herself, “And so Ms. Mead doesn’t skin me alive for having her boy in my house unsupervised.” “Okay. Thank you. May I have some water?” Grace brought out some water for the boy and tapped him on the shoulder. He flinched, swatting at her hand. She took a step back then sat down on the steps at a respectful distance, putting the glass of water in the space between them. “Sorry, I’ll ask permission next time, okay?” Michael stayed silent, looking doubtful. “I will ask permission before I touch you. I promise.” They sat awkwardly until he finished the water. He handed it to her saying, “Here’s your glass. I’m finished.” “Thank you… I don’t know your name. What should I call you?” “Michael. Michael Langdon.” “How old are you Michael?” “16.” “And where do you go to school?” “I don’t like these questions.” Dammit, she had pushed too hard again. In her head, she admonished herself. “Listening skills, Grace! Come on!” “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you not want to talk? Just wait?” “Just wait.” Grace was trained in working with special needs kids, and this young man Michael, with his specific ways and rigid preferences, acting a little younger than his age would suggest, seemed to have some delays. She wondered if there was some kind of developmental disability there. She desperately wanted to ask more, but there was no point pushing him. They sat and watched the cars pass and listened to the summer insects buzzing. Michael broke the silence. “Why are you always playing music and hitting things?” “What? Oh, I’m practicing. Practicing martial arts.” “You listen to music for that?” “Well, I do. It helps keep me motivated. It’s not too loud is it? I don’t want to bother anyone.” “No, it’s not loud. Well, Ms. Mead doesn’t like it but I think she just doesn’t like that kind of music.” “Well, it’s not for everybody. I’ll try to keep it quieter so she doesn’t have to listen.” “You practice fighting? Can you teach me fighting?” Grace had an inspirational idea, but it would require some coordinated effort and planning. “That… would be up to Ms. Mead. If she says it’s okay, then I can certainly try.” “She’ll say okay.” And just like that, her car came pulling into the driveway.Michael’s face lit up, and he ran off, calling out over his shoulder, “Bye! I’ll see you tomorrow!” “Tomorrow?” Grace thought, “Oh, boy.”

#thelangdoncooperative #AHS #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #IYSB #fanfic #tell your friends #ccodyfern

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howaminotinthestrokesyet · 3 years

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Behind The Album: Chinese Democracy (The History)

There exists only one way to describe the more than 10 year odyssey that was the album, Chinese Democracy, surreal. To put it into the words of a famous Doors song, strange days. Work on the album began in 1997 after a new lineup of the band has been confirmed upon the departure of Duff McKagan. The roster would change substantially throughout the next 10 years sometimes depending on the mood of Axl Rose. Geffen Records had hoped to release the album in 1999, but it was delayed again and again causing the budget to balloon to $13 million when it was all said and done. They pulled any financial backing of the album in 2005. This album became the most expensive one ever produced in the history of rock music. Many people, fans and writers alike, never thought that it would ever see the light of day. Writer Chuck Klosterman even wrote a fake review of it for April Fools’ Day for Spin Magazine calling it the greatest album ever made. Let me now take a look at the surreal odyssey that would probably be really hard to think up, if it had not happened for real.

The inspiration for the album began in 1994 when Axl Rose became quite enamored with electronica and industrial rock with an eye towards the work of Nine Inch Nails at that time. By 1997, lead guitarist Slash had already left the group leading Rose to replace him with Robin Finck. He was the touring guitarist for Nine Inch Nails. That same year Matt Sorum was fired for objecting to the inclusion of Rose’s friend Paul Tobias in the band. He was replaced by Nine Inch Nails drummer, Chris Vrena. Yet, his tenure with the band did not last long, so he was replaced by Josh Freese. Former replacements bassist Tommy Stinson would replace Duff McKagan by 1998. Several producers were approached to help with the album including Steve Lilywhite and Rick Rubin. At one point, they even considered asking Moby to sign on as producer. Surprisingly, he had nothing but good things to say about the possibility of working on the album. “They're writing with a lot of loops, and believe it or not, they're doing it better than anybody I've heard lately." By the middle of 1998, the producer Youth was brought in to work on the album. Previously, he had worked on projects with U2 and the Verve. He immediately felt very pessimistic about any recording sessions that could occur because of Rose’s state of mind. “He kind of pulled out ... He was quite isolated. There weren't very many people I think he could trust. It was very difficult to penetrate the walls he'd built up." Youth quickly left the project after growing increasingly frustrated by the lack of interaction from Axl. For his part, the singer was still reeling from his break up in the mid-1990’s with Stephanie Seymour. He would go on to talk about this in a later interview saying he had stopped writing any music for a couple of years due to it. Rose completely disappeared from anything to do with the album, but he told recording engineers to write down any ideas other band members had for songs. He would receive CDs and data files each week that eventually were combined to make almost 1000 discs.

The goal of the album was to create a Guns N’ Roses record with an electronica influence. Mainstream media had described it repeatedly as an industrial rock album, but Rose argued with that assessment saying that many different genres would make up the album. In 1998, the band began working at Rumbo Studios in the San Fernando Valley, which was the same place that parts of Appetite For Destruction were recorded. Geffen Records had offered to pay the band $1 million to finish the album by March 1, 1999. This was on top of the initial payment of $1 million. Of course, the band completely missed that deadline, but by the spring of 1999 they had recorded 30 songs. Brian May had been brought in to play on the song “Catcher in the Rye.” His part was eventually removed, but nobody from the band told him that until the record was released in 2008. The album had been originally titled 2000 Intentions, but Axl changed it to Chinese Democracy in 1999. He would say, “There's a lot of Chinese democracy movements, and it's something that there's a lot of talk about, and it's something that will be nice to see. It could also just be like an ironic statement. I don't know, I just like the sound of it." According to Rose, the band had recorded enough material for two albums by 1999. Singer Sebastian Bach who contributed on the album said that Rose told him the initial plan. They were going to release one album, then tour for a year or two, then release a second album. The hope was to eventually release a trilogy of albums. At the end of 1999, GNR released their first song in several years as part of The End of Days soundtrack entitled, “Oh My God.” Reviews of the song were quite mixed as it did very little to increase the enthusiasm for the new album. The song had been personally selected by Jimmy Iovine, the head of Geffen/Interscope, after listening to all the tracks. At the same time, several members of the band left to join other projects. Robin Finck rejoined Nine Inch Nails, while drummer Josh Freese joined A Perfect Circle. Current producer Sean Beavan, who worked on 35 tracks, also left the project. In 2000, Axel said in a Rolling Stone interview that one big reason for the delays was the fact that he needed to learn the ProTools technology.

In early 2000, manager Doug Goldstein said that the album was 99% finished, which meant most likely a summer release. Yet, Rose hired Roy Thomas Baker as a new producer at that time, who persuaded him to completely re-record the entire album. Around the same time, he also hired a new guitarist by the name of Buckethead, who always wore a white mask and a Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket on his head when playing live. Based on Buckethead’s recommendation, a drummer by the name of Brain was hired to re-record all the previous drum parts from Freese. The issue had been that Axl wanted people currently in the band to be heard on the record, but the problem was Freese had done a very good job on all of the tracks. They essentially asked Brain to literally copy the style of the previous guy rather than use what had been produced in the first place.

In March 2001, Geffen head Jimmy Iovine hired Tom Zataut as a kind of middle man to get the band moving on finishing the album. The irony being that Zataut had been fired two years previously by Geffen. Yet, they brought him in because he had guided GNR successfully through other albums. At first, Rose did not want Zataut’s inclusion on the project. He did begin to change his mind was as he helped to re-create the opening drum sound of Nirvana‘s Never Mind for Rose. He was then welcomed with open arms after the approval by Axl’s personal psychic, who judged his aura based on photographs. The next crisis was that Buckethead decided to quit the band after the apparent lack of progress on the album. Zataut was able to convince him to return by building him a chicken coop within the recording studio, metal wires and all. The building of it was always downplayed as nothing serious, but a bit of a joke for Buckethead’s very unique sense of humor. A problem sprang up when he began to bother Axl in the studio by playing hardcore pornography too loudly in his chicken coop. Zataut also discovered that the band was spending almost $75,000 a day renting equipment that was not being used because Rose never came into the studio half the time. “These fucking people are getting paid shitloads of money and they're sitting on their arse doing nothing because Axl's not coming to the studio and they can't get him on the phone." In 2001, the band had completed 48 songs for the album, while they still had probably 5 to 10 more in development. Before the end of 2001, Rose fired Zataut because he failed to get him a private screening of the movie Blackhawk Down because Ridley Scott had asked if he could use “Welcome to the Jungle” in the film.

The band played the occasional live show as well including a headlining slot at Rock in Rio in 2001. In August 2002, they debuted their first new live song in over a decade playing “Madagascar” at the MTV Video Music Awards. That same month, Rose gave two conflicting statements to MTV about the status of the album. In one, he said they were just wrapping it up, while the other statement said that he would not use the word soon about its release. His reason for the delay now was the fact that the record company was not doing anything to help him as he had taken on many more responsibilities than previously on any other record. In the middle of 2003, they started to re-record the album once again. Tommy Stinson talked about why the album took so long to create. “What really happened was the record company stood back and left Axl to his own devices. He had to basically produce himself, and that's not what he (wanted to do)... the record company really dropped the ball on this one ... everything changed when Geffen merged with Interscope. Axl was told that Jimmy Iovine would play more of a role (than he did).” A sound engineer also had a particular insightful comment about the delays mentioning that Rose was too much of a perfectionist trying to make the greatest album ever made. There are going to be lengthy delays in that kind of attempt. By 2004, Buckethead had officially quit the group, but they were supposedly doing the masters at the end of the year. Another issue emerged at that time when the record company withdrew all funding for the album. They removed it from its release schedule and any future promotional efforts were abandoned. Rose would be required to fund the remainder of the album. Two years would pass before any news of note came from the band until early 2006 when several songs leaked online. Later that year, another song leaked within a Harley Davidson ad causing even more controversy. Leaks continued to come out for the next two years until the album was eventually released in 2008. Yet, the album did finally have a supposed release date of November 21, 2006. In anticipation of this, Rose held 10 listening parties throughout New York City showcasing some of the new tracks. In December, he quickly did a U-turn announcing that he needed more time to work on the album. The release date was pushed back to 2007, and for the first time there was an official date. Of course, the band missed this date as well.

By this time, Buckethead had been replaced by another guitarist with another unique name, Bumblefoot. The final vocals were recorded in January 2007 for the album, with the hope that it could be mixed by the end of the year for a Christmas release date. In January 2008, rumors spread all over the Internet that the album had actually been handed to Geffen Records. Yet, once again arguments between Rose and the record company ensued as they could not agree on any marketing plan for the album. In September 2008, the album had its first track released “Shackler’s Revenge” made available for the game, Rock Band 2. The full album would be released in October 2008. The fight with Geffen continued after the album's release. Rose did not give a full interview about the album until February 2009. There was literally zero promotion of the album except for advertisements for Best Buy, who exclusively sold the album. For his part, Rose refused to answer any phone calls or emails from the record company asking him to do anything related to promotion. Billboard would later report that both sides completely dropped the ball on the most anticipated rock record of the entire decade. In China, the album was banned because of the negative connotation the title had towards their treatment of government. In another development, Dr. Pepper had pledged to give anyone in the country a free Dr Pepper, if the album was released in 2008. Upon his release, they decided to maintain that pledge, but their servers crashed when too many people went on their site for a free coupon. This would end up in court as well as Rose blamed a part of the lack of promotion of the new album on Dr. Pepper’s failure to successfully manage this free giveaway. The group now went on tour for almost 3 years to promote the new album. They also needed to make money as their former manager had sued them for almost $2 million. The lawsuit was settled in 2011 for an undisclosed amount. The question now becomes as to whether the album was any good.

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jugandbettsdetectiveagency · 7 years

Text

Double Oh My

Because I only have my iPad and some time to kill, and a Secret Agents AU post @jandjsalmon reblogged inspired me - enjoy!

***

He saw her at the bar, perched daintily on leather stool, one leg crossed demurely over the other. She was wearing white satin, the colour popping brightly against her sun kissed skin, material shaped to her every curve and then some, the bodice unable to stop the soft flesh of her breasts from spilling over. Jughead tore his eyes away as quickly as he looked, gaze moving to the deep crimson painted across her full lips. The makeup smudged against the clear rim of her martini glass as she took a delicate sip, muscles in her throat bobbing as she swallowed the drink – the extremely dirty drink.

Jughead glided through the crowd, slipping unnoticed past the throng of people gathered at the gala. His invisibility in his younger years had been disparaging, now it was his greatest asset. He knew the drop is going to take place here, sometime in the next hour the informant had said; he’d been told during his briefing this morning.

The Blossoms had been getting cocky during the past few months. Untouchable and untameable, they’d made little attempt to be discreet when expanding their drug ring past their usual exports. The FBI had been working for years to untangle the web they’d been weaving, not only in the nondescript town of Riverdale but also rapidly spreading down most of the east coast. And being the bountiful, charitable donors they were, most authorities were loathe to stop them in their little business ventures, no matter how soiled the money they put back into the community was.

Things had progressed to top priority when a new strain of cocaine had hit the market a few months back, locally known as ‘Whyte Wyrm’. The incorrect dosage with the wrong mixers created a lethal cocktail, the disastrous likes of which had never been seen before. The lab was still working on finding out what the drug had been cut with, using the small sample Jughead had managed to acquire during his last visit to the backwards town where it all began. It appeared that local gang members had been pulled into the ring, becoming the most efficient distributors of product while doubling as the perfect fall guys for if things went south. However, new pushers meant that the reins would have to be handed over at some point, which is what brought Jughead to this event, at this time, at this bar.

Jughead snorted internally as he glanced around at his surroundings; what better place to hand off the ledger containing the entire company history of suppliers, import routes and clientele than your own charity benefit. He caught the smug expressions of Clifford and Penelope Blossom as they appeared on the screen before him, a number of televisions around the venue playing a highlights reel of the family’s good deeds. If he weren’t so stoic towards these kinds of circumstances nowadays it would have made Jughead’s stomach turn uncomfortably.

His narrow-set eyes moved back to the blonde, watching as she tipped back the last of her liquor and slid gracefully off her chair, throwing a thankful smile at the bartender on her way. This was also mentioned at his briefing. Reports of a suspicious woman at many of the tipoff locations over the last few weeks had increased in number; medium length blonde hair, roughly five foot seven, small build. Unidentifiable. Jughead was sure this was the woman. In between keeping his eye out for the drop he’d been paying pretty close attention to her. She didn’t appear to know anyone in attendance, only muttering a quiet ‘excuse me’ on her way through the crowds in leu of holding any actual conversations. He wasn’t sure when she’d arrived either, seeing her checking her phone whilst leaning against one of the marble pillars where she wasn’t seconds before. She moved through the gala like a ghost, Jughead determined to be her shadow.

He strode purposefully to the bar, picking her up her discarded glass and slipping it into a plastic zip lock before the bartender had a chance to clear it away. The prints and DNA of this woman had just been handed to him on the wooden bar top equivalent of a silver platter; if this woman was working for the Blossoms he have to let them know they needed to find more discreet employees, this one was sloppy.

Jughead held the bag close to him, tucked slightly out of view beneath his black suit jacket as he made his way back towards the main gala, turning at the last second down a secluded hallway where he could hand off his evidence and make it back in time to intercept the drop. If he was successful – which he usually was – this would be the biggest break they’d had for months, or better yet in the entirety of the case. If the Feds got possession of this ledger, the Blossoms were all but done.

The creak of a board had Jughead turning to look over his shoulder instinctively, dark curls falling into his eyes as he checked his back, still moving purposefully towards the ballroom. A low grunt slipped from his lips as his cheek met the hard, varnished wood panelling of the wall, one arm twisted uncomfortably up his back, dropping the glass as a knee pressed into the base of his spine. He struggled, attempting to wrench himself free, before an ominous click filled the air and a barrel settled between his shoulder blades.

“You’ve been following me,” a husky voice came from behind him, warm breath fanning against his ear. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. “I don’t like to be followed. Who are you working for and what do they want?” Out of the corner of his eye Jughead caught a flash of white, blonde hair brushing his shoulder.

“I could ask you the same question,” Jughead replied with a cocky smirk, flexing the muscles of his back against the gun. The woman huffed out an unamused laugh, keeping the weapon in place as she began to pat him down, hand dipping inside the pocket of his pants as Jughead bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt to keep his body from reacting to the beautiful blonde pressed against the length of his back. The thrill of the situation was not helping much – he was an agent that lived for the danger. Finally she pulled his badge out of the inside pocket of his jacket, lips dropping along with the gun.

“FBI?” she asked, raising an eyebrow when Jughead finally had room to turn and face her as she took a step back from him. He leant against the wall, one leg bent at the knee as a smirk slipped onto his features. “Jughead? I’ve heard worse code names… but not many,” she quipped, watching in satisfaction as his expression dropped.

“I could arrest you for taking an agent’s badge,” he said, one hand moving subtly to where his gun was holstered in the back of his pants. She shook her head with a roll of her exquisitely green eyes, throwing the badge back to him so suddenly he fumbled to catch it.

“Not likely,” she deadpanned, pulling out her own badge. “Betty Cooper, CIA.” Jughead’s eyebrows shot up to meet his hairline. “I assume you’ve been notified about the drop, too?” she asked. Jughead’s eyes narrowed.

“I wasn’t informed that the CIA were working this case,” he told her suspiciously, straightening up and taking a step closer to her in case she decided to book it. In those heels he thinks he could catch her, but then again she had managed to sneak up on him.

“Likewise. It looks like someone over on your end isn’t doing their job properly,” she smirked, taking her own step towards him.

“What makes you think it’s our end?” he replied, offence colouring his tone. Betty shrugged lightly, both of them still drifting together as if by some unseen pull.

“It always is,” she murmured, now close enough for Jughead to hear even the smallest of whispers from her lips. They stood for a beat, gazes locked together unwaveringly. She’s just as beautiful up close, Jughead noted. Dangerously so.

“Well since we’re both here,” he began, dipping his chin as she tilted hers upwards. “Perhaps we can work together.” Her lips parted slightly, Jughead watching the action closely.

“I work alone,” she whispered.

“So do I,” he challenged.

He didn’t know when his hand settled against her hip, thumb rubbing the silken fabric softly, but she hadn’t moved it away. Their mouths were inches apart, breath mingling between their faces. Her eyes were hooded, pupils blown slightly and swallowing the forest Jughead found there. She pressed even closer, their bodies lining up in a way only kismet could allow.

Fuck it, Jughead thought, readying himself to close the last of the distance between them.

A shot rang out, followed by one scream at first, then another. They duo snapped apart, glancing towards the ballroom in tandem before turning back to regard each other with wide eyes.

“Come on,” Betty commanded, her voice strong. She turned to jog back into the main venue, not before grabbing Jughead’s hand and pulling him along with her.

“Hey,” Jughead started, running alongside her. “Where on earth do you keep a badge and a gun in that outfit?” he asked incredulously. The look she threw him had his breath hitching. They’re pressed against opposite walls, waiting for the perfect moment to round the corner and head to work.

“We intercept this drop and maybe later I’ll show you,” she called back above the clamour, sending him a wink before darting into the action. Jughead floundered for a second longer than he should, springing forwards to follow her steps with an entirely new determination to get this job done.

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead au #betty cooper #jughead jones #betty x jughead #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #bughead fan fiction #jetty #writing

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olivay-official · 7 years

Text

Heroes and Masks

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 1

I growled as I made another attempt to reel back, away from his grasp.

“Don’t scream. I promise I’m not here for you,” He tried to assure me. Taking a deep breath I nodded looking him in the white eyes of his mask. Confident I would no longer scream he let go of me.

“How do I know you are who you say you are?” I asked skeptically backing up towards my couch.

“Are you serious? Come on look at me?” He chuckled. I eyed his blue and black suit. While clearly not a cheap costume, cosplays did still exist and would be the perfect cover for breaking into someone’s place.

“You’re wearing a mask,” I pointed out.

“Uh yeah I’m always wearing a mask,” He countered. Reaching my hand back behind the couches arm rest I wrapped my fingers around the wooden baseball bat. In one fluid motion I reeled back letting the bat fly into my intruder’s head with deadly force. A sharp crack made me think maybe I had won. Upon further inspection I found my bat splintered in two and the man before me standing tall as if I had barely touched him.

“Does that answer your question?” I could almost feel his smirk from beneath the mask. Adrenaline and terror swirling through me I brought the broken point of my bat to his throat.

“What do you want from me?” I asked voice shaking. Nightfall raised his hands up in surrender.

“I want nothing from you,” He answered.

“Then why are you in my apartment?” I shouted.

“In my defense you weren’t supposed to be home yet,” He defended.

“My class was cancelled- what difference does it make!?” I screeched pushing the sharpened wood closer to his throat.

“Look I’m really not here to hurt you or steal from you or anything. I just needed to use your window,” He spoke calmly and clearly.

“Why?” I pushed again. I could already hear my heart thudding in my ears. One of Nightfall’s super powers was super strength. If he wanted to he could easily overpower me. I couldn’t stop him with my splintered bat.

“The view,” He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“The view?” I asked critically. My apartment building overlooked a run down house that looked like it should be condemned, and a empty plot of dirt. There was no view to speak of.

“Yeah, your apartment is the only one without trees or telephone poles getting in the way. Plus you have a more consistent schedule than the other tenants,” He told me as if we were having the most casual conversation about what to have for dinner. I pushed the bat into his throat some more.

“Get out. I-I’ll call the cops! You-you’re trespassing,” I stammered out. I could already feel my knees shaking.

“Whoa whoa look I just need your window for like two hours tops. There’s an arms dealer who lives across from you, I just need a little time to figure out when he’s moving his next shipment,” Nightfall reasoned with me. I shook my head. I could feel sweat dripping down my neck.

“Find somewhere else, Just- just get out!” I could scarcely breathe now. The weapon I wielded shook in my hands.

“You can trust me I promise, I��m really a good guy. Here,” He slowly reached up to pull his mask free, “is that better?” He asked. I wasn’t sure what I had expected Nightfall to look like but I wasn’t expecting him to be young. He looked to be no younger than 22 and no older than 26. He had dark hair sticking up in all directions from the mask and a dusting of scruff as if he forgot to shave that morning. His face looked friendly but I wasn’t fooled, he was still a Super after all.

“You can’t stay here- you just- I-“ without finishing my sentence I bolted for the front door going from fight to flight mode. Before I even reached the door Nightfall was there holding it closed. I cowered back from him. Did I forget to mention that Nightfall was also fast? Not faster than a speeding bullet but most definitely inhumanly fast.

“I can’t let you leave yet. I can’t have anything spooking the guys downstairs.” Nightfall nodded towards the window. My breathe shook catching in my throat. His hazel eyes regarded me quizzically as he tilted his head to one side. “Are you… afraid of me?” He asked knitting his eyebrows together baffled by the idea.

“Yes,” I whispered. His eyebrows raised, mouth falling slightly open. He took a step back from me but kept his hand on the door.

“Wow I uh- that’s new. Usually people aren’t this scared when they meet me.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he continued looking at me.

“I’m not really a fan of Supers,” I muttered. His eyes widened, darkening slightly.

“Huh, why is that?” He questioned. I set my jaw as I looked up at him. Not speaking only looking and trying to keep the fear and anger bubbling in me from overcoming my better sense. He opened his mouth as if to speak only for something to catch his ear. His attention turned completely towards the window. “Come on,” He whispered taking me by the wrist and pulling me towards the window. I whimpered as I pulled against him. “Shhh. Here if it’ll make you feel better take this back.” He scooped the broken bat up off the floor and handed me the mangled stake. I gripped it hard in my other hand as he pulled us towards the window. A foldable lawn chair sat in front of the open window. Slowly he sat in the chair intently focused on the house across the street. Letting go of my hand he spared me a glance. “I’m fast, I’ll catch you before you run out that door,” He informed me before turning back towards the window. I swallowed hard.

Across the street in front of the run down house of interest were two men meeting at the side of the building. They were clearly talking but nothing I could make out from this distance. As a Super Nightfall would be able to hear them just fine. That was another thing about Super’s they all had heightened senses. With Nightfall focusing on the men across the street I took a slow step back reaching into my pocket for the small blade I would find in there. It wasn’t much but If I could get one good shot in I might make it to the door before him. I slowly flipped the blade out taking another steady breath as I looked towards him once more.

“Even if you could hit me hard enough for that blade to penetrate my skin it still wouldn’t be enough to slow me down,” He said without turning back to look at me. “But if it’ll make you feel better you can go ahead and keep it. But while we’re on the subject pepper spray wouldn’t do much and a stun gun might give you enough time to open the door,” He said casually sparing a glance back at me. He sat relaxed with his legs spread apart elbows on his knees. “You should sit down, I can tell you what they’re saying if you’d like.” He nodded to the ground next to him. Cautiously I sat next to him my entire body vibrating with fear.

“I’ve never hurt anyone you know,” He assured me.

“You put two guys in the hospital today,” I breathed.

“They were robbing a bank, you rob any banks recently?” He asked.

“N-no,” I stammered.

“Then you’re fine.” He shrugged turning back towards the window.

“Will you really leave a-after?” I asked unsure. He gave me a quizzical look.

“Well yeah I said I only needed your window for a couple hours, why would I stay?” He knit his brows together pulling his head off of his head to look at me lips pulled in a frown. I gave him a wary look. His head swiftly shifted back towards the window. “They’re making a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” I asked cautiously.

“Not sure. They are talking about prices but they aren’t saying for what….. something about gathering the units being risky…. okay the other guy is telling him to look at some club and- what that doesn’t make sense! Are they dealing arms out of clubs now?” He shook his head as he continued to watch them. “And now they’re done again. Damn it!” He growled leaning back in his chair before glancing to the side at me and sighing. “So you don’t like Super’s huh?”

“No,” I answered hesitantly. He nodded pursing his lips as he looked out the window.

“Well look if you don’t like being around me you can go in your room. I’ll be gone in another hour it looks like, check out the club on Baker,” He told me looking out the window. I wasn’t sure what would be the right decision after all I had seen his face and in my room I couldn’t see him coming. I gripped my pocket knife in one hand and clutched the bat to my chest with the other. What was the safest option in this situation I wasn’t sure.

“My name’s Sam by the way,” He offered. I nodded in response. “Usually this is when you tell me your name.” He smirked. I offered him no name. “You know most girls are usually happy to run into me,” He sighed.

“I don’t know any girl who would be happy to find a masked man in her apartment,” I pointed out.

“Hey you’re making me out to sound way worse than I am. I’ve risked a lot here telling you my name and showing you my face,” He defended himself. I stiffened. He was right. I knew his name. I had seen his face. His only option was to kill me. I could already feel the panic creeping in my throat. Any minute now I would start hyperventilating.

“I won’t tell anyone I swear just don’t-“ I started in a shrill voice.

“Whoa whoa, calm down! I told you my name so you would know I wasn’t going to hurt you. I’m not a killer!” Sam cut me off. I stared at him questioningly. “You really don’t like Supers like at all,” He observed leaning back in his chair again.

“Let’s just say I haven’t had the best experiences with them, this being one of them,” I muttered.

“Look at this as an opportunity, you could stop a possible arms deal with me.” He gave me a wink. I pulled back brows together. How was this the proper situation for a wink?

“I don’t want to have any part of this,” I muttered. Sam shrugged in response.

“You have to admit it would be a great story if you did. ‘Regular girl stops major arms deal,’ the headline practically writes itself,” He chuckled turning back towards the window and shaking his head. “They aren’t going to risk coming out of that house again tonight. Hey do me a favor if you see anything weird happening over there let me know alright?” He asked as he got up and began folding his lawn chair. He bagged the chair shooting me a smile as he through it over his shoulder.

“You-you’re leaving?” I asked hopeful but still scared.

“Well yeah, I got what I came here for. Mind if I use the front door? It’s easier than your back window.” He pointed towards the front door. I nodded silently not trusting myself to speak. He smiled pulling his mask back on. Without another word he left out the front door. Legs shaking I made my way to the door locking it behind him. My body slid down the door until I curled into a ball on the floor. I took deep breaths to control my breathing to no avail. I had just survived an encounter with Nightfall. I knew his identity. I had seen his face. And I was terrified.

#superheroes #superhero #superpowers #oc #original characters #original work #comic #mutants #hero #mask #secret identity #chapter 2 #Heroes and masks #super strength #super speed

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lordofthebigtimesupernatural · 7 years

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I was just thinking about your Single Dad au and got the best/worst idea for a prompt! So, I was thinking of Shiro giving little Keith a piggyback ride on the way home from a late night carnival or something. Keith's really excited about being allowed to stay up so late, but then a mugger tries to rob them! He quickly learns that frightening Keith, especially in front of his ex-military dad is the definition of BAD IDEA. Then Keith gets scared of the dark, thinking the bad man will come back.

Ahhh, how could you nonny? We had some cutie fluff birthday ideas earlier and now you’re giving me angst?? But who am I to deny some angst, especially with this AU. Thanks for this, you evil little being. I hope you liked what I do but poor Keith baby. Never mess with Shiro’s son. EVER. I do hope you enjoy and I love what you all send in as prompts, thank you!

x.V.x

Shiro couldn’thelp but laugh when Keith couldn’t stop wiggling around on his shoulders. Theseven-year-old was practically bouncing up and down on Shiro’s shoulders withexcitement. Though some of it could be from the several ice cream cones thathe’d consumed throughout the night. Keith hadn’t been much of a fan of cottoncandy so Shiro had let him eat a few extra scoops of ice cream.

Afterall, how often did a kid get to go to a boardwalk carnival past his curfew?

They’dspent the last few hours at the local boardwalk where a small carnival had cometo. Lance, Hunk and Pidge and their families had all agreed to go together withShiro and Keith and spent a majority of the day with the two. However, each hadto leave at their own times, much to the children’s disappointment. Still, ithad been great for everyone and Shiro was glad to have the chance to get out ofthe house with Keith. The two of them spent a couple more hours on the pierafter everyone else had left, happy to spend some time together.

“Daddy,did you see it when I hit that hammer?” Keith babbled excitedly and Shiro wasquick to grab the melting ice cream from Keith’s hand before it could drip ontoShiro. “It went so high! Higher than Lance, right daddy? Wasn’t mine higher?”

“YesKeith.” Shiro chuckled at Keith’s loud cheer and held onto Keith’s legs inorder to avoid being kicked in the face. He’d rather avoid that painfulexperience if he could tonight. Wouldn’t want it to end on a bad note.

“Andwhen I rode on that swingy ride? I was so cool. Huh?” Keith continued happily,while Shiro walked down towards their house. The pier wasn’t far from theirhouse and it wasn’t too late, so Shiro figured a nice walk would help them winddown after a long and exciting day.

“Youwere pretty awesome too. I almost thought you were gonna break that hammer game.” Keith said seriously. “That’s ‘causeyou’re so strong.”

“Thankyou sweetie.” Shiro grinned.

“Andthen, there was the Ferris wheel! Daddy we were so high but I wasn’t scared.”Keith stated while Shiro smiled warmly.

“Ohyeah?” Keith had remained by Shiro’s side and gripped his hand as tight as hecould during the entire ride but Shiro wasn’t about to point that out to Keithand ruin his mood. His little boy deserved every ounce of happiness.

“Yeah. Iwas making sure oyou weren’t scared too.”

“Ohthank you sweetheart. I felt much better holding your hand.” Shiro said,causing Keith to beam proudly.

“You’rewelcome daddy! I’m here to make sure you always feel better! ‘Cause that’s whatyou do for me.” Keith replied quickly and bounced again on Shiro’s shoulder.“Hey daddy –”

BeforeKeith could finish, Shiro suddenly felt something cold and hard pressing intohis back and a large body was pressed up against him. His entire breath frozewithin his body and his world was spinning when he recognized what the objectin his back was. A gun.

“Give meall your money.” A voice hissed into Shiro’s ear and he swallowed thickly. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Notwith Keith here.

“Daddy?Daddy, who is he?” Keith asked nervously on his dad’s shoulder. He tried totwist around to see the person who had made his daddy stop, only for hisdaddy’s grip to tighten on his legs and prevent him from looking back.“D-Daddy?”

“Give meeverything you got, or the kid gets it.” The man growled again and Shiro feltthe barrel of the gun move upward.

“No!”Shiro cried and tried to turn around and the gun dug painfully into his back.“Don’t hurt him. Please, he’s done nothing.” Shiro couldn’t believe he wasbegging to this scum, but the thought of anyone hurting his baby killed Shiro.

This couldn’t be happening. Oh god, please.

“I’llgive you everything I have. Please don’t hurt him. Just let me put him down.”Shiro pleaded desperately and the man growled. However, he felt the gun pullaway from and Shiro shakily pulled Keith off his shoulders before setting himdown on the ground. Keith trembled in surprise and fear when his daddy set himon the ground. The frightened look in his daddy’s eye was enough to make Keithbecome filled with terror. His wonderful day was long forgotten.

“Give ithere. All of it!” The masked man behind Keith’s daddy said again, not soundingvery nice at all and Keith whimpered, trying to get closer to his daddy.

Shironoticed this as he grabbed his wallet out of his pocket. “No, Keith,sweetheart. I need you to stay right there okay. Don’t you move unless daddytells you to.” Shiro commanded gently, ignoring the cold gun pressed into hisback. If anything, Shiro would be in the way of the robber and Keith would haveenough time to get away and call for help. Shiro would be hit, not his baby.

“Quittalking and just give me your money.” The man hissed and shoved the gun againstShiro’s spine. That would be a lifethreating shot. Shiro swallowed thickly and his hands shook when they raisedslowly with his wallet. Don’t give himany reason to shoot. Not with Keith here.

Keithfelt a sob build in his chest at the frightened look on his daddy’s face and atthe mean stranger holding a gun.Keith knew what a gun looked like. His daddy had taught him and Keith was soscared for his daddy because guns were bad.

“It’sokay baby, don’t cry.” Shiro tried to soothe Keith as a few more sobs tore fromKeith’s throat. Apparently, the man behind him didn’t like this interaction andjerked the gun against Shiro’s back with an audible click.

“Quit itand shut up. Both of you.” The man snarled and Shiro hesitated and his voicecaught in his throat. Slowly he could feel the gun beginning to move away fromhis own back.

No. No. No. No.

Please.

Please no.

No!

“Shutyer mouth kid.” The man growled when Keith’s sobs grew louder and louder. “Or I’llblow your brains out.” Shiro’s eyes widened at the threat and his entire bodywas filled with ice.

No! Not!

Not my baby.

Please! No.

“Hey!” Shiro barked suddenly,a new fire roaring through his veins instead of ice. “You want your money. Takeit.” Shiro snarled and hurled the wallet across the alley way. Immediately theman looked up when the wallet was raised and his eyes followed it as it wasthrown away from Shiro. Giving Shiro just enough of a distraction to move. “Keith!Run! Now!” Shiro commanded and turned around. Thankfully, Shiro heard Keithsprinting away from him, a scream erupting from his throat and Shiro thankedeveryone that Keith always listenedto Shiro.

With theman distracted, Shiro kicked his leg out and caught the man in the jaw. As hewas reeling back, Shiro then kicked the gun out of the man’s hand as it skiddedacross the ground. Stunned, the man stumbled back and Shiro reeled back beforesmashing his fist into the man’s stomach and then elbowing the back of the man’sneck, causing him to flop to the ground like a dead fish.

Quickly,Shiro kneeled on top of the robber and he snatched the man’s arms behind hisback. The man grunted and yelped in pain, just as Keith could hear the soundsof footsteps running down the alley way followed by sirens.

“Sir, wehave this now. Are you alright?” A voice asked and Shiro snapped his eyes up,ready to attack again if he had to, only to see a blue uniform beside him. A cop.

“Keith?”Shiro asked and slowly moved off the man, while two officers took his spot tohandcuff the assaulter.

“Daddy!”Shiro almost broke down when Keith screamed for him beside another officer andsoon enough Shiro had taken off after his son, and engulfed him in the tightesthug he could.

He’s safe. He’s safe.

Thank you.

x.V.x

Shirowoke up upon hearing the first sniffle of many. His eyes snapped open and hisimmediate first thought was of Keith. Shiro quickly pulled himself out of bed,only to stop at a tiny figure in his doorway.

“Keith?”Shiro whispered before turning on the light to his bedroom. Keith was in factstanding out in his doorway, clutching the stuffed red lion in his hands withRed sitting right behind him. There were fresh tear tracks on Keith’s face,falling from red eyes and Shiro’s heart broke.

“Daddy.”Keith whispered miserably before he was swept up into Shiro’s arms. Shiro buriedhis nose into Keith’s hair, while Keith snuggled into his daddy and more tearsfell from his eyes onto Shiro’s shirt. Shiro looked over at Red, to see herstaring at Shiro looking concerned for her owner.

“Heybaby, shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. You and I are safe now.” Shiro said softly,sitting back onto his bed as Red walked over to rest her head on Shiro’s leg. Keithsniffled again and clutched at Shiro’s shirt tightly.

This wasthe same thing that had been happening everynight since that robber attempted to attack Shiro and Keith almost two weeksago. Shiro just wanted the pain to stop for Keith and for his baby to not be soscared anymore. All of this was because some asshole wanted money. If he wasn’t already in jail, Shiro wouldhave given the man a piece of his mind.

“It’sdark.” Keith mumbled into Shiro’s shirt and Shiro felt a lump in his throat buthe continued to rub Keith’s back.

“I know,sweetheart. You’ve got your nightlight on right? And the one in the hallway?”Shiro whispered softly, pressing a kiss to Keith’s forehead. He could feelKeith sadly nod his head.

“Stilltoo dark. Might be hiding in my closer. Too dark.” Keith whispered brokenly.Shiro had to close his eyes when the overwhelming feeling of failure encircledhis heart. How could I let this happen?When Keith got too worked up or scared his sentences started to break up intosmall fragments.

“Ohbaby, he’s not in your closet. I promise you.He’s gone forever and you’re safe in daddy’s home.” Shiro said softly, pressinganother kiss to Keith’s cheek. Keith sniffled but at least he didn’t argue. “Mylittle star, how brave you were. Just like your daddy.”

“Sleepdaddy?” Keith mumbled tiredly and Shiro sighed. He knew that others were thinkdown on him giving into Keith so easily, but they could just shove theiropinions right where you know. Shiro was going to indulge Keith every day forthe rest of his life. As long as Keith was happy, healthy and safe.

“Ofcourse, honey. You can sleep with daddy.” Shiro said softly and pulled himselfand Keith under the covers. Quickly Red had jumped onto the bed and curled upbeside Shiro and Keith, while Shiro kept Keith in his arms. It took a littlewhile longer before Keith’s breaths had even out and he was actually asleep.Even then, Shiro didn’t fall asleep. Instead, he remained awake and ever vigilantover Keith, just as he would for as long as he was able to.

#single dad shiro #single dad shiro AU #kiddie!AU #kiddie paladins #voltron legendary defender #thanks nonny #this was a perfect mix of angst after that fluff #it was getting to good in this AU ;)

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notgonnarememberthis · 7 years

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A Better Tomorrow- Chapter 5

It’s back! A huge thanks to Riley and Em for finally getting my ass in gear and ready to update. Within the next few days I hope to also upload that Wedding Fic as well. (Spoiler alert not a Philinda wedding but guess who’s gonna be the main ship anyways cause I do what I want?) Any who I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. Please leave a comment about our newly arrived characters or what you thought about the chapter in general!

Melinda hears a soft stirring in the backseat indicating Daisy’s awake. Good, the girl deserved a few hours of sleep after all she’s been through.

“Where are we?” She moans groggily stretching her stiff limbs across the backseat of the truck. The girl had slept much longer than expected. For nearly twenty si hours she’s been on the road. That doesn’t even count the moments where she’d taken a break to get two hours of sleep, taking a few hours to scavenge for food and medicine… The basics essentially.

“Utah, Salt Lake City to be exact.” Melinda answers calmly.

“What?” Daisy’s jaw drops. “I slept from Nebraska to Utah? No wonder I feel like the dead.” She groans reaching for her bag. “Bad news, we’re running low on water.” In the mirror she can see Daisy finish off the canteen.

“That’s why I’m going through a big city. We’re going to search for supplies and then hit the road again. We need to suck more gas from dormant cars. I probably only have another hour of gas.”

“That’s fair.” Daisy says pulling something from her bag and crawling into the front seat. The sight of the stack of comics lying in her lap causes her stomach to churn. Steve Rogers’s eyes stare up at her accusingly. “Figured I’d need some reading material after sleeping for that long.” Her mind begins to reel with memories where she’d lie in Phil’s lap as he ranted for hours about how Hydra-Cap was the biggest mistake Marvel had ever made. “Whoa, you okay? You went green for a second there.” Daisy’s looking at her alarmed and she’s not sure she can lie her way out of this one.

“Those were Phil’s.” Melinda frowns. “He must’ve left them at Mack’s the last time we saw him.” She swallows the truth like a bitter drink. It burns her chest but it’s a little liberating at the same time.

“Shit.” The younger girl moves to roll down the window quickly. She’s moving to throw each of them out the window when Melinda catches her wrist.

“Don’t.” Melinda sighs. “It’s one of few things I have left of him.”

“Few?” Melinda fingers the pin on her jacket. It was rusted from years of misuse, Phil had given it to her when Bobbi died. She’d found herself in late nights where she’d felt like drowning clinging to the pin until her body finally succumbed to sleep. “This and an old trading card he carried everywhere with him. He’d had it signed and everything.” Melinda laughs lightly.

“You’re kidding.”

“Not even a little. He dragged me to a fan convention in San Diego where he made me dress up like Peggy Carter, of course he was Captain America. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile as widely when he signed it.” Melinda’s smile fades as she pulls up to an exit. Of course the highway was bumper to bumper packed with cars. It only figures. She sighs pulling off at the exit where there was enough room for her to maneuver between the cars. “It’d be easier if I had my bike.”

“You rode a motorcycle?” Daisy looks over at her wide eyed and amazed. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised by that but I’ve never even seen one.”

“You’re kidding me right?” Melinda scoffs.

She just shrugs with a frown, “You don’t see much when you live underground for a good portion of your life.” She opens her mouth to offer an apology when a man appears in front of her vision. He’s waving at her, clutching his bleeding abdomen. “Slow down! He’s hurt!” The man stumbles in front of the car and Melinda hits the gas. “No!” Sure enough as she speeds up the man drops his rouse, pulling a gun from his jacket. The sound of glass piercing breaks her ears cutting through the space between the two of them.

More men jump from behind trailers and other hiding places attacking the car. Daisy lets out a screech as they shatter her window with a baseball bat. Melinda is just about to clear the area when she hears another shout from Daisy. She spies the oncoming train much too late. The front catches the backend of the car spinning them around violently. The car collides with the metal door of a garage and all Melinda can hear is her thoughts.

Oh god not again.

The car finally jerks to a stop before it hits solid wall. Her spine aches but she’s very much alive. Daisy is shaking violently in the passenger seat. She unfastens herself quickly and does the same for the girl next to her. It’s moments like these where she realizes how small she actually is.

“Are you hurt?” Melinda demands. All the poor girl can do is fervently shake her head. They’d set up a silent definition of hurt by now. She may be sore but she can run. That’s good. Melinda sets a pistol in her shaking fingers.

“Wha- I don’t know how to use a gun!”

“Good a time as ever to learn.”

Just as they move to open the doors a man seizes Daisy by the waist yanking her out of the car. She kicks and hollers but it’s no use. He has a good grip on her. Melinda poises her gun when another man grabs her by the hair pulling her out the other side. He forces her to move, having the advantage of momentum over her. He smashes her head through a window causing a groan of pain to pass her lips. He tries to throw her out but she drops suddenly using his own body weight against him to toss him over her shoulder and out the window.

She turns back to Daisy just in time to see her go down by the much larger man slapping her in the face. She’s seeing red as she charges the man. She leaps onto his back snapping his neck with horrific ease. She tries not to show her satisfaction as he drops limply to the ground. She can’t help the extra kick to the head she delivers when she spies a long cut across Daisy’s cheek from the man’s ring.

“Run.” She growls. Daisy kicks her feet up from underneath her rushing into the next room. The cracks on the floor give away to a flooded section beneath the floor. Must’ve been a pipe busted. Right past that there’s a ledge just high enough that the two of them can escape with assistance from the other but they need to make it fast. Melinda links her fingers together throwing Daisy upwards. She catches the ledge and pulls herself to safety. She lays down exactly as Melinda taught her in order to help her up without accidentally pulling herself over the edge.

Melinda runs and jumps, her fingers just barely brush Daisy’s when a man catches her by the jacket, throwing her into the pool of water. She surfaces sucking in a deep breath of air before the man has her by the throat pushing her back under. Her movements are slower underneath the water. Sure enough by her luck the man has knocked her pistol out of her grip. Her fingers stretch for the metal but it’s too far and she’s losing oxygen quick. Her mind begins to spin when he drives his knee into her stomach, forcing what was left of her air rushing from her lungs. He flips her over pinning both of her hands behind her back. In a last ditch effort Melinda throws her leg back to catch the soft spot of the calf in an attempt to knock him off balance.

However, with a muffled bang the weight is gone. Melinda surfaces breathing in heavily. She sputters for a second coughing up the water she had swallowed during the struggle. Her vision is spotty but she spies Daisy, her fingers shaking and eyes wide as she holds the gun as far away from her as she can.

“I killed him.” She whimpers shocked at herself.

“You had to.” Melinda said hoarsely.

“I’m going to be sick.” She leans over a column in the middle of the room clutching her stomach. She’s limping a bit. Likely sprained her ankle jumping from the ledge to save her. God she’s only a kid...

“He was going to kill me if you didn’t.” Melinda reasons. She looks around, the room now eerily silent. “Let’s go before more of them come along.” Daisy only nods numbingly. The two hoist each other up onto the railing being careful when crossing to the next building.

Another body collides with Melinda’s as she pulls herself through the window. This one is smaller, much weaker than the other men attacking her.

“Hey!” Daisy shouts pointing a gun at her attacker.

“Don’t move!” Another voice shouts back.

Melinda is able to make out her surroundings now. They’re in a small apartment building. The man who’d managed to push her against the wall is hardly a man at all. In fact, he hardly looks older than Daisy. His light brown hair is curly and rests on the top of her head, light green eyes sparkling with the adrenaline of self defense. Behind him is a girl who looks to be his age. Her short brown hair is tied back away from her face, her own pistol pointed at Daisy.

“Fitz…” She whispers. “They’re not hunters.”

Fitz’s eyes land on Daisy and he lets go of May with a murmured apology. “Those freaks have been looting houses all week. I thought they’d finally found us.”

“My god you’re soaked!” The girl exclaims. Both have foreign accents, likely exchange students who’d been completely unaware of the outbreak. Some nations kept their citizens in veiled curtains not knowing what was happening in the rest of the world before it was too late.

“Yeah. We just had a run in with those freaks.” Daisy growls.

“Fitz go get her some dry clothes.” She orders before rushing over to check on Daisy.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She asks snatching herself away.

“I’m a doctor.” She explains. “You’re favoring your right side and you winced when you crawled through the window. Sprained ankle?”

“Likely.”

“Oh my you both need to be checked.” The girl sighs. Once the boy, Fitz, comes back they’re settled as the girl checks the both of them. For some odd reason Melinda gets the sensation that she can trust the duo.

“I’m Daisy, this is Melinda but she prefers May.” Her partner smiles. “Thank you for helping us.”

“You’re like us. We had to.” Fitz explains.

“Like you?”

“Hydra doesn’t exactly favor the young that can’t defend themselves. You can’t be Hydra if you’re a teenager.” He explains.

“Makes sense.” Daisy grumbles as the girl ties a makeshift splint to her ankle.

“Oh how rude of me.” The girl brushes off her hands standing. “I’m Jemma Simmons, either one you wish to call me is fine. This is Leopold Fitz but he doesn’t like to be called Leopold.”

“You call me Leopold when you scold me!” He exclaims.

Melinda sits back listening to the two bicker with a half smirk. Out of the corner of her eye, for the first time in a long while she can see Daisy relax.

#melinda may #Daisy Johnson #fitzsimmons #jemma simmons #leo fitz #zombie au #zombie apocolypse au #a better tomorrow #aos #agents of shield #Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.#renew agents of shield #The Last of Us AU

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daleisgreat · 6 years

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Lockdown 2008

Greetings and welcome to the fourth installment covering every year of the all cage-format PPV from TNA/Impact Wrestling, Lockdown. Catch up with past editions by clicking here. Since the previous Lockdown, the following major changes have transpired for TNA: In May 2007, TNA came to an agreement with the NWA to end their partnership. This saw TNA putting NWA World and Tag Team titles in a state of abeyance by relinquishing them back to the NWA. The other big change was when Impact expanded to two hours on Spike in October 2007. There is a part of me that loved the ‘one-hour adrenaline rush’ era of Impact because somehow TNA found a way to cram in their entire roster and I barely had a chance to breathe by the time it was over, and even though I detested the name, that one-hour show delivered…..Total…Nontstop…Action. I welcomed the change to two hours though because it was the catalyst for TNA launching its Knockouts division on the first two-hour episode of Impact. It could not have debuted at a better time because a year prior both Lita and Trish Stratus retired from WWE and for several years WWE’s women’s roster got watered down with mostly untrained Diva Search contestants that dominated WWE’s women’s division until around 2014. Since its 2007 debut, TNA has had a strong Knockouts division, and there were even a couple periods in TNA history where rating proved and fans stated TNA’s Knockouts were outperforming the men. For all the self-congratulating WWE has been doing themselves for their ‘Women’s Evolution’ in recent years TNA/Impact beat them to the punch years earlier by featuring their women in a plethora of standout rivalries and top-billed matches and having several all-women PPVs before WWE will have their first in several weeks from this writing.

Lockdown 2008 is emanating from Lowell, MA. Once again it is refreshing to see a TNA event not in the Impact Zone and in a bigger arena. They had a great opening too with cameras going to shots of Jeremy Borash and Don West in the stands with a red-hot crowd that kept up their enthusiasm for most of the night. The opener was the annual ‘X-Scape’ match for the X-Division Title. Jay Lethal’s Black Machismo persona was still running wild as he walked in and walked out champion. This marked the first Lockdown with one of my favorite TNA characters, Curry Man and also the first Lockdown to see Shark Boy with the addition of his Steve Austin impression to his act--I do not kid--click here to see proof with a Curry Man and Shark Boy interview. Also competing in the X-Scape match were Sonjay Dutt, Johnny Devine and a pre-WWE Xavier Woods then known as Consequences Creed. The match got the crowd lit up with tons of solid action and high-flying. Johnny Devine played the heel heat perfectly by teasing a win by slowly going up the cage while taunting during his escape attempt, but taking too much time to allow Lethal to recover and leap through the cage door to victory. The ‘Queen of the Cage’ bout was next and saw Christy Hemme, Salinas, Jacquelyn, Traci Brooks, Velvet Sky, Angelina Love, Rha-ka Kahn and Roxxi Laveau compete in the women’s answer to the infamous ‘Reverse Battle Royal’ match. Yes, all six started off outside of the cage and the goal was to have the first two women who climbed up and enter the cage then square off in a match. Needless to say, it was an ugly start, with Roxxi and Love getting into the cage in order to have an ok three-to-four minute match with nothing too special that saw Roxxi emerge victorious after her VooDoo Drop finisher. Speaking of VooDoo, the tag team known as the VooDoo Kin Mafia split up shortly before this PPV just in time so Kip & BG James could face each other at Lockdown. Kip dominated the contest with his trademark slow, plodding offense to ‘you can’t wrestle’ chants before BG won over the crowd with his comeback that lead to a roll-up for the pin. The only gratifying part of this bout was the post-match when BG wanted to hug it out with Kip, only to see Kip reel the sucker in and repeatedly clothesline BG.

The next match is a debacle and easy inclusion for my dream ‘Top 50 OMG Incidents in TNA/Impact History’ DVD. It is a six team, handcuff elimination match. The goal is to handcuff all opponents to the cage. That may work in a smaller match, but with 12 guys it looks awkward to see so many stationary bodies all around the cage. Fun fact, I saw this match before on a best of Motor City Machine Guns DVD. I found it to be an awkward inclusion on the compilation, because the Guns did nothing special and were in fact the first team eliminated after a minute or two into the match. Speaking of the Guns, the announcers mentioned how it was the team’s one-year anniversary after aligning up at the X-Scape match the previous year. Joining the Guns in this match were the Rock ‘n Rave Infection (wrestlers capitalizing on the hot Guitar Hero-craze….seriously), LAX, Kaz & Eric Young, Rellik & Black Reign (Dustin Rhodes in a B&W themed version of Goldust) and Scotty Steiner & Petey Williams. Petey Williams is awesome here as he is Steiner’s Little-Poppa-Pump-In-Training protégé and came to the ring in the same attire as Scott. This match had a dumb theme with Young getting attacked before the match, only to see him make a late entrance in his superhero themed, ‘Super-Eric’ persona that saw Young doing a heroic leap off the cage and hand-cuffing everyone to earn a victory for him and Kaz…..what a mess. You may now know her as ‘Welfare Queen’ on the hit Netflix series, Glow but back in 2008 Kia Stevens was kicking ass in TNA as Awesome Kong. Kong teamed up with her manager Rihisha Saeed against Gail Kim and the booze-loving ODB (think a more amped-up version of Sandman). ODB was always a wild card and I could not help but crack up as she swigged away from her flask during the match to get psyched up. ODB wound up getting the feel-good pin after a splash from halfway up the cage. Following that was a forgettable mixed tag match with Booker T & Sharmell against Robert Roode & Traci Brooks. I recall the Roode/Brooks tandem always being at odds, and sure enough that happened here when Brooks inadvertently struck Roode and Sharmell capitalized by rolling up Brooks for the win.

TNA’s rendition of War Games known as ‘Lethal Lockdown’ transpired next. 2008 saw Team 3D, AJ Styles, James Storm & Tomko against Christian Cage, Sting, Rhino, Kevin Nash & Matt Morgan. I completely forgot this was around the time when Tomko was surprisingly over for a short period of time in TNA as he was the captain of his team. I recall being disheartened to see TNA pull the plug on Tomko’s push shortly after this as he had some credible momentum at this time. AJ and Christian (in the last year of his TNA contract) opened the first five minutes. I was surprised to see Nash enter into the match earlier than anticipated and thought he would be somewhat prominently involved in this match. I should not have raised expectations because after a couple quick-fire clotheslines, someone started working over Nash’s leg and Nash went on to take a nap alongside the cage for the rest of the match. Also legit surprising to note is that Brother D-Von was the sole person of the night to bleed. This is jaw-dropping compared to the buckets of blood spilled in previous Lockdowns. Once all the wrestlers entered, the weapons-filled roof shut, and AJ and Christian proceeded to wage war on top of the cage which saw both men fall off the top of the ladder through a table that was on top of the cage for an impressive visual. This entertaining shmoz wrapped up when Rhino got the pin for his team after he gored James Storm. Finally it was main event time with Samoa Joe fighting Kurt Angle for the TNA World Title. Props to TNA for building up this match throughout the night with interviews with Samoa Joe, Angle and several of their supporters between matches to stress the importance of this feud. TNA also had an excellent history montage of the two’s past matches with Angle being the most dominant of the two and there being an added stipulation that if Joe loses, he will retire. Angle mentioned earlier how he underwent a big MMA-training camp in preparation for the match and he came out in MMA attire and wrestled in a MMA style throughout the match. This lead to a lot of close striking and submission sequences interspersed with an occasional suplex to pop the crowd. This was a daring way to book the match, because it could have flopped big time, but Joe and Angle were total pros and made the MMA-style match work and surprisingly the crowd was red-hot throughout the submission-heavy bout. Samoa Joe won his first ever TNA World Title here after his muscle-buster for the pin. If memory serves right, Joe’s contract was coming up for renewal and TNA guaranteeing him this title nudge Joe to re-sign with TNA. If I also recall correctly, TNA did not appreciate Joe forcing their hand into make Joe the top champion and they went on to book him to have an ugly failure of a title reign that tarnished his overall act much like Mysterio’s 2006 WWE Title reign.

There are three extra features on the disc. Like last year, there is a quick photo gallery of all the matches that I will give credit to for snapping pics of with my cell of for use in this blog. Also like last year, there is a 14-minute compilation of Jeremy Borash interviews with TNA talent at a fan expo meet-up the weekend of Lockdown. I would say it is worth the quick watch to see how much the Knockouts love Jeremy and you can tell everyone was having a legit good time with the fans while staying in character for their promos. Finally there is bonus Impact match with a Kurt Angle/Samoa Joe re-match at the following Impact. It is a good bout, but is plagued with ref bumps and interference setting up Joe’s next rivalry. I will give the 2008 Lockdown a thumbs up, despite some bumps in the mid-card. I would recommend sticking with only the Lethal Lockdown, X-Title and World Title matches and skipping the rest. Also props to TNA for finding a way to seemingly work everyone onto the show, I did a tally on my notes and in the eight matches counted 48 different wrestlers! I will close the 2008 Lockdown entry by once again referencing my love for Curry Man and being bamboozled that Brother D-Von was the only person to bleed the entire night! Past Wrestling Blogs Best of WCW Clash of Champions Best of WCW Monday Nitro Volume 2 Best of WCW Monday Nitro Volume 3 Biggest Knuckleheads Bobby The Brain Heenan Daniel Bryan: Just Say Yes Yes Yes DDP: Positively Living Dusty Rhodes WWE Network Specials ECW Unreleased: Vol 1 ECW Unreleased: Vol 2 ECW Unreleased: Vol 3 For All Mankind Goldberg: The Ultimate Collection Impact Wresting Presents: Best of Hulk Hogan Its Good to Be the King: The Jerry Lawler Story The Kliq Rules Ladies and Gentlemen My Name is Paul Heyman Legends of Mid South Wrestling Macho Man: The Randy Savage Story Memphis Heat NXT Greatest Matches Vol 1 OMG Vol 2: Top 50 Incidents in WCW History OMG Vol 3: Top 50 Incidents in ECW History Owen: Hart of Gold RoH Supercard of Honor 2010-Present ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery Sting: Into the Light Straight Outta Dudley-ville: Legacy of the Dudley Boyz Straight to the Top: Money in the Bank Anthology Superstar Collection: Zach Ryder TNA Lockdown 2005-2016 Top 50 Superstars of All Time Tough Enough: Million Dollar Season True Giants Ultimate Fan Pack: Roman Reigns Ultimate Warrior: Always Believe War Games: WCWs Most Notorious Matches Warrior Week on WWE Network Wrestlemania 3: Championship Edition Wrestlemania 28-Present The Wrestler (2008) Wrestling Road Diaries Too Wrestling Road Diaries Three: Funny Equals Money Wrestlings Greatest Factions WWE Network Original Specials First Half 2015 WWE Network Original Specials Second Half 2015 WWE Network Original Specials First Half 2016 WWE Network Original Specials Second Half 2016 WWE Network Original Specials First Half 2017

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