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yodawgiherd · 4 years ago

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Love

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Rating: T

Setting: Canon, chapter 138

I got the idea for a story the moment I saw the leaks, and because of how wrecked 138 made me, I stayed up and wrote this instead of sleeping. What if Love was truly the main point of the story? What if Love could change the cruelness of the world? What if...

The explosion roused Eren from the strange hibernation he was in just in time to see the colossal teeth crumble. A figure jumped through, blade in hand, obviously going in for the kill. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

And as Mikasa’s blade cut through his spine, as the world went black, Eren was completely at peace.

Until something coarse and rough scratched his skin. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was back in the paths, lying on his back. He stood up, shaking the sand away from his clothes and looking around. Ymir was there, watching him with her judging eyes, but Eren was no longer intimidated by that. He was dead, what fear did he have of gods?

Crossing the distance, he approached the child.

“I’m sorry kiddo, I did my best.”, dropping to one knee, Eren ruffled Ymir’s hair playfully, “But I couldn’t destroy the world. They stopped me.”

The little girl stomped her foot.

“You planned this since the start!”, she accused him, “You knew that they would kill you in the end!”

“I didn’t know.”, Eren countered, “I hoped.”

Ymir fell silent after that, pouting. Eren stood up, looking over the endless sands of the Paths, over the pulsating crystal tree in the middle. It was a beautiful place.

“Why did you send her the vision?”, Ymir spoke from behind him, “The Ackerman girl. Why show her what was not real?”

“It was my parting gift. Mikasa had to know how I really felt about her, I couldn’t let her think that I hated her.”

“What was that emotion you felt when you looked at her, the one that made your heart beat faster?”, Ymir pressed on, “What was the thing you two shared?”

Gazing into the endless Paths, Eren’s lips curved into a sad smile.

“Love. It was love.”

The girl’s breath hitched.

“Love is beautiful.”

“It sure is, even if it's as short-lived as ours was.”, Eren sighed, running a hand over his face, “There are so many things I would like to do with her that I’ll never get to. So many memories we will never create together. It hurts, but the pain is delicious in its own way.”

Ymir was silent, so Eren continued.

“I just wish that she will learn to let me go. That she will experience this with someone else, now that I’m gone. I don’t want her to keep loving a ghost.”

“A ghost?”

“I am consciousness trapped in the Paths. Is there a better way to call myself?”, his fists clenched, “I’m dead. I tried to destroy the world and failed. I fought against everyone and got killed for it. It’s time for me to fade away and be nothing but a memory.”

He turned to Ymir, extending his arm towards her.

“You don’t have to keep me around anymore, founder, you have no use for me. Release me.”

“No.”

Eren blinked a few times.

“Why?”

This time, Ymir met his gaze with her own.

“Because I’m jealous.”

“You are a god, what can you be jealous of?”

Ymir’s hands tightened on the handle of her bucket.

“I never got to experience love.”

“I’m sorry...”

The little girl sniffled, drying her eyes.

“When I saw what you two have, I never felt so lonely in my life. I want it too, I want to share that wonderful feeling with someone, I want to love and be loved back….”

Overwhelmed by the raw emotion in her voice, Eren hugged her, feeling the tiny body shake with sobs in his hands. Not sure what to say, Eren did what he had often done in the past and used the words that always gave him strength in the darkest moments.

“The woman I loved, Mikasa Ackerman, had a saying – “the world is cruel but beautiful”. It’s the beauty that you must look for, not the cruelty. Because if you don’t, there is no point in going on.”

Ymir thought about his words for a moment, while the time stood still.

“Eren?”, she spoke up from his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want this.”

“What do you mean?”

“This world, this cruelty, I don’t want it to exist. I don’t want to be unloved for eternity.”

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”, he confessed, but Ymir was shaking her head.

“I can.”

“Ymir, we tried to…”

She didn’t let him finish.

“I don’t want to destroy the world anymore. I want to remake it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My power comes from the titans, and now there are so many in the outside world….”, she took a shuddering breath, “So many people transformed, I’m stronger than I ever was.”

Looking over her shoulder, Eren could see the crystal tree, shining brighter and brighter with every pulse.

“You realize it now?”, Ymir asked, “The lights in the tree, they are….”

“Souls.”, Eren finished for her, “Souls of the Eldians.”

“Exactly. Now when that strange being transformed every single Eldian into a titan, it’s crackling with power. In its last effort to save itself, it gave me the strength to do what I want.”

Eren shouldn’t be scared. He was dead, there was nothing Ymir could do to him. So what was the cold feeling creeping up his spine?

Of course. He didn’t fear for himself, there was no point in that. He feared for those who survived. He feared for Armin, for Levi, and most importantly….

He feared for Mikasa.

“And what is the thing that you want to do?”, he asked the goddess in his arms cautiously.

“Erase this world and all its cruelty, take the souls and create a new one, one where we can all be free.”

“Will they remember it?”

“No. Well, the Ackermans will, in some way or form, I can’t influence them as much.”

“I see.”

“I will do it on one condition though.”, Ymir said, pulling back so their eyes could meet.

Taking a step back away from his kneeling form, the goddess extended her open hand, strange light gathering in her palm.

“Eren Yeager, when I create this new world for us, will you show me what love is?”

New world. New chance. New life with her. To have that, Eren would strike any bargain. He nodded.

“I swear.”

Ymir smiled. And closed her fist.

The crystal tree behind them exploded into million pieces, and the wave of energy that ran through him was the last thing Eren felt, his thoughts filled with a certain raven-haired girl.

When the reality began to disintegrate around Mikasa, she didn’t even question it anymore. When her own body started to unravel, she kept her gaze trained at Eren’s head in her hands, a faint smile pulling at her lips.

“See you later, Eren.”

“Okay, I can see the head. Push, missis Yeager, push!”

“Oh god, Grisha I hate you so much!”

“I’m so sorry dear, but please listen to the good doctor.”

“Deep breaths, deep breaths, almost there….”

The room was filled with cries of a newborn.

“Congratulations, you have a son!”

Carla took the tiny bundle from the doctor’s arms, breathing heavily. She was met with an intense stare of green eyes and a red face, angry at everything. He was adorable.

“Hello Eren.”, she said, gently rocking him, “Welcome to the world.”

“This was a bad idea.”

“Dude, we are in college now, we can’t just sit at our dorm all day.”

“Please, tell me that you wouldn’t prefer having your nose in a book right now.”

“You are the one to talk! When was the last time you even spoke to a girl, you studying tryhard.”

Eren sighed.

“Being a doctor doesn’t come from nothing, Ar.”

“I know, I know,”, Armin calmed him, “But you really should find a girlfriend. I’m not sure I can survive any more of Jean’s jokes aimed at your repressed homosexuality.”

“And I told you, like a thousand times, that I’m not interested in dating. I just…”

Holding a red cup identical to his own, a visage walked into the room. With midnight hair pulled into two braids at the top, dark shirt and skirt and a multitude of necklaces around her neck, she was obviously nervous, slanted grey eyes darting around the room, absent-mindedly turning the rings around her fingers. Eren took her in, all of her, from the tips of her boots and over her black tights to the top, to where the piercings glimmered in her ears. He took her in, and he realized that girls are an incredible species, especially the goth ones.

“Dude,” Armin tore him for his trance, “You’re staring.”

“She’s so beautiful…”

“Who?”, his friend followed his gaze, frowning, “The strangely dressed Asian?”

He just nodded. Talking was hard when the girl was occupying all of his brainpower. The little irritated twitch of her nose, the way she took a sip from the cup and grimaced, that was Eren’s whole world.

“Jolly good.”, Armin nudged him, “Now go talk to her.”

“Me? Are you insane? No way dude, no, why would such a beauty be ever interested in me? Me and her? Nah, but you’re crazy man, that could never work.”

“Fine.”, with a resolute move, Armin finished his drink, “I’ll do it myself.”

And he was gone, walking towards the girl. He said something, she said something back, and then the traitor was pointing at Eren who did his best to shrink behind the cup in his hand. The girl smiled, reached up to smooth some strands behind her ear and Eren felt like he could die from how flawless that move was. Oh god, she’s moving. She’s moving towards him. He should… He should….

“Hello, your friend said that you wanted to talk to me.”

Heavens above, even her voice was attractive. With brain fried, Eren extended his hand mechanically in a way of greeting.

“Hi, I’m Eren.”

She took it, the edges of her rings gently scratching at his skin.

“Mikasa.”

And he was lost.

“Eren! She’s kicking again!”

“Now?”, there was a tumble from the bathroom and then he was here, face half-shaved, “Let me feel.”

Mikasa took his hand, placing it on her round belly. True enough, there was a kick soon after, making him grin like an idiot.

“Do I have to work today? I want to stay here and feel Ymir’s kicking.”

Mikasa looked up with a raised eyebrows, smoothing her bangs away from her eyes.

“Ymir?”

“Huh?”

“You just called our baby Ymir.”

“I…. I guess I did?”

“Eren, there’s already a girl called Ymir. You know, the tall freckled one from your work, dates the cute little blonde Krista? Ring any bells?”

“Please Miki, I know who that demon is woman’s body is. But I…”, he rolled the name around in his head, “I still like it. The name that is, not the old Ymir, she’s a natural disaster in human form.”

“Ymir…” Mikasa was the one thinking now, her hand rubbing her belly.

“Ymir.”, Eren agreed, putting his hand over hers.

“Fine.”, she said, looking down, “Hello there, your name is Ymir now. Are you going to kick your daddy again?”

She did.

“Mikasa, you have to push!”

“I don’t want to! Eren said that he will be here! I..”, her back arched in pain, teeth gritting, “The bastard!”

“I know.”, Ymir’s eyes were calm above the surgical mask, “But I can see the head already, you have to push the girl out.”

“Eren!”, Mikasa screamed in pure desperation, “I swear that I’ll kill you!”

The door cracked, letting a disheveled figure in. It immediately crossed the room to stand at Mikasa’s side, taking her hand.

“I’m so sorry.”, he whispered to her, “I got here as fast as I could.”

“Okay Miks, Eren is here, so it’s time to push.”, Ymir cut in, “Come one, deep breaths, and let’s go.”

And Mikasa pushed and tightened her hold on Eren’s hand. With a scream, the baby fell into Ymir’s waiting arms, while a certain crack could be heard.

Ymir Ackerman-Yeager came into the world at the exact moment when her mother broke two of her father’s fingers.

“Look, Krista, she’s eating me.”

“We are supposed to watch over the baby, not feed it body parts.”

Ymir just giggled like crazy, watching as little Ymir chewed on her fingers with toothless gums. Soon she was joined by her wife, who sat down on the couch next to them, a faint smile on her lips.

“She’s a tiny monster.”, the freckled girl said, “Mark my words.”

“Well, if she has the strength of her mother combined with the recklessness of her father, we might be in for a treat.”

“Yes and…” whatever Ymir wanted to say got interrupted, as she quickly pulled her fingers out of the baby’s mouth, staring at the bloody line.

Uhm... I think that she has her first tooth.”

“Oh babe,”, Krista was trying and failing at holding her laughter in, “You want some ice on that?”

“I told you, she’s a monster. Eating her own auntie.”

“She’s a toddler!”

“Won’t be one forever though.”

Leaning close to the baby, Ymir dropped her voice in a whisper.

“You and me? We are going to rock this world.”

“Uncle Armin?”

“Yes, Ymir?”

“Why am I sleeping here tonight?”

“What, you don’t like it here?”

“I do! I was just wondering…”, the little girl looked up from the picture she was creating, “Why tonight?”

“Well, you see…”, Armin scratched the back of his head, looking for an answer that was NOT the truth. Ymir was way too young for that.

“Your parents just want to be alone for a while.”

“Why?”

“To have some time for one another.”

“Why?”

“Because they love each other very much.”

“Oh, and they don’t love me?”

“Of course they do! What I’m trying to say is…”

“Please, this is embarrassing.”, Annie appeared from the bathroom, toweling her hair, “You see Ymir, your parents left you with us because they want to spend the whole night fuc-“

“Fun! They want to have fun!”, Armin interjected, spearing Annie with his blue eyes.

“Fun?”, Ymir repeated, “I want to have fun too…”

“But they are going to have adult fun. Like these boring movies that you don’t like, or some of my books that have no pictures.”

“Ah. Okay.”, successfully fooled, Ymir picked up the crayon and almost went back to painting. But then Annie did what she does best, and completely wrecked the situation.

“Ha, the only book that they would be reading tonight is Kamasutra.”, she nudged Armin with her elbow, who groaned and hid his face, “Although they probably have it memorized at this point.”

Still laughing, his wife disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Armin alone with Ymir. And everything was fine for a moment, the little girl was coloring the strange crystal tree that she drew, but then the crayon was on the table and her eyes were once again meeting Armin’s.

“Uncle Armin, what’s Kamasutra?”

Even after seeing the ultrasound pictures, Ymir had a hard time believing it.

“There’s my brother in here?”, she asked for like a thousand time, touching Mikasa’s belly, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, we are quite sure.”, Eren said, running his fingers through his wife’s long raven hair.

“And how did he get there?”

“With love.”, Mikasa answered, gently smiling, “Lots of love.”

“Well, that’s one way to put it.”, Eren snickered behind her, making her frown at him.

Ymir ignored that, still staring at her mother’s smooth skin.

“Mommy? Did you also make me with love?”

“Of course.”

“And do you still love me?”

“Ymir, you are our daughter.”, Eren spoke, reaching over to pat her head, “Daddy and mommy love you more than anything.”

She could feel it. She could feel the warmth, spreading from them both and into her entire being. They loved each other so much, it was like standing near the sun. But they loved her too, so magically, loved her in a way that Ymir was never loved in.

Closing her eyes, the little girl splayed her fingers on the warm skin of her mother.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

A long, shuddering exhale, one that Ymir was holding in since….

Since forever

“Love is beautiful.”

#eremika #snk #ch138 #fanfic

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 4 years ago

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Could I request a meet cute between Alex Wesker and Lady Dimitrescu?

Goddess

Warnings: fluff

Authors notes: hope you like it, it’s not your usual ship but i hope i did a good job with it.

-> Alex Wesker was assigned by Spencer to collect some data from a noble family. They weren’t sure about the existence of the virus, but the information they gathered proved stronger hints of its presence. Spencer entrusted Alex, one of his favorite Wesker children and the only one who seemed to remain loyal to him, to go investigate the area and collect data if necessary.

-> Cool air stung her pale skin the moment she got out of the vehicle. The place was less favorable for her taste, mostly because of the weather, but the curiosity pushed her forward. She stopped following Spencer out of loyalty long time ago, curiosity being the only thing that kept her pushing forward. Curiosity for a new virus and for an improved life, but she needed Spencer’s fortune to do so.

-> she heard numerous rumors about the resistances, that they were living in this castle for the past centuries. A few handful of people saw them and they were both enchanted yet scared to talk about them. They were described as being the typical aristocrats from Victorian era, with goth elements incorporated in their outfits. In other words, they were stunning. Alex couldn’t wait to meet them and to take a fresh gap of air from this peasantry. The village was poor and the people were no exception. It was hell for her to deal with them and couldn’t wait to step in the marvelous Renaissance castle and finally enter her world again. It was a long way through the blizzard, but she eventually did it.

-> Some good, young, fashioned ladies welcomed Alex inside. They took her white fur coat and put it in the hanger. She felt like home in that building, despite the warnings and she got along the way. It was warm inside, and the room was filled with a lavender scent, not much so you would faint, but enough to make your body melt. The ladies introduced themselves as being the daughters of the owner. Seeing them, her curiosity got bigger and she was excited to finally meet Lady Dimitrescu. If there was no virus at all, she wouldn’t be mad. She got a chance to meet people of her taste, which is a rarity.

-> The daughters led her to the dining room, where Alcina was sitting wearing her beautiful white dress with black hat, casually taking a sip from what it appears to be wine. Alex couldn’t help to notice that she was incredibly tall.

-> “Mother we have a guest who came all the way from America to taste your special wine.” That was her cover. She couldn’t think of anything better.

-> “Yes, the sweetness of your wine is famous all the way across the ocean.”

-”Is that so” Alcina said with a little bit of accent. “Please, take a sit and tell me more.”

-> And they begin to talk. Her pedant figure was hypnotizing. Everything was fascinating about her, from the way words left her mouth to the clothes on her body. Her aura filled the room with power and confidence, such power that even a person like Alex was belittled. Alcina was divine in the way to be worshipped and adored for generations. She was a goddess, not like that old man who was dying in a wheelchair. She didn’t belive in the existence of a biblical divinity, but Alcina could convince Alex to bow to her beliefs and look at her in such way. Besides, she couldn’t stop staring at her flower pendant from her chest, thinking she made a right choice with her gifts

-> The discussion reached an end. Alex didn’t want to steal Alcina’s time anymore. They both got up and headed to the wine cellar so Alcina could give Alex a few bottle to take to her homeland. When she saw the abnormally tall woman staying in front of her she snapped back to reality. She knew her mission was a success and all those evidence from the report were true. Now it was a matter of time to pull the information out of her mouth. Still, even is she held such power, being able to crush the tiny woman in front of her in seconds, Alcina showed her respect and kindness, unlike Spencer.

-> She didn’t come empty handed. When she was about to leave, Alex gave Alcina a beautiful bouquet with black roses and a layered choker made of gold with diamonds as a sign of gratitude for letting her inside. She would come often, but not for the sole purpose to extract information about the virus, but also to learn Alcina’s knowledges.

-> Her mission was almost finished and now she could become a goddess herself.

#alcina dimitrescu #resident evil #resident evil village #alex wesker #fluff #alcina dimitrescu fluff

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rrickgrrimes8 · 4 years ago

Text

Normality is Death

Chapter Two ~ My Current Existence

masterlist

My eyes darted across the room as I woke, rather abruptly, in a cold searing sweat. The whole room was matted in darkness and the lantern I had lit the night before had not soon gone out. I sighed hopelessly and pushed myself out of bed sliding my combat boots on as I did. I looked outside to see the break of dawn just highlighting the horizon - it's early then I concluded. I stretched and yawned as I left my room locking the door right after - just to be safe.

A lot has happened since Mom, Shane and Carl left me in the forest that day, too much has happened really. It's been around 3 months since I last saw my family and although I'd like to stay hopeful, I can't shake the feeling that they're dead or hurt in some way. But regardless I need to forget them. They left me. End off - period. My family abandoned me and I have to live knowing that and they have to live knowing that they played a hand in what they think was my death. I know it sounds cold, brutal even but I tried, I really did. I looked for them everywhere. I did everything a 14-year-old girl could possibly do in a world like this and I almost died countless times trying. So I gave up. I gave up not only to protect myself but because I realised that they probably wouldn't be looking for me. Hell, they think I'm dead right?

Since everything happened in Atlanta the government had been completely radio silent. Lots of people think it's because there's no one left to send a signal. I, however, believe that that's extremely morbid and I guess I'm still holding out hope that someone will swoop in and save us all. It sounds very fairy tale I get that. It's just I'm a 14-year-old girl and I'm so sick of this world already. To the point where I couldn't even think about living any longer in a world like this.

Sometime during the second month of what people like to call the turning, I met some people. They took me in gave me food, a shelter, some water. Basically, they gave me essential shit I was definitely lacking. Something they also did was train me. I'm not the best, but I do have pretty basic training in hand to hand combat, the basic workings of a gun (thanks to my father mostly) and I'm pretty good with melee weapons. They protected me is what I'm saying. They are my new family - a better family I could ever ask for.

Our camp consists of 2 houses, housing 4 or 5 people in each. Mitchell, our leader, oversees any newcomers and basically keeps law and order around here. I met them after getting trapped in Atlanta and getting cornered by a dozen or so biters. Mitchell and a few others came in and massacred all of the living dead and took me in.

"Yoohoo! Jacey get your ass up it's your turn to hunt!" my friend, Addie, shouted rudely to me as I walked down the stairs.

"Jeez Addie, I'm coming don't get ya panties in a twist," I teased nudging her shoulder once I got close enough. She had her usual skinny jeans and a grey tank top on but her hair was styled in a pair of small buns rather than her usually high pony.

At my reply, her eyebrows furrowed and her usually bright and beautiful eyes closed before sighing. "Do not jeez me, woman, you've got shit to do you're slacking!" she exclaimed practically pushing me out the door and into the burning sun. I promptly lifted my hands to cover my eyes from the brightness.

"Oh my lord, I know it's your thing to be this emo vampire goth girl who only stays in her room away from people, civilization and oh how could I forget the sun. but this is ridiculous it ain't even bright out." Addie joked forcing my arm down making me embrace the scorching heat.

"You call this civilization? If so you've got a warped definition" I said picking up a knife and gun from the armoury.

"Just go before I get even more sick of you, Jace," Addie laughed as I rolled my eyes, gave her the finger and strutted away sassily. "And you be careful kid Mitchell went out yesterday and there were more biters then usual. He thinks a herd might pass through so don't use your gun and you know don't die?" She said almost seriously which was incredibly out of style for her but nevertheless, I smiled and walked off into the woods.

She was right about the number of biters. After only being out an hour I've seen 16 in our woods alone and I haven't even ventured out in the city yet, which is notoriously worse but I only really have to go to Atlanta if we're desperate. I had only picked up 2 squirrels so far I guessed that the movement of the herd could be driving some of the bigger animals away, which sucks because once I tell Mitchell he's just gonna want me to go into Atlanta to gather supplies. I mentally groaned and sat down against some tree, wishing things were different.

"Looky what we have here gentlemen." A husky voice called out from the shadows. I instantly stood up and gathered my findings and unsheathed my machete.

"What the hell do you want?" I stood my ground as I saw a group of maybe 5 guys come closer.

"Ooh she's sassy," the guy who looked to be the leader teased, "always liked a girl with a little spunk in her as long as she learns to shut up when daddy needs some pleasing." I could've thrown up right then and there if not for the guard I needed to keep up.

"You're fucking disgusting," I stated unforgivingly, earning some laughs from the group.

"You really are quite confident aren't ya?" I stayed quiet as he stepped forward, "I can always give you a lesson or two about respect and I mean clothing's optional."

"How about you shut the fuck up before you really piss me off," I said calmly still showing my anger.

The man in front of me however got furious over my words and brought his hand down to my cheek. I fell to the ground at the impact, "I told you to learn some fucking respect little girl."

"And I said to shut the fuck up you creepy bastard," I got my machete out and cut into the guy's leg not giving any warning before punching him in the face, sending him towards the ground, "But you know speaking about respect. How about you learn some fucking respect for me or you know all of my gender?" I more ordered then questioned while striking the guy in the face again. "And next time, asshole, watch your tone when you speak to a woman," I smiled sweetly at him before marching off into the opposite direction.

"Oh and if I see anyone of you anywhere around here, I'll chop each and every single one of your dicks off."

I arrived back home later that night after hunting another squirrel and a rabbit on top of my earlier findings.

"So whatcha get for us tonight babydoll?" Mitchell said after seeing me walk up. Mitchell was a 25-year-old now-former English teacher who somehow became our leader. He wasn't extraordinarily brave nor was he an elite strategist but he was a good mentor, who had people that trust him - those people including me.

"Just some squirrel and a rabbit nothin' special." Mitchell nodded as I started to walk away, "Any trouble?"

I span around to him before saying, "always." Mitchell gave me an unimpressed look before taking my hunt and walking away.

"Why am I not surprised?" he laughs while passing most of our group towards the fire. "Anything serious?" I shook my head before sitting on the rough log placed next to the heat.

"Jus' some jackasses who thought they could take me. Guess I taught them a lesson in respect." Once again Mitchell laughed and sat next to me.

"I know I don't need to tell you this every time you go out but you've got to be careful, okay? Your safety is my top priority and I know you hate to hear it but you're only a kid. And kids can get hurt pretty easily especially in this sort of life and I'd hate to see that happen to you." Mitchell wrapped his arm around me in a brotherly sort of way as I nodded. I understand he just wanted to help regardless of how much I hate to be called a kid.

"I'm smart Mitchy. I'm not just some dumb kid. Plus haven't you heard I'm kind of undefeatable. Nothin can kill me," I boasted standing up and heading away from the majority of our group and back to my room. Before I left I saw Mitchell smiling then going off to talk to someone else.

I entered my room lighting a candle straight away and then dropping my bag. As soon as I entered all I could smell was the stenched of sweat and gore. I honestly don't think I've ever gone this long without a shower and I miss it so goddamn much. I miss so many things. I miss deodorant, a warm bed, fast food, soda and not to mention my mom's famous spaghetti bolognese. Just because I wasn't a fan of the woman does not mean I cannot love the food because damn she could cook. The only thing she couldn’t master, however, was pancakes but that didn’t stop her from trying. I smiled slightly reminiscing of the family meals we would have whenever we got the chance. We would all sit around the table talking, eating and just enjoying being around each other. But now they're gone so that's not going to happen anytime soon for me.

"What are you doing, Grimes?" Addie asked pulling me out of my trance.

"Nothin'," I spoke shortly before lying down onto my bed.

"Don't seem like nothing. Talk to me, love." She walked over and sat next to me taking her hand into mine.

"M' okay," I reassured her before closing my eyes. I felt Addie shift closer to me still holding my hand causing me to smile.

Addie was the only other teenager in this group so we bonded pretty quickly despite her being 2 years older, "You don't have to be okay, Jacey." I couldn't help but shudder at her words - the same words I heard from Shane the day it happened.

"Don't say that, please." I hadn't even realised the quiver in my voice before Addie sat up, bringing me with her.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset you," The brunette girl said to me.

"It's not you i-it's jus'-" I couldn't finish my sentence before I started to sob. Memories of that night haunted me. I lost so much and so did everyone else but I couldn't understand how they were so okay with it. I lost my home, my dad, my family and my childhood all in one night. And I'm so sick of trying to be okay with that. "I just miss them so much." I finished while getting devoured by Addie's arms. I could hear her softly singing in my ear in order to calm me down and it soon did. I relaxed into her arms after a few minutes but neither of us made any indication that we were going to depart.

"Who did you lose?" She asked gently.

"Everyone," I could feel myself beginning to cry again but I pushed it away - I couldn't be weak any longer.

"I'm sorry, Jacey. I hate seeing you like this. I wish I could take your pain away."

I hummed shakily before looking up into her brown eyes, "Then do it." With that, she leaned in. Slowly I started to prepare myself to meet her lips but it never came.

She pulled away from me and stood up, "We can't do this."

I sat up as well but remained seated on the bed, "Why?" She gave me no answer and just looked out of the window. "Addie, please, just tell me why not? For christ sakes, the world has ended. We've got nothing else to lose."

"It's wrong," She said simply yet with so much emotion and left the room.

I felt the tears begin to return and I just let them fall.

"It's wrong."

That's all it took to break me - 2 words.

"She's right."

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 4 years ago

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My notes on Lethal White episode 3

As usual, my poorly sorted and not-really-filtered thoughts on “Lethal White”, episode 3. Continued under the cut because ALL THE SPOILERS!

We’re back with Robin and cling-wrapped Chiswell. Holliday plays Robin’s tenuously controlled panic very well. The subtle trembling, the tears she forces back. She’s so good. 👏🏼

A two-week jump. These always jar me. Did that happen in the book?🤨

Another mention of Strike talking with Wardle, and again we don’t get to see him. Dang. I really miss his leather-jacketed wry humour. 😔

Of course they’re meeting at “The White Horse”. Where else? *Rosmersholm vibes*

The reveal about the bones was a bit anti-climactic, wasn’t it? It had a better effect with the skull, in the book. And how do you “accidentally” shoot a horse, even when it’s a small one? How much more are we supposed to hate Freddie? (This episode is just full of terribly behaving men)

Who are the kids playing with the dog? Pringle and Pong? Were those their ridiculous nicknames?

And here comes the “Knives Out” scene. 🔪The Chiswell family is such a loving bunch. *coughs*

Did you see the playful tension between Raff and Robin? And that little disconcerted look Cormoran casts them? Bit jealous, Corm? 😏

Raff’s sarcastic little throw-in remarks are really making this scene more fun. Gotta give him that: he adds a bit of “black sheep” dash to the family!

“KEYS!” 😁 Cormoran is like the adult stepping between a bunch of fist-throwing kids.

Cormoran and Robin are staring at the Chiswell’s bickering as if waiting for one of them to actually start spitting and biting.

Raff: “I’m sure our charming hostess means to offer you tea at some point.” 🤣

Cormoran: “I’m thinking it might be suicide after all. He couldn’t face another family gathering.” 😂

*grunts* We’ve all been there, haven’t we? (And I don’t even want to start thinking about Cormoran’s family gatherings…)

Hah! 🙋🏻‍♀️ I guessed right from the leaked stills: it is the hospital Billy’s in! (Cookie points for me!)

That staff woman gives off very sensible and caring vibes. They picked the actress well.

And, god, Billy carved the horse into his own chest? 😟 Good god…

Vanessa! And she looks good! And - unlike in the first series - she smiles! And is really NICE! (Wow, what a beautiful woman.) 😍

That little lounge corner in Cormoran’s office is new, isn’t it? Very cozy. ☕️🍪

Goth Robin! She looks awesome! 😍 (Excuse me, but have we traveled back into the 80s? She looks like half the people in my school back then.) And look at Holliday playing her: she even moves differently! This season must have been a lot of fun for her as an actress.

I love the Wiccan shop. I had one of those salt lamps (and a lava lamp too), but don’t tell anybody… ☺️

Cormoran’s FACE when he sees goth Robin! 🥰The double take, the pleased surprise, that touch of awe… He is so proud of her! (What a contrast to Matt the Twat’s derogatory reactions to her disguises).

Cormoran: “You liking Raff then?” Are we a teensy bit jealous again, Corm? ☺️

When he asked Robin what she was doing this evening, I held my breath. WAS HE GOING TO ASK HER OUT? 🤗 He wasn’t. 😔 Everybody calm down. It’s not happening yet. Unfortunately. And probably never will. *very long sigh*

It’s so cute how he can’t stop looking at her! 🥰I love her confidence. And his twinkle-eyed, soft grin that doesn’t seem to want to fade. He truly admires her, for her competence AND for her looks. ASK HER OUT YOU FOOL! *headdesk*

Lorelei. With coffee. Apologizing for saying “I love you”. Ack. And then Corm says “I was gonna call you.” (You weren’t, admit it!). I didn’t know what to feel when seeing this scene for the first time: shocked that they were still together? Sympathy for Lorelei? Mad at Cormoran’s lackluster ‘yeah, alright, whatever’ attitude? Very mixed emotions.

Cormoran following Aamir along the South Bank. Watch me pointing excitedly at the screen because I’ve strolled down that same boardwalk way back when traveling was still a thing. *flails* *misses London*

Aamir’s place. Why is Cormoran talking about food again? Robin hasn’t fed him biscuits today yet, has she?

Cormoran’s always a bit unnerving when interrogating someone. He uses friendly words, but there is that tiny bit of menace about him, an intensity and pressure… SIB Corm. Tom does that so well. 😎

“You gonna butter me?” Smooth moves, ex-Sergeant Strike! 🥋 Oh, I love seeing him in action! 🤗

Robin hides the phone, and I am a nervous wreck worrying someone’s going to call and her phone isn’t in silent mode! (enneagram type 6 here, hello…) 😬

I was waiting for Matt to be an absolute prick when he sees goth Robin, but he’s actually not. And he’s had the Green Dress mended. I like how the show gives him a few shades and doesn’t paint him as outrageously hateful as the book does. (jftr, we all still hate you, Matt!)

But then, the way he rushes at her with his “That’s not true” - why does it somehow feel like a physical threat? And wow, Robin is COLD. Dude, your marriage is over. You just haven’t been notified yet.

So we’re ignoring Lorelei’s calls again, Cormoran? *eyebrow lift* Is that what we do as a gentleman? And then he calls off dinner and has no more than a lame “Sounds good, I’ll call you” when she mentions breakfast? If he’s not invested at the mention of food, something is clearly wrong…

Della Winn, and they picked a blind actress for the role. Good for them! ✔️

So, help me out here, native speakers: Della says she can hear the West Country in Cormoran’s vowels, but to me he doesn’t sound Cornish. Am I wrong? To my ears, Tom is speaking in some sort of self-made accent that I can’t place, but it doesn’t sound anything like the Cornish burr Robert Glenister gives him in the audiobooks. Opinions? 🤔

Rhiannon’s story touched me in the book, and it touches me deeply here. A revenge murder would’ve made perfect sense to me.

The party. We’ve apparently time-traveled again.

“What’s ‘Becca’ short for?” 🙄

Ah! The note was hidden in the maxipads box! I seem to recall that, in the book, Robin hid the Houses of Parliament bugging device in a tampon box. Cool parallel.

VANESSA! HURRY UP! 😨

The chase. Good thing this goth girl wears sensible shoes! Nice trick with the crouching and tripping. Take THAT, Jimmy! Robin’s learned from past experience, and I love the addition of the chase that wasn’t in the book. Robin’s no longer a helpless victim. She is a FIGHTER! And - BAM! Perfect timing, patrol car! 🚔

Cormoran: “How did you guess where she hid it?” (Because that’s where girls hide stuff, darling. ONE good thing all the menstruating is good for at least.)

Quick shout-out to Tom Burke’s freckles. They really should be credited as supporting actors. 🥰

Btw, the navy jumper is not a jumper but a cardigan! I bet Tom was pleased. (And my shippy brain can imagine him wrapping a freezing Robin in it 💙)

Enter Lorelei. Here be dragons.

“You know, if you want a hot meal and a shag with no human emotions involved, there are restaurants. And brothels.”

Oooohhhh... 😳

Need ointment for that burn, Corm?

And she’s entitled! Cormoran’s old school gallantry seems to have gone MIA when it comes to treating Lorelei with the respect she deserved. Especially since he had his chance at ending it decently and respectfully at their earlier little talk over coffee. I still don’t think he meant to hurt her. It was thoughtlessness. Which is no redeeming factor at all. He deserved this, even in front of Robin. #TeamLorelei

Well, at least he didn’t get smacked with an ashtray this time.

I LOLed when Robin simply went straight back to business without commenting. A real pro. 😎

Cormoran: “That was a bit awkward.” Was it, Corm? We barely noticed. *snorts*

And although Robin defends him a little bit, her suppressed smirk and her work-life balance remark tell us she’s enjoyed this a bit. And not just because Cormoran is single again.

Matthew calls: “Sorry, it’s a work thing.” (NO IT ISN’T AND YOU’RE A LYING, CHEATING [REDACTED] !!!) 🤬

Robin steps on Sarah Shaglock’s earring, and now starts a scene that makes me want to shower Holliday in BAFTAs. 🏆🏆🏆 Heart wrenching, painful, powerful. And Matthew finally shows his true colours. (And Kerr Logan deserves a nod for his acting too).

On a completely irrelevant side note: Matt stole that coat from Darius Tanz, only that Santi looked hot as hell in it whereas Matt just looks like an accountant who pretends to look hot. (Go and watch “Salvation” if you have no clue what I’m talking about)

Robin is so bravely holding it together, and - wow - her coldness towards Matt is pretty impressive, and at the same time she’s forcing herself not to cry and fights down a panic attack. It’s amazing how she puts every emotion and train of thought from the books onto the table and we can read it in her face and in her voice and body language. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼Best scene of the season, if you ask me. (Not that anyone ever asks me, but here it is.)

“I’m not gonna let you fail again!” 😡 Aaaand Matt tries to put her down again. To make her feel weak and in need of help. BUT IT’S NO LONGER WORKING. She’s got this. Oh, she’s got this!

They left out Robin saying that he “doesn’t even have a knife”, and I’m actually glad they did. This didn’t need to be about physical assault again. Matt wouldn’t go that far, and it wasn’t necessary to go there. They clearly showed how manipulative he is and how strong Robin has to be to walk away from him, and that is enough.

The minicab driver. I remember the actress as Mrs. Fitz from “Outlander”, and she’s the perfect motherly tough love type to crack that marriage joke. And to get our girl out of there with no further fuss.

Whoa. I had high expectations. And they were met 10/10.

What did you guys think?

#lethal white #lethal white episode 3 #cormoran strike #cb strike #bbc strike #recap #🚨 spoiler alert

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janeykath318 · 4 years ago

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Darcy and the Prince (Shieldshock)

“I’m going to be so happy when this is over and we can all get on with our lives,” grumbled Darcy, as she helped her friend into her very beautiful white wedding dress, fit for the princess Jane was about to become. Jane had met the Asgardian Prince Thor while visiting the country on a science quest (as Darcy referred to her research trips) and the two had, against all odds, fallen head over heels in love and became engaged a year later. Despite the meddlings, of Thor’s troublemaking brother Loki, they’d made it to the wedding day and Darcy was playing bridesmaid and generally trying to keep Jane from going full bridezilla.

“Hmm, maybe you’ll be singing a different tune once you’ve met some of Thor’s friends,” Jane suggested, as she was buttoned up. “He knows a lot of attractive, single, people.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and grimaced as she worked on the last few buttons.

“Ugh. NO, JANE. I do not need that drama in my life right now. I’m gonna finish my masters, then go globe-trotting and enjoy being single and free. Men are more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Sometimes I want to wring Ian’s neck for what he did to you,” Jane said vehemently. Darcy’s last boyfriend had turned out to be an utter cheating scum and she’d ended up with a broken heart, hence her general annoyance with men.

“Thor and I got our revenge,” Darcy said, smiling at the memory. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to trust again. Don’t be sad, Janie. I’m super happy to have you and Thor and Eric as buddies. Now, let’s get finished so we can get you down that aisle!”

Before she knew it, Darcy was preceding Jane down the aisle and trying not to start bawling. She was a shameless wedding weeper and knew it would be even worse this time since it was her best friend getting married.

As she blinked rapidly, she took a glance up front where a beaming Thor was standing, along with several other very striking, very well dressed men. She caught the eye of a gorgeous blonde decked out in full prince uniform and he smiled at her, which did funny things to her insides and it took all her self control to not stare at him through the whole ceremony.

Of course, by the time the happy couple kissed and was announced as husband and wife, Darcy could barely see through her tears and just hoped she’d grabbed the right man’s arm to walk her back down the aisle.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled to her unknown escort. “I always weep an embarrassing amount at weddings and these dresses NEVER have pockets to stash tissues in.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” a very pleasant voice answered. “I admit, I shed some tears as well. Luckily, I always carry a back up handkerchief. Here.”

A soft cloth was pressed into her hand, and Darcy gratefully accepted it, finally managing to wipe the tears away. Vision cleared, she was able to see her helpful person and let out a gasp as she saw it was the gorgeous blonde princey dude. Up close, it was clear she’d grabbed the arm of Prince Steven, one of the most swooned over royalties to ever grace the papers.

“Wow, thanks, your highness,” she said breathlessly. “I’m afraid this thing is ruined. It looks like my waterproof mascara is not actually waterproof.”

She held up the handkerchief, which was now smeared with black streaks.

“Don’t worry about it,” Prince Steven said, pretty blue eyes crinkling in a smile. “Like I said, I’ve got extra.”

“You’re the best,” Darcy blurted, then turned red. “Ohmm….. I’m gonna go repair the damages before they start the pictures. Will you let Jane and Thor know where I’ve gone? It should only take a few minutes.”

“Sure,” the Prince said kindly. “And please, call me Steve.”

Darcy ventured to look back at him, and saw nothing but genuine friendliness in his kind eyes. She fell a bit in love right there.

“Nice to meet you…...Steve,” she managed, a tad shyly. “I’m Darcy, by the way.”

“Lewis?” he asked, recognition appearing in his expression.

“The very same,” she confirmed. “I take it Thor’s mentioned me?”

“He sure has,” Steve answered. “He calls you his lightning sister and is frequently expounding on your wit, brains, and beauty. I’d have to agree with him. You are stunning.”

Darcy felt herself blush like a tomato.

“You’re one to talk, Prince GQ,” she sassed, to cover up her internal freak out over his compliment. “Be right back!”

With that she picked up her skirts and swished off to the restroom, leaving Steve looking after her with great amusement and interest. Darcy Lewis was a very strikingly lovely woman and the blue dress she was wearing greatly flattered her figure and emphasized her bright blue eyes. Thor had tried to set him up with her before, but Steve had stubbornly refused. Now that he’d met her, He thought he’d been an idiot.

“Are you well, Darcy?” Thor inquired, when she had rejoined the others.

“Yeah. My mascara betrayed me and made me start looking like one of those goth rock stars,” she told him. “That’s the Last time I use THAT brand. Congratulations, by the way.”

She offered up hugs to the happy couple, before they were whisked away for pictures with the official royal photographer.

Spotting Steve, she casually strolled over and watched a bit as he talked to a group of individuals, who must have been his friends, because he looked so much more relaxed and was laughing and smiling in a very jovial manner. He kept his public persona very buttoned up and stiff, so seeing him like this was utterly fascinating and Darcy was becoming more and more attracted every minute. She chatted with Bruce Banner for a little bit, then helped Jane manage her train in between shots.

They were so cute together, it was almost sickening. Thor looked at Jane like she was his whole universe and Jane looked at Thor like he was the only man in existence.

“I want to look at someone the way she looks at him,” Darcy murmured, half to herself, half to the blue and gold clad figure who had joined her.

“Me too,” Steve agreed, sounding very wistful.

“Shouldn’t be that hard for you, dude,” she pointed out.

He chuckled ruefully, blushing a bit.

“I’ve discovered there’s a big difference between starstruck lust, and real love and I haven’t seemed to find the latter yet. Most of them aren’t interested in getting to know the real me at all.”

“That’s sad,” Darcy told him. “You seem like you’d be very interesting, once you get past the whole princely trappings and regal persona. Tell me, Steve, what makes you tick?”

Steve turned to look at her, and she felt like the blue eyes were piercing through her, searching for something. Whatever he saw, it must have eased his mind, because he took a deep breath and started talking.

“For one thing, I’m very passionate about using my position to do as much good as I can, not be just some stuffed shirt figurehead,” he told her. “I’m also very fond of the arts and am in the process of starting an art school for underprivileged kids. I’m hoping they’ll let me teach, because I love to draw and paint.”

“That’s awesome,” Darcy said warmly, giving him an approving nod.

“I also love dogs and help out at the shelters whenever I can.” He continued. “They’re so much more pleasant than dealing with parliament.”

Darcy laughed at the distaste in his voice, but never got a chance to say anything else, because duty called. They shared a few looks across the room, and Steve shamelessly winked at her once when she pretended to strike a diva pose.

They didn’t get close enough to actually talk again until the reception, when he sauntered up to Darcy as she was giggling at a ridiculous archery joke Clint had made.

“Excuse me. Darcy, would you care for a dance?” He asked, holding out a white-gloved hand.

“Y-you’re asking me?” Darcy squeaked.

“I don’t see any other Darcys around here, unless one of you has something to tell me,” Steve said dryly, squinting at Clint, Natasha, and Bruce, all of whom knew him.

“Nope, not it,” Clint said, shaking his head.

“She’d love to,” Nastasha answered, giving Darcy a nudge forward.

“Yeah, I would, “ Darcy managed, taking the offered hand nervously. Steve’s hand closed around hers and she felt a tingle up her spine.

She was in a dreamy daze as the prince expertly guided her around the floor. It was clear his princely education had included good dance technique and he was absolutely courtly about it.

“Now, Darcy, it’s your turn to tell me what makes YOU tick,” he said after a few minutes of silently gazing at her.

“Well, I live fueled by coffee and sarcasm, I majored in political science, and I’m not afraid to use my taser on creeps and jerks,” she told him proudly. “Also, I may have a thing for tall blonde princes.”

“Is that so?” He asked, a dangerously flirty tone in his voice.

“Yup,” she admitted. “Which is a little inconvenient seeing as how I’ve sworn off men.”

“That is too bad,” Steve agreed. “Any chance of possibly changing your mind?”

“I’ll certainly let you try,” she told him, struggling to keep her mind from its fantasies about his magnificent broad shoulders and muscular arms.

“Good,” Steve said, with another one of his stunning smiles. (If he kept doing that, there was no way she would be able to hold out long.)

“You look like you’re already planning your persuasive tactics,” she told him.

“Well, they don’t call me The Prince With A Plan for nothing,” Steve said, twirling Darcy around dramatically. Yeah, she was in SO much trouble.

#shieldshock #royalty AU #steve is a prince #and a swoonworthy one at that #darcy lewis #steve rogers #steve x darcy #i can't help myself

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belladonnasatenaeum · 4 years ago

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'Dernière Danse': The Underlying Message

There's a French song you likely might have heard on TikTok, used more often than not in Gothic TikToks or even some Academia TikToks. One TikTok I recall seeing it in was a vampire aesthetic based TikTok, with someone lipsyncing to the chorus of the song. Sometimes, you find out later what the song is actually called, and my goodness, the quick 15 second videos on TikTok do not do any justice to the song. The song is called 'Dernière Danse' by the singer Indila, the title roughly translating to 'Last/Final Dance'.

When you first listen to the song, you would naturally think of balls within a dark manor, candles flickering and lighting the space within its warm amber glow. The unique element of orchestra and pop elements creates a song quite like nothing you've ever heard, and something I've yet to hear other musicians do. However, if you think this is a song of love, you would be sorely mistaken.

You see, Indila isn't just some pasty white woman. Sure, she is kinda pale, but that doesn't take away from her heritage. You see, she has ancestory from Algeria, India, Egypt and Cambodia - so much so that she calls herself "a child of the world." And it seems, 'Dernière Danse' does have a lot of emotion to it, but not of a romantic kind. It is one of deep, immense pain and sorrow. The song tells the story of a young immigrant woman who must endure racism throughout the day as she desperately wishes to escape the torment and comfort herself from the harsh judgement of the people around her.

There is some incredibly interesting wordplay in the lyrics for the song, one only those who speak French can spot and breakdown for those who can't. But once they have, it forever sticks out in your mind. If you want to understand what is being sung, then please follow this link here: https://www.frenchlyricstranslations.com/derniere-danse-lyrics-translation-indila/

The word play comes in the line "Ô ma douce souffrance" (Translation: "Oh my sweet suffering"). This is our indication of what is causing this young woman her pain and misery. It's right in front of you, and yet it takes a keen eye to spot it. This wordplay actually indicates that France itself is the cause of this woman's pain. And let's be real for a second, France is just as guilty as Britain, Spain, Germany and The Netherlands when it comes to colonialism, and thus the rampant spread of racism and all other horrific things that come with colonial rule. And after the terrorist attacks in 2015, 2 years after the release of "Dernière Danse", racism has been sadly seeding it's way into French way of life such as with France's ban on face coverings which could impact specific cultures and religions such as Muslims, which, more often than not, many immigrants making their way to France are. While the bill does try to bring about good - by essentially making it illegal to FORCE someone to wear a face covering veil if they don't want to (especially in the case of children, where I personally believe that religion should be kept away from children until they are old enough to understand it), it could also become a slippery slope to what a certain President Orange-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named attempted in the US, and in some degrees succeeded.

Which leads me to think, while it is a brilliant song and many can relate to it with its feelings of sorrow, how do I feel about seeing white people - like myself - lipsyncing to it? I've not heard any complaints, and as I mentioned, the song is very relatable, and it can be applied to things outwith racism - grief, loss, bereavement, breakups, stress, mental illness and so on, but is it really a song for white people to cling to? The song contextually is about an immigrant, so how come most of the TikToks I've seen with this song are everyone but immigrants and BIPOC people? The ones I've seen get shared on YouTube in compilation videos usually are skinny, white women/AFAB people. When BIPOC creators have made TikToks with this song. In fact, here's a TikTok made by a Black creator also following a vampire theme: https://www.tiktok.com/@tatendaluna/video/6939523674877758722?lang=en&is_copy_url=1&is_from_webapp=v1

And yet it seems, as I am scrolling through TikTok, the vast majority of the videos are by white people. Sure, white people emigrate, but we will never truly understand the pain of the immigrant who arrived in France to hatred and disgust, getting abused day in and day out. Now, there could be a logical explanation; maybe more white people just happen to know about the song? Given when I first heard it, I only had the melody to go off of, and Googling "da da da da da-da da da da" isn't going to get me anywhere. But even having that as a factor, there is a known history of TikTok promoting more white people's TikToks over the creations and hard work of BIPOC people.

So, do I think white people should lipsync to the song? I mean, if it's all in harmless fun, then sure. It's a song - we all love to sing and lipsync, it's not gonna harm anyone, even if you sing like a cat just got scared down a dark alleyway. However, I think it is also incredibly important that we understand and recognise the context of the song - it's not a song for vampire lovers to sing, it's not a song for witches to sing during a ritual, it's not even an Academia or aesthetic song; the song is a harsh reality for many immigrants fleeing war and persecution, and wherever they land they are immediately slammed with hatred.

'Dernière Danse' is one of my favourite songs to listen to. It is a beautiful blend of orchestra and pop that never get tiring, and for the people who do like vampires and witches and academia I can see why this song would stick out. For crying out loud, I'm one to talk - I'm a Goth Pagan from Scotland! And with this 'essay', I do not wish to shame people from creating TikToks with this song. On the contrary, actually. This song is brilliant and as an artist myself, the amount of ideas this song brings to me is wondrous. However, I think it is high time that people understand that 'Dernière Danse' is, and will forever be, a song for the immigrants. It is their song to express frustration and pain; and I implore you to look out for your immigrant neighbours. Recently, the city of Glasgow stopped the deportation of some Indian men, which when I caught wind of it made me incredibly proud to be a Scot. Sadly, though, the fight is far from done. It is our duty to fight for those seeking security and safety. If I recall correctly, that's exactly what Odin asks us to do in Stanzas 2-4 of the Havamal, correct? To be hospitable to those who come to our doorstep. Now, I may question Odin's logic from time to time, but on this I think his words are sound wisdom. If even the All-Father tells you to be hospitable to immigrants, then you best take his advice.

At the very least, I hope that either you got the chance to discover this song, or you found a new way to view the song, from my little 'essay'. As mentioned, I do not intend to shame anyone who likes the song. Indila is a brilliant artist and I heavily enjoy her works. I merely hope this highlights the underlying message that I think often gets overlooked. I hope you found some enjoyment in this. If I am incorrect about anything, please do feel free to correct me. I am always open to learning. Until next times, yours

~ Belladonna

#dark academia #derniere danse

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chiseler · 4 years ago

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Stolen Faces

Cinema is an art of faces, almost a religion of faces: on screen they loom above us, vast as a mother’s face must appear to an infant. We can get lost in them. The deepest thrill the movies offer may be the opportunity to gaze at human faces longer and with more unabashed, lover-like intimacy than real life regularly allows. Most often, of course, we gaze at beautiful faces, though cinema has its share of beloved gargoyles, mugs with “character” rather than symmetry. But the uncanny power of faces onscreen also anchors films about disfigurement and facial transformations, about masks and scars and plastic surgery. These stories summon all the fears and taboos, desires and unresolved questions swirling around the human face. Do faces reveal or conceal a person’s true nature? Can changing someone’s face change their soul?

Deformity is a staple of horror films, of course, from classics such as Phantom of the Opera and The Raven (in which the hideously afflicted man played by Boris Karloff muses, “Maybe if a man looks ugly, he does ugly things”) to surgical shockers such as Eyes Without a Face. But plot twists involving faces that are damaged or corrected, masked or changed, turn up with surprising frequency in film noir as well, where they are related to themes of identity theft, amnesia, desperate attempts to shed the past or recover the past. One of the grim proverbs of noir is that you can’t escape yourself. There are no fresh starts, no second chances. But noir also demonstrates the instability of identity, the way character can be corrupted, and stories about facial transformations harbor a nebulous fear that there is in the end no fixed self. If noir is pessimistic about the possibility of change, it is at the same time haunted by fear of change—fear of looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger.

The Truth of Masks

Two films about men who literally lose their faces take the full measure of the resulting ostracism and crushing isolation—and what men will do to escape it. Hiroshi Teshigahara’s The Face of Another (Tanin no Kao, 1966) is based on a Kobo Abe novel about a scientist named Okuyama who has been literally defaced by a chemical accident. We never see what he used to look like; he spends half the film swaddled in bandages like Claude Rains in The Invisible Man, ferocious black eyes glinting through slits. Obsessed with people’s reactions to his appearance, he lashes out bitterly, insisting that all his social ties have been severed, including his conjugal ties with his wife. She tries to convince him that it’s all in his head and that her feelings haven’t changed, but her revulsion when he makes an abrupt sexual advance convinces him that she’s lying.

Okuyama believes that a life-like mask will restore his relationship with his wife and his connection to society. He has evidently not seen The Face Behind the Mask (1941), a terrific B noir in which Peter Lorre stars as Johnny Szabo, who is hideously scarred in a fire. This tragedy and the ensuing cruelty of strangers transform him from a sweet, Chaplin-esque immigrant to a bitter criminal mastermind, even after he dons a powder-white mask that gives him a sad, creepy ghost of his former face—more Lorre than Lorre. The mask is merely a flimsy patch on the horrible visage that spiritually scars Johnny, and though it enables him to marry a sweet and loving (and perhaps near-sighted) woman, it can’t reverse the corrosion of his character.

The doctor who makes a far more sophisticated mask for Okuyama does so because the project fascinates him as a psychological and philosophical experiment. He speculates about what the world would be like if everyone wore a mask: morality would not exist, he argues, since people would feel no responsibility for the actions of their alternate identities. (His theory seems to be borne out by the consequences of internet anonymity.) Unlike the one Johnny Szabo wears, here the mask bears no resemblance to Okuyama’s original looks, and the doctor believes the new face will change his patient’s personality, turning him into someone else.

When the mask is fitted, it turns out to be the face of Tatsuya Nakadai, one of the most striking and plastic pans in cinema history. With only a little help from a fake mole, dark glasses, and a bizarre fringe of beard, Nakadai succeeds in making his own features look eerily synthetic, as though they don’t belong to him. Sitting in a crowded beer hall on his first masked outing in public, he creates a palpable sense of unease, keeping his features unnaturally still as though unsure of their mobility, touching his skin gingerly to explore its alien surface. As he gradually grows more comfortable and revels in the freedom of his new face, the doctor tells him, “It’s not the beer that’s made you drunk, it’s the mask.”

Abe’s novel contains a scene in which the protagonist goes to an exhibit of Noh masks, highly stylized crystallizations of stock characters and emotions. In Noh, as in other traditional forms of theater that use masks, the actor is present on stage but vanishes into another physical being—men play women, young men play old men, gods, and ghosts. In cinema, actors impersonate other characters using their own faces—usually without even the heavy layer of makeup worn on western stages. Movie actors are pretending to be people they’re not, yet if we judge their performances good it means we believe what we see in their faces. When an actor’s real face plays the part of a mask, like Lorre’s or Nakadai’s, this strange inversion—the real impersonating the artificial—has a uniquely disconcerting effect.

At the heart of this disturbing film lurks a horror that changing the skin can indeed change the soul. Okuyama tries to hold onto his identity, insisting, “I am who I am, I can’t change,” but the doctor insists he is “a new man,” with “no records, no past.” In covering his scar tissue with a smooth, artificial skin he eradicates his own experience, and with it his humanity. The doctor turns out to be right when he predicts that the mask will have a mind of its own. Suddenly endowed with sleek good looks, Okuyama buys flashy suits and sets out to seduce his own wife. When he succeeds easily, he is outraged, only to have her reveal that she knew who he was all along. After she leaves him in disgust he descends into madness and random violence. He has become the opposite of the Invisible Man: a visible shell with nothing inside

Okuyama’s story is interwoven with a subplot about a radiation-scarred girl from Nagasaki, whose social isolation drives her to incest and suicide. Lovely from one side, repellent from the other, she looks very much like the protagonist of A Woman’s Face. Ingrid Bergman starred in the Swedish original, but Joan Crawford is ideally cast in the 1941 Hollywood remake directed by George Cukor. Half beautiful and half grotesque, half hard-boiled and half vulnerable, Anna Holm spells out what was usually inchoate in Crawford’s paradoxical presence. A childhood fire has left her with a gnarled scar on one side of her face, like a black diseased root growing across her cheek and distorting her eye and mouth. Crawford makes us feel Anna’s agonizing humiliation when people look at her, which spurs her compulsive mannerisms of turning her head aside, lifting her hand to her cheek, or pulling her hair down.

Also perfectly cast is Conrad Veidt as the elegant, sinister Torsten Baring. Veidt went from German Expressionist horror—playing the goth heartthrob Cesar in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and the grotesquely disfigured yet weirdly alluring hero of The Man Who Laughs—to an unexpected late-career run as a sexy leading man in cloak-and-dagger films such as The Spy in Black and Contraband. When Anna turns her head defiantly to reveal her scar, Torsten gazes at her with a gleam of excitement, even of perverse attraction. She is confused and touched by his kindness and gallantry, helplessly trying to hide her sensitivity beneath a tough façade. Her broken-up, uncertain expressions when he gives her flowers or kisses her hand count as some of the most delicate acting Crawford ever did. Anna assumes that Torsten, the penniless scion of a rich family, must want her to do some dirty work, and she turns out to be right, but he also genuinely appreciates the proud, bitter, lonely woman who faces down her miserable lot through sheer strength of will.

People are horrible to Anna, nastily mocking her wounded vanity and her attempts to look nice. “The world was against me,” she says, “All right, I’d be against it.” She has found the perfect outlet, blackmailing pretty women who commit adultery. In one of the film’s best scenes, the spoiled and kittenish wife she is threatening retaliates by shining a lamp in Anna’s face and laughing at her. Anna leaps at the woman and starts hitting her over and over, forehand and backhand, in an ecstasy of hatred. This savagely satisfying moment is derailed by the film’s first grossly contrived plot twist, as the encounter is interrupted by the woman’s husband, who happens to be a plastic surgeon specializing in correcting facial scars. He offers to operate on Anna, and once the bandages are removed, in a scene orchestrated for maximum suspense, an absurdly flawless face is revealed.

The doctor (Melvyn Douglas) calls her both his Galatea and his Frankenstein: he views her as his creation, but isn’t sure if she’s an ideal woman or an unholy monster, “a beautiful face with no heart.” Her dilemma is ultimately which man to please, whose approval to seek: the doctor who believes her character should be corrected now that her face is, or Torsten, who wants her to kill the young nephew who stands between him and the family estate. This overwrought turn is never plausible; it is always obvious that Anna is no child murderer. What is believable is her erotic thrall to Torsten, the first man who has ever shown an interest in her. Crawford is at her most unguarded in these moments of trembling desire; Cukor remarked on how “the nearer the camera, the more tender and yielding she became.” He speculated that the camera was her true lover.

Anna undergoes months of pain and uncertainty for the chance of being beautiful for Torsten, and there is a marvelous shot of her gazing at herself in a mirror as she prepares to surprise him with her new face, brimming with hard proud joy. But he winds up lamenting the surgery that has turned her into “a mere woman, soft and warm and full of love,” he sneers. “I thought you were something different—strong, exciting, not dull, mediocre, safe.” In this same speech, Torsten reveals himself as a cartoonish fascist megalomaniac, which fits in with the film’s slide into silly, flimsily scripted melodrama, but sadly obscures the radical spark of what he’s saying. Anna’s character is shaped by the way she looks, or rather by the way she is looked at by men; the disappointingly conventional ending sides with the man who equates flawless beauty with moral goodness, and against the one man who was able to see something fine—a “hard, shining brightness,” in a woman’s damaged and imperfect face.

A Stolen Face (1952) follows a similar premise, much less effectively, and reaches the opposite conclusion. Paul Henreid plays a plastic surgeon who operates on female criminals with disfiguring scars, convinced that once they look normal they will become contented law-abiding citizens. He gets carried away, however, sculpting one patient into a dead ringer for his lost love (Lizabeth Scott plays both the original and the copy) and marrying her. His attempt to play Pygmalion backfires, since the vulgar, mean-spirited and untrustworthy ex-con is unchanged by her new appearance: she is indeed “a beautiful face without a heart.” That is a succinct definition of the femme fatale, a type Lizabeth Scott often played and one that embodies a fascination with the deceptiveness of feminine beauty. In The Big Heat (1953), it is only when Debbie (Glora Grahame) has her pretty face rearranged by a pot of scalding coffee that she abandons her cynical self-interest to become an avenging angel, fearlessly punishing the corrupt who hide their greed behind a genteel façade. She has nothing left to lose; pulling a gun from her mink coat and plugging the woman she recognizes as her evil “sister,” the disfigured Debbie asserts her freedom: “I never felt better in my life.”

Blessings in Disguise

Sometimes, people are only too happy to lose their faces. Dr. Richard Talbot (Kent Smith), the protagonist of the superb, underappreciated drama Nora Prentiss (1947), sees the bright side when his face is horribly burned in a car crash. He has already faked his own death, sending another man’s corpse over a cliff in a burning car. In a neat bit of poetic irony, by crashing his own car he has completed the process of destroying his identity, and no longer needs to fear he’ll be recognized. Losing his face is a blessing in disguise—or rather, a blessing of disguise. But the disfigurement is also a visual representation of the corruption of his character: his face changes to reflect his downward metamorphosis with almost Dorian Gray-like precision.

Car crashes are a kind of refrain in the film. The doctor’s routine existence veers off course when a taxi knocks down a nightclub singer, Nora Prentiss (Anne Sheridan), across the street from his San Francisco office. Talk about a happy accident: the nice guy trapped in an ice-cold marriage to a rigid, nagging martinet suddenly has a gorgeous, good-humored young woman stretched out on his examining table. Nora may sing for a living, but her real vocation is dishing out wisecracks (her first words on coming to are, “There must be an easier way to get a taxi.”) When the doctor mentions a paper he’s writing on “ailments of the heart,” the canary, her eyelids dropping under the weight of knowingness, quips, “A paper? I could write a book.”

It’s hard to imagine a more sympathetic pair of adulterers, but the doctor is so daunted by the prospect of asking his wife for a divorce that it seems simpler to use the convenient death of a patient in his office to stage his own demise and flee to New York with Nora. It’s soon clear, though, that some part of him did die in San Francisco. Cooped up in a New York hotel room, terrified of going out lest someone spot him, the formerly gentle man becomes an irascible, rude, nervous wreck. When the faithful and incredibly patient Nora goes back to singing for Phil Dinardo (Robert Alda), the handsome nightclub owner who loves her, Talbot becomes hysterically jealous. Unshaven and hollow-eyed, he slaps Nora and almost kills Dinardo before fleeing the police and heading into that fiery crash. He becomes, as the film’s evocative French title has it, L’Amant sans Visage, “the lover without a face.”

When his bandages are removed, he is unrecognizable, wizened and scarred, his face a creased and calloused mask. His own wife doesn’t know him, and when Nora visits him in prison his damaged face, shot through a tight wire mesh, looks like something decaying, dissolving. He’s in prison because, in an even neater bit of irony, he has been charged with his own murder. He decides to take the rap, recognizing the justice of the mistake: he did kill Richard Talbot.

This same ironic plot twist appears in Strange Impersonation (1946), albeit less convincingly. This deliriously far-fetched tale, directed at a breakneck pace by Anthony Mann, stars Brenda Marshall as Nora Goodrich, a pretty scientist whose glasses signal that she is both brainy and emotionally myopic. She is harshly punished for caring more about work than marriage: her female lab assistant, who wants to steal Nora’s fiancé, tampers with an experiment so that it explodes, burning Nora’s face to a crisp. Embittered, she retreats from the world, and when another woman, who is trying to blackmail her over a car accident, falls from the window and is mistakenly identified as Nora, she seizes the opportunity to disappear, have plastic surgery that miraculously eliminates her scars, and return posing as the blackmailer, to seek revenge. She goes to work for her former fiancé, who strangely fails to recognize her voice or her striking resemblance to his lost love.

The plot plays out as, and turns out to be, a fever dream, but this last credibility stretcher is too common to dismiss as merely the flaw of one potboiler. Plots involving impersonation and identity theft rely not only on unrealistic visions of what plastic surgery can achieve, but on the assumption that people are deeply unobservant and tone-deaf in recognizing loved ones. A film that underlines this blindness with droll irony is The Scar (a.k.a. Hollow Triumph and The Man Who Murdered Himself, 1948), a convoluted but hugely entertaining little B noir in which Paul Henreid plays dual roles as a crook on the run and a psychologist who happens to look just like him. John Muller, pursued by hit men sent by a casino owner he robbed, stumbles across his doppelganger and decides to kill him and take his place. All he needs to do is give himself a facial scar to match the doctor’s. Only as he is dumping the body does he notice that he has put the scar on the wrong cheek—the consequence of an accidentally reversed photograph. But the irony quickly doubles back: Muller decides to brazen it out, and in fact no one notices that the doctor’s scar has apparently moved from one side of his face to the other—not even his lover. (Joan Bennett glides through this awkward part in a world-weary trance, giving a dry-martini reading to the script’s most famous lines: “It’s a bitter little world, full of sad surprises.”) The assumption that people pay little attention to the way others look or sound seems directly at odds with the power that faces and voices wield on film, and the intimate specificity with which we experience them. But noir stories often turn on how easily people are deceived, and how poorly they really know one another—or even themselves.

In The Long Wait (1954), perhaps the most extreme case of confused identity, a man with amnesia searches for a woman who has had plastic surgery. Not only does he not know what she looks like now, he can’t even remember what she used to look like. Since the movie is based on a Mickey Spillane story, he proceeds methodically by grabbing every woman he sees, in hopes that something will jog his memory. The film is fun in its pulpy, trashy way, provided you enjoy watching Anthony Quinn kiss women as though his aim were to throttle the life out of them. Quinn plays a man badly injured in a car wreck that erases both his memory and his fingerprints. This is lucky when he wanders into his old town and discovers he is wanted for a bank robbery—without fingerprints, they can’t arrest him. Figuring he must be innocent, he goes in search of the girlfriend who may or may not have grabbed the money and gone under the knife. It’s an intriguing premise, but the ultimate revelation of the right woman feels arbitrary, and the implications of all this confusion of identities are left resolutely unexamined. Nonetheless, there is something in the film’s searing, inarticulate desperation that glints like a shattered mirror.

Under the Knife

The promise of plastic surgery is a new and better self, the erasure of years and the traces of life. Taken to extremes, it is the opportunity to become a different person. Probably the best known plastic surgery noir is Dark Passage (1947), in which Humphrey Bogart plays Vincent Parry, who visits a back alley doctor after escaping from San Quentin. Parry was framed for killing his wife, so the face plastered across newspapers with the label of murderer has become a false face that betrays him. A friendly cabby who spots him recommends a surgeon who is he promises is “no quack.” Houseley Stevenson’s gleeful turn as the back-alley doctor is unforgettable, as he sharpens a straight razor while philosophizing about how all human life is rooted in fear of pain and death. He can’t resist scaring Parry, chortling over what he could do to a patient he didn’t like: make him look like a bulldog, or a monkey. But he reassures Parry that he’ll make him look good: “I’ll make you look as if you’ve lived.”

During the operation, Parry’s drugged consciousness becomes a kaleidoscope of faces, all the people who have threatened or helped him swirling around. His face is being re-shaped, as his life has already been shaped by others: the bad woman who framed him and the good woman who rescues and protects him, the small-time crook who menaces him and the kind cabby who helps him. Faceless for much of the movie, mute for part of it (he spends a long time in constraining bandages), Vincent Parry is among the most passive and cipher-like of noir protagonists. When the bandages finally come off after surgery, he looks like Humphrey Bogart, and the idea that this famously beat-up, lived-in face could be the creation of plastic surgery is perhaps the film’s biggest joke. But Vincent Parry remains an oddly blank, undefined character, and he seems unchanged by his new face and name. In a sense the doctor is right: he only looks as though he’s lived.

The fullest cinematic exploration of the problems inherent in trying to make a new life through plastic surgery is Seconds (1966), John Frankenheimer’s flesh-creeping sci-fi drama about a mysterious company that offers clients second lives. For a substantial fee, they will fake your death, make you over completely—including new fingerprints, teeth, and vocal cords—and create an entirely new identity for you. There is never a moment in the movie when this seems like a good idea. The Saul Bass credits, in which human features are stretched and distorted in extreme close-up, instills a horror of plasticity, and disorienting camera-work creates an immediate feeling of unease and dislocation, a physical discomfort at being in the wrong place.

Arthur, a businessman from Scarsdale, is the personification of disappointed middle age, afflicted by profound anomie that goes beyond a dull routine and a tired marriage. When the Company finishes its work—the process is shown in gruesome detail, to the extent that Frankenheimer’s cameraman fainted while shooting a real rhinoplasty—the formerly nondescript and greying Arthur looks like Rock Hudson, and has a new life as a playboy painter in Malibu. He’s told that he is free, “alone in the world, absolved of all responsibility.” He has “what every middle-aged man in America wants: freedom.”

At first, however, his life proves as empty and meaningless in this new setting as it was in the old; even when the Frankenstein scars have healed, he remains nervous and joyless as before. After he meets and falls for a beautiful blonde neighbor, who introduces him to a very 1960s California lifestyle, he begins to revel in youth and sensual freedom. Yet something is still not right; at a cocktail party he gets drunk and starts talking about his former existence—a taboo. He discovers that his lover, indeed almost everyone he knows, is an employee of the company or a fellow “reborn,” hired to create a fake life for him, and to keep him under surveillance. His “freedom” is a construct, tightly controlled.

Arthur rebels, making a forbidden trip to visit his wife, who of course does not recognize him. Talking to her about her supposedly deceased husband, for the first time he begins to understand himself: the depth of his alienation and confusion, the fact that he never really knew what he wanted, and so wanted the things he had been told he should want. Seconds is a scathing attack on the American ideal of a successful life, a portrait of how corporations sell fantasies of youth, beauty, happiness, love; buying into these commercial dreams, no one is really free to know what they want, or even who they are. Will Geer, as the folksy, sinister founder of the Company, talks wistfully about how he simply wanted to make people happy.

There is a deep sadness in the scenes where Arthur revisits his old home and confronts the failure of his attempt at rebirth—beautifully embodied by Rock Hudson in a performance suffused with the melancholy of a man who has spent his life hiding his real identity behind a mask. Yet Arthur still imagines that if he can have another new start, a third face and identity, he will get it right. Instead, he learns the macabre secret of how the Company goes about swapping out people’s identities. Seconds contrasts the surgical precision with which faces, bodies, and the trappings of life can be remade, and the impossibility of determining or predicting how or if the inner self will be changed. For that there are no charts or diagrams, and no knife that can cut deep enough.

by Imogen Sara Smith

#Imogen Sara Smith #The Chiseler #stolen faces #joan crawford #noir #secondrock hudson #lauren bacall

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backpfeifenguy · 4 years ago

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The Boy’s No Good: Chapter 1

Note: This story is a sequel to All In Your Head

TW: Emotional abuse Beast Boy was feeling… excited? Maybe? He wasn’t sure exactly what he was feeling right now, but he was feeling it, because today was definitely a special day; today was the day that Raven brought her boyfriend to the tower. Her boyfriend? You fool, YOU should be her mate! He was really happy for her; she’d had to deal with so much, it was nice to know that she had someone. She could be yours if you weren’t such a coward! His Beast… wasn’t quite so supportive. She hates you. And his anxiety issues were, as always, unhelpful. But honestly, he didn’t care; Raven was an amazing woman, and she deserved to be happy. If Raven’s mysterious boyfriend could manage that then he was alright in Beast Boy’s books.

Pathetic! You spent years trying to make her smile; years! And now someone else was having some better luck; just as long as she had a reason to smile. It’s not as though you’d ever be that reason. He really needed to meditate; ever since Raven taught him the basics he’d come to rely on it to keep himself centred. It wasn’t a daily thing like in Raven’s case, just when he really felt like he needed to; usually about three times a week.

About an hour later, Beast Boy was feeling a lot better; his head was much clearer, and his Beast seemed to have gotten the message and shut the hell up. Funnily enough, Raven seemed to be the opposite of his relative calm; it was honestly a novel experience. She was pacing back and forth, scowling and muttering to herself; the picture of anxiety.

“He’ll be here any minute, so be on your best behaviour, okay?” Raven turned to face their leader. “Nightwing, no interrogating him.”

“I already said I wouldn’t!” Nightwing chuckled; he’d mellowed out more than a little. Beast Boy suspected Starfire was the cause.

“Cyborg, take it easy on the ‘protective big brother’ act this time.”

“I know, I know.” He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry again about the goth kid.”

“Starfire, I know that this is difficult, but please don’t hug him too tightly.”

“I will endeavour to avoid causing any harm or discomfort.” Starfire replied solemnly.

“And Beast Boy…” He braced himself; this was likely to be thorough. “You’re probably fine.”

“Wait, seriously?” Beast Boy asked, mildly stunned.

Raven shrugged. “You’re good at making friends. I trust you.”

“I, uh… I won’t let you down.” Said Beast Boy, blushing faintly.

“I know you won’t,” replied Raven. The doorbell rang. “He’s here,” she noted, making a beeline for the door. After a moment, she walked back in, a man on her arm. “Guys, I’d like you to meet Leopold.”

He was, in Beast Boy’s inexpert estimation, handsome enough. Well, if you liked 6’2”, broad shoulders, lean muscles (they’re all for show) and a strong jawline; personally, Beast Boy considered the whole ‘classically handsome’ look to be kind of overrated. That said, he could see the appeal of those big, cobalt-blue eyes and that swept-back chestnut-brown hair, at least in theory. But he supposed that, if you were looking for the sort of conventionally attractive guy who had tanned skin and perfectly straight white (blunt) teeth, Leopold wasn’t too shabby.

To his surprise, Leopold went right past the other Titans and walked right up to Beast Boy, hand extended. “It’s great to finally meet you; Raven’s told me so much about you.”

“That’s a loaded sentence,” Beast Boy quipped, shaking Leopold’s hand. It practically went without saying that Leopold had the sort of firm handshake that was typically associated with honesty and overall strength of character. And of course he had a relaxed, disarming smile; at this point, anything else would have been ridiculous.

“Relax,” Leopold chuckled. “It’s mostly been good things.” There was no denying it; Leopold had some serious charisma. Beast Boy had known the guy for less than two minutes and he already liked him. And yet… something about him felt a little off; Beast Boy had learned to trust his instincts, and they were telling him that something was wrong.

“So Leopold, how did you and Raven do the meeting?” Starfire asked politely.

“We met at the library,” He explained. “Our hands touched when we both reached for Fear and Trembling, we got into a conversation, and suddenly it was closing time.”

“We spent three hours talking philosophy,” Raven said, a tiny smile on her face. “After that, I figured I’d take a chance and ask him out.”

“That sounds about right,” Nightwing chuckled. “Flirting over Kierkegaard.”

“Raven’s nothing if not consistent.” Said Cyborg.

“I just don’t get why no-one beat me to it,” said Leopold. “With her brains and beauty, I couldn’t believe she was single.”

“I believe we have all expressed similar opinions.” Said Starfire.

“The dudes in this town are idiots.” Beast Boy said, firmly and confidently.

“Yeah, but seriously; it’s just so weird!” Leopold exclaimed. “Normally when a girl like Raven’s single, you expect there to be something wrong with them.”

“Yeah, well I’m not exactly perfect,” said Raven. “I’ve got a few issues.”

“Well obviously, but I mean something wrong. Like, ‘everyone’s afraid to talk to you’ level stuff.”

“So what do you do for a living?” Beast Boy asked brightly, eager to change the subject after seeing Raven’s discomfort.

“Well I’m working in marketing at the moment, but I’ve also been shopping some scripts around.” Successful and creative.

“What are your scripts about?” Asked Cyborg.

“Well, my favourite’s about a brilliant, misunderstood young man struggling to make it as an artist.” Well, not THAT creative.

“Sounds great.” Beast Boy managed after a second. What must his other scripts be? A genius who’s a prick? A gay couple tragically dying for two hours of runtime? Hack. It occurred to Beast Boy that, for an entity originally composed of raw instinct, the Beast had gotten pretty good at sarcasm.

“Very classic.” Nightwing noted, a barely audible tremor in his voice telling Beast Boy that he was struggling not to laugh.

“I’m already working on a few changes though;” He looked fondly at Raven. “The words have just come so much easier since we started dating. I think she might be my muse.”

“That is very sweet,” said Starfire warmly.

Leopold shrugged. “I’m just saying how I feel.”

They made conversation for another twenty minutes before Raven announced that she and Leopold were heading out. Moving quickly, Beast Boy was able to stop Leopold before he left the tower, the two of them alone in the lobby. “Hey Leo, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” said Leopold. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Look, I know this might sound a little weird but… just be good to her, okay?” He sighed. “Raven’s had a tough life, especially when it comes to love, so don’t hurt her.”

“Understood,” said Leopold. “I’ll take care of her. But since you’re here, I have to ask… do you have a thing for Raven?”

“WHAT?!” Beast Boy’s eyes bugged out of his skull.

“It’s just that, you know, you just walked right up to me, did the whole ‘don’t hurt her’ bit; feels kind of like you’re into her. Seriously, I’m getting some serious ‘unrequited love’ vibes.” His features arranged themselves into a confident, self-important smirk. “I’m a scriptwriter, after all; we know about this kind of thing.” Asshole.

“Relax dude, you’ve got nothing to worry about from me.”

Leopold’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Okay then; sorry if I got weird for a minute there. I know it’s dumb, but sometimes I get a little territorial about stuff like this. It’s like an instinct or something.” His face split into a grin. “I guess you’d know all about that, huh?”

“About what?”

“You know, instincts and stuff!” He clapped a hand on Beast Boy’s back, a little harder than necessary. “I figure you’re the expert when it comes to raw animal impulse.”

“Yeah,” Beast Boy chuckled awkwardly. Is he mocking us? How DARE he?! Tear him to shreds! “Total expert.”

“So,” said Cyborg, his tone measured. “Leopold.”

“He seems nice enough.” Nightwing observed.

“Indeed,” said Starfire.

“Sure,” agreed Beast Boy. “But… did he seem kind of weird to you?”

“Weird?” Cyborg’s eyebrow shot up; he’d long ago learned to trust Beast Boy’s instincts.

“I dunno, I just got kind of a weird feeling from him. And the Beast really didn’t like him.”

That was worrying; as Cyborg understood it, the Beast wasn’t especially interested in most people; it viewed the world in the basic categories of friends, threats, and Raven, who it was strangely obsessed with protecting… oh. Oh! “What’s the matter grass stain?” Cyborg leered. “Feelin’ a little territorial?”

“Come on, dude!” Beast Boy exclaimed. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation here!”

“A serious conversation about Raven.” Cyborg replied, grinning hugely.

“That’s no surprise,” Nightwing quipped. “All his serious conversations are about Raven.”

“I think it is quite sweet, if misguided.” Opined Starfire, smiling indulgently.

“It’s not like that!” Beast Boy squeaked, blushing faintly. “The Beast just wants her to be okay; I just want her to be okay!”

As tempting as it was to keep teasing his best friend, Cyborg knew it was time to ease up a little. “Okay, so you’re sayin’ your upstairs roomie doesn’t like Raven’s boyfriend, so you’re feeling a little bit of totally platonic concern.” The sarcasm in Cyborg’s voice made it clear just how ‘platonic’ he thought BB’s thought process was. “Well, your instincts are usually good, so I think I’ll run a quick background check on the guy; criminal record, news headlines, that kind of thing.”

“He had an East Coast accent,” Nightwing noted, slipping effortlessly into ‘detective mode’. “Almost a Gotham, but not quite. Considering the Germanic name, I’m guessing Bludhaven; I’ll ask around with my contacts, see if anyone dangerous matching his description skipped town in the last couple of years.”

“And I will do the talking with some of the other Titans ladies,” Starfire offered. “We shall keep an eye out for untoward behaviour. I assume you would prefer that Raven not be informed of your concern?”

Beast Boy shrugged. “I don’t want to worry her if it turns out to be nothing.”

Starfire smiled warmly. “I keep my lip fastened around friend Raven.”

“That went better than expected,” said Raven. “Nobody did anything weird or stupid, and they all seemed to like you.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Leopold. “I was getting kind of a weird vibe from Beast Boy; I don’t think he likes me much.”

“Seriously?” Raven could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Weird; Beast Boy usually gets along okay with pretty much everyone.

“Yeah, well he seemed kind of… off around me, like he was on edge or something. Said some real weird crap to me just before I left.”

“Weird?”

Leopold shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I think he might have threatened me.”

“He threatened you?” Raven asked, incredulous. “That’s… crazy.”

“Like I said, real weird.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Raven. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

Leopold smiled. “Thanks for that Raven. You’re the best.”

Well, that marks the end of chapter one! I hope you enjoyed it and, just for laughs, here’s a little game you can play; it’s called “spot the red flags”. Just read through the chapter looking for things that Leopold says or does that feels like a red flag to you, list them in the comments, and if you spot the most red flags by the time I start the next chapter, you win! Winners will be acknowledged every chapter, so have fun!

#teen titans #beast boy #raven #bbrae #The boy's no good

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observedchaos · 4 years ago

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Fic: Favors the Brave (1/1) [Jaime x Brienne, Tyrion]

Posting so that I don’t chicken out of cleaning it up and posting to AO3 later

“WHAT DID YOU DO???”

Tyrion lifted his head muzzily from his desk to see Fury incarnate hovering over him.

Like every true sinner, a part of Tyrion had known that there would be a day of reckoning. What was a thrill without the threat of danger?

Though he had rather imagined his headsman resembling his father, not this...gargoyle having a bad hair day? Tyrion squinted with heroic effort but the haze of a proper hangover won.

"TYRION, WAKE UP, DAMN IT!"

Hmm, the sound of the Fury seemed familiar. Was it an ex? Gods, he hoped he wasn't so cliche. That would be humiliating. Wasn't his type more backstabber than frontstabber?

Who else, who else? He had always thought there was something off about Varys…

No, wait it was Brienne Tarth.

Tyrion patted her muscled arm in relief. Brienne was mighty but merciful. She would rescue him from the consequences of his ale-soaked misdeeds.

Whatever they may be.

Tyrion found he couldn't remember much at the moment. Only the most unshakeable pieces of identity remained: his name, the view straight up Father's flared nostrils when Tyrion delivered a perfect bon mot, and every curve of the '77 Playwench centerfold.

"WHAT DID YOU DO, TYRION?"

The question sank in that time. Sank in like an arrow right into his aching head. Words. He must find words to fend off Brienne's vicious volley.

Words, his old friends. He had dedicated his life to sowing adjectives, japes and invectives across the land. Rude of them not to bear fruit in his time of need.

Finally, a lone weed wound its way to the surface.

"Offended the gods," he croaked.

There. Those were words that resembled a sentence. Take that, foul Fury! Of course, his tongue was so dry it may have sounded more like "often the goths." In vino, visigoths, Tyrion chuckled to himself.

"There’s no time for this! What did you say to that woman??”

Brienne was implacable. It had been amusing when Jaime was the one to tease her into anger. Like watching a gladiator poke at a saintly lion. To think, his brother *liked* her this way. Jaime was a braver idiot than Tyrion had given him credit for.

"Woman?"

"The one time I need you to talk!" Brienne groaned in despair. She might have clutched her tragic hair. Tyrion was too busy trying not to puke to be sure. Brienne regrouped and fetched him a glass of water. Bliss.

"Tyrion, focus. Last night. You went inside that tent and when you came out you said that you 'fixed it.' What did you fix? What did you do to Jaime???"

"Jaime? Tent?"

"That stupid red tent at the carnival you MADE me go to last night! THINK, TYRION!!!"

How had he never noticed that her voice was more forceful than a battering ram? Merciful Mother.

"Not so loud, woman, please."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Does your head hurt? BECAUSE I WILL TAKE IT OFF YOUR NECK IF YOU DON'T TELL ME WHAT YOU DID!"

Shock that she was capable of sarcasm jolted his brain into gear. A very rusty third gear.

“Brienne, if you are going to be dramatic, then I will have to be sensible and no one wants that.”

Brienne hauled him forward by his shirt with such force that Tyrion felt his wing tipped shoes take flight. Their disparate sizes meant her hand nearly spread collar to cock. Fear shook him sober.

"Yes, ok. I am trying to remember. I swear it." Tyrion scrambled for purchase and details that would jog his memory. "We went to a carnival? Why in the world would you and I go to a carnival?"

"You were moping! You said we had to go where we belong!" Brienne's fist clenched. Unfortunately, so did his windpipe.

Less unfortunately, gurgling her name fueled enough guilt to loosen her grip.

Tyrion had never been so glad to have his feet on the ground. Rolling his shoulders in relief, he felt his freshly oxygenated mind rev with curiosity. He *did* like a puzzle.

A carnival. That might explain the calliope music merrying around his head.

"Walk me through last night, Brienne. From the beginning. If I have the big picture, maybe I can remember the details."

She took a deep breath. Brienne slipped into the cadence of an officer delivering a shift report, something she and Jaime had surely done hundreds of times when they served together in Essos. Calm was Brienne’s specialty. Jaime often called her a robot, with mirth in his eyes. Outside of her hearing, Jaime had told him that her stoicism was the only reason he still had two fingers on his right hand. Tyrion didn’t have words for the look in Jaime’s eyes, then.

"You and I left work at the same time. Jaime was picking you up because you were sad after… Chai?"

"Shae." Tyrion's throat was dry again.

"After she dumped you. Jaime insisted that I come have a drink with you. We went to a bar you hated."

Tyrion rubbed his head. "Were there...there were hubcaps on the wall. And they dyed the ale green."

"Yes! You told Jaime it was like playing a symphony with a kazoo.” Brienne smiled fondly. “He laughed so hard he…"

Tyrion took a swig of water as his interrogator trailed off. She had a bad habit of sharing details that made her affections too apparent. It was hard to watch.

"We had an appetizer but then Jaime got a call." She blinked too quickly as she stumbled on. Another tell.

"From Cersei. She called and he came running." An all too familiar pit formed in Tyrion’s stomach.

Sympathy briefly returned to Brienne’s face. "You were upset. You ordered shots and...people were looking. Then you dragged me to the carnival. Mostly I tried to keep you from falling on your face as you told me that Jaime would always choose Cersei.”

Truth was bitter. Tyrion had run out of wine to sweeten his tongue.

“He will, you know,” he snapped. “I’ve watched him do it a dozen times. You dragged him out of the pits of hell in Essos and not even you can save him from her. She ruined him the day she met him. She’s the main attraction and we’re the sideshow!”

Brienne flinched. Her left hand smoothed the skin of her right thumb in an absent gesture of anxiety. Tyrion cleared his throat in apology.

“He feels responsible for her somehow,” he said gently. “She trusted him when he needed someone to need him. We were never good enough for our father but he was exactly what Cersei wanted. Because he did everything she wanted. Terrible deeds did not feel terrible if he did them for her. Then he saw what she was but he couldn’t take back what he had done. Jaime thinks he doesn’t deserve...anything better.”

Seeing his sorrow reflected on her face was unbearable. Deflection, then.

“And how else did I charm you last night, my lady?”

“You cursed fate for making you beautiful but unloved. Then you literally flung yourself onto several women and screamed ‘once more unto the breach!’"

"Ah, yes. Well, I suppose I do get a bit theatrical when I’m drunk."

Brienne glared at him. "You disappeared when I was helping one of your poor victims up. I found you an hour later coming out of that red tent with the burning heart. "

A burning heart. Tyrion’s pulse quickened. “Jaime. I wanted to help Jaime.”

I tell desires, not fortunes. An impossible memory. A woman’s eyes flashing red. Smoke stinging his eyes. A voice from the embers....We all must choose.

“Please, Tyrion. You said you ‘fixed it.’ I thought you were just drunk but then this morning…”

Tyrion clutched Brienne for balance. He spoke without hearing the words. “I wished for Jaime to have a second chance.”

A clang from the outer office jarred him from his stupor. He toppled over as Brienne rushed to the blinds. The slats crumpled like paper in her hand as she peered through the window of his office door.

“He’s here.” She looked scared. Tyrion had never seen Brienne look scared before.

His assistant’s voice drifted in. “M-m-m-Mr. Lannister?”

The door opened. It was reckoning day, after all.

From the floor, Tyrion saw the face of the man he had looked up to his whole life. A face that he hadn’t seen in over 20 years.

Blond hair untouched by grey. Trouble-free eyes. 10 fingers.

Jaime was 16 again and his heart burned bright gold.

#jaime x brienne #fic #game of thrones #tyrion lannister #my fic #writing wrongs #brienne of tarth #I need to learn formatting #braime #I feel like I said their names 8 million times #wishes #modern au #writing this fic made me realize that I am a tyrion (sans booze) and I will have to live w that knowledge #be gentle

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olicitytropes · 5 years ago

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Olicity Tropetastic Awards: Other Inspirations

One of the coolest, and most popular, things about fanfic is that you don’t have to stick to canon for inspiration. We can plop our favorite characters into almost any situation using the books, movies, and tv shows we love. Call it an alternate universe, call it a crossover, call it awesome. Our love for Arrow and for Olicity brought us together, but here are some writers who used other sources to give us the best of both worlds!

@allimariexf’s recs:

Gotta Be Compatible - theshipsfirstmate

Magic Mike AU.

Felicity and the girls go to a strip club in Metropolis for Caitlin's bachelorette party.

**Award: Best Lost-Boy Oliver and Playing-It-Safe Felicity (who find themselves in each other!)**

Breaking All The Rules - griever11

Five letters that were never meant to be sent, two ex-friends who soon rediscover their friendship, and one fake relationship that honestly, isn't really fake at all.

Or, you can't really pretend to be dating each other when what you really want is to be really dating each other.

An Olicity AU, loosely based on To All the Boys I've Loved Before.

**Award: The Longest Mutual Pine Award**

Someone Else’s Sky - punchdrunkdoc

Oliver Queen, the Starling City Vigilante, moves out of his family home into a small apartment.

But he has an unexpected roommate.

A 'Just Like Heaven' AU

**Award: Most Brilliant and Beautiful Season 1 “What-If” (also known as: THIS FIC MADE ME CRY REAL TEARS and FEEL ALL THE THINGS)**

Baby Daddy - moreorLessJess

Bartender Oliver Queen was living his twenties to the fullest, he lived with his best friend John Diggle, and his brother in everything but blood, Tommy Merlyn just moved in to their apartment as he started his professional baseball career for the Starling City Rockets. On top of that, his childhood best friend Felicity Smoak, who was no longer goth and instead blonde and beautiful, was back in town and they were hanging out again.

Oliver thought his days were going to be filled with partying, one night stands, and boys weekends while also spending quality time with the girl everyone kept telling him he was in love with.

Until his ex girlfriend dropped a baby on his doorstep who turned out to be his son.

After a lot of thought and Felicity Smoak peptalks, Oliver decides to keep and raise his son with the help of his friends.

Or the Freeform sitcom Baby Daddy AU that no one asked for but I needed to write. Aka Oliver and Felicity are childhood friends and are hopelessly in love with eachother and everyone knows but them, oh and now they're raising a baby.

What could go wrong?

**Award: Fluffiest Childhood Friends Trope**

Absolutely, Probably - theshipsfirstmate

Oliver tells his ten-year-old daughter a story about the loves of his life.

RomCom AU based on the Ryan Reynolds movie "Definitely, Maybe" for the Arrow Summer Movie AU Challenge.

**Award: Most Achingly Beautiful Delayed-Happily-Ever-After**

The time to make up your mind about people (is never) - nashtag

Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak had a whirlwind Vegas romance—and a tornado of a divorce a year later. Two years after that, Oliver is about to marry his old flame, Laurel Lance. But when his father is caught cheating with another executive, he must let two journalists cover his wedding to preserve the family name.

Philadelphia Story/Arrow AU, with a dash of Flash crossover.

**Award: Most Heart-wrenching But Hopeful Second Chance at True Love (with a happy ending, of course)**

@tangled23works’ recs:

The Governess - @laurabelle2930

Felicity Smoak is a 22 year old Governess for the newly orphaned Thea Meryln. Thea's caregiver is the mysterious lord of Thornfield manor Oliver Queen. Based on the amazing novel by Charlotte Bronte "Jane Eyre" inspired this prompt from @lalawo1

**Award: Best Affectionate Bickering**

Welcome to the Party - @bushlaboo

Die Hard inspired AU – Oliver Queen, an SCPD officer, tries to save his wife, Felicity Smoak, and several others, taken hostage by terrorist Edward Fyers during a Christmas party at Nakatomi Plaza in Los Angeles. [Borrowed some dialogue from the show and the movie; it was too good to pass up.]

**Award: The Olicity/Die Hard AU I Didn’t Know I Needed But Enjoyed Immensely**

Velocity - MachaSWicket

SUMMARY: There's a bomb on a bus. Once the bus goes 50 miles an hour, the bomb is armed. If it drops below 50, it blows up. What do you do? AKA, the Olicity Speed AU.

**Award: Best ‘If you’re not leaving, I’m not leaving’ Moment That Made Me Cry**

Separate Lives - shannyfish

It was luck that Madelyn Smoak and Mackenzie Queen met at summer camp during a fencing match. Neither of them expected to pull off a mask and find a reflection of themselves staring back. But in the days that followed the girls learned that they were sisters– twins, separated by their parents. Madelyn had been raised in London with tech genius and blonde bombshell Felicity Smoak, while Mackenzie grew up with their father, Oliver Queen, the owner of Green Arrow Vineyards. When the girls devise a devious plan to switch parents, neither of them expected that what they’d really be fighting for was putting their family back together again. (Parent Trap AU)

**Award: Most Entertaining Olicity-Have-Kids-Who-Plot-Against-Them Fic**

@msbeccieboo’s recs:

Two Weeks Notice - LucyHatesJosh4Eva

Oliver Queen has a reputation as an insufferable playboy and a habit of hiring very inept, very attractive attorneys to represent his multi-billion dollar family corporation. So when an act of corporate espionage lands Felicity Smoak in his office on the heels of his last hiring debacle, her law degree and tech experience seem like the way to please his shareholders and his unhappy mother. He expects her smart mouth to cause him a huge pain in the ass; however, he doesn’t expect to trust and like her. Over time, Oliver starts to rely on Felicity for everything, and his world comes to a crashing halt when she gives her two weeks notice.

Retelling of the adorable rom com “Two Weeks Notice” starring Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant. I love this movie, and borrow some plot and some dialog with appreciation and joy. Updates on Mondays.

**Award: Most Wonderfully Frustrating ‘Just Tell Each Other How You Feel, Dammit’ Fic**

In Every Star, I See Your Face (Call Me in the Morning) - @jsevick

Felicity's new internship is full of... complications. (Grey’s Anatomy AU)

**Award: Best Olicity Playing Doctor, Literally**

Love Like Battleships - @callistawolf

Six Days Seven Nights AU - Felicity is a driven career woman on a much-needed vacation with her doting boyfriend. Oliver is a charter pilot with a history of running from complications (and his life). They clash from the start, two wrongs rubbing up against each other the wrong way. What happens when a nasty storm causes them to crash on a deserted island, alone, together?

**Award: Most Untraditional Appearance of a Trousersnake in a Fic**

Between Hello and Roses - charmingwords23

Felicity Smoak had no idea what she was getting herself into when she signed on to be the star of the new season of The Bachelorette. With plenty of drama, adventure, heartbreak, and romance, this season promises to be the most shocking and dramatic yet!

**Award: Cheesiest (in the best way) Reality TV Olicity**

Surreal but Nice - angelica

"After all... I'm just a guy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to love him."

a.k.a.

One Wednesday, Felicity Smoak of Tech Village meets Oliver Queen, the movie star. (Notting Hill AU)

**Award: Most Adorable Bumbling Felicity**

@memcjo’s recs:

Are These Your Glasses? - IIIIRENE

When Queens Consolidated throws a masked ball for New Year's Eve, Oliver and Felicity meet for the first time. They dance all night long until Felicity mysteriously flees from the venue dropping her glasses in the process. Unfortunately Oliver never got the name of the gorgeous blonde in the emerald dress, but he has her glasses and he will stop at nothing to find her so that they can continue where they left off.

Olicity AU inspired by Cinderella

**Award: Best Olicity Fairy Tale**

How to Save a Life - witchy2008

DWTS!AU. Oliver Queen has been pushed into competing to improve his image and subsequently the QC stock prices. His professional partner, Felicity Smoak, is working on coaxing him into putting some of his ghosts to rest.

This week, Team Olicity presents Oliver's most memorable year with a contemporary dance dedicated to Shado.

**Award: Best Sexy Olicity Dancing SO Sexy**

seemingly impossible (but not untrue) - @alexiablackbriar13

Genius historian Dr Felicity Smoak unknowingly and accidentally calls up a bewitched alchemical manuscript within the Oxford Bodleian Libraries - a book that has been lost for centuries.

Felicity wants nothing to do with magic, despite her heritage and unruly, powerful abilities. But her discovery of Ashmole 782 sets the world of creatures stirring.

With a mystery afoot and new, dangerous magical abilities manifesting for her to navigate, she is approached by the enigmatic vampire biochemist Professor Oliver Queen, who seems to have a deep interest in both the manuscript… and her.

Based on A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness.

(No knowledge of ADOW or background is needed for you to read this fic!)

**Award: Best Felicity and Oliver Being Drawn Together Against the Odds**

Move - @bushlaboo

Push inspired AU. When people with psychic abilities are discovered governments around the world setup agencies to handle and secretly experiment on these enhanced individuals, one such agency is ARGUS. They're testing a powers boosting drug, Mirakuru, which will allow them to build the most powerful psychic army in the world. The only thing standing in their way is the vision of world’s most powerful Watcher who set in place the means to allow her daughter to foil their plan over a decade ago.

**Award: Best BAMF Felicity Smoak**

@smoaking-greenarrow’s recs:

How To Train Your Vigilante - @alexiablackbriar13

In a world where dragons exist and roam the earth, Felicity Smoak considers herself to be a normal if not slightly nerdy IT girl, with complicated family issues, a fascination with the winged predators and a slight ‘saving people’ complex. Her entire world changes when she meets Oliver, the infamous deadly Night Fury - and a genetic experiment - who flies around Starling City taking down criminals.

Their partnership will be one that rocks the world.

(How To Train Your Dragon AU)

**Award: The ‘Oliver as Toothless is Brilliant and Spot-on’ Award**

The Big Catch - @nodecaff4me

The lives of Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak could not be more different.

He was an infamous billionaire playboy and heir to a fortune 500 company who did everything he could to reform himself into everything his family wanted him to be. She was a struggling single mother of two girls, doing her best she could do get her family through after her whole life in Boston had fallen apart in the aftermath of her ex-husband’s criminal mischiefs.

Both their worlds collide after his yacht’s Wifi-network collapses somewhere along the Oregon coast and he is forced to harbor in a small sleepy town called Elk Cove and hire an IT specialist to fix it only to refuse to pay her for her work in the end.

All bets are off when she learns that he was laying in the county hospital with amnesia after an accident and she could finally get her revenge...

An #Olicity Overboard AU (WIP)

**Award: The ‘I’ve Never Seen This Movie but This Fic is Everything I Need’ Award**

Stones of Time - arrow_through_my_writers_block

AU. Felicity Smoak is halfway across the world on a mission to recover the rumored mystical waters known as the Lazarus Pit. But when fate tosses her back in time and into the company of rogue League of Assassins members, she's caught up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse... soon falling for the mysterious Al-Sah-him, otherwise known as Oliver Queen. Will she find a way back to her time, or will love and adventure keep her in the past to possibly change the future? *inspired by Outlander

**Award: The ‘Perfect Fic for Your (my) Arrow and Outlander Obsessions’ Award and a Bonus ‘Fangirl Swoon’ Award for Al-Sah-him**

Fate, Luck, and Tequila - Emilyymay_x

The Olicity AU based on the film 'Just My Luck'

Oliver is a billionaire playboy with all the luck in the world.

Felicity Smoak is an excellent IT assistant at Queen Consolidated, with the most rotten luck ever.

When they meet at a masquerade party, they have no idea how much the tables will turn.

**Award: The ‘Better Than the Movie’ Award**

Werewolves and Vigilantes - Emilyymay_x

When Felicity finds out who her father is, and finds out he lives in Beacon Hills with his son, Felicity has to go and meet them. Little does she expect the crazy in Starling to be ten times worse in Beacon Hills... a whole new level in fact… (Teen Wolf inspired)

**Award: The ‘Best Combination of TV Shows Crossover’ Award**

Let us always find each other (in every world, in every story) - imgoingtocrash

Instead of asking Felicity to work on the ATOM Exosuit, Ray brings Felicity on to help him create a device that allows the user to theoretically travel to parallel universes. When Ray turns the theoretical into reality by stealing one of the prototypes and attempting to find his dead wife at the cost of ruining other universes, Felicity follows him. What begins as an attempt to stop her boss from going places he doesn’t belong turns into a realization that some people will always find a way to be together, no matter what.

A Thousand Pieces of You inspired AU, but no book knowledge is required.

**Award: My New Favorite ‘Exploring Other Universes Fic’ Award**

@blondeeoneexox’s recs:

Kerosene and Desire - @smoaking-greenarrow

An Olicity Notebook AU with a darker twist.

**Award: Most Intense, Sweet, Topsy-Turvy, Beautiful Notebook AU (With the Best Cliffhanger!)**

Home is Where the Heart is - CSM

AU. This fic is loosely based on the movie Sweet Home Alabama. Puppy love is for fairytales and storybooks, they don't exist in the real world and all Oliver wants is for her to sign on the dotted line, a clear cut divorce. But being married to the most stubborn woman in the world and their equally opinionated mothers, Oliver knows this trip back home is going to be anything but easy.

**Award: Most Sass-Filled, Funny, Romantic Olicity AU**

Where You Lead (I Will Follow) - @jsevick

Oliver Queen’s careful routine at the diner he owns is disrupted by Stars Hollow’s newest residents, a single mom and her young daughter searching for a new life--and his own simple life will never be the same. (Gilmore Girls AU)

**Award: The Slowest of Slow Burns That I Wish We Could Have More Of!**

The Sound of an Arrow - thecomebackkids99

Five years ago, Oliver Queen lost his wife in a car accident.

Twenty years ago, Felicity Smoak's father kissed her on the forehead and disappeared from her life.

Now, she is the nanny for the six adorable Queen children, fighting to restore love in the mansion and trying to deal with the difficult-to-get-along-with Oliver, all the while as she continues to stumble upon evidence that could drag the Queen family further into darkness. (The Sound Of Music AU)

**Award: Most Emotional Rollercoaster**

Felicity the Virgin - javajunkie

When Felicity is accidentally artificially inseminated with hotel mogul Oliver Queen's sperm, her life changes in more ways than she could have ever imagined. Jane The Virgin - OLICITY STYLE AU

**Award: Most Beautiful Acquaintances to Friends to Lovers to Family Fic**

#Arrow #Olicity #olicity tropetastic awards #Other Inspirations trope #rec list #olicity fanfiction #olicity fic #Oliver Queen #Felicity Smoak

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void-knights · 4 years ago

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The Coffee Shop and Students

Square Filled: Coffee Shop AU Pairing: Loki / Sigyn, Tags: coffee shop AU, Modern AU, Music Student Loki, Art Student Sigyn, Odin's A+ Parenting, Bisexual Loki, Bisexual Sigyn, Customers being terrible, Casual misogyny Summary: Since Odin cut him off Loki (a music student) needed a job while attending Uni, this is how he becomes an exhausted Barista and how he meets Sigyn a sunny art student. Word Count: 7630 Written/Created for @lokibingo

AO3 Link

Loki had never understood Odin, Odin had been boasting to all his friends and associates that Loki had got into the best university. Loki was going to be standing amongst the elites of their country, it would open so many opportunities for him, especially amongst the government. It delighted Odin to no end.

“I’m studying music,” had been the words that made Odin give up on that one instance of pride and instead he went back to praising Thor who was heading off to get himself killed in the military, just like Odin wanted. As if that had gone so well for the PTSD riddled Hela who now worked in a wolf sanctuary up north somewhere.

Sometimes Loki thought Hela had the right idea. Give up and go to live in the wilds with a pack of wolves and a bunch of people who just understood you instead of trying to please everyone.

Still, Loki attended university, he had won this chance and was not about to give up on his dreams. But Odin made an ultimatum, while he would pay for Loki’s education no matter what (no child of his would be in debt) he was not supporting Loki any further if he continued to study music instead of politics.

Loki took the money for his courses and didn’t look back, until he blew through his savings at the age of nineteen and found himself in need of a job. How hard could it being a Batista be?

He was now twenty-one and understood just how fucking difficult it was. The job in of itself was easy, once he memorized the prices, the way to make the teas, coffees and hot sandwiches he was set. What was difficult was the dammed customers. Some he liked, some he dreaded, some he hated and some he forgot because they were either unremarkable or never ever returned.

His previous coffee shop had been two hours away from his dorms, this new one was twenty minutes on foot and ten on a bike. He preferred the manager, a stout cheerful red haired man who was understanding and didn’t make rude remarks about anyone who deviated from the norm. His previous manager had been a nightmare to work with, he was never happy.

The routine was fairly similar, the manager let the students do their work so long as it didn’t interfere with their jobs and the running of this place. For students like Loki there was not much practical work he could be doing, unlike Steve and his constant drawing, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make a dent in his research.

(Steve Rogers also happened to be one of his roommates which is how he found this job in the first place, the other two being Anthony Stark – slumming it with other students much to the delight of Odin who wanted Loki to be the billionaire’s best friend – and Natasha Romanov, she spoke Russian when angry or exhausted and somehow knew everyone. Loki was fairly certain she was either in a dance, theatre or art course.)

One bitterly cold autumnal day she arrived, the woman with the golden-red curly hair and tan freckled skin. He’d never seen freckles on lips before, he thought it just lipstick until he realized the exhausted woman wasn’t wearing any make up. Understandable given it was currently six in the morning on a Friday.

She was exhausted but lovely, it was as though someone had given both autumn and summer physical form and blessed her with a cute smile and odd taste in jumpers.

Steve looked up from his sketchbook, “Siggy, you’re back?”

“No I’m haunting you, whooooo,” she said waving her hands about, Loki stared, her mittens (that turned into gloves when folded back) were snake mouths. It was like having a pair of Kermit the frog heads for hands but yellow with red eyes.

“You promised to haunt Nat first,” Steve said pushing himself away from the counter half amused.

“Nobody living or dead has the balls for that,” ‘Siggy’ half shouted watching the blonde vanish into the back office. Loki heard Steve laugh, he had to agree with the pair of them, there was nobody could handle that. At least being dead was an advantage.

Steve returned slapping a pair of keys into the woman’s hand, “Now you have to buy something,” he said pointing to the menu, “Two items please.”

“It’s blackmail then?” the woman laughed, “Give me my usual.”

“No, that will kill you this early in the morning, try green tea instead, it’s good for you,”

“Such a mother hen, I know what I’m about and I want an eight shot espresso,”

“One large Coffee pitch black and a sandwich,” Steve countered.

“Deal,” the woman sighed dramatically folding back her mittens and digging out change from her jeans pocket. She got her order and left, her umbrella was also yellow, a bright yellow stood out in the grey gloom of the rainy morning.

“Who was that?” Loki asked Steve.

“Oh that, that’s Sigyn,” Steve answered sounding bored as though she was not the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. Steve was boring, Steve needed better eyes or glasses or everything, how could he not see what an attractive delightful woman Sigyn was? “We’re looking at houses together, so she’s borrowing my car.”

Loki’s mind skidded to a halt, what? They were only twenty-one, Steve didn’t come from money, he got into this very exclusive university through his exceptional talents, grants and only one loan. Which meant Sigyn-

“-Oh,” Steve looked up from his sketchbook, “You should join us,” it was half six in the morning nobody could blame Loki’s brain for conjuring images of sharing a bed with Steve and Sigyn, both were gorgeous.

Sense came back to him, Steve was dating Bucky, so why was Steve looking at houses with Sigyn?

“So we don’t have to spend the next couple of years in uni dorms, Sigyn is going for her masters and doctorate like me,” Steve answered Loki’s unasked question, he was rather good at that, Loki blinked, “It’s cheaper than the university dorms, so you’ll be saving money.”

“Who else have you asked?” Loki asked interested in the idea, anything to save money would help and the university dorms weren’t the best place to keep on living. They had rats inspecting the property.

“Natasha, Sam, Bucky and Tony, Tony asked Rhodey and I’m asking you, that should make up the numbers,” Steve said.

“Eight people?” Loki frowned.

“Bucky and I will be sharing a room, I think Rhodey’s happy to share with Tony and if they need to Sigyn will share with Natasha,” Steve said.

Loki considered it carefully, while more expensive Loki had his roommates had signed up for short term leases, by the semester in case they ever wanted to move out for any reasons. They had quickly learned by the first year that the dorms were not ideal but living on their own was impossible, this seemed an ideal solution.

“Well we have until the end of the first semester, let me know a week before I have other people interested,” Steve said and Loki nodded, thinking it over and not just because of the potential of getting to know Sigyn more.

A customer walked in, she carried a snotty toddler on her hip, a second kid walked alongside her and an exhausted teenager followed her decked out in every single awful thing Loki used to wear as an aspiring goth with delusions of what constituted good taste. It was nice to know some things never changed.

Loki played rock paper scissors with Steve, he won, until the snotty three-year-old was let loose and put his snotty hands all over the glass display unit. Steve smugly grinned at him as Loki went to retrieve the cleaning supplies, it didn’t help that the kid was now coughing and sneezing over everything.

“Ma’am please can you keep your child by your side,” Steve said, Steve was bright-eyed and bushy tailed even after years in retail, how? How was that possible, Loki’s charity towards customers had been chipped away within a month.

Of course the woman ignored him and let her kid do what they want, Loki couldn’t help it if the toddler tripped over his foot and crashed into its other sibling. He couldn’t help it if the mother carried the pair off embarrassed, but not as embarrassed as the teenager who paid for their order and carried it out for their mother.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that,” Steve said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Loki grinned pleased with himself.

*****

Loki decided he hated customers when one cold evening one customer loudly decided to shout at Loki for having his long hair pulled into a ponytail and did he dare wear nail polish how dare he!

Steve of course stood up for Loki, because that was who Steve was, he wasn’t like his family who would happily laugh alongside the customer about how stupid Loki looked. Steve pointed out that this was a free country and that Loki tied his hair back for hygiene reasons, anyone with long hair had to do that regardless of gender.

Because Steve believed in things like freedom of speech, expression and so didn’t give a shit about your gender or sex. The woman shamed by Steve and his righteous speech took her coffee and slunk out of the coffee shop her tail between her legs.

“My hero,” Loki drawled causing Steve’s cheeks to pink, “So confident, I can feel the righteous surging!” Steve shook his head, “Hey want a rousing discussion about truth? Honour, patriotism, god bless-”

“I get it, you love me, lets move on,” Steve sighed completely resigned to Loki’s way of thanking him.

“Aww,” Both Steve and Loki turned to see Sigyn standing there, “Personally I’ve been on the end of Steve’s speeches, great as they are they tend to amp you up, you could lead an army with Steve’s speeches.”

“Take your heart attack juice and leave,” Steve said already filling a cup with eight espressos.

“That’s no way to speak to a customer!” Loki faked shock.

“Yes, how dare you!” Sigyn grinned, this is why Steve didn’t want Sigyn and Loki meeting, it would either be amazing or terrible, “I have rights as a customer!”

“I would demand compensation, a cheese and bacon toastie for instance,” Loki smirked at Sigyn.

“I – I wait what… excuse… what, Steeeeeeve, you did-”

“-No you, Sig are not allowed any more cheese at night,” Mother Hen Steve warned her, “Cheese gives you weird nightmares remember.”

“But it tastes so good! And that’s where the best ideas come from,” Sigyn said.

“It’s her right as a free patriot to eat cheese whenever she wants,” Loki said, yep Steve regretted them meeting. He decided it was worse than introducing Tony to Bruce and Jane Foster, the science trio were mad bastards doing crazy shit.

“Yes,” Sigyn nodded, “It is my democratic right to eat cheese and have weird nightmares. Now gimmie.”

“Even the nightmare about the tap dancing pig?” Steve asked, how he did that with a straight face baffled Loki, but he did.

“There were sooo many nipples,” Sigyn whispered haunted by some weird idea that did not seem that horrific until Loki noticed her frightened expression. “I change my mind,” She relented as Steve slid her order to her, “What time does your shift end?”

“Ten thirty why?” Steve asked checking the clock, an hour to go.

“I need your friend, the crazy bloke that talks to things?” that could only be one person.

“Tony,” Steve said

“Yeah, him, I need him to look at my laptop, it’s being a right old bastard, I think he might me on his last legs,” Sigyn sighed dramatically.

“Well you can wait here and walk back with us if you want,” Steve offered, Sigyn nodded and smiled thanking Steve as she claimed a peaceful corner all to herself.

The majority of the shift was spent dealing with people who were just starting out on their night out. Their manager closed up the shop after everything was done and kicked them out was he was sure everything was done for a second time.

The walk back to their dorms was a short walk filled with brief conversation and many yawns.

As soon as they were inside their dorm they were greeted by Tony and Natasha debating which was the best way to enjoy popcorn. Steve being the gentleman he was offered to take Sigyn’s black military coat, it hung alongside the other coats, her mittens stashed away in the pockets.

“Bacon popcorn is my go to,” Sigyn admitted pulling her bag to the side to take out her laptop.

“A woman after my heart,” Tony grinned at her.

“Good, fix my laptop genius,” Sigyn said handing it to him, “I got stuff I need protecting.”

“Like your porn stash?” Tony snickered.

“No, who keeps porn on their laptop in this day and age, get a pornhub account,” Sigyn said without any shame, Steve rolled his eyes while Tony laughed, “Fix him, he’s got my research and digital works, he’s not giving them up.”

“Greedy bastard,” Tony laughed with her.

Loki didn’t have much opportunity to spend time with Sigyn beyond handing her a bottle of water, she was too busy hovering over Tony and her laptop like a mamma duck waiting for her duckling to return. Of course the old as fuck (it didn’t take a genius to see how old her laptop was) laptop was on it’s last legs.

But Tony being Tony backed everything up on a portable SSD drive for Sigyn and told her not to worry about the cost of the thing, he recommended Laptops within her budget but said she couldn’t really expect to do much artwork beyond them, especially 3D stuff.

Sigyn thanked him and went along her way, Tony being Tony bought Sigyn a laptop. Steve said that she had beat him half to death trying to get him to send it back, Tony stuck an unreasonable amount of stickers on the laptop so no. He couldn't send it back.

Apparently Sigyn was pleased but annoyed that he had been so nice, whatever she got him in return made the young man giggle and blush. They never told anyone what it was.

*****

Sigyn returned to the coffee shop one warmer autumnal afternoon wearing a faded white band shirt with holes around the V-neck, jeans worn and weathered with time and patched with embroidery with paint stained army boots and bracelets around her wrists. Her curly hair was braided, half cornrows on her left side and half box braids on the right with beads and charms hanging from the braids.

Today Steve had the day off leaving Loki to suffer with Jane, well no that was a lie. He liked Jane, he didn’t like her dating his brother (who was four years older than her) and neither of them had the warmth and cheer that Steve had, that cheer and warmth kept them going. Instead, Jane and Loki wallowed in their misery as customers made their lives hell.

One in particular seemed to think slapping Jane’s arse was a good idea, he of course was equally horrified when he slapped Loki’s arse only to find out Loki was a dude.

“Usual?” Loki asked a little amused when she seemed surprised he would remember.

“Actually no, it’s pumpkin spice season,” Sigyn patted out a beat, “Give me a large pumpkin spice latte.”

“You can pay for it like anyone else,” Loki grinned, it took a few seconds to realize what Loki meant before she laughed a little ducking her head. Several beads clicked against one another.

It was thanks to the lack of customers at this hour (either Sigyn was a pro at avoiding customers – which if the case, she needed to teach him that skill – or she worked weird hours. Being an art student he couldn’t decide which was the right choice,) that he was able to continue talking to her.

Sigyn sipped her latte pleased with the taste, there was a reason it was so dammed popular and it wasn’t because it was famous – or infamous. She savoured the spices as studied Loki closely.

He wasn’t what she had expected when Steve first talked about him, she was expecting some posh guy who wore jumpers and talked on a diamond encrusted I-Phone. Loki was quite… normal, well terms of fashion, in terms of looks he was pleasing on the eye.

“So Steve tells me you’re a music student?” She asked thinking given his background he would be some sort of classical music star someday. She had no idea what went into music, she liked what she liked and that was that.

“I am,” was all Loki added much to her frustration, until he laughed and added, “I have always had the talent, since I first played the piano.”

“Ah, so you are a classical musician?” she asked, he looked more like he belonged in a Scandinavian heavy metal or folk band, she couldn’t get a good grasp on him.

“Not classical no,” He smirked, and she was left annoyed once again, the tease. She had to leave due to her classes starting soon, that and a new line of customers arrived, she bid Loki a fond goodbye and walked away.

Jane stared at Loki, “You like Sigyn huh?”

“What’s not to like about her?” Loki asked.

“She does have a nice arse,” Jane agreed, that wasn’t her only ‘nice’ feature but Loki didn’t say it out loud and instead set to work getting the next round of orders in.

*****

It was one of those weeks, Loki was battling with a mental block, papers were due, he had run out of shampoo and resorted to Natasha’s so now he had to deal with frizzy hair and worst of all the customers.

The company had decided in their eternal wisdom to release a complicated new creation to beat their competition, this bastard of a concoction was named the ‘Halloween Unicorn’ it was a nightmarish creation of a kid that had been fed too much sugar.

Yet apparently the customers all loved it, it was an over glorified pumpkin spice latte with extras that came with its own Halloween themed cup. But it was popular, so popular that they had sold out on day two after Instagram stars starting peddling it.

Now everyone needed a picture with one, most frustrating were the people who tossed their drinks after getting the pictures. Having to empty rubbish bins that were half filled with coffee was no pleasant task. Thankfully they had heavy-duty bags that did not leak (after years of experimentation) the downside, they were heavy.

God forbid they run out of the special cups or the unicorn horns and unicorn shaped biscuit and sprinkles that the dammed drinks came with. What was wrong with a basic pumpkin latte?

Sigyn was the next customer not that Loki noticed in his exhausted state, not until she smiled at him, customers did not usually smile at him.

“Pumpkin Latte please,” she requested and Loki almost wept with joy, no overly fancy orders, just a simple god fearing pumpkin spice latte. She dropped her usual tip in the tip jar and took her order with no fuss or additional stress.

She was seated by the window perched on her bar stool making use of the Wi-Fi as she typed away on her brand-new laptop. It was a garish yellow colour that somehow suited Sigyn completely. He took the next order, things were looking up, this woman asked for a completely normal black coffee.

Then the new wave of unicorn lattes started pouring in, rush hour meant all hands on deck. Steve and Jane were manning the coffee orders, their manager took care of the food and Loki was left to deal with the customers, he rang up the orders and passed them on. He barely noticed Sigyn leaving, he couldn’t call out to her which annoyed him.

It was five in the evening when things started to die down, the students had been dealt with and the customers were thinning.

“Back again?” Steve asked sounding amused by something.

There stood Sigyn, her curly hair pulled back and held by a piece of cloth, her left cheek smeared with a blackish paint. She wore blue painters overalls with yellow wellington boots.

“Only because I get a freebie,” she said presenting the stamp card.

“Pumpkin spice?” Steve didn’t need to ask, he was already making the drink.

“Yes, feed me,” Sigyn whispered.

“Have you spent your weekly budget already?” Steve asked.

“It’s Saturday be in awe that I lasted this long,” She said as Steve went to check with their manager that it was fine giving his friend free food.

Their manager being nice and Steve being the best worker he had meant that Sigyn got her food. “So how’s your project going?” Steve asked delivering the food to Sigyn’s stable by the window.

As Sigyn took her first bite of the bacon and egg grilled sandwich the moan she uttered did things to Loki, things that he should not be experiencing in a coffee shop, “Ah uh,” Sigyn wiped the bit of egg off her bottom lip, Loki struggled to tear his eyes away from her, “Well, I completed it.”

Steve looked up annoyed, “You… of course you did,” He sighed resigned to his fate it seemed.

He couldn’t listen in on the rest of the conversation because a customer came up to the counter, the woman had an expression that screamed she could either be a sane and nice customer or about to make their lives hell for the next ten minutes.

She chose hell.

“It’s not very professional to have your hair like that ,” she said to Loki, his hair was in a ponytail for sanitary, health and safety reasons, not for fashion purposes.

He was used to it, “May I take your order, please?” he asked she would need to do better than that to get through the thick skin retail and service work had endowed him with.

“You shouldn’t have your nails painted,” she said, he was wearing gloves again for sanitary and health reasons, they all did.

Loki simply met her stare which made her uncomfortable, “Ma’am may I take your order please, there are other customers waiting,” he pointed out to her politely.

The woman huffed and puffed, was she somehow expecting to magically summon the manager from his office? Loki waited, the customers were telling her to hurry up and that just would not do. She broke down completely, shouting at Loki.

It was oddly nostalgic. Like Yuletide with the family. Until her words struck a particularly raw nerve, the string of homophobic slurs she spewed left the few people that did not have their phones pulling out their phones to film what was happening.

That summoned the manager, who being ex-army took no shit. The woman left without her unicorn latte (thank fuck for small mercies) and a polite banning by the manager.

Loki tried not to let such things affect him, after all she was just a nameless woman, one of many that passed through this store. But that did not mean her words did not sting. Steve took over the counter allowing Loki to make the coffee’s in peace, the woman’s tirade made people overly generous with their tips, which was nice at least.

Sigyn was sat at her usual spot, when he looked up he caught her eye she offered him a smile before returning to her work. It was an hour later when they had no customers that Loki went to sit with her, to learn what she was working on.

She had pulled off the top half off her overalls, wrapping the sleeves around her waist to prevent the rest falling down as she worked on her essay. For an art student she was muscular and very freckled, there didn’t seem to be an inch free of freckles.

“I’ve got to write an essay on Edmund Dulac,” She said he had no idea who that was, so she turned her screen to him, he nodded still having no clue who he was. “Are you okay?” she asked him which for a few moments baffled him completely.

He realized she was talking about the incident with the woman, “Yes, it is something you have to get used to,” he said she looked annoyed on his behalf.

Fiddling with a leather bracelet Sigyn smiled at him, “It’s not the most ideal time but I can’t keep faffing about with this, do you uh, well not coffee how about uh drinks sometime, with me?” she asked him.

It took him a moment to get over how adorable she was when she was flustered, that blush warming her warm brown skin beautifully. “You are asking me out?”

“Y-yep,” She nodded, “I mean, if you want to?” she was fascinated to know what he looked like outside the coffee shop.

“Okay,” he nodded.

“Wait really?” She asked surprised why? She was gorgeous, she was the beauty that most people on social aspired to be. “Oh, alright, um, my phone number,” she said.

He slid his phone in her direction, so she could type it in, “Why are you so surprised?” Loki asked her really wanting to know.

“Oh you know, because your hot and I thought you might already be dating someone and well It’s uh been a while since I’ve dated anyone,” She admitted handing him his phone back.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in an actual relationship with anyone, he had taken to one-night stands, mostly to experiment with his sexuality and try to pin it down. Sigyn smiled at him, and he believed her at that moment, she really was attracted to him for some reason.

Wasn’t that interesting?

*****

It was near the end of autumn by the time Sigyn and Loki could find the time to just spend a day together, what with their conflicting schedules, work and deadlines. But in the meantime they texted, messaged, phoned one another even taking a few moments to talk and get to know each other in the coffee shop.

It wasn’t as though they were strangers when they finally met up then, but they didn’t really know each other that well either. It helped calm him down as he stood waiting for her in the meeting spot.

Perhaps it had not been the greatest idea to come dressed in his usual blacks, with dashes of green and gold here and here. Some older folks were certainly disapproving of the way he dressed making him double guess his choices.

There was a part of him that wondered if Bruce was right, and he should have toned down his wardrobe for first impressions outside the coffee shop. The longer he waited (he cursed himself for needing to be early) the further he spiralled into panic and misery until finally a soft “Hey!” made him look up from his phone.

Sigyn stood there smiling wearing a knee-length mustard yellow jumper dress, thick black tights and black thigh high boots. Her knitted green and yellow scarf was ridiculously long with her usual brown backpack hung over one shoulder. Her hair had been freed from any restraints and now it was determined to be noticed the golden-red curls and coils framing her face seemed almost dazzling.

“Hello,” he greeted standing up, this was a little strange. Did they need to be in a coffee shop to feel normal? She laughed softly to herself, “What’s so funny?” for a dreadful second he imagined her laughing at him or something he chose to wear.

“Sorry, I was just thinking it’s a little weird seeing you in people cloths,” she smiled at him.

“I wear people cloths when I’m working,” He said.

“Your uniform is not people cloths, it’s the opposite, devoid of personality, this , feels like you,” she said grinning at him. She always seemed to be smiling or grinning. “How does this even work?” she asked him running her finger along the diagonal line of the zip on his leather jacket.

“Well you take the zip,” he began showing her the zip beneath his own black and green scarf and grinning when she rolled her eyes amused.

“Smart arse,” She said slapping him playfully on the arm. He did his best not to flinch, she noticed and thankfully said nothing, years of putting up with Thor and his friends had left their mark on him. She still smiled, pretending for his sake, or comfort that she had not noticed, something he appreciated. “So what now?”

“Has it that long for you?” He teased her she blushed an overly pleasant shade of pink as she walked alongside him.

“If I say yes would you be put off?” she asked him, hoping that he would not, some people were odd about people not dating, like it was a part of the curriculum for students.

“Of course not, I am more surprised you actually showed up,” he confessed though with a teasing tone as to not appear genuine. He did not wish to come across as needy or desperate.

“I wanted to see what you looked like in leather and skin tight jeans,” she waggled her eyebrows at him, like two charming caterpillars they danced, she was weirdly good at manipulating her eyebrows he thought transfixed for enough time to make Sigyn laugh.

“And?” he asked, he should have toned it down! It was ridiculous to think someone as warm, soft and pleasant as Sigyn would like this. Stark’s offer of a shirt suddenly seemed appealing.

“I approve,” She grinned at him, his whole body sagged in relief, she must have felt it because somehow that sunny smile seemed to grow a lot brighter. “So… what do people do on dates these days?”

He didn’t know, again dating had not been something he’d been overly interested in up until meeting Sigyn. Sigyn grinned at him, she knew he didn’t know either!

“People usually go for coffee,” He said lamely.

“ You want to go for coffee?” She asked him sounding amused, “That’s like asking me to spend my free time in a garage.”

“You work I a garage?” Loki asked suddenly he remembered something Tony had said about having Sigyn look at his car, he assumed he meant in the ‘I want to ask someone out’ way and not the actual practical way.

“Yep,” she said leading him through the streets with an idea, “My dad was the type that made his kids learn all the skills they would need in later life. He didn’t want me being ripped off if I ever managed to buy a car.”

Funny all his father gave him was self-esteem issues and anxiety, this was not something you said on a date, Loki knew that at least instead he said “My father just tossed money at people to solve whatever little problems he had.”

“Ah, you see that’s no good, I don’t care how rich you are everyone should know basic home maintenance,” Sigyn said, which sounded like good sound practical advice, the sort of ‘advice’ that Odin would shout at his children when telling them to pull themselves up by the bootstraps.

Instead, he answered, “Well my mother did teach me how to maintain a healthy garden, I know how to keep a vegetable patch and herb garden,” he said thinking it silly.

Sigyn turned to him awed like he had just said the greatest thing anyone could think of, “Really!? I’m useless with plants, well aside from Frank and Hudson.”

“Frank and Hudson?”

“Frank’s this spider-plant that just refuses to die, seriously I forgot to water him, and he just keeps on living and Hudson’s this Jade plant, I got him when he was a wee sprout as a kid, the bastard won’t die,”

“You make it sound like they are making your life an inconvenience!” he laughed.

“They grow Loki, they grow!”

“That’s what a plant is supposed to do,”

“Yes, but do you know how big twenty-year-old jade plants can be and how many babies a spider plant produces, lots!” She flapped her hand about.

He couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image of Sigyn on her one woman crusade to defeat two rather average houseplants that refused to die. She puffed out her cheeks pretending to be annoyed as he laughed, in truth she was delighted to see him so relaxed. This was nice.

Sigyn had taken him to the natural history museum, some place he had yet to visit despite living in the city for two years already. It was fascinating and much better than visiting a coffee shop. Even if suddenly he was craving a cup of coffee, his work had cursed or conditioned him!

The date went well, he did think it odd that they had not kissed on the first date, was that normal? He wasn’t sure but there was plenty of hand holding and laughter. Natasha said that was a good sign when he mentioned the date to her later that evening.

“The issue you got right now,” Natasha said stretching with Loki, they both attended evening dance classes together, pole dancing to be exact. It was a great way to keep in shape, “Is whether she’s aware of your sexuality?”

He had neglected to mention that, usually wasn’t something he needed to mention, “It might have slipped my memory,” Loki admitted mirroring Natasha as they went into the next stretch.

“Hmm, well you should get on that,” he would have done had dance classes had not left him close to breaking. Natasha and Loki staggered home looking as though they had been through hell and back and nobody had allowed them to collect the t-shirts on the way out.

So it wasn’t until he saw Sigyn the next day with Steve in the coffee shop that he suddenly remembered. Mostly it was the girl very obviously checking out Sigyn that helped him remember what Natasha suggested.

He knew from watching others that it could be a make or break thing, apparently some people weren’t comfortable with their partners being bisexual go figure! He didn’t want to mess things up with Sigyn, things seemed to be going good, nice even.

“Isn’t this supposed to be Jane’s shift?” Steve asked him, not as a co-worker but a customer today. The man had bland coffee tastes, Sigyn got her usual pumpkin spice latte, she was determined to fill up before they were replaced with the peppermint drinks come winter.

“Yeah but I have extra classes this afternoon, she had extra classes this morning, so we switched places,” Loki rattled off.

“Oh okay,” Steve said grabbing his boring coffee and adding no sugar or milk, he was just that type that liked his drinks simple. Sigyn was halfway finished with her latte before Steve could even dare attempt drinking his scalding drink.

“Sigyn can I have a word?” he asked, there were no other customers waiting for a drink at the moment so now was a good time.

“Sure,” Sigyn nodded, Steve pretended to make himself scarce by reading a book at Sigyn’s usual spot by the window, clearly he was waiting for Sigyn. Right! They were classmates. He’d almost forgotten. “What’s up?” she asked looking a little worried.

“Ah uh, I should have mentioned before,” Loki said thinking it was a little weird to mention this here and now, he should have waited, damn it, but now he couldn’t just not say it could he? “I,” he hesitated, Sigyn nervously began downing her coffee like a mad woman, “I’m bi?”

“Oh… that’s all?” She breathed a heavy sigh of relief, a nervous giggle escaped her, “I uh, mean no offence or anything Loki but it was kinda obvious?”

“You can’t tell if someone is bisexual by the way they dress and act,” Loki pointed out, well Sigyn was amazing maybe she could?

“True,” She nodded radiating cheer and warmth as she pulled out her phone and showed him the screen, “But meddling billionaire’s have no filter when you ply them with whisky.”

It was a photo of Loki and Tony kissing… well no Loki’s hand was quite clearly down Tony’s pants. It had been a rather strange night of drinking and more drinking, apparently Loki decided that night he was Bi and being a scientist needing to test this theory out. Loki had of course been happy to have an attractive guy make out with him, apparently Tony had a thing for potential rock stars? It didn’t matter, Tony got his answer and Loki got a half remembered fuck, it was a good half remembered fuck.

“I am going to murder him,” Loki threatened, it was a lie of course and Sigyn laughed, clearly not offended at all and used to Tony’s antics.

“If it helps,” She said quite calmly, “It doesn’t bother me that you’re bi Loki, we have that in common.”

“Oh, ah, I see,” Loki smiled, “Well good?”

“Good,” Sigyn grinned, “Does this mean we’re still going to meet up this weekend?” she asked.

“Of course, I want to see how you react to plants,” he smirked.

“Why plants?” Sigyn asked caught off guard, but Loki refused to reveal his plot to show her around the plant exhibition. It wasn’t just about plants, there was also some arts and crafts sections and something about home-made wine. “I knew it, you’re on their side, plotting against me.”

“Ah yes, me and my legion of hydrangeas,” Loki smirked.

“That’ll be a good band name,” They both jumped, there was Natasha… in daylight hours looking as though she hadn’t slept a week. By her side Tony, who had not slept in a week, “Legion of hydrangeas.”

“Nah you want something more badass, Legion of Cacti,” Tony said waking up now he was within arms reach of coffee. Sigyn pulled her coffee cup away from him.

“Wouldn’t you be more badass with Legion of Wolfs bane?” Sigyn countered.

“Wolfs bane legion?” Steve countered.

“Just take your coffee and go, all of you," he said filling up the various cups. Natasha liked Mocha, Steve was happy with his still scalding coffee, Sigyn got her refill of Pumpkin Spice while Tony had what Steve called heart attack juice.

“You’re supposed to smile when-” Steve grabbed Tony by the shoulder and gently steered him out of the building.

“Thanks,” Natasha nodded, that was all he was going to get out of the exhausted… possible dance student. There was some speculation she might be a classics student.

Before Loki could say goodbye to Sigyn she brought him into a kiss, it was a soft quick thing, nothing but a fond goodbye but it managed to turn his legs to jelly and leave him with a dopey smile as she pulled away grinning. He was to busy mooning over Sigyn as she left, especially the way her hips swayed that he forgot to mention the traces of black lipstick.

The girl that had been checking Sigyn out glared at him, ‘ Yeah she’s mine! ’ she stuck out his tongue, she surprised him by returning the gesture.

Their second date went well until Sigyn lost a fight with a prickly pair cactus, Tony laughed and laughed, the fact that they had to buy said cactus because it now had her blood on it made Tony laugh even harder. He bought the cactus and crown and sash, crowning it the vanquisher of Sigyn.

“I told you,” Sigyn groused poking her bandaged forearm, “Wait till Fred and Hudson hear about this, it’ll make them bold!”

Loki kissed her, she smiled at him in a very silly way that made his insides squirm and wiggle in delight. Her feathery touches, her patience all made him light up, he was certain others were mocking him for becoming so sappy, but he didn’t care.

She responded to him with affection and kindness, something he had not really had in a relationship before. At least not on this sort of level. Sigyn was never ashamed about hugging him, or just gently brushing her fingers through his hair. Why did that one feel so good? He liked her braiding his hair or just running her nails along his scalp.

“Next you’ll be writing love songs and giving each other promise rings,” Tony fluttered his eyes at Loki the next morning. Ah so the mad bastard had finally got some sleep.

That… might be a little true, he had begun to write one (just one!) Song for Sigyn, he couldn’t help it, when inspiration struck he had got it down on paper. But he would not admit that Tony, not when he was operating at full brain capacity while Loki was struggling to remember what day of the week it was.

Instead, he sent Sigyn a text ‘ Stark is annoying me, send help! ’

Her response was instant ‘ Mention Justin Hammer ’ why? Who was that? She sent him a list of conversation starters that included that name.

“Did you notice the university newspaper this morning Natasha?” Loki said.

“We have a newspaper?” Tony asked.

“Apparently someone called Justin Hammer-” Tony hissed like a feral cat and zoomed off shouting something about cheap copy cats.

“Tell Sigyn that was mean,” Natasha said holding up her mug to be filled with heart attack juice.

Loki later learnt that Tony had been the originator but Sigyn had perfected this particular blend of coffee so strong it could fuel rockets. Loki stuck with natural coffee, coffee that did not make people stay awake for days on end.

Loki on pure instinct refilled her mug, then looked horrified when he realized what he had done! The corporations had conditioned him! Natasha smirked, “Serves you right,” she said sliding off the plastic barstool Bucky had fished out from a dumpster.

*****

Usually it wasn’t a good idea to move into somewhere with a girlfriend of a couple of months, but the rent was cheap and the house was decent enough. Much better than the university dorms anyway. They had plenty of space in spite of the fact eight people lived here, there was even a small garden.

It wasn’t a good idea to share a bedroom either, but nobody could blame Loki and if their relationship ended suddenly for some weird reason Sigyn could share or swap with someone else. But Loki didn’t like thinking about that.

He liked his relationship with Sigyn, she made him feel loved, special, like he could do anything he wanted and that was okay. She supported him, coming to the café’s and clubs he played at never anything short of happy grins and warm affection.

Whenever he felt those pangs of ‘I’ve fucked up and should have listened to Odin’ moments she was there holding his hand reminding him it was okay to follow his dreams. He could not understand why someone as loving and kind as Sigyn would want him, but he could not imagine his life without her now.

In turn, he supported her art shows, Sigyn it turned out was a talented painter, both with traditional and digital mediums. She was already building a regular client base and looking to publish some books, which featured her work, there was also talks of a graphic novel that she and Steve were working on together. Something about an Atalantian prince.

She liked to draw him, he didn’t mind, he was in fact flattered she found him that interesting. He was always happy to spend time with her regardless of what they were doing, especially when the Uni classes became more serious. It was nice to just share a comfortable space with someone, someone who warmed him and reminded him to carry on. That everything was okay.

Finally, Loki got to meet Fred and Hudson, Hudson was huge, Sigyn had grossly undersold just how big he was. He became the Christmas tree that year he was so big. But Fred, the spider plant who hung from the ceiling was almost as long as Loki was tall, clearly Sigyn had given up dealing with the babies and just let him grow thinking it would kill off the plant.

“Maybe you have a secret superpower-” Loki began to suggest as he placed them in the most ideal locations.

“-Plants are spiteful,” Sigyn hissed threatening the plant who did not respond.

“Maybe that’s what feeding, all that hate?” Loki suggested.

“Oooh that’s sneaky, so typical of-” Sigyn paused looking at Loki who was struggling not to laugh, he blinked not understanding why she had suddenly become so serious, “You have pretty eyes.”

He blushed always caught off guard by her compliments he couldn’t help it, she smiled taking hold of his hand and kissing him. His entire being fluttered as she slowly deepened the kiss forgetting for a moment that they were in the process of decorating the house when Bucky walked in complaining about the new coffee machine.

“Loki!” Bucky yelled, “You're the coffee expert-” Loki groaned pulling away from Sigyn who giggled, her whole body rocked against him.

“-I should have worked in the bakery,” He pinched his nose, though he could not regret his choice of work now, it had led him to meeting Sigyn.

“You know… I need help with our bed,” Sigyn offered him an escape, and he took it with a grin, our bed did sound rather lovely.

#Loki Bingo 2020 #Loki/Sigyn #Logyn #Coffee Shop AU #loki x sigyn #Loki fic #Loki Fanfic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #jane foster #Tony Stark #Student!Loki #Student!Sigyn #Modern AU

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nemobookaholic · 5 years ago

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What if…

I don‘t know if this is a mistake or not, but it feels like the universe is giving me signs to do this,… so here I go.

Recently I‘ve started to write a Loki fanfic. I was so anxios about the english grammar, that I asked a friend to check on it. She read it and told me, it‘s not that bad. But she‘s still very busy and even if I asked her, to check on the grammar and send it back to me, it feels like it takes like forever. And this happens to me with all my betas and all the storys I gave away. I‘m still afraid to do this step, but I want it out there. Today it feels, like I have to or miss the chance, so here is the first part of ‚What if…‘ I hope it‘s not that bad and I would be happy about constructive criticism.

What if... Loki where a 21st century woman?

Scene 1

‘I hate this place! Not that I haven’t seen worse, but it’s dangerous, even for me. I’m starving, this whole planet is inhospitable! It’s more than time to leave. Only that using the Tesseract to teleport, takes a lot of power... wouldn’t be that hurtful, if I hadn’t had to escape from, in my opinion, this way too annoying bastard. And he still follows me somehow. By Odin's beard, I should have killed him the time I had the chance. Stabbed him in the back, of course, just without the expected result. Since I’ve left my originally realm, a lot of things happened, mostly not to my satisfaction. Me sitting on the throne I deserve wasn’t one of it. The only higher court is this piece of stone I am sitting on. Would be utterly boring, to rule this world. It doesn’t even deserve that name, it’s a desert. Thinking about it, why not go and visit Midgard again? I haven’t seen my brother in ages and I guess that’s the place to meet him. I gain all the power the planet spare with me and use it, to start a new, different adventure. One that might bring some mischief!’

We see Loki disappear from the stone dessert. Where he sat seconds before, like it would have been the throne of Asgard, legs open and hands on the rocks that surrounded him. Eying the environment with disgust, out of a pale face and dark rings under his bloodshot eyes.

Everything he leaves behind is a blue gleaming, which last for a while, until it fades completely. In the end there is nothing left to proof his short residence.

Scene 2

We are inside a crowd. In a well known theatre, that has an open roof and reminds us of an wooden O. It’s dark outside, but the crowd standing around us, keeps us warm. We stare up to the actors on stage, who are playing a fairy tale in a midsummer night’s dream. Suddenly the people around us start to whisper and raise their heads. We follow their sight to the balcony where a man, bound in leather and with golden horns on his head, stands. Obviously he isn’t part of the cast. Voices, about some promotion gag, becoming louder. How well do we know about Loki from all those movies and comics? But this guy is new and definitely not Matt Damon. As we can see, he isn’t just playing a role and his behaviour is far from method acting. His fascial expressions are extraordinary, like a man who literarily came from another dimension. We can read from his body language, how much he enjoys the crowd cheering at him. Until a sudden change on his face shows us a second of fear, like he had just remembered something. Indeed he is hiding it pretty well, as we start to question our power of observation, thats how fast he got back control.

Loki is leaving gracefully, walking backwards and that’s the last thing we see of him.

‘Those puny mortals are staring at me. They seem pleased by my appearance. It’s joyful to have them cheering at me, quite different to my last visit. Thinking of it makes me realise, I’m not out of danger yet! How could I forget about this stupid Agency, that is somehow connected with Thor. It wasn’t a good idea to show my face to all those people. Maybe one of them is in the crowd, already calling for the bloody Avengers - this time I don’t have an army to my support. Even if I’d decimated their number last time, who can tell if they didn’t recruit more, since I’ve been gone? I’ll have to go now! I’m able to get out of here without losing my face. A god doesn’t run away, even though it would be wise to get disguised for a little while. Of course I could become an animal, but that’s what Thor would expect of me and probably figure it out quickly. No, I have to do something he would never expect. Speaking the spell, I think of all the women I know, with mother leading the way - for fathers sake am I tired! Didn’t even realise it until this very moment. I feel the darkness coming closer, as I slide down some wall, sense my body transforming right before the darkness takes over.’

We caught Loki again, sitting on a corner, head leaning against the wall behind him, eyes closed. His body looks strange. It’s difficult to see the shape of it, like you would try to see trough some fog, surrounding his skin. His hair becomes lighter every second until it reaches the colour of sand. We can’t see it, but even his body shrinks a little. The wardrobe changes from asgardian to, probably stolen out of Natashas closet. Loki wears black jeans, a green t-shirt and a also black leather jacket now. Underneath the shirt a breast starts to grow, while other ‘things’ become less until they disappear. This is so much more than a simple illusion and Loki can be happy about being unconscious, so he doesn’t have to feel the pain of his transformation.

Scene 3

As for Loki, we know he is a clever fellow. Maybe that’s what brings doom on his own occasion. We remember, he is a she now and she’s still sitting there, holding the Tesseract, which slowly slips from her hand.

To give us certainty, yes he used it as a source of power to make a true transformation, not willingly though. He was at a state of weakness, where he didn’t think much about his actions. And he needed the support, as for this world we can sense slight traces of magic. Of course every use of sorcery has it’s price and we can assume, that if Loki had seen the bill, he probably wouldn’t be willing to pay for it.

Anyway, events have been started and we will have to live with the consequences. For Loki it means, that there is an orange circle appearing out of nothing, not noticed by her mindless shell. Just a small one, producing a quiet sound, like wind howling trough grass. Out of this hole in time and space, we see a hand appearing, grabbing for the blue glowing cube. Taking it out of reach for the mischievous god.

She will sleep now, for a long while. Trying to regain some power. What she doesn’t know is the fact, that the dimension she slipped in so careless, doesn’t contain much witchcraft. What, well hopefully, will keep her busy, so the other realms can recover, at least, from her evil deeds.

And her slumber won’t be broken. Not even as two strangers cross Lokis path. For them it’s a broken, but still beautiful woman, sleeping in an unusual place. We sense the compassion on their faces. They share a long moment of silent conversation, just by expressions. The woman, a goth girl, seems to be wary about what she reads in the face of her companion. The guy indeed seems to be unafraid. He gets closer, grabbing Loki at her shoulder, shaking her. She shows no reaction at all.

‘Is she dead?! We should get help,’ the female says.

‘Still breathing. Don’t be such a chicken! I think she might be one of our kind … let’s take her home and allow her to rest,’ the guy replies.

‘You are serious, aren’t you? I can’t believe, I even consider helping you … come on then!’

The both of them take the girl between them, pulling her up, slowly starting the long walk home. It looks rather funny, for Loki is a tall woman and these strangers are smaller than her. They haul her more as you could describe it as carrying, but at least they’ll reach a house that they get into.

Meanwhile Loki still doesn’t move any bone, would have been helpful with the stairs actually. We don’t know if she realises anything of what is happening, but according to the abuse done to her body we may doubt it. Even when they drop her into a bed, she’s like a corpse.

‘Kevin, do you really think this was a good idea?’ the woman asks.

‘Come on Beatrix. Don’t you think it’s what humanity claim from us? I will sit with her and wait until she wakes, if it brings peace to you. You can go to bed if you like.’

The guy smiles at her and she can’t help herself and smiles back.

‘You are too kind for this world, you know?’ she kisses him on the forehead and leaves the room. Giving the burden of a long night’s watch to him, as he’d requested.

Scene 4

‘This must be a dream, I guess it by the fact, that mother is with me. Her soft touch, the calm voice and the love I feel while she looks at me, are far away from me these days. I miss her, knowing well what’s going to happen once I’ll return to Asgard, keeps me away from there. It isn’t my home anymore and that’s what will make her safe. We always had a strong connection, that’s why I believe her, when she tells me, to find my own way. Even if I know perfectly that it’s just a dream, her next words are predictable as she tells me to seek happiness in what I have. Only that I own nothing at all, I was promised a throne! Mothers eyes darken, like she could read my thoughts. She turns her back on me. I call out to her, knowing what’s going to happen next. As in all those dreams before, I see her dying.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t change her fate. It’s like I’m cursed, every time I come close to her, she’s dying.

“Mother …,” it’s just a whisper of disbelieve on my lips, yet it’s enough to wake me from this horrible dream. Watching myself causing her death again and again, doesn’t lose any of it’s horror. Through a shroud of tears I blink my way into reality. I can’t remember what happened. The ceiling I’m staring at, doesn’t look familiar to me. My tong licks over my dry lips, don’t know the last time I actually drank something? My stomach hurts, food seems to be even longer ago. I’m weak and I hate knowing so. I use all my senses, to get more informations about my whereabouts, as I am unable to move. There is some comfort in the way I lie, a pillow under my head and a blanket that keeps me warm. Knowing all this, doesn’t really help me to figure, where I am or how I get here. The try to sit up and have a better view got amiss, I’m far to weak. A sight of surprise escapes my throat and I fall back into the down.

‘Are you finally awake?’ a voice from my right asks and I manage to turn my head, to see who was talking. A redhead caught my sight, he looks quite young. It’s not easy to tell with those Midgardian folks. ‘How are you? Feeling a bit better?’ he smiles at me, trying to make me trust him, I suppose. NOBODY ever ask me, how I feel!

‘Am I your prisoner?’ is the first thing I need to know.

‘No, god no! Why would you think … never mind. Of course you are free to leave any time. But you are also allowed to stay, if you need help,’ is the reply.

I try to figure out what kind of game he’s playing, but it doesn’t occur to me. It makes no sense. I’m staring at him in silence.

‘Don’t know what you had to go trough till now, however I promise you’re perfectly safe with me. Uhm - maybe it calms you - if I tell you that I’m gay? I won’t touch you. And if that isn’t enough, I could call for my flatmate. She helped to bring you here by the way.’

Does that little scum really believe, I, the god of mischief, would be scared by a mortal?! And how does it make things any better, if he adds his sexual interest - oh wait - I completely forgot about the disguise I’m in. Of course he must mistaken me for a weak creature like himself.

‘I am a goddess and not afraid of your puny, gay presence!’ I tell him to demonstrate how less I’m impressed.

‘Uuuuhm, ‘kay?’ now the redhead is staring at me. Not the effect I had in mind. He seems more fascinated than afraid. There is more, even when he’s hiding it well, an expression of anger crosses his mimic for a second. ‘Listen, if I where you, I would think carefully about my next words, cause if you are one of those homophobic assholes, you can go back from where you’ve come!’ Now we have context.

‘Ehehehe. You have no idea who you are talking to, do you? Where I come from, nobody cares about the gender of your love. I didn’t meant to make an insult on that topic, you insisted on being so. I wanted to warn you, that I am dangerous. But as words seem to have no effect on you, take this!’ with these words I grab for the Tesseract in my magic pocket, just to find it isn’t there. ‘Where IS IT? Did you maggots dare to steal the stone from me? I am Loki of Asgard and you are a dead man, if you don’t tell me where you’ve put my belongings!’ I yell at him, this time pulling out a knife. The mortal keeps his hands up in defence.

‘First of all, you didn’t carry any belongings with you, as we picked you up. Second, you really believe all those shit you are saying, don’t you? That’s quite of interest to me and I may be able to help you. Third and last, threaten me with a butterknife hasn’t the impact on me, you might think. I’ve experienced worse, you know,’ he looks at me, like I’ve gone mad. I however look down at my hands to find , well not what I’d expected. What is wrong with this dimension? The knife disappears.

‘Take me back to the place where you’ve found me,’ I press the words through my lips, trying to stand up, failing again.

‘If I promise to get you back there, would you behave for the rest of the day?’ he’s waiting for an answer. As I’ve said enough already, I just mutter my approval. ‘Good. Anyway, you’ll have to wait, cause it is closed right now. We’ll be there by the time it opens, to search for your stone.’

‘Tesseract! It’s a blue glowing cube.’

‘Yeah, whatever. We’ll seek for it, I promise.’

‘Sounds like the stuff Hina keeps talking about,’ a rasping voice comes from outside the room, ‘what kind of freak did we brought in here Kevin?’ a woman appears in the door, examining me and so do I. She has a strange colour of hair, that is somewhere between grey and light blue - but not the right age for it - half of her head is shaved, while on the other side the hair grows over the shoulder. She looks skinny, not in a very healthy way. She might be a warrior. At least her clothes look like she had a fight, all black and ripped into pieces. Now that I’m on the case, I get a closer look on the redhead too. He appears neat and well-fed, nothing unusual about him. Even his style is screaming: “I’m like everybody else.” Maybe except the golden ring in his right ear. I can’t understand, how both of them can be friends, not to talk about the third party, in which room we obviously are. There are colourful pictures all over the walls, a lot of books and art supplies spread across the desk next to the window. How can anybody life here on free will?

‘Does she has a name?’ the woman breaks the silence, asking her friend but still looking at me. He seem uncomfortable with the situation, that’s why I introduce myself.

‘I am Loki of Asgard.’

‘Sure and I’m Jesus Christ! What’s wrong with you?’ she waves her hand in front of her face, I do not know for what reason.

‘I beg your pardon, daughter of Christ, everything is completely fine with me! It’s not my fault, your tiny brains can’t keep up with a god.’ If looks could kill, we would be dead by now. She indeed has something of a warrior.

‘Woah, bitchfight! Calm down ladies,’ Kevin tries to ease the situation. I don’t know if it’s him who finally breaks the ice, or my stomach, that is rumbling loudly into the silence. I’m ashamed because of the betrayal caused by my own body. My cheeks feel hot all of a sudden.

‘See? Maybe we should all have breakfast first, afterwards we can come back to the topic,’ another short silence follows to Kevins words and he must have taken it as agreement, cause he gets up, leaving the room, gently pushing the girl aside. She follows him, not without giving me a last evil look.

My leg slips out of the bed, carefully, followed by the other one. It takes some effort to get up, in the end I stand on my unpleasant feet. Looking down, the difference isn’t to suppress. It was easy with the female voice, as I’m used to different illusions. The new point of view however, let me figure out some things. On my way out of the room I walk past a mirror. After a short glance I have to stop and walk back, to get a closer look. The spell I’ve used works perfectly, way to perfect! I can’t trust mine eyes. My hand wanders across my new face and I can’t but accept the tiny differences. Not that it would bother me, how familiar I still look to myself, it’s more the fact that everything is so damn real. I’ve tried this kind of magic more than once, it never worked quite well. So how come, I was able to work such a difficult spell on the edge of my powers? Something is going on here and I need to find out about it. Plus I need to get the Tesseract back. Thinking back, I’m already sorry, I’ve left the last planet.’

Scene 5

Loki is sitting inside a small kitchen, sipping on a cup of tea, so do his new flatmates. The atmosphere is in low spirits and all we can hear is the noise of their dishes. It’s obvious, the Midgardians don’t believe a single word she had told them, oddly enough they want to help her, for reasons we shall find out, as the story continues. Yet here they are, remain silent, until we start to wonder who’ll be the first one to talk again?

‘Do you feel better now?’ of course it would be Kevin, what did you think? ‘A nice little cupper and some beans with eggs always have been the best way to have a good start into the day, isn’t it?’ he grins like a Cheshire cat, obviously food is his guilt pleasure. Loki just sits in the corner, raising one eyebrow, while Beatrix seems to relax a bit.

‘That’s what I love you for, you know. Just that stupid grin,’ she giggles.

‘What you mean stupid? Is it a crime to be happy after some good food?’ Kevin looks puzzled and Bea starts to laugh. They fill the room with joy, but can’t pass it on to Loki, who still sits in her corner, without moving, or even showing some empathy. There is just this sad look on her face, we can only guess about. Maybe it is, because she’s reminded of all those times she saw Thor and his friends, having fun like that. Or it is, cause she never was a part of the group, but always watched from aside. Probably she doesn’t know it herself, nonetheless it makes her aware of the big gap between them and how impossible it seems, to ever be on that side of the table. To be the one who laughs with friends.

She can’t get away soon enough.

‘Is it time now to seek for my lost item? - Please,’ she adds after a short break. Must have come to her mind, that they’ve shared their food with her, so the try to be a bit more kind isn’t all waisted time. Not that it make her care.

But how can we know, by just watching the expressions on Lokis face? Well we don’t, but we know her well enough to interpret every tiny movement, ain’t we?

‘You see, it wasn’t that hard,’ Kevin smiles again and takes a look onto his watch, ‘we’ll need a bit more patience. One more hour and we can go,’ he tells Loki, who’s wriggling on her chair.

‘I probably shall not feel like it, but I’m still hungry. Glancing at the girl, who has barely even touched her food. I can’t help myself, but staring at her plate in desire. I can’t remember, the last time I have been that hungry, to forget all my manners.

‘Bea love, are you eating any of this yet?’ Kevin must have followed my sight, what makes me look away in shame.

‘Nope,’ is all she says. That’s when he takes the plate and slide it into my direction. I take the offered food and eat it as fast as possible, to not extend this annoying situation. I’m even more ashamed, that I’ve just behaved like my brother would, how pathetic!’

Scene 6

We see Loki and Kevin at the Globe, on the corner where they’ve picked her up. Seeking for the cube, while we can see on her face, how, with every second, she becomes more desperate.

‘It must be here! I’m stuck in this bloody realm if we can’t find it …,’ she mutters in distress.

‘Maybe some stranger picked it up? We can ask, if it was handed over down there?’ Kevin offers.

‘That’s impossible! It’s nothing a mortal could handle!’ she yells at him, throwing her hands in the air.

‘Fine! What would you suggest to do next?!’

‘I DON’T KNOW! I need to think,’ she turns around, walking away.

‘Take your time. I’ll be in the big building next door, if it’s of any interest to you.’

We look after Kevin, as he disappears in the Tate modern, while Loki is taking a walk along the Themse.

‘How? I definitely had escaped the guy and he can’t be that fast in tracking me. It’s impossible. Somebody else must have taken the Tesseract. But who? There is nearly no magic in this world and according to Kevin, nothing like gods or celestial beings to ever be seen. New York wasn’t attacked by the Chitauri and the Avengers are heroes out of comic books. What ever that means. Sure there are a few individuals, who would like to steal the Tesseract, but none of them could come here without it’s powers. What plan could this person follow? It makes no sense … unless … unless they want me to be stuck here. Like a very luxurious prison, I bet Thor or Odin are involved in it! Can’t stand, that I’ve escaped their judgement. To teach me a lesson, probably. Who else would want to keep me here? A world where no ‘harm’ can be done. Pah! Don’t they know me at all, they should know better. A planet with any kind of population can be ruled. Only, this time I need to be smarter. Watching the subjects, learn their habits and find a possibility to submit them. In the end, all of them are going to kneel! Ehehehehe.’

We can’t hear Lokis inner Monolog, but by her evil grin and by the fact, that she turned around and walks quickly into the direction she just came from, we can submit, she has something mischievous in mind.

Scene 7

Loki is entering the Tate, with a couple of tourists. It’s a mystery the guards doesn’t stop her, well maybe not, she must be already aware, of how to use her body the right way. Finally she’s in the building, surrounded by people, who stop, not far from the entrance, to admit the great hall. We can tell from the look an her face, that she isn’t impressed at all. No wonder, there are much bigger buildings in Asgard. Anger is crossing her face. As of course the building is still big and she’ll have to seek for Kevin. She wanders around, visibly relaxing. That’s the magic of art and maybe the place. We follow her, slowly now. Studying one painting after another, strolling through the halls. We might get the impression, she completely forgot about Kevin. She already made it through a few levels, when she spots him. He’s sitting in an armchair, in front of a big glass-wall, staring down at the people walking around downstairs. Loki slips into the chair next to him.

‘Did you find your cube?’ Kevin asks.

‘No …,’ she braces her head into her hands. They sit in silence for a while, watching the people who have the size of ants, from their point of view.

‘Why don’t you look at the paintings, instead of staring down there?’ Loki can’t find much amusement in doing so.

‘I like to study people. That’s my job and I can’t turn it off. Right before you’ve joined me, there was a couple sitting next to me and I’ve been listening to their fight. It was pretty interesting and I might had followed them, if I didn’t figure, you should be up here every minute. I saw you enter the building. Took you a while to find me, aye?’ Kevin leans back in his chair, finally looking at Loki.

‘I have been learning about the midgardian paintings. Some of them are quite beautiful,’ she shrugs her shoulders, ‘so you get payed for spying on people?’ We recognise interest flickering on her face.

‘Hahaha, no. Not in the way you might think. I’m a psychologist-to-be. People come to me and tell me their problems and I’ll analyse how to help them. Explains my manic interest into other peoples behaviour. Talking of it, I thought, you would be an interesting case. Would you allow me, to have a few sessions with you? You don’t have to do it for free of course.’

‘Now he comes to the point, about what he was hiding from me. I knew, this guy was up to something. Waiting patiently for his offer, so I can see, if it’s worth my time. He seems to think for a moment, probably about how to formulate it, before he speaks again.

‘As I’ve figured, you don’t have a place to stay for longer?’ he asks and I nod, ‘so in case you agree, we could come to an arrangement. You can stay in Hinas room, she’ll be away for a while. In return I want an hour every second day, where you will answer my questions honestly. Without any pressure, I promise. How does that sound to you?’

What an unique offer, he surly doesn’t know much about me.

‘I agree, but under one condition, you’ll have to answer my questions too. Do we have a deal?’

We shake hands, no more words needed. This was way too easy.’

#loki of asgard #marvel #loki #fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfiction

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deans-baby-momma · 5 years ago

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Rebel Without A Cause-Ch 3

A/N: This is a day late because I was so busy at work yesterday I let it slip my mind. But, hey now you don’t have to wait so long. LOL Next update will be Friday as previously scheduled. For now enjoy……and don’t forget to leave feedback. :)

“Shopping!” Jo announces, answering Maggie’s question of how she was going to be transformed into a rock music groupie. “New clothes, new make-up, whole new hairstyle,” she continued, counting off things on her fingers. “Give me 3 days and I’ll have you looking the part!”

“I-I don’t know,” the shy girl stammers. "I've…”

“Margaret,” Jo interrupts, placing a hand on her new friend’s shoulder. “You gotta just have faith.”

“Please call me Maggie,” she tells her coworker. “Margaret is such an old woman’s name.”

“Well Maggie, then we need to get you to quit dressing like a Margaret and start dressing more like a Maggie. ‘Tis a cool name though. I like it.” Jo says with a smile.

“You really think you can make me look like I belong in the crowd at a rock concert?”

“Sure I do!” Jo exclaims. “Let me ask you this, how against dying your hair are you?”

In the end, Jo convinces her to meet up at the mall first thing the next morning, a Saturday. “The earlier the better, since the families who usually crowd the mall will still be at home”, Jo declares. Maggie is still hesitant about the change of hair color but agrees to at least get a trim. Her rust-colored hair falls halfway down her back when she loosens the clip holding it up.

'Wow! You’ve got to tell me your secret. Other than some dead ends, your hair is beautiful!“

"Good morning!” Jo chirps as she passes a styrofoam cup toward Maggie the next morning. She had been standing just outside the entrance to the mall when Maggie walked up. “Ready to be revamped?”

Maggie smiles at the blonde as she takes a sip of the steaming liquid. The coffee is sweet nectar to Maggie since she hadn’t had a chance to brew any herself in the rush to meet Jo at the appointed time. Somehow, Jo had known that and had provided exactly what she needed. Maggie wondered if this was a sign that the woman in front of her would actually be able to help her get what she needed; a behind the scenes look into the nuances of the Winchester Sex Bombs.

After work the evening before, Maggie had spent hours scouring the web and all articles related to the band. The group was made up of five childhood friends, two of them brothers. The lead singer, Dean, was the older brother to the bass player, Sam; the keyboardist (Seriously? A keyboardist in a rock band?) Meg Novak was married to the guitarist Clarence, or Cas as most know him as; the loner was Benny, the drummer. He was an unattached drifter that probably saw quite a lot from his view on stage; Maggie speculated if that could be an angle she could use for her piece? She wanted to keep a low profile with the band, not wanting to draw the lead singer’s attention at all.

The five of them hailed from a small town in Kansas, Lawrence. They all went to high school together, forming the band in the senior year of four of them. Sam was a few years younger than the others, the baby of the group. He had joined when the original bassist had moved away to go to college. Maggie briefly wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The band he left behind was finally making a name for themselves, traveling the continental US to play in a different city every couple of days, but was also leaving behind carnage and unflattering reports in their wake.

After finishing off their beverages, Jo and Maggie head into the mall.

“Okay, first things first. The outfit!” Jo announces as she claps her hand together. “New shirts, new pants, shoes….oh, you definitely need boots, at least. The higher the better!”

“Jo, I can’t walk in heels,” Maggie informs. “I’ll break my ankle and neck. Aren’t I supposed to be able to dance and….mosh?”

“Look at you!” Jo chuckles, putting an arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “You’re already learning the lingo. But no, these boots have flat to minuscule heels. I meant they have to at least be knee-high and zip up. Easier to get off when you want to get busy, ya know”

Maggie couldn’t help but blush. The only kind of 'getting busy’ she was doing was typing up her story at the end of this assignment. The last thing on her mind was getting laid…but after some thought, it had been a while. It’s been six months since her ex-boyfriend Luke left her for Sabrina and probably twice that long since she and he had been intimate. 'Has it really been almost a year since I’ve had sex?’ Maggie ponders as they head for the Shoe Plaza.

“Here. Go try these on,” Jo demands, shoving a pair of jeans in Maggie’s direction. “And I wanna see, so come out here and model for me.”

In the dressing room, Maggie removes her slacks and holds up the garment Jo had given her. The material is a dark blue with a few places looking worn, the fabric frayed. The left knee has a patched hole on it. As she studies them, she realizes she is going to have to practically pour herself into them. She glances at the tag, thinking Jo had picked up the wrong size but unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

Pulling the material over her hips, Maggie is astonished at how comfortable the jeans were. They aren’t as hard to button as she assumed either. Turning left then right, she eyes herself in the mirror. Maggie hadn’t worn anything this form-fitting in years, if ever. The fabric hugs her curves perfectly. Taking a breath, she opens the door and steps out.

“Oh my god!” Jo exclaims. “I was right. Look at you! Look at that ass! Those jeans make it pop,” she announces, making sure to snap her lips on the 'p’ “I swear if I wasn’t confident in my sexuality, I’d turn lesbian for you. Girl, you are hot!”

After leaving J.C. Penney’s with a few pairs of jeans, the two women head to what Jo calls the 'ideal rockstar outlet’, Hot Topic. Maggie balks at the site of the store. The lights inside are dimmed, making the place look ominous. There are floor-to-ceiling displays of numerous different styles of band t-shirts and apparel. In the back, there is a glass counter with glowing jewelry and ornaments. The place is empty as they enter, Maggie looking back and forth taking it all in. Some of the outfits she wouldn’t be caught dead in! Like the leather full bodysuit with zippered pockets throughout or leggings that were so thin, they were practically see-through. “Do people actually wear this stuff?” she whispers to Jo. A chuckle from behind causes both of them to turn to see a younger woman standing there. She has the goth look down. Thick black winged eyeliner, a nose piercing, and her hair is jet black and lays in waves down over her shoulders. “Nah, those are mostly for aesthetic. Although, those-” she says pointing toward the transparent leggings, “-they really work if you’re trying to turn your man on. They come crotchless too,’ she continues with a wink.

"Oh my god! Why would anyone…”

“Easy access”, both Jo and the girl, Francesca by her nametag, declare with a laugh.

“How can I help you two today?” Francesca asks.

“My friend here is going to her first rock concert next week. She needs to look the part,” Jo explains with a nudge to Maggie’s side.

“Oooo, which band?”

“Um, Win-Winchester Sex Bombs,” Maggie stutters out.

“Ah, yes. They’re coming to the River, aren’t they? Music’s pretty good but I don’t think that’s what’s making them such a hot commodity. It’s that lead singer, Dean. He and his dreamy green eyes. And those thighs! Damn, the things I could do on those.” Francesca proclaims, Jo nodding her agreement. “Could you imagine the power of his thrusts!”

Maggie blushes at the girl’s lack of a filter. She and Jo keep talking about their fantasies if they were ever to get a night with the man as Maggie steps away, not wanting to have those images in her head as she interviewed the band. As she perused the array of clothing she picks out a couple of shirts with sayings on them that were funny and one with a picture of her parent’s favorite group, The Beatles.

Jo eventually joins her, with an armful of clothes. “Here, this is what you’re wearing with those jeans and the gray suede boots.”

Hanging on a hanger is an ivory-colored lace top with sheer fabric underneath. Maggie knows that the top would definitely show her underclothes and shakes her head. She couldn’t wear that! No way.

@pink1031 @spnbaby-67 @winecatsandpizza @joseyrw @kricketc28 @tftumblin @markofdean79

#dean winchester #SUPERNATURAL AU #dean winchester au #rockstar!dean #reporter!reader #rockstar!dean x reporter!reader #Dean x OFC #lil bit of angst #lil bit of fluff #whole lotta smut #smutapalooza #e'erybody be fucking

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