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jo-the-schmo · 4 years ago

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Red, Dead, Reflections Ch. 1

A/N: Alright so... I started writing this fic over a year ago, and was posting it as I wrote it. I fell out of it for a few reasons but I’ve missed it. So I decided to start writing it again. The original versions of the first 5 chapters already exist on my blog but I want to repost them and do some editing. This way I can make the series more polished. I also want to try and do a once a week maybe schedule to give me some time in between writing chapters and so I can take some feedback into consideration.I hope some of the people who originally wanted to keep up with my series see this and I want to apologize for falling back on this. I feel really bad about it. I’ll try harder to commit to this. Thank you so much for being interested in my work. If anyone would like to be tagged just let me know, I don’t wanna assume the people who did before want to now.

Summary: At the age of 23, you and your pseudo-family perform a heist gone wrong, leading you into a dangerous and seemingly impossible position. Discover your own history, the story of those around you, and gain new relationships along the way in this (sorta) choose your own adventure.

Warnings: Explicit language, blood, death, violence

Word count: 5,988

From Out West

“This is a little too ballsy for my liking, Austin.” You warned as you carefully adjusted the colored contact lenses in your eyes.

“Since when did you turn into a little pussy-willow?” He smirked at you while he turned a corner.

“This is a bank, not a home robbery, so forgive me if I’m a tad nervous about this! We’re robbing a god damn bank in the 21st century, in a busy city that we aren’t necessarily familiar with!”

“Maybe you aren’t familiar, you know I’m a regular ol’LA boy.” You turned your head to look at the two in the backseat.

“Miguel, you can’t seriously be okay with this.” You questioned but were confident in it enough to make it a statement. He shrugged his shoulders, making that confidence literally evaporate.

“We gotta trust Austin, as crazy as this plan is. We haven’t gotten caught yet.” You crossed you arms and made sure your wig was pinned right.

“Doesn’t mean we won’t be startin’ now.” You grumbled.

“Come on, sissy! This plan is fool-proof! They’ll never even know it was us!” Eli chirped.

“Oh yeah, except for the fact that this is a fucking bank and the FBI CAN get on our asses for this!” You swore it was exhausting being the only realistic one sometimes. “On top of that, there’s only 5 of us! We’re insane!”

“6.” Austin corrected.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Your girlfriend won’t be in the damn room with us.”

“She’s the ace up our sleeves, it would be silly for her to be in there with us.” The car smelled like old cigarettes, it made you sick. The band around your chest dug into your ribs. You opted to stay silent and relent for the time being, instead focusing on your disguise. The wig was carefully pinned to your real hair, it was short enough to be confused for a men’s haircut but had enough length to not require any glue. Dark brown hair, abnormally vibrant green eyes. And with the mask covering your face, that would be their only descriptions they could give to the police. Flat chest, boyish haircut, baggy black hoodie, just your average deviant. The destination was in view.

“Alright,” Austin started. “everyone knows the plan, yeah? Gina is inside, she’ll send us the signal. We go in quick and make our presence known. I go behind the counter to make sure the tellers ain’t up to no funny shit. Miguel, you round up the lovely citizens into a corner, hit Gina a little to make it convincing. Eli, you take care of the money. And Y/N, I need you to stay in character, be loud and intimidating, keep the tellers in check when I’m helpin’ Eli, and the civils with Miguel, got it?” You all nodded. He looked back at Miguel. “You got the fake bomb ready?”

“Yes’ir.”

“I’ll pass the big boss to you once I pick him out. Zoe is waiting for us in the alleyway between the bank and the office building. We get in, make some noise, scare them shitless, get the money, and go.” He parked up front of the white walls, you saw a mother walk through the glass doors with her toddler in a stroller. You immediately felt bad.

“You promise this is the last job, right?” You looked at him seriously. “At least the last of something this big, I don’t think I could handle with again.”

“Of course! This is just to get us enough money to get us all out. The economy is garbage, think of it as taking what should already be ours.” You heard the crackle of the walkie on Austin’s lap. He threw it into his bag. “That’s the signal, masks on everyone.” Austin’s was a fox, long, fake salt and pepper hair rolled form under his hood. Eli’s was a raccoon, convincing copper bangs swooped between the ears. Miguel had an owl; disturbing blue eyes pierced your being. You strapped on your black dove and joined with group as they exited the stolen vehicle. You kept both your hands in the front pocket of your hoodie, trying to be discrete about the two handguns inside. Only one was loaded with real bullets, that was the backup, You preferred to use the blanks. Unable to trace, and when used properly, won’t hurt anyone. Austin and Eli took the leads.

The doors were kicked in.

“EVERYONE GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND RIGHT NOW! HANDS UP, ALL YOU! THIS IS A ROBBERY!” He screamed, pointing his gun at a man behind the counter about 3 yards away. Miguel was quick to shout at the people in line to get into the corner of the room. Gina pretended to try and defy, he slaps her, needless to say it’s convincing.

“Dove, handle the worms.” You traded spots as Austin grabbed one of the men behind the counter. Your eyes locked with the poor woman, she was covering the stroller with her torso. You pointed your blank gun at some random person.

“Stay on the ground or I’ll fucking shoot, ya hear me?” You lowered your voice, made it coarser, time to be a ‘man’. They nodded hysterically. The woman was crying. You could hear Eli screaming his demands in a fake accent. “Everyone hand over your phones. If any of you give me a reason to even SUSPECT you’re up to anything, I will shoot.” Everyone put their phones on the ground and slid them over toward you. You turned your attention to the back. “What’s the hold up, owl?”

“I’m handling it.” He strapped the fake bomb to the teller’s chest, making him kneel down in the middle of the bank. “Listen up, everyone! This man has a bomb attached to his body. We have someone hacked into the security cameras. If you don’t follow our instructions to the T, they will blow a hole in this lot.” He paused to let the cries and gasps die out. “Now, for those said instructions, listen close. We will exit the building soon, you will stay down for 5 minutes.” He pointed at a clock on the wall. “Do not touch anything or move a muscle. When 5 minutes have passed, the big guy here-“ He patted the man’s shoulders and dropped a key wrapped in tissue in his lap. “will take a little drive off the premises. He will keep going until he reaches the designated location written on that tissue. If any of you contact the police before the end of the day, he will die, along with any other drivers in his vicinity. So, unless you want a substantial amount of blood on your hands, I’d suggest you keep quiet until midnight. As for the rest of you, you have permission to leave the building once that 5 minutes are up. But I would suggest keeping a low profile, for your safety and others’.” There was a loud crack.

“I got it!” The phony Australian accent rang. Austin led the rest of the bank tellers to you, making them sit in the flood of civils.

“Staying alert, Dove?”

“Don’t patronize me, stupid Fox.” This whole situation pissed you off. The baby was crying, mom was too, trying to hush the whines.

“Fire a shot, Dove!” What? “Don’t let their insubordination stand.” He demanded. This was a fear tactic. He was trying to teach a lesson to the others.

“I’m not firing a warning shot over a fucking baby, you psycho!” Your blood was boiling, this was overkill, he was way out of line with this. Of course, he wasn’t telling you to shoot the baby or the mother, but you weren’t going to cause more grief where it didn’t need to be.

“Take the shot!”

“Fuck you!”

“Why are you going against me?” Was he seriously doing this now? You felt like your head was going to explode. She was the only person with a child present. You put both of your pieces back in your hoodie and knelt next to her. She flinched as you approached, but that was to be expected.

“Ma’am, I’m making an exception for you because you have a child with you, and that prick is really getting on my last nerve. You’re allowed to exit the building now, but the other rules still apply. People will die if you talk, maybe not you, but other people who have children like you do, most certainly. Take your kid and get out, don’t do anything out of the ordinary, and get out.” Her red eyes shook you to your core, familiarity. She nodded in both fear and appreciation.

“Than-than-thank y-“ She was choking on her own misfortune, you decided to spare her.

“Yeah, yeah, just get out.” She got up and collected herself, checking around the room as she walked out of the building. You could only see his eyes, but you could tell Austin was reaching his limit fast. An older gentleman stared at you.

“At least one of you has a heart.” You were glad Austin was too focused on being pissed to hear that. You got up, kicking the phones toward the door as you walked. Austin grabbed you arm.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill her for that.” By letting that woman go, you showed weakness. It was a hint at your identities, but you didn’t care.

“And you’re lucky I’m not shooting you for saying that. I’m not a killer like you, Fox.” Your voice was laced with venom. Eli had interrupted your dispute.

“Alright lovebirds, time to play nice, we’ve got precious cargo.” He gave both of you a duffle bag, they were pretty hefty. Austin took a deep breath, putting on his best showman voice.

“Alright folks! That right there is our cue to hit the road. Remember, 5 minutes on the clock. No one likes a-“ The doors were filled with red and blue, sirens. The police were here. “Shit!” Shit was right. “How the hell are they here?” Austin screamed. He gave you a shove. “It’s probably because of that god damn woman!”

“There’s no way she would’ve had enough time for that.”

“And no one had a phone out, I was watching the whole time.” Miguel chimed.

“We have bigger fish to fry right now! We gotta go.” You all dashed over to the back door, all you had to do was move towards the alley, if you could just get to the dump van, everything would be fine. Drive up to get the real car, leave that one with no prints or hair, and you’d be home free. The 4 of you booked it out the door. But the van was no where to be seen, instead, there were about 3 cops on either side which was 6 in total, trapping you in.

“They must’ve got Zoe!” Yeah, no shit.

“Put your hands up!” You all raised your arms, except of course for Austin. You kicked his calf. He didn’t budge. “I said put your god damn hands up!”

“In case you didn’t notice, pal, there’s a bomb in that building. If you don’t let us pass, I’ll blow that building out of existence, along with the man attached to it.” He pointed his gun to one of the cops to your left. “So, I suggest you let us through, or else you’re gonna piss me off more than I already am.”

“We know the bomb is fake, drop to your knees or we will shoot!” Another one barked. Someone had ratted you out. You looked at Miguel and Eli, you weren’t letting this go down, not by a long shot. You tuned out Austin’s ramblings and whispered to the other two.

“Be ready to run. I’m gonna buy you guys some time. Don’t kill any of them, disarm them.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?” Miguel questioned with panic. You took a deep breath.

“Thank you for being my family.” You swept your leg behind Austin’s knees, and he collapsed to the ground as you stood.

The world slowed to a crawl, pulling a gun out of your pocket, these were real bullets. You’ve never missed a target. You drew the attention of all 6 police officers, but no amount of training could prepare them. You fired 3 shots, each one hitting the hands of the officers Austin had been talking to. Their weapons fell from their hands. You felt bodies push past your legs, down the alley way away from the bank. You were glad the streets of LA were confusing. Now was the time. You whipped your body around to face the rest of the officers, firing rapidly at their shins. You weren’t gonna put blood on your hands.

But deep down you knew, there was no making out of this one. You would buy them a few minutes while trying to subdue you. Just as your haphazard shots began, they fired precise ones of their own. Two passed through your skull, three in your chest, and one got a through almost half of your jugular. Both pieces fell away from you as gravity swaddled you. Bits of your wooden mask, blood, head pushing back unnaturally, seeing the backs of your made family run, they were almost home free. There was no pain after that point, you waited patiently for your back to hit the ground beneath you, but it never did. You kept falling.

And falling.

The midday light felt like it was slipping away, there were leather walls encompassing your lifeless form. No sound, no sense of texture, just the smell of dirt and decay. Then there was nothing but darkness, but that void that beckoned you, that pulled at your very being, was gone just as quick as it appeared.

Your body shot forward with a violent intake for air. The gasps filled your lungs to the brim, your chest and head ached, throat tight. The coughing erupted from deep in your chest, which also held a different pain from the ever-tightening band around it. You threw you hoodie away and made quick work of loosening it just a bit, and in doing so noticed that your body was free of any physical wounds. There was still a soreness, and blood wiped off your skin, but there were no open wounds. You were incredibly cold, and at first you assumed that to be attributed to your near-death experience, until you looked up high to see to see an open window with snow falling outside.

“I don’t think we’re in California anymore.” You muttered to yourself. You shivered, the place was covered in hay and in low light, that’s when the smell hit you. It reeked of animals, that would probably have something to do with the fact that you’re in a barn. Shakily, you got to your feet. Knees wobbling, your eyes adjusted, there were horses. That certainly explained the stench. A chill ran up your spine, the cold tickling at your vertebrae. You scanned the room for where you had tossed your hoodie, only to find it in a horse’s mouth. Your eyes widened in fear. “No, no, no, no, no, no!” You exclaimed. You rushed forward and grasped at the hanging sleeve, tugging on it with all your strength. “Drop it! Drop it right now!”

The horse did not listen, in fact, now it seemed more hellbent on consuming the thick material. After hurtling a few curses at the horse, you heard a distinct rip. You fell back, the remnants of black cloth now in tatters. You let out a muffled scream of frustration. Even with the long sleeves of your cotton shirt, you were still freezing. It suddenly struck you how odd it is for it to be snowing at all. You figured you weren’t in California anymore, but you were somewhere that snows in the middle of May? How far were you? You couldn’t think of any states that snowed this late in the year. Were you in Maine? Up north, Canada? How did you even get here?

“Did those idiots come back to get me? I could’ve sworn…” You could’ve sworn they ran like you told them to, and that you had experienced several fatal injuries. Is this hell? Purgatory? The other side? It was cold enough to be Hell that’s for sure. Nothing made sense. You found your mask on the ground, chunks of the painted wood were replaced with vacant space, splintered bullet holes. You fastened it to the first belt loop, it rested against your left pant leg. Pins dug into your scalp, wigs still surprisingly attached to your head. Your eyes watered, your contacts were drying out. You opted take them out now rather than waste your time trying to find drops in a barn. You flicked them away once they were out. “Now, if there’s a barn with animals, there’s gotta be a house with people.” You walked over to the large wooden doors as your talked to yourself, but today just had to be the worst day of your life. Something landed on top of you, or more accurately someone.

You were surprised you didn’t feel any cracks as the weight crashed on you. Shifting your weight over, you elbowed the man in the jaw. He rolled off of you with a grunt of pain. You were quick to jab him in the stomach with the toe of your boot. Sputtering a cough with saliva dripping out the mouth, the man rushed to stand. He was trying to fight.

“You’re on the wrong side of the mountains, partn’r.” He slurred. “This here is O’Driscoll territory, Which you don’t got no business bein’ in.” I’m in the mountains? Where the hell- He didn’t give you enough time to finish that thought before he was throwing a punch at you. If this basic boy thinks he can step in my personal space, he’s got another thing coming. You blocked the fist with your forearm and redirected the force toward the ground. With the base of your wrist, you hit his throat. The force of your own strength and the ever so impeccable sense of gravity caused him to wheeze, choke, and writhe on the ground.

“Listen here, buddy,” you pressed your boot down on his chest “I have no idea where the hell I am right now. I don’t give a single shit about territory or whatever the fuck you’re going on about, but if you put your hands on me again, I’m gonna mangle your entire lower half with a rake.” You applied more weight. “I didn’t come here of my own volition, someone put me here. Which means, you’re little punk ass better tell me what’s going on or get out of my way so I can-“ Gunshots. Mystery man took your distraction as an opportunity to wriggle out form under you. They were ceaseless, did someone drop you off in the middle of a gang war, what the hell is going on? You were about to duck behind whatever cover was around you if the idiot of the room had decided he didn’t learn his lesson.

“Are you with those crazies?” He yelled, peeking out the barn doors for only a second. “I should’ve known.” His voice was cold and malicious. “You’re with that son of a bitch, Dutch!”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, pretty boy, they must’ve sent you up to spy on us! I’m gonna kill you for-“

“I literally have no idea what’s going on!” But he wasn’t listening to reason, clocked you in the ribs before you got the chance to block, then using your surprise to his advantage, hit you on the nose. There was a familiar crack and blood rush. “Did you just fucking break my nose, you ass?” You screeched toward the ground, wiping away the blood.

You took him off guard by doing that, so you were quick to knock him in the jaw. The shooting stopped but you were a little preoccupied and decided not to waste anymore time. His arm bent to caress the side of his face. You rushed forward, lacing your arm between the gap his made. Using all your weight, you swung your legs out and forced him to drop to the ground. His back slammed forcefully and with a swift adjustment, your shins trapped his neck, locking him in place. You squeezed his neck enough to make him gasp. He tried to push away from you, but with the position you left him in, there’s no way he’d be able to without some sort of outside assistance.

“Who are you calling pretty boy now? Huh? Who, bitch boy?” You heard the door start to open, you let lose and pulled the man up to shield you, locking his head so that you peek between a gap in your arm and his head. A man wearing a blue coat and hat walked in, his hands resting on his belt.

“Well, well, what have we got ourselves here?” You couldn’t quite place his accent. You noticed he had a holster.

“Don’t fuck with me, dude. I’ve got your friend trapped between me and you. No need to make this get crazy.” You warned, tightening your grip to enunciate your point. What sounded almost like a chuckle escaped his throat.

“You must not be an O’Driscoll if you think he’s my friend.” You panicked, you tried to think of your next move, but he had plans of his own. “What’s your name, son?” Your suspicions were correct, it seems. This isn’t the first time someone’s confused you for a man, especially when you were trying so hard to not look like yourself. But maybe, you could use this to your advantage.

“James West.” That was Austin’s code name for danger. If someone introduced you or called any of you James, it meant they weren’t trust worthy. You and Gina would usually use Jamie, but now James felt like the safer option.

“Now how in the hell did you get involved in this, West?” He rested his hip against one of the stable posts.

“I have no idea.” You threw the man away from you, there was no point holding him anymore. “I woke up here, and this guy just started attacking me.” You thought for a moment. “Are you Dutch?” You asked. This time, it was a single, hearty-

“HA!” He had a spark in his eye. “Me? Dutch? I ain’t that old yet, kid.” You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up.

“Well, my nose is broken because this little shit thought I was with you, so I have some choice words for this ‘Dutch’.” You huffed. “And don’t call me ‘kid’.” You brushed your fingers across the bridge of your nose, preparing yourself for what you were about to do. One deep breath in, out, pop. You pushed your nose back into place and winced. A wad of blood shot out. “Jesus shit!” You coughed, you never get used to having to do that. The blue coat cowboy looking mother-fucker looked semi-impressed.

“Well, I’m not Dutch, but you could sure meet him if it pleases.” Something caught his attention. “Speak of the devil…” The door opened again. A man walked in with very distinct black hair. He was also a cowboy looking mother-fucker. Oh god, am I in yeeyee country? His eyes immediately locked on you.

“Did you cause this mess, Arthur? Or have we just met a new friend?” The man who you presumed to be Dutch, had a deeper voice than the man apparently called Arthur, but their accents were similar. That was not promising for you.

“That depends, his name is West, James West. I walked in a right fine mess between him and that there O’Driscoll.” Arthur pointed to the man still struggling to steady himself. Dutch choked a deep laugh, he seemed more amused than Arthur was.

“Right fine is right, Arthur. You did this?” He asked. You nodded reluctantly. “You’re a good fighter, boy. Real good, it seems.” He strode over to the guy on the floor and picked him up by the collar, tossing him over to Arthur. “Morgan, you deal with this trash while I talk to our new pal.” Dutch walked over to you, confidence in his step, while Arthur threw the man back on the ground. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and shook you around a bit. “James West, huh?”

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?”

“Oh, this boy’s got spunk, Morgan!” You looked over and saw Arthur yanking the man around by the shirt. Dutch forced your attention back to him. “Now West, you’ve gotta understand our position here. We can tell clear as day you ain’t involved in a lick of this mess. But we don’t have a single clue as to what your business is up here. Now, you seem like a considerate young man, but I got worried folks on this mountain, and I can’t have no scamps running around and hellraising” He squeezed your shoulder. “So, don’t take any offense to what I’m about to ask, but what are you doing up here?” He looked you dead in the eyes. In your opinion, the question was fair. You couldn’t fully let your guard down, but they appeared to not be whoever put you here. Then again, these O’Driscoll’s didn’t seem to be either.

“I can’t give you an answer to that one, Mr. …?”

“Van Der Linde.” That’s one hell of a name.

“Mr. Van Der Linde. Frankly, I have no damn clue why I’m here. One minute, I’m getting shot down in the middle of the day, and then I wake up trapped in some barn in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, in what looks like the ass end of winter. So, I’m a little confused right now to say the least.” You were clearly frustrated with your situation, he wasn’t oblivious to it.

“Where are you from, son?”

“California.” That was a safe enough answer.

“James West from out West. That’s certainly an opener.” He scratched his chin. “I’m gonna put you to a test young man.” He turned you around and lead you over to where Arthur had just gotten off the now bloody man. He was whimpering, begging under his breath for mercy.

“I don’t think he’s got much to say, Dutch. They apparently happened upon this place and took it over. That’s all I’m getting’”

“I’m going to give our new young friend a choice.” He pulled a revolver out of his holster and held the handle out to you. “In normal circumstances, I’d let Arthur handle this situation himself. But I’ve got an itching curiosity with you, kid.” You felt obligated to hold it in your hand. Looking down at the man, pity flared in your chest. “Should we kill him, or let him go? I’m letting you make the call.” What kind of question was this? Who were these guys? The choice wasn’t very difficult, you’d be a hypocrite if you did otherwise, and you weren’t compromising your promise on the off chance these guys might not like your opinion.

You handed the gun back to Dutch.

“Just because he’s an asshole, doesn’t mean he deserves to die. Let him go.” Dutch was intrigued by your answer. He looked over to Arthur with a smirk.

“I think I like kid!”

“Please don’t call me ‘kid.” You requested. Arthur pulled the man to his feet and threw him outside.

“Get outta here before he regrets it.” The man darted into the snow, leaving a trail behind him.

“Grab the horse, Arthur. We gotta get something out of this.” You were lead outside to find a horrific scene, bodies were strewn about the snowy landscape. Whoever these guys were, they were not to be trifled with. You should play this safe.

There was a house not too far away, the snow was dense. It was more than freezing. You sent a glare to the horse Arthur led past you. You’ll pay for this, you dumb fucking horse. With your adrenaline dying down, your whole being felt frozen.

“Normally, I wouldn’t be one for disrupting dead for anything other than money, but you’ll die out here without something warm, Mr. West.” Dutch gestured to one of the several bodies riddled through the snow. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying your best not to think about how you were robbing from dead people. It wouldn’t be the first time, but you still didn’t feel good about it. You separated from him and carefully stepped around the bodies littered in the snow. You found a man with his face in the snow, you pretty much picked him so you wouldn’t have to see his face as you stripped him of his coat. It didn’t look particularly warm initially, but anything would be better than this. The arms bent limply back as you peeled the sleeves away. Luckily upon further inspection, you were happy to learn there was a sort of wool lining inside, that would at least help insulate your own body heat. A sudden commotion broke out from inside the rustic home. A man yelling for Dutch and a woman screaming. Your instincts made you spring into action, you lept through large portions of the snow to make it to the steps faster and before you knew it you were bursting through the door. A blonde man wearing another cowboy-looking hat was chasing a woman around a table.

“What the hell are you doing, Micah?” Arthur questioned as him and Dutch followed you in.

“We got a feisty one over here, boys!” He hollered. Oh, you were not comfortable with this type of language.

“Stop chasing the poor woman, ya moron!” He warned with more intensity. You weren’t gonna see this go down, that’s for sure. You ran up behind the man called Micah, grabbed his collar, and used his weight to pull his back towards you, and then to the ground. His body slammed, he let out a surprised yelp, followed by a pained groan.

“Fucking sicko! Stop chasing her around, she’s scared!”

“Get out of my house!” The woman bellowed. Admittedly, you had no idea what was going on, but you knew you could at least try and defuse the situation. You put your hands up to appear less threatening.

“Miss, I don’t know who you are or what in God’s name is going on, but I promise I am not here to hurt you.” You spoke to her in a calm voice. Whatever was going on, it clearly had her frazzled. “I don’t have any weapons, and I don’t make it habit of hurting people who don’t need hurting. You clearly have been hurting for no reason. Can you explain to me what’s happened so that I can help you with this situation?” You took a cautious step around the table to make sure she wouldn’t dart away from you, you kept steady eye contact.

“They…they killed my husband a few days ago! They took over my home and locked me in the basement!” She wept. Maybe these O’Driscolls were the ones to stow you in the barn, they sure seemed like the type with this new information.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am. I can assure you that those men won’t be bothering you anytime soon. Can you-“ You heard glass shatter, looking over, you found Micah scattering to his feet, fire was spreading from the floor to the wall at an incredible rate. It was already crawling up the right-side wall before you had a chance to react. There was no way you could put that out by yourself, and the others weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to help you. You settled on running to grab some blankets from the bed across the room. The boys were leading the woman out of the house and she reluctantly followed. Micah sent you a glare as you passed him out of the house. “Oh, don’t you look at me like that, you weren’t any help!” You knew you should keep your mouth shut, but you knew you were right on this one. The group was walking toward some horses, you followed behind.

“Micah, lead the horse back to camp.” You handed the blankets to the woman.

“Thank you.” She seemed genuine but was also hurt by your sentiments.

“It’s no problem, ma’am.”

“Adler, Sadie Adler is my name.” She wrapped herself in the blankets.

“Well, it’s no problem, Mrs. Adler. It’s the bare minimum to what I could’ve done.” You hoped whatever camp Dutch mentioned was close by. This cold was blistering.

“Mrs. Adler, you may ride with me, we’ll get you back to people who can help.” Dutch hopped up onto a white horse, lending a hand for Sadie to pull herself up. “Arthur, please take our new friend with you. I don’t think he’s in any shape to be riding.” Arthur nodded, heaving himself with ease onto a spotted mare? You couldn’t tell if it was a girl, but you just got that vibe. He did not give you a hand. Oh yeah, I’m a dude. A manly man. You gripped the back of the saddle and used all the arm strength you had to get onto the bare back on the horse. You hoped this ride wasn’t going to be too bumpy because you were not about to get punched because you had to grab onto this man and couldn’t tell if someone was a homophobe or not. You sure hoped these people weren’t, but you weren’t exactly in the position to be picky.

“Pearson’s not gonna happy about this.” Arthur mentioned as the horses pushed forward.

“Mr. Pearson isn’t happy about anything except his drink. He’ll be alright.” Now seemed like a good a time as any to start asking questions. They couldn’t go anywhere away from you at the moment.

“Not to interrupt or anything, but could someone tell me where I am, or what day it is. Could someone please tell me what the deal is?”

“We’re north of New Hanover if the maps are correct. We’re planning to head down there as soon as this winter passes. God knows how long that’s gonna take.” Dutch complained. You had never heard of New Hanover, but apparently it was winter. Maybe you really did get shot, put into a hospital maybe? Then these guys… You panicked for a second. O’Driscoll wasn’t another name for them was it? It didn’t make much sense but no one else would put this much effort into stealing you away. “As for the day, I couldn’t tell ya exactly. It’s winter in the year of our Lord 1899.” He laughed. What?

“What?”

“Ah, just bit of a joke, son. We live in dark times. We’re hurtling straight into a new century.” Wait was he joking or not joking?

“It’s 1899?” You tried to keep your voice neutral, but he seemed to pick up on your worry.

“Yes, it is, son.” He paused. “Are you alright?” You were anything but alright. These people are crazy, I’m trapped on a mountain with some insane cultists who think they’re in the 19th century, I’m fucked. “Arthur, we need to hurry, the boy’s looking pale.”

Your head felt fuzzy, colors were blurring together. I am not stuck on a god damn mountain in 1899, I’m not, that’s physically impossible. This is all a dream, or some weird set up. You felt like you were 19 again, disconnected, afraid, losing it. You weren’t gonna go back there again, you wouldn’t! You didn’t know you had stopped breathing. You didn’t feel Arthur’s arm catching you so you wouldn’t get trampled. Everything was black.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #Dutch Van Der Linde #time travel au #red dead redemption 2 #Javier Escuella #Charles Smith #John Marston #sadie adler #mary-beth gaskill #hosea matthews #abigail marston #lenny summers #too many tags

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figonas · 3 years ago

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Twilight Re-watch Notes Pt. 1 - A Contest for the Worst Movie Quote in History

I'd like to think I'm funny so please enjoy my scene-by-scene notes from a recent Twilight Saga re-watch.

Hey Catherine Hardwicke, opening with the death of an animal was probably not the best choice but go off I guess??

There is a lot of general Bella awkwardness that I'm skipping over here but the scene in gym class is so horrifically, painfully uncomfortable that I almost passed out from the second-hand embarrassment.

Jessica trying her best to be fake nice to the human embodiment of a crumpled soda can: "Aren't people from Arizona like....really tan"

Bella with all the cadence of a child who just found out Santa isn't real: "yeah..I guess that's why they kicked me out"

Mike clearly just trying to get his dick wet: "HAHAH you are funny"

no mike she is not.

I'm not gonna go into the biology class scene because god knows tumblr has beaten that particular horse to death. BUT the scene in the administration office immediately after that is a TRIP. Edward has one of his most dramatic lines here when they won't let him switch classes: “I’ll just have to endure it” ?!?!?!?!?!?! This is INSANITY, he sounds like he's going to burst into tears like Edward please chill you aren't even being a little subtle.

I will never get over Bella trying to put Ketchup on her burger and then just???? giving up???? when it doesn't come out after she limply shakes it approximately once.

“HOW YOU LIKIN DA RAIN GIRL” Is our first contender for the worst and most unnatural line in movie history, and trust me there are plenty more.

Bella accusatorily saying “you were gone” to Edward as if this dude who she met for approximately 30 minutes 2 weeks ago owes her even a PALTRTY SCRAP of an explanation about anything???????

Actually, this whole scene is a horrific nightmare of awkward intrusive conversation:

“You’re asking me about the weather” HOE WHAT ELSE ARE YOU GONNA TALK ABOUT YOU DON’T KNOW EACH OTHER

“hey did you get contacts” WHO JUST ASKS THAT?!?

and of course; “it’s the fluorescents” [RUNS AWAY]

Charlie and Bella have the only organic-sounding dialogue in the entire movie. Any awkwardness they have is BELIEVABLE father-daughter awkwardness and not like "I'm being forced to film this against my will" awkwardness like every other exchange in this film series.

Bella asks Edward ALL OF ONCE about him saving her from the truck and Edward gets so haughty and smug thinking that Bella won't figure it out

“you’re not gonna let this go are you?” “no” “then I hope you enjoy disappointment” [storms off] MY DUDE LITERALLY 2 SCENES LATER SHE FIGURES IT OUT IN 3 GOOGLE CLICKS

“I had an adrenaline rush, it’s very common you can google it” contender number two for the terrible dialogue award.

Edward saying “if you were smart you would stay away from me” AFTER HE APPROACHED HER LIKE FUCK OFF [skeleton throwing its own skull gif]

Kstew got a lot of flack for her performance in this movie but when she has a good partner to exchange lines with she SHINES. The scene with Angela and her at the beach where she tells her to ask Eric to prom is GOOD. EVERY scene with Charlie in THIS ENTIRE FRANCHISE is GOOD. It is nothing but pure misogyny that Rpatz didn’t catch any flack for his truly, horrifically awkward performance

I cannot believe Stephanie thought it would be a good idea to have Edward save Bella from potentially getting gang r*ped like I get it girl is about the drama but still this is just a TOOOUCH too far

“your hand is so cold,” WHO SAYS THIS TO SOMEONE THEY BARELY KNOW COMPLETELY UNPROMPTED???

SHE TRIES TO REFUSE CARRYING BEAR MACE WHEN SHE WAS ALMOST R*PED NOT 4 HOURS PREVIOUSLY LIKE SIS CARRY A KNIFE?!?!?!?!?

The “you’re impossibly fast & strong” monologue is so bad I want to barf

“I’ve killed people before” “doesn’t matter” BITCH YES IT DOES WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

“MY OWN PERSONAL BRAND OF HEROIN” IS SO BAD. Like we all recognize how bad this is right? Especially when one considered the target demographic for these films, i.e. teenage girls, have NO FUCKING FRAME OF REFERENCE FOR THIS WHAT.SO.EVER.

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb” YOU’VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR ALL OF 3 SECONDS I CAN’T WITH Y'ALL. AT LEAST THE BOOK HAD SOME BUILD-UP JESUS GEEZUS

Who thought this meadow scene was a good idea, they need to be sent straight to hell. WHY ARE THEY LAYING DOWN LIKE, SIT MAYBE?????? IT’S SO WEIRD AND UNNATURAL THEY LOOK LIKE DOLLS I HATE IT

The scene where they get out of the car and Edward puts his arm around Bella while Spotlight by Mutemath plays in the background is TOP TIER teen drama bs and I love it. Far and away the best shot in the movie apart from The Baseball Scene(TM).

I will never get over the fact that Edward's bitch ass rats Bella out for already eating when she comes over to meet his family. BE FUCKING COOL EDWARD FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, GOD!!!

Esme is too pure for this world I can’t deal with her, & Emmet waving the knife is my favorite thing in all 5 of these movies

Why tf are Alice and Jasper fucking off doing god knows what in a tree and not helping with dinner like everyone else? Y'all ain't special even Rosalie is helping

Esme talking to Rosalie “Clean this up..now” I LOVE YOU BE MY MOM

Earlier they talk about the fact that vampires don’t sleep BUT the first thing Bella says when she walks into Edward's room is “no bed” girl we know what you after you ain't slick.....

WHAT IS THIS DANCING SCENE IN HIS BEDROOM IT’S HORRIBLE TO WATCH and I want to find whoever thought “well I could always make you” was a good line for Edward to say and slap them directly in the mouth.

“hold on tight spider monkey” excuse me while I VOMIT

Mike offering his opinion on Bella dating Edward HOWEVER justified is automatically invalidated by A. his own romantic interest in Bella and B. the fact that he has also know Bella for all of 10 minutes & has no bearing on her personal life whatsoever

THE PAST COUPLE OF MONTHS THIS MAN HAS BEEN COMING INTO HER ROOM AND WATCHING HER SLEEP THIS IS RED FLAG CITY LIKE BELLA WATCH A TRUE CRIME DOCUMENTARY OR READ THE NEWS FOR FUCKS SAKE

THIS FRANCHISE HAS THE MOST HORRIBLE KISSING SCENES IN MOVIE HISTORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU CAN HEAR LITERALLY EVERY BREATH, EVERY AWKWARD PRESS OF LIPS. You're telling me THIS was the best take of this???? CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW AWKWARD THIS WAS TO FILM

The whole scene when Bella is telling her dad about her date with Edward is absolutely god tier. Charlie snapping the barrel of the shotgun closed, him motioning that he has a halo on, asking her if she still has her pepper spray. BILLY BURKE LIFTED THIS MOVIE UP AND TRIED SO HARD TO CARRY IT ON HIS BROAD, MUSTACHIOED DAD SHOULDERS, WE STAN

WHERE TO START WITH THE BASEBALL SCENE:

Supermassive Black Hole in the background, Alice going AWF with her pitching, Rosalie getting all pissed when Bella says she's out and Emmett yells "c'mon babe it's just a game" like the puppy dog of a person (vampire?) he is, CARLISLE WEARING A SCARF WHILE PLAYING BASEBALL, I WILL NEVER EMOTIONALLY RECOVER FROM JASPERS BAT TRICKS, EMMET AND EDWARDS LAUGH AFTER CRASHING INTO ONE ANOTHER.

A TRULY IMMACULATE MOVIE SCENE. This scene isn’t long enough

“My monkey man” might be the worst line in this movie, I’m so torn between which one is the worst. Also, I'm just now realizing that this is the second time someone has compared a loved one to some type of monkey and I really don't like it.

Bella's defeated “I can’t hurt him” breaks my heart every time. AND FUCKING BILLY BURKE pulling out his acting chops with Charlie’s poor little broken sounding “I know I’m not that much fun to be around we can do more stuff together” & “I just gotcha back” LIKE LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SCENE HURTS ME ON A PHYSICAL LEVEL AND I AM ENTITLED TO FINANCIAL COMPENSATION

I know I've skipped over a lot but it's just a lot of like star wipe level montage of nonsense, so we are mOVING ON to what is possibly the biggest plot hole I've never recognized before now: How in the hell was James planning on luring Bella out if he didn’t find that videotape of Bella's mom looking for her????? Or was he just going to bust up in the holiday inn, metaphorical guns blazing & toss Bella out a window???

This fight scene between James & Edward is VERY poorly choreographed and you can practically see the stunt wires pulling on their clothes but no one is surprised..this is Twilight after all.

Who the fuck starts the fire in the ballet studio if Carlisle & Edward are with Bella, Jasper and Emmet are holding James's arms and Alice is ripping his head off???? Esme and Rosalie aren't there so the only explanation is that Emmett's power Stephanie never told us about is his ability to start small, controlled, indoor bonfires with his mind.

If Bella was losing blood from her femoral artery it is HIGHLY UNLIKELY that she would have been cognizant enough to tell them her hand was burning + THERE’S A BIG ASS BITE HOW DID THEY MISS IT???

Let Me Sign is such a good fucking song. Actually, while we're on music every song on every Twilight Saga soundtrack SLAPS. At least 1 department at Summit Entertainment was staffed with competent people. (side note, why the fuck do I know the studio by name that made this movie. I need to go lie down)

Bella acting a damn fool in the hospital bed like clingy much

CHARLIE IS SUCH A GOOD DAD FUCK!

The Edward/Jacob beef is so dramatic at prom can you both chill for 5 minutes we haven't even gotten to y'alls bullshit yet that's not until New Moon.

Bella really thought this mfer was gonna turn her at prom in the middle of the dancefloor??????????

Flightless Bird American Mouth. That's it, that's the bullet point

Victoria coming to prom, like we stan a dramatic bitch.

I will almost CERTAINLY post my New Moon (Extended Edition) notes in a few days. & yes I do have notes on the entire franchise.

#I had a lot more but I cut it down #a lot of my extra stuff was just talking about RPatz slipping inexplicably into a Spanish accent from time to time #no one seems to notice #but I fucking do #I hear the way he says 'so you're worried' and want to caCKLE OUT LOUD #I'm not nearly as funny as I think I am but ask me if I give a fuck #baby I will subject you to my poor humor #Twilight #Twilight Saga

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years ago

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 78: The Great Provider

Chapters: 78/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg 13

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),Thor(Marvel) Wanda Maximoff, vision, Bruce Banner

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time, Alarr Is A Little Bitch Now And Forever, Seriously Bull Cults Are Super Old, And Super Important

Summary: You face the bull.

“There's a lot of people looking at me.” Your father whispered to you, fiddling nervously with a crumbling slice of dark buttered bread. “Your asshole beau got me good this time.”

Seated on the other side of you, Loki sighed. Of course he could hear, even with the din of the First Feast all around. You shook pepper onto a peeled, boiled egg.

“It wasn't planned like that.” You whispered back. “All of the humans are seated on this side, me included. The planners just thought you should be next to me.”

On the one hand, you were glad your father was acknowledging your relationship without major pushback. On the other hand, insulting a prince within earshot of that prince, and many of his vassals, was probably not such a good idea.

“I mean, I can ask them to change the seating order. Put you down at the farthest table, with a bunch of Asgardians you've never met.”

He shuddered. “You wouldn't. My own daughter wouldn't do that to me, her poor old father, who has so few years left to him. You wouldn't show such cruelty to a vulnerable old man.”

“Yeah, yeah, you've got one foot in the grave already. You could fall over dead any minute now. You're practically dust.”

“Well, that might be going a little far.” he huffed. “I've still got some vinegar in me.”

“You even talk like an old man.” you teased. “Besides, you don't get to pull the Old Man Card, and then complain because I play along. Make up your mind.”

You passed him a serving bowl full of bilberry porridge, and he dipped some out. One thing your father was always willing to do, was try new food.

“Speaking of, what counts as 'old' to these folks?” he asked. “You've been saying some stuff about that, but it seems unbelievable.”

“You gotta start believing this stuff, Dad.” you chided.” It's all real. I know it's hard. My head has been swimming for months. But it gets easier to accept the more you learn. Anyway, for an Asgardian, about five thousand puts someone firmly into the 'elderly' category, but for an Aesir, like the king, or Saga, or Loki, the sky is the limit. I can count the number of kings Asgard has had in it's whole history on one hand. They just live that long.”

“Five thousand? Damn. That's...That's like, pyramid building times, isn't it? Say...did they...?”

“No, they didn't build the pyramids. I already asked. And even if aliens did build them, it wouldn't have been Asgardians” you pointed out. “They would have been in the north, making, I dunno, runestones? Longships? Something like that. The people in the north never really did the large-scale monument building like they did in Egypt. But Asgardians sure did. You saw the paintings of the old palace?”

That thing that looked like a pipe organ? Yeah.”

“So, if they were building our monuments, they'd have looked like that, wouldn't they?”

“Okay, but what if it was different aliens? We know there's more than one kind of alien.” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but...I never found out if the other gods of the world were aliens or not. But even if they were, I'm pretty sure the pyramids were built by humans, even if they were built for their gods.”

“They were.” Loki interrupted. “But they also made for interesting sight-seeing expeditions for many peoples across Yggdrasil, so yes, aliens visited Earth quite often in your distant past.”

Your father clammed up and glared. After a few awkward moments, Loki turned back to his plate, passing along a crumbly cheese that turned out to be similar to feta. You added some to your grain salad.

Just get through dinner, you thought to yourself. Why did the men in your life always have to be so difficult?

Time was left between courses for the making of toasts, and there was a lot of back and forth-between the Icelandic dignitaries praising the Asgardians for being such gracious hosts, and the Asgardians praising them for hosting all of Asgard in the first place. There were toasts for the Avengers in attendance, though they were somewhat subdued; the Maximoff girl was still a fairly controversial figure, Dr. Banner continued to be visibly uncomfortable with the attention, and the Vision was simply not as well known. But they were dutifully honored nonetheless, and then the humans of Trolerkaerhalla turned their adoration on you.

'The People's Seidkona', they called you. 'The bridge', and 'the Huldra shield'. Even 'the Sapphire Brand', a kenning Loki had invented for you, which made you wonder what he had been discussing with his worshipers when he was out working on the longhouses.

The dessert course was mixed dried fruit, cooked down into a compote and served over bread.

It was also the last course before the slaughter of the bull, for tomorrow's Second Feast.

You'd told Tara and your father about it, to mixed reactions. Tara was repulsed, but your father, who presumably saw more dead animals along the side of the road than you would be comfortable with, seemed to take it in stride.

“Someone has to do it.” he'd said, “They gotta get to the plate somehow. Sucks, I know. There's no way out of it?”

“It's tradition.” you'd sullenly explained. “And it's really old. Like, Proto-Indo-European old. Back when kings used to be worshiped and held responsible for everything. If the crops failed, they sacrificed him. So it was in a ruler's best interests to make sure his people were provided for. I think, eventually, the bull became a stand-in for the king. I don't know if the Asgardians influenced us in this case, or if it was the other way around, but there's a whole deep layer cake of symbolism involved, and I really do have to participate.”

The bull and the ruler. Symbols of power, fertility, plenty, and prosperity. It was poetic, in an ancient, rustic kind of way.

You had thought that you had it all together, but when you heard the bellowing sound of the bull somewhere close, and your heart clenched in your chest.

Suddenly dessert didn't taste so good.

******

There had been an arena built between tables for the bull to be driven into, with a raised platform that you were currently perched on, holding a goad with a trail of ribbons at the end. You would be enticing the bull towards you with the movement of the ribbons, and once it was within range, Loki would strike.

Then the beast would be butchered on the spot, to prepare for the next nights festivities. It would be very educational.

The human guests had been informed of what was about to happen, and of course, the Asgardians already knew, but they still cheered you on anyway. Skaldic students picked up a slow drum beat, that pulsed like a heart.

How many thousands of years worth of rulers and seidkonas doing this? Odin and Frigga had done it. Bor and Bestla had done it. Buri and Audhumla had not-the holiday hadn't been declared until after Buri's passing. But one had to assume that they all gazed out from Valhalla, within it's great black hole, and saw what their descendants were doing. Presumably, Buri could now see that two people who had no true relation to him, were now the ones honoring him. How would he feel about that?

The bull bellowed behind the gates, the sound echoing and distorting strangely. Loki lurked next to the platform, waiting. This wasn't going to be like a matador facing down an angry beast. This was going to be an ambush.

The gates slowly begin to open, and your adrenaline spiked into the sky.

Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes

The bull entered the arena and you froze in shock, almost completely forgetting what you were supposed to be doing.

The bull was...wrong. It was completely still, standing on a board on wheels. It did not walk into the area, but was pushed. It's head was oddly textured, almost shiny, and strangely shaped. It bellowed again, weird and distorted, but did not open it's mouth.

Its strangeness blended into your anxiety, becoming a potent cocktail of revulsion and dread. Loki patted the platform next to you, and you started, jerking your ribbons to and fro. The bull bellowed one more time before Loki strode up to it, and, with one smooth and elegant swing, beheaded it.

There was no blood. The wound was hollow, and the head sprouted the legs of a child as soon as it hit the ground, running around and mooing irreverently to the amusement and obvious confusion of the audience.

It was fake. It was a fake bull. Loki had mentioned to you that you need not worry because he had taken care of her bull problem, but hadn't had time to elaborate before you'd had to scramble up the platform. You would have never guessed he meant this.

With a flourish, Loki whipped the tanned hide off the bull, revealing a hollow armature beneath, within which was an ice-covered table, piled up with cuts of meat, bowls of organs, piles of stew bones, and a bucket of blood. The bull reduced down to its edible parts, all ready for tomorrow's feast.

The drums stopped abruptly, the child who had been hiding in the paper-mache bulls head discarded it to the side and ran off into the cheering crowd, as people came forward to carry away the bits of bull.

Loki draped the bull's hide over his shoulders and helped you down from the platform.

“Did I not tell you?” he said smugly. “I took care of it for you. Truly, the symbolism is the most important part, and this speeds the process along so that we may get to the dancing all the sooner!”

“That was freaky as hell!” you scolded. “You shoulda told me it was gonna be a fake! I spent that whole time all bent out of shape because of it, ugh, what a lot of wasted sleep!”

“In my defense, I didn't find out that you were troubled about it until yesterday. I had only a limited time to come up with something.”

“And you decided to stuff a kid in a fake bull's head? That's what you came up with?”

“That's Beli's youngest great-great-great-grandson, and he volunteered! My dear, what's wrong? I thought you would prefer it this way?”

“I do!” you huffed, irritated. “But I need you to start telling me when you do things like this! How am I gonna do my job if you already make all the decisions by yourself? Stop trying to surprise me all the time. I froze out there because of it! What did that look like to everybody else, huh?”

“I think they were too captivated by the bull to take notice...” he didn't sound so sure. “But yes, you are right, of course. It is a bad habit. I will be better.”

Somewhat mollified, you took his arm and allowed him to lead you to the dances.

*******

“It's an insult!” Alarr raged. “He reduces our history to mere spectacle!”

“It may have been for convenience.” his wife pointed out. “Our Midgardian guests need more frequent rest. It wouldn't do for his Highness' little seidkona to collapse from exhaustion.”

“Do not call her that!” he snapped. “She doesn't deserve the title! What part of her is a seidkona? The part that graces Loki's bed? Or the part that gets into cat fights with her betters? This is exactly what I am talking about though! The Midgardians are weak, but we are the ones expected to lower ourselves to their level? If they cannot keep up, they shouldn't be here! The prince is a fool, and the Allfather merely enables him. Together, they will reduce us to infants.”

“Watch your tone with me, Alarr. I tire of your temper.”

“And I tire of watching our culture and people be diminished for easier consumption by outsiders. When does it end? If even our holy days aren't exempt from foreign influence, then what part of us can we really expect to keep? How much can we be diluted, and still remain Asgard?”

“Alarr, this obsession has already cost you dearly. And not just you, the whole family has been impacted by it. You are so preoccupied with everything you're afraid we're going to lose, that you don't see the harm that you are doing to us yourself! Now you may sit here and let your rage rob you of your Buridag, but I'm going back out there to enjoy myself! Stars know, I've had precious few chances to do so lately!”

She stormed out, leaving him behind to seethe.

******

“That was so weird.” Todd said. “I thought it was going to be a real cow.”

“I'm glad it wasn't!” another camper exclaimed.

“Yeah, me too, but why did they go through all that rigmarole about what was going to happen, explaining the whole thing, telling us not to fear, and then wheel out a meat-filled piñata instead? Did they think we were gonna think it was real? Like, are we toddlers to them?”

“Maybe? They're all hundreds of years old, aren't they? Even the kids.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I feel like that's a problem though. I mean, think of the advantages they have over all the rest of us! I can't help but feel like they will eventually have a disproportionate amount of global influence, just because of the monumental projects that they can put together with that longevity. And like, I know the longhouse squad might not mind having alien overlords, but I'm sure not excited about it.”

“Global superpowers rise and fall. That's just history.” another camper said. “Are you sure you aren't just worried that yours might be overshadowed?”

“No need to be rude.” Todd chided. “People were rightly worried about super powered individuals before these guys even showed up. I mean, look at what happened to Sokovia! When I was a kid, that kind of thing was unthinkable! Now we've gotta worry about nukes, and terrorists, and school shootings, and climate change, and now alien invaders and supermen on top of all that? It's no wonder people are so worried. Did you know these people haven't even signed the Accords? What do you think that says about them?”

“Hey, I'm not disagreeing, man. I'm skeptical too. But they're refugees all the same, and it's only been a couple years. I figure they're just trying to get adjusted before they go committing themselves to anything big, you know?”

“And that's fair for the average Asgardian. As far as we know, they didn't do anything wrong. But Thor...you know, as much as I like him, he's been involved in some pretty destructive events. And the least, I mean, the very least he could have done to show some kind of good faith with Earth, would be to turn his brother over to some kind of justice. But he hasn't; he's just let Loki flaunt every authority. The man committed a felony, he kidnapped my girlfriend, and...nothing! He's not allowed on United States soil, but he did it anyway, and nothing has been done. I can't help but be resentful, who wouldn't be?”

“I know what you mean, but then why did you come to this shindig, anyway?”

Todd shrugged. “I just wanted to see that she was okay, you know? We weren't perfect, but we really had something, and I just want to make sure she's okay. She didn't look okay, up there with that fake bull, and I don't like it. I know her; she's kinda delicate. All this is gonna be too much for her.”

“You have a lot to say.” interrupted an unfamiliar, accented voice. The little knot of campers jerked to attention. A young man stood nearby, arms crossed, glaring.

“Uh, yeah...” Todd said. “To my friends. Who are you?”

“Fritjof.” the stranger said shortly.

“That's the mutant.” one of the campers whispered urgently. “We saw him out in that fight, remember? He throws fire!”

“Oh.” Todd held his hands up in front of him. “Hey man, we don't have any beef with you. No need to lose our tempers or anything...”

Fritjof snorted. “Somehow, I doubt this.” he sneered.

“Frit!” A woman cried, then rattled off a quick sentence Todd could not understand. Fritjofs intimidating stance softened, and he answered back.

“I'm going to dance now.” He told Todd. “Be a more gracious guest.”

Several of the campers let out the breaths they'd been holding, as he left.

“What a freak.” One of them muttered.

“Don't know what his problem is, but I think he could use a class on minding his own business.” Todd said.

“So, you wanna go dance?”

“Not really, but I suppose it couldn't hurt to go see what it's like.”

******

The dancing was energized and frenetic; stomping, clapping, twirling, leaping. It was full of laughter and celebration, messy and unchecked. The commoner's dances were danced by all, and you had thrown yourself into them with relish. From arm to arm you passed, jumping and shouting in time with everyone else.

You danced, and spun, and bounced, finally ending up panting back in Loki's arms.

“Come, sit with me.” he said. “You need a breather.”

He sat you down in one of the covered seats, wrapped you in his cloak for extra warmth, and pressed a cup of hot cider into your hands. The community continued to dance, some breaking off to rest, some jumping back in. You simply watched, sipping your cider as Loki twirled Sjofn, Thor kicked with Wanda, and a very tall Asgardian lady tried to entice an increasingly uncomfortable looking Dr. Banner. Even Gloa seemed to be having a good time, though you noticed Alarr was nowhere to be seen. Andsvarr, however, was dancing for all he was worth, and rarely let Saldis out of his grasp. It was cute, but not as cute as Tara, slightly drunk off buttered rum, flirting openly with several very confused Asgardians, or your father, trying hard to avoid Dr. Banner's fate.

Loki whirled his way back to your side, and plopped down next to you, but must have noticed you were fading.

“It has certainly been a long day, hasn't it?” he asked. “Would you prefer to return to our rooms?”

“Yeah. As much as I'd like to stick around, I'd really need some sleep.” you admitted. “Gotta be up bright and early tomorrow too.”

“Then shall we?” He offered his arm, and somehow the two of you slipped away without much notice.

“Are you going back out?” you asked, as he tucked you comfortably into his bed.

“Yes, for a little while longer. It's best that my brother and I be seen out among the people for as long as possible. I'll be back later. Sleep soundly, my dear.”

The rigors of the day caught up to you quickly, and you had no inkling of how much time had passed when you finally felt him slip into bed next to you, smelling of sweet crystal mead.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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earliebirb · 4 years ago

Note

From the prompt list: 5) “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” For stevetony w/jealous steve, please, if you feel up for it? ☺️

Hi there, thank you for the prompt and sorry for the long wait!

This is 2k of no powers/bodyguard au that can be read as a standalone fic or a prequel to this fic of mine, as the two fics are set in the same universe. I feel obligated to warn you that although this one is fluffy, the linked fic contains angst with an unhappy ending (which I may or may not end up fixing with a happy ending eventually). I didn’t even plan to add another fic in the same universe, and yet here we are. I just love the concept of young heir!tony and bodyguard!steve too much, I guess.

Enjoy! :)

TL;DR: click here for part 2 of this no powers/bodyguard au (warning: linked fic contains unhappy ending.)

a fool for you

steve/tony, fluff, au: no powers, bodyguard!steve, young!tony, 2204 words

(5 from this list)

“It’s so hot out here,” Tony groans, using the collar of his shirt to fan himself.

“Well, would you rather be in there with them?” Pepper nods at the general direction of the mansion, where he knows his and Pepper’s parents are still sitting together in the dining room.

Tony makes a face. “No.”

He wants to be as far away from them as possible.

The two of them escaped to the garden just before dessert. This has become a routine of some sort, something they always do during the monthly lunches their parents insist on having ever since they arranged their marriage contract. Tony knows the only reason they are allowed to get away with it is because their parents think that it’s good for Tony and Pepper to spend some time alone, to get to know each other before their marriage.

An arranged marriage. Seriously, Tony’s life is one huge cosmic joke.

Don’t get him wrong; Tony adores Pepper. She is one of his best friends and they have practically known each other since they were in diapers, but they definitely don’t see each other that way. Pepper has little to no interest in dating, and Tony is—

Well, Tony’s heart has been very much occupied by someone else for quite some time now.

“Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I’m telling you, Pep, it’s so hard to figure him out. I just never know what he’s thinking.” Tony leans back in his seat with a sigh, the rigid wood of the bench digging into his spine.

“He is so gone on you, it’s ridiculous.” Pepper fans herself with a folding fan. As usual, Pepper looks well put together despite the weather, dressed in a white eyelet dress that looks lovely on her and her hair up in a neat ponytail.

“But how can you tell?”

“I just can. Trust me. Have I ever let you down?”

“Well, no, but…” Tony trails off, looking into the distance. His eyes land on Steve, who is stationed far away from the bench Tony and Pepper are sitting on, with rows and rows of the red and yellow tulips of the Potts family estate’s garden separating the distance between them.

His blond hair gleams golden under the scorching heat of the sun. The man is standing straight, hands clasped in front of him. Tony wonders if Steve has always had perfect posture or if it is something he cultivated in his training as a bodyguard. Steve must also be suffering under the heat, dressed in the mandatory dress code for bodyguards of the Stark family—a black and white suit that fits him like a dream. Tony is sitting on a bench under the shade of an umbrella, and even his shirt is already sticking unpleasantly to the skin of his back, damp with sweat.

“Just look at him. He’s always so proper and polite,” Tony grumbles.

“Well, can you blame him? It is his job.”

Tony pouts at that, even as he knows that Pepper is right, like she always is. It’s just that he knows how improper and impolite Steve can be. Steve is hilarious when he wants to be; he has demonstrated his dry humor multiple times in front of Tony. Granted, it is usually only on display when he is in the company of Tony and the other guys in the security detail with no one else around or when he and Tony are alone. The thought of those moments brings a smile to Tony’s lips. Those secret moments are when Steve allows himself to relax, his real personality bleeding into his job persona.

He turns to watch Steve again. Steve is looking down at the ground, a hand pressed to the earpiece Tony knows he wears in his left ear. Tony watches as Steve nods almost imperceptibly before raising his wrist to his lips, speaking to the microphone resting inside his sleeve. When he finishes, he lowers his wrist back to his side. He looks up and meets Tony’s eyes by accident.

Tony stills and stops breathing.

Steve holds his gaze for a few moments before looking away almost immediately, reverting back to his previous posture.

Tony slumps in his seat, dejected. Pepper slaps his back with her folded fan and Tony yelps, straightening his back immediately.

“Don’t slouch. What time is the party again?”

“Seven, but you know me. I like to be fashionably late. Besides, no one can say anything about me being late tonight because I am the birthday boy. The party only starts when I arrive. Then again, that is also true for any other party.” Tony winks. “What did you get me?”

Pepper shrugs, not giving him an answer.

Tony narrows his eyes before gasping dramatically, a hand on his chest. “Pepper Pot, did you even get me anything?”

Pepper rolls her eyes.

“Why?” Pepper deadpans. “Is it your birthday?”

***

“I’ve called Happy. Car will be here in fifteen,” Bucky says as he arrives at Steve’s side. Steve nods.

Anthony Stark and Virginia Potts are casually chatting on a bench in the distance, looking like two completely normal 24-year-olds instead of the heirs to two of the most powerful companies in the world, Stark Industries and Potts Enterprises. With the way Stark behaves sometimes, Bucky tends to forget that the man has a net worth of a couple billion dollars.

Catching sight of the man behind them, Bucky snickers. Sam looks calm and collected as he stands behind the bench to hold an umbrella over Stark and Potts’ heads, but Bucky knows that he is going to complain about his sore arm to Bucky later.

“Look at Wilson. Poor bastard. He hates umbrella duty.” Bucky’s smirk widens an inch when he catches Sam’s gaze, the latter widening his eyes dramatically. “Also, what’s with the sudden switch? I know it’s your turn for umbrella duty today and you never give up umbrella duty ‘cause it gives you a chance to ogle at Stark’s ass.”

Bucky turns to face Steve when his friend and commander-in-chief says nothing in reply. Steve always reprimands him whenever Bucky teases him about his gigantic crush on Tony Stark, something about “protocol” and Bucky being “inappropriate”.

Steve is staring at Stark and Potts with unbridled focus. To the untrained eye, it may look like Steve is just doing his job of guarding his client but Steve’s eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is doing The Clench and—

“Wait a minute, are you jealous?” Bucky gasps, part scandalized, part incredulous. “Is that why you asked Wilson to switch with you?”

Steve’s head snaps upright and he turns to Bucky with wide eyes.

“No,” he says, sounding equally as scandalized, but the way his eyes slide away as soon as they meet Bucky’s is telling. Ever since he was little, Steve has always been a terrible liar.

“Stevie.” Bucky gawks at him, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen you moon over someone like this before. You weren’t even this bad with Peggy Carter back in high school.”

“I’m not mooning over anyone,” Steve says through gritted teeth. “Fix your posture.”

Bucky snorts, but clasps his hands in front of him obediently.

“I keep telling you, you should tell him how you feel.”

“Stop talking nonsense. It’s against protocol,” Steve says, eyes once again staring longingly at Stark, who is listening attentively to whatever Potts is saying.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “As if Stark ever cared about that.”

Just when Bucky thinks that the conversation is dead, just like the million other times Steve has shut Bucky down whenever he attempts to talk some sense into his best friend, Steve says in a quiet voice:

“Besides… they’re engaged.”

Bucky sighs in exasperation, refusing the increasingly strong urge to bash his own head against the nearest tree. They have gone over this exact problem countless of times.

He loves Steve like a brother, but never let it be said that the man is not stubborn.

Bucky opens his mouth to protest some more, but then Happy announces that he is entering the estate’s premises and Steve begins barking orders into his microphone to prepare the team for mobilization.

***

Tony loosens the tie around his neck as he steps into his bedroom, sighing in relief. If it were up to him he would have left the party hours ago, but alas, being the birthday boy comes with its own responsibilities. The older he gets, the more his birthday feels less like a day to celebrate his birth and more like a day to mingle with his father’s business associates. The fact that his glad-handing skills have practically been hardwired into him by now is his only saving grace. Well, that and…

Turning around, he finds Steve standing at the doorway of his bedroom. Tony waits for the obligatory ‘Would that be all, Mr. Stark?’ and is surprised when it doesn’t come immediately. Having Steve by his side throughout the entire night was Tony’s favorite part about his birthday bash. Tony absolutely lives for the minute twitches of Steve’s lips whenever Tony whispers witty quips and insults about various high-profile people mingling around him at every public event, and tonight was no exception.

As much as Tony enjoys Steve’s company, however, he is also well aware that Steve must be exhausted. After all, as tiring as the event was for Tony, it was still his birthday party. Steve, on the other hand, was dutifully doing his job of shadowing Tony and looking out for potential threats.

Tony is about to dismiss him for the night when he is suddenly struck with the realization that Steve is... hovering.

“Steve?”

“Sir,” Steve says in reply, back straightening immediately. His eyes are wide and he opens his mouth once before closing it again without saying a word. He looks like he has something to say and is struggling to work out a way to say it.

“Tony,” Tony corrects automatically as there is no one else in the room but them, but otherwise he says nothing, waiting patiently for Steve to gather his thoughts.

“Tony, I…” Steve trails off. Tony watches in amazement as Steve’s fists clench and unclench at his side, a rare sight for a person who is usually so graceful and poised. He lurches forward, walking towards Tony before stopping in front of him.

With his eyes trained on the floor, Steve fishes out a slim black box from his breast pocket and holds it out to Tony.

Tony’s breath catches in his throat. “Is this…?”

Steve looks up and finally meets his eyes, jaw clenched in determination.

“Happy birthday, Tony.”

Tony reaches out to take the box, his fingers brushing Steve’s.

“Can I open it?”

Steve nods with a swallow. Gazing down at the box, Tony opens it carefully and takes a deep breath the second he sees what is lying inside—a beautiful red tie, made of some soft fabric that seems to gleam under the moonlight streaming in through the windows of Tony’s bedroom. He unfolds it to admire the tie in its entirety.

Something flutters in his stomach when he sees the gold monogram sewn into the tip of the necktie. Tony traces the initials ‘A. E. S.’ reverently with his index finger.

“Steve.”

“Do you… like it?” Steve asks, watching Tony with trepidation.

Tony beams at him. “I love it. Thank you.”

A reluctant smile appears on Steve’s face, even as the man scratches the back of his neck with an air of bashfulness.

“I know it’s not much and I know you’ve already received lots of gifts. Better and more expensive ones. It certainly is no golden cufflinks, but I—”

That gets Tony’s attention.

“Golden cufflinks?”

“Uh, I mean— I might have seen, um, the golden cufflinks Ms. Potts got you, and I know—”

Tony barks out a surprised laugh, realization dawning.

Confusion takes over Steve’s face, his eyebrows furrowing adorably.

“Why are you laughing?”

Tony takes a step closer to Steve, grabbing the knot of Steve’s tie and pulling Steve down to his height.

Steve’s blue eyes are staring back at him, pupils blown wide with shock. Tony gazes at him intently, lips tugged upwards in a helpless smile as his heart swells with affection.

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous, you know that?” Tony says, standing on tiptoe to plant a soft kiss on Steve’s forehead. He releases Steve afterwards, stepping backwards.

Steve proceeds to stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, mouth ajar and breath coming out in ragged pants. A delightful blush blooms on his cheeks.

Tony bites his lower lip to stop himself from laughing. Then he raises his eyebrows, saying:

“Well, you’re dismissed. Thank you for the birthday gift.”

Tony watches in amusement as Steve flounders to regain his composure. Eventually, he gives Tony a curt nod before leaving without a word, blush still high on his cheeks.

The moment the door closes behind Steve, Tony throws himself onto his bed and lets out a stupidly hysterical giggle into his pillow, feeling giddy with joy.

He makes a mental note to send Pepper some flowers in the morning.

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something #earl answers #user: talktonytome #series: bodyguard au

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supersizemeplz · 4 years ago

Text

Perhaps She Did

Part Two

Abraham “from Us” x Black Female Character

Another #supersizedfic short. This is the second and last part to this series, and hopefully it flows like it did in my mind. Enjoy!

One night turned to two. Two turned to four, four to eight, and eight to ten before the line had been drawn. That face was imprinted into her memory, burned into the forefront of her mind. Every moment she'd surrendered to a restful slumber was overcome by the mystery of him. His tall frame towering over her as if she'd shrunken. Those dark eyes that seemed all too focused on her, as if she were the most fascinating thing alive. The large, rough hands that had touched her skin as delicate as they'd known how. Almost afraid that they'd break her somehow.

Exhaustion was a understatement.

Tired didn't seem to hold weight to what she felt. None of the dots she'd made connected. He was a complete stranger, but none like she'd ever seen. As much as she hoped she never seen him again, it annoyed her that a small part of her wanted answers. All the scenarios she'd made about him -including how he could be a deranged killer or crazed pervert- failed to stop her thought of going back to that place. Something made her think neither of those were the case because he spared her.

Putting her fairly new car into park, she pressed the start button to silence it. The headlights cut off and she sat in silence for a moment. "Am I really doing this shit?" Laying her forehead against the furry steering wheel cover, she sighed with closed eyes. "Fuck. I guess I am."

It took three deeps breaths and a encouraged 'get it over with, bitch' to get out of the car. Her attire was much different from the first night she'd encountered the cool breeze of the beach. She zipped the jacket to her tracksuit, slipping her keys and hands into the small pockets. The running shoes on her feet were a bit dated, only seeing the light of day when she had to run a quick errand and wasn't dressed up.

The fair ground was definitely creepier when it was damn near deserted. Honestly it could've been because the fair music still played. A few people straggled around, consisting of a handful of employees and booth owners that were cleaning up. Though with them being focused on trying to finish and get home, she slipped by with ease. A few rhymed two steps down the stairs and she stood before the abandoned house of mirrors.

She took slow steps up the stairs to the building, holding a hand to her chest in hopes to ease her heartbeat. "I'm really doing this shit." The phrase left her lips three times before she silenced. There at the door of the place that's held her mind hostage, she popped her knuckles and nibbled her bottom lip in hopes of relaxing. As if her nervous ticks would help the situation.

Finally putting the sandy sole of her right shoe to the wooden floor, she swallowed her fear. Or at least half of it. She felt like she was in a scary movie, and she was being that one girl that always went towards the danger no matter how much people yelled at the screen for her to do different.

"You got this, girl. You got this, girl. Yo- Fuckkk." The curse came out high pitched with widened eyes and a jump back towards the entrance. Her heart began its racing at this point. "That fucking owl. I knew it was coming and yet it still scared the shit out of me." The angered mumble was more to herself, making her roll her eyes.

Once she'd reached the big room of mirrors where the maze began, she just stood there. Her reflection looked right back at her. Waiting for something she wasn't even sure was real. "Well, we're here. Now what?" She spoke to her reflection, yet it said nothing back. Just as she'd expected. Honestly, she didn't think she'd get this far so her plan wasn't really a plan.

Looking around, she seen nothing jump out to her as a hint. There was no sign to help her figure out the next step. "Hello?" The unsure greeting left her lips without a thought otherwise. Nothing. Another minute passed before she sighed, partly relieved that there was no reply.

That was until she heard the floor creak. Coming from her right. She turned to the sound with a quickness, hugging the pepper spray that was attached to the key ring in her pocket. Just in case it wasn't him, but also if it was.

She calls her greeting again, gulping once he showed himself. So she wasn't tripping. He was just as tall as she remembered, and getting taller the closer he came to her. His steps were heavy and slow like the steady beat of a bass drum. The same red jumpsuit hugged his body, showing a peek of his chest from behind where the second button was supposed to be fastened.

Once he makes it to her frozen being, she's tilted her head back to keep her eyes on his face. He still sports that same mean mug as he reciprocates the interest. Squinting even in the tinted spotlight that adorned them both. Her hands stay to her sides, clenching softly once he lifts a hand to her face. The grunt of acknowledgment that followed was like his greeting, at least to her it was.

He seemed to like the feeling of her skin, it's softness compared to the harsh contrast of his. His thumb stroked her cheek to take in its fullness. The grunt he repeated broke her from her frozen state. Maybe he was trying to communicate?

She swallowed for the third time that night, slowly inching her hand to lay over his. "Hey.. I don't know if I sound crazy.." This was a crazy situation, why wouldn't she? "But i haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the other night. And what you are.. Who you are..."

Her soft hand eased to his face, hoping not to startle him. As if he was a squirrel and not a full grown male. He leaned into her touch without hesitation to her intention. Probably because she didn't look like any threat to him, especially since he was twice as tall it seemed.

His beard was full of thick and healthy coils, dark as coal against his skintone. For someone who lived in an abandoned fun house, he was groomed well. For the most part. His short nails were clean though his hair and beard could use a trim.

"Perfect.." He struggles to say the word, but she makes it out just fine. The hint of a smile tugs at her lips. He thought she was perfect? If she could count the amount of times she'd been called that on her hands she'd only be five fingers in. Was she really this desperate for affection?

He just stared at her, looking to her with those dark eyes. The scent of her perfume caught his nose and inched her closer. Leaning forward, his lips were mere inches away from hers. It reminded him of the show from the television in the break room of the basement below. His odd yet familiar world.

The women always swooned for the man, and the moments where they were this close ended with kisses. Oh shit, is he going to kiss me? She panicked mentally, not wanting to suddenly frighten him. A kiss would be weird right. So to prevent the moment in case it was happening, she spoke. "Do you have a name?"

The question was a bit shaky, but he stepped back to think about it. She let go of a breath she didn't realize she had. For the first time that tonight, he looked away from her. He was definitely trying to think of his name, but it looked like a struggle. His eyebrows pushed together once again, and he opened his mouth before closing it again.

He touched his throat, rubbing the area as if it was sore. "A-Abe" The word was repeated hoarsely, as if there was more to it. Yet he stopped trying, making a pained face as his hand kept rubbing his throat. Water. She'd had a water bottle in the car.

"Do you need a drink to help?" He looked to her as she asked the question. Confusion was apparent on his face so she explained further. "Hold on, I'll be back." She took a step backward and he watched her intensely. Turning away from him, she quickened her step to get out of the building. The owl didn't scare her this time.

The trip to her car was quick, mostly because she ran. Thoughts of firing up the engine and dipping crossed her mind, but she didn’t really want to leave him here. In that sad place, probably alone and eating off whatever poor animal found it way down there. Breathing a curse, she made her way back to him. Water bottle in hand.

Don’t do this.

She scolded herself on the current thought dancing in her head. Her footsteps drowned out the thoughts until they were hushed by the sand. They slowed once she’d reached the building again. Don’t do this. He stood outside the door, gazing up at the stars above. They held his attention for a while, ignoring her presence for a moment. After a while and a cool breeze passed, he looked to her. Something different was in his eyes.

She held the water bottle out, motioning for him to take it. Don’t do this. He looked at the bottle before looking back to her. His larger hand reached for the plastic container, taking it from her softly. Though it crackled in his large hand when he pulled it towards him.

Don’t do this.

Standing there watching him scarf down the water, that nagging thought never left her mind. He was here all alone and she was supposed to be what? A savior to him, helping him from this traumatic life. Shaking her head, she took a turn to look to the sky before looking back to him.

He stared at her, tilting his head to study the change in her body language. She took a step forward, accepting the empty water bottle he held out. His other hand caught her wrist, holding it as he stepped closer to her. “Perfect.” He spoke the word again, a bit clearer since he’d had water.

His hand never loosened to release her, but then again he had no intention to. She gulped, watching as he looked back to the building. But the first step he took towards it with her in tow scared her. “Wait..” He didn’t spare her a glance, ignoring her as she fought to loosen his grip. Panic rose within her, creeping up her neck and holding back the scream she wanted to give.

He kept his focus on his path, whispering ‘Perfect’ as they both entered the building. Her putting up a fight and refusing to be easy prey. It barely bothered him, only being a persistent quick pain from her hits to his arms. Suddenly stopping her assault, she complied for a moment.

He’d eased his grip, just enough to stop the pain in her wrist. She mumbled his name, saddening her voice and it actually made him stop. His dark eyes looked back to her as she caressed his hand. That soft skin never failed to fascinate him. Just long enough for that owl to pop out and give a hard hit to the side of his head.

His hand slipped as he went to hold his head, growling at the sudden pain. This was her break. She turned away to get her running start. Her feet hit the wooden boards beneath her with force. Each step getting her closer to freedom. “Shit!” A force caught the back of her jacket, pulling her back. Away from the entrance and more into the darkness.

In a quick moment of thought, she started at her zipper. Fighting her from the confines of the warm jacket, lifting the force off her and free her once again. This time she wasted no time getting out. Her heavy, ragged breaths only got louder the farther she ran. Feet fighting against the sand, her knee met the wood of the stairs that get her to the fair ground.

The cold air fought against her as she made her way to the car sitting at the parking lot. His animalistic grunt called behind her, definitely from the man running behind her. She fought the fearful tears that threatened to taint her cheeks. Get to the car. The chant was her encouragement, even when she’d heard those thuds make it to the old wooden steps of the fair.

Her hands fumbled with the keys, shaking as she heard his footsteps coming closer. Another angry growl and she’d managed to opened the driver side door. Scrambling into the car, she brought it to life and locked the doors behind her. As she quickly threw the car in reverse, she didn’t dare look back until she’d made it to the street.

Catching the dark red of his jumpsuit showing the silhouette of his body in the red of the taillights. Tall and beastly as he watched her, yelling after her. The tears flowed freely as she tried to calm her breathing. She’d be damned if she crashed anywhere near this place because of blurry eyes. This was a defining moment in her life, for her future.

Was this going to be the last night she stayed in this god forsaken town? Perhaps it was.

__________________

Taglist

@sisterwifeudaku @kumkaniudaku @wawakanda-btch @theunsweetenedtruth @marvelmaree @chaneajoyyy @wakanda-inspired @princesskillmonger @liviy00 @xsweetdellzx @muse-of-mbaku @killmongerdispussy @thehomierobbstark @princessstevens @killmongerthiskoochie @cecereads209 @beautifullmelodyxx

#abraham #winston duke fanfiction #winston #winston duke #black reader #oneshot

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mysterycheerio · 3 years ago

Text

Lights Up, on Washington Heights up in the break of day…

Peter closed his door, keys rattling in his hand. Across the street sat his little corner shop - the coffee shop he had worked in since he was small, and in front of it, the gang of graffiti artists painting the roller door in front of it.

The customers were gathered around, watching the artist, mumbling to themselves in disagreement for the pseudo Banksy.

Frustration filled him, and he ran towards them, shouting, "Hey, HEY!"

They ran off.

I wake up and I got this little punk I gotta chase away,

He entered the shop, asking the polite customers to bear with him a moment while he got everything ready, humming to himself as he did his chores.

Pop the grate at the crack of dawn, sing while I wipe down the awning-

He stepped outside, flipping the sign to 'open', and said in a good-natured tone, "Hey, y'all, good morning."

Piragüero, the man selling a sweet, shaved ice type dessert, called a 'piragua', rounded the corner, like he did every day, "Ice cold piragua! Parcha, China, Cherry, Strawberry, and just for today, I got mamey!"

"Yo, Piragüero! ¿Como estas?"

"¡Como siempre, Señor Parker!"

He smiled as the old ladies brought in their grandchildren, pulling them up to the desk. He greeted them the way he knew the ladies wanted.

"They call me Peter, and you prob'ly never heard my name - reports of my fame are greatly exaggerated," he said in a sing-song voice. The guardians began to shop, leaving the children at the front of the store listening to his story - how he's a first generation immigrant, who now sells coffee in his little corner shop.

He went into the back for the second, talking loud enough so that the kids could hear him. He opened the fridge and sniffed the milk, checking to see if it was still fresh, but all that met his nose was the scent of putrid dairy.

The door opened, and in stood Maria Carbonell, known to the community as Abuela Maria.

"Abuela, my fridge broke," he said, voice hinting at desperation as he tried to speak quietly so the kids wouldn't hear him, "I have café but no con leche!"

She smiled, "Try my mothers old recipe: one can of condensed milk."

They walked back out, winking at the kids, "Nice!"

"Ay, Paciencia Y Fe!"

He turned his attention to the kids, "That was Abuela, she's not really my Abuela but she practically raised me, this corner is her esquela," he said, the kids laughing as he turned on the spot.

"Excuse me," a middle aged man said politely, "Can you tell me how to get here?" He pointed at a picture of downtown.

"Ah, you're probably thinking, 'I'm up shits creek'. Have you ever been North of 96th Street?" He shook his head. Peter figured as much, "Well, you must take the A train, go even farther than Harlem, to Northern Manhattan. Get off at 181st and take the escalator. And you're there!"

"Thank you so much," he said, grateful, before holding his hand out to one of the kids and pulling him out of the shop, "Come on Michael."

"But dad, I want to listen to the man's stories!"

He smiled.

Soon the kids had to depart with their guardians, and he gave a friendly wave at their departure.

I'm getting tested, times are tough on this bodega, two months ago somebody bought Ortega's. Our neighbours started packing up, and picking up, and ever since the rent's went up-

"It's gotten mad expensive," a kid said, making small talk as Peter handed him his coffee.

"But we live with just enough," he said, smiling.

"Amen, brother."

Next up to bat, the Starks! They run the cab company, and struggle in the barrio, see - their son Harley is off at college, tuition is mad steep, so they can't sleep, everything they get is mad cheap.

"Good morning, Kid," Tony said, hand in hand with his wife, Pepper.

"Pan caliente café con leche!"

Tony nodded, "Put 20 dollars on today's lottery-"

"One ticket, that's it!"

"Hey, a man's got a dream."

Peter laughed at the couples banter, when Pepper addressed him, "Don't mind him, he's all excited cause Harley flew in at 3 am last night-"

Peter set down the drinks, "Don't look at me."

They took their drinks, and as a parting message, Tony said, "Underoos, come over for dinner, there's plenty to eat!"

Peter barely got five seconds before he heard the sound of distinct chatter, "So, then Yesenia walks in the room-"

"-Uh huh."

"She smells sex and cheap perfume, it smells like one of those trees that you hang from the rear-view!"

"No!"

"It's true! She screams 'who's in there with you, Julio!' Grabs a bat and kicks in the door, and she's in bed with Josè from the liquor store."

"No me diga," the younger of the two said.

"Wanda and Nat, going to the salon?"

Nat nodded, and the two chorused, "Thanks Pete!"

Monday is a busy day for him, to say the least.

The bell on the door dings for the umpteenth time that morning, but instead of a customer, it's a small, black boy, fourteen, who's rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"Miles, you're late," he says, his tone annoyed, but Miles knows there isn't any real bite behind it.

"Chillax," he says, making his way to the back of the store, "You know you love me."

He rolls his eyes.

Me and my cousin running just another dime-a-dozen, Mom-and-Pop, stop-and-shop and oh my god, it's gotten two darn hot-

He turned on the AC. The weather man said this summer will be one of the hottest in history.

People come through for a few cold waters and a lottery ticket, just a part of the routine, everybodies got a job, everybodies got a dream. They gossip as I sip my coffee and smirk, the first stop as people hop to work.

That's his day really. An endless blur of one dollar, two dollars, one fifty, one sixty-nine, I got it, you want a box of condoms what kind?, that's two quarters, the New York Times, you need a bag for that? The tax is added.

Like he was saying to Miles when he first came into his life, "Once you get some practice at it, you do rapid mathematics automatically."

Miles then comes out of the back, preparing himself to work the counter so Peter could do the coffee's - Peter was the only one who knew the secret recipes that kept the customers coming- successfully snapping him out of his thoughts.

"How are they today?"

"Practically everybody's stressed, but they press through the mess."

Miles nodded.

"You ain't got no skills," a voice said, as they walked into the store.

"Ned!"

Ned smiled, leaning against the counter. Peter and him were best friends growing up, so naturally, Ned was a regular in the shop, despite working long hours for a boss that didn't respect him.

"Yo, let me get a-"

"Milky way?" Peter guessed.

"...Yeah. Let me also get a-"

"Daily news."

"And a-"

"Post."

"And a most importantly, my-"

"Boss' second coffee, one cream, five sugars."

Miles wrinkled his nose at Ned's boss's absurd amount of sugar, and Ned began to talk to Peter about his job while he waited.

"I don't get it! I'm the number one earner! He can't keep me on the damn back burner-"

"Yes he can."

"I'm making moves, and I'm making deals, but guess what?"

"What?"

"Ya still ain't got no skills!"

"Hardee-Har," he said, sarcastically, pouring the creamer in.

"Has Michelle shown up yet?" Ned asked Miles, who was smiling.

"Shut up!" Peter said hastily.

"Hey, dude, don't be upset. You should tell her how you feel. Buy the girl a meal,on the real, or you ain't got no skills."

The doorbell dinged. This is why Peter was so anxious to be talking about Michelle. She normally came in around this time. Right now, she was looking at the ground, phone to her ear.

"Mr. Johnson, I have that security deposit. I've been saving to make a down-payment, and pay rent… no, no, I won't let you down-".

Ned whispered to him, "Here's your chance, ask her out."

"-I'll see you later, we can look at that lease," she said, before hanging up.

"Do something, make your move, don't freeze!"

"Hey," he said, buzzing with nerves.

"You owe me a bottle of cold champagne," she said, her voice soft and soothing. Despite this, her words made a heavy feeling form in his gut. It was something they'd thought about years ago, but only if-

"Are you moving?"

She shrugged, "Just a little credit check and I'm on that downtown train."

He tried to shake off the sad feeling, "Well, your coffee's on the house."

"Okay," she said with a smile, before turning to leave.

"Peter, ask her out."

"No way," Miles said.

But Michelle turned around, "I'll see you later… so…"

And with that, she left.

"Oh, smooth operator, oh damn, there she goes," Ned teased, before taking a look at Peter’s still kinda sad face, "Hey, dude. Take five, get some fresh air, a walk outside. You look exhausted, lost…"

"I kinda feel that way," he joked, but was it a joke?

Ned looked at him with sympathy, "Hey, the whole neighbourhood is struggling, and times are tight, and you're stuck to this corner like a streetlight…"

Ned looked at his watch, and rushed out of the shop, saying he was gonna be late and bidding adieu to the two guys, but Peter could say it back, his friends words bouncing around in his head.

Yeah, I'm a streetlight, choking on the heat. The world spins around while I'm frozen to my seat. The people that I know all keep on rolling down the street, and everyday is different so I'm switching up the beat.

Cause my parents came with nothing, they got a little more, and sure, we're poor, but yo, at least we got the store. It's all about the legacy they left with me, it's destiny, and-

One day, I'll be on the beach with Miles writing checks to me.

That's what he wants to do. His parents died, along with his aunt and uncle, leaving him in the care of Abuela. He longs to go to a beach, and reconnect with his roots. A better life, one where he isn't stuck serving coffee's.

It gets more expensive every day, in their little corner of the world.

Turn up the stage lights, we're taking a flight to a couple of days of what it's like-

In Washington Heights.

#peter and tony #peter parker fics #tony stark #no powers au #in the heights #coffee shop au

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kelyon · 4 years ago

Text

Golden Cuffs 50: The Bed

Cover by @paradigmparadoxical

Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU

The Happy Beginning

Read on AO3

Belle’s mouth fell open at the question Rumpelstiltskin had just asked her. Marry him? They had only just agreed that she would stay! He had only just given her the dagger that would control him and all his magic. And now he was on his knees, like a knight before his lady, holding up a ring that had once been one of the cuffs that had bound her to him. He was asking her to be his wife!

“Marry?” Belle repeated the word, a little dumbfounded. What would it be to marry him? What did marriage mean to Rumpelstiltskin?

Marriage had always been an inevitability to Belle. She had grown up knowing that her father would choose a husband for her, someone respectable and prosperous, who would bring power or wealth or influence to her family. Her engagement to Gaston had been done like that. After they were introduced, they prepared to marry, with very little by way of a courtship. Gaston had been a stranger to her, but she had known that for the rest of her life she would bear his children and manage his household and do his bidding.

She had never believed that she would have any real choice in the matter of if she married or to who. She had never imagined that she would marry a man she already knew and loved. She had never thought her husband would declare them equals and even diminish his own power because of his love for her.

This was all so strange and sudden. What would Rumpelstiltskin want from her as a wife? What would it mean to him to be a husband?

Belle took a breath, and began again. “How--how is marriage different from what we already were planning to be? W-we will be together, and we will love each other. Why do you want us to marry?”

To Belle’s relief, Rumpelstiltskin didn’t take her confusion as a rejection. From all his deals as the Dark One, he must have known the wisdom in collecting information before you make a life-changing decision. Still on his knees, he laid the rings out on his open palm for her to see.

“When I made the cuffs,” he began, “you wore both of them. They were a symbol of your servitude to me. Since you have assumed ownership of the dagger, I have become your servant--and no matter what else happens, that will not change.”

He looked up at her. His face was so soft, so open as he offered her his subjugation. Then he looked down. He began to play with the rings, rubbing them between his fingers, letting them crown the tops of his black nails.

“My first wife didn’t have a ring,” he said. “I was too poor to offer her even silver, let alone gold. And I had no heirlooms, no connection to a family that could pass anything down for me to give the woman I loved. But that’s just as well, because the woman I loved… did not love me.” He took a heavy breath, as though exhausted by the memories. “But I am rich now, and powerful. And you will share in my power and wealth for as long as I have either.”

Belle put her hands on his bowed shoulders. “You are loved now, too,” she said. “And that means more for happiness than wealth or power.”

The look he gave her was wary, but hopeful. Belle read it was the look of a man who had been without wealth or power for long enough to know how essential both could be for survival, let alone happiness.

When Rumple spoke again, it was less like he was making a proposition, and more like he was sharing some secret dream, some long-hidden fantasy that he wanted Belle to be a part of.

“If we marry, we could belong to each other. I could give you a ring and you could give me one. We could wear them as a sign not of bondage, but of a bond. Each of us would be shackled to the other by chains we could break at any time, but would mutually promise not to.”

His brow furrowed as he looked up at her. “Does that make sense? A marriage between us would not be a deal like we had before--or like any other deal I’ve ever made. It would be a vow we would make to each other. Every part of it would be equal between us. And every day we wore these rings we would declare that vow to ourselves and to the world. Every day we would say--”

“I am yours as you are mine,” Belle finished. “That’s what Jefferson and Leona said, when they explained why they both wear collars.”

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, smiling at her understanding. “They are an extraordinary couple,” he said. “I wanted you to go with them, when I couldn’t let you be with me.”

Belle reached down and held his chin in her hand. “I know, Rumple. I read your letter to them. That was what made me want to come back. I saw that you still cared for me.”

His eyes were wide and full of love. “I will do everything I can to be as good to you as Jefferson is to his wife. I will adore you, and listen to you, and give you every comfort I can provide.”

She rubbed his jawline with her thumb, back and forth. “And I will be to you like Leona is to her husband. I will admire you, and support you, and give you something to come home to.” She bent down and kissed him softly on the lips. “I will marry you, Rumpelstiltskin. I will be yours as you are mine.”

Rumple’s eyes fluttered open. He drank in Belle’s face, as though for a moment he didn’t believe his ears. Slowly, his face lit up with a joy Belle had never seen in him. Then he pulled her up to stand with him, in the dungeon where it had all begun. Kissing her fiercely, he lifted her off her feet and spun her around and around. Both of them laughed and clung to each other as wine-red smoke enveloped them.

When the smoke cleared and the laughter subsided, Rumpelstiltskin and Belle were on the landing off the dining room, between the twin bedrooms and the steps to the tower. They didn’t pull away from their embrace, but gazed into each other’s eyes. Even when their mouths separated, their foreheads touched, and their noses brushed against each other.

Belle spoke first, giggling a little. “We should put on our rings.”

Rumpelstiltskin broke away from her just far enough to open his palm again. “Yes, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Yes--my love.”

Crying and laughing, Belle held out her hand so that Rumple could slide her ring onto her third finger. “I never thought this would happen,” she wept. “I never thought that anyone would ever call me their love.”

His head bent, Rumpelstiltskin squeezed Belle’s hand and kissed her finger where the ring was. “Oh Belle,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry I never told you before.”

“You can tell me now,” she whispered.

“I love you.” He kissed her hand and worked his way up her arm every time he repeated the phrase. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“And I love you!” Belle wrapped her arms around his neck and peppered kisses around his face.

“Would you--” Licking his lips, Rumpelstiltskin held out the other ring in his palm. “Oh, Belle, would you claim me?”

“Yes, of course!” With a breathless cry, Belle took the ring and held it between her fingers. It was such a small thing, this band of gold that had once been straw. It was unadorned with jewels, and yet it was infinitely precious. Being in the shape of a circle, the ring had no ending, just like the love that she shared with her Rumple.

His hand was steady as she took it in her own. She rubbed his fingers for a moment, admiring the flecks of gold in his gray-green skin. The ring would compliment those shining flecks. It would bring out the light in him.

Belle slid the golden circle over his sharp fingernails, over his inhuman skin, over the knuckles on his third finger. It fit perfectly, just as hers did. When the ring was in place, she brought his hand to her mouth and kissed his fingers over the gold, just as he had done with her.

“We’ve pledged our love and exchanged rings,” Belle remarked. “What else must we do to be married?”

Rumple placed his hand on her hair. His eyes still glowed warm and loving. “You deserve a proper wedding, my love. If nothing else, witnesses will make this a public promise. We should have friends present. Do you want to tell your family?”

She shook her head. “My family would not celebrate me being wedded to you, Rumple.” It hurt her to say it, but she knew it was the truth. “But that is their problem, not ours. We know who our friends are. We know who will celebrate our love.”

Nodding, Rumpelstiltskin smiled. “I’ll see how quickly Jefferson and Leona can be summoned.”

“My mother always wanted me to marry in spring, when the roses bloomed.”

If Mama was alive, perhaps that would have made a difference. Perhaps she would have been happy to see Belle happy, and not minded that her husband was the fearsome Dark One, a monster that Belle loved with all her heart.

He held her close and kissed her forehead. “You will have roses, sweetheart. You will have a celebration. You will have every beautiful thing you’ve ever wanted.”

Belle rubbed her face into the warm skin of her beloved’s chest. She had everything she’d ever wanted. She pressed herself closer into him, and she was suddenly aware of his body, of the heat that radiated from him--and also from herself.

“Rumple,” she said softly. “Since we’re going to be married, do we need to start caring about propriety?”

He stepped back, his hands still on her cloaked shoulders. “What do you mean, my dear?”

“I mean--since we’re going to have a wedding, that means we’re going to have a wedding night.”

His face remained calm, but his fingers pressed against her flesh. “If you want to.”

“Of course I want to!” She laughed, strangely nervous to bring up the subject that had once been the whole of their interactions. “I want you, Rumple. And I would rather not wait until we are husband and wife to act as a man and a woman. If you catch my meaning.”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed. He lowered his hands to her arms and then to her hands. He stepped away from her, but kept one pair of their hands joined as he led her to one of the doors on the landing. The door to the luxurious room.

He cleared his throat. “This is the best bedroom in the castle,” he announced. “It was designed to be the lord’s chamber, the room for the most powerful person in residence.”

The door to the bedroom opened on its own, but Rumpelstiltskin did not enter. Instead, he bowed at the waist and extended his arm out and waited for Belle to cross the threshold on her own.

Hours ago, she had explored this room while she had searched for Rumpelstiltskin. One of the candelabrum was still in the dungeons, and its mate stood a lonely sentinel on a side table; they would be reunited soon. All the candles were lit now, a soft golden glow that brought out the luster in the blue silks and velvets that decorated the room.

Belle’s eyes traveled over the high ceilings and the plush carpets and the wide windows that would let in light once the curtains were pulled back. Her gaze landed on Rumple, who was standing in the doorway. He rubbed the fingers of his other hand over his ring in a variation of his usual nervous gesture. He still looked at her like she might be an illusion, that she might disappear at any moment.

“So is this my newest bedroom?” she asked with a warm smile.

Rumpelstiltskin gulped. “Actually, I--I thought it might be our bedroom. If you want to, that is. If that notion… appeals.”

“The notion of sleeping with my husband beside me?” It was hard not to laugh at his earnest reluctance. He was so timid, now that he wasn’t behind a mask! Belle would have to be bold. She sauntered over to him, put her arms around his stiff shoulders. “In that bed over there?”

The bed was bigger than the cell they had just left. The four posts of it seemed to be made of entire trees, polished smoothly until the wood gleamed. The blankets and bed curtains were royal blue with a design of golden swirls--exactly the same, Belle realized, as her old robe had been.

Taking Rumple by the hand, she led him over to the bed and sat him down on the mattress. It sank under his weight. It was probably made of goose down or something even finer. She stood between his legs and he stared up at her while she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Perhaps we won’t just sleep in this bed,” she said coyly. “Perhaps we will lie together while we’re still awake.” She dropped her voice into a theatrical whisper. “Perhaps we might even have carnal relations!” She made a face--a pantomime of shock, and Rumpelstiltskin smiled faintly.

“You’re teasing me,” he murmured.

“A little,” Belle admitted. “But you were annoying me with all that talk of ‘if I want to.’ I want to, Rumpelstiltskin! I understand your concern, but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to spend as much time naked with you as I do clothed.”

He exhaled heavily, closing his eyes.

“I want to fuck you,” Belle said, just for the pleasure of seeing his eyes open in shock. “Often. And creatively.”

He swallowed, and the ball of his throat bobbed up and down. “I am at your disposal, my love. Whenever you wish to take your clothes off, I will be happy to assist.”

Belle grinned wickedly. “Right now. You can choose if it’s with or without magic.”

Rumpelstiltskin grabbed Belle by the waist and she felt his fingers on her bare skin. Her clothes were gone. He had chosen magic. She let out a whoop of shock and joy as he picked her up and pulled her on top of him on the bed.

They kissed and touched and it felt like years since the last time she had felt him under her hands. She pulled away his ripped shirt to reveal his smooth, warm skin. She felt his pulse against her lips and the shuddering breaths in his chest.

“Oh Rumple,” she sighed. “I love your body.”

He stifled a laugh, but didn’t contradict her. “Thank you, my sweet. But between the two of us, you are by far the beauty.” He was on top of her now, still wearing his trousers. He sat up on his knees to sweep his gaze over her chest and face.

“It’s a good thing I don’t want beauty then.” She reached up to span her hands out on his chest. Her thumb brushed against one of his nipples and she felt the tremor of pleasure go through him. “I just want you, Rumpelstiltskin. I want everything that you are.”

He leaned forward, close enough to kiss her. “Even the ugliness? Even the darkness?”

“Oh, especially those, Rumple. Your ugliness and darkness are the parts of you that need love the most.”

He kissed her then, furious and desperate. She kissed him back, moaning and squirming at his frenzied touch.

He sat up suddenly. “Your potion!” He scrambled off of her and made for the door. “I need to go--”

“Stop!” Belle ordered. She pulled herself up on the bed, resting her weight on her elbows. He couldn’t leave now, not in the middle of their reunion!

But he didn’t.

Rumplestiltskin had stopped, mid-step. His foot still hung in the air. It took Belle a moment to realize that her beloved was frozen in place. Clearly he hadn’t chosen to stop like that, so why had he? What kept him in such an awkward position?

After moment of stunned silence, Belle became aware of the faintest tingle of magic surrounding her. If she focused her senses and concentrated her mind, she could almost determine the shape of it. She knew it was around herself, and she could also sense it around Rumpelstiltskin. Faintest of all, she could feel thin threads of magic connecting them. It was intangible, but there was no doubting that it was real.

“What is this?” she whispered.

“The dagger,” Rumpelstiltskin breathed. His voice was so soft, he almost sounded aroused. He still hadn’t moved, not since she had said the word stop. “This is the power that you have over me.”

“I can order you to do anything.” Belle’s words matched her understanding. Rumple had told her all this, but it was so odd to see it happening. “And you must obey me.”

His eyes were closed, but he didn’t seem distressed. “Yes.”

“Can I order you to come back to bed?”

He looked at her slyly and grinned. “Try it, sweetheart.”

Belle licked her lips. How did this work? Were there magic words she needed? Did the spell require a certain forcefulness of will? How did one act when one controlled the most powerful magic-user in the world?

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she ordered with dignity, “come and lie on this bed with me.”

The spell that had frozen him suddenly seemed to force him to move. Magic pulled him toward her, though magic could not have made him look so eager to do it.

She could feel the magic more easily now. It grew stronger when they were closer together. He leapt to join her on the coverlet and she felt the bond connecting them. When she pulled him into her embrace, the magic enveloped them both. It made her feel like they were one person.

“Are you alright?” she murmured as she held him to her chest. “Did that hurt you?”

He shook his head, he was smiling. “I’ve never done that before,” he admitted. He looked up at her, eyes wide and full of wonder. “I’ve lived for hundreds of years, knowing that anyone who held the dagger could control me. That is the ultimate price for all my power--that it can all be taken away or used against my will. I lived in fear of it, of anyone finding the dagger, or knowing all the terrible truths about me. But I never imagined that it would feel… like that.”

Belle rubbed his back and kissed his forehead. She had an idea of what he meant, but she wanted to hear it in his words. “Like what, Rumple? How did it feel?”

“Good.” He nuzzled into her neck. “I was doing what you wanted, Belle. And I knew you wanted what was best for both of us. You were helping me be good.” His hands reached up to her back and he clung to her. “When you gave me an order, you were telling me how to please you. And I want nothing more than to please you, Belle. Nothing more than that.”

Belle held him tighter, her love, her betrothed, her beautiful, desperate man. “And you were good, my Rumple.” She knew what words he needed to hear, the same sort of words she had heard from him so often. “You were so obedient, so quick to listen to me.” She kissed him again, said the words she had used to want to hear him say more than anything: “I love you so much.”

He shook in her arms, huddling in her embrace. How long had it been since someone had praised him? How long had it been since he had felt weak? Had he ever, in his long life, felt safe in the midst of his weakness?

“I love you, Belle.”

She kissed his temple, stroked his hair, soothed him in every way she could. “You’re safe with me, Rumple. I will never hurt you.”

Slowly, his breathing deepened and his body relaxed. Belle loosened her grip on him and he stretched out. The bed was big enough that they could both have both extended their arms and legs to their full length and never touched the edges of the bed or each other. For now, Rumple kept one arm around her shoulders as they lay side by side.

“So,” Belle said thoughtfully, “I don’t need to have the dagger with me for it to work.”

Rumpelstiltskin rubbed his face. He was coming back to himself. “Apparently not. I always thought someone would have to hold it aloft and call my name for it to have any effect. Perhaps it’s because I gave it to you of my own will. Or perhaps it is because of the rings and everything that they already mean.” He shook his head. “That is a magic I’ve never been inclined to experiment with.”

“No, you wouldn’t be.” Belle rested her head on his bare chest. She imagined her sweet Rumple living in fear of being controlled by another, unwilling to test the parameters of his limitations, afraid to even know his own weaknesses. It would be awful for a man who knew so much to have a topic he was afraid to research.

“But perhaps we can play with it together.” His fingers brushed against her upper arms. His touch was featherlight, but deliberate. He liked the idea of being helpless for her. Belle felt a shiver go up her spine. It seemed she liked the idea as well.

“I would still like to play games with you.”

Now it was his turn to shiver. “I am yours, my lady.”

Belle squeezed his hand and sat up to look him in the eye. “But don’t forget that I’m yours, too. We can play some of our old games. If you want to.” As much as Belle looked forward to helping her beloved face his fears while she was in control, she was ready to allow Rumple to control her again as well.

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed. “I--perhaps. We can discuss the particulars as they come. But either way, I need to make your potion before we--before we do anything of that sort.”

She took that moment to kiss him, long and deep on the lips. “You don’t have to, as far as I’m concerned. I would be happy to have a child with you, Rumpelstiltskin.”

He stiffened at that, and sat up suddenly. “That,” he almost choked on the word, “is a matter for several discussions. Lengthy discussions. Please.” His face twitched as he tried to hide his obvious panic.

Belle just smiled and put her hand to his cheek. “All right,” she conceded. “Not tonight, at least.”

Rumple smiled back, and oh it was such a delight to see him sheepish! “Please,” he repeated. “You don’t even know if you’ll like being married to me. Let’s wait a while yet.”

“How long?”

He exhaled a strange chuckle. “What if I told you twenty-eight years?”

Belle didn’t blanch at the figure, but her brow did furrow. “That’s… a long time. And a very specific number. Why not just say thirty years?”

Holding her hand, he rubbed his thumb over her ring. “Because the curse will not begin to break until the Savior’s twenty-eighth birthday.”

“Which curse is this, Rumple?” And who was the Savior he spoke of? Was this part of his plan to destroy Regina?

He kept his head bowed over her hand, then gently kissed the finger that held her ring. “It is the curse to end all curses,” he answered. “It is the curse that will destroy this world and bring us all careening into the Land Without Magic.”

“Oh, where your son is!” Belle squeezed his hand in her excitement.

He looked at her now, his eyes sad and hopeful. “Yes,” he said softly. He seemed amazed that she would remember.

“When you find him, you will let me meet him, won’t you?” Rumple looked up at her, unblinking, and Belle began to feel a little sheepish herself. “I--I want to know your son. I’d like for us to be a family together.”

“Yes,” he breathed. His face was still. He looked up at her in wonder. “Yes, Belle. I’d like that too. I want you to meet my son, to be family to him.” He laid his hand on the flat of her belly. “And when we find him, I would like Baelfire to know his brothers and sisters.”

Their eyes locked on each other in a moment of joyful hope. “But not until the curse breaks?”

“Please,” he insisted. “You must understand, Regina will rule over this new world. We can’t--”

“No,” Belle agreed. She leaned to kiss her future husband on the lips. “No, I don’t want to have a baby while that woman has any power at all.”

Rumple kissed her back, he drew her into his arms. “After the Savior is born,” he said. “After the curse is cast. After twenty-eight years in a prison, and after the curse is broken. Then, then we will be free to begin our happy ending.”

“Oh, Rumple,” she murmured as she wrapped her legs around his body. He was still wearing trousers, and that wouldn’t do at all. “Don’t you think we can be happy together now?”

He ran his fingers through her hair. “We do have some time, while Regina tries and fails to win a victory in this world. And the Savior’s parents only met a few months ago. We may have time for a little happiness. What would make you happy, my love?”

Belle leaned against his chest. The feeling of his skin against hers connected them. “We could experiment with the dagger a little more.”

He stiffened at that, but Belle knew it wasn’t out of fear. “What would you have me do for you, my love?”

“Tell me how long it will be until sunrise.”

It was a simple command, one she hoped would be easy for him. Rumple breathed a sigh before he answered. “About half an hour.”

“I stayed up all night looking for you.”

“I never thought you would want to find me. Are you tired?”

Belle embraced Rumpelstiltskin with all her might. “Not too tired to be with you. And yes, I wanted to find you. Even if I just want to argue with you and shout at you, I will always want to find you.”

He squeezed her back. “Those sound like true words of love.”

“They are. Rumple, will you open the curtains?”

“See, now that was a request. Not an order.”

“I know.” After all, she had learned the difference from him. “Must I order you to do the things I ask for?”

He kissed her temple. “Not at all, my love.” With a flick of his wrist, all the draperies opened to reveal the fading starlight and the darkness that always seemed like the worst part of the night--but was actually closest to dawn. She hoped the night had been warm enough for Philippe.

Belle sat up suddenly. “Oh gods, Philippe!”

Rumple held her gently by the waist. “Who?”

“My horse,” she explained. “I bought a horse, by the way. I left him in the courtyard. I’ve never found stables in the castle. Do we have a place to put him?”

“We do now,” he said with just a touch of amusement in his voice. His fingers twitched against her hip and she knew that he had done some magic. “He will find his way to a clean barn and a hearty breakfast of oats. See, my dear? Sometimes you don’t even have to ask.”

Belle smiled at him in the candlelight. “There’s one more thing I want from you right now, and I think I am going to order you for it.”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed, but his face was placid. “I hear and obey, my Belle.”

She licked her lips before she issued the order: “Take off your trousers for me, please.”

A shudder went through him and the rest of his clothes disappeared in a swirl of magic. Belle lay down on top of him, both of them finally naked together.

“Remember, we can’t do anything that might result in a child,” he said in a strained voice. “As much as I would love to bury myself inside your beautiful body.”

Belle felt her insides clench at his words. It had been so long since she had made love with Rumpelstiltskin. Groping around in the shadows, she found the hot, hard, length of his cock. And, oh, she did want to have him deep inside her. She wanted to have him take her and fill her and claim her body for his use. It would be so simple, so right, for her to be his again.

But she was not just his. He was hers as well.

As she gripped his shaft, she felt him tremble beneath her. But when her other hand drifted down to his knee, he gasped and jerked in a way that was not pleasure. His breath came in labored pants. He shook his head back and forth in a frenzy. What kind of torment was he in?

“Are you all right, Rumple?”

Eyes closed, his hands clawed at the blue coverlet beneath them. He twisted the velvet and his lips moved in silence for several moments before he spoke.

“Please!” He forced the word out of his mouth.

Belle took his frantic hands into her own, trying to calm him. “Anything, my love. Anything! But what’s wrong?”

“I--I don’t want to tell you. But you must know! You must, before you give me any pleasure. You must know what kind of man I was.”

She gripped his hands until her knuckles turned white. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“W--” he panted, as the battle raged inside him. “W-will you order me to show you my ankle?”

His ankle? For as long as she had known about Rumpelstiltskin’s reluctance to be naked, she had always assumed that it was only his unwillingness to be known. Belle had never thought that there was any one specific part of him that he hid from the world, that he had kept even from her.

But as she thought of it, she realized that she had never seen both of Rumple’s feet. He had always kept one hidden, on those rare times when she saw him without boots. What did he think he needed to conceal? What did it hurt him so much to show? And what was so important to him that he wanted her to order him to reveal it?

“Rumpelstiltskin.” She tried to sound calm. She tried to make her voice warm, but powerful. “Show me what you don’t want me to see.”

With a strangled cry, Rumple jerked his leg out from under her. At the same time, all the candles in this vast bedroom blazed with ten times their natural brightness. There was no darkness in the room now, no kind shadows to blunt the surprise of what Belle had to know.

His ankle--his whole foot really--was a mass of silver-green scars. Had it been crushed? His foot was twisted, the bones visibly out of place. Belle inhaled sharply at the sight, but kept her hands on him. The injury looked as though it had been broken and then set badly--or not at all. Perhaps he had been given no doctor’s care. How old was this wound? How long had he been suffering? How was it possible that he could even walk, let alone dance his spritely way around a room?

“Oh Rumple.” Belle felt tears spring into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, still shaking. “I should have told you before you agreed to marry me. But you can back out, my Belle. I will not hold you to--”

She cut him off by pulling him into her arms and kissing him deeply on the mouth. He was stiff for a moment, but then clung to her again. He was weeping.

“I’m not going to leave,” Belle said firmly. “You belong to me now, and I will keep you, Rumpelstiltskin.” Still holding him in one arm, she reached down to rest her hand on his mangled ankle. “Every part of you is mine.”

He just sobbed and shook his head. “I’m broken. I always have been.”

Belle placed a kiss on his head. “Not broken,” she told him. “Just chipped.”

“I did it to myself,” he sniffed. “During the first Ogre War. I thought that I would die if I fought in the battle. I didn’t want to leave my son fatherless.”

She pulled him closer, let him put his head into the crook of her neck and cry. It had been over a year since ogres had left Belle motherless. She remembered the smoke and terror of that night. She remembered the battles that had followed and all the soldiers who had come back ripped in half--or who hadn’t come back at all. She huddled closer to the man she loved, grateful that he had escaped that fate, no matter how horrible the means.

“I’m a coward,” he whispered. “I have been a coward all my life. And everyone I’ve ever loved has hated me for it.”

“I will never hate you,” Belle assured him. “I will stay with you and love you for as long as I live.”

Rumple sniffed back a chuckle, and Belle knew that he doubted her. Of course a man who had lived so long and suffered so much would not believe the words of a young woman in love, no matter how heartfelt they were. He played with words too well himself to give them much credit from other people. Belle would have to give him actions before he took her to heart.

Without preamble, she slid her body away from him. “Lie down,” she ordered. “Flat on your back like you were.”

In the glaring light, she could see the confusion on his face. But he still obeyed, and that was good. Puzzlement didn’t trouble Belle. She was going to show him how to trust her.

“Rumpelstiltskin, douse the candles.” Belle gave the order in a clear, strong voice. She wanted to communicate that she knew best, that she was in control, that she would give him what he needed, even if he couldn’t ask for it.

He obeyed and the bedroom was dark. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the near-blackness of the predawn. But Rumple, who could see in the dark, who was himself a creature of darkness, relaxed. His breathing became slower. His terrible secret was hidden again.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” Belle answered. “I’m going to pleasure you. I will do everything I can to make it easy for you to be weak.”

“Belle,” he murmured her name like a prayer. “Oh, Belle!”

Reaching in the darkness, Belle wrapped one hand around his cock. She placed the other on his chest. If she were stronger, the placement might have pinned him down. But this was only a suggestion, a hint of restraint. She would let him move if he needed to, but for now he had to trust that she would keep him safe.

His cock hardened in her hand.

“I will take care of you,” she said, as she slowly moved her hand up and down his length. “If you allow me to.”

“Yes!” Rumpelstiltskin gasped. “Yes, please Belle! But only--”

“Yes?”

“Please,” he breathed. “Please allow me to take care of you as well. Please allow me to pleasure you.”

“Of course, Rumple. When I’m done.”

Grinning, Belle leaned down to his face. She kissed his cheeks and chin and lips, her hand on his chest a subtle reminder that he was not to get up. He had given her power just now, and she was damn well going to use it.

She stroked him slowly as she held him down. He didn’t try to move. She spoke soft words of praise and love. He didn’t contradict her. As the sun rose in the east, as light poured into their bedroom through the windows, Rumpelstiltskin’s pleasure mounted. Belle loved the feeling of his hardness, loved his shallow breaths and hisses of pleasure. She had always loved getting her hands on the Dark One and his cock.

But what she really loved, what made this night different than any other night she had ever known, was the hand that she pressed against his chest. Without giving an order, Belle had gotten him to stay down through the whole event. He had submitted, willingly, to her desire, and she was happy to reward him for his obedience.

He stayed down on the bed even as he came. Belle watched his face as it happened, watched his relief as he gave his control to her. She watched his skin shimmer in the light of a new day. She watched the sunlight glow against her golden ring.

Later--because there would be a later, there would be time for everything. There would be a tomorrow and a next day and a next. Later, Rumpelstiltskin could have power again. He could control her, as she now controlled him. He could pleasure her, as she had pleasured him. All things were equal between them now. They would work together to understand what that meant and how they could both get the most out of such an arrangement.

They would figure it out.

#Golden cuffs #rumbelle #rumbelle fanfic #rumbelle fanfiction #ouat

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Galactica, Chapter 2 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Okay so, to be honest, we really thought that we were doing this for ourselves and that maybe a few people would read it. The fact that so many of you guys have been SO kind and supportive is just lovely and we are infinitely grateful for you all!! Here is Chapter 1. Here’s a link to AO3 if you’d prefer to read there. 💫

Last Chapter: Violet received the thrilling news that Fame intends to promote her to design as soon as she finds and trains a new assistant.

This Chapter: We meet the other department heads.

***

Violet looked out on the conference table one final time, consulting the list in her notebook to make sure that nothing was forgotten. It was Wednesday morning, the 9am monthly creative meeting starting in less than 15 minutes.

The table was set with a light breakfast spread, no one but Trixie and Alyssa ever actually eating at these things, but she had made sure there was a selection of fruits, and that everyone had their favorite beverages besides the ginormous coffee order. Keeping track of the department heads and their various likes and dislikes was almost a job in itself, but Violet had gotten it down to a science.

There were frosted Pellegrinos for Fame, Raja preferring grapefruit juice. Alyssa liked Redbull, Alaska preferred diet Doctor Pepper, Trixie was a regular coke kind of guy while Pearl was a wildcard, but Violet had a good feeling about the chocolate milkshake, since she had heard the rumor that Pearl had been out partying.

Violet had spent most of last night writing the job description for the new assistant, falling asleep with her notebook in hand, only to wake up in a panic at 3 am to realize that the electricity was out yet again. She had slept restlessly for the rest of the night, then missed her first alarm, barely making it to her gym for a shower before coming in to work at 7.30 sharp, and while Violet knew she looked flawless, it felt fundamentally wrong to take a stop at her gym without working out.

The only bright spot so far had been how HR had accepted her initial proposal right away, giddiness bubbling in her chest at the thought that the process of finding her replacement was actually happening.

“- and don’t forget to bring the swatches.”

Raja Amrull was standing by the window, her phone to her ear, a cup of coffee already at her lips as she spoke to her assistant.

Raja Amrull was the chief creative officer, co-founder of Galactica and one of Fame’s very best friends. Violet took a moment to watch her as she gave order after order, her voice filled with a natural authority that always made Violet’s stomach do a flip.

Raja was wearing a mustard fitted pantsuit, the black hair that almost reached her waist put in intricate braids, and Violet knew it was the work of her girlfriend. Raja’s tan skin was practically glowing in the morning sun, the dark brown tattoos on her left hand standing out.

Even though she was in her 40s, 41 if Violet remembered correctly, she still looked every bit the supermodel she had been in the 00’s.

Raja wasn’t a naturally sweet person, but in Violet’s opinion that didn’t matter. She was competent and got her business done, which was something Violet admired in a leader.

“Violet?”

Violet blushed, the sound Raja’s voice cutting through her daydream. She had been so caught up in watching her that she hadn’t actually paid attention, but Raja had never been known for her patience, so she simply snapped, pointing at the room's thermostat, and Violet quickly made her way over, turning it down four degrees to the temperature she knew Raja preferred.

She felt like an idiot for forgetting, and she promised herself that it wouldn’t happen again.

Alaska, head of makeup and fragrances, was the first to arrive. The blonde wasn’t particularly talkative before her third cup of coffee, her every word drawn out in long lazy vowels. Alyssa came second, Violet counting her blessings that the marketing director had shown up on time. Alyssa always got the job done, but getting her anywhere on schedule was always an experience, the woman forever off in her very own world where she was the star of everything.

Fame was third, her first words as she stepped through the door, “Why is no one ready?” and Violet felt her stomach clench.

The meeting wasn’t scheduled to start for another 10 minutes, but that was one of the most terrifying things about Fame. She was never early, she was never late, everyone else was simply supposed to be there the exact moment she wanted them.

Violet was just about to open her mouth to apologize for Pearl, when the woman in question came in through the door.

“Morning everyone.” Pearl smiled, her voice a slow drawl. She was wearing a black turtleneck crop top, a black miniskirt and Violet was pretty sure she could see pieces of golden glitter in her unwashed blonde locks.

Alaska waved, but Fame gave her one single slow judgemental once-over, the kind that Violet had witnessed cause several interns to burst into tears.

“What are you wearing?” Fame’s voice was icy cold, but Pearl only smirked.

“You don’t like it?”

“Did you sleep in your makeup?” Fame reached out, touching Pearl’s chin with a single finger and tilting her head up, turning her face from side to side. “You know how I feel about this mistreatment of your skin.”

Fame dropped her hand, and Violet immediately handed her a tissue. Fame wiped her fingers, giving the now crumpled paperback to Violet, the whole exchange taking less than 10 seconds.

“You smell like an illegal teen party.”

“It’s because I’ve been to one.” Pearl smiled brightly, Fame’s disapproval and rudeness clearly not touching her at all. “Wait until you see the photos. Half the partygoers were wearing our newest print. Trixie was absolutely right-”

Just as Fame said those words, Trixie pushed through the door, the senior creative team of Galactica now all present, to Violet’s relief.

“You rang?” he said with a cheeky grin, earning a fist bump from Pearl.

It had taken Violet months to realize how much of a genius Trixie actually was--his close-shaven brown hair, obvious bald spot, a fondness for colorful t-shirts and love handles all doing everything they could to hide that he was one of the main forces behind Galactica’s success. But Trixie (who’s real name was Brian, though Violet had never heard anyone call him that) was wildly creative, known for his effective management style and outside the box thinking.

While Raja handled the broad creative direction and was the face of the company to customers and consumers, Trixie was in charge of the day to day operations of the design departments. He ruled the design atelier and the tailoring department with a gentle touch, though no one dared cross him, Trixie just as willing as anyone else in the boardroom to do what it took to get the job done.

“I’m sorry I’m late-” Trixie yawned, barely hiding it behind his hand.

“I take it the collection is going well?” Raja smirked, her knife cutting through an apple.

“Don’t even ask.” Trixie groaned, sitting down in a chair, grabbing the coffee - two-pump caramel, whole fat milk - Violet delivered to his hand and drinking it down greedily. “My machine broke and ate most of my prototype.”

“So it’s not here?” Fame raised a brow, but Trixie shook his head, reaching into the paper bag he had brought along.

“I’ve been remaking it all night on Katya’s shitty theater machine.”

“Oh, my poor darling.” Fame leaned against the edge of the table, gently running a hand through Trixie’s buzzed hair. “We’ll get you a new one.” “Thank you.” Trixie smiled, and Violet grabbed her notebook, knowing that Fame without a doubt expected her to find the exact same machine Trixie had broken and get it delivered to his apartment before the workday was over.

***

A knock caught Violet’s attention. She was back in the office, writing out her to-do list from the meeting, her nails clacking away on the keyboard.

“Violet?” Max Malaphany was standing in the door, a smile on his lips. “Is she in?”

Max was an impossibly tall British man, his soft short hair grey, his eyes blue.

“Sorry,” Violet quickly pressed save, turning her chair. “Fame is in a meeting, but I can pencil you in for later?”

Max was Galactica’s main photographer, and one of Fame’s treasured darlings. He had a studio on the top floor, his sure hands and endless patience capturing all in house media, Galactica producing every single shot for their website themself, and while Violet wouldn’t have believed it made that much of a difference, their online portfolio had thousands and thousands of visitors every single day.

“I’ll just wait here.” Max was carrying a portable light table under his arm, and Violet could only guess what would be in his backpack. “I’ll only be a moment.”

If it had been anyone else, she would have protested, ushered them out of her little front office one way or the other, but Max was different. He was one of the few calming presences at Galactica, he never probed, rarely gossiped, and Violet truly enjoyed that about him.

“Do you want some water?” Violet had a mini-fridge under her desk stocked with the most important supplies, since she never knew when Fame’s cravings or the mood of her guests would strike.

“I’d love that.”

She quickly grabbed him a water, and Max settled down in one of the plush armchairs normally reserved for visitors. He didn’t start talking, wasn’t trying to make chit chat that would inevitably turn awkward, which was why Violet had allowed him to stay.

She went back to her memo, working for a little while but her eyes were stinging, and she only barely managed to hide a yawn behind her hand.

“Are you feeling alright, Violet?” Max asked gently.

“What?” In spite of her exhaustion, Violet was in a fairly good mood, and while she didn’t have the sunniest disposition, she wasn’t actively annoyed at the moment. She quickly checked her face in the glass door to the office, smoothing down her hair.

“You look lovely as always, Violet.” Max smiled. “I was only asking because, well, I’ve never seen you slouch before. Are you feeling unwell?”

“Oh…” Violet straightened her back, her fingers in her thick black locks. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Okay.” Max nodded. His expression was so understanding, his manner so patient, that Violet did something she rarely ever did. She offered more information.

“I’m just tired, I-” Violet swallowed down a nervous chuckle, her tongue feeling like it was growing in size in her mouth. “I don’t sleep well these days. The electricity in my building, isn’t, it isn’t very stable, and I keep having these nightmares where my phone runs out of charge so I miss an important call and-”

“Oh dear.”

Violet realized how stupid she had to sound, but she had woken up covered in sweat thinking she had missed calls from Fame, any rest she got broken up by the worry that she wasn’t doing her job.

“I’m sorry. It’s nothing to worry about really,” Violet assured him. “The landlord said they’ll rewire the building-” Max didn’t need to know that her landlord had been promising that exact thing the entire time Violet had been living there, but she didn’t really have any other options, her student debt way too much for her to even consider spending another penny on rent. “I’m sure it’ll work itself out.”

“Well, I wish you the best of luck with that,” he said sincerely. Just then, the door opened and Jaida, the company's CFO, came out.

“Max!” Fame appeared in the doorway, a delighted smile on her face.

Violet’s stomach turned to ice, everything in her begging that Fame hadn’t heard her complain.

“Hello Miss. I know you’re terribly busy, but I wondered if you could spare a few minutes to discuss the test shoot for the new brochures yesterday?”

“Of course, anything for you!” Fame said. She truly was a different person in Max’s presence, Violet noted. Softer and calmer--as most people were.

“Wonderful.”

***

“Oh I don’t know about this light for orange, it’s so ghastly-” Fame was chewing her lip, a lens in her hand as she went over the pictures Max had brought in for her.

“Fame?”

“Yes dearest?” Fame looked up. She loved Max. When Pearl had told her of a British wildlife photographer she had met in LA and bullied into taking her picture, Fame hadn’t been interested. As always, Pearl had proven to have an eye for talent that few could compete with, her social media director not only able to sniff out trends like a bloodhound, no, she knew people, and she knew them instantly.

Max had a rare talent for capturing the natural beauty of an unnatural world, so much of fashion made up of things that didn’t matter, but when he shot, when he turned his lens on someone, he captured all the best they could offer each and every time.

“I heard Ivy moved in with her boyfriend.”

“Mmh?” It was indeed true. Raja’s assistant, Ivy, had been living in the building Fame and Patrick owned for a few years. Fame and Raja had almost gotten in a fight, something that never happened, when Ivy’s house in Queens had been torn down, but in the end Raja had gotten her will, Ivy moving into the studio apartment on the top floor. “She left two weeks ago.”

Fame had meant to find someone else to take the apartment, but that building was special. It wasn’t just an apartment complex, it was a place where she kept her chosen ones, a safe haven she offered to talent that she trusted.

“You know, Violet doesn’t have reliable electricity. In her building. I mean.”

“Oh Max.” Fame smiled, touching Max’s knee. “You have always had such a tender heart.”

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #pearlet #violet chachki #miss fame #pearl liaison #trixie mattel #raja gemini #max malanaphy

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nightwingvixen23 · 5 years ago

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JayRoy short fanfic I whipped up inspired by this god damned song right here lol👇

youtube

@aceofenderdark i was in a legit mood lol

💘💘💘

Roy speaks in the way that Siren’s sing, flooding venom in to my mouth and watching it drip like a ruptured peach to the sting of front teeth. Ripping such fragile skin into nasty pieces of flesh, letting lay bare the very salacious core hidden in the seam.

His flaming hair has grown out (frequently used to twisting or tying it up into a knot) tonight it remains loose. Untamed. And my fingers play through that somehow flawless shit storm, tangling each lock into madness; they overall might dangle into his glaring eyes but that does nothing to befog the fire smoking from within. He looks wild above me. Never have I asked to be such a blooded piece of meat at the ready to be gutted; staring into the yawning mouth of the lion, of whom, is fucking starved.

Right now, I know that he knows that it’s not his nails nor teeth that I fear will gift me new damage, but his eyes. They inspire, burn, destroy. I’m left suspended in the company of a gore leaking orifice that bellows ‘look at me’ should my mind toe outside the line of our depraved Love Nest; this being no more then the feral charge then skirmish to the floor of a Gotham City safehouse.

We sure are givin’ some poor son of a bitch a show, I think, spotting the newfangled surveillance camera I hadn’t noticed sooner, newly installed high left. My mind darts to Tim making my hands sweat, however, Roy’s fingers bruising my chin pull me back down into the waters of our fucked up little fantasy.

The holsters loyal to each my thighs are disengaged, followed by the faint skidding rattle of two M1911 pistols being launched across a cement floor. This all titters a secret to me that I am now in the hands of no mercy.

It’s during a moment like this (offering myself over to be caught in the line of fire) that I swear by the unholy mess in me that Roy Harper is some sort of Saintly Deity of Insanity that which no god can put a name to. Why else would I worship this fucker’s dick like i do ? Call me crude, vulgar, whatever...doesn’t change the fact that the shitty ass truth, is in fact, the shitty ass truth. That truth being that I demand his unsympathetic grip akin to an infant demanding it’s very first breath of life. The affliction of every scar mapping my body is something that I didn’t fuckin’ ask to be met with, nevertheless, something about the power that comes with directing an overdose of a serpentine thirst such as this one that makes me feel more in control then when my hands are gripping lead.

Our lips meet with vigor. I’ve never known it to be smooth. Never known us to take our time, yanno ? It’s always fierce. Hot. A clash of potent teeth seeking to grip and rip apart tender skin. To taste blood. And what’s a good fuck without the taste of blood ? C’mon. We’re deep. We’re thorough: two adrenaline filled junkies having gotten our first real swallow of the golden necator that has seduced us, dripping from uncut fruit laying bare in our wake while with instructions to never have one bite; we’re obsessed.

The tinkering jangle of an unhooked belt. The lick of Roy’s tongue into my mouth still tasting of shitty liquor from the corner store. A sinners Paradise. I tilt my head back for him and let teeth ascend onto my neck. I’m the lamb, sticking it’s neck out for the butcher. I want this. I want him to brand me intensely then cool it with a kiss because that is something that this world has done too many fucking times to me, and I’ve got the scars to prove it.

Yeah, only because the world never did leave a kiss of apology.

Chewed mint gum, stale tobacco, and secrets kept out in the rain for far too long, left to tarnish with the coming of nightfall; this is his eternal flavour.

Isn’t there some goddamn way for us to endure this way ? Twined together ? Just like this. Simply him ritualizing my abdomen that rose and fell with shaky gasps, his tongue marveling the carved indent of muscle there, tracing every groove proving personal fortitude. Proving that my ass didn’t get dropped down onto this fuckin waste land of a planet just to roll over like a creature without fight.

A trifling jungle, Life is.

“God. What a million mother fuckers would trade to see the Red Hood in this wrecked state. You wanna beg for me, doll ? That’s right. Beg for me then,” Roy’s voice is an instrument. His words, musical of filth. I’m being serenaded by the devil and it’s mother fuckin’ magical. Even so, I aim to punch him in the throat. I wasn’t gonna do much damage, was just gonna let him know what toes the line, but his hand wraps around my curled wrist and my bicep tenses. I’m straining to reach him. Straining to infect him, however somewhere in the tangle of that violence dance I strained also for his mouth like an addict for a needle. A taboo puppet. A homicidal angel, like he once called me before I spit in his eye earning my face into the wall.

What even are we doing, Roy Harper ? Why do we do this ? And why does it feel so right to scream your name into the hush of a blacked out room while you turn me inside out ? I’d ring God on the manner, but fuck—I just start pissing myself with laughter each time I start.

Gotta love this shade of grey I’ve established my life in the thick of. Grey is the blueprint of a soul caught in limbo. It’s a nice color. The ambiance is sedated, disrupted here and there by the tortured hollar of a condemned conscience—but life ain’t no fucking picnic.

Then again, even a tongue tied fool knows that.

…...

I can feel the frayed corners of ultimate reality beginning to shimmer. Roy watches me rising high even while knowing that soon I’ll crash, we will, together. And it’s so gorgeous for just a second that I could die like this. I know that it gets old hearing others romanticize death, yet I serious in the face of it. Serious and deeply, deeply in enamoured. Swept upon sandy beaches as to evade the lusting leviathan of the sea again and again. But I just wade back into the waters, deluded at times. Something like a drunk falling around town with an empty bottle of gin; everyone stares but no one will give directions to the nearest pub.

The vast gulf of the abyss beckons nearer with breath peppered by wanderlust and saliva spiked in moonshine. I can only take so much, however I’m forced, and so gorge on this easy feast.

Has a human ever been so unsteady and yet resistant ? So crippled and yet defiant ? I have many bones to pick with myself. I’ve splintered the masterpiece of my life into something ugly.

But I am a beast, aren’t I? And a Beast has always been one to see the Beauty in crude things. There is peace in the bloodstains, there is marvelous enrichment in the grimace of the faces. Cut me deeper Roy, squeeze red from my flesh so to let me continue my artistry. Open up the brushes of my fingers with your fangs and allow this woeful composer to create something for us both to laugh at.

Each finger in my mouth taste like pure sin. They scrape my gums until lips go down onto mine; then the fingers are put back into place. I choke. He chuckles. Fucking bastard.

Through these eyes of mine white with carnal tears, I look up and into the face of the man I didn’t mean to fall in love with wearing my blood upon his lips like a god damned badge of honor.

There’ll be no victor at the end of this unchaste warfare and I feel the cannon fires terminal blow. Yup. that’s my fucked up heart. What a tool.

But it’s been this way for centuries, hasn’t it ?

Sensuality is the baddest of bitches with hips that carve into yours tastefully. She’s the perfect fusion of warm and wanton that leaves you so powerfully drugged, that when you turn over to sleep soundly for having seen Nirvana it’s self, she’s able to hijack your shit with ease. Now your ass is left high and dry. But hey, you gotta relish her; notably on the day you find Sensuality knocking at your door again for having conceived with you a child named Regret, something that she drops off for you to raise alone. Now you’re in solitary as Regret clings to you tightly, sucking the life from your chest, but yet, still you nourish it. You love it because shit, it’s half of Sensuality isn’t it ? And had she not once been your reason worth living ?

I twist my fingers around Roy’s cross necklace still finding a way to glint silver in the dark, and pull him down into me with a grunt. For once, it’s his eyes that are glossed with hysterical fever, swimming and asphyxiated by all 7 of the Deadly Sins.

Yeah. That’s right fucker. At least for tonight, “You’re mine.”

Was that his whine that I heard ? Unquestionable was his moan. I think I hear him praying, but that doesn’t change the fact that come sunrise

We’ll both be waking up alone;

the bruises I left on his neck the only souvenirs of my Love.

#My fanfiction #Jayroy #jason todd #red hood #roy harper #arsenal #dramatic as fuck #lmao

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professorpalmarosa · 5 years ago

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I made Fullmetal Alchemist-inspired bath bombs!

Remember how I said that I have a secret side project in the works for this year? Here’s the big reveal: it’s a Fullmetal Alchemist story focusing on a pair of minor characters who only appeared in a light novel (The Land of Sand) and the 2003 version of the series. This guy in particular...

The Unholy Man of the North will be 2003 anime canon-compliant (rather than Brotherhood-compliant) and takes place 1 year after the original series ended. Russell Tringham (a young alchemist who has stolen Ed’s identity before) falls back on old habits, convinces someone he’s Edward Elric...and ends up getting kidnapped by foreigners. Before long, he’s dragged into a political conspiracy to rid the Drachman tsar of his family’s spiritual advisor: a priest the tsar’s brother-in-law believes may be performing some old, occult variant of what Amestris calls alchemy.

While I won’t be releasing this story to anyone other than beta readers until the first draft is complete (I’m about 50,000 words in), I can share a related creative endeavor with you.

Russell and his brother Fletcher created an artificial Philosopher’s Stone (a “Red Stone”) that, while powerful, didn’t quite measure up to the real thing. That had me thinking: what if I made a luxury blend...then intentionally tried to dupe it with ingredients I often use as substitutes? Here’s how it turned out!

Details are listed below, including the recipe if you want to try making “Cruelty-Free Philosopher’s Stones/Red Stones” at home!

Philosopher’s Stone Bath Bomb

Essential Oils:

Frankincense Carteri (2g)

Elemi (1g)

Finger Root (1g)

Clove (1g)

Mandarin (1g)

Cedarwood (Texan) (1g)

Colorants:

Red 40 Blooming Dye (Activated)

Red 23 Blooming Dye (Activated)

Red Oxide

Red Mica (for sparkle)

Look at this pretty color! The pink tint comes from the Red 23--but don’t overdo it! Add too much pink colorant and you’ll be pink too! This is what the mixture looked like before I added baking soda and citric acid.

Red Stone Bath Bomb

Essential Oils:

Frankincense Serrata (2g)

Myrrh (1g)

Ginger CO2 Supercritical (1g)

Cardamom (1g)

Blood Orange (1g)

Cedarwood (Himalayan) (1g)

Colorants:

Red 40 Blooming Dye (Activated)

Red Oxide

Red Mica (for sparkle)

Additional Additives:

Bath-grade pop-rocks (5g)

The first thing to note about the Red Stone blend is that it doesn’t have the splash of pink that the Philosopher’s Stone blend does. This is because I excluded the Red 23 blooming dye and traded it for more Red Oxide. This is what the mix looked like prior to adding the baking soda and citric acid. In person, it kind of looked like half-congealed blood...

The bath water was gorgeous, though! After the froth and foam died down, the color was the exact same shade as the Red Water in the anime! The scents played nicely together and I found myself dozing off in the water.

However, I’m not sure if it was the oils in this bomb or something else--but my sleep suffered after using the leftovers. I woke up from a very vivid nightmare at 2 AM and had to pee (Myrrh can stimulate your kidneys in higher doses, so my sleeping in the bath probably didn’t do me any favors).

Once I returned to bed, it was near impossible to turn my brain off again. It was going into overdrive with ideas and only let me rest again after I wrote everything down. A small silver lining to the nightmare: it did give me some pretty good ideas for the story I’m writing...so at least there’s that?

Now for a bit of good news, the Red Stone didn’t stain me or my tub! Once it went down the drain, the only thing that lingered was the smell. And even that disappeared by 2 AM.

Procedure

Mix wet ingredients (essential oils and carrier oil. For these blends, I used coconut and have some notes regarding that in the “Tips & Safety Warnings” section)

Mix all dry ingredients (300g Sodium Bicarbonate, 15g Cream of Tartar, 5g Kaolin Clay, 5g Rassoul Clay, 10g SLSA, 3g Titanium Dioxide) except Citric Acid (150g)

Mix dry ingredient blend with wet ingredients until color and texture is consistent.

Add Citric Acid and mix evenly.

Pour into molds and allow to cure for 1-2 days

Tips & Safety Warnings

1. NEVER handle essential oils with your bare hands! These chemicals are VERY potent and your body can absorb them through your skin. You should always wear gloves when handling these sorts of projects.

2. Coconut Oil solidifies at room temperature! This means that you’ll need to heat it up when you’re mixing your wet ingredients. If you’re making multiple batches at the same time, it’s also possible your coconut oil will resolidify. I made a poor man’s double boiler in my lab out of a bowl of hot water and just let the containers where I’d mixed my wet ingredients float on top of the water. It kept them in a liquid state until I was ready for them. Of course, you could always substitute for another (easier) carrier like Rosehip or Argan Oil--but I wanted to include this in case you’re using Coconut.

Take a look at the oils I’ve mixed in this photo. See how it’s getting cloudy? That’s the coconut oil resolidfying:

3. Too much Red 23 may stain you and your bathtub! I haven’t had any problems with Red Oxide or Red 40, but Red 23 (which is what gives the Philosopher’s Stone its pinkish hue) and I have a love/hate relationship. It’s a beautiful colorant and a little goes a long way, but it can stain you like nothing else if you overdo it!

4. If you are using mica colorant in your bath bomb, be sure to include a little Polysorbate 80 to your wet ingredients too! Mica can make your bombs sparkle and glitter, but it will stick to EVERYTHING if you don’t add Polysorbate 80!

5. If you plan to make these for yourself or as gifts, please look up contraindications and potential side effects of overexposure to these oils first. Some oils are not safe for children, people with certain medical conditions, or people taking certain medications. Some people may also be allergic to certain ingredients and the scent of myrrh makes some people nauseous (three guesses why it went in the Red Stone blend). Just be cautious and conscientious!

End Result

Here are the two blends side by side. There’s only one Philosopher’s Stone in the image, but it’s rather obvious which one it is thanks to the Red 23.

I’m mildly creeped out by how similar the scent profiles are to the two blends. Sometimes I’ll substitute one of these oils for another when I’m running low in a popular blend, but this was my first time literally using ALL substitutes to make a dupe. Here are my notes:

The first thing you smell in both stones is a rich, luxurious, resin-like scent. This is because both synergies contain Frankincense (which is a resin oil) and a secondary resin oil (Elemi in the Philosopher’s Stone and Myrrh in the Red Stone).

Although both stones contain a citrus oil; you only smell traces of it in the Red Stone and it’s almost nonexistent in the Philosopher’s Stone. There’s two reasons this may have happened. My Blood Orange essential oil is fresher than my Mandarin oil, so it may be more potent. Also, Blood Orange just has a stronger scent profile in general. Mandarin’s an oil I often substitute for Sweet Orange or Tangerine since it plays nicely with a lot of stuff and doesn’t try to steal the show. Blood Orange does.

The Philosopher’s Stone has a peppery bite to it that the Red Stone does not. I suspect the culprit is the Finger Root, which is a “sister smell” to the Ginger I used for the Red Stone blend. Finger Root is a lesser-known oil that I sometimes interchange with Ginger or Turmeric in my synergies. It’s got a slightly earthier smell than Ginger (which is mildly sweet on top of its spice), and packs a bit more heat. It’s also possible that the eugenol content of the Clove Bud oil I used was super high, but the company I got it from didn’t provide a chemical breakdown of the batch. I have no way of knowing.

The Red Stone gives off a weird “burning” smell that the Philosopher’s Stone does not. My guess is it’s the difference between the two Cedarwood oils. Texan Cedarwood (which I used in the Philosopher’s Stone) has a dry firewood smell to it when paired with Sage, but is much milder than Himalayan Cedarwood (which smells a bit more like the “cedar” most people are familiar with). Also, the Red Stone’s secondary resin oil is Myrrh: which can amplify warm smells like Turmeric, Black Pepper, or Cinnamon when mixed in a blend. I think the Myrrh and Himalayan Cedarwood mixed together to cause that effect.

The scent profile is about an 85% match, but that 15% difference puts it almost in an aromatherapeutic uncanny valley: like it’s “not quite right” but close enough to fool someone if they sniffed these two blind and didn’t know they were different blends.

I highly recommend trying both scents out if you aren’t allergic to any of the ingredients. It’s a fun activity, and one I’m hoping to do a live demo for at a convention in the future!

#Skye makes bath bombs #Fullmetal Alchemist bath bomb #Philosopher's Stone bath bomb #Red Stone bath bomb #Professor Palmarosa #ProfessorPalmarosa #fandom bath bomb

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nightwingvixen22 · 5 years ago

Text

Shaded In Grey

Summary : Jason loves Roy just as much as he loves the bruises that he paints into his skin; but to hell if he’ll ever let him know that and change the interplay of their lusting dance amongst the grey

💘💘💘

It’s during a moment like this (offering myself over to be caught in the line of fire) that I swear by the unholy mess in me that Roy Harper is some sort of Saintly Deity of Insanity that which no god can put a name to. Why else would I worship this fucker’s dick like i do ? Call me crude, vulgar, whatever…doesn’t change the fact that the shitty ass truth, is in fact, the shitty ass truth. That truth being that I demand his unsympathetic grip akin to an infant demanding it’s very first breath of life. The affliction of every scar mapping my body is something that I didn’t fuckin’ ask to be met with, nevertheless, something about the power that comes with directing an overdose of a serpentine thirst such as this one that makes me feel more in control then when my hands are gripping lead.

Yeah, only because the world never did leave a kiss of apology.

Chewed mint gum, stale tobacco, and secrets kept out in the rain for far too long, left to tarnish with the coming of nightfall; this is his eternal flavour.

A trifling jungle, Life is.

Then again, even a tongue tied fool knows that.

……

The vast gulf of the abyss beckons nearer with breath peppered by wanderlust and saliva spiked in moonshine. I can only take so much, however I’m forced, and so gorge on this easy feast.

Has a human ever been so unsteady and yet resistant ? So crippled and yet defiant ? I have many bones to pick with myself. I’ve splintered the masterpiece of my life into something ugly.

Each finger in my mouth taste like pure sin. They scrape my gums until lips go down onto mine; then the fingers are put back into place. I choke. He chuckles. Fucking bastard.

Through these eyes of mine white with carnal tears, I look up and into the face of the man I didn’t mean to fall in love with wearing my blood upon his lips like a god damned badge of honor.

There’ll be no victor at the end of this unchaste warfare and I feel the cannon fires terminal blow. Yup. that’s my fucked up heart. What a tool.

But it’s been this way for centuries, hasn’t it ?

Yeah. That’s right fucker. At least for tonight, “You’re mine.”

Was that his whine that I heard ? Unquestionable was his moan. I think I hear him praying, but that doesn’t change the fact that come sunrise

We’ll both be waking up alone;

the bruises I left on his neck the only souvenirs of my Love.

#my fanfiction #jayroy #jason todd #red hood #roy harper #arsenal #Based on the song Fifty Shades by Boy Epic

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imagine-loki · 5 years ago

Text

Gifted

TITLE: Gifted (Sequel to Giftless)

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 7/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine that you are Stark’s niece and you secretly share a strong relationship with Loki since he entered the crew. One day you get hurt so bad during a mission that you are about to die. Loki knows a spell that will save you and share his immortality with you but you and he will be linked forever sharing thoughts, pain, emotions…

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

You both terrified the nice waitresses and managers at the pancake house. You hadn’t meant to, of course, but they were already suspicious when the well-dressed skinny young couple came in and ordered the unlimited pancakes. Supers have stupidly high metabolisms, Loki wasn’t human (you weren’t entirely sure you were anymore either), and the last real meal you’d had, besides last night, was two weeks ago. Those pancakes were doomed. The staff became even more suspicious after our third reorder of pancakes. By our fifth reorder of pancakes, the chef himself came out to see who was eating all of his pancakes. He glared at you both. You figured he recognized you and had a feeling that supers weren’t going to be allowed to have unlimited pancakes anymore as soon as he could get it past corporate.

“Tom, Kelly, are you in town to film the new Avengers movie?” one of the paparazzi asked while you were inhaling pancakes. It was really quite rude of them, you were busy scaring the poor staff of the pancake house. You didn’t want to deal with the press, but they always followed you around.

You grinned at them, though, amused they’d gotten you mistaken for the actors. “Sorry, wrong celebrities,” you told them with a too-innocent smile. Loki tried to hide his smirk and failed. Miserably.

“Wait? What? You’re-?” she spluttered, surprised that you weren’t Tom and Kelly.

“Not Tom and Kelly,” you replied still too innocently. innocently. She tried to get an interview from you instead, but she had ruined her chance by not knowing who she was talking to. She finally left you alone, looking defeated.

You and Loki enjoyed your breakfast; you spent most of the meal telling him stories about your super friends. You had gotten some new recruits, who had the misfortune of training with you whenever Fury could get you to act as ‘helpless victim’ during training sessions. You’d had too much fun over the years messing up their plans that you had gotten quite good at it. Now the new kids all saw you as Sigyn, a role model in the super community and one of the strongest, if not the strongest super in the city. They didn’t expect you to mess with their carefully made plans during training sessions. They all got incredibly flustered when you jumped in to help them, or sat on the ground crying and tripping everyone, or all sorts of other things that just messed with their plans. It was one of their important lessons when they started their training, that victims would never do what you expect them to. you did the role so well, that Fury always got you to do the training class whenever he could.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, but don’t you dare tell Uncle Tony I told,” you started. Loki perked up, extremely interested in a story that he couldn’t tell Tony. “Tony finally proposed to Pepper,” you told him with a grin. “They’re trying to keep it secret, but they suck at it. The entire compound knows, but somehow they haven’t figured it out that we all know,”

“Which one is Pepper, again?” he asked, he had spent as little time with Tony as possible, so of course he hadn’t met Pepper except in passing.

“She’s the extremely formidable woman who runs Tony’s company. She isn’t around the tower often,” Loki roared in laughter, once he could visualize the woman ordering Tony around.

“You can’t tell Uncle Tony!” you replied firmly, but you were laughing too. Those two were adorable and Tony was totally whipped by Pepper. Loki promised he wouldn’t tell…yet. You laughed harder, imagining how that was going to go when it happened. “Try to be nice, Lo. This is his first real relationship and we don’t want him to think we’re unsupportive,”

“Two questions,” he started. You grinned at him, but nodded. “Firstly, Lo? Where did Lo? come from?”

You looked away, Loki was weird about nicknames. “Sorry,” you murmured, assuming he was offended.

“There is no reason to be sorry, darling. It was just a question. I was simply surprised.” His voice was gentle and reassuring.

“Everyone else has nicknames…” you mumbled defensively. Loki deserved one as well.

He pressed on, leaving that subject for another time, probably when you were less defensive. You knew you was being a bit extra defensive right now, and it wasn’t entirely fair, but you were hindered by your lack of powers. You hated feeling helpless. “Secondly, what do you mean by unsupportive?”

“Uncle Tony is still known as a womanizer from his life before the Avengers. He’s afraid of going public with Pepper and thinks people will be mean to her, will claim she’s just another woman in a long line of forgetable faces,” you explained. “I don’t want Uncle Tony to feel that way when he finally gets up the courage to tell me.”

He thought about that, but nodded. “Earth is strange sometimes,” he finally replied. You could tell that he didn’t understand why people would be against someone loving someone else, or would dare say anything against Pepper. “But with that being the case, I promise to be nice when he tells us. After that he is fair game for teasing, just like everyone else,” he added with a grin.

“Naturally,” you replied dryly as Loki caught the waitress’ attention to order another round of pancakes. She looked visibly scared by that. You sighed and reached in to your purse. “Candice,” you told her, reading her name badge. “I promise we’re not trying to get you in to trouble. We’re just trying to have a nice breakfast. If we’re causing you or the chef trouble, I’m sorry. Look, here’s your tip in advance,” you told her and handed her a hundred dollar bill. It was going to be her tip regardless. you were rich and could afford to tip crazily. “Can you send the chef out to talk to us? We’ll explain it to him,” you added. The chef came out and was much happier with you once he had gotten your autographs and you gushed about how delicious his pancakes were. He also got a tip and promised you as many pancakes as you could eat anytime you came in. Once that was settled, you got back to your conversations about your friends.

Your breakfast date was going wonderfully until there was a giant crunching crash of metal outside the restaurant. You whirled instinctively to see what it was to find a huge car crash right outside the window. Both cars looked instantly totaled and one was on fire. You looked over at Loki, who had already shifted into his black and green battle armor. “Loki,” you said softly, holding out your wrist to him. You figured he had been lying earlier when he said he couldn’t remove it.

He hesitated, until you heard the child crying, screaming in pain and terror. “Do not tell your uncle,” he told you firmly. You nodded you agreement. He removed the bangle from your arm. You dropped a wad of cash on the table to cover your bill, vanished your purse, and shifted to your own battle armor in a moment. You ran from the pancake house to help. The crash was huge. Five cars were involved. Loki pointed to one. “The child is in that one,” he called. You nodded and rushed over. Of course it was the car that was on fire.

You grabbed the fire with your power and snuffed it almost immediately. Fire was yours to control. You tried to pull the car doors open, but they were locked. You cursed and used telekinesis to force them open, ripping them from the hinges. You got the child out first and was already healing him while you worked to get his mom out of the front of the car. She was somehow mostly uninjured. It took only a moment and a small bit of power to heal her. Her son… You set him on the ground so you could place both hands on him to heal him.

They were healed quickly. You handed the son to the woman and sent her in the direction of the pancake house. As you did, you noted the sound of sirens. Help was coming soon. “Sig!” Loki called. You looked over and saw the victim he was helping. The guy had been nearly decapitated. You ran over and slid to your knees, kneeling next to him. Loki had been dumping healing magic into the man, but he didn’t have enough, not for how fast this healing needed to be done. You placed both of your glowing hands on the poor man’s neck, telling him gently to be silent and calm. He didn’t listen, but it had been worth a try. You dumped healing magic into him and knit his throat back together as fast as you could.

“Is everyone else clear of the cars?” you asked Loki while you worked.

“I will check. Be safe,” he told you firmly and overprotectively. You nodded absently, focused on your work. You got the guy healed enough that he wasn’t bleeding, his muscles were knit back together. He could move. He would need more healing, but he’d live for now. You sent him on his way towards the pancake house, where all of the victims were gathering.

Loki had pulled all of the victims from the cars and everyone who was capable of moving was heading to the gathering spot. You went to him to help with those who were too injured to move. You were healing another child when one of the cars exploded behind you. You threw a shield up around the people you were healing, and incidentally, Loki, but healers are not great at self preservation and you realized too late that your shield didn’t actually cover you. It covered your charges instead.

You realized this as you were flying through the air from the explosion. Loki and Tony were both going to kill you.

Repeatedly.

You landed hard on the concrete in front of the pancake house and shakily got back to your feet, examining your injuries. Cut on your head. You were scraped up all to hell. Bruised if not broken ribs. You didn’t even want to think about the arm you had landed on.

Loki and Tony were so going to kill you.

And still, you rushed back to the victims. You couldn’t heal myself, only others, so you threw all of your healing magic into healing the car crash victims. The police had finally arrived, so you had to finish this quickly. “Loki, drop your magic,” you told him. He did instantly, trusting your plans, trusting you. You were grateful for it, grateful for his trust.

You closed your eyes and raised your hands, concentrating. You let the healing power flow from you to all five of the gravely injured in front of you, plus Loki who had gotten cut by something while he was rescuing people. It took more magic to do it that way, but you were grounded for the next week regardless, and these people needed help now. So you let the power flow, fixing bones, muscles, tissues, stopping bleeding. It only took a minute, but it was the longest minute you’d experienced in a long time. You needed Loki’s help to stand again when you had finished, drained from the power use. “Don’t tell Tony,” you told Loki as he got to work healing you before you had to go give police statements.

“Only if I am allowed yell at you myself for forgetting to include yourself in the shield,” Loki growled at you. Yep, he was pissed.

“That’s fair,” you replied easily. “At least I only get the lecture once that way,”

It took forever to give your statements and get everything settled with the cops. After that, you and Loki trudged your way back into the pancake house. You had intended to make sure everyone was ok in there. Instead, you were greeted with cheers from all of the waitstaff instead and thanks from the people you had helped. There were also fresh stacks of pancakes waiting on your table for you.

“Tony is going to kill us,” you told Loki a few minutes later when you had sat down to eat in a post battle stupor, still in costume and covered in battle grime and the minor cuts and scrapes that didn’t get healed by the quick battle healings.

“Why do you say that?” he asked with his mouth full of pancake, so very unlike him that you knew he was exhausted from the battle. You pointed to the TV on the wall. It was showing a news report of the crash. You and Loki were featured, rushing in to save the victims of the crash.

“Tony is going to kill us,” Loki agreed sourly.

“Well, he’s just going to have to wait until after I finish my pancakes,” you replied tiredly. You were getting really tired of constant emergencies and really hoped things would calm down soon. “We should go find out what Tom and Kelly want before Tony gets ahold of us,” you suggested after you had finished your pancakes and were walking back to your car, still in costume. Loki grinned at you and nodded.

“That does sound much more agreeable than a lecture from your uncle. But first,” he held out his hand. “Wrist,” he ordered gently. You glared at him, but he didn’t give in. “Darling, you have already stopped resting because it was absolutely necessary. Those people would have died, and I admit that I could not have saved them all on my own. But you have got to rest, love, preferably before you drop from exhaustion. You are not going to do that if the healers at the compound can call on you for help,” he reminded you firmly, despite his gentle tone.

You sighed. “I know. I just hate being helpless. It sucked the years I lived with them without powers. It’s even worse now that I’ve gotten used to being the strongest super among them.”

“I know, love. Believe me, I know. I’m sorry you have had to face all of this alone. I’m sorry that they took advantage of your kindness so badly. I’m here for you now. Please, trust me to take care of you so you can heal yourself. Please, my darling, please let me help you,” his voice was too close to begging. You heard the pleading and desperation in his voice.

“If anything bad happens, I am going to be quite cross with you,” you finally told him, stealing one of his lines as you held out your wrist for him. That earned you a tiny smile.

He fastened the bangle back around your wrist. “I would expect nothing less.” He leaned down and kissed you gently.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #gifted #chapter 7 #nekoamamori

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im-tops-bottom · 6 years ago

Text

"watch where you are going you little piece of shit" Loki says as he shoves Tony aside before walking off with his boyfriend.

"god Loki and Stephen are such assholes. They were made for each other. I don't know how they became popular" Clint says as he helps Tony up and brushes the dust and dirt off.

"well they are good looking, Loki does acting while Stephen does music, they are rich and known how to make friends easily"

"and they are bullies. You coming over tonight?"

"I am not third wheeling tonight. You need to start spending some alone time with Natasha dammit. I'll be fine. Aunt Peggy said I could stay over tonight because apparently dad is drunk and mum is high. Whoo what else is new"

"I can't wait until this year is over. Then you, me, Nat, Pepper, Happy, Arthur, Diana, Rhodey and Carol can start getting ready for MIT. Hopefully those dumb shits didn't sigh up for it"

"seeing as those two love to bully me, I wouldn't put it past them. Rumour has it they are returning back to England. "

"oh poor Peter Parker. Better not tell Aunt May or she'll drag Peter back to America. If those two weren't bullying you then they were bullying your cousin"

"I know. I'll have a chat with Peter tonight and see what he wants to do and if I want to live with all parts of my body working to perfection then I'll tell May afterwards"

"this sucks. Come one lets head to our classes"

Clint drops Tony off to his class before glaring at the golden couple sitting right at the back as he makes his exit. Tony sighs at his table in front of Stephen and Loki. He ignores their attempts as he reads through his homework to make sure everything is correct. He quickly hands it over to the teacher before his bullies takes it off him and does something stupid.

After a couple of minutes of torture everyone settles down as principal Fury comes into the class with two baddass troublemaking looking hotties that has Tony feeling all kinds of things.

"class you have two new students today. They transferred from Hydra High to here to complete their last year of school"

Tony gulps because Hydra High was one of the worst schools in America. All the troublemakers went there and if you weren't one then you became one usually during your first year. They were full of tough people that always caused trouble. Normally students were from mobs/mafia backgrounds and knew the prison system really well. Security was big there that it made it look like you were at an American airport. These two with their leather jackets, ripped jeans, slicked back hair and smirks looked completely dangerous. Usually not the type of people Tony would want to be around and yet he felt like he was getting a boner.

Tony watched Fury leave after saying something and then looked at the 2 new students who, to his surprise, was staring straight at him. The blond one smiled and looked around the classroom getting ready to speak first.

"hi my name is Steve Rogers. Please call me Steve. I look forward to getting to know everyone real well"

Tony gulps as Steve eyes Tony up as he says his last sentence. Tony looks away as he feels his face heat up before his eyes lay on the second person who hasn't stopped looking at him.

"hey the name is James Barnes. Everyone can call me Bucky. Just like what Stevie said I look forward to meeting everyone. Let's make this last year"

Tony lightly gasps as Bucky smirks right at Tony as he finishes his last sentence.

"special"

The teacher pats Bucky and Steve on the back before telling them to go sit next to Tony. Steve sits on his left while Bucky sits on his right.

"Tony will show you around and help you with whatever you need until you get used to this place."

The teacher puts on a movie that the class will be writing an essay on as she sits down and goes through everyone's homework.

Tony now not only has to ignore the two douchebags but now also the two hot guys. He stares right at he tv as he gets ready to take down notes. He eye rolls as he hears stephen and Loki speaking to the two new people.

"I feel sorry for you guys"

"why?"

"you got stuck with this worthless piece of shit. How about hanging out with us and we'll show you boys a good time. It'll be way better than doing boring stuff. He never shuts up if you so much mention science or robots. He's just a waste of time and space. You wouldn't wanna be caught dead hanging around him"

"well lucky for me"

Tony feels Steve's hand on Tony's thigh

"and Bucky"

Tony feels Bucky's ha- wait is that metal? - on Tony's other thigh.

"are into pretty Bambi eyed brunettes who are into science. We'll probably won't be able to to hang out with anyone much at the moment anyway. We are signing up with the schools football team. We were jocks at our old school but got tired of the team being useless and transferred after hearing this school has the best team"

"damn straight we do. The best team ever"

Everyone looks up and much to Tony's relief it's Arthur. Arthur wraps a muscular arm around Tony.

"this is one of our best players in our team. He chose not to be Captain no matter how many times people ask. Arthur why can't you just be Captain. Ditch these losers and join the elite"

"you guys must be new. Just call me Arthur. Anyway come on Tony, Bruce has come returned and he's kicking up a storm."

"why doesn't Bruce handle Bruce?"

"ugh you got a cute scientist and a good looking rich man who are massive idiots for hanging out with you losers"

"no one asked you Stephen"

"well you should be handsome. Stephen is way too gorgeous not to look at or talk to"

"ugh I'm gonna vomit. Come on Tony"

Tony packs up and Arthur leads him out the door.

"are those two dating?"

"hell no. Tony isn't Arthur's type. If he had a vagina and looked like our best fighter Diana then yeah."

"that's good"

"got that right. Everyone would make Tony's life a living hell if wprd got out that those two were dating"

After class finishes Steve and Bucky head off to the cafeteria. After they are unable to find Tony they ask around and find out that he left campus to go eat with his friends.

They get out to the carpark after finding out where Tony went and took off.

Meanwhile Tony just finished eating and went out of the cafe with Clint and Natasha to smoke. Tony took off his glasses and stuffed it in his pocket before he sparked up.

They got to chatting about plans for the weekend when sounds of motorbikes come driving into the carpark and park right in front of the 3.

The three gasp as helmets come off to reveal Steve and Bucky. Steve is the first to notice and smiles.

"hey Tony"

Bucky seals the deal with a filthy smirk that promises good things to those that behave and a deep gravelly Brooklyn accented voice that would probably be able to make anyone harden and come in seconds.

"hey doll. Was wondering where you went off too. Had to have Stephen and Loki show us around. Let me tell you, it was real boring"

"ah yeah sorry about that. Did you guys follow me here?"

"no don't be silly baby. We didn't want to spend anymore time with the dynamic duo. Who are your friends?"

"the names Clint. This is my girl Natasha. So you two must be Steve and Bucky. The incredibly hot duo my friend can't seem to stop talking about"

"you talk about us?"

"you find us hot?"

Tony finishes his smoke and strolls back inside looking like a tomato much to Clint's delight.

"come in guys. I like you two. Come and kick back with us"

Steve and Bucky nod as they follow the couple inside. Clint places 2 seats on either side of Tony much to everyone's amusement (excluding Tony who looks horrified) and then introduces the 2 new people.

Everyone starts talking about school, life, memes and just random things. They all completely forget about school and it's not until Tony receives a call from his drunk father that they realize it.

"hey Tony what's wrong?"

"my dad wants me home. He told me I can't go to my auntie's house because I'm in trouble"

"what happened?"

"school called. Check your times"

Everyone except for Steve and Bucky look horrified.

"how can you two not be horrified?"

Steve grabs a hold of Tony's hand and drags him outside. Bucky stands up and pays for everyones food.

"we don't have parents to complain to. We have a mafia leader who is friends with principal Fury and he already knows what we are like so he let's us be."

"that's so cool. Well I better ring my mum before she has a field day over this"

"everyone Protocol Sunshine"

"what's protocol sunshine?"

"we use Tony getting bullied and how his parents are as a cover up if we so much as miss just one class because we all talk too much"

"oh that's cool. Well we will take Tony home and see all of you tomorrow."

"keep Tony safe"

Bucky nods not realizing to how much that one sentence means to Tony's group of friends. Friends that now Steve and Bucky are apart of. They may be badasses but it doesn't stop them from trying to be normal and makes friends they feel safe and good around.

Bucky sees a confused Tony sitting behind Steve and sits on his bike. He guesses Steve explained what they were going to do. The bikes turn on and they set off.

Tony is internally panicking because not only is his dad pissed off about school but he's not going to be too happy about this. Oh boy is he gonna get his ass kicked.

The boys drop tony off and give him their numbers before placing a kiss on each cheek and heading off. Tony takes a few breathes before making his way into the Lions den.

As soon as he steps inside he is immediately kicked down the front porch stairs as his drunk father starts yelling at him about all sorts of things. He starts beating the crap out of Tony causing Tony to scream in pain. He hears voices and sees his dad get knocked out before he blacks out.

Once Tony wakes up he feels pressed up against him. In front of him much to his surprise is Steve who looks like he had been crying. Behind him was Bucky who also looked like he had been crying. Tony frowns and wonders why do they care as he slowly gets out of the bed.

After going toilet, he heads to the kitchen and notices a tall man cooking something.

"uhm hello?"

The tall man quickly turns around and smiles as he motions for Tony to sit. Tony sits at the table and jumps as he hears a voice next to him.

"don't worry about him. He's mute and deaf. Hope you know asl"

"I do. One of my friends has a hearing aid"

"that's great. It'll come in handy. The names Friday and that's my older brother Jarvis. He's getting tea ready while our younger brother Vision is dealing with your shitty parents"

"shitty parents? Wait what happened?"

"well"

Tony jolts again from another voice and looks up to see Steve and Bucky coming into the kitchen. They sit down and explain how they saved Tony's life. Steve knocked Tony's dad out while Bucky called for the police. Thankfully they had Vision and his partner attend the scene so they didn't have to worry about false names and what not. Then they talk Tony back to theirs so their own nurse can patch Tony up.

"thank you guys so much for that. How?"

"well we wanted to turn around and come ask you on a date but then we turned into knights in shining armor. Our dad should be back soon. We told him what had happened so he wants to come home and meet you. We are trying very hard to prevent him from adopting you"

"but why?"

"well it would be wierd dating and adoptive brother. Bucky isn't adopted so it's not that wierd"

"no I mean why are you two doing all of this?"

"well for me it was love at first sight and I think Steve just wanted to bang you"

They talk and get to know one another until Vision returns home.

#Stuckony #part 1 #might be another part #clintasha #frostrange #there's several ships in here

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girlbookwrm · 6 years ago

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ok but why isn’t it called avengers assemble tho

AKA THE GREAT MARVEL REWATCH PART THIS-IS-NOT-AS-GOOD-AS-I-REMEMBER-IT-BEING-WHEN-I-FIRST-SAW-IT

Avengers is a movie that has not aged well for either me or The Roommate (aka @goteamwin) and we had a whole conversation about how at the time it came out we were excited about Avengers, even though neither of us were yet hip-deep in the Marvel fandom. But we were !excited! because !Joss Whedon! and now we are ?disappointed? because ?Joss Whedon?

This movie, in retrospect, might be The Tipping Point of Joss Whedon’s career? like? It contains everything that was Great about his movies but also contains the seeds of his ultimate self-destruction.

ANYWAY ON WITH THE REWATCH, AKA STEVE ROGERS AND THE CUBE THAT WOULDN’T FUCKING DIE

this opening scene is so expositiony and on the one hand at least it doesn’t contain a flashback but on the other hand? it’s bad?? It’s a bad start???

sidenote by The Roommate: so i know that it was recently confirmed that Loki was being mind-controlled in Avengers but also. Was there ever any question about whether Loki was being mind controlled? or am I just That Fangirl

Sidenote to the sidenote, By Me: She is not That Fangirl, but i suspect that she was perilously close to becoming That Fangirl at some point in her past.

oh hey phil’s here

i do appreciate that they’re prioritizing evac. that’s nice attention to a detail that usually does not get addressed.

the line about the tesseract “misbehaving” being followed immediately by a line about the Tesseract “behaving” dRiVeS mE FUCKING B O N K E R S I HATE IT SO MUCH????

anyway

Every once in a while I forget how hot Jeremy Renner is.

The Roommate: Yeah it sneaks up on ya.

IT’S JUST BAD WRITING? MISBEHAVING AND BEHAVING ARE LITERALLY ANTONYMS.

ANYWAY.

“You have heart” is also maybe kind of bad writing.

We had to pause and rewind to confirm that yup Loki trips there, because he is having A Trouble (at The Roommate’s urging. Perilously close, my good dude.)

Loki like a labrador getting to ride in the back of the truck for the first time. The Smells! The Sights and Sounds!! The Wind In My Hair!!! THE EXPLOSIONS!!!!

Phil says: “what do we do” and I look at my roommate and say: “The dialogue in this movie is.......... not good.”

it’s just so out of keeping with the Professional Military vibe these three have going otherwise? it’s very ooc sounding to my ear??

anyway

I actually really like this scene with the Black Widow and the russians and that’s all i have to say about that.

actually, you know what really Makes It for me? Phil bopping along to the sound of Nat beating up bad guys like it’s on hold music. That’s Just Great.

“‘‘“““budapest”‘‘““““‘‘ aka a clip from later in this movie but flipped.

we can’t talk about the brucenat yet that’s for the aou rewatch

“i’m sorry, that was mean” GOD RUFFALO IS SUCH A GOOD BRUCE???

also Natasha is clearly having A Moment whERE ARE MY 8000 METAS ON WHATEVER NAT IS CLEARLY HAVING A FLASHBACK ABOUT

hey it’s these shadowy figures from the shadowy global organization

“it’s won by Soldiers”--transition to--> Steven Grant Rogers this is an A+ transition and it just makes me angrier that we did not get the full Sadsack Steeb scene from the deleted scenes which is EXCELLENT.

SERIOUSLY. THAT’S A GREAT SCENE. I LOB IT.

*steve’s butt comes on screen*

Me: Ohhhhh say can you SEEEEEE

*the flashback happens*

The Roommate: THis is Un. Necessary.

Me, looking at her, knowing that the first time she saw Avengers she had not seen The First Avenger yet: ..............

Me: un necessary? UN? NECESSARY???

has Steve been sleeping at all tho?

“C eLeBRaTingG??” CELEBRATING WHAT, NICHOLAS? ALL HIS FRIENDS ARE DEAD???

“he’s... not from around here.” THAT IS WILDLY OVERSIMPLIFIED.

“Shoulda left it in the ocean.”

“shoulda maybe left me in the ocean too” *tired old man sounds.*

Tony is. So Neurotic. About Everything. I Lob Him.

I Think the problem is at least partly that some of Joss Whedon’s lines (in this movie especially) are just so transparently set ups for Snappy Comebacks™

Pepper Potts is also equal parts mom and girlfriend and it seems likely that this is exactly why No Kids, Tony.

Oh Phil.

sidenote from me: Phanboy Phil is a perfect example of something that is Unexpected but Not Out Of Character. Joss Whedon loves doing The Unexpected but he’s not always so great at making it Not Out Of Character

“need a little old fashioned” I WOULD LIKE IT KNOWN THAT AT THIS POINT I WAS IN FACT DRINKING AN OLD FASHIONED CHEERS I DRANK TO THAT BRO

To Loki: Hey bro. how u doin? (spoiler alert: Not Great) u let ur hair grow out and i hate it.

MA’AM he calls her MA’AM steve is such a N E R D

sidenote, at this point i had to pause the movie because i was having An Emotion, because Steve is all sadsack talking to Fury and then equally sadsack talking to Phil and then he comes out of the Quinjet like “Ma’am. Dr. Banner. Word Is You Can Find The Cube. Why What A Wonderful Day It Is Here In The Future Golly Gosh I Sure Do Love It A Lot” in his Olde Tyme Radio Announcer Voice.

and it made me s a d

The Roommate: Well of course he’s talking like an olde tyme radio announcer he has anxiety and this is a stressful situation, so he’s using his Please Don’t Hate Me™ Customer Service™ Voice™

*sadness intensifies*

The Roommate: Steven. I know you were in the army but surely even you know that submarines do not have flight crews.

Maria Hill here, assessing Cap’s assets.

I talk (and will continue to talk) a lot of shit about this movie, but it gave us a lot of Really Good Things, and Nerd!Phil is one of those good things.

Cap’s suit is VERY MUCH NOT ON THE LIST OF GOOD THINGS.

Okay i hate to go on about this (no i don’t)

But at this stage of the movie, the Avengers have only met Captain America. Like, he’s in the spangly suit, he’s got his Customer Service Voice on, his hair is pomaded to kingdom come, he tucks his plaid shirt into his khaki pants

This is Captain America

This is Not Steve Rogers.

None of the avengers have met Steve Rogers yet and that is just so

* S A D N E S S I N T E N S I F I E S *

Who built this eyeball device? why? where does it come from? how do they get it? why is it like this? IT IS SO! UNNECESSARY??

“you crave subjugation” loki. Loki. LOKI. i feel like you are talking to yourself. this feels like you’re talking about you. just say you’re a bottom, find yourself a nice service top to take care of you and stop making these poor bastards part of your Extra™ Nonsense.

“we ended up disagreeing” said Captain America.

“nOt TOdAY!” OH HEY STEVE IS HERE GOOD TO SEE YOU STEVE.

“FoR an OldER FEllOW???” WHAT AN EXCELLENT TIME TO POINT OUT THAT TONY STARK, AT THE TIME OF THE AVENGERS, IS, LIKE, FORTY TWO. AND STEVEN ROGERS IS, LIKE, TWENTY-SIX.

*lightning happens*

The Roommate: OH YOU GUYS ARE SCREWED NOW

“I have a plan. Attack.” TONY TEDWARD STARK THAT IS NOT A PLAN.

Last Known Instance of Steve Using a Parachute.

Loki: I’m listening.

Me: Thor is already Gone. so that snappy comeback™ is for whomst???

CHILDREN. STOP FIGHTING. GRANDPA IS HERE.

“are we done?” yeah, they’re all just too Manly to say owwwwwww

Upon Rewatching It Is Painfully Obvious that the Producers Had No Idea that the Mind Stone was in the Staff.

“I understood that reference”

I know it’s overused, but it’s still a Golden line

Steve is so proud of himself.

Tony’s eyeroll is Un Paralleled.

God this is such a group project, and they all fit into their roles so well.

Thor: Well Meaning but Entirely Useless Jock

Steve: Neurotic Organizer With No Applicable Skills

Tony: Genius. Would Be MVP If He Could Be Persuaded To Give A Single Shit. Keeps Suggesting They Do Something Else.

Bruce: “uhhhhhhhh i just wanna finish my work here, and--”

Also: No one in this room is wrong, and that is actually pretty good writing, imo.

“I’ve got a cluster of shrapnel...”

Tony.

Honey.

That is not at all the same thing.

Stop comparing those things.

S T O P.

Thor: In my youth--

Me: THOR YOUR YOUTH WAS LIKE TWO MONTHS AGO.

so this scene with Loki and Black Widow feels very Blocked and Staged but that does not stop it from being Very Good, IMO and no I will not be taking input on that assessment, I really like this particular interpretation of the Black Widow.

Steve: Phase 2 is S.H.I.E.L.D. Uses the Cube to make weapons. Sorry, computer was moving a little slow for me.

HEY LOOK IT’S STEVE!! STEVE THIS IS EVERYBODY, EVERYBODY, THIS IS STEVE.

Fury: BECAUSE OF HIM.

Thor: me????

Me: THOR HAS LITERALLY DONE NOTHING WRONG LEAVE HIM A L O N E

a) clint rly likes that bow move but more importantly b) clint? u ok? does the brainwash gang get naptime? u look like u could use a nap, sweetums.

TONY LAST MOVIE U HAD THAT PACKED IN A SUITCASE WHY IS IT IN A BANK VAULT???

Did Bruce invest in some kind of specialty pant company? like? kickstarter or something?

Steve goes outside like It’s Cool I Don’t Need Air.

digi steve is VERY DIGI.

let it be known that thor is coming into this VERY BLIND he has LITERALLY NEVER SEEN THE HULK BEFORE. is he just like, internally ???????IS THIS NORMAL FOR HUMANS?????????????????

“It seems to run on some form of electricity.”

AW STEVE’S HERE AGAIN.

captain sassmerica

Steve does an awful lot of high kicks and i’m pretty sure he learned those on the Star Spangled Circuit

that arrow-in-computer thing is R I D I C U L O U S.

On the one hand, I definitely shipped Clintasha when I first saw this movie, on the other hand, I can totally see a brother/sister “we were raised in the same dysfunctional foster family” dynamic and I do actually like it.

“It’s Barton”

Natasha: *clint???* *HE HAS CHILDREN.* *AUNTIE NAT POWERS ACTIVATE* “this is agent romanoff. I copy.”

OH NO PHIL

do you remember when character deaths had meaning?

good times.

good. times.

sidenote:

The Roommate: I actually really like this Clint/Nat fight scene there’s no monologuing just Real Fighting

Me: Yeah, with Real Hair-Pulling and Real Biting.

*THONK*

Me: And Real Concussions.

LOOK EVEN PHIL KNOWS THAT LOKI IS BEING MIND CONTROLLED SERIOUSLY WHY WAS THIS EVER EVEN A QUESTION

god it’s so sad that phil is like “no this is fine. it’s cool. we all know that someone has to die in order for them to stop fighting like children.”

let. phil. clock. out.

Tony Stark: I Am Very Dramatically Leaving.

“old fashioned” NICK THAT IS R U D E. YOU K N O W WHAT YOU’RE DOING TO STEVE HERE.

“big and green and buck ass nude” THIS GUY. I LOVE THIS GUY.

what is this insta filter.

“cognitivive recalibration” becomes a meme in shield. like, that butterfly meme but the guy is saying “IS THIS COGNITIVE RECALIBRATION” and on the Butterfly it just says TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY.

Possibly The First Ever Steve Rogers Door Lean Scene™

The Roommate: The subtext that I got, from this scene, the first time I watched it, was that those cards belonged to Nick. Like, Nick had his own vintage set in near mint condition that he bloodied up

I just think it’s adorable that that’s where her brain went with that information. it’s nice. it must be nice for her.

Dear Dr. Selvig: Should You be gendering the Tesseract?

JESUS DID THEY DIP LOKI’S HEAD IN ELMER’S GLUE? IT’S SO GROSS AND GREASY??

“We’re damn sure going to avenge it”

The Roommate: That’s not a good tagline.

Me: In their defense, it’s not a great name, and they were kinda stuck with it by this point

tony’s dead, these people are dead, maria’s dead from that grenade she caught earlier everyone is dead dead dead dead dead

The chitauri mean. Nothing. to anyone. and they don’t mean anything until Infinity War roles around, you know? that just. sticks in my head.

“did you stop for drive through??” YES. YES THEY DID. THERE WERE NO MEALS IN THE BRAINWASH GANG AND STEVE WON’T SHARE HIS THIGH ZIPPER SNACKS.

is it madness? Is It?? IS IT???

Peggy’s reincarnated husband???

“As a team” STEVEN GRANT ROGERS THAT IS NOT A PLAN.

bruce’s motorcycle: Puttputtputtputtputtputtputtputt

Nat and Cap are so in sync? It’s almost like they were trained by the same person?? But Where Could Natasha Have Learned How To Fight Side By Side With Someone Who Had Gotten The Superserum??? W I L D??????????

“And he didn’t invite me?” It’s ok tony u don’t invite him to civil war so.

Hulk And The Marvelous Wonderful Yes Good Very Smash Day.

he’s just having so much fun?

The Roommate: Steve in this suit is very Adam West Batman

Me: Tiny Turtle of Freedom!!

The Roommate: Yeah especially when he does that.

Clint: Nat whAT ARE YOU DOING??

Me: HER BEST

Jarvis is so tired. “IT’S THE SAME THICKNESS FROM THE INSIDE AS FROM THE OUTSIDE SIR.”

the SHIELD pilot here is very chilled out for a man about to commit mass murder.

“What, are you getting sleepy?”

aw steve’s here!

The Roommate: Pepper Potts’ superpower is saying no and calling the authorities. Her kryptonite is phone calls.

#accurate

no shawarma for you, loki

pooter!

“where are the Avengers?” TAKING A DAMN NAP. THEY’VE EARNED IT.

god that shot with the tesseract STEVE’S FACE JESUS CHRIST.

steve wear a helmet.

“...is to court death”

Thanos: *grins*

Me: IT IS SO PAINFULLY OBVIOUS THAT THEY DID NOT KNOW HOW THEY WERE GOING TO DEVELOP THANOS. LIKE THIS IS A CLEAR FORESHADOW OF THE THANOS/DEATH SHIP AND THAT! DOES! NOT! HAPPEN!

om nom nom nom nom nom

(ps yes we did eat shawarma whilst watching this movie because of course we did)

#the mighty pre endgame rewatch #mcu #avengers #iron man #captain america

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wickednerdery · 6 years ago

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Title: Hoarfrost Hel: Spellbound Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: Marvel Pairing/character: Thor & Tony Stark (& Mutant!OC) Rating: Teen Summary: “Loki...Is it a person or item?” Notes: This is back to when Loki was taken away here. This is the second part of what’s shaping up to be a legit trilogy (the first is FrostBitten) - the master list is here. The story on whole is gonna be very dark, this piece itself - which starts Thor’s main story - is actually tame aside from some yelling, cursing, and poor Thor moments. Still, for consistency and length, it gets a “Read More”.

It is Odin who tricks Thor away from his brother, leaving Loki unprotected and easily taken. It is Odin who induces forgetfulness and spreads it through Asgard like a poison. The king works his magic to make it grow so that throughout the realms, in time, Loki might be forgotten completely. Like Hela before his adopted son would become nothing but a story, a mere fantasy; no one and nothing true. Odin would put distance between himself, his family, and his unfortunate error once again to save his pride and crown.

By the time Thor returns to the rock there is nothing there but smashed rubble and the faint sense of urgency. He’d come to the edge of the grounds for some reason, an important task, but the answers are all behind a fog. Earnest eyes scan for answers, for questions, something beyond kicked up and bloodied dirt.

His mother’s lullaby hits his ears and he turns back, up, to the palace. With placid face and knowing smile Frigga hums and, as Thor watches her, she changes before him. Deep blue dress turns green and gold. Long blond hair smooths into shoulder-length black and her whole form changes. The woman looks wholly recognizable, yet Thor cannot place the man she’s become. “You must find him, Thor. Save your brother. Protect Loki.”

“Loki...” Thor repeats the name heard only in his mind; it feels right. Real. He looks around, as if he might find this Loki nearby, before looking back up to catch sight of his mother walking back into the palace. “Loki....Loki...Loki...” The god repeats the name over and over, keeping it foremost in his mind, as he hurries to Heimdall’s observatory. “I must find a Loki, what can you see, Heimdall?”

The man narrows his eyes, ticks head slightly. “Loki? I’m afraid I do not know this word. Is it a person or item?” If he has a clearer idea of what he’s looking for, perhaps he can find it.

“I...” Thor clung to the name, but forgot its meaning. He tries to recall his mother (this Loki is tied to her, is it not?), then smiles. “I believe it is a being.”

Heimdall nods, closes eyes to concentrate, but there is nothing. Only tenuous threads he cannot weave into anything substantial and even those fray before his very mind’s eye. “I am sorry, Thor, but I can find nothing.” It was so very usual, very strange. “Perhaps it’s something to do with your time on Midgard?”

“...Perhaps...”

“Shall I send you there in search of answers and this lost...thing.” Heimdall himself’s already forgotten what they’re in search for.

“Yes, I shall go to Stark’s.” He cannot say why he picks Tony except he’s the smartest man Thor knows of on Midgard. And, if this...Loki...was a dangerous thing Tony would most certainly be prepared and ready for battle beside him.

“Very well, my prince, I shall send you directly,” Heimdall bows his head and, in a moment’s flash, Thor is at the end of Stark’s long landing pad at The Avenger’s Tower.

Not even leaving his lands can stop the disintegration of Thor’s memory though; not even reaching Midgard can protect him from his own father’s magic. By the time he reaches Stark, lounging on a deck chair, his face’s fallen to confusion. ...What has he come to ask again?

Tony’s brows rise in alarm, then fall in the wait for Thor to speak. “You alright there, Point Break?”

“I’m sorry, my friend.” Thor knows he needs help, but the reason, the trouble, is fogged from him. It’s something distant, unattainable, but very true and very real. “I...I came to request your aid...only now I’ve forgotten why.”

“So you came here to ask for my help...” Tony’s stands, examines his friend more closely. “But can’t remember with what?”

"I cannot,” Thor confesses with a sigh, running hand through hair, twisting hammer in the other. He can remember years, centuries. He has a god’s memory, how can he forget something he is certain recently occurred?!

“You hit your head on the Bifrost or something?”

Eyes fall to despair. “No.”

“Uh....huh...” He didn’t think gods could get amnesia, yet here was Thor, a god, standing all amnesiac before him. “Look, buddy, how ‘bout we go inside, have a drink, and see if we can’t figure this out, yeah?”

“Very well, my friend.”

Tony lets Thor follow as his mind begins to gather what little facts there are and formulate theories. Whatever is going on, it’s powerful enough to mess with a god’s mind. That said, Thor seems of sound mind and, potentially, with solid recall aside from whatever he needs help with. So what are they looking at here? Injury? Infection? Something else entirely? Tony skips the bar in the penthouse for the one down in his workshop and let’s Thor settle on a nearby chair as he pours for both of them - definitely need a drink or two before opening whatever can of worms this is.

“I adjusted the coding and cleared out the spare bugs from your latest suit, Stark.” The voice itself is almost robotic, but Thor sees clearly the being is flesh and blood. Back to them, hunkering down over a series of computers, he catches feminine eyes in the reflection of one of the screens. “That Thor?”

“Yeah,” Tony tips back his first drink, pours his second, as Thor takes his first. “Lynk, this is Thor, Thor,” he points to the person’s back. “Lynk with a Y...my tech assistant.” Pepper will always run most of his stuff, but Lynk has certain, unique, abilities that makes her utterly invaluable to him in his work.

Thor smiles. “Greetings, fair maid.”

“Yeah...No.”

Thor’s face falls. “No?”

Lips lift, but focus remains on the computers. “I’m not a fair maid, Mr Odinson. I’m just Lynk.”

“You may call me Thor, if you wish.”

“Okay then, Thor. I’m still Lynk.”

Thor looks to Tony, unsure, but Tony just shrugs and finishes his second drink. “Okay, so this thing you need help with...”

“Yes?”

“Let’s do process of elimination.”

“Very well.”

“It have anything to do with Earth?”

“...Not directly, I don’t believe...”

“Asgard then?”

“Maybe.”

“You personally?”

“…I...in a way, perhaps?”

“Family maybe?”

Thor’s pause is especially long, his heart and mind arguing for an accurate answer. “I...I believe so.”

“Parents?”

“They are not the issue...but maybe connected to it?” His mother turned into it, hadn’t she? Yes, yes she had, but...but Thor cannot recall what she’d turned into anymore.

Tony sighs, now presuming the whole thing a giant waffling by the god. “Fuck. if it’s Loki just say so, Thor. I’m still unlikely to help, but at least I’d admire the boldness of asking directly.”

“Wha-? Who...Who is...Loki?” And why did it sound so familiar and yet not at the same time?

“Loki, also known as Loki Laufeyson or Loki Odinson, is the God of Mischief and listed as a top-tier intergalactic terrorist by S.H.I.E.L.D.. His attempts to take over Earth resulted in the destruction of Manhattan and countless deaths. Captured by The Avengers Initiative he was turned over to his brother, Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, to be returned to Asgard where his punishment would be set by the King of Asgard, Odin Allfather.” The young woman’s turned to them both, face showing a mix of concern and interest. “You can’t remember your own brother?”

She is slight, pale, with spiked, jet black, hair and many bits of metal in her face...Thor cannot recall seeing another like her on Midgard. He smiles in spite of his current predicament. “You know him?”

“Of him,” Lynk clarifies. “I was lecturing in Boston when he came to New York, but I watched the news. Question is, why don’t you?”

“Maybe it’s Loki himself doing this?” Tony offers. “It’s not beyond him, right? Take out his brother, escape, rally some troops, come back at Earth again.”

“You’re making assumptions without basis,” she counters flatly.

“My basis is I know the guy. I’ve seen what he can do, first hand.”

“Why give his brother amnesia then send him in your direction?”

“Distraction? Shits and giggles? How should I know.”

Lynk’s eyes switch to Thor. “We need more data.”

Thor has no issue with basic or advanced memory tests, brain scans show no clear injury or disease, and nothing can be found in his blood that would suggest a cause for his amnesia. Both Tony and Lynk remain stuck, unsure what to test for next, as Thor lays on the table looking up at both of them.

“Do we know why I’ve forgotten what I’ve forgotten?” Again Loki’s existence has slipped from his mind, but not the urgency of the need to help, to get help.

“No,” Tony sighs; Thor frowns deeply. “But I’m starting to guess some kind of magic, which leads us back to Loki.”

“Who?”

“Are you sure you actually need help, Thor? Or do you just...feel like you need it?”

“I need help, of that I’m certain.”

Lynk looks down. “With...or for...your brother, Loki, yeah?”

The fog thickens. “I…cannot recall.”

Tony rolls eyes in frustration, convinced this is some elaborate trick by the God of Mischief. He wants no part of it; better to hunker down, fortify, with backup plans for when Loki’s true scheme is ultimately revealed. “This is probably all just a big fucking hoax.”

“It is not a hoax!” Thor flies up, roars his own frustration, as sparks crack across the metal table. The need to accomplish a goal he cannot recall has settled deep and sure in his heart even if his mind continues to betray him.

“Woah, hey there!” Tony’s thumb discreetly goes to his suit’s activation button as he and Lynk both jump back. “I don’t think you’re tricking me.”

“You think another is tricking us all,” Thor states firmly, hammer held out as if ready to crash. “I am not a fool, Stark, I know my own heart!”

“I might know someone who can help, Thor,” Lynk speaks up quickly, hoping to both placate and distract as she feels the machines around them shiver with the herself and Tony.

The storm in the god dies and he turns as hope blooms once more. “Truly?”

“He might be able to figure out what you can’t remember or, at the very least, maybe why you can’t remember.” She looks to Tony, who’s finally beginning to breathe again. “If it’s a trick by Loki, then you might know what he’s up to and, if it’s not...” She smiles at Thor. “Then maybe we’ll know how to help.”

Honest trouble or not, Tony had no interest in helping Loki. He still woke up in the middle of night, sweaty and short of breath, thanks to that asshole. Best not to piss of his friend, the god, though. “Sure, if you know someone who’s willing. Can’t hurt to try, right?”

“Right.”

Thor grins. “Take me to him now, fair Lynk.”

I legit feel bad writing Thor like this...in part because I know he already gets a bad wrap as sorta being the “slow on the uptake” one and I don’t think he is. That said, Odin’s clouding his - and everyone else in Asgard’s - mind from remembering Loki so it’s not like I can have Thor just putting it all together, haha! Frigga only does because she’s very powerful in magic herself. Lynk is a mutant - though there’s only a hint of her powers shown in this - and will be important to Thor going forward so...hope you like, lol! (And, damn, I’m prod of myself for getting two out relatively quick after the holidays so go me, haha! ^_^)

(Gifs found on Google, then combined by me)

Tagged: @succumb-to-your-king @chibiyanai @wadeyouwitch @creedslove @lady-crowned-with-stars @moonfaery @annievvv7 @ladyfluff @holykryptonitekitten @lokilvrr @janebrownnie @lokis-little-kitten @alexakeyloveloki @theangelsfightwithdevils @the-blue-tiefling @lokis-lady-death @dangertoozmanykids101 @prometheasmother @vethrvolnir @wintertink @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @drakonwild @starscreamloki @judas-nipples @hiddles-rose @the-lady-witchitery @galaxies-inside-my-head @jackheart180 @lukeevansandjdmobession @endlessstairway @lanabanana-86 @tom-fucking-hiddleston-1981 @lovekrystina @madoka73 @lokikingofasgardslover713 @partiallyinthecloset @ultrarebelheart @gravitational-anomaly @manip-loki @my-world-of-imagines @lowcarbgem …Think that’s everyone from FrostBitten, if you want on or off, just lemme know! (Strike-throughs are those Tumblr refuses to tag properly)

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