#I am motivated by mysterious forces beyond understanding | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

potatoqueensays · 4 months ago

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Heyoo 👀 So you said you could/Should make a post just for Bill and I am interested in his role considering the horrors you'll put him through (no pressure tho)

YEAH OF COURSE!!!!

(ignoring the fact I posted this early oughhhhh I hate you Tumblr 💥💥💥)

Unfortunately I do not have my collab partner on this one cause he's busy so you get my unfiltered thoughts 💪

I'll go up until weirdmageddon (calling it normageddon for now) cause that should be it's whole entire post, and also some more details will be with the mystery twins, not too much to miss ofc!!

Warning for torture and stuff, proooobably should've done that with the other post and stuff but I was tired 🤷‍♀️

Also Bill will be addressed as Will Cypher only right before he meets the mystery twins. Keeping some stuff from the original au but still with my spin, ya feel?

LETS GO!!!

So Billy! Little guy. Totally not an interdimensional freak yuh huh. Born with his defect (I hc it to be his eye being in the middle) that ostracized him from society. Parents tried to give him help and restrict his vision of beyond the 2D world, but he wanted more. In an attempt of freeing his world from their limited vision, he ended up destroying Euclydia in a massacre. Only thing left was a single speck that he keeps under his hat wink wink

Now when meeting the henchmaniacs, they don't go the full mile and instead do petty theft and trickster stuff. Bill isn't as much of a crazed lunatic like in canon so his actions are more subdued.

My drawing for timeline reference :)

Parties are still a big interest for him ofc, just....a little less arson. Now the nightmare realm is still receding in itself, so Bill still has the motive to make the portal cause he hears the prophecy of merging the realms.

He still goes to Earth and Gravity Falls. Prophecy is still considered deadly as yes, merging the realms is still very very deadly. Bill doesn't know this yet (tho even if he did he probably wouldn't care)

The Silas Birchtree stuff still happens, but the cult stuff kinda happens on its own without Bill forcing a cult to be made. It kinda just happens and he's like "aight"

Now this goes up until he's summoned to Gravity Falls by Ford. He can tell the scientist has potential and could make the portal for him, so they make their deal. Bill asking for the portal while Ford asks for power and knowledge in return.

Bill stands by, giving direct orders of what's needed for the portal yadda yadda. But it gets interesting once he notes that McGucket is having second thoughts (Fidds will also have a post cause he's very important in normageddon)

Bill constantly nags Ford, giving (mostly) empty threats to harm him. He gives him dreams of power when the man does manage to get sleep. Bill has a very distant understanding of how humans work here, due to possessing a corpse from his previous work and he himself doesn't really need to fill needs like humans.

Once McGucket is thrown into the portal all bets are off with Ford. Initially Bill appreciates the quick disposal of an interruption, but he reminds Ford the portal needs to be built. Constantly.

Ford is fed up with the nagging, he takes to letting his frustrations out on Bill. Bill doesn't bother giving the dreams anymore to Ford, just bugging the man whenever he's awake. Ford doesn't have a stable sleep schedule anyway after McGucket.

Eventually, Ford asks about possession due to him being a demon. Bill takes him up on the offer, but quickly regrets it as Ford is extremely hungry and sleep deprived. The hell is dizziness to him? Why does it suck so much?

Ford tells him he'd like to research him for the journal. Since Bill doesn't have a physical form, Ford takes to studying him while he's asleep or in the mind scape with Bill in his body.

He tests the limits of Bill with electro shocks, acid, nuclear waste. He blasts loud synthesized music while Bill is in his body and gaslights him for research.

They don't go out partying or for karaoke like the journal states. In this I imagine the journal is filled with scientific jargon on Bill and his limits. Ford is testing what limits a demon has since he isn't human.

Bill can't do anything about it, because Ford asked for knowledge in the deal. Unlike canon, Bill has to stick to deals and unless the deal breaks or Ford dies, he's stuck.

And he really wants this portal to work.

Soon Stan is brought in as the next assistant, and Bill gets a break from all the torture. He retreats to the mindscape to watch from a distance, hoping Ford doesn't get interrupted from work.

Unfortunately, Stanley leaves the project and Ford tries to go solo. When Bill tells him one more time with the threat of taking his eyes, Ford focuses more on torturing him. In the mindscape an altercation came up that ended with Bill's hat crushed, and the speck of his dimension used as leverage.

Needless to say he goes silent.

Drawing ref I did of Bill for this part 🎉

His color becomes more desaturated the more time goes on, less articulate and chatty. Ford is still working on the portal from the side, so he can't call off the deal. Ford falls in and out of sleep in free time, with Bill trying to possess him and actually get Ford to call off the deal. Even if it'll stall the merge, he could always try far far in the future, when Ford is dead.

Unfortunately it doesn't work, nightmares don't work either, as Ford just pushes back harder and digs up trauma of Euclydia.

Bill can try to get Ford to fall off the water tower all he wants, but when the body he's piloting is operating off of gallons off coffee and loud music it's hard to get a grip on reality.

Soon enough Mrs. Gleeful comes into the picture, and another break is given to Bill. As much as the years that pass by should seem like seconds to him, every second with Ford feels like years.

Bill can only watch from the mindscape as Ford uses the memory gun on Mrs. Gleeful, treating her like some machine that just needs a good reboot.

When Stanley finally confronts Ford, Bill thought he'd finally get a reprieve. Ford would call off the project since he has no materials, and he'd grow bored.

Unfortunately that's very much the opposite. Ford is locked in the bunker and tied to Bill, since he has to fill his end of the deal still. The shapeshifter talks circles around Ford, filling his head with ideas. Ford tortures Bill in his body, sometimes even forgoing pain meds for his eye so Bill can feel the pain.

Bill is forced to still give visions when Ford sleeps, and it only makes him more insane. His ego already growing to new heights as Bill can only watch.

Sometimes he tries to talk to the shapeshifter in the mindscape to get him to kill Ford, but they both know Ford could deal with them in a heartbeat.

When Bill is alone with himself, he thinks of forgoing his identity, changing his name and packing his bags to run off to some far away dimension.

Eventually some kids summon him in 2012. The pines twins.

Art I did of Will. His bowtie is skewed and his hat is still crushed. His cane is more than a prop sometimes. He's also fully blue now. Depressed and irritated with everything.

In the heat of the moment he tells the Mason kid he'll call him Dipper if they call him Will.

The new deal is to get inside of the head of a one Bud Gleeful for the deed to a shack. The same shack Ford had. He knows the twins are probably gonna just take back the shack anyway, but as long as it's not Ford's he doesn't care.

He takes the deal, going through memories and occasionally seeing Mrs. Gleeful. He feels a little bad for the guy, thinking his wife went missing when she's actually in the same town but practically lobotomized.

He almost succeeds, when Gideon and Pacifica steal back the code. The twins call the deal off, and he lets the anger get to him. Years of repressed anger at Ford will do that to ya.

Eventually when it's all over, the twins offer him to make it up to them with a deal. Accompany them to steal back a journal. Hey, if he's away from Ford, he'll take it. Plus they're kids, they probably just need a bodyguard.

They do not need a bodyguard.

I am telling you now, he is NOT a slave like in the original au. That kinda irks me a little, plus the twins are kids so why would they need a slave?

So Will is glorified butler right now. Used as a footrest or something to get drinks. They don't even bother to talk to him like a person.

He had hope in shooting star, seeing as she had a bit more empathy than her brother. But she uses him as a table for arts and crafts or a mannequin for sweaters.

So he's fed up with the pines family. Hell they didn't even tell Stanley! Will has half a mind to torment the guy to free him. He's the one that locked sixer away!

When the events of sock opera arrive, the twins ask him to retrieve the journal from Gideon. In an attempt to get it, he makes a hurried deal for a vessel to let Gideon get the code to a laptop. Seems to be McGucket's by the make of it.

He throws the laptop out of the window, being reminded of Ford after a comment from Gideon about the pines twins.

Luckily Gideon's body is more maintained than Ford, and Will can almost walk down the stairs without tripping!

Gideon pleads with him from the mindscape, saying how much the pines have been a nuisance. They have a talk before going to Pacifica's pageant (I should make a post more in depth about the kids on their own huh 🤷‍♀️)

They come to an agreement about the pines, and he makes a deal with Gideon to help him against them for the future.

He doesn't give the journal to the twins, Mabel and Pacifica fight on stage, Dipper does some backstage tricks. But they make it out okay. Oh also instead of "Bipper" it's Wideon. Widdle Wideon!!! (Very proud of that)

He joins the Gleeful's side after the events of it, sometimes asking Gideon to burn that journal of his.

Anyway!! That's where I'll leave it until the normageddon post. Still gotta get all my refs made and stuff before I can do that. I'm pretty happy with where I have it rn. Leaving Bill a little more in character than just a sad boy who's enslaved.

Thank you so much for your ask!! This was a lot of fun to lay out again!!! 🫶

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #reverse falls #rehash reverse falls au #bill cipher #bill cipher fanart #im blue dabodeedabodai 🎶#man as i was making this i was imagining making a Spotify playlist for this and what I'd put on it #hey if anyone likes that idea ill probably do it #oh yeah dont tag as ship ford is mega evil in this

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sizhui · 1 year ago

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hello clari i hope you’re doing well! how do you feel about rei’s ending in slow damage? i know a lot of people don’t like that he drops his femininity but i feel like his happy end is accepting the masculinity he spent so long denying and i was wondering what you think! ^-^

Hello, hellooooo! Ok (cracks my knuckles) ive been silent on slowdam for a while with some thoughts cooking in my head and i feel like its time to let a few of them out - to talk about how i feel about rei's route, i must first explain my understanding of slow damage in its entirety... i talked about it here and there to emery and dove but here comes a synthesis!

I warn you: this is only my unconventional analysis, and I think that many will find it unsatisfying and disagree. If anyone wants to discuss or criticize any of my points, i am open to having my mind changed.

Huge thanks to Renne who introduced me to Surodame and set me on the path of studying it!

Under the cut TW: rape, csa

Slow Damage is a story about the consequences and the cyclic nature of abuse. Abuse sticks its claws into you and rakes down, leaving behind four ditches - orderly in some cases, and more chaotic in others. Either way, even as the skin and flesh heal, there is now a generous amount of empty space in you, and Slow Damage poses a question - what will you fill it up with, hmm?

I went into this VN knowing only that Towa enjoys rather extreme forms of self harm, and I have to admit that this was precisely what captivated my attention at first - the promise of a severely damaged protagonist, and the hope that he is more than a run-of-the-mill masochist. I was not disappointed.

The extent to which towa relates injury to sex and pain to pleasure immediately made me suspect the sort of trauma he must have endured in childhood. For a moment, I thought: Isn't the solution to this mystery a little too obvious? Looking back at the lack of subtlety, though, I don't think that Towa being a CSA victim was supposed to be some kind of a grand reveal. The point wasn't in cracking the mystery, in understanding motivations and getting concrete answers - the point was observing onr case of the consequences of abuse that will tell us - no, ASK us - something about all of them. HOW does the thing that happened to Towa keep happening over and over, and in silence too? What mechanisms allow it to happen, and to stay hidden? What all sorts of people, some of them generally good and kind, participate in these mechanisms?

Let us retrace our steps.

Maya forced her own son into violent prostitution from a very young age, all the while teaching him how to use charms to his advantage, how to manipulate people and fulfill their desires in order to gain control over them. The WAY she taught those things methodically seems to insinuate that this was something she herself had been taught at a young age and passed on; the art of assuming the exact persona you need to prod into people's insides. This isn't to say that her actions classify as excusable - in fact, isn't the fact that she's putting her child through the horrors she experienced herself even more disgusting? I wonder if her lessons in human psychology were all for the self-obsessed purpose of turning her son into a copy of herself... or was she, in a twisted way, thinking it would hell him endure and rise the way that she did? I am going to let that question hang in the air - after all, the point of Surodame isn't to review individual motivations, but to ask questions about the grander scheme of things. That is precisely why I cried together with Towa upon reading the strangely frail account of Maya's diary: I just can't make this work... realizing that the slow-growing disease had spread beyond that mother-son duo, beyond the walls of Euphoria, beyond Shinkoumi... in every corner of the world, there are hundreds of Mayas and Towas, and millions upon millions of Silent Takus wondering what they could have done differently.

For starters I want to focus on Towa himself. When I think about him, the first phrase that comes to mind is 'a void filled with the dregs of abuse'. Though he himself doesn't remember his abuse throughout the first three routes, his every move is a reflection of it: every sexual encounter both a self-inflicted wound and an attempt to affirm: IT'S ME WHO CHOSE TO DO THIS TO MYSELF, which is why Towa's breakdown upon realizing that not even his scars are his own is especially painful. I like the choice of stating that Maya did not like nor understand art. She COULDN'T understand it. Though the penchant for uncovering people's dark desires and the ability to read them were all influenced by Maya, the instinct to paint those is Towa's. The art that almost died together with him was the one thing that belonged to him alone - and yet, there is comfort in the fact that the true route ends with him saying that he doesn't know whether he'll paint anymore or not. What matters is that he quit performing euphoric episodes, closed the cycle of abuse and perpetuating Maya's ideals, and began walking towards a peaceful life. The sight of the atelier in the main menu all clean and bright upon Towa's vision returning to normal made me strangely emotional; the reveal that the painting was never dark and muddy, that the atelier was never that dark and scary... the final tour around Shinkoumi with everyone telling Towa that he looks like something good had happened to him... at the end of a very painful road, Towa still found some comfort in existing.

But what of Fujieda? Of Madarame, of Rei, Taku? For a BLVN, isn't it strange to go 6 paragraphs deep without mentioning any of the love interests?

I will preface this by saying that, to me, the very point of Surodame lies in the fact that none of them are ultimately good boyfriends to Towa. I really wanted to interpret the actions of the three sans Madarame more charitably than I do now, but in reasoning with myself, I failed at every single attempt. They are, to varying degrees and each in their own way, a deadend.

Let's go route by route.

Murase Takuma is a kind man in a way Towa is not - this is driven into our heads from the start, he is a doctor. He cares for children, workers and the elderly. He even lends an ear to them outside of his responsibilities as their physician, overworking himself to the brink of death. His role as a caretaker of a hopeless, bleak person like Towa, an addict who is destructive towards both himself and others, can certainly be percieved as saintly. Even his actions of keeping Towa's past from him, burning letters and throwing away packages, were all for the sake of preserving Towa's sanity! However, though Taku's intentions are pure, I can't read them as benign. Well - he is probably the most benign of the four men Towa involves himself with, being the only one who never physically lashed out on him. Neither abuser nor victim, Taku is a third thing entirely - an observer. A hider, a savior, a carer... and at its core, though not intentionally, an enabler. I do agree that there was nothing Taku could have done to save Towa as a child. There just wasn't a way to take Towa away from Euphoria while Maya lived. I do believe that he did the best he could, patching Towa up time after time... staying throughout the years, changing the bedding, throwing out the liquor bottles. Eat something, Towa. Smoke less, Towa. Once Towa got a lot older, Taku grew to love him romantically. Though I find it unsavory, Towa is over twenty-five at this point so it's not really some big deal. The much more dreadful power imbalance than that in age is the fact that Taku is holding the entirety of Towa's past, his abuse, and his identity over his head. Once again, I'm not calling Taku out as a gaslighter here - not in this route, at least, since Towa had no interest in his true identity at this point anyway. But you can't deny that their happy ending - embracing under the cherry blossoms with a calmer, more mature looking Towa, his hair a clean black, an orderly cardigan billowing behind him - is a sort of a quiet misery. Taku loves the man he saved (raised?), the man who presumably quit painful sex for his sake, and Towa doesn't even know what it is that he's being saved from. Towa is a hole. I really might not have interpreted this ending so negatively if it wasn't for the scene of Taku showing Towa a photograph of him as a little child in a restaurant with his mother. This smiling child prostitute in an orderly little boys' getup, dining with his pimp mother and his future lover. It felt to me like a means of truly driving into our brains the extent of Taku's helplessness, delusion, failure, and LIES. The photograph is a fabricated reality, a fabricated happy past that he feeds to Towa. In this route, this is what Towa filled the ditch with - a daydream, and sweet vanilla sex that doesn't scratch his itch. I can't give them more than five years before Towa falls back into his old habits. The end.

Now we get to Rei, who you originally asked me about. I am sorry I dragged it out to this extent, but I truly can't talk about Rei alone without addressing the grand scheme of things. Rei is also a sort of a carer to Towa, though a more casual one. A friend friend rather than a dad friend, I say this with half a scowl hanging off my face. Let us review Rei's situation with gender - due to his toxic, abusive dad (who was also a child sex trafficker, might I add!) degrading him for his homosexuality and saying it made him less of a man, Rei developed an aversion to masculinity, speaking in onee-kotoba and growing out his hair and such. At some point he attempted to cut off his own penis in Towa's presence, but ended up hesitating and not going through. All in all, he decided to drop all things associated with traditional masculinity other than street fighting, which he uses to vent out his frustration. This is the key word here - FRUSTRATION. Rei's frustration grows to hundred percent when he is forced to enter to-the-death matches. Killing opponent after opponent, Rei grows more frustrated and less and less like his friendly effeminate self. I think the key solution to the question of 'how is the writing of rei's gender handled?' Is the fact that Rei rediscovered his masculinity through violence. And Slow Damage is not a game that... likes violence, encourages it, or overall relates it to anything remotely positive. I don't think that Rei reconnected to his masculinity in a healthy way, and I don't think it's meant to be read as a cool finding himself arc. Most of all, it's not his or Towa's happy ending. Towa... the thing is that Rei only realized a sexual attraction to Towa once the amount of violence in his life amplified to the max. As his level of 'manliness' grew. Their sex scene is very frank about this - after he and Towa beat each other into bloody pulp, he says something along the lines of 'I'm a man and I want to fuck you.' I think it drives the point further that he was the only virginal love interest to that point - when he percieved himself as a woman, he had no violent sexual appetites, or at least didn't see a way towards realizing them. Once he 'reverted' into a man though, he could fuck Towa. He could claim his prize - who has no objections, given that it feeds perfectly into his own penchant that I described at the start. And their ending, showing us a casually manly Rei biking with Towa? We have no proof that he's in any way abusive, nor that they're unhappy, but... this 'new gender' of his, he built it up with bricks made of blood, some of it Towa's. I don't think Rei reached a happy ending. I think Rei is a feminine person, or at the very least a gender nonconforming man who retreated back into the closet within the violent festa that his father brought upon him... many will disagree, but this is how I read it - a manhood built up on violence equals unhapliness for two. I think Towa and Rei might stay together longer than Towa and Taku would, but it won't bring either of them any healing. The end.

Madarame's route is the simplest, since Madarame does not hide himself behind any masks. He is a violent, shameless pedophile rapist who gladly continues paving the road of self-destruction that Maya had left off half-finished. I think that placing this ending behind Taku and Rei's serves as a bit of a wake up call who felt pacified by the former two - um, hey, hello? Did you forget? This is not a 'happy story'. For some three hours you watch Madarame break Towa psychologically, repeatedly rape and torture him - only to release him back to Taku and Rei for Towa to find that he can't truly fit im with them anymore. What purpose does it serve? Well, I think it just shows us that there never was any long-term happiness waiting for Towa with either of those men. I think the purpose of the Madarame route, beyond preparing us for the true route, is to totally nullify the effect of the first two. A 'forget what you thought you knew' type of detail. Broken into obedience, a wild blond Towa kissed Madarame after a boxing match. The end.

Fujieda.

He perplexes me the most, and I'm still not entirely certain in the answer I arrived to. Why would the author who penned this painfully real story about abuse have Towa end up with a man who - midway through the route - raped him? I tried to work wonders to explain this to myself, try to interpret it differently, but the truth is concrete. Fujieda raped Towa in a fit of rage, and then with a sober mind refused to apologise for it. Why would this be in a 'painfully real story about abuse?'

...precisely because it's painfully real. It happened to Towa. It happened to a million others. It might happen to you. When you hit your knee, do your fingers not venture to fondle the bruise, press down for a small reminder of what the pain felt like? The fingers are usually kind, but once in a while, they press down.

And again - Fujieda does not consistently abuse Towa. In fact, he gives him his first taste of truly pleasurable sex in a scene that pushed me to the brink of tears in its sad honesty. When Fujieda has a good day, he gently washes the remnants of assault out of Towa. But when he had an extremely bad way, he was the perpetrator of the assault. I think it's 'painfully real' for Towa to end up with such a man. After coming to terms with his past, this was the best he could do. This was as much as he could save himself. The VN ends on such a note - don't be too happy for him, and don't be too sad. I do believe that Fujieda brought Towa some comfort and clarity, but I can't say that this isn't a deadend, too. Just a more peaceful one in the light. In the ocean.

What's the point then, if Towa ends up stranded no matter what choices you make? Let's return to the beginning, to the ditch abuse made in you. Sometimes you fill it in with fantasies, sometimes with violence, sometimes with the 'next best thing', a 'he's a good man you know, he's only rough when he drinks' typa marriage... no matter what, fact is that all abused kids seek to fill it in with something familiar. Something they know and recognize. It yearns to be filled, it aches for it - whatever you're ready to dish out, just put it in! I think this merry-go-round of victims and perpetrators is what Surodame is tryong to turn our eyes towards, or at least force us to stop averting them. So that you may not scorn the Towa in your life, so that if you are a Towa yourself, you may find comfort in knowing that someone somewhere dreemed you up, empathized with you and lead your hand along the path. Why, then, do we not see our Towa free?

Well, the future is long. He was in an ocean. Maybe he walked out.

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eyepatchdate · 10 days ago

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Three short stories were posted on the official Swansong website, providing more information on its main characters. Originally posted on 6/20/2022 at “news.vampire-swansong.com”, this was the entry that feature Galeb, his origin story and his sire, Tavernier.

***

“Justice. You must understand, Galeb, that there’s no better motivation for our kind than the righting of wrongs.” Tavernier’s elbows rested on the ship’s balustrade, his chin perched on his interlaced fingers as he looked not as his progeny, but at the restless sea, and tried to make sense of where the darkness of the water gave way to the sky. The stars above were scant and the moon absent behind thick clouds, forcing Tavernier into the very human gesture of screwing up his eyes to see a little better. Of course, it did nothing. Light proved elusive beyond the lamps hanging and placed on the ship, their flames protected but still caught in the stiff wind.

“Whether it’s seeking vengeance for wrongs done to us, or making amends for sins we witnessed but did nothing about in our lives. Think of everything you’ve ever lost and what you could gain, in your mind and your heart, by preventing others from falling to the same ill fates.” Tavernier remained locked in position, finally certain he could spot the horizon, though it may have been a trick of the light.

“There was I, thinking the answer was blood.” Galeb leaned next to his sire, but unlike the elder vampire, Galeb’s back was to the sea and his gaze cast purely to Tavernier. He was examining the old creature’s form, from the blonde, bound hair on his head, resisting the breeze, to his arched nose, his tight shoulders, his narrow waist, his feet poised on the planks in their soft leather shoes. “You’re immovable, you know? Like a statue carved from…”

“Yes?” Tavernier’s mouth twitched a little, concealing a smile.

“… ah, I don’t have the words. I’ll opt for a pale wood.”

Tavernier let out a laugh and stood straight. “Wooden. Yes. You wouldn’t be the first to describe me that way. But I believe it’s more complimentary to be described as a rare gem, or carved from alabaster. You know?” He clapped Galeb on the shoulder and walked the deck with his childe, the two unaffected by the churning sea not far beneath them.

“Allow me to reserve for you the finer compliments, to be delivered at a time where you rightly deserve them. For a deed,” Galeb gestured with one hand out to the right, “or a misdeed,” his left hand reached out in the opposite direction, before he dropped both to his waist. “I’ve known you for a score of years, and you are still unknowable. You patronize, but you don’t direct. You advise, but I never gather you have any motives of your own…”

“And so this is why you ask again about motivation?” Jean-Baptiste Tavernier grinned at his undead offspring. “Well as I’ve told you many times, the righting of wrongs…”

“I am not some angel to go about delivering vengeance on behalf of the helpless, my friend. And nor have I seen you performing such heroic deeds, so clearly as motivations go,” Galeb spoke the words clearly, but found himself trailing off, “you must be lacking…” There were wrongs in need of righting, but he was too far removed from them to address them in any meaningful way.

Just over ten years prior, Galeb had first made Tavernier’s acquaintance, the two becoming associates and business partners. Galeb wasn’t blindsided by Tavernier’s eventual admission of undeath; he knew there was something mysterious and dangerous about the merchant explorer, but the vital parts he was missing were the ones regarding blood drinking and ungodly powers. The night-time existence was one he was more prepared to handle, having only encountered Jean-Baptiste Tavernier — in all their time together — in the hours after dusk. But when Tavernier, after five years of knowing him, offered him what he called “the gift of an eternity to explore, learn, and change the world,” Galeb wasn’t thinking about the curses that came with such an existence.

Galeb accepted the gift, but found it left him bitter and empty. Where immediately Tavernier tried to turn his childe toward growth and influence at best, or at worst, avenging slights against him, Galeb was unable to see unlife through either lens. He swiftly detached himself from humankind and living concerns, and closer to his sire, courting interest from other Kindred in the ports they visited, but ignoring the overtures of mortal politics and wealth. He was content to expand his mercantile empire and fill his pockets with the profits, but the day-to-day interested him far less than the night-to-night. And so, as they came to cross the sea on one of their many voyages together, Galeb had asked Tavernier again for motivation. And again, Tavernier directed him toward justice.

“Why is it that you repeatedly peddle this line?” Galeb’s buoyant demeanor had slipped, his expression blank, his words low. “What is it you want from me? I hear you frustratedly describe to others like us that I won’t be drawn on the matters of mortals, that you expected more of me upon my Embrace, and that my merely furnishing us both with fortune is insufficient. Do I disappoint you, sire?” He spat the last word.

“Do not call me that.” Tavernier held up his left hand, his right steadying his balance against the mast as the ship’s crew darted about, trying to control the vessel as it overcame a swell. For the first time in a long while, Tavernier looked unsteady on his feet, and he couldn’t meet his childe’s gaze. “You see me that way, but I see us as equals, as friends, peers, lovers. I’m not your commander. It’s not my place to be disappointed in you.” He lifted his face to study Galeb. “I am in awe of you. We’re told that a fledgling Kindred requires a mentor’s steady hand. In our clan, in particular, great importance is placed on lineage and the relationship between creator and creation. But here you are, Galeb, already prepared to step aside from the trivialities of the living and embrace the world of the dead. Your mind works differently to others. Sometimes you flourish, sometimes you lay as if you were a corpse, in need of affirmation before you can continue. And I believe I know what you need to become whole.”

Galeb forced a roll of his eyes and walked close to his sire, holding him tightly in his arms. “And you say what I need is justice. That if I were to adopt your view, I’d better understand my place in this world?”

Tavernier kissed Galeb on the lips and counted to ten before pulling away. “Set yourself a cause among the living, stand up for what is right among them, and yes, you’ll grip onto this world with firmness instead of just sailing on the tides from vampire court to vampire court. There must be an injustice you want answered. Now you have the power to address it!”

Galeb stroked Jean-Baptiste’s cheek before backing away. “There is. Of course there is.” He took Tavernier’s previous position at the balustrade, looking out to sea as the ship mounted a wave and crashed into the churn, sending sailors tumbling with shouts and nervous laughter. It was starting to rain. “But I maintain blood is the motivation, regardless of how you dress it in terms like ‘vengeance’ and ‘justice.’”

***

“Hektor, it’s been too long.” Galeb strode through the vampire’s antechamber and clasped the thick-set Brujah’s hand in a tight grip. Galeb had only arrived at Cyprus’s shore the night before, but whenever visiting a domain, it was his belief that early introductions made for better exchanges.

Hektor chuckled loudly as he pulled Galeb in close and patted him hard, three times, in the center of his back. “I received your message, though not long ago! As soon as I heard Galeb Bazory was sailing his way down the Mediterranean, and would be pulling into port on my island, well… I prepared for your arrival with what limited time I had! I’m frankly surprised you didn’t outpace the messenger!”

The two laughed and each took a mortal by the arm, placed in the hall by Hektor in the style of posed statues, ordered to not move until a Kindred came to claim them. Galeb’s prey had a dry trickle of urine down his leg, while Hektor’s struggled to move from having been held in place for so long. “I appreciate your grace in offering me a meal. I hadn’t wished to hunt in your domain, and Hunger stings after such a long voyage. I have to be very careful around my crew, Hektor.” Galeb’s fangs became visible in his mouth, thin and sharp. “They’re too well-trained and far too expensive to replace in every port just because I have an appetite.”

The two compatriots fed from their vessels, both man and woman stiffening and groaning, first in pleasure and then in distress, as the Prince of Cyprus and the visiting Galeb Bazory took their fill, and more besides. The air filled with the sound of the victims’ panting, hurried breaths, before Galeb dropped his mortal gently to the pillowed floor. Hektor however, didn’t relent. By the time he dropped the young woman, her chest had stopped rising and falling with breath.

The rotund Brujah wiped the gore from his mouth and dragged fingers through his knotted gray beard, forcing blood to spatter the tiles. “In my family, we consider it improper to leave a meal half-finished,” Hektor smiled through his thick facial hair, “but of course, you’re not of my family, are you, Galeb? Do you ever wonder how I know your preferences for feeding?”

Galeb stared at the fallen woman. Not the first dead body he’d witnessed, and unlikely to be the last. “No, I can’t say it’s ever troubled me. I doubt you’d be a Prince if you weren’t well-versed in knowing your guests ahead of their arrival.”

“Ah, well, on that matter you are correct. Praxis is a many-splendored thing, but does come with its share of demands… But you’re not here to engage me in political discussion, are you?” Hektor clapped his hands together loudly, drawing Galeb’s attention from the corpse on the floor. “Don’t worry about her. Someone will come to clean up the mess.”

The young Ventrue shook his head. Tavernier made clear to him early on in their new relationship that some Kindred valued life more cheaply than others. Galeb had long convinced himself he would see mortals as little more than feeding stock, but still; when presented with the unfeeling way with which Hektor fed from and dumped his bodies, and the rumors of the Brujah’s habit of tossing them off Cyprus’s cliffs, leaving families forever in the dark as to their relatives’ fates, Galeb clenches his teeth. There was a difference between vampires like he and Hektor, and it wasn’t — as Tavernier liked to say — due to lineage. This was a question of morality, and what brought Galeb to this island in the Mediterranean.

Galeb was in no mood to continue dwelling on the monstrosity of his host. “If my messenger arrived here, you’ll know my reasons for visiting, and that my stay will not be overlong. I promised high payment for good information. So tell me, Hektor: is the information good?” Galeb pulled a purse from his belt and threw it directly into Hektor’s cupped hands. The Brujah didn’t check the contents, but did squeeze the small pouch before giving a nod… which swiftly evolved into a shake of the head.

“Galeb, boy. You should blame that rogue, Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, for all this. You’ve sailed a long way and I’m sad to say I do not have the information you seek.” Hektor shrugged stiffly. “Only news you do not wish to hear.”

Galeb’s jaw once again clenched, and he ground his fangs together. He felt his hands balling into fists. Another very mortal gesture. Interesting how proximity to my mortal life makes me behave in mortal ways, he thought to himself before making an effort to temper his temper and ask for more information. “Please do not think me rude, Hektor, but get to the damn point. Fair or foul, I wanted to know the location of my mother and my brother in Constantinople. I doubt very much that you discovered nothing, so tell me what it is you know.”

Galeb had departed Constantinople as a youth, and not of his own volition. His mother, once named Jeannette de Bazory, served as an honored concubine in Sultan Ahmed III’s court in Constantinople. It was a good life for her, and a wondrous existence for the young Galeb, or Şehzade Süleyman, as his father named him. He enjoyed the luxuries of the court, the doting of dozens of beautiful, caring, intelligent women, and the love of a mother who adored him.

And then his father fell from power, and the young Galeb conspired, in foolish and naive ways, to have Ahmed restored. His mother, discovering this, and suspecting others might have done the same, sent her resisting son away from Constantinople before the Janissaries could capture him and murder him for treason. He’d not seen his family since, had never again set foot in Constantinople, and had resisted the urge to discover their fates.

But then came Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, with his talk of wrongs being righted, of justice being done, of vengeance for past ills. Again and again, Tavernier drummed into Galeb’s head that he would find purpose and satisfaction were he to revisit the past and see to it that injustices were answered. So, finally, Galeb agreed to sail for Constantinople and find his family.

“Answer me, Hektor. What became of them?” Galeb leaned forward, close enough to touch the bulbous vampire.

Hektor imitated an appearance of sadness. Galeb knew it was false as soon as he saw it on the Brujah’s face. Hektor had never looked anything other than angry or jubilant in the time he’d known him. Sorrow didn’t seem to appear in his register. “My poor boy… Ahh, Galeb. I’m sorry. I hate to be the bearer of such tidings, but I present you with the unfortunate truth that your mother was killed not long after you left the Holy City, and your brother was imprisoned. His fate is not confirmed, but it’s likely he expired in the cells and his body disposed of as that of a peasant or criminal. Always… tragic, when that happens to children.” Hektor offered his hands in condolence.

Galeb didn’t take them. He looked away from Hektor and out through an archway in the wall, where he could see the sea beneath the moonlight. “I… I cannot blame you for this, though I feel a rage stirring within me. They were not your responsibility, but mine, and I have been gone too long.”

Hektor laughed, much to Galeb’s annoyance. “And they say Ventrue are without emotion! Ah, Galeb. My boy. I truly am sorry you travelled all this way for such bad news. Still, you are welcome to remain here for as long as you desire it. I am always happy to host you, and your diamonds are always welcome in my court.” The implication was clear. You can stay, but you’ll be paying for it.

Galeb stood sharply, and once again clasped Hektor’s hand. “No, I will not be staying. Though my family may be dead, my journey remains incomplete. Tavernier says I need this to complete myself, or further my growth, or…” Galeb lifted his hand to his head and pressed his wrist to his temple. What was the point of this? How is this supposed to help me? What do you want from me, Jean-Baptiste? As Galeb contemplated, he felt that familiar roar inside his heart. That old voice, wanting to lash out.

Galeb locked eyes with Hektor.

“Can you see that ship out there in the bay, Hektor?” Galeb walked over to the archway, pointing into the distance.

The Prince moved to join him, sucking at some of the pieces of skin still wedged between his teeth. “Which one?”

Galeb didn’t answer. Instead, he moved back a step, and rammed his shoulder into the Brujah’s back, sending him tumbling through the archway and down the side of the building.

The drop wouldn’t kill the Prince. It wouldn’t even hurt him significantly, if rumors of his age were to be believed. But random and sudden acts of violence like this? Galeb found them to be very useful in curtailing the Beast. Even with his increasing distance from mortality, Galeb felt it better to unleash on a monster like Hektor than some undeserving mortal.

With vampires like Hektor, another purse filled with diamonds would be enough to make up for the poor manners.

***

Constantinople. Galeb recognized the streets, the sounds of a hundred accents, and when he forced himself to take a breath, he recognized the smells.

In particular, he recognized the odor of blood.

Currently, Galeb was covered in the tacky fluid, occasionally licking around his mouth or sucking some of it from his hands. He stared through a crimson mask at a Janissary he knew was named Ibrahim, the disarmed man cowering before the vampire. “Please understand, I’ve not lost control.” Galeb kicked the man’s sword far away, lodging the blade into the back of one of the Janissary’s fallen bodyguards. “This is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.”

The Janissary nodded feverishly, his eyes wide, his one good hand held up in surrender.

“I’m not berserk. I’m not in a rage. I’m delivering justice in place of injustice. I find the entire concept ludicrous, honestly, but Jean-Baptiste says this is what I need to do, so…” Galeb thrust his dagger into the Janissary’s stomach and provoked a scream from the terrified man. “I’m not going to lie to you. You’ll die here. But how quickly you pass on to the next life comes down to your answers to my questions.”

The Janissary didn’t respond with anything intelligible, instead gurgling in pain.

Galeb wasn’t feeling sympathetic, squatting down and leaning over the man as he twisted the blade. “When I lived here, my name was Şehzade Süleyman. I was one of the Sultan’s many bastards. It’s possible you remember me.”

Galeb gritted his teeth. He wasn’t a sadist, but there was that growl again, deep inside him. All this blood spilled, and he hadn’t fallen to his hands and knees to lap it up yet. He needed to maintain control to get the answers he sought.

“Even if you don’t, these are the facts: you and your cohorts ousted my father and made him place his nephew on the throne. By rights, that throne should have been mine, but I care little for rulership over your kind. What I care for more, is the fate of my father, who I’ve found died incarcerated; my mother, who smuggled me from this place and was subsequently butchered by you, and your friends; and my brother, Mustafa. It’s his whereabouts I need to discover, to ensure wrongs are righted.” Galeb extracted the dagger, and as it left the Janissary’s body, a small fountain of blood followed, which swiftly formed a spreading puddle on and around the old man. “So tell me. Where did you put him?”

The Janissary’s eyes were shut, but they opened as Galeb struck him across the face. “Yes! Yes! Mustafa! He’s imprisoned in the Topkapı Palace! Please! Please have mercy…”

The vampire considered his next move. End this traitor’s life. Drink deep and leave him as a drained husk. Leave him in agonizing pain… “I’m not a cruel man, but I am who I am tonight, because of men like you. And frankly,” Galeb surveyed the blood leaking from the Janissary’s body, “I doubt you’re my type.”

Galeb gripped the man’s jaw and stared into his wide eyes. “You will not remember my face, my name, or what I asked. Know that you’re dying, call out for help, but forget your attacker.”

The Janissary slowly nodded as Galeb stood and walked away, the dying man’s mind completely altered, left only with a blank space where the vampire once stood. Galeb licked the blood from his dagger and winced, before spitting it to the floor. “Definitely not my type.”

***

Seven throats were cut in the palace as Galeb made his way to the dungeons. The fledgling Ventrue was coated near head to foot in blood, and stood on one side of the bars separating him from his mortal brothers and cousins. It appeared the new Sultan was keen on locking away any potential claimants to the throne, but desired to keep them alive, in case he required their support. The prisoners awake to see Galeb gasped and let out moans of fear. Words like “demon” and “monster” reached his ears from their trembling lips.

“I’m not here to harm any of you. I’m here for Mustafa.”

Some of the prisoners gathered to hide the soft young man, who closely resembled the more severe Galeb. Others pointed him out in fear of what might happen if they refused to follow Galeb’s command.

Galeb fell to one knee and passed his dagger through the bars toward Mustafa, who let the blade drop to the stones. There was no recognition in Mustafa’s eyes toward his brother, whether due to their time apart, or the blood caked over him. “Mustafa. You do not need to know who I am, but know I’ve killed the men who killed our mother, and I will do my best to ensure you one day come to power, as… It would be justice.” Galeb’s voice lowered. “This blade opened the throats of your enemies. Keep it close and do not hesitate to use it to protect your own family, when you escape this place. I should have used it long ago to protect my own.”

Without receiving a response, Galeb rose and turned on his heel, quickly leaving the prison. He only found one guard in his path, who made no effort to tackle the vampire when she saw the monster before him.

***

Emerging from the Bosphorus, the blood streaking and washed from his skin, Galeb let out a roar, giving his Beast voice for the first time since arriving in Constantinople. As he trudged ashore and in the direction of his ship, he thought of the life he’d once lived, the eternity ahead of him, and his connection to Kindred, kine, and the world. He reflected on his relationship with his sire, how scared his brother looked, how those Janissaries screamed…

As he climbed the side of his ship, making his way up to the deck, Galeb muttered to himself, looking for the last time at Constantinople. “I was right, Tavernier… It wasn’t ‘justice’ that would make me grow. It wasn’t ‘righting wrongs.’ The motivation for all our kind is simply blood.”

Swansong short story #1: Blood

Archived from the official Vampire the Masquerade: Swansong website.

Three short stories were posted on the official Swansong website, providing more information on its main characters. Originally posted on 6/20/2022 at "news.vampire-swansong.com", this was the entry that feature Galeb, his origin story and his sire, Tavernier.

***

“Yes?” Tavernier’s mouth twitched a little, concealing a smile.

“... ah, I don’t have the words. I’ll opt for a pale wood.”

“And so this is why you ask again about motivation?” Jean-Baptiste Tavernier grinned at his undead offspring. “Well as I’ve told you many times, the righting of wrongs…”

“I am not some angel to go about delivering vengeance on behalf of the helpless, my friend. And nor have I seen you performing such heroic deeds, so clearly as motivations go,” Galeb spoke the words clearly, but found himself trailing off, “you must be lacking...” There were wrongs in need of righting, but he was too far removed from them to address them in any meaningful way.

Galeb forced a roll of his eyes and walked close to his sire, holding him tightly in his arms. “And you say what I need is justice. That if I were to adopt your view, I'd better understand my place in this world?”

***

“Answer me, Hektor. What became of them?” Galeb leaned forward, close enough to touch the bulbous vampire.

Galeb locked eyes with Hektor.

“Can you see that ship out there in the bay, Hektor?” Galeb walked over to the archway, pointing into the distance.

The Prince moved to join him, sucking at some of the pieces of skin still wedged between his teeth. “Which one?”

Galeb didn’t answer. Instead, he moved back a step, and rammed his shoulder into the Brujah’s back, sending him tumbling through the archway and down the side of the building.

With vampires like Hektor, another purse filled with diamonds would be enough to make up for the poor manners.

***

Constantinople. Galeb recognized the streets, the sounds of a hundred accents, and when he forced himself to take a breath, he recognized the smells.

In particular, he recognized the odor of blood.

The Janissary nodded feverishly, his eyes wide, his one good hand held up in surrender.

The Janissary didn’t respond with anything intelligible, instead gurgling in pain.

The Janissary’s eyes were shut, but they opened as Galeb struck him across the face. “Yes! Yes! Mustafa! He’s imprisoned in the Topkapı Palace! Please! Please have mercy…”

Galeb gripped the man’s jaw and stared into his wide eyes. “You will not remember my face, my name, or what I asked. Know that you’re dying, call out for help, but forget your attacker.”

***

“I’m not here to harm any of you. I’m here for Mustafa.”

***

#vtm #q #putting it under a readmore again so i haev it sourced on my own blog b/c i loved this one #thank you for posting these op

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lokisprettygirl · 3 years ago

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Mystery of Laufey Manor (Loki x Female Reader) (Horror Au)

Read Chapter 17 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 18

Summary : Laura kisses Loki, was it a heat of the moment mistake? Or they have a past together?

Laura wanted to kiss him since he came back from US, but he came back with you instead, she was shocked, jealous, and she absolutely hated you. She could have had him if it wasn't for you.

He felt her lips on her, and it took him a second to realize that she was kissing him so he pushed her off him quickly.

"What's wrong with you Laura? I'm a married man now" her eyes teared up at his indifference.

"Yes and you can stay married to her, but we can continue what we had" she told him as she grabbed his arms

"What did we have? Are you listening to yourself Laura? It was just few nights of sex, I thought I made it very clear what I needed from you and you were very willing to be in that agreement"

"Yes I was willing because I thought you wouldn't marry me since I'm not of royalty, but then you married that hippy, she doesn't even respect the title" He glared at her as she disrespected you. He might have his selfish ulterior motives when it comes to you but he won't let anyone disrespect you like that

"First of all mind your bloody language Laura, she's my wife and you would treat her with respect. I was lonely and upset, I needed company, you were here and we both agreed that this wouldn't go beyond a physical relationship, did we not?" He raised his voice as she wasn't taking a hint that he never had any intent of pursuing anything serious with her.

"Yes we did but..but then .then I I fell in love with you" She started sobbing and he sighed, he didn't want to break her heart and he felt awful about the infatuation she carried for him.

"You are not in love with me Laura, you don't even know me, don't be such a child, stay away from me from now on, I don't want her to find out about this, do you understand?" it was as if she didn't even hear what he said, she clutched onto his coat and hugged him tightly, then she started to kiss his neck, he was trying to push her off him without wanting to hurt her but she was relentless

"Please tell me you remember the nights you spent making love to me, on that couch in the living room, over and over again"

"Stopp it Laura, get off me"

"Remember how I took care of you? You don't even need her"

"Laura Laura Laura.."

"Why did you go back for her? Did I not satisfy you enough? I made you orgasm in every possible way, why did you go back for her? I was right here " That was it , that's what made him push her off with such a force that she fell down on the floor.

"Because I love her, you foolish woman. I used you to get over her but I couldn't, I just wanted to be close to her and you're not her, you'd never be, the only reason I haven't booted you out yet is because of Danny and your sister, don't forget that. I have no attachment with you, none. Don't even think for a second that just because you spread your whorish legs for me, you hold any leverage over me. You don't love me Laura, you love the status I can give you"

She was shocked to say the least, she has never heard him talk to her or anyone in such a manner. He was always polite with everyone. But he was wrong about her, she didn't just want the name or the status, she wanted him. The days she spent as he fucked her into oblivion, she felt his passion for her, it wasn't just in her head.

"Are you going to be good now or you want me to hurl more insults at you huh?" He looked down at her and gave her a glare

"I'll be good, I am sorry my lord, I forgot my place"

"You truly did, I ..I don't want you running your mouth and disrespecting my wife anymore, do you understand?"

"I do" she mumbled meekly and he turned around to leave, to his horror or surprise, his eyes widened and it made Laura smirk as they both found you standing on the doorway, your eyes full of hurt and betrayal, your tear soaked cheeks were evident to his eyes. He knew you had heard him. He walked over to you but you ran off quickly, if only he was able to run, he would run and stop you. He took the elevator to his room and as soon as he entered the bedroom you glared at him

"I knew, I knew something was off about the way she looked at you, you fucked her didn't you" You sobbed, your voice was a mix of despair and anger. You didn't ask him, you told him as a matter of fact that he indeed fucked her.

"Darling just let me explain okay? Can we talk about this?" He walked over to you but you took a step back, the hurt in your eyes hurt him too, this wasn't part of the plan, you weren't supposed to find out about Laura.

"Just let me talk to you sweetheart okay?" His voice was soothing and gentle in your ears but the image of him fucking Laura in the living room was now engraved in your head. You two weren't together at the time and he was a free man but it doesn't make it okay since she is still working here for him and you now as well.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a hug. You didn't want to melt or give in, but the sickness and the bundle of emotional turmoil you were feeling in the moment made you so weak.

"Sssh now just relax my darling, you're sick and I don't want you to exhaust yourself" he rubbed your back soothingly. He could feel you trembling in his arms, you felt a panic attack coming so you placed your head on his chest like always. His heartbeat always calmed you down.

"It feels horrible, I..I just.. why is she still here, are you still sleeping with her?" You sobbed like a child in his arms and his eyes teared up. He might be horrible for bringing you on a false pretense here, but he wasn't going to cheat on you, especially after what has happened to him.

"No no no sweetheart, just believe me, I won't ever do that to you, I promised to be loyal and faithful, you're my wife now, you're my only family y/n, I would never put you through that hurt, look at me" he pulled you away from him and cupped your cheeks then he placed a soft kiss on your lips

"I'm so in love with you my darling, I always was, even when I was with her I only thought of you" you glared at him as he said that.

"That's not comforting"

"I know it's not, but it's the truth and you want the truth" he wiped your tears with his thumbs and kissed your forehead "When I came back, I desperately waited for your call or a letter, anything really, but it never came. Everyday I didn't hear from you made me more and more anxious. Several thoughts infiltrated my head, I wondered if you found someone else you or forgot about me" your eyes teared up more as you heard him

"I didn't forget..I just didn't find your letter"

"I didn't know that darling, all I knew was the fact that you didn't get back to me, I hired Diana because her husband Daniel works at the Laufey mill, they're really poor, there are days when they have to live on scraps. I needed someone to prepare homemade meals, and she brought her sister along with her. There were days when she'd just send Laura alone here"

Loki knew what he was doing when he left the letter in the drawer instead of the bed. He didn't want you to find it, he wanted you to yearn for him in his absence. He wanted to see if this was just infatuation and all physical or you had an emotional bond with him like he did with you. He was testing you, it was a terrible thing to do. He understood that very well but he had to do it to test your feelings.

It didn't make it easy for him though, as soon as he was back in Dorset he only thought of you, he thought of your kind nature, your sexual perversion, your non judgemental thinking that often got you in trouble but you didn't allow it to deter you or change you. In that moment he only wished he was more like you but he had different experiences in life.

One evening he came downstairs to the kitchen to get himself something to drink, when he found Diana's sister Laura all alone. She wasn't supposed to be there, they often left around after noon. He was lonely and desperate for you, he couldn't help it, he noticed the way she kept looking at him, the way she tried to get close to him. If it wasn't for you maybe he would have just tried it with her now, but after knowing you, after feeling the passion he felt with you, it was hard for him to start over again. He could only think about you even when he was touching her and kissing her.

"I was lonely, desperate and I missed you terribly, she was here to nurse my wounds, but I never stopped thinking about you..never darling" you crossed your arms and took a step away from him.

"So you used her? For your own selfish needs?" You looked at him and he looked down. He did use her, you weren't wrong. She isn't the only one he was using.

"I did.. I did, but she knew, I never made any promises to her nor I asked her to raise her hopes, she knew it was purely physical. She don't know me like you do, she saw me as someone she could benefit from, we were both using each other"

You knew he had no obligation to you during the time he slept with her, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Okay I get it , I get that you were lonely, but why is she still here then lo?"

"Because of Daniel and Diana, But She'll be out of here as from today, especially after the way she disrespected you.."

"Yeah not her first time" you cut him off mid sentence and stormed towards the bed to lay down.

"What do you mean darlin? "

"Nothing just.. this day just went from bad to worse, I just need to rest" he took his coat off. He can't leave you alone in this state so he walked over to you and sat down on the edge so he could look at you, he took off the mask and leaned down to kiss you, his beautiful green eyes pierced straight into your soul, he was guilty that he hid this from you, you could see it.

"Am I forgiven for hurting you like that, my love?" Your eyes teared up at the sweetness his voice had as he rubbed your cheeks softly with his thumb and pressed kisses on your neck. Your resolve was breaking as he continued to caress you and kiss you so tenderly

"I don't know yet..I'm upset but I'm not upset upset..just ..just hurt"

"I know darling, and I'm so sorry that I made you feel so. I can't go on with my day knowing that my precious wife is feeling this way, I felt bad enough leaving you here when you are sick, imagine my plight now" he got on top of you and wrapped your legs around him. You moaned as you felt his crotch rubbing against your core.

"Looo I'm sick and gross,I ..oh wow okay..gosh" you lost your train of thoughts as he pulled your nightgown up and ran his hands, his big soft hands all over your thighs.

"I do not care my darling, you could never be gross to me, let me earn my forgiveness, let me repent" It was a complete blur after that as soon as he smoothly pulled his zipper down and entered your warm soaked entrance. You clutched onto his waistcoat as he thrusted into you, making you feel more fuzzy and less upset with him.

"Fuckkk lo.. I..uhh"

"Mmhm I know, I know darling, this is all I could think of after I met you, just you under me like this, that's all I thought about as I fucked her, you, only you" his voice came out all whispery and breathy, he was pulling you in his world like he always did whenever he was so close to you

"Lokkii.."

"Just tell me what you..ahh you're gripping me like a vice, I'm losing my thoughts..just tell me what you need me to do, what can I do to make you feel better" He wasn't the only one getting distracted here, he felt so good and smelled so sweet, everytime he thrusted upwards your lips would brush against his neck, you could smell his cologne and it drove you so wild for him.

"Just keep moving lo..gosh you're so perfect" you mumbled in your drowsy hazy phase, your mind felt numbed by him. You almost forgot that you were upset with him.

"Mmhmm what did she say to you? How did she disrespect you?" His voice was honey sweetened as he tried to make you open up to him.

"Ummm it's..she told me to be more respectful of you being a viscount, told me that I was disrespecting you by not addressing you properly" you mumbled as quickly as you could. His jaw clenched as he heard that, he might hurt you greatly in future but he won't let anybody else do it to you

"You know I do not care about that right?"

"Yesss I know I know baby"

"Good girl, tell me what do you want?"

"Mmm I want her gone .. Diana can stay but I want her gone. Please, I don't trust her after everything I have seen..I feel like she'd try to poison me or something in fit of jealousy and rage" his eyes widened as he thought about it. He recognised the symptoms you were having. It finally clicked.

"She'll be gone I promise, what else do you want love?" he increased his pace and you arched your back as you felt the sensation building, your chest pressed against his and leaned down to suck on your cleavage

"I want you to be honest with me, I don't like being lied to like this" That's one thing he can't give you as much as he would want to

"I promise you , just trust me sweet thing, I don't want to hurt you, I love you so much" you nodded. And pulled his head up so you could kiss him

"I love you..I love you" you whispered softly, he kept going, kept moving until he had you crumbling under him. He watched you falling apart for him, that has been his favorite sight to see since the night you both consummated your marriage. He'd never get used to it, and he only wished that he was able to give you everything he promised you but he can't.

He prepared a warm bath for you and put you inside the bathtub, you grabbed his arm as he turned around to leave

"I'm not leaving darling, I'll go get rid of her, go to the pharmacy and bring medicines for you okay?" he leaned down to kiss your forehead and went downstairs again, to confront her. He didn't know why he didn't connect the dots before.

Laura poisoned you yesterday. On his way, he saw Maira giggling and crying at the same time, standing in front of the black door.

Everytime he felt awful about lying to you, he'd see her and he'd stop feeling awful.

He had to get rid of her, he had to get rid of this curse that she put on him. He can't do this anymore.

💀💀💀💀💀💚💚💚💀💀💀💀💀💀

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@wheredafandomat @snigdha-14

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#loki #loki x female reader #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x reader insert #loki x reader fic #loki x reader angst #loki x you #loki horror au #horror romance

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hamliet · 4 years ago

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Unless a Grain of Wheat Falls and It Dies...

Or, why I am pretty optimistic about the fates of Jean, Connie, Gabi, and all titanized people this chapter, which is also an excuse for me to talk about SnK’s allusions to Russian literature.

There are strikingly parallel ideas The Brothers Karamazov and Attack on Titan, as well as parallel plot points and imagery to the point where if it isn’t deliberate, it’s uncanny. (NB: before people yell at me about comparing a Japanese and Russian work, Isayama has used Russian names since the start of SnK--Shiganshina is a Russian name.) In particular, there are narrative allusions to a portion of the novel known as “The Grand Inquisitor,” which is a short story within a novel. The central thesis of “The Grand Inquisitor” is as follows:

nothing has ever been more insupportable for a man and a human society than freedom.

This parable is told within the story by Ivan Karamazov, a character whose intellectuality is his gift and his curse. He tells his brother Alyosha that the motivation for creating this parable is precisely the evils done to children (oh look, a major SnK theme) and specifically cites an example which was unfortunately taken from real life in Russia and which Isayama has an uncanny parallel:

I want to see with my own eyes the hind lie down with the lion and the victim rise up and embrace his murderer. I want to be there when every one suddenly understands what it has all been for. All the religions of the world are built on this longing, and I am a believer. But then there are the children, and what am I to do about them? That's a question I can't answer... If all must suffer to pay for the eternal harmony, what have children to do with it, tell me, please? ... if it is really true that they must share responsibility for all their fathers' crimes, such a truth is not of this world and is beyond my comprehension. Some jester will say, perhaps, that the child would have grown up and have sinned, but you see he didn't grow up, he was torn to pieces by the dogs, at eight years old...

... How are you going to atone for them? Is it possible? ... What do I care for a hell for oppressors? What good can hell do, since those children have already been tortured? ... I want to forgive. I want to embrace. I don't want more suffering. And if the sufferings of children go to swell the sum of sufferings which was necessary to pay for truth, then I protest that the truth is not worth such a price. ... too high a price is asked for harmony; it's beyond our means to pay so much to enter on it... It's not God that I don't accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return Him the ticket.”

The actual parable of “The Grand Inquisitor” is Ivan’s answer to Alyosha’s question about Ivan’s lines above. Ivan tells a story about how freedom is actually what dooms humanity: it is the curse. (Alyosha does not believe this.) Jesus comes back to earth and is promptly arrested, because his existence and return threaten the wellbeing of society. To be happy, one cannot be free, but one or two strong people in society should be free and bear the burden for everyone else (you can see the parallels to King Fritz/the Reisses).

Nothing is more seductive for man than his freedom of conscience, but nothing is a greater cause of suffering... all his life he loved humanity, and suddenly his eyes were opened, and he saw that it is no great moral blessedness to attain perfection and freedom, if at the same time one gains the conviction that millions of God's creatures have been created as a mockery, that they will never be capable of using their freedom...

This is SnK’s thesis: to be free, there will be suffering. It is part of human nature, and yet to not have it is to be lost. But SnK, despite its explorations of human darkness and monstrosity, has a higher view of humanity than does Ivan. SnK’s view is more alongside Alyosha’s, who says what is honestly the truth about not just the Reisses, but Eren now:

"Who are these keepers of the mystery who have taken some curse upon themselves for the happiness of mankind? .... It's simple lust of power, of filthy earthly gain, of domination—something like a universal serfdom with them as masters—that's all they stand for.”

Mikasa is akin to the Christ figure in the story, akin to Alyosha: Christ is constantly asked to speak, asked to act, and he does not until the very last moment, when he kisses the Grand Inquisitor on the lips. After the story is over, Alyosha then does likewise to Ivan.

Not to mention when Alyosha worries about Ivan’s mental state, he then answers with this:

“Listen, Alyosha,” Ivan began in a resolute voice, “if I am really able to care for the sticky little leaves I shall only love them, remembering you. It's enough for me that you are somewhere here, and I shan't lose my desire for life yet.”

A simple leaf can save a life. A leaf can save the world. A leaf, grown from a tree that started as a seed falling to the ground, dead, only to grow life from that death. Alyosha himself notes SnK’s central thesis of chapter 137 in the (very long) novel’s final pages:

...some good, sacred memory, preserved from childhood, is perhaps the best education. If a man carries many such memories with him into life, he is safe to the end of his days, and if one has only one good memory left in one's heart, even that may sometime be the means of saving us.

There’s a lot more to this, but this is the epigraph to The Brothers Karamazov, the central thesis of the entire novel:

"Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." -John 12:24

Suffering can grow great fruit in an individual life, and by giving something up, by even death, something beautiful can come. Through cruelty, you can find life.

This is not just a long-running theme in SnK, but a pattern in its plot. Often those who surrender then receive exactly what they had surrendered (but admittedly, not always, like Erwin).

Mikasa accepted Eren’s loss, and got him back.

Mikasa let Armin go, and got him back.

Falco gave up hope of survival, and got another chance:

Hange was going to die alone, feeling guilty for having failed her comrades, but saw everyone again, and they told her well done:

Historia gave up being free, but now we know she will be.

Levi gave up on his revenge, and then got it. Annie thought she would never see her dad again, but she did. For Mikasa, accepting that she has to kill the boy she loves coincides not just with her acceptance of her love, but with the acceptance and knowledge that he loves her:

It always comes with sacrifice, increasingly hard sacrifice, but usually the seeds that are dropped grow and bloom.

This chapter, everyone surrendered their hearts. They let their dreams fall to the ground, and I honestly think the story will allow it to plant life. Yes, the world as a whole is saved and that is enough to make thematic sense, but it works even better if the very people who were titanized this chapter also bloom again. They chose to trust Mikasa, Levi, Falco, and Pieck to finish the task.

The characters giving up their lives only to get them back make sense, and give Mikasa’s sacrifice of Eren. For Mikasa, Eren was her world, and she gave it up when she had lost everyone else. She had nothing left, and she still did it. I would hope she’d be narratively rewarded beyond just the world being saved, because Mikasa has always been motivated by her personal relationships.

Moving on from Mikasa: Connie’s mom has been kept alive and the concept of turning mindless titans back to humans was already brought up specifically in relation to her:

Connie giving up on his mother a dozenish chapters ago only to get her back now--not through sacrificing a child, but through saving the entire world--would fit the themes and patterns of SnK.

Thirdly, Gabi should not die. She’s Eren with positive development, and cannot meet the same end. Even people who are skeptical of every titan being saved seem to agree that she’ll be fine. It’s possible she’s the only one saved, but imo, not likely.

See, the only shifter characters who are going to have the option of self-sacrifice are Falco and maaaaaybe Armin. The others look like they’re about to die right here and now, never mind choosing someone to save: the mindless titans are ripping at their napes. Armin also looks to be in bad shape.

Yet Armin cannot narratively commit suicide; two chapters ago he was still screaming at himself for being useless and thinking he would be better off dead. He’s already tried the heroic sacrifice, too, so why would it work this time around? It does not work for his arc. Falco dying for Gabi was the plan without any freedom from the titan curse; it’s more powerful if ending the curse changes things, rather than forcing him to make the same choice that Reiner has always been trying to make: a heroic suicide. It could happen; it’s just not as narratively strong.

As for whether the worldbuilding rules, we know that mindless titans are not truly dead nor entirely mindless; they just don’t have freedom. Ymir’s case of getting herself back after decades shows that they aren’t quite dead or absorbed. They still have consciousness that can be awoken; Ymir described it as being in a long “nightmare.” Dina still went looking for Grisha. Connie’s mom remembered and recognized Connie, telling him “welcome home.” There is plenty of evidence that there are parts of these people that are still in there even if they are forced to become monsters (oh hey, it’s an Eren parallel; he was conscious of it and had choices while mindless titans do not, but the parallel remains).

#snk 138 #snk meta #aot 138 #aot meta #mikasa ackerman #eremika #eren jaeger #armin arlert #the brothers karamazov #gabi braun #connie springer #jean kirchstein #ymir #falco grice #galco #reiner braun #annie leonhart #levi ackerman #historia reiss

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jikookiekosmos · 3 years ago

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Classified & Confidential || kth (Part 1)

➥Pairing: detective!taehyung/reader

➥Summary: It’s been years since your close friend passed away, case going cold due to lack of evidence. You never once believed the story the police gave you, since they classified it under an ‘unfortunate accident.’ Now that there are telltale signs of something similar at play regarding someone else you hold dear, you decide to take things into your own hands. You hire world renowned private detective, Kim Taehyung. And he goes above and beyond everything you expected.

➥Genre: strangers to lovers (kinda slow burn), detective au, mystery, angst, eventual smut, fluff

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~7.1k

➥Content Warnings: detective/mystery au, (tw: mentions of death, brief mention of suicide in relation to a criminal case, implied foul play, stalking behavior, non-graphic detailing of a crime scene), slight forensic talk, mentions of nervousness and anxiety, some cursing, mentions of cops/police, unhelpful law enforcement (like they’re kinda terrible with the whole solving this case thing), feelings of unease and tension, we get bestie hoseok, tae is kinda extra but for good reason, no suggestiveness/smut in this chapter but it’s still 18+ due to it involving some of the aforementioned warnings

A/N: This will be a multi-part series that explores some darker themes, and each part will have appropriate content warnings listed; please read at your own risk. This part touches on backstory and introduces the characters, things will start getting a little more intense in the following chapters. I don’t have any kind of specific update schedule but ideally I’d like to get updates out every few weeks at the latest! I hope you look forward to this, and if you wanna be added to a taglist, please let me know~

Thank you @dntaewithluv for your constant motivation and support (and for always beta-reading for me, even when we scream at each other about our ideas); hopefully I do Tae justice for you! I love you lots ❤️

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn @mwitsmejk @bangtanhome

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

5 Years Ago

The night sky was dark, blanketed by stars as it emitted a peaceful aura. There was no way to bask in the calmness of the night, however, with all the hustle and bustle that surrounded you outside of the apartment complex.

Crime scene tape marked off the area, and many onlookers had gathered to try and get a glimpse of what happened. You were one yourself, but you weren’t there out of sheer curiosity.

Your breathing was ragged, staggered, as you tried to hold yourself together and observed the scene in front of you unfold.

Police wouldn’t let you beyond the tape, despite knowing the person currently covered by the white tarp.

Minutes prior, one of the cops had been politely trying to hold you back as you thrashed around, mind muddled by the vision of your best friend’s face before the tarp concealed it.

“I’m sorry, we can’t let anyone unauthorized come past this tape, please stay where you are.”

“You don’t understand, that’s my best friend, please let me through, please-”

You couldn’t control the volume of your screams, prompting a few of the other bystanders to try and calm you down seeing as you were very clearly distraught.

An unknown amount of time passed before the thickest part of the crowd decided they’d had enough excitement for one night, retiring to their own homes. You stayed planted in your spot, prepared to not move until you got more of an explanation for what was going on.

You’d resigned yourself to the fact that if someone wanted you to leave, they’d have to do it by force, but you eventually complied after two cops convinced you to come down to the station and issue a statement, given your relation to the victim.

They didn’t grill you hard, which was something you appreciated at the time, since you were really in no state to handle a grueling interrogation. You knew you could be marked down as a potential suspect, but everything from their investigation pointed to them believing it had either been an accident or a possible suicide attempt, the latter of which would almost entirely exclude your involvement.

Over the next few weeks, you cooperated with the investigation and helped them with whatever leads you could provide; you were determined that foul play was involved, because you knew your best friend better than anyone, and the story the cops were feeding you wasn’t adding up.

The theory as you knew it was this: she jumped from her apartment window, which was up a significant amount of stories, more than enough to kill a person. A potential suicide note was found at the scene on the nightstand by her bed, typed on a sheet of paper, so handwriting analysis wasn’t an option. The apartment was undisturbed aside from the window having been open.

It almost seemed like a cut-and-dried case, aside from one other small factor: unknown DNA from a hair follicle was found in the apartment alongside the victim’s own.

This didn’t surprise you…at first. You knew Ky had been perusing multiple dating apps and would often invite people over to her place after successful dates. But as far as you also knew, Ky hadn’t recently been on any dates, so there wasn’t a clear reason for that DNA to show up.

Ky had told you in the weeks leading up to her death that she was afraid someone had been following her around, and it unsettled her so much so that she deleted all the dating apps on her phone until she felt safe again.

Sadly, that day never came, and this fact alone caused the nagging suspicion of foul play to burrow itself even deeper into your subconscious.

Since the DNA was unknown, tracing it would be no easy task, but that didn’t stop you. Anything you could do to shed light on what had actually occurred, you were going to do it, plain and simple.

Which is why when the police decided to close the file on the case and label it as an ‘unfortunate accident,’ you were floored.

You begged them to keep focusing on leads when there really weren’t any, offering to aid in any way you could because there was no way that there wasn’t something missing.

Their response?

“Go home, Y/N, there’s nothing else you can do.”

You left the station that day only after you had caused somewhat of a scene, arguing back and forth with one of the lead detectives until you were ‘carefully escorted’ outside. Enraged, you banged your hand against the glass of the door before you slid down the wall beside it, hugging your knees as you tried to compose yourself.

You weren’t sitting that way for long before you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve. You looked up reluctantly and were met with one of the softest pairs of eyes you’d ever seen.

The stranger offered you a kind smile, one that made your heart ache in the aftermath of everything you’d endured the last several weeks. You’d been tackling this situation all on your own, with barely any help from mutual friends or Ky’s family since she’d been estranged from them.

But now, this man stooped down in front of you and smiling at you like everything would be alright…

It almost made you want to believe it.

“Hi, I uh, couldn’t help but overhear about your situation,” he finally spoke up, sounding somewhat bashful. He had bright red hair that peeked out under a cap he wore, and he was sporting a rainbow colored sweater.

A tinge of embarrassment fluttered through you. “Oh. Sorry you had to witness that.”

So this random stranger heard you telling off the police by yelling at them in broad daylight. Way to make a first impression.

To your surprise, he simply shook his head, smile widening. “No, don’t be sorry! I was, uh – happy to be able to listen.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Ok…may I ask why?”

“Well,” there was that bashful tone again, hand flying to the back of his neck as he looked to the side, “I’d been coming up here for a while, hoping to hear something regarding this case specifically. Usually when I stop by, there isn’t much going on and it’s not like I can just walk in and ask for classified information-”

He stopped speaking immediately once you held up your hand. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were thoroughly confused.

“Is there a reason why you’re eavesdropping for information about this case?”

He nodded eagerly. “Sure is! See, I’m working as a crime reporter, and-”

You scoffed as you pushed yourself to a standing position. “Unbelievable.”

Without sparing another glance to the gentleman, you shouldered past him, earlier hopeful mood soured by the fact that he was just another person looking for a scoop about Ky’s demise.

He was quick to follow, almost jumping down the steps to catch up to you.

“Hey, wait! Please.”

The way he begged pulled at your heartstrings because of how genuine he sounded, and for reasons beyond you, you turned around to face him and decided to hear him out.

You crossed your arms as he sighed with relief.

“Thank you. Ok, to start with, I’m a crime reporter, but I’m not trying to report on this case as everyone knows it.”

Another eyebrow raise from you. “What do you mean?”

The man smiled shyly, brushing away the red hair in his eyes. “I want to bring the injustice of the system to the public’s attention.”

That got your attention. “You do?”

“Yes. And I think your story could help with that.”

“My story?”

He nodded again, this time more eager than the last. “You’re pretty adamant that what happened to your friend was no accident, am I correct?”

Any mention of Ky caused the dull pain in your chest to come back, but at least this time, she wasn’t being mentioned in a gruesome or negative light.

“Yeah, I really don’t think it was an accident. But no one believes me.” You looked down at your shoes, scuffling one against the pavement.

You only looked up again when you felt the stranger’s hand on your shoulder.

“I believe you.”

All of the breath was knocked out of you.

“You…you believe me?”

The smile he gave you this time was bright and sincere as he dropped his hand by his side. “I do. I’ve been following everything posted online or in the newspaper about this case, and some of it just really does not seem plausible. And then after hearing you today, it made so much sense as to why.”

It still bothered you a bit that you were loud enough in the station to be heard outside, but that worry was now being overshadowed by the possibility of having someone else who could stand by you on your conviction.

“It…really means a lot to me that you would even consider my side of things. Truthfully, I think the police only tolerated me this long due to protocol.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

The red-haired man grimaced at your remark. “Yeah, no kidding. For as long as I’ve been in this line of work, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them take things as seriously as they should.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About a year. But trust me, I’ve seen a lot during that time.” His determined expression might have made you giggle under other circumstances because it clashed so much with the rest of his soft demeanor.

“I don’t doubt it.” You walked over to the nearby bench seated a few feet away and the stranger followed hesitantly, only sitting beside you when you didn’t give him any indication his presence was unwanted.

The both of you turned toward each other slightly before you spoke up again.

“So, how can I help you with what you’re wanting to do?”

He seemed pleased that you were on board, eyes shining. “For starters, do you think I could interview you? I’d have to ask some sensitive questions, but I feel like I could have a better understanding of the case that way…only if you’re comfortable, though.”

You swallowed as you thought it over. Your participation in the numerous interrogations during the investigation had now proved to lead nowhere, but maybe this time the outcome would be different.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, to the best of my ability.”

The stranger beamed, looking happy enough to nearly jump out of the bench, despite the current subject matter. “Great!”

His cheerful nature was a little infectious, you had to admit, because you already started to feel a little lighter in his presence. A hand appeared in your line of vision.

“My name is Hoseok, by the way. We haven’t been properly introduced yet so that would be the next best step, I think.”

You did giggle this time at his action. “Nice to meet you, Hoseok. I’m Y/N.” You took his hand into your own to give it a small but firm shake.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/N. Now,” he regarded you with that same soft look he had in his eyes when you first saw him at the station, “what do you say we discuss some logistics over lunch? My treat, of course, since you’re agreeing to help me.”

For the first time in ages, the smile that graced your face was wholeheartedly genuine. “Sounds good.”

Thus, the beginning of a beautiful, long-lasting friendship bloomed that day outside of the one place you’d begun to loathe more than anything else. Over the next few years, Hoseok stood by your side in more ways than you could count, and he was now someone you considered to be one of the best friends you’d ever had.

One of the only best friends you’d ever had.

What you never expected was to be seated with Hoseok at the same diner that started your initial conversation about Ky’s case 5 years later, discussing something much too similar for your liking.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Present Day

You sipped from your coffee mug, enjoying the warm beverage as you waited at the diner. The weather had been less than ideal, with rain pouring all day long and displaying little signs of stopping.

But Hoseok had been adamant about the two of you meeting up after your voicemail you left the previous night.

As you were thinking about your close friend, you heard the bell above the diner door ring, signaling his arrival. He spotted you across the room and quickly rushed over to your table, leaving rain droplets in his wake.

Hoseok shrugged out of his soaked jacket and tossed in into the booth seat beside him as he shook his head to – hopefully – rid himself of the water trying to slide down his face.

“Hey,” he finally breathed out once he was settled. His usual wild red hair was darker now thanks to the rain, stern expression plastered onto his face.

“Hey.” You responded meekly, attempting to give him a weak smile. Your stomach was churning with unease at the conversation you were about to have.

Hoseok took a deep breath before he folded his hands together and rested his elbows on the table. The coffee you’d ordered for him had been pushed to the side, momentarily forgotten.

He lowered his voice. “Are you sure the pattern of behavior is the same?”

You nodded slowly, going over all the details again in your mind. “I’m positive. The only difference is Yuri waited longer to tell me that she thinks she’s being followed than Ky did.”

Ky. Not a day went by where you didn’t think about her, seeing her smiling face when you would close your eyes at night and try to drift off to sleep.

Slumber came much easier these days than it did those first few months, but every now and then the same nightmare would plague you about the night you saw her on the sidewalk.

You shook your head to shrug the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time.

“Shit,” Hoseok finally responded. “That doesn’t seem like good news for us.”

“My thoughts exactly. Who knows how long this has been going on. And she’s been receiving the same kind of ‘gifts’ Ky would get, too. Random text messages, voicemails from unknown numbers…she tries to brush it off, but I know this scares Yuri.”

“She doesn’t recognize who’s speaking in the voicemails?”

You shook your head solemnly. “No, they’re using some sort of voice modifier.”

Hoseok cursed again, this time under his breath. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You gulped. Truthfully, you didn’t know the answer yourself. On the one hand, everything currently happening to your friend mimicked what happened to Ky, almost exactly. But on the other hand, Yuri made it known time and time again that she thought you were too paranoid for your own good sometimes.

So, you were at a loss.

Yuri and you were close, in a sense. You’d been friends for the last 4 years, working at the same company after graduating from college and even getting transferred to a new one in the same division so as to not be separated. Outside of Hoseok, you considered her your dearest friend.

But at the same time, you knew that Yuri had those she held very dear in her own life that were there before you, and you’d never try to overstep.

Still…the events surrounding Yuri were too specific to be coincidental in your opinion, and if the hunch you had right now was correct, you needed to do something.

You wouldn’t – you couldn’t – let another person die. Not if there was some way for you to prevent it.

Something you didn’t do with Ky, and that would haunt you for the rest of your life-

Hoseok pulled you out of your thoughts by calling your name, frowning deeply once your gaze focused on him again.

“I…I don’t know. I feel like if I push too hard on this, I’ll also push Yuri away, and I don’t want that.” You worried at your bottom lip, your most infamous nervous habit.

“Be that as it may, this doesn’t seem like something you should ignore either. What’s worse: pushing her away but potentially saving her life, or not saying anything and she ends up in danger?”

A heavy sigh wracked through your body.

Your silence was enough for Hoseok to continue with his own line of thinking. “Well, we could consider going to the police-”

“Absolutely not,” you answered fiercely, with more emotion than you’d displayed the entire conversation, “not after how they handled everything with Ky and how they treated you.”

You and Hoseok had made a name for yourself throughout the town as ‘Public Enemies 1 and 2’ with the local police department. You, due to your persistent insistence that they were wrong in their deduction about Ky, and Hoseok because of the article he published that shamed their name.

The article was the first – and last – one that he published under the company that had hired him to be a reporter, seeing as the police department had enough sway to get him fired afterwards. He wasn’t able to find another reporting job anywhere within the town or those surrounding it.

There also weren’t any remaining records of the article anywhere online or in paper publication, but as a ‘fuck you’ to the department, Hoseok had a copy of it printed and hanging up on his wall for anyone and everyone to see. You had always admired how he handled the situation with grace even though it made your blood boil every time you thought about it.

Even so, some good had come from the whole ordeal. After failing to find another reporter job, Hoseok had made a somewhat notable career as a crime novel author, popular among locals because of how he came to be a novelist, and eventually rising to fame due to his own amazing writing skills.

He enjoyed his career and had a happy life, but that didn’t mean you had to forgive and forget the shitty events that happened to get him to that point.

Hoseok nodded in understanding. “Ok, so no police. Does that mean we try to tackle this whole thing by ourselves?”

“Neither of us have any legit experience with this kind of stuff, so that’s out of the question, too.”

Hoseok tapped his chin as he pondered another idea. The way his eyes lit up as it came to him made your lips curve upward.

“What if we go to someone who isn’t involved with the police but does have experience with that?”

“…not sure I’m following you.”

Hoseok huffed in an endearing way. “Have you ever heard of a private detective?”

The word ‘detective’ made you wince, considering your last encounter with one evolved into a screaming match…but it was also how you met Hoseok, so there’s a silver lining for everything.

“I’m not familiar with a private detective, but I’m open to listening to your idea.”

He grinned. “Perfect. Ok, so in my research for my latest novel, I actually ended up looking into some real-life private detectives.”

“And what did you find?” Your own curiosity was definitely piqued now, as it always was when Hoseok would talk about something so passionately.

“There’s one who’s basically world renowned, like he’s really fucking good. And his office isn’t too far from here, it’s basically in the next town over.”

You took another sip from your coffee, swirling the now lukewarm liquid around in your mouth as you contemplated.

“What else do you know about him?”

Hoseok’s shoulders slumped slightly at that. “Not much. The only information I have on him is his name and how you can contact him. From what I’ve read, he seems to be pretty selective with clients.”

“No idea what he looks like?”

Hoseok shook his head. “None. There weren’t pictures or anything like that, I’m not even sure how old he is.”

You hummed as you pictured this mystery man in your head, automatically defaulting to envisioning an older man, maybe in his 50s with already graying hair. A wise old soul who had seen so much in his long years of investigation work.

“Not like all that really matters, I guess. Do you think I should reach out to him?”

Hoseok nodded around his coffee cup before he tilted his head back to take a large sip. “That’s our best shot right now. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you tried.”

Such a simple statement but it made your stomach twist at the memory of Ky and how you weren’t able to save her because you didn’t know how. “Right.”

Hoseok pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through what looked like Google search results. When he found what he was looking for, he texted you the information.

“Kim Taehyung?” You said the name aloud, making sure you got the correct info.

“Yup, that’s him. If you do decide to contact him, let me know how it goes, ok? I’m already worried as is about you delving into something like this again.”

You patted his hand. “I know, Hobi. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful, and I’ll keep you updated as much as possible.”

He smiled brighter than the sunshine. “That’s all I can ask for, bub.”

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You paced around your apartment, staring at the text that Hoseok had sent you earlier. The rest of your time with him at the diner had been calm and helped to quell your nerves, but now that you were alone again, you were riddled with anxiety.

You had typed in this Kim Taehyung’s number into your phone, ready to call him and just get it over with. The worst he could do is decline your ask for help, but you wouldn’t know unless you tried.

After a few more minutes of useless pacing, you finally hit ‘send’ and raised the receiver to your ear.

You were met with an answering machine almost immediately, wondering if maybe you typed it in wrong until you heard ‘you have reached the number for Kim Taehyung.’ The name had been uttered by a human voice, one that was deep and took you off guard.

You had barely enough time to ponder over the voice before you heard the tell-tale ‘beep’ signaling for you to start your message.

“Oh! Um, hello, Mr. Kim. This is Y/N- well my name is Y/N. I was referred to you by a friend of mine who said you may can help me with a situation I’m having. There’s…some suspicious behavior involving someone dear to me and I’m afraid they could be in danger, but I’m not sure who to turn to. I-If you’d like to give me a call back, you can reach me at this number…”

You finished your voicemail with your contact information before thanking him and wishing him a goodnight. Once you pulled away your phone, you checked the time.

10:36 PM. No wonder you got his answering machine.

The anxiety that had settled down while you were leaving your message started to come back, so to combat that you made the decision to go ahead and get ready for bed. There wasn’t anything else you could do right now, anyway.

You texted Yuri just to wish her a goodnight, and when you received a response almost immediately, you breathed out a sigh of relief. At least she was alright and that was one less thing to worry about for now.

You didn’t dream that night – which was a blessing in its own right – as you thought about the deep timbre of the voice from the answering machine. You’d only heard it briefly, but it left enough of an impact, that was for sure.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You awoke around 8 AM, your typical time no matter what day it was. It was the weekend, so you could get more sleep if you wanted, but a quick check of your phone had you sitting upright at a record speed.

[Unknown] 6:28 AM: I got your voicemail. If you want to discuss your case, meet me at this address.

Your heart thumped faster as you re-read the words over again. The following message had an address attached, and when you opened it, you noticed how it was for the neighboring town.

With all of the context clues, and taking into account everything Hoseok told you yesterday, you figured that it was Mr. Kim who had texted you. Obviously it would be from an unknown number, and he wouldn’t give out any explicit personal details to lead back to him; that’s just how he did things, as Hobi had mentioned.

And if he contacted you back, that meant he was interested in helping you!

Well…he was interested in hearing you out, at least. Still, you wouldn’t pass up on this opportunity. You quickly crafted a response before you started to make yourself presentable.

[y/n] 8:03 AM: Thank you! When should I meet you?

You had just finished brushing your teeth when you heard your phone chime again.

[Unknown] 8:06 AM: Whenever is best for you. I’ll be here all day and don’t have any other clients lined up.

You clutched your phone to your chest. This was really happening.

Once you were done getting ready to head out, it was just past 9 AM. You called Hobi to let him know what you were doing, and his excitement was tangible even through the phone. He urged you to keep him posted about all the details, which you assured him that of course you would.

The drive to the address you’d been given didn’t take too long, maybe around 20 minutes or so. What surprised you when you arrived, though, was the outward appearance of the building.

It looked abandoned, for lack of a better term, and you checked the text message 3 more times to make sure this is where you were supposed to be.

[y/n] 9:28 AM: I’m here…but I’m not sure if this is the correct place?

There was an eerie feeling settling in your stomach as you waited for a response. Maybe this had been some sort of trick? Had someone set you up?

The sound of a deadbolt clicking grabbed your attention, and the door a few feet in front of you opened up to display an older woman. At first, she seemed a bit disgruntled at having an unexpected guest, but before you could apologize for intruding, her gruff expression was replaced with a warm smile.

“I take it you’re Y/N?”

You gulped and nodded, placing your phone back into your jacket pocket.

“Follow me.”

She turned on her heel to walk back into the building, not bothering to wait and see if you would obey. You quickly scurried after her, only stopping once you were a foot or so behind.

You walked through about 3 or 4 different hallways, trying to remember the directions you’d taken but failing miserably. There wasn’t much to this building…you saw what appeared to be a few offices here and there but otherwise, not much else.

“Here we are,” the woman croaked, gesturing with her arm to a much nicer looking door that had gold lettering on the window.

The etchings were bold, and it was very evident where you were as you read the words:

KIM TAEHYUNG

Private Detective

The older woman rapped on the door 3 times with her knuckles before she walked off. You were standing there, dumbfounded, until you heard a voice softly telling you to come inside.

The doorknob clicked easily under your hand, and as you entered the room, you were in awe of how different everything looked.

The office was tidy and, dare you say, extravagant compared to what surrounded it outside of this room. There were two brown leather couches that had a decent sized coffee table seated in between them; further into the office, you saw the same type of leather chairs, one in front of and one behind a large wooden desk. You also spotted a few plants that looked to be well taken care of, one sitting in a windowsill and the other on a small table next to some black filing cabinets.

Whoever had designed this room clearly had a knack for matching furniture together, because it all meshed well and you appreciated the sleek look to everything.

Your eyes ended their scan as you looked over to the far wall, almost letting out a gasp when you noticed the figure across the room whose back was turned to you.

When you softly shut the door, the other person in the room turned around. It took you a second to start thinking properly again, because he was not at all how you pictured he would be.

For starters, he looked much younger than you thought originally, closer to your own age, which you thought was admirable considering his high status as a detective. He had brown hair parted down the middle that was slightly wavy, with bangs covering his forehead. He had very handsome facial features as well, some of the most handsome you’d ever seen, if you were being honest with yourself.

He was wearing dark jeans and a shirt with black and white print that was hidden underneath a black leather jacket. Everything about this man seemed to scream fashionable and it was throwing you for a loop. You weren’t trying to stereotype him based on your own experience with detectives in the past, but he was just…so not what you expected him to be.

You were wondering again if this might be a prank, until he finally spoke up and acknowledged your presence.

“Y/N, is it?”

You nodded dumbly, scrambling to walk across the office as he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. He sat down in his own once you were close enough, and you shrugged out of your jacket before following suit.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, you felt small under his scrutinizing gaze. He was leaning on one elbow, chin resting in his palm as he stared at you with intensity.

He spoke suddenly, almost making you flinch with surprise.

“So, you mentioned a friend of yours might be in danger?”

You nodded, not sure what to say or if you should say anything.

“Does this friend know you’ve come to a private detective about their situation?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Well…no.”

The man nodded, more to himself than you, it looked like. “Alright. That’s not an issue, just have to cover all the basics first.”

“What do the basics entail?”

He seemed amused by your interest as you took the initiative to ask questions now.

His fingertips drummed along the desk, a rhythmic sound that you found to be oddly soothing.

“It entails me finding out as much about your case as I’m willing to before I decide whether or not it’s something I can assist you with.”

He started twirling a pen with his unoccupied fingers, clearly waiting for you to speak first again before he continued.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you feel is pertinent to tell me.”

You sighed. “Well, to start with, I think my friend is being followed by someone-”

“Proof?”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you have proof? Does this friend have pictures or a video of them being followed, or is it just a feeling?”

“To my knowledge…no. It’s more that they sense it than have actually seen it.”

“And you want me to find out if this is happening or not?”

“Um…yes?”

It was his turn to sigh this time. “You don’t sound very confident in your answer, Y/N.”

His tone rubbed you the wrong way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he broke off to look away from the pen to your face again, “is that I need to know what it is you want from me before I can agree to help you.”

You were catching onto his game now. He wanted you to very specifically lay it all out for him, instead of leaving him to figure it out by grasping at straws.

“Well, Mr. Kim-”

“Taehyung.”

“Sorry?”

“Taehyung. You can call me that, if you want. I’m not super big on formalities for myself.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Why was his presence so overwhelming?

“With all due respect, Mr. Kim, I’ve never done this before. All I know is something isn’t right, and I don’t trust the police to offer assistance in the way I need.”

You swore you saw something flash in his eyes.

“Why don’t you trust the police?”

You crossed your arms and leaned more into the chair. “The last time I worked with them, it didn’t end well.”

“You’ve worked on the force?” He almost sounded impressed.

“No, sorry, poor choice of wording. I tried to help them with a case before.”

“Ah,” his eyes narrowed as he busied himself with the pen again. “Were you a suspect, or?”

“I was close to the victim,” you said softly, almost a whisper.

For a moment, his expression softened. “I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged, inhaling a shaky breath as you looked at your lap. “It’s fine. Just…there’s your answer. I don’t want to work with them again, so I came to you.”

“If I’m able to take your case, I’ll make sure you don’t regret that decision.”

His tone had you picking your eyes back up. You noticed a fire within his own, one that made you feel like he meant every single word he’d just said to you.

“Thank you.”

He carded a hand through his hair, the action drawing your attention to the silver watch that adorned his wrist.

“Can I ask…could you tell me about the case you were involved with?”

A slow nod from you. “If it’ll help, I can do that.”

He motioned for you to continue. As you started telling him the details, you noticed as his eyes widened. At one point, he politely interrupted you.

“Sorry, just – I remember that case. You were involved with that?”

“Yes.” You were twisting your hands together in your lap. “Ky was my best friend.”

“And the police just let the case go cold, without considering all traces of evidence?”

“I begged them not to, but there wasn’t much I could do. They made that known several times,” you trailed off. You thought you heard some semblance of a growl coming from the detective.

“I always knew something was weird about that…every report they published made no sense, and none of the pieces of evidence seemed to corroborate their theories.” His hushed tone suggested he may have been talking more to himself, but you didn’t question it.

“There were signs of suspicious behavior leading up to her death that they never considered, and any time I tried to bring it up, I was shut down immediately.”

“Are these ‘signs’ something you’re noticing now, with your other friend?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Taehyung hummed. “I see. You want to inspect this before it gets out of hand, so you came to me because the police are a lost cause.”

You nodded feebly, voice softer than ever when you spoke again. “I don’t want to see another person die.”

“You won’t.”

His answer startled you, even if it was as quiet as your own. Your eyes met briefly before he started looking anywhere but your face.

Another hush befell the room, and this one seemed more awkward than the last, considering Taehyung cleared his throat before he rifled through one of his desk drawers.

“Before you tell me anything else, I need you to look over something first.”

“Sure, whatever I need to do, I’ll do it.”

A crooked smile tugged at Taehyung’s lips. “You know, you’re a lot more obedient than most of my other clients.”

You…weren’t sure how to take that.

“I am?”

“Yeah. Most of the time they come in with demands and don’t like to listen when I push back on something. It’s part of the reason why I’ve gotten choosier about who I decide to do business with these last few years. But you,” he fished out a piece of paper from the drawer, “are proving much easier to work with. I appreciate that.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

He chuckled, the sound low. “You’re also way more polite than most people I encounter.”

You smiled at him for the first time. “I’m grateful you’re taking the time to hear me out.”

His eyes lingered on yours for just a second before shifting down.

“First and foremost,” Taehyung slid a piece of paper across the wooden desk that separated the two of you, “if we agree to do business, you’ll need to sign this contract. It lists my stipulations and services I can provide.”

You picked up the paper, not quite sure what to expect.

“Take your time to read over all of it carefully, just so everything is clear on both our ends.” He leaned back in his chair, the sound of squeaking leather breaking your concentration for a moment.

You scanned through every line, all of the contract terms seeming straight-forward and easy to agree to-

-but the last line caught your attention.

“Could you explain this last part, please?”

Taehyung leaned over to look at which line you were pointing to before he let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, that. My #1 most important rule. Never get involved with clients’ personal lives.”

“But don’t you have to sometimes?”

“For work, yes. But this is more referring to what happens outside of that. Things can get…messy.”

“You talk like that’s happened before.”

Taehyung smirked but offered nothing more to that specific conversation.

“So, are we in business?”

You didn’t have to ponder long before you signed the contract with a flourish. When you passed it back across the desk, Taehyung smiled.

“Perfect,” he stood up to shake your hand, “I’ll be in touch with you shortly, once I’ve reviewed your case.”

You returned the shake. “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

He squeezed your hand once before letting it go.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

You waited to see if there was anything else he might need from you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He leaned down and sifted through his drawer once more, this time pulling out a Manila file folder.

“I use these to get the typical information needed for me to start my research. It just asks for client’s name and contact info, as well as a summary about what you’re wanting from me and other names of those involved. In this instance, it would be your friend. You can give me as little or as much info as you think I need.”

He handed the folder to you, and upon opening it up, you saw everything he had just mentioned to you on a sheet of paper stapled to the inside.

“I’d prefer you fill it out now so you can leave it with me, but of course I can’t force you to do anything.”

His tone suggested he was teasing, but you were quick to sit on one of the couches and begin filling out the paper. It didn’t take you very long, and when you were done, you noticed he was sitting on the opposite couch, elbows resting on his knees with his hands folded.

“Finished?”

You nodded as you slid the file across the coffee table, his pen placed on top. He accepted both and smiled at you.

“Alright, if that’s all you want to discuss, you’re free to go. As I mentioned before, I’ll be in touch with you after I’ve looked over everything and have some sort of plan on how to proceed. And of course, all of this information is strictly classified. You read that in the contract, but I always reiterate it anyway, due to some problems I’ve had in the past.”

“Of course.” You agreed with no hesitation. Honestly, you couldn’t fathom just how much he’s had to endure in his line of work, how many times he’s probably had to change locations and phone numbers.

Hell, Kim Taehyung may not even be his real name, and you’d never know.

“Any questions for me?”

You mumbled some form of ‘no’ as you shook your head. Taehyung walked over to the door to open it for you, and you certainly weren’t expecting the same woman from before to be out in the hallway, but there she was.

“Ms. Choi will show you out since this place is a bit of a maze,” his tone was light, a sheer contrast to the mood that had settled over the two of you from when you stepped into his office. “Don’t forget: I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.” You couldn’t help the authoritative term as it slipped past your lips, and you walked through the door before you could see the look on his face. You thought you might have heard some sort of laugh from Ms. Choi as she escorted you back to the front, but your imagination liked to play tricks on you sometimes.

Besides, Taehyung said he wasn’t one for formalities, so it didn’t really matter that much, did it? He had to be older than you anyway…right?

You spent the entire walk through the building trying to justify in your head what had just happened, and Ms. Choi gave you a soft smile as she held the door open for you to leave.

When you settled back in your car, you gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath, leaning your head back as you shut your eyes.

You still couldn’t quite believe that the last 30 minutes or so had happened. Taehyung had proven to be quite different than what you anticipated, but he was truthfully better than you could have hoped.

He seemed driven and motivated about his line of work, and the way he reassured you when you had your doubts-

-it made you feel…safe. Like this was a step in the right direction after all.

As you called Hobi to fill him in on everything during your drive home, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

➥Part 2

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

#bts #bts smut #bangtaninn #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #taehyung au #taehyung scenarios #detective!au

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wizardofahz · 3 years ago

Text

Sentinel vs. CatCo

Kara sighs internally as she spots the Superfriends whiteboard.

While it has become a permanent fixture in Andrea’s office, it doesn’t always feature so prominently. The focus of the meetings determines its location. If it’s an internal meeting unrelated to the Superfriends, it can be pushed off to the side: towards the balcony or in front of the cabinets. If the meetings involve board members or anyone Andrea wants to impress, it’s tucked into a corner and discreetly covered.

Today, the Superfriends whiteboard stands right beside Andrea’s desk, which means their meeting is going to entail more requests for Superfriends interviews.

Kara braces herself.

And then Andrea says some of the worst words possible: “I want an interview with Sentinel.”

Kara wills herself not to react. On the other side of William, Nia actually snorts.

Nia has worked her way back into Andrea’s good graces, but Kara very much doubts that openly snorting at their boss’s request will lead to another mental health day. Before Andrea can react, Kara says, “I, uh, I don’t think she likes giving interviews.”

“That’s what Nia said about the Superfriends,” Andrea says, completely undeterred, “and we have since gotten interviews with most of them.”

As much as Kara hates to admit it, Andrea’s right. They never participate in puff pieces about what they do for fun, but when they have a cause to promote, they lend their voices in support.

Through his PI work and with his deep ties to the alien community, J’onn had been encountering many others who were also the last of their kinds. With an interest in preserving these alien cultures, he had dedicated a portion of the Mars space in the planetarium to a rotating exhibit of those cultures. He had also teamed up with Kara to revive her Aliens of National City series for a special feature.

Brainy had volunteered for a live public service announcement when a toxic chemical spill had breached the boundaries of an industrial complex and threatened nearby neighborhoods. He had been a little too thorough with the technical details though, and Dreamer had had to intervene to make it more vernacular friendly. His PSA had been big with the scientific community, where some of his equations had been beyond current understanding and sparked contentious debates.

Nia had done a fantastic interview of the new Guardian about marginalized human communities. To quell any curiosity, Guardian briefly mentioned that she wasn’t ready to reveal her identity, but she did reveal that she had the previous Guardian’s blessing to pick up the mantle. Annoyingly, most media outlets chose to focus on that rather than the deep dive into intersectionality.

Alex hadn’t done any interviews. None of the Superfriends had thought twice about it.

Until now.

Knowing how private Alex is, Kara can already picture her reaction to this request.

“If it’s about the ratings, I could get another exclusive from Supergirl,” Kara volunteers. “You said she’s the ideal Superfriend for interviews.”

“Mmm, but we’ve had Supergirl,” Andrea says. “We’ve had all the other Superfriends. We don’t know enough about this Sentinel.” She taps the board under Alex’s picture where it says “HUMAN?”. “Is she fully human? What is her motivation? If she is human, how did she come to join the Superfriends? I want to know.”

“And if Kara’s right?” William asks. “We seem to get interviews with the Superfriends on their timeline, not ours.”

“Then get yourselves on their timeline,” Andrea says. “But I’ll be generous and give you a week instead of 24 hours. If you still fail, well, you’ve heard me say your alternatives enough by now.”

On their way out of Andrea’s office, Nia passes by Kara and mutters, “I’m not touching this one.”

Kara cannot disagree with that life choice.

“What did Nia say?” William asks.

“Nothing.”

...

Alex looks up from her console as Kara enters the Tower. “Hey, what did you want to talk about?”

Knowing how little Alex will appreciate the conversation, Kara says, “You love me beyond measure, and that will never change, right?”

Alex turns around completely, resting her back against the console. She crosses her arms. She knows the difference between Kara approaching her abandonment issues and something Alex will find unpleasant. “Yes? Am I going to change my mind?”

Kara grimaces. “Andrea wants an interview with Sentinel.”

The look of horror on Alex’s face would be hilarious in any other circumstance. “Why?”

“Because you’re the last Superfriend not to give an interview. Andrea thinks that makes you mysterious and intriguing.”

“Not happening.”

“I figured as much. I tried offering up a Supergirl exclusive instead.”

“I love you.”

“Well, she didn’t bite.”

At that, Alex’s head drops back, and she stares at the ceiling.

“I'll write something up anyway,” Kara continues. “Hopefully it will keep Andrea happy in the meantime.”

“Thanks.” Alex gestures for Kara to come in for a hug. “I know you don’t like puff pieces either.”

“It’s okay,” Kara says into Alex’s shoulder. “I’ll find something meaningful to write about.”

...

Alex glances around the downtown street. Luckily she, Brainy, and J’onn had arrived in time to stop an Infernian from destroying a private lab. The police had also shown up and set up a perimeter, which was helpful as a crowd had developed to the south.

“Sentinel!”

Alex spots William Dey at the front of the crowd. "Oh, hell no.”

She normally likes William well enough, but given what Kara told her about Andrea’s request, he’s now on her list of the last five people she’d want to see at any given moment.

“I gotta get out of here,” Alex tells J’onn. “You and Brainy got this covered, right?”

They look over to where Brainy is explaining his containment technology to the police officers taking custody of the Infernian.

William says her name again.

J’onn glances at William then back at Alex with amusement. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

...

“Sentinel!”

Alex looks across the chaos of overturned cubicles and office supplies to see William Dey approaching.

Alex frowns. How did he get here so quickly?

Luckily they are on the fifth floor of the building, which means Alex has an exit strategy William doesn’t. “Supergirl, meet me outside.”

“Copy that.”

A few of the windows were broken in the fight. Dreamer already has the offending meta-human contained, so Alex doesn’t feel bad leaving William behind.

Alex picks the window with the cleanest break and jumps through.

...

Andrea drops something on Kara’s desk. “What is this?”

“An interview with Supergirl,” Kara responds after a quick look.

Andrea sighs. “Kara, I know you heard me when I said I wanted an interview with Sentinel, not any Superfriend.”

Kara shrugs. “I couldn’t get ahold of Sentinel, neither could William, and Supergirl had something she wanted to say.”

“Did you ask Supergirl about talking to Sentinel?” Andrea asks expectantly.

Kara blinks. “I think they have more important things to do than to act as messaging services to one another.”

“It’s not your job to think about their priorities. It’s your job to think about CatCo’s priorities,” Andrea says. “Get me an interview with Sentinel. You, specifically. And again, I don’t think I need to give you the consequences spiel. You have 24 hours.”

Kara reaches out to clear the Supergirl interview from her desk, but Andrea snatches it back up.

“I’m still publishing this.”

...

Kara looks apologetically across the couch.

Just as Kara had tried to give a Supergirl exclusive to spare Sentinel an interview, Alex is now giving an interview to spare Kara’s job.

“Okay, I have to make this on the record, so let’s maybe do a rehearsal.”

Alex sighs but shrugs her agreement anyway. “Yeah, okay.”

Kara hands over her notepad where the questions are written out. “These are the questions I’m going to ask you.”

“You already know the answer to most of these,” Alex says as her eyes glide down the page. “And there’s no way we can publish them.”

“I know. That’s why we’re rehearsing. We’ll have to come up with something that’s real but not revealing.”

Alex balks. Kara doesn’t have to wonder which question its at because Alex reads it out loud. “‘You’ve been a super hero for a while now, but this is your first interview. Why now?’ Seriously?”

Kara grimaces. “Yeah.”

“Because my little sister’s boss is a pain in the ass.”

“Alex.”

“Right, come up with a fake but real answer.”

But their quest for acceptable answers is a tedious process that comes up short.

“I can’t do this,” Alex groans and flops back into the couch cushions. “How about I promise that when I have something to say, I’ll say it to you? You can have that promise on the record.”

“I’ll try,” Kara says. She’s also tired, and she hates forcing this on Alex.

Andrea won’t be thrilled with it, but Kara will make it work.

...

The next day Alex sighs in relief at Kara’s single emoji text.

A thumbs up.

#supergirl #alex danvers #kara danvers #andrea rojas #moments in the life of superfam

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 3 years ago

Text

WKM Role Swap - Another Séance

Go Back to the Start, Previous Chapter

Welcome back! I do hope you haven't missed this tale too much. Nothing like a bit of prolonged suspense, eh?

Let’s leave the Colonel dying for the time being. We need to shift the scene. In the normal version of events, you don’t have a chance to see how the séance the twins perform goes.

Fortunately for you, I have my ways to help… Bend the rules, shall we say. I will say this much - don’t expect the script to fall completely back in line to what happens when your District Attorney aids Celine.

Unlike in your normal timeline, they have been spotted. But by what, you may ponder? Read on, my curious companion…

The Attorney slowly closed the door after them. Somehow, Abe’s smile did nothing to reassure them. If anything, it left them uneasy. In a moment like this, an individual had to take one person’s word over another. It was a common scenario in the world of law, but this was different. Curses, the occult… None of this was ever considered, unless a culprit was trying to plead a case of possession to avoid a jail sentence.

But they brushed shoulders with William as he hurried off. He was frantic, a far cry from the stern, albeit odd façade they had gotten used to over the course of the day. It was a total flip from what the Attorney had seen, yet it aligned exactly with the request he had asked of them earlier. They had been warned he was eccentric. Instead, they saw a soldier who was protective about those he cared about.

It was what motivated the Attorney to ask Celine why she insisted on staying. Surely something like this can work in another place.

“We don’t have time to move!” she snapped. “We have a window of opportunity. If we miss this, then we miss our chance to find the truth once and for all. And then, we might as well not bother at all. Turn Mark’s death into an unsolved mystery because no one remembers what happened last night. Is that what you want?”

The Attorney shrunk back.

“I didn’t think so. If you want to run like the rest, then I won’t stop you. But if you leave this room, I am locking that door, and you will not be allowed back in. I cannot have my work interrupted, not again.” Celine’s shuffling of the tarot cards slowed to a halt. For the first time since she arrived, she gave the Attorney a smile that almost seemed genuine. “I know you mean well. Heaven knows you remind me of Damien. But this… It’s something I need to do. Or rather, something I should have done long ago if I knew then what I know now. Whatever this dark energy is, it’s been around for far longer than a weekend. Mark’s death is only a footnote in a much larger mystery unfolding in our midst, and this is our chance to get a step ahead.”

As the Attorney mulled over Celine’s words, she finished cleansing and shuffling the deck. Like before, three cards were drawn and placed on the table. The meaning was pondered for a moment before Celine spoke again: “If we go talk to Damien, we won’t make it back in time. It’s now or never. You are strong enough to voyage into the beyond and look for clues that may help us.”

They lingered by the door for a moment longer before finally taking their seat. A good lawyer should always look for the truth. If this could provide more information beyond people pointing fingers at one another, then it was a chance the Attorney was willing to take.

“Thank you for understanding.” Her voice was sincere as she began preparing for the ritual to send the Attorney into a trance. “It isn’t that I don’t believe the Colonel. I simply don’t think running away will make things better. Whatever force is here,” her eyes lifted from her work to quickly take in their surroundings, “is one that might not be on our side. I worry that the Colonel’s outburst caught its attention. You will need to tread carefully. If anything happens and you feel like you’re in danger, pull yourself out of it.”

The Attorney hesitated before meekly asking if that would not go against what Celine just said.

“In one way, yes. I would rather you come back safely. You're needed here.”

Somehow, that gave reassurance to the Attorney. They relaxed and allowed themself to follow Celine’s guidance until the world around them began to slip away.

The Attorney was on the landing on the first floor. Damien stood by the railing. He was reminiscing about the occasion, until his expression turned thoughtful.

“Then again,” he mused, “I’m not exactly sure what we’re supposed to be celebrating. I-I mean, it’s good to have the gang back together, but…”

A splash of water on their cheek made the Attorney spin to their left.

They were outside. The Colonel was walking backward toward the pool. Discovering a common friend had been an icebreaker. At last, he was opening up to the Attorney instead of swiftly dismissing them.

“- there came a time when I could have said the same thing about Mark but -” William’s form tensed, only for him to force himself to relax. “Well. Best not to speak ill of the dead.”

William turned, and with it, the world did too.

Suddenly, the Attorney was in the room of the crime scene. Abe and Benjamin were trying to deduce who was involved, until Abe snapped into the moment. “I think we forgot the most important question of all during our arousing game of whodunit - why?”

A second ‘why’ echoed in a lower pitch as the Attorney lowered their head.

They were outside again, following Damien in the direction of the Manor. Something was plaguing their mind. “Or worse yet… mayhaps our counting skills aren't as good as we assume them to be; and mayhaps… in the shadows of this manor, unseen to any of us lay hidden… a murderer."

A rumble, as though one was aware of a storm brewing in the distance, shook the Attorney to the core. Everything went black, but they heard a familiar voice:

“Damien… You are a hard man to find…”

"Well now, this is a surprise. You're back sooner than I expected." A man dressed in a neat red suit raised his eyebrows in amusement as he acknowledged the figure stumbling out of the darkness and back into the séance room. They weren't in their body, but were a mere ghostly apparition, just like him. He stood to the left of the Attorney’s body, and this seemed to be why his lips tugged into a sly smirk.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” There was no chance to respond, as he quickly continued, "Then again, I'm sure you weren't expecting an out of body experience quite like this. But it's fine. A change to the story is one that should always be pursued. You never know what new inspiration will spring forth from the new opportunity."

The Attorney stormed to the right-hand side of their body. They were more focused. That was Mark before them. Did he always have that air of superiority oozing off him? They crossed their arms and demanded to know what was going on. What was he doing, and what was he babbling on about?

"You wouldn't understand… Not that I blame you. You have barely any involvement in all of this - the only truly innocent party in this mess. Everything that has happened, and everything that has gone so dreadfully wrong, has happened because of her." Mark turned his attention to Celine. She was oblivious to the ghostly presences before her as she concentrated on holding the link between the physical and spirit world.

"The world isn't ready for women like her," he said simply, "How can a man such as I be expected to hold his head high after knowing a woman was the one who tore you to shreds? How can she act like nothing happened, oblivious to all the suffering I have gone through?" He reached out to brush his fingers against her cheek. The Attorney noticed how she involuntarily shuddered. "All of this could have been solved long ago if she had simply stayed in her place and behaved. But the story is in place. At this late stage, I can't betray the script. So many rewrites have been frantically made already."

The Attorney frowned and demanded Mark to explain himself. Fortunately, the fallen actor was in good humour.

"It was simple, really. I wanted Damien in your place. Handsome, free of blemishes, save the obvious leg injury… It would be the perfect look for me, and the ideal way of rendering her helpless. She wouldn't possibly try to harm someone wearing her brother's face. But…" He paused, lifting his gaze to the Attorney, "perhaps this was destiny. After all, she chose you first. You were always inconsequential in her eyes. Losing you won't matter in her world. I daresay anyone would miss you at all, really. You are just a nameless, faceless figure. I'm sorry, old sport… But I can't let you tattle on me and ruin everything."

Mark put his hand on the physical Attorney's left shoulder. At the same time, the true occupant of the body slammed both their hands on the right shoulder. An impasse set in as they realised that neither would be able to claim the body as long as the other was there. But to remove the other out of the equation would require lifting their hands, which in turn would give the other part a split second to claim the vacant body.

"Oh, my friend… I'm sorry for your loss. You aren't going to make it out of this room." Mark raised his free hand and snapped his fingers. The Attorney looked around in alarm as the room became overrun with shadows. They slithered up their legs like snakes, climbing the body and wrapping around their torso and limbs until they bit into the Attorney's hands and held firm. The Attorney didn't even consider they could feel pain in a ghostly form, but they held on. They had to return and warn Celine that her fears of something dangerous were true.

"Hmph. You are stubborn. No wonder Damien was always so endeared by you. But can't you see you simply don't belong in this story? This isn't a place for you!" Mark's grip tightened on the shoulder, making the body shake as the head dropped forward. This, at last, caught Celine's attention.

"Hey. Have you found anything yet? What's taking so-" Celine had reached forward to shake the Attorney awake. Instead, her hand touched an ice-cold body that was breathing. Something had gone wrong this time. "No…. No no. Your aura showed you could manage being put into a trance. So then what…" She trailed off as she looked around. The room was growing darker. The presence she had tried to deter from entering was here and interfering with discovering the truth. At most, she had moments to act.

"Oh, how cute. She thinks she can stop this," Mark cooed in a moving tone. He rolled his eyes as he turned his gaze to the Attorney as he continued. "She acts like she is an expert in all things occult, but she's still making novice mistakes. Who tries to reach into another plane without making sure the space is protected?!" On 'protected', he waved his hand to unleash a pulse of energy that shook her balance. Even so, she kept working to cast a spell from her book. Mark needed to lift his hand and close it into a tight fist just as Celine finished her incantation and directed the energy toward the body.

The room plunged into darkness.

Next Chapter

#wkm role swap #who killed markiplier #celine the seer #occult tw #(yes. I am fully aware Space is out tomorrow. Fully fully aware.)#(But I had IRL things that had to take priority this week)#(I should be getting ready for bed but I'm uploading this instead)

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evolutionsvoid · 4 years ago

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The frequent attacks from the beast known as "Vish'El" left the world in chaos. Despite all technology we had created, all the weaponry we built and hoarded, we were powerless to stop it. We let loose enough firepower to last three wars, but the creature hardly seemed to flinch. At times it would act like we hurt it, but then when we stopped to observe or swooped in to take advantage, it would let out that weird shout and send us all flying. Nothing marred its impenetrable skin, so all we could guess was that it was playing pretend in order to trick us. No clue why that is necessary, as it could carve through our armies in seconds without suffering a scratch. All we could do is keep running to the drawing board and try to think up of some new strategy or weapon that could take it out. Until we found its weakness, humanity just had to accept the fact that our cities were just open season to a sudden monster drop in. No surprise so many people fled to the countryside once they figured out their governments couldn't stop the thing. Everything became a nightmare, and we were all lost on what to do. So imagine our reaction when another one of those wretched things suddenly appeared. It showed up a little after Vish'El dropped in and started stomping an empty city, arriving in the same bizarre manner. It was obviously a different creature, no doubt some other cosmic species of titan, but there were some odd things we immediately noticed. This one moved a bit more fluidly, though still had a bit of an awkward gait and pace. Its mouth seemed to function more than Vish'El's, so much so it seemed to constantly be flapping open and closed like a chattering crocodile. This beast too seemed like a noisy one, as it liked to roar just as much as Vish'El, though it was a bit different. While Vish'El's were strange variations of the same sound, this fellow seemed to have only one noise that it could duplicate perfectly. That strange metallic howl just over and over, constantly repeating in a deafening loop. It was bizarre. When it arrived, our hearts stopped. Another monstrosity just entered the ring, what hope did we have now? The appearance of this intruder seemed to upset Vish'El as well, as it stomped and screamed in a furious tantrum. Without warning, the two launched themselves at each other and fought. They slammed together with incredible force, shaking the earth with the impact. Neither seemed too fazed by the collision, as they backed up and did again. And again. It was a strange fight to behold, as they just rammed into one another again and again. They would roar and scream, sometimes stumbling or getting their limbs locked, but they would eventually regain this position and continue to bash their heads together. Once in a while, one would hit the other with an awkward tail swipe, sending the opponent tumbling, but then they would just get back up and charge in. We watched the brawl closely, hoping that it would reveal some secrets to us. Despite the ferocity of the fight, the two didn't seem to be getting hurt. But just as our disappointment began to grow, we saw a glorious sight. Vish'El did a tail swipe and suddenly tore a chunk of flesh from the other's shoulder. The meaty hunk slammed to the ground and the intruder trembled and howled. We cheered when we saw it, as it meant that these beasts could be hurt. We looked for any clues on why this attack caused damage, but failed to find any answers. The odd thing was that the stranger did not seem to bleed, despite the grievous injury. It appears these creatures do not possess blood as we know it, or they can easily staunch the flow in these situations. Empowered by this mutilation, the new beast lunged in and seized Vish'El's leg in its jaw. Chomping down hard, it suddenly launched itself into the air, dragging its opponent with them. There was a struggle, but Vish'El could do nothing as its foe spun wildly about. High in the heavens, it flipped around and aimed Vish'El towards the ground. Like a meteor, it drove the duo straight towards the earth, spinning wildly like a crazed ballerina. The impact was devastating, as it slammed Vish'El into the ground. The whole city practically exploded, the plume of dust and debris blotting out the sun. When things started to settle, we saw the aftermath. Vish'El lay on the ground, whole but unmoving. The other beast lurched onto its hind limbs and let out another roar. The victor had been decided. Before we knew it, the two were gone. Vish'El and its destroyer zipped into the heavens and vanished. The whole event caused another uproar, as we scrambled to find meaning and information from this legendary brawl. Vish'El had been soundly defeated, so there had to be hope. The other beast was shown to be mortal, seeing that it could be wounded. Surely we could find something from all these observations to help create a weapon and put an end to this new beast. We hoped that Vish'El's state meant that it would be gone for good, as any animal will flee its territory once a stronger creature appears. The other foe suffered a terrible injury, so perhaps it would slink off for a bit to heal, giving us time to gather and plan. Despite the fact that another titan had appeared, we felt motivated from it. We would get new ideas and new data, and eventually humanity would win. Those dreams ended just as quickly as they started once the dueling duo appeared the following week. They dropped into another city, and we braced for another fight. It seemed Vish'El did not wallow in defeat for long, and the other creature had healed its wound quite quickly. We all were glued to our screens, hoping to glimpse another hint on how these things lived and died. The two squared up and lurched towards each other. Then with a bump of limbs, they turned towards the city and started wrecking. They stomped and smashed with glee, crushing the streets and knocking over buildings. The animosity they held was suddenly gone, as they did not trade a single blow or bite. They just demolished the city side-by-side, occasionally working together to really give it a skyscraper. Once everything was mashed to paste, they returned to the heavens. The world was filled with dread, the two beasts were now allies. Or were they? Two weeks later, they showed up and duked it out again. This time, the beast we dubbed "Mant'Tal" fell, after Vish'El tore a chunk out of its shoulder and shouted it into the ground. They left and returned a few days later, with Mant'Tal winning the day despite having its shoulder wounded in the harsh duel. This victory was secured by spinning its body like a tornado and ramming into Vish'El. Not long after that, the two joined forces to smash another city, only to turn on one another a week later. The friendship was seemingly over after Vish'El gouged Mant'Tel's shoulder and bashed them with a weird flying/sliding dropkick. What relationship these two had was a mystery, but the end result of every meeting was another destroyed city. We couldn't figure anything out, we had no idea what to do next. Things became even more muddled after a video popped up of the two beasts somewhere in the countryside. What we saw was baffling, its purpose known only to these crazed titans. The first bizarre thing was that the two were not in a city, instead out in the wilderness amongst the trees and fields. Their lust for destruction and death seemed to be gone at the moment, as they moved more slowly and methodically. They did not stomp or screech, they did something far strange. Mant'Tal stood in a forest, their huge bulk jutting from the pathetic trees. With bizarre movements, it somehow was tearing up the trees and placing them in a pile, occasionally stopping to add trees to a different pile and then kind of mix them around. It did this while it grumbled an odd noise, something more organic and melodic than is previous roars. Vish'El was not with Mant'Tal, rather the beast was out in the fields, kind of just standing their motionlessly. Eventually it seemed to snap awake and slowly trot its way over to Mant'Tal's forest. When it reached the tree line, it stopped, spun ninety degrees, spun back and then stepped forward. Once in the trees, it turned all the way around, let out a loud noise and then turned back forward. The noise attracted Man'Tal's attention, and they abandoned their various piles of trees to greet the other titan. They growled and roared in odd tones, bouncing in place as they did. Eventually the two moved toward the tree piles and sat by them. They jammed the torn plants into their maws, shoveling them in at a constant pace, despite the fact they kept tumbling out of their open maws. When the piles were scattered at their feet, the two strolled deeper into the forest and then lay on the ground. Once on their sides, all movements ceased. Moments later, they were gone. What this video showed was brand new behavior, but we didn't understand a lick of it. It felt like a dream, especially when the two went back to fighting and smashing weeks later, with no sign of them acknowledging this strange behavior. There is something more to this, beyond mere destruction. We don't know what they are playing at, but its critical we find out what that is. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ah crap, Kaijune is wrapping up and I am hurrying to post the last few scraps! No kaiju is complete without a trusty sidekick/arch-nemesis/friend/something! Complete with battle damage!

#monster #creature #kaiju #kaijune #art #drawing #alien

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 32

💖 first time reader click here 💖

Summary: Stephen Strange being a grown-up. Reader being a grown-up. Kind of. Revenge plot starts now - don't be like the mercenary, don't threaten reader's family. Avengers being good.. bros? Good found family idk. More smut + plot coming soon.

The silence hung awkwardly over us. Stephen wasn't the one to wax poetics, usually, and I wasn't in the mood to do anything but curl up somewhere warm, chug a bottle of liquor and fall asleep. Sleep is like death without the committment and after my little outburst, I inwardly prayed and begged for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Instead, I was directed to sit and drink my tea by the sorcerer, who, by the way, was beginning to look like a kicked puppy.

It was starting to become unbearable. "I'm listening," I finally croaked out, shocked at how raspy my voice sounded. As if someone had forced me to choke on some nails - and I felt like it, too. My hands were shaking, all but spilling the hot tea onto them.

"Princess..." His mouth did the thing when he was worried, lips pursed, their corners upturned. "What we did was not... Right, you were drugged without your consent. I am sure Tony feels the same way."

My eyebrows rose, words bubbling up to the surface as I fought the urge to simply start calling Stephen some strong names. Had he been blind the whole time I flirted with him, had he not seen both me and Tony ogling him when we thought nobody could see? Every time I joked about the sexual tension between them - you know what they say, every joke has a little bit of truth in it.

Or maybe the sorcerer had used the incident as a convenient excuse for our little fuck-fest to be a one-time thing? I expected more, I won't lie, but I wouldn't put it above him. I knew all too well that some men tended to simply... Avoid.

I was angry, probably rightfully so, but it was not the time for me to comfort an adult man. My own life was going to shit, I had no mental energy to unburden his baseless guilt. It was selfish and it made me feel even more like shit, but it was as if someone had flipped a switch inside of me. I just didn't care about someone's heartbreak. I needed to solve another problem, a much bigger than a man that couldn't make up his mind.

I had to find that damn mercenary. It was the only real threat hanging over our heads; unlike any mission that I've seen the team go on before, they had thrown all the forces into catching the man that had gotten into their safe space, their home. That threatened to take what they thought as theirs. Long gone were the days of comfortable domesticity.

"Okay," I replied, nodding curtly. "I wanted it, if it helps any. I thought you were attractive the first day I saw you." I spoke bluntly, beginning to feel like myself more and more with each word that I spoke. "And again, no strings have to be attached. I'm sure Tony will understand it too, it's not his first rodeo."

Stephen's head shot up from where he was examining his clasped hands, to study me with furrowed brows. Cloaky moved where it was wrapped around me, attracting the sorcerer's attention - I, unfortunately, did not understand the Cloak's sign language and what it told Stephen remained a mystery to me. I was just delighted to be out of the cold and and wet clothes.

"I think you misunderstood me," Stephen eyed me with surprise. "I want more, but..." He trailed off, unsure. "I don't know. I'm surprised Banner hasn't gone green on me yet. I'm a doctor, I should have known..."

So, he was pulling a me and wallowing in pity. Is this really how pathetic I looked when I used to mope around the house earlier? No wonder my mother thinks I'm a baby. "Stephen, I'm really not in the mood to listen to bullshit. I wanted it, you wanted it, great, we can move on. Because with everything that has happened to me, I really have no energy to convince you I like you even while sober when you're sabotaging yourself." Sure, I might have ripped off the motivational speech from a self-help book my mother used to have laying around. My patience was wearing thinner with each second. "There, I said it. I like you, my boyfriends like you, you're welcome to the club if you decide to believe the fact that I am telling the truth." And if he wouldn't, well, I could get over it. I was planning to never act upon my feelings for both Tony and Bruce, it hadn't been as hard as I thought it would be. Especially with me being busy enough to just ignore the feelings.

At some point, I had grown attached to Stephen. Perhaps, if I and Tony hadn't decided to mess around with the sorcerer at the party, my feelings wouldn't have bloomed into anything more than physical attraction. Murphy's law had a particularly strong affinity on me, I noticed, because over and over I found myself falling head over heels for emotionally unavailable men. It worked out with Tony, which wasn't as surprising as one might expect, considering we're two halves of a whole idiot, but then Bruce also decided to pucker up - Stephen was bound to be the rock that I trip on.

Or not? Soft lips pressed against my forehead, beard hair softly tickling the tip of my nose. I was pressed against a solid chest, surrounded by warmth and comfort. "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot," Steph whispered, voice quivering.

"Well, it's not like this... Relationship... I've got going on is something commonplace," My arms wrapped around him, a deep sigh relaxing my body into his. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. It wasn't right."

Stephen chuckled, all but pulling me bodily into his lap. "Don't worry, Princess. I deserved it." As he spoke, the Cloak carefully unwrapped itself from me, drifting away with a parting pat on my back. "Now what happened with your parents?" Large palms pushed the hair out of my face, stormy blue eyes looking at me with worry.

"I should probably assemble all my significant others for this conversation," There was little enthusiasm in discussing the incident. I was an adult and had enough money to get by for a few months, at least until I could patent one of my inventions. I had plenty of knick-knacks that should be able to interest buyers, that much I knew, and while the legal side of the process was a blank slate to me, I knew I could be charismatic enough to have someone work it out for me.

"I don't think I'll be able to take Steve seriously when he says 'assemble', now," My third boyfriend chuckled, which - wow, I didn't have boyfriends and now I had three? Should I be considering opening a factory or something? Stephen adjusted his hold on me. "Let's go, I'll portal us in."

"My car's out there with all my stuff. I'll have to drive," I protested but made no move to get out of his lap.

"Tony is a billionaire, he can pay someone to retrieve it," Shrugging carelessly, he produced a golden circle of magic, the common room couch in plain sight at the other side of it. I heard voices and then Clint's head peaked through, a curiously tilted eyebrow morphing into full fledged face of confusion upon seeing the two of us.

Yikes. I had forgotten about the state of my dress and the bruise on my cheek. "Hey, bird. I need a drink," I said the first thing that popped into my mind, causing both Clint and Steph to laugh as the sorcerer carried me into the tower through the portal.

"I'm starting to think you go out there and look for trouble on purpose," The archer sighed, pulling out his phone and texting rapidly. Mine vibrated, too, once he was done, which meant he'd called for a family meeting. Blergh.

In no time, Tony appeared, dark circles under his eyes and yesterday's shirt on, towing a worried Bruce behind him. One after the other, the Avengers tickled in, looking restless and exhausted. Loki's frown was well on its way to becoming a full sneer.

"Talk, please," He requested, eyeing me with concern.

"Good news is I got our rogue wizard back," I poked Stephen in the chest. He was blushing. "Bad news is my mother threw me out and my father didn't pick up the phone, so technically I'm homeless and parent-less," I decided that spitting out straight facts was the easiest way to go about it. I mean, there was no good way to tell what I just told them.

The storm that I anticipated didn't appear. Just a lot of disappointed sighs all around, especially from Tony, who looked twenty years older after I'd confessed to the current state of my affairs. "You're not homeless, you live here," He pointed out, rubbing his face and muttering some very strong words under his nose. Particularly, the expressions involved my mother and various methods of fornication.

"We got your back, doll," Bucky nodded, coming over to wrap me in a gentle hug. He was like a brother from another mother to me at this point, kind and goofy and sensible. "I would propose to teaching that harpy a lesson but I think she's beyond it."

"Perhaps it's for the best," Loki mused suddenly. "If I recall correctly, your mother was against your career of choice, which is idiotic. Science is a noble and prospective path." The Asgardian, too, gave me a hug.

I wasn't crying! There were ninjas, in the vents, cutting onions! "Stop it guys, I'm gonna cry. I already look like shit!" The protest was silenced by Bruce's lips on mine, his tiny smile briefly covering my mouth with tenderness. After that, everybody somehow decided it was their job to try and make me cry; like a bad bitch, I resisted, but eventually broke and started sniffling when Tony began rambling about building me my own lab and Wanda offered to help me decorate my new apartment.

No matter how much my mind screamed at me to refuse, I forced that noise down. Fighting against myself, accepting help despite feeling unworthy of it - it was probably the hardest thing I've done in my whole life.

Bruce volunteered to carry my prone body to Tony's bedroom which was quickly becoming the master bedroom for the three of us - ever since the incident, both of my scientists stuck close to me whenever possible, aggressively cuddling me whenever they decided it was time to get some sleep. Which wasn't much these days, if I was being honest. Persuading Bruce to stay with me was a novelty - usually he didn't resist, but that time, I had to repeat myself multiple times that the team could handle business even without him being present.

I had my ulterior motives, of course. Tony and Stephen needed to talk. I only hoped their egos wouldn't clash without me to mediate - having two boyfriends start a fight wasn't something I wanted to experience. I had zero experience in those matters and had no idea how to manage all that. Are there handbooks for polyamorous relationships? I stuck a mental post-it note inside my brain to check it out.

I fell asleep with Bruce wrapped around me and woke up in the same position, having been too exhausted to move even in my sleep. Voices, rough and quiet, were the first thing I heard upon syncing my brain into a resemblance of a working order, instantly recognizing Stephen's deep baritone and Tony's teasing drawl.

"Expect either Reindeer Games or Kim Possible to come and terrify you," My engineer didn't sound particularly ecstatic. His voice came from somewhere around my feet; the hand wrapped around my ankle, thumb gently stroking the skin, must've been his.

"Duly noted," Stephen's reply was equally sarcastic, sounding a little closer. The warmth coming from my side was him. I could smell the faint spices that surrounded him, smell that I'd come to associate with the Sanctum.

Bruce snored away, not a care in the world.

My body, on the other hand, felt rested for what felt the first time in years. A pleasant ache in my muscles had me begrudgingly squirm out of Banner'd grasp, shamelessly pushing up into Stephen as I stretched with a juicy yawn. "What's poppin'?" I rubbed my eyes, finding the men awake looking at me with fond amusement.

"Just watching," Tony smiled, causing me to giggle at his accidental meme-ing. Was it even accidental? I refused to believe that a man well versed in IT was oblivious to meme culture.

Stephen, on the other hand... "We've discussed some things, wanted to talk to you too." His hand stroked my hair, face expression soft unlike anything I'd ever seen him have. "But you were sleeping. So cute."

Me, cute? There was a puddle of drool the size of a dollar bill on my pillow, I was pretty sure some of it had even gotten in Bruce's hair. Banner's sleep was quiet except for every five minutes when he'd let out a snore with a force somewhere between a Mack truck and a whale in mating season.

Cute, sure.

Bruce groaned, a tell-tale sign of him waking up. I met his eyes, brown, shiny, a narrow edge of green around his irises. Huh. Do I have three boyfriends or four?

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #stephen strange x you

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simplyclockwork · 3 years ago

Note

If you are still taking prompts I’d love a fic where Sherlock is in handcuffs for some (not sex related reason). Either he has been arrested, or Lestrade or John or Mycroft are trying to keep him out of trouble, or he put them on for an experiment and can’t get them off. Whatever you wish. The point being he is outraged to be in handcuffs, unable to get out of them. I’m over 18, though I’m not seeing this as a smutty piece. Thank you.

Sorry for the wait, anon! I've finally filled your prompt, which you can read below the page break, or on Ao3 here!

Thank you for the prompt and please feel free to send more in the future if you're okay with waiting a bit for it to be filled :)

The great Sherlock Holmes had landed himself in a rather interesting situation, all through his own fault and an unfortunate misjudgement. Typically, Sherlock knew, he could intellectualize his way out of most close calls and mishaps. But not today.

Today, Sherlock Holmes was stuck in a pair of handcuffs. Not only was he stuck in said handcuffs, but he’d had the not-so-brilliant idea of cuffing himself to the towel rack in the bathroom. There was a purpose to it, as there always was when he conducted an experiment. An old cold case, a dead man discovered handcuffed to a towel rack in a bathroom, keys nowhere in sight. No sign of foul play or anyone having been in the house when the man’s unfortunate handcuffing occurred. Sherlock, intrigued, had worked to recreate the case using himself as a subject. In preparation, he had reinforced the towel rack, lifted a pair of proper cuffs from Lestrade’s utility belt at their last case, and locked himself in place in a mimicry of the unfortunate soul.

He then promptly dropped the key on the floor and kicked it — quite accidentally — far out of range beneath the claw-foot tub. That had been four hours ago, and Sherlock had been standing awkwardly between toilet and sink with his wrists locked over his head at an uncomfortable angle. His arms grew numb within the first half-hour, feeling lost within a half-hour after that, and now ached terribly. His legs were cramping, the discomfort alleviated only by Sherlock twisting his body in an awkward bend to sit on the toilet seat. And while that position rested his legs, it placed a terrible strain upon his shoulders, forcing him to revert to standing within five minutes.

He was, to put it mildly, furious. Also, just a touch embarrassed, not that he would admit that to anyone but himself.

All in all, the experiment was proving to be a dismal failure. Although, Sherlock was beginning to understand how the man might have died, seeing as he had locked himself in the bathroom while living alone, his family miles away out of the city, with no one expected at the flat for several days. It was now painfully — in a very literal sense — easy to see just how and why the man had died. The man’s motive for handcuffing himself in the first place was harder to understand. Unless he’d been aiming for a slow, awful death, in which case he’d clearly succeeded, judging by the pain radiating through Sherlock’s body.

As luck would have it, Sherlock did have a flatmate. A man who would, eventually, have to use the loo and would hopefully come to Sherlock’s rescue. But John was working today and wasn’t due home for another three hours.

With a bone-deep sigh and a wince for his aching body, Sherlock rested his forehead against the wall and settled in for a wait.

It was going to be a long day.

------------

It had been a long day.

Numerous staffing sick calls and several crotchety patients with rather awful, infectious symptoms had run John ragged throughout his shift at the clinic. His feet were dragging, his head pounding, when he finally dragged himself home and up the seventeen stairs to the flat where he lived with Sherlock. He wanted nothing more than to crack open a beer, order some takeaway, and plunk himself on the couch until he could take himself off to bed.

But first, John knew he would have to deal with whatever chaos Sherlock had enacted while John was at work. They had no case on, and Sherlock had been a whirlwind of boredom and frustration for the past several days. The night before, he had taken to a stack of cold cases dropped off by Lestrade as a blessing in disguise. John had gone to bed with Sherlock spreading case files all over the living room and muttering to himself, and he’d woken to more of the same. So it wasn’t entirely out of order for him to anticipate a similar tableau when he stepped through the entryway and into the sitting room.

The space did look much the same, festooned with a chaotic mess of papers and manila folders, grisly photographs spread over the walls, sofa, and coffee table. While all this was familiar, there was the apparent absence of one neurotic detective flatmate, missing among the mess.

John glanced at the coatrack, saw Sherlock’s familiar Belstaff and his scarf, both still hanging in their respective places. So he hadn’t gone out. There was no sign of a struggle, no sound of clinking laboratory glass in the kitchen, no surge of running water clanking through the flat’s old pipes. It was almost dangerously quiet, a kind of quiet John had begun to think of as ‘the calm before the storm.’

“Sherlock?” He closed the door behind him and moving deeper into the sitting room. There was no reply. Brow furrowed, John peered into the kitchen and confirmed that it was indeed empty. He called again, “Sherlock?”

Nothing.

With a rising sense of concern, John trotted down the hallway and peered into Sherlock’s room. It, too, was empty. The bed was perfectly made, the sheets unmarred since Sherlock had spent the night pacing the sitting room instead of sleeping.

John was beginning to wonder if something had happened to Sherlock. Could he have been taken? Forced away and whisked off to who knew where? He reached for his phone before his eyes landed on the fogged glass door beside the bed, the one that led to the bathroom. John paused, frowning. He hesitated for a moment before stepping closer and pressing his ear to the door, feeling a flicker of discomfort before he realized he heard nothing.

Or, wait… What was that? The sound wasn’t that of a running shower or the splash of a bath, nor was it the sound of teeth brushing, face washing, or bodily functions. It was, to John’s alarm, a low groan, one of discomfort, and not one he believed to be related to… well. Bathroom things.

John grabbed the doorknob, glad to find it unlocked, and swung into the bathroom after another brief hesitation. “Sherlock, are—” The words died on his lips as John froze, taking in the sight.

Said sight was Sherlock himself, handcuffed by the wrists to a fearfully strong towel rack, hanging limply with his sweat-soaked curls dangling in his face. He looked pale and pained, his face twisted by discomfort, half-awake and bent into an awkward position between toilet and sink.

“What in the bloody hell?” John managed once the initial shock had worn off. He started forward, frowning as Sherlock lifted his head and blinked blearily at him.

“Ah, John,” he said in a voice closer to a croak than his usual rumble, “there you are.”

“Yep, here I am,” John replied in disbelief, eyes moving rapidly over Sherlock as he tried to assess his condition. The red marks on Sherlock’s wrists and the pale, blueish hue of his fingers were concerning. “What happened? Did someone attack you?” He cast back over his memory of the sitting room. “Were we robbed?”

Sherlock shook his head and grimaced. He straightened with a groan, his features twisting with evident pain. “Not robbed,” he rasped, looking suddenly abashed.

“Then who did this to you?” John demanded.

Sherlock’s expression turned sheepish. “I did it to myself.”

The confession froze John in place, poised as he was to reach up and test the circulation in Sherlock’s fingers. He turned his head, coming face-to-face with Sherlock, inches apart, and blinked. “What?” When no answer was forthcoming, he asked, “Why? Is this some kind of kink? No judgement, but this doesn’t seem like it was meant to go this way.”

“It was for an experiment,” Sherlock replied in a clipped voice, avoiding John’s eyes before tilting his chin toward the tub. “The keys are under there.”

Still struggling to process Sherlock’s words, John automatically bent and felt beneath the tub, grabbing as his fingers encountered metal. He straightened up slowly, still bemused, the keys in hand. “What kind of experiment requires you to handcuff yourself to a towel rack?” John asked, reaching up to unlock Sherlock’s wrists and knowing the answer would likely be beyond him. No doubt, it would all be due to some inane reason John would never understand.

As Sherlock began to babble about the unsolved case — now solved at the expense of Sherlock’s circulation — John saw that he was right.

“So, let me get this straight,” he began, as Sherlock let out a grateful groan and began to rub at his freed wrists with clumsy fingers. “A man died handcuffed to his towel rack, and you thought it would be a brilliant idea to re-enact said scenario even though everything pointed to the man dying from said cuffing?”

Sherlock was silent for so long that John didn’t think he would answer. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Yes.”

John pressed a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes as he prayed for patience. “I will never understand you,” he said in an exhausted voice, suddenly wishing he’d had that beer before he bothered to look for his mad flatmate.

There was a smug edge to Sherlock’s voice as he replied, “I should hope not, John. The day you understand me will be the day there are no more mysteries to solve in the universe.”

Rolling his eyes, John snagged Sherlock’s elbow and steered him toward the kitchen. “God forbid,” he replied, trying and failing to keep a hold on his amusement. “Now, shut up and let me see to these wrists.”

Sherlock let John shove him into a chair with an indulgent smile. “Of course, Doctor Watson.”

#sherlock #prompt #prompt fill #humour #cracky #crack #simplyclockwork

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bonniebelleklyde · 4 years ago

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The Small Hours

Note: This fic takes place within what I believe we’re now calling the Mistletoe Universe. Chronologically, it takes place after A Storm to Weather and before Mistletoe. I would highly recommend reading both first to have a full context for this! Thanks to the lovely anon who sent in the prompt for this-- Logan returning the favor from A Storm to Weather and comforting Janus regarding an irrational fear.

Word Count: 2651

Pairing: Loceit (romantic)

Warnings: The warning is a spoiler! Check the tags if concerned.

Summary: In the small hours of the morning, Logan finds Janus in a rather unusual position.

When Logan rose before the sun—not an entirely uncommon occurrence—and made his way to the kitchen to brew a very strong pot of coffee, he was not particularly alarmed at the sight of a figure, obscured by the darkness of the room, sitting atop the refrigerator. He simply nodded in its direction.

“Good morning, Virgil,” he said before stifling a yawn. “It’s a bit early for you, yes?”

There was nothing but silence in response. That was...odd. Concerned that something was troubling Virgil beyond his normal levels of anxiety, Logan flipped the light switch and jumped a bit when the light revealed that it was not Virgil at all sitting on top of the refrigerator, but Janus.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I—what are you doing up there?”

Logan was hardly an expert in these things, but something was definitely off about Janus, even absent the fact that Logan had never seen anyone other than Virgil choose this particular seating arrangement. Janus was fidgeting with his gloves, a habit that Logan had come to realize as indicative of nervousness in the deceitful side. He was also noticeably avoiding eye contact and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Unsure how to proceed, Logan followed Janus’s lead and averted his eyes, waiting for some sort of response. When he received none, he furrowed his brows in confusion. Janus was not exactly known for holding his tongue.

“Is something wrong?” he tried again, endeavoring to communicate through his tone that he was not prying for curiosity’s sake, but rather attempting to offer whatever assistance might be required. Logan doubted he was successful in this endeavor—he was rarely successful in conveying any tone to speak of, his words always seeming to come out dry and hollow.

“No, no, don’t mind me. Nothing’s wrong,” Janus said in a voice so quiet that Logan suspected it would have been drowned out by the sound of the coffee maker had the logical side turned it on.

Logan cocked his head to one side, turning over Janus’s words in his mind for a moment before gently shrugging his shoulders.

“You know, one would think—given who you are—that you would be better at that.”

It was Janus’s turn to furrow his brows.

“Better at what?”

“Lying.”

Janus blinked hard, his mouth falling open in an expression that Logan couldn’t be sure indicated offense or shock.

“I am literal deceit.”

Logan nodded, a small smirk crossing his face. “My point exactly— literal deceit should be more…adept at deception, no?”

Janus scratched at the back of his neck and did not speak for several long moments. Logan cursed himself inwardly— he hadn’t meant to offend, but he almost certainly had. He had essentially just told Janus (to his face, no less) that the other was bad at his job.

“I’m sorry,” he said after it became clear Janus was not planning on providing any sort of response. “I did not mean to imply that you are always—”

Janus cut Logan off by gently holding up his gloved hand, a tentative smile on his face.

“I know,” he said simply. “And you’re right. It was a lie. But I don’t…”

It was Logan’s turn to interrupt. “Janus. I don’t intend to pry.”

Logan was reminded of the night when Janus had first become privy to the logical side’s irrational fear of thunder. He certainly hadn’t pried—had not mocked Logan or passed judgment in any way. He had not forced Logan to talk about his fear—a fact that Logan was exceedingly grateful for. No, Janus had simply…stayed. He’d borne out the storm beside him, with a steadying arm around Logan’s shoulders, for no other discernible reason than the simple fact that Logan had been afraid. Janus…Janus had been lovely. And he’d gone on to be equally lovely during the handful of thunderstorms that had occurred since that night. Almost immediately after the first crash of thunder sounded from each storm, Janus would materialize wherever Logan happened to be at the time. He wouldn’t say a word about the storm itself or about Logan’s silly fear. He’d beckon for Logan to sit beside them, and together they’d make their way through one novel or another, taking turns reading aloud to each other until either the storm had passed or they had drifted into sleep. Though his fear of thunder had never subsided, Logan became strangely fond of thunderstorms. Increasingly, he’d found himself wanting to…well. It didn’t matter what he wanted.

What did matter was that, through every embarrassing moment of it all, Janus was lovely. And while lovely was not a word Logan would ever attribute to himself, the very least he could do was—in the face of Janus’s obvious discomfort—afford the other his privacy.

There was a subtle change in Janus’s expression at Logan’s words. It seemed…softer, somehow. Logan quickly averted his eyes once again when he caught himself starting to stare. The last thing he wanted to do was make Janus any more uncomfortable than he apparently already was. He wondered briefly if Janus, too, was reminded of the storms. He became suddenly aware of how long the silence between them had stretched on for, and he coughed to dispel the strange tension hanging in the air. Remembering his motivation for entering the kitchen in the first place, Logan crossed the room to the coffee maker.

“Coffee?” he offered before chuckling softly when Janus wrinkled his nose. “Not a fellow caffeine enthusiast, then?”

“Oh, I drink plenty of tea,” Janus responded, his tone finally sounding a bit lighter now. “But I’ll never understand how you can drink that stuff—coffee is disgusting.”

Logan snorted in amusement as he began spooning out coffee grounds from his hidden stockpile. “Are you sure? You might find that you like mine— I keep the quality grounds well hidden from the others. You’ll find that the taste of coffee can vary quite widely depending on the type and origin of beans used to prepare it.”

“Is that so?” Janus returned, one eyebrow raised in skepticism. “Very well, I’ll try it if you like, but I make no promises regarding my reaction.”

Logan hummed in amusement, grinning as he got the brew started. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Janus nervously scanning the kitchen floor. Was there some sort of rodent about? Logan wondered idly but did not ask. Instead, he summoned a book—The Mystery of Edwin Drood—from its place on his nightstand, brandishing it for Janus to see before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“I believe we left off on Chapter Three?” Logan asked quietly, turning to the appropriate page and looking to Janus’s face to determine whether this was the right course of action.

Janus’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and his grin widened just a bit. He shifted his position so that his back rested against the wall behind the refrigerator and closed his eyes.

“Yes, that sounds about right.”

Logan sported his own small grin as he lay the book out on the table in front of him.

“Excellent. Though I still don’t understand why you chose a book that is only half finished,” he remarked, his tone only slightly teasing.

Janus’s grin faltered at that, his eyes snapping open, and Logan worried that he may have inadvertently insulted the deceitful side once again. But Janus spoke before Logan could make his hurried apologies, his tone not offended but hesitant, perhaps even a bit nervous.

“I had thought…er, well…I thought that perhaps it might be interesting to trade theories about how it might have ended once we’ve finished. If you’d like to, that is.”

Logan was taken aback for a moment at the knowledge that Janus had selected this title because he was interested in discussing theories with him. That was…unusual. Logan was far more accustomed to his own academic musings being tolerated at best. The idea that someone valued them enough to actively seek them out…well, that was…that was quite pleasant. Logan felt something he couldn’t name—a warmth of some sort—bubble up in his chest, and he beamed up at Janus, not having the slightest clue why the other seemed so very nervous to reveal this incredible information to him.

“I think I would enjoy that immensely,” he said genuinely. “There are few things I find more satisfying than parsing out a good mystery, as you well know.”

Janus must have read Logan’s sincerity in his face, because the deceitful side’s apprehension melted away to be replaced by a brilliant smile to match Logan’s own. The corners of Logan’s lips were still tipped up as he watched Janus’s eyes fall closed again and as Logan began to read from the book.

Before long, he was interrupted by a buzzing sound signaling that the pot of coffee had finished brewing. Logan paused his reading and strode over to the cupboard to retrieve two mugs. When he’d poured both drinks, he looked to Janus with questioning eyes.

“Will you be joining me at the table, or should I hand this to you up there?”

He asked the question gently, kindly in a way that he hoped invited Janus to reveal whether there was some way that Logan could help him with his current predicament without pushing too forcefully. Janus averted his eyes and chewed at his lip.

“I…don’t normally make a habit of sitting up here,” he said slowly after several moments.

“No, you don’t,” Logan confirmed simply with a nod, leaning against the counter as he waited for the other to continue.

“It’s ridiculous,” Janus said through gritted teeth, clearly frustrated. “I don’t…I am being ridiculous.”

Janus’s face was bright red, and he seemed as if he was endeavoring to look anywhere but Logan’s face, and Logan turned his own gaze downward in an effort to minimize the other’s discomfort.

“More ridiculous than shaking like a leaf during every thunderstorm?” Logan asked softly, a small self-deprecating smile on his face.

At that, Janus’s eyes snapped up immediately to meet Logan’s.

“You are not ridiculous,” and something about the amount of sheer conviction in Janus’s voice stole every bit of Logan’s breath from him. “You are…”

Janus trailed off, either unable to come up with a word for what Logan was or unwilling to voice whatever word he may have had in mind.

“Well. Regardless,” the deceitful side continued, glancing away from Logan’s face once again. “I am being ridiculous. It really is so trivial, I…I should just come down…”

When Janus made no move to come down off of the refrigerator despite his words, Logan thought for a moment before offering, “Might there be anything I could do that would make coming down at all easier for you?”

It was clear from the hesitant look on Janus’s face that there was. In that moment, Logan wished he could be someone else—Roman or Patton perhaps, who were so much better at assuaging fears and dealing in emotions than Logan was. Janus deserved someone who was more practiced at this—who knew how to help Janus in the extraordinary way that Janus had helped Logan. Still, it was far too early for anyone else to be awake, so he supposed he would have to do.

“For what it is worth,” he said quietly, not having the slightest idea of what to say other than the simple truth, “I could never think you are ridiculous. You could tell me that you are up there to hide from the coffee pot, and I would think no less of you. You could tell me anything at all. I would never reveal the information to anyone else, and I would certainly never judge you.”

The words were inadequate, he was sure of it, but they were all Logan had. He watched with concern as Janus’s brow furrowed and his face contorted into an expression that Logan was not able to read. At the very least, Logan knew that Janus could be certain he was not lying. At long last, the deceitful side met his eyes once more with that same, unreadable expression.

“I’m afraid of spiders,” Janus finally confessed, his tone strained. “Virgil’s stupid pet must have escaped, because I woke up with the damned thing on my pillow, and it followed me into the kitchen.”

“Oh!” Logan responded, somewhat relieved that the situation was one that he could help with after all—and likely very easily at that. “I’ve actually assisted in retrieving it for Virgil several times. It should be no trouble doing so again. Do you have any idea where it might be now?”

Janus was hiding his face behind his hands now.

“I think it crawled under the oven, the last I saw.”

Roughly ten minutes later and with the practiced use of paper and string, Logan had successfully located the spider under the stove and seen it returned to its cage in Virgil’s room. Janus choked out a strained but sincere thank you, his face now an alarming shade of red.

“Thank me by coming down here and trying my coffee. I’ll make a convert out of you yet,” Logan teased, hoping the change in subject would lessen Janus’s embarrassment.

Logan lifted his hand in an offer to help Janus down from the refrigerator. Janus stared at the hand stretched out to him for just a moment before taking it and climbing down onto the counter and then finally to the floor. Logan found himself wishing—however irrationally—that Janus would forget to let go of his hand when his feet were once again on the ground, that Logan could remove Janus’s glove and interlace their fingers together, that they could—

Logan shook his head as if to physically shake that particular line of thought from his mind. He wondered briefly what it meant that he was thinking about such things with increasing frequency and resolved to consult Roman or Patton about the matter later. For now, he focused on keeping away the frown that threatened to form when Janus inevitably did let go of his hand.

“Alright,” Janus said with a small sigh as he took a seat at the table and looked toward Logan expectantly. “let’s get this over with.”

Logan smirked and handed a mug to Janus before taking the seat across from him. He nearly snorted his own coffee through his nose at the look of pure disgust on Janus’s face the moment the liquid had reached his tongue.

“I take it you’re not convinced?” he asked, not entirely successful in his effort to ward off a bout of laughter.

“This is revolting,” Janus said, glaring at his mug as though it had insulted him. “This is worse than what the others drink. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

Logan snickered and downed his own coffee in three gulps, more to prove a point than anything.

“Mark my words, I’ll sway you one day,” he promised, though not entirely serious.

“Can’t imagine how,” Janus said with a roll of his eyes before stretching out his hand. “Here, give me the book; I’ll pick up where you left off.”

Logan couldn’t help but grin as he handed the volume over. They had never before engaged in this strange practice of reading aloud to one another outside the context of a distraction from fear. Janus caught the grin and shot one back as he flipped to the correct page.

“May as well keep going. I’m eager to hear your thoughts on the identity of the murderer.”

There was that peculiar warmth in Logan’s chest again. This time, he simply allowed himself to bask in it. He would find clarity and answers regarding these strange and pleasant feelings Janus seemed to provoke in him later. For now, it was more than enough that they were there.

#fanfic #loceit #mistletoe #mistletoeverse #logan sanders #janus sanders #tw arachnophobia #romantic loceit

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revchainsaw · 4 years ago

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Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind (1984)

Prayers and Salutations Cult Members! I am your mysterious minister Reverend Chainsaw and this is another nights revival service at the Cult Film Tent Revival. I bring you a special word tonight. Tonight's word is about a person who roamed the earth, in a time where people were backward and warlike. A leader emerged into a kingdom full of eschatological expectation. This leader came preaching peace, and was killed for the sins of the world, but was resurrected. In that resurrection a new hope was brought to the planet, and true healing through the power of love in the face of violence is made possible. I am talking of course about Princess Nausicaa from the Valley of the Wind.

The Message

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is the film that put studio Ghibli and Hayoa Miyazaki on the map. No animated feature this grandiose and epic had been achieved by 1984, as much as Disney may beg to differ. The tale may be simple, and it may feel super 80s to us today, but Nausicaa is a masterpiece, and the fact that Howl's Moving Castle is brought up alongside Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away more often than Nausicaa is a farce and a tragedy.

The film takes place on a fantastic planet that seems to have suffered the ravages of an apocalyptic war. A war that involved gigantic warriors with powers so devastating they about made the entire planet inhospitable if not uninhabitable; save for a few areas. The fall out of this ancient war has left the earth in a state of repair, where the natural processes of a planet healing has creating giant toxic jungles.

Beyond these jungles lie two imperialistic factions, they seem almost to be city-states but it's not terribly clear. The Kingdom of Tolmekia, a militaristic proto-fascist society of almost Spartan sensibilities. Tolmekia is governed by the ambitious and cynical Princess Kushana, But I like to call her Furiosa. Just like Furiosa, Kushana is physically missing parts of herself, a visual metaphor for her metaphysical lacking and the parts of her humanity she has cut away. Kushana's world view is one of fear, a fear that can only be quelled by waging a genocidal campaign against her enemies.

Speaking of enemies, the Athens to Tolmekias Sparta would be the Pejite Kingdom. The Pejites might like to view themselves as simply responding to Tolmekian aggression, but the narrative of the film, and the story told quite visibly on the body of Kushana, is quite different. The Pejites are just as bloodthirsty if not more palettable in their approach, but like the Tolmekians, they believe only their own lives have any value. And thus, in this theatre of war, a Giant Warrior from the ages before is unearthed by the Pejite Kingdom, Stolen by the Tolmekians, before the forces of nature themselves, seem to conspire to drop the Giant Warriors "egg" right into the Valley of the Wind.

The Valley of the Wind is populated like the world of Avatar the Last Airbender, that is mostly of children and the elderly. The people of the Valley have been able to remain untouched by the ravages of war and the toxic jungles of the damaged world primarily due to geographic luck that's explained in minor exposition in the film. They are ruled by a King, and they are all deeply enamored by their beloved Princess Nausicaa.

Nausicaa is a gentle soul. She is kind to animals, she is empathetic, unreasonably patient, and bears pain and grief inflicted on her out of cruelty with a saintly understanding. She really is a thinly veiled Christ figure, scratch that. There is no veil. But she's also my favorite Christ figure. She does not preach a message, as much as she tries to save everyone from their own short sighted goals. She is not perfect, she does lash out and do some fantasy sword fight murder, but she regrets her actions so deeply that it seems to have played a part in motivating her to become even more compassionate and patient with the evils of the world.

Nausicaa discovers yet another plot by the Pejites, who are afraid of the possibility of the Tolmekians awakening the Giant Warrior, to use animal cruelty to enrage a group of almost invincible giant insects known as the Ohm. By luring the Ohm into the Valley of the Wind where the Tolmekians have become an occupying force, they hope to completely wipe out everything that threatens them. The Tolmekians DO awaken the Giant Warrior and pure pandemonium ensues. Nausicaa manages to save the Baby Ohm and calm the rage of the bloodthirsty Ohm swarm, and to defeat the warlike tendencies of both the Pejites and the Tolmekians. All the while fulfilling a prophecy fortold about a messianic savior figure called the Man in Blue.

Now that you have heard the Gospel of Nausicaa, please stand to receive The Benediction.

Best Character: Half a Person

Now that I've spent the better part of this review gushing about our Lord and savior Nausicaa. I have to admit, she's at times a bit too perfect, a bit too saccharin. Even her flaw, or her one weakness and her failing to be perfect, just adds to the perfection. I can't even say she never makes mistakes cuz she made one, and that's infuriating. It's even more infuriating that I still think she's a great character. Normally this kind of thing really kills a hero. Most Chosen Ones are the most boring and least likeable characters in their narratives. I don't know how Nausicaa avoids this trap, but she does. I'll have to do some meditating on that.

However, just like in your typical Chosen One fantasy narrative, the hero is a lot less fun than the villain. I'm going to say the best character in Nausicaa is Kushana. I want to be like Nausicaa, but I don't understand her. She's almost alien, even though we learn all about her. Kushana is mysterious, secretive, and enigmatic, yet I understand her. She barely has an arc, she doesn't really change. She's cold and cynical to the bone, but I don't need to see much of her situation to completely understand why she is the way she is. I usually hate totalitarian bad guys, but Kushana I like. Sue Me.

Also fun fact, did you that Nausicaa means 'Sinker of Ships'. That's kinda fun.

Best Scene: Spoiled for Choice

I'm going to be lazy and say take your pick. There is really not a bad seen in this movie. If the action isn't going, then there's intriguing dialogue. If there's no dialogue then you may be about to get hit with a forceful burst of whimsy. There's horror, there's swordfights and aerial dogfights. The only thing in Nausicaa I don't like to see, is the bloody tortured Ohm Baby. It's like a god damned Sarah Mclachlan commercial.

Best Creature: Foxy Shazam!

The Ohm are so simplistic yet so detailed. The number of eyes is alien, but the way they are used is expertly expressive. Who'd think you could get me to love what basically amounts to a silverfish with the intensity that I love a kitten. How did Miyazaki pull an Okja with a creature that should be haunting our dreams? I don't know.

And what about the Giant Warrior! If you are an Evangelion fan then you probably already know that Hideaki Anno designed and animated the melting goopy biomechanical beast. Surely a sight that would make both H.R. Giger and Clive Barker giddy with excitement. Just the image of the silhouettes marching amidst the desolation of the old world is burned into my brain.

So which of these is the best creature from Ghibli's first outing? It's fucking Teto. It was always gonna be Teto you idiot. Just look at Teto, he's adorable. He's too cute to exist. I'm so alone. I need a pet.

Best Character Design: Tolmekian Regalia

I originally included this category to talk some about Kushana, however, at that time I also thought I was going to say Nausicaa was the best character. I thought hard about deleting it, but I think it's a different category and you can't accuse me of playing favorites because my favorite character is clearly Teto. Just to keep it simple. It's the two costume shift from full military regalia in white and gold, to the one metal arm, warrior princess get up. It's a great costume and a great look. Get on this shit cosplay nerds. It's great for Cons in Canada, you have to think about layers, and you can't keep going as Mr. Plow. It's lazy.

Best Excuse to Talk About Patrick Stewart's Character: Lord Yupa

I just realized that I was about to write this whole review without talking about Lord Yupa. Lord Yupa is a sword saint and all around badass I think a lot of entertainment, especially in the west is lacking bad ass old men. Lord Yupa particularly shines in the early half of the film as a warrior and as a wise council to Nausicaa. If she's Jesus then Yupa is John the Baptist. He is also voiced by the elegant and eloquent Patrick Stewart. He also comes with 2 chocobos!

Worst Character: For Whom Asbel Tolls

This might also be the worst actor category as well. Actual Cannibal (haha meme) and actual monster (haha real life) Shia Labeouf doesn't so much act in the role as he read the lines and it was recorded. The good news it doesn't effect the film too much because Asbel is completely forgettable. He is a catalyst to some of the action, but besides that I don't really care for him.

Worst Aspect: To Be Fair ...

It would be unfair to completely ignore anything negative about Nausicaa. I have already mentioned in many places that there are some pretty corny, or pretty predictable tropes to this movie. But what I can't capture in words is exactly why it feels fresh when it's done in this movie. I suppose that's what makes it good. It's just so good that it's weak points are lifted up by it's strengths. Some people may bored of Nausicaa's unyielding goodness, or that she very rarely chooses to take action as much as she chases and pleads with her surroundings, but I mean, she does pay for that eventually. It's a fantasy story and it hits a lot of timeless themes that have been hit in stories for as long as human beings have been telling stories. Some people may feel that it doesn't do enough to stand out.

Summary

I have defined the S tier for myself as "near perfect and personal favorite" films. I like to think that Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is near perfect. Some may say that it looks like it might just be a personal favorite. In the case of Nausicaa, I'm having a very hard time telling the difference. I think it would be overly simple to claim that Nausicaa is just an ancient archetypal heroes journey with an 80s anime coat of paint. I think it's doing quite a few new and interesting things with that formula, those things are just playing out all around that narrative as opposed to being at it's center. For a first full length outing by the studio, you can really see Miyazaki's heart and the values he holds close to. I'll repeat myself so that we are completely clear on the matter. I think Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is a near perfect movie.

Overall Grade: S

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