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puellafuriadarkmagica · 8 months ago

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Chapters 1 & 2

So here's what's going to be happening: I'm going to be rereading PFDM for really my own convenience; I forgot a lot of important things in my eight-month hiatus and can hardly even decipher a lot of the notes I've kept to remind myself what's happened so far and what will be happening. I thought it might be the case that if I were to reread, and share my thoughts, it could be an entertaining behind-the-scenes kind of cross section of how I see my own writing.

Everything I write here is going to be copy-pasted onto Tumblr. For the people keeping track on Tumblr, right now I'm writing all this in a Discord thread just to keep it sort of stream-of-consciousness. In my first sitting, I'll probably get through chapters one and two combined seeing as they're both very short.

At time of writing, the most recent chapter is chapter 51: Alive in That Kandinsky Painting. Each time I do one of these in the wake of a new chapter, I'll note the title of the most recent one. I'll probably spoil everything up to and including that chapter in doing this.

Chapter 1: Inkstain Panic Stricken Five-Star Heathens

I really gotta shoutout Pat for the cover image. Not just for how good it is for its own merits, but because I can use it to trick people into thinking Phoebe Deckard is important enough to be called part of the "main six", which I think I privately mentioned being a thing around that time. I think My Little Pony's cast has a concept homophonic with "main six", but I was pretty much brought up exactly between generations of that franchise so the whole thing basically passed me by. Anyway, PFDM was going to have a secret "main sixth" or whatever when I got around to unveiling Mækiu, but by that point Whitman ended up taking her fair share of the spotlight. So it's an unintentional seven now. Anyway give Pat money and he will make cool art for you. Especially if you're a furry, which I'm not, so his talents are pretty much wasted on a fool such as myself.

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This chapter's title is taken from the lyrics of the Presets' A.O., which is pretty much the only redeeming feature of their worst album (and their most popular, ain't that always the way). There are a few chapter titles which fit so well that it served to justify this whole gimmick, and this is probably the one I can most clearly point to. For those not in the know, fanfic chapter titles from song lyrics is a cliché I honestly kinda dig, only I wanted to pull the twists that 1. each chapter took its title from a song by an artist from the country in which that chapter was mainly set, and 2. I never used the same artist twice (although different bands that share members are allowed. So for instance, chapter 10 takes its name from Lover by PNAU, but if I wanted to pull a title from lyrics by Empire of the Sun or the Two Leaves Project, that would be totally allowed even though Nick Littlemore is a member of all three). The "no repeats" rule also applies to chapter quotes, although naturally that's much easier to pull off since I make most of them the fuck up.

The two exceptions to this rule are that 1. chapters not set in any country must be named after a duo of some kind, (because a. PFDM has a love of Gnostic symbology and by extension dualism, and b. I can't imagine the final two dualism-titled chapters being called anything other than what they will be) and 2. the book clubs are simply numbered. I figure if you've been reading these are both pretty obvious at this point.

"This self-centredness is ingrained in human nature. It can be overcome but it needs constant conscious effort to overcome it." -Tim "Exile" Shaw

Tim Exile's always been the kind of musician whose sheer quirkiness I've aspired to. I used to be part of what was called a laptop orchestra, which was a group that really interrogated why and how we should still perform live music when everything can be pre-programmed and pre-recorded on a computer. When I wrote music for that, live electronic music advocate Tim Exile was kind of someone whose way of thinking I looked to. Also I've got all my friends hooked on his album Listening Tree, which I definitely recommend to people who have ears.

I'll see if I can track down a recording of my work for the laptop orchestra, I did this big, sprawling piece where different members of the orchestra played back loops I got musician friends from around the world to record and send to me. If you guys would be interested in seeing that, let me know.

2008 was a long year. By the end, people were rather fed up with it as they might have been before with lice or heavy traffic. Not that they particularly disliked the year - they recognised its merits, they understood it served its purpose as a follow-up to 2007, and so forth - but it lingered in a frustrating way. Most people had figured out the point back in May or June, and the remainder thereafter just seemed like worthless filler. "We kind of get the gimmick now, it's not really that funny anymore," everyone thought. "It's hard to believe that the same inexorable progression from past to future that would give us such masterworks as early-mid February and last Tuesday would deliver something so mediocre." The passage of time gave eventually, as it was wont to do. "Fine," it conceded, "you can have 2009, but just this once."

Yeah, I'm not gonna mince words here. I have some gripes with early PFDM here and there because i was still finding my bearings, but this was gold right out the gate. One of the best jokes in the whole thing, if not the number one spot. It's my mark to beat and I'm having a hard time recalling any instance of me actually doing so.

2009 still a few hours away, but its looming presence palpable, four and a half million pairs of eyes and ears took in the pyrotechnic display over the heart of Sydney. One pair of eyes about ten kilometres North belonged to Marie Crawford. The other pairs of eyes belonged to other people, but that much wasn't out of the ordinary.

This one was a little forced though.

"Damn, dude," she groaned. "Where have you been all night? I've been getting lonely out here, and the party down the street is playing Walking On A Dream again. If I have to listen through it one more time, I'm going to lose it."

This is the first hint that Marie is an unlikable protagonist because frankly that's one of the greatest synth-pop hits of its generation.

"We have reason to believe we're close to determining the cause of the dark energy discrepancies in our latest measurements. We intend on doing so as soon as possible, and the next three hundred and sixty-five days would be a likely time frame for our investigation to conclude."

Have I revealed the answer to this mystery yet? Obviously I know what it is, but I've forgotten if it's been presented to you yet, dear reader. Hopefully this reread will serve to remind me of which questions I have and have not answered yet.

"…Jeez. How many times have we had this conversation before?" He turned his head to an odd angle for a moment, before his glare snapped right back onto her. "Three hundred and thirteen."

I try to slip this number in where I can regarding Marie, at first by what I thought was an interesting coincidence, and then more extremely when I expanded on her name. There's the whole bit with the gun in like chapter 15 or so, her birth date of MAR 13, the isopsephic value of her full first name, the way the first three letters of her middle name ELEASHA look, you get the picture.

She took the hint but made no act of pretending to enjoy it. "Gosh! What are you, my dad?" "Not really." "It was a rhetorical question." "It was a rhetorical negative."

This was a joke I thought was pretty funny, but I don't know if anyone else did. Shame, too, because a lot of stuff this chapter I think isn't as funny has landed a lot better with the audience.

I think generally the first end-of-chapter note is a good primer to the kinds of worldbuilding PFDM readers can look forward to. Most people take it as a strong hook into what's possible in this world, and in fact reading it I find myself getting a little nostalgic about that seemingly limitless potential, even though I don't even know if it would be in my top ten favourite end-of chapter parts. It also mentions Sylvia Carlos, who is frankly a character I like enough to deem my past self correct for calling her deserving of a chapter one mention.

As an aside, I do want to confess as I probably have before to stealing the idea for these post-script anecdotes from the comic Kill Six Billion Demons, which was hardcore enough in its early days to do like one every page. I could never do that much.

Chapter 2: Eye on the City like a Cyclone

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Briggs's body of work has pretty much laid the groundwork for what rap music in Australia is today, which is pretty crazy, because he's only put out two full-length albums. The guy's impact is just that immense. It's a shame that PFDM's set in 2009 - if it were any more contemporary, Hope's ringtone would have 100% been Briggs's Let It Be Known, but she would miss a ton of calls because she'd forget there's the quiet, reverb-drenched Snoop Dogg sample before the song actually starts.

By the time Hope Fearnley made it to Abject Permanence, it was almost midnight.

Hahaha this bar name is so stupid.

She'd never even left New South Wales before,

Actually I remembered Hope had never been overseas (this is a deliberate part of the joke of her having Malaysian currency in her pocket in the latest chapter), but I forgot she's never been interstate either.

"And the other Sydney leaders?"

Remember when they were relevant? Me neither. Joking aside, I guess I've sort of been tossing up bringing them back into the fray more or less around where we are in the plot these days, but I'm honestly not really sure they're that interesting. I play favourites, and I play favourites to win.

"You know," she took to trying to remove the juice's lid, to no avail, "you really shouldn't drink. Do you know how many health problems it's linked to?" "Probably nothing I don't already have." "You'd be surprised." "What, about the alcohol, or just in general?" Lara half-winced, and the lid came ever so slightly loose. "Bit of both. The world's a surprising place."

Lara stopped acting like this pretty early on. I'm not sure how much of that is due to the fact that I hadn't singled out her character voice yet, how much is because I could never think of material is wacky as her debut, and how much is because she's found herself continually taken further and further down the list of "weirdest things going on in PFDM", and she knows it. Probably a bit of all three.

"Zero? Oh, Fearnley, Fearnley. You underestimate me. What if I told you I actually had the capacity to do this? I'm on the cusp of wielding a whole new kind of magic. Nothing you'd understand."

I've spent a long time worrying about how much this plotline and the whole self-contradicting metaliterature thing going on has been slowly creeping into becoming PFDM's main plot, when all along I wanted it to revolve primarily and secondarily around the constant political thriller, and the Concordance's effect on human history, respectively. Largely because I worry that if the whole plot with the Narrator and the Knight and that calibre of heavy hitters takes the spotlight, the payoffs you're gonna get would be remarkably unimpressive, based on how silly and out-there and self-referential and sarcastic the trajectory that plot's taken has been. But I don't know, I think it's become that people do actually really like that sort of story, even when it starts to take itself very seriously. For instance, the book clubs get far, far more serious, and those are basically one very drawn-out joke. They're some of the most popular PFDM has been! So I'll take that as a sign not to worry; whenever the narrative wants one plot thread to take the lead, I'll let it. When it wants another, I'll let that one. And so on.

The tactile sensation of finality between thumb and red button served as a beat in Hope's thoughts, a fixed temporal point dropped like an anchor from the drifting of her reverie. Lara knew more than she'd let on, for sure, but she'd let on far more than Phoebe would have. It was a blessing and a curse, in a sense. If she was telling the truth, then Hope knew something was happening ahead of time, and could deal with that. But what time would that be? And what if it was a bluff? This early in Hope's leadership, failure to accept it could get people killed, or worse. Failure to call it, on the other hand, would have her dismissed by the others for overreaction, and the city would fall into the clutches of the incompetent, or the negligent, or… how had Lara put it?

I really liked the idea of Hope's introspection slowing the narrative down, and still use it to this day where appropriate. It's harder to notice now, though, because the style of pretty much every part of the story is incredibly slow now.

The trio took the organisation's name from an ancient Byzantine poem by Julia the Voyager, which featured a powerful knight clad in brass armour which wailed like horns in the breeze. In the poem, the knight would wander eternally through a desert, looking to stoke a fire only referred to as the deep light.

Okay, now I may not remember much, but I do remember that we get to see this later on. So that's good.

After the cleaning out of Petiere's office, a statue was erected in her honour just by the front door, although nobody knows who made it or why.

Honestly kind of disappointed that nobody got the joke here. It's another one I thought was a total classic but didn't land.

Alright! It's kind of weird to be reading some of my own work. A lot of stuff I've got that's older than this sort of disappoints me, but I didn't really dislike this experience. Not enough to revise it, at any rate, even though there's some overarching stuff I'd have liked to have done better than I actually did. Fingers crossed that with me working to a less restrictive schedule everything's going to be planned much better than it used to be. Most of my pre-PFDM stuff I've flat-out deleted out of sheer disappointment, so my seeming indifference is actually the equivalent of a standing ovation, all things considered.

Next time, chapter 3. Chapters one through three really function as a "pilot episode" in my eyes, after which the story properly opens up. Actually, I tried to write as much as I could before NYD 2021 when the story kicked off and only managed three chapters. Despite all that I somehow convinced myself I could have this story finished in two years. Hilarious!

See you then.

#pfdm reread #Youtube

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the-planet-ceres · 2 years ago

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star student

The second I get home, I collapse into bed, wanting to take a nap but knowing I shouldn’t. I’ve already been slacking off enough; not surprisingly, consistently refusing to do your homework means that you’re going to fail. And nothing ruins your day like your AirPods running out of battery thirty minutes into class so you can’t not pay attention.

Speaking of—thinking of, I guess—I need to charge those.

As I stand and my stomach demands a snack, I slip into the kitchen on ghost feet (do ghosts have feet?), barely glancing at my brother as we brush shoulders. Jack doesn’t flinch at the contact, and when he leaves, I hear the unrestrained thumps of his steps and the snaps as he cracks his knuckles. He doesn’t shrink at his family’s gazes; he’s not the one born with a broken brain that can’t pay attention to anything for more than two seconds. He’s not the one who pretends to be unruly and bratty instead of burnt out with a side of occasional hallucinations.

Of course, nobody cares about that, because nobody knows about that. Besides, the voices in my head are probably just caused by exhaustion anyway; once I slept for three days straight and didn’t hear anything for a week after.

By the time I successfully guess the password to my dad’s computer—which is somehow harder than actually hacking the grading website to make it seem like I don’t have a column of donuts—the Rubik’s cube on the desk has made me shuffle it three different times. As I’m reaching to scramble the little squares again, I hear someone coming. Crap. Guess I’m not postponing the inevitable this time.

Shutting the computer, I dart out and head upstairs at what I hope is a normal pace.

Go back, a tiny voice tells me.

Shut up. I should’ve had more coffee today. I don’t need this right now.

Go back. Show them your computer skills. Redeem yourself.

Since when are you so eloquent?

It goes quiet, replaced by creepy funhouse music that makes me think of black carpet stitched with neon planets.

Determined to at least accomplish something today, I turn on my laptop in search of answers to a math worksheet that has more letters than numbers. The first thing to open is a search reading “cna i sumon a dmeon to raies my graeds,” a remnant of my typical three-in-the-morning frantic races to vomit every single thought in my brain into either Twitter or Google.

I click on a new tab and start copying a problem into the search bar, but I don’t get very far. The funhouse music has faded; now there’s a terrifying chant of Look at it. Look at it. Look at it.

Not going to not going to not going to, I force myself to think. Then: God, I need medicine for this. Maybe I should look that up instead of trying to figure out how big some imaginary circle is.

Of course, because the other entities living in my brain are more powerful than my self-restraint, I end up clicking the Did you mean? on the tab with the demon search and clicking on the first thing that pops up.

It’s some ad for a church asking if I need the light of Jesus.

A bit too late for that if you ask me.

I go back and find something giving instructions on how to make a pentagram out of string, and then it’s one in the morning and I haven’t moved except to sit at dinner and lie through my teeth about starting an online tutoring program. A week ago, I said I would, but then I got distracted by something or other and completely forgot. I’ve written reminders for myself in three different places in the past three seconds, but knowing me, I’ll forget in another two.

Pushing a towel against my door so less light will escape, I manage to set up a ring of candles without setting my carpet on fire. In the middle is some red yarn shaped into a lopsided star; I have zero artistic talent and can’t use a ruler to save my life.

This is ridiculous. If it weren’t for the fact that Jack is probably asleep already, I’d be laughing out loud right now. Of all the things that could be wasting my time right now, I have to pick this one. Well, not me, actually, but another of those voices, commanding me to do it in a tone so harsh my skin is covered in goosebumps.

I pick up a sheet I scrawled a bunch of unintelligible demon chants onto and hold it to a candle, but before I can start reading, all of the tiny flames go out and the temperature in the room drops a solid thirty-ish degrees.

Cursing under my breath, I scrabble for my lighter so I’ll be able to see the way to my bed—my patience for this ran out almost before I started, and I have to be awake in five hours anyway to make it to school on time. As if I actually do anything when I’m there.

Five flicks until the lighter works, and then the dot of fire whooshes out of existence again.

Huh. That’s weird. Shrugging, I stumble over the pile of books that I dumped out to look for a pencil and wave my limbs around like a confused zombie until I trip over the edge of my bed.

When I fall onto the covers, something warm and disturbingly like skin shifts away, and then what feels like a hand is being clapped over my mouth.

“Mmf!” I try to bite at the palm pressing into my lips, but its owner pushes my head back until I’m lying down. When I kick haphazardly, all my legs find is air; my arms flail and smack into something as hard as bone.

“Quiet,” hisses a raspy voice. It’s a bit like one of the ones that I hallucinate sometimes, with the same tone of authority that makes me obey its every command. “I do not want to be discovered. Where is light?”

The hand lifts, and I manage to let out a yelp before it slams back down.

“Scream and I will end you. Where is light?”

This time, I’m too paralyzed by terror to try yelling. “I can turn on the closet light. If we block the door, no one will see from outside.” Yes, being in a smaller space with whatever criminal has somehow made it into my room is a terrible idea, but I don’t want to risk my family coming and getting hurt too.

“Then come. Turn on . . . the closet light.”

The presence shifts to let me stand; as I get to my shaky feet, I grope for the lighter, but it’s gone.

“Over here,” I call softly as I lift the door so it won’t creak. “Go inside.”

A cold breeze washes over me as the intruder enters, making me shiver both from cold and fear. I take a deep breath, worrying that my stupidity might make it my last, then follow, kick a shirt against the door as I close it, and flick the light switch.

And freeze.

At least I have the sense not to scream.

The . . . thing . . . in front of me flashes his needle-sharp teeth, licking his lips with a pair of forked tongues. After a second, he notices my hand scrabbling for the doorknob behind me and his smile—if it can even be called that—morphs into a snarl that makes my legs turn to jelly. I drop my arm and try not to pay attention to the claws on his fingers, the feathery wings sucking all of the light into their blackness, the twisted black horns that could spear me in an instant.

He scratches at the shaggy brown hair they’re jutting out of, and out tumble what look like very tiny bones.

I can feel my face turning green.

“I think it is typical to look a stranger in the eyes when being introduced,” the demon rasps. But even though the intensity of his words makes me fear for my life, I can’t peel my eyes from the scabbed lines running over every exposed inch of his skin or the very threatening knife at his waist.

He could have slit my throat, and nobody would’ve known until morning.

“Girl?”

“Bree,” I mumble. “It’s Bree.” Grandma’s name or not, I refuse to go by Breeshey.

“Bree,” he echoes, pronouncing it more like Blee. “What is it the angels say? Fear not? Or have no fear?”

Enough time passes for it to be obvious that he wants a response, so I shrug and admit, “I don’t know.”

“Ah. Well, it is no matter. Look in my eyes.”

I shut my own, then force them to open and drift upwards past his horrifying mouth. To my surprise, the view isn’t that bad; pupils surrounded by two soft orange rings watch me with something bordering on curiosity. He smiles again, and their corners crinkle.

See? Not that bad.

Actually, scratch that—embedded in his cheeks just below the regular eyes is a pair of smaller blue ones. As I stare at them, they dilate, then twitch and shut.

“What . . . are you?” I ask, my words a shield that keeps him from taking a second step towards me.

“A demon, of course. What kind is unimportant.” His wings close a little as he shifts his balance and knocks a row of hangers off their rack. After a beat, he continues, “My name is,” then lets out a weird gargling noise.

I blink. “What?”

Sighing, he whips out a notepad and pen from who-knows-where and writes Aszksxymysthz. “That is the closest approximation in your tongue. But humans cannot make these sounds, so you may call me . . . Ash.”

“Ash,” I repeat. “So, uh . . . What are you doing here, Ash? Not here to murder me and string up my guts like Christmas decorations, I hope?”

Yeah, let’s give the literal demon ideas, a voice snaps in my brain.

“No. You summoned me for improved academic performance, so that is what I am here to provide.”

As he gets closer and lifts a hand to my face, I sidestep and frown. “So . . . you’re just going to help me? Because I wanted to?” That sounds like something a genie would do, not . . . you.

Ash tilts his head, showing pointy ears as his hair moves, and nods. “Partially, yes.”

Ah, there it is. “What’s the catch?”

“A small thing. Every night at midnight, you must pluck one feather from my wings.”

“Huh? Why? Wouldn’t that hurt you?” Why does it matter?

“I have greater motivations than self-preservation.”

My arms cross of their own volition. “And those are?”

“Unrelated to and thus irrelevant to you. Now, what is there to be done?”

“What do you mean, irrelevant? How do I know you’re not lying?”

His tiny blue eyes open wide, and he repeats more forcefully, “What is there to be done?”

My mouth goes dry, and I’m about to put more distance between us when I realize my back is against the wall. “Well, right now, sleeping. Then school in a few hours. Wait—how are you going to get in? I can’t just walk up with a random demon next to me.”

For a heart-stopping moment, Ash just watches me, and then he’s gone.

“Ash? Wh—”

“Like this,” his voice interrupts. Except—it’s coming out of my mouth. “Your mind is pliable, so I can enter and exit as I wish. Although there do seem to be quite a few vermin here.”

“Vermin?”

“Do you hear things in your head, perhaps?”

Oh. “Um . . . yeah.”

“I can remove them if you would like.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

Then he’s in front of me again, and the permanent undercurrent of whispering in my mind dies.

“Whoa,” I breathe. “Sick.” I’m free.

I’m free.

Ash smiles again, and this time, I don’t shrink from him. “Go sleep. I will find a way to occupy myself.”

As I reach for the knob, I suggest, “Maybe you could start by picking up all those shirts you threw on the floor.”

He grazes me with his wing, and I tense until I hear the lightness in his reply. “I will consider it.”

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Midterms come around a few months later, and Ash passes me with flying colors. My teachers praise my sudden diligence as I not only finish things early, but get perfect scores. I no longer get angry at myself because I no longer lose focus every ten seconds. My friends seem more relaxed around me now that I’m not constantly asking for their help cheating (which I stopped doing a while ago anyway, when I stopped caring). Mom and Dad start treating me like the faultless second child again, hoping enough rewards will keep this from ending. Only Jack resents this change; he throws himself into his schoolwork even harder, brushing me off when I tell him he’s too smart to be wasting his time studying material he memorized the day it was given.

It stings a little, that me “bettering myself” has put up a wall between us, but I don’t think about it too much.

He’ll come around. He’ll see the good in this.

Even if, like everybody else, he has no idea how it’s happening.

Even if I’ve probably sold my soul or something without even knowing.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

The morning after a shockingly successful school year ends, I wake up with a weird feeling in my stomach, like it’s being torn open from inside. Great. What a way to start the summer.

But when I stand up and sag under the weight of a back screaming with pain, complaints about food poisoning drain out of my mind.

“Ash? Are you in there?” I whisper. After Mom almost caught him, we agreed that he should possess me while I sleep; sometimes I end up with random aches, but never this bad.

Nobody answers.

“Ash?”

Still no one.

Under the bed, the box where I hide his feathers is empty.

Huh. I guess it makes sense, since I don’t have classes in summer, but a little warning would’ve been nice. I’ve become strangely attached to the demon.

Stretching with a slight wince, I go to the bathroom to shower the last bit of sleepiness away but stop short when I see my reflection.

The pale green of my eyes has darkened to orange, and beneath them is another, smaller pair with light blue irises. Sharp black horns spiral out of my head, and massive wings the same color have sprouted from my back. I bare my teeth; they’re thin and pointy, barely fitting in my mouth.

As I watch in horror, a bright red line runs down my forearm.

I’m about to shriek when the walls melt, giving way to an endless field of fire and hazy smoke set against a crimson sky.

“Ash?” I call again, more frantic. This has to have something to do with him. “What is this place?”

“Your Aszksxymysthz no longer resides here,” a bodiless voice booms. “I have dismissed him.”

“You . . .” Who are you? What are you?

“He mentioned that his motives did not relate to you. But I controlled them, and I have taken an interest in you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I get a glimpse of a vague black shape that I can’t categorize as any horror I’ve ever seen before.

My hands curl into fists. How could I have been so stupid? I should’ve known not to trust a literal demon. “Meaning?”

That horrifying silhouette comes back into my field of vision and states, “That now he is free, and you are as he was.”

Suddenly my skin burns with agony, and I scream so loud the heat of the air singes my throat until I can’t take it anymore and my brain cuts off my consciousness.

#the-planet-ceres #the planet ceres #fiction #writing #creative writing #stories #seance #demon #demon summoning #grades #good grades

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worldsover · 4 years ago

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Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts.

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

#kpop smut #aespa smut #male reader #reader insert #title tracks

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moonknowshome · 3 years ago

Text

The industry reflected on television

This is a translation of the post x made by @larryisinlove and @faithinrainbows

On many multiple occasions through the media around us we have read or heard a lot of people talking about the reality that the music industry faces and a lot of their aspects that we may not notice at a first look. However, we can see that a variety of TV programs (many of them released for younger audiences) gave us some kind of hints or messages on many chapters they present to us. Chapters which show us the reality artists face in the world of music industry.

Let's start by talking about the Disney series, "Hannah Montana." In the episode (3x10) we can see the protagonist of the series, Miley, dressed as the teenage pop star Hannah Montana along with a famous boy named Austin Rain, who claims to be her partner to the photographers and the media.

At first we see them united showing themselves in front of the cameras, but the reality behind it is that the relationship was only created to promote their song together called "Us Isn’t Us Without You."

We are also going to mention the moment when one of the most famous series for children created by Nickelodeon, a very recognized television network, tried to make a reference ( more like a parody in my opinion) to a massive TV network we all have seen in the past which is Disney Channel. In one episode called “The Dingo Channel” they talk about a channel called “Dingo Channel” tried to copy the structure of the web channel protagonist the series iCarly and the way that channel was run in that period of time. We can see it as a satire the way some of the rumors Disney Channel and their creator were involved in. They qualified Disney basically like a network with little originality.

It is interesting to see how certain topics are presented as a joke, such as wars between television networks. Or how the protagonists go from making a channel on the internet to making it to television, but little by little they find big changes that the production wants to introduce, among them, change to the protagonists, and other modifications that culminates with a different program to the original.

The third program to mention is another from Disney, "Gravity Falls" (1x17). They present to us a band called "Sev'ral Timez", and the protagonist is a fan of them. So, together with her friends, they decide to attend one of their concerts.

At the end of this, the girls are curious to know what is behind when the group disappears, so they go behind the scenes without anyone seeing them, to find various capsules. Inside them you could see the same boys, in different sizes, and the band in a large cage, as if they were animals. According to them, their manager keeps them safe that way.

You can see how the series wanted to demonstrate what happens many times in the industry, wanting to create perfect bands or artists, who manage to sell their image to their fans.

We go on to see what the fourth program presents, in Austin & Ally (Third season-episode 22). One of the Disney series that most thematically refers to the life of an artist in terms of their experiences or events they experience at such a young age is without a doubt Austin & Ally. Several things have been mentioned in relation to the life and growth that an artist has in this episode, exemplifying the main characters of this series. In addition to having their typical Disney touch that characterizes them, it also shows how the characters develop their personalities in the artistic environment and in the world of the music industry.

A clear example in this particular episode called "Relationships and red carpets" that draws a lot of attention at the moment of analyzing it, is to see how Austin and Ally prepare for an awards event, they have been nominated in the same category and would basically come to mean the big moment of the beginning of their careers as pop stars. They planned to announce their relationship to the public eye, but something happens that caught a lot my attention and that is something not far from reality is that Jimmy (owner of the record company in which Austin signed) prohibits him to make his relationship something public with the clarification that it would not be a good thing for his image and that what he wants to sell with Austin is something for teenagers who will eventually buy his music and have that fantasy of being able to go out and date that star, that star he wants to turn him into. He explains openly that this will make him sell more albums in the future. In this episode Austin and Ally try to make their relationship a secret with the purpose of showing Jimmy that they can deal with this. They even deny their relationship to the press at the award ceremony, but they realize that it is not easy at all. Austin risks his career at the cost of it by telling everyone he is dating Ally. This tells us that maintaining an image for sales is too important, it shows us that these things are not taken easily.

As a consequence Austin is unable to release music in any ways for the next 10 years due to the power that his label presents over his music by certain contracts that are mentioned in a basic way in the series.

The next show belongs to Nickelodeon, "Victorious." In this series we find a rather peculiar chapter, within this we see in a developed way how they ask teenagers to send videos showing their skills in music, and with that they achieve a career. The person who did these auditions was a man named Mason, and particularly he is British, with great power in the industry.

The winner of the contest is Tori, the protagonist of the series, who is summoned to a confidential meeting in order to talk about her future. She happily goes with the idea that she should only sing and be her, to which they respond "Your image does not sell, so we are going to create a new one for you", something that we know happens a lot. And they put a condition on it. They tell her that she can't tell anyone about her control over her image, not even her friends. This is how they put wigs on her, flashy clothes, and invent an insolent personality in addition to rumors that generated controversy, among them, causing a stir in restaurants in front of many people.

To finish, we are going to present what the movie Starstruck tells us, the life of a superstar and a girl he meets throughout the plot. In this film we see how this artist handles the moments in which he is told what to do to clean up the image he has a little and get more opportunities as an actor, he must keep himself out of the public eye, and obey everything they tell him to do or say and be cautious with whom he hangs out because of recent problematics he has had.

Basically this film, apart from touching the typical Disney theme of a love story, shows how this star tries to handle this fight in which he is constantly told what to say to the media or the people around him and also shows the way in which the media greatly influence the image of this artist. You can see the behavior of Christopher, the protagonist, at the time of making decisions in order to take care of his own image with the purpose of getting the role he wants to play, all this starts as it is usual from a recommendation that his manager gave him, therefore this idea does not come out of his mind and sporadically says or does things that make the girl he has a romantic interest in feel disappointed because she doesn't like the person that this star tries to be reaching a point of collapse due to all the hate and harassment by journalists which falls into it as a result of things the star said in order to clean its own image. Jesssica, played by the well-known Danielle Campbell, gets tired of having constant harassment by the press, which was waiting for her to say something about the relationship of this normal girl with the big star Christopher is. She decides to give a speech that allows us to understand the intentions that these media require, to sell an artist and sell articles or magazines at the cost of freedom, privacy and quality as a person. (This is highly ironic). The star reconsiders and thinks that the best thing to do is to start taking control of his image and his life and decides to leave his opportunities as an actor and tell his parents who in a way were in charge of taking care of his image that they are fired and he wants to be himself.

As we could see in the examples mentioned above, and in many more that were not named, there are series or films that contain episodes in which they will give us examples or clues, some more direct than others, about the management around the artists in the middle.

It is not unusual that there are so many examples, and so many similarities between them, or with what one already knows, hears, or reads.

The objective of this post is to imply that it is no secret what companies or managers do with their artists, the changes in appearance and personality, transform them completely, or even invent lives that they do not have. These chapters, or scenes that we name, are a step forward to show publicly what happens, and that the affected people cannot come out to say it.

#english post #to read about #industry

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 14: Nothing Personal

Summary: Steve confronts Fury about the Lemurian Star mission and the Director reveals just exactly what it is he’s been working on. However, when Fury is later gunned down in Steve’s apartment right in front of the Captain and Katie, the two are forced to run from the very people they’ve called colleagues and friends for years.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Violence.

A/N: I love this edit from @angrybirdcr

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 13

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“You just can’t stop yourself from lying, can you?” Steve seethed as he crossed the floor of Fury’s office.

Nick didn’t even need to ask him what he was talking about. Without turning round the Director spoke calmly. “I didn’t lie. Agent Romanoff had a different mission than yours.”

“Which you didn’t feel obliged to share” Steve pressed, raising an eyebrow as the Director spun in his chair to face him.

“I’m not obliged to do anything” Fury replied simply, looking at him.

“Those hostages could’ve died, Nick.” Steve pressed, holding the man’s gaze.

“I sent the greatest soldier in history to make sure that didn’t happen.” Fury stated, and Steve could feel his temper rising even more. He hated the blasé attitude the Director was discussing the issue with, like it was simply something he wasn’t all that bothered about.

“Soldiers trust each other, that’s what makes it an army.” He said after a short pause. “Not a bunch of guys running around and shooting guns.”

He wasn’t expecting the response he got. Fury leaned forward, frowning as he levelled Steve with a look.

“The last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye.” Fury spoke, his tone steely. Steve cocked his head to one side, crossing his arms but maintaining his silence. “Look, I didn’t want you doing anything you weren’t comfortable with. Agent Romanoff is comfortable with everything.”

“I can’t lead a mission when the people I’m leading have missions of their own.” Steve pointed down at Fury’s desk, stressing his point.

“It’s called compartmentalization” Fury eyed him. “Nobody spills the secrets because nobody knows them all.” Steve snorted silently and gestured at Fury. “Except you.” Fury took a deep breath and levelled Steve with a look. “You’re wrong about me. I do share. I’m nice like that.” Steve frowned as Fury stood up and motioned for him to follow.

“Where are we going?” Steve’s frustration was evident on his tone.

“You’ll see.” Fury stepped inside the elevator. Steve followed. “Insight bay.”

A photo of Nick’s SHIELD ID flashed up on the screen, surrounded by a green light. Then Steve noticed his, but the light was red as the SHIELD computer spoke. “Captain Rogers does not have clearance for Project Insight.”

“Director override, Fury, Nicholas J.” Fury spoke, without missing a beat.

“Confirmed.”

The elevator started to moved downwards. Steve leaned against the rail which ran round the middle of the glass box and clasped his hands in front of him by his belt. Despite his initial annoyance, he had found himself beginning to understand what the Director was saying. SHIELD had so many secrets, many a matter of national security. It made no sense for everyone to know everything, it was a security risk, he got that. But it still irked him.

“You know, they used to play music.” Steve said, his tone softer as he broke the silence, making a joke at his own expense.

“Yeah. My grandfather operated one of these things for forty years.” Fury mused, somewhat nostalgic. “My granddad worked in a nice building, he got good tips. He’d walk home every night, roll of ones stuffed in his lunch bag. He’d say ‘hi’, people would say hi back. Time went on, neighbourhood got rougher. He’d say ‘hi’ they’d say, ‘Keep on steppin’. Granddad got to grippin’ that lunch bag a little tighter.”

The flash into Fury’s personal life surprised Steve somewhat. He cocked his head to one side and looked at the man. “Did he ever get mugged?”

“Every week some punk would say, “What’s in the bag?”

“What did he do?”

“He’d show ‘em. Bunch of crumpled ones and loaded point twenty-two Magnum.” Fury smirked “Granddad loved people. But he didn’t trust them very much.”

Steve had to smirk slightly, thinking that Fury sounded a hell of a lot like his grandpa. He looked down for a second, and when he looked up he was aware that they had now travelled down the side of the Triskellion and were descending further, underground even. As Steve looked around he realised he was in some sort of below building hangar, and he looked out of the glass, spotting three giant Helicarriers. His mouth fell open in surprise, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, I know. They’re a little bit bigger than a point twenty-two.” Fury remarked.

Eventually the elevator stopped and Fury stepped out, Steve hot on his tail as he watched people bustling around the hangar shouting, carrying things, fixing things. The helicarriers were bigger than the one they’d used during the Chitauri invasion, each being able to house at least twenty Quinjets.

“This is Project Insight.” Fury explained as he led Steve across the floor of the hangar. “Three next generation Helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites.”

And then Steve understood. “Launched from the Lemurian Star.”

“Once we get them in the air they never need to come down. Continuous suborbital flight courtesy of our new repulsor engines.” Fury stopped underneath one.

“Stark?” Steve asked, frowning.

“Well, he had a few suggestions once he got an up close look at our old turbines.” Fury nodded, as they continued. “But don’t worry, that’s not something Nova is keeping from you.”

“I wasn’t” Steve said honestly, as he looked up and around the hangar. “I trust my girl.”

Fury looked at him before he turned his attention back to the matter in hand and pointed up again “These new long range precision guns can eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute. The satellites can read a terrorist’s DNA before he steps outside his spidy hole. We gonna neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen.”

Steve crossed his arms. “I thought the punishment usually came after the crime.”

“We can’t afford to wait that long.”

Steve could feel the nerve twitching in his jaw. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“After New York, I convinced the World Security Council we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis. For once we’re way ahead of the curve”

“By holding a gun at everyone on Earth and calling it protection?” Steve looked at the director, frowning. He didn’t like this. It smacked of something HYDRA would do.

Fury picked up on his tone and he looked at Steve, arching an eyebrow. “You know, I read those SSR files. Greatest generation? You guys did some nasty stuff.”

Don’t I know it? Steve thought to himself as he took a deep breath. “Yeah, we compromised. Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well. But we did it so the people could be free.” He turned and pointed at the helicarriers before looking at Fury “This isn’t freedom, this is fear.”

“SHIELD takes the world as it is, not as we’d like it to be.” Fury stated simply. “It’s getting damn near past time for you to get with that program, Cap”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t hold your breath.” And with that he left.

He changed quickly, eager to put as much distance between him and SHIELD as possible for the rest of the day. After a short conversation with Rumlow about a mission report, he was on his bike and heading for Katie’s apartment, his mind whirling. What was Fury playing at? This wasn’t what he signed up for, at all. It felt so far removed from what he had joined the army to do, to keep people safe, free. Had he really changed that much? He felt a sudden pang for his Howling Commandoes, for Bucky, for Peggy, for Colonel Philips, for all those damned missions which had been simple- destroy HYDRA before they destroyed you.

Despite the fact he had woken up that morning and felt so happy with his girl being there, he couldn’t help but wish life was as simple as it had been back then.

*****

Katie’s morning had been far more productive. She had looked at a couple of transcript extracts her editor had selected. She had to admit, the guy had a good eye for a future blockbuster, and this one she particularly liked. After discussions, they settled on an initial run of two hundred hard copy of the books to be sold online, along with a downloadable kindle version, and if they went they would review how many more we needed.

Pleased with her mornings work and having cleared her diary for the afternoon, she had lunch in the kitchen and had just finished when she heard the elevator door open. She headed into the main area of her apartment to greet Steve, taking a deep breath as she noticed how drained he looked.

“Dare I ask how it went?”

His response was a sigh as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug, simply wanting to feel her close.

“That good huh?” She squeezed him back gently before she pulled away and headed towards the kitchen, him following behind her.

“Debrief was fine. Fury, however, went on about compartmentalisation, the usual crap.” Steve sighed, running his hand over his face, smiling softly to himself when he saw she was gathering stuff out of the fridge to make him a sandwich “And then shared something I really wish he hadn’t.”

“Like what?” she asked, throwing some turkey and mayo onto a sub. “Ever heard of Operation Insight?” Steve looked at her, even though he knew the answer. There’s no way she would have and not told him.

“No?” She handed him the plate containing his sandwich.

“Well apparently your brother has. Thanks.” He took the plate from her sat at the breakfast bar taking a bite of his food. He swallowed and then continued “Three huge hellicarriers that are basically designed to go up in the air and never come down based on Tony’s arc reactor tech. Programmed to monitor potential threats and wipe them out before they get chance to do anything.” She frowned, settling on the stool next to him. “And Fury has sanctioned this?”

Steve nodded, taking another bite of his food. “I don’t like it. Like I said to him, punishment normally comes after the crime.”

Katie could see he was really struggling with this and that his faith in SHIELD was running very, very thin. A lot of what the Agency did was political, not just about keeping people safe. She’d tried to explain that the lines were a lot more blurred than back in the 40s, but still had to admit she was kind of with him. As she pondered for a moment, Steve could see the cogs whirring in her brain, the slight v shape crease that always formed in the middle of her eyes when she was thinking was present. Steve didn’t blame her, it had thrown him too and he’d had the full explanation. The hangar had been huge, and there were enough people in there to make him realise that a LOT of people knew about it. What he didn’t know was who on his immediate team knew about it.

“I just wanna know who I can trust” He sighed, looking at Katie as she reached out gently, touching his cheek.

“I know, Soldier.” she said, softly before she shook her head. “Okay, no more talk about SHIELD or hellicarriers, or whatever.” She moved to pick up her soda. “What do you want to for the rest of the afternoon?”

Steve wanted to go to the Smithsonian. He’d been thinking about it since they had emailed him to invite him to open the exhibit on him, which he had politely declined. But he was curious to see what it was like, curious and also eager, after today, to be reminded of a time when he worked with people he knew inside out, people that he would trust with his life. And he was keen to share that with his girl, the woman who had months ago before they even started dating, been the one to help him pick what the museum would display.

“You know, we’ve still not been to the Smithsonian since they opened the exhibit.” He shruged, hoping his tone was casual enough to make it sound like he hadn’t been thinking about it enough. He failed though, smiling as Katie looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

Busted.

“Call it curiosity.” He shrugged.

“You know what curiosity did don’t you?” Katie quipped back, her eyes flashing playfully.

“What?”

She grinned as she delivered the punchline “Killed the Cap.”

*****

“A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honour, bravery and sacrifice,” the narrator at the Smithsonian museum said as we entered the exhibit.

Steve paused to pull the collar of his blue jacket up a little further, a gesture that, along with the cap that was pulled down over his face, he hoped would prevent him from being recognised as they made their way to the start of the pieces.

"Denied enlistment due to poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a program unique in the annals of American warfare. One that would transform him into the world’s first super soldier,” the Narrator continued. Steve paused to look at the display to his right when Katie gently nudged him.

“Think you’ve been rumbled.”

Steve looked down at her, and then followed her gaze as she looked to her left at a small boy dressed in a light blue T-shirt adorned with the design of his shield who was watching the pair of them, his eyes growing wide. Steve smiled, put a finger against his mouth to indicate for him to keep quiet. The boy nodded and then turned, running back off to find his mum.

Without speaking Steve took her hand and led her over to the part of the exhibit that had an older looking motorcycle on a platform and some black and white footage playing beside it. The footage was of him in his older Captain America uniform, also currently on display, running through a battlefield.

“In this rare footage, everyone’s favourite war hero, Captain America…”

He didn’t stop to hear the rest, he could remember that mission by heart. It had been on the outskirts of Toulouse, liberating another HYDRA prison camp. Katie allowed herself to be led by him, this was his moment after all. They slowly walked to a display of mannequins dressed in his original suit, plus those of the Howling Commandos, which had been donated by their families. His eyes lingered on Bucky’s for a second and he took a deep breath.

“Battle tested, Captain America and his Howling Commandos quickly earned their stripes. Their mission, taking down HYDRA, the Nazi rogue science division,”

Katie looked at the uniforms, a smile on her face. She had only seen photos of Steve’s war suit, never seen it in person and it intrigued her. More so because this was something that her dad had made, something physical he had touched. She felt a tug on her hand again, and she looked up to see that she was being led to a section dedicated to Bucky. The familiar (albeit again, only from photos), handsome face of his best friend looked back at them as they wandered over to read what it said in more detail.

“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were inseparable on both school yard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country…”

The narration didn’t cover half the text on the black, glass screen and in Katie’s opinion it wasn’t a particularly good tribute to a man who had lost his life in such tragic circumstances. She read the rest of the text as Steve’s eyes skated over it, reading, despite the fact he knew it all. He wished he could have saved him, he really did. He’d loved him to have been able to meet Katie. But then, he wouldn’t have anyway. As he would have most likely been dead now. Or what’s to say things may or may not have ended up differently. Would Buck have been on the Valkyrie with him?

He watched the black and white footage playing, where the two of them were talking and then laughing about something and he felt the sadness hit his chest again. And as if she sensed it too, Katie gripped his hand a little bit tighter and lay her head against his arm, her weight giving him something to anchor himself too, and he was grateful for it.

They carried on walking and then they found there was a small cinema area a bit further round the corner playing footage and interviews. Steve paused for a second and then looked at Katie, the question stayed silent. She nodded and together they walked in, taking a seat on one of the benches. There was a bit of introduction footage, and then a familiar face appeared on the screen.

Besides him Katie took a deep breath and whispered a single word “Dad…” and he automatically dropped a hand to her knee, where she placed hers on top of his as the two of them watched her father an animatedly talking to the camera.

“Rogers was different” Howard spoke, smiling, the caption on the screen telling him the footage had been filmed in 1953. “He was constantly striving to do the right thing, with no fear or care for how it would affect him. He, err, when we dropped him behind enemy lines we had no idea if we would see him again. I narrowly escaped myself, the machine guns nearly took our aircraft down but without thought to how he would get back, he told us to leave him behind. When they declared him missing in action the entire company was devastated but, lo and behold… well they can’t keep a good man down.” Howard paused and then looked down and back up at the camera “I can only hope that if I’m graced with Children, they grow up to be half as driven as he was to do the right thing…”

As Katie looked down at her feet, a stray tear fell down her cheek. Seeing her dad there like that was raw. She knew that Tony felt the loss of their parents far more than she did, she had only been seven after all when they had died and Tony had been her father, if you will, for far longer than her actual dad had. But still, seeing him in front of her so candidly, talking about his hopes for his future children, made something in her chest tighten and she couldn’t help but feel sadness at the fact she never got the chance to really know him. Steve gently squeezed her knee, but then as they looked back up at the screen it was his turn to still as someone he recognised extremely well, her face painted into his memory for life, entered the screen and began speaking, also in 1953.

"That was a difficult winter. A blizzard had trapped half our battalion behind the German line. Steve, Captain Rogers, he fought his way through a HYDRA blockade that had pinned our allies down for months.” Peggy Carter stumbled slightly through the interview. “He saved over a thousand men, including the man who would become my husband as it turned out. Even after he died, Steve was still changing my life,” And despite the fact that she smiles slightly at the end of this line, it’s clear to see that talking about Steve affected her a lot.

Katie leaned against him and with a breath he lay his head on top of hers. “We haven’t seen her for a while…” she whispered as the video finished. “Shall we go on the way home?” He gave a soft chuckle and dropped a kiss to the crown of her head.

“You read my mind.”

*******

Peggy was pleased to see them, as always when she was having a good day. They both greeted her and after a few pleasantries they told her about their trip to the Smithsonian. Peggy smiled, informing them that she remembered the interview, like it was yesterday, apparently the man interviewing her had been an “utter rogue”, but she didn’t elaborate on what that meant further than saying he was worse than Barnes, which made Steve laugh. They chatted a little about her time as Director at SHIELD before she trailed off with a sigh as she noticed that Steve was uncharacteristically quiet. After a little gentle coaxing from her and Katie he told her what was on his mind.

“My whole life I’ve just wanted to do what was right, I guess I’m not sure what that is anymore.” He paused for a moment, thinking of how to voice his worries about SHIELD “And I thought I could just throw myself back in and follow orders, it’s just not the same.”

Peggy chuckled as she rolled her eyes and looked at Katie. “He’s always so dramatic.”

Katie let out a small laugh, nodding her agreement. “Tell me about it!”

Steve shook his head, a smile on his face as he raised his eyebrows slightly and looked away as Peggy continued to speak.

“Look you saved the world, we rather mucked it up.”

“No you didn’t. You know, knowing that you helped found SHIELD is half the reason I stay.”

“And the other half being?” Her eyes strayed to Katie who smiled, looking down and then up at Steve as he caught her eye, his hand resting on her knee.

“I quit remember?” Katie reminded her.

Peggy smiled “Indeed, a woman with principles. That I can get on board with. ”Katie gave a little smile as Peggy continued. “Look, the world has changed and none of us can go back.” She spoke softly. “All we can do is our best, and sometimes the best that we can do is to start over.“

At that she started to cough. Steve quickly picked up a glass of water from the table and rounded the back of the chair Katie was sitting in to try and hand her the glass.

"Peg?” He held the glass out as her coughing subsided and she took a sip. Once she had finished she looked up and stared at Steve as if she was seeing a ghost

“Steve?” Peggy breathed out in an amazed yet broken voice.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, his heart sinking as he recognised the look in her face. Her memory had gone, again.

“You’re alive! You, you came, you came back,” Peggy whimpered. Tears were gathering in her eyes at this point as she tried to hold them back and Steve was struggling to do the same with his own. One of the smartest, nicest, bravest women he had ever met was being betrayed by an illness that was literally rotting her brain. It was cruel, and every time she did this, they went through the same routine.

“Yeah, Peggy.” Steve responded forcing a smile onto his face as Katie squeezed his hand gently, standing up so he could take the chair next to Peggy.

“It’s been so long. So long,” Peggy started to cry, giving up on holding back her tears.

“I’ll leave you with her.” Katie spoke softly as she gently touched Steve’s shoulder. His hand briefly reached up to lay over hers before he leaned over to take Peggy’s.

“Well, I couldn’t leave you.” He forced himself to smile. “Not when you still owe me a dance.”

Normally that calmed the old lady down, but not today. She was becoming more and more confused and in the end he had to press the call button.

“Again?” The nurse who attended asked softly, and Steve simply nodded.

“I’ll fetch the doctor.”

Outside Katie took a deep breath and headed towards her car. Ex partners could always be an issue in relationships but this was something else, something completely different. She opened the passenger side to the car and sat side on in the seat, door open, legs dangling out. She felt sorry for Peggy, she really did, and her heart ached for Steve. It can’t be easy seeing the woman he once loved, and probably still did in some way, fading like that in front of your eyes.

She ran her hand over her face, rubbing at her eyes slightly and waited as she watched various people coming and going out of the main doors of the hospital. It wasn’t that long before a familiar figure appeared, a flash of white T-shirt standing out against his dark navy jacket and equally dark jeans as he walked towards her, hands in his pockets. She stood up, not saying a word as she wrapped her arms around him and he buried his face into the nook of her shoulder and neck, his safe place, his hands gently resting on her hips as he breathed out a sigh.

“Is she okay?” she asked gently. “Yeah they sedated her.” He said as he pulled away.

“I’m so sorry Steve.”

“What for?” “Peggy…it’s so unfair.” “Yeah…” He replied simply. And it was. He wished things could be different, that Peggy wasn’t ill. That she could be home, with her family, living out the last years of her life with the dignity she had lived the rest of it. She deserved more. He looked over the car roof across the street and watched for a second, everyone milling about their business, getting on with their lives. Like he was, and whilst he wished things had been different for Peggy, he suddenly found himself thinking and wondering if he would change anything if he could.

He felt Katie still in front of him, reacting to the fact he himself had changed posture, and as he looked down at her he was suddenly struck with the answer to his question. Despite everything, despite his sudden feelings of nostalgia sparked by the events of the last twenty hours or so, no he wouldn’t. Because whatever had happened, every action, every decision, it had led him to the girl now in his arms, and he loved her so fucking much it hurt. Yeah he had loved Peggy, he still did in some ways, but it was nothing compared to this. Nothing.

He reached out and took Katie’s hands, pulling up her arms so they were round his neck, pulling her closer to him as his own hands joined at the bottom of her back

“I love you.” He said gently, needing her to understand, to believe him. “My best girl.”

“I hope I’m your only girl, Rogers.” She sassed back with a sniff, and he smiled softly, happy that she understood.

“How about we head back to mine and not leave the flat for the entire day tomorrow?” Steve looked down at her, the idea suddenly coming to him and her face lit up. Katie loved lazy days. It was rare Steve was in the mood for them, his incessant energy normally meant he had to be doing something. But on the odd time he agreed, it usually involved them staying in bed till about midday, then watching old movies on the TV under a blanket on the couch, maybe a bit of fooling around and then calling a take out before retreating back to bed. Right now that sounded like a damned fine idea. “Can you clear your diary?”

“Consider it cleared.”

“I just wanna make one quick stop on the way home” He suggested, his journey of contemplation was leading him to one more place. He glanced at his watch before planting a kiss on her lips as she looked at him questioningly. “Thought we could pay our jogging friend a visit.”

********

“Look who it is. The running man and his pretty girl.” Sam joked slightly as he came over to the doorway where Katie and Steve were stood.

“Hey.” Katie smiled as he dropped a kiss onto her cheek.

“Caught the last few minutes. It’s pretty intense,” Steve commented as Sam shook his hand.

“Yeah, brother, we all got the same problems. Guilt, regret,” Sam shrugged. As his sentence went on his voice got more serious and softer.

“Have you lost someone?” Steve asked, perceptive as ever. Katie mentally cursed herself for not filling him in fully, but Sam didn’t seem too bothered to talk about it. He nodded gently.

“My wingman, Riley. Fly in the night mission. A standard PJ rescue op, nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before, till an RPG knock Riley’s dumb ass out of the sky. Nothing I could do. It’s like I was up there just to watch,” Sam paused to cross his arms over his chest, his posture slightly tense. “After that, I had really hard time finding a reason for being over there, you know?”

“But you’re happy now, back in the world?” Steve asked

“Hey, the number of people giving me orders is down to about zero. So, hell, yeah,” Sam joked, loosening up slightly, before getting a bit serious, “You thinking about getting out?”

“No.” Steve replied quickly before he took a breath. “I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t know what I would do with myself if I did.”

“Ultimate fighting?” Sam shrugged and Steve laughed as Katie snorted. “It’s just a great idea off the top of my head. But seriously, you could do whatever you want to do. What makes you happy?”

Steve turned his head to look at Katie, an unconscious movement, smiling gently as he shrugged. “I dunno…”

“Oh I think you do.” Sam said, smirking slightly as Steve placed his hand on the small of his girl’s back.

“Oh, stop by the front desk on your way out,” Katie turned to Sam, smirking, and he raised an eyebrow in question,

“We asked for you by name.” Steve clarified.

“She seemed thoroughly impressed.” Katie finished. Both of Sam’s eyebrows rose at that and he looked down the hallway towards where the front desk was.

“You two are the best.” A smile stretching across his face as he began to turn to head down the hall. “Stop by anytime.”

“No problem.” Steve grinned in amusement as Sam jogged his way down the hall.

It was gone eight by the time they got home, having made a pit stop for a beer on the way. Steve held the door open for Katie, and she stepped into the apartment building and started to climb the stairs in front of him, giving him a quite pleasing view of her ass as her hips swayed side to side in front of him.

“Sam’s right you know.” She continued their discussion from the bar. “And so is Peggy.”

“What about?”

“If you wanted to get out you could do, start over.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I want, but spending the rest of my life playing janitor for Fury is not it.”

“I can write you a resignation note.” She grinned and Steve chuckled slightly and then took a deep breath.

“You know, it’s funny when I think about it. Us, stuff, what we’ve done and how far we’ve come in a year.”

“You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing.” She teased as she stepped onto his landing.

“No, that’s not what I mean at all.” He took a deep breath as she headed towards his door and turned to face him “You know, I’ve never really talked to anyone or shown them about my past in detail or introduced anyone to Peggy bar you.”

“Well I am your girlfriend.” She shrugged, holding onto the hand that wasn’t digging into his jeans pocket to fish out his keys. “Your best girl.” At that he smiled. “So you should be able to talk to me about anything.”

“I know, I’m not explaining myself very well.” He remarked, finally succeeding in obtaining his keys. And he wasn’t. He was trying to tell her that he couldn’t imagine his life without her, that he wanted her to share his everything, including his home.

“Spit it out Rogers.” She teased as he slid the key into the lock.

He took a deep breath. “Coming home last night and you being there…and then this morning…it was perfect, Doll, and I want that all the time.” He turned to face her leaving his key hanging from the door. “How would you feel about us maybe moving in together?”

She paused for a moment, looking at him, realising he was deadly serious. She raised her eyebrow.

“I thought you came from a time where man and woman didn’t live together until they were married?”

“We could get married if you want.” He blurted out. That made Katie raise both eyebrows as she studied him again, her mouth dropping into a small ‘o’. Steve looked back at her, trying to keep his face passive, as if it had been a joke, even though he knew it wasn’t. He’d known for months she was the one.

But to blurt it out like that? Outside his apartment door, in such a dumbass way?

Way to go, Rogers.

Katie cocked her head to one side, there was a funny look on Steve’s face that she couldn’t place. But whatever it was, even if Steve was serious about them getting married, she knew him well enough to understand that was not how he would want to propose, and that he was probably kicking himself about stumbling it out the way he had done. So she broke the nervous tension, as she always did, with a slight joke.

“You know, that’s not much of a proposal.” She slid her arms up around his neck. “But its one step up from you’d make a great housewife, I suppose.”

“Should I try again?” A cheeky grin spread across his face, glad the tone was playful, his arms circling her waist “Yeah, with a big, fuck off Tiffany diamond.”

“I didn’t think you were so materialistic?”

“Well, you know what they say? Diamonds are a girls’ best friend.”

“And there I was, thinking it was me.” He muttered, his lips pressing onto hers.

“That’s so sweet!” A voice interrupted and they both turned to look at Kate, his neighbour from over the hall. For a split second Steve thought she was talking to them but it soon became apparent she was on the phone. “That’s so nice…but hey, I gotta go…okay bye…”

She dropped the phone into the basket of laundry she was carrying before grinning at us both “My aunt, she’s kind of an insomniac”

Steve smile before looking at the basket of washing in her arms as he dropped his arm round Katie’s shoulder “you know if you want…if you want, you can use my machine. Might be easier and cheaper than the one in the basement.” “Thank you, but I already have a load in downstairs actually, and you really don’t want my scrubs in your machine.” She grinned. “I just finished a rotation on the infectious diseases ward, so,”

“Ah, well, we’ll keep our distance,” Steve grinned, holding his hands up, palms out.

“Hopefully not too far.” She chuckled. “Don’t want to lose my best neighbour. Okay, well I better be off.” She turned to go before she stopped and spun back round to look at Steve. “Oh, by the way, I think you left your stereo on.”

“Right, thank you.” Steve watched her go, frowning. He looked at Katie as they both pressed their ears to the door. The record player was certainly on but…

“We definitely didn’t leave that on before.” Katie looked at him, as the gentle tones of Kitty Kallen Long Long Time hit their ears.

Steve held his finger up to his lips and gestured to the window, before leaving Katie where he was. He ran off, down the stairs as fast as he could and then he scaled the gate on the fire escape easily. Once he reached the steps which were parallel to his window he took a running jump, easily pulling himself up over the sill and into the kitchen area. Quickly and quietly he moved along the wall, picking up his shield which was leaning against the shelving unit. Holding it up, he cautiously peered round the corner of the room into the living area and instantly relaxed when he saw Fury lounging in a chair.

“I don’t remember giving you a key.” He said, somewhat sardonically.

“What, you really think I’d need one?” Nick replied. Steve shook his head and headed to the front door of the flat, pulling it open.

“Fury.” He said with a roll of his eyes, turning and walking back into the apartment.

“Huh?” Katie asked as she followed him into the living room, where the music was coming from, to see Fury sitting on the couch in the dark.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded.

"Nice to see you too, Nova. And in answer to your question my wife kicked me out.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” She continued, frowning. And she didn’t. And she wasn’t sure that he was.

“There are a lot of things you don’t about me,” Fury replied casually.

“I know, Nick. That’s the problem,” Steve grumbled walking forward as Katie remained where she was, eyes narrowed at her old boss. Steve flipped on the light switch, instantly recoiling in surprise when he noticed Fury’s injuries. Besides him Katie gasped slightly and moved to get closer to help but Fury indicated for her to stop and the both of them to stay quiet. He turned off the light again and typed something on his phone.

'EARS EVERYWHERE’.

Bugs? His apartment was bugged? By who? They both exchanged a glance and instantly Katie looked up and around the room, as if she expected to see a microphone glaring at them.

“I’m sorry to have to do this but I had nowhere else to crash,” Fury looked around a bit before he typed something else up on his phone:

'SHIELD COMPROMISED’.

Steve and Katie shared another glance, the pair of them wide eyed. This was bad.

“Who else knows about your wife?” Steve asked, keeping his voice even.

Fury showed them another text;

'YOU TWO AND ME’.

“Just my friends,” Fury grunted in pain while getting up and walking closer to them.

“Is that what we are?” Katie blinked at him. She still hadn’t completely forgiven the man for lying to them all about Coulson.

“That’s up to you.” Fury replied, his eyes darting from Katie to Steve.

Then out of nowhere came a rapid succession of gunshots. Steve quickly pushed Katie out of the way, the pair of them taking cover behind the kitchen wall as Fury groaned before he collapsed down to the floor. Steve scooted forward, keeping as low as he could, pulling him into the kitchen. Katie knelt next to him and tried to check his injuries through his black clothing when he reached up and handed something to Steve.

“Don’t, trust anyone,” he coughed before passing out. Katie and Steve both looked at what he had been handed and saw that it was a flash drive. Steve curled his hand around it and looked at Katie, but before either of them could say anything else there was the sound of someone breaking into the apartment. Steve quickly moved into a defensive position, in front of Katie and Fury, raising his shield.

“Captain Rogers?” a familiar voice suddenly called out and they watched as Kate, his neighbour, cautiously walked in with a gun pointed. “I’m Agent Thirteen of SHIELD’s Special Service.”

“Kate?” Steve frowned, shaking his head. He’d just about had his fill of surprises.

“I’m assigned to protect you.” She continued

“On whose orders?” Katie snapped.

Kate stopped as she spotted Fury lying on the floor. “His,” she dropped besides Katie, checking Fury for a pulse and then spoke into her radio

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

“Do you have a twenty on the shooter?” A SHIELD agent questioned through the radio.

Then there was a movement on the other side of the window, on the roof adjacent to the building. Steve instantly glanced up and saw a flash of silver and the shadow of a figure running across the rooftop.

“Tell them I’m in pursuit.” He said and with that he took a running jump and smashed straight through his window, and through into the office building opposite. Steve ran, keeping his eye on the man, smashing through walls, windows, anything in his way. Eventually he caught up with him on the roof and flung his shield at the assassin who, to Steve’s shock, caught it with one swift move in the hand of his metal arm. There was a pause as Steve could do nothing but eye the man with surprise before the shield came flying back. Steve caught it, with both hands on its rim but the force pushed him back a few yards along the gravel surface of the roof. By the time he had stopped the momentum moving him, the assassin had jumped. Steve ran to the edge of the building and looked down.

He was gone.

*****

“What happened?” Hill asked as they all looked through the glass window at the hustle and bustle of the operating room. Steve moved his arm from around Katie and took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers gently.

"He was at my apartment when we got home.” Steve started. “I hadn’t even had chance to ask why when there were two blasts, then another. Someone shot him through the window- three times. I tried to go after the shooter, but I lost him on the roof of the building across the street.”

Steve had no doubt in his mind that if there was anyone else in SHIELD they could trust right now it was Hill, but both he and Katie kept quiet. He had taken Fury’s warning of trusting nobody seriously and had told Katie as much as they had strode through the ED of the hospital. Both were aware that Hill was studying them, side on, her face stony.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She asked quietly.

“Nothing.” Katie answered for them.

Before Hill could drill either of them anymore, the door to the observation room flung open and heavy footsteps crossed the room, stopping at the other side of Katie.

“Is he gonna make it?” Natasha asked, almost inaudibly, staring through the window.

“We don’t know,” Hill mumbled.

“Tell me about the shooter,” Natasha whispered

“He’s fast and strong. And he had a metal arm,” Steve said, letting go of Katie’s hand to fold his arms across his chest and as he did, they both caught the look of recognition and slight fear on Natasha’s face reflected in the window.

“Ballistics?” She swallowed heavily.

“Three slugs. No rifling and completely untraceable,” Maria answered softly.

“Soviet made?”

“Yeah,” Maria looked at Natasha in shock. Steve turned to face her, as did Katie, but she didn’t look back. She stared straight through to the operating theatre but before Katie could ask what it was that she wasn’t saying, the operation room went into overdrive. Machines started beeping erratically, the doctors and nurses were rushing around the room and the panic was palpable even behind the glass. But they couldn’t save him.

“Time of death, 1:03 A.M.”

A few moments passed as the four of them stood completely in shock. Katie reached up to wipe a tear that had trickled down her cheek away, before Natasha turned and almost sprinted out of the room.

Steve pulled his hand out of his pocket, turning the flash drive that Nick had given him over in his hand. Nick had been killed because he knew whatever it was that was on that drive. What could possibly be so bad, so secret, so dangerous that the Director of SHIELD was deemed a threat for knowing? He glanced up at Katie who was watching him, tears in her eyes. She might have had her issues with Fury, but he was a good man and would never have wished him dead. With a sigh Steve placed the item back into his pocket and pulled her in for a hug.

******

A little later, they were all in the same room as Nick’s body. Natasha was by him, hardly having moved a muscle, almost like she was in shock. And it unnerved Katie. Nat wasn’t one to really show emotion but then again, Fury had meant a lot to her. The door opened and a doctor entered, speaking to Hill. She nodded and then walked over to Katie and Steve, coughing to clear her throat.

“They need to take him.” She said, her voice cracking slightly. Steve nodded and stepped forwards.

“Nat. Natasha…” But at that she turned away from them all and made her way quickly into the corridor of the Hospital. Katie and Steve looked at one another, before they hastily followed her.

“Why was Fury in your apartment?” Natasha span around to ask Steve. Her eyes were filled with sadness, but Katie could also see suspicion etched on her pretty features.

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed shrugging his shoulders, and before the conversation could go on further they were interrupted by Rumlow.

“Cap, they want you back at Shield,” He informed them, gently touching Katie’s shoulder. “You too Nova.”

“Alright, give us a second,” Steve nodded dismissing Rumlow, perhaps a little more harshly than he intended, as he turned back to Natasha but Rumlow was insistent

“They want you now,”

“Alright” Katie spoke firmly but calmly. Rumlow nodded and then moved back down the hallway.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Natasha shook her head at Steve with her trademark smirk that didn’t reach her eyes before she turned and left.

“What the hell is on that drive?” Katie asked Steve after a moment of silence.

“I don’t know, but it’s what Natasha was saving data to on our mission the other day.” He replied before he looked up staring very focused into a vending machine to his right, which was open as a janitor filled it up. He didn’t want to take the drive back to the Triskellion, just in case. He knew that something wasn’t quite right.

Katie caught his eye before glancing around the hallway that was mostly full of SHIELD agents, luckily they were all congregated on the other end.

“Do it.” She nodded, figuring out his intention to hide the item “I’ll distract them.”

Without another look back at him, she began to stride forwards towards Rumlow.

“Its almost four am.” she glanced at her watch. “What do they want us for Brock? We already told Sitwell what we know and I don’t work for SHIELD anymore, remember?”

Rumlow shrugged “Honestly, I don’t know Nova. I’m just under instructions to get you both back to base.”

At that point Steve reached them, but he wasn’t stopping. Taking Katie’s hand he nodded to the STRIKE leader

“Let’s go.”

“Yeah,” Rumlow fell into step with them, fixing his earpiece. “Strike! Move it out.”

Steve drove to the Triskellion, Katie’s car flanked by the Armoured SUVs as they sped through the streets of DC. Katie dozed off for ten minutes and Steve let her sleep, lost in his own thoughts. He had expected her to be called in alongside him, especially after she had been, along with him, the last people Fury had spoken to him before he died. But he wasn’t happy about it, he wanted her as far away from whatever the hell was going on as possible. Once they arrived he gently shook her awake and the two of them were given an hour or so to grab something to eat. Neither were hungry, but they forced down their sandwiches, Katie’s brain working in overdrive as she did so. Something was nagging at her, and she was trying to make the connections, figure it out, but her head simply kept replaying Fury getting shot over and over.

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

“Do you have a twenty on the shooter?”

She frowned.

“What is?” Steve asked, coffee in his hand as he sat back on one of the large chairs in one of the common rooms by the kitchen area.

“Before…when Kate…Agent thirteen, whatever the hell her name is called back to base…she said Fury was down and needed EMTs…”

She paused and Steve waited, knowing how her analytical brain worked. She had to follow threads, talk them over or write them out, letting them weave together as she did. A look of comprehension crossed her face as the threads connected.

“Sitwell…” She whispered.

“What about him?” Steve asked. “He was the one that replied, at least it sounded like him.” She bit her lip, but not in the seductive way that made his crotch twitch, the way she did when she was thinking “And he asked…do you have a twenty on the shooter.”

Steve frowned, not quite sure where this was going. “Okay…” “Well, how did he know Fury had been shot? How could anyone know he had been shot?”

Now he understood. He understood completely. Damned it she was clever. “They couldn’t.” He sat up and leaned towards her, his voice dropping. “Not unless they were there or Kate…whoever, told them.”

“And she didn’t. She just said he was down and unresponsive.” “Which means…” Steve began, but Katie finished for him. “Sitwell knew about the hit. Because he was in on it.”

The both looked at one another, their faces wearing similar looks of shock. Fury was right, SHIELD was compromised. But how far, they had no idea.

Before Steve had chance to say anything else, the door opened and Rumlow stepped in

“Secretary Pierce is ready now guys.” “Thanks.” Katie nodded, shooting Steve another glance as they both stood up.

“Not a word.” He mumbled as they got into the elevator “We say nothing, not until we figure out who we can trust.”

“If we can trust anyone.” She mumbled back.

*****

“Captain, why was Nick in your apartment last night?” Secretary Pierce looked at Steve as he sat on the couch next to Katie in the large office.

“I don’t know.” He answered in a soft voice.

“Did you know it was bugged?” Pierce pressed on.

“We did.” Katie nodded meeting the secretary’s eye. “Because Nick told us.”

“Did he tell you he was the one who bugged it?”

Steve took a breath and glanced at Katie, his expression stony but the two of them shared the understanding.

No, no he had not.

“I want you to see something.” Pierce continued, and gestured to a monitor just behind the couches we were sitting on. On the screen was a man tied down to a chair, he looked to be currently being interrogated. Katie didn’t recognise the man, but Steve did. It was Batroc, the lead merc from the hijacking of the Lemurian Star.

“Is that live?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, they picked him up last night in a not so safe house in Algiers.”

“Are you saying he’s a suspect?” Steve didn’t take his eyes off the screen “Assassination isn’t Batroc’s line.”

“It’s more complicated than that. Batroc was hired anonymously to hijack the Lemurian Star. He was contacted by email and paid by wire transfer, and then the money was run through seventeen fictitious accounts. The last going to a holding company that was registered to a Jacob Veech.” Pierce said handing Steve a folder.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Steve skimmed through the file offered to him in curiosity and confusion.

“Not likely. Veech died six years ago. His last address was 1435 Elmhurst Drive. When I first met Nick, his mother lived at 1437.”

“Wait,” Katie frowned as she gathered what Pierce was suggesting. “Are you saying Fury hired the pirates? Why?”

“The prevailing theory?” Pierce shrugged. “The hijacking was a cover for the acquisition and sale of classified intelligence. The sale went sour and that led to Nick’s death.”

“If you really knew Nick Fury you’d know that’s not true.” Steve replied strongly, and he believed it. Fury was a lot of things, but a traitor he was not.

Pierce nodded in agreement. “Why do you think we’re here talking?” He then got to his feet and began to walk towards the window. “See, I took a seat on the council not because I wanted to, but because Nick asked me to because we were both realists. We knew that despite all the diplomacy, and the hand shaking and the rhetoric, to build a really better world sometimes means having to tear the old one down. And that makes enemies.”

Steve didn’t like the way this was going. He looked at Katie and gestured for her to stand as he did. Pierce turned back around and looked at them both.

“Those people that call you dirty because you’ve got the guts to stick your hands in the mud and try to build something better. And the idea that those people could be happy today,” Pierce shoved his hands in his pockets. “Makes me really, really angry. Captain, you and Miss Stark were the last ones to see Nick Fury alive. I don’t think that’s an accident.” Pierce said matter-of-factly. “And I don’t think you do, either. So, I’m going to ask again was he there?”

“He told us not to trust anyone.” Steve said honestly.

Pierce made a humming sound. “I wonder, if that included him.”

There was a tense moment of silence before Steve spoke again. “I’m sorry. Those were his last words. Excuse us,” He turned to leave, picking up his shield that he sent down upon our arrival and attaching it to the harness on his back, before ushering Katie out of the room slightly ahead of him.

“Captain,” Pierce’s voice halted him mid step and he turned to look at him. “Someone murdered my friend. I’m going to find out why. Anyone who gets in my way is going to regret it.” Pierce’s voice rang out again, a pointed look in their direction.

Steve wasn’t a stupid man, and he knew that was a veiled threat. He took a deep breath, considering his response, before he decided appearing un-rattled was the best option.

“Understood.” He nodded, holding the door open for Katie to step through keeping himself between her and Pierce as he followed, anchoring his hand on her back to keep her moving.

“You should have lied.” She whispered.

“Huh?” “Back then, said we didn’t know why Fury was there. By telling him that he told us not to trust anyone he knows we know and that we’re hiding something.” Her tone was a little panicked and Steve simply took a deep breath.

“We need to get to the hospital and get that stick.” He looked at her, remaining adamant that whatever it was that was on there would hold the answers. He looked up and down the corridor before they stepped into the elevator.

“Operations Control” Steve spoke as the elevator scanned his face and Katie’s Guest ID.

“Confirmed”

Just as the doors were about to close, Rumlow stepped in with two other STRIKE agents.

“Keep all STRIKE personnel on site” He was saying. Both the agents nodded and voiced their acknowledgement of his order. “Forensics.”

“Confirmed.”

“Cap, Nova…” Rumlow nodded to them both.

“Rumlow.” Steve acknowledged him as the doors closed and they started to descend.

“Evidence Response found some fibres on the roof they want us to see.” Rumlow turned his head to look at Steve. “You want me to get the tac-team ready?”

“No, let’s wait and see what it is first.”

“Right.” Rumlow turned back and Steve looked out of the side of the elevator, pondering what his next move was. Chase down the man responsible? The drive? The elevator stopped at the next floor and Rollins plus a few more SHIELD and Strike agents entered, Steve moving over slightly to allow them in.

“What’s the status so far?” Rollins was saying.

“Administrations level” another one asked, before they continued whatever it was they were talking about, moving round to find a space behind Steve and Katie.

He noticed Katie look round, a frown on her face, but before he could say anything Rumlow spoke, looking over his shoulder at Steve.

“I’m sorry about what happened with Fury. Messed up, what happened to him”

“Thank you.” Steve nodded.

Katie could sense something was off. Years of training as an Agent didn’t just leave you when you quit, and those years of training had taught her very well to read body language. Rumlow was alert, too alert, and it was more than just a nervousness because Fury had been killed. There was an atmosphere in the lift, and she glanced at one of the agents that had joined them at the last floor. He was still talking, normally, but he there was a bead of sweat dripping down his cheek from his temple.

Steve could sense it too. He watched as Rumlow and Rollins exchanged a glance and looked down at Katie who was watching him, nervous expression on her face. He shook his head gently, instructing her to keep calm.

The elevator stopped and another agent entered.

“Records”

This one stood in front of them, facing the elevator doors and it was then with a slight air of exasperation at allowing it to happen, Steve realised they were surrounded. Whilst he wasn’t too concerned, he knew he could more than likely fight his way out, it was his girl he was bothered for. It had been months since she had been in active combat, and this was going to be brutal. Besides him Katie stiffened, feeling very underprepared for what was about to go down. She had no weapons, nothing. Instinctively Steve gripped her hand and pulled her forward so she was stood next to him instead of behind and moved his feet apart slightly, hands on the buckle of his belt, adopting his Captain stance, preparing for what was coming.

“Before we get started,” he sighed, looking down before he stared straight ahead, “does anyone want to get out?”

His eyes flicked to the back of Rumlow’s head. There was a moment’s pause before all hell broke loose. They both put up a good fight, ducking, diving, punching. Steve was then shocked with a baton, but he simply grit his teeth, absorbing the electricity into his body. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. And then, three of them managed to snap one of his arms to the wall of the elevator using some kind of metallic clamp, before five of them piled on him at once, attempting to pin his other arm in too. He kicked out, taking down as many as he could.

Just as Katie had floored the second of the agents who had launched at her, she was grabbed from behind by her hair and hauled to the edge of the elevator, being wrestled roughly to the floor by Rumlow who was instantly on top of her, trying to get her wrists from where she had positioned them underneath her body in an attempt to stop them restraining her.

"Brock…” She spoke gently, looking at him as she swallowed. “What’s going on?” “I’m sorry Stark.” He shook his head. “Just following orders.”

“Yeah well follow this.” She snarled, the anger brewing in her as she jerked her head forwards as hard as she could, feeling it connect with his nose. He yelled, and then her head snapped painfully to the right as he back handed her straight across the face. She felt her lip split and the warm, metallic taste of blood hit her taste buds, stars flashing in front of her eyes as her ears began to ring from the harsh knock.

Steve saw Rumlow land the blow to Katie’s face and let out a growl of anger and aimed another kick at the final agent standing, causing them man to collide with the side of the elevator before slumping down. He turned, pulled on his arm as hard as he could, wrenching the cuff off the side of the elevator and looked up in time to see Katie, who was now pinned against the wall by another set of those damned cuffs, take a blow to the ribs from Rumlow causing her to cry out in pain.

“Rumlow!” Steve yelled causing the man to whip his head round, surprise on his face. Katie, using her arms as leverage, swung her legs upwards, kicking Rumlow with both feet. The STRIKE leader stumbled slightly as Steve snarled at him, his entire body and face alight with rage “Touch my girl again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Rumlow got to his feet, holding one of his arms out, electric rod in his hand “Whoa, big guy. I just want you both to know, this ain’t personal.”

He then lunged at Steve with his electric rod but one on one Steve was easily able to defend himself, he moved to the right, dodged and grabbed Rumlow, throwing him harshly upwards where he crashed into the ceiling of the elevator, before falling to the floor, unconscious.

“Yeah well, it kind of feels personal” Steve said, his breath slightly ragged from the exertion. He used his foot to flip his shield over like a Frisbee, catching it perfectly.

“You alright?” Steve asked, stepping over the bodies that littered the floor of the elevator to get to Katie.

“Yeah.” She assured him. Steve cut the cuffs that were restraining her into two pieces with his shield and she bent over, his hands gently on her back as she rubbed at her side before straightening up and stalking over to where Rumlow was beginning to stir slightly. She kicked him hard in the face, causing him to flip backwards and he was out, unconscious.

“Nothing personal.” She spat, then looked up at Steve. There was a moment during which they both looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened, before the elevator doors opened and Steve pulled Katie sharply behind him. They both stared at a team of STRIKE agents pointing their weapons into the elevator. Steve raised his shield.

“Drop the shield! Put your hands in the air!”

Steve looked round, and spotted the elevator wires to the left of Katie’s head

“DUCK!” he yelled at her, and as she did, he swiped with his shield over her head sending them plummeting. Eventually the emergency brake systems kicked in and the elevator stopped, slightly misaligned with the doors by a few feet. As Katie bent down to retrieve a gun and some ammo off one of the Agents, Steve forced the door open, intending to climb out but more STRIKE agents were approaching. He closed the door again and looked at Katie, then around the glass walls, looking down below us at the glass roof of the main Triskelion atrium.

It was a long way but they could make it.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Katie exclaimed, realising exactly what he was thinking.

“Give it up, Rogers! Get that door open! You have nowhere to go!” came the yell from the floor outside the elevator door.

“Do you trust me?” Steve asked, both his hands cupping Katie’s face.

“Of course I do, but…”

“Then hang on…”

She sighed and jumped onto his back, swinging her legs round his waist and her arms round his neck. Steve raised his shield in front of him, before he propelled them forward and broke through the glass in the elevator, spreading his arms out wide as he fell to prevent them from tumbling through the air before tucking his body as tightly in to his shield as he could. Katie did the same, burying her head into his back as they crashed through the glass ceiling and hit the floor with a loud clang, to screams and shouts from people all around the atrium.

Katie gave a soft groan, rolling off Steve who moaned and stretched out, having been winded from the impact. But Steve knew they had to keep moving. With a monumental effort, he pushed himself up onto his knees, took a deep breath and offered his hand to Katie to help her stand. They both took a quick glance around before he started to run, pulling her with him. She stumbled slightly, but Steve kept hold of her, not letting her fall until her legs seemed to be working again.

And then they ran.

**** Chapter 15

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #mcu #mcu fanfic #captain america #chris evans #chris evans characters

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s0seo · 4 years ago

Text

The Heir Chapter 1

Pairing: OT7 x Reader WC: 3755

Rating: M

Genre: Vampire au with lots of angst and eventual fluff and smut

Summary: After you and your friend are attacked during a night out, you discover a world much bigger and more dangerous than you could have ever imagined.

WARNINGS: 18+, Lots of blood, swearing, assault, death of Minor character

A/n: I really want to thank @noonaduck @autumns-sweaters @solitudiante for beta reading this and helping me get this where it needed to be. I hope you all enjoy!

You see the seconds on the clock counting down, your heart pounding in your chest.

5, 4, 3, your favorite team is only two points down and is trying to beat the buzzer.

The player throws the ball past half court and into the hands of his teammate who turns to throw from the three-point line. As he shoots the ball you feel time slow down and you hold your breath.

2, 1 you see the ball flying, barely hitting the rim of the basket before falling through the net just as the buzzer sounds. The stadium erupts in cheers and you smile. You knew bringing him to this game was a good idea. Looking to your friend standing next to you, you can tell by his gummy smile that he feels the same. Still facing him, you glance again at the scoreboard.

“What did I say Yoongs? Never bet against Daegu.” He rolls his eyes and retorts, “I wasn’t doubting. I just said they were cutting it close.”

You stay in your seats for a few minutes while you wait for the stadium to clear out a bit. Deciding now would be the perfect time to order your Uber, you put in your order and see a few different messages from your other friends. Leaning back in your seat, you gesture to Yoongi to wait a moment while you respond to each one.

The first one you see is from Namjoon.

Namjoon: How’s the game going? Are you guys having fun?

Y/N: Sorry, I didn’t hear my phone go off. Yeah, the game was great! It was super loud though, but I think Yoongi enjoyed it too.

Next you see a few messages from Jin.

Jin: Hey text me when the game is over and we can probably meet up for drinks

Jin: Scratch that I went ahead and picked up a shift for tomorrow morning and you know I need my beauty sleep. Maybe next time!

Y/N: No worries! Just let me know when you’re free and we can hang out.

You see that you have a message from Jungkook as well

Jungkook: Hey me and the others were thinking about heading to my dad’s club next weekend, you in?

Y/N: I’m alright. Honestly, I’m not a big fan of clubs.

Y/N: Thanks for the invite though. Maybe we can do something else.

You’re beginning to wonder why they don't just message you through the group chat when you see a new notification.

Hobi: I need your help applying for some of these scholarships for next semester. I have to write a few letters and you know how bad my writing is.

Hobi: Please???

Y/N: Don’t worry about it. You free next week? How many letters do you need?

Finally, you see one last unanswered message.

Jimin: Tae and I were thinking about going to the beach tomorrow, wanna join us? Ask Yoongi too!

You look over at Yoongi and catch him browsing his phone as well, already knowing what his answer is going to be.

Y/N: Definitely! I don’t think Yoongs will come though. You know he doesn’t really like being outside.

Y/N: I think he’s supposed to visit his parents next week so let’s try to go then instead?

Y/N: Would you be willing to wait for me?

Rising out of your seat, you place your phone in your pocket and say to Yoongi as you stretch,

“I think the crowd has died down enough.”

He nods to you in response as he lets out a small yawn, and you can tell he’s getting tired.

“C’mon let's head out,” you say as you start your climb up the stairs towards the exit. You look back and continue with the suggestion, “let’s grab a few drinks to celebrate and head home. After all, it’s not every day my best friend turns 25.”

You are only met with a grunt which you consider translates to “that’s a great idea,” and finish your climb in silence,

As you reach the top of the stairs, you see that even the thinned crowd is still a giant mass of people.

‘So much for an easy exit,’ you think to yourself as you turn to Yoongi and see from his face that he’s thinking the exact same thing.

You realize that when you had the idea to take him to his first professional basketball game to celebrate his birthday, you didn’t take into consideration how crowded it was going to be when the game was over. Taking his hand, you lean close to him.

“Stay close. I’m gonna try and make a path for us.”

You then pull him along and start forcing your way through the crowd. When both of you finally make it out of the building, you lean against the wall, close your eyes, and breathe, thankful for the fresh air filling your lungs. From the sound to your left you can tell that Yoongi is doing the same.

You both really hate crowds, and you realize that this was probably the largest amount of people you two have been around in years. You pull out your phone to see how far away your Uber is, thankful that the app only says five minutes. ‘Good,’ you think to yourself, ‘I knew it was a good idea to wait until the stadium cleared a bit. This traffic is terrible.’ You look over to Yoongi and ask, “so, how do you feel? Did you have fun tonight?”

You knew when you bought the tickets that he wasn’t a fan of large crowds or loud noises, neither of you were, but you hope that he at least had fun seeing his favorite team in real life tonight. He looks away for a moment, forming his response.

“I really liked it. I’ve always wanted to come to one of these. Growing up you know my family never really had money, and basketball was sort of my way of escaping my reality. Even though I wasn’t the tallest or the fastest, playing gave me a sense of control that I wished I had over other parts of my life, so thank you.”

You understand, remembering how much his family was struggling financially when you became friends. How he struggled with his parents and his dreams of playing basketball and becoming a music producer. You lean into him and say, “I’m happy that I could make your birthday a good one.”

You look away, garnering your courage to admit what you have been wanting to say all night. “Honestly, I was a little worried about the noise and the crowd, but I’m glad we could do something together. It’s been a while since we spent some time together without all the others, you know.”

He smiles to himself, knowing just how you feel. He thinks for a moment about just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life, someone who he doesn’t have to explain himself to and understands his way of thinking even better than he does sometimes. He quietly whispers under his breath too low for you to hear, “this is the best birthday I could’ve hoped for,” and looks away to the cars still exiting the parking lot. You both stand there in silence for a while, leaning on each other, lost in your own thoughts while waiting for the Uber to arrive.

You reflect on how far your relationship has come. Growing up together you both continuously saw each other grow into the people you were today. You remember how excited he was when he made the basketball team and the pride he developed for his position as shooting guard. He remembered how proud you were when you became the top student in your class and how your classmates referred to the both of you as “the dream team” dominating sports and academics.

He was good at every sport he set his mind to, basketball, soccer, and tennis. You worked hard to be at the top of your class while also being captain of your school’s debate team, math team and foreign language program.

You let out a sigh as you think about your other friends. You knew they wanted to join you tonight, but you could only manage to grab two tickets before the others sold out. You were lucky you even got these. You glance over at your friend, and you’re pretty sure his level of disappointment at it only being the two of you isn’t that high.

You and Yoongi first met them your junior year of high school after one of the other school districts was forced to shut down its campus due to a lack of funding, and yours was forced to merge with it.

Along with over 150 other students who would now compete with you and your best friend, came six others who would later become the people who knew you better than your own family. Jimin, Namjoon, Jin, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Hoseok were all strangers you both found yourselves competing against constantly.

Yoongi often found himself competing with Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin for captain positions, and you found yourself having to fight tooth and nail to beat Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook as well for the top spots in your clubs. The only two you didn’t have a problem with were Taehyung and Hoseok. That was until Yoongi decided to try out for the dance team and you developed an interest in photography.

Stuck together for hours and hours, you soon realized that although you were all different people you all actually had a lot in common besides your clubs.

You were all passionate about your dreams of success and you all agreed to help each other succeed any way you could. You came to a compromise that allowed everyone to succeed while always pushing each other to do their best.

His friendship with the others wasn’t as close as yours was. Even though you were all like a family to each other, you couldn’t help but feel like each of them grew closer to you than they had each other.

You shrug to yourself, not really feeling up to analyzing your friendships tonight, but looking over at Yoongi, you know he’s already thinking of how to tell the others how much he enjoyed tonight without making it seem like he had fun without them, and you wish that he felt like he could be more honest with how he feels sometimes.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket pulling you out of your thoughts, and you see that your ride has finally arrived. “Come on,” you say to Yoongi, grabbing his attention with a nudge of your shoulder.

“Let’s get something to drink then call it a night.”

Deciding to head to your regular bar, you and Yoongi order your drinks and take a seat in your regular booth towards the back.

After drinking your way through a4 bottles of soju, you think it is about time for the both of you to head out. You order another Uber and head to the bathroom, telling Yoongi to just wait for you outside.

Making your way out of the bar your head begins to spin and you chide yourself for not grabbing food before coming. You stumble outside and look around, not spotting Yoongi anywhere.

You could’ve sworn you saw him come out here before you went to the bathroom. You pull out your phone and text him.

Y/N: where are you

Seeing no response, you check the arrival time of your Uber and see it’s still a few minutes away.

You pull up Yoongi’s number and call him. The first call goes straight to voicemail and you curse as you dial his number again. This time even though you don’t get an answer you hear his phone ringing nearby. Searching for the source of the sound, you turn the corner and see his lit-up phone ringing on the ground in the alleyway.

It’s hard to see given that the only light is coming from a dimly lit bulb above the door on the side of the building, but it’s only a few feet away.

You look around and call out for him, already feeling yourself beginning to sober up as your heart begins to pound in your chest.

“Yoongi? Are you out here? Are you okay?” You take a deep breath and begin walking into the alley, becoming very aware of how quiet it has gotten.

Seeing nothing but a dumpster, some empty bottles, and some trash bags you reach down for his phone and pick it up. The screen is cracked, but you can see that it still works.

You glance around once more and realize how sketchy this feels.

Deciding to turn back you think to yourself ‘he probably just dropped his phone out here before going back inside or something.’

Your thoughts are interrupted however when you hear a bang against the dumpster. You turn around, and you hear it again though this time it’s quieter. You turn on your phone’s flashlight and quietly walk towards the dumpster, ready to run away if you need to. As you get closer you hear what sounds like a person moaning.

You dim your flashlight, turn the corner of the dumpster, and you freeze. What you see makes you want to scream.

Yoongi is lying on the ground against the wall covered in blood. He is being pinned down by a man dressed in black. Yoongi’s eyes slowly blink at you.

‘You have to help him! You have to help him’ your thoughts scream at you. You have to be smart though, you realize. Judging by his form, you can already tell that he is much bigger than you.

You look around for something, anything that you could use to save your friend. The man hasn’t seemed to notice you yet, but you know Yoongi can’t last much longer, not with the amount of blood he’s lost.

Deciding that your best option is to hit the man off of Yoongi, you quietly reach down for the biggest bottle you can find, and sneak up behind him before bringing it down on his head as hard as you can.

You see him lean forward, startled and injured by the unexpected attack, and you hit him again, this time reaching forward and pulling him off of your friend.

He seems to be knocked out.

You crouch down in front of Yoongi and look around for help. Out of the corner of your eye you see a person walking near the road at the end of the alley.

“Hey! Call an ambulance! Call the police, hurry!” you yell out to them and see them quickly run back towards the entrance of the bar.

You breathe a sigh of relief before looking back at your friend to inspect his wounds. You can already tell that he has two large gashes: one on his right side and one on his shoulder near his neck, and so much blood.

You can see his short breaths fogging up the cold night.

Reaching for his face, you whisper to him, already feeling your tears beginning to fall.

“Yoongs, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Receiving no response, you say again, “Yoongs? Yoongi, can you hear me?”

You look at his wounds again and place your hands on them, hoping to stop any further bleeding until the ambulance arrives.

Suddenly you feel your entire body jerked backwards. You hear a crack as your body forcefully slams into the brick wall of the building. Feeling your breath leave your lungs, you gasp for air. Tasting copper on your tongue, you realize that your nose has started to bleed and reach up to touch the back of your head with your fingertips, only to realize that you’re bleeding from there as well.

You look up and see the blurry shape of the man glaring down at you.

His face looks angry and he is bleeding along the side right where you hit him earlier. “YOU!” he seethes in recognition as he brings his face near yours, already looking forward to repaying you for the wound on his head and growls at you. “They said to bring you in in one piece, but I don’t think a few scrapes would hurt.”

None of what he’s saying is making any sense to you right now.

‘Who is this man,’ you wonder. ‘Why does he seem to know you?’

Desperately glancing behind him at Yoongi you feel more tears fall. You realize that he’s losing too much blood. He probably won’t make it out of this; neither of you will.

You look at the man as he brings his hand to your throat, and you reach your arms out searching for anything that could help you. You feel your fingers graze the broken neck of a bottle as your vision starts to fade, and you know what you have to do.

Placing your free hand on his arm, you choke out “why are you doing this?”

Your nails are digging deep enough to draw blood now. “Because,” he says lifting you up by the throat as he brings his face close to yours once again, “you ruined everything. More importantly, you pissed me off.”

He looks you in the eyes and you see him pause before licking his bottom lip and bringing his face towards the left side of your head. You can faintly hear sirens in the distance.

Realizing that now is your chance, you bring your right hand upwards sharply and stab him in the neck with the bottle. You twist it in deeper, feeling his blood cover your hand and spray across your face. You hear him let out a scream as he staggers away from you and pulls the bottle out of his neck.

You see blood pouring out of his wound as he rushes forward and slams you against the wall for a second time.

You feel a sharp pain in your right side before you see him stagger away towards the end of the alley. You slide down the wall, your breathing shallow, and your hand trembles as it makes its way to your side.

Bringing your fingers up to your face, you can see that they are covered in blood.

You see that his blood has soaked into your shirt, and you weakly drag yourself over to Yoongi’s now barely conscious body, your tears falling slowly.

You notice the bleeding from the wound on his side has slowed down immensely, and you understand that it’s because he’s running out of blood to lose.

You whisper out to him, your vocal cords crying out in pain from the man’s grip,

“Yoongi? Please look at me... Yoongi!” You reach out and check his pulse, choking out a sob as you realize it’s too weak to feel.

You move one trembling hand and press it against your still bleeding side while your other hand makes its way to the wound on his neck.

After what feels like hours you finally see the flashing lights of the ambulance. You move your hand from your side to cup Yoongi’s face and see his eyes fall to your face as he looks into your eyes and blinks slowly.

” Yoongi”, you whisper as you feel yourself begin to black out, “please be okay,” you barely manage your last word before your eyes shut and you fall forward against him.

A few blocks away...

The man staggers through the empty alleyway, clutching his neck hoping to slow the blood loss. He was lucky that he drained as much of that kid’s blood as he had, otherwise the wound would have killed him.

What was he thinking? He had one job. One job: find the girl and bring her to the abandoned studio. One job, and he couldn’t even do that.

He knew that he shouldn’t have bitten that kid, but he just couldn’t help himself, it had been weeks since he last drank anything.

That bitch ruined everything. If she had just stayed inside a little bit longer, he would have sucked the kid dry and taken her without anyone noticing.

He didn’t understand what was so special about her anyways. The only thing not unmentionably plain about her was her eyes.

They weren’t beautiful or anything, but he couldn’t help but look at them and once he did, he couldn’t convince himself to tear his gaze away.

Shrugging off the thought, he makes his way to the meeting point.

Hearing the faint sound of sirens in the distance, he quickly ducks inside the dark building and hopes that his client is feeling benevolent.

He moves his hand from his neck and sees that his wound has already started to heal. Releasing a heavy sigh, he checks the wound on his head and finds it fully healed. The only evidence left is the dried blood it produced.

He walks down the quiet hallway and opens the first door to his right just as instructed. However, when he enters the room there is nobody there.

Looking at his phone he checks the time remembering that he was supposed to arrive by 1:30 am. He sees that it reads 2:00 am.

‘Shit,’ he thinks to himself. ‘They probably already left.’

Walking further into the room, he begins planning his next move when suddenly he hears the door slam closed and feels a presence behind him followed by a hand wrapping around his throat.

“So,” the figure says from behind him, their voice sounding like a whisper brought by a phantom wind.

“Not only did you fail to deliver the girl, but you also managed to leave an entire shitstorm in your wake as well. There was a reason the word ‘quietly’ was included in your instructions.”

The man gasps for air and tries to respond but only manages to let out a grunt.

The figure releases its grip on the man, and the man sinks to his knees, gasping for air while clutching his neck.

“I’m sorry” he rasps,” Just tell the brotherhood I’ll get her for sure next time.”

The figure lets out a huff before walking around the man.

He stops just in front of the man’s bent knees and lifts him by the throat once more, this time squeezing tighter.

“There won’t be a next time,” the figure whispers before breaking the man’s neck and walking away.

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bumbleartz · 4 years ago

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So got inspired by @sondrawr and @gotham-mother-of-monsters and had this ramble pop into my head. Hadn't flipped through my Mercy books in a while so it was fun to go back and refresh. Covers from the first book up to Storm Cursed and has spoilers if you haven't gotten that far.

Jesse has heard the title Marrok on and off throughout her childhood. Usually the title is whispered between the wolves or her father in tones she isn't supposed to hear. These conversations always ended in her being hustled off to the care of her mother or after the divorce being sent off to her room. The first time it became more than a hushed precursor to her being shuffled off is after being taken hostage. Her father had pulled her into his office and given her a name to go with the title along with a number to enter into her phone. "He is the head of all the wolves. If something happens regarding pack business or you feel for some reason you can't get to any of us or Mercy you call that number." She'd dutifully filed the number away as instructed under Bran Cornick and promptly had the conversation fade to where she kept the rest of what was considered pack information.

The first time she sees the Marrok is in the entryway way to the house in the middle of the night. She's too distracted by the fact her father is home safe to pay much attention to the others in the room as she is carefully wrapped into his arms. He looks like crap and smells worse even to her normal human nose. She can't bring herself to care as the tears she's fought so hard not to shed wet her eyes. When she unburies her face from her father's chest long enough to take note of the others there she's honestly too tired from the stressful nights of waiting to register anything beyond them being in one piece and alive. Later, after the first good night's sleep she's had in days, there will have been too many new faces for her to register who was who. The only one she can place a name to with any certainty is Charles. Mercy laughs and tells her Charles has that effect on people when she goes to see her later.

The first time Jesse meets the Marrok is not long after on a midnight escapade to calm her nerves. Another nightmare has had her shooting awake and the images are still playing in full technicolor behind her lids each time she closes them. It's been almost a year since she was taken hostage and yet the blinding terror feels as fresh as ever. She'd turned down therapy when it was offered. What was she supposed to say? Yeah, some werewolf thought they could use me as leverage to make my dad behave so they could use him in some murder plot with a side of treason? She'd known how well that would have gone over. She'd thought they would fade over time. Maybe they would have if things had gone back to normal; a demon vampire threat, murder plotting psychos, and the attack on Mercy had happened instead. Jesse didn't bother adding the destruction of her social life and ongoing mom issues to the list since they just seemed to pale in comparison to the rest. Anymore Jesse found herself waiting for the next horror story. The most recent of which was currently causing all the wolves various fits. She currently wasn't clear which was bothering them more: one of their own being resurrected or Mercy being pulled into the pack. The kitchen light is on as she rounds the corner and she expects to see any number of people outside of the vaguely familiar stranger currently staring back at her. Somewhere between him asking her if she couldn't sleep and making the hot chocolate the same way Mercy does it dawns on her this person who looks barely older than her is the Marrok. Her tired brain tries to summon up the awe with a side of shock she should be feeling and fails miserably. Instead she finds herself nursing her mug of cocoa and making small talk while the Marrok takes drinks of his own. In the midst of the conversation he manages to get her to verbal vomit about her nightmares and the troubles she's been having at school. She manages to find out he has a deep dislike of Shakespeare, has a deep love for music, and possesses a terrifying wit. By the time she is making her way back to her room and he to the guest room she is feeling better then she has in months. He's already gone when she gets up leaving her without ever getting a chance to say thanks. While it isn't a big thing it bothers her just enough to pull her phone out and send a text to the number she'd all but forgotten. The simple thank you is accompanied with a YouTube link to her favorite Lindsey Stirling video. After all, Jesse views not knowing who she is and being a violinist as a crime. The little smiley face emoji she gets in reply makes her grin.

The next time they meet she's the one providing the hot chocolate. The pack has managed to get themselves entangled with a fairy queen and Mercy has yet again made the sacrifice play. Everyone is chasing their proverbial tails trying to find her while remaining outside of her father's war path. In the meantime, Jesse feels she's improved in her chaos handling as she's only broken down twice. Apparently having your boyfriend kidnapped and going on to a fairy queen's court doesn't have the same punch as other things she has dealt with lately. When she sets the mug on the coffee table it's the wee hours of the morning and the Marrok has been seated cross legged on their monstrosity of a couch for the better part of a day. If she hadn't gotten to know him a little better over the previous months she would have felt she was intruding. However, Bran was not against using all available resources and she'd been pulled in regarding the newest resident of Aspen Creek. Kara and Jesse had clicked right off the bat and become faithful texting pals ever since. Bran rubs the bridge of his nose and blinks hard a few times despite his eyes having been closed before reaching for the mug. He looks beyond exhausted and she knows not all of it has to do with the current situation. Kara has confided in her about his lack of sleep and the way he's been running himself ragged. Jesse does her best to lighten the mood with a joke about the fairies contacting them any moment begging them to take Mercy back. Her effort is rewarded with an amused smirk and a quiet chuckle. She ends up rambling about different ways Mercy is driving the fairies nuts and is encouraged when Bran joins in. Jesse wakes to the noise of people rushing around. Bran is smiling and gripping a walking stick with a white knuckled grip from his spot on the couch when he tells her Mercy has been found.

Jesse is biting her lip to keep from laughing too loud as she informs everyone the butterflies have succeeded where the dove idea failed. Marji is cackling on the video feed in victory while Bran seems too amused to care he has just lost a hundred bucks. Two days pass in a blur of emergency calls and group texts. Despite the short time frame the wedding goes off without a hitch. Mercy is surprised and Jesse can't remember the last time her father looked so blissfully happy. Once the two love birds are off Jesse spends the rest of the reception twirling around the dance floor with Gabriel. The raised eyebrow this gets her from Bran makes her stick out her tongue. The fact Mercy comes back from the honeymoon in a wheelchair shouldn't have been much of a surprise. Jesse can picture Bran doing his iconic bridge pinch when she sends him the picture.

Bran's text to Mercy makes Jesse's lips quirk in amusement. After the destruction of the Rabbit she could use the humor. That humor plummets when the number comes up disconnected when Mercy tries to reply. The knot of concern only tightens with each person Mercy tries and fails to reach. The pain of it becomes near unbearable when they find Ben and no one else. The pain doesn't start to ease until she recognizes the dark haired man fighting beside Tad. After months of having Asil tease her about her hair after seeing it during a video chat with Kara she'd know him anywhere. Seeing her father and the pack alive and well makes the knot come undone. At least it does until she realizes one is missing and hears of Peter's death. She knows how her father will take the loss and can't bring herself to add more weight to those already overburdened shoulders. So she turns her focus to looking after the younger Sandoval children and burying her feelings as deep as possible. This works until Asil catches up to her in the kitchen getting together snacks for the kids. All he has to do is ask if she's alright and she falls apart. Asil pulls her into a hug and gives reassurances in Spanish. Jesse doesn't understand a word but it soothes her all the same. He tells her everyone in Montana is safe and she sags in relief. When everything is over and she gets a new phone that has been programmed by Charles, Asil's number is listed in the contacts.

Her mother has only been living with them for a day and Jesse wants to scream. She loves her mother but watching the resulting train wreck her mere presence is causing makes her wish she'd just leave them all alone. Even though her talk with Mercy has eased some of the hurt and anger, it hasn't gotten rid of it. Mostly because despite what Mercy said she can see the way her mother has gotten under her skin and cut her to the quick. Anger and the need for a voice of reason has her contacting Bran. Bran gently reminds her Mercy is more than capable of holding her own in a dominance dance. He must know this isn't what she was looking to hear because the next message contains Charles' number and instructions to text him. Jesse has no idea why Bran would have her talking to Charles but she copies and pastes the message she previously sent like instructed. Bran must have warned his son because Charles doesn't seem surprised to get the message. Charles turns out to be an unexpected fount of wisdom when it comes to the difficulty of broken family dynamics. It's odd how hearing from someone else that she is allowed to love her mother and yet not like her makes it feel OK. By the time her mother's stalker has been dealt with Jesse thinks she might finally be finding the path between love and hate.

Jesse isn't a wolf, but she can still feel the moment Bran breaks ties with the Columbia Basin Pack. She doesn't wait for her father and Mercy to come out of the office. Tad seems to know something is up but doesn't say anything when she gives the excuse of homework and heads to her room. Her phone is a lead weight in her hand because what do you say to someone who just had to throw away someone they love? A part of her is angry too. Angry at the pain she knows this has caused Mercy and the difficulty it will cause her father. However, Jesse knows what it is like to be caught in a situation outside your control due to the actions of those you love. She types out a promise to do what she can for Mercy and to send a warning the instant something happens requiring help. She ends the text with a little heart emoji. Current circumstances might make it harder but family out ranked all else. Jesse already knew if something happened Bran would help. She's proven right when Baba Yaga saves her father in Underhill.

Jesse's proven right again when Bran goes with her father to get Mercy back from the Lord of Night. He sends her a message promising her he will bring Mercy and her father back in one piece. She replies telling him she knows. She also tells him to come back in one piece too or she's going to have to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer. At this point she's gone to battle to protect her new pyro of an adopted younger brother and managed to keep him from burning the house to the ground. She's pretty sure she can at least annoy a vampire lord. The fact she'd have backup from an Italian mercenary, a Dark Smith and more than one werewolf pack was completely irrelevant. After all the one thing she knew for certain was you always looked out for your pack, your family. Which is why as soon as she hears everyone is returning from Italy in one piece she sends a message to Tad for him to tell his dad. She also makes sure Warren passes on the message to Stefan though he doesn't need reminding. She snaps a picture of everyone getting out of the car when it pulls up and sends it to Charles and Asil because she knows hearing someone you care about is safe is not the same as seeing it. And because he is family in her eyes at this point, after she hugs her father and Mercy, she hugs Bran too.

#mercy thompson #patricia briggs #Bran Cornick #Jesse hauptman #writing

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