#and through that i remember hearing a radio show and then i became very attached to it for years

[thedevotionaltour]

i love radio my best friend radio forever i hold my dreams of radio in my heart forever forever forever i owe my life to radio

[haiyuta]

producer!jisung x reader

summary: You want to know where you and Jisung stand which leads to smutty goodness | 2k+ | genre: humping, making out, bj, jealously, changbin kinda is into reader

a/n: I haven’t written a fic in 2 years so please enjoy my entrance back into the world of fiction. (why is this 2k I think I hate myself this was suppose to be 1k)

Buzz Buzz

Taking your eyes off your Netflix show you glanced at your phone. A soft smile lifted to your lips reading who it was.

"bbyyyyyy can you come over tonight" - Jisungie

Your fingers quickly responded, "What's the magic word?"

You waited a few moments for his answer patiently.

"Please come over..." - Jisungie

Smirking at the text you rolled your eyes "The other magic word silly :p"

Getting up you went to your closet to fish out a cute outfit. Deciding on something more causal for the night. A skirt for 'easy access’ and a crop top to finish it off.

Glancing at your phone you observed his reply.

"Yes, darling you may get that bag you want you fucking brat" - Jisungie

You giggled at the reply.

"A brat you can't stop loving" your fingers furiously typed back your heart throbbing at the word 'loving'. This wasn't a conventional relationship per say this was at first a very transactional one.

See you met Han Jisung at a night club. And no you weren't one of the pretty girls lines up along the booths and dance floor. You were a 'bottle girl' a glorified waitress that wore revealing clothing getting the crowd hyped up as you give them bottles after bottles of liquor.

You didn't immediately notice Jisung he was a face in a sea of customers. He was handsome of course and him and his friends had good manners. You remembered his one friend with dark brown hair did grab your wrist giving you a wink. At the time you didn't know that was Changbin one of Jisung close friends and rival producer.

By the end of the night as the club winded down a small grin passed your lips as the end of the night rung around and the big spending of the night Han Jisung tipped you. A pretty tip at that. With his number attached.

‘Call me y/n.’ He wrote on the back of the receipt.

It was a couple of days before you called him debating whether it was a good idea or not.

One thing led to another and you we're in this weird dynamic with Jisung you weren't his girlfriend but you defiantly weren't a 'sugar baby' of his.

Your eyes closed remembering a few months ago when this 'Relationship thing' really turned up. At his modest apartment popping an expensive bottle of champagne watching some comedy movie on tv. Turning your head you observed his face and his almond eyes bent in a laugh at the movie, his bow lips upturned and arm wrapped behind the couch.

Fitting the courage you leaned up grabbing his cheek leading his head toward yours. His laugh soften his eyes serious with want as he mirrored your hand as you two kissed.

Your stomach stirred at the memory. Oh fuck. You're mind thought it was suppose to get like this. He was your customer he gave you money for your time it was transitional right? The longer you knew him and became closer, You learned he was a producer and he was good at it. So good if you turned on the radio you'll most likely hear a song or two he helped create.

Buzz Buzz

"you arent wrong, I'm at the studio" he his text popped up.

"Get here safe bby"

His caring text almost made you melt in your spot. Sighing you closed your eyes trying to correct your stupid emotions. Grinning you grabbed your purse a cab already waiting outside your apartment.

The drive was quick as it was almost 10 at night not many cars out tonight. Arriving to the studio building it was a sleek and new tucked away with the hustle and bustle of restaurants and shops.

Smiling you practically skipped through the building already knowing his studio by heart. "Y/n slow down," a deep voice called out.

Looking around you find the familiar voice "Changbinnnn" you drew out his name observing him leaning on the door of his studio.

He rolled his eyes "seeing Jisung again" he spoke quietly. Changbin you met at said club months ago. He was an amazing producer and rapper like Jisung. Both being great did cause some friendly rivialry between the two.

You loved to tease Changbin it was your favorite pastime when Jisung was busy. "Aw are you jealous," you teased smiling at him.

His ears turned red and he looked slightly taken back by your comment but before he could answer his phone went off. He clumsily grabbed it and answered it giving you a half embarrassed and annoyed look he threw you. He mouthed a quick 'I gotta take this' before going back into his studio.

Ah how you loved teasing Changbin.

Peeking into the studio the computer lit up the small room and sitting in a large chair was Jisung.

Slowly creeping in the room, you observed Jisung on his phone oblivious to the outside world. Sneaking up behind him.

"Suprise attack" you giggled out your arms encircling his neck wrapping as you laid your head across your arm staring at him. Jisung was startled at the attack and did almost a little jump at the attack.

"Every time" he huffed shaking his head.

You giggled kissing his cheek "next time you'll have to watch the door" you smiled softly taking a seat on the small sofa that lined the wall.

"Oh I ran into Changbin at the studio you both are here so late," you yawned realizing it was getting closer to midnight.

Jisung nodded "we both have similar deadlines, so it makes sense," he replied. Getting up he slide on the sofa next to you.

"Me he was happy to see me kind of annoyed that I was coming to see you so late." You hummed back feeling his fingers reach the back of your neck drawing circles.  

Jisung poked up an eyebrow "He's just jealous I have a pretty girl giving me company," he huffed out showing a handsome grin towards you.

"A pretty girl that isn't your girlfriend yet," you bite back. You know inside you shouldn't bait Jisung but you and him talked about it almost every month and you were getting sick of the topic being blown over.

Jisung blinked at you his fingers stopping from rubbing your neck "I don't think we need to be official to be together," he added.

The feeling of sadness filled you your heart dropping at the words. "Well, that's fine maybe Changbin would want to be my boyfriend." You knew what you were doing by saying this.  Getting up wanting to leave. Jisung not wanting to become official felt like rejection. Like he didn't even want you.

"Don't be a brat," he growled out grabbing your hand before you could reach the door.

"Don't be a brat," you repeated back at him in a childish tone. Smirking you like riling him up.

He let out a small 'tsk' at you pulling you closer to him. Your body was flushed against his while your eyes set to a glare.

Before you knew it Jisung claimed a kiss from your lips. Fuck him he kisses so good you thought melting into the kiss. Tilting your head, you kissed him back. The kisses were hot and heavy his tongue invaded yours making you taste him. You noted he tasted especially sweet tonight like a candy. Addicting.

You felt Jisung shift his body onto the sofa pulling you toward him placing you in his lap. His kisses became more lusted filled.

Before long he pulled his lips away from you, opening your eyes you stared into Jisung wild wanting eyes. "You think you can make me jealous," he hissed out. Fuck he’s so hot, from his wild hair to his red lips to his lean body.

"I know I can," you hummed back feel an already growing bulge in his joggers your fingertips lightly touched him through his joggers.

He chuckled and eyed you "yeah you think that don't you," he grinned back grabbing your hand from his joggers pulling it away.

He pulled you close his clothed hips coming in contact with your open hips. A small 'fuck' slipped out your mouth as you came in contact with him. "Grind for me brat," he hissed out his hands finding the way to your ass holding you closer to him.

You moved your hips slowly wanting to feel the friction of the fabric against your panties. His mouth found its way to your neck giving lovely light kisses down your neck.

Without a thought you leaned over into his ear lightly biting him "Jisung can I," you hummed feeling your fingers linger to the waistband of his pants slowly wanting to touch him, feel him, taste him.

His lips left your neck "You don't need to ask," he hummed. Leaning down your knees hit the studio carpet. He shimmed his pants down to his hips leaving his boxers. He fished out his cock making you lick your lips wanting to lick the droplets of precum.

Leaning closer you gently jerked his cock the want to taste it was to much you eyed Jisung his eyes glued to you. His hand guided it way through your hair guiding you to his cock.

You took it eagerly pleasing him. You bobbed your head gently trying not to choke the best you could. Blowing him you gently jerked his base as you lightly sucked and praised his cock.

"Y/n," He whimpered out as you reach his sensitive pulsing red head. His cheeks were flushed his hair slightly dishevel. His whispers of praise built up more lust and pride into you.

"Ah fuck," his hips pushed a little further down your throat then you would've liked.

You grinned coughing a bit Jisung pulled you up once again. Sucking his cock was good but you would rather him finish inside of you.

You gently pushed your panties from around your thighs to the floor. Sitting on his lap you glanced at him shyly taking off your shirt revealing a lacy bra.

"You were prepared," he smirked eyeing your matching bra and panty set.

"Of course," you hummed back.

He gently kissed you as you leaned back into his dick. You went slowly as you slowly went down onto him.

You kissed him harder trying to forget the pain. "Ah," you let out a low moan in pain and pleasure. The way you stretched around him was so filling through you were addicted.

Jisung helped your hips slide up and down in a rhythmic slow motion. You stared at him through hazy eyes your pussy getting slick with want as he hit deeper inside of you.

Your hands clasped around the back of his neck as you guided your body up and down against him. "Y/n grind on me," he hummed out.

You pressed deeper your hips against his as you ground your pussy against him shivers of pleasure filled you. You moaned in pleasure at the feeling of him so deep inside of you.

"Fuck Y/n." He hummed his one hand going to your clit as he pressed into it going in slow circles drawing a low moan out of you.

The more you grinded against him the feeling of the friction built up inside of you the feeling was rising getting so close.

"Ah baby," you moaned out wrapping your arms around him holding him close. His thumb didn't stop fondling your clit. Your legs twitched with the anticipation if the coming ecstasy you were about to achieve.  

Jisung groaned and his hips thrust up deeper inside of you. "Fuck," he whispered wrapping his arms around your ass gripping it hard.

You could feel warmth flood your insides as you grinded harder against him in an animistic manner desperate for release.

You clutched your arms around him swiping lower for a kiss to hide the cries of pleasure you wanted to release. "Come on cum for me baby," Jisung sounded breathless. His skin was warm and slightly wet with sweat under your fingertips.

You moaned and whined as the waves of pleasure washed over you in an intense pleasure released You shivered with want your hips whittering under you.

Twitching you gripped into him harder trying to keep yourself anchored to earth just by him.

"You ass," you shaky said out swatting his hand away from your thoroughly abused clit. You slowly came down from your high of the orgasm. Taking a few moments to regain your thoughts.

Jisung looked down at the mess of fluids between the two of you. "Well, we made a mess," he added.

"Sorry about that," you hummed looking at his hazy eyes his cock still warm inside of you.

"Its okay baby," he hummed out back to you rubbing your lower back in reassurance.

He shyly looked at you "I'm sorry about the girlfriend thing I just thought we didn't need labels but," he paused laying his head against the sofa shifting you for a better position.

"I should have just had the courage to ask you," he paused "do you want to be my girlfriend," he said shyly.

You frowned "no," you stated simply.

Jisung eyebrows frowned into a confused look. A giggle escaped your mouth "I'm kidding but you should've seen that look on your face."

"Y/n you brat," he huffed out.

[raineydays411]

My fathers daughter

prologue

Tony Stark x daughter! reader

Summary: By all definitions you were a daddy’s girl. It’s been you and him since your mom left you both. But what happens when your both forced to face your past?

a/n: y’all know i can’t resist a good crossover

If there had to be a face for daddys girl, you’d be the poster child. 

Ever since you came into Tony’s life, you and him have been attached by the hip.

You were with him through everything.

When he became Iron Man, when he joined the avengers, and even during civil war. Even though it hurt you to see your family be torn apart, you could never betray your father. Then again, you have to admit that you were happy that the avengers compromised and were able to get back together. Earning you a new family member in Bucky. You were happy. Happy with the life you have with your dad and avengers. 

Which is why your mother suddenly reappearing and demanding to be in your life kinda of peeved you off. 

Let’s start from the beginning. 

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

It started off with a gala. 

Some bougie charity event that rich assholes attend to donate large sums of money, not out of kindness, but only to show just how rich they are. You hated these types of events.  You hated the fake smiles and false interest in your life. All they wanted was to get close to your dad. They even try to set you up with their snobby stuck up kids. You hated it. 

And here you were, trying to find a way to get out of this boring conversation with some snob from Beverly hills. You can see your dad laughing at you from across the room. 

“You know, you look a lot like Mrs. Wayne.” He suddenly says, looking at you.

“Who?” You ask, suddenly paying attention.

“Mrs. Wayne, you know, Bruce Wayne's wife.”

You know who Bruce Wayne was. Your dad absolutely detestes the man. He never really told you why. He just said to never trust a Wayne. You also know that he’s Batman and his army of children are/were Robin. It was pretty obvious and rather easy to figure out. Then again, you were able to hack into the Bat computers main systems. They really need to update their firewalls. 

“Um no I didn’t know that he had a wife to be honest.” You reply, not really interested.

“You can pass as her daughter you know? She is very beautiful. As are you.” He says in a flirty tone. 

You roll your eyes, seeing your father finishing up a conversation and make your move, but then you hear 

“Oh look, there's the Wayne family right there.” 

Causing the attention to turn to the main entrance. There you saw Bruce Wayne. Tall, handsome, and charismatic. He was smiling, waving at the host. Next to him, his oldest son Dick. Another very handsome man, Tall with blue eyes and raven hair. Sending charming smiles to the crowds of women. Then Tim Drake, too focused on his phone to pay attention to the crowds, and finally Damian Wayne. A small boy with a sharp scowl. To his left, you can barely make out the form of his wife and his daughter, Cassandra Cain. You can also see Stephanie Brown chatting excitedly to Mrs. Wayne, who you still couldn’t see.

“Jeez, they brought the whole cavalry.” You mutter, looking at the star struck boy you were talking to.

You roll your eyes. The way people worship this family is strange. They act as if they are royalty or gods. You look at your father, expecting him to be making a sarcastic face or something. But that’s not what you saw. No, you saw a look on his face that you haven’t seen on his face ever. That’s when you walked up to him.

“Daddy...are you okay?” You asked cautiously.  He turned to you, shocked.

“Y/n!” He practically shouts, “ I’m okay, are you okay? We can leave right now if you’re not okay?” 

You frown in confusion, “ Umm yeah, I’m fine...”

“Good, Good. We’re going to leave now, this gala kinda blows. DOn’t you think?”

You can see his eyes dart to the Waynes to you. He looks...panicked. It was weird to you. Usually he keeps his cool during events like these. 

“Um sure..I just need to go to the restroom first” You say, seeing him nod. You walk off, shaking off the concern you have for your father. As you push through the crowds, you can hear them whisper as you passed. Something about Mrs. Wayne. 

You shake your head, “Can’t they talk about anything else??” 

Then you finally find the bathroom. You walk in, expecting it to be empty, only to be faced with Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown. They were chatting near the sinks as you walking into the stall. After doing your business, you walked out to the sink, going to wash your hands, but you saw Stephanie freeze, then nudge Cassandra. They both stared at you as you washed your hands and went to dry them. You give them a side eye, wondering why they were staring at you so hard. 

“Um hi?” You say carefully, the jump not expecting you to speak.

“Oh! Hello Im Stephanie and this is Cass” Stephanie says with a smile. “ You’re Y/n Stark right?”

“Uh yeah...Its nice to meet you dudes” You say quickly, already ready to walk out the restroom. 

“I’m sorry for staring, it’s just that...you look a lot like her mother” She says gesturing to Cassandra. 

You chuckle, “ Uh yeah so I’ve heard...hey I gotta go...”

“Oh right! Sorry heh” Stephanie laughs nervously, “It was great to meet you”

“Yeah” You agree half heartedly, “ You too”

And with that you go to find your father. You pass by the Wayne sons, only to see them take a double take when you pass them. 

“God that family is weird.” You mumble seeing your father talking to Bruce and his wife. He looked distressed and angry. You speed up, wanting to make sure your father doesn’t punch Bruce Wayne the way he looks like he's going to.

“Hey dad...um I’m ready to go.” You says with your back turned on the Waynes.

“Y/n..” Your dad says panic exploding on his face, “ Y/n sweetheart um...”

“Yn?” You hear a woman whisper.  You turn to see Bruce Wayne and...your mother. 

You remember the day she left. It was a sunny day. The kind of days that usually are in good memories and have happy endings. She was supposed to take you to the park so you can meet your dad there. You hardly saw her over the years, just every three months when she would come to the then Stark Tower to visit. But that say...that day was different. She had gotten a call, from who you don’t know, nut it seemed important. Because she left at that very moment and never came back. She never reached out, never called, texted or anything. Just radio silence. Your dad was heart broken.  He had hoped that one day she would move in with you and him, and you could be a family. He loved her with his whole heart, but she just didn’t love you both enough to stay. He was a mess after she left, and you picked up the pieces.

You were nine.

If it wasn’t for Pepper stepping in after witnessing one of his breakdowns, you don’t know what would’ve happened.

You stare at the woman who left you, who broke your fathers heart. Who broke your heart.

“Ms. Wayne.” you say curtly, taking pleasure in the way her face fell, “ Mr. Wayne, it’s lovely to see you again. If you’ll excuse me and my father, it seems like he’s not feeling too well.”

You weren’t lying, Tony looked like he was about to puke. His face was pale and he was kinda sweaty. So you wrapped your arm around him and lead him to the entrance, starting to pull out your phone to call Happy.

“Y/n wait!” Your mother cried out, pulling her arm away from Bruce and placing a hand in your shoulder. You jerked your shoulder out of her grasp.

“ Y/n, I know you’re mad at me” she starts, cringing when she hears you scoff, “ But wait a second. Let me look at you...my petal you’re so big.”

You turn and glare at her, “ Don’t call me that.”

“Oh Y/n, please—“You cut her off again.

“Hey i’m just going along with what you want. This is what you wanted right? No contact with us?”

You can see a crowd start to form around you, and you see the scattered Wayne’s push through it. They look at each other in confusion trying to understand how you seem to know their mother.

“ Of course that’s not what I wanted, oh petal I meant to call I just...” She trailed off

“Couldn’t be bothered?” you say harshly, “ I couldn’t care less. Just leave us alone. That should be easy for you.”

You feel your dad tug on your hand, and you turn to him. Eyes softening when you see the expression on his face.

“ Happys here kiddo.” He says softly. You nod and start to walk away. And you hear your mother protest, but you cut her off with a venomous,

“It was nice seeing you again Mom.”

and then you were gone. This time, leaving your mother behind and her confused husband and children.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Gestures | Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: Elijah confesses his love for you in multiple ways, but you don’t believe it until he finally says those three words. 

A/N: I am so sorry it’s took so long to get this out! I’m slowly working through my requests I have, so I apologize if you are still waiting for yours!  I hope you enjoy xx 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

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********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

Confessing your love for someone is not always the three spoken words of I love you. There are simple gestures that can show that person you love them. However, sometimes the message gets lost in translation and that person only sees you as being kind, sweet, thoughtful. 

Elijah stood at the stove, an apron around his hips and a towel thrown over his shoulder, cooking your favorite meal. He’d remembered a conversation you two had a long time ago and you’d told him your favorite meal, so he decided to surprise you when you came back from shopping with Rebekah. 

The two of you’d met in the French Quarter and hit it off as friends. You’d come to meet Rebekah and became a good friend to her as well. They both enjoyed your company, but Elijah’s fondness for you grew. He began to see you more than a friend, but as someone he could love. He’d never been good with his words and decided actions were the best confession. So, he made himself a list of the things he could do to show his love for you. First was cooking your favorite meal. 

“Something smells delicious!” You comment as you enter the kitchen, arms full of shopping bags. Rebekah follows you with the same amount of bags. Setting them down in the floor you come to Elijah’s side, “Is that my favorite?” You ask with a smile. 

“I thought you’d enjoy it after a day of shopping with my dear sister.” He gathers a small amount on the spoon, making sure to blow on it first to cool it down, “Careful darling, it might be hot.”

You hum in content as you taste it, “Elijah, this tastes amazing! Just like how my family made it.” 

He’d never tell his secret, but he’d called your family and took detailed notes on how to cook it perfectly like they do. “Good, i’m glad. It should be ready any minute now.” 

You and Rebekah decide to freshen up before dinner and on your way up the stairs you ask her, “Did you tell him about my favorite dinner?” 

“I didn’t even know what your favorite dinner was.” She laughs. 

You frown and continue up the stairs. You hadn’t mentioned that it was your favorite recently.. You wrack your brain wondering when you would have told him and then it hits you. You told him the very first day the two of you met almost a year ago and he’d remembered. 

~ 

The second thing on his list was show interest in your interests such as your favorite music. It wasn’t his cup of tea, but he listened to it. The two of you were currently in the car on your way into town for a late lunch. 

“Shall we play some music?” He asks as he turns on the radio. 

You groan, “Please Elijah, none of that stuff you listen too.” 

He chuckles, “None of that today...” He hits play and your favorite artist fills the speakers. 

“Oh my god! This is my favorite artist!” 

He smiles at your excitement, “it’s actually not that bad.” 

You gently hit his arm, “I told you just to give them a chance!” You’d been telling him for weeks to just listen to some of their songs and that he’d like them. 

The two of you sang, well more Elijah watched you with adoration as you belted out the lyrics. He almost told you he loved you then, but he wasn’t great with his words. 

~ 

The third thing on his list was writing love letters among other gifts. However, his love letters weren’t love letters at all. He woke up every Monday morning before you left for work to grab your favorite flowers and would write a small note attached, Good morning beautiful. Have a great day at work. xo -E 

He’d leave the flowers on your doorstep so when you’d leave for work they’d be there waiting for you. Monday’s were always the worst, but when you’d find those flowers on your doorstep it made your Monday’s even better. It left you looking forward to Monday’s. He almost wrote that he loved you on the note one morning but decided in person would be better. 

~ 

Elijah turned on the record player and soft music filled the living room. “Care to dance?” He asks as he holds his hand out to you. 

You laughed, giving a small curtsy, “Why I would love too.” You took his hand in yours and he pulled you into his chest. 

The two of you swayed softly to the music.

“y/n..” 

You pulled away from his chest to look up at him and your stomach filled with butterflies. This was it, the moment you’ve been waiting for. You weren’t blind, you knew now that these small gestures were his way of confessing his love. At least you hoped that was what they were. Would friends really buy flowers and leave a note every Monday morning just because they know you hate Monday’s? 

But you wanted to hear those words from him. 

“Yes?” You breath out. 

“I..I-” He gulps, the words are stuck in his throat. He shakes his head and clears his throat, “Nothing.. It’s just late. I know you have work tomorrow.” 

To say you were disappointed was an understatement. He wanted to tell you and he almost did, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. You felt yourself become frustrated, “yeah you’re probably right.” You harshly pull away from him and snatch up your things from the couch. 

“Is something wrong? Did I say something to upset you?” He frowns at your change of attitude and turns off the music. 

“It’s what you won’t say.” You can’t help the tears that fill your eyes. You wanted him to say it. You’d learned from the past that when a girl says I love you first, it scares the boy off or it turns out you read into it wrong and it wasn’t love, so you’re left in embarrassment. Your eyes meet his and then you rush out the door only to be greeted with a downpour of rain. 

Elijah uses his vampire speed to run to you, stopping you in your tracks, “Y/n please.”

“Just let me leave Elijah.” You try to put your bag over your head to shield you from the rain, but it’s no use, you’re already soaked so you let your bag drop back at your sides. 

“I’m not very good at my words. I thought the gestures.. I thought they would be enough!” 

“Well, they aren’t! I know you feel it when we are together. Tell me I’m not imagining things, that i’m not hallucinating that you love me!” 

“I-I..” Again the words are caught in his throat. 

You shake your head and push passed him. He knows it’s now or never. He must confess or he may lose you. 

“I love you!” He yells out after you, finally able to get the words out. 

You stop and slowly turn around to face him as the rain continues to drench everything around you. 

“I love you,” He breaths out once more, “I could never get the words out. I was a coward and thought the gestures would be enough to show you that I love you,” he shakes his head, “You deserve much better than me, better than what I can give you.”

“Elijah, you’re more than what I deserve. You’re everything I’ve always wanted in a man.” You take a few steps closer to him and you’re standing within touching distance. Your hand reaches out to cup his cheek, “I love you, too.” 

One hand covers yours and he uses the other to wrap around your waist, pulling you to him, capturing your lips with his.

Your arms move up around his neck and he moves his other hand to your hair, leaving the other on your lower back. There’s not an inch of space between the two of you as he whispers, “I love you,” against your lips. 

The two of you stand in the downpour of the rain kissing as if there is no tomorrow. There was nothing left standing in his way of getting you and the happiness he deserved. He finally had confessed those three words and now there was no stopping him from continuing to say them any moment he got. 

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[13eyond13]

Have go ever gone through goth/emo phase. I heard a lot of story about it and wonder does it cringe that much?

I don't know much about goth because that was a bit before my time. But I would say that "emo kid" was definitely the group I felt I belonged in most when I was in my teens? I was never one of the people who was actually really deep into the trendy/fashion aspect of it though, so I didn't look much like the ones you see now as the examples of what an emo kid looks like. I think I mostly just wore a LOT of eye makeup and straightened my hair constantly, and I also had a lip ring for a while (facial piercings were extremely cool at the time). Skinny jeans and black thick-rimmed glasses and sort of a mix between goth and geek and punk was the thing then, as was dyeing your hair black and having long bangs over one eye.... For example, this was an emoji I used to make all the time to make fun of myself for being emo: (/_-) I wish I could find pictures because I know that I have some funny mid 2000s high contrast pictures I took of myself with a digital camera very MySpace angle/angsty style.

Back then only the people who owned digital cameras or web cameras could take pictures for social media, and MySpace was basically the only big social media out there worth using at the time. MySpace was definitely the gathering hub for the trendiest emo kids to meet and show off their looks and taste and so on, and I used to lurk it because I didn't feel like I was old enough or cool enough to actually have a profile on it... it sort of felt like there was an unspoken rule to me that you also had to be in a band or be a musician to not be a poser for being on there, from what I remember. It seems like EVERYBODY was in a band of some kind they formed with a little group of friends, at least where I lived lol. And in the town where I lived a "scene kid" was a label that was similar to an emo kid, but kind of more hard/edgy/aggressive than an emo kid or something. They were always going to shows and dancing and moshing and stuff, and a lot of them were "straight-edge," which meant you didn't drink or smoke or do drugs, even if you were old enough to. They'd often have X's drawn with marker on their hands, which I think started as an indication that they weren't allowed to drink at shows, but later just became a symbol of being straight-edge? And I think that's also why a lot of usernames from forums back then had X's bracketing the names, too. I didn't go to any of these shows, but my older brother was sort of involved in them, so I'd catch some of what was going on through him. I still always wanted to see what everyone was up to on MySpace and check out all the cool looks and learn about new bands, though. It was WAY harder back then to just learn about other people out there who didn't live in your immediate vicinity, and much rarer to be able to find pictures or songs or videos for anything you wanted to see or hear or learn. You'd have to either buy albums or have someone burn you CDs for most music, or wait for it to come on the radio or TV.

I remember emo being pretty ridiculed a lot of the time by people too, including my older brother. He was more into hardcore/heavy metal stuff and often would make fun of me if he caught me listening to anything considered emo... Bright Eyes, for example, which was my all-time favourite band for a while... I would get teased mercilessly by him for how whiny the lyrics and the singing were (which in retrospect I now agree with him about, but at the time Conor Oberst was my biggest celebrity crush lol). Emo had a stigma attached to it based on how self-harming and attention-seeking and hating yourself was a big aspect of the identity, too. I thought most of that aspect of it was pretty cringey myself, but I did like the way you could express your sadder emotions and more vulnerable feelings through listening to the music and writing in diaries and such, so I think that's why I identified with it more than the hardcore music my brother liked.

Emo/scene kid culture was also probably one of the first ways I ever got a glimpse of a world where it was okay to be gender nonconforming or not straight, because it was very trendy to be androgynous and bi as an emo kid. So I think that was a massive part of the appeal to me at that age. Stuff like kissing people of the same gender and posting photos and videos of that online for other people to thirst over was a huge part of what I remember about it, and also a huge part of what other people mocked about it. I think queer and questioning people gravitated to it a lot because of that freedom to experiment and be ambiguous and open about gender and sexuality. Mainstream pop culture was pretty toxic and hateful and ignorant about anything queer most of the time in those days. Back then people seemed to barely ever talk about sexuality or gender unless it was to be homophobic or transphobic, and so there was definitely a lot of that tied into the hatred of emo culture as well... lots of F slurs being thrown around and mocking the dudes for being effeminate and accusing people of just pretending to be bi for the attention and so on. So in a way knowing someone liked emo music or participated in the culture somehow was a nice indication for me that they were probably more queer-positive and open-minded than many others were about it at the time, and also maybe queer themselves.

[rafael-silva]

catching fire: a multichapter tarlos fic

general summary: 

“Dispatch, we have a 10-33 at our location. Fire has ignited, we need Fire and Rescue, Medical and back up. Three individuals trapped, two officers and one civilian.” “Fire, Medical and back up is on route to you now,” comes the quick reply. “Officer Reyes, report.” Radio static. “Officer Reyes, report.” Silence. “Carlos!” Nothing.

Where Carlos and his partner respond to a noise complaint that quickly escalates into a blazing fire, putting their lives in danger. The 126 are called to the scene and TK’s heart drops into his knees when he learns that Carlos is trapped inside the burning apartment. The 126 frantically work to save the officers, and they deal with the aftermath together, as a family.

chapters: 4/? 

established tk strand/carlos reyes, major character injury, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, angst, whump, fluff, team as family, worried tk strand, hurt carlos reyes, angst with a happy ending, on call injury 

word count: 8.6k

on ao3 | ch. 1 - ch. 2 - ch. 3 - ch. 4

*****

chapter 4 snippet: 

All TK could do was wait as the minutes and hours pass by. He tries reading in the book his father brought him, the one that’s been on his nightstand for weeks, but he keeps reading the same line over and over again. He eventually gives up, tossing the book back into the duffel bag and settles in the chair by Carlos’s bed, watching the officer sleep with nothing but the steady beeping of the heart monitor for company.

Sometime after, his phone pings with a text from his dad, asking if everything is okay. TK quickly replies back, telling his dad there has been no change and noticing his phone has less than ten percent power, he plugs it into the charger his dad also packed for him.

TK falls asleep sitting by Carlos’s bed, and he’s woken up some hours later by aches echoing through his body from the position. He brushes a soft kiss to Carlos’s forehead and then lies down on the cot that was set for him. He sleeps for a couple of hours until he senses a nurse come in to check on Carlos, as it happens a few times throughout the night.

Sleep didn’t find TK during the night. Both his worry and the nurses checking in on Carlos every couple of hours combined together didn’t make sleeping an easy feat. He gave up on getting some shut eye, and started going through the side effects of smoke inhalation in his mind.

He himself had gone through it before, however, not as severely as his boyfriend. And quite frankly, it was a bitch to deal with. Uncomfortable, unpleasant and downright irritating. And as much as TK wants Carlos to wake up and to see his boyfriend’s captivating brown eyes, a part of him is glad Carlos is sleeping through the worst of it. Carlos will be feeling much better once he wakes up. He’ll be sore for a while, but the worst will be behind him.

All TK could do was wait as the minutes and hours pass by. He tries reading in the book his father brought him, the one that’s been on his nightstand for weeks, but he keeps reading the same line over and over again. He eventually gives up, tossing the book back into the duffel bag and settles in the chair by Carlos’s bed, watching the officer sleep with nothing but the steady beeping of the heart monitor for company.

Sometime after, his phone pings with a text from his dad, asking if everything is okay. TK quickly replies back, telling his dad there has been no change and noticing his phone has less than ten percent power, he plugs it into the charger his dad also packed for him.

TK falls asleep sitting by Carlos’s bed, and he’s woken up some hours later by aches echoing through his body from the position. He brushes a soft kiss to Carlos’s forehead and then lies down on the cot that was set for him. He sleeps for a couple of hours until he senses a nurse come in to check on Carlos, as it happens a few times throughout the night.

TK is woken up by sunlight shining into the hospital room. He yawns, stretching his tired muscles and his eyes quickly land on Carlos. He wasn’t woken up by the nurse’s last visit and he momentarily worries that something had happened while he was asleep. He sits up, his eyes moving from Carlos to the heart monitor that is still beeping steadily. He’s so caught in his panic that he hasn’t noticed the nurse standing at the end of Carlos’s bed.

She moves her attention from the clipboard where she’s recording Carlos’s vitals to TK. She smiles sweetly at the younger man. “Oh, good morning. Sorry if I woke you.”

“No, no, you didn’t. Haven’t been able to sleep well anyway. Good morning,” TK replies.

“Not comfortable?” She points to the mattress.  

“Oh no, it’s fine, I’m just…worried,” TK points to Carlos.

She nods.

“He’s my boyfriend. Best thing to happen to me in well…as long as I can remember,” TK continues, a small smile forming on his face.

“Injuries like his have a very high recovery rate, and he’s young, strong and healthy, he’ll be back on his feet in no time,” she reassures TK.

He nods. “Yeah, thank you. I’m a firefighter, went through this a couple of times myself but not severe enough for hospitalization. I know he’ll be fine, I just wish he’d open his eyes,” TK sighs.

“The doctor will be here soon to give you an update on when he can be weaned off the sedation and extubated.”

TK nods again. “Thank you.”

“I’m Olivia, by the way,” she smiles at TK.

“I’m TK,” he replies.

“I’m in charge of this floor, so if you need anything, anything at all, you can find me at the Nurse’s Station down the hall,” Olivia says.

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” he smiles back.

“I’ll be back to check on him later,” Olivia informs TK before she’s turning on her heels and exiting the room.

And then it’s back to silence, the only sounds coming from the machines attached to Carlos.

TK sighs, leaning forward and clasps Carlos’s hand with his own.

“Hey, babe. It’s just me and you,” TK whispers.

Carlos remains unresponsive.

An hour later, TK’s still holding onto Carlos’s hand and using his other to reply to messages from his team. He had received messages throughout the night and well into the morning, but had just gathered enough energy to start responding.

A knock on the door gets his attention, and he turns to see his father pushing it open and stepping into the room, two cups sitting in a holder in his grip.

The smell of coffee immediately hits TK’s senses.

“Morning,” Owen smiles at his son.

“Hey, dad,” TK replies, mustering a small smile himself.

Wordlessly, Owen pulls out one of the cups and hands it to TK, who gratefully accepts it with a nod.

“How’s he doing?”

“The same, nothing changed overnight,” TK shrugs. “The nurse said the doctor will come by later to give an update and to see when we can wake him up and remove the breathing tube.”

Owen nods. “That sounds promising.” “Yeah,” TK agrees.

“He’s gonna be fine, son.”

“Yeah, I know,” TK says, not fixating much on how his voice still cracks with those words.

He lifts the cup to his mouth and takes a sip of the hot beverage.

“I got you some time off,” Owen tells TK.

TK’s about to say something, as much as he would want nothing more than to spend time with Carlos and help him recover, he still doesn’t want to leave his team shorthanded. But it seems Owen can read his son’s mind, because he’s speaking before TK has the chance to.

“And we’ll be fine in your absence,” Owen reassures him. “Besides, if you do show up to the firehouse, the crew will be the first to tell you to go home to Carlos.”

TK chuckles, knowing that’s true. He’s beyond grateful for his team. His team who became his family.

“How’s your chest? Everything okay?” Owen asks, his voice laced with concern after TK pushes out a small cough.

TK nods. “Yeah, they gave me some oxygen last night after you left, but no trouble since.”

“That’s good to hear, but I still want you to go get your chest checked out again now to be certain there aren’t any problems or late onset complications.”

TK hesitates, his eyes landing on Carlos before moving back to his father.

“It’s okay, I’ll stay with him until you come back. Shift doesn’t start for a while anyway.”

After a moment of consideration, TK nods and gets to his feet. He brushes a kiss to Carlos’s forehead and watches him for a few seconds before leaving the room.

Owen falls into the chair that was occupied by TK. He reaches out and gently pats the officer’s shoulder.

“Hey, Carlos, it’s Owen,” the Captain breaks the silence. “TK is gonna be right back. Everything’s okay, and we’re all here for you. For both of you. You just work on getting better and don’t worry about anything else.”

Owen is leaning back in the chair, going through his phone when TK returns. He looks up as TK steps into the room.

“Hey, how did everything check out?”

“Everything’s fine, nothing out of the ordinary,” TK reports.

“That’s good,” Owen smiles. “No change here,” his smile turns sad.

TK nods, moving forward as his father gets out of the chair, vacating it for him.

“I gotta get to the firehouse, but if you need anything or anything changes, call.”

“I will, dad,” TK promises. “Thanks.”

After sharing a hug, Owen pats TK’s shoulder and with a final look at Carlos, he exists the room.

*****

Andrea stops by the hospital a little after noon. TK hasn’t really moved since Owen had left, he’d get up every now and then to stretch his legs around the room, but always finds himself returning to Carlos’s side after a few minutes had passed by.

He looks up and a smile spreads on his face when Andrea pushes the door open and walks in, holding a brown bag in one hand.

“Hola, Tyler,” she steps closer to TK, glancing at her still-asleep son.

“Hi,” he steps into her arms when she opens them, wrapping an arm around her but keeping his hold on Carlos’s hand with his other.

“How are you doing?” Andrea asks as they pull apart.

TK shrugs. “I’m okay.”

“You haven’t eaten,” she states, not a question. And from the way TK ducks his head, she knows she’s right.

She’s seen this play out endless times before with Carlos, especially during his Academy days. When he’d be so focused on studying, he’d forget to eat.

Andrea chuckles. “Don’t worry, I figured as much.”

She gestures to the brown bag, and the delicious smell of tacos surround TK and his stomach rumbles. A flush colors his cheek as he realizes just how hungry he is.

“Thank you,” TK says. “But you really didn’t have to—”

“Hush now,” Andrea interrupts TK. “You’ll need your strength to take care of Carlitos. I know he’ll want to go back to his own home, no matter how much his father and I would try to convince him to stay with us for a few days, and I know you’ll be with him at home. So let me help you keep your energy, that way I’m helping you both.”

Overwhelmed with emotion at Andrea’s words, he nods, accepting the food and her blessing. He always sensed it was a Reyes thing, giving all you got to the people you care about, and after hearing Andrea’s intentions and receiving her support, TK knows it’s most definitely a Reyes thing.

He excuses himself and slips into the bathroom, both to freshen up before eating and to give Andrea a few minutes alone with her son.

She’s smiling down at Carlos and running her fingers through his curls when TK emerges from the bathroom. They share a quick look before TK makes his way towards the small table placed near the wall where the food is waiting for him.

The room is silent take for the steady beeping of the heart monitor as TK eats, indulging in the bold flavors of the tacos, feeling satisfied as he takes one bite after the other. He cleans up once he’s done, throwing away the now-empty container and foil wrap. He washes his hands and then grabs the chair he was sitting on while eating, placing it on the other side of Carlos’s bed.

He reaches out, taking a hold of Carlos’s hand and running his thumb over the officer’s knuckles.

“His father and sisters should be here tomorrow.” TK looks up, momentarily putting the pieces together.

“They’re out of town for an event,” Andrea explains. “They know what happened, they’ll be back in Austin by tonight but their plane is landing after visiting hours.”

TK nods.

Carlos often spoke about his sisters, TK’s never met them in person (he did get introduced to them during one of the family video chats with Carlos) and he and Carlos had been planning a big dinner with Carlos’s parents and sisters where TK would get to meet said sisters, but then all this happened and well, life had other plans.

TK finds himself getting nervous at learning that he’s going to be meeting Carlos’s sisters in less than a day. Carlos had always reassured him that his sisters like him already and that there isn’t any reason to be anxious, but still, TK can’t help it.

Andrea’s saying something else then, bringing TK back from his thoughts.

“I’m sure Carlos will be awake before they get here.”

“Yeah,” TK agrees.

She studies him for a moment. “What’s on your mind, Tyler?”

“Hm?”

“You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Andrea gives TK an empathetic smile.

TK sighs, running his free hand through his messy hair.

“It was just,” he pauses, gathering his voice. “It was a really rough call. On any day, it was bad but this one…”

“Carlos was in that burning apartment,” she continues for him, understanding.

“Yeah,” TK whispers. “And I was terrified. I didn’t want to believe it at first, when they said he was in there…but then I saw his cruiser and he was no where to be found outside. I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my life.”

“I can’t begin to imagine being there,” Andrea says. “My heart breaks just hearing about it. But you have to remember, Tyler, you got him out of there, alive.”

“I can’t lose him,” TK’s voice breaks, his eyes filling with tears as he looks up at Andrea.

“You won’t,” she shakes her head. “He’s going to come back to us. Come back to you. You saved him, amor.”

From the way Andrea is looking at him, TK immediately reads into her words. The meaning of her words are oceans-deep, which he catches on through the soft look on her face. She doesn’t mean TK saved Carlos just from the fire. She means that he saved him.

“He saved me, too. In so many ways. I can’t even begin to explain,” a small smile spreads on TK’s face. “I had my walls up when we first got here, I didn’t want to be here. I felt numb all the time, got through the days and they all blended together. But then Carlos walked into my life, with his charm, kind heart and those beautiful, expressive brown eyes,” he lets out a wet chuckle. “I could get lost in them for days.”

Andrea chuckles the same, her own eyes now glistening with unshed tears.

“And slowly, those walls started coming down, and it scared me. It scared me to bits. Opening up in the past almost destroyed me, and I was so adamant about not opening up again anytime soon. I tried running away but I couldn’t stay away from him. There was this invisible string, pulling us back together. There were so many reasons for him to walk away if he wanted to, and I wouldn’t have blamed him. But he didn’t. He stayed, through it all. And I remember the moment I realized I wanted him to stay, and then it didn’t scare me anymore. Opening up didn’t scare me anymore. I knew we were meant to be together. It felt safe. He felt safe. I can’t put it into any other words except that he saved me, in every way a person can be saved,” TK pours his heart out, a tear slips and rolls down his cheek as he looks at Carlos, a gentle smile adorning his face, eyes radiating love and warmth it takes Andrea’s breath away.

“I didn’t know what it was at first,” she speaks after a few moments of silence.

TK turns his gaze to her.

“I noticed a difference in my son,” she continues. “He seemed…happier, lighter. We would see him on Sundays at his Tia Lucy’s place every week, sometimes he wouldn’t stay for long, other days he would stay, but he’d be quiet. But then one Sunday, I looked at his face and saw light. His eyes were brighter, smile wider. It felt like I got my son back. I didn’t know what had happened, and I didn’t ask, but it uplifted my heart. Knowing what I know now, I can tell that that change happened when you decided you wanted him to stay. When you let him in. You breathed fresh air into my Carlitos.”

Andrea gets up and walks around the bed. She carefully sits on the edge of the mattress so she’s facing TK.

She reaches out, taking the young man’s hands into her own and squeezes and her voice is filled with tenderness and joy. “Thank you for bringing my son back to me, Tyler.”

TK’s smile widens, more tears flowing down his cheeks. He looks at Carlos when he says his next words: “We saved each other.”

[miscellaneous-bnha]

A little Drabble about Shadow Demons Denki, Shinsou, Sero, Kirishima, and Bakugou with Reader (poly)

———————————————————————

You don’t know how long they’d been there, but you certainly remembered the night you discovered them.

Like hushed whispers, numerous voices bounced around your dark room, breathy and light despite being so charged.

It was just quiet enough where you couldn’t hope to understand what they were saying, not that your 3am fight or flight response is to listen in on hushed conversations in your room...

Especially when you live alone.

You snuck your phone out and pulled up the camera, pointing it in the direction you thought you heard the voices coming from and clicked the button. The flash lights up the room, but you sigh in relief when you don’t see anyone.

‘it’s all in my head’ you tell yourself, moving to delete the picture.

Only to realize there were several pairs of eyes staring back at you from the shadows.

You screamed.

——————————

You refused to stay alone in the house after that, daylight or no. Put out several ads for roommates, but getting absolutely no luck.

There was only so many nights you could spend at a cheap motel.

And as terrified as you were, you missed your bed.... and sheets that didn’t smell like wet mothballs.

So you finally went back home. The air was charged with some sort of tense energy, but you chalked it up to your own nerves.

‘There’s no one here,’ you think, but your brain seems to tell you otherwise; ‘you’re in denial,’ it whispers, ‘you know what you saw.

But you were tired of stiff sheets and soggy, partially frozen waffles; you would sleep in your own bed or die trying.

You start to finally slip under when you hear your name whispered in the dark. You bolt upright, startled, followed my a meek yelp of, “fuck off!”

Then suddenly a sense of overwhelming calm. Your eyes droop some and you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. You almost forget about the voice that called your name.

“Wh... wha...?” You slur,

“Shhh... relax... we aren’t here to hurt you.” The disembodied voice soothes, echoing around in your own head, “we’d never hurt you.”

“Who... are you...?”

“Don’t worry about that now... sleep.”

So you do. You dream about the voice, the voices. It soothes you, somehow

You wake up in a slight haze. There’s a storm outside; the power’s been out for who knows how long. The only light comes from the occasional lighting strike. You note that you don’t hear any thunder following.

You feel a cold hand over your forehead, but no body to match.

“Who are you?” You whisper, almost afraid to startle whoever they are.

“There are... several of us.”

“Then tell me.”

You learn their names; Hitoshi, Hanta, Denki, Eijirou, Katsuki.

The one who’d put you to sleep the night before was Hitoshi, and the one who woke you was Hanta.

You nod, eyes slipping shut again.

——————————

Over the next few months, you started to learn about them.

Hitoshi was particularly skilled in light hypnotism. More often than not (and with your explicit permission), he’ll help unwind you from a hard day. Voice soothing and melodic as he gets you to let go of the negativity that plagues you until you’re able to process them on your own.

“You’re okay, kitten. Just let go.”

Denki had the tendency to mess with the electronics in your house. Though not always on purpose, he’s fried a couple of kitchen appliances and a small radio that came with the place. You’re not too bothered, especially since you can hear the way he beats himself up over it.

“It’s ok, Denks. I know you didn’t mean it.”

Katsuki loved messing with your candles and the fireplace. Any time you had an open flame lit, he was certain to be near by, causing it to spark and crack. Sometimes you could see it spin into different colors, betraying what he says by showing you what he really means.

“Suki, I know you’re embarrassed.”

“Shut up, shitty woman! You can’t see me!!”

Eijirou liked toying with some of the things around your house, especially any comics you might have. Though he struggled with anything more than just turning a page, so you started to leave different ones laid around the house for him to pick and choose. He was always careful to make sure he didn’t accidentally tear the pages on accident.

“I see you really like this series. Do you want me to leave it out more?”

“Yes please!”

Hanta was the most capable out of all of them.

He was able to touch you with more that enough force to lift you, which baffled you at times.

You’d wondered why that was and asked the others about it, but they seemed to know about as much as you do. He implied to know the reason, but refused to share, even after you had begged.

Even so, it confused you, but you knew he would never be affected by blackmail.

A few months after you had grown fairly close with them, they started to show themselves to you; small features like their eyes, shape. Sometimes you’d see Eiji’s sharp-toothed smile glinting in the moon light when you would talk about your shared interest in comics and manga.

Katsuki’s spiked hair certainly threw you into fits of laughter, often calling him a Pomeranian. He always sounded angrier than he really was, making you laugh even harder. “Just like a Pomeranian!”

Though Hitoshi’s fluffy hair certainly wasn’t much different, you definitely couldn’t say he resembled much of a Pomeranian. More like... a Maine Coon. If you squint. Maybe. Possibly.

You noticed a little black lightning bolt in Denki’s otherwise blond hair. “It suits you” you said, smiling affectionately. You’d never seen an entity look so shy before, even in the movies.

Hanta had appeared so strikingly clear to you that it was hard to pick out any sort of feature that really stood out against the smoke-like transparency the others had.

His striking smile, his lanky form. The undercut/mullet (perhaps an undercut that got too long?).

Lanky, but certainly not weak.

Then, one night, the dreams started happening. Short bursts of nightmares before you were shaken awake by several touches and voices coaxing you out of your nightmare. Hitoshi often helped guide you back into a more peaceful slumber, making it hard to remember your terror the next morning.

But soon enough, it started to get harder and harder to pull you out until you were remembering full chunks of terror.

Eventually, you realized it wasn’t just nightmares, but rather memories. Things long since forgotten... or suppressed

After a particularly grueling night, you decided to confront Hanta, which led to a long and emotional talk.

He told you about how he’d known you when you were younger, more vulnerable to “his kind”. Shadow beings, he said. People who— quite literally— live in the shadows of living beings. A symbiotic relationship between creature and host. Most of the time.

Hanta had attached himself to your shadow when you were both very young. You hadn’t been afraid of him; quite the opposite rather. Hanta despised having been born a shadow being; felt it was unfair that he couldn’t walk hand in hand with you like others around you could.

But he never worried, especially when you always came back to him at night, telling him in hushed whispers about your day.

The real problem occurred when you’d met another kid your age with a shadow being less.... benevolent than Hanta. One who was out to maim and hurt.

You would have died if Hanta hadn’t been there, though it was agony, having been sealed away for at least a decade, watching through a glass as you grew up without a single memory of him.

Unfortunately, the spell you’d been put under didn’t quite work the way the priest had expected:

You became a magnet for wandering shadows, especially those who felt lost, leading Hitoshi, Denki, Katsuki, and Eiji to you, inadvertently sucking them into the bind that sealed away Hanta.

“But now you remember, mi amor, and that’s all that matters.”

You start to realize that having these boys were the best thing to happen to you, seeing as you’ve started to take better care of yourself now. Sometimes you find yourself smiling wryly when you start to think about how they start to become clearer and clearer to you (and you alone) in the daylight as much as they are in the dark.

It’s nice, you decide.

[kyotakumrau]

2020.09.19 ROCK AND READ 091 - interview with utA - translation PART 1/2

'I'll be damned, what was that?!'

Interview: Yukinobu Hasegawa

Photos: Yosuke Komatsu (ODD JOB LTD.)

Translation: kyotaku You can buy the magazine on amazon, tower records etc ฅ( ̳• ·̫ • ̳ฅ)♡

After Kyo, Takumi and YUCHI from sukekiyo, it’s time for the interview with utA.

He’s experienced white collar work in his hometown Niigata, but couldn’t give up his dream of being in a band, so he moved to Tokyo, his band 9GOATS BLACK OUT attracted attention because of their fantastical music yet then disbanded, but because Kyo had listened to their music utA has started a new episode of his music life.

We ask him about the very start of his interest in music and his life until now.

And then... With many interesting stories like the one about the eerie episode when he came to Tokyo, we can show you utA’s odd music history.

utA  / sukekiyo: profile & information

birthday March 26th. joined Kyo’s project sukekiyo as a guitarist in 2013. other members are Kyo (vocal), Takumi (guitar, piano), YUCHI (bass) and Mika (drums). their last release is the video compilation ‘LIQUEFACIO’ with the live footage from their show in Nakano Sunplaza in June 2019.

-- First, I’d like to ask you about the time you got into rock and playing the guitar. Were there any significant bands or guitarists for you when you were young?

utA: I think it was around elementary grade 5 or 6, it was X (-Japan). I was born in Joetsu city in Niigata, there was a CD shop stocked with v-kei and rock stuff there. It was a rural town, but at that time, there was a shop that was selling nothing but rock stuff.

-- It seems to be a quite early to start frequenting CD shops as a elementary school student.

utA: Yeah, I think it was early. I had a friend who was playing the piano, I heard him playing songs like “Silent jealousy” from X, I think that was how I got to know X and their heartrending phrases I love. After that I wanted to hear more from them so I listened to their first indies album “Vanishing Vision”. And then their first major release “BLUE BLOOD”.

-- You weren’t playing the guitar yet when you got to know X as an elementary school student?

utA: It was accidental, but my brother was playing the guitar. I think he liked ZIGGY, JACKSONS’N’JOKER, COLOR, BUCK-TICK etc when I was five. So I have seen my brother playing the guitar at home, but he didn’t influence me at all (laughing). I remember he liked to sing by himself while playing, I have this impression that he was a good singer, but didn’t play the guitar that well (laughing). But we were far apart in age, we weren't that attached, I felt if I just grabbed the guitar I could play. So I borrowed it and fumbled trying to play the songs as I listened to them.

-- But playing the guitar was then just something fun to do?

utA: It was definitely something fun, but I remember entering a music studio around junior high. I briefly started a band with friends. I guess there was no proper shape to it, but I wanted to play some songs, gathered friends and we played “Silent Jealousy”. I played the guitar, I tried really hard with the main phrases and so on. But I really couldn’t play well (laughing). My brother taught me things like A chord or E chord, in basic power chords, things like guitar solos came out very shaky. I recorded that. With a very simple cassette recorder with two buttons, play and record. I have no idea what happened with those cassette tapes, but I’d really kill to listen to them now (laughing).

-- To start a band and use a music studio in the junior high, that's quite remarkable. You were driven this much?

utA: Yeah, by X. I was also attracted by their looks and make up. It's not like all my friends were into the exactly same stuff but there were people who liked music. And there was one music instrument shop, I also went there often. The recording on the cassette tape happened at the end of junior high or start of high school. After X came LUNA SEA. It's a bit hard to explain, but in a way LUNA SEA matched my preferences better. Isn't LUNA SEA a metal band? With INORAN's clean guitar and SUGIZO's distorted guitar, this kind of separation was also novel. I got a shock running through me like 'I'll be damned, what was that?' There is such an awesome clean guitar like that? I though cleanly played super impressive phrases were amazing.

-- Your guitarist opinion was born at that time.

utA: That's right. It was a great impact, from creating sound, through phrases all the way to arrangement. I needed to know how do they get such beautiful sound. Until then I kept thinking that guitar sound should be distorted. I also learnt from music magazines etc that with a delay and chorus you will get a nice effect. And I remember listening to late night radio show "Break Out" or it was in some magazine that SUGIZO advised 'you can get our sound if you use an effector like this'. That's why the first effector I bought was the delay and chorus. My brother had the ones to create distortion, so I only had to add the delay and chorus. I also used my brother's Fender Made in Japan Strato(caster), so it was perfect for clean sounds.

-- So when you became a high school student did you get even more friends interested in music?

utA: I did. I would start talking about music right after coming back home. My home was our hanging out place, people were often surprised by the amount of CDs in my house (laughing). Listening to songs, we watched live DVDs and we all talked about the cool phrases we heard. And then I decided to buy a guitar model used by the artist I liked. So then it was exciting to talk about saving up for one (laughing).

-- You were already using a Stratocaster, but had another guitar you wanted?

utA: Now I know well that Fender’s Strato is a really good guitar, but at that time the look of the guitar was very important, it felt like strato was too simple. And that’s why I bought a guitar used by the artist I haven’t mentioned yet, so it might feel like coming out of nowhere, but it was the model used by Shin from Kuroyume. It was a Les Paul Model that came from GrassRoots, with two single coils. One of my friends was a big fan of Kuroyume so I often listened to their music and really got into Shin’s playing style. Les Paul models have nice shape and they can produce both clean and distorted/dirty sounds, so I decided to get Shin’s model. I was torn if I should get INORAN’s model instead, but it gave an impression of clean sound and because I also wanted to produce distorted sound I went with Shin’s. As a stupid kid your whole evaluation criteria is based on the sound created by the musician, right? Ah, but I just remembered that time I chose single coil. Even though for rock you’re much better off with guitars equipped with Humbucker.

-- You’re using the Fender’s Strato with sukekiyo.

utA: I am. I’m also using a Dragonfly, I’m swapping between them with a tap switch. If I had to say which is better, I like the sound of the single coil. I definitely got influenced by the clean sound created by INORAN. Even now I care a lot when creating clean sounds.

-- When JHS students get into bands and guitars, isn’t it easy for them to get easily misguided? They start to neglect their studies, join some band as a bassist, choose their high school based on the chances of starting a band there and so on.

utA: By some band you mean sukekiyo (laughing)? I don’t have an interesting story here, I really did my best studying as much as I could. My parents were so amazingly kind/supportive so I wanted to make them happy. I still feel like this. I didn’t want to give them any shock (laughing). At that time I remember I often felt they would be happy if I got good test scores. And I simply hate losing. I’m not someone for whom studying comes naturally, so I remember studying extra hard before the tests. In the past we also got ranked (depending on the test scores) so it was another motivation not to lose. But well, I ended up losing (laughing).

-- So you properly continued to high school?

(kyotaku: in Japan compulsory education ends with junior high school at the age of 16; high school is mostly for the sake of going to university.)

utA: If possible I wanted to go to the a good high school, but my teacher told me ‘it might be a close call so it’s better to go there’ (laughing). I went to the school they recommended. It wasn’t a normal high school, it was a technical school.

-- You get specific qualifications. So the course of your future was decided then?

utA: I loved music and guitar, but I didn’t see it as my dream future then. That’s why I was planning on going to university. If not I would be starting work, so I wanted to go to university. At the technical school you learn things like civil engineering or construction. So I applied for the referral to the university that had classes like that, but I was rejected. And I came to hate studying for entrance exams so I gave up on university (laughing).

-- Didn’t Takumi go to the university to study designing?

utA: He did. In this we are a bit similar. Our personalities are totally different, but we definitely share some things like our roots and some points. Takumi managed to go to university though, as I failed to get referred I had to look for another way (laughing).

-- And finally we are talking about starting a band?

utA: No, I started to work full time. At a surveying office in Niigata. I worked there for about 2 years. I hated studying for the entrance exams, but I got the national qualification for surveying. I remember I was thinking that if I have to do it then I have to get it and I was studying like crazy (laughing).

-- When you start working full time I think you shift to a totally different mode from being a student.

utA: Yeah, it was like that. But even as I was doing my best at work, after coming back home from work I was just listening to music all the time. And I spent all the money I earned going to music stores and buying up all the CDs. I had meant to enter a different mode but in the end it wasn’t possible. Most of the bands and musicians who were releasing music at the time were the same age as me, or just a bit older.

-- Did you start to feel a bit envious, feeling more that you could do that as well?

utA: Yeah. I started to write my original songs a bit from the end of HS. I was thinking that if I could make music that was my own style I could make it in music. That feeling has not changed until now.

-- If you were to describe your first original song, what was it like?

utA: Simply saying, it was very influenced by LUNA SEA (laughing). It wasn't a metal song, but it had clean and distorted sounds layered. I created 2~3 songs before I turned 20.

-- Did you do anything wanting to release those songs?

utA: So. I'd made a firm decision to quit my job at surveying office. When quitting I said honestly 'I want to pursue music, so please let me go' (laughing). And then my boss and coworkers cheerfully told me 'then do it!' I even had a farewell party with 'let us know when you release something' (laughing).

-- But for parents, there's no way they reacted like that. Like, 'my son who tried so hard, started working and even got a licence, now wants to quit to do music', there's no way a parent would be happy about that (laughing).

utA: You're right. My parents had a lot to say. It was probably the biggest nagging of my life, seriously. It was worse than puberty (laughing).

-- But you didn't change your mind?

utA: No, the need to pursue music was stronger than that. I quit my company when I was around 20, started to look for band members when I was around 21, when I actually managed to start a band I was around 22~23.

-- Did you try contacting your band mates from elementary and jhs times to network?

utA: I stayed in touch with my classmates, but they totally quit music. There was no way for a deep talk there. That's why I had to do it by myself, in a way starting from zero. First I started to look for band members through the music instrument shops. I've made posters about looking, wrote my contact information, the type of posters where you tear off the bottom bit. The shop staff let me post them in their shops.

-- A simple method. If I remember right, people used to post some self-introduction and a description what kind of band they'd like to do.

utA: I will again add another band name, but I listed X, LUNA SEA and La'cryma Christi. I was also hit hard by La'cryma Christi's worldview. Even as I heard about them quite late, I think after I graduated high school. X, LUNA SEA and La'cryma Christi had the biggest impact on me. My 3 pillars. I absolutely adore La'cryma Christi's "Henseifu". The moment you hear the song doesn't it feel like various scenes just come up?

-- Those scenes are stateless.

utA: Exactly, they are stateless, and full of sadness. When I first heard the 7/8 time signature, I was surprised like 'I'll be damned, what was that?' I was totally owned by that worldview. At that time, La'cryma Christi was my number one. For a while now I've been friends with HIRO, was able to play together with them once and even had a photo shoot together.

-- But currently TAKA is working in a jewellery industry, no? By the way, when you posted your 'looking for band members' ad, how many replies did you get?

utA: There were few, but one came from someone with whom we formed a band at the time. In 2013 my own band had disbanded, but I was most surprised when contacted by the guy who then spent all this time with this band. He asked 'please let me join', but I also asked him formally to join. I'm talking about the bassist, hati.

-- This band we're talking about is the visual kei of Niigata that has changed several times?

utA: Yeah. First it was Laypua, after that Layarch, then Rayarch. It was changing keeping the 'Lay/Ray' connection. The live performance activities were focused on Niigata city.

-- From looking for the band members to the formation of the band it took about one year, during that time were you writing original music ?

utA: I don't think we had more than 10 songs,  but we had enough for one album. The band that done those songs took about one year to finally start activities. At the time, there was a music club (live house) near Niigata station called Z-1. I think now it's called CLUB RIVERST., my first live performing experience was at that club.

-- So it was the first show as a band that is the first step in following your dream. What was the response like?

utA: I think it was really terrible (laughing). At the time it was when we just decided our form/style, so we just went with 'let's hope this is cool enough' (laughing). I was looking for guitar phrases that would be very me, but I couldn't play them at all. We were trying really hard only with things to show, we also had heavy make up. For the so called artist photos, our vocalist was very skilled with creating great photos, so there was a lot of 'let's do make up more like this' etc, so at the meetings of band members the topic of the vusuals came overwhelmingly more often than music (laughing).

-- Your songs were similar style to La'cryma Christi?

utA: Nope, I loved La'cryma Christi, but our music was more like 'The Visual Kei' style. For our worldview, it felt like there's still more to come. It was quite heavy rock, could be said it was Tsutatsuta-kei (laughing). I was playing in this band in Niigata until I went to Tokyo, for about 4, 5 years.

(*Tsutatsuta-kei was a v-kei subgenre that developed in the early 2000s, as you can imagine from utA's comment it's heavy and fast; and like Nu Metal that influenced the subgenre there's a lot of shouting, and unconventional structures and variety of different styles)

-- If you continued for that long it means you had to have some fans?

utA: In Niigata we did, yeah. I felt 'I can do it' as it wasn't a band with no fans, so from the band's later time I started thinking about going to Tokyo. In Niigata what we could do was limited. So I told the band 'let's go to Tokyo, but most of members wanted to stay in Niigata. Each of them had their own life there.

-- Did other band members have proper jobs?

utA: Nah, everyone was working part-time. All of us prioritized the band. That's why I suggested we should go to Tokyo, but only me and hati, the bassist, were interested. And we left our home Niigata with guitar and bass for Tokyo having only about 40~50k yen between the two of us.

(*400~500 US dollars, 300~400 euro)

PART 2 HERE

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Breakthrough' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"Breakthrough"

"The following fight you will do is going to be inside of you, Yirina."

Chapter Summary : As her worst fears became real because of Stitch & Freya, Yirina is forced to relive the same implanted memories she was given by Adler but she need to stay strong to win....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3300

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

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I couldn't resist, I couldn't fight to avoid this to happen again....my worst fear came to life this day and if it wasn't the CIA this time, it was now much worse with Stitch in command of the whole thing. All he needed to do was to put me on that stretcher, forcing Park to watch me suffer on it while everyone around was witnessing the whole thing : Freya...and also Dedov, Zasha's brother. He was certainly brainwashed by him as he wasn't able to recognize me and Stitch stepped in to avoid me to talk more...until he pronounced the phrase....

My body was in an little pain when I opened back my eyes in an slowly way, my head hurting me behind and feeling that I was something that was reversed. When my eyes were fully operational, I could see that I was in an crashed Huey while sounds of fighting all around me was getting heard all over the place. It was just me...only me in that chopper, the pilots were dead and the others did already left the wreck before me. I removed the belt that was attaching me to one of the seat before my body went almost limp as I got away.

"Fuck, my head." I grunted in pain after that little fall from my seat, holding my left hand behind my head as I crawled to the only opened door of the Huey, finding that I was at almost 5 meters from the ground.

"Bell !" An voice came into my head. As I thought first to be Adler, it turns out to be Stitch himself, he was the master of my actions. "You crashed down but you didn't hesitate any second, you jumped out of the wreck." He said as I was watching down and unfortunately, I had to follow his orders.

"Shit." I muttered before I could jump out of the Huey but I was nearly going to fall with my head first on the ground. I managed however to fall on my feets but I was like pinned down. "Damnit !" I almost shouted after I nearly got killed by that fall.

"Bell, take this !" An american soldier arrived near me, holding an M16A1 in his left hand, another in the right one.

"Thanks." I told him, taking the gun in hands.

"Come on, let's show this viet-congs what are capable of." He nodded at me as he was going to walk back into the battlefield but the first thing he saw was an viet-cong soldier charging at him with an bayonet strapped on an AK-47 and bad for him as he was hit by the soldier at the chest but I shot 3 bullets in retaliation against the enemy but it was too late to save the american.

"You took his M16 and you joined your brothers-in-arms to neutralize the ambush the viet-congs did against you." Stitch spoke up, causing me to move without disobeying his orders as I joined up an cover with another american soldier.

"Heartbeats is fine for the moment, sir !"

"Good, let's continue the memory."

"Bell, good to see that you're went out alive." The soldier I was next to me in cover taunted me, looking at him with curiosity inside of me.....what am I doing ?....."Bell, you're here ?" He demanded, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

"Yeah, I'm here." I broke away from my thoughts, regaining consciousness of the situation.

"These viet-congs are blocking the way for you to get to that bunker, help us for that and go for your objective." He suggested, putting his hand on my left shoulder.

"And what about any supports ?" I questioned him, getting out of cover to fire some bullets on an few soldiers that attempted to charge us. "I don't have support ?"

"You got this, Bell." The man told me with an suspicious grin as he fired away with his M16.

I don't know how I could feel about all of this, it was so real but also so fake at the same time as I realize that I couldn't let myself get hit by an bullet or trying anything stupid. Like this american soldier said, I had to help those men to eliminate the viet-congs for me and I did. I could have let them like that but I'm not like that. It took us only 2 minutes to get rid of the enemy presence in the sector and everyone was cheering for that victory...not me....

"Come on, your path is free !" The same man told me and I had to comply but to go alone in that dirt path that was going deeply inside the jungle.

"Good, you're following the orders, continue !" Stitch expressed, hearing his voice through my head as I arrived near an crossroads....the same one I was faced....one to the left leading to the jungle and an village, the middle inside an old temple and the right one, leading to the river. "The russian bunker were on your right by the river, you need to take that path." He ordered as I was staying still in the middle of crossroads.

"Go fuck yourself !"  I cursed, trying to break the control that he has over me as I decided to disobey and to take the left path, going inside the jungle.

"Her heart is starting to go faster, Stitch, what's happening ?"

"She's disobeying the orders, let's inject her again !"

"Sir, we have to let her finish the scenario or it will have bad consequences."

I walked myself inside the jungle at my left but then, I stopped myself  when I saw an white light coming out of the tree and knowing the danger, I fired some bullets in its direction and when I was finished, the light wasn't anymore and the body of an enemy soldier fell of the tree....before someone tried to charge me with their AK-47 but this time, I managed to counter him with my own M16 and to take his gun in my own hands before I could stab him with his own bayonet.

An deep breath and I was back on walking again...until I arrived at that same wooden bridge I could remember this well. The time was like stopped in that part, seeing american soldiers fighting against some viet-congs soldiers that surprised them but then....on the side of the bridge, I could see him....like I did before....Lazar, standing up and looking at me, wearing that same Burger Town shirt.

"Lazar !" I yelled, passing through the frozen soldiers, starting to cross the bridge by running forwards. "Laz', don't go !" I exclaimed loudly as I was seeing him going to the left again, walking very fast. "Lazar." I whispered when I arrived at the other side, looking at my left as I thought to see him again but he was walking too fast.

At my left where Lazar walked, I know that I will have to help another group of soldiers and it was the same thing at my right. I couldn't go back to the bridge, an wooden barrier having literally spawned behind me, making me realize that each step made was meaning that I couldn't make an simple step back behind. I was forced to advance without looking back...I was trapped.

"Let's go....let's go to the left." I chuckled to myself, engaging myself into the path that Lazar took and as I was in the middle of the way, my M16 suddenly disappear from my hands to be replaced by an sniper rifle....an Pellington 703. "What the...." I whispered, discovering the gun in my hands.

"Help ! Over here !" The voice of an man was echoing at the end of the path, urging me to run to its position....to discover an american soldier with an radio near him. "Bell, here !" He said, having seen me arrive....is everyone one knowing me here ?

"What's happening ?" I asked him curious as his men were fighting viet-congs near an house.

"I called an napalm strike, use your rifle and take out all the enemies you can shoot at until our boys arrived." He proposed, making signs towards my rifle, obligating me to use it against the enemies.

I was forced to do but I had no choices but to fire with that sniper rifle against the viet-congs position that was harrasing the soldiers downhill and an few shooting at our position until the fighters arrived at our sector, two F-4 Phantoms dropping their loadouts of napalm on the house, eliminating  every presence of these viet-congs in the sector and again, causing the americans soldiers to cheer in triumph.

"I love the smell of napalm in the morning !" The man that was using the radio scoffed around before he look back at me. "Go on, Bell, go check that bunker." He ordered, pointing at the distinctive red door behind the flaming ruins of the house.

"On it !" I complied before I start to go down the hill, keeping that red door in visual until...I could see Lazar, in front of the door. "Lazar, wait !" I yelled again, dropping my sniper rifle on the ground and starting to run towards the red door, traversing through the ruins to join the door.

"You arrived at the bunker, open the door, Bell !" Stitch asked me to do and I took an deep breath as I opened the door but instead of finding an hallway, I was like in an black void with only an torture chair, with me.....Park & Adler near it before the two were getting switched between 5 seconds of Stitch & Freya.

"She's trying to struggle, what does that mean ?"

"She has finished the first scenario but she's not in the bunker, Dedov !"

"Let me find the new injection quick, sir !"

"So, they're doing it ?" I turned around to see Lazar standing just behind me, slowly walking towards the torture chair with me. "The CIA and now....Perseus."

"I couldn't resist, Lazar." I breathed, catching back my breath after everything I've done for the moment. "I'm....losing this fight, you see what they're doing."

"I know but it's not the end !" He exclaimed as the switch of the duos stopped, only showing Freya & Stitch near the torture chair. "I know that you're better than this."

"I want to think about that but...I basically lost any hope now." I expressed, feeling this pain in my chest, trying to look away from him in shame. "I've been told that I'm better than this but at moments, I'm feeling that isn't true at all." I added, holding my left arm, the wound I had in real life....taking form here. "I want help but where I can find it ?" I asked him.

"You don't need help if you already have it, Yirina." He replied, sounding very sure of his words as for me, I was looking at him back with narrowed eyes, slowly moving to get to him.

"What...why ?....where's my help ?" I asked again very curious as I was going to touch him...until he got transported at an few meters behind him.

"Here's the injection for the next scenario, our last one for the day !"

"No time to waste, Stitch, inject it now !"

"Yirina...just....take care of her, okay ?" He demanded from me as he pointed towards me, something getting wrapped around my waist before I realized that it was something hooking me to a rope going up.

"No, no, no !" I raised my voice, trying to remove that rope from me before I got myself ejected away from him. "Lazar !" I screamed in pain as my eyes were forcely closed by something or someone.

"Bell !" Stitch's voice spoke up. "You need to stay focus on the mission, you got to go to the bunker in the jungle." He exclaimed as I could feel him near me in the real world. "Bell, we have an job to do !" He repeated, causing me to blackout and feeling to return back into the beginning.

"Fuck, my head !" I muttered again as I found myself back into the crashed Huey, hanging in the trees but this time, already removed from the seat.

"Your helicopter crashed down, you jumped and you go help the americans." Stitch ordered, sounding an bit annoyed as I moved to get to the only opened door of the Huey.

"Not again !" I muttered before I redid the same landing back on the ground, this time fully-controlled and not even having an scratch or any pain on my body.

"Bell, take that gun !" The same man as before arrived with the same M16 he handed to me....in that...other scenario.....

"Thanks." I nodded to him but as I already knew what was going to happen, I shot bullets towards the soldier that was going to charge him with his bayonet, saving the man's life....and this...it was looking to change something....

"Damn, you...you saved my life." The man was looking surprised and shocked by that, thinking that he was going to die, needed to die. "How...how did you know ?" He asked me.

"Just...thanks me later !" I told him before taking his own gun to give it back. "Now, go help your friends." I suggested with an grin.

"Yeah...I will...thanks, Yirina." He expressed, sending chills inside my body...my real memories are looking to interfere with my implanted ones.

"Something's wrong here, there's things that shouldn't be happening !"

"Sir, her heartbeats are fine, they're nothing wrong !"

"She's making good progress, Stitch, continue your orders !"

"Bell, you took that rifle and you go help your 'brothers-in-arms'." He repeated again in an clear voice and no longer annoyed tone and by that, I started to move to the same cover I used before, with the same guy as before but now, also with the man that I saved an few seconds ago with him. The situation were looking more better, Stitch becoming less present in my head each time I was firying my M16 and then, looking at the direction of the dirt path....I could see...

"Park ?" I whispered, seeing her standing from afar at the beginning of the dirt path, like if she was awaiting for me.

"We're progressing good !" The saved man exclaimed, peaking his head towards the paddy fields. "Yirina, did you see Park over there ?" He questioned me, making my eyes go wide....everyone in the implanted memories were starting to know my real me.

"She's at this dirt path, you need to get to her quick before they started all over again." The other man told me as we were both seeing Park slowly leaving the path and the terrain behind me, disappearing.

"If we don't do anything, he's going to inject her, man !" The saved him expressed, looking worried as an little tear came out of my eyes, this was becoming so real to me....

"Let me think..." The other man started to think while the bullets were flying above our cover before he reloaded his M16. "Ok !" He breathed before he looked at everyone on the american side. "Everyone, at our mark, we charge to let Yirina pass to the dirt path, we're doing this for her !"

"Understood !" Some americans soldiers said in unison as the two with me were putting their knifes as bayonets on their respectives M16s as for me, I was getting to run towards the path.

"CHARGE !" The other man yelled, launching the suicidal assault of every americans soldiers towards the viet-congs position and me, receiving an nodding of the man I saved before I started to run to the dirt path.

"Thanks"  I saluted the men quickly for their courages as I arrived near the path, an tears on my eyes before I started to run through it. "Park !" I shouted her name as I arrived at the crossroads, seeing Park going to the left.

"Bell, the bunker is in front of you in the temple, enter it now !" Stitch ordered in an strict voice but Park went right down the river and there were no red door in front of me so...fuck his orders !...

"Like I said, go fuck yourself !" I repeated my insults to him as I runned to the right path, going down to the river.

"Her heartbeat is going off the charts but...she's following the orders !"

"I asked her to go in the middle, not the right path !"

"Sir, you have confused the future scenarios for her, she needed to go to the right !"

"No, I was clear and she disobeyed, let's inject her again !"

"I'm not letting you do this, Stitch ! You can kill her because of you !"

"Park !" I continued to yell as I arrive in the level of the river but then, multiples red doors were starting to fall over from the skies.

"Bell, you need to open this door, NOW !" Stitch proclaimed loudly but I couldn't enter any of this doors, I needed to continue to find Park.

He was certainly controlling some parts of the implanted memories like Adler did but he wasn't able to control the real piece of it....me ! I navigated through the river, avoiding the multiple red doors from Stitch until I could see Park entering one red door at the end of the river near an fall, meaning that this one were the right one to take but Stitch was persistent, he was still ordering me to enter one of these fake red doors but I fought...I struggled...I avoided his traps and I managed to reach the real red door and to open it.

When I entered, I was back into that same black void I faced earlier but this time, it was just an vision of Park herself with nothing around her....nothing and just her in front of me. I slowly walked towards her, exhausted and my arm wound reappaering again like if I was making an real discussion with her. I couldn't know what to think right now.

"I know that you were going to do this !" Park started, sounding very positive as I was troubled.

"Did I ?" I asked her, worried.

"Of course, you won, Yiri !" She turned around to look at me with an smile...something I was able to do for the first time inside those implanted memories.

"How...how did I won, Park ?" I demanded, curious, still moving to get to her.

"You didn't see ?" She whispered with an grin. "You managed to control those implanted memories from Adler, judged impossible to do." She explained, joining her hands together. "The people you saw first, they were adressing you as 'Bell' but then, they realized....that you....you were more than just that." She added, also moving to me.

"What does that mean ? I won but my situation....." I stopped myself, falling on my knees, completely exhausted by everything, my both hands on the ground.

"They're thinking that they won you back for the moment." She revealed to me. "They thought that controlling you after having faced MK-Ultra was going to be child play but you proved them wrong." She continued, kneeling in front of me.

"I proved them wrong." I said in an low voice, looking down at the invisible black ground.

"I gave you the means to fight the MK-Ultra, Lazar also did, Bell too." She told me, getting slowly my attention on her face as I slowly realized what 'Bell' in my dreams was trying to do....give me hope...."You won that fight, Yiri." She expressed, putting her right hand on my left cheek, causing me to install comfortably my head in it.

"The scenario is finished, now is time to await for her to wake up !"

"Good ! Wraith, call me back when she's back in our world !"

"Listen, we don't have much time but hope isn't lost." Park make me listen as we both feel that this moment were going to end soon enough. "Our way to leave this hell...will be in the inside, you will get us out of here."

"I will do it, Park, I promise." I promised her, starting to slowly cry before I moved my arms around her to hug her and she quickly reciprocrated the move with me, holding each other as my body were starting to go limp, meaning my passing out was here....

"We will escape this hell together....like we both promised !"

[chemicalarospec]

A Look At Dan’s Recent Branding

AKA I Make Up a Bunch of Stuff About Media and Perception and Promotion and Branding and Say the Same Things Over and Over

I’m so sorry this is actually horrendously long. I’m a loquacious a$$hole.

So I started rambling in the tags of this post began thinking about Dan’s  presence recently. The reason so many of us fell for the red chairing was because it actually seemed possible -- perhaps not a proper joint video, but a cameo or side role.

Now that the video’s out, I can see it has very strong Solo Phil vibes, but I can still imagine a few different ways Dan could have been in it if he wanted to be. (Side note: It also feels like a run-of-the-mill, everyday, video, though seasonal, and not a festive special, despite the content. idk, I blame it on the lack of decoration and boring grey wall. cue clowning for more spoopy content though.) Dan is not in the video, so he must not have wanted to be in it. Why? 

Before I talk more, let’s just talk about “branding” for a bit. I use it interchangeably with “image”/”public image”/”public persona”/”common connotations”/”associations” here (kinda wrongly), but I default to “branding” because it’s what the phandom (possibly even Dan and Phil themselves?) use the most frequently -- “image” is perhaps the best-fitting term. Regardless, in a very general example, if Stephen King wrote a fluffy teenage romance book, it would be “off-brand” for him. That’s what we’re talking about here. Except with Dan and smaller differences.

It’s also worth noting that Dan and Phil were not always Dan-and-Phil -- I remember seeing an early liveshow clip where Dan says they’re not a double act. I’m pretty sure the radio show in 2013/early 2014 followed by the launch of the gaming channel in 2014 is when they became a “double act” --  the BBC absolutely billed them as such. 

You can see what I’m getting at here: Dan is trying to drop the “and Phil” in a softer way than he dropped the “isnotonfire” back in 2017. However, it’s definitely worth noting that he had already distanced himself quite a bit from it before the official name change, with first the shorter fringe and then the curls being a visual representation of that. And it’s probably just a mental thing on my part, but curly Dan now looks different from curly Dan-with-Phil.

Okay so first, why is he trying to change his image? Like his first evolution, a major component is being more mature -- llamas and malteasers didn’t simply not represent Dan anymore, they represented a younger, less mature Dan. He didn’t like it anymore. Does Dan not like who we view him as now? My first instinct is “no,” because his current connotations are fairly empty, but I don’t really know, so I’ll just move on.

What do we associate with Dan right now? i. e. what’s “on brand” for him? Well, again, there’s not a lot of strong specifics, at least for me. After two years for being nearly absent from the internet and very clearly growing a lot as a person, Daniel hasn’t talked enough for there to be only the basics left: tall, British, memes, and gay.

Okay, but the gay. Dan and Phil have been out for one year, but being part of The Gays is a pretty big part of their branding. This is because of their already long-standing reputation, more specifically their attachments to the community -- all those teenage girls turning out to be lesbians and, of course, the shipping.

The Gay is also an answer to the next question: What different aspects of his image is he pushing? Again, that he’s more mature and serious -- the UN talk, for example. I’m not counting the book here because that’s the product of the changes, not content being used to create a shift.

The big thing I want to focus on is the attitude video series. I’m very curious as to how this came about to be and don’t know enough details to say some things, but one thing I can note is that the plug for You Will Get Through This Night is a really small part of it. It’s literally the last thing he says, and they don’t even show the cover. It’s so skippable, and while it’s good that means they all really care about the important content of the series, it does create some questions.

To be honest, all of the attitude/This Night content is kind of strange to me. For example, the quote they used to promote it doesn’t mention the book, which just looks bad. This Night isn’t really the center of the collab -- it’s more general mental health awareness and activism.

So that’s the first thing Dan’s trying to put into his image. The podcast (Get Britain Talking or something like that) is, I feel, more directly part of marketing This Night, though of course, like with the video series, the content itself is emphasized and important and I should treat it as such.

Back to attitude. attitude is “the UK’s best selling gay magazine.” Why is Dan trying to build connotations to things he already is? No, but actually this gives insight on how he’s trying to be perceived: he’s a confident gay man. This magazine with its connotations (formal media, queer, well-established) will come up should someone new search up Dan -- obviously that’s not the direct reason; it’s a representation of his public image. 

Why is he trying to create this image? Right now, us in the phandom are probably 90% of the people tuned into Daniel’s actions. We’ve already built up a lot about him, and though we don’t want to admit it, we do like Dan-and-Phil, the double act. Overall, I do think Dan will not change our image of him as much as he’d like, but he has changed it more than we might think -- for example, people talking about how “mature” and “grown-up” he is in new photos. 

I think I’m just stupid, but these pushes don’t seem to be needed for You Will Get Through This Night. Okay so the problem here is “how do you get people to buy a book?” An author’s broader public persona doesn’t really impact this. I’m not going to hear about a mental health book written by an ex-Youtuber and search up the author. I’m not going to hear about a mental health book written by an ex-Youtuber in my normal book searching, period.

You know where I could see myself finding out about a book like this, and what would get people to buy the book? Doing mainstream interviews specifically about it; I’ll read TIME interviews with anyone, so long as it seems mildly interesting. But Dan’s not doing that, not a lot, not yet. (I bet he will later.)

I guess what I’m saying is the attitude video series is periphery media that impacts his branding but does not reach a large audience; it’s impact is atmospheric, not promotional.

(Dude it’s 10:30 at this point I’m not sure what I’m saying.) (also I rearranged these paragraphs sorry if it reads poorly)

Dan is a private person. He has made this extensively clear throughout the years and in the most recent content. What this means is I don’t believe he wants to update his branding just for the sake of accuracy to self.

So it’s (partially) for something else, but the public framing clearly goes beyond This Night. The obvious answer is that Dan’s just trying to return to the public eye, but then I still ask why???

The attitude series is not an end goal -- i. e. it is a building block for something. I mean, I just don’t think Dan’s like “yeah I want to create content again and this is the content I want to create,” simply because it started out seeming like an extension of the interview and now it’s clearly more than that, but it’s still like, for the magazine. It’s not his.

So what’s Dan going to do with this status of being a queer content creater and mental health advocate he’s curating? So remember how there’s a 99% chance he’s doing something w/ television but there’s been no official announcement? Yeah, that. 

I had a few paragraphs talking about book-adjacent media (interviews, reviews, ect.) vs television-adjacent media but all of it was me 100% making stuff up so it’s gone now. Basically, I *think* if he were to make a show, fiction or non-fiction, people would search him up and write a small description of him, and I *think* this is less likely for You Will Get Through This Night, so I *think* this reputation-building is in preparation of the former, not the latter.

Isabelle, you spent over an hour on this, do you actually have anything interesting to say?

Freaking *waves hands* promotional-- social dynamics-- what the heck actually is branding at this point-- Dan show.

TL;DR: It might just be the French in me (or just *my* French relatives?), but life is manipulation and Dan is trying to drop “and Phil” from his name and is manipulating his public image to be more mature, with a focus on being one of The Gays and a mental health advocate. Because it’s not vibin’ as This Night promotion/set-up, it is likely setup for promotion for another project, probably the TV one.

TL;DR 2: Just read the tags on the original post I literally didn’t have to say any of this except for “television theory”.

[sophfic27]

The Mysterious Watch (You know the one)

Read on AO3

First, Previous, Next

Chapter 3: Small Talk and Ugly Curtains

Word Count: 1,735

The car was quiet for a few minutes as Yaz followed the directions from the phone. Yaz considered turning on the radio but decided against it. She wondered what kind of music Jo would even like. She glanced to the woman on her left, who was watching the scenery scroll past. She wasn’t sure she would ever adjust to Jo being Jo, it was just too weird. She kept going over the differences in her head. Most importantly, Yaz hoped she would have her friend back to normal soon, but she knew it was important to the Doctor that she played along.

She glanced over to Jo again, and she suddenly became curious about her. The Doctor implied that Jo was fully convinced she was a real person, which meant she would have a background: memories, attachments, a life Jo wouldn’t be aware wasn’t real. Yaz was curious about what she thought and knew, so finally breaking the silence, she asked a question. “So, Jo, where are you from?” she asked, figuring she might just start simple.

Jo glanced over to Yaz. She hesitated for a second before answering. “Huddersfield,” she finally responded. Yaz nodded thoughtfully, the answer made sense with the Doctor’s accent. She wondered if the Doctor had planned that specifically. If not, how much of Jo had been automatically generated by whatever process the Doctor had undergone to become human? Jo cut into her thoughts. “What ‘bout you?” she said.

“Here, actually,” Yaz replied, “I’m from Sheffield.”

Jo nodded, “convenient mission for you, then,” she commented.

Yaz looked at her briefly. “Yeah, it is.” So much for no aliens in Sheffield, she scoffed internally. She decided to press a little further. She was curious to ask about UNIT but decided to avoid it, in the case that asking triggered some realization. Instead, “chasing down aliens. Not really where I saw my life going growing up,” she said.

“No kidding,” Jo chuckled lightly, “when I was a kid, I wanted to be a Doctor,” she said. Yaz blinked but didn’t say anything. “How I wound up doing this, I have no idea.” Jo threaded her fingers together behind her head, leaned back in her seat, and turned her head to look at Yaz more fully. “What did you want to be?” she asked.

Jo was doing the small talk for her, Yaz thought with amusement. She considered how she would answer, and decided the truth wouldn’t be too dangerous. “I was a police officer, actually,” she said.

Jo raised her eyebrows. “You were a cop?” there was a hint of mirth in her voice.

“Well, I was a probationer,” she said. She cocked an eyebrow at Jo. “Why? What’s that look for?”

Jo shook her head lightly. “Nothing,” she said, “just, I’ve met a few police, had to deal with them on the occasional mission. So many of them are so stubborn, refuse to believe even what’s right in front of them.” She looked back at Yaz. “But not you?”

Yaz thought of the first time she met the Doctor. She wondered if Jo’s comment was based on some residual memory of that day, and of her. “Actually, I kind of was,” she mused.

“What changed?” Jo asked.

Yaz suppressed her instinct to respond, “you.” Instead, she went the vague route. “Saw something I couldn’t deny,” she responded. “Once I knew what was out there,” she looked over to Jo, holding her gaze for a moment, “well, there’s really no going back to normal after that, is there?”

Jo studied her. “Guess not.”

Yaz turned her eyes back to the road. “What about you?” she asked, “what were you doing before this?”

Jo looked back out the window of the car. “I was just traveling. Got dragged into this stuff by chance.” A very vague answer, Yaz thought. “We keep up this ‘getting-to-know-each-other’ talk, and this’ll start to feel more like a first date than a mission,” Jo quipped. Yaz scoffed, slightly shocked by the comment. She saw Jo drag her eyes over Yaz from out of the corner of her eye. “Not that I’m complaining,” Jo drawled.

Yaz felt her face get hot, and she looked over at Jo. A smirk played across her face when she met her eyes. Yaz looked away quickly. Her thoughts raced for a minute before she realized they had arrived at the warehouse.

“We’re here,” she blurted, looking for anything to kill the buzzing in her head. She parked and started to unbuckle and get out when Jo stopped her.

“Hang on just a second,” she said. Yaz stared at her in confusion. “We’re going to go in there and talk to the renters and find out what they’re using the warehouse for.”

Yaz suddenly remembered what they were her to do. “Right, so how do we get them to talk to us?” she asked.

Jo reached into a pocket of her jacket and produced a familiar leather object. “Psychic paper,” Jo announced, “this’ll get us in.” She smiled confidently.

Yaz nodded. “Okay, that’ll work,” she said.

Jo went to unbuckle her seat belt as she explained, “since I have the psychic paper and the info, I’ll do most of the talking. Follow my lead, keep an eye out for anything weird that you might see,” she looked up and met Yaz’s eyes, “and use those police skills to see if they say anything shifty.”

Yaz nodded again, “it’s a plan,” she said.

Jo grinned and climbed out of the car, Yaz following suit. She locked the car and they approached the entrance together.

The building was large and relatively plain. There was a set of steel stairs leading up to the door. She could see big metal panels she guessed could probably be opened for loading and unloading trucks. Jo and Yaz climbed the steps together. Jo tried the door, which opened easily. It lead immediately into the main warehouse. The ceilings were high, there were boxes all over the room on palettes, and there was music echoing around the place from a stereo somewhere in the back. The echoes garbled the sound too much to actually identify what was playing. Yaz and Jo scanned the room, but there was no one immediately visible. Yaz heard someone laugh from somewhere to the right of the large room. She and Jo exchanged a look, and she knew Jo heard it, too. They made their way toward the sound. They discovered a small office in the back right corner of the warehouse. Through the window, Yaz saw a man sitting in a chair, facing away from them, and on the phone.

They approached the office, and Jo knocked on the open door. The man turned in his chair to see them, and Jo gave a small wave. He turned to speak into his phone. “Hold on just a minute, mate, someone’s here to talk to me I think,” he said. He waited for a few beats, and Jo gave Yaz an exasperated glance. “Alright, I’ll call you back in a bit,” he said and tucked the phone into his pocket. He stood and wandered over to where Yaz and Jo stood. Yaz took in his jeans, ripped at the knees, his plain grey tee, and his ratty flannel jacket. Unimpressive, but not particularly alien, she thought. “Hi, can I help you?” the guy said.

Jo produced the psychic paper once again, showing it to him. “Hi, we’re from the rental company,” he squinted at the psychic paper and then looked at Jo, “we just wanted to ask a couple questions,” Jo explained. “What’s your name?”

He looked between the two women. He was only an inch or two taller than either of them. “Carl Mason. I’m not in trouble for anything, am I?” he said nervously, “I thought all of our rental stuff was in order.”

“It is, we just need a few details about your usage of the space,” Jo continued. Her voice was level, professional in a way the Doctor rarely was.

Carl looked confused and a little suspicious, so Yaz decided to add in, “don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. We just had an issue with a renter using a space,” she paused for effect, “inappropriately.” Carl nodded, as if knowingly. “So now we need to check in with the renters with more vague descriptions of usage in the application.”

Apparently satisfied, Carl started to walk over to a small filing cabinet in the office. Jo gave Yaz an impressed look. Carl came back with a manila folder. “Well, no issues here, just me and some mates selling our curtains.” He handed the folder to Yaz, and she opened it to find a series of curtain designs.

Jo leaned over to look at the folder. “Curtains?” she asked, looking back up at Carl. Yaz flipped through at least five pages of some of the ugliest curtain designs she’d ever seen.

Carl nodded proudly. “Yep! Me and my mates designed them ourselves!” he announced happily.

“It shows,” Jo muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Yaz to hear, but not so much that Carl seemed to notice. Yaz glanced at Jo, stifling a chuckle.

Yaz closed the folder and passed it back to Carl as Jo said, “Right, thanks, mind if we take a look at some of your boxes? And then we’ll be out of your hair.”

Carl nodded and said, “sure, go for it.”

Jo and Yaz split off to explore the warehouse. Yaz scanned the whole room, looking for anything out of place while Jo pulled open a few cardboard boxes and dug through their contents. Neither found anything noteworthy. They came back together, Jo shook her head and Yaz shrugged slightly. They turned to say goodbye to Carl, but he had already disappeared back into his little office, now typing something on his computer.

Jo looked at Yaz. “D’you just want to go get a drink or something?”

Yaz blinked at her. “Isn’t it a bit early in the day for that?” she said incredulously. Jo just shrugged and started to head for the door. Yaz followed her helplessly, wondering if the Doctor drank. She didn’t remember ever seeing her drink. Maybe it was just a Jo thing. Despite only knowing Jo for a few hours, she thought she was starting to get a better feel for who she was, independent of the Doctor.

[seeds-and-sins]

F**kin’ Diabolical (Chapter 3)

Master List

Pairing: Homelander / Original Female Character, Billy Butcher / Original Female Character

Rating: M (Strong language, sexual themes)

Decription: Carly Danvers is a reporter/radio show host/annoying little piece of- For reasons unknown to Vought, she decided to start a one man investigation on Vought’s operation. Her efforts had been quite successful so far, so much so that Stillwell would have done anything to see the young girl dead. Turns out Stillwell didn’t have to do anything at all, while one piece of evidence against Vought causes Danvers to fly too close to the sun. And Homelander flies after her.

Chapter Summary; Carly wakes up in a hospital, with no idea what is going on, and she has a special visitor.

    When she awoke, it was like rising to the surface of the ocean after having held your breath for so long. She jolted upward, eyes wide, sweat pooling on her body, a sizzling noise started around her and she huffed. The beeping to her right intensified, she brought her palm over her chest, wires for miles and sticky slabs attached there. She ripped them off, the beeping became louder, and her hands gripped firmly at the blankets on her...

"Shhhh..." A hushed whisper came from beside her, and from the corner of her eye a figure of red, white, and blue leaned down, breathing fanning out over her throat. She felt her breath hitch at the sensations, everything consuming her body and then the leather that pressed down onto her hand. Her head snapped in the direction of the whisperer, bright blue eyes meeting her own, a straight smile. "Shhh, now." His hand removed itself from her own, pressing now gently onto her stomach, urging her to lay back. As her head touched the pillow, her eyelids closed shut again and her breath gradually began to even out. "That's it." His footfalls distanced themselves, and when she had herself more calmed, she glanced over at him. His cape still fluttering out behind him, arms crossed as his gaze was straight out the window.

"H-Homelander," She choked out, realizing how sore her throat was, her fingers tenderly came up to clutch over the area. "What happened?" She groaned when her head throbbed once, and her palm then pressed to her temple.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Homelander started, completely ignoring her question, her eyebrows furrowed when she heard something hit the marble floor on the other side of the door. It was like a needle in a haystack in her mind, and soon she could hear everything from afar and within, conversations, the ding on the elevator, doctors and nurses, and- "Don't worry about them, I asked you a question." Still staring out the window, his voice carried a threat that she didn't want to know the other half of. Carly swallowed, and huffed out a breath as her body relaxed in abandon into the plush sheets.

"Yes." 

"I thought you were so goddamned annoying," He pointed a finger up, "But ever so brave, and tolerant, and intelligent," He faced her, pacing towards her with a half-sigh, "outspoken, soft, and compassionate." He licked his lips, she lost herself in his brilliant blue stare. "Do you remember what you told me?" Her expression contorted into confusion, he shook his head at her lack of a response, a slight smile tugging at his lips when he pondered the memory in his head, thoughtfully so. He paced back towards the window, flicking his fingers out to spread the blinds, the sun shining out onto him. "Well, I do." His voice turned stale and placid. "You told me that, 'Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power.'" His neck shot out as he heard her snort, her hand washed over her face and when she removed it, she was carrying this lethargic smile.

"Abraham Lincoln." She rasped, he smirked and nodded his head. 

"Yes," He almost skipped back over to bed, pulling his cape out behind him as he settled on the edge, as if he was about to read a bedtime story. His leather glove slapped down onto her free hand, trembling slightly from some of the leftover adrenaline as she woke. The longer she stared at his smile, the more her own had come to droop. It was altogether eerie, and intimidating. He cocked his head at her, almost admiring her, but with that smile she couldn't tell what he was doing, or going to do. "I can't wait to see what you do with all of that power." His words sent shivers through her, thoughts and unshakable memories, and she sat up again, all to abruptly. "Now, what did I say?" He warned sternly, she flipped her hand over and grabbed his, gripping it with all of her might. He allowed her to do so, feeling the strength in her grip was all the more exciting. She would be perfect, and Stillwell could go fuck herself, corporate could go fuck themselves. 

"I-I-No-That's impossible." His lips pursed, other hand reaching up to cup her cheek, thumb caressing down over her lips, his cheek twitched at the thought that he might finally rip into them full force without worrying about killing her. He immediately dropped his hand limply, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. 

"I wish it was so." No, he didn't. "But this is a good thing. You're like me, now." 

"Homelander, I don't ev-" He interrupted her with an eye roll that translated into amusement.

"Shhh, you don't have to say anything. I will take care of all of this, alright?" He patted the sheets and his smile turned more into a tight lipped. "For now, you need to be careful, okay? You are armed and extremely dangerous, as they say..." He snorted, leaning in and whispering from the corner of his lips. "The last thing Vought needs is you wrecking an entire hospital." He laughed as if it was some joke. "So, I will go see about some clothes for you and we will get this show on the road, huh?"

"C-Clothes?" Her lips parted, the shock finally hitting her as she realized that the nightmare she just woke up from, it was real.

"Yeah, your other ones..." He relayed a false cringe and shrugged. "Bullet holes. Everywhere." She gasped, but his finger wouldn't let her as it shot up to her lips. "But that's okay, alright? It's completely under control, now. I am very proud of you actually, you did so good for your first time." He praised with a coo.

"But what did I do?!" She blurted out, a panic attack starting to come on. She tried to temper it with deep breathed, rational thinking, Homelander simply watched. His head tilted and he winked at her, pointed comically and then stood up, peeling away her hand. 

"Nice try, but I will have that be a surprise."

"Please, stop." She whimpered out, tears sliding down her cheeks. "What-I-I'm scared." 

"Ohh, Carly..." He crossed his arms. "You should have thought of that before you broke into a fucking lab, huh? I mean, really, I told you to stay away and well..." He shrugged, then began a sway towards the door, a chippier way about his step. He grabbed the handle on the door and looked back at her one more. "You and I are going to have a lot of fun. I can already see it." He disappeared out the door and Carly sat with her lips parted in shock, furious tears streaming down her cheeks. All the blood and the gore, and then the fire, oh the fire. She did that with her eyes?! She closed her eyes, fingertips tracing over her thin eyelids and then she sobbed. Her body hunched over and she cried hard, holding her elbows with so much might she wondered if she could break her own self into pieces. She wanted to. The idea was thrilling almost, that she could die right this moment. She wished she could. 

   It was chilly, what little light that reflected through the sliding glass door settled onto Carly's navy blue dress. The sounds of conversation and classical music muffled by the outside. Though the clouds carried over the sky and what little stars could be seen, Carly felt more comfortable in the suffocating atmosphere than inside. She heard the glass doors slide open behind her, politely choosing not to glance over at her company. In fear of it being another guy she had been trying to evade that night. 

"Now my, oh my, I must be quite lucky..." Her eyebrows furrowed at the familiar jest, the warmth settled at her side and she finally met his steel gaze. He grinned at her, openly looking her up and down, sending a wink in her direction. If it were anybody else, they'd be head over heels at the presence of the great and mighty Homelander, but Carly was hardly stunned. No one was truly famous or popular in her eyes, and Homelander soon found it so at the way her heart rate remained at its regular pace, no blood pressure rising over normal, sweaty palms, or frantic shyness. "To find myself in such gorgeous company." He finished, she nodded at him and then continued admiring the skyline. "It's awfully cold out here, sweetheart, what finds you all alone?"

"I don't really like people." 

"Oh, come on, people like you I'm sure." She knew that it was all an act, and his eyebrows furrowed when her stare read right through him. Strands of dirty blonde fluttering in the wind as that wind brushed past them, she leaned more into the metal railing and cocked her head at him curiously.

"Ya'know I could ask you the same thing myself, right?"

"What, exactly?" He crossed his arms, finding his back against the railing as his eyes now focused on the crowd of aristocrats and rich folks inside, swarming like bees to their honey. 

"What are you, the fierce and magnificent Homelander, doing out here?" He snorted, chin dropping to his chest and then he tilted his attention towards her with a handsome smirk. 

"Fierce and magnificent, huh?"

"Yes, that's what everybody thinks, right?" 

"Hmmm." She heard the rubber of his glove squeak in his fist, jaw tightening as his eyes hovered for too long over her chest. She cleared her throat, crossing her arms and his eyes found hers again. 

"You're not abusing your powers are you?" He chuckled darkly and bit at his lip for a moment, then shook his head. 

"What powers exactly do you speak of?"

"You do have x-ray vision last time I checked. You can see through everything..." She walked out in front of him and his eyes followed behind her as she found herself on the other side of him, against the railing again. She considered him with a seductive grace that made his lips part and his irises widen with arousal. "Even through my dress."

"I suppose I could, is that an invitation?" He stepped closer, perhaps to get a reaction out of her, testing the waters, by shortening the distance between them. For a moment, as close as he was, she welcomed the body heat in this cold.

"Even if it wasn't, you'd do it anyways." They were inches away from each other, the urge to just grab her, was very present in her mind. His foot came out to get even further, their chests touching and he had to look down to get a better view of her. She was absolutely stunning, all plush lips, bright eyes, and acute features.  She certainly would be one of the most beautiful to have graced his presence. Granted, he hadn't even gotten permission yet, but the urge to just take her either way was crawling through him. Her palm met his pectoral and she had done it in this way that made her all the more alluring. "You know, there is this quote that makes me think of you..." He gulped, hoping to hide the desperation to hear and know her next words, perhaps all the more sexual and then all the more an invitation for him to just have her right here on this balcony. An absolute stranger of a woman, but he could care less.

"Tell me." His voice cracked, even though he was trying so hard to keep himself composed. His fingers had left dents in the railing, surely, from how hard he was trying to restrain himself.

"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power." Homelander wasn't sure if the words annoyed him, or more enthralled in her mystery, but he wanted more of it and that really did annoy him. She then subtly brushed all of herself against him as she passed to rejoin the party. She turned in stride and back peddled towards the glass door. "And also, you really shouldn't flirt with everything that walks your way, Homelander. You might not like who you bump into." She teased, disappearing through the doors and into the sea of people, his eyes still following her as she went. 

  Later that night, while Stillwell and him had found themselves off on the sidelines, having a brief conversation about the night's events, he asked about her. 

"Oh, her? Not worth your time. That's Carly Danvers, and she's a fucking splinter in my ass."

"That, so?" Homelander's jaw tightened, he hadn’t stopped looking at her the whole night. For someone that didn't really like people, she knew how to play a crowd very well.

"She hates Vought, and has been doing an investigation on us, what a little bitch." Homelander tried to hide his smirk as he sipped from his glass.

"Hmm, why did Vought invite her then?"

"It's all publicity, John. The girl is an absolute train wreck for us, but the closer she is the less we have to worry about her, I guess." He nodded his head silently, but in all actuality, he really couldn't stop looking under that dress.

  She didn't realize how hard it was to control one's strength with this much power. After finding some self control in Homelander's absence, she decided to get the hell out of there; A lot easier said than done. As soon as she put her feet down, little cracks formed in the tile, she was practically tiptoeing and still crack after crack forming as she went. There was no way she wasn't going to draw any attention to herself, especially the way she was trying so hard to refrain from blinking or swinging her arms around. She was like a ticking time bomb without a clock, ready to explode at any point in time, she could accidentally kill everybody in a matter of seconds. What scared her even more was blacking out again, and then killing everybody without even being present for it. 

   In her efforts to prevent herself from putting her feet through the floor, she didn't realize how much time had passed. The door opened and in came Homelander, she wasn't prepared for his entrance. And even as he stood before her, she tripped over her own tippy toes and landed on the foot rest of the bed, causing the metal bars to dent inward and break in half under her weight. Homelander sighed, he closed the door behind him, a set of clothes in his hand, he tossed them onto the side of the bed that wasn't horribly broken. 

"What did I tell you, Carly? Look at this..." He muttered something under his breath as he wrapped his arm under her armpit and picked her up to drag her towards the bed. She sat down, although it was now slanted downwards, and she crossed her arms in a pout. "Look at the tile, Carly. You fucked up the tile." He snapped, gesturing to the white marble that was now tarnished with cracks and dents in the shape of feet. In an effort to ignore him, Carly grabbed the clothes he had found for her, a part of her wondering why it had taken so long. Then she saw, a familiar pair of sweatpants, lingerie red underwear and an ACDC shirt...

"These are my clothes." Homelander took a deep breath, and crossed his arms. 

"I had to swing by your apartment, I didn't know what size you wore." Her eyebrows furrowed at him.

"And how did you know where I live?" He could have looked it up, but his reaction in regards to her question told her otherwise. She didn't know why it was this particular thing that made her snap, but it did, it really did. She stood up, feet leaving harsh imprints in the tile and she stormed up to him. Her finger pointed, accusing in his face and she grunted angrily, trying to find the right words for how irritated she was. "I want to know what the fuck is going on?! How do I go back to being normal again?! I am not some hero! This is fucked up and-and..." her words trailed off, eyes going wide as her head started to level with Homelander's and beyond. She looked vacantly down at her now floating feet, swinging her arms and legs around. All rationality left her and she reached out for Homelander, who was amused, taking in the spectacle before him. "Homelander, please! Help!" His thumb and point fingers gripped under his chin as he analyzed her approach towards the ceiling. 

"Fascinating feeling, isn't it?"

"Please! Let me down! Help! This is wrong! This feels weird-This-" 

"Alright, alright! Just fucking shut up for once." He grabbed her wrists and yanked her back down to his level, using his body to take in the momentum of her descent and she collided hard against his chest. She grabbed his shoulders with that strong grip of hers, his hands still thumbing along the pulse points on her wrists and he smiled down at her. She huffed defeat and dropped her forehead to his chest plate. 

"What do I do?" She mumbled, and Homelander's hands found either side of her head, forcing her to look back up at him again. The bleary, teary eyed look she gave him sent something through him and he sighed, shaking his head. Matching those beautiful eyes of hers with his own somewhat amused, somewhat enthralled look.

"You listen to me, and you do exactly as I say. Do you understand?"

"But-" 

"Shhh..." His hands shoved her face back into his chest, despite her physical protests, and he rested his chin on her head, giving her a false comfort. "You belong to Vought now, Carly. And you belong to me." He said those words with such sinister satisfaction. Hearing those words was when Carly knew, without a doubt, that she had made a grave mistake. A big one.

[themuzzleofnemesis]

2-Memory of the Forest; Scene 10

The Muzzle of Nemesis, pages 83-89

It had been a very long time since I had last visited this village.

The village of Yatski. To the old me this place, established just to the north of the Millennium Tree Forest, was little more than a path between the forest and Aceid. That hadn’t changed even now. …Or it shouldn’t have.

There wasn’t anything good on the menu in the bar I was at, but I couldn’t stand my hunger any longer. I wolfed down some food that I’d ordered offhand.

--Earlier today I had entered into the Millennium Tree Forest alone. It had been eleven years, but it had still once been my home. Ordinarily there was no way that I could get lost in there.

But…It was no longer the forest that I remembered. I had anticipated that it wouldn’t be very well upkept given that the Held devotees and woodcutters had left, but it seemed an even greater change than that had enfolded the forest.

Its trees were withered, it was filled with ferocious beasts that shouldn’t have been there, dotted with bottomless bogs—how could it have transformed so much in so little time?

The house that I had spent my youth in had already been torn down. Built in its place was a theater called “Evils Theater”.

There was currently a rumor that the late Gallerian Marlon’s legacy lay sleeping there, but that was meaningless to me.

My reason for entering the forest was to search for the former head of the Tasan Party, who had since separated from the movement. Evidently he had gone missing after heading for the forest seeking a sword that was a family heirloom.

His attachment towards that sword had always been somewhat abnormal. He must have reasoned that it was currently in the theater, given that Gallerian once stole it from him.

If the former head of the Tasan Party…Gammon Octo…was still alive, then perhaps he was in that theater—with that in mind, I’d tried to enter “Evils Theater”.

…Ultimately, it didn’t go that well. I was attacked by a woman in a red dress and the twins who served her, just barely managing to escape back here—

They had certainly looked like people, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind they weren’t “human”.

The reason why they have come to call this place “Evil’s Forest”—I suppose I could gather that just by feeling it on my skin.

I had no choice but to give up on Gammon. It’s hard to imagine he’s safe and sound in a forest with such monsters running rampant inside it.

I would just have to do things on my own from here on out, without relying on him. …As the new head of the Tasan Party.

The sun had already set. I considered staying at an inn here in the village, but Aceid wasn’t all that far. It seemed a better idea to leave the village right away, when thinking on how things would be from tomorrow on. My time off ended today.

I paid my bill and left the bar.

Right when I tried to get into a carriage waiting for customers, someone grabbed my arm.

I swiftly knocked the hand away and looked over.

“Did I startle you, miss? I apologize—You are Lady Nemesis Sudou, the head of the Tasan Party, are you not?”

There was a short old man there. He was dressed neatly enough, but I also didn’t get the feeling that his clothes were of good make.

“What do you want? I’m in a hurry.”

“My master has said that he wishes to meet with you.”

“I don’t know anyone in this village. If he has some business you can come to Tasan headquarters tomorrow and tell me then.”

“…Nikolay Tolle.”

“--!?”

“That is my master’s name. He said that you would surely meet with him once I told you—”

“—Where is he now?”

“He is in a mansion on the outskirts of the village. It is not that far from here, so we can go on foot. I will show you the way.”

I could scarcely believe it…hearing that name, in this village.

.

Nikolay was lying in bed.

According to the servant who had led me here, a heart disease that he’d struggled with for many years had taken a turn for the worse, and he didn’t have much time left.

“Oh my, if it isn’t Nemesis…It’s quite chilly today.”

Nikolay seemed far more elderly than before as he weakly spoke to me.

“I’d had no idea you were living in Yatski village.”

“I couldn’t stay in the forest like I was. I had earned your mother’s wrath.”

“Was that…because of me?”

“Indeed. I hadn’t fulfilled my role.”

And there Nikolay began to cough painfully.

His servant standing nearby had him drink some medicine, and finally he settled down.

“Nemesis…you’ve grown up splendidly. I heard the other day that you were promoted to the head of the Tasan Party.”

“—A lot’s happened since I saw you last. My friends in Zeus were all killed in prison, and only I survived. Then I wound up working for Bruno. As a member of PN’s hidden face…’Pere Noel’.”

“But eventually you betrayed Pere Noel…Then you started a civil war, and became a hero to the people.”

“You’re well informed.”

“I check the news on the radio every day…As I did in the past.”

Nikolay must have learned of the S.S. Titanis sinking via the radio, back then. And then he had soon realized that Mr. Ziz and I were the culprits.

“Nikolay…There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“Why you betrayed me that day—You said that it was because you couldn’t allow my crime to go unpunished, but I get the feeling it was more than that.”

“Oh?”

“I had the chance to learn more about you after joining Pere Noel. …Your real name is ‘Hanma Baldured’. You were originally the director of the Dark Star Bureau, and you took bribes to declare many criminals innocent—the opposite of what you told me.”

“You are correct. I was the same sort of man as Gallerian Marlon, who you killed.”

“I can’t imagine that a man like you would sell out me and my friends just out of a guilty conscience.”

“…I’ve gotten forgetful as I get older. I don’t remember what I was thinking eleven years before.”

“…”

“…Maybe I was afraid of you. Even so I didn’t have the courage to strike you down myself—so I thought I would leave you to the law…or rather, to his judgment. Maybe I thought that was the most just thing I could do, at the time.”

A breeze blew in from the window.

Nikolay looked to be shivering from the cold, so I moved to close it.

“Thank you—And, I’m sorry. I had no idea that such a thing would happen to you and your friends before the trial was conducted.”

“Jorm Zusco—He killed my friends when he was trying to escape from prison. I’ve confirmed that Jorm himself died just the other day.”

“Did you kill him?”

“I wanted to, but no. He took his own life before I could find him. So revenge is impossible to me now.”

“…If it’s revenge you want, you can still achieve it.” Nikolay slowly sat up. “Me. You can get your revenge indirectly by killing me. I’m the one who caused you to get forced into prison, after all.”

Nikolay’s eyes seemed as though he was looking right through me.

It was true that there were times I had wanted to kill him. As revenge for my dead friends—but now that my gaze was upon him as he was now, I couldn’t help but hesitate.

“…It wouldn’t mean anything. You don’t have much longer to live anyway.”

“That depends on how you—and I, feel about it.”

“I don’t hate you anym—”

“Don’t say anything further. There are some things you need to set to rights to move forward. …Have you got a gun on you?”

“…Yeah.”

I pulled out my revolver.

My “Naga Custom .44”…I made a rule of using this gun any time I killed someone for revenge.

Despite my taking out a gun, the servant showed no fear, only standing rooted to the spot.

“Don’t mind him watching. I have known Hodr—my servant—for quite some time. He understands everything. Even if you kill me he won’t try to have you indicted for it. And there’s little risk of anyone else hearing the gunshot at the outskirts of the village like this.”

So then—he wanted to be killed by me, rather than dying by illness.

Then I would have to answer that.

For revenge.

And to repay him for looking out for me when I was young.

I pointed the muzzle of my gun at Nikolay.

“It seems your doubts have vanished, Nemesis. You look at peace now. But if I were to ask for one luxury…I’d have been happy for you to shed at least a single tear on my behalf.”

“…I’ve already resolved to never again cry while shooting someone.”

.

I pulled the trigger.

And then it was over.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[fablesrose]

Of Kings and Shadows XXV

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Notes: On Wattpad –> Here

 Series Masterlist

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

The next day Loki came and tapped on my little corner with enthusiasm.

Guess what I brought!

I hope, for your sake, that you aren't holding something up for me to see, 'cuz that would be embarrassing since I can't see it.

Loki started to sputter a little bit, I'm not an idiot Y/n, honestly!

Just making sure.

He projected an image to me unexpectedly, which gave me a headache momentarily since I was still focusing my sight through my eyes. It was a little blurry while I tried to focus on it and not the smudged splotch of color on the floor the same color as my face and hair. Luckily it didn't take me long to recognize what he was showing me.

My phone? Don't tell me you've been keeping up with my Tumblr... Do you even know what that is?

You wound me.

I snickered at him.

No, I did not go through your social media. Rather, I thought you would enjoy listening to your playlist.

A feeling that can only be attributed to a favorite song washed over me at the thought of it. The radio that Loki had put on in the down-time was great and all, but nothing could compare to the playlist you made with your heart and your own hands.

I spoke quietly, Yes, I would like that. I would like that very much.

He wordlessly connected my phone to the speakers and put it on shuffle. I instantly recognized the song, but I had to wrack my mind for the name.

Out here in the fields I fight for my meals I get my back into my living I don't need to fight To prove I'm right I don't need to be forgiven

I smiled and hummed along, occasionally mumbling a line or two when it came to me. Loki stayed silent, but I could tell he was listening in contentment.

Don't cry Don't raise your eye It's only teenage wasteland

I just let the music surround me in a way I haven't felt in years. I almost forgot the situation I was in.

Sally take my hand We'll travel south cross land Put out the fire And don't look past my shoulder The exodus is here The happy ones are near Let's get together, before we get much older

It was going by so fast, but at the same time, time seemed to slow.

Teenage wasteland It's only teenage wasteland Teenage wasteland Oh yeah, teenage wasteland They're all wasted!

I could feel the end of the song coming all too soon and I still couldn't remember the name of the song, or even the artist. I became angry, at myself, Henry, the world, everything! I was angry that this was so sad.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to sob and to scream. Why couldn't I remember? Why couldn't I remember something I loved so much? It hurt. It hurt so damn much that I slammed myself against the wall that's caused me so much grief. The barrier held strong, it was as if I was running into a brick wall.

That's when Loki stepped in. He wrapped his magic around me, to keep me still, to calm me.

Hey hey, it's okay, you're okay. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.

I noticed he had stopped the music from continuing to the next song. I took a moment to calm myself, No, you didn't upset me, Loki. It's just... I... If I'm forgetting things that I loved so much, what else am I going to lose? What else have I already lost?

Loki paused for a second, Well, that's what I'm here for. We can work together to get you better alright? I can help you remember.

I sighed, Okay... What was that song? It hurt to ask, but what else was I supposed to do?

Baba O'Riley by The Who

I let myself soak in the name... It sounded so familiar. Maybe I felt more whole for a moment. Maybe I just identified another hole. Whatever the feeling was, it was a comforting discomfort that I wasn't sure I wanted to feel again, but I knew I needed it.

So that was what we did. For days Loki would come and play songs from my playlist. He would tell me the ones I couldn't remember and celebrate the ones that I did. It was a slow and embarrassing process, but I could tell I was making progress. Loki was being so supportive... Almost too supportive.

Loki?

Yes, my dear?

Why... Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, I appreciate it very much, but we weren't really on the best of terms when I disappeared.

We weren't on the worst, though.

He made me chuckle, but still.

He sighed, I suppose I found you intriguing...

Past tense? I couldn't help but poke fun.

He chose to ignore me, But then you disappeared and I never got to study you.

I'm flattered.

You should be.

There was a comfortable pause before I asked another question that's been on my mind, Loki?

Yes?

Why has no one come to visit me?

There was a short pause that I quickly filled.

I mean, I know I can't answer them back if they try to talk to me, but people visit and talk to comatose patients. We don't even know if they can hear them, but I can hear them... and... I trailed of pathetically. I really shouldn't be upset, this is more than I ever let myself hope for. Isn't it great to be so selfish?

It's nothing of your doing Y/n. Director Fury wishes for me to be your only contact until he begins the reports. They will all be in attendance then.

That's... That's good to hear.

He hummed in response and we moved on to other topics.

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

The day came when I was supposed to give my report. I still had no idea how this was going to work, but I trusted them to come up with some sort of solution. I waited patiently for them to arrive, but it seemed to be taking forever. The room was deadly silent for what must have been hours. There wasn't a voice or a footstep that broke it.

Y/n, are you ready?

Loki startled me with a sudden address.

Is everyone here already? I thought I would have heard Thor's lumbering footsteps!

He didn't even chuckle when he began to explain how it was going to work, No, we are in a nearby room as to limit the Queen from hearing anything.

I found it interesting that he called Noxy the Queen. When talking to me he usually called her Noxy. It occurred to me that he might be speaking out loud for everyone else's benefit.

I will hold an illusion of you to speak through. You alone will be able to hear and see the conversation. The illusion will mimic your motions and intentions that you portray. Do you understand?

Yes, Loki.

It felt like a tether was attached to me, the other end I didn't know, but I assumed it was the "control cable" for the illusion. There was a moment where nothing happened, but then I screamed.

My mind couldn't decide on what picture to focus on and it caused me an immense amount of pain. It kept flickering back and forth between the white floor of my cell and a blurry group of people in front of me. I clutched in upon myself to try and block off the instant migraine. I was surprised to hear my own voice saying, "Turn it off! Turn it off!"

Just as suddenly as it happened, it stopped.

Are you okay? Loki sounded worried.

Instead of answering his question I told him what had to change, I can't do the vision. It just... hurts.

Of course.

This time the tether attached seemed smaller, and after a moment I could hear the sounds of people idling. The shuffle of feet, the quiet breathing. It was relaxing. Nobody actually spoke for a while, so I had to break the ice, "Hi."

"Agent L/n."

It was a little hard to decipher voices with the combination of not being able to see and the amount of time that's past since hearing them, so I spoke tentatively, "Director Fury?"

"Correct. Do you understand that you are here to give a report so that we, Shield and the Avengers, may come to know of the nature of your capture so that we may prevent future incidents?"

"Yes, sir." Before Nick could continue I asked, "May I ask who is here since I cannot see?"

"In order to not overwhelm you the only ones here are myself and the members of the Avengers who you know."

I nodded, or felt like nodding.

Nick cleared his throat, "Alright, is there anyone who would like confirmation that who we are talking to is indeed Agent Y/n L/n?"

There was silence. It stretched out awkwardly, "Is anyone raising their hand? Loki are they raising their hands?"

"Ye-"

"NO!"

"So do you guys need confirmation or not?"

I could hear a number of voices mumble out a, "Yes, we would appreciate it."

I chuckled a little awkwardly, "Uh, was there a code word that I was supposed to remember? Cuz I very much do not remember it if there was."

"Y/n would never forget a code word!"

I was offended, "Fucking hell, Clint!"

He gasped, "She would never talk to me that way!"

"Woah, woah!" Who I thought was Tony cut in, "First off, Clint? You don't have any code words!"

He grumbled in response.

"And two, Y/n your filter is gone."

I smiled, "Damn straight."

Tony sighed, "Okay, so we all want confirmation that is actually you, so lets have you tell us something only we would know."

I took a moment to think it over, "Do you guys remember when..." I kinda chuckled at the memory, "When I video called you when I knew you had recently got off of a mission and had no plans and I asked you guys over for a movie night at my apartment?" It was a fond, if not totally embarressing memory. "Steve awkwardly declined for everyone, saying that you had a lot of work to do after the mission. I was totally disappointed, but hung up before anyone else could say anything or show that I was disappointed. I mean, I already had the movie picked out, popcorn popped, a number of snacks set out, and I even rearranged my living area to fit everyone in it!" I wished I could see their  faces, see the recognition, maybe their smiles.

"But, over the next hour, every single one of you came over, not together, mind you! Clint and Natasha first, then Tony, surprised he wasn't fashionably late, Thor and Bruce with Loki dragging behind, and then Steve, with a slightly red face." I surprised myself in remembering those details.

I, my illusion, was probably smiling from ear to ear while recanting the story, "We watched Ghost Rider and mocked how totally cheezy it was and yelled at the screen when the 'monster' scene came on." I huffed with amusement, "That was a very good memory I liked to look back on..."

I didn't hear anyone say anything or even the shuffling of feet, "Uh, hello? Does anyone need a personal story? A reassuring joke? I hope not, because I very much did not have access to the internet."

The silence wasn't even broke with a chuckle. I began to grow scared. Did they leave? Do they not believe me? I'm sure my smile cracked.

"I believe a personal story or two could be beneficial to their conscience, Y/n." Loki's voice was soft, but rigid.

I made a soft popping noise with my tongue as I thought about who I could talk about first. This was a cool illusion to make a subconscious sound. I came to a stop when I just decided to talk about what first came to mind for each of them, "Natasha, I remember when you first walked in the door of my apartment for that movie night, you pulled me aside and said some very comforting things to me as well as some choice words for others." I laughed, "and I swore that those things would stay between us, so I am going to keep it that way."

That got the ball rolling so I just started to pour out everything, "Clint, when I first met you, you could have showed off to impress me, but instead you used your skills to make me smile. I- I really appreciated that, and that might have impressed me even more than you hitting every bullseye."

I was glad I wasn't actually talking because this was a lot of talking, "Thor." I grew serious, "I really appreciate you sharing your food with me that one time. And all the other times you don't know about."

I heard a quick inhale of air and I took that as a signal to move on, "Tony, the care you took with me, guiding me through breathing exercises, taking me to the infirmary after... the Loki incident. I'm forever grateful you were able to show that to me."

"I remember one mission where there was a lot of chemical and radiation components that needed to be understood. Unfortunately, I am not that proficient in that area, but fortunately I was able to approach Bruce. He walked me through everything I needed to know for that mission even late into the night in his lab," I smiled.

"And finally Steve." I willed my illusion to look him in the eyes. I hoped that's how it worked and hoped that Loki would make it happen. "This is very important. I absolutely hate running with you."

At this point the silence was beyond unnerving. "So either nobody likes me enough to talk while I'm blind, Clint is signing at me like an idiot, or everyone just left and Loki is keeping the illusion up for no other reason than his enjoyment. I can see you doing that Loki, I know you can hear me."

There were a few snorts around me before Natasha spoke up, "Uh, Clint just said that you'll get along with Sam just fine."

"I have literally no idea who that is, but I'll take that as a good sign."

"Hey," Tony cut off the laughing, "we didn't hear a story about tikes turtle over there."

There was a beat of silence.

"Wha--who?"

"Yeah, not my best idea. Loki. We haven't heard a story about Loki."

Loki quickly cut in, "I don't believe that will be neces-"

"I must give the people what they want!"

"You really don't."

I started anyway, "My fondest memory of the jolly green giant would be when I was high off of cold medicine and pulled some wicked ninja moves to steal chocolate from our dear Rapunzel while crying over rom-coms. He nearly blew my cover. Happy?"

There were a few "Very"s thrown back my way before Nick had had enough.

"Alright, is everyone convinced that this is indeed Y/n?"

"Yes."

Nick cleared his throat, "Okay, so Agent L/n, you know how this works. According to our calculations, you were a prisoner for two years before you emerged as the asset we know as Queen, correct?"

"Uh, sure."

"Agent L/n..."

I sighed, "I trust your calculations, sir, as I had no sense of time while in captivity. I could have been in there anywhere from six months to six years and I wouldn't have been the wiser."

Nick grunted, "What exactly did they do to you in those two years?"

I mentally straightened my shoulders in preparation of the story I was about to tell. I guess I should have known, I guess I should have been ready. But here I was, trying to control my thoughts.

"The majority of those two years were spent doing two things: being locked in a cell made of concrete walls, and being shoved into rooms with another prisoner. There were two rules when we were put in that room: don't start before they told us, and... and I quote: 'fight like your life depends on it, because it does.'" I took a moment to steady myself, "like a gladiator arena, it was a fight to the death, with our bare hands, only one of us would leave the room alive."

"So we can safely assume you won every round?" I wasn't sure which of the guys had spoke since I wasn't really paying attention.

I chuckled darkly, "That's the thing... My honest answer would be a no. I got beat to a pulp, but they stopped my opponent before he could kill me. My first fight... I lost."

Maybe that's what made it that much worse. I was saved to commit worse atrocities.

"So yeah, between the experiments, the locking me away in the latter part of it, and the immense amount of pain, I lied in a small cell with a roommate I called my friend, and killed other prisoners to weed out the weak ones for hell knows what."

I didn't have anything else to say about the matter so I stayed quiet until Nick was prepared with his next question.

"There was another agent who went missing the same mission that you did: Ichabod Laime. Are you aware of his status?"

"Yes, he is dead."

"What was your relationship with Agent Laime?"

"I would have called him my friend."

"How do you know he's dead?"

Before I could answer Steve mumbled, "Shouldn't you have asked that question before?"

"Don't test me Rogers!" Nick snapped at him roughly.

"Easy, sir. I'm the one who killed him."

There was a quiet sputtering going on around me.

Nick recovered enough to ask, "Did they force you to?"

I left a pause where I would have breathed, "No, I killed him of my own free will."

I felt the tether flicker and pull a little bit. It confused me. It felt like something was missing, or different all of the sudden.

It didn't help that I couldn't see anything. I thought I heard whispering in the room. Fuck me for telling the truth I guess. I was going to be locked up forever.

"Let's call it a day. We'll continue this another time Agent L/n." Nick sounded almost rushed.

Before I could respond the tether was cut and I was left in silence, not even left with a goodbye.

Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gY5rztWa1TM

TAG LIST: @kitkatd7 @snarky--starky @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog

[kimmiherself]

CHAPTER ONE: THE BOYFRIEND

I knew I wasn't crazy but I could be a little control freak and a tad bit obsessive-compulsive at times. I had a tendency to get anxious if things around me weren't organized. I couldn't ask the world to keep it that way for me but I could control my environment. I always kept my bedroom clean and in order, with all my books and stationaries piled up neatly on my side table, my dresser a display of beautiful things I had collected over the years—cute buttons, old jewelries, broken pearls and other beads, a ballpen with green feathers attached to one side and a matching notebook that was my diary, along with the array of headbands and hairclips, as well as my hygiene products, while every other nook of my bedroom—even the ceiling—showcased my collections of stuffed toys and every other cute and green thing that matched the mint-colored walls and linens. I didn't have much but I had decent clothes that consisted mostly of t-shirts and pants—I never liked to wear anything without a sleeve. I'd pile them up neatly in my closet, with the width of the folds always uniform and parallel to each other. I always kept everything in order and I would immediately notice if something had been moved or wasn't in its place. That's just who I was. Things should be planned. Things should be organized. And it was frustrating whenever things didn't go my way.

But there were things that I didn't plan but surprised me, anyway. Like meeting my boyfriend, Matthew.

I first met him at an inter-school event. I was in second year of high school and he was in his last. We both went to private schools  but in different districts. When our schools decided to work together for a radio broadcasting competition, I had to team up with Matt's group for a few days before the actual event and literally holed up in one room with the group for another day or two during the actual event, which was hosted in another school.

He barely caught my eyes at first. Meeting new people was awkward and a little difficult for me. I mostly kept to myself and only talked if asked to. Until I noticed those little giggles erupting around me and the looks the other members of the group shot each other, which was becoming more and more distracting each day. This guy, the group's leader, would just shrug it off. When our eyes met one time, he gave me an apologetic smile, which only brought more giggles from the others. I froze and, suddenly, became very self-conscious. I didn't want to assume but I believed the group was teasing him about me, which brought out conflicting feelings from within me.

I always tried to look neat and presentable, as if I had a mother doing that for me just as how my friends' mothers seemed to be doing to their kids, but that didn't mean I was confident to say I was pretty. Honestly, I believed I looked at least average. My long, straight hair was a product of my yearly visit to the salon. I hated every wave and curl of my hair so I kept them straight by acquiring the magical services of hairdressers. My face was too simple that it wouldn't stand out in the crowd. My eyes too large. My lips too full. My height average. I also hadn't shed most of the baby fats in my midsection and it was one thing I really disliked about myself. Well, to keep the points even, my skin was naturally fair. It just wasn't as fair as Kendra's—the person I'd hate to compare myself with the most.

Kendra topped the long list of girls at school who had brought up my insecurities. People claimed she was the prettiest. Her skin the fairest. Her face the most angelic. Her voice could even summon the angels if she'd like. Her dance the most graceful. Her body a perfect structure. And when I knew some boy I had a crush on liked her first, I flipped. I claimed not to mind but I did. I kind of felt embarrassed to sit next to her. She was a year younger than I was but we mostly ended up performing in various events together. There was one time I was called to become one of her back-up dancers during a competition and it really irked me. For days, I wondered how nice it would be to switch places with her. I believed I was the better dancer. I couldn't sing, though. And she really was beautiful—I paled in comparison to her. But the thought was a bitter pill to swallow. I kind of hated her for being too perfect. Kendra really brought out the worst in me, and she didn't even know.

Someone liking me was both confusing and unbelievable to me. There was only one boy who openly showed his feelings to me, and sure I liked him too. For a while, I was obsessed with him and of our budding friendship. But the moment someone made a comment about me growing taller and bigger than he was, my feelings died out like a candle blown. And he liked Kendra first. Like most boys in school did. It just also didn't sit well with me to become someone's consolation prize because he didn't win the grand prize. Aaron was a good guy, though. My insecurities just gnawed on me.

Matthew's appearance to my life was unexpected but pleasant. The teasing during the competition even intensified when Matthew called my name during script-reading instead of someone else's. Suddenly, I was hyperaware of his presence. I knew where he was in the room without looking. I anticipated hearing his voice during practices. And I had become exceedingly conscious of myself when he was there. I realized how magnetic his eyes were behind those thin slits and how sheepish his smile was. And it unnerved me whenever he chose to throw that smile at me. When the actual competition came, he stood next to me and it was the closest he ever was with me during the entire event. We never talked, though. We only ever had our timid stares whenever our eyes met.

While we never talked during those first few days, we spent months and months of talking through the phone during the duration of our relationship. It started with friendly chats and warm conversations. He would always throw compliments at me and say he was very lucky I was giving him any attention. I felt luckier. I never knew having someone to listen to all my internal dialogues was that satisfying. The constant communication bound us together despite the aching distance. He wrote the most romantic messages and the most heartfelt promises that I fell in love with him almost instantly. He was pretty poetic but always sounded so mature. He took up Mass Communication in college and I thought it suited him best. Matt had his way with words...and words were all we had for each other.

For almost two years of being together, we had only met four times. The first time was during the earliest part of our relationship. There was an event at school and he surprised me by visiting. I ruined that when I just screamed upon seeing him and ran home. I literally ran away, dragging one of my friends with me. It took only a second and I was gone.

The second was unexpected. My mother had to process some documents in the city for her flight back to work. My sister and I went looking for a copier machine and, lo and behold, Matt was standing in the middle of a busy alley, his gaze locked on mine. Everything around us seemed to move in slow motion as I stared back at him, my heart beating erratically. I couldn't even remember if we talked. The fear of having us found out by my parents superseded my excitement so, again, I rushed away as fast as possible.

The third time we met lasted about thirty minutes. We had our first date. A really short one, though. I snuck away from our school event to meet him at lunch. It wasn't even a real lunch, but I couldn't care less. Finally, I was with him. I had been wanting to see him for what seemed like forever. While we talked endlessly on the phone, we barely did in real life. I was shy, awkward, and couldn't even mutter a word without stuttering. I had been trying to write our love story that time and I wanted him to read it. I was hesitant at first but he was already so curious that he had to read it. I watched his lips twitch a few times as his eyes scanned my words, and I felt the contents of my stomach trying to come back up. It was embarrassing. I didn't know what he thought about it but seeing him smile somehow calmed my nerves. It was the shortest date ever that one could hardly call it a date. But he was sweet and a real gentleman too. He never even touched my hand, which I had been hoping he would. I wanted to hold him...to feel he was there. Like he was real. Like what we had was real. It was weird how close it felt we were on the phone but how distant we actually were in real life. I started thinking about the reality of it all. Was I just hallucinating things? Did he really love me back? I started to doubt everything.

The fourth time we met was in the city. I had to attend to an overnight school activity and the morning after I had to sneak away to see him. No one knew about it. The sun had just been up and I had to see him in my pajamas for I was still waiting for my turn in the bathroom. We met outside the dormitory my group was staying at and sat on a bench nearby. I had started wearing my prescription glasses by that time and regretted doing so when he asked me about it. I probably looked hideous. I hadn't even taken my bath yet. Everything that morning just made me feel so embarrassed once again. We were together for like ten minutes, with me just squirming in my seat as he looked at me. Again, I couldn't remember what we talked about—if we ever did, but I remembered him taking off his black rubber bracelet that had a knot in the middle and slid it up my wrist. "To remind you of me," he said. As if he ever left my mind. The slight grazing of his skin over mine was enough to make me dizzy and it didn't help that my heart was pumping like crazy. He left shortly after that, seeing we both had full days waiting for us. And when he waved his final goodbye, he said he loved me.

I loved him too.

But being Matthew's girlfriend wasn't entirely easy. As a matter of fact, it was too difficult and too complicated that I always found myself crying at night. It was because of this relationship that I met loneliness and learned it was a terrible companion.

Being in college and living in the city away from his family hadn't always been easy for Matthew. He had dreams and he had been doing his best to achieve them, even if it meant he had to take part-time jobs here and there just to support his education. He was always responsible and I never knew anyone who worked as hard he did. Even in high school, he already part-timed as a radio DJ. I was very proud of him. He inspired me to work very hard myself so I could reach my dreams too, although him working that hard meant our relationship would be put to the least of his priorities. I knew I mattered to him...he just didn't have the time for me yet.

And it left me wrecked. He had broken up with me multiple times that I lost count already. He told me he couldn't keep a relationship while life was beating the hell out of him and added I was too young and too naive to even understand. But he couldn't seem to leave me alone for long too. It was that uncertainty that kept me awake at night. He said he loved me even after dumping me. He said I'd just have to hold on and wait for him to be ready. He said we'd be together once I finished high school—he let me promise that one. Matt said I'd just have to be patient.

Then he would disappear for weeks.

Those days were torture to me.

Loneliness started eating me. I'd wake up feeling nothing and I would go to bed feeling like the world just crashed on my shoulders. There were days I'd wreck everything in my bedroom and I'd snap at anyone who tried to come near me. There were days that I hated everyone, even my friends at school, and just holed up in the library after class. But mostly, I'd cry myself to sleep. And it didn't help that every song on the radio seemed to mock me. Then I'd start feeling like sleeping and never wanting to wake up.

I tried to forget him and focused all my attention to school, and it became an obsession. When mother was talking about possible universities and colleges for me, she mentioned I could go to the country's capital and study there. But flying across the country, stretching the distance between Matt and I into thousands and thousands of kilometers, wasn't an option for me. Despite the uncertainties and the heartaches, I'd rather be near him, like a moth ever so tempted to embrace the flame.

There was only one college for me. My brother said it was one of the best and it was in the same city as Matt's. I wasn't actually looking forward to become a nurse but I also didn't have anything I particularly liked at the moment. I was merely following my brother's footsteps and it didn't sound so bad at all. But to get to that college, I would have to ensure my scholarship that promised a hundred percent off the tuition fee, even though I never once had been pressured by my family about it. I just didn't want to add to my mother's burden and it also made me feel good to study at a college with the word best attached to it. So I had been studying really hard and I had also been joining all the extra-curricular activities that would hopefully earn me points and help me graduate at the top of my class. For a while, it took my mind off my broken heart.

But, as I said, Matthew couldn't leave me alone for long. He would pop right back up when I had started getting used to his absence. It was becoming exhausting but I couldn't seem to let go of him too, so I'd jump back again to this vicious cycle.

Five months and I'd be off to college. Matthew and I had gotten back together and jumpstarted our relationship once again. It was as exhausting as ever but the thought of seeing him at the end of this waiting game was enough to keep me going. Matthew had becoming more and more distant and inattentive each passing day but I believed he was just really busy tossing himself between school and work that he could hardly find the time to check his phone. Still, I couldn't help but wallow in his absence. He even forgot about my birthday and it crushed me so hard. He promised he'd see me but it never happened. I tried getting his attention though, but it was worthless. I only looked like a clingy, immature, whining little girl who couldn't wait to get her candy.

I knew I'd been really annoying but Matt was still sweet and kind with his words whenever he found the time to check up on me. "You know you're my sunshine, right?" he asked once, in between my silly attempts of getting his attention. I didn't actually know how he had been doing and it made me feel guilty. I hoped I'd brought him more happiness than headaches. "We'll be together soon. You just have to wait," he always said. And those were the words I held on to.

Soon.

Very soon.

[ravenvsfox]

‘somehow escape the burning wait’ + andreil (yes i read your tags)

(I kinda stitched these two together, hope that’s okay! This became a bonnie and clyde extravaganza and I don’t know why)

They make it all the way to the border before Nathan catches up with them.

For months they’ve been tripping through grocery stores and motels with blue, blue swimming pools, and when the mood strikes them, careening into parking lots to steal prettier cars.

Neil told Andrew who he is--he can’t remember. A long time ago. Months. Years.

That first time Nathan tried to take him, Andrew wrenched the knife out of his hand so hard that his butcher’s hand had snapped.

In the aftermath of their escape, Andrew had sponged the blood out of Neil’s hair, and Neil had cried his way through a panic attack. It was the first time he’d said the name Wesninski out loud in over a year.

He came for them again after that, but they kept stumbling out of reach, pulling each other across state-lines and into unfindable burrows.

Together, they’ve done the messy, elbow-deep work of heaving Neil out of his father’s shadow. They’ve been trying to run fast enough that maybe the killer’s blood inside him will purify and evaporate off of his skin.

Andrew tells him every day that they can stop. That he will take care of it, when Nathan comes calling. But Neil refuses to watch that showdown, between his past and his future. 

They keep moving. Neil teaches Andrew how to do it undetected for a while, the passports and disguises, but then, inexplicably, they start to enjoy themselves. 

The hateful, scrounging existence of his life attached to his mother becomes thrilling with Andrew. He jogs backwards in front of him, so it almost feels like he’s running towards something.

The first time they rob a store, it’s so slick that no one notices. Andrew peels a chunk of inventory from the back shelf while Neil asks the cashier for directions, easy. Always easier, with two people. No--always easy with Andrew.

They always aim low, and corporate. They stay anonymous, and alive. Then they start to take a little extra. 

They wander through a clothing store and Andrew grabs expensive shirts in Neil’s size, barely looking at them. Andrew always liked his maserati, so they steal one. Adrenaline makes people so stupid, but so awake.

They have matching duffle bags now, and they live in each other’s clothes. Neil dyes Andrew’s hair a rich brown that matches his eyes.

They get a police scanner, and listen for any sign of themselves. They read Baltimore obituaries, hoping.

Andrew calls Aaron from payphones, when he can. He gets even quieter, afterwards, and Neil can tell he’s furious at himself for leaving. He won’t go back though, even when Neil begs him to. 

One night, when they’re robbing a closed liquor store, the cops show up. 

Neil flattens himself to the floor, and Andrew drops down after him just as a flashlight beam ghosts through the blinds. 

“Look at me,” Andrew whispers, crouched across the aisle from him.

“There’s no back door in here,” Neil tells him. “We’re done.”

“Not yet,” he says. They usually keep gloves and masks on them just in case, and Andrew slides his up over his nose, black and surgical. “Wait here.”

“Yeah right,” Neil says, and stands up with him. “Together or not at all, remember?”

“Anyone in there who’s not s’posed to be?” the officer calls, tapping on the glass front door with his baton. They move wordlessly closer, and Andrew puts his palm gently on the door, holding it closed. The door nudges forward beneath his hand, and they share a whiplash glance before Andrew kicks the door, and it smacks open into the officer’s face. 

He staggers backwards, and Neil hefts the bag full of money and booze into his gut before he can recover. He doubles over, and Andrew grabs his arms behind his back, but there’s another one, standing just outside the squad car, looking gobsmacked.

“Drew,” Neil warns.

A fumble, a breath, and then there’s a gun levelled towards them.

“Let him go right now,” the second cop demands. “And put your hands in the air.”

“Don’t die,” Andrew tells him through his teeth, wrestling the first cop into a headlock.

“Thanks,” Neil huffs. He walks forward two steps. The officer shakes the gun at him.

“Not another step, I mean it.”

“Okay,” Neil says. “Okay. Calm down.” He hears the sputtering behind him disintegrate as the first cop blacks out. “I’m just gonna put the bag down.”

“Bag down, then hands up,” he says.

“Exactly,” Neil says coolly. He puts the bag down, wrapping a hand around the neck of a bottle poking out of the top as he does. 

In one fluid motion, he stands, flinging the bottle underhanded towards the officer’s head. He flinches, lifting one arm to protect his face. It gives Andrew enough time to palm the gun off of his unconscious charge, and blast the cop in the kneecap. 

He goes howling to the ground as the bottle shatters behind him, dropping his gun to grab his knee. Neil’s just close enough to swipe it.

The smell of blood and vodka is pungent, even through his mask.

Neil rips the mobile radio off of his belt while he’s down there, then says, “you’re going to want to tourniquet that. Use your belt.” 

The officer sobs, and fumes, and doesn’t answer. 

“Let’s go,” Andrew calls.

Neil scoops up the abandoned bag and jogs to join him. “Someone’s gonna report that gunshot,” he says.

“That’s why I’m telling you to move,” Andrew says, pulling him by the wrist, then the waist. Neil moves to duck into their getaway car, a nondescript little honda this time, but Andrew goes for the police cruiser instead. He falls into the still open driver’s seat, and Neil fills the backseat with their stolen goods.

“You didn’t kill him,” Neil says, climbing inside. “Higgins would appreciate that.”

“I didn’t spare him out of respect for the police force,” Andrew says wryly, turning the ignition and reversing haphazardly out into the street. “There’s less mess with an alive cop than a dead one. Less time looking for us.” 

He’s driving like he usually does, switching lanes fast and running red lights, but it looks natural on a police car. They race out of town, galloping well over the speed limit, their flashing lights parting the sparse midnight traffic. 

Neil tells him they need to switch cars, and between one moment and the next, Andrew has pulled someone over. Sirens blazing, he announces over the in-car megaphone that they need to step out of their vehicle. 

They get out of the squad car in tandem. Andrew takes the stolen gun and walks evenly towards the other car, and while the driver squints into the glare from their headlights, Neil slips around the other side, all the way into their passenger seat.

He clambers over the console to the driver’s side and locks the door, heart pounding. He can see Andrew pointing a gun at the person now, holding them at bay while he rounds the car to the passenger side.

They leave the driver stranded on the side of the road.

“That was so stupid,” Neil tells him, breathless. “He’s going to report his car as stolen, and he has rough descriptions of us to match the cops’.”

“We’ll leave it at the next rest stop,” Andrew says flippantly. “We couldn’t hold onto that cruiser.”

“We shouldn’t have had it in the first place,” Neil says. “We had a car already, you took the cop car because you thought it would be fun.”

“And it was,” Andrew says, shrugging. It’s times like this that Neil could swear he’s about to smile.

Neil leans in a little, caught up in the anticipation of that smile, running on adrenaline fumes. He catches himself before he can make contact, but Andrew takes his hand off the gearshift and pulls him in the rest of the way. 

He kisses him, lush, as they drift onto the shoulder of the road, one hand flexing on the wheel, the other clenched in Neil’s collar.

“We’re going to get caught,” Neil says against his mouth. “And then what are you going to do?”

Andrew shrugs again. “Go for the kneecaps.”

______

They do get caught, five days later, as they’re trying to cross from Washington up into British Columbia. Their passports are very good fakes, and they’re in a second-hand car that they paid for with stolen cash. 

Nathan must have paid off border agents at every port, because they hold them at the side of the road for four hours, long enough for Lola to appear, grinning, at the window.

To their credit, they put up an excellent fight.

They dodge behind cars, picking their way towards safety, two steps forward one step back, over and over. Andrew fires their stolen gun randomly behind them, and he grazes at least two of their pursuers. Neil spots security cameras with dawning dread, and when he looks at the determined line of Andrew’s sharp jaw, he realizes that they’re mask-less. 

Real border agents are sidelined and killed by whoever Lola’s hired to help her, and the fight drags pointlessly on.

Eventually, there’s a high, familiar yelp on the air, and Neil looks at Andrew, wide-eyed.

“Did you get her?” He whispers.

Andrew shakes his head. “Crossfire,” he says. “From their side.”

A laugh bubbles up past his lips. He holds a hand over his mouth. “They won’t last without her. She’s the only one with any stock in this.”

He pokes his head above the toll booth they’re using for cover, and a bullet clips the wood just below his neck. He ducks back down, and Andrew holds him by the back of the neck.

“Look at me,” he says. Neil does. “There is a car parked beyond the main building. We get behind the wall, and we have enough time to start moving before they shoot up the wheels. But we have to run.”

Neil nods jerkily, and offers him a crooked smile. “I can do that.” 

Andrew’s hand gets heavier on his neck. “Yes or no?” he asks.

Neil shakes his head. “Kiss me when we’re safe.”

The pressure on his neck eases up. Andrew puts the emptied gun carefully on the gravel at their knees. “Three,” he says.

“Two,” Neil replies.

“One.”

They burst out from behind the toll booth. 

For a shimmering moment there’s no gunfire at all. He’s across half the gulf they need to cover in a second, faster than he’s ever been, off the blocks at the races while his challengers fumble their takeoff. 

And then there’s that telltale whistle in the air. He stumbles.

Andrew whips his head around to find the source, and Neil sees his dark eyes for a moment, the gnarl of exertion in his brow.

“Come on,” he’s saying.

A moment later, Neil understands that he’s been shot. He’s still running, but it’s the running you do in a nightmare, when the ground is an endless treadmill.

The bullet clipped him in the back, and it hasn’t come through to the front. He can tell that Andrew doesn’t know it’s happened. Neil barely knows it’s happened.

The pain is there, but it’s underwater, and he is pressed against the ceiling to avoid it.

They round the corner, gasping, and the spill of gunfire stops again. Heavy footfalls follow, but they don’t stick around to see how fast they might be. Andrew wheels into the car, and Neil drags his way up after him. The adrenaline is all over him like armour, and he’s petrified that it will begin to jangle apart, soon. It might not matter what they do now, if he doesn’t go to a hospital.

They drive, off road, alongside the whipping branches of the tree line. They’re chased for a while, by whoever was quick enough to get to their own car, but they give up when Andrew starts taking them in quick, dizzying turns down side roads.

They are in Canada, against all odds, and Neil is bleeding to death in the passenger’s seat.

“Andrew,” Neil says, and Andrew leans over and kisses him, as close to giddy as he ever gets.

“Safe,” Andrew tells him. The road in front of them is newly paved, and the pines on either side are -- unimaginably beautiful.

“Maybe,” Neil says. Andrew rolls his eyes.

“We ditch this car as soon as we can, and we find an outlet mall to change clothes.”

“We emerge, Canadians,” Neil jokes. He reaches discretely for his wound, and his hand comes away soaked with blood. He swallows.

“You convinced yourself you were going to die,” Andrew says. “But that was almost easy.”

“Easy,” Neil echoes. He’s losing his tender grip on consciousness. “Andrew,” he says. “I’m sorry I’m going to do this to you.”

Andrew looks over at him, and Neil can feel his gaze trickling down to Neil’s bloody fingers.

“Neil?” He says, alarmed.

“Almost,” he says, frustrated tears slipping back into his hair. “We almost did it.”

“Fuck,” Andrew’s saying. “Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare.”

They can’t pull over, and Andrew knows this. They don’t have enough distance yet, and they’re driving a conspicuous car. It’s only a matter of time before Lola or her recruits get in contact with Nathan. Nathan will check the hotels first, then maybe the hospitals. He’ll be thorough, as always.

“Hospital?” Andrew asks. 

Neil coughs. “You know we can’t.”

“I am not going to drive us through the countryside like we’re on a road trip while you die next to me.”

“It’s a good way to die,” Neil murmurs. He never expected such a kind death.

“There is no good way to die,” Andrew snaps. “You are not doing it.”

Neil is suddenly, fiercely proud to hear him denounce death like that. He smiles, and a little bubble bursts at the corner of his mouth. He knows there’s blood in his teeth.

A burning pain lances through him, and he traps a sob in his clenched jaw.

“Don’t,” Andrew says, “do this to me.”

“Don’t take me somewhere you like,” Neil says, “to bury me.”

“Stop.”

“It--it made me hate the beach,” he slurs. “I shouldn’t’ve--”

“I’ll kill you,” Andrew says, voice mulched with emotion. “I’ll kill you.”

“Sorry,” Neil says again, swallowing blood, and then he droops, cold, and passes out.

______

“Fuck you,” Andrew says, when he wakes up. 

He’s groggy, but he knows immediately that he’s been taken to a hospital, despite everything, and that they probably won’t ever leave it.

“I’m sorry,” Neil says, trying to sit up, wincing through it.

“So you have said,” Andrew says. 

“How long has it been?”

His eyes flicker to the bedside clock. “Six hours, thirteen minutes.”

Neil’s stomach turns.

“He... he knows how close they got. He’s going to check hospitals. He’ll come to finish the job, and I’ll die anyway. We both will.”

“Then the last thing I will have done is save your life,” Andrew says.

“That’s--” Neil starts, so moved that he’s almost embarrassed.

“I don’t care. It wasn’t an option for me. Let’s stop discussing it.”

Neil relaxes, fond, and hopeless, and sad. He looks up at the pallid ceiling, feeling transparent, like he was caught in the portal between life and death and now he’s cut in two.

“Come here,” Neil says, shifting in his cot. “Wait with me.”

Andrew doesn’t complain, or pretend he doesn’t want to. He crawls into bed with him, and Neil wants to droop onto his shoulder, but he has to look at his face.

It’s easy to forget their deadline when Andrew is so warm against him. They haven’t relaxed so completely in years. The race is over. 

“Thank you,” Neil tells him. “For the company. I really think--we were amazing.”

Andrew kisses him so sweetly on the cheek, and threads a warm hand into his hair. Neil puts his hand over Andrew’s heart.

The door opens.