#anyways now sam associates cats with death | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stormyoceansmain · 4 years ago

Text

[im very much NOT a writer - i cannot stress this enough - but i truly mean it when i say sambucky is making me go insane. i find no other explanation for ending up writing 3.8k words of sambucky, alpine, and movie night. thank you if you decide to read this, i hope it's not too terrible]

Sam shows up at Bucky’s place for movie night with a case full of beers and ten minutes to spare.

Sarah makes fun of him for this Friday tradition they’ve been carrying out for the past few months, says he should just muster the courage to ask Bucky out on a proper date already. It doesn't matter how many times Sam told her he is just helping Bucky catch up to the 21st century, she always ends up giving him that Look that says she's not believing any words coming out of his mouth, which is kind of unfair, if you ask Sam.

Well, fine, maybe Sarah is right. Maybe Sam does want to take Bucky out on an actual date and hold his hand and kiss him goodnight and do all those sickeningly romantic stuff he used to daydream about when he was 16. Turns out former assassins who are incredibly annoying but also surprisingly kind are very much Sam's type. Go figure.

Still, they worked hard to reach the kind of friendship they currently have, and Sam doesn't want to lose that. He's also not blind to the way Bucky flirts with Sarah, and despite her insistence that Bucky does it more to rile Sam up than for any real interest in her, he’s not about to risk it all on a whim.

This resolution almost crumbles into dust a moment later, when Bucky opens the door wearing sweatpants and a blue shirt that matches his eyes. He is barefoot and his hair is getting longer, losing the harsh edges of the cut and curling slightly behind his ears. He is still all chiseled jawline and defined muscles, but he looks softer, more comfortable in his own skin, and the easy way he smiles at Sam makes a heavy warmth pool around Sam’s stomach.

“Hey,” Bucky greets him, sliding his metal arm around Sam's shoulders to pull him into a brief hug.

This, too, is something of a novelty. There's always been a sort of intense physicality about Bucky, both in how he carries himself and in how he is always aware of the bodies moving around him, but the casual affection, the playful abandon with which he touches and lets others touch him these days, feels like a wonder. Sam would have never expected it, and he had come to love and hate it at the same time.

“Hey yourself,” Sam greets back, splaying his free hand across Bucky's back, allowing himself to hold him there and breathe him in for a second, a fresh lemony smell coming off his hair, before giving him a quick pat on the shoulder and putting a respectable amount of space between them.

He buries his hands deep into the pocket of his jacket and follows Bucky inside, trying to resist the urge to slide his fingers under the hem of Bucky's shirt and feel the warm skin underneath it.

It's the first time Sam steps into Bucky’s apartment since Bucky took home the stray kitten he found on the side of the road three weeks ago, and the changes around it are staggering. Sam was used to empty spaces and few, essential furniture, but now the space in front of the window is occupied by a giant cat tower, and lots of smaller scratching posts are scattered all over the living room, along with different kinds of cat beds and toys.

“I see you redecorated,” Sam says with a grin.

Bucky shrugs, opening two of the beer bottles with a quick twist of his metal hand. “Cats need stuff.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I'm glad.” Sam grabs one of the bottle and clinks it against Bucky's. “Pets are great company and the place looks much better like this. I wouldn't have pinned you down as the crazy cat lady type, but it's always better than Robocop.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, takes a sip of his beer. Sam catches the smile he is trying to hide anyway.

Sam knocks their shoulders together, asks, “So where is she?”

“Hiding, probably,” Bucky says, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “She doesn't like strangers.”

Sam stops with the beer halfway to his mouth. “Excuse you,” he exclaims, outraged. “I very clearly remember accompanying you to the vet the first time you brought her in. I also sacrificed two of my shirts for her and have scars on my forearms where she scratched me to death. I think I deserve more than being considered a stranger. We basically co-parented that cat for the first few days!”

“That's nice,” Bucky deadpans. “Why don't you go tell her that? I'm sure the speech will convince her to keep the claws to herself.”

Sam glares at him and Bucky pats him on the arm. “Just relax,” he adds, turning to open the fridge and taking foods out for dinner. “If we let her be, Alpine will come out eventually.”

Bucky is right, of course. Sam had a few experiences with strays growing up, cats and dogs alike looking for shelter from Louisiana's storms under their porch, and no amount of treats he and Sarah tried to give them had been able to lure them out from their hiding spot. The best course of action in these cases was to wait, letting them come out when they felt safe enough.

It still weirdly feels like a rejection of some sort, but he tries not to let it show.

Sam takes a swig from his beer and asks, “Alpine?”

Bucky turns on the stove and shrugs again. He remains silent for a moment, a distant look on his face that Sam has learned to associate to memories better buried and forgotten. He is about to start telling Bucky about the science fair at the boys' school to change the subject, when Bucky speaks again, low and careful.

“She reminds me of the snow on the Alps.”

He doesn't elaborate on that, but Sam nods anyway, like he understands. He doesn't, like Bucky will never be able to fully understand what it means for Sam to carry the shield, but it's okay. They have each other, and that's still something.

Sam taps his foot against Bucky's bare one, watches Bucky's entire being exhale and relax. “Couldn't you have named her Snowflakes or something like that?”

Bucky levels him with a stare that tells him he would rather jump off another plane rather than calling his cat ‘Snowflakes’, and Sam laughs.

The far off look in Bucky’s eyes melts away and they fall into an easy rhythm, Sam sitting at the kitchen table and talking about some renovations he and Sarah would like to do to the house, Bucky cutting the vegetables to sauté.

They have moved on to argue about the best way to season chicken breasts – you cannot leave cayenne pepper out of the spice blend – when Sam catches a flash of white out of the corner of his eyes, and interrupts himself mid-rant.

A second later, Alpine jumps on the kitchen counter, sniffing the air.

It's been only three weeks since Sam last saw her, but she's already grown a lot, and looks much better too: her fur is shiny and clean, her eyes bright, and the slight sprain that caused her to limp around seems to be completely healed.

Alpine lets out a soft chirping sound and headbutts Bucky's arm, rubbing her head against him.

The smile Bucky turns to her is blinding, and Sam has to look away before he ends up doing something stupid, like climb over the table and kiss him.

“I know you're here for the chicken,” Bucky tells her, scratching her behind the ears. “But you can't eat this one.”

He scoops her up with a single hand, ignoring the disapproving meow that follows, and deposits her on the table right next to Sam's arm. Sam freezes, unprepared for the sudden proximity and recalling how quickly she can turn around and scratch, but as soon as Bucky's hand retreats, she is moving away, giving Sam a wide berth. She doesn't go back into hiding, though, just settles on the corner farther away from him and stares him down in a way that reminds him so much of Bucky, Sam doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry.

He is also struck by the sudden need to make Alpine like him.

“Is she gonna maul me if I try to give her a treat?” Sam asks.

Bucky tilts his head, considering, which does very little to reassure Sam about the safety of his fingers.

“I wouldn’t try hand-feeding her,” Bucky answers, fishing out a bag of treats from one of the cupboards. “But she likes to chase them.”

Alpine observes with quiet intensity as Bucky dumps a few treats into Sam's hands, and when Sam tosses one a few feet away she jumps down the table and runs after it, grabs it with a paw.

“Alright,” Sam declares, “that's pretty cute.”

Sam spends the next few minutes throwing treats at Alpine, inching them closer and closer to himself to test how willing she is to get near him with the proper incentive. The last one he places right in front of his feet, then he sits back and waits. Alpine hesitates, eyes flitting between him and the treat as to evaluate if it's safe enough, until finally she starts to move, slowly, slowly. She gets close enough to stretch her paw out, pull the treat towards herself and take it out of reach to eat somewhere else. Sam still takes it as a win.

Bucky clears his throat and announces that dinner is ready, so Sam leaves Alpine alone and helps him set the table.

Dinner is nice. Bucky makes a glazed chicken with honey and garlic that it's to die for, which Sam finds utterly unfair, considering he comes from a time where spices were believed to be a menace to the public.

He still goes back for seconds, and by the time they move to the living room to watch the movie, Sam feels full and content.

He finds Alpine curled up on one end of the couch, and while he believes they made some progress in their relationship, he doesn’t think either of them is ready to bring it to the next level, so he takes the seat on the other side, careful not to disturb her.

Bucky doesn’t say anything about it, just flops down between Sam and the cat with ease, his knee bumping into Sam’s.

This week they are watching the second movie in The Hobbit trilogy, if only for the horrified look in Bucky’s face when Sam told him that not only they made a movie out of the book, but that they actually managed to stretch it into three. Bucky, it turns out, is one of those people who notices every little changes from the original material, disapproves of them on principle, and is very vocal about his displeasure, exactly like the old man he actually is.

Sam had almost fell off the couch laughing during the first movie, and it had taken him a while to convince Bucky to give the other two a chance. Maybe it was a little assholey of him, knowing that it only gets worse, but just because he likes the guy it doesn’t mean Sam doesn’t want to subject him to some bad cinema for his own entertainment. After all, that’s what friends are for.

It doesn't take long for the comments to start up again. Bucky holds up for thirty minutes, rolling his eyes and grumbling under his breath from time to time, but then Legolas and Tauriel show up and Bucky turns his head to look at Sam, face completely blank, says, “Who the fuck are these people.”

Sam bursts out laughing, and it only gets worse when they reach the scene between Kili and Tauriel in the Woodland Realm: Bucky throws his hands up, exclaims, “Oh, come on,” and starts complaining about how they made the dwarf hot just to add a romance. It has Sam in stitches, and he has to grab onto Bucky's shoulder to stay upright and not end up falling into Bucky's lap.

The tirade ends with Bucky sulking and shaking his head, and Sam is glad for the temporary reprieve just so he can catch his breath. He feels flushed and warm, cheeks hurting from smiling, and the quiet is comfortable, familiar.

After a while, his eyes grow heavy, and he realizes he nodded off only when a light weight sets on his shoulder, jerking him awake.

The movie has ended, screen back on the Netflix title page, and Bucky fell asleep as well, head drooping until it had come to rest against Sam’s body.

The metal arm is glinting gold and blue in the light, and Sam stares down at it, then up at the lines of Bucky’s face, the soft waves of his hair. It always surprises him how vulnerable Bucky looks like this, how younger, and it’s so hard to remember there was a time Sam had actually been scared of him, of what he could do. Now, he would trust Bucky with anything. His life, his family, his home. His heart, too, if Bucky ever wanted it.

Sam knows he should wake him up, send him to bed so he can sleep comfortably there while Sam stretches out on the couch, but he also knows that Bucky still has trouble sleeping sometimes, and Sam doesn't have the heart to wake him up if it isn't really necessary. He’s well aware it's also a little bit selfish, because it's nice, having Bucky this close, warm and solid and smelling of lemon.

Sam takes a deep breath and rests his head on top of Bucky's. He thought he could handle this thing he has for Bucky, keep it under control, but he’s starting to realize he might have actually underestimated the size of his own feelings, which could become a serious problem in the future.

For now, though, Sam closes his eyes and lets himself have this.

The next time Sam wakes up, it's to something walking all over him. He blinks against the sudden light and when his vision clears, he finds Alpine sitting on his lap.

Sam stares at her, wondering for a moment if he is still asleep and dreaming all of this up, but his neck is sore, his arm heavy from Bucky resting against it in his sleep; there’s the beginning of a headache pulsing behind is eyes, and a pressure in his bladder telling him he should probably get up.

Alpine sniffs at his shirt and Sam tentatively raises his free hand, strokes a finger between her ears. She leans into the touch, head tilting up and guiding Sam's hand under her chin. Sam tries really hard not to shriek with delight.

“Oh, you're a sweetheart,” he says, a grin spreading out across his face. “Just like your owner. All tough and fierce on the outside, but adorable and charming on the inside.”

Alpine meows back at him, like she agrees with that statement, and Sam tenses up, glances at the steady rise and fall of Bucky's chest.

“We gotta be quiet,” he tells Alpine, petting her down her side. “We don't want to wake him up.”

“I'm already awake,” comes Bucky's voice next to him.

Sam's entire body jerks in surprise, and Alpine leaps off him, startled.

“Man, don't you do that ever again,” Sam says, a hand placed over his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Bucky hums, sounding way more amused than he has any right to be, and sits up.

Blood rushes back into Sam's arm, and while Sam is glad to start feeling it again, he's already mourning the loss of contact between them. Except Bucky doesn't go far, just adjusts his position to angle his body towards Sam and rest his head on the back of the couch. It's easier to look at each other, like this, but they are now so close that Bucky's soft breaths are hitting the exposed line of skin above Sam's shirt, the hollow of his neck, making him shiver.

“So,” Bucky says, dragging the word out, lips tilting up at the corner. “I'm adorable and charming?”

Shit.

Of course Bucky would hear that, that's just Sam's luck. God, he is never going to speak again. He will take a vow of silence like in one of those monastic orders and move some place far and secluded where he won't be able to embarrass himself anymore.

He swallows, makes himself let out a laugh. It's meant to be mocking, but it sounds more nervous than anything else. “I think old age is making you hear things,” Sam still tries to deflect, “I clearly said annoying and self-centered.”

Bucky jabs him in the side with a metal finger. “Nice try, Samuel,” Bucky says, grinning widely. “But I've been told I'm a sweetheart.”

Sam's cheeks heat up. “I was talking about Alpine!”

He wonders if maybe T'Challa would let him hide in Wakanda for a while, just long enough for Sam to regain some kind of dignity. He hopes against all hopes that Bucky will have mercy of him and drop the subject, but of course Bucky doesn't. Sam wouldn't either, if their roles were switched.

“You said she is like her owner,” Bucky points pout, eyes bright and so very blue. He pokes Sam in the ribs again. “Which means, you think I’m a sweetheart, too.”

Sam bats his hand away. He may have embarrassed himself and he's lucky if he ends up this night without Bucky realizing Sam has feelings for him, but he is Captain frigging America. If he has to go down, he will go down fighting.

“What you are, it’s a nuisance,” Sam says. “And a creep. Who the hell pretends to be asleep when they are actually awake?”

“I wasn't pretending, you just assumed I was still sleeping.”

“Anyone would assume that, if you don't say anything.”

“I thought you were going to move as soon as you woke up, it's not my fault you didn't.”

“I was trapped between your heavy ass and your cat. What's your excuse for not moving?”

The argument comes to a halt, an awkward silence stretching between them as Bucky lowers his eyes, scratches the back of his neck. He clears his throat, shrugs.

“Your shoulder is nice,” he says in the end.

It's Bucky's turn to blush, a darker pink dusting his cheeks, and Sam feels like he missed something important.

“My shoulder?” Sam repeats.

Bucky doesn't answer him for a moment, then he straightens up on the couch, rolls back his shoulders like he is bracing himself. He looks up at Sam, and all Sam can see are his eyes.

“It’s comfortable,” Bucky whispers. “And I always sleep better when you’re around.”

Sam's mouth is suddenly very dry, and his heart is drumming against his chest in a way he has come to associate with diving down in midair, or dropping from a high place before his wings open up. This, too, feels a little like falling.

“Buck,” Sam says, because he thinks they are on the verge of something here, but he needs to be sure, doesn't want to mess this up and do something he's going to regret just because his head wants so desperately to see what's not actually there. “You gotta tell me if I'm reading this wro--”

Bucky kisses him.

It's a short kiss, just a soft press of Bucky's lips against his own and he's already gone, moving back to look at Sam with wide eyes, face open and vulnerable.

“Okay?” Bucky asks, and if he didn't sound so uncertain, like he's expecting Sam to push him away at any moment, Sam would laugh at how much of an idiot they both are.

Instead, he holds Bucky's chin between his fingers and pulls him back in. The kiss is deeper this time, turns into a wet slide of tongues and a harsh grate of stubble that makes Sam's insides feel tangled and hot. Bucky's arm slides around Sam's waist, and Sam moves his hand from Bucky's chin into his hair, grips it in a way that makes Bucky exhale sharply into his mouth. Sam wants to touch him everywhere, and he moves his free hand to do just that when a long, loud meow interrupts them.

They break apart just in time for Alpine to jump on the couch and sprawl in the space between them.

Bucky huffs out a small laugh, pets her from head to tail. He looks lovely, with his hair sticking up in odd places from Sam's fingers raking through it, his lips red from kissing, and Sam itches to go back for more, to lay him down and map every single part of Bucky's body with his mouth. He has, however, a horrible feeling about this.

“We will never be able to do anything with her around, won't we?” Sam asks, voicing his thoughts out loud.

Bucky sends him an amused smile. “Someone feels confident.”

Sam rolls his eyes, bumps their knees together. “Says the one who was about to climb on top of me.”

He's pretty sure he was the one grabbing and pulling Bucky closer, actually, but it doesn't seem like Bucky is going to call him out on it.

“It was a good kiss,” Bucky says, smile going soft at the edges, turning shyer.

“It really was,” Sam agrees, and because Sarah is always right, even if he'll never admit it in front of her, he adds, “Wanna go out on a proper dinner, see a movie? Maybe do the kissing part again?”

He's not expecting the way Bucky's lips drop down at those words, and Sam's heart sinks. Maybe he did read this wrong, after all. Maybe Bucky wanted to keep things casual, no string attached, and Sam just ruined everything. He tries to tell himself it was better to know that now, before things got too serious on his side, but it gives him very little comfort.

Bucky takes a deep breath, lets it out in a huff. “I don’t know, man,” he says. “If you make me watch another one of these godawful movies I’m afraid I'm gonna have to break up with you before this relationship even starts.”

Sam blinks at him, then bursts out laughing, sudden and loud. “God, you're an asshole,” he declares, but there's no heat behind it, and when he searches for Bucky's hand, Bucky intertwines their fingers together, places a kiss on the back of Sam's hand as an apology.

“I’m lucky you have terrible tastes, then,” Bucky says.

Sam really has questionable tastes, and if you had told him a few years ago that this was how his life was going to turn out, he would have probably laughed, or worse, tried to stop it from happening. But now, sitting there with Bucky grinning at him and Alpine purring between them, he feels lucky too.

#i don't have a solid enough grasp on the english language for any of this and yet here we are #you can easily spot where i didn't know what the hell i was doing #when i say im literally losing my mind over these two..#most self indulgent thing i've ever done im sorry for subjecting you to it #sambucky #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #alpine #also - embarrassingly enough - i started to write this before the video of bucky saying he wanted to move in with sam #otherwise i would have made them roommate

71 notes · View notes

ravenforce · 4 years ago

Text

Cheating Death VII

Warning/s: Angsty?

Summary: You, Nat, and Carol has arrived at a crossroad. It’s time to decide.

A/N: Hello, hello! I’m alive. I’m so sorry for being AWOL and I feel the need to explain why I’m taking forever to write, its because I’ve been in-charge of taking care of SIX two weeks old kittens. Their mom was an outdoor cat who lives in our garage, she died of an accident, orphaning six cuties.

It was a terrible few weeks, the kittens at that age needed to be fed every two hours. So, yes, I wake up every two hours to bottle feed six kittens. I usually slept at 2AM and wake up at 5AM. In between that, I have to disinfect the house because I’m highly anxious of this pandemic, take care of my six old cats, clean two litters, and work. How I manage that I do not know? I sleep in between feeding times at night that’s why I barely have time to write.

I know I said somewhere that I’m ending this mini series in this chapter but at 3k+ words, I’m still not done with it. 3k+ words and I’m not sure how I really want to end this. So, this for now. Maybe I’ll have clarity by next week once I rehomed all six kittens.

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

It’s been two weeks since Nat found out that you were alive, and that you were the one responsible for getting her back from Vormir. Ever since then, the two of you have been hanging out all day, every day doing whatever your hearts desire unless she has work to do with the Avengers. Today, you and Nat spend the whole day outside instead of being coup up in your condo unit. You two just arrived back after spending a splendid afternoon of lunch, shopping and generally chilling out around City Hall Park, talking about anything and everything under the big blue sky.

“Ugh, my feet are killing me.” Nat moaned after dropping her shopping bag at the foot of your bed and before she threw herself on it. “I feel like we walked for a lifetime.”

You smiled fondly at the redhead in your bed before playfully rolling your eyes at her. “Oh don’t be dramatic.”

Nat rolled on her stomach to look at you, watch you practically undressing in front of her. You weren’t really bothered by it because she’s seen you in far fewer articles of clothing before until you saw her staring and starting to get redder, the longer you stood there in your skin tight jeans and only your sports bra. You cleared your throat to gain her attention. She averted her eyes, tried to look at that expensive painting hanging on the wall behind you.

“I am not, I’m just stating facts,” she said before chancing a glance towards you.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, love,” you teased with a smirk on your face. You walked towards the edge of the bed, planted a soft kiss at the top of her head before depositing your watch and other accessories on your bedside table.

Nat laid back down, stared at the ceiling before letting out a loud groan. “I hate you,” she said.

You laughed, watching her from the mirror on your bathroom while wiping the very little make up you’ve put in this afternoon. “You really don’t,” you singsonged. Nat only groaned again in response, making you laugh harder. “If you stay the night, I’ll give your poor feet a massage.”

The silence that followed made your smile drop. Nat stood up and looked at you with a frown on her face. “You know that I can’t,” she said softly. “Carol will look for me.” Then she looked at her watch, and you know that your time with her for today is up.

“I should go,” she said quietly.

You ignored the sinking feeling in your stomach and smiled at her. “Be safe, Tasha.”

It’s like clockwork for the past two weeks. She spends the whole day with you but she never stays over, which is totally understandable because she’s not yours to keep. Looking at your empty apartment after she walks away, again, leaves you with an immense feeling of being Nat’s dirty little secret but there was nothing you can do. Nat never spoke about leaving Carol nor wanting to be with you. So, you just walked into the shower, hoping against hope that the scalding hot water can soothe your tired, aching soul and wash away all the hurt that comes with loving someone you cannot have.

***

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Sam yelled when he saw Nat entering the common living room. “You’re right on time! We’re watching a movie.”

Carol watched her girlfriend from the love seat with a heavy blanket and shit load of pillows around her. Truthfully, she’s not expecting Nat to be around for movie night. Just like how she’s not around the compound most of the time. Nat looked around and spotted her, she smiled and waved her over.

“Hey,” Carol greeted with her signature goofy smile. Internally, she was cringing at how awkward she sounded. She moved the pillows around, some ending down the floor in her haze to make space for Natasha.

“Hi.” Nat plopped down beside Carol and leaning her head against the blonde’s shoulder. She ignored the way Carol stiffened ever so slightly at the contact.

“I missed you all day. Where have you been?” Carol pretends to ask.

Like she doesn’t know where her girlfriend goes when she’s not in the compound or the training room or the HQ with Maria. She pretends to ask like she doesn’t know why Nat always smells like fresh oranges; a scent Carol grew to associate with you. A part of her pretends to ask to give Nat an out, an opening. To confess, to tell her she doesn’t want her anymore but Nat pretends on her own.

Nat pretends she didn’t hear the question long enough for an invisible bell to save her.

“Alright, settle down. Movie’s starting,” Sam said before he flicked the light switch off.

“I missed you too,” Nat murmured before scooting around to find a comfortable position almost sitting at Carol’s lap.

Carol watched her watch the screen intently. She watched Nat laugh at something that’s happening in the movie (which she’s totally not watching) and can’t help but notice how Nat smiles more often now that she knows that you’re back. She remembers all the time she caught Nat smiling to herself with a dreamy look on her face, and wonder if Nat ever smiles like that when she thinks of her when she’s with you or is that smile reserved only for you.

“You’re not watching,” Nat whispered without taking her eyes off the gigantic TV screen.

“I’m watching the most beautiful woman on any universe though,” Carol whispered right beside Nat’s ear, making her visibly shiver. Nat elbowed her gently as a warning that she’s ticklish.

“Sap.”

“Your sap though.”

“Shut up!” Sam yelled from almost all the way across the room.

Carol and Nat clumped their mouth shuts in unison before eyeing each other and started giggling together softly. Sam’s heavy sigh from across the room told them they’re not really very good at behaving.

***

You were having a relaxing Friday evening when a series of loud knocks rung through your apartment. You looked at your watch, it’s pretty late into the night for a visitor and Nat’s supposed to be out on a week-long mission with Carol. When it’s apparent that whoever was on the other side of the door can’t take the silence as a hint, you reluctantly stood up and walked towards it. You were surprised when you pulled it open.

“Nat?”

She’s got shopping bags on both her hands and a bag of takeouts between her teeth. You helped her by taking the food off of her.

“What took you so long?” She complained before leaning in and giving you a deliberate smack on the lips. “I’ve been knocking all night.”

The kiss caught you off guard that you were left to stare in space while running a lone finger on your own lips. “Y/N?” she asked confused when she saw that you didn’t follow her inside your own apartment.

You looked back at her before snapping out of the trance she put you in. “Yeah?”

“I said, the food’s going to get cold,” she said with a knowing smirk on her face.

You chuckled before placing the food down the counter and opening the lid to examine the contents of the boxes. Nat brought Japanese food, which is your favourite. Nat sat on the opposite side of the table, facing you.

“Thanks for bringing dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied beaming. Something is different about Nat, you can tell by simply noticing how she’s quite literally blooming and more relax than she normally is.

“So.” You quickly popped sushi in your mouth. “How’s the mission?”

She finished chewing her food before grinning at you. “Oh, it was an easy one. Carol and I finished it in two days.”

You hummed your acknowledgement, not wanting to interrogate her. Apparently, Nat’s actually in the mood for sharing. (Over-sharing, if people ask you.)

“Carol asked Fury though if we can take the rest of the week off.” Nat has this loving facial expression on her face that annoys and hurts you. “She said she wanted to spend the rest of the week to reconnect.”

Another stab to your heart. “Where were you again?” You asked innocently.

“Paris,” she replied before taking a bite on her tempura.

“Of course.” You tried to cover the hurt with a smile. So that’s why she looks so happy, you thought to yourself.

And that wasn’t the end of it as she told you with so much enthusiasm how Carol took her to a romantic dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower, how they skipped dessert and just walked around the park instead. She told you how Carol held her hand all night long as they stroll the streets of Paris, talking about anything and everything under the moon. She told you how she loved doing normal people does as Carol brought her shopping, museum hopping, and even visiting Disneyland.

Your heart clenched but you still smiled anyway. Her smile faltered, then you know you messed up. You know you’re not selling the happy act right.

“What’s wrong?” Nat asked when you docked your head to slurp some soup from your ramen.

“Nothing.” You fought the urge to cringe. It sounded more like a question than a proper answer even to your own ears.

Nat’s eyebrows started to crinkle together. A telltale sign that she’s not buying your bullshit.

“Y/N?”

You bowed your head, stared at your ramen with a frown. You hate when she used that tone like she’s admonishing a child. You feel exhausted, suddenly. “What are we doing, Tasha?” you whispered, still looking at your food.

“I don’t understand-”

She wasn’t able to finish her sentence when you slammed your chopsticks down the table, startling the redhead. Her playing dumb is just aggravating you, making your eyes glow green when you finally made eye contact.

“I mean what are we doing here?” You waved your hand between the two of you to indicate your point. “You spend most of your days in my apartment. Sometimes you would even bring your work here. Just when you arrived you kissed me, what was that?”

You’re too pumped to sit still, so you stood up and started pacing the floor. “You kissed me-” you repeated like you’re still trying to wrap your head around it. “We have dinner and movie nights. We have brunch and museum outings. Sounds familiar?” You chuckled mirthlessly.

“Y/N-”

You stopped pacing at looked at her. “We do all these things together then you go home to Carol. You sleep in the same bed with Carol. You wake up with Carol. You go on romantic getaways with Carol.”

“Carol’s my girlfriend.”

“And who am I to you?”

Nat looked pained by the question. The pregnant paused that followed was the real pain though. You smiled before you walked back to the table and started cleaning up the table.

“Y/N, please. Don’t make this any harder for me.”

You chuckled after closing the dishwasher. You feel sick and tired and torn apart. “I won’t, I promise.” You started walking to the living room, directly picking up your keys. “I have to go. Just lock up when you leave.”

You were power walking to the door. “But this is your apartment,” she said behind you.

You didn’t dare look back. You just gave another hollow laugh before you’re out of your own damn door.

***

Someone’s knocking on your door at midnight again. The last time someone knocked on your door at the same ungodly hour you had that fight with Natasha. You placed the photo frames on top of your clothes before begrudgingly opening your door. When you did, you couldn’t school your expression fast enough before the other person noticed.

“Not who you’re expecting?” Carol Danvers asked with an awkward smile.

“I’m not expecting anyone but if I was, I certainly wasn’t expecting you.”

You frowned at her yet you opened the door wider to let her in. You and Carol have butt heads since you first met and you certainly don’t want to wake the whole neighbourhood with your bickering. At least inside your apartment, it’s soundproof.

Carol walked inside your open layout unit, noting the industrial design and curated furniture to match the overall style. She spotted the suitcase in your bed with a two framed photos on top of your neatly folded clothes; one is a photo of you and Nat, and the other is a photo of you, Nat and Clint smiling at the camera.

“Going somewhere?”

You walked towards your case before throwing the last of your things inside. “Is there a purpose for this visit, Captain Danvers?” Carol noted the lack of bite in your tone, which she grew accustomed to since you fight each other a lot.

Carol bit her bottom lip as she struggles to find the right words to say to tell you she’s giving up on Natasha so you two can be together. She came to ask you to take care of Nat, protect her and love her for the two of you. She rehearsed what she wanted to say but standing there, the words are stuck in her throat.

You zipped your suitcase and looked up at the blonde who suddenly became too quiet. You can see the storm in her bright hazel eyes. You sighed, you’re too tired for anything so you decided to ease the blonde’s burden.

“Don’t worry Carol, I’m not going to bother you and Nat ever again.” You pulled your luggage out of the bed and dragged it in your foyer.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m getting out of your hair, dumbass.”

Carol was too confused to register the jab. She cocked her head to the side to convey her confusion, making you roll your eyes at her.

“Hey!” She complained with an uncharacteristic pout. “What does getting out of my hair means?”

With your luggage packed and secure, you beckoned Carol to follow you at the other side of the room where your sleek, modern and fully stocked bar stood. You poured yourself and Carol both a tall glass of vodka.

“I mean I’m leaving Tasha in your hands.” You downed the glass of vodka without a problem. “Take care of her.”

Carol looked down at her glass and swirled the clear liquid around. “I actually came here to tell you the same thing,” she whispered.

“Well, now you don’t have to.” You drunk another half glass. “I’m sorry for causing too much trouble.”

Carol let out a hearty laugh. “I’m sorry I’m so uptight.”

“Uptight?” You scoffed. “You’re a dick.”

“So are you,” Carol snickered. “And you killed the Vipers.”

It’s your turn to laugh. “You’re welcome,” you said cheekily before pouring yourself another half a glass of vodka.

“Why are you leaving though?” Carol asked after downing her shot too.

“She loves you, Danvers.” You stared straight at the painting hanging on your wall who happens to be the portrait of a redhead with her back against the canvas.

Carol’s watching your side profile. You looked tired and defeated. So unlike the confident, dangerous, Y/N Al Ghul at your sisters' mansion. “She loves you, too.”

You smiled before bowing your head and staring at your drink. “I know but she chose you. Every time she goes home, she chose you.” You chugged the vodka in your glass. “When you arrived you asked me if I’m expecting someone else, I’m really not. We had a fight a week ago after I asked what we were doing and she couldn’t answer. She said that I shouldn’t make it harder for her, so I won’t.”

“By taking yourself out of the equation?”

You swivelled around in your chair to look at your blonde visitor. You grinned at her with your cheeks flushed from all the vodka you just consumed. “Exactly,” you declared with a smile.

She thought you’re already tipsy until you downed two more shots like the drink doesn’t burn your throat. Carol spied your glassy eyes when you turned away from her and made a weak display of checking your watch and wiping your eyes, she knew you’re crying.

“Look at that, it’s almost 1AM. Natasha will look for you if you’re gone for too long.” When you look back at her with clear eyes and a smile. “Sorry to cut this short, Captain but I have an early flight to catch in the morning.”

“Oh.” Carol tried to help put away the glassed but you put a hand on her arm, telling her to leave it.

You smiled when you opened the door for the blonde. “I’m glad we did this. You’re not so bad after all.”

You two misjudged each other for the sole reason that you love the same woman and is basically competing for her love and affection, hindering you from trying and wanting to get to know each other on a personal level.

“You too, Y/N.” Carol nibbled at her bottom lip. “Thank you.”

“No. Thank YOU! Thank you for loving her. Tasha deserves someone like you.”

#drabble #mini series #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #scarlett johansson x reader #natasha romanoff x carol danvers #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #scarlett johansson imagine #carol danvers x natasha romanoff

128 notes · View notes

drkfought · 4 years ago

Text

─ the mirrors surrounding you did as they were meant to , reflecting back a spitting image of avan jogia - but it’s clear something is wrong from the moment that a vision of 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 strikes you . perhaps it was a passing daydream in the frenzy of the funhouse . you reassure yourself - you’re 𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑 , a 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺 - 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 year old 𝗕𝗔𝗥 𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 / 𝗗𝗥𝗨𝗚 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗥 whose virtue lies in your + self sufficiency & + rationality , although you’ve been told that you tend to be quite - suspicious & - blunt , and you’re associated with 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 & 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒛�� , 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 , 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 , by those around you . suddenly, however, you’ve found 𝐀 𝐉𝐎𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐄𝐑 on your person - was that always there ? from the moment you leave the funhouse , memories from your life in 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡 have begun to return - leaving whoever you had been before in the mirror’s reflection behind you . you can almost hear 𝚁𝙰𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙽 𝙰 𝚂𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙰𝚈 by 𝙱𝙾𝙷𝙽𝙴𝚂 following in your wake .

if i could pick one character for supernatural to revisit ... it’d be this one . the potential they had with this kid ? unmatched . instead though they put him a literal singular episode & despite his open ended disappearance they never once mentioned him again . supernatural sure is a show . anyway ! i love jesse & will be giving him the acknowledgment he deserves .

full name : jesse anthony turner . alises : the antichrist . age : twenty four . gender & pronouns : cis male , he / him . sexual & romantic orientation : homosexual / homoromantic . species : virgin born cambion ( half - human , half - demon hybrid ) . identifying marks : several tattoos ranging all over his body , though none above his chin .

─ 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 .

as far as jesse knew , he was a normal boy from nebraska . his parents , though they often left him alone , loved him well enough . they doted on him when they were home , even . kept him almost sheltered in many ways but it never bothered jesse as a child . nothing bothered him . not until he was twelve .

after a series of extremely strange deaths in town , alliance , nebraska attracted the attention of the winchesters . upon investigation they found jesse being the only thing linking all the murders . the link ? harmless pranks & child superstitions were becoming true . joy buzzers would electrocute you . itching powder would cause you to scratch your scalp off . step on a crack ? well --- your mother won’t be in good conditions . all of these were pranks that jesse believed . when jesse was told the truth , that joy buzzers were harmless , sam & dean found they went back to being that way . somehow , though unexplainable to them , jesse was unknowingly warping the reality around him to what he believed .

answers came in the form of their angel friend , castiel , who informed them jesse was the ultimate weapon of hell for the apocalypse : the antichrist . jesse , it was revealed to them , was actually adopted . his birth mother was a woman named julia wright who carried & birthed jesse while being possessed by a demon which made jesse half - human , half - demon hybrid , otherwise known as a cambion . what was more important is that though julia was jesse’s mother , he had no father . not just in the absent sense , but in the entire sense . julia wright was a virgin . being what he was , jesse had immense powers that activated when lucifer escaped his cage in hell . the longer lucifer was on earth , the stronger jesse’s powers would continue to grow .

cas informed the winchesters of the dangers jesse’s existence threatened & though they disagreed with him , he went to kill jesse . when sam & dean made it to jesse’s , they found he had used his powers in self defense to transform castiel into figurine . the two of them explained to jesse that he powers in the easiest way they could , trying to spare the boy’s feelings to get him on their side , but demons had a different idea . they interrupted sam & dean’s attempt at recruiting jesse to their side by breaking the truth to him . about his mother . about what he was . about how powerful he was . jesse , tired of both sides , commanded the demon to leave ( which it did , unable to disobey jesse’s control ) then told sam & dean he would go upstairs to say goodbye to his family & get his things .

after waiting for sometime , the winchesters went to go check on jesse only to find him gone with nothing but a goodbye note to his family . cas , now back to being an angel rather than an action figure , appeared to tell them the antichrist had vanished once more . the boy had run away to spare his family from danger & get away from being used as a weapon . he was never found after his disappearance , his powers making him unable to be detected by any angel or demon , & it’s unknown what could have happened to him .

─ 𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 .

jesse grew up with his mother in this world , but it wasn’t pleasant . his mother hated his estranged father & because of this she put hate onto jesse who simply had to bare it . she drank & she ignored him & he made due for himself despite it all . when he was six , cps took him away from the situation & jesse entered the foster care system . he was already older than most adopting parents & his cold personality didn’t help either . he was bitter & borderline cruel sometimes if only because he didn’t trust the adults who came near him .

bumping around from foster home to foster home , jesse had very few constants in his life . one of them , though , was his best friend zagreus . the two started getting along when jesse was in middle school & zag quickly became jesse’s ride or die . they got into trouble together off & on & as they went into high school jesse would let his friend practice stick & pokes on him as he encouraged zag’s tattoo artist dreams when zag’s parents wouldn’t .

he was finally adopted at age sixteen & though his adopted family has tried to be close with him , jesse still keeps them at arm’s length . they’re a patient lot , though . which is new for jesse . an unconditional love isn’t one he’s often been around .

now , at age twenty four , jesse works for the cat’s meow in town as a bar tender . & when that’s not making him enough money he also deals drugs on the side however first time or inexperienced buyers usually end up getting overcharged for scams by him . if you buy from jesse , its recommended you go into the situation knowing what exactly youre talking about .

─ 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 .

resident bad boy that your parents warn you about . piece of shit little disrespectful delinquent . if you pay him $10 he’ll yell at your parents for you .

if you get close to him , though , he will secretly care very deeply . close friends will know the truth : he has a huge soft spot if you can find it . he will deny this fact if you say anything about it . he has a reputation .

he’s okay with his family & appreciates them adopting him but he’s still always kept them at arms length . needs to stop not trusting people for once .

in his canon , i have it that he fucked off to australia & basically made a pocket universe there to keep away from the world .

he is insanely powerful . cas said that , at his full power , he would be able to destroy the host of heaven “with a word” .

his power isn’t just because he is a cambion . if the antichrist was as easy to make as just a half demon , there would have been another . a virgin birth requires a lot of ritual . it’s something that takes a lot of time & planning & can only happen once . he is more than just a cambion because of his virgin birth . it’s that which makes him the antichrist rather than just a cambion .

his powers are activated when lucifer is around , but it’s never said that they disappear if lucifer goes away again . jesse’s powers stopped getting stronger after lucifer went away , but what he had gained stayed . when lucifer later returned later , jesse’s powers grew even stronger again .

his powers , when he doesn’t know how to use them , are sometimes used without him realizing it . some things may happen because of him unintentionally .

i will add more later but it’s like 4am .

#jesse: intro #duality.intro #THREE intros done now hell yes #abuse tw #neglect tw #drugs tw

4 notes · View notes

royal-babey · 4 years ago

Note

1 and 8 for the music quiz if you're still doing it! For all your steps 👀

I am! :D Ty for the ask! :3

All sidesteps, huh? Oh boy xD Here we go!!!

1 - A song I associate with my muses personality.

Robin Monrosa: Pale White Horse by The Oh Hellos ^^ Kinda soft and sad but with a lot of feeling, esp around feeling like he’s been able to be strong and handle a lot but there’s /something/ unnerving him, always. It’s a process “^^

Avis Faigel: Failure Girl by Kairiki Bear ft Hatsune Miku, covered in English by Oktavia ^^ Avis has a lot of self esteem issues that they cover up by being the peppy/cute/flirtatious one. They truly never feel good enough for anyone, not even themself “^^ So the song feels fitting bc it’s like...Just them hiding their true feelings but not feeling like they can let anyone know?

Cyrus Beccerra: Nightmare by Halsey, covered by Lollia ^^ Cyrus has a lot of anger directed at the world and has felt crushed many times, but every time he’s built himself back up stronger than before and has a very “Fuck the world, come at me” attitude! Very much that deep quote about surviving because the fire inside him burned hotter than the fire around him.

Daniel Basri: Problems by Mother Mother! Honestly it’s hard to think of any specific reasoning xD Maybe that the song is so cheery and upbeat sounding whilst the lyrics a little less so? But hey Dani has learned to make the best out of any situations and find the little things in life that make it worth it to keep going ^^

Lonan Bheíre: World Is Mine by Hatsune Miku, covered again by Lollia! xD It was the very first song I listened to for him and it’s the very first song in his entire playlist. Lonan very much feels like he deserves a lot more than the shit he’s been given and he’s right!!! So give him a cake and a pony and a strong boyfriend with an adorable dog, he deserves it!!! xDD

Now onto the second question! :D

8 - A song that makes my muse feel nostalgic.

Ready for more feels? xD

Robin Monrosa: Gravity by Sara Bareilles, covered by Annapantsu ^^ Again, the very first song in Robins playlist! It always makes me think about how no matter how hard he tried to stay away from his past, before heartbreak, stay away from Ortega who he loved and still loves, he just can’t. Because Ortega has a certain gravity to him and Robin is always being pulled back to him. And since Ortega was such an important part of his past and now his present again, yeah, nostalgia song!!!

Avis Faigel: Universe Cat Drowning by Kikuomiku0 (English subtitles cuz it’s in Japanese ^^), Avis very much blames themself for Heartbreak in a way, and especially for Anathema’s death. HB, as it did for most sidesteps, really fucked them up “^^ to the point their mindscape is the Heartbreak apartment…(At least until therapy!!!) So yeah, this song is just about them feeling the need to apologise to the world for what happened even if it was in no way shape or form, their fault. I suppose the nostalgia part comes in from them wondering about the life they could have had with Anathema and the rangers had things not gone to shit, you know? “^^

Cyrus Beccerra: Ghost Rule by DECO*27, covered again by Lollia!!! I rly like her covers okay…..Butt anyway, this songs makes me think of how Cyrus, like Avis, also wonders what kind of life he would have had without heartbreak interfering. But it did and so now he knows he’s not the same and he feels a sort of...Guilt? For not being unaffected? And yeah this song would just make him think about the person he was before more trauma happened!!!,,,

Daniel Basri: Heroes Rise by Tomee Profitt ft Sam Tinnesz! Honestly a good Fallen Hero song overall, but this song reminds Dani about how even though he “died”, Sidestep didn’t. Or well, Sidesteps image. People still look up to Sidestep. Remember them. Mourn them, even. Daniel doesn’t understand it but at the same time he does. Because no matter how many times he says Sidestep is dead, it’s just not true. It’ll never be true. And he knows that, and borderline hates it “^^ but also mourns himself, in a way. What he could have been to people. Still have been, that is...

Lonan Bheíre: Arsonist's Lullaby by Hozier! Lonannnnn feels kinda jealous of the world? Like he should have gotten more than he got. He had his choices taken away from him, multiple times in fact, and that infuriates him to no end. The song reminds him of this and makes him wistful for pre-hb, but also makes him think about how his eyes were opened in a way? Though for better or for worse...I don’t know “^^ But if he has to go down again, he’s bringing the world with him.

#asks #friends #ty again for the ask! :D #This was both fun and exhaustinh xD #Tho that could also be my meds making me tired xDD #my oc #my ocs #fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth #Robin Monrosa #Avis Faigel #Cyrus Beccerra #Daniel Basri #Lonan Bheíre #ask game

6 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 5 years ago

Text

Survey #216

“cocaine in a crucifix, say your prayers, take your licks.”

How much money is in your wallet right now? Not a lot. Maybe like $10. What’s the last thing you purchased from the store? Me myself? No idea. Have you ever seen the movie Mean Girls? If so, did you think it was funny? Yeah, it's a nice movie. What do you usually get on your sub at Subway? Ham, American cheese, bacon, banana peppers, pickles, and Chipotle sauce. I think that's it. Is your bed made right now? Do you usually make your bed, or does someone make it for you? I'm in my bed. I always am. Have you ever had a crush of one of your friends’ brothers/sisters? No. Do you take naps often? I take one most days. Are you an only child? If not, do you get annoyed by your siblings a lot? No, and they don't annoy me, but then again, I live with none of them. What’s your favorite Disney movie? The Lion King. Does it take you a while to fall asleep? Ugh. Too long. Do you watch TV before you go to sleep? No. Do you listen to music every day? It's very rare I don't. If you could have ANYTHING in the world right now, what would it be? To be satisfied with where I am in life. Do you still watch Spongebob Squarepants? No. I don't not enjoy it, you know I just don't watch television. What kind of bottled water do you drink? Mom buys big jugs of some Great Value-esque or whatever brand. Do you collect stuff someone else would consider junk? If so, then what? No. What's the most your electricity bill has ever reached? Idk, I don't pay it. How much was your tax refund this year or did you pay? N/A How are the kids doing? I don't have any. Do you see a bright light at the end of your tunnel? Just being realistic, not deliberately depressing or anything, I don't know. I could have a very dull and unsuccessful life or a thriving and happy one. What's the most you’ve ever lost gambling? Don't gamble. Have you ever waited in line overnight for something? No. How many concerts have you attended? One. Do you think having an expensive phone is a good investment? To a certain high price, no. So long you can call and text easily and reliably, I don't find it necessary to buy a $500 or whatever phone. Any tattoos? How many do you need or want to cover up? I have six. I'm getting my "ohana" one covered at some point, and I'm going to have "perfectly flawed" tatted over as well; I just want to move it elsewhere, considering I want something else where it already is. How many funerals have you attended? One or two. Have you lost anyone your age to death? No one that I was especially close to, thankfully. Have you ever witnessed a birth in person? Not a human one, thank Christ. I've seen cats give birth many times, and maybe other animals, but I'm not sure. What gender do you identify with? Female. What’s your opinion on astrology? It's total, ridiculous bullshit. Are you more of a science or math person? I'm clueless in math, while science makes sense to me and is far more interesting. What religion/spirituality do you identify with, if any? Theism. I think something made the universe, but I don't pretend to know jackshit about him/her/them/it. What is your opinion on peanut butter & banana sandwiches? I like them every now and again. What is your favorite book that was turned into a movie? The Outsiders, probably. Do you like the movie or the book better? This was so long ago that I honestly don't remember either well... so I really dunno. If you identify as a girl, would you ever consider getting a pixie cut? Yeah. If you identify as a boy, would you ever consider growing your hair out? N/A Are you a metalhead? I guess I mostly fit the definition, but I don't like labeling myself as such considering honestly, the metalhead community tends to have such a "that's not heavy enough" attitude and ridicule anything less than their interests and treat those that like softer metal as outcasts and/or posers. Not even trying to stereotype; befriend or observe people in this category and you'll see what I mean. Do you even listen to metal? Hell yes. Do you watch porn? No. If you don’t, do you have a moral reasoning behind that decision? I just find it... very strange. I don't see the appeal of watching. That's just something I want between me and my partner, you know? Like if you watch it, good for you, so long your s/o (if applicable) is aware and fine with it, but it ain't for me. Do you know anybody who is a Wiccan or Pagan? Yesssss, she's cool as fuck. I need to reconnect with her more. Do/did you ever attend church regularly? I did as a kid. Do you have a godmother/godfather/both? I have no clue. Do you listen to Supertramp? I have no clue who that is. Do you watch Supernatural? Not anymore. I think I stopped at the end of Season 6. What’s your favorite character in your favorite TV show? That '70s Show, probably Hyde. I love and relate to Eric, though. Honestly I love every single character; they're very unique to each other and recognizable with strong personalities. Both Fullmetal Alchemist iterations, most likely Edward. Or possibly one of the Sins, but I don't remember them all well... Oh. I know I loved Envy, for one. Are you wearing any rings right now? Yeah, my Supernatural friendship ring w/ Sara. Calling each other "bitch"/"jerk" between Sam and Dean is a thing in the show, so I have one that says "bitch" on the interior, and Sara has "jerk." Bracelets? Yes, also the one Sara gave me. Necklaces? No. Anklets? No. Chokers/collars? No. Do you go to a firework show every 4th of July? No. Are you diabetic? No. I'm forever proud of that considering it runs heavily in my family, yet even at my worst weight, I didn't develop it. But more importantly, a recent blood test I had for my thyroid or something showed I don't have any indicators of even coming close/being at any risk at this point in time. Are you allergic to gluten? No. Are you lactose intolerant? No. What is your favorite fruit? Strawberries, yum. Your favorite vegetable? Broccoli. Do you live with your parents? I live with my mom. Have you written a formal essay lately? Not in years. How much experience do you have written down on your resume, approximately? I don't have a resume currently, but if I did, it'd only have two months as a sales associate as my other two jobs were so short-lived it'd be stupid to add, especially when you consider the obvious fact that would make me look awful. How long have you had the shirt you’re wearing? A year. What happened last time you got drunk? N/A When’s the last time you straightened your hair? I have zero clue. Do you bite your toe nails? Wtf no. Last time you laughed your head off? Idr. Do you find piercings attractive? Yeah. Did you accept or reject your last friend request? I rejected it. Had no clue who it was, even though we had quite a handful of mutuals. How many cigarettes have you smoked today? N/A Do you have a hard time admitting you’re wrong? It depends on what the subject of the matter is. Do you like potato chips? Is there a human that doesn't???? Do you give out second chances way too easily? Yes. Ever stayed up all night on the phone? Not all night, no. There was one night Jason and I were up a long time talking, but it wasn't all night. What are you excited for? SCHOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Have you ever shoplifted? No. If you have shoplifted, are you afraid of getting in trouble? And are you afraid to go back in that store? N/A Have you ever gotten caught shoplifting? If yes, what happened? N/A Have you ever plotted revenge against someone? No. Are you mad at someone right now? Nah. Have you ever egged someone’s house? Fuck no, because I'm not a dick. If not, have you ever WANTED to egg someone’s house? No. Have you ever wanted to kill someone? I was fucking psychotic when I found out Jason was in a new relationship after we broke up. For a long time I wanted her dead. Are you glad you don’t own a gun, because of what you might do with it? Quite honestly, yes. I'm impulsive on bad days, and I don't entirely cross out the possibility of me shooting myself on an awful day. Do you avoid people when they’ve hurt you? Yes. Do you make the most of every opportunity? No. Are you honestly succeeding at life, or failing? Failing miserably at most things. What does your newest journal look like? I don't remember the last time I got a journal. Is there anything you currently want but can’t have? A lot of things. Do you have no one you can trust? No, thankfully. Do you like meatball subs? No, they're so messy. Are you severely sleep deprived? No. What music are you listening to? "LA Devotee" by P!ATD just came on. If you go to school (HS or college), does your school have a rival? N/A What’s your school’s mascot? N/A If you have a sib, do you call him/her “brother” or “sister” sometimes? No. Do you own a Wii? If not, do you want one? Yes. Are there any songs you could just listen to over and over and over? No. I get tired of a song after around 100 repeats. No, I'm not kidding. Before you could loop YT vids (or anyway, before I was aware), I used a website that repeated the video for you and kept track of the repeats. Do you have a favorite basketball team (NBA or college?) No. Have you been baptized in any religious tradition? Yes. If your best male friend got a mohawk, would he look good or ridiculous? Save Him. What did you have for breakfast? A PopTart. What kind of booze did you last take shots of? I've never taken a shot. Have you slept over at a member of the opposite sex’s house in their bed? Yeah, but we were dating. Who last slept in your bed besides you? Sara. If the last person you had sex with asked you to date them, would you? No. What color is your car? (Or the one you drive most often) White. How long have you been single? (Or dating your current interest) Sara and I have been together a year and ten months. Has someone of the opposite sex ever told you that you were sexy? Yeah. Do you own any books written by musicians? Yeah, Ozzy's autobiography. What is your most interesting invention? Probably some RP characters. Have you ever seen someone sleepwalk? Once. Have you ever thought about getting your tongue pierced? It is pierced. When you’re bored in class, what do you usually do? N/A yet. Do you like your phone? NO. Honestly, are things going the way you planned? Bitch hell no. Who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts? The woman who adopted Kaiju. I miss him, damn. Have you ever snuggled with someone you weren’t dating? No. Do you know a James? I knew one years ago. If you had to choose to have a different accent than the one you have now, what accent would you choose and why? British. It sounds sophisticated and just generally attractive to me. Have you ever or do you currently live in a Gated Community? I don't and never have. Do you know how to use a DSLR camera? Yeah. Have you ever owned an Axolotl? No, but they cute. What has been the longest amount of time you’ve spent on a plane? I actually don't know. Probably just around two hours. How often do you use Snapchat? I don't have one/never had. Have you ever adopted an animal from an animal shelter? Yes. Where do you usually find surveys from? Tumblr, and if I'm desperate, LiveJournal. Have you ever missed a flight? Yep. The airport biz took WAY longer than any of us expected. What is your favorite film from your childhood? The Lion King. I think it's always been my fave, honestly, I just never really thought about JUST HOW MUCH I love the film and its story since I was a kid. Do you know anyone who is named after a state? Uhhh I know at least one Caroline, and that's close enough? Jason's mom's name is a state, too. What was the reason for your previous doctor’s visit? I was getting a full blood panel done to check my thyroid. Have you ever been to an outdoor cinema? No. Well, my elementary school and church used to do these "movies on the lawn" type things where they used a huge projector to play a movie outside around late evening, but I don't know if that counts. Have you ever had a “bad trip”? If yes, what happened? N/A How often do you use Instagram? I usually check it once a day or two to follow certain celebs' stories 'n shit. Have you ever smoked a cigarette? If so, do you still smoke? No. Adam Sandler or Jim Carrey? Jim. Do you enjoy learning about conspiracy theories? If so, what is your favorite? Y'all know I love me some conspiracies. My favorite - as in most interesting, not that I seriously believe in it - is the one that our current reality is just a simulation from a "future" civilization for study or just play purposes. It's interesting to think about with alarming evidence. Elon Musk 100% believing in it puts more "hey this might actually be worth considering" into it, but I think I lean more towards it being false. It's not something I think about much though as I have THE most Detroit: Become Human mindset about it ever, lmao. It just doesn't matter to me. Wow, what a ramble. Do you find hand tattoos attractive on your preferred sex? I find tattoos (usually) attractive in general, so like- What is your favorite Netflix original series? I have no clue what's Netflix-exclusive. I don't watch it. Have you ever owned a Tamagotchi? Yep, or at least something similar to it. My sister especially loved those little things. Do you have a favorite “survey blog” on Tumblr? If so, who? Dunno if tagging random people in surveys is annoying, so I'll break the link, but @/thedarkeststarsurveys seems super cool and nice. Would you rather be able to control fire or water? Probably fire for self-defense purposes, and I just like fire. Water seems... overall pretty useless to control, unless you can like, manifest it. Then you could solve a world of problems. Have you ever used your phone in class or at work without anyone knowing? Actually no. Have you ever been to Canada? No. What is your favorite condiment to put on fries? Ketchup. Do any famous people follow you on Twitter or Instagram? Definitely not to my knowledge, but I highly doubt it. Do you usually take the stairs or the elevator? Elevator. Even though I'm scared of them. Stairs and my horrible knees don't mix. What salads do you usually get on your Subway order? None. Have you ever made your own cocktails at home? Not myself. My old friend did. Have you seen all the Star Wars films? I watched the first three disinterestedly with Girt once, and neither of us liked them. I didn't get the appeal at all. Do you own any shirts with funny words or pictures on them? Yeah. Are your eyes the same color they were when you were a baby? They were more blue. Do you take the pickle off your burgers? No. Who do you share your bathroom with? Anyone else in the house. What color is your bed frame? Brown. Have you ever kissed someone you met that day? No. Do you share a bed with anyone? No. Well, excluding Roman and sometimes Teddy. Name all the people you know that you’ve seen today. My mom. When a car cuts you off, is the driver a jerk or is there an explanation? "Most of the time the driver is a jerk." <<< Yep. What are your thoughts on cosmetic surgery? You do you, boo. Has a man/woman ever broke your heart? If so, have you recovered? Yes, and yes as well as a PTSD victim can; your brain is literally changed after trauma, and considering I still have dreams/nightmares about him very regularly and he suddenly crosses my mind literally every single day despite never wanting to think about him, I don't think you could consider me totally recovered. Name a few things that make you really happy. Really happy? Being with Sara, Mark doing so much as blinking, long car rides with my music blaring way too loud, finding a new song and binging it for hours, a mount dropping in WoW goddamn y'all I have over 300, being complimented on my photography (or like... anything), my niece and/or nephew saying they love me or anything along those lines without being prompted (ex. when leaving, that kinda stuff), going to Olive Garden 'cuz breadsticks and spicy shrimp fritas lol, finishing a drawing and actually liking the result, getting Venus out and she acts like a cuddlebug the whole time, uh... other stuff that isn't coming to me. What’s your favorite type of sushi? Never tried it, don't want to. Have you ever read a book about a character in a psych ward? I don't think so. Have you ever been in a mental hospital as a patient? Too many times fuck but those days done fam. Do you take birth control pills? Currently for taming the pain and symptoms of my cycle, but it's hopefully changing to a longer, better solution soon to just totally eliminate it to remove its effects on my mood entirely for mental health tracking purposes. When’s the last time you got a new outfit? I don't buy full outfits. Do you have an imaginary best friend? (i.e., someone you wish was your best friend but currently isn’t) No. Do you like soy sauce? NO. Do you have a good doctor? I haven't had her long, but she's nice and seems knowledgeable. What’s your favorite store to browse around? Whew, Hot Topic my friends. Do you ever meditate on Scripture? No. Do you like poetry? Yeah. What’s the name of the most recent baby a friend had? Dawson. Do you have expensive tastes? Definitely not. What is your dream job? Meerkat biologist or paleontologist. What is your favorite music style currently? I've been digging power metal a lot lately. I like, live off of Powerwolf. I've been wanting to find more symphonic metal I enjoy, too... Are you wearing comfortable clothes right now? Yeah. Is there a bad habit you’re trying to break right now? Yeah, rather just keep it quiet. Is it easy to find a job in your preferred field in your home town? Fuck. No. When is the last time you went to a fun fair? ~August 2015. I remember it because it happened pretty shortly before the breakup. How about an amusement park? I have zero clue. Probably not since I went to Disney World as a child. Ladies: Would you ever consider proposing? If not, why not? If I'm with a woman, yes. I don't really have a proper reason why I wouldn't if I was with a man... I have NO problem with women proposing to men, I just think I'd personally feel weird. Oh, that makes sense; the fact of how I am with men - scared and doubtful - probably says a good deal. I'd want to see "oh wow he actually wants to be with me so much he's asking himself." Gentlemen: How would you feel, if you were proposed to? N/A Have you ever played the original Mass Effect trilogy? No. If so, which Shepard and who do you like romancing the best? N/A Let’s say there’s a person in need. They need money which they can’t make. Would you be more likely to help them out, if a celebrity asked you to? "Tbh right now I’m not really in a position to help anyone out financially. But hypothetically if I had the money to do so, some celebrity’s opinion wouldn’t matter." <<< This. When you go to a restaurant, do you have a go-to dish? Pretty much always. I don't tend to try new foods. Or do you always try out something new? ^ No. Would you rather live next to a kindergarten or an old folks’ home? Holy fuck, the latter. Living next to a school, esp. elementary, might even be a deal-breaker as far as buying a house goes. I'm not dealing with the noise and traffic. What was the last game that you played? I'm "playing" World of Warcraft currently, waiting for a stupid dinosaur to spawn to be denied a mount again. :^) What do you know about Finland? Nothing. Where was the postcard from that traveled the longest way to you? I don't think I've ever gotten a postcard. Have you ever made jewelry? Besides like those bead, "friendship," and plastic bracelets that were popular in the early 2000s, no. Which app do you use the most on your phone? Uhhhh I think Facebook? I don't use apps much. Did you learn to play an instrument as a kid? If so, which one? Recorders in elementary school and then flute in middle school-junior year in high school. What is the best part of your most ordinary day? Mark uploading cries. What’s your dad’s hair color? It's almost entirely gray now, but it's naturally black. Who was the last person you heard sing? Myself, I think. Surprisingly. Do you bite your lips a lot? My bottom one, occasionally. Have you ever dated someone with tattoos? For less than a day. Did you donate to Haiti? No. I've never had a source of stable income. Are your parents rich? BITCH- What’s your mom’s job? She's a pharmacy tech. Have you ever thrown up in public? Yes. In the middle of my 1st grade class lmaaaoooo. Have you ever failed gym in school? No. Are you scared of dogs? Nope. What reality show would you like to be in? None. What TV show makes you laugh? Most consistently, That '70s Show. Doesn't matter that I've seen I think every episode multiple times, I still laugh so easily at it. Family Feud gets me good too, if it's Steve Harvey hosting it. Have you ever heard of Joe Purdy? If so, do you like his music? Never heard of 'im. What is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Probably Johnny Got His Gun. Would you ever wear real fur? Fuck no. Who do you envy and why? Successful people. Because I'm the polar opposite. What color is the house you live in? Khaki. Which one of your friends is most likely to be famous one day? Why? Probablyyyy... Shannen. She is phenomenal at photography and already employed in NY with a fashion company for it. I am unbelievably envious of her, too, but also very happy. She deserves it. Do you have a favorite cousin? No. I rarely ever see my cousins, and if I do, it's usually just two. What is the worst present you have ever gotten? I've never gotten a "bad" gift. I appreciate the thought behind anything. Like I've gotten things entirely unrelated to me, but I still appreciate them. Who was it from? N/A Who is your favorite author? Don't have one. Do you shave your arms? No.

#survey #quiz #questions #random #bored

4 notes · View notes

cherry3point14 · 6 years ago

Text

Castiel the Demon Slayer

Pairing: Platonic TWF.

Prompt: Something with BAMF!Cas By a cutie pie nonnie.

Words: 1,607.

Warnings: Like there’s actually some fluff in this and then suddenly there isn’t. Demons. Almost dying.

A/N: I just kind of just went with my gut here for this extended drabble. Fic 3 for my followers celebration. Halfway through, are you proud of me?

Ao3 link if you prefer.

Hunting wasn’t always, as Dean put it, awesome. You loved killing bad guys but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a mess, like, ninety percent of the time. Too many hunts you’d come home stained in blood that wasn’t yours and had to scrub your skin raw. On more than one occasion you’ve been injured because, you know, everything is trying to kill you. And the worst part is when you don’t, or can’t, save everyone.

It’s really exhausting sometimes.

So, you have to make the most of the little things. You start getting way too attached to creature comforts like your favorite cereal because it’s a constant in your life that you can rely on. You splurge on shampoo fancier than Sam’s because you’re worth it. And you treasure every second you get to spend with the boys.

The best part is they’re giant softies. They once told you about a big ol’ teddy bear they’d dealt with as part of a wishing well case and to this day you kind of suspect they were talking metaphorically about themselves because they are the giant teddy bears.

Sam loves romantic comedies. He’ll never say the words, but he goddamn loves them. You’d discovered this completely by accident while you’d been thoroughly enjoying some mashed potatoes and he threw out a, “I’ll have what she’s having.” Now you were at the point where neither of you needed to discuss it. After a bad hunt, you’d find each other and watch something cheesy and ridiculous together just to let the obvious happy ending put huge, dumb smiles on your faces.

Dean is a bit of a foodie. He hides it behind eating too much pie and too many cheeseburgers. But he’s a total slut for the kind of fancy food that has a home on Instagram. Not that he understands Instagram. You’d been working in New York, well actually you were in New Jersey hunting werewolves but close enough. After the furries were taking care of you were exhausted but he’d wanted to drive through the city. You hadn’t questioned it because you both deserved whatever the hell you wanted after all the killing. The lights made the drive seem like a movie and you’d quickly fallen asleep against the window. Then you’re woken by Dean slamming the driver’s side door except now he’s got a bunch of takeout boxes filled with things like raclette, which you describe as cheesy heaven when you try it. Since then he always shares his new food discoveries with you.

But neither of those two compared with Cas. Cassie Cas Cas. The times you’d spent with Cas may have been limited to what you call ‘peacetime’ but that was how you liked it. You didn’t have some big story about discovering a secret little quirk of his because his quirks weren’t a secret. That honesty might be the cutest thing about him. And the fact that he’s so game for anything. Sometimes you could have real dire needs. Like watching videos of cats and dogs being friends and needing to hang out with some cuddly animals. Cas always understands. He goes with you to the animal shelter and helps you pretend you’re looking to adopt just so you can hug the shit out of as many dogs as you can. He seemed to enjoy it too, everyone wins.

Cas was the fluffiest cloud in the sky. Logically you know he’s this ancient, powerful being but at the same time, he once let you paint his nails the same colour as his eyes.

Or, at least, that was your opinion until today.

Today you’ve fucked up. It happens to the best of us, it just so happens that today it’s on you.

Dean and Sam aren’t back from their hunt yet, they’re on the way home and driving as fast as they can because they know you’re an idiot, but they’re still not here. Dean told you repeatedly to leave it alone, ordered you actually, but you’d told him it would be easy, and you never responded well to orders anyway.

It’s just a little demon to take care of. All the signs are there, and this black-eyed son of a bitch has already killed three people. You have an angel blade, it’ll be fine. You already stayed home on bed rest because you got cut up a week ago but now you’re fighting fit again and the last thing you want to see is this demon kill any more people.

But Dean, and Sam in the background, tell you to wait. Knowing that you won’t. You’re feeling pretty sure of yourself. It’s not like you’ve never snagged a demon before.

The problem is you’re so gagging to get back out there that you hadn’t noticed that two of the victims died in different locations at the same time, which already spells more than one douche. You'd stormed ahead anyway.

It’s how you end up tied to a chair with one of them balancing you over a tenth-floor balcony for fun. The only thing keeping you from a loony toons style death is the back two chair legs teetering dangerously near to the edge and the demons hand around your throat.

You’re pretty sure you’d be dead by now if Sam hadn’t called. His name flashing up on your phone was a blessing and a curse. Being associated with the Winchesters means they haven’t killed you immediately because they’ve decided to keep you as leverage. But it also means they’re playing with you. The big guy says he likes to hear your screams through the dirty material gagged in your mouth. Unbeknownst to him, you made a snappy comeback about hearing his screams soon enough but through the gag, it’s just a series of noises.

Unfortunately, you’re one slip of his hand away from becoming a human omelet when the door to the apartment flies off of its hinges. Literally flies. Not kicked in, the wood just propels forward like a bomb has gone off behind it. The demon holding you is so shocked that he lets you go and you’d swear that’s it. You can feel gravity clinging to you now that nothing is holding you in place. You chair spends a slow-motion moment wobbling like it’s not quite sure what to do with you.

Gravity wins. Wind is the only thing at your back and even the rancid material in your mouth can’t completely deafen the scream that’s ripped from your throat. You’re falling.

You’re meant to die saving someone. Not this bad action film death.

Then there’s a hand, it wraps into the material of your shirt and yanks you forward, to safety, and just like that, you’re not dying today. When you look up you’d never expect to see the face attached to the hand that saved you.

Cas. But not your fluff ball Cas.

This is someone you’ve never met. This is Castiel and he’s furious like he carries thunder in his chest. Every muscle of his body is tense but moves fluidly at the same time, as if he was created for this one purpose. To fight. The blue in his eyes is as dark as the night sky and there are these angry lines carved into his face that you’ve never seen, contorting him into a caricature of the angel you thought you knew.

You see all of this in a second because as soon as all four legs of your chair hit the floor he’s moving again. Slow and measured as if there’s no urgency in the world towards the first of the three demons. You’re not sure why they’re still here but at this point you wouldn’t be surprised if that is Cas too, forcing them to stay somehow.

Even from outside and looking through the glass double doors the sight is awe-inspiring. He clamps a hand over the demon’s head with such force that his meatsuit might have gone through the floor. Instead, the demon burns, smote in a flash of light that’s both stunning and terrifying. You have to squint so as not to be blinded by it.

All you can do is watch as Cas saves you and finishes the job in the time it takes you to remember how to breathe. One by one they’re all ended, not an ounce of mercy or remorse in his actions. Not that the black-eyed bastards deserved mercy it’s just, Cas is so… you’ve never seen him so…

He’s a fucking badass.

When he finally turns back to you, still standing amongst the husks of the demons he’s just slain, there’s a second where you worry that it’s your turn next. He’s still primed and ready to kill at a moment’s notice and he’s looking at you.

It's only as he takes steps towards you that he melts in front of your very eyes. You see the warrior get locked away moments before he reaches you and unties your limbs.

With your hands finally free you both remove the cloth from your mouth and wrap your arms around Cas in one motion. He hugs you back like he always has, firm and safe while you shake a little in his arms. He didn’t just save you from demons, but you’d been falling. He saved you from dying tonight.

“Cas, that was amazing. I mean I’ve never seen you- you’re…” And there’s nothing that quite sums it up like your previous thought, “buddy, you’re a badass.”

He cocks his head at you when you pull back, maybe it’s because of the wetness you’re trying to blink away, “seriously, thank you.”

His face is a shadow of the soldier that saved you but there’s still a threatening flash of it as he speaks. “Nobody hurts the people I love.”

#spn x reader #bamf!cas #castiel #supernatural x reader #spn reader insert #spn fanfic #spn #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #this fell out of my butt and I'm sorry #spn drabble #spn imagine #spn imgines

41 notes · View notes

thatboomerkid · 6 years ago

Text

A User’s Guide to the Abhorrent Heavens

A User’s Guide to the Abhorrent Heavens -- An Essay for Bloodlines & Black Magic

“The key difference between any one of the Abhorrent Heavens and the very foulest churning pit of the deep Infernal is subtle but distinct: within an Abhorrent Heaven, one person is having a wonderful time. These grotesque realms, home to souls perfectly selected by their mistress for obsession and malice, are obscene in the extreme. On the surface, some of these blood-splattered abattoirs may appear as 1950s suburbs or modern-era cities, but all merely hide the hunger of a psychotic spree-killer finally unleashed from all consideration of consequences.”

-- Bloodlines & Black Magic, pg. 204

Your players don’t stand a chance against the Grand Archons.

Not directly, anyway.

After all, the Invisible Masters of Heaven & Earth have been putting down titans, would-be messiahs, world-shaking Goetic monstrosities, rebellious Bloodlines, sorcerous god-kings, charismatic serpent-cults & upstart wizards since before time had a name ... or so they say.

In most cases, of course, the Grand Archons don’t even have to respond to a threat directly: the exact moment when someone dumb starts making enough noise that rumors of the Invisible World begin reaching mundane ears, Yasazziel the Grand Archon of Glittering Things & Earthly Delights simply opens a gateway from our reality into one of her many Abhorrent Heavens & lets-loose one of her grateful, loyal servants to play dirty for a little while.

What happens next is, simply put, utterly unspeakable.

Brought to you absolutely free to play, to test & to share, as always, by the fine folks of my Patreon.

Additional content contributed by Blaine Bass of ScrapFinder and by Sam Berry; hugest of thanks to the Broken Token for editing assistance

photography by Boomer; digital editing by Tim Jenkins of Battle! Studio

SO ...

Maybe you’re starting a brand new Bloodlines & Black Magic campaign from scratch, and you’re looking for a unique way to kick things off with a real bang.

Maybe you’ve just ended a long, complex story-arc a little bit early, without all of the mysteries completely solved; maybe you can’t quite jump into the next chapter of your narrative until the PCs achieve a certain slightly higher level or meet a specific NPC or learn a particular secret; maybe only half of your players showed up to this session and you need a quick “filler” episode.

Maybe your PCs befriended & adopted the Godzilla, shunted the Terminator to the Deepest Astral, had the Voldemort removed from public office in perp-walked, handcuffed & humiliating disgrace or otherwise drove your campaign’s entire plot-arc so far off the frigging rails that you suddenly find yourself needing a few extra weeks to re-orient your entire game from first principles.

Whatever the reason, you require a brand new plot hook on the fly, and – simply due to the setting-assumptions of the Bloodlines & Black Magic universe! – a classic sword-&-sorcery fantasy plotline like “goblins attack the village” or “the princess is secretly a werewolf” or “foolish local knights go questing for the Vast Horror” simply won’t cut it.

No sweat, friend. We’ve got you covered.

In such an instance, the creaking & blood-spattered gates of the Abhorrent Heavens swinging wide into our own realm should provide more than ample fuel for your dark, strange fire.

original image from here

Plot Hooks (Pick from the list below, or Roll 1d10):

The PCs show up to a meeting with an important contact (or group of contacts) only to discover that everyone is dead or missing. Should any word of this discovery be made public, of course, the PCs are the most obvious suspects for mundane law-enforcement agencies to pursue. As their quick & panicked investigation unfolds, it becomes clear to the PCs that this was an extermination ordered by the Seven of Secret Names ... and that whatever was unleashed from an Abhorrent Heaven is now on their trail, looking to complete its mysterious mission and to have itself some slick red fun while doing so.

An old mentor of a PC is requesting help & offering sky-high payment: something is after him, and it’s rapidly chewing through every emergency defense he’s built-up over the last few decades. Upon closer examination, however, it becomes clear to the PCs that what’s after this particular occultist isn’t just a pissed-off Goetic spirit or some random undead manifestation: it’s a creature of the Abhorrent Heavens, released directly by the Archons to mete out justice in their name. Do the PCs continue to intervene, and risk angering the Grand Sisters directly?

The PCs are contacted obliquely by Jackie Ipanema (see below) or by another favored servant of the Archons who spends a lot of time outside of his Abhorrent Heaven on “real world clean-up”; this contact is polite & non-threatening in the extreme. This potent soldier of the Grand Archons needs a small favor: he maintains multiple false identities in the real world, and several of these identities have been invited (for mysterious reasons) to attend the same fancy dinner party at a secluded woodland mansion at the same time; of course, this is probably a trap. Can the PCs take on these roles & solve the mystery?

A bit of casual, routine investigation into an old “haunted house” in a remote farming community with a vaguely sinister reputation reveals the existence of a poorly-locked and seemingly unguarded portal sitting in the attic, marked only with some eerie chalk-lines. This hole in space-time leads directly into a previously unknown Abhorrent Heaven, full of thousands of fearful damned who are preyed-upon by a mysterious figure of terrifying power ... one who has (apparently) been used very quietly by the Seven of Secret Names on rare occasions to take out major targets. Do the PCs dare to explore this realm? Seal it & guard it? Profit from it?

The estate-sale of a wealthy & enigmatic amateur-dabbler in the dark arts turns up a “Dantean Codex”: a log-book detailing various entrances into an assortment of Abhorrent Heavens scattered across the US & Europe. 90% of the book is useless gibberish, of course ... but the parts that are real are literally invaluable: the sort of things that powerful Lineages kill & die for, or that make legends out of dilettantes. Problem is, the text ALSO represents the most deeply forbidden kind of occult knowledge; mere knowledge of its existence is punishable by death at the hands of the Archons & their servants. Where do you even hide such information?

An enterprising & clever young crew of magicians are playing with hell-fire itself: aping the legendary power inherent to the Invisible City of the Tianlong Dynasty -- Bloodlines & Black Magic, pg. 53 -- they’ve cracked their way into an Abhorrent Heaven with multiple exits back into the real world, and are using this otherworldly realm as a “secret level” to allow for quick, untraceable transportation between cities & across the globe. Every trip risks attracting the attention of the realm’s dark master ... and when these boys get caught, things are going to get very ugly very fast. Can the PCs shut down this mad plan?

The death of a famous & well-loved occultist reveals, hidden amongst the notes in his possession, that he was a MAJOR contact for the Archons: selling out other magicians for personal gain, setting up his friends & his enemies alike to be taken out by their purges, and often profiting directly from executions performed in the name of the Archons, all in the hopes that he would -- in death -- finally be granted the playground of his own Abhorrent Heaven in recompense. Worse, he names a close & trusted ally of the PCs as his longtime accomplice (or even mentor) in these double-deals. Who can the PCs trust?

The PCs are contacted by a powerful, underground circle of mages who think they have a real shot at taking-out one particularly nasty servant of the Archons, potentially crippling it -- like the famed Revered was pulled-down a peg -- or even killing it outright. If the PCs can bait the thing into a particular emotionally-significant, magically-potent location at a particular numerologically-consequential time -- and with all of the attendant esoteric magical formulae properly in-place to secure a full-on Occult Connection with the ritual casters -- then the PCs will have a front-row seat to watch something nearly unknown to modern arcanists, along with an exclusive invite to join the crème de la crème of international occult society. Of course, they’ll have to survive the fight ... and it might all be a trap laid by Nannareal, the Grand Archon of Secrets and Whispers.

An urgent call from an old friend of one of the PCs sends them down a dark alley with their associate in a strangely familiar location. Their sense of eerie déjà vu grows as they round a corner ... only to watch as a horrid creature lashes-out of the darkness and butchers their friend before their eyes, then vanishes into the night. Familiarity shattered, the PCs find themselves in an ever-shifting Abhorrent Heaven drawn from their own memories, locked into a game of cat-and-mouse that has gone on for centuries. When the PCs finally track down the monster and avenge their buddy, their sense of foreboding grows: this creature was not the master of any Abhorrent Heaven, merely a trapped plaything like themselves; soon after, another supernaturally-gifted foe is lured into the concrete jungle to start the hunt again. There’s a way out, of course ... but the voyeuristic occupant of this Abhorrent Heaven, a stalker obsessed with the vicarious thrill of predators & prey making war, isn’t talking.

Rumors start popping up -- with increasing & frightening regularity, and an uncanny level of detail -- about an ancient artifact resurfacing: a lost blade of Goetic Titan-craft that serves as a bane weapon against any creature tied to an Abhorrent Heaven. While the Archons & their servants scramble to kill-off anyone with anything resembling proof of this blade’s existence, the PCs are contacted by an old associate who claims to have located the thing ... as he requests extraction from a war-zone.

Uncountable Abhorrent Heavens ... and their Occupants

No one knows exactly how many Abhorrent Heavens there really are.

Or, more accurately, Yasazziel the Grand Archon of Glittering Things & Earthly Delights knows ... but she’s not talking.

Or, more accurately still, Yasazziel is talking all the damn time. It’s just that nobody can quite tell what she actually means by whatever she says.

In any instance, there are innumerable Abhorrent Heavens -- glittering like dark jewels, smoking with thin coils of screams & ghost-iron -- tucked away into obscure corners of the Celestial Realm, forever waiting to be opened-up whenever it amuses Yasazziel to unwrap & caress them.

Each one is sort of halfway between a prized Pokemon & a reverse Darklord of Ravenloft: each occupant is an utterly unique dick-in-a-box, sure ... but they love every minute of it, "bound" to their realm only so much as is required to keep them equal-parts amused & dangerous, all so that they can be taken out to straight-up murder people whenever their mistress desires.

Below are two of them.

Jackie: a Signature Soul of an Abhorrent Heaven

So ... you need a unique & scary monster, the sort of creature that Yasazziel the Grand Archon of Glittering Things & Earthly Delights would happily uncage & send after a troublemaker? Jackie Ipanema can, with only slight alteration, be used to fill exactly that role ... in much the same way that Canio de Pogo, Happy Muurvaerid and Khakissandra Ayla, the Foul Wish Granted can -- in a pinch! -- serve as interesting quick-&-dirty Goetic monsters.

image from here

Within the Bloodlines & Black Magic setting, Jackie’s ties to Zon-Kuthon are placed with service to Yasazziel the Grand Archon of Glittering Things & Earthly Delights.

ODDITIES:

If a character’s Threshold increases to an odd number from direct exposure to the presence (or the power) of Jackie Ipanema, she may gain one of the following Oddities (roll 1d10):

You can never again “spark” an object: you can’t turn on a stove or start a microwave, lighters that you try to use fail to ignite, cars you try to start won’t turn over, flicking a light-switch produces no effect, you can’t get a cellphone to turn on by pressing the button, and bullets or cartridges don’t go off when you squeeze the trigger on a firearm. You add quench as a 1st-level spell known to any one spell-list you possess; use of this special spell also extinguishes light bulbs, flashlights, chemical light-sticks and other simple, cheap devices that heat up, produce illumination and that can “burn out”. Use of this spell does not affect cars, cellphones, computers or other more complex electrical objects (such as firearms) used by opponents.

Your appearance becomes subtly creepy, and you remind everyone you meet of a dead person (either a specific dead person they have seen or a generic corpse, as appropriate). This affects your look, your voice, your scent and even the non-verbal sounds and movements you make; you suffer a penalty equal to twice your hit dice on all Charisma-based skill checks & ability checks except Intimidate. Once per day, you may choose, as a free action, to activate the Unnerving Gaze ability of an evangelist kyton, Will save negates (DC 10 + 1/2 your hit dice + your Charisma modifier); this ability last for 10 minutes or until you voluntarily end the effect as another free action.

You add bullet shield as a 1st-level spell known to any one spell-list you possess. This special spell may only be cast while you are in an area of dim or lower lighting, and a spell effect created by you in this way is suppressed -- as if in the area of an antimagic field -- while you or the target of the spell are in any area of normal or brighter light.

While in an area of dim or lower lighting, you are always considered to have a running start when jumping; you also add your character level (max +7) as a bonus on all Acrobatics checks to jump. You are fatigued while in an area of bright light and exhausted while in direct sunlight.

You gain light blindness. In addition, once per day as a free action you may choose to see through mist and fog (including fog cloud and similar magic) as if they did not exist. In areas of moderate or stronger wind, while this ability is in effect, you can also see as if you were standing at both your own position and a position a number of feet in the wind’s direction equal to the wind’s speed in miles per hour, potentially allowing you to see around corners and other obstacles. This ability lasts for 10 minutes or until you voluntarily end the effect as another free action.

As long as you are humming the song Girl From Ipanema to yourself (which applies a -10 penalty to all Stealth checks based on sound), you are immune to fear and to non-lethal damage.

You can never again “spark” an object, as per the first result above. While in an area of dim or lower lighting, you gain full use of Exotic Weapon Proficiency: spiked chain and Weapon Finesse. If you normally possess either of these abilities, you instead gain one of the following for each feat that you already possess: Improved Initiative, Lunge, Power Attack. You gain these abilities even if you do not otherwise meet the prerequisites.

While in an area of dim or lower lighting, you gain damage reduction 5/silver or good and immunity to cold. You gain vulnerability to fire while in an area of bright light and are nauseated while in direct sunlight.

You gain an overwhelming scent of rust and old metal; all opponents within 30 feet may freely detect you purely by sense of smell. If you are upwind, the range increases to 60 feet; if downwind, it drops to 15 feet. Your exact location is not revealed, only your presence within range and the general direction toward you. When you are within 5 feet of any creature with a sense of smell, that creature automatically pinpoints your location even if otherwise blinded to you. You may also be tracked by your smell: any creature may attempt to follow from where you have been by making a Wisdom (or Survival) check to trace your movements and current whereabouts, even if you possess the trackless step ability. The typical DC for smelling you out is 10; this DC increases by 2 for each hour since you departed the area. This otherwise follows the rules for the Survival skill. At will as a standard action, while you are in an area of dim or lower lighting and are not wearing any other armor, you may cause wickedly-hooked, barbed & razor-edged chains to sprout from your body, providing a +4 armor bonus. These otherworldly chains are not treated as armor for the purpose of spell failure, armor check penalties, maximum Dexterity, weight, or proficiency. These chains persist for ten minutes or until you voluntarily end the effect as a free action. If you already possess a strong scent, such as because you possess the third Oddity result from the Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres, re-roll.

Roll 1d8+1 twice, keeping both results. If you gain the same result for both rolls, re-roll one of the dice.

Mr. Liu, the Cryptic Policeman, Secret Saint of Hong Kong (CR 13)

Those who speak with Mr. Liu on the telephone -- or correspond with the “man” via text or email -- universally find him charming, disarming and erudite in the extreme, with a remarkable wit; he has a refined British accent, exceptional knowledge of Chinese history, and he is obviously a highly-educated & well-traveled man: most likely from a fantastically-wealthy family of lawyers, college professors, international investors and physicians.

He often goes by Peter, Peyton or Penley; he comes off as a librarian, scholar or antiquarian ... although those who correspond with him quite frequently often begin to suspect that Mr. Liu might actually work for some type of clandestine, highly-discreet governmental organization.

That suspicion is partially correct.

Amongst those in-the-know, the Cryptic Policeman is a terrifying urban legend: the sort of ghostly creature who makes high-ranking members of the Tianlong Dynasty whisper a quick prayer & glance nervously over their shoulder.

Mr. Liu, the Cryptic Policeman, Secret Saint of Hong Kong, The No-Shadow Dragon, has never been seen. He is, in fact, invisible … save for a wide, toothy grin and the occasional flash of a bladed finger slipping through shrieking flesh. Despite this, Mr. Liu desires notoriety more than anything: he lusts for the perfection of his brutal art, wanting to be sought and never found, craving -- above all else! -- a eternal, profane and inverted game of cat and mouse: his Abhorrent Heaven is a bloody & endless game of hide-and-seek in the deep city, where he slays his pursuers and taunts the yet-unslain with riddles, poetry, bizarre word-puzzles and coded messages.

His identity is well known: he is considered one of the earliest recorded serial killers. In the 2nd century BC, there was a dragon-blooded Han prince, Liu Pengli, who ruled a small region in what would eventually become China. He was bloodthirsty and cruel, and led hunting parties made up of slaves and fugitives. At first they would kill indiscriminately, robbing and slaughtering the innocent and defenseless. After a time, though, Liu used these expeditions as opportunities to isolate and murder the strongest and most clever among his own men: he used misdirection & trickery to blame the deaths on the innocent and further the bloodshed. Eventually, he gained a taste for those with occult power in their blood, and targeted them specifically ... no longer killing the innocent, but instead hunting criminals, cultists, demon-summoners and rival murders, bringing a dark order to his province with his own hands.

While he wanted to get away with his crimes, Liu Pengli also wanted someone -- anyone, everyone -- to know how clever he was: how perfect a predator he had become. He had over 100 known victims, and far more unknown; soon, Liu Pengli began to announce the deaths of criminals & witches with messengers in every town, making known their deaths and his art ... even if he couldn't receive full credit for his lethal ingenuity. Eventually, this hunter of humans & magicians alike was brought before the Emperor, and he voluntarily stood for justice.

The Emperor, being his uncle, could not bring himself to execute the prince; thus, he reduced Liu Pengli in status, making him equal with those whom he had hunted & slain: Liu Pengli was stripped of his rank & title, made into a commoner, a no-one. The emperor exiled his nephew after making him anonymous, and sent him out of the kingdom to become a stranger in strange lands.

Liu Pengli couldn't help but smile.

It isn't known precisely when Liu Pengli actually died, nor how many he killed after being banished, but what is known is that before the 3rd century, he had been granted an Abhorrent Heaven of his own. Ever since, the occasional brutal murder of some poor bloke with a Bloodline is attributed to him, especially if a coded message is left behind.

Only two instances of prolonged activity are confirmed:

In London in the late 1800s, a powerful coven which owed fealty to the Goetic spirit of lust, Asmodeus, was all-but-openly active: conducting the dark rites of their cult under the thin guise of prostitution. The exact goals of their rituals are uncertain, but most likely these practitioners sought to magnify the influence of their patron-spirit in the material world, or to somehow otherwise threaten the power of the Archons ... because in 1888, the Cryptic Policeman was released from his Abhorrent Heaven to stalk & slay the Infernal-blooded priestesses. For three years the Policeman shadowed the five priestesses of Asmodeus's inner pentacle, with brief skirmishes slowed only by wards and fetishes which made it clear that the priestesses knew what hunted them. They attempted to replace lost members and complete the ritual, but failed ... as, one by one, they were hunted down, killed and mutilated in brutal fashion: sending a clear message from the Archons to those in the Secret World; lust is not to be flaunted. Mundane law enforcement never discovered evidence of the true killer, though the Cryptic taunted them through letters, using coded phrases and metaphor designed to communicate with the Invisible through the press, hinting that he was 'from hell'. The police never decoded the cipher, though those steeped in the occult could see it plain as day. He wanted to be unseen in his art, but credited for his achievement. Once his task was accomplished, the Archons spirited him back to his boundless cage.

Later, the Cryptic Policeman would be deployed again, loosed for nearly ten years at the very edge of the New World. From the late 1960s to the early 1970s, on the American West Coast, for unknown reasons the Fey bloodline began passing through love: granting power both to those born with the blood, and to those beloved by the blood. This allowed the power & influence of several new-born Lineages to grow rapidly, and threatened to destabilize the balance of power within the region. While most of these Fey-Blooded had no knowledge of their own power, or the significance of their acts, the Archons do not judge slights by intent. The Cryptic Policeman was released, and again stalked his prey methodically -- often for months -- waiting until he was certain that they had the potential to pass their power, and then brutally murdering both once the power was passed. Ever the artist, the Cryptic again taunted law enforcement with letters, this time encoded in a clear cypher. Once the code was cracked, he had the captive audience he sought: most watching the papers in horror, some in awe as he practiced his visceral art. Once the Fey outbreak was contained, his performance was cut short: with an unseen & shadow-less bow, Liu Pengli was again dragged back into his brutal paradise.

image from here

The Cryptic Policeman is a lawful evil invisible stalker (CR 7) with the Half Dragon template (+2 CR), the Gunsmoke-Blessed Creature template (+1 CR) [see Bloodline & Black Magic, pg. 161], the War Machine template (+3 CR) and the Lifespark Construct template (+1 CR).

Because the Cryptic Policeman possesses the Lifespark Construct template, his Intelligence is not reduced by the application of the War Machine template.

Whenever the Cryptic Policeman deals damage to a living creature with any of his natural melee attacks, his wide & toothy smile very briefly becomes visible. This does not negate his bonuses to Stealth from invisibility, as his eerie smile is disconnected from his body: often appearing two to three feet away from the Cryptic Policeman’s actual face, as per a combination of blink & displacement.

The Cryptic Policeman may choose to suppress his natural invisibility & is in possession of a greater hat of disguise; he may choose to appear as a normal human whenever he desires.

Using the Cryptic Policeman:

If a character's threshold increases to an odd number from direct exposure to the presence (or power) of the Cryptic Policeman, she may gain one of the following oddities (roll 1d8)

You begin compulsively smiling whenever you deal damage that sheds blood. You may choose to a cause a living opponent to bleed whenever you deal melee slashing damage; your attack may cause an opponent to suffer 1 additional point of damage each round for each level you possess (for example, if you are a 5th level character, you may cause you opponent to suffer up to 5 points of bleed each round). This bleeding can be stopped by a DC 15 Heal check or the application of any effect that heals hit point damage. Bleeding damage from this ability does not stack with itself; bleeding damage bypasses any damage reduction the target might possess. Each time this bleeding damage is inflicted, you suffer one half that amount of damage (non-lethal damage, rounded up) as your uncontrollable grin begins to ache, twitch & burn.

You can see through your own eyelids, and have a difficult time sleeping. You may make sight-based Perception checks with your eyes closed, but are always fatigued for the first four hours after waking or until you have had at least two cups of coffee.

Whenever you write anything, you involuntarily pepper the page with strange runes and sigils which you don't recall writing ... or know the meaning of.

You gain full knowledge either Draconic or ancient Chinese (your choice).

Whenever you speak face-to-face with an unfamiliar, non-related individual for more than a few minutes, small scratch-marks and cuts as if from from fingernails form on your arms and face. This is actually a great way to tell if you’re actually talking to someone you already know (who might be in disguise).

Whenever you hold anything that could be used as a slashing weapon, your hand grips it until your knuckles whiten. You are incapable of holding such an object loosely, though you may put it down without difficulty. You gain a +2 bonus on all Disarm attempts made against you.

You may make Linguistics checks untrained. Whenever you encounter a language or writing which you do not understand, you feel distracted and are considered shaken while within 10 ft. of such script.

Roll 1d6+1 twice, keeping both results. If you gain the same result for both rolls, re-roll one of the dice.

PLOT HOOKS (pick from the list or roll 1d8)

A new string of killings has begun in a local metropolis, and they seem to be imitating the ciphered letters of the Zodiac Killer. Although the new cipher has yet to be decoded, it uses the characters of a hidden & secret language. The Cryptic Policeman has, perhaps, inspired a copycat ... or an acolyte. Or a rival, calling him out to face vengeance.

A potent young Dragon-Blooded sorcerer with a warm, charming smile has discovered that amongst his ancestors sits Liu Pengli; the brash magician is now attempting to become a host for the Cryptic Policeman’s ancient power for the express purpose of taking revenge on a rival ... but he risks unknowingly allowing the Cryptic Policemen to walk the earth again, unfettered by the Archon's cage.

Multiple high-profile businessmen in the finance industry have been found eviscerated in their offices, the walls splayed with bloody & undecipherable sigils. Mundane authorities are confounded not by what is on the security tapes, but what isn't: the murderer is invisible. Already, secret organizations have begun covering-up the crimes. Has the Cryptic Policeman been sent on a clandestine errand ... or is another player at work here, hiding behind the Cryptic’s reputation?

An invaluable 13th-century German grimoire detailing rituals used for summoning & binding the Cryptic Policeman has gone to auction. While the seller -- and most of the buyers! -- have no idea what’s on the block, at least one buyer is willing kill to obtain the prize.

An ancient and priceless knife which supposedly belonged to Liu Pengli has been stolen from a local museum by a Dragon-Blooded cult who believe it may hold a portion of his power ... or the ability to command & control the great ‘Machine Colorless Wyrm’.

An eccentric hobbyist, fascinated with 'ripper-ology' and researching for a book, has deciphered an unnoticed code in the letters from the Whitechapel murders. He is drifting dangerously close to an open secret of the Hidden World: the identity of the Cryptic Policeman.

The newly-awakened descendant of a victim from the Cryptic's 1970s-era West Coast murders has manifested the power of Fey blood ... and, moreover, she has demonstrated the ability to pass that power on to others through love while retaining the full Bloodline potency herself. This young woman must be carefully introduced to the Secret World, and gently told the truth about her heritage, all without arousing the interest of the Archons or their murderous pet.

A panicked coven is seeking any & all of the help they can acquire -- begging, borrowing & blackmailing, as they are able -- from anyone powerful and in-the-know enough to assist: they attempted to summon the Cryptic Policeman from his Abhorrent Heaven & to bind him ... and while their summoning certainly worked, and seemingly escaped the notice of the Archons, they were unable to chain him. Now, the Cryptic Policeman is gleefully stalking the members of their coven, picking them off one by one in a slow-moving orgy of violence.

So ... what color of dragon is the Cryptic Policeman, precisely?

Within the context of your own Bloodlines & Black Magic game, this is left entirely to your own discretion. Whatever energy-type of breath weapon you want him to unleash in combat (or need him to be immune to!), that’s the one ... although there are certainly dozens of theories, dating back centuries across any number of cultures, claiming to authoritatively state that the invisible scales of his armor & unseen cogs of his bones are one precise shade or another.

#pathfinder #bloodlines and black magic #urban fantasy #modern #horror #campaign #essay #cr 9

20 notes · View notes

marveling-cg · 7 years ago

Note

97 for T'cham please ;-)

Sam wakes slowly, in stages. One sense returning at a time.

Hearing: the mechanical whirring and beeping of machines.

Touch: the too soft feel of overpriced sheets.

Smell: antiseptic, strawberry, basil, spinach.

Sight comes last, and it’s the hardest, but he knows what he’ll see: the Star Trek inspired interior of Stark’s – the Avengers’ – infirmary.

“Please tell Stark I’m not up for one of his smoothies, right now.”

“Ms. Potts has safely shepherded him from the premises. You’re in no danger of his…smoothies.”

Sam’s head snaps around at the smoky voice and rounded vowels.

“Cat King.”

T'challa’s pursed lips and narrowed eyes are worth the momentary coolness. Sam’s sure his smile is dopey, but he’s on the good meds and can be forgiven.

“The last I heard you were still in Wakanda.”

Sam takes T'challa in while the king considers his next words. He’s changed (or Sam presumes he’s changed out of the Cat Suit) into dark slacks and a black sweater embroidered around the collar and shoulders in a pattern reminiscent to the tattoos Sam learned some months ago lie beneath.

“There was a matter of diplomacy that had to be attended to. It brought me to the city.”

Into the city, but not to Sam. Which - being the off-brand, politically disastrous Captain Americia doesn’t exactly make one the best company for a king still trying to cement his place at home and abroad. Sam gets it.

It hurts, but he gets it.

“Sounds important.”

“Samuel.”

“T, stop – it’s ok.” The look on T'Challa’s face let’s him know that his own smile most be considerably less dopey now. He presses on anyway. “Things are what they are.”

“For now.” T'Challa’s voice rolls with the same heated conviction he had the day he had Sam’s gear labeled a costume.

Sam’s got all sorts of tingly feelings associated with that tone.

“Whatever you say, Simba. Thanks for the assist, today, though.”

“I believe that makes you Zazoo.”

And, “shit.” It definitely does. It also makes T'Challa laugh, so jokes on him, Sam’s still won here.

“As for today. Regardless of what else may be happening, you must know: when you fall, I always be right there to catch you.”

“T–”

“Sam.”

It’s a ridiculous promise, the kind you’re not supposed to make to kids because they’ll believe you.

And Sam’s not a kid, but he IS on the good drugs, and he looked his own demise in the face today – watched the sky fall away from him, until he was snatched from the air by vibranium claws.

He’s not a kid, but he remembers the conviction behind T'Challa’s promise to catch Bucky and the bizarre tale of how he’d actually done so. He remembers all too viscerally the strength of the arms that snatched him from death today.

He already feels the foolhardy belief building his chest that somehow his own personal Sylvester Cat will find some way to snatch him from a plummet whenever he should need.

“I’m too emotional for this.”

“Ah, good. Then you’ll stop arguing with me and rest.”

“I’ll never stop arguing with you.”

“There is a promise I can believe in.”

T'Challa snaps his newspaper open – must’ve spent some time with Steve recently – and settles back into his chair.

Ask me things!

https://marveling-cg.tumblr.com/post/163395076402/angstfluff-prompt-list-part-2

#t'cham #sam x t'challa #t'chalcon #sam wilson #t'challa #cg writes #blackfalcon

52 notes · View notes

smartalker · 7 years ago

Text

Magpie Bridge [3/10 - Nenet]

ENTITLED: Magpie Bridge FANDOM: Mass Effect Andromeda - Reyes/Ryder RATING: M LENGTH: 50k via 10 chapters GENRE: Romance/Sci-Fi/Drama/Humor, in that order SUMMARY: With the Kett subdued and Andromeda’s terraforming system running at full power, Kadara Port swiftly establishes itself as the trade capital of the galaxy. The city’s unique combination of affluence, corruption, and growing power inevitably earns the ire of both the Nexus, and Aya. Under tremendous pressure to disavow a known criminal’s legitimacy, Ryder once again returns to Kadara hoping to broker peace, but the Charlatan wants something very different from her… ALT SUMMARY: Two people fall in love, galaxy breaks.

Suvi blinked herself awake, and her face relaxed into a dreamy smile. Ryder, handkerchief in hand, reached over to dab the bit of drool from the other woman’s mouth. “Thanks, Ryder,” Suvi slurred. She stretched like a cat, her toes pointing. “Mmm, Lexi. You have the best beds on this ship.”

Ryder felt it best not to mention that the ‘Lexi’ Suvi seemed to be talking to was a chair. “How’re you feeling? You’ve been out for almost twenty hours. I think you made Kallo cry.”

“He has a gentle spirit,” Suvi yawned. She snuggled back down. “Ryder. I highly recommend the fried barrel leafs. Oh. Did you get any video of me dancing? For science.” She smiled hopefully.

“Uh,” Ryder dragged out her disbelief. “I don’t…think there was any dancing? I heard from Kallo that you ate something, fainted, he dragged you back to the ship, and then Lexi yelled at all of us. We’re stuck eating freeze-dried casserole. Again. Also, Lexi thinks you might be naturally allergic to some plant enzyme that grows on Kadara.”

“No,” Suvi countered, in her lovely, musical voice. As often happened, Ryder became preoccupied with listening to the sound of Suvi speaking, rather than the actual words she was saying.

“I mean, it’s an allergy, you can’t really—”

“No,” Suvi said again. She yawned. “Will you tell Kallo I’m alright? He worries.”

“SAM’s on it,” Ryder assured. Suvi gave a happy little wiggle. She reached to clasp Ryder’s hand, drawing their fingers intimately together. She had very pretty, very slender fingers.

“Ryder,” Suvi breathed, “I just wanted to say, I know the rest of the crew think you’re making a big mistake. But I think you should follow your heart. It’ll lead you to where you would have ended up anyway.”

Ryder sighed. At least the delirious person believed in her. “Thanks, Suvi.”

The med-bay’s doors slid open, and Gil’s swinging, hoppy steps bounded in. “Well, well, well,” he began. Ryder could already hear the shit-eating grin on his face. “Alright, Anwar?”

“Hi,” Suvi welcomed gustily. Ryder sighed.

“Gil, be nice.”

“I’m always nice. Had a bit of a party, my fair lady?” Gil swung himself into a chair just beside Ryder, and bent his head towards the prone Suvi. “They have nice beds in here.”

“I know. I should get closer to Lexi,” Suvi whispered. Her dreamy expression sharpened into what Ryder could only label as sneaky. “If you know what I mean,” Suvi whispered. Gil chortled.

“Yeah, no. We both heard you.”

Suvi nodded, looking satisfied. “Good,” she said firmly, and settled back down. She might have winked at the chair she’d earlier mistaken for Lexi. Gil glanced at Ryder, now grinning.

“So what’re you up to with our invalid? Trying to probe for secrets while her defenses are lowered?”

Ryder rolled her eyes. “I have three purposes. One, I’m hiding from Lexi, and probably everyone else—,” she considered Suvi and Gil, “—well, you two are probably fine. But anyway, if there’s one place she’ll never think to find me, it’s gotta be in her own med-bay. Plus, if she does find me, she can’t yell at me without disturbing the invalid.”

“That’s me,” Suvi chimed in.

“That’s you,” Ryder agreed. She was still holding Suvi’s hand. The other woman had begun to stroke little circles across Ryder’s knuckles. It was actually pretty relaxing. Ryder continued, “That leads to my second purpose, which is to watch over Suvi just in case something ridiculous happens, thanks to her allergies and willingness to ingest foreign plants.”

“Atta girl,” Gil slapped Suvi’s thigh, with perhaps too much appreciation.

“I don’t have allergies,” Suvi told him.

“Finally,” Ryder wrapped up, “I was hoping that once Suvi shakes off the last traces of her delirium, she’d be able to look over some of the evidence from our current investigation.”

“She’s not delirious,” Gil protested. He was now holding Suvi’s other hand. “She’s simply reached a higher state of being. And I want to see the evidence too!”

“Is this about the cultists?” Suvi asked hopefully. “I like murder-mysteries.”

Ryder considered. On the one hand, she could potentially give her extremely drugged-up science officer some freaky hallucinations. On the other, she could make headway stopping a crazed murder cult that was most likely trying to kill her boyfriend. Her kind-of boyfriend. “SAM, get the terminal up with visuals.”

Accessing, SAM confirmed.

Lexi’s screens flickered to life, showing the green wall with its weird face carving. Looking at it again, perhaps thanks to the screen’s flattening effect, Ryder realized that there was more detail than she’d initially noticed. The carving’s eyes had been indented with pupils, which gave the face an aura of judgment, and disapproval.

“The Green Man!” Suvi shouted, almost immediately. She sat up, her pretty fingers tightening around Ryder’s own. She looked at Ryder with wide-eyed excitement. “Ryder! The Green Man!”

Gil squinted. “Green. Man. Check and check.”

“No,” Suvi breathed. “I get it. It makes sense. Well. If you’re an insane death cult, it makes sense.” She ripped her other hand free from Gil to point at the screens—Ryder, briefly, felt smug that she had been chosen as the maintainer of hand-holding privileges. “Look,” Suvi explained. “The Green Man is a sort of God, or spirit. He’s a watcher, something that appears from nothing. Usually associated with things like nature, judgment…or life, death, that sort of thing. Very scary. Sometimes he just watches, peeking out from the leaves—basically just an artistic motif, a sort of hidden image. Other times, he watches.”

Ryder watched as SAM clicked through the photos Reyes had taken. Green man. Green man. Green man. Little faces peering out of the rock. She wondered how the children’s bodies had been positioned, how their blood had been desecrated to hide the green watchers.

“What do you mean, he watches?” Gil asked. “Like a stalker?”

Suvi flapped her free hand. “No. Yes. Like, um, like a predator? Maybe. It’s very old. I think it’s more like he watches you, to take you in your moment of weakness. Because it’s such an abstract image it’s been borrowed by a lot of different mythologies. I think the first one—or one of the first? Whatever. One of the first ones was Dionysus. Not really my area of expertise.”

“SAM?” Ryder prompted.

Correct. The god Dionysus began as a god of life, death, and rebirth. At this time, he was known as Zagreus. It was only later that his existence changed to one of drink, performance, and sexual abandonment. The cult of Dionysus was one of the largest of its time, its practitioners frequently combined the two faces of this god through week-long parties many of which were thought to involve ritual human sacrifice.

“That fits,” Ryder conceded. Head computers were so helpful. “We should check out these bodies. If Suvi’s theory is right, there could be traces left behind from these rituals.”

“There could be traces left behind from anything,” Gil pointed out. “You won’t know until you scan them.”

Ryder shrugged, glancing back at the screens. Unexpectedly, she felt excited. She was on the right track. She had to be.

Suvi tugged on Ryder’s hand suddenly, and then leaned in to whisper. “Reyes Vidal,” Suvi paused, “His name means the King of Life.”

Ryder waited for SAM to offer a correction, but none came. She and Suvi simply looked at one another.

“What?” Gil said. He twisted himself over the table to join their conversation. “Hey. Don’t leave old Gilly out.”

“Just a weird coincidence,” Suvi explained, still whispering. Ryder’s mind was racing. It probably was just a weird coincidence—it must have been. She hadn’t even confirmed the Green Man theory yet.

Pathfinder, SAM piped up privately. On that same topic, it may interest you to know that during Reyes Vidal’s time as a pilot, he worked under the call-sign Anubis, the Egyptian god of mummification and the underworld. Arguably, the three names he has operated under follow a pattern close to Officer Anwar’s theory.

At some point calling something a coincidence became irresponsible. Ryder’s head was aching, and her stomach felt unstable with dread. “Thanks for all the intel Suvi,” Ryder managed to say. “You were really helpful.”

“Seriously,” Gil noted. “I thought you studied rocks and physics and botany.”

Suvi sniffed. “I am a very learned person,” she announced, and returned to sleep.

Usually, Ryder knew, one did not immediately contact the person one was busily being Righteously Angry at. Especially when what she wanted to tell him had to do with fanatic cults, loosely connected by a string of hocus pocus that was, in all likelihood, a crock of shit.

“SAM?” Ryder cued, “If you had to say roughly, how many mythological figures have some connection to life or death?”

Would you like to include fertility goddesses? How about plant life?

“It’s all of them, isn’t it?” Ryder rolled her eyes. “It’s totally all of them.”

Pathfinder, I would also encourage you to consider a number of male deities who may not have a clear association with the cycle of life, but who nevertheless remain strongly associated with the phallus—

“That’s fine. I spend enough time considering the phallus, thank you.” She rubbed her eyebrow. “Ugh. Empty your recycling bin or something, SAM. I can’t keep getting headaches like this.”

Launching diagnostics.

Liam’s head popped into view. “Are we talking about phalluses? Phallus-ez. Phallusi?”

Phalluses, SAM confirmed, via speaker. Ryder shuddered. Seriously time to change the subject.

“Hey Liam, want to look at some dead bodies?”

“You know it!” Liam beamed. “Am I the first you asked? Am I the cadaver A-team?”

For being the normal dude on the ship, Liam was pretty fucking weird. He was still talking, but now suiting up at the same time, even though it would likely be half an hour before they would begin prepping for deployment. Ryder, personally, was still nibbling her breakfast casserole. “I know we’re all about burning the dead,” Liam mused, “But you know how people used to get buried? What do you think the coffins would need to be made of, here on Kadara? I can’t imagine what the soil’s pH is like. Everything would probably just be, like, goo within a few hours.”

Ryder shuddered. “Thanks Liam.”

“Mm, pardon me—”

It figured that the two of them would go together. Jaal stood respectfully at attention, his hands clasped behind his back. “I couldn’t help but overhear that there’s to be an investigation into the murder victims. Several children were Angaran—I would like to be there, if possible. It will comfort their families to know they were not alone.”

Well shit. Like there was any way for her to refuse that. Ryder stuffed her face with casserole, wondering how to balance emotion and professionalism, with two species, at the same time. “Just me and the boys, huh?” she asked lightly. “Okay, let’s do it. But don’t push yourselves. You need to step out for a minute, just say the word.”

“Thank you, Ryder,” Jaal acknowledged, with a little bow. When he looked up again, his gaze was almost ferocious. “But I will not leave them alone.”

Thankfully, even Liam knew when to let a respectful moment stand. The three of them were prepped, suited, and back on the streets within the hour. Ryder took a few confident steps forward before wondering where, exactly, she was supposed to find the leading authority on forensic analysis and violent crimes—on Kadara.

“Perhaps we might start with the church?” Jaal suggested. “They should at least be aware of some funeral processions, and would have needed to collaborate with the morgue while the remains were transferring custody.”

“The church is good for something?”

“Liam,” Ryder growled. It was, actually, not a bad suggestion, and given that her only real contacts on Kadara probably counted as viable suspects, she was inclined to follow Jaal’s advice. “Okay. Jaal, please step in on Angaran relations. I’ll handle Milky Way species. Liam, make sure we don’t get shot.”

“Yes! A good plan,” Liam grinned. “Crisis specialist Kosta is on the scene.”

“But we aren’t on the scene?” Jaal looked confused. “Is this an idiom?”

“SAM, cue ambient noise,” Ryder said, pointedly.

One of the many wonders of Kadara, Ryder discovered, was that their church was run by a Salarian. She couldn’t help but stare. A Salarian in a habit. Ryder tried to think of a reason to take a picture that was not overwhelmingly rude—and also, how was she supposed to keep Liam from making the same request? The Salarian priest inclined his head towards them in greeting. “Welcome, Pathfinder and esteemed colleagues. May I ask why you’ve come?”

Liam looked excited, which was never good. Almost tripping over herself to answer, Ryder nodded back. “Thank you. We’re actually here on an investigation—it’s sensitive.”

“Of course. Follow me please,” the priest beckoned them, and they followed him into a small antechamber, spartanly furnished. The church’s interior had been surprisingly nice, with a nondescript dais, and rough, uniform benches. It seemed less a place of worship than one of contemplation.

“So.” The priest turned, lower lids blinking up. “Your investigation?”

“We’ll need to see some tax reports from the past few years—” Liam muttered. Jaal, thankfully, silenced him.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard,” Ryder began carefully, “But there’s been a string of child murders happening around here, and we’re trying to determine the cause. We were hoping that at least some of the victims’ families would have requested funerary rights.”

“Many of them did,” the priest said, with real sadness. “I can’t tell you a ratio, of course, I only know of the ones who come to me. The death of a child is unbearable. Many who have never walked with faith previously, become desperate to believe that their children have gone to a place of comfort. Adding to that…” the Salarian hesitated, his pained expression faltering. “Well. From what I heard, the way the children were killed…it was unspeakable. Horrific. I think that their families hoped they could find some dignity—some acquittal—by returning to tradition.”

“The victims were all burned?”

“Yes. The ones that I oversaw. The cremations were performed by the mortuary, not here.”

More difficult. She would have to rely on the coroner’s notes for analysis, rather than her own scans. Maybe there was still some unprocessed evidence waiting for her? The priest, seeming to sense her line of thinking, tilted his head and asked, hesitantly, “I’m happy to give you that contact information, but would you like me to call ahead?”

“Please,” Ryder demurred. “And ask if they have any bodies that are still awaiting cremation.” She turned back to her team while the Salarian made his call. “What do you think?” she whispered. “Dead end?”

“If they haven’t got any bodies left, I say we put a pin in it. We can swing back later to collect the files,” Liam whispered. “The way he was talking, sounds like the murders were brutal, lots of carnage. We should go to the last kill site, see if there’s anything left for the scans to pick up.”

“Excuse me?” the priest interrupted. He was shaking his head. “They’ll be expecting you, but I’m sorry to say that the last victim was recovered five days ago. Her remains were processed this morning. I’ve sent you the contact information.”

“Thank you,” Ryder answered, trying to mask her disappointment. “You’ve been very helpful.”

Jaal suddenly stepped forward, his eyes shining. He held his hand out to the Salarian priest, who took them. Jaal had to clear his throat before speaking. “Thank you. For your respect. It has helped. I hope their souls have found peace.”

The priest’s gaunt, alien face suddenly softened. “Me too,” was all he said.

Another call to the mortuary revealed that they, thanks to Kadara’s size and lack of infrastructure, were essentially entirely responsible for handling Kadara’s dead. They managed forensic analysis, detailed case files, cremation, and transfer of remains or evidence to both law enforcement, and families. They were overworked, underpaid, and stretched to breaking from lack of resources. Many people died in Kadara Port, and a lot of those deaths were from foul play.

It was, all in all, a pretty terrible call.

“They do not seem happy to hear from us,” Jaal noted, as Ryder hung up. She sighed.

“At least we got our nav-point. SAM, set location. We can worry about what they’ve already processed later—we should be focusing on the evidence that’s already disappearing now. Let’s start with the most recent kill-site.”

“Police-procedurals in space!” Liam sang, as he and Jaal followed Ryder to the Nomad. Jaal, who had been unusually solemn since their meeting with the priest, paused as he was climbing into the backseat.

“What is a police procedural?”

“Did I already explain television? Sitcoms?” Liam tried cutting off Ryder to take the driver’s seat. She Judo chopped the back of his neck without breaking stride.

“Sit—oh. Yes, you have.”

“Police procedurals are about law enforcement solving mysteries. Usually there is a lot of sexual tension between partners—I mean, sorry, cops are usually assigned partners for safety reasons. They go through a lot of shit together, get pretty tight. On television there are a lot of hot young people who partner up, ideally both single and open to a usually heterosexual relationship.”

“Seat belts!” Ryder barked. The boys kept talking. Liam, as usual, was suspicious when it came to seat belt use.

“But I don’t understand,” Jaal was arguing. “Terrible murders and drug rings are not conducive to a romantic atmosphere. If you are to court someone, you must first relax them.”

Liam groaned. “I don’t know Jaal, they probably added the romance because they thought it would draw in more female viewers.”

Jaal seemed offended. “That is ridiculous. The romance is obviously the more interesting story line, as it spans across multiple seasons. The murder is solved within forty-five minutes. Why are you watching?”

Ryder sniggered through Liam’s stupefied silence. Finally, the crisis specialist pulled through. “Alright. You have a point. Love makes the world go round. One day, once I grow out of my toy soldiers, I’m sure I will realize and appreciate this.”

Jaal nodded, with real sympathy. “It is not an easy transition. I would encourage you to take your time.”

Liam groaned and kicked his feet around. When one such kick collided with the back of her seat, Ryder swiveled back to glare. Doing so made her feel like a mom—was Liam older than her? She refused to entertain the possibility. Looking appropriately chastened, the boys settled down, and they spent the next several minutes in a comfortable silence as the Nomad bounced off of Kadara’s many obstacles.

Liam cleared his throat. “So. Since we’re on this topic. About Vetra.”

Ryder blinked. “What? What about Vetra?”

In the rear-view mirror, Liam was looking suspiciously casual. “You know. She’s cool.”

If by cool he meant totally fucking rad. Ryder twisted to squint at him. While driving. Whatever. The Nomad could totally take it. Liam, as expected, already looked guilty, but Jaal was also doing weird things with his face.

“What is that? What are you trying to say?” Ryder pointed at Jaal. “Out with it.”

“I, ah, I also think she is cool.”

“Oh my god!” Ryder yelled, just as they plummeted off a cliff. Jaal and Liam, who could see through the windshield, looked terrified. Ryder, who wore her seat belt at all times unlike certain individuals, remained confident in her vehicle. “Seriously!” she kept yelling. “Seriously? You’re both crushing on Vetra!”

“Please let me drive,” Liam begged.

“No.” Then back to both of them, “Both of you! I guess we’ve found it—the common ground between humanity and the Angara! It’s Turians!” a momentary pause, “I mean, I can hardly fault your taste—”

They smashed into what Ryder would have liked to call a landing. Experience kept her from biting her tongue off. Jaal and Liam reached to hold each other’s arms at the same time. Ryder kept her foot firmly on the acceleration. She checked her navigation system for a half second to be sure they were still pointed due north. “This is fantastic!” Ryder screamed. It was literally perfect. On top of feeding her own amusement, a love triangle’s dramatic entanglements diverting her crew (along with Suvi’s inevitable seduction of Lexi) could only serve to shift the focus away from her own poor choices.

Liam and Jaal both suddenly screwed their eyes shut, whimpering. Sure enough, the Nomad abruptly collided head-on with one of Kadara’s absurdly oversized boulders. Ryder lurched forward, her seat belt catching her painfully. “Okay. My bad.”

“I sometimes wonder,” Jaal wheezed. “Are you even licensed to operate vehicles?”

“I’m the Pathfinder,” Ryder said immediately. “I have all the licenses.”

Liam groaned. “Unfortunately.”

Deciding she was uninterested in hearing further criticism, Ryder rolled out of the Nomad and began surveying the area. Unlike the alley in Kadara Port, most of the kill sites had happened out in the wastelands—all of them, strangely, about the same distance from Port itself, as SAM had been quick to note. From her call to the mortuary Ryder had learned that due to the remoteness of location, it had sometimes taken up to a week for the body to be found and reported.

This particular location looked like an old Outlaw camp. There were traces—old fires, some trash, a stolen Initiative bunker, easy to set up, easy to take down. It would be hard to carve a face into a metal alloy meant for space stations. That shit didn’t break.

She was looking for the green wall. Jaal and Liam knew about the green wall, and the face. But they didn’t know about the Green Man. Ryder swiveled slowly, now squinting. “SAM, see anything?”

Perhaps on the other side of that boulder?

Ryder began walking, her scanners out. There was an overgrowth of green lichen on the boulder’s far side, which briefly excited her—but no face. She kept trying, adjusting her angle, hopping up on her toes—when Jaal suddenly shouted. She rushed to his side, gaze following the direction he pointed.

“That grass. It’s been burned.”

Ryder didn’t understand, at first, until SAM’s scanner suddenly chirped. A second later, SAM borrowed her omni-tool to project his composite overhead view—the burns were, of course, a face. The green face. And there was something else too—a dark circle that ringed the face, a trace of bio-remains placed, systematically, perfectly.

Liam, looking at the projection, now scanned the ground around him. “No way. Pathfinder, we’re on top of them.”

Hurriedly, Ryder canceled the projection, throwing her scanners back up, pointing to the ground a few meters from where she stood. SAM chirped a confirmation. Trace amounts of human remains detected. Female. Eight years old.

Dread made her hands clammy. Ryder swung the scanner wider—follow the path of bio matter, which lit up beneath her sensors. Trace amount of human remains detected. Trace amounts of human remains detected. Eight years old.

The child’s body, obliterated, now forming a perfect circle at least ten meters in diameter.

“They tore her apart,” Liam said from her side. Ryder felt sick. Liam reached out and, gently, pushed her scanner back down. The three of them stared at the silent, drifting grass. “They killed her here,” Jaal said quietly. “On top of the face. The rain has washed most of it away but the soil is rich with iron, where she bled. It helps the plants grow.”

“Later,” Liam muttered sternly. Ryder swallowed.

“Jaal, was there—was there a picture? I mean, her blood. Reyes said that always they covered the face with a picture.”

Jaal paused, clearly thinking. “I don’t…think so? It would have been hard to tell.”

Numb, Ryder wandered over to where the face was burned into the grass, and activated her scanner. Jaal was right—the trace amounts of bio remains were less obvious here, disturbed by the fire and the rain. The soil composition was different in the place where the girl had bled most heavily, but other than that, no clear pattern or recognizable shape emerged.

Pathfinder, SAM suddenly chimed. The ground is freshly planted. Scans indicate that there are a number of seeds growing below. In fact, they are close to sprouting.

“What kind of plant is it?”

Hedera, commonly known as Ivy. Needless to say, the species is not native to Kadara. With enough time, the plants will cover all traces of the Green Man. Finally, I would like to note that the positioning of the seeds themselves are a perfect overlay of the constellation Taurus, the bull.

“Hey,” Liam’s hand fell on her shoulder, and she spooked, leaping away from him. Liam let her go, only watching. “We should get out of here,” he said. “You’ve got enough.”

Ryder licked her lips. “Yeah. Okay.” She followed him, trudging back to the Nomad. “SAM, any of this fit with Suvi’s theory?”

Dionysus is heavily associated with Ivy, the Bull, and death by dismemberment.

“Oh, cool. So all of it fits.” Ryder wondered if being proven right actually made her feel any better.

Additionally, the other face of Dionysus, Zagreus, can be simplified as a god of Rebirth. The circle, for obvious reasons, falls within this pattern. An argument could also be made that the circle is meant to symbolize a serpent, which is another Dionysian motif.

Ryder threw Liam the Nomad’s keys. For once, she did not want to drive. “Let me guess. The reason all the kill-sites are the same distance from the center of Kadara Port is because they’re drawing a big, bloody circle around it?”

SAM did not answer. Liam started the Nomad. For several minutes, they drove in silence. Ryder pressed her forehead against the window glass, her eyes closed. The Nomad bumped gently along.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Jaal spoke hesitantly. “But perhaps you could have Liam drive more often?”

Ryder ignored them. “Drop me off in Kadara Port,” she ordered. “I’m seeing Reyes.”

Both of them looked like they were about to say something. Ryder put an end to all dissent by hissing, “Vetra.”

She had a headache again. He could always tell. The skin around her eyes got tighter. “You should see a doctor,” Reyes said, by way of greeting. “When something’s hurting all the time, you’ve got a problem.”

She ignored him, swallowing. Something was wrong. Him? “I’m sorry about yesterday,” Reyes said—or shouted, he had to shout over the bar’s music. She winced. The lights were probably killing her. He took her wrist, pulling her away and out the back door. The night air was cold, if sooty. He waited to see her relax. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“What?” Ryder blinked. He could feel, in her wrist, the barest thought of resistance. He held on more tightly. She stared up at him, looking lost. Something was wrong. Her gaze cleared. “Oh,” she laughed, shakily. “That. It’s fine. I’m not here for that.” She licked her lips, and this time when she pulled on her wrist, he let go. “I’ve been looking into the murders. It might be a load of shit, but so far my admittedly circumstantial evidence points to a creepy death cult.”

“That’s too bad. I was hoping for a death cult that wasn’t creepy.”

Ryder sighed, too loudly. Exasperated. It hadn’t been an easy day. “No, I mean—I think something’s off. I think, it might be a message. For you. For the Charlatan.” She divulged further, going into detail her findings, their mythological connections, the patterns—all of it. And he listened, more to her fear than the facts, remembering again why he hadn’t wanted to involve her.

She was sweating, hair freed from its usual ponytail. Messy. He had thought, fantasized, about seeing her like this, but now that the moment had arrived, it disturbed him. The way her hands twitched, how she’d been biting her lip since the moment he’d seen her. He caught her arm, stopping her from pacing, trying to stop everything.

“Listen. There are bad people on Kadara. But—”

“Don’t patronize me,” she snarled. “Bad people on Kadara. Please. There are bad people everywhere. Like I’ve—like I’ve never seen a murderer before. God.” She paused, dragging herself in. “Sorry. Rambling. I meant—be careful. I came here to tell you to be careful. I think they know—they suspect—who you are. I don’t know. I just have a really bad feeling.” She had captured whatever emotion she’d allowed to escape before, now slammed the lid on it. She smiled, though only with her mouth. “Did you know you have a pretty grandiose name?”

Reyes smiled. “I didn’t choose it myself, if that’s what you’re implying.”

She just stared at him, slowly shaking her head. “Please take this seriously,” she mumbled. “Even if you think I’m totally wrong.” She reached up to rub her left eyebrow, kneading at it. There were strange and beautiful things on the other side of the universe.

He wondered, for a moment, how things would change if he’d stayed an ordinary man.

“We should get out of here. Just this once, with full innocence, I think you should lie down.” He wanted to roll her up in blankets, in darkness, in locks. He wanted to protect her. The thought made him nervous.

The look she gave him was withering, but weak. “Where do you even sleep?” she asked him. They were failing. He could see it on her, the way her body had begun to pull away from him, always braced for impact. He didn’t want to think about that.

“Would you like to see?”

“Actually, yes,” she said. She didn’t blush. She refused to be teased. She just looked at him. “Yeah, actually, I would like to see. Maybe it’d help me believe that you’re a real person.”

Her insistence made him wonder. But her life was easy to imagine. Most ships looked the same, and he’d spent a decade working them. Minimalist décor, uniforms, good paintjob. He should brush her off. He should distract her. She looked at him like she was already disappointed.

“Alright,” he said. He hadn’t meant to. Too late now. He wasn’t the sort of person who went back on a dare. “Alright. Let’s go.”

He turned before she could see his face. She had to rush to catch up. “Really?” she asked, her voice almost sparkling. “Really? For real, though—you’re not just going to take me to some hotel, right?”

“I considered it,” he answered. That long, slender body, so new. He wanted to bury himself in her, to flatten his hands against all her young, unmarked skin, claiming the things he touched, saying this is mine, this is mine, this is mine. Reyes looked down. She was there, just beside him, biting the edge of her lip. Still. Almost bloody, now. His hand reached up despite himself, his thumb untucking her skin from her teeth. “Did you know how hard I tried to make you like me?”

She was pretty. She kept getting prettier. “I mean. Obviously.”

“I’m usually pretty patient, so I’ll just warn you now. You should be careful,” Reyes said mildly. “The more chances you give me, the more I’ll think about just taking you.”

She only took his hand. “Great,” she said. The fine muscles around her eyes were tightening again, a return to tension. To pain. “That would be great.”

As promised, he led her up to the rooftop apartments, to one of the many nearly-identical apartments he kept. It was nearly empty, without ceremony or character. He didn’t spend much time in any of them. They were all registered to different names, different bank accounts. For some reason, he told her as much.

Ryder sat on the edge of his bed, then fell back. Her eyes closed. He stood, watching her breathe. “Your mattress sucks,” she complained. “Some crime lord. I guess you wanted power more than money.”

He started to reply, then faltered. Had he wanted power? Power had always felt more like a circumstance, a tool. He sat next to her, and her eyes opened as the mattress dipped below his weight. She waited.

“I want you to stay,” he said.

“I’m a long-term rental,” she joked. He lay next to her, pulling his fingers across her hairline. Her eyes closed again, as her head rolled toward him.

“I know,” he said. He could smell her; sweat and metal and ozone. Something musky, a man’s cologne. Something sweet. Her breathing was slowing down. “Stay with me,” he said again.

Very slowly, she shook her head. Her eyes opened. “My crew’s waiting on me,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have been so long. They can’t go back to the Tempest without me.” But she lay there a moment longer, just looking into his eyes.

“I could walk you back?” he offered. She sat up, rolling out her shoulders. He wanted to see them, under her armor. He wanted to give in, but not before she did.

“No,” she said unsteadily. “No, that’s fine. I can get back on my own.”

When he’d been an ordinary man, repeating the same day, he used to smoke. He missed it now. Reyes smiled, watching her leave. “You see? You never needed me at all.”

The journey back was short, but hard. The headache Ryder had been fighting all day was reaching its crescendo, overwhelming her. She couldn’t bring herself to speak to Liam or Jaal, both of whom took a turn catching her arm when she stumbled. She couldn’t stop thinking. Anubis, The Green Man, Zagreus. The King of Life. The cycle of rebirth. Those little bodies, chopped to pieces. Something, that curled up around the heart like a worm, like a disease. Like ivy.

Liam said something. It was hard to hear him, hard to think of dealing him. Ryder waved what she hoped was a comforting hand in his general direction, already staggering towards her quarters. She just wanted to lie down. Reyes was right. Doctor, for sure. First thing in the morning. As soon as she felt better.

Ryder had barely made it to her cabin when her headache, already unbearable, mutated into something worse. It felt like her mind was under attack from a biotic, as though some foreign, malevolent spy was forcing their way inside. The buzzing was back, but louder than it had ever been before, jamming her ears as though a real, physical veil had blanketed her. Ryder crammed the heels of her palms hard against her eyes, disguising her whimper as a hiss. “SAM, what—what are you—are you installing something again, or—?”

P-P-Pathfinder, I have—failure to—synchronization levels exceeded—

She couldn’t see. Blindly, Ryder threw one hand out, and lurched forward until she felt herself connect with a wall. She fell forward, distantly aware of her own limbs, her body curling on itself. “SAM!” she could hear herself yelling, but distant, though water. It was more that she could feel the vibrations of her own voice, in her jaw and her throat. “SAM shut it off!”

—t—predict—scenarios are—idal—t-t-t-t-t-t-t—

She saw. A flash of someone’s ankle, smashing into the ground inches from her nose. Reflexively, Ryder rolled away from the missed collision, and her head cracked hard against something, a pain that came with the sound of a bell ringing and then—

—t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t—

Figures that moved without real form or purpose, mannequins that came around corners, but she could see their guns, and she could see—Reyes, with his hands raised in surrender, but something unknown and resigned in the way he walked forward, arrogant but beaten and then a hard sound and then his chin came up and his head jerked back, and she saw the moment he lost his gravity, his body gave out—

—t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t—transfer error. Prediction forcibly terminated.

Pause.

Pathfinder?

Ryder remembered herself. Pathfinder. Ryder. Sara. Her head was in agony, her eyes and nose both streaming. She was afraid to move, afraid of more pain. Slowly, she lifted one arm, and felt carefully beneath her hair to check for blood. Her fingers found the spot, soft and wet.

I have called Lexi, SAM reported. Please wait for assistance. It is recommended that you do not move.

“Did I just have a seizure?” Ryder whispered. She felt herself shaking, a sort of post-nausea trembling. Her chest felt cold.

No. There was a problem.

“No shit.”

My predictive matrices for combat installed incorrectly with your brain. Synchronization spiked just now at 237 percent. The only cause I can determine are the unique characteristics of your individual brain. You evidently have exceptional observation skills.

Through the cheek she had pressed against the floor, Ryder could feel footsteps drawing closer. “SAM, what does that mean? What happened?”

Our artificial and organic information processors temporarily merged during a period where you experienced extreme stress. The stress, which is meant to act as an organic cue to trigger combat predictions, forced our joined systems to simulate a prediction into the future, based on what data we have presently observed. The subject, naturally, was the cause of your stress.

“SAM what does that mean?!” Ryder yelled. One of her eyes was fucked up, swelling shut. She couldn’t remember hitting it. The door to her quarters was opening, Lexi was in the room, throwing herself to the floor, med-kit in hand.

Current predictions indicate there is currently an overwhelming probability that Reyes Vidal will die.

“Ryder? Ryder, it’s going to be alright. Don’t be afraid,” Lexi soothed. She was pressing something cool to the back of Ryder’s head, against the soft, wet spot.

“No,” Ryder whimpered. Her throat was closing. Lexi leaned over her, probing her neck for a pulse. “No,” Ryder said again, and fainted.

#nakmor drack #pathfinder #magpie bridge #sara ryder #reyes vidal #reyes/ryder #cora harper #jaal ama darav #mass effect: andromeda #suvi anwar #kallo jath #liam kosta #peebee #vetra nyx #keema dohrgun #kadara #grosscreations #ryder/reyes

4 notes · View notes