#at the very least hes good practice for a future comic of mine with a deaf main character | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itsallmightbitch · 5 years ago

Text

Covert Ops For Dummies

Possibly Part 1? Depends on the interest in a Part 2. I curse my best friend for a thousand years for making me watch this show and basically facilitating a brand spanking new addiction. I fucking love this skinny scarecrow man.

Pairing: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Nothing really. Smut abounds. Toshi is insecure as fuck about his body. That’s about it.

Word Count: 8000+ (I um... I might have gotten carried away...)

Summary: You and All Might go undercover, only to wind up stuck in a coat closet for most of the mission. Toshinori is insecure and you’re horny as all get out (and determined to make him see what you do when you look at him).

*gif isn’t mine but is oddly appropriate for this story?!?!???!!

Covert ops with a man who quite frankly defied the laws of stealth, was going exactly the way you’d thought it would. Go you. You were practically fucking psychic.

Not that you were subtly bragging to yourself about being right but… well.

You were.

When you’d been paired with him by an oddly amused Aizawa earlier, you hadn’t thought much of it. You spent most of your time together anyway, so why not work while you were at it? It was a simple job. Get in, get out. Bust down some doors, take some names, kick some ass-

“What the fuck do you mean, undercover!? How is this-” you gestured frantically at All Might, perched precariously on a nearby desk- “In any way, going to go under anything!?”

The man in question laughed and the desk creaked worryingly as it shook along with him.

“You worry too much! I can be stealthy when I want to be, kid!” his voice boomed and the glass of the window rattled in it’s frame from the sheer strength of it.

You levelled a look at him, unsure if he was joking or not.

Standing across from you both, arms crossed and a sleeping bag bunched around his waist- was the mastermind of this future fuck up.

“You two won’t need to be stealthy,” Aizawa explained, his tired eyes sparkling with amusement at your absolutely horrified expression. Neither you nor All Might were built for sneaking through windows after all. “We know it’s not exactly your… strong point,” he said, clearing his throat and then and there, in that little classroom in UA, you learned that Shouta Aizawa actually did have a goddamn sense of humour.

Go figure that it was at your expense.

“You two get to be the diversion.”

Your eyes went wide and one twitched.

“Oh God, how is that better!?”

Everything had gone about as well as could be expected with Mr. Save the Day on your team. Although you, very begrudgingly, had to hand it to him. He did know how to keep a crowd’s attention when he needed to- and if it had been mildly arousing watching him make your suspects cower in fear at the same time then well, that was your business.

All Might and the absolutely appalling mass of muscles that made up his left arm, shifted a little and jostled you into a nearby pile of coats. This resulted in a mouthful of faux fur and a coat hanger in your spleen. Your feet dangled off of the ground, your body suspended against the wall by the sheer size of him.

You grunted in pain, indignant, then elbowed him hard in retaliation.

“Sorry!” he said and now your elbow was aching as well as your spleen. It was like hitting a boulder.

On top of the lack of room to breathe, the heat was almost unbearable. He was like a walking, talking space heater and normally you wouldn’t mind. Really. But being crammed into such tight quarters with zero warning was already making your head spin and the heat wasn’t helping matters.

Your mind drifted without your permission.

It wasn’t the way you’d ever imagined being pinned down by him but- oh, for fuck sake don’t think about that now.

You willed yourself to behave, groaning out loud.

He took your noise of frustration in a different way.

“I know it’s not an ideal situation but I’m sure we can turn this around,” he beamed at you optimistically but since you couldn’t move your arms particularly well, you couldn’t flip him off. He ignored your lack of response and sullen silence, instead craning his neck forward towards the door. He had to shimmy a little and brought you along with him- stuck to his side as you were.

Your wings sagged uselessly behind you, squished into a corner that they had no business being in.

Toshinori squinted out of the spaces between the slats on the wooden door as if he could bend light itself and see around fucking corners. You bit your tongue.

Knowing him, he probably could.

He shifted again, without much thought. You, on the other hand, almost died. Thick fingers brushed over your thigh as he moved his hand and all of the blood in your body rushed in two different directions. One half reddened your cheeks and the other half slammed home between your legs and throbbed deliciously.

Jesus. If either of you shifted in just the right way-

He must have realized because his fingers snapped away as he made a fist suddenly, eyes darting everywhere but at your face. You felt his breath stutter in his chest and he cleared his throat and moved his hand as far away as he could in such tight quarters.You didn’t know whether to curse him for being such a gentleman or not.

“It’s a little cramped in here, huh?”

“You know, I hadn’t noticed.”

Yes. When in doubt, default to sarcasm. That always ended well. But he was unaffected and just fucking chuckled instead, all throaty and low so that he didn’t alert any of the guards outside.

Your ovaries screeched. One fainted.

Half the words you’d been about to say turned into pathetic sounds instead so you simply swallowed them back again.

You needed to put a bit of distance between you before you simply climbed around him and wrapped your legs around his waist for a place to sit. Hissing, you shifted from side to side, wings twitching helplessly in the cramped space. If you could roll your shoulders in just the right way-

“Are you alright?” he whispered, looking alarmed at your sudden frantic movements. You grunted out a yes as you tried to find a way to move your arms properly. He didn’t seem convinced.

“I’m trying to put my wings away before we both suffocate.”

“Oh.”

It took a bit of concentration to ignore the feeling of being practically plastered to his side, but eventually, your wings disappeared with a little whoosh of air and you dropped slightly further towards the ground without their friction on the walls holding you up.

The relief was real. At least two of your limbs could now breathe again- even if the rest were still stuck in this closet. The extra wiggle room was a gift from God as you inhaled actual air. As a bonus, you could now finally turn your scathing gaze on Toshinori.

Bright blue met your eyes and he blinked owlishly back at your expectant ones.

“Is that better?”

“Toshi,” you said, as patiently as possible even though he was being terribly dense. “You could help, you know.”

He paused for a moment- then wiggled as far away as he could. Which by your estimation was about three millimetres. You couldn’t even face palm as your hands were still stuck to your sides.

“Jesus- Shrink down, you big oaf! Your muscles are taking up precious oxygen!”

This closet was definitely not built to contain over five hundred pounds of thick ass muscle. His head was even brushing the ceiling. Eyes comically wide, he looked down at himself like he was actually surprised that it hadn’t crossed his mind to do so already.

He was so not adorable. Not even a little bit.

“Oh right.”

Suddenly you had a face full of smoke instead of muscle and you dropped to the floor without warning. You almost fell against the door but you caught yourself at the last second with your hand on the wall beside it.

Your body sighed in relief at the sudden space and you inhaled dramatically, stretching your arms out, grateful for the blood flow to your extremities. At least now you wouldn’t lose a hand.

A short, wheezy cough from the other side of the closet had you wafting the smoke away, frantically trying to send it towards the little vent instead of the door. The last thing you needed was someone thinking the place was on fire.

After so many months of trailing around after All Might, it was now far less jarring to see him going from one extreme to the other. From the hulking, muscular hero you’d been plastered against moments before, to the walking scarecrow who was now silhouetted in a cloud of smoke.

So when the room finally cleared and left just Toshinori in all of his skinny, hapless glory, you didn’t even think twice about it. You were far more concerned with your ability to finally move your arms again.

The non-reaction was a vast improvement from the stream of expletives you’d let out the first time you’d seen the transformation. It barely even registered as a difference these days. He was still Toshinori. A little clueless, always earnestly sweet and unfairly invading all of your sexual fantasies.

The norm.

But still, even now, those sharp eyes of his watched your expression closely.

For what, you weren’t entirely sure but he mustn’t have found whatever he was searching for because he suddenly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with one big hand.

“Sorry kid. Must be getting forgetful in my old age,” he said and flashed you a sheepish grin. His hero outfit hung on him, at least seven times too big for his skinny frame and it would have looked comical on anyone else. Not him though. The damn thing still suited him.

You ignored the traitorous, evil thundering of your heart in your chest.

Fuck.

How could he be so impossibly sexy without even realizing it? You swiftly turned away to stare out of the slats like he had done earlier, pretending not to smile. Maybe he did realize it but just had no idea of the effect it had on you. It didn’t even make sense, when you actually sat down and thought about it. Which you had done, many, many times.

He was older than you.

An out and out good guy with a saviour complex.

Skinny, almost worryingly thin- in this form anyway.

On paper, he wasn’t your type. Not even a little bit. But fuck if he didn’t elicit a sinful ache between your legs whenever he was around. He made you disgustingly flustered, even if he was doing something as simple as handing you a stack of papers to grade.

And now you were stuck in the worlds smallest coat closet with him.

If Aizawa was wrong about this fundraiser then you were going to choke him to death with his own scarf.

You could feel Toshinori’s presence behind you, as he silently tried to adjust his uniform to make it fit a little better.

Until you’d followed him up the stairs earlier, it hadn’t been going as badly as you’d thought. He was a decent actor, given the circumstances and it might have had something to do with keeping up a ruse as big as his for so long.

You’d been given the low down that morning. Big shot money man- who had built his fortune on the back of the Number One hero’s smiling face. It wasn’t the sort of thing that either of you would usually deal with but… this one seemed to have a personal ring to it. Cue his hero outfit and a fuck ton of screaming fans.

All Might’s fans of course- not yours.

You’d pulled up at the front gates of the lavish eight bedroom house, just outside the suburbs- and watched with absolute glee as Lanius Snow (con man, ringleader and all around asshole) looked like he was about to have a heart attack out of sheer fright.

But Toshi played dumb as instructed, the atmosphere had relaxed- and all the attention had turned to the guest of honour and away from any potential heroes who may or may not have been sneaking around upstairs. Even the security that had been dotted around were fawning over All Might like school children, asking for autographs and pictures and all around ignoring their posts.

You may or may not have nudged a few of the more eager ladies out of the way once or twice as well.

Totally not your fault in a bustling crowd like that.

All Might had taken the attention in his stride. You had slunk behind him after the first ten minutes, happy to be out of sight and out of mind.

The evening had progressed and you knew that Snow was becoming more and more agitated by the second, talking frantically into an earpiece whenever he thought he was out of sight. None of the guards had earpieces and it was clear that the security down in the main hall was only the tip of the iceberg.

Then everything had escalated when All Might had insisted on being his usual heroic self and had point blank refused to leave the hard work to just Eraserhead. Even when you reminded him that the police were on standby around the corner, it hadn’t deterred him in the slightest.

“Toshi! We’re supposed to be distracting the guests! Eraserhead told us heroics weren’t necessary, remember!?”

You had tugged at his suit in vain as he’d marched up the stairs, checking for guards as covertly as a seven foot mountain of a man could.

“But you also heard Snow earlier,” he’d murmured. “Extra security? Drones? Eraserhead didn’t mention any of that in the briefing earlier. Which means he might be in over his head. It won’t hurt to check on him.”

And so he’d surged onward with you trailing unhappily behind him, unable to stop him and bound to have his back.

You hadn’t even been able to contemplate what was happening when a hand had yanked you sideways moments later and you were suddenly in the dark, pressed against All Might like you were about to become very familiar with him.

A flutter of excitement in your stomach had made you clench your thighs together, thinking that maybe, just maybe, ‘checking on Aizawa’ had just been code for ‘fucking you in a closet’. You wished. As much as you might have enjoyed it, Toshinori was nothing if not a gentleman. He never would have dreamed of doing something so crass.

The big guy got flustered if you just touched his arm. He’d probably flat out faint if you offered to suck his dick.

Another security detail walked past, laughing between themselves and in the narrow sliver of space you could see out of, a glint of metal told you that these men were all heavily armed.

Charity fundraiser your ass.

“It’s a fundraiser for children with disabilities. The people who organised it have promised a ‘once in a lifetime opportunity’ for these children to meet All Might if enough money is raised,” Aizawa had explained, his voice it’s usual monotone but his eyes flashing with unusual emotion.

You had turned to Toshinori curiously, head cocked and eyebrows raised at his sour expression.

“Let me guess. You’ve never even heard of such a thing?”

He shook his head and you fumed, fists clenching.

“Bastards.”

“Tonight is supposed to be for those kids and we’re stuck in a closet being useless. They’re using your big, dumb, friendly face to fill their own pockets and I’m not even allowed to punch the mastermind in the dick,” you grunted, pushing away from the wall, suddenly angry at how useless you were currently being.

And at the gall these people had.

Taking the God damn Symbol of Peace and twisting it into something vile for their own gain. You wondered how long it had been going on. Weeks? Months? By the look of this lavish house, you’d bet years. So many children’s dreams crushed because they thought that they hadn’t won some phoney competition. Parents wondering if perhaps they had only donated more, given more that they didn’t even have to give...

In your sudden angry outburst, you didn’t watch your steps and stumbled over a pair of shoes that you’d kicked out of the way earlier. Toshinori’s big, warm hand on your arm steadied you. Your fingers wrapped around his skinny wrist and you breathed out, using your grip on him to pull yourself closer.

For a guy who looked like a strong wind would blow him over- he was certainly sturdy. He barely moved, despite your tugging.

“I know,” he said solemnly and his voice was hard in a way that he just couldn’t achieve when he was All Might. “I detest the thought of the hero I try to be, being used as a front for crime. The thought of disappointing those children-”

He looked away from you then, past your shoulder to the door. You squeezed his wrist, warm skin under your palm making your heart stutter in your chest.

“So, I couldn’t just sit still and smile for those people down there… I had to do something proactive. Do you understand, kid?” he asked and tilted his head to the side, looking almost imploring. He needed you to understand why he’d pushed on when you told him to stop. Just like he always did.

You supposed you understood, just a little.

You nodded, lips twitching.

“Then…” he said, a sly grin stretching over his face. “Does that mean you’re not angry at my ‘big, dumb, friendly face’?”

Biting back a laugh, you let go of his wrist and pushed his head to the side playfully. All seven feet of him swayed gently when you did, like bamboo in the wind, as he rolled on the balls of his feet. You must have been a little too close for comfort because you caught the tinge of pink in his cheeks even in the dim light coming from the door.

“I suppose you are a hard man to stay angry with,” you teased and patted his gaunt cheek affectionately. Standing on your tiptoes, you brought your face closer to his, ignoring your usual carefully observed boundaries. “But don’t think you can get away with pulling me into closets in the future, Toshi. You have to at least take a girl to dinner first.”

You made sure he saw when your gaze dropped to his lips and you noted his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed- hard.

Bringing your gaze back up, you didn’t even have time to wonder where your sudden bravery had come from because your eyes locked with his shockingly blue ones- the same eyes that often invaded your fantasies at night.

Something heated and electric shocked your system and all of your inhibitions flew out of the window, waving their panties as they went.

Your head swam, excitement causing a rush of adrenaline.

“So-sorry! I-I didn’t mean to imply anything!” he almost squeaked, his voice reaching an octave you didn’t think it even could and you smiled up at his red face with a wolfish grin. His body was rigid, like you were about to murder him and it did something funny to your stomach thinking about just how adorably nervous he was from just a little flirting.

It often confused you.

Men and women fell at his feet all the time. All he had to do was step outside and he had phone numbers and offers of ‘coffee’ coming out of his ears. Usually, he took it all in his stride. A few winks here and there, oozing confidence and a hearty laugh while giving them a gentle brush off. It was like night and day compared to the man in front of you.

As of right now, he was rubbing his arm and trying his damnedest to keep his eyes on his feet.

Now, you were no fool and you certainly weren’t a liar. Especially not to yourself.

You couldn’t deny that when he was all buff and muscular, he could make your pussy throb with pleasure with just a look. He didn’t even have to be in the same bloody room as you. All you had to do was happen across a picture of him and you could be ready to go in under fifteen seconds- ten on a particularly good day.

Not that you’d ever tell him that. With his stupid grin and the way he looked like he could snap you in half with his hands. The way he towered over you and the way you just knew that he was packing some serious heat.

Oof.

You pulled in a shaky breath, swallowing back the drool that threatened to spill over.

Thank fuck it was dark in here.

Yet, with all that being said, there was something about him when he was just his regular, skinny self. All sharp angles and rough edges- with his hair a constant mess no matter what he did to it. Toshinori with his sad smile and electric eyes, shoulders sloped under the weight of the whole fucking world. You wanted to share some of that burden sometimes. Make him smile again, like he should be able to.

If you wanted to do that by riding him into the ground then so be it. Who were you to question your own methods?

His hands would still look phenomenal wrapped around your thighs, you decided. He still towered over you and damn, you couldn’t decide which version you liked more sometimes.

Choices, choices. You were practically like a kid in a candy store.

“Maybe I like it when you imply things,” you said, voice nothing more than a purr. Jesus, where had that come from? Oh well. You were on a roll now. Might as well see where this took you-

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said suddenly, expression stormy and his sad voice like a shock to your system.

Your brain screeched to a halt, brakes on as you tried and failed to fit his tone into the situation you’d thought was building.

“Um, do what?” you asked stupidly.

Toshi’s expression hardened, his eyes not meeting yours any more and trained instead on a loose thread that he was tugging out of his pants. The soft frown turned into a scowl and he looked as though he wanted to simply barge past you and back into the hallway- anything to get out of the situation.

But guards were still patrolling and you certainly didn’t want to be caught trespassing so it was a no go.

You hadn’t thought that he would be bothered by your flirtatious banter- and you’d felt braver here in the dim light when it was just the two of you. Had you spooked him that much?

It wasn’t like you hadn’t flirted with him before. In fact, it was pretty much becoming your favourite past time. Stroking a hand over his muscular arm. Standing way, way too close to him. Touching him in public where you knew he wouldn’t be able to escape and would have to stand there, red faced and blushing like crazy.

“Pretend,” he murmured sullenly, fidgeting harder as he fought the urge to flee from the situation.

His expression was almost pained, like this was genuinely hurting him. You, on the other hand, still didn’t have a clue what was going on. What were you pretending about? Your brain, which had been switched to ‘horny’ mode for the last few minutes, tried furiously to gain some traction.

“Toshi, I don’t understand. Pretend to what? Explain it to me like I’m an idiot.”

He scratched his forearm roughly, shrinking in on himself as much as a seven foot tall man could. You had a horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. He took a long, shaky breath. In. Then out. Like he was readying himself for a battle that you didn’t even know was coming.

“You don’t have to pretend that you- ya know… find me attractive. Like… like this,” he said, his voice trailing off until it was so soft that anyone else might have struggled to hear him. Hell, even you had trouble- with only the sound of your thundering heart in your ears and of the world crashing down around you.

Your throat went unbelievably dry and you gaped helplessly. How did you even respond to something like that? It took a long moment of uneasy silence before you managed to find your voice again.

“But Toshi… I flirt with you all the time,” you managed to say, your brow creased. If it was possible, he shrank away even more, like you were shouting and not whispering. He hid his eyes behind his hair, either too cowardly or too embarrassed to meet your gaze and then shrugged, not answering.

But his body language told you everything you needed to know.

“You flirt with All Might,” he whispered.

Oh. Oh!

Holy fucking shit, you’d never realized it before. Not to be self deprecating but you were one dumb motherfucker. You’d always had so much fun making him blush when he was All Might. Breaking down that hero visage to remind yourself that he was still him under all that bravado. You’d never felt the need to do it when he was smaller.

When he was Toshinori… everything he did made your idiot heart skip a beat.

“Toshi… Look, I’m not going to lie to you, okay?” you said and then waited until he looked up before continuing, refusing to have this conversation with the top of his stupid head. “I find you really, really attractive when you’re All Might. I can’t deny it.”

You gave a dumb, embarrassed laugh because hell, you’d never thought you’d be admitting your attraction somewhere like this.

That seemed to be what he’d been waiting for, though.

He openly flinched, head twisting to one side as if you’d punched him. His jaw set, teeth gritted and that sad expression made your stomach twist painfully. Was this what he’d been afraid of the whole time? Why he always searched your expression every time he changed from one form to the other?

“I can change back, if you like,” he offered, in quite possibly the saddest voice ever. You went pale- practically felt the blood leaving your face. What had this man even been through that he thought no-one would want him the way he was? That they would only want the muscle bound hero that smiled all the time? You could have kicked yourself for feeding the dark part of him that thought like that.

Did he honestly think that you would only shower him with affection when he changed back? That he was only worth something when he had fucking muscles?

A cluster of emotions welled up inside you without warning and with a huff, you promptly slapped him upside the head.

Hard.

“Ow!” he yelped, forgetting himself and where he was for a moment. “What was that for!?”

Suddenly, he was the confused one- staring down the barrel of your anger with wide eyes.

“Because you’re being an idiot, Toshinori!” you hissed softly. “Yeah, I want to fuck you when you’re all big and muscular. Just like every other person on the planet who has eyes.” The use of the words ‘I want to fuck you’ seemed to catch his attention more than the rest of the sentence but you let his blush and tense posture slide because he was only human, after all. “It just so happens that I also want to fuck you when you’re- well.”

You gestured to him from head to toe.

“You. You moron.”

Red faced and annoyed, you crossed your arms over your chest and chewed on your bottom lip. How could you possibly make it any clearer to him?

The silence was thick in the little coat closet, your words still ringing in the air.

“Um… really? You’re not just saying that?” he asked, his voice still small but with something hopeful tucked away in the back. Your anger softened.

“You’re more to me than just your body, Toshi” you said after a long moment. “I like you.”

“But that first time, when I changed- I thought-” he argued, like he was trying to convince you that you didn’t actually find him attractive.

“That first time, was the only time I’ve ever reacted. And I reacted because I was surprised. You almost gave me a heart attack,” you shook your head, a smile pulling at your lips. “I don’t flirt much with you when you’re like this because I’m not vying for your time like I have to when you’re All Might. It’s just you and me… like this. And I like it that way. I don’t need to make you blush to get your attention,” you shrugged, slinking closer to him.

He shut his dumb mouth then and while he was still a little skittish, he didn’t take a step back when you invaded his personal space. Instead, he let you snake your way close enough to him so you could lay a hand on his chest- eyes trailing over his sharp features and resting on those big sad eyes.

“I wasn’t turned on when I was pressed against All Might,” you murmured and he sucked in an uneven breath, his fingers twitching at his sides and his lanky body curving towards yours. Without much thought behind the process of what you were doing, you laced your fingers through his and tugged his hand to your body.

The first shock of him touching you was electric and you shivered- guiding his hand down, over your breasts and then across your stomach until you met the waistband of your pants. Nuzzling his jaw, you smiled when he returned the gesture and rubbed his cheek across the top of your head.

His breathing was fast, heavy and you might have worried about him over exerting himself but he seemed fine for now, so you let him enjoy the moment.

You could take a wild guess and say this was the most action he’d had for a while. Not that you were faring any better. Your brain still hadn’t caught up with whatever the fuck your hands were doing.

Fingers still tangled with his, both of your breaths caught when you slid his palm underneath the denim and then down further- under the elastic of your panties. You let him go on his own then, having given him enough encouragement by now. Besides, you were busy trying not to pass out, lightheaded and giddy as you were.

He made a strangled noise, twisting his head down so that his forehead was pressed against yours and he could look at your face like you were personally gifting him the crown jewels.

He murmured your name, questioningly.

“Touch me?” you replied, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice because the hand that you’d often fantasized about was now cupped over your aching pussy, pressing lightly like he was afraid that he was going too far- even though you’d given him the clearest ‘GO’ sign you possibly could. “Please.”

“Okay,” he said, voice wracked with arousal and despite the bagginess of his clothes, when you chanced a glance downwards you could see his erection outlined- eagerly way ahead of his brain. “Okay,” he choked out again, nerves making his whole body tremble.

One long, rough finger, finally slipped between the lips of your pussy and you drew in a sharp breath. Your hands came up to grip his biceps and the sinful groan he let out caused another rush of arousal to seep out of you. He found you soaking and hot and without needing prompted further, he added another finger to rest inside- barely nudging your clit but causing enough friction to make you whine needily.

“That’s what you do to me. Not your muscles. Not your quirk,” you said, breathless, as his other arm snaked around your back. His fingers splayed wide between your shoulder blades. “Not your fame. Just you.”

“Fuck,” he moaned pathetically and without warning, he was moving. Your pants were off and your back was against the wall, legs wrapped around his slim hips before you had a moment to draw in breath. He pushed upwards and pressed his middle finger all the way inside you. You almost saw stars, shivering weakly against him and you opened your legs further to give him more space. With the added fact that you’d never heard him swear before, you were practically melting in his arms- your nails biting little crescents into his skin through the material of his suit.

Your hips bucked, wanting more and so you voiced your desire softly.

“More Toshi,” you urged, breath coming in pants. He nodded. He pulled his finger out and you felt another teasing your entrance before he pushed back in, stretching wider the second time. Then again. And again. And-

“Hnng,” you managed.

You muffled the next pleased sound that escaped you against his neck, then pressed a kiss to the curve that led to his shoulder.

Honestly, you should have been ashamed at the state you were in with just a few tentative pumps of his fingers but that combined with his proximity and your long time crush was almost too much. His cheeks were still pink, his mouth open as he rocked his palm against you and you found yourself on the brink of an orgasm far too quickly.

You nuzzled him, your nose brushing against his and his hot breath ghosting over your lips. The noises you were making were obscene, coupled with the soft wet sounds of his fingers sliding inside of you on repeat.

He sought out your gaze and held it, his hand bunching up your shirt at the back as he slipped it under. The skin on skin contact was divine.

The heel of his palm pressed upwards, sliding against your clit and you jerked hard in his embrace, inhaling a harsh breath as your fingers tightened their grip on him.

He stopped all motion immediately and you pulled back from where you’d been laying sloppy, open mouthed kisses on his jaw.

“Toshi?” you said, blearily, wondering why the pleasure had come to such an abrupt halt.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“What? No!” You shook your head from side to side almost comically. “No, no, no. Keep going,” you urged and he nodded, swallowing thickly. The delicious motions of his hand continued then, rocking back and forward over your swollen clit and dipping his fingers deep inside- hitting places your smaller hands could never dream of reaching.

“So good,” you purred, nearly delirious with lust. You dipped your hand down and palmed his cock through his pants and he grunted obscenely in your ear, breath scorching. His thighs twitched as you traced the length of him- impressive and hard under your fingers. “I always knew you’d be packing,” you laughed, drunk on the atmosphere in your own personal bubble.

You felt him smile, felt his shoulders shake lightly and your heart soared.

There he was.

“Kiss me?” you asked, all wanton and breathy. Here you were already hitting third base and you hadn’t even kissed him yet. He obliged, albeit tentatively at first. His lips found yours, warm and surprisingly soft. You tangled a hand in his hair, keeping his mouth on yours and rocking your hips lazily in pursuit of your orgasm.

He bucked helplessly against your hand when you squeezed and when he groaned into your mouth, it gave you the perfect opening to slip your tongue in to meet his.

You kissed him long and deep, until he hit a sweet spot and you had to pull away to breathe hard. You were so close. So, so close…

“I’m gonna come,” you said, before cupping his face so you could simply revel in his expression as you did.

“You are?” he asked, gaze lingering on your well kissed lips as he tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. Oh, you would definitely have to do something about all that self doubt in the near future- but as of right now you just flashed him a wicked smile and clenched your muscles around his fingers.

All the while, the knot of tension in your stomach balled tighter and tighter.

“Oh yeah, Toshi,” was the only response you could actually form because he suddenly sped up his movements, rocking his hand back and forth until you were just- right- there.

The cry of his name was choked in your throat and your legs trembled with the effort of staying around his hips- although he had the foresight to wrap his free hand around one of your thighs to keep you up. Your muscles fluttered frantically around his fingers and through the wild haze of your orgasm you could only anticipate what it would feel like with his cock inside you instead.

The thought sent another spasm through you and you shook softly, holding onto him for dear life.

There was a long moment where the only sound in the room was of you trying to get your breathing back to normal.

Gently, Toshi pulled his hand away- leaving you feeling dreadfully empty, his nose tracing your cheek as you leaned into him. Your hand fisted in the front of his shirt and honestly, all you wanted to do was curl up against him for the next twenty four hours and reassure him that you’d just had the time of your life.

But, you were still in a closet and he was still hard, so instead, you tugged his hand to your mouth and wrapped your lips around the fingers that had just been inside you.

Keeping your eyes locked with his, you silently revelled in the sheer embarrassed arousal on his face. You ran your tongue between his fingers, and his eyes grew heavy, lips parted and his breath hitching.

Reaching between you, despite the awkward angle, you found his cock straining eagerly against his outfit. The moment you ran your fingertips along the length of him and stopped at his head, he growled low and long in his chest and buried his face into the curve of your neck.

The fingers of his free hand dug into your ass as he held you aloft- backing away a little to give you more room while you refused to release his other hand from your mouth.

You sighed around his fingers, already imagining that they were his cock instead and he must have been imagining it too- either that or he was far more pent up than he’d ever let you know. You only had to suck softly and palm his cock a few more times before he was shuddering against you, panting and groaning as he came.

You finally let him go with a wet pop, letting him shake and spasm in your arms while you laid soft, unassuming kisses to the side of his head and muttered sweet things in his ear. His breath was hot against your neck as he slowly regained his senses- to a certain extent anyway.

Not enough to break away from you just yet.

“Sorry,” he managed, his voice hoarse. You shook your head, thumb tracing circles in the baggy fabric that separated you.

“For what?”

“Made a mess,” he said, giving a breathy, shy laugh that was music to your ears. You pressed a kiss to his palm, then brought his hand to rest over your cheek. You leaned into the warmth of it, enjoying the sweet way he was staring at you It was a far cry from the terrified expression he’d worn earlier.

“Next time you can come inside me. Then you won’t have to worry about the dry cleaning.”

He almost collapsed against you, trembling as he hid his blush against your neck.

“You have to stop saying things like that kid. This old man might just keel over if you do.”

There was nothing but warm affection in his voice when he said that and for once, you realized he wasn’t being hard on himself. Just playful. With you of all people. Granted, you had just made him come in his pants after he’d given you a spectacular hand job.

You’d expect a little of his confidence to return in the afterglow- even if you knew you still had a long way to go before he was back to himself.

“Hmm, you’d better not. I expect at least a thousand more orgasms like that before you get a break,” you said, resting your arms around his neck to play with his hair. Almost as though he was testing your boundaries (ha, they were long gone) he tentatively nuzzled and nipped a few light kisses along your jaw, his hands settling on your waist. It was nice, being this close to him without him stammering and making excuses to bolt.

“Only a thousand?”

“My bad. A million?”

He was just about to steal another kiss from you when-

“Are you two quite finished in there?”

Like deer caught in headlights, both of your heads swivelled around towards the door- wide eyed and suddenly flushed with acute embarrassment as the realization dawned on you.

Was that-?

“I have to let the police up here eventually and I doubt either of you would enjoy being caught in a closet doing… whatever it is you’ve been doing. I could hazard a guess if you like, though,” Aizawa’s dry voice drifted through the slats in the door. “I could hear you both down the hall.”

Before you could stop yourself, nervous giggles erupted from your throat.

You muffled them in Toshi’s neck while he gaped stupidly in the direction of the door, and swiftly forgot what words were and how to use them. It took him a moment to find his voice again.

“Shit,” he finally muttered but he made no move to release your legs from his waist- frozen to the spot and possibly about to die from all the blood rushing to his face.

You got your shit together fairly quickly though.

“Give us a moment, please Eraserhead,” you called out, still grinning like an idiot despite being caught doing something so out of character. For both of you. “Tell them it’s still dangerous up here or something.”

“Shall I say there’s a banshee?”

“Just do it, you jerk,” you grumbled and you heard Aizawa grunt something in agreement before his footsteps faded down the hallway. Had you really both been that loud? Just how long had Shouta been standing guard exactly? You’d almost call him sweet if you weren’t so mortified. You could only guess how Toshinori felt.

“Hey, lover boy. Come back to me,” you patted his cheek and brought his attention back you swiftly. His eyes found yours and you practically melted, forgetting what you were going to say and tugging him in for another kiss.

He murmured your name against your lips after a few seconds, breathless and warm.

“How can you be so calm?” he asked, cupping your cheek and looking at you in confusion.

“I’m still on an orgasm high, I guess,” you answered honestly. It would hit you properly later you were sure, but right now Toshi was still achingly close between your legs and you were still giddy from coming so you could hardly feel much of anything other than satisfaction.

“Oh,” he laughed shyly, finally lowering you back to your feet at long last. Your legs felt like jelly and you held onto him for support.

You felt his eyes on you the entire time you were shakily pulling on your underwear and then your pants and you might have felt a little bit of a confidence boost at the hushed noise of loss he made when you were fully covered up again. You couldn’t resist the sudden urge to slide yourself against him- sighing contentedly when his arms came up to wrap around you.

“Want me to stand in front of you until we can leave?” you asked, amused, kissing his Adam’s apple and he swore again, seemingly only just remembering that he’d come in his pants like a teenager.

“I don’t think it’s too bad… I think my underwear got the worst of it.”

You cocked your head to the side, finally looking up from where you’d been finding new places to kiss on his neck.

“You wear underwear with your hero outfit?”

“You… don’t?” he asked, clearly confused.

Waggling your eyebrows at him, you flashed him a sinfully cheeky grin.

“That’s something for you to think about the next time you see me in it, isn’t it?”

He groaned loudly, tugging you closer and laying a kiss to the top of your head. The affection wasn’t at all unwelcome. How long had you been wanting this exactly? It felt like forever. You revelled in the sudden change in him, despite still being his skinny self. His shoulders weren’t as sloped now and his expression was almost playful.

You couldn’t wait to see what he would look like when you got him into a bed- could barely focus on anything other than the thought of stripping him bare and riding him long and slow until he knew, for sure, that you wanted him just the way he was.

You opened your mouth to tell him as much.

“If you two don’t come out of there now, I’m coming in.”

That was Aizawa’s teacher voice and you both sprang apart, muttering apologies through the wood. With a cough, you were suddenly half propelled out of the opening door by hard muscle- All Might behind you now instead of Toshinori- and came face to face with Aizawa.

“Eraserhead,” you said meekly, your bravado suddenly wilting under his unamused stare. All Might ducked under the door frame behind you, his face beet red and looking everywhere but at the irritated pro hero. It was almost comical but you swallowed the nervous laugh that threatened to bubble up.

As subtly as you could, you shifted in front of him- just in case his underwear hadn’t been as effective as he was hoping.

“How… um, how much did you he-”

“Everything from ‘Ow, what was that for’,” he answered before you could finish. Ah yes, when you’d slapped the back of Toshi’s head and he’d forgotten himself. Your eye twitched and All Might made a choked noise that sounded like he’d started to think of something to say . You opened your mouth to speak, but Aizawa brought a hand up and cut you off abruptly. “It might be none of my business but, how long has this been going on?”

You cocked your head to the side. Not the question you’d been expecting admittedly but…

“Just ah, it’s just been the closet. So far,” you tacked on quickly when you felt All Might tense slightly. He relaxed though, his fingers brushing yours behind your back. You could practically feel his eyes on you, curious and warm. You resisted the urge to grin like an idiot and wink at him.

Aizawa grunted out a noise of... approval?

“Good. Just making sure. Go home, both of you. We’re basically wrapped up for the night.”

With that, he nodded and turned on his heels to walk away- leaving you both to stare after him. You only found your voice when he reached to top of the stairs and before he could disappear out of sight, you managed, “Wait! You’re not mad that we got distracted?”

Aizawa paused, an unsettling and unfamiliar grin spreading across his face.

“Hizashi owes me a rather large sum of money, thanks to you. What’s there to be mad at?” he said, in an oddly upbeat voice. He continued on his journey, disappearing from view as you gaped at his back. But he had one more thing to throw back over his shoulder. “Oh and you might want to wrap a towel around your waist if you’re going to use the front door, All Might. There are eagle eyed reporters everywhere.”

Well.

Fuck.

#all might x reader #toshinori yagi x reader #bnha #all might #smut #BNHAFF

1K notes · View notes

katara0524 · 3 years ago

Text

Impromptu Ramblings about the NEO:TWEWY Demo

In case y'all weren't aware, I've been a pretty big fan of TWEWY for a couple years now, and with the sequel coming out next month, the excitement I feel for this game is greater than ever :) I played the Demo for the first time yesterday, and following a couple views of some livestreams of others playing it, I felt like sharing my (very ramble-y) thoughts prior to the release of the full game. This post WILL contain spoilers for both TWEWY and NEO:TWEWY, so if you want to avoid those from now on, please block the tags: #twewy spoilers, #ntwewy spoilers, #neo twewy spoilers, #ntwewy, and #neo twewy ^_^ Oh, and if you wanna keep up with any other posts I make about my experience with this game, please refer to the tag "kat plays neo twewy" :)

-First things first: I have not watched the Final Trailer and I don't plan on doing so to avoid spoilers, especially after the pre-release era of KH3 where a lot of the later trailers spoiled a lot of the endgame content. That being said, I've seen some minor screenshots from the final trailer including what many believe to be characters from the original TWEWY, namely Shiki and Joshua. That is all I know about the Final Trailer and I would very much like to remain as blind as possible going into NEO :)

-The very first cutscene was quite ominous in the sense that this game is likely going to be about "changing fate" (a recently common theme in Squeenix games, which I do appreciate), perhaps leading off from the end of A New Day in the OG and trying to stop an Inversion of Shibuya. Also worth noting that A New Day had similar aspects in which the main character experienced "future visions" of tragic events, although in A New Day these events were not able to be changed, while in NEO it seems like one of the main "powers" our protagonist has is specifically to rewrite these events and avoid a "bad ending." Very interesting indeed!

-I really like the revamped comic book style dialogue scenes, it's much more fluid and modern, which is an excellent direction for the series to take!

-I would love to have an actual PokemonGO knockoff of Final Fantasy creatures, please Squeenix that would be incredibleeeeee

-Also the LINE stickers??? Are so cute???

-I would just like to point out that Fret is an absolute treasure throughout this entire demo, he's hilarious and I will protect him with my life

-UHHHH don't like that Fret picked up some Reaper Pins just out of nowhere.....or the fact that they're apparently popular all over Shibuya.............did y'all not learn anything from the OG game or what lmao

-Okay so when I first got the "curry or ramen" scene and heard NPCs talking about the new curry place replacing the old ramen place I became IMMENSELY distressed that Ramen Don was totally cut from the game because....well, Ramen Don is a King okay?? But I'm glad to learn that no, he didn't fall off the face of the earth, he's still in business and he's the one opening the curry restaurant lolol. PHEW, crisis averted!

-.....I don't like the sudden appearance of a Wall Reaper and being able to read NPC thoughts. Wtf happened when they left the ramen place??? Are they playing the Game alive somehow?

-Okay so I have my own theories about this "Swallow" character and what they're up to but considering this is only the Demo and I still Have No Idea What's Happening, I'm just gonna say that I think Swallow intentionally led Rindo and Fret to the Crossing so they could join the Game. I mean, add in the fact that Swallow still communicates with Rindo during the Game and you've got yourself a suspicious character right there lol

-"Hey they're shooting off fireworks!" Fret honey that's not fireworks oof (see also: "*laughs* I'm in danger")

-WOOOOOO way to traumatize Rindo right off the bat like that LMAOO

-The visuals for the intro are VERY GOOD, the song is pretty decent until it gets all "screamo" (which I absolutely cannot stand sorry lol)

-Shoka is every Customer Service employee ever and I respect that

-Susukichi went from being "meh" to "WOW THIS GUY IS FUN" in the span of 10 seconds and I also respect that (he is also built like an Absolute Unit which is hilarious)

-The Wall Reapers (and just Reapers in general) seem.....way nicer and more helpful this time around?? Like in the OG the Wall Reapers were SO RUDE gfhjgjdfkhn and yeah I'm sure we'll get some like that but the juxtaposition of the first Wall Reaper in the OG compared to the first one in NEO is insane.

-The puzzles are quite a bit more entertaining this time around even if it's generally the same "fetch quest" formula lol

-"Rindo's Group" way to go Fret HFKJDGHSDFKJ mans really left the default name in there lmao

-OKAYOKAYOKAY so to those who aren't aware I am a MASSIVE SIMP for Sho Minamimoto, he's my absolute favorite and I think about him daily. HIS INTRODUCTION IS. INCREDIBLE. I LOVE IT SM.

-GOD hearing him actually SPEAK FULL SENTENCES is just SO SURREAL I love this sm

-Also the remix of his theme???? NEO TRANSFORMATION????? IT'S SO GOOD????????? It's like gone from a Boss Theme to a more triumphant sounding theme and I am HERE for it (every version of Transformation is just INCREDIBLE and getting a new one is even better)

-I Love Him, Your Honor

-Also idk how exactly but it's kinda weird seeing Sho in the OG vs NEO, cuz while he's mostly the same Insane Math-Obsessed Catboy, he's.....calmed down quite a bit?? Like OG made a whole point of how poorly he cooperates with others (not to mention just being completely unhinged and trying to kill everyone), whereas here in NEO he's......actually kinda working with others??? HELLO???? Sir what happened to you and Neku during those 3 years I would love to know all about it

-I guarantee you Sho is still probably scheming shite and will likely pull some total insane BS later down the road, and I am very much looking forward to that. Also, is he looking for a certain Pin or something??? Cuz he keeps talking about different Pins and even mentions "this is just another Psych Pin" like he's actively looking for a Pin to do something with. Maybe it also has to do with the "latent powers of Players" thing he mentioned as well??? What is this dude UP TO oml (also is he in contact with Neku at all?? they're both technically fugitives at this point right?? WHAT HAPPENED AFTER A NEW DAY I AM BEGGING YOU)

-I seems like Sho ALSO has an idea of what's going on in this specific game (even if he won't admit it straightforward). Per his quote "The game's 142,857. Factor it out," he's essentially saying, "This game is a neverending cyle, figure out how to get out of it" (or at least that's what I got from his "cyclic number" nonsense lolol)

-I do like how Sho mostly stays out of sight until he's needed for a battle or assisting with a mission, that's kind of on par with his whole "uncooperative" quirk from the OG, plus he might literally have to stay out of sight of other Reapers and Players considering he's likely breaking the rules of the Game (not surprising considering him and Neku broke practically every rule in the book during OG)

-The nicknames for Sho- I can't- They're so FUNNYYYY GFHJSDFKJ

-He goes from being called "Pi-Face" and "Tabooty" in OG to "Mr. Minami" and "M-Teezy" in NEO LMAOO

-(Wowee I just realized I've been mostly talking about Sho oopsies sorry y'all, this is what I meant by thinking about him almost daily he is THAT much of a fav of mine ghfkjsd)

-Okay RIP Fret and Rindo for not getting literally ANY explanation as to how the Game works OOF, that is kinda cringe that whoever gets the Pin earns points, not whoever erases the Noise (which like I understand but also URRRGGHHH I WANNA SEE THE SQUAD SUCCEED)

-"I should be going home now it's getting late" Oh you sweet summer child-

-Also love the mention of parents in this game???? KH you could learn a thing or two from TWEWY (poor Rindo's mom fhgjkdh)

-KUBO IS HILARIOUS I SUPPORT HIM AND HIS GROSS FACE (also thank you Final Trailer thumbnail for spoiling my suspicions about him very cool smh)

-Kaie is a LAD I also support him, go King type those funky texts I believe in you

-FRET PLS STOP SCANNING FHGJKSDHKJFGHFKJ he's like me when I scan in OG during Weeks 2 and 3 and see Taboo Noise coming after me ghfjdshfj

-Also Rindo can you stay off your phone for TWO SECONDS ik you're trying to figure things out but Fret is a jelly boi and I don't want him to be upset with you my guy

-Sho being an actual sorta mentor to the kiddos?? Who are you sir this is so unlike you ghfgskj what happened to the guy who tried shooting children in the face 8 times over LMAO (granted he's probably just using them but it's still nice to see him actually cooperating and sharing knowledge with the kiddos aaaaa)

-EYO EIJI OJI THE TIKTOK INFLUENCER IS BACK LMAO

-hgjkfshgkjf "we aren't glorifying capitalism on my watch" THATS SO FUNNY TO ME GFHJFSDGHJKS (also an all-orange ensemble is disgusting you deserve jail for one thousand years fkn Cheddar Goldfish Cheezit ass woman)

-WICKED TWISTERS NAME DROP EYOOO we love to see it

-gfhsgjf Poor Rindo embarassing himself for the sake of the Game that's incredible

-R e t u r n t o M O N K E. That is all.

-Dialogue during boss battles is HELLA cool i love that

-HHHHH THE KANON SCENE MADE ME A N G E R Y FRET STOP SIMPING MY GUY says the girl with a Literal Simp Encyclopedia and simps for pixels on a screen daily

-Can't wait to see the other Reapers :eyes emoji:

-CAN'T WAIT TO SEE NAGI MY BELOVED YEAHHHH WOOOOOO AAAAND that's about it for the demo lolol, I absolutely CANNOT wait for next month, this game is gonna be INCREDIBLE holy hell Prepare for more simping, more screaming, and more vibing from Yours Truly :) I fully intend on sharing more general thoughts like this on both Tumblr and Twitter so it's not just reblog-retweet-reblog-retweet with the occasional comment fhgskjd

If you wanna witness my insanity up close and personal I have a Square Enix Discord server called Sea Side Dreamers! You can look it up on Disboard, or you can add me on Discord @Katara0524#9244 for a direct link :) We have topics about Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, NieR, and ofc TWEWY (as well as other topics!), so if you want some good ol' chaos and chitchat, you're more than welcome to join!

#neo twewy #ntwewy #neo twewy spoilers #ntwewy spoilers #twewy #neo: the world ends with you #the world ends with you #twewy spoilers #twewy rindo #rindo kanade #twewy fret #tosai furesawa #twewy sho #sho minamimoto #long post #also shameless Discord plug lmaooo #kat plays neo twewy

14 notes · View notes

buffyversefanfiction · 3 years ago

Text

Slayer of Slayers

Warnings:I do not own, nor do I claim to own any of the copyright or characters within the Buffyverse which includes but not limited to the television shows Buffy and Angel, as well as the Darkhorse comics series’ continuation.

15+ Strong to moderate violence, Graphic to mild descriptions of gore, and torture, sexually charged scenes, sexual innuendos, mild to strong language, and practices of witchcraft.

M/M, F/F, M/F, GEN, OTHER +

PART SIX LINK HERE

Part Seven - Rogues

1928

Spike found himself running through woods in the middle of the night in search of his beloved Drusilla only to find his sire dancing on a field, which had been scorched by fire, as the raven-haired vampire continued swaying from side to side, laughing away at herself in the process making Spike curious to what she was up to now. “Dru, what are you doing out here?” Spike asked the woman he loved as he walked towards her, pulled her body into his arms, and began dancing with Drusilla. “Here on these very grounds lies a future of torment, torture, and agonizing pain…it’s so delicious it makes me giddy!” Drusilla replied as she continued to slow dance with her immortal lover. “One day I’m going to raise a family right here, and will almost be worth all that I’ll have to lose before then…” “I was worried you got yourself killed babe; you know you’re not at your full strength,” Spike confessed admitting his fears for her. “Oh, my dear William, I will be the only one who will not die, not once, even at times when I’m so lonely I wish I would die…” Drusilla sighed with a profound sense of sadness, wanting to stay in that moment but knowing the future was coming. “You’ll always have me!” Spike protested, meaning what he said with all his heart but not knowing what the future would hold for him and the woman he loved more than he could ever imagine loving someone…at the time.

1977

Following Angelus leaving her after regaining his soul and Darla returning to The Master, Drusilla knew her time with Spike was nearing an end, that the quest for her to become strong again would be the beginning of the end for them both and despite how much sadness the thought of losing her beloved Spike one day, she knew her and Spike’s trip to New York would bring some happiness to them both as Spike set out to kill his second vampire slayer, Nikki Wood, while Drusilla set her sights on siring a new vampire, the first child of her new family. Drusilla had spent most of the night watching Tobias from a distance, she followed him as he walked home from his work at a diner nearby to his rundown studio apartment, watched him as he got strung up on drugs, and noticed that this man was far from the one she had seen in her visions. At first glance, this man was no more than a depressed junkie who without her input would die a nobody within a matter of years, but as she watched him further, she began to see the potential hidden deep within him and decided to make her move. “How sad a life you must live to need to block it out with every toxin available to you.” Drusilla greeted Tobias after he opened his apartment door to her, the vampire waiting in the hallway, ready to claim him as her own. “I can feel your pain as if it was my own and I know you are so lost you think you cannot find a way out of your despair, but mummy can make everything all better.” “Did Mick send you? He always did like his girls crazy as hell, just hand me the drugs already and tell Mick I’ll pay him when I get my wages from the diner.” Tobias replied to her, having no clue who she really was nor what she had planned for him. “I do not know this Mick, but I do know you, Tobias, I know who you are now, but I also know who you can be. I can give you meaning in this world, a purpose, and a love that will consume you…you will never be alone!” Drusilla said in a rather convincing tone, acting if she was the answer to his many troubles. “Whatever you are on lady…I want some.” Tobias responded in a mocking tone, confused by who this woman was and what she wanted from him. “I can you make you stronger than you ever imagined, give to you a family you have always longed for, make you part of something truly incredible and even lead you to the love of your life…once I make you worthy of him of course,” Drusilla promised the young man, knowing this time that her words were somewhat resonating with him, tempting him to give her a chance to prove she was telling him the truth, a chance which she would use to turn him into a vampire-like her…

The 2000s

Drusilla stood in the same field she had once stood in the late 20s, but what was now standing there was the abandoned building of an insane asylum, a building which had been built, used, and abandoned within the years since she had last visited this field. and the vampire could not prepare her eyes, for the place was even more beautiful, to her at least, than she found it in her many visions, and now that she had lost her beloved Spike, she could at least find some salvage in claiming the home she had dreamed off for many decades now. “It’s been a long time my darling boy, mummy would be so mad at you if you were not the only family, I had left…for now,” Drusilla told Tobias as he began walking up towards his sire until he was stood next to her. “I really did love that man just like I loved Angelus and grandmother, but they are all gone now…” “I still do not understand why you wasted so much time on that peroxide prick but then I’ve never been in love, if it were not for you, I’d have found it impossible for any vampire,” Tobias replied to the vampire who had created him. “You’ve certainly had your fair share of conquests though; you’ve been a very naughty boy but the time for you to settle down with your forever love is coming soon and mummy could not be more excited,” Drusilla revealed to him, knowing she was going closer to forming a new family, one she believed would be even better than the ones that came before.

Modern Day…

Buffy and Spike’s on/off relationship had reached its inevitable end almost two years ago, when their last split led to Buffy’s one night stand with Angel resulting in a baby which led to Buffy going M.I.A. after losing that baby, and in her absence, Spike had taken over the duties of protecting the city of San Francisco, a city which included Buffy’s sister Dawn Summers, Dawn’s daughter Joyce Harris, and Spike’s on/off roommate Xander Harris in its population. And it was during his patrolling duties within a local cemetery in the city of San Francisco that he was reunited with an old friend, one who would lead him into joining a mission to kill the first woman he ever loved… “Sneaking up on a vampire is a rather foolish move considering the heightened bloody hearing and everything,” Spike shouted into the dark night as he turned around looking for a face to come out of the shadows. “Calm down Spike I was merely trying to surprise an old friend.” Ruby Moon stated as she appeared from out of the shadows. “Someone who I owe my life to and yet have the audacity to ask another favor of.” “Well, if it isn’t the little witch, I helped break free from my ex-Dru’s crazy cult,” Spike said with a smile on his face, happy to see the witch in question. “I heard you were all suburban wife again living the normal life or as close to it as one can get married to one of Riley Finn’s G.I. blows.” “It’s good to see you again too!” Ruby responded with a chuckle as she walked towards the vampire, whom she considered being a good friend, one who she knew she could rely on. “So, go on and tell me what you need saving from this time? Please do not tell me your back being the ex’s magical minion again because you only get one save from that, the second time is on you!” Spike told her with a level of sarcasm, knowing he was about to help her again no matter what situation she had now found herself in. “Remember the friend we left behind? The one crazy enough to consider Drusilla as family. Well, he’s forming a team to kill that ex of yours, and something tells me you will want to be part of that team.” Ruby revealed to the vampire. “I’ve put Dru in my past and if you are smart you would too, let this friend of yours go it alone if he’s so determined serves him right for not getting out when you gave him the option anyway.” Spike rejected her offer, not loving Drusilla anymore but not wanting to be part of her death either. “This friend of mine is Theo Frey, and it just so turns out his mother happens to be your latest ex Buffy Summers’ son, I figured telling you that would help change your mind and everything considering you do not want to be the one telling the slayer that you had a chance to save her son and said no.” Ruby continued with her revelations, shocking Spike by the latest, knowing with certainty he would not reject her offer a second time.

Elsewhere, back in the city of Los Angeles, Theo Frey was once again stood behind his now run-down dive bar, the one he shared with his now-dead again lover Tobias, frozen in thought, with tears in his eyes, as he began to wonder whether Tobias was as guilty as Drusilla for killing his parents, wondering if his entire relationship with Tobias was just a lie and he had been nothing more than a fool to both him and his sire Drusilla. Suddenly, the very place he returned to for comfort, the place he lived with Tobias, and the place they have both called home, had become nothing more than a place of ruins holding memories of a past that the vampire/slayer hybrid could no longer believe to be true after Ruby’s recent revelations. “I did not think I would be seeing you again especially in the place you almost burned to the ground.” Theo declared after drying his eyes, as Faith Lehane, the vampire slayer determined on pestering him forever, walked into what remained of his demonic little dive bar. “Well, it’s not like you can be picky with your customers considering you only have half a bar these days.” Faith joked with the vampire as she walked over to the counter cautiously. “Your little friend Ruby left me this really sketchy video about you and her going to take out Drusilla and now Spike seems to be in on this little mission so I threw my hat in the ring considering you could do with another super strength in the ring, and something tells me you’re not exactly going to be hitting up B or Angel anytime soon…” “Ruby said something of getting some vamp help, but she never said anything about Spike and as for you no thanks, the last time I played with you, you turned my lover into ashes, well your blue-haired pet did anyway.” Theo snapped at the slayer, refusing to team up with her after their complicated history. “I get that you do not trust me, and I do not trust you but here’s the thing Dru’s a big player and she’s made an enemy of everyone not just you so, swallow your pride dude, and take the help I mean it’s better taking too much firepower to the vengeance party than winding up losing her…she’s survived this long for a reason kiddo.” Faith advised the slayer of slayers, trying to convince him to accept her help. “If B hears I’m not going you know she’s going to get herself involved, I mean it was hard enough telling her to sit this one out like it and I will not even get you started on Angel…” “Killing Drusilla…it does not mean I’m suddenly team slayer or anything, it just means, for now, she’s number one on my hitlist…” Theo explained to her. “I will not protect you; I will not save you, and I most certainly will not thank you.” “Well, that sure as hell seems like a yes to me.” Faith smirked, knowing Theo would rather chance to trust her, than giving Drusilla too much of an opportunity to escape his vengeance. Once Theo reluctantly agreed to work alongside Faith, and Ruby returned to Los Angeles with Spike in tow, the team consisting of a vampire slayer turned vampire, a rogue slayer turned good, a vampire with a soul, and a powerful witch began planning to strike Drusilla where she’s least expected to be attacked, at the one place she called home…

Faith, Theo, Ruby, and Spike found themselves deep within the woods, the same woods that Spike had once visited many years ago, and the same woods Theo and Ruby knew all too well thanks to their time with Drusilla, and before long the group of rogues had found themselves standing outside of the abandoned insane asylum, boarded up with planks of wood that themselves had been broken, with smashed windows, and a general sense of abandonment, abandoned in the middle of nowhere, the road to it long gone, hidden in shame of its own secrets A truly horrifying, and haunted place filled with misery from its past, and the perfect home for an insane vampire-like Drusilla. “I get you’re on mission vengeance and everything here Theo but what are the chances you are going to turn us all and lead us into some kind of slaughter?” Faith asked Theo, as the four remained hidden within the trees, beginning to question Theo’s loyalty towards this team of rogues. “The only person I hate more than you and the blue haired bitch is Drusilla so as long as she is alive you are safe but the minute, she’s dead we’re back to being enemies,” Theo answered honestly, making it clear he had no intention of seeking redemption. “He looks like Angel speaks like Angelus and smells like Buffy,” Spike stated, referring to Theo’s similarities with his biological parents. “Got to say it’s as hot as it is annoying!” “Listen up do not let your past get in the way of dusting Drusilla once and for all or else you’ll be joining your ex in the afterlife!” Theo quickly threatened Spike, proving he distrusted them as much as they distrusted him. “You were her minion just days ago I was her equal, if we have to worry about anyone getting second thoughts then it's you, not me!” Spike responded, making it clear he was down to do what needed to be done. “She killed my parents, there’s no going back for me even if it kills me, you better know it's going to kill her too!” Theo declared defiantly as he prepared for the fight of his undead life.

Instead of just charging into the abandoned asylum, Theo decided to get his poker face on, going in first and playing nice with his former mentor Drusilla, as he got a layout of where her minions had placed themselves, knowing the vampire was always ready for an attack, ready to strike before anyone else, as her asylum had become her armed kingdom. Despite the disgust over having to pretend not to entirely loathe the woman that had killed the parents who had raised him since birth, Theo knew it would be worth the cost once he ended the night plunging a wooden stake into Drusilla’s chest if he could convince her that he was still an ally of hers, the problem, of course, being Drusilla was always one step ahead. “My first family was taken by Angelus before he decided to take me too…” Drusilla told Theo as they walked down one of the many hallways found within the abandoned asylum that Drusilla used as her headquarters. “But then I found a new one with him and Darla, then my Spike but your mother took that all from me which is why I found it so fitting that I was the one to take you from her…but you were never really mine were you?” “What are you talking about? I believed your every word, did every demand and loved you like a son, I have been loyal to you since the first time I met you and I continue to be.” Theo argued with her, fearing she already knew of his intentions to kill her. “I took you into my home and loved you like a son, I even loved you when you took Tobias from me because I knew that was the way things had to be but now you’re too far gone for me to save…” Drusilla said with a great sense of sadness as the two stopped walking, and Theo noticed vampires appearing from both ends of the hallway, as he realized she was the one ambushing him. “The only thing I can do for you now is killing you and hope you are reunited with Tobias in whatever hellish dimension you are sent to.” “You really do see everything coming, don’t you?” Theo asked as he pulled out a wooden stake from his jacket pocket. “You killed my parents, pretended to save me, and had me fooled to think you as my savior all this time! I trusted you…I fought for you…I loved you!” “Everything I did I did to make you who you are today, the slayer of slayers, the world’s first self-sired vampire and you repay me with siding with the very same people who abandoned you without a second thought,” Drusilla replied, as she pulled out a wooden stake of her own from out of the side of her dress, as her minions cautiously walked closer to them both, ready to help their master if Theo got the upper hand. “I don’t give a shit about them! I gave a shit about my parents, the ones who raised me, who loved me, and you took them from me!” Theo shouted at her furiously. “My whole life has been one big lie and you’re the one telling the twisted tale.” “I loved you as much as someone like me could ever love anybody…you were more my son than perhaps even Tobias, I had such high hopes for you and now you’re letting something as mortal as dead humans affect your emotions making you dumb, dumb, dumb,” Drusilla responded before going on to reveal. “My vision had two endings you know…one where you were her ending and another where she was yours, I guess we both know now what ending you have chosen.” Suddenly, the two vampires who had once considered themselves to be like mother and son were now ready to fight to the death against each other, both feeling equal as betrayed as the other, Theo having perfectly reasonable reasons to feel betrayed by her, and Drusilla in her mind only having reasons of her own.

Meanwhile, just outside of the abandoned insane asylum, where Drusilla and Theo were beginning to battle each other, Faith, Spike, and Ruby remained to hide behind the same trees where Theo had left the three of them as they awaited a signal from the vampire slayer/vampire hybrid to know when to come into the fight, not realizing that Drusilla already had the upper hand on them all. “I know he’s Buffy’s kid, Angel’s too, but at what point do we just bail on this and let the two vamps fight it out between themselves?” Spike asked the vampire slayer, and witch, who he was stood next to. “I mean this guy is just as evil as everything else we tend to kill so why don’t we leave it to Drusilla to kill him instead of one of us killing the kid?” “I am not going anywhere!” Ruby said defiantly, refusing to give up on her former best friend. “I have known Theo my whole life, you two only know the evil side to him but I’ve seen the best and worst of him and I was there when he lost everything��despite that there’s still good in him.” “Well, I do not bloody see it,” Spike replied to the brown-haired witch. “But I am not leaving you to die out here!” “I saw it…in the way he loved that vamp Toby or whatever, they loved each other as I’ve never seen anyone love each other, except maybe Buffy and Angel.” Faith confessed, once again standing up for the slayer of slayers, feeling now more than ever before that his redemption was drawing nearer. Suddenly, the sound of a window-smashing grabbed their attention, as they turned to see a vampire falling from the top floor window before hitting the ground with force, before getting back onto his feet and running back into the asylum via a side door, and although this was not the signal they agreed on, it was clear to Faith, Spike, and Ruby that Theo was in trouble and now was the time to act.

Theo’s fight against Drusilla was unfair in every way as each time he gained the upper hand against his former undead mentor, her vampire army would attack him, and before long he was down on the floor, bloody, bruised, and beaten, while being pinned down by several vampires as Drusilla stood above him, ready to plunge the wooden stake she held into his chest and end him once and for all. “You have been such a naughty boy Theodore,” Drusilla stated with a look of struggle in her eyes as she kneeled over Theo’s body, clearly finding great difficulty with the fact she was about to kill someone she once loved like a son. “All I ever wanted was to be your mother…but she gets her claws into everyone I love.” “Get it over with already!” Theo shouted at her, ready to admit his defeat, accept his fate, and let his miserable life come to an end. And Drusilla did just what she was told, as tears formed in her eyes, she plunged the stake into Theo’s death while letting out a frantic scream at the same time, before falling backward and beginning to sob manically for a moment, only to be left just as stunned as Theo himself as he did not turn to dust, but instead, pulled the stake out of his chest, and rose back onto his feet. Before Theo or Drusilla could even usher a single word to display their joined shock at the fact that Theo was somehow still alive, the surrounding vampires, very recently loyal to Drusilla, began to kneel for Theo, displaying the change in loyalty, now towards the slayer of slayers, as Drusilla quickly rose to her feet and made her way out of the exit located nearest to her, as a shocked Theo continued to look at the vampires kneeling before him, still in shock, as the stake he was holding, which was just plunged into his chest, fell to the ground. “You are our new master now!” One of the vampires declared as Theo continued to just stand there in shock. “A vampire that cannot die, the true immortal, the true heir to the undead kingdom!” Another declared, followed by cheers from fellow vampires, just as Faith, Spike, and Ruby rushed into the hallway from the exit farthest away from them all, only to stop in their tracks by the shocking sight in front of them. “Theo…” Ruby shouted towards her former friend, having no idea what all this meant, or what would follow, as the slayer of slayers was declared king among the vampires…

6 notes · View notes

doctorreids · 4 years ago

Text

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER EIGHT - august

previous chapter | next chapter

word count - 1.7k

a/n - see @ the end !

warnings: slight sexual content, nothing explicit though.

“i never needed anything more, whispers of ‘are you sure?’ ‘never have i ever before.’”

The glare of headlights filtered through his car as he drove down the main street, few cars passed. Red and green lights mixed together as he reached each stoplight.

The reality of what he was about to do hit him, just 20 minutes from her apartment he thought about turning back.

The ‘what if’s’ swirled around in his head. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he truly hadn’t changed and he was just kidding himself? What if she was better off without him?

He would be lying if that last thought didn’t make tears pool in his eyes.

The late-night drive, however, did remind him of August's past. When he pulled up outside her apartment when they had the rare week off and told her to get in. Alex Blake had kindly given them the use of her beach-side Hampton’s summer home. The five-hour drive stretched well into the night.

He could remember her laughter in the passenger seat and her soft snores as they travelled down the highway. Talking nonsense and playing ‘I spy’ to pass the time before the sun began to set, the sky turning from blue into a purple-pink sky with red hues.

Before she drifted to sleep she turned towards him and whispered, “Red sky at night shepherd’s delight, red sky in the morning shepherd’s warning.”

The memory made him smile.

It also made him wonder if this was worth it. If he was too late.

…

“So you’re telling me you’ve never played ‘Never Have I Ever’?” She giggled.

“Nope.” Popping the ‘p’, he shrugged.

Pulling herself onto his lap, she peered up at him.

“Well then,” she sighed comically, “guess I’m just going to have to take your Never Have I Ever virginity! Pass me the wine.”

Tipsy and thinking nothing of it, he passed her the wine.

Hours passed and the questions got dirtier and dirtier. No longer did he blush or feel awkward at her suggestive comments, he made them himself.

They were both slurring, roaring with laughter at times. He had never felt more whole.

“Awk, Spencer, pick your jaw up from the floor.” She straddled him, her finger traced along his jawline.

He smiled up at her before pressing his lips to hers. His hands rested on her hips, she was fully pressed into his chest. She toyed with the buttons on his shirts as he kissed her neck.

He could not describe the utter state of bliss he was in; all he could feel, see, and hear was her. Her soft whimpers at his touch, her soft butterfly kisses on his chest, her bright eyes staring back at him, so full of love and adoration. He never wanted that feeling to end. He had never felt braver as he slipped off her top, placing kisses down her stomach and her thighs, watching her body react to his touch and the soft gasps that escaped her lips. He was on a high that he believed would never end, her touch was like ecstasy, he was filled with complete euphoria.

Whispered ‘I love you’s’ passed between them, he finally knew how it felt to be a teenager falling in love for the first time. She was his true first love. She was the kiss under the bleachers that he never got. She was the prom date he had waited for. He felt 13 years younger with her - shy, bashful and unsure.

The universe and all its questions had all its answers when he was with her.

“august slipped away into a moment in time, cause it was never mine, and I can see us twisted in bedsheets, august sipped away like a bottle of wine.”

The memory of the past August made him smile. They spent the day on the beach, reading and Y/N pulling him into the water despite his protests of it being too cold. They cooked together, showered together, and spent every other moment with each other. If he thought hard enough he could still remember the smells of the local Italian restaurant, the smell of each bottle of red, white and rose wine they drank. He could recall every word that was said.

“I love you.”

“The earth has rotated roughly 212.9 times in the seven months we’ve been together.”

“Not a more accurate figure, no?”

“I’m not a calculator, my love.”

He laughs audibly at the memory. He took so much for granted; how she would listen to his ramblings about everything and anything, especially things she didn’t understand. She would listen so intently, her eyes following his every word and gesture, and she would try her best to talk about astrophysics or whatever his chosen topic was in her own vocabulary, in a way she could understand.

She thought his mind was amazing, he thought her mind was too.

She was patient. She was kind. She was kind.

The memories don’t feel like they are his. They are only a slippery slope into madness. Tempting him back to the days of curling up on his sofa clutching some novel that reminds him of her.

His copy of Pride and Prejudice is now completely worn as he finds himself reading it over and over, remembering the sound of her voice of one summer afternoon in which she read it to him.

He had it memorised cover to cover but he couldn’t bring himself to read it aloud, only her voice could gently relay one of the greatest love stories of all time. A story he had hoped they would rival.

Maybe it was too big of fantasy to maintain hope but without hope, he was lost.

He didn’t feel as though he owned the memory of the past August. Almost as though he was out of his own body, watching it happen. Watching things be so perfect and then watching them fall apart. It was a vicious cycle.

“your back beneath the sun, wishin’ I could write my name on it.”

The morning sun flooded the room as he rolled over to face her. The thin white curtains did little to keep the light out. He couldn’t figure out what time it was and he couldn’t be bothered to look at the small alarm clock beside him.

Her back faced away from him, soft snores came from her mouth. He traced his finger all so gently along the lace of her nightdress to the base of her neck, along the straps and soft cotton material. The sun illuminated her skin, an angelic halo encircling her.

Not even Michelangelo could paint something so heavenly.

Each time he looked at her he felt winded. He was not one to dwell on luck, he focused rather on what was guaranteed and soundproof, but he knew he was so lucky to call her ‘his’. To be able to hold her, to watch each sunrise and sunset with her, was everything to him.

It was at this moment he decided on their future - the girl before him was the woman he knew he was going to marry. Someday, he promised himself.

“I can practically feel you burning holes into my back, Spence.’ Her laugh cracked with sleep as she turned to face him.

They lay there for a few moments holding each other’s gaze, irises swimming with love. He grabbed her waist, a soft muffled hum as she rested her hand on his chest.

“I can also hear you thinking. Penny for your thoughts?” Her voice was gentle.

He hummed.

“I think you can hear my aching head rather than my thoughts, sweetheart.”

“Aw, does poor Doctor Reid have a sore head?” She teased.

Lifting her head with his index finger, he said, “Now, what did I say about calling me Doctor Reid.”

“Ah, yes. How could I possibly forget! At least one of us can remember last night with some degree of clarity.”

He laughed, “I just have a hangover, I remember everything. Not like you on some of your girl’s nights with Garcia.”

Pulling her pillow from underneath her, she hit him with it.

“You promised you wouldn’t speak of that!” She groaned.

“And you promised you wouldn’t call me unless…” He trailed off.

He wished he could stay there forever as their laughter mixed together.

…

There are moments after laughing, those deep belly laughs, where silence fell upon them both and she would look at him with that mischievous look in her eye and he would fall over and over again. It was pure, unadulterated joy as they caught their breath.

These are the moments he wishes more than anything that he could live once more.

The empty passenger seat reminds him of the silence of their apartments as they grew further apart. It reminds him when she would sit there and stare out the window without as much of a glance towards him. It also reminds him of the drive home from their august trip. She was glowing, happily chewing on a piece of candy or eating the Cheetos they’d specifically bought for JJ and claiming she would buy more packs when they got back. (She never did.)

Time seemed to slow as each stop light turned red. The drive extended by a few extra minutes. More time to psych himself out. To tell himself to turn around. To remind himself that she wasn’t his to lose.

She was her own person, it was the reason he loved her so. She couldn’t be owned by anyone. In another way, neither could he. Maybe it’s why they clicked together like missing pieces of a puzzle. It’s a possibility why they fell apart so quickly, those pieces must have gotten lost somewhere along the way.

He no longer felt the anxiousness of before, determination surged through his veins. Each red light he stopped at reminded him of each mistake, each time he missed the cracks and signs. This time, he promises himself, he would be better.

He took the next right, knowing that she was 10 minutes away.

He was 10 minutes away from either making the best or worst decision of his life.

600 seconds away from his heart’s home.

799.

798…

a/n: hi guys!! sorry for the long wait - results week was very weird for me, and i had to get my grades reassessed and that was another week before i found them out too (which i went up to 2A*s and an A which was way more than what i originally got) which was amazing! i’ve just been going through a rough patch mentally and i’ve been busy sorting out university etc. i feel as though i owe you all an apology for not updating as often - this chapter just took it out of me but i’m looking to update at least weekly or maybe twice a week!! thank u for all the support it means so much <3

taglist: @itsfangirlmendes @toosassy2handle @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 @rexorangecouny @myheartbelongsintz @toizerdecker @baddestbau @haylaansmi @hess016 @blameitonthenight21

#spencer #reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reidxfolklore

110 notes · View notes

lovelyirony · 4 years ago

Note

strawberries & cigarettes by troye whatshisface but it's winteriron (idk if this is a prompt or just a statement you can take it as either)

Bucky doesn’t like the fact that he’s going to a stupid fucking private school. He doesn’t like that this is his mother’s sacrifice, that she stays up late with the bills and works another job so that he can go there and make a living.

He doesn’t even know what he wants to do in life, that’s the thing. Mom thinks that he’s going to be a really good businessman and she doesn’t know that he smokes outside his window and sometimes just doesn’t retain any sort of information at school because he has to be good.

“I sacrifice so much for you,” she tells him one night. “You need to make a good living for yourself. Promise me.”

And he does. Hell if he knows how he’s going to keep it, but that’s the promise.

The one kid that he absolutely hates at school is Tony Stark. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a whole silverware drawer at the ready in case he doesn’t like the spoon.

Tony’s kind of wealth is the kind that is so astronomically high that at some point you have to wonder what it means to him. Because it doesn’t seem to mean anything.

He shows up in the shittiest sneakers he’s ever seen, held together with tape and drawn on by someone else. His hair is never styled, his uniform is never washed, and yet he just exudes that kind of confidence that comes with knowing that your life is better than anyone else’s, kind of.

He’s also an ass in class. Correcting teachers, derailing the topic, and acting like it all is beneath him.

They say he’s a genius, going to take over his father’s company. He has his future set in stone, and so there’s nothing else for him to learn. Bucky’s not really sure if he’s a genius or not, because he’s pretty sure a genius could figure out when to leave shit alone.

Everyone at St. Anthony’s knows that Bucky is an individual who does well on his own. At most, you say hello and move on. He doesn’t talk to anyone, he makes sure he doesn’t look like he talks to anyone, and he’s said multiple times that he doesn’t want to talk to anyone.

Tony Stark, however, talks. Doesn’t matter what the subject is, he talks.

Bucky gets nicknames. Because of his...frigid demeanor, this means that Tony calls him shit like “Ice Pop,” “Icicle,” “Mr. Freeze,” and any other nickname that’s applicable to cold.

“Hey Snowball,” Tony says in class. “You finished with your presentation for English class? Mine still sucks, although I’m sure it’ll be better than Hammer’s.”

“That’s not saying a lot,” Bucky mutters. “At all. Now shut up. It’s class.”

“We all know it’s going to be boring,” Tony says. “Sitwell has the personality of a tumbleweed, and you’re so much more interesting to talk to.”

Bucky doesn’t respond to that.

“Ah, so we’re at the no-talking stage, darling. I’ll make it up to you. Ice cream? Dinner? Elaborate cruise trip in summer?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, and Tony quiets for roll call, but says one last comment.

“I think I’m going to do the presentation in Comic Sans. Thoughts?”

“I wish you didn’t have thoughts, then maybe you’d leave me alone.”

Tony laughs.

“You’re cute, Barnes. Cute. You know I don’t leave anyone alone.”

There’s a bad day. Bucky gets those sometimes. Every day of his life is a bad day, almost, but this one? The absolute worst.

He had nightmares, barely got any sleep, and found out that his little sister used up the last of his shampoo, so he had to use his mom’s and now he smells like “Strawberry Paradise.”

He hates the day, and it’s not even eight o’clock yet.

Tony Stark, of course, makes it worse. He talks incessantly about something related to robotics or the weather or music or whatever, and Bucky just sees red.

"Can you shut up for one fucking second of your life?” he hisses at him. “Oh my fucking god, it doesn’t matter. Nothing you say matters at all to me.”

Tony’s heard a lot of shit like that. Like, a lot. Probably worse.

But for some reason, it’s hurting more coming from Bucky Barnes.

Tony doesn’t shut up. He knows that. Everyone knows that. He has legitimately given people headaches. His dad has timed his talking and limited him to about two minutes. It would’ve been even less, but at family therapy they’re trying to work on “empathy for others.”

(A crock of bullshit, because Tony’s fairly sure his dad doesn’t know what that is.)

Bucky’s...he’s different. Sure, he hates Tony. Everyone does, and to be completely frank, Tony likes it that way. You know where you stand, how you can be interpreted if people only feel one thing about you.

But Bucky is perhaps the only interesting person Tony knows at this hellhole of a school. He works really hard on his assignments, has more to work on than other kids. He looks frustrated at math equations, but stays and pores over textbooks after school.

He brings a peanut butter and jelly sandwich every single day. Tony thinks the last time he had one was at a birthday party when he was twelve, and even then it wasn’t really a sandwich but more of a deconstructed concept thing that probably cost two hundred bucks a plate.

Now that Tony’s ruminating on it, it’s probably because no one has exactly told him that what he says doesn’t matter. They just say they don’t wanna hear about it. The two concepts are honestly very different. Tony has a sneaking suspicion that he is going to go into a tailspin about this on a Thursday night at two in the morning.

Ha. On a Thursday night at two in the morning. What odd phrasing that is, why is that so weird? It’s night, but it’s morning and you’re supposed to be asleep but morning is a wake-up time, so--

Oh, there’s the meaning.

Why would you discuss a night and a morning? Why does it matter? On a Thursday?

Tony wonders how much shit he’s said that just ultimately doesn’t matter.

This gets him thinking about how much nothing in his life matters. Don’t get him wrong, he knew it.

Knew it in the way everyone tells him he’ll be the next Howard Stark.

Knows it in the way that his own father isn’t exactly all too fond of him and Tony has a problem looking at anything with dear old Captain America because of comparisons that his father makes and honestly he probably almost named Tony “Steve.”

Could you imagine him having the name of Steve? God, he’d barf.

For some reason, this is the worst he’s ever felt. Sure his father hates him and his mother could be considered an absentee at best, but what gets him to cry into his pillow and rethink his entire existence is a guy who has eye circles darker than anyone else’s and thinks that wearing any bright color is “branching out into alternative fashion.”

God, he wishes he had a break.

Nothing you say matters to me.

This is the phrase that gets him. Tony is pretty sure it’s because it’s what everyone thinks.

Ever since then, Tony doesn’t talk to Bucky. Ever.

And that’s...that’s weird to Bucky. It was routine. Tony annoys him, he snaps a bit, and then it starts all over.

Tony looks at him, sometimes. As if he’s some sort of impossible problem he can’t figure out.

When Bucky actually thinks about it, Tony hasn’t really talked to anyone. He’s still himself, which is irritating, but he’s not talking about anything and everything and filling up space.

It’s...odd.

He feels a little bit bad because what he said was super shitty and he shouldn’t have said it, but now it’s too late to just kind of awkwardly apologize, and Bucky’s already shit at apologizing anyway.

Summer arrives with a bang. School is let out ,and in comes the ninety-degree-days that melt your damn head off. Bucky’s apartment doesn’t have AC, so their windows are permanently open and fans are blasting as they swear they’re melting.

Bucky needs a job. Preferably one with air conditioning.

He finds one as a driver. Rich people hate taxis, it’s a huge health hazard or whatever they wanna say. He’s not gonna ask. But a nice man named Edwin hands him keys to a damn Cadillac and tells him not to drive too close to the other cars and be careful, because he wasn’t supposed to start the job quite yet, but “something came up.”

Tony fucking Stark. That’s who he’s fucking driving.

“Oh my god,” Bucky groans. He sees Tony get into the car.

“Hey, Jarvis told me I had a new driver, it’s really nice to--oh my fucking god.”

“Where are you driving to.”

“Queens.”

“Queens, seriously?”

Queens isn’t the type of place for someone like Stark to go to. He’s supposed to say Saks Fifth Avenue or Gucci or wherever the hell rich people go when they’re not vacationing in Europe or elsewhere. Not Queens. Especially not Queens.

“It doesn’t matter where I’m going so long as you know where to drive,” Tony says.

“Sheesh. Okay.”

The rest of the drive is silent. It’s not like Bucky can do small-talk. Jesus, he’d rather take his other arm off than do that.

And Tony, obviously, is not going to say anything. Not after hearing that stellar set of remarks from school.

It’s a school. There are kids out front, who practically swarm the vehicle.

“Should I be concerned?”

“No, they do this every week. If you drive the car back home, Jarvis will explain more. You were kind of an ‘on the spot’ hire for us.”

“Got it.”

Jarvis is a kindly old man who Bucky would trust with his Social Security number.

He is also extremely loyal to Tony, at least.

“He helps out with some after-school program at one of the local schools,” Jarvis says, smiling softly. “Has a spot in his heart for the children.”

“What’s he do?”

“Oh, helps them with schoolwork. I think he does some improvement type jobs around there, but he won’t let us know. Secretive, that one.”

Bucky sips his tea and doesn’t say anything about how Tony once told everyone in the class that he was wearing neon yellow boxers and they were the comfiest damn boxers he had. It’s just not pertinent to this conversation.

“You know him, Mr. Barnes?”

“Um, yeah. We go to school together. I’ve seen him around.”

“He’s a good student. Always getting straight A’s. Doesn’t always seem like it, but he listens well. Just has a different method.”

“That’s for sure.”

For the next two weeks, it’s silence. Always. Bucky will turn on the radio and that’s it. The only thing that Tony has said is to “please change the channel to literally anything” when Belinda Carlisle’s infamously terrible “Heaven is a Place on Earth” came on.

And that’s it. Seriously.

When it is two weeks and four days, Bucky can’t take it anymore.

“Look. I have this job for at least two more months. I’m talking to you. So tell me what you’re doing today.”

“Teaching.”

“Wow, way to be descriptive,” Bucky says sarcastically.

Tony knows he shouldn’t throw it back in his face. But honestly, truly, this is pissing him off.

“Oh I’m sorry, does what I say matter to you now? Is that what this is?”

“Oh come on. That was months ago.”

"Not the point!” Tony says. “I’m getting out now. Feel free to pick me up or not. I don’t give a fuck. But don’t you pretend for a damn minute that you give a shit about my reaction since you’ve already made your point.”

The car door is slammed.

Bucky is in somewhat of a pickle.

Sam tells him that he’s, quote, “the stupidest motherfucker on the planet.”

And then hangs up.

thank you for being such a good friend sam. really appreciate it.

aw look at the little bitch boy mad because i called him stupid. shut up i’m on a date and don’t care once about you. at all.

i think what i really like about our friendship is how open and empathetic you are to my feelings

do you know how unattractive you are? on a scale of one to ten? prussia.

you can’t count now?

no i can count i’m just saying you shouldn’t exist.

god i hate you. i’ll talk to you next month

(Yes, they have a time limit to texts. Once a month. And Bucky used his to try to get advice like an idiot. He should’ve just asked Steve. Steve probably would’ve sent him money for a milkshake.)

Sharon, upon reading his text, sends him back one message:

so i read this but i’m not emotionally invested. can u make a playlist and send it to me?

oh my god. you have got to be kidding me.

i’m not. i told you that u need to b more creative in life. b spontaneous!!!

He leaves her on read after that.

Bucky has to figure out how to apologize. Genuinely. Because nothing’s worse than having an apology made but knowing that the person isn’t really meaning it, they’re only saying it to make people more comfortable.

(He wonders how many times someone’s apologized to Tony because of this reason.)

He’s not exactly sure how to go about apologizing.

But he figures it’s sooner rather than later, so he takes the subway to Manhattan and then gets a bike (that’s not exactly his, but he’s bringing it back) and starts the trek to the mansion. It’s a good and solid thirty minute bike ride.

Tony is having a rather uncomfortable family birthday dinner. Howard’s, to be specific. He’s not sure why they didn’t just go out, but maybe his father is tired of acting like a happy family in public. God knows Tony is.

(“What’s your favorite thing about your son?” An interviewer had asked cheerily, blush lipstick stretching widely as she smiled.

“Well, it’s certainly not his sense of style,” Howard had joked.

He didn’t know what his favorite thing about his son was. He couldn’t answer the fucking question.)

Jarvis mentions that “Sir Anthony” has a visitor at the door.

“Are you serious, kid?” Howard says, hissing. “You told someone to come over? During a family event?”

"No, of course not,” Tony says hurriedly. He doesn’t have anyone over to the house period. Too much risk, not enough payoff. There was also the fact that the house is basically like a mausoleum because both of his parents would rather be caught dead than spend time in one another’s company anymore.

“I’ll go...I’ll go check who it is.”

Bucky. Fucking. Barnes.

“What are you doing here?” Tony hisses.

“I came to apologize.”

“For what?”

“For telling you that your words don’t matter?” Bucky says, more of a question. “I don’t know what else I would apologize for. Maybe for mean-mugging you. I don’t know.”

“Why?” Tony asks, tiredly. “Why would you apologize for that?”

“Because it’s obviously affecting you and also I know I was in the wrong? That’s why people apologize?” Bucky answers. “What I did was shitty. What you say matters, I was just having a shitty day and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It obviously stuck with you a lot longer than I thought it would. So now I’m apologizing.”

No one besides Jarvis has ever apologized to Tony. Ever. Not in a genuine way.

“Did you...did you bike here? You have a bike?”

“What? No.”

“You walked here?” Tony asks, incredulous.

“Of course not, then I’d be arriving, like, an hour later. No, the bike isn’t mine.”

“Who’s is it?”

“I don’t know, some hipster’s from Brooklyn.”

“You stole a bike?”

“The circumstances weren’t ideal, but I don’t have a car to drive to your freakishly large house,” Bucky said bluntly.

Tony grins.

“Well then, Buckster, welcome. Let me give you a ride home.”

He pokes his head into the dining room, where the plates are already being cleared.

“Hey, I gotta give my friend a ride home. Car broke down a couple miles from here.”

“Why don’t you just fix it?” Howard asks. “You’re a Stark.”

“A Stark who would need to order a part for a 1980 Ford Crown Victoria.”

“Tell him to get a better car.”

“Sure, pops.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, Dear Father of Mine.”

“Just go, damn it!”

Bucky is led to a garage full of luxury cars that probably cost more than his whole block put together.

“Which one you wanna go in?”

“Am I allowed in one of these? Holy fuck these are nice.”

Tony grins.

“Best part about having a car is driving it. Choose one.”

Bucky chooses a bright red car, a smooth Cadillac.

“Holy hell, this is cool.”

Tony drives.

He’s a good driver once you get past the fact that you will fear for your life for at least twenty minutes. He is also notoriously terrible in the city traffic, yelling at drivers and pedestrians alike.

“How are you still alive with the way you drive?” Bucky asks.

“We made it, didn’t we?” Tony asks, grinning. “Now go return your bike and don’t try to walk to my house again.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“Naturally.”

Tony talks a lot. But Bucky finds himself listening. It still takes a while, but he talks.

Tony really is smart. His mind just works quickly, and that’s why at school he never really seems to absorb anything.

Bucky tells him about his neighborhood and how much he hates his neighbor because she keeps blasting music at one in the morning.

“So? Blast it in the morning,” Tony says. “That’s what I’d do.”

“Ma would say no.”

“Then don’t tell her!”

When it all changes, it’s when Bucky picks him up from a gala. He gets the following text:

pls come pick me up!! please! i’m begging!

It’s eleven at night, but Bucky sighs and goes to get the car and goes to pick him up.

Tony’s swaying outside. Bucky gets out, getting a pack of Marlboro out of his jacket.

“Shouldn’t smoke,” Tony says.

“You drunk?”

“No, can’t risk it when Howard and Maria aren’t here--mom and dad.”

He almost never calls his parents mom and dad. Ever. Only in public settings.

Bucky lights up anyway. Tony stares at the orange embers flaring up.

“Why did you need a ride?”

“Kind of avoiding an old...enemy. Slash ex-boyfriend.”

“The worst kind of enemy to have. He trying to talk to you?”

“It’s been an all-night event, so--”

The doors burst open.

Out walks the sleaziest guy that Bucky’s ever seen. His suit is garishly designer, the kind that borders on being confused for a tacky suit that you find in a thrift store for two dollars total.

“Tony, baby! Where have you been? I wanted to discuss things with you...in private.”

He gives Bucky a once-over.

“And who are you, catering?”

Bucky immediately wants to clock this guy in the damn mouth.

“Actually this is James, my boyfriend,” Tony says, snaking his arm around Bucky’s waist.

At this point, he’ll just have to go with it. It’s not the worst thing that’s happened.

“And who are you?” Bucky asks. “Sweetheart, you never mentioned you knew someone with such a...unique take on style.”

“I’m Ty, an old and close friend,” he says. He sticks his hand out. Bucky makes him switch hands by holding out his metal hand.

“Nice to see you,” he says. “But unfortunately, I have to take my guy back home. Plans and all that, you know how it is.”

“Bye Ty!” Tony says.

Bucky throws an arm around Tony’s shoulders, bringing him close. A ghost of a kiss to the forehead completes the lie, and Bucky looks back towards Ty, who has his eyes narrowed.

He flips him off with his right hand. (It’s satisfying.)

“Thank you so much for going along with that,” Tony says, looking up.

The cigarette is still in his mouth. He takes a drag, letting embers fall down and disintegrate into the pavement.

“He seemed like a shitty kind of person.”

“Not the best of people, that’s for sure,” Tony mutters. “You wanna go get ice cream?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Getting late night ice cream is like going into a different dimension. Bucky’s not sure if it’s the overbearing, fluorescent white light that gets to him, but Tony seems tired. At ease, but tired.

He gets strawberry ice cream, and Bucky gets chocolate.

They sit and eat for a moment.

“Why do you go to St. Anthony’s?” Tony asks. “It’s clear you hate it.”

“You don’t?”

“Not the worst school I’ve been sent to.”

“You don’t want to be there either?”

“There are a lot of places I don’t want to be, but this isn’t about me, I’m asking about you. You wanna share with the class or get a hall pass?”

Bucky snorts.

“Geez, okay. My mom really wants a good education for me.”

"She know that you don’t know what to do?”

“And how do you figure that?” Bucky asks, eyebrow raised.

“You wouldn’t be working as a chauffeur for the rich kid if you knew what you were working towards,” Tony says with a shrug. “Seen it happen before. Usually I don’t know who they are, but you figure out commonalities pretty quickly.”

That makes too much sense.

“I have no fucking clue how I’m living my life and my mom wants me to become a businessman.”

“You wanna do that?”

“Do I look like the kind of guy that wants to wear a suit?”

“You look like you’d look good in a suit, not that you’d wear one.”

Bucky laughs. Takes a bite of ice cream, and readjusts the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

Over the summer, he and Tony get closer. They take walks in the park and Tony drags him into overpriced shops to look at clothes that are the ugliest goddamn things they’ve ever seen.

At some point, they hold hands and discuss secrets of the world of theirs that is unique to them.

Bucky kisses him one night while they’re just leaving perhaps the worst restaurant in the entire state of New York and god Tony didn’t think he’d ever not mind being wrapped up in fake-strawberry scented hair and cigarette smoke clinging to clothing, but he doesn’t mind it.

The whole summer, they’re inseparable. Tony chatters in the front seat of the car, now, and Bucky smiles a little bit more.

They walk in parks together and show each other funny little jokes and make inside understandings and look at sunsets and sunrises and get coffee and look at each other across the room.

It’s love, honest and true. But it’s not love like the never-ending kind. The thing about love is that it is not included in any toolbox, physical or mental. There is one thing that everyone knows regardless of whether it is admitted or not:

Love does not solve everything. It does not fix everything. And one should never rely on it to do anything but exist and work through your person to the best of its ability.

Howard comes back from a business trip. Sees Tony kiss Bucky goodbye, and that is that.

You can’t something like that as a son. It just...it won’t work for business.

Tony is sent to a boarding school upstate. Stricter guidelines, more controlling.

Bucky only hears one thing from Tony:

I’m sorry.

And he doesn’t believe it.

When you’re young, you think love is invincible. You think it survives through everything if you really want it to.

Love doesn’t do that.

Bucky writes letters, calls Jarvis, and mourns the loss of young love. He smokes a little bit more, leaves it clinging to his skin as a reminder that Tony would always wrinkle his nose in that adorable way, but it served to show Bucky that he had a bad habit.

He was in the middle of quitting.

His mother notices it.

Tells him that he needs to get his own shampoo.

“You can’t just use mine all the time,” she says playfully.

He remembers Tony’s hands gently threading through his hair in disbelief as Bucky kissed the living hell out of him.

Now there’s barely any trace.

He stops in his tracks when he sees an old coffee cup of Tony’s in his kitchen cabinet.

“When did you get this one?” Becca asks. She’s drinking out of it. He remembers Tony smiling over it at their little coffee shop that was hidden away. “I love it. It’s so cute.”

“From a thrift store,” Bucky says. “You can have it.”

“Really? Thanks!”

Tony pauses at the smell of cigarette smoke. Remembers blue eyes blazing along with orange embers, smoke curling around long hair and long summer nights.

His roommate at this new school asks if he smokes, if he can get him a pack.

“Uh, no. Just used to know someone who did.”

“You think they could get me a pack?”

“They don’t go here.”

“You can’t call them?”

Tony doesn’t respond.

You can’t call them?

He’s almost texted him about twenty times. Called him about thirty.

He knows the number by heart.

But he knows that Howard made him get a new phone, and now the memories are fading. He wishes he still had the pictures.

Love does not always last. Sometimes it is not meant to. Tony tries to tell himself that as he wakes up with tears streaming down his cheeks.

You always wish it would.

#i am sorry if this doesn't show up with a read more link on my dash but i'm too lazy to fix and i have work in uhhhhhh now #lovelyirony writes #this is sad i know #buckytony #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #mention of sam wilson and sharon carter because i love them #i think i love this a lot #it gives me very specific vibes but also eh #ALSO YEAH DID YOU KNOW IF YOU WALK FROM BROOKLYN TO QUEENS OR WHATEVER IT'S THREE HOURS #IDK WHY I LOOKED THAT UP #anyways i know nothing about new yrok #i thought queens nad brooklyn were not far apart #anyways i don't exactly care about that but oh well #bucky is tough and tony is not and together they are soft and good #anyways yeah the last couple lines. yeah. that's my mindset right now

144 notes · View notes

hephaestiions · 4 years ago

Text

Addictive Tendencies

@hprarepairnet & @slytherdornet - quidditch player ships challenge Pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood (Flintwood) Summary: “I hate him,” he whispers fiercely against the fist he stuffs into his mouth to keep himself from screaming long and loud at the heavens, at the Founders, at the bloody sun. “I hate him so damn much.”

“Makes me wonder why I bothered to show up, then,” comes the all too familiar heavy drawl, and if Oliver’s heart had dropped before, now it drowns. One thing leads to another.

Warnings: Light angst, break-ups, everyone swears a great deal, mentions of nsfw/18+ activities. Rating: Teen.

Word Count: 4k (yes, I know, it is very long for a Tumblr fic)

For all that he feels almost dead going through the motions of life, Oliver comes alive on the pitch. There’s something about the clean, crisp scent of fresh air– the kind reminding him of the open fields close to home– and the adrenaline rush of mounting a broom that leeches into every cell of his being. It fires his synapses, jolts his entire body out of the sleepwalking trance he slips into during classes and meals and all the other mundanities that compose everyday life. Oliver can’t wait to go pro.

To leave fucking Transfiguration and Potions and Professor Sprout’s herb gardens behind. To make the familiarity of the broom clenched under his thighs and the roaring blood in his ears his livelihood, his reason to wake up every morning and go back to bed each night without drinking himself into a stupor thinking of everything that could have– Fuck no. He’s not going down that road right now.

Right now, his focus needs to be narrowed down to that slim space between the hoops and the perfect, concentrated manoeuvre that will allow him to slip through. His focus needs to be on his game, his practice, not on… other things.

Vision tunnelling, Oliver tenses his calves around the reliable solidity of his broom, and corkscrews his entire body almost violently through the gap, veering dangerously close to the metal bars of the left hoop, emerging unscathed and out of breath on the other side. He wants to be happy.

Wants to be proud, because this is the first time he has executed this move flawlessly without either crashing his elbow or his knee or his side into some part of the hoops. He desperately wants to feel the joy he would be whooping with by now if this had been even six months ago. But all he feels is the desperate desire to hear Marcus shout, “That’s what I fucking call a Hummingbird, Wood, you fucking genius!” either from the stands or from his place on another broom by Oliver’s side. He’s met with silence. The wind moans, twisting its way through the branches of the trees lining the entrance to the Forbidden Forest. Oliver wants to drive himself into a metal bar just to work off some of the pent up frustration and rage gathering in his shoulders, his back muscles, his stomach. The almost physical ache gripping and tearing at his heart. He kicks out, and the broom bucks underneath him, buoyed in the wrong direction by an errant current of air. There’s a brief moment of sheer terror as his body misbalances midair, but he isn’t the fucking captain of Gryffindor for nothing. He lets himself fall for a second, letting his weight gather momentum, before pulling out at the very last second. Sometimes he wants to smash his entire body into a wall, but he knows better than to work out his aggressive tendencies on the unforgiving pitch.

His legacy deserves better than to be remembered as a gruesome splatter on the grounds of Hogwarts. Marcus though. Marcus can bloody well plummet to death for all Oliver cares. Except.

Except the very thought sends shudders down Oliver’s spine, and his hands inadvertently reach out into thin air even contemplating the prospect of letting Marcus hurt himself. Except that Oliver would take the fall before letting Marcus take it. He’s fucked, truly. “You’re a bloody fool, Oliver,” he mutters to himself with only the wind listening in. “And for once you’ve got something other than terrible grades to prove how truly fucked you are.” Marcus’ words echo in his head, a never ending loop of heartbreak and agony and gut-wrenching misery that no rationally thinking future pro Quidditch player has the time for. You– you know how the world is beyond Hogwarts, man. You know it’s not good to– to people like us, especially when we want to play and go pro, you know. It’s bollocks mate, is what it is, but it’s life and I guess I want a career more than a fuck. Because that’s all they’d been of course. A fuck. Fuck Marcus. Well and truly fuck him into next Sunday, next month, next bloody year. That line of thinking conjures up a whole new set of images that are doubly uncomfortable when one’s private parts are squashed onto a pole of unforgiving wood. His whole body itches and aches and buzzes with energy he doesn’t know how to work off, so he perfects his form on the broom and swoops in and out of the spaces between the hoops, tracing fast paced figure of eights that even the best of the best would have a tough time keeping up with. It’s mindless and the cold wind sniping at his cheekbones jars him into the present, into the steadiness of swerving past the bars of the hoops and spinning around like his life depends on it. Fuck Marcus Flint and his stupid, scared arse and his willingness to give up on everything Oliver thought was sacred to them. Fuck him. After half an hour, he wants to keep going, but his whole body resists, aching and burning along the lines of tension in his muscles. He feels heavy and tired, like a stone about to drop, and he turns on his broom to swoop down when– When he sees him. In the stands. The crossed arms, the wind billowing through strands of hair that are surprisingly soft to the touch (Oliver knows that because he’s touched those stands reverentially in the showers, in hidden alcoves, during warm, hot moments of kisses and mouths trailing over flushed skin–). The green robes are flying out behind the solitary figure in the stands like a cape from one of Katie’s superhero comics, and there’s no mistaking the identity of the man. Not for Oliver at least. Marcus is watching him. Has been for Merlin knows how long. All Oliver wants to do is touch down and drag himself over to the stands and crash into Marcus’ arms, but he resists the urge. Instead, he laps a lazy loop in the air, before his tired body forces him to retire, and instead of picking the pitch like a sane person, Oliver perches on the edge of the middle hoop, crawling off the broomstick onto the thick metal. It’s surprisingly comfortable. It’s also a ploy to wait Marcus out, but well. It doesn’t seem to be working quite yet. Some part of him wants to swing his legs around his broom, swoop down beside Marcus and kiss him senseless. Some part of him wants to pull Marcus in and just relearn the feeling of their bodies touching again. He reins this part in with every ounce of control and every shred of self respect he has. He holds it back, letting it kick and rage and fester at the back of his heart, where he keeps his pain and his misery and his urges to do things he will regret within five seconds. That part of his heart– It’s ugly. He turns away from the imposing figure Marcus cuts in the stands with his biceps bulging and his hair, longer than it was since Oliver last ran his hands through it curling around his strong neck. Oliver can feel the pressure of it, of Marcus’ head pillowed against his lap when they could sneak an afternoon away to the Astronomy Tower. Marcus’ dark hair curled into Oliver’s fist as they talked, as they kissed, as they pushed each other’s clothes off with all the pent up energy of two prowling hyenas going in for the kill. He feels the tears rise, but he doesn’t want to cry. Not here anyway, with Marcus watching for whatever Merlin-forsaken reason. Doesn’t want to raise his hand in the tell tale sign of wiping away his tears. Doesn’t want to be weak.

Instead he stares at the setting sun even though the riot of colours across the sky only make him angrier. Why should the world get to move on and revel in its beauty when his life feels like radio static? Why should sunlight have the right to twirl pretty patterns into Marcus’ eyes when Oliver isn’t there to see it? Why does even nature get to laugh at his sad, pathetic arse and why doesn’t he ever get to move the fuck on? “I hate him,” he whispers fiercely against the fist he stuffs into his mouth to keep himself from screaming long and loud at the heavens, at the Founders, at the bloody sun. “I hate him so damn much.” “Makes me wonder why I bothered to show up, then,” comes the all too familiar heavy drawl, and if Oliver’s heart had dropped before, now it drowns. “What,” he says without turning around for fear of what he’ll see, “are you doing here?” “Saw you practicing from the Tower. Thought I might join you.” Oliver lets loose a laugh. “Get lost,” he says, and grimaces when it comes out slightly choked. “Or I’m telling Hooch you’re spying on the Captain for his plays.” “I have plenty of plays of my own,” Marcus says, and Oliver cringes at the suggestive undercurrent of the words. “Or did you forget?” When the weight of his anger and his hurt and his exhaustion crash into him, Oliver almost falls off his precarious perch. He staggers slightly and has to reach out with one hand to grip the edge of the hoop. His other hand slackens around his broom, and it teeters dangerously in his loose grip. Somehow, he doesn’t have the energy to hold it tighter. The tiredness creeps into his muscles, his bones, the raging fires of his heart, shrouding his entire being in a blanket of heaviness that he can’t shrug off. Here he is, trying to hold himself together, and Marcus has the balls to be making innuendos. “Last I checked, Flint, your plays were off limits. And you didn’t want any of mine, either. Which begs the question that I already asked you, why the fuck are you here?” Marcus is silent, because of course he is. Damn bastard, he can’t even give Oliver a good reason, a good excuse for his real purposes. “Come to gloat?” He asks, and his voice comes out a broken whisper. “Come to check in on poor Ollie and how he’s doing now that you’ve binned him?” “Oliver–“ “Shut up,” he says, he begs, and turns to face Marcus, and promptly has the breath knocked out of him. Because Marcus, oh, he’s bathed in the light of the golden sun, bathed in every shade of desire, coloured in Oliver’s dreams. There’s that uncertain turn to his lips, as though he expects Oliver to shove him away, tell him to leave, as though he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t look like he’s gloating (and Oliver knows how Marcus looks when he gloats, because goddamn, he’s lost Quidditch matches against this man). If anything, he looks a little wrecked, but in the most beautiful way imaginable, and Oliver– Oliver has never wanted to kiss someone more. Marcus sighs. His lashes flutter against his cheek and his shoulders droop slightly, and he looks a little lost when he gazes at some spot in the distance and says in a slow lilt, as though he’s searching for the words as he goes, “I– I missed you, Oliver.” And those words, the words he’s been craving to hear for a whole fucking month now wash over him, curl into the spaces that are yawning open and empty in the absence of the warmth Marcus had been when they’d spent those five glorious months in each other’s sunshine.

“We were just fucking,” he says anyway, because he’s too damn proud to be soothed of a month’s hurt by some half hearted confession of being missed. “Right, Flint? Just a fuck.” “You know that’s not true.” “Do I?” Oliver asks. He wants to be angry, wants his eyes to flash, wants to clench his fists and look ready to batter Marcus into a bloody pulp for daring to hurt him the way he did, but the words come out thick and heavy, laced with the burdens Oliver has been carrying alone. He never cared, he never looked at me as anything except a fuck, he just wanted some fun. Human beings, fragile creatures. Togetherness is more of an addiction than drugs and whisky could ever be. “Oliver, I– I was scared, and–“ “And you thought I wasn’t? You thought it was a breeze for me, that I hadn’t ever considered what the damn repercussions could look like–“ “That’s what you made it sound like!” Marcus throws both his hands up, and there’s a wild light in his dark eyes. “You made it look so easy with all your casual, hey Flint, care for a Butterbeer this weekend and Marcus, look at me and your damn smiles– and I– I was scared out of my mind Oliver, and you just looked like it was something you were born with.” “Born with what?” “Confidence! Fearlessness! Like you couldn’t give a fuck what people in locker rooms would think if you went pro, if I went pro, like you didn’t care that coaches would pay less attention to you, or make you the punching bag of the team, like teams would only sign you on if they had to pay you less if they found out about this.” Oliver sighs. It’s so obvious now that all through those months when Oliver had been caught up in a haze of a perfect love story of two Quidditch captains from historically rival houses, Marcus had been overthinking his choices, his career, everything. “This isn’t a hand job in a dark bed in the dorms, Oliver, and you know it.” He feels weary. Wrung out. “I wasn’t born with it,” he says, and looks away again at the darkening horizon. The sun is now a ball of red against a blue sky turning black. “What?” “Confidence, or fearlessness, or whatever you thought came easy to me. But you were scared about fucking up your career and I was scared of fucking us up. You were thinking about whatever pro team deals you dream of and I was thinking that something I would say or do would push you away because I’m too much of a stupid fuck for anyone to be with. Wood, have you got leaves for brains? Wood, if I knocked on that head would it ring hollow?” “Oliver,” Marcus says, and he sounds so shocked, so hurt that it’s like a string tied to the back of Oliver’s head has been pulled. He turns to face Marcus again, and he looks devastated.

He looks like he’s seeing Oliver for the first time.

“You really thought that I thought you were–“ “Bollocks for brains, yeah.” And because he can’t bear to see Marcus look so upset, he adds, “But that’s alright now. I’ll get over it, and you, and you can sign all the pro deals, and have a couple babies and no one will think you and I–“ Marcus slaps a hand over his mouth. “Shut up,” Marcus says, and oh, he’s so beautiful when he’s angry. “You’re a bit thick sometimes, I’ll give you that,” Marcus says in a voice so low that it sounds like he’s admitting state secrets instead of the most obvious thing that anyone who speaks to Oliver for five minutes can pick up on. “But don’t ever think that you’re stupid, or that you’ve got leaves for brains– Oliver what the fuck? The way you– the way you remember all the damn plays starting from the fucking 1790s and how you can recite precedents for every move anyone makes on the field and how you know exactly which player to pair with which one, which one needs to be benched– Oliver, you’re made for this. You don’t need some Transfiguration O to prove that.” He doesn’t know whether to believe this is happening. And worse– he doesn’t know what it means. If he’s imagining it, he’s further gone for Marcus than he can ever admit to anyone who is not a Mind Healer. If he’s not imagining it, Marcus is here, after a bloody month of ignoring him, breaking his heart, stomping on it with the butt end of a broom, to tell him– Rage curls in his stomach. He jerks away from the hand Marcus has now slid onto his jawline, regretting the motion immediately when the thumb tracing circles into the space behind his ear is dislodged. “And you’re telling me this now? After telling me you care more about your career than a fuck? Why bother? If that’s how you feel– it’s not going to change!” Marcus looks down. Oliver wants to curl a hand under that drooping chin, pull it up, kiss it better, but he holds himself back. “I was scared,” he whispers. Oliver wishes he weren’t so fucking easy, because the ice walls he’d thrown up to keep Marcus and his mind games out is already thawing. “I was so scared.” “You had a reason,” Oliver mumbles. He looks down. The drop to the pitch is sheer, sharp. If he falls, there’s no way he can be saved unless Marcus decides to be a hero. The thought brings a small smile to his lips. “I was being a coward,” Marcus says sharply. “Thorne– Thorne’s y’know, bisexual and all that, and he’s playing great game with the Magpies–“ “We can’t all be Thorne. And Thorne was stoned in Diagon.” “By one man who was arrested by Kingsley Shacklebolt. We might not be Thorne, but we can try.” The sound that rips itself from Oliver’s throat is rife with the pain and frustration of a month of second guessing and heartbreak. “Why does it matter?” Oliver asks, his voice carrying in the emptiness of the pitch. “Why the bloody fuck does any of it matter Marcus, you don’t want this, it was just a fuck–“ It happens so fast that Oliver doesn’t process it till its done. Marcus surges forward on the broomstick, invading the meagre personal space Oliver had tried to maintain between them so he wouldn’t reach out, be overly-familiar, push Marcus away the first time he’d dared to venture close in so long. Their eyes meet, and the pitch, the hoops, the past month and their discussion fades to nothing but white noise in the back of Oliver’s brain. Marcus, bless his balance on a broom, reaches out with one hand to cup the back of Oliver’s neck and the other comes to frame his face, resting on his ear. He waits for a second, for permission, to be pushed away, hell, Oliver doesn’t know, and then they’re kissing, Marcus’ hot, perfect, slightly chapped lips fitting against his. Something clicks into place finally. Something disjointed and broken snaps back inside his chest and the heavy weight he’d gotten all too used to carrying lifts like the healed wing of an injured bird. His heart soars with all the delight of a creature learning to fly once more, and something in this urgent, heartfelt kiss feels like a reassurance. I missed you, it says. I’ve been waiting for you. I’m sorry for hurting you. A million apologies in a single press, a single touch, in the soft breath that gusts over Oliver’s nose. It could be seconds, could be decades when Marcus finally pulls away. Oliver has to shut his eyes, clench them tightly to keep the traitorous tears from falling, from ruining this perfect moment that he’s certain will be shattered anyway when Marcus realises what he’s done. But Marcus doesn’t release a horrified gasp, doesn’t push him away, doesn’t retreat with the air currents back to the stands. Marcus stays there, floating gently on his broom, holding Oliver’s face between his hands, waiting for something. Oliver’s too scared to open his eyes and figure out what. He’s never felt so small, never felt himself be flayed open by circumstances rendering him raw and broken and ready to be picked apart. It’s exhilarating and terrifying, and Marcus is here to watch. He doesn’t know if this feeling of trust is warranted, especially after everything Marcus said and did, but he knows he can’t make himself be suspicious or cruel in this moment. He will hate himself forever if he pushes Marcus away right now, and of all the punishments Oliver has suffered, self inflicted misery isn’t one he particularly enjoys. But he can ask, so he does. “What now?” Marcus shrugs. Oliver feels it, the slight tremble, the tell tale stiffness and when he opens his eyes, he’s surprised to see tears in Marcus’. “Are you–“ “Shut up, Wood.” Oliver watches Marcus close his eyes, bite his lip, whisper something inaudible and pull himself together. Watches him try to be steady. To know that they are here, suspended midair in a moment in time, being unsteady together rouses the buried beast of hope in Oliver’s heart. The sun has set. The horizon is a bruised blue now, and Marcus still looks like a shining beacon of future possibilities set against a dark sky of prejudice and inevitable darkness. “So. Thorne.” Marcus smiles despite himself. Nods. “Thorne.” “You’re kidding yourself if you think you play as well as Thorne does.” This time, Marcus laughs. It’s slightly choked, and only barely there, but it’s a laugh. “That’s not the fucking point and you know it.” “Oh I don’t know,” Oliver teases. “I’m a bit thick, aren’t I?” Marcus sobers up almost immediately. Oliver’s heart goes into overdrive, panicking. What if he said something wrong? Reminded Marcus of why he left? But Marcus merely looks serious when he says, “It’s still true.” “What?” “About the teams and coaches and the players. The world– The damn Quidditch world isn’t kind to people like us.”

Oliver looks at Marcus, at the depth of his eyes that people ignore when they critique him for being a bastard (he is a bastard, Oliver knows, just a bastard with depth and capability for kindness that Oliver feels privileged to know exists), at the worried cleft between his eyebrows, at the self conscious way in which he pulls his lips over his teeth. “The pitch makes up for it,” he says. “If I get to keep you and the pitch and my broom, I don’t give a fuck about what coaches and players and galleons have to say.” Marcus lets out a sound like a strangled sob and rests his forehead against Oliver’s. If Oliver hadn’t been holding onto his broom with one hand and the Quidditch hoop with the other, he’d have held Marcus a little closer, but he settles for kissing Marcus’ nose.

“I like galleons,” Marcus whispers after a while. For the first time in a month, Oliver feels a genuine laugh erupt from his chest, into his throat, out of his mouth. He feels light. “You’ll make plenty, don’t you worry,” he says instead. “Promising Chaser, conniving little Slytherin, bit of a looker too– why wouldn’t you?” “Are you calling me handsome, Oliver?” Oliver snorts. “Stop fishing. If the whole Quidditch thing goes balls-up, you can always model for Gladrags.” “Which section of Gladrags?” “Let’s see. Much as I’d love to see you in women’s lingerie, I don’t know if the civil public is willing to, so I’d say the part where handsome young wizards pose in their underwear with their hands suggestively placed behind their heads.” “The civil public doesn’t read Gladrags, Oliver.” “Are you calling me uncivil?” They burst into laughter, something dark and heavy lifting from their beings, and the tensed, tightened bolts of coiled emotion and anger loosening with every quip, every little kiss, every stolen moment of this. Above them, the sky darkens as the universe’s speckled cloak unravels with the fading light of day. Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, a Centaur looks up. Somewhere, a first year student catches a glimpse of two figures on one of the hoops of the pitch and looks away with wide eyes and a racing heart.

On the pitch, two boys share a secret smile in the darkness, and somewhere above them, the stars align perfectly.

94 notes · View notes

milf-lover42 · 4 years ago

Text

Bellatrix and Azula are the same character, change my mind

As most people can tell, Bellatrix Lestrange is my all time favorite character. I might get new favorites every time I watch a new show, and they all share a general similarity (let’s face it… I have a type, and if you’re reading this here on tumblr dot com… you do too, don’t lie). However, no character has ever come close to beating Bellatrix for top spot. And then I watched A:TLA for the first time a few weeks ago. I didn’t watch it as a kid, I was just young enough (2003 babeyy) that I wasn’t watching tv when it was on. Azula is obviously my favorite from this show, and is also the only character to ever come close to Bellatrix’ spot in my heart. But thinking about this and all the headcanons that people have made for the Black family dynamic… it seems like a pretty straightforward connection. Azula is essentially just a young Bellatrix.

Almost all of these Black family headcanons have been taken from fanfictions I have read over the years, and so the credit goes to their respective authors. Many overlap so I cannot pinpoint each author to each one, and it has been a while since reading some of them. Most notable of these would be Glass Silence by Zarrene Moss. There are many more fantastic stories I have drawn from but I couldn’t remember every fanfiction I’ve read to pick out each detail. For all the Azula stuff, I am drawing from Hello Future Me’s video on Youtube “The Psychology of Azula | Avatar: The Last Airbender”. If you want to spend an hour watching that I highly recommend it. Basically none of this is mine, I’m just using the headcanons and research of others to tie Bellatrix to Azula.

Let’s start with their family dynamics. Bellatrix is the oldest of the Black sisters, and has no brother. Although not stated in canon, (because apparently she’s too minor a character to deserve a backstory) it is presumed that all the duties of a male heir fell to her in a way. Marry young and marry a rich pureblood, carry on the family name and power, and secure a high social standing. Pureblood society is extremely archaic, if the treatment of muggle-borns is anything to go by, so we can safely assume that they are a very patriarchal society. Cygnus and Druella Black almost certainly wanted a son to carry on their name, especially given Walburga and Orion had both Sirius and Regulus. We can also assume that they weren’t exactly the kindest parents. At best, Druella was a silent wife subjected to abuse from her husband and ultimately was unable to keep her children safe; at worst she actively joined Cygnus in abusing their children. Each of the sisters have a unique way of dealing with this.

Andromeda handled it by running away, completely rebelling. She fell in love with Ted Tonks, a muggle-born. I doubt this in itself was an act of rebellion, I think she simply realized how stupid blood supremacy was after speaking to him. Once she fell in love it’s clear she wanted to break away from her family so that she could marry him. Clearly her parents knew, and it’s likely she told them herself. Given Ted was a muggleborn I can’t imagine her parents reacting with a simple, “No he is beneath you, we forbid it.” They probably acted harshly in an attempt to make it stick in her head that the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black would not associate with m*dbloods. Either she ran away or was kicked out, but either way she stayed with Ted and didn’t listen to her parents.

Narcissa shut off and blocked all her emotions. Obviously as an adult she actively practices the same beliefs her parents did, but as a teenager I don’t see this as being who she was. As an adult she is very cold and unemotional. The only person she truly cares about is her son, Draco. She cares about Bella still, she just doesn’t show it because she wasn’t allowed to as a child. As for her feelings toward Lucius... it is unclear. Depending on where you stand, she either could have been forced into a marriage with him, or they were in love as teenagers and got lucky enough that their parents arranged for them to marry each other. My personal opinion is they were forced. I think Lucius was supposed to be married to Andy but when she ran away, the Blacks had to hold up their end of the deal with the Malfoy’s and so Narcissa was married off to him. She embodies the whole “Ice Queen” personality. In order to cope with the trauma and her unwanted marriage, she just blocked all emotion to keep herself sane, only showing it for Draco.

And then we come to Bellatrix. Bellatrix, who had too many expectations to live up to, so many roles to fill, and no positive reinforcement from parents who just abused her if she messed up. She felt everything. She was the oldest and cared greatly for her younger sisters, and probably did her best to take any of the abuse that was going to be given to Narcissa or Andromeda. She used herself as their shield because they were the most important thing to her. Even after joining Voldemort and going insane she makes it very clear how she feels about Narcissa. Bellatrix would follow Voldemort's orders to the ends of the Earth, but the second she is asked to trust Snape, she says that Voldemort has made an error in judgement. Cissa wants to go to him and ask him to keep Draco safe, but Bellatrix advises against this. Only when her sister is in potential danger does Bellatrix doubt her master. Even at the height of her insanity her sister is the most important thing to her. We can assume as a child she felt the same for Andy. In fact in my opinion she never really stopped caring about her until Azkaban, I think she pretended to hate her when she came out about Ted Tonks, but only did so so that Andy would run away and live her life with the man she loved. She was safer away from their parents anyway. It didn’t matter if Bellatrix thought negatively about muggle-borns; she just wanted her sister to be safe. After going insane however, she truly seems to hate Ted for being a muggle-born, and she kills their half-blood daughter Nymphadora.

In order to cope with the trauma of her childhood Bellatrix used all of those emotions as fuel for her magic. She is an incredibly powerful witch and is massively intelligent (although why she didn’t just use Legilimens on the Golden Trio will baffle me forever… it would have been so simple…). However because of this coping mechanism, she is driven insane. It’s not instant, in fact it probably took years (probably that stint in Azkaban, lads) for the insanity to fully develop and take hold. All of that exposure to Dementors would have forced her to relive the trauma of her childhood over and over, while taking away the happy memories of her sisters.

Bellatrix was given a support system to break away from her family. Now it’s not a good or healthy one, but it is one nonetheless. After being treated so poorly by her parents, and forced into a marriage with Rodolphus, she needed freedom. When Tom Riddle comes along and praises her skill and offers her a spot as his best lieutenant? Of course she’s going to take that. Finally some recognition, and a good amount of safety. Not to mention missions and tasks given to her and others to her husband that mean she doesn’t have to be around him. Bellatrix was mistreated by her father and mother, but probably always wanted her father’s recognition. Her mother probably preferred Narcissa because she could be groomed into the perfect pureblood wife. Bellatrix latched onto Voldemort to gain recognition, praise, and power. But I can imagine as a teenager, having a complete breakdown at least once, especially after being told she’d be married off to Rodolphus. Demolishing her room with magic, windows breaking, personal items being thrown either by hand or by magic, and screaming and crying at the end. Very similar to Azula’s breakdown in her final scene.

Now we come to Princess Azula. She has an older brother, Zuko, but is always given the limelight. She receives a ceremonial headpiece that she is always seen wearing, but Zuko does not. He might be the boy, but he isn’t expected to take the crown. Azula is even named after her grandfather Azulon, who was Firelord. She was always expected to be the next Firelord over Zuko. Her future was never her own. She is a firebending prodigy, always showing off her skills, whereas Zuko falls behind. She is favored by her father Ozai for sure, but she is never truly praised. She is simply a means to an end to him. She was always expected to be the best. Although it isn’t shown in the TV series, in the A:TLA comics Ursa and Ozia’s relationship is depicted as abusive. He cuts her off from her family saying that he is all she will need.

There are theories as to whether or not Azula has a Machievellian personality type, or ASPD or NPD that could have been a root cause of her diminishing sanity, and after looking into those they seem very plausible. She lacks empathy, she emotionally manipulates everyone, and she has a messed up sense of right and wrong. Altruism just doesn’t make sense to her, and emotions are not genuine, simply stories made to get your way. Ursa rewards empathy, love and trust, which is why she clearly favors Zuko. But Ozai rewards power, cunning, and loyalty. They are complete opposites so it is not possible to please both of them. If she has any of these mental disorders it would be impossible to please her mother, so she focused on making her father proud. But Ozai never really shows any level of praise towards her, so she constantly tries to better herself. If she isn’t perfect, she’s failed.

At the end of A:TLA, Ozai forces her to stay behind in the Fire Nation. He says it’s because they need a Firelord because he will be leaving. Azula is disappointed to not partake in the final battle, but it’s what her father wants, so she obeys. However, he only leaves her so that he can become the supreme leader of everyone, or “Phoenix King”. Azula doesn’t really get a promotion, just a fancy name. In the finale, she is shown as her mental state quickly deteriorates. Her perfect image is gone, her hair is not up, her makeup undone, and she is paranoid that everyone is out to get her. This is the beginning of her breakdown. When she is unable to put her hair up by herself, she cuts her bangs. Her hair is all of a sudden asymmetrical, which is unheard of. She then starts to hallucinate. By the time she fights Zuko and Katara she is extremely unstable, and the fact that she can actually still bend is incredible, because it requires control of your emotions. She instead manages to use her emotions to fuel her bending. At the end when she is defeated, she finally breaks. Her bending is out of control, and she is left screaming and crying.

Azula never had anyone take her under their wing and give her the recognition she craved. Zuko had Iroh. Bellatrix had Voldemort. If Azula had been introduced to someone like Voldemort she would have gone down the same path as Bellatrix. Likewise, if Bellatrix hadn’t been introduced to Voldemort she would have ended up broken just like Azula. Their stories aren’t identical obviously, but there are some strong parallels that place them together, so I can see them as the same person with different outcomes to their story.

Does this stupidly long character analysis have any significant purpose? Nah, not at all. But like… I’m clearly right so… yeah.

#bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #azula #princess azula #azula deserved better #A:TLA #A:TLA azula #bellatrix black lestrange #druella black #cygnus black #narcissa malfoy #andromeda tonks #guys im not crazy i swear #i just feel passionately about these characters #bellamione

62 notes · View notes

davidmann95 · 4 years ago

Note

Comics this week (3/10/2021)?

cheerfullynihilistic said: Comics this week (03/10/21)??

adudewholikescomicsandotherstuff said: This week’s comics?

Anonymous said: Comics?

Anonymous said: 3/10 NCBD?

Non-Stop Spider-Man #1: The lead story was fun, the backup was dopey, I’ll give it another issue or two to see where it goes.

The Immortal Hulk #44: While it was too late for this week I’ve taken Hulk off my pull list, so the store won’t order any copies specifically for me and therefore my future purchase of the book won’t support Joe Bennett’s presence, just the store. This issue is typical of some of the books’ weaker installments of the last year or so - feels like well-done regular superhero comics instead of Immortal Hulk - but those last couple pages bring it back around.

Daredevil #28: Holy cow, those King In Black issues actually mattered. God this book is still so fuckin’ good in so many ways, everything every dumbass street-level superhero ‘deconstruction’ wants to be when it grows up.

Children of the Atom #1: Sucks real bad! This weird combo of ‘hip new young Marvel heroes!’ trappings and soulless X-Men lifer comics execution that feels certain to appeal to neither group.

Eternals #3: Of the listed Deviants I imagine I’d relate most to Annoyed Veug.

Commanders in Crisis #6: While I remain without the ability to weigh in on this objectively, this is the issue that to date most feels like it lives up to the promises of the series premiere.

The Wrong Earth: Night & Day #3: Little disappointed personally with the reveal of what the third world is - I assumed it was going to be more of a straight take ‘modern’ version to the other two’s flavors of throwbacks - but this series still rules. And that ending.

Home Sick Pilots #4: Okay, I think I can follow what’s happening at this point, still enjoying it.

Proctor Valley Road #1: I review these books in the order I present them to my dad since he likes DC/Marvel/Other to each be lumped together, but make no mistake: this is the last of the three Morrison books to read this week, because this is what comes next for them. A return to their roots - 70s kids way into music and dealing with the weird, girls adventure stories of the kind they apparently grew up reading - this feels like a refinement of their mid/late-00s Vertigo work in the same way they’ve been iterating on their superhero material for decades. The horror is sold excellently, whether by their own efforts or thanks to cowriter Alex Child this is their most fluid, ‘real’-sounding dialogue perhaps ever, and Franquiz with Bonvillain are instantly among their all-time best collaborators, perfectly capturing the shifting tone and character acting necessary to best put Morrison’s big ideas over in a way a number of their collaborators haven’t lived up to over the years (and speaking of the visuals, Jim Campbell does the lord’s work with that lettering trick near the end). Ritesh Babu and Sean Dillon have a lot more to say about the book and how it already acts as a darker, more honest take on your Stranger Things and the like as a commentary on its times, but I’m already loving to see this particular return down to Earth for Morrison and company and I’m glad to hear this is selling really well compared to their previous indie work.

Dead Dog’s Bite #1: This actually came out last week, but Ritesh recommended it so I figured it might be worth a look. A so far intensely low-key missing persons mystery with a touch of surreality around its edges, this already looks to be the best “look! A nine-panel grid! Fancy!” comic since Mister Miracle, really lived-in and emotional for as little happens in this debut. Very curious where it’s going.

Rorschach #6: I continue to like it.

Batman: Urban Legends #1: Glory be, a good Jason Todd comic - at last, you noble stubborn weirdoes living off of like six nonconsecutive panels all these years, you may lay down your burden. Not all you’d necessarily hope from Zdarsky tackling Gotham after what he’s been doing with Daredevil but rock-solid work regardless; the Harley story is fine, Outsiders is a letdown after Thomas’s shockingly good showing for them in Future State but it’s still fine, and the Grifter stuff is fun.

The Joker #1: I thought the advertised ‘a Joker story from Gordon’s POV’ angle was an interesting one even if I was concerned this book would in practice be pure editorial mandate, but in reality? Tynion has managed to pull the wool over DC’s eyes and do a full-on Jim Gordon book (one predicated with him being off the force to make it reasonably comfortable read in 2021) with Joker as the barest of pretexts to get it out the door and selling for as long as he wants to continue it. He even said in interviews that when the book was first pitched to him that his response was that a Joker solo book was a dumb unworkable idea until he had an idea for a ‘different way to approach it’, he knows exactly what he’s doing and I salute him. And it’s a darn good Gordon book even if the Punchline backup is predictably tepid, I’m in the tank for Gotham’s perpetual whipping boy dealing with weird noir international crime with Joker sort of hanging around in the background menacingly to justify the nominal premise.

Anonymous said: Hey, so I figure one random anon won’t change your mind, but like you I was disappointed by New Frontier’s immortal Wonder Woman, but I still got the new issue of Wonder Woman cause Wonder Woman at Valhalla still sounds great and I actually liked it! I think I’m gonna get at least the next issue, so there’s at least one recommendation for it

Wonder Woman #770: This combined with the store still putting it in my pile prompted me to give it a try after all, and whether because something here clicks better or if they’re simply not trying so hard without the pressure of doing a ‘final’ story for Diana, Cloonan and Conrad do in fact do substantially better on the main book than they did with Immortal Wonder Woman. Some fun, some fights, some mythology and intrigue, gorgeous landscapes and generous servings of beefcake from Travis Moore - this isn’t going to be sweeping the Eisners, but this is as enjoyable as a Wonder Woman comic has been in a good long time. My only concern is that the joyousness on display here might dissipate somewhat once Diana fully returns to herself, but in the meantime this was a very pleasant surprise (especially with the the Young Diana backup by Bellaire, Ganucheau, Goode, and Carey).

Superman #29: PKJ’s Superman thus far has been a story of overcoming initial worries of mine - in this case, my concern that he’d have a bad Scott Snyder-ey case of “if you’ve read the interviews you’ve pretty much already heard the dialogue of the comic verbatim”. In practice here most of what he’s had to say about these issues are distilled down really succinctly and poignantly in the midst of a fun little upper-atmosphere adventure portending something grimmer, and while I know it didn’t click with everyone I thought Phil Hester’s work here was a perfect accompaniment. The Tales of Metropolis backup wasn’t nearly as enjoyable, but hints at some interesting worldbuilding I’m hopeful will pay off in the main run.

The Green Lantern Season Two #12: The final Grant Morrison DC comic. One of two anyway, but if the next story I discuss is their broader final (non-Klaus, hopefully) statement on the superhero subgenre and a bridge to what they’re doing next, this is the one that’s about being The Final Grant Morrison DC Comic. A mélange of pretty much all their other DC finales into a shamelessly self-reflective meditation on the limits of what they can accomplish in shared universe storytelling where Green Lantern saves the universe through collective action and then fucks off to do his own thing elsewhere while the kids take over the ongoings. Weird and kinda perfect, and if nothing else this series took Liam Sharp from “really? This dude is drawing the last ever Morrison DC ongoing?” to “HOLY FUCKING SHIT LIAM SHARP”.

(The panel folks blew up over I think can be read multiple ways, but not in a ‘it’s open to interpretation!’ way so much as the storytelling/framing being unclear. I personally read it as ‘this is what neighbor versus neighbor looks like now’ rather than ‘calling someone a TERF or a Nazi is as bad as anything the other side does’, because oldster and out of touch though they may be I can’t see Morrison seriously saying that, especially after coming out.)

Wonder Woman Earth One Volume 3: At long last, after a hideous misfire kicking the series off and a second installment best described as ‘well, at least it wasn’t the first one’, this while not without elements I want to see femme and nonbinary critics discuss critically lives up to what you want to see out of ‘Grant Morrison’s Wonder Woman’. Big utopian fiction breaking the typical boundaries of superhero stories with aplomb in implicit conversation with a ton of their previous work, a bridge from what they’ve done to what they’re doing next, it’s an imperfect (especially with Paquette’s art, which while gorgeous and majestic in the way this story demands really doesn’t living up to the ‘acting’ necessary here in a way thrown into sharp contrast by Franquiz in PVR) but shockingly passionate statement of intent - if the last two volumes felt like Morrison struggling to have something to say with Wonder Woman in the same way they did with Superman and Batman, this feels at the close like them at last finding in her a way to do everything left with the cape and tights crowd they wanted to but couldn’t manage anywhere else under the Big Two umbrella. Odd and lovely, a fine sendoff.

#Week's Comics #Opinion

8 notes · View notes

sparklegemstone · 4 years ago

Text

Taking a break from work so time to write up more of my Loki trailer thoughts since all the cool cats around here seem to be doing it :-D.

In chronological order:

1) Personally I was 'meh' about the trailer starting with the Endgame scene just because I think the Russos did a terrible job matching the tone of that scene with the tone of the original Avengers film's conclusion and I want the Loki series to feel like a continuation of Avengers. Alas, the Endgame scene grates on me as feeling inauthentic to the story it's supposed to take place in. But I certainly understand the practicality of needing to put it in to give the audience the context for when/how this new story with Loki is taking place.

2) But five seconds later on the other side of the wormhole…yay, Kate Herron fixed the tone! This feels much closer in tone to when Thor and Lok depart for Asgard at the end of Avengers. Excellent job Kate.

3) Was so pleasantly surprised by Owen Wilson's portrayal! Very different than any of the comedic characters I strongly associate the actor's acting style with. I like his character a lot with what we've been given so far. It's instructive reflecting back on the potential concerns I had and that were being discussed in the fandom when we were working with scraps and rumors that we now know don't have merit: things like 'Hiddleston is only there to narrate the series' and 'How comedic in tone is this going to be if Waldron from Rick and Morty is hiring Owen Wilson?'. Ah the good old days of baseless speculation.

4) I mentioned the frequently low camera position in another post -- it does a poor job of conveying how Loki carries himself, tall and straight and elegant. It makes him seem more ordinary, but maybe that's the point -- equalizing him with Mobius rather than it being an Asgardian in a non-Asgardian's presence.

5) The way Loki goes from locked down and not letting any sense of what's going on his head slip to Mobius (what I feel is in-character for Loki) to suddenly being a lot more open with what he's actually feeling and having less guarded, more friendly/casual attitude toward Mobius is weird to me. I think it's a cut just for the trailer and hopefully it will make more sense in context, but Hiddleston's acting here and the way he has no qualms about being physically guided out of the elevator by Mobius is one of the points where it felt more like Hiddleston playing a different character than playing Loki to me (and lacking Loki's costuming doesn't help that perception certainly). Which I know is nitpicky, but I was just curious to see to what degree this would actually feel like 'fresh off of Avengers' Loki and so I'm paying close attention to what feels in and out of character for me. Does Mobius say something to really throw Loki for a loop that would cause him to drop his guard like that?

6) "Glorious" -> YAASSSS that's the Loki I wanted to recognize. He's back! I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around how blessed I am, but we've got him back for more screen time. Also, with him back in Stark Tower and the later image of post-apocalyptic Manhattan, I am super intrigued by the possibility of Loki (and me too!) experiencing different ways things could have played out on Earth, if he'd succeeded in his conquest for example.

7) Loki's going to learn about what happened in the main timeline and the choices he made in the future?! That's huge! Should be a fascinating character moment. This bit of Loki turning away from the projector gives me a lot of hope that the writing in the show is actually going to explore, honor, and authentically run with where Loki was as a character at the end of Avengers and the context of what he experienced rather than Marvel just plopping the "general" character of Loki into a genre-fied crime thriller show basically disconnected from the events of Thor and Avengers so they can say they made a Loki show.

8) Do I like Loki in the beige detective jacket? Nah, not really. But I do appreciate that even with the earth costume they kept Loki's style of being completely covered up. Also creates contrast with him not being in control when he's in the TVA prisoner jumpsuit that has short sleeves.

9) Thought that was Nat on Voromir at first because of the purple environment. Been reading some thoughts on how that's probably not Nat, and while the theories make sense, if that's true, why would Marvel put in a shot of a character that looks so much like Nat that it would cause confusion and maybe get her fans' hopes up?

10) I agree with @delyth88 on the D.B. Cooper scene. Didn't think I'd want Loki looking like Hiddleston, but I don't mind it / it's not taking me out of the scene as I might have expected.

11) The fight choreo and edit into the twirling -- I already discussed this before, but the physicality of it is giving me human-strength!Loki vibes. If instead the guy he's fighting is also super strong, wouldn't the plastic or metal disc thing between them break upon impact? Also the fact that it seems implied that Loki would get hurt by jumping out of the plane w/o Heimdall’s help to catch him.

12) The twirling -- is Loki legitimately, celebratorily, uninhibitedly happy? I feel like we've never seen him like that since the Thor cut scene before they all made that fateful trip to Jotunheim. I read a theory that the roman numerals on the building in this frame might mean he is in Pompeii the year the volcano erupts, which is interesting.

13) Loki saying "Brother”, “Heimdall", coordinating with at least Heimdall, traveling on the Bifrost -- HOPE! BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL, HOPE! I was honestly expecting the show to make no mention of anything connected to Asgard, except maybe segueing into Thor 4 at the very end, so the fact that Loki is (indirectly) interacting with Heimdall -- calling Thor "Brother" (even if not to Thor) !!!!!!!!!!!! -- interesting!

14) The idea of him being D.B. Cooper is very fun! (though I didn't know who that was in advance). It's very easy to pretend that Loki is real and has been an unidentified part of our history all along.

15) I do not like the last scene with comics!Loki suddenly being brought to life. In fact I had a very kneejerk dislike of it the first couple times I watched the trailer (so many watches ago :-P) because it presses a very personal button of mine, which is how the MCU is moving toward becoming more spectacle-driven and comic-book-y and therefore away from the grounded, character driven storytelling that I enjoy about the MCU. I'm here for the character of Loki that I love as he is already established in the MCU, not the comics versions of the character. Also, IMO the acting is out of character for MCU Loki and more goofy.

That said, I'm hopeful context will help a whole bunch here as @iamanartichoke has said. Given all the timey-wimey multiverse shenanigans, it's probably not even Avengers!Loki anyway, and I'm certainly not going to begrudge the many fans who are excited to see comics references on screen.

Overall impression? Very excited, very hopeful. Would I selfishly want a story that's just a direct continuation of the Avengers and hyper focused on the exact context of the character of Loki as he was in Avengers, fleshing out the off-screen bits and up-until-now only implied emotional impact of what Loki experienced between the end of Thor and the start of Avengers, digging into his relationships with the Black Order, and family, reconciling with his heritage? Uh…duh ;-).

But you have to give an audience what they need as opposed to what they think they want, and from a craft perspective, this has to be its own story. The Thor and Avengers stories are their own stories, they're told, they're done, even if certain emotional threads were left hanging / implied / off-screen that we as very detail-oriented Loki fans would like to see dealt with explicitly.

But given that this was always going to be its own story, I'm very hopeful that the series has an explicit creative goal of telling a story that also does a great job with emotional continuity and exploring the fallout of Thor and Avengers and what that means for Loki's character; of honoring, picking up from, and running with Loki as a character in the context of who he was when he surrendered to the Avengers and where he goes from there.

The Marvel Studios executives could have easily decided to make an isolated story featuring Loki that general MCU fans that don't think overly deeply about the character would have been very happy with and probably it would be very successful, and I would have gladly taken that over nothing. But I'm optimistic that that isn't what we're getting and that they chose to ground their story in the specific context of Loki's character. We'll see!

#loki #loki+

16 notes · View notes

exofilialovercat · 4 years ago

Text

Azrael (Draconian boy) x Gabriela (human girl) Ch 2!

Enjoy ch 2!

Gaby spent a good part of the next day choosing what to wear. All seemed too much or too less. What to wear when you want to forget your ex… and try to not crush on someone at the same time?

She messaged the draconian: ‘Hi! See you in the shopping? We can shop and drink coffee! You like cake? :3 ‘

‘See you there Gaby! I can’t wait! Coffee and cake sounds wonderful.’

Ozzie was a nervous wreck the following morning. After going through his entire wardrobe half a dozen times, he settled on a pair of black slacks and a nice shirt with a vest. The layers helped hide where he had to cut holes for his wings. “Well, Casanova you may not be, but you pass muster.” He tried to reassure himself as he left, picking up a single rose from the flower shop on the corner as he left to meet Gaby.

Gaby picked a cute long shirt and some good leggings. Enough to don’t feel she was trying too hard. She brought a bag with the shirt he borrowed from him and a sticky note with a cartoon of her saying ‘thank you ‘ . This is not a date, Gabrielle. Hold your horses. She found him easily in the shopping , he looked very handsome. Damm... Why is this not a date-date? “Ozzie! I’m here! “

Azrael jumped slightly at the sudden call of his name, but brightened when he turned to see Gaby. “Hey Ga-oh wow, you look great! This is for you...” He offered her the rose, heart pounding.

“You look good too. Even if the waiter uniform has its charm. Aw, you shouldn’t have “ she grabbed the rose and gave him the bag “ This is yours “ she smelled the faint perfume of the flower

“Thank you.” He smiled, taking a moment to enjoy Gabriela’s company before offering her his arm. “shall we?”

“ Of course “ she accepted his arm and started walking. Well, it looks like a date.

“Did you want to stop for coffee first, or to look for some cute clothes and get coffee after? “ He asked, practically floating as they walked.

“ Well, i could use some fuel . What about you? “

Ozzie chuckled and nodded. “I’ve been surviving on caffeine lately. Do you have a place you could show me with good bakery as well?”

“ We are the same... Freelance artists are 90% coffee and 10% genius “ she patted his arm “ Lets go to a small bar I know, it’s not usually super crowded and the cake is extremely good. “ She guided him .

“You’re an artist? I’m a little jealous. I can sew a bit, but that’s about the extent of my artistic ability.” He admitted sheepishly, happily letting Gaby take him where she wanted.

“ Haha , I play the cards I got . I always liked art and make comics and illustrations. I can survive doing it so I consider myself lucky . I bet you have your own talents “ she takes him to a bar that was indeed a little small. It had a menu with a nice selection of cakes . “The Triple chocolate one is to die for, it’s my favorite, ” she pointed to the menu.

“What comics do you make? Anything I might have seen?” He asked, genuinely curious. As they made their way to the little cafe, Ozzie couldn’t help but smile at how Gaby’s face lit up with excitement. She really was adorable.

“Should we share a piece then with our drinks, or would that be too forward?”

“ Oh, i don’t think so... I took part in some compilations. When I do comics, it’s always a small portion of the job. The rest it’s mostly children’s books. “ She said “ It wouldn’t be too forward , but I warn you we will need to order more “ she grinned “ This body doesn’t maintain with salad “ she joked .

“That sounds like a lovely line of work. You like children, then?” He asked while searching the menu. “Let’s each get some and share then. Variety is the spice of life, after all!”

Ozzie took her joke about her body as a chance to let his eyes sweep down across Gaby’s figure. To him she might as well have been a goddess. perfect curves and a gorgeous face that he had to stop himself from leaning in to kiss. ‘Slow down, Romeo’ he scolded himself.

“ I do, maybe one day I will have one myself... If i found the right person. Not like Mister Perfect “ she made a face .

Gaby ordered some coffee and some pieces of cakes “Strawberry cheese and triple chocolate please. Any preference Ozzie? “

Azrael made a face at the mention of her ex. “He couldn’t be very perfect if he couldn’t see a true treasure right in front of him. You and your hypothetical future child deserve nothing less than a devoted husband and father.” He said without thinking what his words might be interpreted to mean.

Looking through the menu, Ozzie noted a few of his favorite flavors. “I think I’ll go with the Italian lemon cake and red velvet.”

The waiter took the order and walked away.

“ You are an adulator!” She patted his shoulder. She was visibly blushing . “ Yeah... I actually feel better now I’m not with him anymore. The things were pretty bad already between us. I guess the faster I can move from him, the better” she winked “ At least I have a coffee with a handsome man “ ‘What the hell Gaby... Stop your mouth’.

Azrael couldn’t blush through his scales, but his tail wagged happily when Gaby’s adorable freckled cheeks blushed pink after her compliment. “Is not flattery if it is true.” He laughed, “Just enjoy yourself, Gaby dear. No pressure.”

The order finally came, the coffee was in generous cups and the cake seemed fresh . “ Please, don’t mind me , take from mine if you want, “ Gaby offered and went for a piece of the strawberry one humming pleased “ So good “.

“Only if you do the same.” Ozzie smiled, taking a long sip of his coffee before taking a bite of his lemon cake.

“ I really wanted to ask you... I hope it’s okay. Can you really spit fire? Or is it a full dragon thing? “ She hoped it was okay to ask about draconian nature .

“Fire? Ah, right… I was smoking last night, wasn’t I?” He ran a hand back through his horns, a little embarrassed. “It is harder for a half-breed like me to breathe flames than a full dragon. Normally it can only happen when I am very angry or upset.” He explained with an apologetic smile. “Hopefully that is not too much a disappointment?”

“ Oh , no! I just was curious... Like how much human or dragon you are... I don’t really know a big deal about real dragons. Like if you need to warm in the sun? Or if you have a reptile tongue? Or do you have dietary restrictions like some reptiles? Oh! I hope I’m not being rude... “ she covered her mouth suddenly.

Ozzie couldn’t help but laugh. So many people were too afraid to ask these kinds of questions, so Gaby’s curiosity was refreshing. “No rudeness at all. I am happy to sate your curiosity. Full dragons come in three varieties, depending on if they are from Europe, like my mom, Asia, or South America. In my case I am warm-blooded like humans, no dietary restrictions (though a preference for spicy and savory flavors outside of desserts) and...” he looked around to make sure they weren’t being watched before letting his 30cm long forked tongue slide out between his lips for a moment before pulling it back in with a grin.

“ Holly -! “ She felt her mind going to some non very innocent places “ Thats.... Wow “ she sipped her coffee and tried to clear her head . “ Humans feel a little boring in comparison. Would you let me draw you one day? “ She tried to change the subject a little .

“Oh, don’t sell humans short. Human passion and creativity are a marvel compared to just about any other species. That is a great gift indeed.” He said with a reassuring smile. Gaby’s request to draw him was a surprise, though a welcome one. “I would love to pose for you!” He said happily before stealing a bite of her chocolate cake and letting a purr resonate in his chest. “That IS good!”

“ Told ya’ “ she smiled. “And if you need a personalized draw, you can always call me . Like a present for a loved one, your significant other, you just ask “

“Oh, no girlfriend.” Azrael said, before taking a sip of his coffee. Was she trying to see if he was single? “Dragons and most draconians partner for life, so dating is an important matter once it becomes serious.” Hopefully that wasn’t reading too far into Gaby’s words.

“ Oh “ Gavi did a mental happy dance , maybe Ozzy liked her a little? And he was single. That was a relief, at least I can crush in someone that I can have a chance with. ”And how do you scare ladies away? You have the whole package, “ she said playfully .

Azrael’s tail began to happily thump against the cafe floor when Gabi flirted with him. His heart never had fluttered this way for someone before. “Normally the scales and tail do the scaring for me. You are about the first woman to talk to me like a normal person outside of work or family.” He admitted, trying to hide his embarrassment at his own inexperience behind another few bites of cake.

“ No way! “ She said offended “ They obviously never gave you a chance, you are a total sweetie. And everybody it’s different! My mom always told me to not judge people for the way they look , she is latina, my dad is white. That always gets nasty looks . People are just stupid. “ she stole a piece of his lemon cake .

“It is a shame more people can’t be as open-minded as you are, Gaby. The world would be a better place.” Azrael said with a wistful smile, taking her hand without really thinking and kissing the back.

“They deal with bigotry even as a human-human couple. I worry what it will be like when the one who decides she wants me has to go through the same nastiness.”

She felt her cheeks warm “ Any girl would be lucky to have you Ozzie. If people cannot see that, it’s their problem. Hey, let’s better move to a desert island and fund our own country.” She tried to light up a bit.

Ozzie nearly choked on his coffee when Gaby’s surprise joke made him laugh. “Careful, mi amor. That sounds suspiciously like a proposal. Doesn’t that usually require at least three dates?” He teased, trying not to get too lost in the idea of the two of them relaxing on a tropical beach together.

“And thank you for the compliment, Gabriela. You truly are a treasure.”

“ Well... If you need a couple of actual dates, I will not say no. They tell me I make a pretty decent spicy chicken , if you give me the chance to treat you, “ she said, almost purring . Please say yes...

“I would be delighted, so long as I can take you out in return.” Ozzie swore that he could fly at that very moment. Gaby had asked him out!

“ Then it’s settled! “ She asked for the bill and payed “ And i can wear the replacement shirt you will buy me “ she winked “ I hope the cake was at your level Ozzie “

“I was hoping you would let me get you a few outfits, to be honest.” He said with a shy smile, not daring to admit he would prefer to see her in much less clothing rather than more. “And the cake was excellent. Definitely worth using for the wedding.” He added with what he hoped was a joking tone. ‘Don’t get too carried away. You’ll scare her off.’

“ Oh, you are impossible! “ she playfully pushed him “ No need to shower me in presents, mister smooth “ she said and started walking “ I like to give them back “

“What can I say? It is my nature to want to treat my girlfriend well. I’m sure we can find a way to reciprocate.” He laughed, playing like she had pushed him much harder than she had before joining her, his arm draping around her waist as they walked together.

Gaby felt herself too into the draconian man. Her stomach twisted and her heart pounded in her chest. She tried to distract herself by looking at the cloth stores . The mission was to end the day with a smile... And maybe steal a kiss from Ozzie .

“Let me know if you see a store you want to shop in.” It was nice, this little shopping date, but Azrael had to keep reminding himself to not push too fast. He was falling hard for Gabriela, but she had just gotten out of a bad relationship and it would be wrong to pressure her into too much.

Gaby entered in one store and tried a couple of tops, she ignored the white and pink ones for obvious reasons . She even asked Ozzies opinion on the ones she tried . Let’s just go slow Gabriela , let’s enjoy some time together. Yep, just that.

Ozzie couldn’t help but enjoy himself while Gaby modeled her outfits for him. There were several tops that looked very good on her, but one in particular, sapphire blue with a somewhat lower-cut neckline than the others really caught his attention. “It is hard to say, since you are gorgeous in all of them, but the last one is my personal favorite. It shows you off in just the right way.”

“Then I take it! You know how to sell to a lady, ” she happily said and saved the new top for her .

Now the date was almost over and she needed a bit of courage to give one small last step . If she could really do it, a proper date will be a success.

After he had paid the shop clerk for their purchase, Azrael hesitated for a moment. “I know this was supposed to be just a casual thing today, but I really don’t want for our date to end.” He admitted sheepishly, his tail curling around Gaby as they took a moment to rest before continuing on to the end of their date. He had been having such a good time that he dreaded it being over.

She fell on the tail surrounding her. “ Me too, Azrael . It has been too much fun. But I have to go. Will you call me ? “ She caressed his cheek.

“Of course, Gabriela. It’s a promise... but first, please permit a greedy dragon one last indulgence before his princess escapes.” Before he could second guess himself, Azrael tilted her chin upward with a fingertip and pressed his lips to hers in a tender, longing kiss.

Gaby even surrounded his waist. His kiss was sweet, and she was practically seeing stars . Okay, I’m sold. First real date, here we go. She let herself be putty in his hands, “Ozzie... “ She whispered once the kiss ended. She smiled from ear to ear and got a little distance . “ Now you really better call me! “ She said and waved at him to go “ I’m going to be waiting!”

Gaby went home giggling like a schoolgirl

“Definitely. Today was... incredible. Too good to just be a onetime thing, no?” He purred, dreamily watching Gaby go toward her home.

Ozzie was walking on air for the rest of the day. He didn’t even mind the jokes at his expense at work. Their next date couldn’t come soon enough!

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #draconian boyfriend #monster writting #monster/human #my post

3 notes · View notes

muhammad-ubaidullah-khan · 3 years ago

Text

The Man in Asbestos: An Allegory of the Future

by Stephen Leacock

To begin with let me admit that I did it on purpose. Perhaps it was partly from jealousy.

It seemed unfair that other writers should be able at will to drop into a sleep of four or five hundred years, and to plunge head first into a distant future and be a witness of its marvels.

I wanted to do that too.

I always had been, I still am, a passionate student of social problems. The world of to-day with its roaring machinery, the unceasing toil of its working classes, its strife, its poverty, its war, its cruelty, appals me as I look at it. I love to think of the time that must come some day when man will have conquered nature, and the toil-worn human race enter upon an era of peace.

I loved to think of it, and I longed to see it.

So I set about the thing deliberately.

What I wanted to do was to fall asleep after the customary fashion, for two or three hundred years at least, and wake and find myself in the marvel world of the future.

I made my preparations for the sleep.

I bought all the comic papers that I could find, even the illustrated ones. I carried them up to my room in my hotel: with them I brought up a pork pie and dozens and dozens of doughnuts. I ate the pie and the doughnuts, then sat back in the bed and read the comic papers one after the other. Finally, as I felt the awful lethargy stealing upon me, I reached out my hand for the London Weekly Times, and held up the editorial page before my eye.

It was, in a way, clear, straight suicide, but I did it.

I could feel my senses leaving me. In the room across the hall there was a man singing. His voice, that had been loud, came fainter and fainter through the transom. I fell into a sleep, the deep immeasurable sleep in which the very existence of the outer world was hushed. Dimly I could feel the days go past, then the years, and then the long passage of the centuries.

Then, not as it were gradually, but quite suddenly, I woke up, sat up, and looked about me.

Where was I?

Well might I ask myself.

I found myself lying, or rather sitting up, on a broad couch. I was in a great room, dim, gloomy, and dilapidated in its general appearance, and apparently, from its glass cases and the stuffed figures that they contained, some kind of museum.

Beside me sat a man. His face was hairless, but neither old nor young. He wore clothes that looked like the grey ashes of paper that had burned and kept its shape. He was looking at me quietly, but with no particular surprise or interest.

"Quick," I said, eager to begin; "where am I? Who are you? What year is this; is it the year 3000, or what is it?"

He drew in his breath with a look of annoyance on his face.

"What a queer, excited way you have of speaking," he said.

"Tell me," I said again, "is this the year 3000?"

"I think I know what you mean," he said; "but really I haven't the faintest idea. I should think it must be at least that, within a hundred years or so; but nobody has kept track of them for so long, it's hard to say."

"Don't you keep track of them any more?" I gasped.

"We used to," said the man. "I myself can remember that a century or two ago there were still a number of people who used to try to keep track of the year, but it died out along with so many other faddish things of that kind. Why," he continued, showing for the first time a sort of animation in his talk, "what was the use of it? You see, after we eliminated death--"

"Eliminated death!" I cried, sitting upright. "Good God!"

"What was that expression you used?" queried the man.

"Good God!" I repeated.

"Ah," he said, "never heard it before. But I was saying that after we had eliminated Death, and Food, and Change, we had practically got rid of Events, and--"

"Stop!" I said, my brain reeling. "Tell me one thing at a time."

"Humph!" he ejaculated. "I see, you must have been asleep a long time. Go on then and ask questions. Only, if you don't mind, just as few as possible, and please don't get interested or excited."

Oddly enough the first question that sprang to my lips was--

"What are those clothes made of?"

"Asbestos," answered the man. "They last hundreds of years. We have one suit each, and there are billions of them piled up, if anybody wants a new one."

"Thank you," I answered. "Now tell me where I am?"

"You are in a museum. The figures in the cases are specimens like yourself. But here," he said, "if you want really to find out about what is evidently a new epoch to you, get off your platform and come out on Broadway and sit on a bench."

I got down.

As we passed through the dim and dust-covered buildings I looked curiously at the figures in the cases.

"By Jove!" I said looking at one figure in blue clothes with a belt and baton, "that's a policeman!"

"Really," said my new acquaintance, "is that what a policeman was? I've often wondered. What used they to be used for?"

"Used for?" I repeated in perplexity. "Why, they stood at the corner of the street."

"Ah, yes, I see," he said, "so as to shoot at the people. You must excuse my ignorance," he continued, "as to some of your social customs in the past. When I took my education I was operated upon for social history, but the stuff they used was very inferior."

I didn't in the least understand what the man meant, but had no time to question him, for at that moment we came out upon the street, and I stood riveted in astonishment.

Broadway! Was it possible? The change was absolutely appalling! In place of the roaring thoroughfare that I had known, this silent, moss-grown desolation! Great buildings fallen into ruin through the sheer stress of centuries of wind and weather, the sides of them coated over with a growth of fungus and moss! The place was soundless. Not a vehicle moved. There were no wires overhead--no sound of life or movement except, here and there, there passed slowly to and fro human figures dressed in the same asbestos clothes as my acquaintance, with the same hairless faces, and the same look of infinite age upon them.

Good heavens; And was this the era of the Conquest that I had hoped to see! I had always taken for granted, I do not know why, that humanity was destined to move forward. This picture of what seemed desolation on the ruins of our civilization rendered me almost speechless.

There were little benches placed here and there on the street. We sat down.

"Improved, isn't it," said man in asbestos, "since the days when you remember it?"

He seemed to speak quite proudly.

I gasped out a question.

"Where are the street cars and the motors?"

"Oh, done away with long ago," he said; "how awful they must have been. The noise of them!" and his asbestos clothes rustled with a shudder.

"But how do you get about?"

"We don't," he answered. "Why should we? It's just the same being here as being anywhere else." He looked at me with an infinity of dreariness in his face.

A thousand questions surged into my mind at once. I asked one of the simplest.

"But how do you get back and forwards to your work?"

"Work!" he said. "There isn't any work. It's finished. The last of it was all done centuries ago."

I looked at him a moment open-mouthed. Then I turned and looked again at the grey desolation of the street with the asbestos figures moving here and there.

I tried to pull my senses together. I realized that if I was to unravel this new and undreamed-of future, I must go at it systematically and step by step.

"I see," I said after a pause, "that momentous things have happened since my time. I wish you would let me ask you about it all systematically, and would explain it to me bit by bit. First, what do you mean by saying that there is no work?"

"Why," answered my strange acquaintance, "it died out of itself. Machinery killed it. If I remember rightly, you had a certain amount of machinery even in your time. You had done very well with steam, made a good beginning with electricity, though I think radial energy had hardly as yet been put to use."

I nodded assent.

"But you found it did you no good. The better your machines, the harder you worked. The more things you had the more you wanted. The pace of life grew swifter and swifter. You cried out, but it would not stop. You were all caught in the cogs of your own machine. None of you could see the end."

"That is quite true," I said. "How do you know it all?"

"Oh," answered the Man in Asbestos, "that part of my education was very well operated--I see you do not know what I mean. Never mind, I can tell you that later. Well, then, there came, probably almost two hundred years after your time, the Era of the Great Conquest of Nature, the final victory of Man and Machinery."

"They did conquer it?" I asked quickly, with a thrill of the old hope in my veins again.

"Conquered it," he said, "beat it out! Fought it to a standstill! Things came one by one, then faster and faster, in a hundred years it was all done. In fact, just as soon as mankind turned its energy to decreasing its needs instead of increasing its desires, the whole thing was easy. Chemical Food came first. Heavens! the simplicity of it. And in your time thousands of millions of people tilled and grubbed at the soil from morning till night. I've seen specimens of them--farmers, they called them. There's one in the museum. After the invention of Chemical Food we piled up enough in the emporiums in a year to last for centuries. Agriculture went overboard. Eating and all that goes with it domestic labour, housework--all ended. Nowadays one takes a concentrated pill every year or so, that's all. The whole digestive apparatus, as you knew it, was a clumsy thing that had been bloated up like a set of bagpipes through the evolution of its use!"

I could not forbear to interrupt. "Have you and these people," I said, "no stomachs--no apparatus?"

"Of course we have," he answered, "but we use it to some purpose. Mine is largely filled with my education--but there! I am anticipating again. Better let me go on as I was. Chemical Food came first: that cut off almost one-third of the work, and then came Asbestos Clothes. That was wonderful! In one year humanity made enough suits to last for ever and ever. That, of course, could never have been if it hadn't been connected with the revolt of women and the fall of Fashion."

"Have the Fashions gone," I asked, "that insane, extravagant idea of--" I was about to launch into one of my old-time harangues about the sheer vanity of decorative dress, when my eye rested on the moving figures in asbestos, and I stopped.

"All gone," said the Man in Asbestos. "Then next to that we killed, or practically killed, the changes of climate. I don't think that in your day you properly understood how much of your work was due to the shifts of what you called the weather. It meant the need of all kinds of special clothes and houses and shelters, a wilderness of work. How dreadful it must have been in your day--wind and storms, great wet masses--what did you call them?--clouds--flying through the air, the ocean full of salt, was it not?--tossed and torn by the wind, snow thrown all over everything, hail, rain--how awful!"

"Sometimes," I said, "it was very beautiful. But how did you alter it?"

"Killed the weather!" answered the Man in Asbestos. "Simple as anything--turned its forces loose one against the other, altered the composition of the sea so that the top became all more or less gelatinous. I really can't explain it, as it is an operation that I never took at school, but it made the sky grey, as you see it, and the sea gum-coloured, the weather all the same. It cut out fuel and houses and an infinity of work with them!"

He paused a moment. I began to realize something of the course of evolution that had happened.

"So," I said, "the conquest of nature meant that presently there was no more work to do?"

"Exactly," he said, "nothing left."

"Food enough for all?"

"Too much," he answered.

"Houses and clothes?"

"All you like," said the Man in Asbestos, waving his hand. "There they are. Go out and take them. Of course, they're falling down--slowly, very slowly. But they'll last for centuries yet, nobody need bother."

Then I realized, I think for the first time, just what work had meant in the old life, and how much of the texture of life itself had been bound up in the keen effort of it.

Presently my eyes looked upward: dangling at the top of a moss-grown building I saw what seemed to be the remains of telephone wires.

"What became of all that," I said, "the telegraph and the telephone and all the system of communication?"

"Ah," said the Man in Asbestos, "that was what a telephone meant, was it? I knew that it had been suppressed centuries ago. Just what was it for?"

"Why," I said with enthusiasm, "by means of the telephone we could talk to anybody, call up anybody, and talk at any distance."

"And anybody could call you up at any time and talk?" said the Man in Asbestos, with something like horror. "How awful! What a dreadful age yours was, to be sure. No, the telephone and all the rest of it, all the transportation and intercommunication was cut out and forbidden. There was no sense in it. You see," he added, "what you don't realize is that people after your day became gradually more and more reasonable. Take the railroad, what good was that? It brought into every town a lot of people from every other town. Who wanted them? Nobody. When work stopped and commerce ended, and food was needless, and the weather killed, it was foolish to move about. So it was all terminated. Anyway," he said, with a quick look of apprehension and a change in his voice, "it was dangerous!"

"So!" I said. "Dangerous! You still have danger?"

"Why, yes," he said, "there's always the danger of getting broken."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Why," said the Man in Asbestos, "I suppose it's what you would call being dead. Of course, in one sense there's been no death for centuries past; we cut that out. Disease and death were simply a matter of germs. We found them one by one. I think that even in your day you had found one or two of the easier, the bigger ones?"

I nodded.

"Yes, you had found diphtheria and typhoid and, if I am right, there were some outstanding, like scarlet fever and smallpox, that you called ultra-microscopic, and which you were still hunting for, and others that you didn't even suspect. Well, we hunted them down one by one and destroyed them. Strange that it never occurred to any of you that Old Age was only a germ! It turned out to be quite a simple one, but it was so distributed in its action that you never even thought of it."

"And you mean to say," I ejaculated in amazement, looking at the Man in Asbestos, "that nowadays you live for ever?"

"I wish," he said, "that you hadn't that peculiar, excitable way of talking; you speak as if everything mattered so tremendously. Yes," he continued, "we live for ever, unless, of course, we get broken. That happens sometimes. I mean that we may fall over a high place or bump on something, and snap ourselves. You see, we're just a little brittle still--some remnant, I suppose, of the Old Age germ--and we have to be careful. In fact," he continued, "I don't mind saying that accidents of this sort were the most distressing feature of our civilization till we took steps to cut out all accidents. We forbid all street cars, street traffic, aeroplanes, and so on. The risks of your time," he said, with a shiver of his asbestos clothes, "must have been awful."

"They were," I answered, with a new kind of pride in my generation that I had never felt before, "but we thought it part of the duty of brave people to--"

"Yes, yes," said the Man in Asbestos impatiently, "please don't get excited. I know what you mean. It was quite irrational."

We sat silent for a long time. I looked about me at the crumbling buildings, the monotone, unchanging sky, and the dreary, empty street. Here, then, was the fruit of the Conquest, here was the elimination of work, the end of hunger and of cold, the cessation of the hard struggle, the downfall of change and death--nay, the very millennium of happiness. And yet, somehow, there seemed something wrong with it all. I pondered, then I put two or three rapid questions, hardly waiting to reflect upon the answers.

"Is there any war now?"

"Done with centuries ago. They took to settling international disputes with a slot machine. After that all foreign dealings were given up. Why have them? Everybody thinks foreigners awful."

"Are there any newspapers now?"

"Newspapers! What on earth would we want them for? If we should need them at any time there are thousands of old ones piled up. But what is in them, anyway; only things that happen, wars and accidents and work and death. When these went newspapers went too. Listen," continued the Man in Asbestos, "you seem to have been something of a social reformer, and yet you don't understand the new life at all. You don't understand how completely all our burdens have disappeared. Look at it this way. How used your people to spend all the early part of their lives?"

"Why," I said, "our first fifteen years or so were spent in getting education."

"Exactly," he answered; "now notice how we improved on all that. Education in our day is done by surgery. Strange that in your time nobody realized that education was simply a surgical operation. You hadn't the sense to see that what you really did was to slowly remodel, curve and convolute the inside of the brain by a long and painful mental operation. Everything learned was reproduced in a physical difference to the brain. You knew that, but you didn't see the full consequences. Then came the invention of surgical education--the simple system of opening the side of the skull and engrafting into it a piece of prepared brain. At first, of course, they had to use, I suppose, the brains of dead people, and that was ghastly"--here the Man in Asbestos shuddered like a leaf--"but very soon they found how to make moulds that did just as well. After that it was a mere nothing; an operation of a few minutes would suffice to let in poetry or foreign languages or history or anything else that one cared to have. Here, for instance," he added, pushing back the hair at the side of his head and showing a scar beneath it, "is the mark where I had my spherical trigonometry let in. That was, I admit, rather painful, but other things, such as English poetry or history, can be inserted absolutely without the least suffering. When I think of your painful, barbarous methods of education through the ear, I shudder at it. Oddly enough, we have found lately that for a great many things there is no need to use the head. We lodge them--things like philosophy and metaphysics, and so on--in what used to be the digestive apparatus. They fill it admirably."

He paused a moment. Then went on:

"Well, then, to continue, what used to occupy your time and effort after your education?"

"Why," I said, "one had, of course, to work, and then, to tell the truth, a great part of one's time and feeling was devoted toward the other sex, toward falling in love and finding some woman to share one's life."

"Ah," said the Man in Asbestos, with real interest. "I've heard about your arrangements with the women, but never quite understood them. Tell me; you say you selected some woman?"

"Yes."

"And she became what you called your wife?"

"Yes, of course."

"And you worked for her?" asked the Man in Asbestos in astonishment.

"Yes."

"And she did not work?"

"No," I answered, "of course not."

"And half of what you had was hers?"

"Yes."

"And she had the right to live in your house and use your things?"

"Of course," I answered.

"How dreadful!" said the Man in Asbestos. "I hadn't realized the horrors of your age till now."

He sat shivering slightly, with the same timid look in his face as before.

Then it suddenly struck me that of the figures on the street, all had looked alike.

"Tell me," I said, "are there no women now? Are they gone too?"

"Oh, no," answered the Man in Asbestos, "they're here just the same. Some of those are women. Only, you see, everything has been changed now. It all came as part of their great revolt, their desire to be like the men. Had that begun in your time?"

"Only a little." I answered; "they were beginning to ask for votes and equality."

"That's it," said my acquaintance, "I couldn't think of the word. Your women, I believe, were something awful, were they not? Covered with feathers and skins and dazzling colours made of dead things all over them? And they laughed, did they not, and had foolish teeth, and at any moment they could inveigle you into one of those contracts? Ugh!"

He shuddered.

"Asbestos," I said (I knew no other name to call him), as I turned on him in wrath, "Asbestos, do you think that those jelly-bag Equalities out on the street there, with their ash-barrel suits, can be compared for one moment with our unredeemed, unreformed, heaven-created, hobble-skirted women of the twentieth century?"

Then, suddenly, another thought flashed into my mind--

"The children," I said, "where are the children? Are there any?"

"Children," he said, "no! I have never heard of there being any such things for at least a century. Horrible little hobgoblins they must have been! Great big faces, and cried constantly! And grew, did they not? Like funguses! I believe they were longer each year than they had been the last, and--"

I rose.

"Asbestos!" I said, "this, then, is your coming Civilization, your millennium. This dull, dead thing, with the work and the burden gone out of life, and with them all the joy and sweetness of it. For the old struggle mere stagnation, and in place of danger and death, the dull monotony of security and the horror of an unending decay! Give me back," I cried, and I flung wide my arms to the dull air, "the old life of danger and stress, with its hard toil and its bitter chances, and its heartbreaks. I see its value! I know its worth! Give me no rest," I cried aloud--

. . . . . . .

"Yes, but give a rest to the rest of the corridor!" cried an angered voice that broke in upon my exultation.

Suddenly my sleep had gone.

I was back again in the room of my hotel, with the hum of the wicked, busy old world all about me, and loud in my ears the voice of the indignant man across the corridor.

"Quit your blatting, you infernal blatherskite," he was calling. "Come down to earth."

I came.

#The Man in Asbestos #The Man in Asbestos: An Allegory of the Future #Stephen Leacock #Stephen P. H. Butler Leacock #sci fi #Fiction #Nonsense novels #Future #Past

1 note · View note

mercurryblack · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 9: Amaryllis

Meanwhile, down in Mistral City proper...

❃❃❃

Amaryllis wasn’t the formal type.

Practicality had been the byword that Aunt Isabelline had drilled into her head— and more often than not, that word either meant plate armor or a drab tac-suit of Atlesian make. She’d started wearing a ‘combat’ skirt in her third year, but only at the insistence of that Amaranth girl in the year below her, along with the assertion that it wouldn’t impair her mobility. Even still, her range of clothing options as a Huntress-in-training had always been limited, and it left her with comparatively less concern for her personal fashion.

All that being said, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit regal in her current garb.

The colors fit perfectly with the charity’s motif - black and red. It was a simple outfit; a strapless midnight gown with a banded pattern. She had chosen to pair it with her good pair of knee-high boots, and had even gone the extra mile to put on a bit of makeup. Honestly, she didn’t mind styling herself; it was just the feeling of being stared at that she was a tad unnerved about.

Her boyfriend, of course, was the sole exception to this.

“You look amazing tonight, Ammy.” Gently laying a hand on her shoulder, Hector leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. She blushed at the sudden public display of affection.

“Thank you, Hector. You’re quite handsome yourself.” she complimented him.

The young man stood in front of Amaryllis, showing off the black dress suit and scarlet tie he had tailor-made especially for the event. “Say, we’re even matching.”

“Why, don’t you two look cozy?”

An older man in a suit with salt-and-pepper hair abruptly appeared from the crowd in front of them. Amaryllis immediately recognized him as Hector’s father, Miller. He was tailed by a shorter boy— who Amaryllis assumed to be Hector’s younger brother— and the boy’s companion, a girl roughly the same age with flowing white hair.

The boy scrunched up his face and raised an eyebrow as he turned to Hector. “Who’s this pretty woman with you, bruv?”

Miller smiled. “Yes, Hector, aren’t you going to politely introduce me to this stunning young lady you have on your arm?” asked the elder Wulfric, though his focus was on Amaryllis as he spoke to his son.

At those words, time seemed to freeze for Amaryllis.

‘Oh no. Oh no. This is it— this is really it, there’s no way I can back out of this now. What if he doesn’t like me? What if he doesn’t approve of me being a Huntress? What if he thinks I’m showing off too much skin?’ she thought, inwardly starting to panic.

Hector coughed, facing a newfound sense of second-hand nervousness from seeing Ammy’s eyebrows scrunch together in fear. “Uhm, yes. Yes, of course. Father, Kodlak, Mori, this is Amaryllis Armilde. She’s my girlfriend. Amaryllis, this is my father Miller, my little brother Kodlak, and his girlfriend, Mori.”

“H-hello!” Amaryllis said weakly, giving the three of them a small wave as she did her best to put on a pleasant expression, rather than a pained grimace brought on by anxiety. She clutched Hector’s shoulder a bit tighter.

Miller nodded, beaming. “Is that so? Well, Miss Armilde, it’s my true pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh. I knew that Hector was keeping something secret from me…”

Mori didn’t speak a word— but not by choice; the girl had been mute since birth. Instead, she responded with a polite smile and a small curtsy.

Kodlak, meanwhile, froze in place, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as his jaw dropped slack in shock. He had never thought of Hector as someone to have a girlfriend— if he was being honest with himself, the mental image of Hector dying as a bachelor was easier to perceive, compared to the very real one of Hector and the redhead standing beside him. After several seconds, he spoke, “You—I— how— Hec, you have a girlfriend?!”

“Yes. The last time I checked, she was my girlfriend.” Hector managed an aside glance at Amaryllis, whose nerves seemed eased by Kodlak’s comically stupefied response.

Kodlak turned to Amaryllis with a look of suspicion on his face. “Please, Miss, tell me he’s not just paying you to act like his girlfriend? Because I’m warning you now, it’s probably not worth—AWK!” The younger Wulfric yelped as his spiel was cut off by an elbow to the ribs courtesy of an annoyed Mori.

“Give it a rest, Kodlak,” scolded Miller. “Honestly, saying such things right off the bat… you could at least give your big brother a fighting chance.”

Mori rolled her eyes, signing with her hands to Amaryllis. I‘m very sorry about my dum-dum here. I’m sure you and Hector have a wonderful relationship.

Amaryllis responded to the girl with a beatific smile. “It’s all right. I like to think we’ve been going along splendidly these last few months.”

“Well then, now that we’ve all met one another, why don’t we take a seat for a second so I can get to know you better?” Miller suggested, pulling himself up a chair from a small table next to them.

In true gentlemanly fashion, Hector swiftly pulled up a chair for Amaryllis. She whispered a small “thank you” to him under her breath.

Seeing this, Miller couldn’t help but smile to himself. His son hadn’t grown up in the best environment for etiquette, but he and his late wife had still made sure that their sons — the younger two, at the very least — had been raised properly.

Well, it was probably more his wife to thank for doing so, but he liked to think he had a role in it too.

“Please, do tell us a little bit about yourself, Miss Armilde.” he asked.

Amaryllis nodded, pursing her lips as she took a deep breath “Well, I’m a student at Haven, just like Hector, but in the year above. We started dating last semester,” she glanced at Hector and smiled. “I’m in a group called LLAC— uh, spelled ell-ell-ay-cee. My twin sister Lillian’s the team leader. We’re in the group together with our friends Harriet and Cait.”

“Your twin sister is the leader?” Miller responded, momentarily turning to Hector. “Not to be rude, but I’m a little surprised you didn’t go for her first.��

Amaryllis laughed at Miller’s remark. “Oh, no, that wouldn’t have worked out. She doesn’t, erm, swing that way.”

“No worries about that! I understand.” Miller chuckled. “And LLAC… I’ve heard tell of your team. Aren’t you helping with the murder case of those two Huntsmen? I read about it in the morning edition the other day… terrible thing.” he continued, his tone turning solemn.

Amaryllis raised her eyebrows, surprised that Miller was already aware of the event. “Oh, yeah… wow, I guess news travels fast.” she replied. “We’re taking a night off the assistance work today, but I’m not sure that I can really tell you anything besides that.”

Not like there’s much to tell anyway, she thought to herself. Nothing had come up in the day since they had hit a dead end— no leads, no clues, no witnesses.

“That’s alright! Why don’t we make your day off more meaningful and enjoy the night? No more Huntsman talk, just enjoy the event. We have good food, good music, and I’m sure Hector here won’t be afraid to show you a good time.” Miller stood up from his seat and continued, “I’ll have to leave you for now, to attend to some of the other guests, but I must say that it was wonderful meeting you, Miss Armilde.”

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, sir— and you can call me Amaryllis.” she smiled.

“Amaryllis, I hope Hector brings you over again for a much more private family dinner. You are more than welcome in our household.” Miller replied. “After all, knowing my son, I see you might just be a future Wulfric.” he continued, winking jauntily at Hector.

Although Hector felt embarrassed by his dad’s remarks, asking for Amaryllis’ hand in marriage had crossed his mind more than once since they had started dating. He knew it was early into the relationship, but being with her made him feel exactly like how Miller always described falling in love felt like.

Miller patted Kodlak’s shoulder and smiled. “Right then, Kod, I suppose I’d best make small talk with all the politician types. I’ve been hovering over your four for long enough anyway. Enjoy the party!” He gave them a small wave, then turned and walked away into the crowd.

Kodlak, who sat in front of the couple, didn’t respond. Although it felt like his eyes were deceiving him, there was actually a girl sitting beside his brother. A girl that just happened to be his brother’s girlfriend. It was all such a blur to him that he didn’t even notice that he’d had his mouth hanging agape for the past five minutes.

A poke on the shoulder snapped him out of his stupor. Close your mouth already, dum-dum. You’re gonna end up swallowing a fly if you keep it up. Mori signed, tapping the young Wulfric’s chin to close.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, I- How did you do it?” he asked, turning to Hector.

“Do what?” Hector asked.

“You know,” Kodlak said as he rolled his eyes in Amaryllis’ direction, “get her?”

Hector glowered in exasperation at his brother’s question, the joke having already worn itself out. “Damnit, Kodlak, it’s not funny anymo—”

“No, no, I’m serious, I’m serious. I’m not taking the piss, Hec— what led you to her?” Kodlak pressed.

Hector’s brow unknitted as he considered the question. After a moment he replied, “Let’s put it this way. I found that… if you explore more around Mistral and take your mind off of things for a while, you’ll start to see everything in a different way.” he explained. “You never know, maybe someone out there’s just walking around.”

Pausing, he thought a bit further before grinning at Kodlak. “Or maybe, she’s already with you and you just don’t know it yet.”

“…What do you mean?” Kodlak asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Hector’s grin widened a bit. “Maybe Mori’s your destiny, Kod.”

“Meep!” Kodlak squeaked as his cheeks turned a violent shade of red. It was no secret that he’d had feelings for the Primrose girl for quite a while, but he was still at an age where the thought of long-term romance flustered him. Reaching over, he smacked Hector’s arm. “Don’t say that out loud! She’s right here!”

Hector, on the other hand, was having a good time of countering his little brother. After a few years of living with him, the little game of one-upsmanship had become his specialty.

Amaryllis chuckled at the repartee of the two brothers. In a way, she saw herself and Lillian in them - having their trivial arguments, but at the end of the day, still having each other’s backs. Glancing at Mori, she asked, “Are they always like this?”

‘More often than not.’ Mori signed with one hand, grinning amusedly.

“Thought so.”

“Now, Mori, why don’t you go enjoy the ball a bit with your boyfriend here?” Hector said. After all, he had intended to have some alone time to talk with Amaryllis at the ball, but he had yet to manage to shake his little brother loose.

“Hey! I still want to know how you guys came to be!” complained Kodlak.

“Come on, the night’s still young. Go on and party.” shooed Hector.

‘You heard your brother.’ Mori signed, tugging on Kodlak’s sleeve as she got up to stand. ‘Come on and dance already, dum-dum.’

“Okay, fine. It was nice meeting you, Miss Amaryllis! Maybe next time you can come over like Dad said, so I can show you all of Hector’s embarrassing baby photos!” Kodlak waved goodbye as Mori pulled him away into the crowd.

“Sounds great,” Amaryllis laughed. She felt happy that Hector’s family liked her, strangely feeling at home with them. Smiling to herself, she held Hector’s hand tighter.

Once they were alone, Hector let out a sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. “…I’m sorry about that, Am. My family can be such a bunch of bloody jokers sometimes, but they’re great, I swear.”

Amaryllis turned to him, still smiling. “Whatever do you mean? I had a great time talking to them.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah! I’m having a great night so far. Thank you, Hector.”

Hector looked surprised for a moment, before he breathed a sigh of relief and returned her smile. “Well, you’re welcome. I’m glad to hear that you’re enjoying it.”

Pushing back his chair to stand, he continued, “Now, I think I’ve put this off for long enough— might I have this dance, Miss Armilde?” He lowered himself in a slight bow, raising a hand in offering.

Amaryllis stood up from her seat and extended her arm, allowing Hector to take her hand. “You certainly may, Mister Wulfric.”

#team llac #team llac fic #amaryllis armilde #team hail #hector wulfric #kodlak wulfric #miller wulfric #mori primrose #jaguar-knight #fanfic #fan fiction #rwby fan fiction #rwby oc #rwbyoc #rwby

4 notes · View notes

saiilorstars · 4 years ago

Text

Falling in Temptation

Previous chapters || Sequel to Stars Dance

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 11th Doctor/ Female OC

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Ch. 6: Road Trip Down Mystery Lane

Chapter summary: Lena Reynolds receives a letter that's meant for the Doctor. It takes only a short amount of time for the Doctor's companions to suspect if this is how he ends up in Lake Silencio where he is to die in 200 years.

Fairy Tale Memoirs (Companion story)

A/N: Disclaimer: This chapter's plotline is from Doctor Who's comic stories. Most of the dialogue is directly written from the comic. The plot is NOT mine.

Rory stood just by the console's threshold when both Avalon and Amy walked in. He was staring silently at something ahead and when the women followed his gaze, they saw the Doctor and the Sapling sitting by the console conversing.

"What is going on?" Amy asked after hearing a few rambles she couldn't quite keep up with.

"They're just talking," Rory said quietly. "I've been standing here for a good twenty minutes and neither have noticed me."

"Oh God they sound like the same person," Avalon brought a hand to the side of her head.

The Doctor and the Sapling were talking about Gallifrey, from what Avalon managed to hear, and it truly sounded like the Sapling had been on Gallifrey from the way he spoke. But of course that wasn't it. The Sapling held a good portion of the Doctor's memory so naturally he would have memories of the dead planet.

"I've been trying to decide whether or not to go up to them," Rory folded his arms. It sounded like the conversation was nice and he didn't want to interrupt.

"We're going to have to," Amy said with a peculiar sense of certainty. Both Avalon and Rory gave her the same puzzled glances. "I got a call from my Mother. Since she now realizes the Doctor was very real and not a figment of my imagination, she says one of our neighbors has a...problem."

"Problem?" Avalon raised an eyebrow. "What kind of problem?"

"The kind only the Doctor can help out with, I imagine. So, who's going to interrupt them?"

There was a quick exchange of looks before the trio started a competition of 'rock, paper, scissors'.

~ 0 ~

"Kushak?" Amy knocked on the door of her childhood neighbor. "Kushak? It's Amy! My mother said you needed help from, uh..." she looked over her shoulder to where the rest of the group stood. The Doctor, who wore one of his usual grins, wiggled his fingers in a 'hello' manner. Amy sighed and continued to knock. "Kushak?

Eventually, the door opened to reveal a short, olive-skinned man. "Ah, Amy," he looked so relieved when he saw the ginger that the others wondered what kind of problem he had. "You came!"

"Uh, yeah, and I brought the Doctor, along with my friends..." Amy made a languid gesture and really hoped that Kushak wouldn't pay a lot of attention to the Sapling. They couldn't just leave him behind, after all.

But it seemed Kushak didn't care. He practically yanked both Amy and the Doctor into the apartment. Once inside, no one had to ask what Kushak's problem was. They could see it plain as day.

"Are they...are they you?" Avalon rubbed her eyes twice before deciding to believe she was seeing at least a dozen of Kushak's younger versions in his living room.

"They've, um, they've been chased out of their own time periods and I couldn't just turn them away," Kushak explained, and even that made it sound like he was passed fearful and confused. He just wanted help to fix it now.

"Doctor, what do you think is going on?" Rory whispered to the Time Lord who had yet to say anything.

"I...need to pop back into the TARDIS really quick," he said and turned away so quick and was gone in the same speediness.

"What the hell?" Avalon made a gesture asking for anyone else to explain the reason for his behavior. But of course, no one could.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor hopped back into the TARDIS then took it into space and did a quick survey of the situation from the monitor. Very soon he found another problem, a big problem. There were countless Earth planets making a spiral in space as if it were a strand of DNA. "Well, that can't be good," he tweaked his bow-tie and turned back for the door after landing again.

He emerged in a Leadworth street but unlike the last time, it was nowhere near peaceful. There were soldiers shooting strange white lasers at anything in their pathway, including civilians. "Did I overshoot by a few decades?" He was sure that this time, Avalon would kill him...with the help of Amy.

"Doctor!" He heard Rory's voice. Rory was calling from the front yard of Kushak's home, hiding behind the fence along with the others.

"Get over here, you idiot!" came Avalon's chime.

The Doctor thought that was easier said than done. He crossed through the street until Rory yanked him behind the fence were they were huddling. "What's happened!? How long have I been gone!?"

"An hour!" the Sapling answered, though his tone seemed much more chippier than the others.

"An hour!" Avalon scowled.

"Those soldiers came out of nowhere!" Amy said.

"They're who my past selves have all been running from," Kushak explained and had the agreeing nods of all his other younger versions. "Apparently, they've never made it this far before."

"They call themselves 'Sixty-eighters'," one of the younger versions spoke up. "No prizes for guessing where or when they're from, right? They take everything. Up and down the decades they go stealing anything that takes their fancy and killing anyone who gets in their way. And that's what they told me!"

"They told me they started with the seventies and when they'd picked that decade clean they moved on," went another younger version.

"So they're basically intergalactic thieves," Rory shook his head. "Nothing we haven't met already."

"Alright, we need to get back into the TARDIS so we can fix this!" the Doctor poked his head over the fence and saw the chaos had yet to diminish. "We're just going to have to make a run for it. All past-Kushaks, get back into the house, alright? Present Kushak, just follow us. Ready?"

"NO!" went the others in a collective unison.

"That's the spirit! C'mon!" the Doctor made the gesture for them to follow him as he led the way into the street.

"I really hate him sometimes," Avalon groaned as she got up to follow. She grabbed the Sapling's arm and pulled him with her. He had yet to figure out how most of their trips went and she didn't want him to get stuck in a dangerous crossfire like this one.

"Okay Doctor, it's time to explain what the hell is going on," Amy warned the Doctor once they had safely gotten off the planet.

"Right..." he rubbed his hands together and turned to face the group, "Terran geometry won't really do it justice - unless I use dolphin geometry..."

'Dolphin geometry?' Avalon repeated in the most comical, confused manner. "Doctor, I know I say this a lot but this time I really do need the answer: what the hell are you talking about?"

"You're right, sorry. Let's try this way: the planet's turned into a four dimensional circular generalized helcoid."

Avalon, and everyone else, stared at him with blank faces.

"Are you saying the planet's gone squiggly?" Kushak asked after witnessing the countless Earths from the monitor.

"See, that we understand," Avalon pointed at the man.

"Plenty of wibbly-wobbly not so timey-wimey," the Doctor flapped his hands on each side.

"Wibbly-wobbley, timey-wimey!" the Sapling cheerfully repeated. "You used to say that a lot, huh?" The Doctor nodded with a small smile on his face.

"So time...has become space...?" Rory wanted to wrap his mind around the situation to better get the concept the danger they were facing. "And Kushak's past selves really just...walked into his house?"

"Yes," the Doctor nodded.

"Should we go get my past selves, then?" asked Kushak, pointing a finger at the doors.

"Nope! Sixty-eighters right? Those men had guns from space and the future, which is a hell of a combination. I have a feeling we can fix all of this with a visit to the swinging sixties."

But just as he was about to take control of the console, something else seemed to do it. A green glow bathed the console and suddenly, the TARDIS jettisoned itself and threw everyone to the ground.

"No! No!" the Doctor was quick to get back on his feet and ran for the console that seemed to be getting farther and farther from them.

"What's happening now!?" Amy picked herself up and was accidentally pushed by the Sapling as he chased after the Doctor and the console.

"We are running!" He cried happily.

"You know-" Amy looked at Avalon with a pointed expression, "-I know he's not biologically yours, but he does act like you."

Avalon rolled her eyes. "Shut up." It was far too weird accepting - and processing - that there was a small creature literally calling her 'Mother' all the time. He actually believed that she was his mother, and he was right. Technically, he was her son. She shuddered. She had a son. Her face went entirely red each time she remembered that she technically had a son with the Doctor. That was just too much.

The Sapling had extended his branch-like arms and successfully reached for the console. He put in the right sequence to get the controls back in place.

"Well done, Sapling!" the Doctor gave him a good hug before going to the console.

"I have postponed our certain doom!" the Sapling raised its extended arms into the air.

"You sure have," Rory gave him a side hug and laughed.

"The TARDIS' time circuits are extremely well insulated, so I thought we'd be immune from whatever this force is," the Doctor went around the console, his fingers dancing over the controls, "I guess I was wrong. How embarrassing."

"Why? You've been wrong plenty of times," Avalon came up beside him, flashing him a smirk that widened when he frowned.

"Shut up," he pointed at her, though he quickly pulled it away after Avalon made a move to bite him. She needed to stop doing that because one day he might not be that fast and she would actually bite his fingers.

"Something tried to siphon time from the TARDIS just like it did from the Earth," the Sapling moved up to the Doctor's other side.

"Like petrol from an engine, yes."

"Then we must return to the safety of the 21st century immediately."

"Yeah, somehow that doesn't like a good idea to me," Amy said, willing them to remember the chaos they left behind.

"Don't have much of a choice, Pond - hold on!" the Doctor grinned and pulled down the lever to return them to Leadworth. It was an even more bumpier ride than usual. The TARDIS ricocheted off the buildings until it came to a complete stop on a sidewalk. "Looks like we'll just have to visit the sixty-eighters the old fashioned way," the Doctor stepped out first into a much calmer night street.

"You want us to walk to 1968?" Avalon wondered if he had truly lost it now.

The Doctor stuck his finger into his mouth then raised it into the air. "It should take us about three and a half weeks."

"This is really happening?" Kushak had the same expression as Avalon.

"Yup! Better pack the travel kettle!" the Doctor grinned like he was talking about a casual trip.

"Doctor, shouldn't we go get the other Kushaks?" Rory asked since he assumed they were pretty important to the situation.

"Oh, damn," the Doctor scrunched his face. "Stupid, old man!"

"Um...I don't think that'll be a problem," Amy tugged on his arm and pointed a finger at a double-decker red bus driving towards them. The past selves of Kushak had gathered together and somehow acquired the bus.

"Success!" the Sapling said, prompting the Doctor to repeat the statement a second later.

"Roll up for the Mystery Tour!" One of the versions was riding on the outside and waved an arm for the group to go. "Found this parked up in the depo when the sixty-eighters attacked! We're headed for the twenty-thirties. Are you cats coming, or what?"

Well, there weren't many options so...this would have to do.

~ 0 ~

Four days.

It had been four long, excruciating days of nonstop travelling by bus. As it turned out, due to the time and space mishap, it was possible to drive through time. It was very boring.

"Alright, let's make a stop here," the Doctor rose from his seat. "Ponds! Ava! Take a break and stretch your legs!"

Amy and Rory rose from their seats, happy to leave the chattery bus even for five minutes. The Doctor then made his way down the seats until he came to Avalon's seat. She had the Sapling on her lap, fast asleep like her. Her head was leaned against the window.

"Ava?" the Doctor leaned over to gently shake her arm. "Ava, time to wake up. You need to take a break." The Sapling woke first, ironically, and as he started sitting up Avalon blinked awake.

"Are we there yet?" They both asked.

The Doctor smiled and shook his head. "Not yet. We're in 1985."

Avalon groaned and let her head hit the window again. "I hate road trips."

Suddenly, something red splatted against the window. Avalon's head flinched away with wide eyes. "Are those rotten tomatoes!?"

"You can't stop here!"

"Go back!"

"What's going on?" The Sapling pressed his face against the window for a few seconds before Avalon pulled him back.

Some of the Kushaks, along with Amy and Rory, had climbed off the bus to see the trouble. When Avalon, the Doctor and the Sapling followed, they saw several people yelling at them to go back to their own time.

"Eighty-five for the eighty-fivers!" Some of them collectively shouted.

"Are they for real?" Amy looked back at the trio. She'd seen a lot of insane stuff but this has to be in the top five.

"Enough!" the Doctor yelled over the protesters. "STOP! Look at yourselves! Look at what you've allowed your fear to turn into!" the protesters, now silent, exchanged glances amongst each other. "I have watched this nasty, gray pageant unfolding more worlds than I can count. And it always ends the same way. It ends with children cowering in rank hiding places, too frightened to breath. It ends in old men flinching at any sound louder than a twig snapping. It ends in an ocean of shame. Are you ready for that?" the Doctor ignored the fearful looks of his friends as he walked up to the protesters. "You lot have breathtaking potential and goodness knows you make me smile. But sometimes... sometimes you can be a hard species to love. Go home, all of you! Now!"

There was a moment of pure silence in the street as everyone - everyone - looked at each other.

The Doctor visibly relaxed once the protesters began to disperse. Major disaster well avoided. He turned to his fitness who were wearing almost identical smiles. "It's weird how you all do that," his finger moved between Avalon, Amy and Rory.

"Well done," Amy gave a mock clap that made the Doctor roll his eyes.

"We should probably be on our way. Better to make a stop somewhere else." He led the way back into the bus.

"Doctor, look who we found!" One of the 90s Kushak called as two more versions walked into the bus behind them. One of versions was an entirely new Kushak who was dressed like a cop.

"Isn't his ponytail great?" laughed the other Kushak.

"Hm, another Kushak," the Doctor seemed surprise as he grabbed the cop-Kushak by the shoulders. Without warning, he opened the man's hand. "Interesting! Very interesting!"

"Doctor, please take your hand out of the man's mouth," Avalon sighed. "And don't you-" she pointed a finger at the Sapling beside her, "-go doing that. We don't do that."

The Doctor grabbed his sonic and examined cop-Kushak from head to toe. "Of course when I said 'interesting' I really meant dire."

"Dire?" Rory caught on fast. He leaned forwards as he asked, "How can this be more dire!?"

As if to answer the question, a blinding light emerged within the bus. It was the same thing that occurred with the TARDIS console getting farther away from them. The bus seats seemed to be in warp speed along with the Kushaks sitting on them. It lasted for a few seconds but it was the craziest few seconds they'd felt.

"Is everyone okay?" the Doctor struggled to stay on his feet after the rumble.

"I feel...edited, mother," the Sapling leaned on Avalon's side, one hand rubbing the side of his head, "My deck has been shuffled."

"Same," she clutched her head. Everything was spinning in her eyes.

"Hey Doctor, are you okay?" Amy noticed the Time Lord was taking a bit longer to come back.

"Yes, yes," he answered but his face was still scrunched in pain. "Whatever's waiting for us in 1968 is still siphoning Time from surroundings areas. Whatever it is, it's never full." He took in a deep breath and finally straightened himself up, though he still kept a hand over the top of a seat's rail. "More and more Time is being converted into space, which means more past and future versions of people and places are being generated all the time."

"Question I'm assuming has a bad answer, but…" Rory raised a finger in the air, "What exactly happens when all of Time has been siphoned?"

"All motions stop. Change becomes impossible."

"I've got another question," Avalon raised her hand almost like Rory had, "Why haven't we met any past selves of ourselves?"

"Because we were off the planet when this happened." The Doctor planted himself in one of the seats and put his hands together on his lap. "You know what? I bet you breakfast on the Titanic there's a space parasite at the bottom of all this. It's always a space parasite."

"Hey, Doctor!" one of the Kushak's called. "You need to hear this!" he grabbed the cop-Kushak they'd just picked up. "Tell them what you just told me!"

"I've been to 1968! I got lost in the smoke. The whole year's sealed off by the biggest wall I've ever seen! The thing looks pretty much impregnable."

"But not impossible," Avalon started smirking, leading the others to wonder what she was thinking about. "I live to smash things — I actually broke into a house one time with Mels."

"Don't be proud of that," Rory pointed a quick finger at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Anyways, I was thinking we use our little Time situation to our advantage. If he's right—" she pointed at the Doctor, "—and we're getting more and more Kushaks along the way, why don't we make an army to break the wall?"

"I hate armies," the Time Lord scowled as he rose from his seat.

"Yes, but it's not the type of army you hate. I just mean we use all our numbers to smash that wall down."

"She's got a point," Amy said, leaning closer to Avalon. "We can get power tools and pretty much anything we could use to smash the wall."

"So we're just going to pick up more Kushaks until we get to 1968?" asked Rory.

"Aha!" Avalon grinned.

"Yeah, I guess we are," the Doctor shrugged. It seemed pretty logical and it wasn't at all the army he thought of.

And so, the rest of the trip was done quicker as it made more stops to pick up any Kushak that crossed their path. Each stop they also acquired more power tools to build up their muscle.

Until they finally reached the year where a huge, gray wall stood. Several double-decker buses pulled up to let the massive army of Kushak's selves.

"Am I crazy or can I hear Jimi Hendrix?" asked one of the versions as they gathered in front of the wall.

"I think I do hear some music," Avalon put a hand behind her ear, but the sounds were garbled with the louder electricity crackling at the top of the building. They were pretty determined to keep everything out, whoever was on the other side.

"Alright everybody," the Doctor stood in front of the army. "What's the first rule for dealing with bullies?"

"We beat them up before they beat us up?" Avalon was the first, and fastest, to respond. The Doctor shook his head at her. "What? We're not supposed to do that?"

"Oh for the love of — everybody!" Amy raised her axe in the air. "Smash the thing down!"

"YEAH!"

Everybody ran towards the wall and smashed it with all their might, but it only did so much. After half an hour, some of the Kushaks were beginning to get discouraged.

"It's not...working!" Rory took in a deep breath after one particular heavy smash.

"Yes, I know," the Doctor stepped back and pulled out his sonic. He tapped it against his chin as he wondered what more they could to do apply the right pressure against the wall. "Oh," he blinked and suddenly looked at his sonic. "I can calculate the natural vibrational frequency of the wall…"

"You couldn't have done this half an hour ago?" Avalon scowled at him, her hands gripping her own axe.

"I didn't think of it," he admitted in embarrassment. "Alright everybody, stand back!" he took aim on the wall with the sonic and in two minutes flat there was an explosion in the wall.

"Hey! Uncool!" someone from the other side yelled, "This is a private be-in, man!"

On the other side of the wall there seemed to be a party going on. A wicked party. People were dancing to the blaring music. The wall, from their side, were decorated with peace signs and other colorful pictures.

"1968 is a party!?" Avalon shrieked. "And we weren't invited!?"

"I don't think you're focusing on the right part, Ava," Rory came to stand beside her.

An older man with long hair swayed towards the group with a high-tech gun in his hand. "You guys look cosmic. Ordinarily I'd approve but I think I'm probably going to have to kill you quite soon. Sorry."

"Apology not accepted," scowled Amy who, like the others, had to put their hands up.

"That is Jimi Hendrix," Rory was looking at the very front of the party where a grand stage stood. A man - a very tired looking man - was sitting on a stool playing guitar.

The long-haired man nodded his head. "Yeah, man. His 50th set this month!"

"He doesn't sound very enthusiastic to me," Avalon listened to the strained voice of the musician. It sounded like he was close to falling apart. "Of course if you made me sing 50 sets in a row, I'd be ready to lose it too."

"I'm so confused right now," the Sapling admitted and looked at the Doctor for some help. "What's going on?"

"It's quite obvious my dear Sapling," the Doctor glared at the party crowd. "They're having a party that never has to end. And they're stealing from the future to pay for it."

The long-haired man pressed his gun to the Doctor's forehead, seeming angry for the poor description of their event. "We're not stealing anything, man! Everything we've retaken proceeds from this moment! Without us, you wouldn't have your wafer-thin TVs or your future phones. We birthed your world!"

"Oh, what a load of crap," Avalon rolled her eyes. "You didn't birth our world."

"Ava, let's not be so mean to the man holding a plasma weapon on me," the Doctor gently stepped away to be free of the metal on his forehead. "Where did you get that, by the way?" he asked the long-haired man.

"From the Wayfarer," the long-haired man pointed to a large, double set red doors opening up beside the stage.

"Two heartssssss," something hissed as tentacles started poking through the opening doors. "You reeeek of tiiiiiime."

A large tentacled creature emerged, resembling an octopus except that where the body should be was just one long neck with a lone eyeball at the top.

While everyone stepped back in fear, the Doctor took a step forwards and tweaked his bow-tie with a smile. "Well, thank you for noticing. Dab or two behind the ears before an adventure, you know."

"Bring meeee your box of deliciousssss tiiiime!"

"Doctor...what are we supposed to do...?" Avalon took another step back as the creature seemed to advance towards them.

"For the moment, let me talk," he mumbled before addressing the creature. "So, what are you supposed to be? You're too...tentacle-y for a Chronovore but time's clearly your snack of choice. The whole spatial conversion thing's a new one on me, by the way."

"I come frooooom the ssssstock of ssssstill outside. The Nunc-stans. Nnnno tick, tock, tick, tock. No chaaaaaange, no grooooowth."

"I see," the Doctor raised his head to face the eyeball looking down on him. "So you're from a timeless dimension where growth and change is impossible. You got your feed under the table of a nice, cozy decade and bribed the inhabitants with cheap alien weapons and even a cheaper party without end. I'm trying to decide which species I'm most angry with here."

"How about the alien that's manipulating humans?" Amy muttered.

"Enough!" snapped the Nunc-stan. "Bring meeee your boxxxxx of time!"

"Can't do that, I'm afraid," the Doctor wagged a finger. "And stop calling my TARDIS 'box of time' will you? She's so much more than that!"

The Nunc-stan dismissed him and instead picked him up with one tentacle. It gathered up Avalon, Amy and Rory with its other tentacles.

"Mother! Father!" the Sapling cried as the Nunc-stan dragged them in the air.

"She's my old and dearest companion!" the Doctor was arguing and perhaps caught a bug in his mouth during one go in the air. "She's a sanctuary - ah! - for the hounded and the wear! She's our home! And not to mention she's decades away from you so forget it!"

"Then what neeeeeed do I haaaaave for you!?"

"It's going to splat us like pancakes!" Avalon cried in horror. Her messy curls were covering most of her face.

"Home...?" The Sapling repeated. He hadn't lived in the TARDIS very long - well, he hadn't lived for a long time in general - but the TARDIS was a fun place so far. He always had long conversations with the Doctor about Gallifrey, and he had a lot of fun watching classic movies with Avalon. He was trying to learn how to heal like Rory did and Amy taught him more vocabulary than just repeating everything he heard. It was home.

"Hey...what's wrong with this thing?" The long-haired man noticed the Sapling's shoulders beginning to grow spikes. Even the top of his head was growing spikes too, and long ones.

"Home protected!" The Sapling growled. His feet took root on the ground and suddenly he soared in the air like a long tree, only this tree had a scary face. "Home protected!" It grew higher and higher, way over the Nunc-stan and seized several of the party goers as well as some of the Kushaks.

"Two heartssssss!" the Nunc-stan seemed to cry in pain as the Sapling's branch tentacle wrapped around its body. "Your creature issss killing meeee!" It was forced to let go of the travelers.

"You say feed on time, but know that's not true. Not really," the Doctor had gotten up fast from the ground. "Fear of change! That's what you really feed on! I know you used trans-dimensional tech to get here, so I suggest you hop it before my friend crushes you!"

The Nunc-stan wrapped its own tentacles around itself, pushing and forcing the Sapling to let him go. Gradually, it disappeared into nothing and that was fast.

"No! No! It's leaving!" the long-haired man cried. "Please don't leave us!"

But it was too late.

"Doctor, what are we going to do about the Sapling?" Avalon looked up at the high tree that'd become completely still. "Is he...is he dead?" Her voice had cracked. Oh God, what a 'mother' she was if she let the Sapling die.

The Doctor turned to see her anguished gaze on the tree. "I don't think so," he walked over and turned his attention to the roots. "Here, let's start digging."

Between them and Amy and Rory - since the Kushaks were busy dispersing the rest of the ninteen sixty-eighters - they pulled branches apart until...way at the bottom...

"C'mon Sapling," the Doctor shook off his coat and dug even harder. "This happened in a temporal anomaly so soon it'll be like it never happened. C'mon!"

And then, after one more pull, they found the Sapling tucked inside safe and sound.

"Oh thank God," Avalon visibly exhaled with relief. The Doctor reached inside and pulled the Sapling out.

"Is he alright?" Amy asked as they stood up together.

"Think so," the Doctor examined as best he could with the Sapling in his arms. He seemed sleepy but that was pretty much it. "You and I need to have a serious chat once we're on our way, young man."

The Sapling seemed to be holding onto something and when he uncurled his hand he held the Doctor's sonic screwdriver. His roots had picked it up after the Doctor had been taken into the air. "I...I broke your sonic screwdriver. Am I in trouble?"

The Doctor had a light smile on his face. "Don't worry about it."

~ 0 ~

After returning to the TARDIS - which was a much shorter trip since they had been transported back to 2011 with time being restored - the present-day Kushak was returned home. The Doctor explained he wouldn't be remembering anything since everything that happened was an anomaly. It was a huge relief being able to go home and leaving behind a safe Earth once again.

"We're going to have to work on controlling our powers," the Doctor sat beside the Sapling on the console stairs. The latter seemed very guilty over what happened earlier. He hadn't looked up from the ground ever since he'd awoken completely. "I know it's difficult, mostly because we don't really know what kind of powers you have, but...we can make an effort."

"I am very sorry, father," the Sapling said in a low voice. "I have learned from your example, primarily. Mother has not faced the dangers you have. I take after what you did during the War of Time, the terrible sacrifices you made..."

The Doctor scrunched his face. Of all the times to look at, of course the Sapling would zone in on that time.

"Is that why you went all killer-tree, then?" Avalon's voice pulled the Doctor from his thoughts.

As soon as he saw her coming around the console, he felt terrible. She knew everything about the Time War but he didn't want her to keep getting more and more stories of that awful time.

Avalon came up to the two and set her hands on her hips, her gaze landing on the Sapling who'd raised his head for the first time. "You did all that because you saw that's what the Doctor did back then?"

The Sapling nodded his head and the Doctor's shoulders slumped. Now he looked like the guilty one.

"Okay," Avalon drew in a breath before speaking again, "We appreciate what you did, Sapling, but...you can't go doing that willy-nilly. The Doctor's right. We have to control your powers somehow and I doubt creating that whole tree-thing was a good idea right now."

"I will try my hardest, mother, I promise," the Sapling offered one small smile, still fearful that his parents might still be upset with him.

"And you-" Avalon bent down in front of the Doctor, startling the man with her sudden proximity to his face, "-mister, I don't want to see that guilty face."

"What-"

"-soon as you hear 'Time War' you always do the same thing: you become guilty. You heard what the Sapling meant. He drew from the sacrifices you made during that war, not the fights you took part in."

"Ava-"

"-sorry, but that's what he said. So no guilty face." She straightened on her feet and put on a smile. "Now that we've got business out of the way, how's about we do another movie marathon?"

The Sapling jumped at the chance for a movie marathon. "Yes! I love all the movies you've shown me, mother! What are we watching tonight?"

"I don't know, maybe we can let the Doctor choose this time," Avalon held a hand for the Doctor to take since he had yet to say anything. "C'mon, Fairy Tale Man. Don't leave us hanging."

The Doctor glanced at the Sapling and saw the absolute excitement radiating from his childlike face. Avalon was also giving him one of her charming smiles. He couldn't say 'no' to either of them. He took Avalon's hand and just gave in - the story of his life.

#ocappreciation #doctor who #11th doctor #doctor who fics #11th doctor fics #doctor who imagines #11th doctor imagines #dw imagine #dw fics #oc: Avalon Reynolds #oc: Lena Reynolds #fic: falling in temptation

11 notes · View notes