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babybluebex · 4 years ago

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good doctor kreizler ch. 2: book of revelations

summary ↠ sequel to good doctor kreizler // the case of the murdered boys continues, and you're suddenly overcome with terrible emotions for seemingly no reason. but laszlo knows why. pairing ↠ laszlo kreizler x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 3.3k warnings ↠ explicit language, mentions of menstruation, nausea, and pregnancy, descriptions of violence against children (yknow how the alienist works lmao) a/n ↠ enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!

You sighed heavily and pressed your palm to your diaphragm. Your corset was causing more discomfort than usual, but you could look past it. There were deeds that needed to be done. You stood up from your chair and moved to the telephone on the wall, and you caught the side-long glance that an officer gave you. Perhaps it was some sort of confidence that being with Laszlo gave you, but you found yourself saying, “Can I help you, sir?”

“D’ya need help with that telephone?” the man asked, puffing at a cigarette. The smell of it made you feel ill, especially the way he blew it nearly directly at you. “It can be awfully difficult for a lady.”

You gave him a plantative smile, and you said, “I can manage. Thank you, though.”

“You sure?” he asked. “Because I’d be more than happy to oblige you.”

“Really,” you said, taking up the end of the telephone. “I can do it.”

The man took a step closer, and he placed a hand on your waist. “You think, because you work for the police, you can be a bitch?” he hissed. “If a gentleman offers you help, you take it.”

The door to the room swung open, and you turned to see your lover there, wearing your favorite emerald-green suit and black coat. Laszlo was a gift from the gods, for sure. He made sure you knew that you were worthy of what you were given in the world, and he strived to give you more. Every time he presented you with a new dress or necklace, you always kissed him to show your gratitude, but reminded him that such gifts were not necessary. “You’re the only thing I ask for,” you would remind him. You knew that the thought of it troubled the good doctor, that he was worried that he wasn’t enough, but, every night, you kissed his shoulder and arm and assured him that he was more than what you deserved. You trusted Laszlo with your body, soul, mind, and heart, and he did the same of you.

Which is why you were thankful for the little fibs he would tell every so often to save face. “I would greatly appreciate it if you removed your hand from my wife,” Laszlo said firmly, his accent stronger than usual; his German gravel was intimidating to those who only knew him from stories in the newspaper. “New York’s finest and all…”

The officer took a step back from you, and Laszlo moved closer to you. “What do I owe this visit, sweetheart?” you asked, pressing your hands to his chest. Laszlo bent down and swiped his lips along your cheek, and you felt yourself grow warm at his unusual display of public affection.

“You left a file at home,” Laszlo said. “I remember you talking about transcribing it.”

You cooed softly, and Laszlo reached into his coat and extracted the file folder for you. “You’re so good,” you told him. “What can I do to repay you? I’m sure I’m making you late to the Institute.”

Laszlo tilted his head as he thought, and he put his hand on your waist, right where the officer had put his. Laszlo was hardly a jealous man, but the moments where his mood matched his suit made you giggle. He was a world-renowned alienist, but he was truly just a teenage boy in mind and matter. “Let me take you to dinner tonight,” Laszlo said, and you groaned. “And the opera. Please, my beloved, just one night.”

“Las, I told you, I don’t like when you spend your money on me,” you grumbled. “Just, please. I’m perfectly happy taking dinner at home. In fact, I prefer it more!”

“More than Delmonico’s?” Laszlo asked. “What if I invited John and Sara and the Isaacsons?”

“No, Laszlo,” you giggled, and you pressed your thumb into the little dimple in his chin. “The problem certainly will not be solved by adding more people. Can we just stay home tonight and listen to an opera on the gramophone? We’ve both been working very hard lately, I’d just like a simple night with you.”

“A simple night,” Laszlo said softly, pulling the words around in his mouth. “My beloved, I am not a simple man.”

“Boy, that’s the truth,” you chuckled, and you moved from his grip to return to your desk. “Maybe next week, we can go to the opera. Alright?”

Laszlo chuckled lightly, and he tugged you close and laid a kiss on your forehead. “Whatever you’d like, my beloved,” he told you. “When can I expect you at the Institute?”

You pulled Laszlo’s left arm up to your face and looked at his watch, ticking away at half noon, and you said, “Around three or so. Would you mind having some tea ready for when I get there? I’m feeling plain awful today.”

“What’s wrong?” Laszlo asked, and you smiled at the sudden emergence of Dr. Kreizler. While his degree wasn’t exactly in physical medicine, he always liked to be the first to examine you for maladies if they arose.

“Oh, nothing,” you sighed, waving your hand dismissively. “Just a bit of a stomach ache. I assume it’s nearing that time of the month for me, Las, you know how I get.”

“Of course,” Laszlo said softly. “You know, you could have just told me that’s why you didn’t want to eat at Delmonico’s tonight.”

You looked around quickly, finding the small space empty void for you and your lover, and you carefully took the furred lapel of Laszlo’s coat between your fingers and tugged him close, close enough for you to smell the lavender pastile that he liked so much. “Truly, my reason was more than that,” you whispered. “I wanted you to ravage me tonight, for as long as we both can bear.”

You almost missed the way that Laszlo’s breath hitched in his throat, but you were glad you noticed it. “It is getting to be that time, isn’t it?” he said carefully. “Increase in libido is a common side effect of menstruation.”

You hummed softly and pressed your fingers to his cheek. “I love it when you talk like that,” you said. “You’re so wonderfully smart, Las, I wish you wouldn’t be ashamed to show it.”

“I’m not,” Laszlo said. “You just choose to ignore my intelligence.”

“Now, why in the world would I do that?” you laughed. “You ought to be getting to the Institute. I’ll see you shortly.”

Laszlo gave you a warm smile and kissed your cheek, and you felt yourself shiver at his lips. God, you could hardly believe how much you loved him. You felt your stomach flutter, and you heaved a sigh. “I love you,” Laszlo said softly, and he brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll see you soon, my beloved.”

You fixed your jaw and swallowed down the ungodly feeling in your throat. Something was wrong, you could tell. The usual air of the parlor was not there, the cheerful if slightly remorseful lightness. Instead, the parlor was overtaken with a heady sadness that completely outweighed the macabre curiosity.

“Laslzo,” you said quickly, dropping your briefcase by the table, and you joined your lover at the window. He was smoking his pipe, something you had only ever seen him do a handful of times before, and you immediately ran your hand soothingly down his back. “What’s happened?”

“Another body,” Laszlo mumbled. “Another child.”

You bristled. “But-But I thought we had figured it out? The murderer followed Catholic holy days?”

“That was a suitable theory at the time,” Laszlo said. His gaze was fixed to the outside world through the murky glass, and you looked around the room. John was sitting at the long table, absently sketching something, and Sara was studying the chalkboard that was covered in Laszlo’s neat script. “But he’s gone off schedule, and we might as well be back where we started.”

“Not really,” you said softly. “I mean, so he jumped ahead a few days. If the body bears the same marks, if the victim is the same as the others, I don’t see why a change in date--”

“Of course you don’t,” Laszlo scoffed, and he stepped away from you.

You were stunned silent, and you watched Laszlo move back to the table with the heaps of paperwork. “What does that mean?” you asked.

“You’re not looking at the entire picture,” Laszlo said sharply. “You’re only focused on the way he changed the date, not the why. Why did he change his schedule, why is there another body weeks ahead of the next holy day? Now we have to be concerned if it’s even the same murderer. Is it a copycat murderer that hasn’t pinned down the schedule as we have? There are many moving parts to this that you don’t seem to comprehend.”

“Las, I do see that,” you countered. The way he doubted you stung your chest, but that was Laszlo. When he was angry, he lashed out. You had come to accept him, even if the words he said truly hurt. You saw Sara turn to look at you, a hint of pity in her blue eyes, and you sighed. “Look, do we have records of the new victim’s body? Perhaps that will give us insight.”

“Yes,” John said quickly, not even giving Laslzo a chance to answer and cut your feelings even deeper. Why had his admonitions hurt so much more than usual? You were afraid that, if he spoke to you like that again, you would start crying. And then they would be right, everybody would be right: a woman was too delicate to handle crimes like this. “I visited the morgue as soon as I heard. I sketched what I could manage, and took notes of everything else.”

You moved around to join John at the other side of the table, choosing to ignore Laszlo. You could feel his eyes follow you as you bent towards John to look at his sketches, and your eyes followed the charcoal lines of a young boy. Like the others, his eyes were plucked out, his throat slit, and his hand cut off, but a few errant marks on the boy’s stomach made you tilt your head. “What’s this?” you asked, gently tracing the lines with your finger. Soot of the charcoal came off on your fingertip, but you paid little attention to it.

“Our murderer made gashes in the boy’s stomach,” John said. “This one--” he pointed to a particular line, “Was deep enough to view the intestines. Four in total, but they don’t seem to follow a pattern.”

“Everything follows a pattern, John,” Laszlo said quickly. “We just haven’t found it yet.”

“Four…” you mumbled. “And this sketch is accurate to scale?” John nodded, and your eyes studied it for a moment longer. Four of them, two of them a bit shorter than the others. Those two were situated at the bottom of the boy’s belly, right where the V of his hip bones would be, and the one of them was at the top, just under his breastbone. The fourth, the biggest, longest, deepest, was straight down the middle, bisecting the boy’s navel.

Your vision became blurred. Your breath came in gasps, and you felt dizzy. A terrible sickness crawled up your throat, and you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to stop the flow of vomit. Vomit. You never vomited, not even when you had viewed past victims’ bodies in person. The smell of corpses wasn’t even enough to make you ill, but your heart quickened when you cast another glance to the sketch.

You fell into a chair besides John, and you gasped, “I think I’m gonna be sick--”

Sara came to clutch your hand in an instant, and John hurried to hide the sketch. “Las,” you mumbled. “Can you get me some water, sweetheart?”

“I’d rather stay here with you,” Laszlo said quickly. Your other hand was filled by his, and you cast a glance upwards at him. Now, instead of the tepid malice that he had had in his eyes, he had complete worry.

“I’ll get you some water,” John said. “Laszlo, watch over her. I’ll be back.”

“What happened?” Sara asked. “You started to sway and turned a ghostly pale. Did you see something?”

“J-Just those gashes,” you mumbled. “They-They looked like scars my mother had.”

“Scars?” Laszlo asked. “What do you mean?”

You sniffled, and took your hands from both grasps to wring in your lap. “I was born via Cesarean section,” you said. “M-My mother had been sick and fragile since before she was pregnant with me, and her doctor advised against natural childbirth. She had a scar right down the middle of her stomach in the same fashion as the body… A-And, when I was still in school, a doctor found a series of tumors in her ovaries. It had spread through the rest of her, but the doctor tried to combat it by removing the original tumors, and… The scars on his waist match the ones my mother had. I-I just-- Why would the murderer give this poor boy a woman’s scars?”

Laszlo bristled at this. You hardly ever mentioned your family, or him his, and he knelt down in front of you. “There’s something more than that,” he said softly. “My beloved, please speak to me. What’s troubling you?”

You chewed your bottom lip, and you gave a gasp as you tried to steady your breathing. “Sara,” you mumbled. “Can you give us a moment?”

Sara squeezed your hand and nodded, and she quickly excused herself. You waited until the door closed fully before sobbing and leaning forward to rest your head against your knees. “I’m sorry, Las,” you mumbled. “I-I just-- I can’t bear the sight of that today. I’ve felt ill all day, and now all of this, it’s far too much for me right now.”

You had nearly forgotten that you had requested tea earlier in the day, and you watched Laszlo rise from his knee and retrieve the tea cup. He quickly took note of your quivering hands, and he lifted the porcelain tea cup to your mouth. You sipped at it, hoping that it might soothe you, and you wiped your tears from your cheeks. “Laszlo, what’s wrong with me?” you sniffled. “I-I’ve never done this before, why now?”

“You already said that you feel ill,” Laszlo said carefully. “Maybe the sight of the body and the state of it was a shock to your system. Has the nausea passed?”

You shook your head quickly. The ugly feeling of it still sat in the very back of your throat, and you reached out for him. Laszlo set the tea cup aside and came to you, and you buried your face in his stomach from where you sat. Your arms circled his waist and you held him tightly, and you keened up into his hand as he began to stroke your hair.

Suddenly, Laszlo began to move with quickness, pulling you to your feet. You hardly had time to ask what he was doing before his fingers began to undo the back of your blouse. “Laszlo!” you cried. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Trust me, my beloved,” Laszlo said quickly. With his one arm tight to his body, he pulled your blouse off of you, then started at your corset. That sick feeling back came, and you reached forward and braced yourself against the table. Your head hung as you tried to control your nausea, and you whimpered, “Laszlo, what is this?”

Your lover gave a growl, one of deep frustration, and he grabbed your corset by the bottom hem and shoved it down your body, past your waist, to expose your breasts and stomach. You couldn’t help but sigh at the release of pressure on your middle, and Laszlo turned you around to see your bare skin. He knelt down in front of you and pressed his forehead against your stomach, and you watched him close his eyes and take a deep breath. You hardly understood what he was doing, but, if the half year courting him was any indication, he knew what was best. “When was the last time you menstruated?” Laszlo asked, next pressing his cheek to your bare stomach.

Your hand instinctively went to cradle his cheek, and you shrugged. “Several months ago,” you said. “I… They come and go, I suppose. Is that normal?”

“And your breasts?” Laszlo asked next, and you grimaced.

“What’re you getting at?” you asked.

“My beloved,” Laszlo said carefully, and he looked up at you from his place on the floor. His dark eyes were glistening with tears, and your heart sank and adrenaline rushed bitterly into your mouth.

“Stop,” you whispered. “Laszlo, no, I-I’m not-- I can’t be--”

“I think you are, beloved,” Laszlo said. He stood up and shucked off his suit jacket, and he laid it across your shoulders to hide your body from the cold room. “I think that you’re pregnant, my beloved. That would explain every malady you have: the aches, the irritability, the nausea, the delicateness, the increase in libido. Pregnancy offers an explanation for all of these.”

Your eyes filled with tears again, but a smile came with them. “You…” you started, and you sent a weak punch to Laszlo’s firm chest. “You absolute bastard!”

Laszlo laughed and tugged you into him, and you hugged him tightly. Laszlo, your wonderful Las, the father of your child. “Oh, my beloved,” he sighed, kissing the side of your head. “How did I not see it before?”

“Men can tend to be blind to such things,” you said. “But I feel as if a special blockade is up for you when it concerns me.”

“I agree,” Laszlo said. His hand came up to rest against your face, and you leaned into his touch. “My dearest girl…” he hummed, and he leaned into you and pressed his lips to yours. You pressed back, letting a smile grace your lips. “Marry me, my beloved.”

It was hardly even a question. “Of course, Las,” you said softly. “How could I say no to you? It would ruin your reputation, having a child out of wedlock.”

“Thta's true,” Laszlo shrugged. “But I think you would want to marry me regardless.”

“How dare you act as if you know what I want,” you said, but you kissed the tip of his nose anyway. “But, yes, Laszlo. I would love to marry you. Mrs. Kreizler… Is that something you ever thought you’d hear?”

“Not from you,” Laszlo chuckled. “I never thought that you would want the burdens of marriage. In fact, I distinctly remember you telling me that upon our first meeting.”

“How could you manage any thought during that interaction?” you giggled. “If what you told me was true, you were quite distracted that day.”

Laszlo gave a soft little grunt, and he snuffled his face into your neck. “Yes, well, a man has to learn to multitask,” he said. “Oh my God, I cannot begin--”

The door to the parlor banged open, and you hurried to cover yourself. “Marcus,” Laszlo said firmly. “Give us a moment, will you?”

“Doc, this is pretty important--”

“I am having a private conversation with my fiancée, Mr. Isaacson,” Laszlo said, his voice rising just a bit. “You can tell me whatever you wish as soon as I finish this conversation.”

You looked over your shoulder to the younger Isaacson twin, and your face grew hot when your shoulder slipped from the jacket. Marcus’s eyes went wide for a moment, then he put his hands up in a plantation gesture. “Right,” he said quickly. “Um, sorry, Doc. I’ll be--”

“Do hurry it up, Marcus,” you said, pulling your fiancé’s jacket tight around you. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you can return.”

You watched Marcus leave the room and shut the heavy door behind him, and you scoffed and dissolved into giggles. You buried your face into Laslzo’s warm chest and kissed just over his heart, and you sighed. “I’d love to speak more about this at home,” you said. “I love you to absolute death, Laszlo.”

“And I love you more,” Laszlo said softly.

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lostbbygorl · 3 years ago

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AN UNLIKELY VILLAIN (LEVI X F!READER):

AU: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE BY JANE AUSTEN

~~~~~~

Lady Katrina was careful not to make a sound as she stalked her niece and nephew to the piano room. Isabel had dragged

Mr. Ackerman by the hand to the piano room, and the duo had shared countless looks and whispers throughout the ball which took place on that very night at the De Lancey mansion. As nosy as ever, Lady Katrina intended to discover the subject of her niece and nephew’s hushed yet frantic discussions.

“ A union between you and Amanda will be disastrous, brother! You cannot lie to our aunt, Amanda, and yourself forever! You’re a grown man, have a spine! It’s Y/N who gives you a purpose to live in this world, and it is Y/N you must chase and marry”, Isabel scolded Levi.

“ You are a child, Isabel, don’t tell me what to do. Besides, you know of our aunt’s stubbornness. Do you really think she’d happily accept a marriage between me and someone of Y/N’s standing after I’ve been engaged to Amanda my whole life?”, Levi reasoned.

“ I wouldn’t be meddling with your life if you acted like the grown up you are and defied our aunt! If Y/N can do it, so can you! I will not sit around and watch my older brother spend the rest of his days in acute misery”, Isabel said, decidedly.

“ I know of the letters you and Ms. Y/N exchange frequently, and I know for sure, as a young woman, that she loves you back now. It’s what you’ve been waiting for her to do all this time, Levi, why are you suddenly so obedient? Where’s the headstrong, independent Levi I know? Things must change around here, and you’ll be starting it”, Isabel finished definitely. The fire in her eyes made Levi know that Isabel wouldn’t back down till he was united with the woman he loved, and moreover, her words had motivated Levi to live by his own rules, which he had always done until Lady Katrina started discussing his engagement with Amanda more seriously. After learning of Levi’s feelings for Y/N and confronting him about them, she decided to have them married in 2 months instead of next summer, thinking that this change of plans would squash all hope in Levi. Lady Katrina angrily stomped back to the ballroom. To her displeasure, Amanda was deep in conversation with a blonde boy with blue eyes who she vaguely remembered as Armin Arlert- and she was smiling! An extremely rare occurrence indeed. This was an absolute nightmare for Lady Katrina! The world was turning upside down! Lady Katrina was determined to put a damper on this! So, the very next morning, she boarded her carriage for a journey to Trost.

Y/N’s household was much quieter than usual, now that Sasha was gone. Papa and Mama were bickering as old married couples usually do, and Mikasa was helping Ella with a sewing project. The eldest sisters were in the chicken house discussing Mr. Smith and Mr. Ackerman whilst petting baby chicks.

“ Mr. Ackerman’s been writing to me more regularly nowadays. It’s so refreshing to see him come out of his shell and open up”, Y/N said.

“ Mr. Smith says he’ll come visit Trost as soon as he has some urgent business seen too”, Christa squealed enthusiastically to a wide eyed, gasping Y/N.

“ And you tell me this only now? Christa, I can guarantee he’s coming to see you”, Y/N promised. Suddenly, the entrance to the chicken house burst open, and a heavily breathing Ella stood in front of them. Ella looked like she had some important news.

“ Ella, are you alright?”, Christa asked to which Ella nodded.

“ Christa, come to the living room immediately! You have a special visitor”, Ella said, catching her breath. The three sisters ran back to the house. When Christa entered the living room, she was shocked to see a beaming Mr. Smith sitting on the sofa talking to Mrs. L/N. Mr. L/N came back from the kitchen with a pot of tea and some muffins. Mr. Smith’s attention shifted to Christa as soon as she entered the room, and everyone intensely stared at the pair, who had hearts in their eyes when they made eye contact.

“ Ms. Christa, it has been too long”, Mr. Smith bowed.

“ Mr. Erwin, it truly is lovely to see you in flesh again. It’s been ages since we last met at Stohess”, Christa replied.

“ I agree. I notified you in my letters that I’d be visiting Trost after some urgent business was seen to. Well, all matters have been fixed much earlier than I predicted, so I thought I might surprise you”, he explained. His tone and his posture were confident, but if you noticed the way his hands clenched and unclenched on repeat, you’d notice he was nervous and obviously had something important to spill.

“ And I am surprised!”Christa laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“ Then I am successful. Ms. Christa, I have come here to speak with you about a matter most serious. Everybody, may we have some privacy for a short while”, Mr. Smith politely requested as he looked around at all the faces staring at him. At once, everybody scurried out of the living room. But they didn’t leave Christa and Mr. Smith alone, oh no! Mrs. L/N and Ella pressed their ears to the door as soon as they closed it. Mr. L/N and Y/N whispered amongst themselves about what the motive behind Mr. Smith’s sudden visit could be.

“ Do you think he’ll propose to Christa?”, Mr. L/N asked Y/N.

“ I’m not entirely certain, but something tells me that is his motivation”, Y/N said, heart beating in anticipation.

Meanwhile inside the room, Christa was crying tears of pure joy, and Mr. Smith smiled the widest he ever had in his life. Twinkling in the sunlight that shone through the windows of the living room was a gorgeous pear shaped diamond on Christa’s ring finger! Mr. Smith had apologized to Christa for abandoning her so suddenly, and came back to ask for her hand in marriage. With their arms linked, Mr. Smith and Christa exited the room, smiling at the faces of their eavesdroppers.

“ Everyone, me and Mr. Smith are hereby engaged to each other”, Christa squealed, and all at once, chaos commenced inside the house! Mr. L/N wrapped his arms around Mr. Smith and congratulated him before making him swear he’ll keep his beloved daughter happy. Mrs. L/N was glad that she’d have yet another one of her children married off, and this time to a filthy rich gentleman! Ella, Mikasa, and Y/N tackled Christa with a bear hug and Y/N loudly exclaimed praises and jokes at Christa. Mr. Smith stayed over for lunch, and he took Christa on a ride with him to Dauper village afterwards for some bonding time as an officially affianced couple.

The rest of the day went rather peacefully. Mr. L/N and Y/N relaxed in the library. Mr. L/N was reading a novel, while Y/N wrote to Sasha and Nifa about the engagement. Christa returned to the house just in time for dinner, just as Lady Katrina had reached Trost!

Y/N lay in bed, not even a tiny fraction of sleepiness in her. Her head still buzzed with joy and excitement after Christa’s engagement. Could Mr. Ackerman really be behind all this? Was he really mending his ways after Y/N had criticised him, and solving everybody’s problems? For the umpteenth time, Y/N lay awake at an ungodly hour thinking of Mr. Ackerman, and letting her insecurities eat away at her. Mr. Ackerman loved her, no doubt about it, but it was Amanda who was getting in her way! Now, a good natured person like Y/N could never hate an innocent young lady who had no intention of hurting her, but god, it really would be blissful if Amanda didn’t exist! She was plain and dull, but she had all the wealth and connections. Y/N was losing all hope of ever reuniting with Mr. Ackerman, or of giving her hand to him. But she was rudely jerked out of her thoughts when it began raining unexpectedly, and heavily too accompanied by a boisterous thunderstorm! But it wasn’t only the loud rain that bothered her, it was the sound of wood being knocked on. It took Y/N a few seconds to realize that somebody was knocking on her door- and very roughly too!

Y/N flocked downstairs to see her family surrounding a short, plump woman in expensive, elegant clothes with her gray hair tied in a tight bun. It was Lady Katrina! But what was she doing here at Trost, in her home, at 3.00 in the morning?

“ Where is Ms. Y/N L/N?”, Lady Katrina demanded, her striking grey eyes shining angrily by the flames of the fireplace as she searched for Y/N. Y/N was taken aback! For a brief moment she locked eyes with Christa, who pointed her chin at Lady Katrina’s direction with a confused expression, silently asking Y/N who this lady was and why she barged into their home at such a late hour.

“ I am here, your ladyship”, Y/N answered.

“ May I ask why you’ve woken me and my family at 3.00 AM in the middle of severe rain to seek me out?”, she asked.

“ Now, Y/N, that’s no way to treat a guest. Would your ladyship like a cup of tea?”, Mr. L/N butted in.

“ Not at all. All I would like here is to talk privately with Y/N. Where might I sit and talk with her alone?”, she asked with a serious tone.

“ Let me lead you to the library, my lady”, Y/N answered, guiding Lady Katrina there. Once inside, Lady Katrina circled Y/N, giving her no scope to seat herself.

“ Ms. Y/N, I am here because a most alarming report has been made to me two days ago, and you are to debunk it”, Lady Katrina said in a matter of fact voice. Y/N was curious.

“ I have no idea as to how I could ever be in the middle of your problems, madam, so please provide me with a backstory so I may understand”, Y/N requested.

“ Ms. Y/N, I must warn you that I am not to be trifled with. The report made to me states that you intend to marry my nephew, Levi”, Lady Katrina clarified.

“ I know this to be a scandalous falsehood, and I came here as soon as possible to confirm my sentiments on the matter to you”.

“ If you believed a marriage between me and him to be impossible, why did you take the trouble of coming so far to confront me about it?”, Y/N queried.

“ To hear it from your own mouth. Why do you pretend to be ignorant of it? Have these statements not been industriously circulated by yourself?”, Lady Katrina challenged.

“ They haven’t, and I deny all accusations of them having been spread by me”, Y/N replied confidently, though her heart was cracking the more Lady Katrina spoke. All her insecurities about her relationship with Levi were seeping out.

“ So you declare that there isn’t any foundation for it?”, Lady Katrina asked.

“ I declare nothing, as I’ve just been informed of these rumors now”, Y/N said.

“ Then let me ask a clearer question which to my knowledge has no answer excluding yes or no. Has my nephew made you an offer of marriage?”, Lady Katrina interrogated.

“ Your ladyship has declared it impossible”

“ Let me be understood! Mr. Ackerman is affianced to my daughter. What do you have to say now?”

“ Only this: that if your words are kosher, he wouldn’t have a reason to ask for my hand”, Y/N said, riling the woman up! Why wouldn’t Y/N just give her straight answers?

“ Ms. Y/N, do you know who I am?”Lady Katrina loudly quizzed her.

“ I am his closest relative, so therefore I am entitled to know all of Levi’s most important concerns”, Lady Katrina stated.

“ But you aren’t entitled to know mine”, Y/N countered her, making Lady Katrina put a hand on her chest in offence. She took ragged breaths in an attempt to calm herself. She closed her eyes, and once she was more clear headed, she opened them again.

“ The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind”, Lady Katrina started again, her tone softer.

“ Their marriage was decided during their infancy, and it is the favorite wish of my Amanda’s late father and Levi’s”, she explained.

“ A matter as delicate and final as this shall not be hindered by the hands of a woman of inferior birth who possesses no fortune or connections, and worse: no sense of propriety! You have influenced my nephew and lured him in, and I will not stand it!”, her ladyship cried.

Y/N was offended and hurt beyond comprehension! How dare this busybody barge into her house at midnight, and insult her very being? Though tears welled in her eyes, she stood her ground, and unflinching, she faced Lady Katrina.

“ I’ve come this far, and my journey was tiresome. I won’t leave until I am satisfied. Now, Ms. Y/N, tell me that you promise to refuse Levi your hand should he ask for it”, Lady Katrina ordered.

“ I empathize with the exhaustion you face due to your long journey, and I’ve been compelled to admit clearly that I am not engaged to Levi Ackerman. But I will not make any promise to you, madam, and especially not a promise of the respective nature”, Y/N deadpanned to the thunderstruck Lady Katrina!

“ Insufferable, headstrong, selfish girl!”, Lady Katrina furiously hissed.

“ You have insulted not me, but my beloved kin as well, and that is an offence I can never forgive you for. It was wrong of you to force yourself inside my abode, uninvited and unannounced, to confront me about baseless rumors and personal matters. It is now 4.00 in the morning, and the rain has stopped. Your escort must be waiting, your ladyship. I will not be disturbed any further! Goodnight and goodbye”, Y/N said the final words.

Lady Katrina exited the house angry and displeased, cursing the situation and Y/N’s character as she stormed out. Finally, Y/N began crying. She ran out of the library to make her way upstairs.

“ Darling, what happened? Is everything okay?”, Mrs. L/N asked, concerned.

“ It was a simple misunderstanding. I’m off to bed, and you all should be too”, Y/N sniffled, trying to escape them.

“ Darling, talk to us-", Mr. L/N started only to get interrupted.

“ I have no desire to. For once in your life just leave me be!”she shouted before locking herself in her room to cry.

Lady Katrina had reached Shiganshina after hours of travel, and she seeked her nephew out immediately.

“ Levi, come here at once!”, she called. Levi curiously walked downstairs, Isabel following him suit.

Lady Katrina explained everything that had happened between herself and Y/N to Levi, thinking he’d be appalled by her behaviour. What the poor lady didn’t realize was that her recount had only made Levi exceedingly proud of Y/N, and deepened his feelings towards her. Isabel gaped at Levi the entirety of her aunt’s heated speech, knowing what her brother would do next. She smirked, an action which went unnoticed by Lady Katrina.

“ Oh my, auntie, what horrible offences you’ve had laid against you”, she said, feigning astonishment. Isabel entertained Lady Katrina and pretended to sympathize with her while Levi sat on his horse for a long ride to Trost- all in his nightwear! Levi silently thanks the lord for the fact that he had another chance with Y/N, and the closer he got to Trost, the gladder his heart became.

Lady Katrina on the other hand was much dismayed! Amanda had broken off the engagement from her part, and revealed that she was now affianced to Armin Arlert, a friend she fell for after meeting at the never ending balls.

“ I’m sorry to have disappointed you, mother, but I can’t allow myself to be under your control any longer. I’ve done everything you instructed me to these past 23 years, but all that ends now, for I do not love Levi Ackerman, I love Armin Arlert”, she sternly broke the news to Lady Katrina.

And before walking out the door one last time, she turned around and said:

“ Before I go, I will instill upon you some heartfelt, priceless advice that I believe will be most helpful in the future: don’t arrange marriages between two individuals while they’re still in their cradles. It encourages zero admiration or affection, and plans of this kind always find a way of souring”.

#captain levi fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi x reader

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

That's So Us (Crystal x Gigi) - Frankenvenus

a/n hi everybody. tysm for the love on the last fic! here’s a little fluffy angsty thing i wrote whilst i was soft over a pr*tty g*rl! enjoy ;)

Heidi cryssie, why aren’t u coming out with us tonight? It’s gonna be so much fun. the whole gang!! :(

Crystal sighed and glanced at the text from her friend for a while. The truth was, she didn’t exactly feel like being surrounded by everyone in her friendship group and their significant others. It would just increase the riddling loneliness in her chest.

Crystal sorry girl i am so so tired. i’ve been working on this thing with lux all week and i’m just not feeling it. maybe we can do it another time?

It was a lie. She was just making up excuses, but she was running out of them. She had spent her entire day on her couch with popcorn and Hulu, and she would continue to do so into the night whilst her friends got inebriated all over Instagram stories.

Heidi but girl it’s gigi and caleb’s 6 month anniversary! caleb is putting all our drinks on his tab. what a gentleman.

That was the problem. Caleb was the problem. Crystal and Gigi had been inseparable best friends since freshman year, but then the latter met Caleb at college, and then suddenly Crystal was no longer her beck and call. Crystal was always behind on what was going on in Gigi’s life now, because the girl would only ever tell her boyfriend.

However, Gigi seemed happy, and Crystal wasn’t such a terrible person that she would consider ruining her friend’s relationship. She supported them, but sometimes she would skip out on certain get-togethers and night-outs, for her own sanity mostly.

Crystal i really cant heidi. another time. have fun. send pics x

Thankfully, Heidi left it there. Crystal loved the girl with her whole heart, but doing free shots with her friends wasn’t worth having to watch Caleb touch her best friend all over for an entire night. It wasn’t that Crystal was an over-protective best friend, because that wasn’t true - Crystal was always willing to add another girl to the friendship group. It was when someone would jeopardise the magnetic force that caused her and Gigi to be attached by the hip that she would grow frustrated. Caleb just barged in and snatched Gigi away, and it stung.

It had only been an hour and Jan had already posted many Instagram stories of Gigi doing body shots off Caleb, her long, dirty-blonde curls brushing his skin as her tongue licked across his neck. Crystal stared at the images for longer than she should’ve, watching the way her friend’s eyes rolled back as she pressed her lips against her boyfriend’s jaw. It took everything in Crystal to press the off button on her phone, and she let out a breath of relief when the screen turned black.

Her expression was reminiscent of someone who had just bitten into a lemon, and she caught a glance at the look in the mirror. Her own face caused her to question why she was so bothered. P.D.A wasn’t the issue. The issue was that Caleb had come between her and Gigi’s friendship, that was all. Crystal scrutinized herself in the mirror, attempting to run her fingers through her large tuft of red curls and failing after getting tangled up at the ends. She sighed at her own appearance, noticing that the happy glow she usually sported had faded. She used to look radiant with crazy hair, and now she simply looked burned out with a tangled mess on her head.

“Fuck this,” she muttered to herself, slowly pushing herself off the couch and towards the bathroom. A wash was very much necessary at that moment. She had been too drained to shower for the past three days, and her hair had become greasy and matted - so much so that even Jackie had pointed it out, and the Persian was never one to criticise.

She turned on the shower dial to a warm setting and stepped in, grabbing her curly shampoo off the small bathroom shelf. Almost instantly, it slipped through her hands, hitting her foot with a loud thud. She shrieked and grabbed her foot with pain, trying to massage the sharp feeling away, to no avail. She watched as her skin reddened and knew that it would soon turn purple. Could things possibly get worse?

Apparently yes, they could, because Dahlia from upstairs decided it would be fun to run a bath right as the redhead stepped into the shower, and the bath always fucked up the water pipe. Crystal’s shower water suddenly turned chilly, causing the girl to quickly hop away from the head and towards her heated towel rail.

She limped to her bedroom, sat by her dresser, sprayed an ungodly amount of dry shampoo in her hair before placing curl serum on a comb and brushing her hair through. The serum made it less impossible to bring a brush through her hair without snapping the handle or getting it stuck. A downside was, it would add even more grease to her hair, but it wasn’t her fault that Dahlia decided to have a bath at eleven at night.

Whilst Crystal was blow-drying her hair, she heard her phone begin to ring from the living room. She overlooked it at first - assuming it’d be a drunk facetime from Heidi - but then it didn’t stop, and the redhead grew concerned. She placed the hairdryer down and padded to the living room, her foot still aching. She made a mental note to place frozen peas on it as she picked her phone up.

Incoming call from Gigi Goode

As much as Crystal wished to distance herself from the blonde that night, she still couldn’t ignore her completely, especially when there could be something wrong. In her mind, the predominant thought was ’What does she need to ask me so bad that she can’t ask him?’ She picked up the phone before it was too late, and was instantly met with the sound of heavy breathing and sniffles.

“G?” Crystal asked, her voice laced with concern, “Are you there?”

”I don’t like him, Crystal.” - her voice was shaky, but not the kind of shaky that was caused by poor mobile reception. No, this shake was triggered by tears.

“Don’t like who, G? Caleb?”

”Yeah. I was just watching him from across the bar, and I was watching his face and I- I guess I just realised that I can’t be with him cause I don’t like him,“ the blonde began whimpering, and Crystal instantly made a beeline for the set of car keys hanging on her wall. ”So I told him that I didn’t like him and he shouted at me, so I left.”

The redhead was relieved that she had chosen to drink lemonade instead of cider that night, and she was limping her way towards the underground car park before she even had the chance to ask Gigi for her location.

“Where are you, Gee?” she inquired, frantically fiddling with her keys to unlock her Skoda. Her hair was still lightly dripping over her shoulder, and she was practically in her pyjamas, but that was the last thing on her mind at that moment.

”I kinda wandered off and now I’m at Grand Hope Park on the swing set. I don’t know where the others are.”

“It’s okay. I’m coming.”

Crystal began to drive and saw the streets bustling with people. The roads were almost empty, but the streetlights were against her. She had caught almost every red light on route, and every time she saw another one she would curse at it like a sailor.

She parked her car a block away from Grand Hope, soon noticing that she had forgotten to bring her purse with her. Briefly, she scanned her surroundings for nearby meter maids. When she was sure the coast was clear, she made her way towards the park, and spotted Gigi almost instantly. The blonde was sitting at the bottom of a plastic slide, face illuminated by her phone screen. Crystal called out her name from a few metres away, and the blonde’s head instantly shot up. It was then that Crystal saw what a mess she had made of her eyeshadow. She must’ve cried then rubbed her eyes because now the mocha-coloured powder that she had so intricately applied to her lids was spread across her cheeks like Halloween makeup.

All the words became unspoken. Gigi’s eyes became hooded as Crystal drew closer and closer, soon towering over the former. The redhead held out her hand and the blonde took it, hoisting herself up and instantly embracing her in a cold hug. Gigi’s arms were bare - she was wearing nothing but a flimsy jumpsuit - so Crystal found herself gently stroking her upper arms with her own warm hands.

They were silent when Crystal took her hand, and they remained silent when the girl led Gigi to the next block, into the car. Crystal didn’t ask questions when Gigi flicked on the car stereo and leaned her forehead against the passenger window, and she didn’t question the blonde when she quietly began to sing along to the tune that played quietly through the speakers - Sign of the times by Harry Styles.

Had Crystal been alone, she would’ve belted the song in its entirety, but she refrained from doing so for the mental state of her best friend. Instead, she took one hand off the wheel and placed it on Gigi’s thigh after noticing it beginning to bounce anxiously.

“He was so mad, Crys,” Gigi spoke up suddenly, her mumbled words nearly inaudible under the buzz of the engine. After a pause, the blonde lifted her head off the window and turned to Crystal, tears spilling from her eyes.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” the redhead raised a brow.

“No, but I was scared that he would. He has a really really short temper and he- well he reminded me of my dad so-”

Crystal swiftly pulled into a rest area after hearing Gigi utter that final sentence. She halted the car once they had exited the main road, and pulled the blonde into a much more meaningful hug this time.

“Oh, Geeg,” she sighed into the blonde’s curls, listening painfully as the sound of Gigi’s sobs filled the car. “You don’t owe him your love. It’s better that you told him not before it’s too late. You can’t force attraction. At least you knew better than to pretend.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Can you, uh- could I stay over at your place tonight? I just need a change of setting and I mean… I haven’t slept over in a while.”

She was right. She hadn’t slept over in a while. In fact, they hadn’t spoken this much in quite a while. Although Crystal was nice enough to keep it to herself, her brain was in overdrive of gratitude that Gigi and Caleb were now over. Perhaps now she could get her friend back.

The redhead agreed to the girl staying over, and soon they had set off again and were pulling in to the car park beneath Crystal’s building. Realising that Gigi was still quite drunk, Crystal assisted her up the staircase. They could’ve taken the elevator, though both of them had forever vowed to stop doing that after once getting trapped there for three hours together.

“I don’t know why you helped me. I didn’t even have to ask. Even though I have treated you like shit for the last half-year. You had every reason to decline my call,” the blonde rambled as Crystal pushed open the door to her apartment.

The redhead turned to Gigi with a confused look on her face.

“That’s not true. Sure I missed you a little bit, but I’m not a shitty friend and I would never leave you hanging,” Crystal assured, pulling Gigi in and closing the door, “Go sit on the couch and I’ll grab you some makeup remover, okay?”

Gigi nodded and disappeared into the living room, leaving Crystal to steady herself. The blonde was an honest drunk and she had drunkenly rambled to Crystal on her couch after clubbing countless times before, but this was different, somehow. The redhead tried to think of ways she should comfort her friend whilst she searched for cotton pads, but the truth was all she wanted to say was ‘He was never going to treat you right. I’ll always treat you right.’ She instantly became disgusted with herself at the prospect. What kind of friend was so obsessive?Her ex-boyfriend was right. She did need therapy.

She entered the living room where Gigi was sat in her green velvet armchair, clutching her knees to her chest. Surprisingly, the blonde had the hint of a smile on her glossy lips.

“What?” Crystal asked as she approached the girl, squeezing the makeup remover onto the cotton pad and dragging it across Gigi’s caked cheeks. The blonde pushed her hair to the side, giving Crystal more access to the product-covered parts of her face.

“It’s just crazy. I didn’t like him so I got sad, and you were the only person I knew wasn’t drinking tonight so I called you, but I don’t like him because of you,” Gigi smiled like it meant nothing, but Crystal’s breathing came to a halt.

“I’m lost…”

Gigi breathed and sat forward so her and Crystal’s faces were close enough to radiate heat off one another.

“I just mean like… every time he fucked me, I just thought about you. I mean, it’s not my fault though. The times I didn’t think about you I would have to fake it. Ugh.”

Gigi said those words with such confidence that Crystal wasn’t sure if she was drunkenly telling the truth or merely pulling her leg. The redhead dropped the makeup remover and stepped back.

“Are you fucking with me, Gigi?”

“God no. I wish I was, I mean I’ve liked you since I was what? Fourteen? God knows how long. I’m only telling you this cause I have nothing else to lose. I know you like guys though.”

Crystal bit her lip and sat herself down on her couch opposite her armchair, “You are so beyond drunk right now, Geeg. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Gigi stood up from her seat, nearly tripping over as she made her way towards Crystal, her brows furrowed and her lip pouted, “I promise I’m telling the truth.”

The redhead stood up so they were face-to-face once more. They were usually the same height, but Gigi stood a little higher due to the platforms she sported that night. Crystal leaned upwards and tapped Gigi’s nose softly before pulling out the sofa bed.

“Go to sleep. If you’re not bullshitting me, then you’ll tell me in the morning exactly what you told me now. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll make a note.”

#rpdr fanfiction #crystal methyd #gigi goode #crygi #lesbian au #fluff #angst #friends to lovers #frankenvenus #concrit welcome #s12

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draggingthedregs · 4 years ago

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as i said earlier, it is an ungodly length but i hope you can enjoy my late night, book-drunk opinions anyway!

***

guess who just finished “ruin and rising”?

i’m seriously not okay. someone send help. i got lots of thoughts, none of which you are obligated to read but this seems like the best place to share.

oh and spoilers, duh.

for starters. woah.

i can’t say it was what i expected but i had known that what my heart really wanted was kinda far out of reach. the ending felt real and feasible, complete with love and loss.

in terms of “ruin and rising” alone, i think it was possibly the strongest of the three books. the pacing was good, nothing felt like it dragged on too long or went too fast for its own good. i think that was really important as well, considering the fact that there was always something going on. literally,, always. no one ever got a damn break.

mal’s “death” hurt me more then i had expected. which honestly leads back to one of my main gripes with this story. the love square (which i elaborate on later in this post, just hold on a bit). i’m not going to lie. i hated mal. through the middle of “siege and storm” up to page 168 of “ruin and rising” (and even then it was a long road from hate to crying over him). he was an ass, i think we can all admit that. for awhile there, i even jumped on the “fuck mal” train and had no plans to stop at any station anytime soon. for the longest time, the relationship with alina felt so fragile and forced, like the only reason it existed was because leigh had written it into existence. though, as i read on, i saw why it was so strained and saw the eventual resolution, which i will admit i was happy with. mal and alina, however annoying and troupe filled their personalities were, did develop as characters. and their relationship made some semblance of sense in the grand scheme of things. does that mean i forgive the “on-again-off-again”, “cold-shoulder”, “we-cant-be-together-in-this-lifetime” bullshit? no. does that mean i suddenly love mal? also, no. does that mean i ship them? ugh slightly. does that mean in a magical dream world where i got to chose what happened, they’d still end up together? impossible to say. BUT i can say, that they deserved each other. and i am happy that they got their peace together like they both always wanted (no matter how out of place it felt at any point), especially considering the fact that she literally had to kill him.

my dear dear darkling... i knew what fate awaited you and yet, when the time came... it hurt just the same.

okay,, that was a bit dramatic. but come on. leigh wrote a damn good villain with aleksander morozova. i meAN, thE lAYERS. he was a horrible person and yet, so many of us still love him. he killed for fun, manipulated no matter the cost, preyed upon the weak because he could, literally blinded his own mother and still! i can’t help but love him. there was so much human woven into his darkness. the moments of simple longing, of exhaustion, of loneliness. in all honesty, if there had been a way to humanize him, to erase or explain away his atrocities and have him just be aleksander again, i feel like i would do it. but, in the context of the story i do understand why it wasn’t possible. redemption for the darkling was off the table, no matter how much humanity still remained. but that’s what makes him such a good character. you want him to be different because you can see the good and all the potential for things to change, for them to rule ravka side by side, but at the same time, he’s the same man who is still actively creating more shadow demon creatures to eat whoever he wishes. you can’t resist him and that’s why he’s so wonderful, yet horrifying at the exact same time. (though don’t worry i am still a trash can and the darklina ship is still superior in the love square. again, i promise i will get there).

i feel like i have to talk about how much i loved the “secondary characters” (i struggle to call them that because they actually run this shit). i will say, at first, i hated zoya. i am not a big fan of the “mean girl” troupe or the “i’m-prettier-than-you-and-i-know-it” thing but... she really grew on me. i looked forward to zoyas comments and constant bitchiness, as did the characters in the books. and when she left the note and the blue kefta with alina in the epilogue,, oh god my heart. and the ragtag crew of grisha making up the remainder of the second army were amazing. their banter and dialogue were some of my favorite scenes to read in “ruin and rising” and i want books just filled with them and only them. david and genya deserve the damn world, adrik was so great, nadia and tamar are so precious, and i will miss harshaw’s weird ass more then you’ll ever know. don’t even get me started on misha and oncat. they are the true stars of this series, you cannot convince me otherwise. god i love them all so much, what a brilliant cast of characters. except the apparat. fuck the stupid ass apparat.

i know what you’re thinking. “you forgot nikolai.” no. i promise you, i most certainly did not. i just love him so much he gets his own chunk.

i mean, how could he not? he’s one of those rare, genuinely perfect characters that are impossible to not love. and i don’t mean perfect because he has no flaws or he’s written unnaturally, i mean perfect because of all of his flaws. he is arrogant and calculating, brash and unapologetic in his ways, but he’s also kind and caring, witty and charming and way too clever for his own good. i rooted for him more then i have ever rooted for someone in my entire life. he made everything ten times better. you can always count on his ass to pop up in a flying ship with a shiny pair of boots, a witty remark, a new plan, and too many ideas.

now, the important business... the ominous love square.

i think the words i used were “one of my main gripes with the story” which is true, but i think leads to a bigger issue with some of the characterization in the story. the “love square” was a term i thought of in relation to the many overlapping and confusing ships that center around alina (obviously being mal, the darkling, and nikolai). all of the ships were so entertwined and written over top of one another that there was no other way for me to describe it and the square seemed like a nice enough analogy. it just felt like way too much on everybody’s plates.

i love nikolai and alinas friendship. i mean, LOVED it. because i loved it so much, i found the little nods to a ship odd and unnecessary. their story line was very focused on the fact that ravka would need a king and queen, hence the scene where he gives her the emerald and all but proposes right then and there. however, that scene would have made scene and carried the same weight had there not been the splashes of romance both before and after. now, i understand why people ship them. and honestly, if under different circumstances, i probably could’ve and would’ve shipped them myself. they would have had one of the best marriages in a society where you didn’t get to marry for love. but it just made everything more complicated. people would’ve speculated on a ship had there been no kisses or pining, soley based on the possibility of a marriage and because of their close friendship so, why was the canon addition of it necessary? i just couldn’t get behind it when i loved their platonic relationship so much and when there were two stronger and more developed ships, waging war in the background.

now, my final bone to be picked... let’s be real for a second, alina in “shadow and bone” sucked. she was annoying and had no personality beyond being a sad, lonely, orphan in the darklings sparkly new grisha world. though i will say, in the later two books, i grew to like her. her character development did its job and i actually think she grew to be a pretty good protagonist. she did her best with the cards she was dealt and i think she did really well. however, her inability to pick a boy constantly bothered me. after being in love with her best friend for literal years, she is really ready to be be the first lady of the second army. and yes. sure you could justify it. she wasn’t getting letters in return, she’d been away for months, she was adapting to her new life, the darkling made her feel seen and wanted which is all a very new feeling to her. but then she goes right back to mal after he makes a confession that he didn’t realize he loved or needed her until she was gone for months (this was one of my biggest problems with mal. my problem only grew when he spent the entirety of “siege and storm” being a dick. but like i said,, we have reconcilied. we are fine now). there were times throughout the series where i genuinely didn’t understand why they were together, why i liked them together, or why i even wanted them to end the series together. alina even asks mal at the end of “ruin and rising” if there entire relationship was based solely on the fact that mal was the last amplifier and the fact that she even had to ask really says something. was their entire romance because of the amplifier? was it because of the “we-are-just-meant-to-be-together” thing? or was there actual chemistry? i really couldn’t tell sometimes. and the darklina ship was even more twisty and winding. he went from telling her deep dark secrets because he wanted to hear the girl he loved say his name to literally threatening everyone she loves because he wants her weak and all to himself. like,, whAt? (again,, layers) and don’t even get me started on the darkling and alina apparition interactions. those were a wild fucking ride. i felt like i was getting manipulated along with the both of them in those. but maybe that was the point of the darkling and alinas relationship. it was supposed to be so horrible yet so electric that you couldn’t pull away. but i doubt the same was meant to be said for mal and alina.

now i feel like i may be coming off in the wrong way. i loved more about this series then i didn’t. but me gushing about every fine detail and conversation that made my heart melt wouldn’t make for the most interesting read, if it was even coherent. all in all, i think it’s safe to say the grisha trilogy is great. does that mean it doesn’t have flaws? of course not. does that mean the flaws outweigh the good and the actual point of the story? absolutely not. my small complaints about a few things really do not take always from the fact that i love this series. i would love anything written by leigh bardugo, especially in the grishaverse.

if you’ve made it this far, that’s commitment. thank you brave soldier. don’t take anything i’ve said with anything more than a grain of salt. seriously. if this is your favorite series, don’t let my lil complaints ruin your day. because really, the good outweighs the bad here tenfold. i’m just a girl with a lot of opinions and a platform to share them at four am... it’s a dangerous game.

but, goodbye grisha trilogy. you have served me well and i will return to reread you soon. but for now i will do a lot of writing (i already have so many fic ideas brewing) and read all the fan fiction and tumblr posts i’ve been avoiding for fear of spoilers.

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hopeisour4letteredword · 5 years ago

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innocent bones ch1

Summary: Apollo gets a wake-up call in a few ways. It’s okay, though--he’s got best-friend backup.

Link to AO3 in the notes.

Apollo’s first thought when his phone rings at some ungodly time in the middle of the night is fuck off. His second thought is oh my God oh no Clay, because he’s had a shit year and maybe it’s made him a bit paranoid and he’s Clay’s emergency medical contact. His third thought, as he toes the line of lucidity, is wait, that’s the ringtone I set for Klavier.

Fuck. If Klavier is calling him at this hour, it’s probably important.

He slaps haphazardly at his nightstand until he finds his phone and yanks it off the charger. He gives himself one last moment to squeeze his eyes shut against the ache of fatigue, then rallies enough to answer the call.

“Justice speaking.“

“...Hurts.”

Suddenly much more awake, Apollo sits bolt upright in bed. “What?”

“Herr Forehead,” Klavier says, in the most childish and petulant voice Apollo has ever heard out of him. To be fair, Apollo hasn’t heard him overtly childish all that many times, so that’s a low hurdle. It’s not much comfort. “Feel—feel sorry for me. I’m in pain.”

“You—what? Are you alright?”

“No.”

Apollo stares unseeingly into the darkness for a second until adrenaline overrides panic and he launches himself out of bed. He almost trips trying to keep his phone to his ear and disentangle the sheets around his legs at the same time. Light, where’s the light switch on his lamp? “Where are you? How bad is it?”

“It sucks,” Klavier whines. “An’ I’m all alone.”

“I’m coming to help. You’re gonna be fine. Are you—you sound really out of it. Did you hit your head? Are you drunk?”

Blood loss? he doesn’t ask. Don’t think about the worst-case scenario. Keep moving. He finds his keys and his wallet, tosses them over by his shoes near the door. No telling if he’ll need his bike or his bus card until he has more information.

“Drugs,” Klavier says, glumly. Apollo grits his teeth. Klavier is one of the most law-abiding people Apollo has ever met; there’s no way he took hardcore drugs of his own volition. Please don’t let it be roofies. Please don’t let him be stranded, injured and alone, in a place where somebody roofied him.

Clothes, clothes, Apollo needs to not get arrested for indecency the second he steps out the door. He yanks on the first pair of shorts he encounters. Shirt? He shoves a hand into his dresser blindly. It comes out clutching one of Clay’s old Sailor Moon shirts, faded and worn. Apollo wears it as a pajama shirt sometimes, but in public—fuck it. Klavier’s safety is worth the weird looks for being a grown man wearing a magical girl anime shirt in public. He’s not gonna dig around for an acceptable shirt at a time like this.

“Keep talking to me. What hurts?”

“My mouth.”

“Your mouth? What happened, do you remember?”

“They stole my teeth,” Klavier says, woefully, and that finally makes Apollo pause, balanced on one foot to pull a sock on the other.

“Your—your teeth?”

“Took ‘em—took ‘em right out. With knives. Now my mouth’s full of holes. It hurts, Herr Forehead.”

An image is cementing itself, slowly but surely, out of the fog of panic and lethargy in Apollo’s mind. He lowers his foot. “Who took your teeth?”

“Teeth doctor.”

“Did...did you get teeth taken out? By a dentist or—?”

“Yeah! Wis’om teeth. They stole them.”

Apollo slumps back against his door like a puppet with his strings cut, and sinks to the ground. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Oh my God, Klavier. Start with that next time.”

“Next time?” Klavier sounds genuinely befuddled. “But they’re already gone.”

“I thought you had been roofied or mugged or something,” Apollo says. He settles on laughter, and it comes out hysterical. “God. Don’t do that to me. I’m too young to have a heart attack.”

“Don’t do what? What’d I do?”

“You scared the shit out of me.” Apollo draws his knees up to his chest and leans on them, trying to take deep breaths. Klavier is okay. He’s not bleeding in an alleyway behind some bar. He’s not about to be assaulted. He’s only stoned on painkillers. “You owe me for this one. I was halfway out the door.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” There’s a rustling noise on the other end of the line. Klavier’s voice is soft and contrite. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“That’s fine,” Apollo says. “We’re fine. I’m not mad. Well, maybe a little bit. Just—goddamn. Okay. Talking. I can talk. Wait. You’re home, aren’t you? You’re not wandering the city like this?”

He’s hyperaware of his own heartbeat, still too loud and too fast. That was a hell of a wake-up call. Apollo has more than enough trouble getting to sleep on a normal night. There’s no way he’s knocking out any time soon after this—might as well keep Klavier entertained if he’s going to be awake the rest of the night anyway.

“Yeah!” Klavier says, perking up again. “I’m home. Oh, but—Vongole is gone.”

“Gone?” Apollo frowns. “Where’d she go?”

“Sebastian took her.”

“What for?”

“He said I prob’ly shouldn’t walk her tonight,” Klavier says, despondently. “I miss her. She’s a good dog.”

“She is a good dog,” Apollo agrees. He scratches a hand through his bedhead and tries not to yawn. “But you’ll get to see her again soon. I’m sure Prosecutor Debeste will give her back tomorrow.”

“But I want her now.”

Apollo doesn’t have a rebuttal to that. God only knows how many times he sprawled next to Vongole on the floor while Mr. Gavin was out of the office, complaining about the trials of law school. She’s a good listener. Always knows when someone needs a hug. She’d make a good therapy dog if she didn’t have so much energy. It’s no wonder Klavier wants her back when he’s this miserable.

“Sorry, man.”

Klavier sighs melodramatically. “Can’t believe he left me and took my dog. I think he likes her better than me.”

“Can you blame him?” Apollo says, wryly. He realizes his mistake right as Klavier makes a quiet, wounded noise.

“...No.”

“Joke,” Apollo blurts out. Fuck. Of course Klavier is too out of it for their normal banter. “I’m joking. That was a joke. I didn’t mean—“

“It’s okay, Herr F—“

“Of course he doesn’t like your dog better than you. Don’t be stupid. That was a really shitty joke for me to make, and I didn’t mean it at all.”

Klavier laughs, weakly. “Right, sure.”

“You’re—ridiculously likeable.” It spills out of Apollo’s mouth before he can stop himself. But why should he stop himself? It’s the middle of the night and Klavier’s fucked up on painkillers and Apollo was an asshole. He can part with some kind words to make up for it. It’s the right thing to do, probably. God, he’s tired. “And a good person. Everybody likes you just fine.”

After a few beats of silence save for the shudder of Klavier’s breath across the line, Klavier asks, half-joking, “Even you?”

Apollo rolls his eyes. “No, I’m talking to you at three AM while you’re high as a kite on anesthetics because I hate you.” Another beat. “That was another joke. Just to be extremely clear.”

“You like me?” Klavier asks, so damn hopefully that Apollo doesn’t have it in him to pretend otherwise.

“Yeah.”

“I like you, too,” Klavier says, happily. Apollo’s heart thumps traitorously hard against his ribcage. He’s too exhausted to deal with his own pining right now. It’s not fair that Klavier can do this to him out of nowhere. He’s not even trying to flirt right now. He’s just a naturally affectionate person and it’s destroying Apollo. “I wish you were here. I wish Vongole or Sebastian was here. I’m bored and lonely and my mouth hurts.”

“I know, bud.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Sleep?” Apollo suggests. Klavier makes a dismissive sound. “Uh. Watch something on Netflix? Or whatever rock stars watch their movies and shit on these days.”

“I start falling asleep when I try to watch anything and then I have nightmares ‘cause my mouth hurts.”

That sounds like it will be a problem no matter what Klavier does to occupy himself. “Do you have more painkillers?”

“I... forgot where I put them. And how many to take.”

“Find them and read the bottle, then.”

“Print’s too small.”

“...Are you so drugged up you can’t focus on text?”

“No, but they made me take my contacts out before they stole my teeth, and—“

Klavier wears contacts? Apollo opens his mouth to ask about it, but there’s an abrupt series of loud noises on the other end of the call. Loud, brief knocking, the thud of a door closing, the jingle of metal on metal.

“Sebastian!” Klavier cheers. Apollo hears a distant curse and thumping. “You came back!”

A voice, muffled and indistinct. The intonation lilts into a question.

“Herr Forehead,” Klavier answers, matter-of-factly.

“Oh, good grief. Give that here.”

“No, don’t—!“

“Hello?” Prosecutor Debeste says, his voice clear and focused now. It has the polite edge of professionality. “Mr. Justice, I presume?”

“That’s right,” Apollo says. He feels kind of weird about talking to somebody from the Prosecutor’s Office who isn’t Klavier while he’s on the floor, hair a bird’s nest, wearing a Sailor Moon shirt and one sock. Yeah, Prosecutor Debeste can’t see that or anything, but it’s the principle of the matter. “Hi. Um.”

“Sorry about the trouble. I hope he hasn’t kept you up too long.”

“Uh, no.”

“Sebastian,” Klavier wails, in the background. “Give it baaack!”

“Are you staying with him right now?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I just. To be honest, he made it sound like you stole his dog and ditched him.”

“Of course he did,” Prosecutor Debeste says, exasperatedly. Klavier whines, barely audible to the receiver. Vongole barks happily in response. “I’ve been here all night. I only took Vongole out for a bit to do her business and run around—she hasn’t been able to sleep either, not with Klavier this wound up. Don’t worry, he has someone keeping an eye on him.”

“That’s, um. Good to hear.”

“I can take care of things from here, so I’ll let you get some rest. Klavier can get in touch with you again in the morning if you need anything from him.”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Justice. Thanks for keeping him company for a while. Klavier, say good night—“

“But we were talking—!“

The line goes dead.

Apollo takes his phone away from his ear and just looks at it. He thinks maybe he should process the last thirty minutes. His mind chases itself in loops instead. After a minute, he presses the heel of his free hand against his eyes, trying to massage out the exhaustion headache that’s starting to set in. Fuck. He still doesn’t know if he can sleep. What’s Clay always trying to tell him, about resting and keeping your eyes closed for a while being better than not sleeping at all? Can’t be any worse, at least. He might as well give it a shot. He settles back into the sheets, long cold by now, and tries to relax.

A street—not dark, but dim, maybe, with the hazy glow of a setting sun in the evening. The shadows are long and the light is golden. It catches on the leaves of trees in the park, turns them ethereal with shining halos.

I’ve been here before, Apollo thinks, then, that’s absurd, it’s the park, of course I’ve been here before.

Another golden halo, beside him on the park bench. Klavier’s hair catching the sunlight it so often seems to be spun from. Klavier’s blinding smile as he laughs at something Apollo just said, something already forgotten. Déjà vu strikes Apollo again. He does remember being here, remembers the way Klavier turns to him with a conversational parry, smirking, words balancing perfectly on the bizarre line they walk between sharp and friendly.

That’s what he remembers. That’s not what happens this time. What happens this time is:

Klavier’s smile goes soft and warm, an affectionate curl of his lips, and he says, “I like you, too.”

#klapollo #klavier gavin #apollo justice #ace attorney #long post

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esepoimipullula · 4 years ago

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So, there’s this reply to that “do you ever read you friend’s writing and you wonder why they even put up with you” post, about how that’s an unhealthy attitude that will only hurt both you and your friend, even if you pass it off as a joke. About how you should try to better your writing because you love writing and it gives you joy and improving makes you feel proud, not because you keep comparing yourselves to others or because you’ve been told you can’t be too confident in your achievements and now think hating everything you create is the way to improve when it’s really just a way to both destroy your self-esteem and make creating unnecessarily difficult. And the thing is, I agree with it. The wording feels a bit harsh to me, but I’m kind of an oversensitive softie, and I suppose people do need a good kick in the pants once in a while. And I really do agree.

I think love is fundamental, and if you don’t love writing or what you write, you should either stop or take a good, long pause to figure out if you can love it, again or at all. I write because I love it. Or at least, I feel something close to love for it. I don’t really think about it. Sometimes a sentence, a description or a line of dialogue or a simile or anything else, pops into my mind out of the blue and I’m like either, “Oh, what is that? Who or what is it about? Where do is it lead me?” or “Yes, that’s it, hold that until a less ungodly hour/a moment when I’m free to try and do something with it or at the very least write it down.” Sometimes I’m watching or reading or doing something and my brain says, “Yeah, but you know what would be cool? If this thing happened to these characters!”, and the thing that should totally happen to the characters may or may not be related in any way to the thing I’m watching or reading or doing. And sometimes I have a sudden craving for a certain story or character or scene, or a want that has built up through years, but of course I know I won’t find any piece of fiction that fits my tastes exactly and precisely and because I don’t know any writers who happen to be mindreaders and I’m not about to become the kind of prompter who feeds the plot almost line by line to the unlucky writer their asking for a story, so in the end I go, “You know what? This is actually a very good idea and it’s a shame no one has written it yet so I’ll just do it myself!” And sometimes I feel frustrated or unsatisfied or irritated or even just a little too frantic and in too deep to actually feel any love or joy or anything else while I’m writing rather than when I take a step back to reread and edit what I’ve written, but I wouldn’t trade all those other “sometimes” I’ve just mentioned for anything in the world. And honestly, I wouldn’t do it even with these less pleasant “sometimes,” as much as I like to complain or joke or jokingly complain about them. Because they are all part of what makes me me and the idea of ever giving them up, even for some relative peace of mind, feels as absurd and unnecessary as the idea of consciously trying to change my tastes in food or music or fiction or jokes or pets --- I can only guess at where some things come from, so how would I even go about upturning or taking away things that feel almost more like instinct than anything else? And why would I ever wish to? And I don’t think I’ve never been in romantic love, I’m not even sure if I know how that’s really supposed to feel like or work out, but this is kind of love I know. The kind of love I feel for my family and my friends, who all have annoying, stupid habits because that’s what people do and I’m sure they find my habits annoying and stupid, too, and that’s fine, and the kind of love I feel for our cat, who yells at me when he’s hungry and scratches me when we play and bullies the neighbour’s overly friendly, peace-loving dog and does a lot other things that made me fear and wonder, “Oh, god, what if the novelty of having a cute little cat all for ourselves wears off after a while and we don’t want him anymore and we become one of those families that take in a pet and change its whole life only to immediately give it back and give it trust issues in the process because they’re not actually fit to have a pet” before we’d actually gotten him but now they’re just part of him and you’ll have to fistfight each and every one of us in a parking lot if you try and take him away from us. That’s the kind of love I have for writing, and even if it’s not always joy, and sometimes it’s annyoing or irritating or no more pleasant than merely, simply breathing, what does the unpleasantness or the lack of enthusiasm really matter? Nothing, or at least, very little. It’s my love, I can only guess where it really comes from, it’s always with me and I can’t imagine it ever going away, and you can fight me in the aforementioned parking lot.

And I think it’s this love that allows me to... not quite be carefree about my writing, but something a bit like that. What do comments and reviews and kudos matter, if my love expresses itself through fandoms most people don’t even think can be considered as fandoms or themes nobody but me thinks or cares about? Sure, validation and compliments and people genuinely enjoying what I create make me feel great and may even warm my heart, depending on how much thought and effort I put into a particular work or how long I’ve wished to be able to find other people interested in a certain fandom, but they’re not my reason for writing or even something I really need -- I’ll keep doing my thing whether I get a hundred kudos and fifty comments or only three views. I did use to compare myself unfavorably to other writers and despair over all the ways I found myself inferior and lacking, but then I realized... what good is wishing I could be as good as someone else, or even someone else altogether, if my writing is part of me, stems from who I am? What influence on me could another writer’s success and the methods and techniques used to reach that success even have? I should strive to satify myself while doing what I want, to become as good as I can be according to my standards and through the methods and techniques that work for me. I can take what I like and analyse it and try to make it mine and incorporate it in my style and my ideas, there’s nothing wrong with that and it’s a good way to broaden my horizons and challenge myself and improve my work and love writing even more, but in the end, I can’t be anyone but myself --- and I may have lots of flaws, but in the end, there’s nothing fundamentally wrong with that. Actually, there is some joy, and even pride, in that. And so, I reread my old works and see them with new, more charitable eyes, remembering the fun and the satisfaction and the need to write precisely that specific thing, pushing aside the old doubts that gave me nothing but endless nitpicking and rewriting and saying, “You know? Maybe my use of em dashes wasn’t actually as overbearing and cringy as I thought, maybe I should start using them a bit more freely again.” I reread my new works and tell myself, “Fuck it, of course I enjoy this and I am actually a bit proud of it, I wrote it for myself, according to my own tastes and following my own inspiration and putting as much effort and care into it as I thought it needed!”

I still have doubts and fears like everyone else, but they’re more along the lines of, “I know I can write better than this, so why am I not doing it right now? What is the problem here?!” or “I love and care and believe so much in this idea and I want to be good enough to do it justice and make sure it’ll make me feel perfectly satisifed and proud with the final result”, than “Everybody is doing the thing I feel is my thing better than me” or “I’ll never be this other writer I admire.” My writing blocks are usually more about getting stuck in the middle of a work while struggling to find the right words to put the exact feelings and actions I have in my mind on the page precisely as I’ve imagined them (”No, thats not it! There’s something missing and I can’t go on until I find out what it is! The words here don’t sound right!”), or struggling to find the Right Words to start a new project at all because I still have to work on internalizing that perfectionism is the enemy and a first draft is meant to be changed and corrected and maybe even kind of suck even if rationally I understand both concepts, or having Something Big in mind but knowing I usually just follow the flow of my ideas until it dries up and feeling my best works really come from truly getting lost into it and then worrying about how difficult Building An Actual Plot Like A Rational Person will be, or having scenes or even whole stories feels just so complete in my head that laboring to get them out of it feels like doing the same exact work twice for nothing (which isn’t true, but tell it to my brain), or just... not being able to start or go on or even end even if I have everything from ideas to motivation ro the right, relaxed but willing and driven state of mind, for some reason. Or, like, utterly dumb stuff like, “This paragraph will only make me feel good if I manage to get the lines to align in this specific way without changing the meaning or ruining the tone and atmosphere, so I will now modify it four or five times until I get it right even if I know this doesn’t make any sense.”

Except... there’s this friend. Her writing is the kind that uses a scant amount of sharp, essential words to tell whole worlds made of unsaid things, so soft they make you feel like you’re inside a dream or so harsh they're like a punch in the gut but always so clever and full that you always feel you’re always missing somthing, you just aren’t smart enough to figure it out. I have to make a conscious effort not to compare them to my works, because then mine feel overwrought and overdramatic, childish and naive.

And I know, believe me I know, that despite how much of yourself ends up in your writing, despite how much your writing can be a part of yourself, skill as a writer is not synonymous with worth as a person. You can be a good and/or succesful writer and be a complete shithead, and thinks like kindness and open-mindedness will always be fundamentally more important than the ability to string words together in a pleasing manner. But she’s kind (perhaps kinder than I deserve, because I know sometimes I can be a real dick), and open-minded, and sweet in her own way, and brave, and confident, and so smart and cultured, and sharp, and funny, and interesting, and she seems to understand people a lot better than I do. And even when we’re just chatting, I’m not always sure I understand every layer to everything she says, I’m not sure I can keep up with her wit and her mind. The confidence I feel while writing evaporates and I feel slow and shallow and boring and dumb and wonder why she puts up with me, how she hasn’t realised she could be talking to her people more like her yet.

The worst thing is, it’s not even her doing anything to make me feel like this and I know it too well. I don’t even think she knows, and I hope she never finds out. She’s not just kind to me, but affectionate and supportive, and in a honest and genuine way, and I know it’s irrational and stupid to think I might have tricked her into behaving like that with me, or that she’s not being sincere, or that she just doesn’t care enough to take a good look at me and find out what my brain thinks is the truth. I know it would be hurtful and ungrateful to tell her.

I also know she’s not perfect, because no one is. She has her flaws, too, and sometimes she says things that make me roll my eyes or sigh in frustration. There are some things I know more about than her, too. And we don’t even live near each other so I’ve never even met her in person, so I know if that happened at one point, I’d probably find out a bunch of annoying things about her.

But when she compliments my writing, sometimes my brain either shortcircuits for a moment or starts coming up with all kinds of bullshit like, “She’s just saying that because you’re friends and she’s a very supportive person. You’re pretty much the only one writing for this ship, so this is more like when you’re desperate enough to run fics in Russian and Chinese through Google Translate and you still leave kudos even though half of it came out as gibberish. It’s like when you read something you know is actually not well-written or well-plotted at all just for a certain specific character or trope in it, she’s just the type who doesn’t believe in guilty pleasures. She’s using a very happy and pleased tone but that doesn’t mean anything on the internet, almost everything here is hyperbole anyway so her actual reaction must have been a lot more lukewarm.” And when she writes to me or says she enjoys talking to me, sometimes my brain will go, “That’s great and I appreciate it! ... but seriously, why.”

*sigh* I guess that’s another thing I’ll have to try and work on this year. Being more open about what I feel -- at least on a sideblog read by only *checks* fourteen people, none of whom are the friend in question or any friends we have in common or any of my regular internet friends at all -- instead of keeping everything bottled up inside at all times is another one, apparently. Let’s see if it’ll really make me feel lighter.

#personal #rant #please don't reblog #might delete later

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jellybelly-may · 4 years ago

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Bakugo Katsuki x Older Brother!Reader

BAKUGO KATSUKI

Aggressive, Arrogant, Violent.

Sibling: Older Brother

Looks: Like this but he wears a see-through white T-shirt over

Age: 21

Quirk: Nitroglycerin

Happens after the Battle Trial Arc

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

It was cold and the cold breeze wasn't making it any better. You see, you, Bakugo (Your Male Name), had just gotten back from your job which included training and preparing people with their Quirks. You weren't a Hero like other people who dreamed to become filthy rich or become the Number One Hero, you wanted to be someone who can help other people who had Quirks. Scratch that. You helped anyone with or without Quirks.

You decided it would be a good choice to take a vacation after your younger brother was accepted into the famous Hero Highschool-U.A High-and your arm broke due to a training mishap. Your parents somehow heard the news and as expected, your mother scolded you for being careless with the student and wanted you to return home immediately. You agree and arrived this morning after Katsuki left because your parents wanted to surprise him. You had unpacked your stuff and stowed it away in your old room.

Just as you thought you could have a nice nap, your mother wanted you to pick Katsuki up from school.

Which was what you were doing now.

'Damn brat...'

It was cold and you only wore a white T-shirt, black stretchable pants and combat boots. You had your arm in a movable cast, which was connected to your other shoulder and neck. Mitsuki had rushed you seeing that it was almost time for the students to leave the school, in which you grumbled for not having enough time to rest. You walked faster when the cold breeze blew through your shirt.

Upon arriving at the gates of the prestigious Hero school, you stood there waiting for your literally explosive younger brother. You knew that if you took another step, the school would automatically close down. It would cause chaos and the Pro Heroes in there would panic to keep their students safe at all cause. You waited by the gate despite the cold weather freezing you to death.

"Kacchan!!"

'Kacchan? Isn't that Katsuki's nickname from Izuku?' You didn't peek in because you didn't want to get caught. Instead, you moved closer to the gate. There was some talk that you couldn't hear but Katsuki's loud voice made you hear something that you thought you would never hear before. "Today, I lost to you...Damn it!!" Katsuki hated losing. Well, so did you. "But, I will become number one! You hear?! You won't beat me again!" With that, you heard someone's feet shuffling. You thought you could finally approach him but then another voice spoke up-more like screamed-.

"YOUNG BAKUGO!!!" All Might?? Was he a teacher at U.A?

Suddenly, your phone rang. 'Crap!' Quickly answering it, your mother spoke loudly on the phone. "(Y/M/N)! Is Katsuki with you now?" Thinking of a lame but true reason, you gave her your reply. "He's coming out from the gates. I can't step in 'cause if I did, there'll be security problems..." Your mother took your bait and told you to get home quickly. Sighing, you saw Katsuki walked out from the gates without noticing you. Smirking, you made your way towards him and spoke up.

"Yo! Katsuki!" The said boy froze, not turning around, which made you fear for the worse. Either he was surprised that you were here or he was in a terrible mood and wanted to kill someone already. 'Shit..' you thought. The two of you didn't move and waited for another to speak. It was until Katsuki spoke up.

"The hell you doing here, dumbass?"

Walking towards Katsuki with a carefree attitude, you put your good arm over Katsuki and gave him a side hug and a quick ruffle on the head. He didn't move and you were slightly worried. You poked him once. Twice. Thri--He growled at you and swatted your hand away from his head. He seemed to be interested in your broken arm and opened his mouth to question you but was cut off by you. You explained the whole story while the two of you walked back to the house. He scoffed. "Idiot. Can't even take care of yourself..." You let out a chuckle. "True, but hey! I'm here and alive right? Heroes need to risk their lives for the people they care for." Katsuki seemed to be in deep thoughts about your words.

"Still aiming to be Number One, brat?"

The nickname made him blew a fuse.

"WHO THE HELL YOU CALLING BRAT DUMBASS!"

Laughing, you quickly jogged to the house, not wanting to get blasted by that little explosive brother of yours.

TIMESKIP BROUGHT TO YOU BY KIRI'S SCAR

The next day, you managed to get a guest pass from Principal Nezu himself. He had seen you from his office window and decided to let you in. You were 100% sure that he was stalking you through his security camera. You snorted at the thought of that and arrive at your destination. Grinning, you knew Katsuki would freak out about having you in his class. The worst part was that you might embarrass him. Sliding the door open, everybody was silent to see another Bakugo look alike in the classroom. Everybody except Katsuki and Aizawa. The latter could only facepalm and muttered something about the principal being serious about letting you in the school compound. Nobody seemed to make a noise that is until Midoriya broke the silence.

"(Y-Y/M/N)? What are you doing here? I thought you were busy with your work in Tokyo? Why is your arm broken?" And with that, let's just say he didn't stop talking and the whole class erupted into chaos. Aizawa looked irritated as usual and curled up into his yellow sleeping bag.

"Are you really Bakugo's brother?!"

"What's your Quirk?"

"Why is your arm broken?"

"You live in Tokyo?!!"

"Your skin is sooooo smooth!"

"Are you wearing guyliner?"

You sweatdropped at the sight of the class. How annoying, you thought. Katsuki, on the other hand, couldn't handle the loudness and ongoing questions about his brother. "Shut the hell up, extras!!" With that, everyone immediately kept quiet.

Katsuki turned to your direction.

"What the hell are you doing here, dumbass?"

You had to hide an ungodly snort. "Visiting, duh. Plus you need to improve your vocabulary, Katsuki." The said boy froze as he realized he got humiliated by his brother in front of his class. He clenched his fists and made his way to you. He grabbed your shirt and looked into your eyes. You smirked at his actions and waited for the outcome. He couldn't do anything all because you were injured and he had to face his mother's wrath at home if he did. He let go and made a 'tch' sound. Once he left you alone, the rest of the class instantly swarmed you. Questions were thrown from every direction and you got a little dizzy. You had to ask them to slow down and you answered their question. It was then the girls asked you about your smooth, unblemished skin.

"My skin? Well, that's because of my Quirk." You started.

"My Quirk is almost similar to Katsuki's but different at the same time. You see, my hands excrete weak Nitroglycerin. Katsuki is able to emit explosion but I need to use fire or heat to make explosions like him." Everybody looked awestruck by your Quirk. You looked down at the girls and gave them a charming smile. "I can give you some of the liquid I made into a cream for you to use." You unzipped your bag and took out 6 small containers and gave them each one a small container. They squealed and thanked you for it while the boys, who already knew you own a training centre in Tokyo wanted you to train them. You agreed and left the classroom before Aizawa could kick you out.

Walking back, your phone buzzed and you opened the message.

Explosive Boi

[10:37 AM]

See u later at home dumbass

You snorted at his sweet words and continue walking home not before texting him a quick message.

Best Older Bro

[10:38 AM]

Yeah see u l8r.

SQUIRT.

With that, you knew Katsuki will kill you at home.

#bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero #boku no hero x reader #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha bakugou #bnha boku no hero academia #bakugo katsuki #bakugo #x reader #watermaylon-writes

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alphawave-writes · 5 years ago

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A path to purpose (Revfinder)

Synopsis: Revenant thought he'd abandoned his humanity. He thought he hated everybody. But perhaps with the help of a robot, he might just remember what it's like. And if he happens to bond with a sentient high-five machine, that's his problem, isn't it?

First Revfinder fic in the world, baby! To go with first Pathfinder fic in the world! Just as the universe intended XD

Read it here on or AO3. You guys can also find me on twitter @alphawave13.

If you like my writing, please do support me by buying me a ko-fi or requesting a commission from me.

On Revenant’s list, he had every and all high-level Hammond Robotics employees at the top of the people he must kill. For a long time, the rest of the list had remained blank, ready for him to fill in the spaces. He hated the skinbags, the so-called humans, for their ignorance. He hated how they could live their lives to their fullest and die and never have to suffer the curse of immortality. But he didn’t hate them enough to put them on the list. No, only special people who have done something to earn his personal brand of wrath deserved to be on that list. And now, after centuries of corrupted memories and composited images and fake lives, he had someone to put in at number two.

That number two was an insufferable MRVN who went by the alias of Pathfinder.

“Hey, friend! Great to meet you. My name is MRVN, but you can call me Pathfinder. All my very best friends call me Pathfinder, which is everyone.” A disgusting little smiley face flashing on their chest monitor.

Revenant huffed. He hated this. He knew this was going to happen. The robot and the simulacrum, the vicious murderer of a beloved celebrity and the ball of sunshine, the pessimist and the optimist. The people of the Outlands really did love their match-ups, didn’t they? Wouldn’t it be a kick in the pants if they’d have their rooms right next to each other, in an isolated corner of the dropship, away from the skinbags? Think of the drama.

Sons of bitches, all of them. He’ll put the organisers of the Apex games at number three on his list.

“Could you not hear me?” Pathfinder asked. “My voice module is incapable of imitating shouting, but I can raise the decibel level of my voice to make it sound like I’m shouting. Would you like me to do that, friend?”

“I’m not your friend,” Revenant growled. “And I can hear you just fine.”

“But you are talking to me. And friends always talk to each other, which means you are my new best friend.”

“Just ignore him, buddy,” Mirage said. He had his own group of people around him, but felt, for some ungodly reason, to approach Revenant.

When the games started, Mirage’ll be his first victim, Revenant thought.

“Guy will call anyone and everyone his friend,” Mirage continued. “He’s a robot. He can handle it.”

Revenant did his best to convey how much he was glaring at the man. “I am a robot.”

“I mean, yeah sure. On the outside. Not on the inside. At least…that’s how simula-simu-…guys like you work, right? But Path’s all robot. He doesn’t feel like the rest of us real humans. Or well…quasi-humans." Mirage was now rubbing the back of his head. "C-Can I say quasi-humans? That sounds racist.”

Revenant glared evilly, and Mirage shrank back into the background.

Scratch that. Mirage was going to be third on that list. Right underneath Pathfinder and just above the organizers.

He was prepared to hate Pathfinder even before he met the robot. MRVNs of his type were developed by a subsidiary of Hammond Robotics, which meant that Pathfinder will have to be killed anyway. He never liked robots when he was human; always thought that a human touch was what made him better than the armies of robot assassins that countless organizations tried to concoct. Pathfinder was no exception, even though he knew that the robot’s drive to find his creator was what propelled it to join the games. That simple goal inspired this simple service bot to fight, to kill, to befriend, to love.

How ironic, Revenant thought. A robot with no mind of its own had more free will than him.

Pathfinder was staring at him—or at least doing his best impression of staring. Despite his hard metallic body, there was warmth in that black lens of his. An almost…human warmth. Almost.

“You don’t know what I am,” Revenant commented.

“I do,” Pathfinder said, his tone getting sharper. “You killed my last best friend on TV in cold blood.”

“So you realise what you’ll get yourself into if you get in my way,” Revenant growled.

“Yep,” Pathfinder replied. “I’ll learn even more about killing from you, and impress my creator. Exciting!”

“What? No! I’m telling you to leave me alone," Revenant spluttered.

“This is really great. I think you are going to be the bestest best friend I’ve ever had, I just know it. That is a lie to make you know just how much I love you.”

For once Revenant was glad he was a Simulacrum, if only so this stupid robot couldn’t see the blush that'd otherwise stain his cheeks. “Shut up. Get out of my sight.”

To Revenant’s relief, Pathfinder gave a friendly wave in goodbye and retreated to his bedroom without another word. He didn't close the door. A nauseating heart emoji popped up on his chest and remained there for some time .

Scratch that. Hammond Robotics can wait. Until that opportunity presents itself, Pathfinder was top of his list of people to kill. Something about that damned robot really got under his skin.

Of course, the universe was never kind to Revenant. He always lost in games of chance and fate. If his odds were slightly better, he might’ve taken a different road and became a high stakes gambler instead of an assassin. They weren't all that different, if he thought about it. The difference was that assassins exploit other people’s luck, find the openings and seize the opportunity to strike . Assassins didn’t need luck, they made their own. But life was a casino, and the odds were stacked up against you. You cheat to win, and sooner or later you get caught by security.

And by security, he meant the high tech lock that he had placed on his room's door to make sure no one ever disturbed him. The very lock that Pathfinder had just opened.

“Hi, best friend. Beautiful day outside.”

Revenant grabbed the nearest thing from him—in this case a Nessie doll—and threw it at Pathfinder. It hit his head before falling down with a thud. Revenant grunted. Should've grabbed the knife.

“Did I come at a bad time?” A question mark appeared on Pathfinder's chest.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Revenant hissed. “How did you get past the lock?”

“Oh, that was easy. I asked my friend Crypto to help me open it. He agreed to give me some advice if I promised not to pester him for the rest of the week. When it didn't work, I smashed it with my fists, which are made of metal.”

Revenant did not have time to unravel all of that. He checked his clock. 3am. “You bothered me now?! Talk to me when the rest of the skinbags are awake.”

“But it is day time, and we do not need sleep like humans do.”

He wanted to say otherwise but Pathfinder has a point. He didn’t need to sleep. He just did it anyway because…well, he wasn’t actually sure why. Maybe he was hoping that he might be able to dream and remember his previous life, or that some other assassin will kill him when he was defenseless and finally give him the death he so desperately craved. But that’s wishful thinking on his part.

Pathfinder was still staring at Revenant, waiting for an answer. Revenant huffed. He can’t believe he was doing this. “Fine. Stay here. Just don’t touch anything, or I will make sure your warranty is voided for good.”

"Great!" Pathfinder exclaimed far too loudly as he walked exactly two steps into the centre of the room and stood still.

At least the damned thing knew how to follow instructions.

"You have a nice room. I like it," Pathfinder commented.

Revenant grumbled under his breath. The one thing he hated more than Hammond Robotics. Compliments. "Don't think you'll get brownie points with me."

Pathfinder's single lens scanned the room, before he crouched down to pick up the fallen Nessie doll. For a MRVN with little to no touch receptors, he handled the fragile thing so gently. It could feel, Revenant realised.

"You have one too," he remarked.

It took all of Revenant's willpower not to snatch the doll and hide it away. "Give it back, it's mine. And what do you mean, 'too'?"

"My friend Wattson used to collect Nessies when she was younger. Most of us found one. They are very cute."

"They are…" Revenant mumbled. He jerked his head up at Pathfinder. "I know what you're doing. Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"This. Whatever you're doing." His crimson eyes peered deeply into Pathfinder. "You must have a motive for being here."

"I want to find my creator," Pathfinder said.

"Don’t give me the bull you fed the press. We both know that's not true."

Pathfinder's monitor went blank as the robot tilted its head. It had no face, no real emotions besides the one it could display on its chest, but Revenant felt like he hit a nerve. A sore one.

"It's not true?" Pathfinder asked quietly.

"Your programming says you want to find your creator. Just ones and zeroes giving you some semblance of a directive to follow. You don't actually think. You don't actually dream."

"I have dreams," Pathfinder said. His tone didn't sound as peppy, almost like he was struggling to display the proper emotion in his voice. "My diagnostics cannot determine why, but I dream like humans do. I dream of being famous. Of making my creator proud, wherever they are. Becoming the champion of the Apex Games sounds very exciting, and will get me noticed by my creator and many people and robots all over the Outlands."

If Revenant could roll his eyes, he would. "Face it, the chances your creator is even alive are slim to none." Revenant's eyes dimmed. "If I could meet my creators I'd…I'd…"

"Give them a high five?" Pathfinder suggested.

Revenant scoffed. "A high five to the face. With a knife. And then another high five with my knife to their stomach, spleen, neck, and spine." He knew exactly how the blood would squirt and spill. With every life he took, he felt a little more alive, just for a brief moment.

"That is a lot of high fives," Pathfinder murmured uneasily.

"Yeah, well, I can't anyway. They've been dead for god knows how long. I've been living for too long myself. Don't even remember my own name, just what I do, what I did. What I looked like."

It took Revenant a few seconds of introspection before he realised he made one of the biggest mistakes. It was right there in the assassin's handbook: never reveal anything about yourself. Revenant stood up from his bed, instinctively prepared to fight or kill. Non-existent adrenaline filled his body, a by-product of the simulation that once fabricated his human appearance, as he observed every weapon at his disposal. There was the chair, the knife under his pillow, his own augmented body, that weak spot at the MRVN's neck. Just had to wait for an opportunity. Wait for luck to go on his side.

But Pathfinder did not move. There was a question mark on his monitor, the light within that dark lens glowing brighter. To the untrained eye he was just standing, but Revenant noticed how Pathfinder’s centre of gravity lowered into an defensive stance. He knew what Revenant was going to do, and he chose not to move. It was almost like the MRVN was daring Revenant to act, as if to say Go ahead and try.

Revenant had fought a lot of robots in his life. None of them acted like this. They calculated the safest, most effective move in the short term. They strike first, asked questions last--if they were capable of asking questions. They didn't see the big picture. They didn't stand there, waiting for an attack they knew was coming. No fully automated machine could ever act like a human.

This wasn't any ordinary MRVN. This MRVN thought and dreamt like a human. This MRVN was alive.

Huh, Revenant thought. Perhaps Pathfinder wasn't just a pretty face for the cameras after all.

Ugh, he couldn't believe he just called Pathfinder a 'pretty face'.

Revenant's gaze swept down to the Nessie doll, and with a grunt he swiped it out of Pathfinder's hands and placed it back on its rightful spot above his bed. The doll was one of two personal effects he brought with him when he joined the Apex Games. The other one sat at an unused sink, just underneath an unused mirror, old but sharp. Just like him.

"You did not need to take it from me. I would have gave it back to you.”

"Sure you would've," Revenant grumbled.

"I would, because I love you, best friend."

Revenant stiffened. He hadn't heard the L word in…actually, when had anyone used the L word with him? It was always used to describe someone else, and it was never in a good way. Love was just another thing to exploit. Another bit of luck to steal.

So why could he feel his artificial lungs quicken? Why did his systems glitch for just a second, making everything spark in front of his vision?

"Best friend?"

Revenant stared at Pathfinder for the longest time, wondering if perhaps the robot was fucking with him. But all that he was met with was utter sincerity and honesty.

The honest people were the dangerous ones. The ones that had nothing to hide usually had nothing to lose. And Pathfinder was too young and too naïve to have any morals to hold him back. Pathfinder was dangerous. Friendly, but dangerous. A useful ally, or the bane of his existence.

Revenant suddenly approached Pathfinder, acutely aware of how much taller he was than the taller-than-average MRVN as he sharply pushed Pathfinder out of his room and slammed the door shut. Pathfinder stood outside his door for several seconds before walking away. Revenant collapsed on the bed, groaning in frustration as he tried, once again, to close his eyes and sleep. Despite his best efforts, his mind was too restless. All he could think about was that strange look Pathfinder gave him. It was almost like staring at a human being trapped in a robotic body. A twisted reflection of himself.

He wondered what would have happened if he met a human version of Pathfinder, back when he was human himself. Chances were he'd kill the guy before anything could happen. If only he had the guts to kill him now and end the torture that was Pathfinder's horrific attempts at friendship.

He was getting soft, he told himself over and over again. Secretly, he knew there was a different reason as to why he hadn't killed Pathfinder already. One that he refused to acknowledge.

It was ironic. Both their squadmates had been wiped out in the gunfight, leaving only him versus Pathfinder. A 1v1 for the championship of this round. It had been through the use of surprise, fear, ruthless efficiency, an almost fanatical use of the Devotion, and his nice red turban that Revenant managed to get to this position. Soon as he learned Pathfinder was on a different team, he tried his best to track him down and eliminate him early, but to little avail. And now here they were, identical weapons drawn, staring each other down through the scope of their gun, the ring closing in on their position.

The universe really did hate him, didn't it.

Time seemed to slow down as they stared at one another, no doubt both of them thinking the same thing. Except--and Revenant hated that he had to keep reminding himself this--Pathfinder couldn't think. It was a robot. A MRVN. Inanimate. A machine that could only follow its programming.

At least, that was what Revenant thought. Until he felt a grapple on his abdomen.

He was pulled forward toward Pathfinder, too quick for him to ready his weapon. The glint of the barrel stared him in the face, but he twisted his body, and the shotgun shell barely missed him. If he was human, he'd be deaf in one ear. But he wasn't. With a snarl, he grabbed his own shotgun, aiming it blindly, but the shell missed as Pathfinder slid underneath Revenant's legs and grappled a fair distance away, already switching his weapons.

Revenant was begrudgingly impressed. He almost underestimated Pathfinder.

Almost.

He ran toward Pathfinder, shouting at the top of his lungs. Pathfinder tried to shoot him down, but Revenant predicted his movement, sidestepping out of the way before unleashing his own volley of energy bullets. A few shots dinked at Pathfinder's body armour. Half armour and full health at best, Revenant assumed, though it could be lower. It all depended on whether Pathfinder healed up earlier or not. Revenant was not going to take his chances with an aggressive play and find out. Not yet.

Pathfinder tried the same trick again, his grapple flying through the air, but this time Revenant somersaulted backwards, the momentum pulling Pathfinder to the ground. There was the sick crunch of metal against metal as he yanked the grapple claw off his chest and stomped hard on Pathfinder's monitor, making it beep and whine. He took out his shotgun and pulled the trigger.

The shield was broken. Pathfinder barely had any health left. His body was crumpled and broken, a shadow of its former painted glory. Revenant couldn't help but laugh. "See you in the scrap yard."

"I love you, Revenant."

It took him by surprise. Just long enough for Pathfinder to get his shotgun out and shoot Revenant right between his eyes. The knock-back pushed him away slightly. His vitals flickered in front of his eyes. Warning: <10% integrity.

A laugh emoji flickered across Pathfinder's chest monitor.

The robot played him.

Pathfinder of all people took him off guard.

Revenant snarled viciously as he discarded the gun, looping behind Pathfinder as his hand shifted into a blade, slicing it through the sensitive neck area. Pathfinder groaned as the light in his lens flickered off, falling backwards into Revenant's arms. Within seconds, Pathfinder was inactive and dead.

Revenant huffed as he pushed himself off Pathfinder's body, tossing it haphazardly down onto the ground with a clank. He should be feel happy, alive, something. He felt it just moments before when he gunned down Pathfinder's teammates. And this battle was a close one, where the odds could have fell into anyone's grasp, which usually made the kill afterward all the more sweeter.

So why did this victory feel so hollow? Why didn't killing Pathfinder make him happier?

"WE HAVE OUR APEX CHAMPION.” The announcer said across the intercoms.

Funny. He didn't feel like a champion. Not this time.

Of course, when he got back to the ship, a lot of people congratulated him. Or at least, people tried to, before he told them all to shove off in less-than-kid-friendly language. That made them give him a wide berth, hushed whispers of his abilities spreading like wildfire. He wouldn't stop the rumours. Let them know he was not a person to be messed with. Let them think what they wanted to think.

Pathfinder didn't get the memo apparently, approaching Revenant as soon as he respawned, not a dent or scratch to be seen. He was waving excitedly, even as his friends and acquaintances watched nervously from afar.

"Great moves, friend. Sucks that I lost." He stuck his hand out in a high five.

Revenant stared at that hand for several seconds. It was boxy, and crude, and ugly. It fitted Pathfinder perfectly. "That was a dirty move back in the ring. I could kill you now for it,” Revenant snarled. “I've killed for far less."

"But you're not. And yet you did." Pathfinder tilted his head as he lowered his hand. "Past and present tense are funny, aren't they? Funny is a synonym for weird in this context."

"You did it on purpose," Revenant uttered.

"I did, actually. I am surprised and happy that it worked." His voice almost sounded cocky. "Did you like my moves?"

Revenant did something in between a puff and a laugh. Why was he relieved that Pathfinder was alive? Why was this strange warmth bubbling up his chest, even when there was nothing warm to bubble in his chest in the first place?

What was it about Pathfinder?

He shook his head as he approached Pathfinder and gave him a hearty slap to their arm joint. "You got lucky, punk,” he uttered before heading back to his room and avoid all the interviewers.

He barely got to the door when he heard a faint commotion as everybody clambered up to Pathfinder. Pathfinder was no doubt smiling to his friends when he said, “I think he likes me a lot. We are going to be super best friends, I just know it.” Revenant just shook his head and slammed the door shut, blocking out the rest of the world.

Neither of them realised how accurate Pathfinder’s words would be.

It was 2am and Revenant couldn’t sleep. Or ‘stasis’ or ‘sleep mode’ or whatever the hell it actually was. Point was, he wanted time to just pass him by and it wouldn’t. It continued on at a tepid pace, making sure that Revenant saw each and every one of his few non-corrupted memories in vivid detail. He may not need to sleep, but he could still dream and have nightmares. It was ironic. The synthetic nightmare himself had nightmares.

Karma was a bitch.

His nightmares were never scary enough to frighten him, just made him feel uncomfortable, flooding his mind with sounds and images . He’d killed anyone, from the slimiest mafia boss to the kindest social reformers and the smallest of children, and many of them returned from the grave to haunt his mind. Most times he tried to distract himself with the few things that gave him pleasure in life. Money. Infamy. A name checked off his hit list.

But not tonight. This time, as he stared at the ceiling, his mind went to a service robot with a coat of blue paint and a well-polished grapple and smooth, clean metal.

He bolted up, grunting angrily to himself. His hand went up to his head, wanting to tug at short blonde locks, only to feel the rough texture of a Hammond Robotics-issued turban.

“Again, always that stupid, insufferable robot,” he hissed to himself. What was it about Pathfinder, corrupting his dreams, driving him mad with his presence? It must be because he hated Pathfinder. That had to be it. That had to be.

He’d say more but then he realized that light was flooding in underneath the door. The scent of meat drifted in the air. The sounds of a pot boiling liquid.Someone was awake and…cooking? At this ungodly hour?

Curiosity killed the cat, but then cats weren't expected to do surveillance on their potential targets to kill. Or…actually they did, didn't they? Whatever. Point was, in his line of business it was better to investigate these sorts of things. At the very least, it was good practice for sneaking up on some unsuspecting victims.

So he crept out of his room, closing and locking it without a sound. He kept his profile low, his movements almost spider-like as he crept from the floor to the source. The light was coming from the common kitchenette. Amidst the various cooking noises, Revenant heard some tunelessly humming.

They wouldn't hear him. This was almost too easy.

He stuck to the shadows where he belonged, the harsh light making the shadows darker. All of the other legends were sleeping apart from Crypto and Octane, who were both occupied on their computers for various different reasons, not like they'd notice him. He got closer, edging his face past the corner.

Of all the things he expected to see, Pathfinder wearing a fluffy apron was certainly not one of them. Pathfinder's humming stopped. His head turned toward Revenant's direction. "Best friend, you are awake. Just in time!"

Revenant silently cursed himself for getting caught. Once again Pathfinder was taking him off-guard. This wasn't like him. This really wasn't.

Slowly, he walked into view, his body poised for attack.

"You are just in time. I have made a new batch of my famous Leviathan stew! It's made with real Leviathan meat, not fake meat."

Revenant sniffed the concoction. Sure enough, it was Leviathan stew. Smelt like it, at lest. Looked like it. It'd probably taste like it too. "You do realise I don't have a mouth to eat it with," Revenant said.

"That's alright. Then everybody else can have it when they wake up. Sharing food is what makes it fun. Or at least, I think it is. As you can tell, I also do not have a mouth to process food and 'flavour'. "

Revenant scoffed. "Next, you're going to be telling me the secret to making delicious food is love." He spat the L word out like it was poison. He's had to spit out a few poisons in his natural lifetime. He often wondered if that was how he bit the dust the first time, back when he was human.

"The secret to making delicious food is to cook it exactly like the recipe. And also tasting it." A frowny face briefly appeared on his monitor. "Unfortunately, I can't taste food."

Revenant looked at the gigantic pot filled with Leviathan stew. He remembered his mentors served it to him once. It was good for long stakeouts. Easy to cook, easy to heat up, and filled your stomach up nice. It was comfort food for a long time, something he whipped up many a lonely night when he wanted to feel warm and safe for once. Even if he had the capability to eat, Leviathan meat was much harder to get a hold of now than it was in his time. Many things he once enjoyed were now gone, or had been reduced to rare luxuries. The few that remained, they were unattainable to him because of his simulacrum body.

He tilted his head toward the stew. If he had lips, they'd be thinned to a line. He harshly shoved Pathfinder aside with his shoulder and grabbed some spices from the spice rack. A dash of paprika, a pinch more brown sugar. The colour shifted as he stirred it with a wooden spoon, turning into a richer reddish-brown. Not unlike the colour of his endoskeleton when it was caked in dried blood.

"Revenant?" Pathfinder asked. It was the first time ever that he ever said his name. Or rather, his moniker. He'd never give people his human name. Not even after a thousand deaths.

"Where'd you learn this?" Revenant asked.

"Some soldiers in Solace were ever so kind to teach me," Pathfinder replied. "A chef taught me how to make it better. And now, you're making it even better-er." A laughing emote flickered on his screen. "That was a joke. Better-er is not a real English word."

Revenant hummed. "That chef was shit. You need more paprika. Gives it a bit of an extra kick." He stuck his thumb back toward the sleeping quarters. "We all know that lot need a kick up their backside, especially that insufferable Mirage."

"Mirage is my best friend," Pathfinder said. Quickly, he added, "but you are my newest best friend."

"Of course," Revenant sighed. He should've known.

Pathfinder turned his head back to the stew. His monitor was blank. His voice sounded almost introspective. Pensive. "My friends say you're a bad man. That you killed hundreds and hundreds of people before coming to the Apex Games."

If Revenant had eyebrows, they'd be raised up slightly. "Your friends are correct, for once. What's your point?"

"You are a bad person," Pathfinder said. It was a statement. A fact.

"And?"

"And you are my best friend."

Revenant was beginning to get annoyed. "And?"

"And nothing else. That is all that matters."

"I thought you said you wanted to find your creator," Revenant said mockingly.

"I do," Pathfinder replied, "but that has nothing to do with you. All that matters about you is that you're a bad person, and that you are strong, and that you have great moves, and that I love you."

Revenant bristled. "Stop saying that."

A question mark appeared on Pathfinder's chest. "Stop saying what?"

"That word. The L word."

"Love?"

"I said, stop saying it," Revenant growled.

Something flickered within that glowing lens of Pathfinder's, and then a grinning face blossomed on his chest. "If I promise, will you teach me your moves?"

"My moves?" It took a few seconds before he understood. He almost dropped the wooden spoon into the stew. "You want to learn how to kill?"

"If I learn lots of new things, it will help me become more famous and spread my image across the Outlands. Then I'm sure my creator will find me."

Revenant huffed. This was ridiculous. Pathfinder was ridiculous. "You've already killed."

"But we can work together, best friend. With your moves, and my moves, we can take the championship. Then my creators will notice me and we will be reunited. I cannot wait!"

Revenant studied Pathfinder for several seconds. He'd been an apprentice for the Syndicate, but he'd never taught an apprentice himself.

No, it was ridiculous to entertain that idea. Unless... "If I agree to teach you, will you listen to whatever I tell you to do?"

Pathfinder gave a mock salute. "Absolutely, best friend."

"If I agree, will you stop saying the L word? Will you stop calling me friend, or any synonym of the word 'friend'? Will you only come into my room when I give you permission to?"

"Yes, yes, and yes." Pathfinder was bouncing in excitement now. He'd never seen the MRVN so happy before. "This is why you are my new best friend. I think I am going to make you my number one best friend in the whole wide world."

Revenant felt that weird warmth creep up his chest. It wasn't hate, he realised suddenly, but it was just as intense. It burned hotter than magma, brighter than the stars, and was lighter than air. It made him feel like he was flesh and bone again, turning his head away from a kissing scene when he was but a weak and defenceless child. But if it wasn't hatred, what else could it be?

What the hell was Pathfinder doing to him?

Why the hell was Pathfinder of all people making him feel like this?

Revenant took one final glance at Pathfinder, then at the stew, still bubbling. His hands grabbed the handles of the pot, overturning it. The gloopy mixture of meat and vegetables sat in a pitiful pile on the floor, the juices seeping all the way to the tables and the chairs. If Pathfinder could, he'd be blinking rapidly.

"Clean that up, tin can. And make another one when you're done. I heard Leviathan stews take a long time to make. Do all that, and I might consider teaching you something."

Instead of getting angry, Pathfinder just beamed brightly. "Will do, sir."

Sir. He could get used to hearing that. Something about the word sounded very pleasant from Pathfinder's voice module.

#Apex Legends #Apex #Revenant #Pathfinder #Revfinder #Do I love these two? Absolutely #Am I going to write more about them? DEFINITELY but probably not for a bit #I honestly didn't know if I should tag them as m/m or other in AO3 because technically they're robots with no preassigned gender #and gender is a construct anyway #I don't know anyway here's murder robots becoming friends and catching feels

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queerdraws · 5 years ago

Text

Ineffable Husbands playlist

For anyone looking for an ungodly long playlist that is probably going to be under construction forever: Here You Go

I also want to plug this playlist while im at it because I absorbed a lot of songs from it & it’s very good. much more concise FULL CURRENT TRACKLIST, 41 songs (as of 7.6.19) UNDER THE CUT Including: tally hall (an absurd amount), hozier (of course), frank sinatra, the mountain goats, sufjan stevens, queen, elbow, velvet underground, mitski...etc.

Frank Sinatra - The Best is Yet to Come

Out of the tree of life I just picked me a plum You came along and everything started in to hum Still it's a real good bet The best is yet to come

Best is yet to come and babe won't that be fine You think you've seen the sun But you ain't seen it shine

A wait til the warm up's under way Wait til our lips have met And wait til you see that sunshine day You ain't seen nothing yet ... Wait til your charms are right for these arms, to surround You think you've flown before But baby you ain't left the ground

Hozier - From Eden (obligatory)

Babe, there's something wretched about this Something so precious about this Oh what a sin

To the strand a picnic plan for you and me A rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago

Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on it's sword Innocents died screaming, honey ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

Tally Hall - You & Me

Off again we go Another seed to sow Another part to keep in proper order

What have I begun? Get away undone I have seen the signs and I ignored them

Now it's you And me Divine A circular design (do do-do do-doo) Time, and place, and mind Points along the line (do do-do do-doo)

Sitting in the park Carefully remark Everything is better when you're learning

You were in the dark And I was in the dark Everything is made to keep on turning

Barenaked Ladies - It’s All Been Done

I met you before the fall of Rome And I begged you to let me take you home You were wrong, I was right You said goodbye, I said goodnight

It's all been done It's all been done It's all been done before

I knew you before the west was won And I heard you say the past Was much more fun You go your way, I go mine But I'll see you next time

It's all been done It's all been done It's all been done before

The Strokes - Under Cover of Darkness (the times between meetings)

We got the right to live, fight to use it Got everything but you can just choose it I won't just be a puppet on a string

Don't go that way I'll wait for you

And I'm tired of all your friends Listening at your door I want what's better for you

So long, my friend and adversary But I'll wait for you

Conor Oberst - To All the Lights in the Windows (Crowley POV, Aziraphale not quite meeting him half way wrt The Arrangement. Talks about various biblical events throughout time, like they’re meeting up there)

Jesus off in the water, standing on His feet Yeah, that's the thing about charisma it makes everyone believe But there is nothing impossible When I'm with you and when you're with me I got a sad sinking feeling that, that can never be

But I'm going to do what I can for you, I will make a plea To all the lights in the windows, the puddles in the streets And all the lovers that you've been teasing from your balcony May they carry you far from my memory

Light a Roman Candle with Me (Crowley POV)

Light a roman candle with me Just a roman candle, you can wear your sandals And I'll pour you just one cup of tea. Then you can go and rest You haven't seen my best, so

Just spend an evening with me Just a lazy evening, then you could be leaving Or we could stay and talk until three. I will think it's magic and I'll hope you'll agree, so

Light a roman candle with me. Just a roman candle. Just a perfect apple.

If we were honest and both wrote a sonnet together A sandwich with everything on it, At least we would know that the sparks didn't glow But we owe it to ourselves to try, So we aim and ignite! So often I call and I plead with you: "Give me a chance!" It's not often that I understand The ins and the outs of what's wrong and what's right So don't think of tomorrow tonight.

Oh, I know, it goes on, it gets old But for now we're young, we smell good, we're alone

You look for a legend, I'm looking for common ground. Your heart isn't breaking, And mine isn't making a sound.

Oh I know, it goes on, it gets old Oh I know, it goes on, it gets old

Light a roman candle with me. Just a roman candle. Just a perfect apple.

Tears for Fears - Head Over Heels (mmm pining)

You keep your distance with a system of touch And gentle persuasion I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much? Oh, you're wasting my time You're just, just, just wasting time

Something happens and I'm head over heels I never find out till I'm head over heels Something happens and I'm head over heels Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart Don't, don't, don't throw it away

Throw it away Throw it away

Mother Mother - Problems

You and me, we're not the same I am a sinner, you are a saint When we get to the pearly gates You'll get the green light I'll get the old door in the face

Doo, doo, doo I'm a loser, a disgrace, yeah

I've found love in the strangest place Tied up and branded, locked in a cage I say I'm gonna stage a great escape Let loose and love all But baby we're out of place

Doo, doo, doo I'm a loser, a disgrace You're a beauty A luminary, in my face

I got it all, and not a lot, I got a lot less than a lot I've got problems, not just the ones that are little It's those people problems, it's something to consider When you come for dinner at my place

The Mountain Goats - New Zion (sort of a flashback to the garden, i don’t like to put really mellow songs at the very beginning of playlists so this was the best place i could fit this one in)

There were signs up in the sky When we gathered by the garden wall Everybody on his best behavior Listening for the altar call

High priest of Salem in his robes Ranting of the coming of the day Ravens at the gates Frightening all the visitors away

I lay down by the water Dreamed a dream of where I come from Old things made new Waiting for you

There were wooden wind chimes rustling In the trees above the anthills on the dunes On the high winds, we could hear them Old familiar tunes

The little bit of faith we had once Like the memory of a movie They got burned up in the great fire Reassembling itself slowly by surely

I lay down by the water Dreamed a dream of where I come from Old things made new Waiting for you

Tally Hall - Who You Are (Aziraphale POV)

Maybe there's something to being the one who you are Holding the thoughts in as you pull away in your car I get to thinking a little too often & All that I want is a little aloft & Maybe it's all too much thinking and not enough heart

How is it all of the people can know who you are? Off in the distance emitting a glow in the dark All of it subtle and all of it very bizarre How is it all of the people can know who you are? I see you Not too far

Armed to the teeth You will sit at the fireside We are the ones who have chosen the other side It was easy to see You were ready to be And it all falls down

You rose up and rode away underground Alone us finding our way to found

Catfish and the Bottlemen - Longshot

Go, ahead and tell me you got all you want Fiver says you're wrong And I suppose you've come down to help me Move things along ... Listen, the distance between us, could've took a while Once we closed that difference, you turned up like a friend of mine Every once in a while, the little things make me smile As if one of our longshots paid off One of our longshots paid off

So yeah, go, ahead and tell me something real Come on, how'd you feel? And I suppose you've come down to help me Answer to the riddle To the riddle

Why we laughed it off and we're wise enough, who knows?

Queen - You’re My Best Friend (obligatory)

Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had I've been with you such a long time You're my sunshine and I want you to know That my feelings are true I really love you Oh, you're my best friend

Ooh, you make me live

Ooh, I've been wandering 'round But I still come back to you In rain or shine

Apples in Stereo - Baroque

In the moonlight I see my memories In a new light, they seem so real to me I remember You know I remember And the starlight tripping in the sky Come on, we can still go there tonight I remember You know I remember We haven't changed We just feel a little strange We haven't changed We're just a little bit deranged

Umphrey’s McGee - Made to Measure (Crowley POV, “’you go too fast for me???’ what’s that supposed to mean??��)

Please excuse this I know it's rude But I was just trying to satisfy someone who requested mine You're hard to please And no one knows just what you need If you won't ever ask for help then how am I to tell? Uncomfortable You wear it well The sooner that you come around, the offer's waited to be found Anytime you need it I am already there and waiting What's yours is mine but you’re inclined to hesitate to try Don't get me wrong here I just want to make my intentions clear There's no room for reading into deep, if things aren't written down As soon as I've been told That you will not be sold Then we could all move forward here, and find our endings well You need a break It's hard to take the time When things will just move faster and we're never ever slowing down Anytime you need it I'm already there and waiting What's yours is mine but you’re inclined to hesitate to try And after all the bullshit shuffled, piles up inside There's only room for you and me And what we've left to try

Hayley Kiyoko - What I Need (”I’m going to alpha centauri and I won’t even THINK about you!”)

All the back and forth getting complicated Running me around got me frustrated No, that's why I been laying low If you wanna make it work, baby, gotta say it Need a little more than participation Oh, I could go be on my own ... What I need, what I need, what I need Is for you to be sure

The Mountain Goats - San Bernardino (Az POV, unsure of timeline placement on this one but it’s very tender)

We got in your car and we hit the highway Eastern sun was rising over the mountains Yellow and blood-red bits Like a kaleidoscope

And flaming swords may guard the garden of Eden But we consulted maps from earlier days Dead languages on our tongues Holding onto our last hope

And the day was bright and fine And the highway sign Said "San Bernardino Welcomes you!"

I checked us into our motel and filled the bathtub And you got in the warm, warm water I pulled petals from my pocket I loved you so much just then

Sufjan Stevens - To Be Alone with You (another tender, possibly Az POV song)

I'd swim across Lake Michigan I'd sell my shoes I'd give my body to be back again In the rest of the room

To be alone with you To be alone with you To be alone with you To be alone with you

You gave your body to the lonely They took your clothes You gave up a wife and a family You gave your goals

To be alone with me To be alone with me To be alone with me You went up on a tree

To be alone with me you went up on the tree

I've never known a man who loved me

Elbow - Starlings (Crowley POV)

How dare the premier ignore my invitations? He'll have to go So too the bunch he luncheons with It's second on my list of things to do

At the top I'm stopping by Your place of work and acting like I haven't dreamed of you and I And marriage in an orange grove

You are the only thing In any room you're ever in I'm stubborn, selfish and too old

I sat you down and told you how The truest love that's ever found is for oneself You pulled apart my theory With a weary and disinterested sigh

So yes, I guess I'm asking you To back a horse that's good for glue and nothing else But find a man that's truer than Find a man that needs you more than I

Sit with me a while And let me listen to you talk about Your dreams and your obsessions I'll be quiet and confessional

The violets explode inside me When I meet your eyes Then I'm spinning and I'm diving Like a cloud of starlings Darling, is this love?

The Cure - Why Can’t I Be You?

You're so gorgeous I'll do anything I'll kiss you from your feet to where your head begins You're so perfect you're so right as rain You make me Make me, make me, make me hungry again

Everything you do is irresistible Everything you do is simply kissable Why can't I be you? ... Everything you do is simply delicate Everything you do is quite angelicate Why can't I be you? Why can't I be you?

Hozier - It Will Come Back (Crowley POV, don’t be kind to me i’ll get attached oh shit oh shit it already happened aughh)

I know who I am when I'm alone Something else when I see you You don't understand, you should never know How easy you are to need

Don't let me in with with no intention to keep me Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me Honey don't feed me I will come back

Can't be unlearned I've known the warmth of your doorways Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you Oh please, give me mercy no more That's a kindness you can't avoid! I want you baby tonight, as sure as you're born

You'll hear me howling outside your door Don't you hear me howling babe?

The Mountain Goats - So Desperate (Az POV)

We were parked in your car In our neutral meeting place, the Episcopalian churchyard I had things I'd been meaning to say But in the dazzling winter sun that late, I could feel them melt away

And through the warm radio static I couldn't hear my stage directions And the fog on the windshield Obscured our sad reflections

I felt so desperate In your arms I felt so desperate In your arms

We were parked near some trees And the moonlight soaked the branches in ever deepening degrees Had my hand in your hair Trying to keep my cool until it became too much to bear

When we cracked the windows open Well, the air was just so sweet We could hear the cars ten feet away Out there in the street

I felt so desperate In your arms I felt so desperate In your arms

Velvet Underground - I’ll Be Your Mirror

When you think the night has seen your mind That inside you're twisted and unkind Let me stand to show that you are blind Please put down your hands 'Cause I see you

Mitski - Strawberry Blonde (pining)

I love everybody Because I love you I don't need the city, and I Don't need proof All I need, darling Is a life in your shape I picture it, soft And I ache

Ok Go - Last Leaf (Crowley POV, i will go as slow as you need me to)

If you should be the last Autumn leaf hanging from the tree I'll still be here waiting on the breeze to bring you down to me

And if it takes forever Forever it'll be And if it takes forever Forever it'll be

And if you should be the last seed in Spring to venture forth a leaf I'll still be here waiting on the rain to warm your heart for me

And if it takes forever Forever it'll be And if it takes forever Forever it'll be

Coldplay - Til Kingdom Come

Hold my head inside your hands I need someone who understands I need someone, someone who hears For you, I've waited all these years

For you I'd wait 'til kingdom come Until my day, my day is done And say you'll come and set me free Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me

In your tears and in your blood In your fire and in your flood I hear you laugh, I heard you sing I wouldn't change a single thing

And the wheels just keep on turning The drummers begin to drum I don't know which way I'm going I don't know what I'll become

White Lies - A Place to Hide (mixed POV, apocalypse starts)

I've been searching through my books to try and find some truth Perhaps disguised as a mysterious way And if I made a promise Could I stay by your side? Would you guarantee my safety And say that I'd be all right?

But if Judgment Day started tonight at least I'd know I was right And I'd be laughing at the end of the world Take my hand tonight I'll think we'll be alright, girl

And I can see it on the TV, there's an air attack People of the mountains screaming I'll be back And I'm banging on your door so come on and let me in Need a place to hide, I need a place to hide before the storm begins

If I told you all the times when I'd done wrong Could you bathe my soul and wash it all away? I can't forgive the things that I can still remember So I think my friendly sins are here to stay

New Pornographers - Adventures in Solitude (Somebody killed my best friend)

Balancing on one wounded wing Circling the edge of the never ending The best of the vanished marvels Have gathered inside your door

More than begin but less than forget But spirits born from the not happened yet Gathering there to pay off a debt Brought back from the wars

We thought, we lost you We thought, we lost you We thought, we lost you Welcome back ... I know you want to run far away From one more and that it's comin' at a bad time Some cold place heartless ways for all we know

I know you need to breathe through Come back, come too but it's comin' at a bad time Tangled day, for all we know

I know you want to run far away from one more And that's comin' at a bad time Some cold race heartless ways for all we know

I know you want to breathe through Come back, come too but it's comin' at a bad time Old scarred face survivor's guilt, for all we know

Snow Patrol - The Lightning Strike (What if This Storm Ends?) (Crowley POV, you’re back!�� oh god i could’ve lost you forever.)

What if this storm ends? And I don't see you As you are now Ever again

The perfect halo Of gold hair and lightning Sets you off against The planet's last dance

Just for a minute The silver forked sky Lit you up like a star That I will follow

Now it's found us Like I have found you I don't want to run Just overwhelm me

What if this storm ends? And leaves us nothing Except a memory A distant echo

I want pinned down I want unsettled Rattle cage after cage Until my blood boils

I want to see you As you are now Every single day That I am living

Painted in flames All peeling thunder Be the lightning in me That strikes relentless

Grandaddy - A.M. 180 (the apocalypse is over. please still hang out with me? we can do anything, no need for serious plans. whatever together.)

Don't change your name Keep it the same For fear I may lose you again I know you won't It's just that I am unorganized And I want to find you when Something good happens

If you come down We'll go to town I haven't been there for years But I'd be fine Wasting our time Not doing anything here Just doing nothing

We'll sit for days And talk about things Important to us like whatever We'll defuse bombs Walk marathons And take home whatever together

Whatever together

My Chemical Romance - The Only Hope for Me is You (okay maybe we have a little trauma abt the apocalypse, anyway i love you?)

Where were you when All of the embers fell I still remember there Covered in ash Covered in glass Covered in all my friends I still Think of the bombs they built

If that's the best that I could be? Than I'd be another memory Can I be the only hope for you? Because you're the only hope for me And if we can't find where we belong, We'll have to make it on our own Face all the pain and take it on Because the only hope for me is you alone

How it should you be Many years after the disasters that we've seen What we have learned Other than people burn in purifying flame

I say it's okay I know you can tell And though you can see me smile I still Think of the guns they sell

Delta Spirit - Yamaha (Az POV, I’m sorry about the wait, I love you too)

I've been alone too many nights Too proud to tell you when you're right A little patience would have helped me then A lot like the break has been the common standard All the angels above the earth I prayed Said this message right into her head There's certain things in life I cannot take And I will wait

I hope you know I care I hope you know I care

So cold, I know you can't believe it Sometimes you gotta face the feelin' You don't care if you don't get up again There's a thousand things I will not understand (I hope you know I care) Now you're dealin' with the hell I put you through If I had my way I would be right there next to you There's certain things in life you cannot change There's certain things

I hope you know I care

Tally Hall - The Whole World and You (Crowley POV?)

There's lots of pretty people here Sharing soltries and passing letters and

There's lots of questions answered and Metaphysical astronomical songs

Words printed all on papers That seemed too mystical It's so magical

People that dance and compute that No one's better then you ... I hope you're happy now I've revealed the truth I've even written this whole song about you And not about me And not about me

Please don't just laugh and clap right now This is serious I'm not delirious

I've waited very patiently Just to let you know Who should run the show

Cause we all know these are the facts Nothing to retract Nothing too abstract

Concluding in the song I'll say No one's better than you

Ashley Eriksson - Island Song (South Downs cottage)

Come along with me To a town beside the sea We can wander through the forest And do so as we please Come along with me To a cliff under a tree Where we'll gaze upon the water As an everlasting dream All of my affections I give them all to you Maybe by next summer We won't have changed our tune I still want to be In this town beside the sea Making up new numbers And living so merrily All of my affections I give them all to you I'll be here for you always And always be for you Come along with me To a town beside the sea We can wander through the forest And do so as we please Living so merrily

The Mountain Goats - Genesis 30:3

I remember seeing you, my tongue struck dumb When you first came here from wherever it was you came from The power in your voice, your rough touch You keeping care of me, keeping watch ... For several hours we lay there, last ones of our kind Harder days coming, maybe I don't mind Sounds kind of dumb when I say it, but it's true I would do anything for you

Open up the promise of the day Drive the dark things away I will do what you ask me to do Because of how I feel about you

The Civil Wars - C’est La Mort (stay with me forever?)

Swan dive down eleven stories high Hold your breath until you see the light You can sink to the bottom of the sea Just don't go without me

Go get lost where no one can be found Drink so long and deep until you drown Say your goodbyes but darling if you please Don't go without me

C'est la vie C'est la mort You and me Forevermore

Let's walk down the road that has no end Steal away where only angels tread Heaven or hell or somewhere in between Cross your heart to take me when you leave Don't go, please don't go Don't go without me

The Magnetic Fields - When my Boy Walks Down the Street

Grand pianos crash together when my boy walks down the street There are whole new kinds of weather when he walks with his new beat Everyone sings hallelujah when my boy walks down the street Life just kind of dances through ya from your smile down to your feet

Amazing he's a whole new form of life Blue eyes blazing and he's going to be my wife

Sufjan Stevens - With My Whole Heart

And you're all I want (I fell in love, I fell in love the moment that I met you) And you're all I need (I give my life, I give my love, promise I will protect you) And you're all I've got (I will not rest until I know the best is always with you) And I still believe (I confess the world's a mess but I will always love you)

Tally Hall (edu) - Nowhere Else

There’s nowhere else I’d rather be Than in this moment you and me No place else I’d rather go No one else I’d rather know ... When the daylight turns to dusk Our energy a cosmic dust Trust with that in which you feel Love til the end ... love the lost and love the loved live below and love above love the earth and love the trees love those who give their lives for peace love all you call your family love you found a place to be love the ones with whom you fight love the ones who spend the night love the rich and love the poor love for want and want for more love the smile and simple things like those who want to live to sing love the ghost of what has passed love the trying till the last love the sick and love the strong love all who'll learn to get along

Frank Sinatra - I’ve Got a Crush on You

I'm your big and brave and handsome Romeo How I won you I shall never never know It's not that you're attractive But, oh, my heart grew active When you came into view I've got a crush on you, sweetie pie All the day and night-time hear me sigh I never had the least notion that I could fall with so much emotion

Could you coo, could you care For a cunning cottage we could share The world will pardon my mush 'Cause I have got a crush on you

Miracle Musical - Dream Sweet in Sea Major

Children born of one emotion Our devotion's deepest ocean No division reasoned we'll be Free

To know We are beyond a bow And lo, the hues arrange to show It's perfectly clear

You look quite divine tonight Here among these vibrant lights Pure delights surround us as we sail Signed, yours truly, the whale

Joy mirage's kingdom come No one left at stake Now that existence is on the wake Let's see what we can make

Apart is wholly ending A line in any final song So long so far

We will be atoning At last eternal through the past Above a blinding star

#playlist #ineffable husbands #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #i listen to it while drawing and reading fic so the goal is for it to be as long as possible #ive already added more songs to this as of 7.17.2019 #don't expect this to be a stable playlist lol

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sideoffiction · 6 years ago

Text

The Need to Lie

Relationship: Platonic DLAMP

Warnings: Dysphoria, Unintentional Misgendering, spoilers for Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None, Deceit might be a little OOC, idk

Summary: Deceit is the embodiment of lies: any lie Thomas has ever told, or ever will tell, is placed onto Deceit. But this. This is a lie Deceit wishes didn’t have to be told, a secret that didn’t have to be hidden. Deceit wishes that this truth could be screamed across rooftops. But instead, it is kept hidden from everyone: from the other sides and even Thomas. And it breaks her heart.

Me: Look at all of these fics I can work on right now My Brain: Trans Deceit Me: Whaa? My Brain: Trans. Deceit.

Just a warning: I know nothing about women’s clothing, so if the outfit doesn’t make sense, don’t yell at me.

This is also posted on AO3, I’ll post the link in a reblog.

I hope yall enjoy, at least a little.

Deceit is the embodiment of lies: any lie Thomas has ever told, or ever will tell, is placed onto Deceit. But this. This is a lie Deceit wishes didn’t have to be told, a secret that didn’t have to be hidden. Deceit wishes that this truth could be screamed across rooftops. But instead, it is kept hidden from everyone: from the other sides and even Thomas. And it breaks her heart.

Deceit doesn’t quite remember when she figured it out. All she remembers is one day, she knew who she really was, and she didn’t know what to do from there. But, of course, she had to keep up her image, and so she suffered and showed nothing but a lie whenever she saw others.

She kept it hidden pretty well, only showing her true self behind closed doors. It was easy when she was a dark side. But then, she slowly started showing up more and more in the light side of the mind, and soon she became a part of them. When that happened, she started being able to show herself less and less. The only time she had was when she would wake up before the others and she would wear her favorite clothes and do her makeup and hair. Sometimes, she would do it at night, when she can’t sleep, as a way of relaxing. She would stare into the mirror when she is done, looking at her true self, and feel a pang of sadness at the thought that she can’t be like this all the time.

Today was just like any day. Deceit wakes up at an ungodly hour, and starts her day. She sits at her vanity, and starts to do her makeup. She hums softly, some musical Thomas has been listening to non-stop lately. When she finishes her makeup, almost an hour later (don’t judge her, she goes all out at every opportunity she gets), she starts to pick out her outfit. She goes for a simple crop top and jean shorts. Today feels like a simple outfit day, despite only being able to wear the outfit for an hour tops.

Deceit lays back down on her bed, and stares up at the ceiling. What else can she do? She can’t exactly leave the room like this. Who knows what the others would say if they saw her. They would probably kick her out, and back into the dark side of the mind. Deceit can picture it now.

Roman with pure rage as he grabs his sword and forces her out of the light side.

Virgil with a look of pure disgust on his face as he sits by watching.

The sound of Logan talking about how illogical it is that Thomas could have a female side, despite being male.

And Patton, sitting there, not saying anything, looking at her with a disappointed look in his eyes.

No. Deceit can’t tell them. They can never know.

Deceit feels a slight movement in the mindscape, letting her know that there is another side awake. She sighs. She doesn’t want to get dressed but she has to. Deceit shuts her eyes tightly and snaps her fingers. When she peers out again, she can’t help the disappointment she feels upon seeing her usual outfit. She knows that if she looks in the mirror she will have the same result: all of her makeup will be gone and she’ll look like her usual self. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes once more, and sinks out of her room.

She pops into the kitchen, where the first thing she notices is the sound and smell of coffee brewing in the pot on the counter. She glances around and sees Logan sitting at the counter, engrossed in some book. He hasn’t noticed her yet, even as she makes her way over to the now finished coffee, and pours two mugs. She adds cream and sugar to one, and leaves the other black. She grabs the one with cream and sugar and brings it over to Logan, placing it down in front of him. She watches as he looks up with a surprised look on his face.

“Thank you, Deceit. I hadn’t noticed that you had arrived, nor did I notice that the coffee was done.” He looks down at his coffee and frowns slightly. “I’m sorry, but I actually prefer my coffee black.”

Deceit stares into Logan’s eyes with an unimpressed look, as if to say “are you serious?” Logan sighs, and picks up the coffee.

“I apologize, I sometimes forget that you are the literal embodiment of lies, and thus know when I am lying.”

“It’s not fine” Deceit replies softly, going back to grab her own coffee. She takes a sip as she walks back over to Logan, relishing the bitter taste. She sits down next to him, and glances at the book he is reading once more: And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie. He seems pretty far into the book, it is quite possible that he has already figured out who the murderer is. Still…

“The murderer isn’t Wargrave.” She says with a smirk. Logan looks up at her and smirks as well.

“I had already figured out as much, but thank you for the insightful information into the novel.”

“It’s a problem.” They fall into a comfortable silence as Deceit drinks her coffee and watches Logan read the book. Logan just about finishes the book by the time another side pops into the kitchen. It’s Patton, who tiredly makes his way over to the coffee machine to make his own coffee. He pours as much cream and sugar as he can without causing the mug to overflow, then makes his way over to the two of them. He does a double take when he notices Logan’s mug, which is still halfway full, Logan being too engrossed in the book to drink it.

“Logan, I thought you only liked black coffee.” Deceit has to hide her smile as Logan tries to come up with an excuse.

“Uh, you see Patton… Deceit here made my coffee this morning, and he doesn’t know how I like it. I didn’t want to be rude and not drink it.” Patton, still a little tired, takes a minute to process what was said, but when he does, he smiles.

“Aw, Logan, you do care!.” Logan sputters slightly at that, and tries to deny it, but Deceit shakes her head, to show just how much of a lie it would be. Logan backs down, and just grumbles to himself.

As the morning progresses, and the other two sides make an appearance, the kitchen slowly becomes a place of life and noise. But the more people there, the more people there are to tell a lie.

“Can you ask Dee if he wants pancakes or waffles?”

“He said it doesn’t matter.”

“Can you ask him if he wants any special toppings?”

“He says he doesn’t care.”

He, he, he. It’s all Deceit hears. And she wants so badly to say something, but she knows she can’t. She just has to deal with this everyday reality for as long as she possibly can.

Later on in the day, Thomas decides to do a video.

“What is up everybody?” is heard throughout the mindscape, as the sides listen in anticipation, hoping for an opportunity to turn the video into a Sanders Sides video. Deceit decides to tune it all out, as she is rarely ever needed for videos, even since being accepted by the light sides. Because of this, she is caught of guard when she is summoned into the real world.

She looks around as the other sides look at her expectantly. She tilts her head in confusion. “I totally know what is going on right now.”

“Thomas here summoned us because he has been feeling weird lately. He’s also had a sudden urge to make a video on respecting pronouns, and while Roman claims it wasn’t his idea, we decided to do it anyway.”

“And why wasn’t I summoned for this?”

“Well kiddo, first things first, we want to know your pronouns!”

Deceit stares confused. Why would they ask her for her pronouns? She just assumed that they all believed that all the sides were he/hims because Thomas is. Logan notices her confusion and provides some insight.

“As previously mentioned, Thomas has been feeling weird, and we believe this urge for a pronouns video has something to do with it. Maybe, if we all discuss our pronouns, as well as our friends’ pronouns, we may be able to get to the bottom of whatever is making him feel this way.” Deceit nods as it is explained to her, it all makes sense. The problem is, Deceit can’t get out of this through lying. If she tries to speak, the lie that would come out would be he/him, instead of the she/her lie that they would expect.

“So kiddo, what pronouns do you use?”

Deceit could get out of this by not saying anything, by ignoring the question and sinking out as soon as she can. But she knows that would just make them curious, and cause them to stop at nothing to figure it out. Or maybe her not responding would be just as telling as her saying it aloud. Maybe, just maybe, if she says it, they will forget that she can only tell lies, and believe it to be the truth. What other choice does she have?

“He/him” She replies as inconspicuous as she can. Please work, please work, please work...

“See Thomas, there is nothing to worry about here” Roman exclaims from his corner. “We are all he/him, and we all respect that about each other. So it cannot be us that is making you, eh… queasy, in a sense.”

Deceit tries hard to hide the sigh of relief that escapes her body. By the looks of it, she believes she has succeeded. That is until-

“Hold it.” Virgil replies from the stairs. The others halt their conversation and look over to Virgil. “Did you guys seriously miss that just now?”

“What is it now, Conspiracy Theory?”

“Deceit can only speak lies.” Deceit freezes at this and curses silently. Of course Virgil would be the one to pick it up, he’s known her the longest after all. They all stare at her, expecting her to say something, anything, but she can’t. She opens her mouth, but can’t seem to form the words that she wants to say. So she opts to not speak at all, and sinks out of the room as quickly as she can. She pops up into her room, and locks the door.

She goes and lays on her bed. What can she do now? By now, one of them has put together the pieces, and they’re probably up there right now trying to figure out how to get rid of her and send her back to the dark side of the mind. Maybe if she’s lucky, they’ll do it as nicely as possible. She feels tears start to well up in her eyes.

A soft knocking sounds throughout the room. Deceit holds her breath. “Kiddo?”

They sent the nicest side to send the worst possible news.

Deceit wipes her eyes and gets up, walking over to the door and opening it slightly. She sticks her head out slightly. “I don’t get it, ok. I’ll unpack my things and stay.”

“What are you saying Dee?”

“I’m saying that you guys want me here. I don’t understand.”

“Dee, no that’s not it at all. Can I come in please?”

Deceit opens the door all the way, and lets Patton in. She goes over and sits on her bed. Patton follows behind, and sits down next to her. They are quiet for a while, until Patton eventually speaks up.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I knew you guys would accept me. I’m not a part of Thomas, I shouldn’t be the same gender as him.”

“You shouldn’t have to be!” Deceit looks up in shock at him. “Just because Thomas is one thing, doesn’t mean you have to be. You can be whatever the hell you want, and we’d still accept you.”

Deceit doesn’t know what to say. She continues to stare at Patton in shock. Tears build up into her eyes, this time falling freely down her cheeks.

“Oh, kiddo.” Patton suddenly pulls her into a hug. She sobs into his shoulder as he soothingly rubs her back.

“Let me tell you something kiddo.” Patton whispers to her through the hug. “You’re not quite the only one.”

Deceit pulls back slightly to look at him through tear blurred eyes. He notices the confusion on her face and continues. “I may not understand fully, I still use he/him pronouns so I don’t know everything you’re going through, but I do understand wanting to be more feminine. There have been many times when I’m in my room and I would wear a dress, just because it’s comfortable or just feels right. And I’ve also caught Roman quite a few times trying to do his makeup while wearing some sort of skirt. So, you have nothing to be ashamed of. We might not be quite like you, but we definitely won’t shun you for being you.”

Patton makes sure to look her dead in the eyes when he speaks next. “We love you, kiddo.”

He pulls her into a tight hug once more, letting her get all of her tears out.

That night, Deceit and Patton talk to the other sides (and Thomas) face to face, explaining why she ran off earlier. As Patton said, they were quick to accept her, not questioning it in the slightest. If that is what made Deceit comfortable and happy, then who are they to stop her. When Deceit finally made it to her room that night, she laid in bed for a while, processing everything that happened. Then she realized.

Tomorrow she can present as she wants in front of the others.

Deceit wakes up the next morning feeling... well, she doesn’t really know how to feel. Today is a big day, after all. She goes about her normal routine, putting a little more effort than usual into what she wears. She takes as much time as possible on her makeup, and spends forever figuring out what to wear. In the end, she ends up putting on a yellow snakeskin skirt, and a black top.

It’s not too long before Deceit feels movement in the mindscape. She smiles. She shuts her eyes tightly, and snaps her finger. When she opens her eyes, her outfit has been covered slightly by her cape, and her gloves and hat have appeared (she does still have an image to uphold, after all). She knows, however, that if she were to look into a mirror, her makeup will still be there. She closes her eyes again, takes a deep breath, and sinks out of the room.

When Deceit pops up into the kitchen, the situation is relatively the same as the previous day. Coffee sits waiting to be poured as Logan once again reads a book at the counter. Deceit goes over and pours two cups of coffee, bringing the sweetened one over to Logan. When she places it down, Logan looks up, less surprised than the day before about her being there and her making him his coffee. He doesn’t even say anything about how the coffee is made. However, his eyes widen in shock for a second when he notices what Deceit is wearing. Deceit nervously waits for what Logan will say about her outfit, or about her in general.

“You look nice, Dee.” is all he says, before taking a sip of his coffee. Deceit breathes a soft sigh of relief, and mumbles a quick “no thank you”, before going over and grabbing her own coffee.

She glances at the book Logan is reading when she gets back to the counter. It’s not a mystery this time, so there is nothing for her to really spoil. Instead she just sits, drinks her coffee, and watches him read silently.

Patton is the next side to arrive. He tiredly makes his coffee and walks over to them. He smiles slightly when he notices Logan’s coffee, the same as yesterday. It is then that he notices Deceit. All tiredness falls from his face as he takes her in.

“Aw, kiddo, you look so cute!” He says, rushing up to her.

“Be careful, Patton.You do not want to spill your coffee, do you?”

“Sorry, Lo.” Patton replies, slowing down and stopping in front of Deceit. “Dee, you look Dee-lightful! I love your outfit! . Oh, I would love to try it on sometime! Maybe we can play dress up together! Ooh ooh, maybe Roman could even join us!”

Deceit doesn’t know how to react; she’s not used to so much attention, especially to her outfit. Before she can say anything, Logan speaks up.

“Patton please, can’t you see that you are overwhelming Dee?” Patton then notices Deceit’s slightly uncomfortable look.

“Oops, sorry kiddo.” Patton sits down at the counter, next to them, trying to keep himself calm. They all fall into comfortable silence as they all drink their coffees and wake up more. Later on, Roman and Virgil show up. They both looked shocked at Deceit’s outfit, Roman more than Virgil.

“Look at you, Dee-who-cried-wolf! I love your outfit. And by gosh, your makeup! You have to show me how you apply it sometime! And...” Deceit zones out as Roman starts going on a tangent.She looks over to Virgil, who gives her a small smile and a thumbs up. She smiles back at him.

The morning progresses as usual, but Deceit can feel the difference. And it’s a difference that means the world to her.

“Can you ask Dee what she wants for breakfast?”

Yeah, she can get used to this.

#deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #platonic dlamp #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #trans deceit

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ill-skillsgard · 6 years ago

Text

Sweet Demons, Part 6 FINALE - Zeitgeist/Axel Cluney

Title: Sweet Demons

Description: It's the weekend of Friday the Thirteenth, the biggest motorcycle rally and festival in the Western Hemisphere but nothing is more enticingly chaotic to her than the mysterious new member of the famous Motor City Sweet Demons.

Warning: 18+ Mentions of drugs/alcohol/violence, eventual smut/various kinks

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Max demanded that I went into the house and left Axel alone but how could I have possibly ignored what I saw? From the living room window, I peered out so I could continue to watch what was happening. Bradley had helped Axel up on his feet and took him to the clubhouse while my dad hauled the garden hose out from the backyard to start spraying away the peculiar black vomit that had come up from Axel's throat. Confusion set in followed swiftly by anxiety. Nothing about what had happened made sense and the longer I watched my dad pointing a jet-stream of water at the place Axel had thrown up the more I realized that whatever ungodly liquid had come out of that man was leaving a nice deep blemish in the concrete. I paced around the house for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. Nothing had prepared me for what had happened outside. My head pounded and a sick swirling of guilt twisted my gut until it became difficult to breathe. I wanted to go to Axel just to see if he was okay although I was brimming with unanswered questions that wanted to explode forth. The way he had glared at me and told me to get away from him was playing on a loop in my head. Holding my hand to my chest, I tried to breathe in deeply and rationalize what I witnessed but there was nothing I could draw from. The pitch black liquid that seemingly burned through concrete was the last thing I had ever expected to witness. "Angel? Where are you? I need some bandages in here!" I heard my dad yell from the garage. I found a first aid kit under the sink in the downstairs bathroom and brought it to the garage where Braun was sitting on an old white plastic lawn chair with a balled up rag held to his right eye. The rag was not only caked in oil but also soaked in blood. "Get that shit off of his face, you're going to get it infected!" I yelled, shoving the first aid box into my dad's arms. "Why do you care?" Braun spat. "Hey now. You better fuckin' cool it, kid." Dad admonished in a way that was completely sincere and not at all bordering on the edge of a joke. "I've had about enough out of all yous." "I'll go get you some ice... Your eye is swelling like a balloon." Braun shot up from the chair and yelled, "why don't you go try to take care of Axel? Stop pretending like you give a fuck, 'cause it's not cute!" I stood up straight, offended and threw up my hands in defeat. "Fine! Fuck you too then! Fuck everyone!" When I went back into the house I was even more upset than before. I had fucked up so royally that everybody was at each other's throats. Then Max finally came down from the clubhouse to find my father in the garage taking care of Braun's deep cut and his ruptured eye. From the kitchen, it was easy to eavesdrop on anything that was being said in the garage, that I knew so I held my breath and listened hard to maybe try to gather some answers without having to go digging myself. "He all right?" Dad asked as Max entered the garage from the back door, sighing in frustration. "He'll be fine. More just pissed off about the Widow-Maker I think." "I tried to have a look at it but... Something's wrong with the fuel tank." "So weird. He was riding last night... How could something go bust overnight?" "Ah, who fucking knows. Might have to open her up to have a look." "Fuck, Al... I don't know. We have to hit the road like two hours ago. The rest of them are antsy to get going... I don't know what to do." The rusty squeal of the back door rang and a familiar gait thumped through the garage. I swallowed down the breath I was clenching in my lungs and took in another. If anyone came in through the kitchen entrance it would have been obvious that I was listening in but at that point, I didn't much care. "Just go. I'll meet you guys at the next stop once I get her going. Don't let me hold you up." Max Sweet lamented, "fuck Axe... I don't want to leave you behind." "Janet can tail. I'm not leaving here without the Widow-Maker." "Axe... You sure?" "I'm positive. You guys hit the road. I'll see what's up with her and get her going again then I'll meet you up North." "Shit," said Max. "I guess so." "Bring her on up. We'll have a look at her," Dad said. "Thanks, Al. And again... I'll cover the cost of filling the hole in the driveway." "Ah, fuck it. I got a guy who owes me a favor. I'll get it fixed. Don't worry about it." "I'm a little worried about it." "I'd rather you puke your fuckin'... Whatever unholy shit that was on the driveway and not on someone's face." "Where is she?" I heard Axel ask quietly after a few seconds of silence between the three. "She's in the house," Dad replied. "But you best focus on the task at hand." "Yeah, we have to get going," Max agreed. I went up to my bedroom and watched out the window as the Motor City Sweet Demons all got on their bikes and took off without Axel. I felt guilt rip at my throat like a rabid dog and I longed to go to the garage to speak to him even though I was at a loss for what to say. From the second floor, I watched Axel in the driveway, scratching the back of his head, staring at the Demons as they set off. Once he was left alone he circled his bike again, frowning, looking genuinely hurt. It felt terrible to me and all at once I wished I could disappear off the face of the Earth. He kicked up the stand and pushed the Widow-Maker up the driveway, disappearing from sight into the garage to begin work on it. I gave it a couple of hours before I decided to snake my way down into the garage to see him. Even though I had gone over what to say in my head a hundred times I was still afraid of what he would say to me. When I entered the kitchen to get to the garage door I heard the clanging of metal on metal. The sounds of Axel taking apart his bike were loud and I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts before opening the door. He looked up at me when I opened the door but quickly dropped his gaze back to what he was doing when he realized it was me. The seat of his motorcycle had been taken off and the bolts were on the ground right beside it in a metal dish. I wasn't exactly sure what he was doing but it looked like he was working on taking the gas tank off the bike. Grinding the toe of my sandal into the ground, I cleared my throat but he either didn't hear me over the sound of the Allen wrench or simply chose to ignore me. The latter made my heart sink and I immediately felt like Axel wanted nothing more to do with me. I approached the bike, grimacing and trying to lock eyes with Axel but he wouldn't pull himself away from dismantling his bike for a second. "Are you um... Are you okay?" I piped up. With lips clamped shut in concentration he shrugged. "I don't know. Does it look like I'm okay?" "I just wanted to make sure you were... Feeling all right?" "I'll be all right once I'm on the fuckin' road." Blinded by his words, I took one step back incredulously, "I'm sorry... I didn't know you were so eager to leave." "My gang's on the road right now without me. Of course, I'm eager to leave." "Well, you don't have to shut me out. I mean... I think you owe me an explanation after all that." Axel dropped the screwdriver that he was using to unscrew bolts and clapped his hand on the fuel tank that was half off. "I don't owe you anything, okay? I told you that I don't catch feelings at the beginning of the weekend and I wasn't just saying it to be cute. You and I had a good time but right now, I'm about to put my fist through a window and I need you to leave me alone." I stammered when I realized that what he said hurt worse than it should. The icy glare he gave me before picking up a wrench from my dad's toolbox was as forbidding as it was repelling. "Fine. I can see that it meant nothing to you at all. No romance. No nothing. That's fine by me. So when you come back here again, don't look for me." Axel pretended not to hear what I said and the longer I stayed there and watched him ignore me the angrier I got. "Fuck you! What the fuck is your problem?" "You, clearly." "No! You are the problem! How dare you try to tell me you don't catch feelings when you spent the whole weekend with me. You had full intentions of coming back for me before all this. Why are you suddenly acting like you're too good for me now?" He only raised his eyebrows before hunching over and reaching underneath the gas tank to disconnect the fuel lines. "Axel!" I yelled at him. He punched the fuel tank and stood up, the lines of his face deepening with anger. His eyes smoldered and he came in my direction. I hardly had a moment to flinch before his hand was squeezing my face, his immensity over me backing me up until I was pressed up against a steel standing tool chest. "What do I have to do to show you that I am not the kind of guy you want to spend your time with? You saw what happened. I'm. Not. Normal. I'm a walking fucking nightmare... An accident waiting to happen." I remembered the day I first saw him and thought the very same thing that he had just growled at me. He was an accident waiting to happen. Nobody with tattoos like that could have any kind of notion of normalcy. Although I hated Axel for being exactly the thing he told me he was, I hated myself more because I was just as bad. No matter how hard I tried to go a different way in my life I knew that I would always end up a selfish, self-indulgent delinquent and there I was, in his grip and at his mercy. He released my face but did not recoil an inch. He kept me backed up against the chest. "Angel... You are one fine piece of ass but us together... It would be too much. I have to get some fucking answers before I can pledge myself to anything. You don't seem to understand me when I say that I cannot get close to anybody. Even if I really, really want to. Try to get it through your head. You and me... It's got 'bad idea' written all over it. So, please... Don't make this shit harder than it already is." I held in all of the emotion that wanted to burst from my mouth. Nodding my head simply to pull myself back from the edge of crying, I blinked and blinked away the tears. I knew he was right but I wished that he wasn't. I loathed that I couldn't manage to turn him over to me. No matter how badly I wanted him he wouldn't have me. I was just another stop on his journey. "Okay... I understand." "Thanks," he said shortly and then stepped back from me. He looked me up and down once and then turned back to his motorcycle; the only thing to him that really mattered. Biting my lip to keep from spilling anything more, I let my body relax a little. He went back to work as though I wasn't there and I stood still, hands clasped behind my back, aching to explode and tell him everything inside of me that was gouging to get out. The back door opened and a fan of light came in from the sun as well as my dad. He paused and looked between the both of us almost like he could smell the tension in the room. "You kids all right?" He asked us. "Yeah, Dad. Fine." "Gettin' there," said Axel. "How far along have you gotten on that bike, Axe?" Axel squinted as he reached under to pull off the last line. "Well, Going to take the tank apart. See what's going on." "Fuck, kid, you gotta get on the road," Dad reminded him. "I got plenty of working bikes out back, you're welcome to any of them." Scoffing in disbelief, Axel ran his greasy fingers through his hair looking taken aback by my dad's offer. "Al... I couldn't. I can't... I can't leave my bike here. I won't ride anything else." "I know, I know. Figured I'd offer, is all." "I really appreciate it, Al. I should have this taken care of by tonight then I'll be out of your hair for good." Dad looked at me and noticed that I had been exceptionally quiet during their conversation. Although, he chose not to draw attention to it. My dad knew how to read a situation and act accordingly. I was glad he didn't point out how I had been standing there like a statue with a wild animal of a disclosure clawing at my insides, gnawing on my ribs like the bars of a cage. It almost made me feel sick. The garage door was wide open so I turned and started walking towards the end of the driveway, ignoring the shallow pothole that Axel had created in it. Nobody called after me and I was glad because once I got to walking I didn't want to stop. Not until I made my way down the street, walked along with the curve of the bridge that bounded over the highway and through the main street to the beach. Because it was Monday, there weren't a lot of families on the beach enjoying the sun and swimming in the water. There were no groups of girls laid side by side sun-bathing in their bikinis and no kids running around in the shallow, lapping water playing with Frisbees and splashing each other. I didn't much care for the beach in my town usually. There were so many better ones nearby but on that day it was a relief to sit in the sand and look out at the same water that I had been looking out on for years. I wanted to tell Axel about what I did and I knew if I did that meant I would have to apologize to Braun too. My selfish impulse had hurt a lot more people than I intended. I felt cowardly as I took off my flipflop sandals and buried my toes in the sand so the feeling of the untouched under layer would cool my feet. For the first time in a long time, I decided to go swimming. I left my sandals where I had sat down and made my way to the edge of the water. The wet sand sucked in my footsteps and the water splashed up my ankles to my shins and then to my knees. With no regard for the temperature, I walked right in until I was deep enough to dive over the curl of a wave, swimming out further and further until I was far enough for the shore to shrink. There I floated, relaxing in the silence and letting my body get carried back with each gentle undulation. I skimmed the water all around my head with my fingers to make sure nobody that could potentially see me floating out there in my tank top and denim shorts thought I was a dead body. I probably looked strange but I didn't really care. It felt good to just close my eyes and pretend like I was no longer alive. The sun beat down and dried my face quickly so I took a long dunk under the water and resurfaced to breathe. When I turned away from the beach all I could see was the water meet the sky and for a moment I forgot what was plaguing me. I spent the brightest hours of the day reliving the tourist experience. I bought an ice cream cone from the shop that we always used to go to and ate it in the park on a wooden memorial bench beside a fountain that never had any coins in it because people would always fish them out. I walked through the shops and said hello to the store owners that used to hire me for Summertime jobs as a teen. Then I went to the pond and skipped rocks. It felt good to do those things again. By the time I made it back to the beach the sun was just beginning to set. Judging by the bluish cast in the air I assumed it to be almost nine o'clock. Just about the time that the bars lit up only it was the first Monday after the Thirteenth and nobody would be hitting the bars except maybe a few old-timers that never missed a night. The town was calm and so was I. Until I heard a motorcycle coming down the main street. I looked back and saw a black and green chopper with Axel on it, a black bandanna tied over half of his face and a pair of sunglasses obstructing anyone from seeing what he looked like. I tried to make it appear as though I hadn't spotted him but he had spotted me and pulled up loudly, slowing to a steady chug just before the blockades. I didn't watch as he set his feet down on the ground, clutching the bars to maintain the weight of the machine between his legs. He revved the engine a couple of times in an attempt to get my attention but I didn't want to just whip around and go to him like some kind of pansy little girl with no backbone, even if that's exactly what I wanted to do. The engine roared again and I threw up my hands before turning around to face him. I shrugged at him and turned away again. Maybe it was immature of me but maybe I didn't care. He killed the engine and it wasn't long before I heard the shuffling of sand behind me. "Angel," he called to me. "Axel," I mumbled. "Hey! I'm talking to you. Don't ignore me," he commanded. Then it was time to whip around only to shoot a hateful look in his direction. He had pulled down his facemask and hooked the arm of his sunglasses onto the collar of his shirt so they were neatly tucked away beneath his leather jacket. He had even removed his riding gloves, opting to shove them in the back pocket of his jeans as he approached. "Oh! But it's okay for you to ignore me? Why don't you go get fucked." "Angel, please. I'm sorry." Struck by his apology, I shook my head in disbelief. He noticed my shocked reaction and smiled at me. He looked so menacing in his green boots, black jeans, and leather jacket but as soon as a hint of a smile cracked over his lips it threw off the entire illusion. "Sorry for what?" "For everything. I should have kept my hands to myself. You and I should have never gotten involved at all." "Okay, you sound like an asshole again." "I AM an asshole. That's what I have been trying to say! I am a constant source of disappointment to everyone I come across. There's nothing good about me at all." To hear him say those things about himself cut me inside. I frowned at him and reached for his hand. Turning his palm over, I stared at his rings and brushed the pad of my thumb over a=the skull-shaped one on his middle finger. I sighed heavily and let go of his hand and in response, he took a step toward me. "You are right though. I do owe you an explanation." Digging my toes into the sand, I waited for him to ready himself to speak again. He sighed and looked out over the water and then back at me. It was getting darker and the streetlights came on but the light didn't quite reach where we stood on the beach. "Obviously you saw what happened," he began with a heavy sigh. "Yes." "I'm still trying to figure it out. There's something wrong inside of me... There's something there that's rotten." "What is it?" "I don't know yet. All I know is that at any given moment, anyone around me is in danger." "Can't you control it?" I inquired. Axel scratched the back of his head then hooked his finger under his bandanna and pulled on it. "For the most part, yes. But... It gets harder to control when I'm pissed or... I don't know, excited?" "I understand why you don't like kissing now." Axel took one more step closer to me and closed the short gap between us. With my feet in the sand, he seemed extra tall and I tipped my head back to look at his face. "It's not that I don't like it. It's that... I don't want to hurt somebody and when I met you I knew that I had to be careful. If I did something to you... To Big Al's daughter... I'd be done." "So... You're sick? I still don't understand." "I don't understand it either. I've been searching for answers for a long time. I've been looking for somebody that can help me or at least explain why this affliction chose to manifest inside me." "I hope you find the answers you're looking for." "Me too." Axel wrapped his leather-clad arms around me and I returned the embrace, pressing my cheek to the left side of his chest and inhaling his scent quite possibly for the last time. "Axel..." "Yeah?" "I'm sorry for what I did to your bike. I just... I didn't want you to go. I wanted answers too. I know I'm a huge fucking selfish brat and I fucked up huge." "You did fuck up huge. Big time. But... So did I. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you." "I wanted it. I wanted you," I admitted. "Fuck, honey... I want you too. and it scares the Hell outta me for so many reasons." Squeezing him tighter, I tried to fight back the tears that were burning their way up from my throat to my eyes. He kissed the top of my head and held me harder still. "I don't want you to go," I whispered. "I don't want to be alone again." "I'm going to come back. I will. As soon as I can, I'll run to you. I just can't be with you right now. Not today... Not like this." "But you said you can control it." "Sometimes! I am not taking the risk that one day I might lose control. I lost control today, you saw! That could have been someone's face. I could have killed Braun. I could kill you just as easily." "Let me come with you!" I pleaded. "No! You're not coming with me. You wouldn't last a fucking week on the road." "I have it in me! I can do it." "Your father would have every biker in the country looking for me if I let you come with me. Don't be stupid... I know you're not." I finally broke and let out a sob. "I am stupid. So fucking stupid. I'm sorry!" "You're not stupid!" He held me by the arms and gave me a shake, my head wobbling lamely as I battled myself not to cry. It was a battle lost though and Axel pulled me back in. "You're just... A product of your environment. You're a spoiled brat with a father who let you do whatever you wanted because that's the motto he lives by." Axel started to giggle, holding me at an arm's length again so he could watch me cry. "Look at you. You're such a fucking brat! I can't handle it." "Shut up!" I sniffled. "Listen to me," his voice got lower. "It's not that I don't want you to come with me. It's just... You know you can't come without a bike. I'm following the Demons and you know damn well you can't ride with us unless you know your shit." "I can learn fast." "Yeah, you will. You're Al's daughter. You have a permanent fucking seat with us for life. There's a throne with your name on it, Angel. You just have to embrace it." "I'll learn, I promise." "I know you will," Axel told me. He leaned in and kissed me full and hard on the lips for a split second before pulling away again. "And you know I'm gonna be here every Thirteenth until the day I die, right?" Axel stroked my hair and pulled me into him again. His leather started to feel sticky on my skin so I pushed his jacket open and wrapped my arms around his waist, tucking my fingers under the hem of his shirt just to feel his skin again. I knew his time to depart was drawing nearer but I just couldn't force myself to let go of him. His natural fragrance and his black leather was the most exhilarating combination of smells and I craved them. "Come on, walk to my bike with me," he whispered. I didn't say anything and I hardly looked up as he released me from his embrace, causing me to give him up. My arms hung loosely at my sides until he took my hand and pulled me along. Once we reached the blockades he let go of me and went into his throwover bag. I watched as he rummaged around and pulled out the acid-stained rag of a shirt that I hated as much as I loved. "Here. I wore this shirt for like five years straight when I was a teenager so it should stink like me forever," he passed the shirt to me and I accepted it. Then he went back to the jet black leather saddlebag and pulled out a stolen pair of my panties. I opened my mouth but nothing would come out. I could only watch as he rose them to his mouth and inhaled them, letting his lashes flutter, a demonic smirk darkening over his face. I held his shirt close to me and looked up at him with no words. He tucked my pink panties back into his bag and approached me, wrapping me up in his arms again. He placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. I winced at the feeling of his mustache prickling my skin but welcomed it at the same time. Then he kissed my lips once, two times and then again for much longer. Relaxing, I melted into him and accepted any of his kiss I could get. He whimpered very slightly and I knew it was because he didn't want to stop. "I wasn't lying when I told you I'm coming back for that pussy," he whispered next to my ear. "I know." "Good." "I'll send you postcards." "Dirty ones?" "Are there any other kind?" We both laughed and it dawned like a great bell between us that it was time for him to get on his bike and leave. I drew a deep breath in through my nose and tried to cleanse myself of all of the emotion that had been shared. It was bittersweet to watch him straighten his back and stretch out before getting on his bike. With the toe of his boot, he kicked up the stand and mounted the Acid Bath Widow-Maker. He turned the ignition and she roared to life, lights blindingly sending a beam over the sand. Axel revved the engine before using his left hand to pull his facemask to his chin. "See you later, Zeitgeist." "See you later... Angelica," he called before yanking the black material up to cover his mouth and nose. Digging the soles of his boots into the ground, he walked the bike back, turned to me once more, winked then turned back toward the road. With a smooth peel out, Axel drove away and I watched him until he was out of sight. Shuddering out the remnants of my sadness, I started on my way home once the sound of the Widow Maker faded into the newly rising fog. My dad and Braun noticed me from the lit garage as I came up our street. I walked the length of the driveway and didn't stop until I was five feet away from them. I stared at my dad and then at Braun and then looked to the back of the garage where there was a bike covered by a thick black tarp. It had been shielded beneath the tarp for years, never moving. "Dad..." I said. "What's up, sweetheart?" "I wanna ride my bike."

FIN

#zeitgeist fanfiction #axel cluney fanfiction #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgård smut #fanfiction

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i-am-made-of-memoriies · 6 years ago

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Of Valkyrie and Frost Giants

A/N: So this is a fic I’ve been thinking about writing for ages now. After watching Infinity War (my poor, poor soul), I had a lot of inspiration. I hope you enjoy!

Putting on her most regal look, Kara walked quickly to the palace of Asgard. On her way, she saw the happy Asgardians playing in their lavish gardens, accompanied by the gentle trickle of ornate fountains; the scene before her was almost idealistically beautiful.

Odin had requested her presence at the palace days ago, instructing her to arrive once she had done sufficient research on a certain topic. For almost a millennia, tension between Jotunheim and Asgard had been steadily increasing. What once seemed like a small dispute had been augmented into an incipient war. That was unless someone took decisive measures. Of course, many Asgardians favored the simple solution of massacring the entire race of Frost Giants, essentially wiping the problem off the face of the universe; yes, that would be ‘simple’ and require less planning and diplomatic effort, but Kara was convinced there was another way. She wasn’t naive enough to believe that the Frost Giants could be reasoned with. Many a king had attempted that and been subsequently destroyed; what Kara needed was an alternative. Something to act as a bridge between both kingdoms.

“You requested to see me?” Kara kneeled in front of Odin respectfully, her armor jingling as her knee met the marble floor.

“I did.” Odin replied, sitting atop the throne regally. He wrinkled his eyes in a kind smile. “I believe you’ve done your research?”

“I have.” Kara replied, standing up to meet Odin’s gaze. “I do deem it wise to besiege Jotunheim, though I don’t believe that absolute annihilation of the race is the only solution.”

“Say we do go to war with Jotunheim,” Odin began, “if we are to emerge victorious, what will we do with the inhabitants?”

“I am not sure your majesty.” Kara sighed with a hint of resignation in her voice. “Perhaps if we found something-or someone even, to act as a diplomatic bridge between the two kingdoms, the feud would be ameliorated.”

“That is sound reasoning, Kara.” Odin said, nodding gently. “You never asked why I asked you out of all of the other Valkyries.”

“I suppose I didn’t, your majesty.”

“I simply drew names out of a hat.” Odin chuckled happily, “I have deep, deep trust in every single one of you.”

Kara happily reciprocated Odin’s smile.

Kara departed happily from the Valkyrie training grounds, surrounded by her fellow warriors. Cool night air brushed through her messy hair, cooling her sweaty body.

“Elite female warriors my ass!” One of the Valkyries chuckled, “None of you held a candle to me today.”

“I beg your pardon!” Kara shot back affectionately, “You see that stab wound in your arm? Wonder who gave it to you.”

“That’s nothing!” She replied, flaunting the slightly blood-stained bandage. “I could’ve slit your neck several times if I wanted to, but I’m far too benevolent.”

“No way.” Kara insisted. “Your sword stayed far, far away from my precious jugular vein during the entire training session. That was a pathetic lie.”

“If I wasn’t so tired right now, I’d slit your throat to prove I could.”

“Ah, but you’re tired. Tired because you couldn’t beat me or the other valkyries with ease. Why you ask? Because they do hold a candle to you.”

“Shut up Kara.” The valkyrie groaned. “I’m going to get a drink. I’d invite you, but I know how much of a teetotaller you are.”

“I’m not a teetotaller.” Kara sighed, “I’m just not a drunk. Not to mention, I’m underage.”

“Psh, you follow that rule?” The valkyrie snorted, “Even when I was your age, I didn’t follow the rule.”

“I’ll reiterate. You’re a drunk.”

“I’ll see you later Kara. Calm down a bit in the meantime, will you?”

Kara smiled to herself, making her way up to her room, located in a gilded tower. If she looked out the large window opposite the door, she had a panoramic view of Asgard’s streets. If she wanted to leave at some ungodly hour without waking the rest of the Valkyrie, she could slide out the aforementioned window and wander the moonlit square. Every aspect of Asgard was gorgeous, from the pure scenery to the locals; the situation filled Kara with ineffable warmth. Despite her happiness, the Jotunheim issue still cast a prominent shadow, always inhabiting a portion of her mind. Odin seemed to have liked her plan, or lack thereof. She had essentially just told him not to kill everybody and try to strike an alliance. The more she thought about it, the more pathetic her plan appeared. Perhaps choosing the youngest Valkyrie wasn’t the most intelligent choice on Odin’s part. Still, she stood by her idea that massacre wasn’t the way to go. So what if the rest of her plan was mere speculation, at least she had a foundation. Hopefully, Odin, with all of his wisdom could find a way of making the best of the situation, since war would occur less than six months.

The first birthday of Odin’s son, Thor, could not come at a more inopportune time. As the current heir to the throne, his first birthday was supposed to be an extravagant event, but with war looming merely weeks away, the foreboding tension in the air took away from the celebrations. That’s not to say people weren’t happy; no, in fact, the party was a raving success as Thor displayed his health and strength even as a baby.

Somehow Kara knew that he would have great power later in his life. A king though? She would admit, he was still a one-year-old, but he somehow didn’t scream king to her. Regardless of her thoughts, the baby was adorable and required all of her attention until the war began.

Kara cradled the demigod in her arms as Odin delivered an elaborate and eloquent speech on how Thor would bring honor to Asgard and all of the nine realms. A bit premature, she thought, given that Odin didn’t know if he would end up like his older sister and try to kill everyone. God, Kara was lucky that she was too young to remember Hela’s reign. Some of her fellow Valkyries remembered the actual event, though only one was an actual Valkyrie at the time.

Thor stretched his pudgy little arms and pulled gently at Kara’s hair. She smiled at the baby and poked his rotund stomach lightly, watching him giggle in joy.

Who cares if he becomes a raging madman? She thought happily. He’s a cute-ass baby.

Odin approached her happily, scooping the baby out of her arms. “Thank you for holding Thor.” He smiled at her, rocking the baby in his muscular arms. ”My wife, Frigga, really wants to dress him up now. I suppose I can’t stop her.”

“I suppose you can’t, your majesty.” Kara agreed. Though she wanted to, she knew that it was a terrible idea to bring up the upcoming war at Thor’s birthday party. Luckily for her, Odin breached the topic without her prompting him.

“The Valkyrie will not be fighting in the Jotunheim siege.” He added with strange lightheartedness.

“Your majesty, why?” Kara implored, looking taken aback.

“We need you in Asgard in case the siege is not victorious.” Before Kara could interject, Odin raised his hand. “Please don’t argue. It is for the safety of the kingdom.”

Though Kara didn’t agree with Odin in the least, she nodded obediently. “I’ll spread the news to the rest of the Valkyrie. I promise not to make a fuss, but I can’t vouch for the rest of them.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He brushed away her warning easily. “Now please eat, we have a surplus of food.”

Kara nodded and made her way to the refreshments. If there was one thing she could always count on at royal parties, it would be the refreshments. A long table stretched from the wall-to-wall of the royal hall, adorned with the most lavish foods you could imagine. Full roast ducks, pigs, and chickens were in the center of the table, surrounded by every cheese imaginable. Platters of tarts and pies filled the end of the table, framing one giant, multi-tiered cake. Kara’s mouth practically began to water once she saw the table; filled with hungry joy, she grabbed a large plate and began to choose her favorite foods. After she had piled her plate high with food, she went to join some of her civilian friends, most of which she hadn’t spoken to since she was a child.

“Kara!” Her childhood best friend Arvid exclaimed, “I haven’t seen you for ages!”

“It really has been too long.” She agreed, giving the man a quick hug. “How have you been?”

“I’m taking over my father’s job as a blacksmith soon, so that’s been a lot of work, but how about you?” He clapped Kara on the back. “You’re a Valkyrie now, aren’t you. I always knew you’d become some kind of warrior since you were always beating someone up as a child.”

“Not always.” She replied, taking a hearty bite out of a chicken leg. “Only when I really needed to.”

“Psh. Sure.” Arvid chuckled sarcastically. “I hear that we are going to war with Jotunheim in a few weeks. Tell me you’re not going to join the siege.”

“No need to worry.” She patted the man on the back. “The Valkyrie will be protecting Asgard and it’s residents.”

“Well that’s nice to hear. Those horrible Frost Giants. Odin should’ve just murdered them all.”

Not wanting to incite an argument, Kara nodded diplomatically and took her leave of the royal hall, returning to the Valkyrie tower.

The tension in the air was practically palpable as Kara made her rounds through Asgard. Odin and his soldiers had left the previous day and were still yet to return, leaving the Asgardians oblivious to the result and goings of the siege. All Kara knew was that no Frost Giants had invaded Asgard as of yet, hopefully signaling success.

For once, no one roamed the open streets of Asgard as they were ordered to remain in their houses in case the Frost Giants triumphed.

Minutes turned into hours, still yielding no invasion or happy return of the Asgardian soldiers; it was a strange stalemate of feelings, the relief that Kara felt because Asgard wasn’t under attack and the worry that nagged in her mind because Odin and his soldiers were still yet to return.

Eventually, Kara heard sounds coming from the Bifrost. As she strained her ears, she let out a sigh of relief to hear the happy, joyous voices of the Asgardian soldiers she knew so well. In the distance, she saw the lines of soldiers making their way over the shimmering rainbow bridge; thankfully, only a few of them seemed to be wounded. In the back of the victorious procession was Odin, missing an eye and cradling two bundles.

They must be the fruits of his pillage. Kara speculated, grinning happily to herself. All she could hope for was that the Frost Giants hadn’t been wiped off the face of the universe. Whether Odin had been able to forge a bridge of camaraderie between the two realms, Kara was unsure, though she wished it so.

She waited at the gates of Asgard for Odin, ready to congratulate him on what seemed to be a successful siege.

“It appears that you have triumphed, your majesty.” Kara said respectfully. “Though you seem to be missing an eye.”

“Ah, don’t worry about that.” He brushed off Kara’s concern, “And yes, we were victorious. Not only that, but we did not wipe out all of the Frost Giants. I also brought back someone I believe can forge an alliance between the two nations.”

Kara cocked her head in confusion. Someone? She thought. I didn’t see any Frost Giants in his procession. “Who may that be?”

Odin reached tenderly for the larger bundle in his arms, pulling away some of the blankets. “This is Loki. Laufey’s son.”

“You brought home the rightful king?!” She exclaimed, “Will this not anger the Frost Giants? How will the poor child live in Asgard? Will he just be locked up for the rest of his life, used solely as a bargaining chip?”

“I will raise him as my own. And if I am not mistaken, was this not your idea?”

“I didn’t intend for you to bring back an innocent infant.” Kara muttered, looking guiltily at the child. “And why doesn’t he look like a Frost Giant. He is much too small, not to mention, he isn’t blue.”

“I am not sure why he is so small, but his appearance seems to be a subconscious illusion. When I first picked him up, he morphed into this form; I sense strong magic in him.”

Kara didn’t know what to think. Odin was correct though; Loki would be a brilliant bridge between the two realms if he didn’t grown up to resent Odin. Like Thor though, the baby smiled and giggled, his strangely blue eyes looking mirthfully up at Kara. “He’s very cute.” She commented, unsure of what else to say.

Odin nodded and proceeded towards the castle, baby in arms.

Kara walked the familiar path to the palace. Odin had requested her presence again, this time he had mentioned her watching Thor and Loki while he was out with Frigga. Honestly, Valkyrie shouldn’t be performing babysitting jobs, but in the current time of peace, there was little else to do.

“Ah, Kara.” Odin greeted her with a friendly smile. “As you know, Frigga insists on taking me out to celebrate her birthday. Though Thor and Loki aren’t toddlers anymore, I can’t leave them alone. Would you mind watching them for me?”

“Of course, your majesty.” Kara agreed, rising from her kneeling position. “Where are they?”

“Thor! Loki!” Odin called. Within seconds the two children came bounding into the throne room, tripping over their feet.

“Yes father?” Thor replied obediently while Loki stood silently in the background.

“Your mother and I will be out today. Lady Kara here will be watching you.”

“Mother will be gone?” Loki asked worriedly, his blue eyes widening.

“Not for long.” Odin assured. “Only until the end of the day.”

Loki nodded and looked to Kara.

“I suppose we can go to the park.” Kara suggested.

“I’d love to Lady Kara!” Thor exclaimed happily, bouncing towards the door.

Loki followed behind his brother, showing no obvious elation.

“Do you want to go to the park too, Loki?” Kara inquired, noticing the boy’s lack of excitement.

He nodded and continued to follow his brother through the streets of Asgard.

As soon as the three arrived at the sprawling green fields, adorned with tall, leafy trees, Thor sprinted off on his little legs, stumbling over every obstruction. The boy bounced on his toes and hopped over rocks that stood at his height.

“Brother!” He exclaimed, brandishing a large stick and swinging it like a sword. “I’m a Valkyrie!”

Grinning at his brother, Loki made a small knife materialize in his palm. Making sure his weapon was visible he charged at his brother, ready to stab him.

“Lady Kara, HELP!” Thor cried, running away from Loki. “He’s gonna kill me!”

Realizing that Loki was probably down for murder, Kara sprinted in between the two boys, disarming both of them in one fluid motion. “Alright you two.” She sighed. “We need to talk.”

Loki and Thor sat on opposite sides of a log; Thor glared at Loki while the latter smiled mischievously back.

“First of all,” Kara started, placing her hands on her hips, “you can’t just stab your brother, Loki.”

“I wasn’t gonna kill him.” Loki stated simply. “Mother just taught me how to make illusions.”

“That dagger was no illusion, Loki.” Kara reprimanded. “That was the real deal.”

“Oh.” Loki looked at his palm thoughtfully. He hadn’t intended for the dagger to be corporeal, yet it somehow was. It would have been a problem if he had stabbed his brother with it.

“Yeah brother!” Thor whined, “You’re always trying to kill me. It’s not fair!”

With that, Thor launched himself at his brother, knocking the smaller boy over. The two wrestled on the ground like writhing snakes, trying to land as many punches as they could.

“Alright you two.” Kara sighed again, pulling the two off of each other. “Why don’t you play on opposite sides of the park?” She scanned the open field. “Or why don’t you play with that girl over there. She seems lonely.”

“Okay!” Thor bounced to his feet running over to the girl.

Loki looked at his brother’s quickly receding back and sprinted after him, quickly overtaking him in speed.

“What’s your name?” Loki asked, practically grabbing the girl’s hand.

She pulled her hand away and glared at Loki. “I’m Sif.” She stated simply. “And you must be Loki.”

“I’m Thor by the way.” Thor interjected, making sure that he wasn’t left out. ��Have you ever seen the Valkyries? They’re awesome. I wanna be a Valkyrie.”

“They’re all women, you idiot.” Loki hissed, slapping his brother’s arm. “I could be a Valkyrie.” He smiled proudly at both Thor and Sif; narrowing his eyes in concentration, he morphed into a young girl. “See?”

“No fair!” Thor whined, “That’s cheating Loki. I’m gonna tell mother!”

“And why would she care? She’d be proud of me.”

“That was interesting, Loki.” Sif added in his defense.

“I wanna learn illusions too.” Thor pouted. “Actually, Loki, wanna arm-wrestle?”

“Fine brother.” Loki capitulated, morphing back into his normal form. Secretly he knew that he would probably lose, but part of him wanted for his brother to be happy.

The two princes rested their elbows on a rock, waiting for Sif to commence the match.

“Begin!” She announced.

Within seconds, Thor had pulled ahead, making Loki’s significantly smaller arm tremble. Grinning victoriously at his brother, Thor leaned forward, pushing Loki’s arm down with such force, the boy fell sprawling to the side of the rock. Letting out a guttural groan of defeat, Loki pushed himself up tenderly, massaging his arm.

“I won brother!” Thor announced triumphantly, “I won!”

“I am aware.” Loki grumbled, “But if we were to have a competition of wits, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Are you calling me dumb?!”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Why you-“ Thor’s threat was interrupted by Sif jumping in between them.

“I challenge you to an arm wrestle.” She stated, tucking her long black hair behind her ear.

“A-are you sure?” Thor asked apprehensively.

Sif nodded and placed her elbow on the rock, beckoning for Thor to join her.

With an uncomfortable look in his eyes, Thor intertwined his fingers with Sif’s.

“Begin.” Loki announced, looking at the match curiously.

Sif’s dark eyes bored into Thor’s as she pressed against his arm with an incredible amount of strength. Slowly, she added more and more weight, forcing Thor’s arm to tremble in exertion. Loki looked at the match with giddy infatuation. His brother was losing a competition of strength! Not only that, but he was also losing to a girl at least four inches shorter than him.

Kara also looked at the match with fascination. Sif held great, great promise.

Minutes passed and Sif had still not broken a sweat. She seemed to be merely testing the waters as she incrementally added more and more strength, waiting for Thor’s breaking point.

She really is quite clever. Kara mused, hoping that she’d one day consider becoming a Valkyrie. She’d fit in wonderfully.

Finally Sif leaned into her hand, sending a burst of strength and slamming Thor’s arm onto the rock.

“Wow.” Loki muttered. “She holds much more promise that you, brother.”

Mouth still agape, Thor turned towards his brother and shot him a glare. “You’re really strong.” He commended, turning back to Sif.

“Thank you.” She replied, smiling victoriously. “I’m going to be the strongest warrior one day. Even though I’m a girl.”

“What are you talking about?” Thor exclaimed incredulously, “Girls are the strongest! Have you seen the Valkyrie?! I really wanna be a Valkyrie.”

“You’ve said that at least twenty times in the past ten minutes.” Loki groaned, “You. Can’t. Be. A. Valkyrie. You’re not a girl!”

“Alright you two.” Kara sighed, gripping the boy’s shoulders. “That’s quite enough. May I speak with you for a moment, Sif?”

The girl looked suspiciously at Kara and nodded slowly. “I’m sorry for beating the prince!” She apologized quickly. “I thought he’d be… stronger.”

“Ahaha,” Kara chuckled, “I’m not mad at you for beating Thor, it’s quite the opposite really. I’m very impressed by your skill. As you get older, bring joining the Valkyrie into consideration. We can always use strong warriors like you.”

Sif smiled. “Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll become a Valkyrie.”

“No?” Kara looked back at her with a surprised look. “Why?”

“I want to join the band of warriors that fight in the battles with the king. And even though I’m a girl, I’m going to be the best!”

“Well, I believe in you.” Kara gave Sif a pat on the back. “I hope to see you around again. I’m sure the boys would love to play with you more.”

A/N: So here’s the end of the first chapter! This story is a obviously a Valkyrie still exists AU. The storyline will follow Kara’s relationship with Thor and Loki and her arguments with Odin. It will probably go through the Thor movies and beyond (hopefully), with the Avengers playing a large role in the near future.

Please like and comment!

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki laufeyson (marvel)#thor #thor odinson #OC #valkyrie x oc #odin #frigga and loki #lady sif #the avengers #Iron Man #captain america #black widow #the hulk #the warriors three #asgard #marvel #loki (marvel)

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buckyimagines · 7 years ago

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Noticed 5

Word Count: 1030

Warnings: language??, Angst, nightmares

AN: hey so I suck I posting regularly but here is the next part to Noticed and I hope you guys like it. Of course feedback is always appreciated.

Masterlist

You didn’t realize that the next town was so far. You guys have been traveling for 4 hours already and you had no idea how far you had to go, but guessing from the massive fields that never seemed to end you had to guess that it was going to be a while. Occasionally you stole a glance at Bucky, taking a new feature every time. First it was the way that his hair seemed to caress his face, then it was the way his eyes seemed to catch the light from the sun and give them an ethereal blue hue. His strong jaw captivated your focus and this moved you attention to his lips that he unconsciously licked and it gave them a pink glaze. He was incredibly handsome, and there was a softness that you sensed in him despite the hostile and stubborn appearance that he seemed to try and show everybody. Stop thinking like that Y/N. You act like you like him and that is the last thing that he needs. Someone like you who is so damaged and can never seem to do anything right. Said a voice in the back of your mind. Just focus on getting back to the compound.

You did just that. You and Bucky met Steve on a quinjet 3 hours later. The flight was silent, you sitting as far away from Bucky and Steve who were too busy to acknowledge your existence, which you were okay with because you didn’t feel like talking. You closed your eyes and put in your headphones trying to block out the world and the dark thoughts that linger in the back of your mind.

You felt the soft thud of the jet landing and you opened your eyes. You stood up and quickly gathered your things leaving in your head phones. You walked off the jet and made your way to your room where you shed your clothing and turned on the shower in your bathroom. You look at yourself in the mirror and take in your appearance. Your eyes lingered on your eyes and how dead they looked. Then they gazed down you body looking at all the scars that littered your body from past missions, but most of them were from that mission. You could almost feel the bullets piercing your skin. Shaking your head free of the horror, you think about Bucky. How someone as beautiful as him could ever love anyone like you. Love? Why do you want him to love you? Turning to the faucet you feel the temperature of the water and get in. But your thoughts linger with him. He has problems of his own that he needs to figure out and being involved with you would only make it worse considering your emotional and psychological instability.

Bucky POV

Taking a seat next to Steve, I start telling him about the mission. The basic what happened at the base, the hotel, then how we escaped them the second time. I left out the bit where Y/N woke up from a nightmare because I felt that she would kick my ass if I told Steve. While I was talking to him I would periodically glance at Y/N who seemed asleep but from the tenseness of her shoulders I knew she was awake. When the jet landed Bucky watched you grab you bag and stand to walk off the plane right away. Grabbing my own belongings, slowly made my way to my living quarters to take a shower to go to what I know is going to be restless sleep.

When I woke at 5 in the morning (because God forbid I sleep in) from a restless sleep. I made my way down to the kitchen to make some coffee and when I came around the corner I glanced out the window, and what caught my eye was a figure swimming in the pool. I could tell it was you from the way that your body glided through the water. Easily cutting through the midnight surface. You were mesmerising in the fluidity of your movements and how effortlessly you swam. There was a rumbling in my stomach reminding me of how hungry I am and tore my attention away from you, however, my thoughts still lingered on you. You are a conundrum to me. Beneath that tough exterior of your I can see the sadness and insecurity with in you that stems from the loss of your family. However, there is a strength and resilience that you demonstrate through the way that you continue living with the ghosts of your past.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear you approach until I heard you suck in a breath. I turn around and see a towel wrapped around your torso and soaked hair.

“Oh s-sorry I didn’t know you were in here.” You stuttered.

“It’s okay. I’m making scrambled if you want some.” I say turning the stove on to heat up the pan.

After a pregnant pause you sat down on the stool and replied “Sure, that sounds good.”

We sat in silence while I cooked, but it was nice because I didn’t feel like I had to say anything. When I was gone cooking I put the eggs on a plate and grabbed two forks, handing one to you. You took one and started to dig into the food.

“So why are you up so early?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. You paused and took a deep breath looking me in the eye.

“Take a wild guess.” You say sarcastically. “And correct me if I’m wrong, I’m not the only one awake at this ungodly hour. So what’s your deal?”

“Take a wild guess.” I say with a smirk.

“Well aren’t we a pair of assholes.” After a pause you stand up and set your fork down in the sink and say “Thanks for the eggs, Bucky.” And with that I watched you start to walk out the door but right when got to the door way you stopped. Turning to look at me you said “Next time I’ll make you something.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader angst #marvel #steve rogers #captain america

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violetsystems · 5 years ago

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#personal

This week has had its up and downs. The downs seem to be a symptom of the real world these days. I don’t get very much validation at all that I’m ever on the right track. At least it would appear that way. It’s hard to know sometimes how to proceed in life when nobody encourages you. Being a leader grows out of this I’ve found. You have to push ahead and do the things you feel deep down. Sometimes if you are unfocused those things are twisted and destructive. Sometimes when you have your shit together, it’s banal and routine. But all validation gives you most of the time is the calm to proceed into the unknown. Part of my job at work is to see feedback scores of the work down by the people I manage. I am blessed with a lot of talented people on my team. I see clear indicators of their performance in numbers. I tend to fade into the background all the time. There’s never any clear indication that I even exist sometimes. This has its ups and downs for sure. But I find this continues outside of work. I was on the phone with my landlord because there was a building wide sewage problem. It turns out somebody flushed something down the toilet they shouldn’t have. After listening to my landlord vent about what they might do if it happens again, they paused. It was the first time I’ve ever been called a good tenant. It wasn’t gushing or fake. It was just an acknowledgement. Some sort of validation that I’m at least ok with the space that I occupy. This city has a habit of projecting you need a right to share the air we collectively breathe sometimes. And it never has the guts to say it to your face. I find real validation is sometimes painfully awkward. It’s a vulnerable state in which someone acknowledges you stand apart from the bullshit. “Don’t fuck it up” you can hear them say. People have a hard time trusting people. And then again people would rather take risks than be alone in their thoughts and decisions. I’m an only child. Being alone has always been a reflex for me. All the way up to the conversations I have with myself out loud. They’re similar to conversations I write on the internet. Some people read them. Other people make fun of them. Some people glaze over the weekly wall of text. Other people know I’m sharing my thoughts like a journal with people I care about. That I care enough to explain myself instead of hiding it from the world. An open book to a certain extent that nobody wants to read. The cover is all they need to know. People whisper about me behind my back like I’m some ancient tome. The necronomicon most likely. To strangers I’m a thug or a witch. No one ever tells me how they really feel about me. I’m expected to read into all of it like an extreme psyops campaign in a William Gibson book. Then again nobody ever asks me questions. When the veil truly cracks every once and awhile I feel people open up just a little. Show me how they really feel about me. It’s not written on a deed or certificate. I can’t wave it around like a trophy. But it’s a knowing for sure. Knowing I’ll be ok despite everything. Knowing I have a little bit of stability that I believe in. Everybody else doesn’t even believe I exist much less care. When you don’t score on the meter at all do you even matter?

Self love is a tough thing. Self love requires self validation and self confidence. If you really love yourself you will try to be honest with yourself. It’s hard to strike the balance between fairness and discipline for some people. I had some rough years before these. People have probably read about them. The last three years haven’t been rough in the same ways. I’ve been rebuilding myself slowly into a different person. One that maybe resembles the person I was ten years ago minus the soul searching. My head is shaved again. I’m far more in shape than I have ever been. I’m also way older. There’s realities to be fair of who I am that I face every day. And then there’s the realities people place on me without my consent. What people think I should be. What people think I am good for. What people think matters to me or will work out in my best interest without telling me. There’s a lot of information I’ve accrued over the years by almost making some horrible mistakes. I bounced back mostly because I’ve always been fairly cautious and measured. I’m also notoriously hard on myself. Also extremely patient with others for the record. I’ve humored so much in the last couple of years its mind numbing. But knowing when you don’t have the luxury to heal from all the hurt is part of that self love. And my withdrawal from a lot of things has mostly been about identifying toxic situations. They might not be toxic for other people. Society these days normalizes some horrible shit. It only gets worse. It never rewards you for being a good person. I know this because I can’t be anything but a good person. And I’ve largely become this shadow person who everybody is scared to admit is genuine and a really nice person. So every once and awhile when your landlord confirms that you are valued as a tenant it cracks. I walk around this city largely ignored and judged like everybody else. And then here and there the Easter eggs appear. There’s so subtle these days that reading too far into them will drive you crazy. What does it all mean? I’m such a highly valued and loved person but nobody can say it to my face. They have to flash it like an ad and make me read into everything. Do I really matter? Am I good enough to be loved by another person? Maybe they’re just fucking with me? Maybe it’s all some sick joke. Maybe I care and maybe I don’t. Maybe none of it really matters because nobody loves me how I should be loved? Other than me. Which is a crossroads you need to get to in order to be loved. You have to love yourself enough to know the direction you want to move forward towards. What’s the right course of action. Will I miss out on large portions of my life. I can look back five to ten years now and shake my head in disbelief. All the things I done don’t matter to anyone. They care more about catching a cold or being seen talking to the wrong person. It can make a person think they’re no good. And I will tell you if you believe this about yourself then you have already lost. You do matter despite being invisible. Only you can know how much. And only you can make yourself better. And the world needs that most right now even if it won’t admit it.

If I am to survive in the post truth wasteland of America I need to love myself. And sometimes decisions I make to distance myself have very real world intelligence attached. People often forget what clip I have been living my life at. To remind people intimidates them. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I’ve challenged a lot fo people. I confront things often. I don’t often push or break things. I just walk away when they’re not working. I float through walls and jump over boundaries. And then I wall myself off behind closed doors that I rent without an agreement. I live by the skin of my teeth with no love or comfort other than feral animals I shelter. I’m some walking myth to people who is already half dead. Phased in between the real and the astral like some fallen angel. And then there’s the actual me following a bleak cycle week after week. A lot of this is just the reality of Chicago winter. I’ve survived an ungodly amount of winters out here alone. I know the drill. Just like I know how to spot a cop. It’s pretty easy when they start shopping at the same stores as you. Whatever accountability I live with is a curse. But I see things for how they really are. The truth as it appears to me isn’t always in my favor. And leading sometimes becomes more about accepting the value of safety in your decisions. I lead a pretty boring life at times. And yet I can’t avoid the shadows. I don’t know what I mean to some people. I don’t know that I care anymore. I dream that I mean something more to others. There are people I believe to understand that. That’s a validation that comes from trust. Trusting people comes through faith. Having faith in the world after all I have been through is hard. Love isn’t easy either. But it is the hardest to love yourself. Too little and you will wither and die. Too much and you will do the same probably. Balance seems like nothing. Flows like water. Doesn’t really have a score attached to it. Tell me how I am doing? I fill out feedback scores all the time for people when I shop. I had a really nice interaction with the sportswear store copping this sweatshirt. Sometimes knowing what real encouragement looks like comes from nurturing that in yourself. If you know how to love yourself in an honest way maybe you can nurture honest and genuine reactions and emotions from others. That’s a lot about knowing how to read people. But it comes from listening to your heart. My heart these days tells me nothing has changed. I’m still in the same apartment as I’ve ever been. I’m still going to take a ride on my bike and vote in Chinatown. And I still really love and care about you. I can’t tell you how much. Can’t put a score on it. Can’t even attach a name to it for public record. But just remember it matters to me. So much so that I’m not going to change a thing about it. Besides voting for Bernie. <3 Tim

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