#i love how intimate and somewhat disarming the direction is

[thresholdbb]

I love Sacred Ground. The Nechani are hilarious. Nothing like some cryptic, uppity aliens telling the captain she's overthinking everything and constantly getting in her own way. Some people say the episode's religious overtones are too much, but she was in dire need of a "come to Jesus" moment. I love how the guide and the waiting triad all challenge Janeway in ways she hasn't been challenged as captain. This encounter changes something in her. They make her go through hell so she'll realize that doing what she thinks she should isn't serving her or her situation. The rules in her head about what a captain is and how a captain should act don't necessarily apply to how she should captain her ship that's been flung to the far end of the galaxy, a situation that the academy did not prepare her for. Her moments of doubt that pepper the earlier seasons seem to disappear after meeting the Nechani. She no longer takes advice that tries to put her back into a position of doubt, which is sometimes to her detriment. She loosens up a bit and fully walks in her captaincy after Sacred Ground, and it's so good

[nincompoopydoo]

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— I’VE SEEN FIRE, I’VE SEEN RAIN ; PART 2 / ?

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 1909

SUMMARY: Being laid off isn’t very fun but Bruce tends to find himself even more entangled in your life, including his alter ego—Batman.

A/N: I’m loving this series and if you are, feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reading my crappy stuff aka my daydreams <3

WARNINGS: Guns! Death threats! Crying! A mental breakdown!

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

James Taylor’s Fire and Rain plays like a funeral hymn on the record player, echoing through your studio apartment. You’re sitting on the ground, back against the ratty couch with a pizza box on your lap. You take a bite of a BBQ Chicken pizza slice, furiously wiping your tears away as you replayed the events from six hours ago. From being called to the principal's office to only be told that you’re one of the non-tenured teachers to be laid off due to cutbacks. Gotham High was...a tough school. The students were mean to you because well, you're young and always gave them the benefit of the doubt. Plus, you taught English Literature and frankly, your students didn’t exactly enjoy the subject as much as you wanted them to. Nevertheless, you’re devastated. Teaching was a dream of yours, and it’s being taken away from you. You cried all the way back home, tried to call your mother but it kept going to voicemail. You must have called someone else, but you don’t remember and couldn’t care less to check your phone—the whole day went by like a blur.

Then, there’s a sound. An insistent buzz, it’s the doorbell. You furrow your brows, not recalling ordering anything else other than the large pizza from Domino’s. Yet, it doesn’t cease, and you’re forced to bring yourself to stand on your feet, instinctively flattening your tousled hair to make yourself seem somewhat presentable. Like, you’re doing fine and you have everything completely under control. Maybe, you did call your mother, and she’s at the door. You’re hoping she is although she’s going to kill you for the mess.

Another buzz and you’re toddling across the wooden flooring and towards the doorway. It’s starting to become infuriating by the second, like a house fly don’t won’t stop bugging you. Considering the mood you’re in, it doesn’t take much to tick you off. Swinging the door open, you expected to see the radiant face of your mother but to your surprise, it’s not.

It’s Bruce.

Shit.

You haven’t seen him in two weeks.

You nearly choke at the sight of him in a slightly crumpled oxford blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair as much of a mess as yours and tired eyes staring down at you with concern. You note how Bruce is very charming, no matter how disarrayed he is. Meanwhile, you’re realizing the current state must be a little startling. Your eyes are probably bloodshot, hair still in a tangled mess and glaring tomato stains everywhere on your GCU t-shirt. This is such a low point for you.

“Bruce,” you say, voice raising an octave with wide eyes as you stare at him like he’s grown another head, “What are you doing here?” His frown is immediate, seemingly confused by your question. “You called me.” He gestures to his phone within his grasp. “It sounded bad even though I couldn’t make out what you were saying half of the time,” He chuckles and holds up a familiar looking paper bag “So, I got you bagels. Three of them. Thought you could use some of these.”

It takes a second or two for you to finally process what he just told you before your emotionally wrecked brain decides to do the most irrational thing ever—You just start sobbing. You’re crying so hard that it terrifies Bruce. He blinks, thoughts racing. The sight of you in complete misery strikes him like a punch to his gut and for the first time, he doesn’t know what to do. Not immediately. Yet, through glassy eyes, you manage to notice the way his face dropped and morphed into pure horror. Justification is key, you don’t want to weird him out and think you’re crazy. You wave your hand in the air dismissively, rubbing your eyes as you spoke between strangled sobs. “I’m sorry, it’s been a tough day and that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me all week.”

Oh.

Your words are a tug to the heartstrings, and it sends his head reeling but relief was all that overwhelmed him. Bruce would never wish to see you hurt, especially when it’s caused by him. Actions of affection were primarily reserved for those closest to him, but he never experienced the urge to be intimate and care so much for a person ever since his parents died. Yet, out of everyone, you’re the one that brings out the most in him. Moving closer to you, he reaches and pulls you in a hesitant embrace. You stiffened at the mere touch of his arms around you, unsure of what to do with yourself.

Sure, you had a fair share of intimate moments with the man but this, this was different. You couldn’t shake the thought of how something so warm felt so right, smelt right. Despite the fact you had been trying to suppress your feelings for Bruce, and this was doing the exact opposite of that, you can’t help but feel this was what you needed at the moment. So, you let your body sag, muscles becoming loose and you let yourself truly cry for the first time.

You end up inviting him in later, when your tears are dry. You eat two of the bagels, sharing the last one with him. You called a peace offering, a gift of appreciation, for the whole emotional massacre you unexpectedly shoved at him. He simply laughs, eyes crinkling with fondness. He thinks you’re beautiful, especially when your hair is wild, laughing like you don’t have a care in the world. It’s what keeps him grounded, to know you’re raw and very real. The next thing you know, you end up shuffling cards of UNO until the wee hours of the morning—exchanging knowing smiles and Bruce trying to pick a Wild Draw card from the deck to get you to lose. But, he lets you win anyway.

He slept on your couch that night, still in his dress shirt. You must've peeked a glance at his sleeping form, squeezed onto the couch that’s clearly too small for him. Cute. You snap a picture before heading to bed. For blackmail purposes, of course.

-

You end up working a night shift at a burger joint called Big Belly Burger somewhere in midtown. Your first week comes and goes, and you’re starting to hate how your uniform itches and how the restaurant can get really filthy by the end of the day. Yet, it’s the kids from Cameron Kane High that come after school that keeps you going because it makes you miss being a teacher even though they tend to leave a mess after a meal.

Thursday comes and you’re exhausted. Even so, you’re thankful it’s a slow night. You’ve done all your cleaning duties earlier on and Lucie, the manager went out to buy a pack of cigarettes from the convenience store around the corner. Hence, it’s just you, slumped against the counter, devouring a Triple Belly Burger.

You’re half way through the burger when you hear the door swing open. Expecting to see Lucie, you turned around to see two men brandishing handguns your way. “Everything from the register, now!” The taller masked man shouted, gun gesturing to the cash register. Your eyes are wide, and you can feel your chest heaving. There was no way you’ll be able to fight them. Not two of them with guns pointed at you.

The burger drops from your hand and so does your heart. With trembling hands, you slide the drawer of the cash register open and begin pulling out dollar notes. From the corner of your eye, you spot your phone on the counter, close enough for you to make an emergency call. Your eyes scan the two men wearily and with every ounce of courage you had left, you managed to unlock your phone, pulled up the messaging app and texted the first name on the list: Bruce Wayne.

help, was all you managed to say.

To say your luck ran out was an understatement; you were never lucky anyway. One of the robbers must have caught on to what you were doing and just as the call goes through, he snatches your phone away, throws it onto the ground and shoots it.

So close, yet so far.

You don't know if the message got through.

The muzzle is now inches away from your forehead, and you hear the cock of the gun. “Don’t you dare pull somethin’ funny like or I’ll blow your brains out. Give us the money, now.” It was in that moment, your tears give way and your life flashes before your eyes. You pray for a miracle, a savior.

Then, you see him.

A looming figure appears by the doorway and your breath hitches. It’s Batman, looking like a Goddamn angel. The robbers seem to realize this too, guns quickly directed towards the vigilante. He launches batarangs to the pair of men and immediately disarms them. In a flash, he knocks them out, unconscious bodies dropping to the ground like dead flies.

You stare at him in awe although he’s very frightening and intimidating but Batman...just saved you. Now, this is a story you’re going to be telling everybody until the day you die. He approaches you with caution, and you instinctively take a step back. Then, he calls you by your name like it’s second nature. You stare at him with blank amazement, brows raised.

“You know my name?” Your voice dwindled; It’s so soft and timid you hardly hear yourself. Despite the mask, the vigilante looks like his brain just short-circuited for a moment. He clears his throat.

“...Bruce has mentioned you.”

You ignore how his synthetic voice makes every hair on the back of your neck stand and the familiarity that struck for a split second when he said your name because you’re too wrapped up with the fact that Bruce has discussed about you to his other ‘best friend’ as one might call it. Brooding over this lump of a thought, the corner of your mouth twitches. “He did?” you say with a hint of affection. It’s hard to read the man under the mask, whoever he was but you’re certain he looked taken aback by your response. Maybe, it was the way you delivered it—the longing in the very core of the expression. You may have outed your feelings for Bruce to...Batman.

This doesn’t get any stranger than that.

“Yes,” he replies curtly, and you hear the police sirens afar. “Are you hurt?” Like the true caretaker of Gotham, he wants to be sure you haven’t been injured. You shake your head, lips pressed together. The whaling of the police sirens grow louder, lights of red and blue flashing before your eyes. He appears like a shadow against the glaring lights from the police cruisers and before you can blink, he flees with a muttered ‘Goodnight’ and disappears before the police come flooding in and does Lucie. The poor woman looked at with frantic eyes as soon as she glimpsed the two men on the ground, groaning in pain.

The glint of the batarang on the floor captures your attention, you smile at this.

You may or may not have taken it back to your apartment that currently sits proudly on the bookshelf in your living room.

You’re so telling Bruce.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

[aadmelioraa]

Falling (or, Aldhelm + Efficiency Kink)

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm, 2k, rated M (read on ao3) 

written for @volvaaslaug @skatingthinandice and the rest of this tiny fandom <3 

Lady Aethelflaed is a capable leader. In fact, she is an excellent leader. And if Aldhelm is honest with himself, it’s becoming a bit of a problem for him.

He’s alone with the Lady of Mercia, not an infrequent occurrence of late. She’s finishing the necessary business of the day, and the way she handles the most insignificant chore with diligence fascinates him as much now as it did when he first began to notice. He’s come to understand that her attentiveness and care are only surpassed by her cleverness. 

She's just…good at this.

He had maintained high hopes for Aethelred for so long, but Aethelflaed has more natural authority in her little finger than her husband does in his entire body. Years of grooming and guidance have done little to improve the Lord of Mercia’s temper in the end.  

Aldhelm is almost ashamed to recall his first impression of Aethelflaed. He had thought her a naive (though lovely) girl. But he has come to realize she is stronger and more intelligent than he’d given her credit, which of course cast her husband’s increasingly poor choices into starker contrast. He cannot ignore that her skills and disposition are infinitely better suited to ruling than Aethelred’s.

On reflection, it had been foolish of him to think Alfred’s daughter would be anything less than competent. But the more he reflects, the more he realizes it is not just her capable hands and mind. It’s that Aethelflaed genuinely enjoys her role as well. She seems to derive pleasure from every task accomplished, no matter how inconsequential. She’s a brilliant negotiator, whether speaking with the ealdormen about a matter of state or Aelfwynn about what time she was expected to be in bed. The satisfied smile she allows herself after a small victory is enchanting.

It was not so long ago that Aldhelm had considered disregarding Aethelred’s wishes equivalent to treason. He had thought Mercia’s best hopes were bound up in the man, young but burgeoning with potential. Now, Aldhelm’s definition of treason is somewhat more flexible. In fact, he is increasingly sure that his loyalty no longer lies with the Lord of Mercia. To be loyal to Mercia is to be loyal to Aethelflaed. 

He had not planned on Aethelflaed endearing herself to him in this way. And he had certainly not planned on falling in love with her. 

The realization happens gradually, over a matter of years. But when he finds himself at the point of no return, he is as surprised as if it had happened overnight. Aethelflaed could command him to the ends of the earth, and he would obey without a second thought.

Of course, she would not. She understands his value to her and to Mercia and therefore keeps him close—first, as a liability to be assessed, eventually as a friend to be trusted. Despite his ill-advised confession several months ago, Aethelflaed does not seem to think less of him. If in fact she does, she will not show it. 

She is simply too practical for that. 

And her efficiency is unparalleled. 

In a single afternoon, she will complete a list of duties Aethelred had left unaddressed for weeks on end. Her records are meticulous, her attention to detail exquisite. Her desk is filled with neat stacks of parchment covered in her clean, precise handwriting. 

Watching her take charge of Mercian affairs with a careful eye and steady hand, it is impossible to ignore that his feelings have evolved beyond intrigue. 

Aldhelm is undeniably smitten. 

“Did you have something to add, Aldhelm?”

Startled from his reverie, he realizes he’s staring. Aethelflaed looks back at him with concern. Her eyebrows are raised, causing a few lines to appear on her forehead, and he cannot help but love the softness in her expression.

“Apologies, my Lady. I had meant to inquire after the delegation to Tamworth.”

“We’re to send twenty men—unless you think a larger party necessary.”

“No, I believe not.”

Twenty is the perfect number, of course. 

Aethelflaed narrows her eyes, leaning back in her seat to have a better look at him.

“You seem to have something else on your mind, Aldhelm.”

He would have to work harder to conceal his feelings if he was to comport himself appropriately. A challenge that was growing in difficulty by the day. 

“It’s late. Shall we discuss the city fortification project or leave that until tomorrow?”

She huffs a laugh.

“Aldhelm, I have just told you that is finished. Have you been listening at all?”

He curses himself for his wandering thoughts. “Are you well?”

He is not. He is failing. Her competence is interfering with his own. 

“I am merely distracted, Lady. My apologies.”

Her gaze remains fixed on him as she sets down her pen, picking up the parchment she’d been writing on and blowing gently to dry the ink. 

He clenches his jaw reflexively, and she cocks her head—her amusement compounding, he can only assume. He shifts his gaze to the tapers on her desk, which had nearly burned out.  

“Distracted indeed. How odd. What could possibly be more pressing than the matters before us?”

Aethelflaed is teasing him now, he is sure of it. 

She rises to her feet, sweeping her eyes up and down his body with an expression of curious detachment. It’s maddening.

“I had something on my mind, Lady. A conversation with your husband earlier.”

The mention of Aethelred does not appear to disarm her.

“My husband solicits too much of your time these days,” she sighs. “But he is not here now, and so I request your full attention. I have one other proposal I would like your opinion on.”

Aldhelm knows that he ought to end their conversation, walk away, but he cannot.

“I would be happy to advise you, Lady, of course.”

Aethelflaed is advancing towards him now, hands clasped earnestly before her. Her fingers are slightly stained with ink.

“I believe we have both been under too much stress lately, Aldhelm. I have a plan that may provide relief.”

“I’m sure it’s an excellent plan,” Aldhelm replies, voice slightly hoarse. He clears his throat as subtly as he can.

“I believe it is,” she says nonchalantly, and without breaking eye contact slips her fingers into the belt at his waist, pulling him towards her gently.

He could not have protested then even if his mouth had not gone completely dry.

“I think you will find it mutually rewarding.”

Aldhelm fights a smile of disbelief (was this a dream?) and glances towards the door.

“Lady, we may be discovered.”

The corners of her mouth twitch and she places a hand on his chest, no doubt able to feel his heart beating wildly within. 

“You know as well as I do, Aldhelm, that the household is far more loyal to me than to my husband.”

She is looking up at him with lips slightly parted—soft, inviting—and he tentatively rests his hands at her waist.

The last time they’d been in this physical proximity he’d been dying (or so he thought) and she had been unable or unwilling to reciprocate his affection.

Whatever had changed between then and now, he does not care to question it in the moment. 

Still, he finds himself making another objection. 

“You’re married, my lady.”

What a supremely stupid thing to say. 

Her mouth quirks into a smile.

“I am aware, Aldhelm. That doesn’t stop my husband from pursuing pleasure, and it won’t stop me.”

Aldhelm has no defenses left, no arguments, no thoughts in his head other than how much he desires her. 

He gives in and cups her jaw, kissing her.

She tastes sweet and warm like summer rain. It’s intoxicating. 

He’s not sure if he’s still breathing, or if he even cares. He tightens his hold on her waist, and she cards her fingers through his hair. 

He would probably sell his soul to remain in this moment forever. Dark thoughts like this were never far from his mind when she was near.

“You’ve no idea the effect you have on me, my lady,” he murmurs.

He can feel her smiling as she kisses him back.

“I should think it’s fairly obvious at this point that I do.”

She’s pressed against him now, melting any self-control he had left. His baser instincts take over.

They’re stumbling into the next room, and she’s steering him towards the bed. 

Apprehension and desire course through him at once. Never had he imagined that this wildest dream of his could be a reality.

Aethelflaed is undressing him, then directing him to sit as she slips out of her own garments. The slight golden warmth of her skin fades to creamy white where she exposes the most intimate parts of herself. 

She pushes him onto his back and straddles him, her slick warmth pressed against his cock. Their eyes meet as she shifts, and—most incredible of all—he can see his own exhilaration reflected in her expression. 

She leans forward, her lips brushing against his ear as she murmurs, “What do you think of my plan so far, Aldhelm?”

It’s almost cruel. He’s wound so tight already he might have snapped there. 

He can’t answer with words, nor does he need to. Their kisses deepen, and she bites her lip to contain a moan as he brushes a finger against her opening. He slips inside of her and his breath hitches—she’s so warm and wet and perfect.

She’s building rhythm now, hips forward, grinding against him. She sweeps her braids behind her with a shrug of her shoulders, exposing the fullness of her breasts.

He locates the bundle of nerves beneath her thatch of hair, synchronizing the movement of his hand with the movement of her hips. She digs her nails into his chest briefly and keens in pleasure, arching her back. He draws circles, tighter and tighter. Coming with a shudder she cries out again, her face flushed with triumph. Then with a gesture, she commands and he obeys, switching places so that he’s on top. 

Her legs encircle him. Aldhelm slides a hand from the tender spot behind her knee down her thigh to her ass. She’s laying back, eyes shut, breathing in gentle gasps as she matches the rocking of his hips. 

By the time he comes, she’s moaning louder than before. His forehead is pressed against her and he can feel the sweat that beads her brow. Her walls quiver against him as he finishes, and he’s sure he’s just returned the favor again even as he’s satiated. 

He lands next to her and catches his breath. It’s a moment before he gathers the courage to look at her, but when he does she’s grinning. The light in her eyes would make him blush if he were capable of such a thing.

In his wickedness, he cannot help but think she’d never fucked her husband like that. 

Aethelflaed turns on her side, breathing deeply as she holds his gaze. He splays a hand over the curve of her exposed hip, holding it there for a moment, then moves it gently up to her waist. 

“We made quite good work of that, Lord.”

She hasn’t called him that before. She’s watching to see how he reacts. 

A laugh escapes him. He can’t help it. 

Aethelflaed closes her eyes, still smiling.

“You’re a strange man, Aldhelm. But I have grown fond of you.”

He’s brushing the hair from her shoulders, rolling a silky strand between his fingers. He does not know how long their tryst will last, or if it will ever be repeated. He will do everything in his power to remember every detail.

There’s a freckle below her left breast. He runs his thumb gently along the contour. Her skin is prickling—the room has grown cold—and he pulls a blanket over them.

Aethelflaed rolls her head back to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes. She radiates contentment. His own limbs are heavy with it too. He pulls her close to him, their noses bump. Incredibly, she does not tell him to leave.

“Did you have a second phase of your plan you’d like to enact this evening, Lady, or shall we reconvene tomorrow?”

It’s Aethelflaed’s turn to laugh. 

Laying near her in this state is restorative, thrilling. He’s bold enough to kiss her again, and the taste is sweeter than before. 

“I believe we may reconvene tomorrow,” she murmurs and rests her head on his chest. “For now, let us rest.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. 

He will linger in this perfect moment as long as he’s permitted. 

[firefield]

David Bowie - Space Oddity (2019 Visconti Remix)

I’m a fan (so far) of all the times Bowie commissioned a remix of an entire album. Individual tracks, not always, but albums, yes. Some were desperately needed (Lodger and NLMD) some fixed technical flaws, restored sequencings, and generally balanced things up (David Live, Stage) some were about detail and subtlety possibly lost on casual listeners, but reward active listening (Ziggy Stardust, Station To Station.)

But with those wrapped up and in the can with the Legacy Box sets, I didn’t anticipate any new remix work, mainly because the key works/fixes are completed and the remasters of all the original mixes are overall pretty gorgeous. So this announcement of Tony Visconti’s two-month-long remix project of this brilliant 1969 record surprised me. Doing some digging, TV made his case and it makes sense. Limited funds originally to do the mix, so very limited time. The whole record was mixed in less than a week. So I could see the appeal for him, the original engineer, to sit with those recording sessions for awhile... revisit what did and didn’t make the cut, look at the balance of instruments in the stereo field, play with all those stems and see if anything special grows.

So yeah - I was happy about that and excited to hear his work. To some degree, I expected to hear some new parts, probably DB vocal layers never heard, a “modern” mix that shimmered and enveloped and impressed as is typical of Tony’s sympathetic and DB attuned aesthetic.

What we got instead was something much more sludgy and of its time. A psychedelic aural sieve with tracks jammed through it like hand-mixed sausage through a press. Holy shit! What the hell is this? If like me you have heard this album 100’s of times since you were basically a kid, it’s absolutely disarming. This is brave work. It’s not safe, anticipated or typical in any way, save the majestic treatment of the title track, which by the way, is not indicative of the overall effect this new mix has.

Fans of this record understand its depth, and I still hold that lyrically it’s one of his most profound and sincere works - and Visconti has absolutely impregnated this material with a dense gravity that I could not have seen coming. It’s just *heavy* man. The vocal treatments and layering make me feel like DB is alive and tracked these himself from some planet like Venus, with its crushing atmosphere and yellow green swamps of mystery. It’s one of those listens that happens sometimes in music where you sit there with your jaw open, not sure if you even like what you are hearing. Like the sound is happening and it’s something beyond your judgement until you’ve at least honored the work enough to listen through it quite a few times. Like you have to earn your hall pass, and until you get one, your job is to shut up and just listen.

The album opens of course with a stratospheric Space Oddity, with just absolutely amazing and heart rending strings and a vocal treatment that is alive with power and mystery and echoes into the universe from which it arrived. Instantly my favorite version of this well-known song.

Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed blends much more smoothly with the title track, but then begins to morph as the bass stabs into the speaker cones, mixed high and defiant, and by the time “I’m a phallus in pigtails” arrives, you’ve got a glorious sludge of footstomping thick-as-theives rock and roll. Guitars are nasty and tightened up, harmonicas drip sweat, and the dirty ride cymbal washes it all out over an extended Americana deep-south voodoo coda that just keeps on keeping on in spite of the oppressive humidity.

Letter To Hermoine is also thickened with an almost suffocating warmth and reverb - the sparkle of the original is dampened into a mush and David’s vocal is made stark, demo-ish, slipped more to the right channel forcing it to stick out even more than its already increased amplitude. I would never have considered treating this song in this way, a mix like this, but it makes a more personal song even more so, in a way that makes every crack of David’s voice feel like he stayed up all night writing it just for you. An extraordinary interpretation by Tony Visconti.

And now an album centerpiece, Cygnet Committee, with its lyrical themes that speak to literally the entirely of Bowie’s remaining career. The reverb immediately noticeable on the opening bass part unifies what has come before, and I’m impressed how “Beatlesque” this mix is, with the drums hard-panned, the rosedale electric chord organ mixed higher, the vocal reverbs appearing and disappearing, going from a near complete wash to totally absent when the narrator has a point to make. It’s not a “modern” mix at all, but perfectly suits the material and the time in which it was written. It doesn’t play tricks, or attempt to tickle ears with novelty - it lets this incredible song stand on its own and march it’s way to closing out the A-side.

So how to tackle Janine after all that? Tie it directly to an album to come, TMWSTW, stick that bass out far, and make all those whooping and earnest vocal layers pop. Wonderful B-side opener, begs you to turn up the volume and feel the bass in your gut.

One of my favorite mixes on the record is An Occasional Dream with its confident flutes and recorders, shimmering prickly guitars, and unusual and dreamlike backing vocal layers doing some very odd things. What an incredible song to be written by someone so young.

Wild Eyed Boy From Freecloud is fascinating with its horn-centric arrangement and elevated strings and harps. Is it my imagination that I’m hearing entire vocal passages that I’ve never heard before? Are these vocal takes that were on tape but totally unused in the previous mix? I’d have to do an A/B comparison, but I think so.

“really you and really me.”

Hearing this vocal is like a timewarp into the future to his work on Baal. Like he’s able to suck up the experience and timbre of his own self 30 years on and use them when he likes. Incredible.

Aww man. Wow. How nicely does Conversation Piece sit here as originally intended... whew. Emotion. “I can’t see the road for the rain in my eyes.”

I’ll just let you enjoy this song in your own way without my input, expect to say that you will miss this artist’s presence in the world.

So yeah. Get it together. Alrighty. “God Knows I’m Good” is a brilliant song IMO although plenty seem to disagree, and that’s cool. Lyrically, it’s just killer, and I’m enjoying David’s natural centered vocal clean and clear. Beautiful smoothed out 12-strings gliding and gorgeous. Nothing out of the ordinary here besides some balancing and reverb choices, but an honest and heartfelt interpretation of an underrated DB song.

I’m expecting more of a Beatles/George Martin approach to the mix of Memory Of A Free Festival, and we’ll see. Lovely, honest and direct vocal treatment on David’s voice, and I’m looking forward to seeing how this morphs into the slew of background vocalists that include Marc Bolan and friends... wait - what? A Pink Floydian bridge into the coda? Wow! The Sun Machine is coming down and it joined a religious cult and it wants you to believe! Alright well, this is amazing.

If you have any love for this record, and aren’t one of those people who think remixing is akin to spray painting over the Mona Lisa, GET THIS. You’ll be surprised and touched by it, I guarantee. Hearing these voices swirl and smear at the end of this record makes me feel like Tony Visconti made this for David, his friend, and we just get to enjoy it too. Tony captured lightning in a bottle with this work here. Having access to original track stems included unused music, and the privilege of being there for the recording sessions so long ago, he’s in a literally singular position to rebuild and reinterpret these songs from scratch in a way that would be impossible for anyone else, even if they had the access to the masters that this requires.

I think one of the reasons I love it so much is that it lays bare the importance of mixing and mastering to the artwork itself, and Tony’s voice is all over this. And unsurprisingly, it’s a voice filled with genuine emotion and reverence for his friend. Space Oddity blows me away. For a song that is SO well known to fans and otherwise, one that is intimately mapped on our minds, it’s just remarkable that he can mine, find, and yank this sort of soaring majesty out of well-trodden aural paths. It’s just a wonder, and without hesitation my favorite version of the song. It’s absolutely perfect. His use of modern delays made me nervous with Lodger (I’ve since warmed to them) but in the context of this lead off track, they are just... yeah. David’s still around.

From the dizzying psychedelia of Unwashed, to the chiming percussive harmonics flittering like butterflies all over Letter To Hermione, to the brilliant inclusion and interpretation of the deeply lovely Conversation Piece, to the closing triumphant aural densities of Memory Of A Free Festival, this record is a masterful window into the genius of music itself. But the fact that it shows off Tony’s skill without feeling arrogant or showy at all is just wild. Work like this is risky, and guaranteed to smack a glowing target on your back from the “why-do-we-need-this-cash-grab” crowd - so I’m impressed with his ability to honor the art and the artist in this way, and to respect the impressive craft of audio and sound studio science. He’s one of the Masters of the craft and this is Legacy work. A gift and a treasure.

[darlingpetao3]

For Asgard (Chapter 18/?)

Coulson arranges for you to be escorted to wherever they're keeping Loki captive. It's only one guard taking you there but he is a pretty burly fellow, perhaps the biggest guy aboard this helicarrier. You closely follow the guy until he stops outside what you believe to be your destination. When the door slides open you expect him to stay glued to you while in the presence Loki. While in actuality, the opposite happens.

“You have five minutes. Agent Romanoff is already in there interrogating the prisoner. She'll keep an eye on you.” You weren't certain whether that meant “she'll keep you safe from him” or “she'll make sure you don't try anything stupid.”

Slowly you enter the room where S.H.I.E.L.D. has imprisoned Loki. The cell he's in is much smaller and less luxurious than the one you shared on Asgard. Then again, no prison would be as nice as that one. Were you seriously grading prison cells on their interior decor? This one was circular with windows all around. What is it with people and their giant windows in prison cells, anyway?

You can hear Loki talking to someone. When you look up and to the right, there's the red-headed agent you remember piloting the plane. Romanoff. Apparently, they didn't hear you enter the room. Keeping this to your advantage, you move into the shadows and into earshot to hear her voice. It is level, yet demanding.

“I want to know what you've done to Agent Barton,” she says.

“I would say I have expanded his mind,” Loki responds like he's doing everyone a favour. That's an interesting way to put it, you think. Redhead approaches his cell, face expressionless. You can tell she cares about Birdman, but damn is she good at keeping her face neutral. Her arms cross.

“Once you've won, once you're king of the mountain, what happens to his mind?” She moves up close to the glass between them. For some reason you can't place, you don't like this small action very much.

“Is this love, Agent Romanoff?” Loki teases.

“Love is for children. I owe him a debt.”

Wow, hardcore. You wonder what she would think if she knew how much Loki and you love each other. You two might as well be the biggest children here, then. He laughs at her words and backs away.

“Tell me,” he insists, suddenly appearing interested in her supposed debts. A quick look of hesitation breaks through across her face but disappears just as quickly. She goes on to tell her life story of before she worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. From what you gather from Redhead's vague story, she implies she was an assassin. That and Birdman was sent to take her out, to kill her, but ended up not following through. When Loki asks what she'll do if he spares Birdman, she says she won't let Loki out, and you didn't expect her to anyway. But Loki has that look in his eye. You've seen it before. Like he's the cat who spots a mouse just sitting there, and it's playtime.

Redhead says she wants to turn over a new leaf. To wipe out the red in her proverbial ledger. Loki, of course, questions her ability to do so.

“Drakov's daughter... Sao Paolo. The hospital fire.”

That did it.

You don't know what any of this means, but his choice in words did the trick. She's tensed up and has wide eyes full of frozen fright.

“Barton told me everything,” he confesses. “Your ledger is dripping.” Loki approaches the window and his voice grows stronger, more powerful. “It is gushing red, and you think saving a man who is no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basis sentimentality, this is a child of prayer, pathetic,” he spits out. “You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, have your own code. Something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you. And they will never. Go. Away.” Loki slams his fist against the window and Redhead flinches, something you thought her body wasn't capable of doing. You watch all this in silent awe, mouth just a little agape.

“I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way, he knows you fear. And then he will wake just long enough to see his good work and when he screams I'll split his skull.” Redhead turns in fear and horror and walks a few steps. “This is my bargain, you mewling quim.”

You sit there, hand to your mouth. Is he serious? You hope and wish and pray that this is still just a part of the stupid godforsaken plan. That this is all still an act. Because, yeah sure, he has to look the part of a villain right? That was a part of it? The plan you know nothing about and yet are still told to trust him blindly in what he's doing. But he must know what he's doing, you're sure of it. Loki's evil villain act has been good. Far too good. You almost believed it there for a second.

“You're a monster,” Redhead says quietly, in a small voice. Loki laughs.

“Oh no, you brought the monster.”

She lifts her head and turns around to face him with a look of sudden realization. “So, Banner? That's your play?”

What play? Who's Banner, now?

“What?” Loki says, confused for once.

“Loki means to unleash the Hulk,” Redhead speaks into her wrist. “Thank you for your cooperation,” she says to him smugly and turns to leave. Did Loki just get played?

“No...” he says unbelievingly.

Redhead makes her way to the exit in your direction but you remain hidden in the shadows of an alcove near the door. When the coast is clear, you rush up the steps two at a time and place your hands against the glass prison. Loki turns to see you and is surprised, you think, to see you at a time like this. He moves closer to you, and in return presses his own hands to the window.

“My darling,” he says fervently. “Oh, how glad I am to see you.”

“And I'm glad to see you, too. Only it'd be nicer if you were out of this thing. With me.”

“I could not agree with you more.”

You hear a loud blast and feel the floor beneath you tilt somewhat. You have to grab hold of the railing to regain balance.

“What was that?” you ask looking around the room for clues.

“It would seem the vessel has been shot.” Alarms sound off in the distance outside the prison room. The floor remains at a slant and you feel as if you're inside a carnival funhouse. Except this is not at all fun. Not in the slightest.

And then, reverberating through the vents above, there's a noise that causes the hair on your arms to stand up and make your insides churn. A horribly angry roar.

That's when Loki's lips curl into that smile that only speaks of trouble to follow.

“Loki, god damn it, what is happening? What were you saying to the Redhead earlier about a monster? Who's Banner? And how do you know all that stuff about her? How- no, what do you know about these people?” It all comes pouring out now, you can't stop it. “I've been trying my hardest to stay in the dark here, to let you be the mastermind with all the secrets, but I can't take it anymore! Please, please, tell me something. I'm so confused about everything and I just need to know.”

Loki looks at you with empathy in his twinkling green eyes. “I know this has hurt you, my darling, and it pains me to see you in such a state. Ask me whatever you like and I shall provide your answers.”

“Truthfully?”

“To you? Always. But first, we are in great danger. Therefore, my sweet, before I tell you what you wish to hear, you must help me out of this cell.”

“Yes, of course.” You shake your head with understanding. If this massive flying base is going down, you'll need to free your beloved. Your burning questions can wait just a little longer. After all, you'd rather your questions be burning than yourself. “What do you need me to do?”

“Do you recall the route the guards brought us before we were split up?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“They are keeping my sceptre in the laboratory which we passed upon entering this aircraft. Do you remember the room of which I speak?”

You pull up the image of it in your head. When you had passed that lab, Loki had given the curly haired man inside a funny look.

“I do. I remember.”

“Good. You must retrieve the sceptre for me, my love. Without it, our defence and safety weakens greatly.”

“I'll be back. Hold on!” The ground shakes again, this time with more force. You work up a nice jog once you make it to the hallways of the helicarrier again. Men in uniforms run by you without a second glance. You assume they're probably too busy trying to figure out a way to keep this flying base up in the air and not in a billion pieces smashed on the ground. That makes you feel a little relief. They have their own mission right now and so do you. According to your calculations, the lab shouldn't be much farther-

There it is. You see the weapon in the window up ahead, the whole room turned faintly blue from the stone's growing brightness. It appears the door had been blasted open. An explosion, you deduce, from the shards of glass across the floor. You run to the sceptre and grasp it from the table it sits upon.

Your heart beats rapidly as you stare at it and move your fingers across its golden shaft. This is the first time you've actually held it. You think of all the things it has done, of all the things it could be capable of doing. And it's in your hands.

You need to snap yourself out of it. Leaving the lab, you make a mad dash back to the prison room, all the while avoiding falling flat on your face due to the helicarrier's extreme turbulence. But before you reach the last corner, before you're home free, a shout in a deep voice from the other end of the hallway startles you.

“(Y/N)!”

Your head whips around as you see a hugely built blond man, bewildered as to what you're doing with the sceptre in your possession. It's Thor. For a moment, you two merely stare at one another. Then, you break for it.

“Loki, I have it! I have it! Thor's coming!” you say frantically. A guard you hadn't noticed was in the room grabs you and tries to disarm you, but you aren't having any of that. You push him backwards and slam him against the wall. The man loses his bearings long enough so that you have time to tap the weapon to his chest without really weighing your options. His eyes fade to black but refocus to the colour of the stone's glow.

He is in your control.

“Open the cell door,” you command him. “And leave.” The guard has no choice but to heed your words. As the door slides open, a desperate “NO!” rings out. Thor makes a beeline to stop Loki from escaping and goes in for a tackle.

Only, he goes right through him!

An illusion...

Thor scrambles to his feet but the cell door has already closed on him. He's trapped. The real Loki appears next to you but remains facing his brother.

“Are you ever not going to fall for that?” Loki taunts. This clearly angers Thor as he smashes Mjolnir on the window, leaving a giant crack, but that, in turn, causes the latches on the cell to loosen. Please don't tell me this thing drops from the sky...

“The humans think us immortal,” Loki says with a humorous tone and walks over to the control panel. “Should we test that? Darling, come over here will you, please? Wouldn't want anything dreadful to happen to you would we, love?”

You scurry over to his side and take hold of his arm. You're beyond anxious. Is he really going to send his brother in a nose dive to the unforgiving cold hard ground? This is way beyond the prank he pulled in Asgard at Thor's coronation.

“Move away, please,” says a voice trying to sound authoritative. It's Agent Coulson. He snuck in and is holding the biggest freaking gun you have ever seen in your life. Awkwardly though, like he doesn't know exactly what he's doing with it.

Loki steps back a bit. The gun is aimed directly at him. Your heart is beating and it's out of control. Coulson, the man who was so kind to you earlier, a real genuine guy, is pointing a gun at the man you love.

“You like this?” Coulson says, inching closer. Loki looks worried. He grabs your waist and moves you out of the line of fire, which is too far away. “Even I don't know what it does.” Coulson shrugs. You figured as much. “Want to find out?” Not caring that Loki had moved you aside, you step back in front of him just as Coulson pushes a button on his weapon, lighting it up. He's about to shoot.

And then... You hear a grunt of anguish and a horrible scream. The scream was yours.

Your hands cover your mouth. Loki had suddenly appeared behind Coulson and had plunged his sceptre into his back. Only now, the sceptre is no longer in your hands. How-? His other self, his body double, his illusion was disintegrating behind you, still looking worrisome, while the real Loki let Coulson slide down the side of the wall, leaving a bloody streak as he went down.

You stand frozen with shock and refuse to accept this was happening. But it gets worse. When you finally gather a little courage to face Loki, you find him at the control panel again, with that smile. That one smile. Not the one you fell for all that time ago. No, this one gave you chills.

For the first time, you were scared. Positively terrified.

Loki's hand hovers over the daunting red button for a few moments as if he's contemplating. He and Thor exchange glares. Thor looks utterly and completely betrayed. Probably for the umpteenth time in his life. But you could feel that this was the worst of it.

Loki pushes the button and in a split second the ropes are cut, the latches give way, and Thor falls to his doom in his glass prison. You can't breathe.

“You're going to lose,” says Coulson's small, but sure voice.

“Am I?” Loki plays along.

“It's in your nature.” The agent's eyes are losing their light. His breathing shallows.

“Why do people seem to think they know my nature?” Loki says to himself, annoyed. “Your heroes are scattered. Your fleeting fortress falls from the sky. Where is my disadvantage?”

“You lack conviction... and the trust in your partner.”

“I do not think I-”

BOOM.

Loki gets blasted into the wall and slumps down unconscious.

“So that's what it does.”

You have tears pooling in your eyes and you try to stay strong, but looking at the man who was so kind to you, even when you were aiding a criminal, causes you to lose it.

“Agent Coulson, it's going to be alright. I- I can't believe he-” you can't even finish your sentence, kneeling beside him. “Just hang in there. You're going to be okay.”

“Don't you worry about me. Just do me a favour, please?”

“Anything. Anything. What is it?”

“Don't lose yourself, (Y/N).” Those were his last words. You start sobbing for a man you knew for the shortest amount of time and yet he made such an impact on you. Emotions and thoughts flood through you like rushing rapids. It feels like someone zapped you with a stun gun. It's like someone ran you over with a truck and left you flattened against the pavement. You feel like you're both on the verge of a hysterical fit or completely breaking down and crumbling into a ball on the ground. This was a dream, right? A nightmare?

Please for the love of every single god, let this not be real. Your heart. It hurts. You could almost swear that you feel the cracks in it. All you have to do is think of Loki's eyes. His touch, his voice, all of it, everything from before any of this shit happened to you both, for you to fall to your knees and break down in heavy sobs.

This poor, nice man. Coulson... He had offered you your old life back. How much simpler would everything have been if you had just accepted?

You had thought Loki was putting on an act, but did he really, honestly change in the end? How could Loki have done what he did if he hadn't changed? I am an accomplice to murder. I brought him the sceptre. I opened the door... How will I live with myself after all that I've done?

You feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up to see him. Coulson's killer. Loki. A man you thought you knew, had trusted with all your heart in so many ways. But you didn't recognize him anymore. This wasn't a game, to play with people's lives this way. You felt like a fool to figure this out only now. He's quiet with his words.

“I am-”

“Don't,” you say, hardened.

“Darling, please.”

“No.”

“This aircraft will crash any time now. We have to go.” His urging means nothing to you.

“Then let it. I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“You don't mean that.”

“Oh, I mean that.” You didn't care that your voice just cracked.

“Do you not trust me?” His voice has a tinge of frustration to it. You don't answer.

“You are a monster...” you murmur so quietly, you didn't think it possible for him to hear you.

He did.

“I was trying to save you!” Loki yells at you, anger increasing and all too apparent. Something clips in your heart. And your temper.

“I don't need saving!” You feel sick. Nothing makes sense anymore. “I'm not leaving with you.” Loki's eyes narrow and in truth looks beyond scary in this moment, something you never thought you'd feel about him.

“If that is the way you feel.” He sounds angry but trying not to let it resurface. Even more, there's a tinge of the sound of his own heart breaking. Well, join the fucking club. He gets up to leave, sceptre in hand, and walks a bit with a limp.

You can't bring yourself to look at him. Even if the last glimpse of his face turns out to be him smiling grotesquely and stabbing a spear into Coulson's back, so be it. When you finally hear his footsteps leave the room, that is when you start to weep.

Part 19

Tag List: @gerardwayisapotato , @theloneavenger1995, @magellan-88

[reallysierra]

"We wouldn’t be in this position if someone didn’t go and date the guy we told her not to date,” Malia spat, her salt obviously directed towards you.

You raised your eyebrow angrily, “Oh, so you think it’s my fault now?” You exasperatedly asked your hands now in fists. You took a taunting step towards Malia who returned the same gesture.

The pack knew neither of you were not scared to fight, let alone each other.

“I’m not thinking, I know it is.” She said her tone furious.

You laughed and started making your way to Malia, but before you two could get any further, Stiles pulled Malia back, Scott pulled you back, and Kira stepped between the space of you two so you didn’t kill each other.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Scott said, laying authority down. “We are not going to get Lydia back if you two are fighting! I don’t care if you guys make up or not, right now we just need to focus on Lydia, okay?”

You and Malia glared at each other. Stubbornly, you both nodded, vowing to stay away from each other until you could come to your truce. Which might take a while.

After everyone settled down, ideas were thrown on the table. Theo mentioned that he was going to kill Scott, and you had the slightest suspicion that he would bring his pack to help with the job because they probably assumed Scott would bring his.

That was plan A, to assign a pack member to a certain person. It wasn’t made clear who gets who, but Liam was tossing the idea of who gets who. Scott would get Theo, but you spoke up.

“No,” You mumbled loud enough for the pack to hear you, your eyes locked with Scott’s eyes, “I’ll take Theo. He’s mine.” The vengeance in your voice evident. You grabbed your sword off Scott’s moms table and headed towards the door. “That son of a bitch is mine.” You growled.

You and the pack arrived to an abandoned warehouse. Theo and his pack, who included Josh, Tracey, and Corey, stood waiting for you. Lydia stood in the middle, being held by Theo, his claws to her neck. She looked completely terrified, but unharmed.

You felt guilty because Malia was kind of right. If you didn’t date Theo as they told you, you all wouldn’t be in this situation. However, you were sure you all would have been anyways because you were sure he would’ve tried the plan out without you. You were just ahead of the game.

“Let her go.” Stiles yelled the first one out of all of you to say anything.

Theo chuckled while Lydia tensed up. “Oh, Stiles. Always trying to be the hero, huh? I’m sorry, but this fight is between (Y/N) and I.”

“Then why did you bring Lydia into this?” You growled, it took all you had for you not to rip into him right there, but you knew that if you did then he would hurt Lydia, and that’s not what you wanted.

He snorted, “How else was I going to lure you to me? Obviously my first plan didn’t work out, because you were against helping me kill Scott.” He took his claws away from Lydia’s neck and pushed her behind him. “You know, (Y/N), you’re a smart girl. But you weren’t smart enough to see through my plan.”

“Shut up!” You hollered, your grip tightening on your sword that was casually sitting in its holster on your hip.

“Square up, Theo.” Stiles mumbled in response to you, somewhat attempting to put humor in the situation, somewhat serious.

Theo’s demeanor changed from joking to serious, he locked eyes with you, taking steps towards you. “Bring it, Princess.”

And you did. You ran to him, all the anger you had built up was finally going to be put to use. Josh and Corey ran at you while you ran to Theo, but you dodged them easily. When you were ten feet from Theo, you leaped up and kicked him square in the chest, knocking the air out of him and knocking him down in the process.

That was when all hell broke loose, everyone began to attack. Corey and Josh took on Scott. Kira and Malia took on Tracy while Stiles went to get Lydia. Claws were out, teeth were bared, and weapons were uncovered.

Theo sat up, resting on his elbows while he caught his breath. You hand your sword pointed to his neck and he laughed, “Didn’t know you had it in ya, Princess.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t mess up that pretty face of yours,” You countered back, but you weren’t as playful as he was.

Tracy went flying past the both of you while Malia and Kira chased after her. She hit the building hard, but you had no worry because she was supernatural and could probably survive it.

Theo’s hand swiftly wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you down to the ground, your sword clattered on the pavement. You landed on your side about ten feet from Theo. You both locked eyes with each other before scrambling to get up to try to grab it.

Theo got to your sword first, deciding not to use it against you, but to ruin it. He bent the metal so it of no use to you anymore. He thought that was your only weapon, but he thought wrong. “No more sword for you.” He taunted a smile at his lips.

Since your sword was gone, you pulled your dagger out of the holster in your boot. You went to go and stab Theo with it, but he caught your right wrist before the blade could even touch him. His hand turned into a fist and he was getting ready to punch you.

Before his fist could punch you, you grabbed his wrist with your left hand, spun him around so his arm was painfully pinned behind his back. You kicked him in the back on the knee and he went down, groaning in pain.

He rolled onto his back, but you didn’t stop there. You kneeled on top of him, making sure your knee was digging into his chest while your dagger was pressed against his neck. Theo’s hands were held up as if he was surrendering, but you knew that he wouldn’t go down that easy. “You thought wrong.” You remarked, pressing your knee down harder.

Both of you were breathing heavy, but he managed to chuckle, then it turned into a laugh, “What’s so funny?” You asked, annoyed that he would even be chuckling.

“You’re just so adorable, Princess. I don’t know why I didn’t keep you around.” He sarcastically announced.

His arrogance was annoying you, so you pressed all your weight down onto Theo, his laugh turning into a groan of pain. “Because I wasn’t going to let you kill Scott, remember, sweetheart?”

Theo rolled his eyes and effortlessly tossed you off him. You landed with a thud on the hard pavement, the wind knocked out of your lungs. He got up and brushed his hands off while you held onto the wall for support, gripping your dagger tightly. Theo strolled towards you until your back hit the wall, slightly pushing you into it.

“I could kill you right here, right now, princess.” Theo sweetly sneered, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. He pushed you into the wall some more, you squirmed as a whimper escaping your lips from the pain.

It made you laugh in a way because he was so gentle with you before he found out you were a hunter and avoided you. Now everything was changed, he was cold and distant from you, but you weren’t going to let him kill Scott.

“Oh, you don’t want to do that, sweetheart.” You mocked back, pushing off the wall and in the process, pushing Theo off you. He stumbled back and caught himself before falling to the ground.

He laughed almost sarcastically, “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He came at you again, but you didn’t have time to react. He grabbed you from around your waist so you were facing him, it almost looked intimate, but you knew it was far from that. His hand was painfully gripping your wrist, causing you to disarm your dagger. He kicked it away from the both of you so you didn’t have a chance to grab it in case you had more tricks up your sleeve.

“Isn’t this sweet?” He asked a sickly sweet tone in his voice. “This is how we were standing when we kissed, don’t you remember, (Y/N)?” He dug his claws into your thigh, causing you to let out a sharp cry of pain.

Your mind flashed back to when you two first kissed and it left a bad taste in your mouth. You two had just come back from getting pizza and eating it at his house. He had defied your expectations about him. Theo was so gentle and sweet with you. It was a surprise because he was an arrogant asshole to everyone, but you.

“Let me walk you to your door,” Theo said, putting his truck in park.

You took a deep breath and looked at him; you stared into his lovely hazel eyes. You were thinking of a sassy comeback, but let your guard down. You could let him get away with this one sweet thing, right? “Okay.” You finally said, unbuckling your seatbelt and waited for him to open your door.

You two made it up your driveway, his arm protectively slung around your waist. You stopped at your porch, giving him a chance to talk, “So, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asked, a playful smirk on his lips and his hands gently grasping your waist while your arms hung on his shoulders.

You smirked back at him, “Hmm, I guess not.”

“Would you go out with me again?” He asked, a little more hope in his voice.

You smiled and blushed, you have never met a guy who was so interested in you, “I suppose,” You shyly said.

Theo chuckled, his voice becoming softer and he popped the question of, “Can I kiss you?”

“No.” You said; a defied look on your face. You smirked when Theo looked taken back, then you giggled, “I’m surprised you even asked. Yes, you can.” You granted permission.

Theo gently caressed your face and leaned down so your lips met his. Your stomach was doing flips out of excitement and you felt like you couldn’t be happier. Your doubts about him were wrong.

You forcefully pushed the memory to the back of your mind and tried to keep the tears from coming up. You felt your legs trying to give out from the pain and you instinctively grabbed his shoulder to keep yourself from falling even though he had his arm around your waist, preventing you from falling anyways.

Theo chuckled darkly and pushed you off him, your blood dripping from his claws. You landed on your side, your hand shakily pressed down on your leg, attempting to stop the blood flow but it was gushing out between your fingers. You swallowed thickly and tried to stand up, but felt too dizzy to do so.

You looked around; everyone was too busy with his or her own enemy. There was no one to help you, but you tried to tell yourself it was okay because you could take care of yourself. The only thing you wish you had was Scott’s healing, that would help so much.

“(Y/N)!” You heard someone shout, you turned your head to see Stiles coming towards you to help you. You mentally rejoiced because you were weak, and you needed help to stand up.

Stiles gripped an arm around your waist and helped you up; you used him to steady yourself until Theo started coming towards the two of you, a displeased look in his eyes. Stiles and you attempted to back up away from Theo, but he strode up to Stiles, who tried to protect you by keeping himself in front of you.

“You’re scared, both of you.” He smugly stated. Both you and Stiles tried your best to look brave, but it was faltering. You were mentally battling the fact that you were scared now, and you shouldn’t be. You were a hunter, heck; you were a part of the Argent family. Argent’s weren’t scared, Argent’s were brave.

You shook your head, “No.” You trembled out.

He sauntered towards the both of you again, your heartbeat picking up and your grip on Stiles tightened. Stiles began to walk backwards, avoiding the evil in front of you. He came up and shoved Stiles away from you, your only protection gone and knocked out in front of you.

Theo smiled darkly at you; you tried to get away from him only for him to catch you. His hand came up to your throat, clenching his hand around the delicate skin. You gasped for air as he slammed you against the wall, knocking more air out of you.

“You don’t look so tough now, princess.” He said, almost maniacally at you.

It was true. You were tired, your adrenaline was wearing down which made you feel all the pain in your body. You had no more room to fight, at this point you could only wish for a miracle. The only fight you had left in you was to scratch at his wrist to let you go. It was a small and almost laughable attempt because you knew if you had more energy, you could get out of his grip.

He let go of your throat only to tightly grab a hold of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “I told you that you were going to regret it.”

You jerked you head out of his grasp, “The only thing I regret is wasting my time on you,” You said, your breath catching up to you. Your boot-clad foot attempted to kick him away, but he swiftly stopped you to more claws to your thigh. You squealed in pain as he slowly twisted his nails out.

Claws were pulled out and you were breathing heavy, “No more.” You whispered, your body shaking from pain.

His eyebrows quirked up, “What? What was that? I didn’t hear you?” Theo mocked, but he knew what you said, he just liked hearing you say it. He liked hearing that you are weak when you have had this persona of being strong, tough, and never afraid. “Did I hear you say that you’re giving up?”

Your body could only take so much abuse before it would give out. Every bone in your body hurt, your muscles ached and you felt like giving up. “I said no more.” You were sure that if it wasn’t for Theo holding you up, you would just be a crumpled heap on the ground.

By then, your cries of pain had caught the other pack member’s attention, but none could come to your aide. You couldn’t blame them; they were just trying to stay alive like you. You noticed Scott trying to finish Josh so he could help you.

Without warning, you felt a sharp pain in your stomach. A small gasp escaped your lips while blood spilled out of your mouth. Everything felt like slow motion. You looked down to see Theo’s hand in your stomach and you looked back up at him with regret in your eyes.

You could hear Scott yelling your name while Theo twisted his claws, slowly removing them from your abdomen while you coughed up more blood. As he removed his hand, he stepped back and casually shook your blood off his hand.

Your hands found your wound and you attempted to stop the bleeding but you knew all too well that it wasn’t going to work. Slowly, you slid down the wall. Before you reached the ground, you felt strong arms grab you and stop you from hitting the dusty pavement.

You heard Liam and Malia screaming at Theo, but you didn’t see anything. However, you did hear Malia viciously throwing Theo around; Liam had to stop her before she killed him.

You looked to see Stiles, who now had a bruise on his face, but was overall okay. You were breathing heavy and your body shivering. “Did you f-find Lydia? Did you put her somewhere s-safe?” You gasped, more worried about your friend than yourself.

“Yeah, she’s fine. But you need help, (Y/N).” He said, his hands hastily pressing over yours to help stop the bleeding. His pale hands were now stained with your blood that was flowing out too quickly.

Scott skidded to a stop in front of both of you, his mind flashing back to when Allison was dying. He remembered seeing her fall to the ground before he caught her, he remembered her face going pale from the lack of blood, and he remembered the pain of losing her.

In a panic, Scott took Stiles’ and your hands away so he could try to heal you. In the back of his head, he knew that you needed actual medical attention, but he was determined to save you right here.

“I can’t feel your pain, (Y/N).” Scott said his voice in a panic.

You smiled softly at him, “T-that’s because I’m not h-hurting.” You gasped, your hand going up to caress the face of your friend who has done all he could to protect you all these years that Allison was gone.

Tears were running down Scott’s face while he put his hand over yours. “I can save you, just let me try.” he said, meaning that he could bite you, turning you into a werewolf. But that posed the risk of your body rejecting the bite, meaning you would die regardless.

You shook your head, your brows furrowed as you let out a cough. More blood splattered all over you, some onto Scott and Stiles, but they didn’t care. “You can’t… and that’s okay.” You whispered, your voice raw from the abuse you had gone through.

In the wake of Allison’s death, you couldn’t understand how she was telling you that it was okay when it clearly wasn’t. You were losing your cousin and you knew it wasn’t okay… Until now.

Your body was warm, as if the sun had come out and showered your whole body with cozy warm rays. It occurred to you that you weren’t in pain, “It’s okay.” You said, ultimately understanding why Allison had said that to you… Because it really was okay.

To the pack, you were shivering and your hands were shaking as you went to grab Scott’s to tell him one more thing, because you knew it was going to be the last thing he heard, “T-thank you for taking c-care of Allison and I.” You gasped unevenly, trying to smile as best as you could.

The pack watched as you took your final breath, that everything was still. Stiles sat across from your body, his hands resting on his lap as they shook with rage. He angrily got up in search for Theo, but Malia stopped him, telling him that she and Liam took care of Theo.

Kira came up behind Scott and hugged him while he hugged your lifeless body, his own body shaking with sadness. She murmured how it was going to be okay to him, but he couldn’t hear it. Your death mirrored Allison’s too much, it wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay.

Lydia came running up, to the group, nearly tripping but Stiles caught her before she could fall. The strawberry blonde collapsed in tears in Stiles’ arms when she saw your bruised and lifeless body. As if on cue, Lydia screamed your name while the pack cried for you.