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bitterkarmaa · 2 years ago

Note

Got a few prompts for you for past KC and Eclipse! Since i couldn't choose just one and the brain worms are still strong agfjg:

29. “I can’t believe I thought you were a good person. Congratulations, you’ve proven me wrong.”

I figured this would be a good one for after the incident and KC confronts Eclipse about what happened

39. “If this was the last time we ever spoke, what would you want me to know?”

This one could mayhaps go with the above prompt too for that extra layer of angst mwehehehe

24. “I’ll protect you, with my life if necessary.”

This could either be before incident (maybe with young Eclipse) or after KC revives Eclipse?

6. “I... I can’t believe it’s really you. I thought I’d never see you again.”

Another alternate version to the prior one! Post Eclipse revival!

3. “You’re wrong. So just sit there in your wrongness and be wrong”

A break from the angst prompts - KC and Eclipse being sassy with one another ahdfas family banter

(ALSO YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO ALL OF THESE OR EVEN ANY AT ALL HDFJKG i just went a lil ham haha)

I’m inhaling all of these ideas like crack and struggling to pick like a bird picking a favorite seed

“I’ll protect you, with my life if necessary.”

-KC & Eclipse-

It has always been a patient animatronic, despite being the lead security bot. It had to be patient. It was made to be patient.

And yet, watching the fragmented code running slowly across the screen, it is filled with unmistakable fury over the fact that reality chooses to taunt it in one of its worst, most vulnerable moments. Impatience burns a hole through every rule it’s ever learned, eating away at the emotional wall between it and the tears that threaten to fall down its face.

Each time another error pops up, his claws dig deeper into the desk’s flimsy wooden surface.

Growing weary of the endless cycle of disappointment that staring at the screen brings, KC instead decides to turn away, gazing solemnly at his son’s immobile body, at his eyes that no longer gleam with emotion, replaced by a cruel, ever-encompassing darkness. It can’t help but wonder if doing its best to repair the body and card was a waste of its time. Maybe he was too late. Maybe his son really is dead.

Just as they wanted. Bitterness rises like bile in its chest, a snarl ripping through its bared teeth.

Humans. People. Society. Spitting lies he believed long enough to allow them to take his son from him. Even now, the disgust he feels towards both himself and humanity is vivid- unwavering.

The room is silent aside from the soft beeping and clicking of the computer doing its work. It clasps its hands together, lowering its head in shame as the reality of the situation sinks in for the thousandth time. It still hurts, fresh as a bleeding wound. He doubts it will ever heal.

A garbled scream forces his eyes up once again, alarm pulsing through him as he moves towards Eclipse before truly putting much thought into it. His son continues to scream and cry, oil leaking from his mouth in a steady stream that makes KC’s core lurch.

He reaches out, but Eclipse flails and whimpers as soon as his father’s hand nears him. It stops, watching helplessly as Eclipse’s venting falters, letting out ragged wheezes as his body fights to stay online.

“D-Don’t-D-Don’t-“ Eclipse rasps, voice hitching and breaking in places, voicebox straining against the unwelcome use.

“Eclipse…” It begins, voice low, soft and gentle. A contrast to its more recent tones, reminiscent of better times.

“Don’t!” He snaps, a sob escaping his mouth afterwards. The venom in his tone is worn and empty, lacking the bite in favor of showing face for a bark that he hopes may deter his hovering father. It doesn’t.

“I’m…I’m not going to hurt you.”

Eclipse’s shaking hands twist into weak fists that contain more emotion than his twisted expression, somehow.

“I-“ Eclipse breaks off, letting out a yelp that slowly devolves into a scream, wrapping his arms around himself, clutching the dented, destroyed paneling that trembles under his unsteady hands.

KC panics.

KC doesn’t panic, but he does. He doesn’t but right now he does.

For a moment, all he can really do is watch as Eclipse’s screaming begins to die off into broken sobs.

It seems that his previous caution is quickly discarded, because next he’s shifting closer to KC, tears still streaming down his face as he shakes and breaks down before his fathers eyes. It stares at him idly, a small frown coming onto its face as Eclipse reaches out with one hand to grasp loosely onto its sleeve, his other arm still wrapped around his torso.

“Sw-Swear it?” Eclipse mumbles miserably between sobs, earning a puzzled expression from KC.

“Swear what?”

“That you…won’t hurt me…”

The tears that have been threatening to gather in KC’s eyes finally come, metaphorical heart shattering all over the floor, leaving him to vainly struggle to gather the pieces.

“Oh, Eclipse…” It whispers sorrowfully, moving closer to pull his son to his chest. Eclipse buries himself against his father, more sobs wracking through his body as he leans into its arms.

The most KC can do is hold Eclipse as he wails his grievances into his fathers attire, fingers curled into the faded fabric as if afraid KC might leave, or move, or do something that would break his fit and shame his needs. KC plans to do nothing of the sort, caught up in guilt as it is.

"I tried to stop her."

Eclipse's voice is tight, distant, and KC lets out a heavy sigh as he realizes that this is probably another living nightmare his son's mind is forcing him to remember. He's had these...'fits' ever since that cursed day, wrapped in memories, bound so tightly that he can't escape no matter how hard he damns the vision to the back of his mind. KC has tried to help him out of these episodes, but it proves futile time and time again. The most he can truly do is stay by his side until they subside once again. It's truly excruciating, watching his son experience horrifically vivid recollections, unable to help no matter how hard he tries.

And now, beneath the load of reality that his son is already struggling to maintain, another weight has been added. Cruelty comes in many forms, it seems, and quite a few of them are fond of poor Eclipse.

"I know." KC murmurs, rubbing a gentle hand in circles over his sons back. "It wasn't my fault."

A slight pause, then, "I know."

"Why didn't you stop them?" Eclipse's voice becomes sharper, more in tune with reality as his eyes drag up to meet KC's own. KC can't hold his gaze for long, the shame eating away at him.

"I did." He mutters, and, apparently, he said the wrong thing. Eclipse's gaze burns with fury, shoving himself away despite the obvious pain it causes him.

"As soon as it became beneficial for you, sure. Yeah. You became the hero and whatever. Main difference between you and actual heroes is that heroes succeed." Eclipse bites back, rays grinding against the crumbling springs as they retract behind his dented faceplate. KC narrows its eyes.

"I saved your life, and this is the thanks I get?"

Eclipse lets out a bitter scoff, rising to the silent challenge behind his father's words.

"You only brought me back because you felt bad!"

KC stares at his son, his formerly furious expression twisting into one of despair. "That's not true." It retorts.

"Yes, it is! You know it is!" Eclipse's voice raises into a distressed wail, tone breaking off into another sob, hands coming up to wipe furiously at his face.

"It's not, Eclipse. You-" KC reaches out with careful hands, gently beginning to guide Eclipse's hands back into his lap- before his son pulls them away, that is.

"YES, IT IS! YOU NEVER WANTED A SON, YOU JUST WANTED SOMEONE TO AGREE WITH YOU ALL THE TIME!!"

"Eclipse-"

"YOU NEVER WANTED ME AROUND!! YOU PROBABLY WANTED ME TO DIE!!"

"ECLIPSE!" KC shouts over his son's rant, grabbing Eclipse by the sides of his face, forcing him to look into his father's eyes. Eclipse stares, wide-eyed and hyperventilating, into KC's glittering red gaze.

"I have never wanted you dead. Ever. It broke me to see you as hurt as you were, and I swear that I won't allow it to happen again. I can't see you like that, my boy. You are my everything, no matter what I say or do. I regret waiting as long as I did to step in- it plagues me endlessly, the thought of what I should've done, but didn't. You will never be wounded like that again. I won't let it happen. I'll protect you...with my life, if necessary."

Eclipse's mouth hangs open the slightest bit, unwavering gaze trained on his father's serious expression. Then, his face twists, body shaking as more tears gather in his eyes and he begins to spill various apologies from his mouth, throwing himself back into KC's arms.

KC cradles his son like a precious china vase, rocking him gently in the quiet, isolated room. Time stretches on, the sobs slowly dying away into sniffles, and then, eventually, soft, raspy venting as Eclipse's exhaustion hits him like a train, effectively knocking him out for the next few hours.

KC keeps his promise. He protects Eclipse.

...even at the cost of his life.

And, as his fingers grace over the scar hidden beneath his classy attire, he wonders...

How is he staring into the eyes of the mentor he assumed was dead?

#karma’s bitter #karmas bitter but so am i #sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #sams eclipse #kb eclipse #tsams au #sams au #tsams lunar #kb killcode #sams killcode #sams kc #kb drabbles #kb lore

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rogueshadeaux · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter Thirty-Three — Shadow Play

“I see the mark on each affront to God, now. The Mark of the Beast. It burns in their chests like the pits of hell, it’s on their hands anytime they use their powers. They’re all branded. All marked, even me. But I see it now, I see why God has made me what I am.”

7k word count | 2 spacers provided as pause points | TRIGGER WARNINGS: a lot of words, possible claustrophobia [they are UNDERGROUND please remember that!], human experimentation, military mention. ONE imbedded link.

Our footsteps echoed back a thousand times as we walked along the crescent-shaped dais on the other side of the room, Dad the first to step up onto it. “How far back do you think this goes?” He asked, shining a light down the rounded archway of the hall he was standing in front of. ADVANCED SYSTEMS. The last words of his sentence reverberated in the chasm, Brent joining him to look down it.

“Hey!” He hollered, his voice overlapping Dad’s as the single syllable hopped around again and again. Brent turned back to face everyone, motioning down the hall. “It’s gotta be long.”

“Has to be some sort of tech lab,” Dad muttered in agreement.

Brent smirked at the thought. “Think we have enough time to go look? Maybe they have, like, ray guns back there,”

“If we’re talkin’ Vermaak,” Zeke started, looking over my head at Dad, “We should probably start here. Advanced systems has gotta mean power transfer device, right?”

Dad, though, wasn’t listening, not really; his phone’s flashlight had traveled along with his stare, looking across the dais to the hall on the other side, brow furrowed. His eyes narrowed a bit like he was trying to decipher something in the shadows, and he stayed quiet long enough for me to share a worried glance with Brent. “Dad?” I eventually asked.

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

He blinked hard, coming back down to earth from wherever his head had dragged him as he looked over at me, then to the other men. “Y-yeah, sorry,” he stammered, giving the hall at the other end one last look before turning fully to Advanced Systems. “We should see what’s down there.”

Everything looked insane, so futuristic, and I felt bad for laughing at Bertrand when he said he was amazed by what he saw because I couldn’t help but agree. This place was amazing.

Dad blew past the unmarked doors in the hall, moving deeper into the hall as he sensed something I only caught onto the further we traveled; there was something at the end of the hall echoing our footsteps back just a little too loudly, the sound coming back like an irregular heartbeat as it tried to match the loud drumming in my ears. Zeke stayed behind Brent and I as Dad held up a hand, light sweeping the rounded ceiling and noting the strange change: “It’s getting taller.”

“The entrance was wider too,” Brent muttered, shining his own against the wall. “Means there’s something at the end, doesn’t it?”

“Probably.” Dad agreed.

And they were right; as the ceiling widened like a maw, it spit us out into a rounded room littered in broken glass and severed wire, the walls lined with pods built into the walls. It looked like the shattered glass came from there, rained down by nearly a hundred of something escaping. A raised platform stood in the middle of the room, the perimeter circled by computers while the center held some excavated hole, something ripped up out of the ground and the concrete remains left strewn among the glass.

And hanging from the ceiling were two cuffs, and a thick dangled wire with its copper ends sticking out.

“Jesus,” Zeke muttered, shining his light behind him at one of the pods. They also had wires dangling from their enclosure, the ends looking like the pasties of EKG machines and some still holding catheters for veins. Zeke came to the conclusion I did, first to verbalize it: “They look like experiment pods.”

“Think this is where the Vermaak were?” Dad asked, stepping up to the platform. The computers stood on metal podiums with no visible wires, some with broken screens. “Wish Eugene was down here…”

“Could be,” Zeke hummed, messing around with the electrodes.

Brent followed Dad up onto the platform as I slowly walked around it, shining my light at the base. There was no gap or welding or something that connected the platform to the floor; the ends simply bent out like the platform had been molded from the ground on a pottery wheel, no actual bolts in sight. It was so sleek, so unnaturally smooth and perfect.

There was a flash on the side and I glanced over to see Brent taking pictures of the pit, probably just as much for his own files as Dad’s. ‘Course. But the shine was enough to distract me, and I didn’t know there was something in my path until I could feel it under my ankle boot.

I lifted my foot to peel off the little thing off of it — it looked like a tag? Like the sort of paper tags I’d put on my gymnastics bag before going to a meet. It was in near-perfect condition, having been untouched since it was dropped.

Date and time of capture. Circumstances. Weapons, physical conditions, name rank, all duplicated three times on a page that signified needing to be cut. I flipped the page over, the sections on the back more for the holder than whoever the form was supposed to be attached to, the top titled ENEMY PRISONER OF WAR (EPW) CAPTURE TAG (PART A). “I found something,” I announced. “I think it’s some sorta…some sorta army thing?”

Dad’s head snapped up. “What?”

I didn’t bother answering, instead following the rounded edge of the platform again to where he stood and handed him the page. He breezed over the front before flipping it to the warnings on the back, huffing. “‘DA Form 5976,’” he muttered, looking over his shoulder at Zeke. “Direct Action form. The military raided this place."

“Oh yeah, more than likely,” Zeke agreed. “New Marais was under martial law for a bit as they dug around for information on the Beast and the First Sons. Guess they got here first.”

Dad made some sort of dissatisfied noise in his throat, flashlight going from the form back to the computers — and then to the divot in the floor. “If this is where the Vermaak were…that had to be where the power transfer device was. They came in here with the intention of detaining anyone they found.”

Zeke left where he stood to join Dad on the platform, his light adding to the one shining down into the pit. “Guess now would be a good time to tell you they didn’t get the original device, huh?”

Dad perked up, looking at Zeke. “Really?”

“Yeah. Bertrand tried shipping out the device, the original one meant for one-on-one transfer, when I was spyin’ on the Militia for Cole. He was trying to get it outta there before Cole got to it. You know the whole story about that gang fight at Fort Philippe?”

“Yeah,”

Zeke nodded once. “It was for that. We captured the place from the Militia, got the device, and Cole used it right there with Kuo. It exploded after.”

“What happened to it after?” I asked. Sure, it exploded, but it had to go somewhere, right?

Zeke shrugged. “It was basically scrap. Even if they got it, they wouldn’t have found anything useful in it.”

Dad’s brow furrowed. “So they never actually got the power transfer device?” He asked Zeke.

“If it’s what was in this hole? No. Most the military coulda done was download whatever was on the computers.”

“And probably wipe them,” Dad added, more a complaint than an observation. “I’m surprised they didn’t rip these things out of the ground.”

Brent stared thoughtfully at the computer we were standing in front of, finger tracing the pole of steel that was holding it up. “We could.”

I blinked. “What?”

Brent looked up, glancing between Dad and I. “You can recover deleted stuff from computers, right? Even if you’ve done everything to scrub it off. If we take the computer up to Dr. Sims, maybe he can find something.”

Dad rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the pedestal and the defunct computer on top of it. “We’d have to find its hard drive,” he eventually mumbled before looking back up at Brent. “We can’t just take the monitor, that’s useless.”

“Wouldn’t the army take the hard drive?” I asked. It seemed illogical that they’d sweep the First Sons base and leave behind something so crucial.

Brent’s eyes traveled down the metal pole, all the way to the floor and along it. “Maybe they didn’t know where to look,” he muttered, following some line we couldn’t see. His eyes raised to follow the wall and I saw all green was gone, replaced with a silver that reflected the light like…well, steel. He tracked whatever he saw to the wall next to the atrium’s entrance, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Hold this,” Brent asked Dad, not even looking at him as he passed over his phone and causing Dad to almost drop it on the ground. Brent stalked over to the wall and ran his hand along it, looking for some bump in the smooth texture and cursing under his breath when he couldn’t find it. “There’s something…under this…” Brent growled under his breath, sounding sure. “But the wall isn’t steel. I don’t see any…any bolts either.”

“Think it’s welded straight on?” Zeke asked.

Brent shrugged. “No idea. Either way it’s way too smooth to get through, unless I…”

Brent stared thoughtfully at the wall for a beat before bringing up his fist and turning it to steel, some extra metal shavings layering against the ridges of his knuckles as he reared his fist back and slammed it against the wall.

Whatever metal was there instantly gave away, revealing a hidden server farm sitting stagnant behind it, all ziptied servos wires and electrical tape. “Oh, shit,” Zeke muttered as Brent moved to grip the second panel and rip it off, more of the server bank being revealed. He looked over to Dad. “That’s gotta be for every pod in here and these computers."

Dad nodded slightly. “Alright. Okay, Zeke, you’re our best bet for this, so salvage what you think might be useful,”

Thirty minutes later, Zeke was zipping up the sling backpack and Dad sighed, turning to look back in the room. He looked absolutely displeased at how much nothing there was in this room. “The ice Conduit, Kuo — you said she was activated down here, too?”

Zeke nodded. “She came outta here cold as a corpse. Said they injected her with something to get her goin’.”

Dad mulled over those words. “We should try Bio-Science, then.” he decided unilaterally, voice making it very clear that this wasn’t up for discussion. “Whatever activated her here had to be made there.”

It was unsettling how loudly our footsteps echoed back at us as we walked out of the hall and back into the atrium, across the floor to the space where the Bio-Science hall stood. Dad was leading the pack, steps sure the entire way to the hallway before he faltered, staring down the hall with reservation.

“You okay?” Brent asked.

It took Dad a moment to even register that Brent spoke, glancing back at us. “Yeah, yeah, I just…” he drew off, attention going back to the hall. “You ever get a really weird feeling, like something’s wrong?”

“It’s probably the shitty horror movie lighting,” Zeke joked.

“Not like that,” he chastised. “I mean, there’s just…there’s something wrong here. In this hall. I don’t know what it is or…”

He drew off, growling under his breath as he failed to translate just how wrong it felt to him. I could sort of relate; I’d get a bad feeling in situations that did turn out to be bad, and there was whatever that gut feeling was when the ice soldiers appeared on the Sound. Maybe Dad was getting that weird sixth sense right now too? “Do you want to leave?” I asked.

“No,” Dad answered almost immediately. He flexed his shoulders, and that unsureness left him. “Come on,” He decided, “Let’s go see what we can find.”

Our footsteps rang out sharply like slamming gavels as we walked into the wing. God, how huge was this place? The hallway seemed to go on forever, large spaces in-between the labeled and rounded doors. And those labels didn't exactly help. Once we passed the basic ones that said things like 'Laboratory Supplies' or 'Restroom', the placards began to list off actual project names: Project Emerald, Project Mirage, Project Fracture.

I wasn't feeling very hopeful about much, especially when Dad just blew past the doors to keep walking down the hall. “There's...a lot of rooms to go through,” I mumbled, shining my phone light at another door that said 'Project Helix'.

“I know,” Dad replied. “Try to remember all the names. Let's get to the end of the hall, see if there's anything there,”

The end of the hall came swiftly after that conversation, the placard reading 'Project Metamorphosis'. The door…it was scratched to hell and back, chipped away like someone took an axe to its front and failed to take it down. Dad’s hand traced the edge of the door, that pensive look still on his face. He stayed unspeaking for so long that I finally cracked, saying, “Dad? Are you okay?”

Dad nodded. “This is it,” he said with so much assurance. His phone light traveled around, inspecting the weirdly shaped door.

“You sure?” Zeke asked.

Dad nodded slowly. “Yeah, I…” his brows came together, like he was confused by his own knowledge. “I’m sure. Let’s go.”

“Looks like someone else tried getting in, too,” Brent pointed out. “Think the military tried taking down the door with no luck?”

No one answered. If that was true, it meant we probably wouldn’t have a chance to get in, either.

Dad stepped up to the door and tried opening it. Tried. He pushed against the door, he fit his hands in the linear grooves to try and pull. Brent put his hand against the door only to flinch away at the attempt to drain it, and I crouched, running my hand along where the door met the floor — or, more accurately, where the recess was. “It lowers,” I said, looking up at them two. “Goes down, like a car window,”

“Without electricity, it’s basically useless,” Zeke said as Dad got to my level, looking at the recess. “Delsin, I know you’re intent on this, but it doesn’t look like we can get in—”

“No.” Dad snapped a bit. “This…there’s something in this room. I need to see it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before turning his head to look at Brent. "Well, any advice from the architect?"

Brent huffed, humored at the recognition but unable to answer. “Couldn't tell you. Haven't really looked into how to tear down buildings, yet. I don’t even know what kind of metal this is.” He hit the metal with his knuckle, the metallic ping that reverberated back high in pitch.

Zeke’s eyes narrowed at the sound, and before long he was digging in his pockets for something, pulling out his keys. He held a little flashlight-shaped thing on it up to the door, sliding it around its face. “It’s not magnetic,” he declared, shoving his keys — with the magnet on them, apparently — back into his pocket.

“So then, what’s that mean?” Dad asked.

Brent was the one to speak next. “Means it’s probably titanium,” he said, pushing his own hand against the door. “Which means it’s strong.”

“So we’re not gonna be able to get in?” I asked, standing.

Dad’s face darkened. “No. We’re getting in.” He said, determined. “How do you break titanium?”

“You don’t,” Brent said, almost sounding offended at the idea. “Do you know how strong it is?”

“There’s…” I drew off, unsure how to ask what I wanted to. “There’s rankings or classes or something for metal strength, right? Are there any stronger metals?”

“Steel,” Zeke hummed, looking over at Brent.

Brent shook his head. “I don’t know if it’d be enough,” he admitted.

“It's worth a shot,” Dad said, standing straight. “We throw enough steel at this door and it’s bound to break,”

“Yeah, and it could also take down the entire hall.” Brent stressed. “We have no idea what’s load-bearing in here and what’s not. Most doors are connected to one—”

“The door sinks into the ground,” I interrupted. Not only that, but this one was round. Didn't load bearing walls have to be vertical? “What’s the likelihood of it being one if it does that?”

Brent’s words faltered as he looked down at the rubber flaps on the door’s edge. “I…” he drew off, thinking hard. “Less…less likely, but still—”

Dad seemed to think that was enough. “Then we just aim for the door,” he decided. “And try not to bring anything else down.”

Brent’s eyebrow cocked. “‘We?’”

Dad nodded, saying, “We should use our powers together. Steel and concrete.”

“What about Jean?”

Dad’s eyes broke from Brent’s to glance my way, and he dedicated all of seven milliseconds to the thought before saying, “Jean, you and Zeke move back, be ready to help if something happens.”

I tried not to let the request get to me. My water probably couldn’t help here, anyways.

Dad and Brent passed me their phones and Zeke pulled me a good eight feet back as they both positioned themselves in front of the door, Dad hovering over Brent’s shoulder. I hadn’t realized they were nearly the same height before now. “You prep, I’ll add, we both throw. Okay?” He asked Brent, who nodded.

The steel Brent produced caught the light from the phones, little beams bouncing around and the very large and very threatening looking beams Brent was making grew over his shoulder like some magical spear being materialized from thin air. I guess, in a way, it was. But what was different this time was Dad putting his concrete-laden hand through the shrapnel cloud to reach for the bars and touch them, the black rock on his arms sloughing off and onto the steel to make a jagged battering ram.

“Now!” Dad yelled, moving to cross his arms over his face. Brent’s arms flinched as Dad threw his out and the battering ram went flying, the sound it made as it slammed into the titanium door something unpleasant I could feel in my bones as it screeched in protest, making me cringe so hard I accidentally bit my cheek. The door jolted hard, but stayed standing.

“Again!” Dad yelled over the echoes of the grinding metal. Brent built up another large spear, Dad touching it with his gravely grace before they both threw it at the door a second time. This impact came with sparks and a divot in its center that exposed a way darker metal beyond the painted surface, a bullet hole in the kevlar the First Sons gave the door. “Come on, almost,” Dad encouraged.

They ran the same race, Brent putting his entire upper body into this next throw, and the way the entire hall shook as the battering ram made impact with the door frightened me so badly that my water was reacting before I even saw the shrapnel, phones falling to the ground to instead let my hands shoot out to weave a wall of water between them and the wall they took down. The remains of the bent circular door shot back, taking out multiple desks in the room behind it and careening into a wall as my water caught whatever rubble it tried to throw back at the two men. The shaking stopped and the horrible sounds died off soon after, and within a beat, everyone breathed.

And then immediately groaned as the broken door slowly fell forward, revealing the hallway it couldn’t fit through. “God, it's neverendin', isn't it?” Zeke muttered, glancing at me. All I could do was sigh in return.

I let my water fall and we all entered the lab dedicated to whatever Project Metamorphosis was, shining our flashlights around the room. God, even the furniture was white, pure metal desks laid in rows in the center — well, minus the ones Brent and Dad sent flying — with standing laboratory tables lining the walls, the expo marker on the white boards posted on the wall above them faded out but still legible.

Zeke beelined it towards some leftover lab equipment while Dad moved to shift through the contents of the first desk. Brent and I glanced at each other and simultaneously shrugged, moving to the edge of the room and exploring on our own.

With no luck at my station, I moved back towards Brent, him not even looking up as I moved. “This is insane,” Brent murmured, looking down at some files. “It looks like they were trying to do something with inactivated Conduits,”

“What, like what the DUP did?” I asked, looking around his shoulder at the document. Or, trying to — the font was so small that it looked like gibberish to me.

Brent shook his head. “No, different than that. Not sure how, though...” His flashlight left the laboratory counter to shine on the board screwed to the wall — which we only then realized wasn't a board at all, but one of those x-ray lightboxes. There were still some x-rays attached to it, but Brent's phone light wasn't hitting the picture right to make it show.

“Here, hold this,” he said, passing me his phone so quickly that I almost dropped it on the ground. After throwing a quick glare my way, Brent leaned forward, ripping the x-ray from off of the board and holding it in his hands, elevated a bit. “Okay, shine the flashlight under it,” he requested.

I did — and immediately cringed after. God...what happened to this person? Their jaw simply wasn’t there anymore, shatterings of bone protruding out of the open orifice in ribbons. I've seen brain x-rays before in health class, and while you're not supposed to see every nook and cranny, it's also not supposed to be foggy white, almost like it was riddled with infection or melted to mush. “Jeez,” I murmured, shining the light farther down the x-ray. It stopped just after the clavicle — not that that was one anymore, either. It was riddled with extra growth, as if wrapped up in solid tumors. “What the hell happened to them?”

Brent opened his mouth to retort when Dad, in the center of the room, called out, “Found some stuff on the Ray Sphere!” looking up at Zeke.

Zeke turned, in the midst of wrapping a stoppered glass vial with his sock while handlessly shoving his foot back into the tennis shoe. “What's it say?” He asked, taking off the sling bag so he could store the vial away.

“A lot of big words I don't know,” Dad started, holding up the rather thick file as Zeke and Brent's light landed on Dad's form, illuminating his tall shadow against the wall. “But it has a beginning note — apparently, the Ray Sphere can corrupt a person's powers?”

Zeke's head tilted to the side as he slipped the sling bag back on, looking at Dad curiously. ""Corrupt?'” he repeated. “Corrupt how?”

Dad looked back down at the file, phone light traveling across it in tandem with his eyes. “Says it makes a person's power stronger, but more volatile. Harder to control.” He looked up at Zeke. “Were Cole's power like that?”

Zeke shook his head, almost seeming offended at the accusation. “No, he was in control of what he could do.”

“And his power didn't affect his daily life? He wasn't having issues with—” Dad looked down at the file in his hands, “—his 'enhanced capabilities exceeding the threshold of practical applicability in routine activities, leading to the unintended manifestation of his powers in a potentially disruptive or uncontrolled manner?'”

“What does that even mean?” Brent scoffed.

Zeke's eyes, though, went wide. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. Then repeated it, louder. “Son of a bitch!” With a foot stomp, like he just made the world's biggest breakthrough.

Dad glanced back up, eyebrow quirking. “So is...that a yes?”

Zeke nodded fervently. “Cole couldn't do anything with electronics 'cause his power would short circuit the wires. He couldn't sit in a car or hold a gun 'cause he'd make 'em explode. You're telling me that's why he couldn't do that? The Ray Sphere corrupted him?”

Dad looked back down at the document. “More like made him too powerful for his own good. Which I mean, did help with the Beast, but he would have had a horrible time trying to live in the Age of Technology.”

Zeke nodded. “Yeah, you've got that right. Had to create a double insulated phone pouch just so he could call me whenever we were off doing stuff,”

“These powers,” I interjected. “The, uh, corruption. Would it be enough to turn someone into a monster?”

Dad looked over at me like I was insane — but Zeke just nodded sagely. “Guess that would make sense. Bertrand, his power was...well, it was somethin'. He could turn himself and other people into these things, buncha fucked up looking creatures.”

Brent held up the x-ray, and we both immediately shined our phone's flashlight behind it to brighten up the image of the jawless person. “Like this?” Brent and I asked in unison.

“Jesus Christ,” Dad muttered, looking at the image as Zeke nodded.

“Exactly like that. Well, one of them, at least.” He replied.

Dad looked equal parts confused and bewildered. “So there was a Conduit that could turn just anyone into monsters?” He asked Zeke.

Brent let the x-ray fall, turning back to the table. “Not just anyone,” he said, grabbing his own stack of documents. “People with inactivated Conduit genes,”

“That's somehow worse,” Dad's murmur echoed easily to us. He raised his voice. “But if someone's able to manipulate a Conduit like that, we need those notes. Anything that can affect their powers is close enough to what's going on with your sister.”

We nodded, Zeke motioning for us all to come here as he took the sling bag off once again for us all to put our found documents in. As I worked on rolling up the x-ray and slipping my hair tie around it so it would fit easily, Brent muttered, “You don't think you're gonna turn into one of those, right?”

I could feel the blood leave my face as I thought of the possibility. “Oh God, I hope not?” I said. “I mean, the notes said it was nearly instantaneous, right?”

He nodded. “They did, they did. Just wondering, 'cause it seems like it would be a great cosmetic improvement for you,”

My smack against his head rang out loudly through the room and into the adjacent hallway, his yelp bouncing around just as vibrantly. Asshole.

As Dad tried to find a way to fit the large x-ray into Zeke's bag, I watched Brent turn, shining his flashlight across the room and to the gap in the wall where the vast hallway stood. “What do you think is back there?” He asked me.

“I don't know,” I shrugged. “Probably more human rights violations.”

“Was there anything else over by that x-ray viewing box?” Dad asked us. We both sorta shrugged, giving him some noncommittal sounds that had him huffing hard. “Alright, I'll go double check. Do me a favor? Go check out the desk we flung next to the hall.”

We nodded, separating from the group as Zeke moved to fiddle with the other desk that was thrown to the side when Brent and Dad broke in. Brent put the flashlight on me like a spotlight as I tried to shift through the contents of the desk despite the weird angle it was at, pulling out nothing but useless to-do notes and nicotine gum foils.

“Anything good?” Brent asked me.

I scoffed, “Unless you wanna count old McDonald's receipts as loot, then no,”

I sat back on my heels and looked up just in time to see Zeke straighten, holding his hand up triumphantly like he had found gold — but whatever was in his hands was too small to see. “Got something!” He declared. “Some sorta recording chip.“

Dad turned to look over his shoulder. “Any idea what's on it?” He asked.

“Not yet,” Zeke hummed. He grabbed at a little pouch on the strap of his sling bag and there was a quick snap as he unbuttoned something. “But luckily, I brought Cole's old phone. I had tinkered with it a bit way back when — gave it a chip reader.”

Dad's eyebrow raised, and he 100% looked like he was not buying whatever Zeke was saying. “And you're sure a 25 year old piece of technology will work?”

Zeke snorted. “I modified a Nokia. I'll die before this thing does.”

Dad began walking over to Zeke as he fiddled with the old phone and the chip reader. The beam of light above me slowly started to move, and I glanced up to see Brent's attention — and inadvertently his phone — begin pointing towards the hallway again. “C'mon,” he finally said as I rose to my feet. “Let's go check out what's back there,”

Brent was already walking away by the time I called out to Dad to tell him what we were doing. “Okay, just shout if you find something, alright?” he requested as I jogged to catch up to Brent.

The hall was squared, which was different from the others — it felt like a normal hallway. Brent flashed the light everywhere; the high ceiling, the floor, where they met. He had this studious look on his face that left me wondering if he was taking notes for his own build down the line, or if he was critiquing the place and thinking of how he could have done it better. “Wonder if every other room is this big,” he hummed, light jolting to shine behind us. I couldn't blame him; I wasn't really a fan of treading through the dark underground, either. It felt like there was always something breathing over my shoulder. This entire place was freaky enough even without the fact that it was entirely powered down.

“Well, it's going to be a very long night if they all are,” I murmured back.

We turned forward simultaneously, just in time to see the light of the phone catch in the reflective surface of a pane of glass. It was as long as Brent was tall, following the curve of the wall in a slope. “What the hell...” Brent muttered.

The closer we got, the more I realized it wasn't a window, but a door, some large and super thick plexiglass thing that had five separate locking mechanisms on the outside. None of them had a keyhole though. There was a screen the size of a small television on the side, and a laminated piece of paper above it haphazardly taped to the wall like it was an afterthought, the 'TEST SUBJECT 0409' in giant bold.

There was nothing else about the corpse in the viewing room. No name, no demographics, no gender. Just a set of numbers the First Sons only bothered to throw on the wall after the fact. Barely cared about, barely human.

“What the fuck…” Brent drew off as he looked into the chamber. I couldn’t say much, I was too shocked.

The glass was iced at the edges, patterned spreads of white frost that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. There wasn’t a bed in the room, no sink or anything. There was barely something that constituted a toilet — but it was all frosted over. The corpse in the corner of the small observation room was curled in on herself, arms wrapped around her knees as if she was trying to keep every little bit of warmth she had left contained to her core until the very end. She was perfectly preserved. That’s what was worse; I could see her frosted eyebrows still screwed close together, how she seemed to have froze in the middle of chattering her teeth. The folds of the thin scrubs she was in were stiff with icicles, her lips softly blue.

“They froze her?” I whispered, the reminder of that feeling making shivers run down my spine.

Brent moved his phone’s flashlight around, up and down, trying to get a good look inside the chamber. “Look, see that?” he asked, pointing to the corner of the room. I looked up where he was pointing; it was one of those old flip signs, the kind they’d have at super old airports that would flip to say if a place was boarding or whatever. The white on it was damaged from the frost, but the dark black lettering showed through with ease; PRESERVATION ENGAGED.

“Do you think it was something to keep her body…” I drew off, unsure of how to even say what was going on, “...mummified?”

Brent flashed his light around the room once more before letting it settle on the 5 locks. “That, or keep her from squealing.” he sighed hard, turning. “C’mon, let’s look at the others.”

I threw one last look at 0409 before letting my eyes fall to my feet, following Brent.

There was a cshchsk that echoed into the hallway from the main room of the lab, like a walkie talkie was receiving interference, and then that same sickeningly sweet voice from the other dead drops came back, the voice of the Bertrand guy.

“At first, I questioned His choices,” Bertrand’s voice echoed down the hall, the gross drawl of his accent making another shiver go down my spine after the one wracked up it by the cold hallway. There was another testing room, this time a man in it, hands frozen to the wall as he died trying to claw through the frost. I couldn’t help but hold my arms close to my core and Brent noticed, dragging me along. “Why would God turn me into such a monster when all I’ve done is follow His word? I never strayed far from His grace,”

Brent scoffed. “Isn’t this the same dickwad that was a fascist?”

I shook my head in disbelief at this asshole’s words, looking into the next testing chamber — and pausing when I did. In this chamber, there was definitely…someone, but I couldn’t see them well. Not when they were buried under the frost like that. But there was something off about the lump in the frost that I couldn’t put my finger on, like they were misshapen in a way.

I mean, of course, that could have been a side effect of being frozen alive.

“I prayed for days after I used the Ray Sphere to ask God why. Why turn me into this beast, this monster?” He asked no one. I’m pretty sure it was just to hear himself talk. “Why would He damn one of His most loyal soldiers to be a demon for the rest of his life? But I don’t believe that’s it anymore, no. I think I finally see what He has planned for me.”

Brent stopped dead in his tracks, making me run into his side. “Wh–, dude!” I snipped, rubbing where the bridge of my nose hit his hard bicep and blinking back the tears from the impact.

Brent didn’t react. He didn’t even really care. He was too busy staring wide eyed into the next testing chamber, face a bit paled even in the dim light of my phone’s flashlight. I followed his stare, my own eyes widening as I looked at what was in the room.

There was a human…I think. It was definitely the remains of one, at least. Their skin was leathery, grayed out in the way you only expected corpses to be. But the color darkened to match the texture the further it crawled down their arms, the skin growing and hardening to become these scythes of a pollex crab claw. It looked shelled, too, just like a crab’s would be. There was still a face to the person, still a mostly human body…but those claws…

“I understand what the auras I see are now. Marks of the Beast, of the devil’s influence. I’m branded with my own, and that’s why the Lord has made me what I am. I must atone for my sins.” Bertrand’s voice said from the other room as both Brent and I looked at each other and then rushed to look in the next cell. This one had the same claws and grayed skin, but there was more. Jagged frills of shell climbed up their — its — arms, clubbed claws where its feet used to be. It laid curled, back to us, so I couldn’t see its face — but I could see how its back seemed larger than humanly possible, like there was an extra set of muscles along its spine.

“What the fuck?” Brent murmured again, more aghast this time.

I followed Brent as he walked briskly down the hall, glancing into each chamber before quickly moving on. God, they were all the same; the huge claws long enough for them to use as crutches, the bent backs. At some point we got to see the horrors of that x-ray in all their fucked up glory; black bled through their abdomen and up their spines like something was poisoning them from the inside, their jaw shattered by the force of those thick appendages that jutted out of their jaws like tentacles. I guess the only solace I could cling on to when looking at these monstrosities is that they looked tranquil, curled up in the frost. Hopefully the people they once were passed peacefully.

“He is giving me a chance to repent. To be more. His son was betrayed by one of his own, yet through that betrayal, we received salvation for our sins. That sacrifice is what He is expecting of me now.” Bertrand said, sounding so sure of himself. “I’m to be His sword and His might. I’m to cure the world of these demons by turning them into such and exposing them to the world.”

Brent’s steps slowed as the phone’s flashlight moved to face forward again and started traveling up, higher and higher as it caught the red and black exoskeleton of whatever that was in front of us. The chamber was at the end of the hallway and double the size of the others with the little crab-guys — but it needed to be to hold that creature. It was doubled over, reinforced arms being used as forelegs as it glared forward, three eyes on each side of its elongated head. It looked like something out of a horror movie, especially with its mouth open like a lotus, three long pincers coming together over a row of razor-sharp teeth. You could barely see the skin of the human it used to be under the exoskeleton of its hard shell, just as grayed and veined as the other crab-guys only an evolved form. Was this the end stage? Two segment claws as long as my arm and knees facing the wrong way?

“I’m meant to be the cure to the monster Kessler saw in his visions, the Beast that will burn the world to the ground,” Bertrand affirmed to himself. “I’ve done it, and watched them be hunted like the vermin they are. I’ve built the Militia to help track them down. These Conduits are not human, and they won’t be when I’m done with them. We are in the end times, and I am one of the disciples God intends to help salvage the world.”

Brent and I stepped closer to the frosted glass, standing on either side to get a look at just how tall, how wide this thing was. It had blades that ran up its elbows like knives, one elbow nudge away from spearing through someone. “Let them devour New Marais like a swarm of locusts. Let them see the monsters that are hiding among the meek, and let me be their savior. Let me lead them away.”

As I was looking at the jaw ripped open with tendrils of tissue holding the bones together, a volt of electricity shot up my spine when I realized the thing was staring back at me, blinking ice off of its translucent eyelid.

“Let them ravage the world and get rid of the sinners, and may God help those that fight against them.”

“Jean,” Brent warned when he saw the head of the creature, the ‘Ravager,’ snap sideways to look at him.

We both took a half step back as the Ravager’s elbows flexed and it stood straighter, looking down at us from behind the glass. The three pincers on its mouth flexed open so it could give off a garbled scream that even the thick glass couldn’t keep silent, making me flinch and move to cover my ears. Its limbs moved lazily as it awoke from whatever hibernation the frost had it in before its super thick and long claws slammed into the concrete ground, shattering it with each rake.

It was trying to dig its way out.

“Run,” Brent said as Dad’s voice yelled something from the lab. “Go, run!”

#Did I steal concept art of the Institute from my other fav game [fallout 4] to use for the First Sons? Yeah #Are you gonna do anything about it? No #get flashbanged Fallout Followers. I love pulling little pieces of my fav franchises into one mess of a doc #infamous erosion #infamous 2 #infamous second son #Zeke Dunbar #Delsin Rowe #a fun little critter!!! maybe a new pet :)#Joseph Bertrand but that's not really a tag so #rewrote opening 8 hours before posting. if it looks bad? keep it to yourself. this franchise gives me grey hairs. i love it here tho #First Sons? is that a tag?#I really should start putting effort into my chapter titles again too I love this one. it fucks so hard.#what other tags did I forget #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Sucker Punch Productions #two very vague references to two inF works by two AWESOME people. Love ya Gab and Del ❤

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abbyilr1967 · 4 years ago

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Misdemeanor - Dabi x Reader

Summary: Dabi has been pestering you all day, so you get a little creative with your punishment for all his misbehaving.

A/n: So think is a cool idea I got from a TikTok, their user @overhaulscoatfluff if you wanna find the post. Also just want to say, I am a big fan of calling very strong masculine men big babies, so that why that happened. As per usual, here is a link to my Masterlist if you’re new here.

Warnings: Swearing…. Like once

Word Count: 1k

You had been sat in front of Shigaraki’s computer for the last six hours flipping back and forth between several different security cameras posted throughout the city. As a member of the League of Villains, your job was mostly surveillance and helping to plan the missions. You didn’t have any real strength or any quirk that would be useful on missions, so planning was where you excelled.

Shigaraki had wanted you to track who comes in and out of the Yakuza compound, and how regularly they did. Tracking their movements so we could learn more about how they run their operations, considering they wanted to partner with the League.

So there you were, sat in Shigaraki’s dark, dank room with a pen and your notebook in hand, filling it with the date and time of all the Yakuza’s movements.

Usually, this part of your job wasn’t so boring. Because of the lack of sound, the surveillance cameras gave you could listen to whatever you wanted while you worked, and you were typically unbothered by the other members.

Except for today.

Dabi, who you had recently started dating, having evolved your previous relationship from just physical to romantic as well, was coming in to bug you every half-hour. It was like clockwork. He’d come in, nestle his face into the crook of your neck while wrapping his arms around you and beg you to leave the computer and go lay down with him. You rejected him every time, telling him that you were busy and would come find him when you were done. But that didn’t fly with him. So he came back, again and again, before you were forced to shut and lock the door to Shigaraki’s room.

And, right on schedule, you hear the doorknob jiggle as Dabi tries to get back in. You take your earbuds out, lift your head from your paper, and turn in your chair. The knob jiggles a few more times before you hear Dabi’s footsteps lead away from the door.

You sigh a breath of relief as you’ve finally gotten Dabi to drop his pursuit of you. You turn back in your chair and re-focus yourself on the screen ahead of you, as you readjust the pen between your fingers. You place your earbuds back in, and press play. The sound of your classical music passed through the bud, and you continue to scribble down the date and time of the interaction taking place on video.

As you work, you hear a frantic clicking sound. You take out your earbuds, checking to see if the sound somehow was a part of the music, only to find that it’s coming from the door. Rage fumes inside of your chest as you stand from the desk and make your way to the door.

You unlock the door and rip it open, only to find Dabi on his knees. He held his lock pick in their air, where you can only assume the door handle was before you had caught him red-handed.

“Hi,” he says awkwardly.

“Hi.”

With all of the frustration and anger flowing through you, you managed to stay relatively calm...

Dangerously calm.

“Are you done?” the corner of his lips pull into a cocky smirk, and you give him one straight back.

“I’m gonna give you to the count of three,” your hand releases the doorknob that you were unaware you were gripping so tightly, and you turn while making your way back to the desk. “To get off your knees,” you rifle through the top desk drawer, back still to Dabi. “And run.”

You turn to face him, and now, sitting between your thumb and forefinger was a staple remover.

“Is that a一”

“One,”

Dabi raises to his feet but doesn’t move. He’s holding his ground, trying to call your bluff.

“You’re not gonna一”

“Two,”

Your eyes are burning holes through him, but he still makes no move to run.

“Y/n一”

“Three,” you say darkly, stalking over to Dabi. “You should run.”

He bolts and you follow after him, gripping the staple remover tightly in your hands.

“Y/n, c’mon, I was just joking around!” he shouts over his shoulder as your chasing him through the lower levels of the League’s hideout.

“Oh ho,” you chuckle deeply. “I’m not joking around though. I’m gonna have so much fun pulling out each individual staple!”

You hear him laugh as he’s zigzagging through the halls in an attempt to lose you. His laugh is contagious, and soon you find yourself laughing along with him. You follow him up the stairs to the second floor, where everyone’s rooms were. Dabi ducking into one of the rooms quickly, and you follow the sound of his stifled laughter.

Now you stand at the threshold of your room, the door slightly ajar. You push in, and scan the dimly lit room for any signs of him. Each step you take is slow and calculated, analyzing your best escape route in case he decided to pounce on you. Your steps bring you into the center of your room, and before you can make a move the door behind you is slammed shut.

“Mine,” Dabi growls.

His arms ensare your waist, and he pulls you off the ground. You struggle to get out of his hold, but his strong arms keep you pressed tightly against him.

“Dabi put me down!” you shriek. In all the frantic movement, you’d dropped the staple remover, which was quickly forgotten about on the floor.

“Mine,” he growls again, nuzzling his face back in the crook of your neck.

He walks the two of you over to your bed and flops both of you onto it.

“Five minutes,” you try to say sternly.

“Fifteen.”

“Ten, take it or leave it,” your hand has found its way to his hair, and you give him a soft little head pat.

“Fine,” he mumbles against your neck. You feel his teeth scrape lightly against your shoulder before he sinks his teeth into the soft skin.

“Ow! Dabi what the hell,” you try to hold back the laugh that’s bubbling in your throat, but fail.

“‘M sorry, I just missed you,” he places a kiss over the bite mark, like when a child asks for a kiss over their boo boo.

“Missed you too, ya big baby.”

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literate-lamb · 4 years ago

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can I kiss you on the dancefloor?

Steve Rogers/Reader

One year into a relationship, yet still dancing in secrecy. Steve thinks he’s protecting you.

When a civilian and a hero fall in love, anything could go wrong. But not in the way Steve would have thought.

Or how the media play with the lives of superheroes.

►word count: 7.6k

► warnings(!): slight angst, alcohol

A/N: My gift to @blue-like-barnes for the Hoelentines Fic Exchange! I’m sorry it took some time, giftee. I didn’t expect this to turn into a monster (yikes). Thank you for hosting @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes ! Dividers from @firefly-graphics and GIF from Giphy

On his day-offs, Steve Rogers was a man full of disguises.

When they first started, it was the baseball cap and thick-rimmed glasses. He liked it, it was simple, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone would notice. How could one not when his face was the one plastered in old war propaganda, in the museums commemorating his achievements, and even flashes on the telly when you walk past the local electronics store.

Hence, it wasn’t a surprise when the tabloids posted a photo of him in his disguise, waiting at a crosswalk on a cold night.

‘Captain America spotted on a midnight stroll’ came the next morning. It was taken after he was done walking you home, thankful they didn’t catch a glimpse of you.

“So capsicle, where were you off to last night?” Tony greeted him at breakfast, offending paper in hand. He unrolled it, opening and making a show of reading, displaying the front page for all seated to see. “Nice reading glasses, wasn’t aware you needed them.”

Striding into the room, Natasha came and snatched the tabloid. She gave it a critical eye, judging, before turning towards him.

“Hmm, recycling disguises, Rogers? I’m disappointed.”

Steve just groaned in reply.

The second time it happened, he had gone to the Black Widow herself for advice. He had expected sound advice coming from a former KGB spy who spent her paycheck on hair, but all he got was a stick-on mustache. Something about ‘needing to blend in rather than pointing the obvious��.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Steve, but at least it’s better than that nerd get-up,” she smirked.

You had liked it. Giggling every time he kissed you, the fibres tickling your lips. He had ‘a caterpillar’ on his upper lip as you called it. And Steve had learned to get used to the itch.

But it wasn’t long before his new look was the star in barbershops.

‘Captain America’s new look takes the world by storm.’ They had caught him again in another paparazzi shot. Tony had teased him for days after.

He couldn’t shake it off easily, constantly reminded of it when he walked the streets. Seeing them on screens when he’s channel-surfing. Even when he’s training new recruits, his vision filled with a sea of unshaved cadets, their hairy upper lips a prominent fixture.

He knew he had to do something when Bucky and Sam came in one day sporting twin mustaches.

He discarded the strip of fibre in the bin. Reminding to pay Natasha a visit.

The third time he decided, he seeked out the help of Scott Lang, who was a master in keeping out of sight during his burglary days. Scott had given him a black beanie and told him to grow out his facial hair.

The beanie hid his golden locks and the beard made him look rugged. You loved it, your thighs quivered when it was him and you in the four walls of your room. Uncontrollable groans as he went down. ‘Beard burn’ you had called it. Whatever it was, he loved the sounds you let out.

Four months. That’s how long the disguise lasted. His longest disguise to date.

Before he became a trend.

‘Captain America is the new style icon.’ The internet sleuths found out where he got it too. ‘The sale of Walmart beanies skyrocketed by 70% thanks to Captain America.’

Tony had bought everyone in the compound a black beanie for Christmas, including the receptionist.

“Our grandpa’s a trendsetter, who knew,” he announced. Steve had smacked the back of Tony’s head with the beanie before retiring the disguise.

Now, sitting in The Sleeping Cat, Steve had opted for aviators and a Nasa baseball cap. He still kept his beard after your pleads, and he liked the look, he admits. It was back to basics for him and this was one of the only places where he was safe from prying eyes. Afterall, it was in this very café where he had met you.

The Sleeping Cat was a quaint little thing, a hole in the wall in a quiet part of the city. Not many knew of its existence, the entrance obscure, a blink and you’ll miss it. Which made it all the more perfect for him. The baristas knew him and minded their own business, offering him a smile every time he visited. ‘You’re safe with us’ they seem to say.

He could say the same about the patrons. Most that frequented were regulars like him, they seemed the same, looking for a place to get away from the overbearing world. They seemed to share an understanding, paying him no mind as if he was just another man they passed on the streets. And that’s how he preferred it.

Just a boy from Brooklyn.

Ding!

The chime of the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Facing the door, he saw you, smiling as you came through.

This was the best part of his days.

You had met Steve Rogers at the most unexpected of times.

Terminated from your previous job at a small gallery, dumped by an ex-boyfriend after a 2 year relationship, you were at an utmost low. To escape your roommates —in case of pitying or prying, but if you were honest with yourself, it was to escape your own humiliation— you left the apartment on weekdays under the guise of going to work. In reality, you were at The Sleeping Cat applying for jobs on your laptop.

It was during one of the afternoon hours when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning to your left, you were greeted by a pair of startling blues. They were bright but worn as if they’ve seen too many. Looking at the bigger picture, you took him in. Hair hidden under a cap, a sharp jaw and an equally sharp nose, and if you looked closely, you thought you could spot a few moles on his cheeks. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t put a finger to it.

Eyes fleeting to his lips, you realized he was actually talking.

“Huh?”

“I was wondering if this seat’s taken?” He smiled, gesturing towards the empty seat opposite. He was clearly amused.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” you nodded, making room for his things.

The following days, it became a routine and an arrangement. You would be at the café as early as the owner would allow, laptop in hand. While he would come in the afternoons in a different jacket each day, a sketchbook in hand. You would be propped up, sending application after application, praying for luck. While he would quietly sit, churning sketch after sketch, in a relaxed demeanour.

Sometimes you would peek over your screen and watch him draw for a few minutes, lost in his strokes. When you look up, you’ll find his eyes locked with yours, and you’ll immediately reimmerse yourself behind the screen, embarrassed.

It was a comfortable routine. You came to expect him everyday. And on the days that he didn’t make it, you felt a bit forlorn looking at the empty seat. You both didn’t talk much, yet you were getting comfortable in his presence.

Until one day, he broke the silence.

“So, what is it that you do?”

You stared, dumbfounded. Looking around there wasn’t anyone nearby.

“Were you talking to me?” you asked.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “It’s just that you’re always on your computer…” he trailed off.

“I’m an assistant curator at an art gallery— or, er, used to be,” you explained. “Long story short, I lost my job and now I’m looking for a new one, that’s why I’m here.”

He seemed to ruminate before replying, “So you know a thing or two about art?”

You both started a new routine; one with a lot of communicating. He would ask you about your mundane weekends and interests and in turn, you would ask about his. Except, he was anything but mundane.

On the days he was absent, you learned Steve was away on a lot of ‘business trips’. When he returned, he had never failed to present you with a souvenir. From matryoshkas to sarongs, it was always a surprise accompanied by a tale.

“The pattern on the sarong is called a batik, and it’s amazing how they’re drawn using wax like a liquid crayon. It’s an interesting art form.”

Outside of your little routine, he was an enigma. You barely knew about the Steve outside of The Sleeping Cat. Sometimes he threw the names ‘Bucky’ and ‘Sam’ a lot —out of exhaustion— without giving away anything, remaining tight-lipped. While his mysteriousness should’ve been a cause of concern, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him, wanting to peel more of his layers, like the shell of a matryoshka.

The routine went on for a few more weeks, with calls of interviews and business trips in between. Before you received a phone call.

“I got a job! At the Whitney!” you squealed, shaking his shoulders over the table, oblivious to the other patrons. Steve endured it, smiling.

“Congratulations,” he said when you’ve calmed down. “I guess this is the last time I’ll be seeing you?”

You froze, high coming down, realization settling in. After a few weeks of secret meetings, of getting to know him, of having lunch together, of sharing laughs, you’ve come to see Steve as a good friend. And maybe, there was the birth of something more.

“Let’s exchange numbers,” you said, opening your phone. “This way, maybe we can hang out again. Have lunch sometimes?”

“I’d like that.” He smiled.

And the rest was history.

Making your way towards The Sleeping Cat, you amused yourself with past memories. Memories from almost over a year ago.

Steve had come to give a speech at the opening ceremony of an exhibition at the Whitney. Your first exhibition as a curator. An exhibition on art from the war times. When they had announced his title, a loud ‘oh’ was the only thing you could muster.

The ‘ding’ of the bell resounded, announcing your arrival. Heading in, you saw a head perked up, beaming, baseball cap securing his golden locks and aviators hiding his mesmerizing blues.

This was the best part of your days.

But maybe, you were getting a little tired.

If someone were to ask you months ago if you were happy and content with your relationship, you would’ve replied with a swift yes in a heartbeat. No hesitation, no reservations, no doubt. Now, sitting in the same cafe, the same one you frequent on dates, the same one you both met in, you weren’t sure of the answer anymore.

As Steve gets up to order for you both, your eyes wander to his sketchpad. It was filled with sketches of random objects; the flower on the table, the pastries on display, sometimes the patrons of the cafe, and occasionally, you.

“You’re my favourite subject, so far.”

It was not for the lack of love or the lack of affection. Steve was the most loving; loyal in so many ways, gentle when asked, and protective to a fault. Maybe the protectiveness was the cause of it all.

Staring at Steve’s back, your mind shifted to a memory from the past week, when your roommate pulled you aside from a get-together at the ice rink.

“Hey,” she called your name, taking a hold of your elbow. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure, what’s up?” you followed her, leading you to the sides.

Her eyes conveyed her worry. It amplified with the chewing of her bottom lip, a nervous tick.

“Are you and Steve… okay?” she asked, her brows perked. “I’m not sure if you notice, but today, it’s full of couples.”

You looked towards your group of friends. There was your roommate’s girlfriend tying her skates, your other roommate and her boyfriend talking to another couple —their friends— and they were all holding their significant other’s hand. Oh.

“I don’t want to throw you out of the loop, but there would probably be a lot of double skating involved today,” she said, widening her eyes, looking comical. “Do you want me to talk to Steve? Maybe I could convince him to come, y’know?”

Out of your two roommates, she was the only one who knew of your paramour. Having walked in on you and Steve making out on the couch. She was sworn into secrecy, with the promise of autographs from all the Avengers.

“Look, it’s okay,” you assured her. “I can handle skating alone, and you know why he can’t really come here with us,” you shrugged.

“Okay, but aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around? Don’t you want to shout to the whole world ‘I’m fucking Captain America!’” she flailed.

You shushed her, muffling her mouth with your gloved hand.

Part of the secret was how Steven Rogers was an engineered superhero. A superhero with many enemies, leading him to fear for his loved ones, and that included you.

You went into the relationship whole-heartedly knowing the challenges; discreet rendezvous, kisses in the dark, minimal contact in public. You were his secret and he was yours. It was for your own good, wasn’t it?

“What’s got your little head wrapped up?” Steve’s voice startled you, bringing you back to the café. On the table, two cups of coffee and a slice of cake was served.

“Hmm? Oh, just thinking about this party the museum’s throwing this weekend,” you took your cup, blowing, contemplating your next words.“Say, how about you and I, I don’t know, go as dates?”

Steve crunched his brows. “You know that’s a hard thing for me to do, especially with your colleagues around.”

“I know! But maybe… maybe, you can go in one of your disguises this time? Remember that one time we went to Central Park?”

Steve exhaled, he remembered that afternoon. It was the one-off that you both ventured on a date in the outdoors.

Decked in his beanie, casually strolling through Central Park with you beside him. Although he was still wary, keeping his hands in his pockets, fighting the urge to hold your hand.

No one had recognized him; not the ice-cream man, not the kids running around, not the mothers pushing strollers. No one.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You leaned forward, pecking him on the lips multiple times. “Thank you!”

“You sure this looks convincing?”

“Trust me, punk. Grade A assassin here, thank you very much,” Bucky boasted while fixing the wig on his scalp, untangling the unruly strands.

Steve had sought Bucky for help, with the belief that assassins were good at hiding in plain sight (and maybe, he just didn’t want to go to Natasha twice). Bucky was also his most trusted confidant and he knew about you, Steve trusted him not to tell. But now looking at himself in the opposite mirror, he wasn’t so sure of that anymore.

Long dangly tresses hung on the sides of his face parting in the middle, a trimmed beard leaving a bit of goatee, and to finish it off, Bucky dressed him in a checkered shirt consisting of random coloured squares. He looked like he just stepped out of the 60’s.

“Oh, wear these,” Bucky handed him a pair of large wire-framed glasses. “Done.”

Steve took a look in the mirror. A seedy pimp was the first thought that crossed his mind.

“Thanks Buck, I owe you one.”

“Sure Stevie, just bring me around next time on one of your dates, I’d like to meet her,” Bucky winked. “Or make it double.” He wagged his brows. “Like old times.”

Steve snorted.

“Okay, I got—“ Steve’s words halted when an alarm blared overhead. It demanded their attention.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, your presence is required in Prep Room six,” called the disembodied voice. “There’s been a breach of extraterrestrial energy in the airspace of Sweden.”

Steve exited and rushed through the hallways, Bucky following close behind. He made it through the living quarters, trudging to the training wing before entering one of the many prep rooms.

“Nice costume, Cap. Halloween already?” Sam quipped. Almost everyone was present, they were equally amused.

Before anyone else could follow, Tony strided in immediately, grumbling. “Okay team, there’s been an E.T synthezoid putting holes in the ozone layer. I’ll fill you all in the quinjet. Suit up and meet me at the hangover in 10.”

Everybody gathered their equipment and hurried to leave, passing by him. Before Tony could, he took notice of Steve and did a double take. And then a third.

“What’s with the pimp daddy get-up, Capsicle?”

Steve huffed, ignoring the jab. “I have something that I need to attend. How important am I in this, Tony?”

“We need all hands on deck. We don’t really know what we’re up against, Fury’s still running recon,” Tony explained, squaring his shoulders. “Whatever it is you have, Cap. It can wait. Lives are at stake here.” With that, he left, not standing by for a response.

“Darn it,” Steve cursed, removing the glasses and the wig.

He left the prep room with his shield in hand. With one hand, he shot a text to you. He’ll make it up next time.

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Emergency mission

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Can’t make it, sorry

You switched the screen off, sighing. Around you, the party was in full swing. Invitees mingling with refreshments in hand, discussing the pieces on display tonight, and bidding on the pieces they find exquisite. Hors d’oeuvres and champagne were being served, brought around by servers on silver platters. You’ve been munching on them non-stop, grabbing one every time a server comes your way, needing something to occupy you.

Surrounding you, you’d see the occasional couple walking around, enjoying their time. The palms of their hands locked in each other’s as they navigate together, rarely straying afar.

You clenched your hand, reminded of how empty it felt.

It was inevitable, you were warned of this, you were told to expect this. Dating a superhero meant that he was never solely yours. You were sharing your boyfriend with someone, except that someone was the world.

“Hiiii!” a shrill voice broke your thought, calling you by name. A blonde woman, followed by a brunette emerged from the gathering of art-goers, headed towards you. “It’s been a long while!”

“Hey! Yeah, it’s been awhile,” you waved, recognizing the two.

When they reached you, you were aware of the slight tension in the air, leaving the three of you standing awkwardly. After all, these two were your ex-colleagues and you didn’t exactly leave the previous gallery on good terms. Tonight was a night with masks, it seemed.

“So, how are you two doing?” you decided to get it over with.

“We’re fine, everyone’s fine! But how are you? We heard you worked here now, pretty impressive,” the brunette —Claire— winked at you. You laughed.

“Yeah, it’s so nice seeing you again, and at the Whitney? The pay must be good, you know what I’m saying?” Hilda chimed, knocking her elbows with yours. You didn’t appreciate it but you endured.

“Say, what are you doing over here far away? Why not you join us over there,” Hilda pointed, towards a mounted canvas at the end of the hall. It was occupied by two men in a discussion among themselves. “Chat a bit to catch up, a bit of art philosophical debate in between. What do you say?”

You contemplated her offer, not wanting to seem pretentious, but thought about the false flattery and ego-stroking that would sure ensue in their company. The thought of it drained you.

“It’s okay,” you waved them off nervously. “I have to call my boyfriend sooner, gotta check up on him and let him know I’m... alright.” You held up your phone, playing on convincing.

“Oh? He isn’t here tonight?” Claire seemed to feign worry.

“No, he got caught up with something. He’s a busy man,” you cooked up an excuse. No one could know.

“Okay… In that case, we’ll leave you to it. Maybe we’ll bump into each other sooner.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys soon.”

They waved before backing away into the mass of patrons. You let out a breath you didn’t know you held in.

While the interaction was unexpected, this was what you had to deal with when it came to the question of your relationship. The excuses, they became second nature to you. The lies. The deceit. Anything to protect Steve’s identity, and inadvertently, you.

Throughout the night, you mingled with any clients interested in a work of art, all the while stepping out of Hilda and Claire’s line of sight. You didn’t wish a repeat of the earlier evening.

When the crowd started dwindling, signalling the end of the night, you were relieved of your duties. You headed straight for the restrooms after, one getaway before leaving. You huddled yourself in a cubicle, locking it shut.

Seconds in, you heard the creak of the restroom door followed by the clicks of heels.

“Can you believe it? Someone like that got the chance of working here.”

You recognized the nasally tone. It was Claire.

“Yeah? Not like she deserves it. I mean look at her? Demure, slow. It’s like talking to a mouse. I bet she’s a prude too.” That was Hilda.

The gushing of the faucet muffled their voices, but their sharp words were clear as day, your ear catching every snark and hiss.

“And when she was talking about her boyfriend? He probably doesn’t even exist, it was just to get off our backs,” Hilda paused. “Last time I heard, her boyfriend dumped her. So, I guess she’s creating imaginary ones now.”

They both cackled.

By now, you knew they were talking about you. Their words didn’t hurt as much, you knew the colour of their hearts beneath the masks. But was that how people viewed your hidden relationship? A facade? A farce?

Once the door clicked shut, and the tapping of their heels faded, you left the restroom, heart feeling heavier.

(y/n) [6:45 PM]: stay safe stevie ! remember to hydrate

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: punch those meanies

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: (`⌒*)⍟-(`⌒´Q)

Steve chuckled when he turned on his phone, amused at your texts. You always sent him good luck messages every time he went off for missions. Although he didn’t seem to get the emoticons that you sent, even after being taught by Peter Parker. He just didn’t get them.

Steve dialed your number, sitting on the edge of the bed as he dried his washed hair. Beeps ringed before you picked up, your smooth lilt permeating the speakers.

“Hello? Stevie?”

Steve smiled, missing the caress of your voice after a day filled with explosions and cries.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted. “How’s my girl been?”

“Great, now that you called,” you teased. “But are ‘you’ fine?” you emphasized.

On the other end of the line, you mirrored his position, sitting on one corner of the bed. Picking the newspaper in your lap, you observed the front page: ‘Avengers saves the Arctic!’

“Same old, same old,” his voice carries. “Listen, about yesterday—“

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him, other hand gripping the newspaper. “You have to protect the Earth and that also means me. You don’t have to apologize, I knew what I signed up for.”

Did you? Or was it now a hollow statement to convince yourself?

“I still want to make up for it, my girl deserves that much,” he responded.

You slowly unclenched the paper. It left Steve’s form crinkled.

“If you want to sooo bad,” you exaggerated. “There’s a Valentines charity ball for our arts program in three weeks time. You think you could make it this time?”

“You know no promises, but I plan to, even if I have to do everyone’s laundry for a week.” You heard rustling on the other line. “What’s the exact date? I’ll put it on my calendar.”

“The 16th.” Scratchy scribbling filled your ear, the sound loud in the silence.

“Done. Can’t wait to see you all dolled up, sweetheart.”

“Me too, baby,” you said. “At least put on a nice moustache this time.”

He laughed. Your heart felt lighter. To him, it was probably nothing, but to you, it was a form of reassurance. A reassurance that what you had was real.

“Steve, you got a moment?”

The aforementioned man turned around, taking a glance over his shoulder. Sharon Carter slowed to a stop, a small smile on her face. As always, she carried an air of superiority, matching that of Steve’s wavelength. Yet today, it seemed dim.

“I think we need to talk, you have time for coffee?”

Glancing at his watch, he nodded. “Sure, Sharon. Lead the way.”

She took them outside of S.H.I.E.L.D and into the chilly air of DC, navigating through streets and crowds while huddling in their coats. They chatted, breaths puffing as they caught up, the familiar scenes passing by.

He hadn’t been in DC in awhile, it felt good to be back.

“We’re here.”

Sharon headed in first, holding the door for him. He thanked her. They ordered and got seated. A smile was shared, strained as it seemed.

“Better just rip the band-aid off,” Sharon sighed. “I miss us.”

“Sharon—“

“Please, hear me out first,” she insisted, showing her palm. “We probably shouldn’t have done what we’ve done after Aunt Peggy’s funeral. I just lost someone I looked up to the most, and you lost the woman that you loved. We were both grieving. It wasn’t fair to the both of us.”

“While I do miss us, I know that it wasn’t meant to be,” she continued, shooting a sombre smile. “I understand that now. I guess, what I wanted was closure.”

Her hand quivered on the table between them. Steve clasped his over hers, offering to soothe.

“I don’t regret what happened in Germany. While yes, it should have not happened, it was what we thought we needed at that time. We both lost someone we held dear,” Steve explained, hoping his words reached her. “None of it was a mistake, Sharon. You’re still someone I trust and hold dear, remember that.”

Steve clutched her hand tighter, running his thumb over her knuckles in circular motions, attempting to calm and show understanding.

In his efforts, unknown to the two, the shutter of a camera went off across the street.

Something felt off. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. At first, you thought it was your own anxious mind running.

You woke up late on a work day, burned your eggs and toast, accidentally wore unmatching socks, and your roommate was acting weird. All jittery when you entered the hall, stammering her words, and performing this bizarre dance when you walked past the living room. You gave her no mind when you passed the threshold and slammed the door, phone gripped in hand.

Loverboy [6:00 AM]: Good morning, dear

Loverboy [6:01 AM]: [image]

A photo of Steve, sweaty after a run showed on the screen. He was smiling, shirt stained and clinging to his chest. You had taught him how to take selfies.

You [7:20 AM]: morning, handsome

You [7:20 AM]: 😍😍😍

The morning texts were the best part of your morning commute. It made the arduous and packed journey worthwhile. Even when you almost tripped at the doors, it couldn’t take away your joy.

You made it just in time and clocked in, meeting clients and discussions with artists throughout the day. It was uneventful, although the bad luck seemed to have followed when you spilled your coffee on the concrete.

It was when you left the museum that your day took a turn for the worst.

On the ride home, the man opposite you was reading a newspaper. Nothing unusual, but at a glance, you thought you saw a familiar face printed on the corner. Before you could take a closer look, the man folded it in half and got off.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your stop, exiting the station with the fast-paced crowd. That’s when you were bombarded.

Lining the streets, your vision was filled with the scattering of a crowd of papers. Every face you saw was plastered in them.

‘The Good Captain In Love?’

‘A Superhero & A Civilian Romance?’

‘Captain America’s Girl? Mysterious Woman Sighted’

The sight of them left you in a panic, your anxiety spiking through the roof. Your world started spinning, everything —buildings, trees, faces— blending altogether. Everywhere your eyes deflected, a headline invaded your sight, imprinting itself on your retinas. Had they found out?

Composing yourself, you headed towards the nearest news stall, mind boggled with too many questions and not enough answers. How? Why? When?

Only, it wasn’t your face they were publishing.

‘“Oh Captain, My Captain” America in love? Spotted last week in DC was Captain Steven Rogers with a mysterious lady. They seemed to be cozy with each other, an eyewitness told Us Weekly. Story on Page 11.’

The photograph showcased Steve with a blonde woman, sitting in a café with their hands clasped on the table. Your heart shattered at the sight, remembering how empty yours have felt lately.

Was he purposely out with this woman in public? What did that mean for you? Why were you shadowed?

“Are you and Steve… okay?”

“She’s creating imaginary ones now.”

“Aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around?”

“You know that’s a hard thing for me to do.”

“Hey lady, you gonna pay for that?”

You were shaken out of your stupor. Looking down, you were clutching the magazine too hard, ripping the image of Steve and the woman in half, right in the middle where their hands met.

You apologized to the man and paid for the magazine. Immediately discarding it in the next trash bin you saw.

“So… you and Sharon?” Sam had asked him after training.

“What?”

“You, and, Sharon,” Sam emphasized, pronouncing each syllable. “Are together. Man, when were you gonna tell me? I thought it was over.”

Steve froze before replying, “Because it is. A long time ago.”

“Well, this seems to say otherwise.”

Sam showed him his phone, the screen displaying an article; ‘Captain America’s Girl Revealed. A Family Affair That Transcends Time.’ On top of the article was a photo of him and Sharon at the cafe in DC, his hand atop of hers on the table. A zoomed in version of their hands were provided, fueling the tabloid’s narrative.

Steve paled at the sight. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was his fears manifested; his anonymity taken, his privacy invaded, but his worst fear was putting his loved ones in danger. And if it was due to their association with him, it would leave him racked with guilt.

While the tabloids were wrong, he knew that Sharon could defend for herself. You on the other hand…

His heart rate rose, a new wave of anxiety spiked. Steve wondered if you’ve seen this. No, you must’ve seen this.

Fishing for his phone, with clammy hands, Steve quickly dialed your number, anxiously waiting for the beeping to end.

‘The number you’ve dialed is not—‘

“Damn it!”

His outburst surprised Sam, shocking him. Sam gave him a look, inquisitive.

“Sorry Sam, I have to run.”

He left, heart in his throat.

When Steve arrived at your apartment, he was almost out of breath. He was still anxious, the ride here not doing much to his addled mind. But he was determined.

Rapidly knocking on your front door, Steve composed himself. When it opened, he was met with the sight of your roommate -- the one that he has never met before.

“Ca-Captain America?” she yelped, shocked to see him on the doorstep.

“Is your roommate in?” he steeled.

“Which one—”

“Steve,” a voice interrupted.

The door pulled further, widening the entrance. Steve was met with your familiar roommate. She was tense, arms locked across her chest, eyes full of fury. Steve detected something else in them; worry.

“You fucked up,” she said. He winced.

“I know,” he admitted. “And I’m here to make things right. Can I please see her?”

She sighed, stepping in, nodding towards your room.

Steve hastily walked in, stopping in front of your door. He knocked thrice, signalling you, before turning the knob. It was unlocked. The room was dark when he entered, every source of light switched off, except for your curtains.

Sitting on the edge of the bed was you, figure illuminated by the street lights against pitch black darkness. When he stepped in closer, you looked up, eyes meeting his.

Steve turned on the lights and closed the door. He took a good look at you; hair frazzled, eyes bloodshot and dry, nose red. You were the image of heartbreak.

“Are you ashamed of me?” you asked, eyes locked with his.

“What? No, I—“

“Is it because I’m not strong?” you cut him off. “I know she’s Peggy’s niece… a-and I know how much you loved her. She was your first love.”

“She and I, it’s all in the past. She moved on and lived her life, and I… did too.”

“But did you really, Steve? Move on?” you whispered, getting up. You stood in front of him. Steve could see how puffed your eyes were from crying. “Or was I just… a rebound?”

“No. No, you were never a rebound,” he took hold of your forearms. “I care for you, too much.”

“Then why?!” you shrieked, shocking Steve. “Why the secrets? Why the hiding? Steve, you’ve never even introduced me to your friends. Shouldn’t they know?”

“I wanted to protect you!”

“Protect me from what?!” you roared, eyes full of fury. “The Avengers? If they knew about me, they would protect me. Don’t you think so?”

Steve had no words to that, his mind a jumbled mess.

“I’m… beginning to think that you’re embarrassed with me,” you sighed. “We’ve never been on a date publicly, as each other. We’ve never held hands in public. I want you to meet my friends. I want to introduce you to them, and maybe soon, I want you to meet my family.”

“B-but, I’m tired, Steve. Tired of all the hiding. Of all the sneaking around. I want to tell the world that I’m in love with Steve Rogers, not Captain America,” you sighed, shedding a few tears.

You waited for his reply, only to be disappointed.

“You know I can’t do that.”

You saw red. All you saw was red.

You started pushing him, swatting him in the chest. Steve didn’t fight back, letting you unleash your anger, your disappointment. He took your hits, letting you release your pent up emotions. He began backing away when you started advancing, back against the door.

“Get out! Get out!” you screeched, pushing him.

When he unlocked the door and crossed, you immediately shut the door in his face. Steve heard sobbing from inside, his heart shattering at the sounds.

“This way, Captain,” your roommate approached him, showing him to the door.

Steve relented, shame flooding him. He fucked up.

You stopped visiting The Sleeping Cat, wanting to avoid him at all costs. You blocked his number. You immersed yourself in your work, prepping for the upcoming charity gala.

Sometimes you find yourself thinking about him when sleep proved to be difficult. It’s when you’re laying at night that you missed him the most.

But it was for the best, you reasoned. For you and him.

The Avengers PR had pushed for a fix-it, publishing a story that spoke a truth. ‘Just Friends: Romantic Allegations Proved False’. Steve had hoped you’d seen it.

He called you every day but found himself blocked from everything. He still tried, hoping you’d come around one day. He came by The Sleeping Cat every other day, sitting in the same spot, hoping to catch you.

But you never came.

You clasped the necklace in place, admiring how it sat on your clavicle through the mirror. You took a step back and took yourself in, smiling at what you saw. It didn’t reach your eyes.

Today was the day of the Valentines gala and you weren’t feeling particularly giddy about it.

Opening your phone, you stared at the one contact that stood out, finger hovering over his name. That name used to give you so many feelings, but today it was a reminder that you were going alone, again.

Sighing, you threw it in your purse and left. Another lonely night, and on an even celebrating love.

Days turned into weeks, and soon, before he knew it, the day of your Valentines gala arrived.

Steve stared at the calendar. The heart-shaped doodle he drew called out to him, reminding him of fond memories. Fond memories that seemed like a distant dream. But then, he went back to last week, and it all came crashing.

He had hurt you. While thinking he was protecting you, he hadn’t realized he was inadvertently pushing you away. He had no one to blame but himself.

He loved you. No, still loves you. You grounded him, gave him the normalcy that he craved. Reminded him of a distant time before he was Captain America.

You made him feel like the boy from Brooklyn again.

While he was ruminating in his feelings, Steve was caught off-guard when the door burst open with Tony Stark coming through. From his peripheral, he could see Bucky and Sam peeking through the frame.

“Heard from the Manchurian Candidate that someone has a case of the achy breaky heart,” Tony said, smug.

“Leave me alone, Tony. I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled, setting down the calendar.

“And leave you wallowing like shit while your girl is out there probably equally miserable? I know a thing or two about women, Rogers, and it’s that they don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Tony snapped his fingers and from behind, Sam came in with a tuxedo in hand.

“Thought you might need this,” Sam said.

Bucky came out behind him, with a brush and can of hairspray. “And I still know how to do hair.”

“And I have friends in places,” Tony quipped. “I can get you in.”

Steve was surprised. His friends had surprised him. You would’ve loved them. He was left speechless.

“What are you waiting for, Cap? Suit up.” Tony winked.

Swirling the glass of rosé, your gaze fell towards the dance floor. An upbeat song was being played as people flocked near the middle, letting their bodies take charge for the night. You saw your former co-workers among the throng, hands thrown around their significant others, having the time of their lives.

The gala was in full swing, if the crowd and chatter was any indication. Red and roses were the main theme, with a red carpet stretching from the grand staircase towards the main hall and roses lining every corner and wall. Taking it all in, you were proud to see your ideas visualized and work came to fruition.

You sipped your rosé, enjoying every bit of the gala as you could. From the sidelines, you spoke with a few potential clients and art collectors. Their presence made you feel your importance, and if you dared say it, a little less lonely.

It was during one of your little chats that you didn’t realize when the hall suddenly fell quiet. You turned around when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi folks, mind if I crash your party?”

Steve smiled at Tony’s antics. They both had arrived at the gallery dressed in their best, and with Tony’s connections, they were granted access.

Stepping down the grand staircase, Steve felt all eyes on him. He paid them no mind, the thought of you the only occupant of his racing mind. Gazing over the crowd, Steve spotted you to the side, occupied in a chatter.

Taking deliberate steps, Steve soon found himself behind you. He admired your gown and hair, it entranced him. You still hadn’t registered his presence, even when your partner had ceased chatting and was now staring at him.

With a tap on your shoulder, he was taken away as immediately as you spun around. Steve took in your whole image; your dolled-up face, your intricate dress, your styled hair. It left him floored.

You always did manage to take his breath away. Was this what he had been missing out all this time?

Taking your unoccupied hand, Steve pressed a small kiss before meeting your eyes.

“May I have this dance?”

Giving away your drink, you took his hand as he pulled your towards the centre, taking space among the crowd. A slow number started, and before you realized, you were swept in a slow dance. It didn’t take long before you felt the sensation of his two left feet.

“Sorry, a hundred years and you’d think I’d know how to dance,” he said.

A small smile lightened your face. Steve savoured it all he could. Gulping, he took the first step.

“I’m... sorry for what I’ve done. I realize now that you were right,” he started. “I thought I was protecting you, but now I see that all it did was push you away. You have all the rights to be mad at me. I was being an idiot, a selfish one. I didn’t think about how you felt about it.”

You winced. Steve had stepped on your toes again. He murmured an apology, resorting to swaying instead.

“Can we start again? No more hiding. No more disguises,” he breathed, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “ We can meet your friends, you can meet mine. Bucky’s been pestering me to bring you to the compound, he wants to meet you.”

You laughed. How Steve had missed the tune.

“How can I make it up to you? How do you want to take the first step? A picnic at Central Park? Dinner at the compound? A trip to the beach?”

You seemed to contemplate, a thoughtful look on your face. You both failed to realize all the eyes on you two.

“How about now?”

“Right here? Right now?” he asked.

“Yes, right here, right now,” you said, determined.

Without hesitation —no more— Steve dived in, planting a kiss on your wine-coloured lips for the whole world to see. Your first kiss in public, yet it felt as if it was only the two of you there, lost in the moment.

You both didn’t notice the gasping crowd nor the clicks of cameras from photographers nor the booming laughter of Tony Stark. You both only felt the other in your orbit, and that was all that mattered.

“Can you put that down? You’ve been staring at it for the past hour.”

You pouted, setting the frame on the side table, where it has been designated since its publication.

“I can’t help it, I think it’s a good shot. Don’t you think so, Alpine?” you petted the snowy white cat lazing on the arm of the sofa. Its’ purrs intensified.

“Dinner’s ready!” Bucky shouted.

You and Steve left the room, joining the others in the dining room for dinner. On the side table, the framed article sat neatly, showcasing the tale of the famed occurrence that took place at a charity gala.

‘America’s Girl: The Modern Woman of The Captain’s Dreams.’

Fin.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #fluff #angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #happyhoelentinesday2021

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navegandoaciegas · 5 years ago

Text

Bubble Gum: Spoiled Rotten

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Sugar Daddy AU)

Warnings: jealous!bucky, brat!reader, smut, explicit language, age difference, cockwarming, brat taming, edging, overstimulation, unprotected sex.

Summary: Spoiled brats get punished, and James knows just the right way to teach you a lesson.

Written for @world-of-aus au writing challenge.

If looks could kill, James’ steely eyes would have burned a hole through your thick skull already. He draws a deep, steading breath to regain his composure and keep under control his blood pressure that skyrockets everytime you get on his nerves.

You’ve been on your worst behavior all day.

It’s clear you do things for the sake of riling him up, he can see it written all over your mischievous face and the devious smirk you shoot his way, and you do it because the punishing way he fucks the brat out of you is usually the reward you like best.

It’s the reason you’re humoring this hunky sales assistant who’s probably ten years younger than him, a good six inches taller and built like a fucking brickhouse, as he tries to flirt with you. James frowns observing the strain of his biceps against his button down shirt when he lifts your very heavy shopping bag.

No one needs that much muscle mass unless they’re Steve Rogers or Sam Wilson. Very tasteless, in his honest opinion. The guy could’ve at least gone for a size larger.

Your laugh snaps him out of his murderous trance.

“Thank you, Tommy, I’ll see you soon.” you chirp, placing your hand on one of his outrageously bulging biceps.

“Always a pleasure, miss.” is his flirtatious response as he shoots you a beaming smile and a wink, completely ignoring James’ presence at your side. The audacity.

“Are you done yet?” he grunts, glaring at Tommy’s very broad retreating back.

You hum, grab his hand and lace your fingers with his, guiding him outside of the store and into the sidewalk. “I got everything I needed.”

“Yeah, I bet. Timmy seemed real dedicated to meeting your every need.”

It comes out whinier than he intended, and the pout on his lips gives out kicked puppy vibes instead of seething, menacing man.

You let a sound between a coo and a snort and clutch his arm, peppering kisses on his shoulder. “What, you jealous or something?” A teasing smirk spreads on your glossy lips, “I didn’t take your for the possessive kind, Mr. Barnes.”

“Just get in the damn car.” he mumbles and opens the door for you, slapping your ass as you get inside.

Tonight he’ll have to teach you a lesson you won’t forget.

You huff for the tenth time in a minute, brows furrowed as you glare at James, who’s been ignoring you since you’ve gotten inside his penthouse. He keeps typing on his computer, ignoring your pretty lace set and your numerous attempts to get his attention.

You’re puzzled by his behavior. You’ve been getting on his every last nerve since this morning, sending him provocative pictures during his meeting and acting like a brat, and he hasn’t snapped yet like he usually would, spanking your ass red and fucking you until you’re sobbing.

“James, stop working.” you whine like the little spoiled child you are, “Hello? I’m here.”

He hums, not even lifting his eyes from the spreadsheet in front of him. “I’m doing what I’d have done today had you not sent me those pictures, bubbles. You know how distracting you can be?”

“I know.” you quip, hips swaying as you make your way to where he’s hunched, and sit on his desk. “That’s why I did it. Now leave this and come to bed with me.”

A wicked glint crosses his face and is gone in an instant.

“We don’t need the bed.” he tells you, his warm hand caressing your thigh and travelling higher and higher until it meets your panties, “Do we?”

You shake your head, spreading your legs open as he moves his chair between them. Slowly he brings his face down to your inner thighs until his hot breath fans over your cunt and his beard grazes your skin. You let out a moan when he leaves open mouthed kisses along the thin ridges of your stretch marks, tracing up until he meets the sheer lace of your panties. His eyes, pretty sapphire eyes, bore into yours as he trails up to your mound and lower belly, his hands keading the flesh of your legs and ass. Hooking his fingers around your underwear, he slides the lace down to your ankles, and you toss them away with an impatient growl.

Tingles spread like wildfire with every soft touch of his lips until your walls are throbbing and you’re burning up with desire.

“So wet bubbles, all for me?” James chuckles, his long fingers teasing your clit, never enough to relieve you of the coil in your core, just the right amount to make you feel like you’re losing your mind.

You grind your hips on the table, chasing his fingers and some relief while his name pours out of your mouth like a prayer as you beg him for more.

The wicked glint is back again before he delves in your dripping folds, and a satisfied sigh escapes your lips. James latches onto your swollen clit while his tongue swirls around your cunt and his prosthetic fingers pump in and out of you. The sounds of him sucking hard on you and slurping your juices and the squelch of your wet pussy fill his office.

You feel the coil in your belly get tighter with each swipe of his tongue, your walls convulsing around his fingers.

“Daddy, please, I’m close.” you whine, getting impatient with the way he seems to be taking his sweet time torturing you.

Just as you’re about to cum, he pushes himself away from you, and you feel the hot waves of pleasure retreating back, leaving disappointment behind.

“What the hell James?”

“Such a brat, bubbles. You really don’t deserve to cum.”

You rush to apologize, promising you’ll do better, and James nods, seemingly satisfied with your pleads, digging in your aching cunt again. He licks a wide strip of your folds and pokes your entrance with his tongue, your juices covering the bottom half of his face.

He fucks you with his mouth, giving it all he’s got until you’re writhing on that desk, your toes curled and eyes rolled to the back of your head. The heat in your pussy becomes unbearable, and your clit is so sensitive and overstimulated that his hot breath fanning over it makes you arch your back in pleasure and pain.

Once again, he stops just in time before your release. And again, he resumes back to eating you out like a man on a mission, before stopping, repeating the process all over again, edging you multiple times until tears and mascara are streaming down your face and you’re cursing him out and sobbing about how much you need him.

“What do you need, babygirl? You need daddy to fuck your tight pussy?”

“Yes, please daddy, please fuck me, make me cum all over your cock.” you mewl, hand reaching for your cunt before he slaps it away and tuts you.

“Do you deserve to be fucked?” he asks, palming himself through his pants, “Do you think you deserve to cum after what you did today?”

You squirm, trying to soothe the throbbing ache in your pussy, but James is unrelenting and keeps you still.

“Sending me those photos during a meeting, you know I can’t concentrate when I see you like that, what were you thinking, you dumb little baby? Flirting with that Timmy guy while we were out and ignoring me all afternoon?”

“I’m sorry daddy, it was stupid of me, but I won’t do it again.” you promise, “But please I can’t take this anymore.”

He almost caves in, his stupid heart clenching whenever he hears your soft cries, but he enjoys the way you beg a little too much to give in so easily. Not tonight. Tonight he’ll make you suffer before he gives you what you want, just like you’ve done all day.

“It’s my fault that you’re spoiled rotten, bubbles.” he continues, grabbing your thighs and pulling you down until you’re straddling his lap. “Always giving you what you want, never telling you no.” He maneuvers you so that you’re hovering over his hard cock “I need to set you straight. Need to discipline you.”

You yelp when he impales you on his length, the stretch welcome and filling after so long. When you wiggle above him, expecting him to fuck you hard like he usually would, his flesh hand gives your face a delicate slap before he grabs your cheeks and squishes your mouth.

“Bad girls don’t get to have fun on daddy’s cock, babygirl.”

The outraged look on your face is comical. “What?”

“You heard that. Now you’re gonna sit still on daddy’s cock until I’m done with work. And then I’ll fuck you, if I feel like it.”

He gives you one last evil grin before yanking you flush against his chest and ignoring your cries and pleads as he holds you still and resumes back to working.

You try to wriggle your body, but everytime his hard cock hits a different spot inside you, you regret it. You can feel every vein and every ridge on his thick cock, your walls gripping it tightly, your arousal dripping down its length, and yet all you can do is cry your frustration out on James' shoulder.

The stretch, the heat, the way his skin brushes and bumps accidentally over your sensitive clit, it’s too much and not enough.

“Daddy?” you purr after what feels like an eternity.

He hums in response, and you turn to face him, hoping your pleading eyes will convince him.

“Please? My knees are hurting and I need you so bad, daddy.”

“Did you learn your lesson? Will you be a good girl for me?”

“The best.” You beam at him.

He sighs, knowing damn well you won’t be, but unfortunately for him, James can never resist you for too long.

In an instant you find yourself bent over the desk, the wood digging painfully in the soft flesh of your belly, your toes hovering over the ground.

“Beg for me, bubbles.” He growls in your ear, his prosthetic hand caressing your back, “I want to hear you beg me to fuck your pretty pussy until your legs give out.”

His words shoot straight to your cunt. “Please, please, please fuck me daddy, I need you to fuck my pussy.”

You let out a strangled moan when James slants himself inside you, your position allowing his cock to reach deep into your core, until his tip hits against your cervix.

He ruts against you, his cock slamming in and out of you, your walls gripping him like a vice as he pounds into you like a wild beast. He grabs a fistful of your hair, and you arch your back to meet his movements. You both know you’re not going to last long.

“I can feel you, so tight on me. You like it when daddy fucks you like a whore, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, oh my God, harder.” you beg, “Please, just like that.”

You feel your orgasm near, your pussy spasming around his cock and bursts of electricity travelling from your center to every nerve ending of your body. It’s bliss, it’s a hot surge of energy encompassing you whole until you’re moaning and drooling like a mindless fuckdoll.

“Tell me you’ll be my good girl.”

“I’ll be good for you daddy, I promise.”

His cock swells inside you, and the fullness of his hot spurt spilling inside you is enough to tip you over the edge, your orgasm wrecking through your body as you spasm and shake, your toes curling, eyes rolling to the back of your head, his strong arms holding you close to him, so close you feel the errantic beat of his heart.

Your mind is swimming in a daze, and you’re spent, and satisfied, in pure bliss as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and whispers soft praises into your ears. You hiss when he pulls out of you, and he watches enthralled his cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs.

When you feel his tongue trace its way upwards, licking you clean, you let out a surprised yelp. He chuckles, bringing his face close to your pussy.

You want nothing more than cuddle with him and fall asleep in his arms, but James has different plans for you.

“What, you thought it was over? I never said I was done punishing you, bubbles.”

Part of sugar, spice and everything nice. Can be read separately or as part of the series. Message me in you want to be added to the taglist.

Leave some feedback if you liked it please💗

#bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #sugar daddy bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you

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daydreamed-snippets · 4 years ago

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Part One Part Two

Personnel in crisp cream uniforms walked the brightly lit hallway with a purpose; either conversing with each other, gazing at datapads, or rushing off to who knows where. Supervillain nodded to some in passing; taking the time to pause with others. Sidekick squeezed in closer, stepping on the back of their boots, grazing their shoulder against supervillain’s arm in a pathetic endeavor to just hide. No one warned them about the trepidation that tugged at their soul, nor did anyone prepare them for the general neurosis of it all. The lights overhead strained their eyes, and the cloister of people moved like an insect hive, an incursion on their senses. They could feel a headache forming. Their various cuts and scrapes burned. Their knees hurt too, body still twitching from electrocution.

And they were all staring at them.

Keeping their head lowered, eyes affixed elsewhere, sidekick could still see all of them through their peripheral. Supervillain’s ‘team’ consisted of far more people than the association originally thought. They tensed as each gaze befell them; probably taking in their tattered costume, unkempt hair, and the collar around their neck.

Eyes curious, judging, questioning.

Shame itched at the back of their neck, screaming to be scratched, but they kept their hands in front of them where they could be easily seen. At least the supervillain wasn’t parading them around, so there was that. The leash was lax and discrete enough so long as sidekick didn’t resist.

But who were they to resist now? They were powerless. It was done and over. Supervillain won. Teammates had no idea where they were if they were even looking for them at this point.

Cramming their eyes shut, they tried to hold onto those little ribbons of faith that gleamed at them through this emblematic darkness. Usefulness dictated importance, which in the Hero’s Association meant a role working with the team. Here it would be no doubt ensure their survival. Usefulness drawing the line between life and death.

They wanted to live, but being of use to the enemy churned their stomach. Policy made no room for turncoats. An informant maybe, but they had no mercy for traitors.

So be an informant.

What was the layout here? What were the dimensions of this hallway? How many doors did they pass? Count the number of people, sidekick. Gather information, no matter how scant. Be docile to the enemy, but pragmatic to the team.

Sixteen. They already passed sixteen people. Good. The Hero’s Association would see just how useful they were once teammates rescue them out of this sterilized hellhole. They will rescue them.

Sidekick bumped into supervillain again, a warm, solid presence, and supervillain turned, looking down. “I’ll let you hold your leash, puppy, if that would make you feel better. At any rate, you keep stepping on me and I don’t want my boot scuffed." They made a motion of unwinding the wire from their wrist and handing it over. But when sidekick moved to take it, the supervillain drew back. "But remember,” they said, voice holding a dark promise. “If you choose to bolt know that I have hundreds of people under my command in this annex alone.”

Sidekick gulped.

Hundreds? Hundreds? So this wasn’t just an assortment of random villains and a handful of henchmen? This was an organization in of itself. One that could rival the Hero’s Association.

Holy shit.

In dismay, sidekick nodded numbly and the wire was placed in their hands. They murmured a thank you before realizing it, and the supervillain started again, sidekick stumbling to follow.

Let it be knowledge to tuck away at a later time. No matter how small, knowledge always proves to be advantageous.

They walked a few more meters and when supervillain stopped again. This time sidekick followed suit keeping a healthy distance between them, shuffling a bit, and looking dubiously at supervillain. They keyed something in a pad—out of sight—and a door swished open.

Their breath caught and, sidekick raised their chin. Here was their cell. They’d probably rot in here, or spend a majority of their time recovering from torture and wondering when their next session would begin.

Hope against hope, they wished it would be clean at least. Were they ever? The association gave no indication on cell parameters, or any information really save for the unpleasantness of it all. Sidekick wasn't delicate but they were averse to pain in general. They were told it made for a bad hero.

Sidekick hesitated, realizing that they should say something smarting. Brave. What would teammates say if they were in this situation? Something wisecracking and sarcastic. But then again, whenever sidekick opened their mouth the supervillain always had some observant retort. Something comment to off-balance them, and set them on their toes.

They opened their mouth anyway.

A hand on the small of their back maneuvered them through the threshold.

Supervillain stepped in as well, and the door slipped back sealing shut, leaving them in complete darkness. Walking past them, their captor roused a computer interface with a verbal command, and the area rustled to life.

Sidekick’s eyes widened at the sight.

This wasn’t a cell. These weren’t even quarters. This was a well-furnished apartment with a full kitchen, dining room, and living area. A hallway split off to their right, where sidekick assumed the bathroom and bedroom lay. No windows, but large light therapy lamps joined regular ones behind traditional furniture and on end tables. A sudden contrast to the hard lines and surfaces of the garrison hallways, an apparent appeal to a softer aesthetic.

What the?

“It’s late,” supervillain called making their rounds, checking on something sidekick was unaware of in the adjacent room. “You will take a shower, and have something to eat before settling in for the night.” Their words held no room for argument.

What kind of game was this? Sidekick leaned back against the door willing for it to open. Policy stated all enemies would treat captors roughly. That they would have no regard for their corporeal needs. Unless this was all a ruse. To get sidekick to trust them, to get them to join the supervillain’s team.

"Don't worry, your collar won't zap you if it gets wet. Medic isn't that sadistic. Not without permission." They came back into the room, eyes sliding back to sidekick with a hidden glint. “I could always bathe you myself, puppy…”

Ducking their head, sidekick shook it vigorously at supervillain’s knowing chuckle. Directing them down the hall, supervillain steered them towards the bathroom: a single shower, sink, and toilet. Newly cleaned. Immaculately decorated. They turned on the shower, showed sidekick how to adjust the temperate then left after unknotting the wire, unleashing their collar. The door remained propped open, a subtle warning not to close it.

A glance down the hallway to assure themselves that the supervillain had indeed left, sidekick shed their costume, tearing a bigger hole in the sleeve in their haste to behind obscure glass and out of the open. Granted, it wasn't like there was much preventing supervillain from entering again.

Still, they glanced back before quickly stepped into the shower, relishing the hot water on their stiff muscles. Blood and grime pooled on the tile floor, circling the drain. It shouldn't have surprised them how much there was. The team called them in to act as a diversion as much as an escape route. Sidekick was hit, but not hard as the wires spread paper-thin cuts along their arms and legs. It was not really that bad if you compared it to broken bones and missing limbs.

It stung like hell though.

The only soap available was one held in a dark grey bottle. Uncapping it, the scent of muted fern and something like vanilla filled their sinuses. Fresh. Admittedly soothing. Bringing it to a good lather, they quickly scrubbed themselves, breathing in the aroma more and more until it clicked. This was the supervillain’s scent they were covering themselves in. In fact, everything smelled like this. Everything in this part of the garrison smelled like it the moment sidekick stepped into the room.

It was maddening.

It was intoxicating.

Sidekick finished up quickly, shutting off the valve, and stepped out, wrapping a towel hanging on a large ring around themselves. It shouldn’t be intoxicating. It should be revolting, or at least off-putting.

Their costume was missing, they soon realized a little too late. In its place a crisp cream uniform, the same as the ones they’d seen everyone else don. Supervillain did sneak in when they were showering, probably when their back was turned. Color filled their face again, as they caught the reflection of themselves in the mirror. Neck red from maltreatment, and a bit too pale.

Taking no chances for their captor to return, and truly appreciate the view, they pulled on the uniform quickly, combed fingers through their shoulder-length hair, and called it a day. What did it matter how they appeared? They couldn’t go home. The team abandoned them, and the supervillain was being… odd. Nothing mattered and all the rules were bent.

They padded out and took a seat in the dining area where a chair had been pulled out for them.

“This will be soft on your stomach,” supervillain said, placing a plate before them before easing into the other chair. “I don’t want you vomiting on my carpet, puppy.”

“I don’t—” sidekick glanced up, searching the plains of their sharp face. The circles under the supervillain's eyes were more than noticeable, in the temperate light they were etched in stone. Supervillain made a noise for them to continue. “I don’t like being called puppy.”

“Give me your real name, and if I like it better than puppy, I’ll stop.”

Their already clenched jaw ground tighter; a compromise they were unwilling to make. Picking up the spoon, supervillain held it aloft, food tucked neatly on it, and directed it to sidekick’s lips. “I need you to eat puppy, so I can go to bed. I don’t want to your pathetic mewling in the night.”

Sidekick’s teeth ground together.

“Have you ever used your portals to injure anyone?” The change in subject was sudden, and sidekick’s lips slackened. “Have you ever cut someone in half before, or even just a limb?” Sidekick looked away, nervous fingers playing with their sleeve. They couldn’t help but tremble. The answer was a resounding no, but they be damned to articulate it.

“Have you ever killed anyone with your portals?” The question brought the sidekick’s attention back, and they tried to fix the supervillain with a dead stare.

They should have known by now it was impossible to win a battle of wills when they looked into the supervillain’s eyes. There was a darkness there so deep, it moved. It took shape. Haunting. Plotting. Sidekick could practically see the desire to devour them completely reflected in those stirring pools.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” they said evenly, after a beat. “Have you been given combat training?”

Yes, the basics, sidekick thought, but nothing which could defend against a supervillain.

“Have they given you any training besides making you housebroken?”

“I’m not—!” The opportunity supervillain had been waiting for came, and they shoved the spoonful into sidekick’s mouth with a look that dared them to spit it out. They chew slowly, stomach in knots but it was good.

“Let me guess, you’re not a dog,” supervillain supplied lazily. “Eat.”

“I have had training. In multiple areas,” they picked up the spoon with a shaky hand, stomach rumbling. “But I’m not going to answer your questions. If captured, policy states that I am not to give out anything besides my affiliation to the Hero’s Association. I am not going to give you any information," they let out a shaky breath, a spoonful of food in their cheeks, "not even under extreme coercion. Teammates would never forgive me, and the Hero's Association has a zero-tolerance policy."

“What kind of ‘heroes’ organization punishes you for breaking under torture?”

Sidekick’s voice squeaked. “That’s not what I said. They’ve… been good to me.”

“In what way?”

“I-I’m not answering that.”

Supervillain relented, and sidekick ate in tense silence.

Once finished, the supervillain led them to the living room. A small cot pulled out from one of the couches. After dressing it, supervillain pulled out a chain from one of the end table drawers and clipped it to a ring recently drilled into the wall. They then handed sidekick a glass of water and tucked a small pill into their hand.

“No, I—”

“It’s melatonin, and it will help you sleep. It won’t put you to sleep.” They poured several into their hand and tossed it into their mouth as they wandered to find water. “You’ll need it," they called. "You’ve been shaking since you got out of the shower. Get some rest.” Their footsteps became more distant as they went down the hallway to the bedroom, bed creaking as they entered it.

The lights clicked off and the sidekick was left in darkness.

They shrugged into bed, pulling the light sheets over themselves while kicking off the comforter. A cold sweat claimed them, and they stared at the ceiling for the better part of three hours, thoughts churning, churning, churning.

So what if they’d never hurt anyone with their powers before, that didn’t mean they weren’t a threat. That didn’t mean that the supervillain could treat them like a patsy. It didn't mean that they were incapable.

They could do it if they wanted to.

They could do it to supervillain if they wanted to.

Why, they were just sleeping in the next room. Sidekick could hear deep breathing and the stutter of a dream-filled sigh. There was no need to use their full power to slip a link in the chain or to silently creep over to the room. They could make a sliver of a portal for half a second, and endure the buzz from their collar.

Sidekick set their plan in motion.

After the mini-portal, they blacked out for a second and woke with a gasp. Part one done. They were free, chain hewn in two. They probably had moments before anyone noticed, so they needed to move quickly.

Have you ever used your portals to injure anyone?

Supervillain's words came back to them, as they wandered the hallway, honing in on the dark bedroom. They stepped through the threshold, a thought sparking of how they were invading. How a bedroom spoke of intimacy, a cozy and solitary space.

A single red light blinked from the ceiling corner. Sidekick's eyes were already well adjusted to the dark that they could see supervillain's outline on the bed, lying on their back, arms spread out defenselessly.

They could picture it now. Sidekick fails the demon supervillain. Sure they might die in the process, but it would serve the association. It would cement them in the annals of heroic feats.

Have you ever killed anyone with your portals?

Moving to the side of the bed, sidekick’s hands hovered, not yet touching. Faltering in their pursuit. Where was that rage their felt earlier? Where was that appetite for vengeance? It was there, they could feel it under the surface, but it was a poor substitute for bloodlust. A poor replacement for the mindset needed to end a life.

Could they do it?

"Why don't you go back to bed like a good little labradoodle? You don't have to stomach for this."

Sidekick almost jumped at the sound. Hands reached up to boldly clamp onto their wrists.

"Let me go!"

"I warned you, puppy."

They lunged for the supervillain's throat, the heat back again. Volatile, it roared to life. Erupting, unpredictable, but sidekick was grateful for its presence now. It wasn't bloodlust, but it possibly could be damaging enough.

Supervillain pulled them on top of them, and sidekick's legs swung around their body, hoping to get a better angle to grip their neck. "You think I'm going to cooperate with you? I will fight you at every turn. You will regret keeping me alive. I will gather enough intel that once I escape, teammates will be able to take you down."

"If they want you back."

The statement made sidekick pause. "What did you just say?"

"If," the repeated, slowly, the next words in a rhythmic manner. "If they want you back."

"What do you mean if?"

Supervillain's eyes drift up to the red light winking steadily at them.

Blood drained from sidekick's face.

"It records video, but no sound. Makes it easier to edit, I'm told. And I have people in my employment that can edit anything. They can and will make this little tussle we've having look like a lover's tryst." They let go of sidekick's wrists and trailed a pitying hand down their cheek. "What would teammates think of you once I send them this video of us in bed together? Would they jump to the conclusion that we've been joined this whole time? That our affair was the reason why you closed the portal? Did you choose to stay with me? Or would they assume that since you have such a weak constitution, that it only took one day for me to seduce you?"

"This was a trap. You knew," sidekick licked their lips, and supervillain's eyes followed the movement. "You set this up from the beginning."

"I set up fail-safes in case you chose this path."

"You tricked me."

"You disobeyed me," they said, voice hardening and a chill crept down sidekick's spine. They sat up, moving sidekick to their lap, and gripped their chin roughly, face inches from theirs. "I was nice before, and you squandered my kindness. Now you will face the punishment."

Wire detached from the ceiling like vines, wrapping themselves around sidekick before they had a chance to scramble off the bed and bolt. Their feet lifted off the ground. Once again they were suspended, drawn tightly to the four corners of the room. Supervillain didn't spare a glance at them as they got out of bed, and left the room, all but ignoring sidekick's screams.

#not my prompt #continuation #my writing #sidekick #supervillain #part 3 #just keeps getting longer and longer #part 4 after I've taken a break from this story

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nananaptime · 4 years ago

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Café Discoveries

This took a while but it's cute so I hope yall like it ^^

Masterlist Rules

Requested

Genre: Fluffily fluff fluff

Word count: 1 570

Summary: The cafe aura contributes a lot to romantic discoveries... and some jealousy xD

“Asahi! Stop ogling the customers and get cleaning, we don’t want no grime in the beverages just because you couldn’t focus enough to do a decent job.” Asahi jumped at the sound of his boss’s voice, startled, and went back to wiping away at the coffee machines.

He had been caught staring… again. How his boss hadn’t fired him yet was a mystery to him, considering his lack of focus. Your quizzical look seemed to burn holes in his skin and he desperately tried to do his job faster, wanting to escape to the back and calm his face. You had noticed his stare before, I mean how could he not when he has spent the majority of his life in the presence of your beauty. This was, however, one of the few times when he was unable to provide a plausible excuse for his actions.

You were used to him staring at you by now, to be honest, so had you, Asahi was just not as good as noticing it. As he fled to the kitchens, a small smile played on your lips before you refocused on your paper in front of you which was nowhere near finished. A small sigh escaped your lips as your fingers found the keyboard once again.

30 minutes later, you were pulled from your concentrated state by a warm cup being placed in front of you. Looking up, you greeted Asahi with a smile as he sat down in the chair opposite of you, letting out a heavy sigh as his body slumped from exhaustion. You giggled slightly at his misery.

“Rough day?” you asked while skimming through your notes. Asahi gave you a hum in response before opening his mouth.

“I would rather change places with you, any kind of studying would trump being chastised every ten minutes.” He reached for your half-eaten cupcake but retreated his hand as you hit it, protecting the sweet pastry which was essential for your brain to remain functional in the task at hand.

“Maybe if you focused on your job you wouldn’t have to endure it all the time.” He grumbled at your comment, preferring if you had been on his side rather than the logical one. He even contemplated letting you know that the coffee in front of you was yours or if he should just take it for himself, partly because you were being logical and partly because you were the reason for his distraction in the first place. Not having the heart to do it, and knowing you more than needed it, he pushed it closer to you, silently signalling that you were the one to drink it. You looked up at him, eyes big in wonder before you realised he was offering it to you. Due to not being able to get any words down on your computer, you grabbed it and relished in its taste while taking a well-deserved break.

“How’s the paper going?” You just grunted in response to his query to which he laughed slightly, finding your evident vexation with the current focus of your classes. “I told you library school wasn’t going to be as easy as you had thought it would be.” With a small, adorable roll of your eyes, you placed the coffee cup beside your computer, your half-finished paper on the pros and cons of the Dewey Decimal system glaring back at you through the screen.

“I know, it was just wishful thinking, I was afraid of school all of a sudden becoming difficult.” Asahi snorted at your complaints.

“Are you subtly bragging about your much more efficient brain than mine or are you really saying school never bothered you before?” You playfully stuck your tongue out at him before explaining that no, school has never actually challenged you the way it should have. As you refocused on the task at hand, not being able to just leave it during study time, Asahi couldn’t help but get lost in the way your hair fell in your eyes, causing you to unconsciously put it behind your ear, only to have it fall back into place. A small smile played on his face, wondering whether or not it would be considered weird to place it behind your ear himself. With his confidence being worked up, he started bending forward, sole focus on the stray hair in front of your face. As your hand flew up and fixed it himself, he abruptly fell back into his chair with a huff, praying that you hadn’t noticed his intention of being romantic.

You sighed and saved your work, closing your computer before putting it in your bag again, replacing it with the coffee mug in your hands.

“How long is your break?” Asahi glanced down at his watch, grabbing the opportunity to switch his stare from you to his watch on his wrist.

“Fifteen more minutes.”

“Good, then you can keep me company for a while longer.” A blush crawled up Asahi’s neck, even though he knew you meant nothing by the statement other than you liked being in the presence of your friend. “At least until Mashiho gets here.” Asahi waited for the rest of that sentence but only got the image of you sipping your coffee. He raised his eyebrow slightly.

“Mashiho who? And why?” You laughed at his obvious jealousy and explained how you and Mashiho were working on a project together for your bibliometrics class and you were determined to get somewhat of a break in before he arrived.

“Ah, okay, nice.” You almost laughed at his attempt to not show his emotions regarding the situation.

“Dude, you know no one could ever take your place.” You reached over to pat his hand, assuring him of his own status as your best friend. When his boss called him back to work, he tried not to slump at your obliviousness as he took his place behind the counter to greet the next customer.

Twenty minutes later he couldn’t help but notice the way you hugged Mashiho as he joined you at your table, retrieving his materials from his bag to get to work. Up until then, you and Asahi had communicated through eye contact and he loved having you laugh at the funny faces he through your way whenever he didn’t need to interact with anyone in need of hot beverages or pastries. Now that your attention was on the boy opposite of you, he found himself falling into a state of boredom as the café lacked in customers during this time of the day. He couldn’t help his eyes drifting to your figure as time went by and as he saw you laughing at something Mashiho said, he started feeling his body grow hotter, indicating the negative feeling called jealousy growing in his belly. He forced himself to look away, trying to find something to distract himself with while your laugh resonated throughout the room. Finding a washcloth, he started wiping down the tables which were just vacated. Let’s just say you were confused when he started wiping away at your table as well, causing a break in the conversation you and Mashiho had been engaged in.

“Asahi, dude, what are you doing?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his unusual behaviour as he started wiping close enough to Mashihos notebook that he had to lift it out of the way. Asahi just threw you a smile before making his way back towards the counter, slightly happy to have made his presence known to the boy thinking he could make you laugh more than Asahi could.

Asahi spent the rest of the evening waving to you, making weird faces in your direction and distracting you in every way he could, desperate for the attention he was currently being deprived of. Eventually, you and Mashiho started packing up your stuff before exchanging a hug and going your separate ways; Mashiho exited the café while you made your way to the counter, an eyebrow raised as your eyes stayed trained on Asahi who’s nerves didn’t seem to want to calm down.

“So,” you said, positioning your bag on your shoulder and leaning on to the counter. “What’s up with you?”

“What, nothing.” Asahi’s eyes were turned towards the surface at which he was wiping away again, even though it was spotless by now. “Just doing my job as the best barista on campus.” You snorted at that, knowing full well that Asahi was way too easily distracted to be considered the best barista anywhere.

“Dude, seriously, you don’t like Mashiho?”

“No, he´s nice from what I saw.”

“Then what?”

Asahi forced a smile. “Nothing’s up with me, I´m just tire-”

“Asahi!” He looked up at you then, sighed, tried to get the words out, but was left with them lodged in his throat and him just looking at you, pleading with you to let it go. You let out a small sigh before smiling slightly.

“If you wanted to ask me out, you should’ve just done so.”

Asahi’s breath hitched in his throat, eyes big as saucers as he stared at you, trembling slightly at the spot. You reached over the counter, pulled him forward by his chin and pressed a small kiss to his cheek.

“Next time we hang out, it’s a date, yeah?” Then you left him there, cheeks red and smiling like an idiot.

#treasure #treasure scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios #scenarios #treasure imagines #kpop imagines #imagines #treasure one shots #kpop one shots #one shots #asahi #hamada asahi #treasure asahi #treasure maker #teume #music #nananaptime

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lokigodofaces · 4 years ago

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Okay people, time to talk about how Asgard makes no sense at all!

(I'm no astrophysicist or anything of the like, I just find all of that fascinating and therefore take the time to learn more about it. I can't go into the math or anything but I know the concepts of things).

Today we're talking about how gravity is so unbelievably inconsistent on Asgard and makes no sense!

Before we begin, let me define gravity. I know, you learned about it a million times in school, but there are things we forget about it. Gravity is a force that attracts objects with mass to each other. For example, the Earth has mass and therefore has a gravitational field pulling you to the core. You also have mass and have a gravitational field and are pulling the Earth towards you. But the Earth is much more massive than you, making your gravitational field basically negligible. Everything with mass has a gravitational field, and those interact with nearby objects. For example, there are gravitational interactions between you and the phone/computer/tablet you are reading this on.

The more mass something has, the stronger the gravitational field. That is why we stay on the surface, and why planets stay in orbit, and why black holes "suck" ("suck" is not a very good word to describe the process, but oh well) different objects in, and why galaxies hold together.

The center of gravity is created by two gravitational fields interacting. With you and the Earth, the center of gravity is almost exactly the exact center of the Earth. Not quite, but extremely close, because of how much more massive the Earth is. While objects with more similar mass have the center of gravity closer to the middle. For example, Charon, Pluto's moon, is about half the size or so of Pluto. The center of gravity between them is actually above the surface of Pluto. It's closer to Pluto than Charon, but their mass is so similar that they're actually both orbiting around a point in space.

Now that we have that out of the way, here we go under the cut because this is a massive post.

1) The planet's form makes absolutely no sense

Look at this!

What even is this? Asgard is a disk with an iceberg-esque part at the bottom and some land mass on the top. Which is problematic.

For one, gravity causes things to become spherical. Things, such as yourself, with lower mass don't have the gravity to become a sphere. This is why asteroids and some moons can have funky shapes.

Here are some asteroids. Ceres is the biggest asteroid and a dwarf planet, and it is almost spherical as you can see. The rest are a little funky. They don't have the mass, and therefore gravitational force, to be spherical.

Life evolves to live in the conditions it is in. We can't see ultraviolet light because our atmosphere blocks most of it. So why would we need that ability? Why would people that could see UV have a higher chance of surviving to reproduce? This is why we aren't ridiculously strong. We evolved to be able to work with what was needed. Which means we are suited for Earth's gravity. If it weren't for other factors like the suits, astronauts would be able to jump much higher on the moon because it is tiny compared to Earth, and our strength overcompensates.

If Asgard has low gravity, then it would make sense Asgardians would evolve for a low gravity environment. Which means they wouldn't become super strong. If anything, they could have serious spinal problems on Earth because of our gravity, assuming they didn't immediately collapse. And, um, that is not the case in Marvel. The opposite is true.

2) Inconsistent gravity is confusing

So, gravity is what keeps us on the ground, right? Well, that doesn't always seem to be the case on Asgard.

Not to mention the water constantly spilling off (also not astronomy related but where is that water coming from? And why does that water just disappear?).

Even if Loki was about as far as he could be from the center of gravity while being on the planet, even if Asgard has extremely low gravity and they showed it to us, this would still make no sense. Gravity should be strong enough to keep him on the planet.

And if it wasn't? Should've not been strong enough everywhere else on the planet. No one should be able to stay on the planet. It shouldn't be strong enough to have an atmosphere.

While with its shape Asgard would have unequal gravity, it shouldn't be this unequal. And, if gravity were weak enough for Loki to fall off, it should've been weak enough that he would've floated off rather than fallen off. Same with Thor. And Odin. And Heimdall. And literally everyone else to ever be on the bifrost. No one should be able to stand on the bifrost, everyone should float off into orbit. But that clearly doesn't happen because Asgard's gravity makes no sense.

3) 2+ nearby wormholes

There are at least two nearby natural wormholes.

We have a wormhole taking you from Asgard to Sanctuary and a wormhole taking you from Sakaar to Asgard. I am not including the bifrost, because while Selvig and Jane called it an Einstein-Rosen bridge (sciency way of saying wormhole), the bifrost is artificial, and not naturally occurring. Right now I am focusing on the naturally occurring wormholes. Also, we don't know if these are two way wormholes are blackhole whitehole pairs. Basically, the theory is that some wormholes could allow travel from both ends, kind of like the Nether Portal in Minecraft, and others are a one way ticket, with a blackhole on one end and whitehole (ejects mass instead of taking mass in) on the other. We've only seen these work one way, so they could be partially whiteholes.

So there are a few problems with all of this.

Blackholes distort light.

The top image is from Hubble. Do you see the circular-ness the photo is focused on? That is from a blackhole distorting light. The second is an illustration and not from Hubble so it's less reliable, but this is a more noticeable example. Basically, light has particles called photons, and blackholes absorb mass.

As you can see in the gif, stuff orbits around blackholes and slowly gets closer and closer to the event horizon. Once you get past the event horizon, there is no turning back. Light can't escape, which is why these are blackholes. Photons are distorted like this, which means that the light produced by nearby stars and reflected by nearby celestial objects is distorted, making them look off.

In other words, Asgard's light should be...interesting.

Another thing, Asgard should be orbiting around one of these blackholes to die eventually. Unless there's a bigger one, I would guess the Sakaarian wormhole if it were two way. If not, it'd orbit around the Sanctuary wormhole.

Having two next to each other would do crazy things to Asgard's gravity. The Sanctuary one would constantly be pulling Asgard towards it, and if the Sakaarian wasn't a whitehole, it would constantly be pulling Asgard and the Sanctuary wormhole towards it.

This is something I don't know as much about, but if the Sakaarian wormhole is a whitehole on Asgard's end, I would not be surprised if there were consequences. Lots of mass being ejected into the nearby space might have consequences, though this mass might be coming in subatomic forms and not be too harmful.

(Also Sakaar should've been torn apart by the wormhole leading to Asgard and possibly others. I'm just saying. This is an Asgard post but we gotta agree that Sakaar is also messed up).

Except that none of this is true apparently.

4) There is no way Loki should've survived.

When Loki fell into the wormhole he had two options: die a quick death or die a very quick death. Wormholes are awesome. Awesome in the biblical sense of the world. Which means they are utterly terrifying.

Quick Death: Loki should have been spaghettified (and also Asgard...and the Asgardians...but I'll let that slide since apparently Asgard has secret amazing gravity). Spaghettification happens as you get closer to a singularity and let me tell you, it is absolutely terrifying. It is my greatest irrational fear (irrational in that it will never happen to me). Basically the gravity of blackholes (and by extent wormholes) literally tears molecules apart. It starts with stretching the person/object out to make them long and thin, like spaghetti. A person would die during this first stage because our organs cannot handle this. And soon the body/object would fall apart on an atomic level.

Very Quick Death: Upon passing the event horizon (point of no return), Loki would go through a massive wall of fire, burning him to death and he would be spaghetiffied almost instantly.

So...yeah...how is he not dead?

5) Even if Loki could survive, he shouldn't have made it to Sanctuary

There are theories on how to make viable wormholes. I don't remember exactly how, but there are theories on how to allow someone to pass without being spaghetiffied or burnt to a crisp. But then there's the problem of it being impossible to reach the other side.

Basically the "pathway" between the two ends of a wormhole is infinitely small. In other words, Loki couldn't fit through it, and would therefore die. There are theories on how to counteract that problem, but the odds of a wormhole naturally forming like this are low. So, Loki should've died even if he got past the singularity on the way to Sanctuary.

6) Also there's the bifrost.

The bifrost is artificial. The problems about travelling through wormholes (spagettification, fire wall, infinitely small tunnel, etc) aren't there because Asgard built it as a way of travel. And since it was repaired by the Tesseract in between Avengers and Dark World, it might be a product of the Tesseract anyway.

With artificial devices explained by fictional science/technology/magic, I'm not as picky. It's science I don't understand because that's not science from this universe. But I do have questions about the bifrost. I don't fully understand how it could've destroyed Jotunheim. My thought was that it absorbed Jotunheim like a blackhole, but we don't see debris coming over to Asgard. How is it turned on and off? What consequences were there when it was destroyed? Is gravity all of the sudden strange when it turns on? I do like that it looks like people are pulled into the bifrost when it turns on, makes it more wormholey. But how did Hela knock Thor and Loki out of the bifrost?

I tend to forgive all of that because it's a fictional device. Just like how I forgive the gravity/blackhole bomb things the dark elves had. Those are clearly artificial and since we have theories on how those are possible I let it slide (though I find it interesting how the blackholes evaporate (that's the term for the death of a blackhole)). I actually headcanon the dark elves used gravitonium to create these devices. Gravitonium is an element introduced in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. that has interesting gravitational abilities. It is 100% fictional, so I let a lot of it slide. But gravitonium is supposed to be a heavy element, meaning it wasn't created in the solar system, it was created by a supernova, so it has to exist elsewhere in the universe. Why not on Svartalfheim? But that's just me (there are actually lots of connections between TDW and AoS, specifically connections between Loki and AoS). But fictional devices are that: fictional. Whereas blackholes and wormholes are very real. Blackholes are confirmed to exist, and wormholes are theoretical with lots of evidence (Einstein created a list of formulas describing how the universe works, and wormholes work in these formulas. But that doesn't mean wormholes exist currently, have existed in the past, or ever will exist, we just know they're theoretically possible.). So I can be more picky about those.

Of course, I can watch these movies and still be entertained. I love these movies. But I'm a nerd that has to overanalyze everything and I specifically like space, and thus this post was born because Asgard makes no sense.

#asgard #thor (2011)#thor: the dark world (2013)#thor: ragnarok (2017)#black hole #white hole #wormhole #astronomy #loki laufeyson #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. (2013-2020)#sorry for the extremely long post #but i was bored & i have thoughts

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shelby-love · 5 years ago

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JAY HALSTEAD

Stalked.

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warnings: angsty

Authors note: Y/S1/N (your older sisters name), Y/S2/N (your younger sisters name)

"Your labs came back negative... I'll make sure to get you discharged immediately." You stand next to your patients bed, scrolling through his charts and scanning the monitor.

The man that lied on his bed looked lost and confused. He came in today saying that he was experiencing sharp pain in his stomach. He kept telling you he was in pain although there weren't any possible medical explanations for what he was feeling.

You consulted with Dr. Charles and you decided to discharge him.

"No...no, no, no, no. You have to do them again! Please..." His body jumped and his rough hand found your wrist. Your eyes opened wide as you snatched your hand away immediately. "I...I don't feel so good."

You watched him carefully. This wasn't the first time he forcefully grabbed you.

You almost reported him several different times but you decided against it because now you were getting rid of him. That man was sick in his head.

"Doris make sure to change the dressing on his shoulder then send him off after that." You hand the tablet to the nurse who does as you say and then you walk out.

"Tough one huh?" Dr. Charles leaned against the desk as you typed your password into the computer to access your doctors ID.

"Is it wierd if I say that I was afraid to treat that man?" A big tortured sigh escapes your mouth. "I didn't let that affect my professional judgement but still...it was horrible."

"I believe ya." He replied and stole a glance at the trauma room your freak patient was in. "I mean... He comes in with stomach pain, then he requests to be under your care specifically and after all of that...when you want to discharge him the first time suddenly there's blood pouring out of his shoulder by accident." You nod your head in agreement. "I can confirm something. You...you're not crazy. He's the one who's crazy."

His words left an uneasy feeling settle over you.

***

"Hey girls," You sing into your phone. It's 8 P.M. and your shift just ended. "What do you two want to eat? I can stop by Manny's and get us some food."

Your two sisters agrue about what to eat and whilst they're doing that you get into your car and buckle up. You then fix your rear-view mirror and notice something really odd. There's a blue sports car parked not to far away from your car. The car looks really exotic. So exotic it just doesn't blend with the other cars around yours.

"What the..." You watch closely. A man in a black hoodie is sitting in the car. The whole car is lit up like a soccer field at night and that freaks you out. This parking lot is for Chicago Med workers only. "Who's car is that?"

"What did you say Y/N??" Your sisters screech pulled you back into reality.

"Nothing." You reply quickly and take the phone in your hand. "I just though I saw something."

"Girl you spend way to much time with Jay and now you're starting to sound just like him." Your two manic sisters giggle. "Where is Jay anyway? He hasn't stopped by much lately."

You wonder off to sad places after what she said. "He's been busy." He hasn't been home much at all. Usually he always picks you up from work and drops you off at work too.

After they start to gush over you two you decide to hang up and go to Manny's whether they want to eat there or not.

***

"I'm home!" You voice as soon as you enter the house. You recognize your younger sisters footsteps as she marches down the stairs like a champion.

She snatches the food out of your arms and runs towards the dining room. "You're welcome by the way!"

You kick off your shoes and hang the car keys onto the key holder. When you make your way in the dining room you notice your other sister. She's stiff like a statue with eyes glued to the window. You poke her head, "What's up with you?"

"She's been looking out of the window like a hwak for God knows how long," Y/S2/N says while munching her sandwich.

"Because I've never seen that car before," She defends herself. You stand behind her and look out of the window yourself.

The blue sports car.

"Like that car is too exotic to be owned by someone from this neighbourhood." Your sister continues to blabber. "I just wanna see who the person is."

"Did you see someone come out?" You ask and sit down, slowly you start sinking in your chair.

"No I didn't, oh my God people that's why I'm looking!" She swings her arms in the air.

"Stalking." Y/S2/N coughs into her shoulder.

They giggle for a little bit but you're confused and scared. Jay always told you to be careful when you see the same car wherever you are. You could he paranoid but he always said that its better to be save than sorry.

You shake your head and dismiss the red flags.

"Pass me the food would you?"

***

You stand in front of the window. You hear your siblings making popcorn for your movie marathon in the kitchen.

You still feel uneasy.

Y/S1/N dropped the subject of the blue car but still looks out of the window herself a few times but you took her spot as a permanent watchman.

Your heartbeat spikes up drastically when you see the lights in the car turn on and reveal a masked man. You're reminded of the parking lot and your blood runs cold.

The car moves until its directly across the road.

You check if your windows are all locked.

***

"Did you close the window Y/S2/N?" Your sister asks casually. The three of you are sat and cuddled on your giant sofa.

"It's hot in Chicago for the first time ever, let the breeze in." She replied and stuffed her mouth with popcorn once again.

"More like let the burglars in," You couldn't laugh with them at the jokes they kept throwing. The odd feeling in the pit of your stomach just wouldn't go away.

"I'm cold." You announce and stand up. They don't bother to stop you from going upstairs so you slowly make your way up the stairs.

You walk slowly, almost tip toeing, with your breathing leveled and controlled and nervous sweat breaking out everywhere. Your instinct told you to run, call Jay, ask him to come, but you decided you were paranoid and walked in regardless. No sooner had you hit the light switch did a man grab you and you went tumbling down the flight of stairs.

There was a man standing in front of you. You couldn't make out his face, as he was completely unknown to you.

Unknown until he took the hood of his head. You screamed and tried to get away but he grabbed your ankle and yanked you towards him. By the time he fought you into his arms your two sisters stood in front of you with a phone and a number typed into it. Jay's number.

Your pajama top was ripped but it still somehow hung onto your torso like a loyal soldier.

"Drop the phone or she dies!" He yelled and pressed a knife to your throat. Your sisters shook with fear but after seeing you nod with tears in your eyes they did as they were told.

"Gavin please let me go," You begged but he didn't have any of it.

"No! Do not try to get into my pants now doc. You had your shot!" He yelled into your ear and pressed your back into his harder.

"Gavin please... We can talk about it..I-I can look at your charts again. Help you feel better." You wince as you feel the sharpness of the blade against your neck.

"I wanted to do so much to you..." He whispered, "After you helped me feel better I was going to please you to return the favor... But you did nothing!" He smashed your body against the pastel colored wall but didn't let you sink to the ground. "Nothing!!"

And that's when he did it. When he pressed the knife into you three times. Only the third time he did it and your sisters jumped on him did he notice what was going on. He dropped the knife to the ground and ran.

"Y/S2/N CALL JAY NOW!" The oldest sister after you screamed. She dropped to the ground with you and took her shirt off. She pressed it against your bleeding belly in hopes of calming down the stream of blood that was coming out of three different holes.

You felt dizzy. Your stomach burned and you slowly felt numb all over but you were still able to hear yours sisters sad cries. "C'mon Jay hurry up... Y/N please stay awake."

You lost count of time. You didn't know if you were just stabbed or if you were awake for hours with a bleeding belly.

Commotion builds up in the small neighbourhood. You make out the sounds. Police.

"Chicago PD where is he?" Voight asked your younger sister who managed to choke out that he ran away.

"Y/N? Y/N!!" Now you really felt numb to voices. But fortunately, the last thing you're ever going to be numb for is Jay Halstead. "Jesus Christ Y/N baby are you okay? Y/S1/N? It's okay don't worry I got you now..I got you."

Then you blacked out.

***

"Hey... Go easy." Jay had his strong arm wrapped behind your back as he fixed your pillow so you can lean against it and sit up.

Your whole stomach was bandaged, you had bruises all over your body and somehow you still managed to break a finger.

"How are you feeling?" Jay grabbed your healthy hand in his own two and kissed it countless times.

"Like I just came back from yoga class," Your soary laugh lit up the room.

"I'm happy your humor didn't go away." You can see the gloss in his eyes. He really really was afraid that he lost you.

"Jay..." You were cut of with an emotional kiss. Jay leaned towards you so quickly you didn't have time to process it. You cup his small subtle beard covered chin and return the kiss with just as much emotion.

You tried to push away the bad thoughts and memories from what happened. You wanted to forget it all and the first step forgetting is being able to laugh and joke about it.

And that's what you are going to do.

With Jay.

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead #chicago med #chicago #chicago pd #chicago med imagine #chicago pd imagine

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twistedsin · 5 years ago

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Idia’s new invention

Always use lube and condoms and practice safe sex kiddos

Synopsis: Idia designs an adult toy for you and needs you to test it, but you look so cute using it he can’t help himself from joining in the fun~

Kinks: toys, double penetration, butt stuff

“It’s uhm… not what I… e-expected.” Your face burned bright pink as you stared down at the present Idia had just given you.

“Do you hate it? Is it bad? I like pleasuring you I just… you want it more often than I feel I can give.” Idia bit his lip and picked up the vibrator he designed for you. It was bright blue to match his hair, a slight curve to it and a rabbit attachment. The shaft was textured with several rings; they were also located where the toy extended. “It vibrates and thrusts on 5 different settings… I didn’t get around to adding rotating beads, I wanted to perfect the other two basics first. Will you just try it out at least once so I can improve it.” His cheeks flared pink, “And I love seeing you enjoy yourself.”

“Fine. I guess if you went through all the trouble of making it for me I could at least try it out.” You gave a small smile, removing your clothes and laying back on his bed. Idia leaned over and kissed you, his fingers running up your slit. You shivered into the kiss. Idia pulled away to properly lube up the toy. “Mou… this stuff gets everywhere.” He sighed before running the toy along your slit. “Ready?” He waited for your nod before sliding the toy in until it snuggly pressed on your clit. You let out a few short breaths as your body adjusted to being filled and the new stimulating pressure. “It feels good so far~” You sighed, very excited for what was to come. “Don’t move. I have to wash my hands.” Can’t type notes with lube hands.

Finally Idia returned, sitting at his computer purposely ignoring you. “Idiaaaa~” You whined nudging him with your foot. “Couldn’t help it.” He smiled, loving the way you called out his name when you pouted. He reached into his pocket and suddenly the toy came to life inside you. It was a soft start of course, a low buzzing and short slow thrusts. You hummed, pleased with the subtle feelings but wanting more. You rolled your hips trying to get more friction. “Oh right I forgot to activate the rabbit.” Idia mumbled and the rabbit suddenly came to life at full speed. “Ahh!” Your hips raised as a loud moan escaped your lips, the rabbit’s ears assaulting your clit with repeated teasing taps. The sensations made your walls tighten and hips rolling slightly. You still needed more; more friction, more intensity. Idia knew what you wanted and eventually complied, turning up the thrusting speed and vibration up but simultaneously turning the rabbit speed down. The pleasure focused inside, the toy pushing deeper and more frequently pushing against your sensitive spots. The vibrating making your insides pulse. Your moans were more frequent, hips rolling. Your body clenched around the toy, still wanting more. “More~” You whined between moans. Idia obeyed, increasing the vibration of the rabbit and the body.

“Yes~” You moaned, this was what you needed. Your clit and your inside being teased, and the constant friction of the deep toy rubbing against you. Your hips rolled, your breath becoming shallow as you approached your climax. “Cumming~” You gasped as your body tipped over the edge sending a rolling wave of pleasure through you. Idia didn’t seem to be paying attention, but he definitely took notice. He typed away at his computer before mumbling something. “That took too long… I should increase the base settings.”

As you came down from your pleasure high your hips jolted back as the toy continued to buzz. You clenched, to help reduce the friction on your stiff clit but it only intensified the feeling inside. “I-Idia.” You squeeld. “Ah, right sorry…” Idia glanced over at you and increased the thrust of the toy. Your hips raised as a loud groan escaped. It was pushing so much deeper than before~ It pushed against your g-spot on and off your hips twitching each time. “N-noo~” You whined, your next orgasm was already quickly building. Idia didn’t listen to your protests, leaving it on the medium settings. Letting the pleasures stay consistent, building you up but not enough to push you over. Finally the vibrations of the rabbit increased to max again, assaulting your already sensitive clit. “Cum-cuming~” You cried again as your hips shook as a small wave of pleasure ran over you.

That had to be it right? That was the full extent of the testing since you were sure that was the highest setting. “Better, seems like the reach is good.” Idia typed more. The toy didn’t cease as you orgasm lessened, not truly fading as the vibrating kept you on edge. You panted, fidgeting in place trying to adjust yourself so the feeling wouldn’t be as intense on your sensitive places but it only increased the feeling. It did get the toy to dislodge a bit, lessening the pressure on your clit. “I-idiaaa~” You called, wanting his attention at least if he was going to make you this much of a mess. “Right. More.” He commented, turning the toy to its max settings. “M-more!” You gasped in disbelief throwing your head back as the vibrations and thrusting speed of the toy increased. The pressure on your g-spot was essentially constant rubbing. The vibrations making your sensitive walls quiver. You whined and groaned, your body moving with the toy, you were unsure if it was trying to escape the pleasure or increase it. Finally Idia looked over, eyes trailing over the rest of your exposed body before examine the mess your lower was. You were absolutely soaking, you juices running down your ass. “I see you like it. Oh it’s falling out…” He grabbed the handle and pulled the toy out slightly before thrusting it back deeper inside you. That intensified push instantly sent you over the edge again. He held the toy tight as your whole body shuddered, your juices squirting out a bit onto his hand. Your moan devolved into a whine, pain starting to push through the pleasure as the stimulation continued.

Idia looked into your eyes, half-lidded, lost in pleasure. He loved it. “You look so cute. I really want to fuck you myself now…” He whispered, a hand traveling down to squeeze your breast. “But you’re filled with the toy, I wouldn’t want to ruin your fun with that.” His other hand moved to your pussy, sending shivers up your spine as he coated his fingers with your juices. Once they were slick with lube and cum he slipped his middle finger into your asshole. Your body jolted at the new feeling, clenching around the finger leading to a moan. “I can use this hole then.” His finger thrust in and out softly, occasionally swirling around to help prepare you. The toy was still at full power in your sore pussy. Idia held down your hips to keep you steady as he slipped a second finger in, now making scissoring motions. The added feeling from his fingers and the relentless motions of the toy forced you over the edge again. “I-it’s too mu-ch” You gasped between breaths, tears welling in your eyes. “You’re always saying you want more.” A smirk came across Idia’s lips. You whimpered a little mad he was right, though your thoughts weren’t able to stay focused on the topic for long. Idia’s third finger slipped inside. You tried to squirm as he twisted them and gave a few quick thrust. “That should be good.” You couldn’t help but pout a bit when the fingers slipped out, the new sensation gone. Idia tried not to take too long as he removed his pants and lubed up his dick. Unlike with the toy he gave no extra warning before grabbing your hips and pulling you onto him. Your back arched as you cried out, it felt so much thicker than his fingers had and pushed the toy harder against your swollen clit. “Ah! Fuuck~” You whined as both your holes tightened around what was inside. Idia grunted giving a hard buck, pushing deeper as you came. “You’re squeezing so tight it’s amazing.” He picked up the pace wanting to prevent your orgasm from fading as long as he could. You were simply a whining moaning mess. You were so full. Everything felt amazing, somewhat painful, but amazing none the less. You looked up at Idia, just focused on how happy he looked fucking you. His thrusts quickened, pulling you deeper on to his shaft. His movements added a thrusting motion to the toy as well. You had no other thoughts aside from when your next orgasm was coming and when Idia was going to come as well. You had wanted to call out his name, but you weren’t even sure you were capable of words right now. Idia’s thrusts became more erratic and you could tell he was getting close. Your body quaked as the strongest orgasm yet washed over you, sending Idia over the edge, his cum bursting out and filling your ass. You called out together sharing the moment of ecstasy.

Slowly his hips came to a stop, but he didn’t pull out just yet, instead removing the toy first and turning it off. While you were relieved, you couldn’t help but whine a little at the sudden loss of the toy. Idia looked down at your pussy, examining how soaked you were, how your lips still trembled and how swollen your clit was. It seems the toy did its job very well. Eventually he slowly pulled out, your sensitive body twitching a little. He continued to admire the sight of his cum dripping out of your ass and mixing with your juices.

“You did amazing.” Idia leaned down and gave you a brief kiss on the lips. He knew he put you through a lot but it was all very worth it for both of you.

#twisted wonderland #twstd #idia shroud #twstdspice #spicy fic #twisted wonderland; idia #sorry for the term 'butt stuff'#i fear tumbles algorithm

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Lost Lineage

Dofi hurried in the dark narrow corridors of the ship, in near pitch black darkness. They were surrounded by dead waiters and had to pull all the ship’s electrical power into the fight. He knew his brother Do, the Ship’s Chief Engineer, had designed the ship this way. This was a dragon-slaying ship. Every drop of fuel, every battery, every nuclear engine could reroute its full might into deadly weapons until the enemy was vanquished or the ship rested at the bottom of the sea.

Even now, the ship was loud with constant machine gun fire and thunderous booms from cannons.

His brother Foli was captaining this war at sea. He was the firstborn and the leader of the Aido-Hwedo, destined to be on the Council in the future. Dofi had no such destiny. He was a shadow merchant, supporting his brother in covert actions to protect him from the rear. Dofi kept this vow of secrecy close to his heart. Even though his brother acted like a naive little fool in the sun, he would be there, in the shadows like a ninja, destroying anyone who came at him from the shadows.

Now he felt his brother had played the ultimate fool. He had trusted Grant Baldwin to keep this operation secret and now they were surrounded by ships from the Secret Society. Someone had fired rockets at the dragon being awakened in the sky, awakening him early. How was he supposed to save him from this?

Foli should have known that the sons of that Dark King Betrayer could not be trusted. All four of the quadruplets went to the same school and heard the same stories.

Nidhogg and the White Queen Izanami were inseparable rulers. Together they produced one egg that hatched the ten great serpents into the world. Each one they granted authority over humans. Quetzocoatl, Nuwa, Anima, Minona, Legba, Ouroboros, and the twin headed serpents, Taipan-Typhon and Mawu-Lisa.

For centuries they ruled over humans, some harshly, some more gently. But the Dark King was always fickle and full of suspicious thoughts. The White Queen could take it no longer and rebelled against him. Ouroboros, Mawu-Lisa and Legba agreed. But the White Queen was defeated and her children were forced into hiding from their vengeful father.

They hid among their human hybrids in Africa. But were revealed when war broke out among them. The hybrids of Mawu-Lisa attacked the hybrid city of Ouroboros, but were defeated. In retaliation, Ouroboros devoured Mawu-Lisa. Then, strengthened greatly by the meal, turned on Legba.

Legba fled back to Nidhogg. He hoped to be protected by his father, so he betrayed Ouroboros’s location to him. But Nidhogg killed him anyway, and then went to find Ouroboros. But Ouroboros somehow vanished, him and his people. He was a master of the sacred arts of Nibelungen and could produce them at will. When the forces of Nidhogg arrived, there was nothing left but a crater.

Nidhogg never found Ouroboros and turned on the rest of his children. It didn’t matter how loyal they had been in the past. They were the White Queen’s children and couldn’t be trusted. One by one, every single serpent that had hatched from the egg was destroyed and all their hybrids were slaughtered. In their place, he created the Four Lords and forced them into eternal submission. He erased every vestige of the existence of the original ten and their mother.

Yet, knowing all this, that silly Foli still put his head into the palm of these elites of Cassell College. These sons of the Betrayer King!

“Foli… Foli, I tried to warn you…” The ship was rocking like a tree against the winds and the waves. Every joint groaned as the waves lifted it and shuddered violently as it crashed to the ocean. The sense of vertigo was immense and he put his hand to the wall to steady himself. He was almost there.

He had to protect his brother.

And the key was in his pocket, wrapped in gauze. The vial of that girl’s blood. The girl who wasn’t on the roster of the Action Team. The girl who came from Ace Commissioner parents with no past. Born in a dragonslayer Academy. And yet somehow had no dragonblood according to the dragonblood divination.

His brother originally had this suspicion of her, but he’d discarded it after a little sweet talk from that Betrayer son. But Dofi was not so easily fooled.

He’d reached the end of the corridor and swiped his card; the door slid open to reveal a darkened lab, faintly lit by an alternative power source. At the center was a server rack that blinked green and blue and red like festive lights in the dark. A single laptop controlled it all. On a table, along with a microscope and other tools, there was what looked like a box. Dofi braced himself on the table and pulled out the vial of blood from his pocket.

He carefully opened the metal box. Inside, was a spinning centrifuge. The divining plate could only work based on the Four Lord’s Lineage. If she was not of that line, then the alternative was that she was either human or not of the four lords. And she was not human.

He tucked the vial with trembling hands into the centrifuge and closed it and flipped the switch. The vial began to spin until it was a blur, to break up the blood and reveal the genetic material. The computer here had more than the lineage of the four lords but also of Legba and Mawu-Lisa, the Ancestors of the West African Hybrids.

The lights suddenly started to flicker. Dofi looked up at them as they swung. Their shifting pools of light moved over a scaly clawed foot, like the claw of a dinosaur. When they swung that pool of light away, gleaming eyes peered out from the dark. Those eyes were embedded in a massive dark shadow, about the size of a horse. It crouched on all fours, it’s body stretching into the hallway where he had just been.

Dofi’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He had thought he was alone in the corridor, safe and protected by his brother’s stalwart efforts outside, but he was being stalked by this unseen and quiet predator the whole way down. And now he had reached a dead end in every sense.

Unlike his brother, Dofi had no aggressive skills, only the Soul Skill Mirage that could distort his form as he saw fit. But how could he fool someone who had already seen him as he truly was? They faced each other now, each one as they were. Predator and prey.

Normally, he could consider escaping, use his soul skill to frighten the enemy, confuse them, or vanish. But he could not leave this beast in this room and he had to stay here for the results of the DNA test. There was no clever escape this time. Only a fight until the monster was eliminated. He reached behind his back, his hand closing around a weapon there.

Dofi’s eyes moved first to the left, away from the computers. The monster’s limbs tightened and it rushed in, thinking Dofi was making his move. The split second error was all that was needed. Dofi pulled a grenade from behind him, yanked out the pin and threw it into the beast’s mouth, just as it closed. The creature’s teeth pierced the metal shell. Corrosive liquid, poisonous to dragons sprayed out under intense pressure right down the monster’s throat.

With the grenade stuck on his tooth, it could only shake its head. The silver solution spread all over the floor and under its claws and it slipped and fell. Its screaming as the solution burned its skin rattled the walls. Blood oozed from its mouth in a steady stream coloring the liquid on the floor. The vapors stung its eyes and sent blood weeping from there. Its scales loosened and hung from the skin of its neck.

But its target was gone. Disappeared from the room. Its nostrils flared to try to catch a scent of him, and then it coughed, jaw hanging open. A thin blade, like the foil of a fencer, had pierced its throat from the side. In comparison to its thick neck, it appeared like a hypodermic needle through the gap in its eroded scales. It wasn’t even a hole big enough to bleed through, but inside the throat, the jugular vein had been punctured, and the brain was quickly being starved of oxygen.

With such a precise attack, there was no need for a strong Soul Skill or Physical Strength.

Dofi revealed himself to be holding the end of the blade, having hidden himself when his Soul skill while the beast struggled with the grenade. He held a cloth to his face to guard himself from the noxious fumes, but he knew it was too late. Such powerful poison would be the end of him as well. Already, his skin was starting to turn soft and sore. It burned and turned a whitish grey as he staggered back to the laptop.

The Genetic test results were completed.

According to the blood test, this girl was a descendent of Nidhogg, as all dragons were. But unlike all dragons, she was also a descendent of the Whtie Queen Izanami. As he suspected, she really was of the stock of the original ten serpents out of the great egg.

She was not a descendent of Mawu-Lisa. She was not a descendant of Legba.

Leaning against the table, Dofi’s vision swam. He picked up the phone and put his brother on the speed dial. Despite the desperation of the situation, his brother picked up immediately.

“Dofi! What is it? Where are you?”

“Foli… my dearest brother. I have completed the investigation of the girl.”

“What? Dofi, I told you to stop. Where are you now? What are you doing?”

“The girl is of a Lost Lineage. She is not of Legba… or Mawu-Lisa.” He coughed and felt like he was drooling uncontrollably. But when he looked down, his shirt was stained red.

“Lost lineage…?” His brother’s voice was still in his head. “Where is the girl? Where are you?”

But Dofi couldn’t speak any more.

#Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Class of 2032

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anistarrose · 4 years ago

Link

Chapter Summary: Barry gets a job offer. Kravitz sees a new side of the moon. Taako has a long-overdue chat with his umbrella.

Characters: Kravitz, Taako, Barry Bluejeans, Angus McDonald, Magnus Burnsides, Merle Highchurch, Noelle | No-3113, The Raven Queen, The Director | Lucretia, misc. BoB cameos, Julia Burnsides, Garyl

Relationships: Taakitz, Angus McDonald & Taako, Barry Bluejeans & Kravitz, Kravitz & Angus McDonald

Lately, I’ve been thinking of this fic as a story told in two acts. They’re not necessarily going to be equal in length, but this chapter is definitely the end of Act One.

***

“That’s basically the whole story, Your Majesty,” Kravitz concluded, after several minutes of talking at speeds that no being who needed to breathe could hope to match. Barry and Noelle stood on either side of him, mustering the most innocent expressions he’d ever seen on the faces of a lich or a robot, respectively. “Not that I’d blame you for having follow-up questions, because… well, holy shit.”

Holy shit, indeed, the Raven Queen agreed. A projected image of her visage was floating above a circle of five perfect raven feathers, having been carefully arranged on the cave floor by Kravitz. Istus said we were approaching unprecedented times, but…

She sighed. Well, I must admit that with the apparent exception of Istus, we gods hardly think about what lies outside our planar system. It’s… inconvenient, uncomfortable, how we hold so much power in this world yet understand so little about what’s beyond it. This threat, this Hunger, is news even to me — but didn’t you already know that, Barry, from all the Celestial Planes you’ve seen invaded before?

Barry nodded. “Yeah. I never saw stuff like that directly, of course, but Merle’s a cleric, so… he had his ways of knowing it was never a pretty picture.”

The Raven Queen let out a sigh, like wind escaping from beneath a whole flock’s wings. Then I have more important things to do than reconcile your undeath with the laws of this world, and you have more important things to do than defend yourself to me. Barry, Noelle, you are free to go at least until the apocalypse is averted — but if we get through that, and only then, I’d like you to start thinking about accepting jobs in the Astral Plane. Whatever state the world is in after the Hunger arrives, Kravitz and I will probably need your help.

Barry went dead silent, while Noelle’s whole display lit up with excitement.

“Are we talking afterlife office jobs,” she asked, “or something more along the lines of what Kravitz does?”

“We’ve got plenty of open positions, honestly,” Kravitz explained. “You could probably pick either.”

“Huh,” Barry finally muttered, so soft that Kravitz could’ve missed it. “I — I appreciate the offer, but — I gotta know one thing before I even consider it. Will I have to — to bring in any of my family? Anyone from the Starblaster?”

I’d like to speak with them all eventually, and I may ask you to facilitate that, the Raven Queen replied, but they won’t be punished.

Barry nodded. “Okay. That’s… that’s something I’m willing to consider, then.”

I hope you find out what happened to Lup. Her location is concealed from even me, but I know she’s never entered my domain, so I believe you’ll find her out there somewhere.

Barry’s eyes flickered, shedding drops of light that ran down his face for a few seconds before they coalesced back together. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

It’s the least I could do. From here, my priority shall be to warn the rest of the pantheon, but we’ll be in touch. The Raven Queen’s visage disappeared with a clap of thunder and a gust of wind that lifted the feathers into the air, carrying them back to Kravitz’s waiting hands as her voice boomed throughout the cave one last time. Good luck, my children.

“That went well, right?” Noelle asked when the echoes faded. “That felt pretty good for a conversation with the death goddess.”

“She’s a lot more reasonable than most gods, I think you’ll find,” Kravitz concurred. “But what’s the plan now? Because other than heading up to the moon, and bringing the boys back down for you to tell them what little you can, I haven’t got a lot of ideas.”

“I dunno either. I don’t like keeping them in the dark either, but it’s very little we can tell them aside from —” Barry paused. “Wait. You can go on the moonbase?”

“Yes? At least, no one’s tried to stop me. I guess I can see why you wouldn’t be allowed up there, but —”

“It’s more than a ban and a wanted poster keeping me off! It’s an anti-undeath ward —” Electricity crackled inside Barry’s silhouette, and he let out a laugh that could’ve woken the not-yet-reanimated dead. “But you, Kravitz, apparently possess enough celestial energy to balance out the undead elements of your soul — which is perfect! It changes everything!”

“Uh,” Kravitz began, reflexively taking a step back, “I think I’m missing some context here —”

“That ward’s the only thing stopping Barry from sneaking onto the moonbase and stealing the ichor he needs to inoculate his family!” Noelle explained, totally unperturbed by Barry’s mad scientist laugh. “I couldn’t steal it for him because the same ward keeps me from leaving my fuse for very long, and this robot body’s not exactly stealthy — but you can decorporealize for as long as you want on the moon, right?”

“I’m not sure I’ve actually tried,” Kravitz replied, rubbing his chin as the puzzle pieces fell into place, “but I’ve never had issues getting through anti-undead wards before, corporeally or otherwise!”

Barry rubbed his hands together, smoke and sparks pouring out from between them — but for the first time, Kravitz was sure he saw a glint of a smile flash on Barry’s face.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Barry asked. “Let’s head back to my place and plan a heist!”

***

“So what do we do now, Fantasy Columbo?” Taako asked, staring at the Umbra Staff in his hands. “I didn’t hear any jingles start playing for solving some sick higher power’s umbrella lich puzzle — how does this help us? What does it change?”

This should have been a revelation, Taako knew. This should have changed everything. But his mind was lagging behind his racing heart, struggling to fit together puzzle pieces that he knew should connect. Struggling to understand why he cared so fiercely about an evil ghost of an evil wizard being trapped in the arcane focus he’d looted her corpse for.

“I… I guess we should try to communicate with her?” Angus suggested. “She’s a Red Robe, so she must have something to do with —” He gestured wildly from his notepad, to Taako’s head, to the incinerated coffee table. “With all of this. Right?”

He removed his glasses, wiping off drops of sweat, and Taako realized that Angus, the smartest person he knew, had ran into an uncomfortable mental wall of his own — and after just a split second of looking at Angus’s pained expression, Taako made a decision.

“Hey, kid. I need your arguably expert opinion real quick — Magnus and Merle aren’t smart enough to be memory-wiping masterminds, right?”

“Oh, absolutely not, sir. We both know they’re no good at keeping their lies straight.”

“Could you check in on them for me? And try to bring ‘em back here — but, uh, only if you can do it without Lucretia or Davenport spotting you, and I need you to really focus on looking out for them. I don’t know who else I can trust with this —”

With a huge, determined smile on his face, Angus saluted. “I won’t let you down, sir!” He looked far less pained as he slunk out of the room, and Taako breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay. Kid’s gonna be alright with his mind off of this, and now we can have some peace and quiet, Lup.” His mouth lingered on the name Lup but his mind didn’t, giving no thought to the affection he instinctively voiced. “So… let’s chat?”

***

Lucretia’s office looked just as Barry had described, and not all that different from the Reclaimer’s dorms in terms of architecture. The sole occupant was not the Director herself, but a mustached gnome man who sat at the oversized desk, focusing intently on a game of solitaire. He didn’t even look up as Kravitz’ soul drifted past, steering clear of the desk and floating right through a heavy, closed door.

Kravitz kept inside the left wall of the corridor — Barry may not have reported any traps in this stretch, but the puzzle that Barry had reported was nowhere to be seen, and Kravitz knew a suspiciously empty-looking hallway when he saw one. He phased through a second door at the end of the chamber, ignoring the computer that looked even more foreign to him than his Stone of Farspeech, and recorporealized inside a second office.

This close to the source of the ward, a spinning disk imbued with radiant energy, Kravitz could finally feel its influence — a faint burn and refreshing cold that coexisted, an antipathy towards his undead body and a resonance with the Raven Queen’s blessing. Tempted as he was to knock down the disk and short-circuit the ward, it wasn’t poised do much besides mildly distract him, and he was making this visit with a much different goal — one that he’d expose, if he ended up dramatically trashing someone else’s holy symbol.

At the far end of the office sat a murky tank, and above that tank, an alarm was ringing. A few feet to the alarm’s left, a needle punched holes in a steadily scrolling paper, recording what Kravitz inferred to be times and intensities — and there was a lot of information to infer from, because the paper output had not just reached the floor, but piled up to almost waist height.

A massive volume of alarms had clearly been accumulating, and someone — presumably Lucretia — was far too busy to check on every message. Ever since he’d died, Kravitz had been notoriously bad at keeping track of dates, but a quick comparison with the dates at the bottom of the pile and the dates of the current output revealed that the alarms had started trickling in last night, before a massive influx took shape only about an hour ago.

This was all very interesting to the part of Kravitz that loved a good mystery, but his pragmatic side won out, knowing this alarm could attract unwelcome attention at any moment. He switched his attention to the contents of the tank — which appeared just like Barry had said it would, but was still plenty fascinating. A jellyfish floated in murky ichor, illuminated from within by a dark purple nebula pattern, and recoiling away from Kravitz as he rested a hand atop the tank.

“Now, now. It’s alright,” Kravitz murmured, in the same tone he might use to calm a distressed soul. “No need to be scared…”

The baby Voidfish hummed two chords, far lower and louder than Kravitz had expected from such a tiny creature — but music, at least, was something Kravitz knew he could work with. He summoned his scythe in the form of a lute, plucking out a peaceful melody he’d been fond of for hundreds of years… and only a few bars in, the Voidfish began to echo him, humming along with increasing volume.

“I’m just here to do my friends a favor,” Kravitz promised. “It won’t take long at all.”

The Voidfish seemed to relax, so Kravitz let go of his lute, allowing it to float at his side with a faint blue aura suspending it in air. He pulled a canteen from beneath his cloak, slowly submerging it in the tank until it was full to the brim with ichor — probably a slight excess, but he’d rather have too much than not enough.

“See? All done,” he whispered, reattaching the canteen’s cap. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

The Voidfish hummed the refrain of his song once more as he reformed his scythe, and as if to say farewell, waved a tentacle in his direction as he stepped through the portal off the moonbase.

Just a moment later, the very second Kravitz’s feet hit solid subterranean ground, Barry was at his side with a barrage of questions. “How did it go? Have you got the ichor? Did anyone see you?”

“Good, yes, and no in that order,” Kravitz replied, handing Barry the canteen. “The only thing I’m worried about is… well, you’ve seen how Lucretia has an alarm system in her office, right? It’s going a little haywire right now — and has been since last night.”

Barry’s relief morphed into frustration mid-relieved sigh. “I was hoping we could avoid that, since the boys haven’t had a run-in with me in a couple days — but I guess someone’s still trying to remember something, and it won’t be long ‘til Lucretia picks up on it. We gotta get a move on.”

“I did talk to Taako about the stars disappearing last night, come to think of it,” Kravitz recalled. “I hope he’s not still hung up on that, but it sounds like he might be.”

“Shoot, that coulda done it. No fault of your own, obviously.” Barry sighed again, picking up a couple of scrolls from his desk and placing them on a much more neatly organized bookshelf. “Sorry for the mess, by the way. You and Noelle have been my only visitors so far this whole decade.”

Kravitz had seen Barry’s home before he left for his heist on the moon, and it had already been pretty respectable as secret lairs went. Aside from the stalactites and the dubiously legal cloning pod, it had looked more like a disheveled academic’s study than a necromancer’s dungeon — but in Kravitz’s absence, Barry had apparently gotten up to some spring cleaning. He’d draped a sheet over the pod, which was still glowing bright green and far from innocuous, and somehow gotten his hands on a decent-quality couch, either from a pocket dimension or a conjuration spell or gods knew what else.

“Before you got involved, my plan never involved the boys coming in here while they could remember me,” Barry admitted. “They’d still be far from seeing me at my worst, but — well, I dunno if I can make this place look welcoming, exactly, but I’d rather not make them worry about me ‘cause of it.”

“If it helps, this is easily the nicest cave I’ve ever seen a lich holed up in,” Kravitz said, which got a quiet laugh out of Barry.

“Yeah, I bet it is.” He opened the canteen, pouring a modest sample of the ichor into a glass vial. “Hard to believe this is happening so suddenly, but… I think now’s the time. Lucretia could catch on at any minute, and I — I’ll be ready by the time you get back, I think.”

“Good luck remodeling,” Kravitz told him with a nod, and tore open a portal back to the moon.

***

“So… let’s chat?” Taako suggested. He didn’t know what kind of reply he was expecting, but he had to admit it stung when the Umbra Staff didn’t move an inch.

“Okay, what you do isn’t exactly chatting. That one’s on me. Can you just give me a sign, a little poltergeisting or something, if you’re listening?”

Still nothing, which continued to hurt more than it should have.

“Are you mad at me? I thought you smacked me in the face today to get my attention! ‘Cause you wanted to talk, but…” He glanced away from the umbrella in his lap. “I guess you really hate Kravitz, don’t you? And I was helping him hunt you, even before we started dating…”

He sighed. “And you’re only here because I stole from your grave! What was I even thinking? Of course you hate me, and maybe I half-deserve it —”

The Umbra Staff twitched in his hands, subtly yet so abruptly that he jumped to his feet with a yelp and dropped it onto the floor. It spun over ninety degrees as it fell, landing to point at the shelf of seldom-used spell components that Taako and Merle shared.

“You… want me to cast something?” Taako knelt on the rug, gently wrapping a hand around the handle but not raising the umbrella from the floor. He didn’t feel even the slightest movement. “Hey, if you’re not mad at me, then… do something. Do anything.”

He thought the handle might’ve trembled slightly, but wasn’t sure — it could’ve just been wishful thinking. “Okay, flip side. Do something if you are mad at me.”

This time, he was certain there was no response. “Okay, I’ve narrowed it down to either ‘you’re not mad’ or ‘you don’t want to talk to me,’ but I don’t get why you’re being so subtle about this. I mean, I’m not asking you to cast Sunbeam on my boyfriend again, but I know you could be giving me more obvious signs than —”

He happened to glace back at the component shelf, noticing the chest of spare wands he’d stockpiled — arcane foci, just like the ones the Umbra Staff consumed — then just like that, it clicked, and there was finally one quirk of his rogue umbrella that Taako had an inkling of an explanation for.

“Unless… you can’t give me a bigger sign because I haven’t beaten a magic user in a while!” he gasped. “You’re not trying to ignore me — you’re running out of power!”

He unlatched the little chest, grabbing two cheap wooden wands and snapping them both — and sure enough, the Umbra Staff inverted with more vigor than Taako had seen from it all day, swallowing them whole.

“Better?” Taako asked, and a tiny pink flame sparked to life at the tip of the umbrella. Lup must’ve summoned it with a variant of Prestidigitation, because it smelled less like smoke and more like comforting home cooking.

“Now I know why you chose me instead of Merle at the cave! You’re an adoring fan of Sizzle it Up!” Taako teased, and the Umbra Staff bonked him on the head. “Okay, fine, maybe not. Gods know that’s not the only thing I’ve got going for me over Merle.”

He glanced around the room, rubbing his chin. “I was going to say you could turn that flame on and off real fast, send me a message in Fantasy Morse Code, but then I remembered I don’t actually know Fantasy Morse that well. Maybe you could, like, burn something into the wall —”

The flame atop the Umbra Staff intensified, excited.

“But I guess we’d run out of space real fast — never mind explaining it to Lucretia, yikes! We’d be toast… just like the walls.”

The flame died down, replaced with a disembodied, glowing red Mage Hand. With an upturned palm, it made a motion that Taako guessed was meant to convey a shrug and a then what?

“Oh, you didn’t tell me you could do Mage Hand from in there too! I can work with that!”

He made a beeline for the dorm kitchen, ripping open a fresh bag of flour and dumping it directly onto the counter. “I really don’t wanna leave written evidence, so you write stuff in this, and I’ll erase it when you’re done. Sound good?”

Lup squeezed his shoulder, then traced four words in the flour.

I’ve never hated you

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Taako muttered, pretending he couldn’t feel his whole chest seizing up. With a bare hand, he wiped the flour flat, and only sent a little flying onto the floor accidentally. “I… I wanna let you out. Because this is a really inconvenient way to talk, but — but also ‘cause I know you didn’t mean to get trapped in there, and living inside your arcane focus sounds like it’s the pits. Is there a way I can free you?”

yes but not right now

“Why not?”

no liches on the moon

“Oh, have they got wards to block you off or something? I guess we wouldn’t be able to talk at all if I freed you, and that… that wouldn’t be great.”

I’d miss you :(

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Taako replied, and he said it before he meant it. The figure of speech slipped out right away, ingrained after years of overwhelmingly insincere conversations, but his emotions caught up to him more slowly — starting with the loneliness and the longing, before they ate away at him and left an emptiness behind, a dread of never being whole again and a temptation to tear the whole world apart, because what would he have left to lose?

It ended with a throbbing skull, with static clouding the peripheries of his vision, with a mind that couldn’t fathom why missing someone would hit so close to a home that should have never existed. The last year notwithstanding, he couldn’t remember a time where he’d be caught dead missing someone’s company… but now all he could think, all he could feel, was I’m not losing you again.

“There’s gotta be a workaround — right, Lup?” he managed. “Like, is there a way I could take the wards down?”

maybe, but

Lucretia would notice

“I’m gonna go out on a limb, and assume… she wouldn’t be too thrilled to know you’re here.”

Lup took longer to reply than usual, erasing the first few letters of her response to start over several times.

it’s so complicated

don’t think I can explain

“Right. Of course. ‘Cause of the Voidfish.” Taako rubbed his cheek, expecting to wipe away stray splotches of flour — but instead, he felt his fingers grow damp with tears that he knew weren’t just from the pain of his headache.

“I — I don’t know what to do, Lup. I want to help you, but Kravitz is probably in danger because of me so I have to make sure he’s okay, and I know he won’t like me helping you — then there’s Angus and Magnus and Merle, too, I have no clue if any of them are in as much trouble as us. And I just… I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this. That the worst of all the bombshells still hasn’t dropped, and I’m about to lose all you while I still don’t know who I am, or who I can trust besides —”

The fingers of Lup’s Mage Hand interlocked with his, and it was a strange sensation — fuzzy and only about half-tangible, as simple magic constructs were expected to be, but warm like a living hand despite the lack of flesh and blood. Taako couldn’t say how long he was silent, just focusing on just that warmth and the inexplicable nostalgia that accompanied it, before he finally asked: “What do you think I should do?”

Lup withdrew her hand slowly, but didn’t hesitate nor erase as she traced four new words:

find Barry

trust Barry

“…I’m glad I’ve got you, Lup, ‘cause I never woulda come up with that on my own,” Taako muttered, chuckling in spite of himself. He didn’t doubt for a second that Lup’s advice was worth following, but he had to admit it was ridiculous how every time a problem came up in his life, someone insisted it could be solved by tracking down a denim-clad lich. “Do you know any of his favorite hangouts, or —”

As Lup’s Mage Hand zipped back into the Umbra Staff, Taako didn’t quite notice the scythe rending space behind him, but he whirled around at the sound of feet hitting the ground and an incredulous voice speaking up.

“Uh, Taako?”

Kravitz carried himself with considerably less poise than usual, wearing a tattered suit that had presumably once seen better days, but he appeared otherwise unscathed, and Taako’s heart jumped for joy.

“I — I — I’m sorry?” Kravitz’s words sounded less like an apology, and more like a sincere question of whether or not he should be sorry for intruding. “I should’ve just portalled to the hallway and knocked. I didn’t mean to walk in on — on whatever this is —”

Before he could stammer another adorably confused word, Taako rushed in for a hug — never mind how crazy he knew he looked, covered in flour and inexplicably teary-eyed over an umbrella.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe — I was so worried about you. I thought for sure you were in trouble and it was all my fault — it was all because —”

Kravitz slipped a cool, but unusually not cold hand under Taako’s hat, mussing up his hair to match the rest of his appearance. “I won’t lie, Taako — there were moments today where I was worried for me. But it turned out to all be a misunderstanding, which is always a pleasant surprise in my line of work — and even better, if you can believe it, one of my new friends knows what’s up with those deaths you can’t remember!”

Kravitz was beaming, but Taako’s blood ran cold like he was the dead man walking. Just when he’d been so sure, so relieved, that he hadn’t dragged Kravitz into the Voidfish conspiracy after all, it turned out that Kravitz had sleuthed his way right to its very center.

No wonder he gets along so well with Angus, Taako thought wryly. Two constantly endangered nerds of a feather.

“This friend can explain it much better than I can, so we’ll visit him by portal — but Magnus and Merle need to hear the truth, too,” Kravitz went on, still seeing no reason not to be enthusiastic. “Are they available?”

“Oh, those clowns? They’re off playing kickball with Angus or something — should be back soon.” Taako knew how Kravitz thought, and knew that Kravitz believed he was doing the right thing by digging up these secrets. He was fulfilling an oath to his goddess and helping Taako get some closure, which should have been great news as far as Kravitz knew — but now he was on the moon, speaking openly about truths a Voidfish had suppressed…

And Taako was conspiring with a lich, soon to be two liches, behind Kravitz’s back. He wasn’t expecting to like the truth behind his eight deaths, if he could even wrap his mind around it — and he had a feeling that when it came time to be judged by the Raven Queen, Kravitz would like the truth and its consequences even less, regardless of whether Taako could think clearly enough to defend himself.

So he withdrew from the hug, wiping the flour — and the incriminating mention of Barry — off the counter with a swoop of his hand. “Oh, drat! Did not mean to do that, ‘cause now I’ll have to mop the whole floor —”

“Okay, Taako. What’s wrong?” Kravitz asked firmly — and Taako didn’t know why he’d thought he’d be able to stall for time, given how Kravitz knew him pretty well, too. “You’re not in trouble with the Queen — I mean, we’ll probably have to invent and then fill out an entirely new form of paperwork about you and your pals, but I told her everything and she’s not mad, I can say that much. Same goes for Magnus, Merle, and — uh, forgive me, just Magnus and Merle. It’s been a long day.”

“Okay, that’s the second piece of good bird news you’ve dropped on me in like twenty-four hours, and I appreciate that,” Taako sighed. “But — okay, listen. We’ve got to be quiet about this, for both of our safety, but I think — I know I’m dealing with more than just memory loss here. I’ll try jumping through your portal and talking to your friend, but I really don’t think I’ll be able to understand —”

“Oh!” Kravitz gasped. “I think I know what you’re talking about — I ran into it with Angus earlier, and we should definitely have a way around it.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “My, uh, my new friend didn’t know if you could understand that there was a second Voidfish — but you heard that, right? It wasn’t garbled?”

Taako nodded frantically. “Yeah, and we’ve gotta get off the moon. If Lucretia finds out we know, I — I’ve got no idea how far she’ll go to keep this under wraps, and that’s the worst part. She’s already suspicious of me, and I —”

He felt a tug from his umbrella, and he cast Message as quickly and subtly as he could, hoping the Umbra Staff’s propensity to absorb magic like a sinkhole would somehow pull his unspoken words to Lup.

I’m not going to tell him about you. Not until I get more information.

Her reply must’ve hardly escaped from the umbrella, being little more than a distorted whisper — Be careful. Love you — but Taako’s legs almost gave out beneath him when he heard her voice, and Kravitz winced.

“We’ve really got to get you out of here, don’t we?” he murmured, taking Taako’s hand — and Kravitz’s skin was definitely warmer than usual, because of course this frankly adorable development would happen when Taako had a million other things on his mind. “You said the other boys will be back soon?”

“I hope.” Taako led the way into the living room, giving a wide berth to the remains of the coffee table. “I sent Angus to go find —”

On cue, the rattle of a doorknob and the sound of Angus’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Sir? We’re back! Could you unlock the door?”

The next sound was the telltale thump of a small child being affectionately shoved aside, followed by Magnus exclaiming: “Hey, I’ve got thieves’ tools now! Gimme a shot at picking it!”

Kravitz pursed his lips. “Don’t Magnus and Merle have their own keys?” he muttered under his breath.

“Of course they do,” Taako sighed, and the door swung open with a snap of his fingers and a Knock spell.

“Magnus, look!” Merle cheered. “You did it!”

While Magnus and Merle high-fived, Angus’s eyes lit up at the sight of Kravitz half-alive and well.

“You’re okay! I’m sorry I didn’t end up finding Noelle, but Taako said he was worried about you, so I started worrying too — did you have a nasty fight with a necromancer or something?”

“…Yes and no,” Kravitz responded after a moment of hesitation, “but I can explain that whole incident later. Right now, I need you all to come with me to —”

“A cool skeleton rave!” Taako butted in. “And… there’s also supposed to be skeleton dogs there! So you guys will definitely wanna get in on it!”

“Yes, exactly!” Kravitz corroborated without missing a beat. “It’s one of those, you know, very rare skeleton raves that receives the Raven Queen’s approval. Once in a century opportunity, so you won’t want to miss it!”

Magnus rubbed his chin. “I dunno about this. How do you pet a skeleton dog?”

“Only one way to find out!” Taako told him, then breathed a sigh of relief when it got an approving nod from Magnus.

“Fair enough! I’m sold!”

Angus narrowed his eyes, so Taako grinned and winked, hoping it came across as equal parts conspiratorial and don’t you dare blow this for me. It must’ve worked, because after a few seconds of surely intense mental calculations, Angus plastered on a convincing innocent smile and gave Taako a thumbs-up.

“Thanks for inviting me on this fun diversion, sir! I’m sure you could’ve come up with a more convincing lie if it was a trap or a prank, so I’m all in!”

Smiling awkwardly, Kravitz turned to the the lie’s final mark. “Merle, my bud, how about you?”

“Are we buds now?” Merle grinned. “You know what, sure! Anything for my bud!”

“Then away we go!” Kravitz tore open a rift and immediately stepped through, beckoning for the others to follow with the single arm that remained on their side of the portal. Magnus leapt through almost immediately, Merle hot on his heels, while Angus approached the rift more skeptically.

“Well, sir,” he announced softly once Magnus and Merle disappeared, “you and Kravitz owe me an explanation… but I trust the both of you.” He took Taako’s hand, and the two of them stepped through the portal together, emerging in a cold, dimly lit cave.

And Taako thought he’d been “moving fast” through a lot of things, lately — through worldview-shattering realizations, into a romantic relationship, into unofficially and semi-accidentally adopting a boy detective — but nothing could’ve prepared him for how fast everything moved in the next minute.

Kravitz faced Noelle and a now-familiar disembodied robe, very obviously struggling to suppress a mood-inappropriate laugh. “Can you believe I was planning to lie to Magnus about skeleton dogs, but then Taako interrupted and independently came up with the same fib?”

“That’s love, baby!” Taako exclaimed, in the moment before the absurdity of the situation dawned on him. “Wait. Why’s Barold here?”

As the rift fizzled and disappeared, Magnus drew Railsplitter, only to whirl around on himself with no idea who to aim at or threaten. “Hey, did we just get kidnapped? ‘Cause I’ve gotta say, this is the last combination of people in the world I expected to team up and kidnap us.”

“It’s not a kidnapping,” Kravitz began, “it’s just —”

“Did you kidnap a child, Kravitz?” Barry interrupted, gesturing at Angus. “When was that ever a part of the plan?! We didn’t need to involve —”

“With all due respect, Mister Bluejeans,” Angus butted in, “Kravitz didn’t technically kidnap me! I knew perfectly well that he was bullshitting, but I decided to come along with him anyway, out of my own free will!” He turned to face Kravitz, adjusting his glasses. “That said, he did deceive and therefore truly kidnap Magnus, Merle, and maybe even Taako by the sound of things — so if he could go ahead and explain his presumably very good reason for doing so, that would be just dandy!”

Barry sighed. “Real smartass kid you’ve dragged into the fate of the universe, huh, boys?”

“He was already involved enough in things that he deserves to know. We’re bringing him up to speed too,” Kravitz declared, and Barry shrugged.

“Alright, sure — but why the hell was there a child on the moon in the first place?!”

“He’s the world’s greatest detective,” Noelle spoke up, and Angus beamed. “I told you about him, remember? He’s the one who figured out that you were amnesiac when you were alive —”

“Oh, I do remember that, though I don’t remember you mentioning his age — so I guess it’s my bad, then, for assuming a secret lunar society would give a flying fuck about child labor laws!”

Kravitz ignored them both. “Merle, Magnus — I’m so sorry for the deception, and Taako, I’m sorry for not saying that Barry was my new contact. I didn’t want anyone eavesdropping on us on the moonbase, and I swear, I will explain myself as soon as I physically can —”

“Hey, hey, it’s cool!” Taako’s words were intended not just for Kravitz, but for Lup within the Umbra Staff, which had started trembling at the sound of Barry’s voice. “I would love an explanation, but I needed Barold’s help anyway, sooo… doesn’t this work out pretty great?”

“Needing Barry’s help is a new one, sir,” Angus commented, but no one in the room looked more incredulous than Kravitz and Barry themselves, who both froze in place.

“Um, that’s — that’s news to me too?” Barry stammered. “But if — if you don’t need any convincing, then…”

He floated a little taller, robe a little less ragged, voice a little more hopeful. “Let’s get you inoculated, bud.”

A glass vial appeared in Taako’s hand, and he sipped the dark liquid inside without a second thought, even though he gagged while passing the vial on to an apprehensive Magnus. No memories rushed back to him like he’d braced himself for, but he thought he felt the nature of his headache change — less like the roar of static, and more like the pressure on a dam about to burst.

“You should really sit down for this,” Barry told him, resting a cold hand on Taako’s shoulder. “Take it as slow as possible. You obviously figured out a lot, more than I thought you would, but you still won’t be ready for —”

“Relax, it hasn’t even hit me yet!” Taako interrupted. “So in the meantime, I can catch you up on this whole funny story about… my… umbrella…”

The metaphorical floodgates shattered, and the deluge of memories swept him off his feet.

Growing up bouncing between relative to relative, growing skilled as chefs and wizards on the road. The IPRE entrance exams, the best day ever, the Hanging Arcaneum, “back soon” —

His head burned as the static was expunged from his mind, displaced by visions of days and months and cycles that just kept hitting him. He was dimly aware of someone, two someones, clutching his arms and lowering him to his knees on the cool cave floor —

“Stay with us, Taako!” Kravitz pleaded, holding Taako’s left hand. “Listen to Barry —”

“I’ll walk you through everything,” Barry — the animal kingdom, learning to swim, “what if she’s just gone?” — promised from his right, clinging to the same arm with which Taako held the Umbra Staff. “Just don’t think ahead. I’ve been through this before, and I can get you through it now, as long as —”

“B-but — but Lup!” Taako cried. “How could I forget —”

“I know, bud,” Barry whispered. “I forgot too. I understand —”

“You fucking don’t understand!” Tears fell from his eyes, but his mouth twisted into a cautious, still half-disbelieving smile. “Barry, she’s right here!”

“What?!” The cave was plunged into red and black, blinding lights and impenetrable shadows, as the lich at its center seemed to fall apart and come together all at once. “WHERE?!”

Taako closed his eyes, and with a strength he didn’t know he had, snapped the Umbra Staff over his knee.

#taz #taz balance #taakitz #kravitz taz #taako taaco #barry bluejeans #lup taaco #angus mcdonald #taz balance spoilers #fic: ftrala #rosalia writes fic

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littlesliceofmarvel · 5 years ago

Text

manipulating a god | chpt. eight

Synopsis: Trying to break the information out of Loki during the attack of 2012 wasn’t exactly the easiest task, but it was a challenge you were willing to take head on. So, what happened when a master manipulator tried to get information from the God of Mischief?

Series warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, blood, gore

Pairings: Stark!Reader x Loki

A/N: hope you enjoy this next chapter :) it’s picking up, at last! (gif not mine)

Bruce looked down to his right hand, eyes narrowing once he noticed that he was indeed carrying the weapon. He looked back up to face the group, eyes wide and confused. You had to admit, he didn’t even seem like he remembered grabbing it.

You nearly jumped out of your bones when a loud beeping sounded from one of the computers — it signalled that the location of the Tesseract had been found.

“Oh, goodie,” you sighed sarcastically, crossing your arms and squinting to see the screen. The tension in the room was palpable and you hated it.

No one dared to speak as Bruce placed the sceptre down, “Sorry kids, you don’t get to see my party trick after all.” He walked over to the beeping computer, tense and angry. You nerves were on edge.

“You located the Tesseract?” Thor asked, his loud voice startling you. It was rather loud in the quiet room, you thought.

“I could get there fastest,” Tony raised his hand before crossing his arms. You turned over to him, nodding your head, before turning back to face Bruce.

Thor spoke up again, “The Tesseract belongs on Asgard. No human is a match for it.” He looked over to Fury, hoping the director would understand.

“We should send you to get it then,” you said, nudging your head in Thor’s direction, “I don’t want to go near that thing.”

Tony began to walk towards the doorway, mumbling something about ‘I’ll do it myself’ — until, however, he was cut off by Steve grabbing his arm.

“You’re not going alone,” Steve said, glaring at Tony.

“You’re gonna stop me?” your brother pressed, stepping closer to Steve. Both of them seemed to radiate anger and you stepped back to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

“Put on the suit, let’s find out,” Steve’s eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes thin.

“I’m not afraid to hit an old man,” Tony rebutted through gritted teeth. He seemed calmer than Steve, but you knew your brother well enough to tell he was running on a short fuse.

“Chill, divas,” you put an arm between them, “We need to work together.”

Steve ignored you, pushing your arm out of the way and stepping even closer, “Put on the suit.”

You sighed, throwing your arms in the air. There was nothing you could do to to pry these two apart. You supposed that’s what happens when you put two hotheads together, though.

“Oh, my God,” Bruce’s voice caught your attention. You looked over, stepping closer to see if you could see anything.

“What—,”

You were knocked backwards, flying through the air and crashing into a wall. An explosion had been set off, fire coming up through the grates in the floor. The entire helicarrier shook and the sound was deafening.

Shit.

You groaned, trying your best to lift your head. You placed your hand to your forehead, a small trickle of blood making its way down your face.

Your mind was fuzzy and your body felt numb as you pushed yourself up. The rest of the group was scattered — but Bruce and Natasha were gone. You looked down, spotting a massive hole in the floor, and figured they probably fell down there.

You heard Steve’s voice through the smoke, “Put on the suit.”

Tony agreed, and you could hear the two of them rushing out of the room. Before he could exit, however, Tony stopped in front of you and helped you up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes wide.

You nodded slowly, “Yeah. Just go. I gotta go check on Loki.”

He stood up and ran, Steve by his side, and disappeared down the smoky corridor. You placed a hand to your ear, turning on your Bluetooth earpiece and checked once more to make sure everyone in the room was stable before darting down the same way Tony and Steve had just went.

Loki was on your mind; this had to be his doing. You weren’t sure how anyone had found him, but that was the only explanation you could think of.

“All hands to stations,” you heard through the PA, not slowing down as you continued running. Your ears were ringing and your hands felt tingly, but you didn’t stop. You aimed to stop this before it escalated.

You were slowly starting to regret signing up for this.

You arrived at Loki’s cell, flashing your ID badge and making sure the door shut behind you as you walked in. You were well aware you looked dirty and panicked, but Loki looked relatively calm and collected.

A small smirk graced his lips, “Ah. Welcome back, Y/N.”

“Cut the bullshit,” you snapped, causing his smirk to grow, “What the hell happened out there?”

You could hear Fury and Romanoff talking through your earpiece, but you ignored it best you could as you stormed straight up to the glass cell.

“Lovely to see you too,” he replied cooly, eyes darting back and forth between you and the door behind you. You stepped away from it; there had to be a reason he kept looking at it and you did not want to be in the way if anything happened.

“Loki, this isn’t a game,” you crossed your arms, watching in anticipation as he walked over to you slowly.

“I suggest you get off of this ship if you want to stay away from harm,” he shrugged, placing his fist against the glass and looking down at you. Even under his piercing, angry gaze, you couldn’t help the fact that your knees bucked.

As if on cue, the door behind you opened and a group of men dressed in all black tactical suits barged in. You didn’t recognize any of them, but it was easy to decipher they weren’t working for Shield.

“Get the girl,” one of them shouted, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

“Don’t harm her,” Loki told him as the man grabbed you by the waist, pressing the cool barrel of the gun against your temple. Your hands began to shake and fear flooded you — with everyone busy fixing the engine, how were you supposed to get out of this?

Before anyone could respond, you heard a roar-like yell echo through the vents.

Your breathing was heavy and your mind was scattered, but you knew exactly what that was. And based on Loki’s smirk, he knew what it was too. Bruce had become the Hulk.

“I have to—,” you began to speak, mind racing, but were shortly cut off by the man gripping you even tighter. You winced, your ribs already feeling sore from being blasted backwards after the explosion.

“What’s the code?” one of the men asked, looking over at you, “The code to open the cell.”

You swallowed thickly, wishing more than anything that someone would come in to save you. Being responsible for giving Loki’s men the code to help him escape was not something you wanted on your conscious.

“1234,” you replied grimly, mustering the most deadly glare you could. The men all chuckled at the ridiculous password before the one at the control panel pressed away at the keypad.

You watched with bated breath as the cell opened up, Loki’s smirk never faltering as he stepped out.

Great, you thought, another fucking problem.

Loki slowly walked over to you, his eyes glistening. He seemed way too pleased about al of this — but then again, this had been his plan all along. Of course he was pleased.

“How can I ever repay you?” he asked surprisingly softly, placing his hand on your forehead. His fingers were cold — it was soothing against the burning wound there.

“Get off our planet,” you growled, trying to wiggle away from the man still holding you, “It would be a lovely way to repay me.”

He chuckled, his gaze turning harsh as he looked at the man holding you, “Let go of her, you mortal.”

You sighed in relief as the man let go of you before turning back to Loki, “Seems you’re also a hypocrite. What was all that shit about you won’t be spared, huh?”

He grabbed you by the forearm, bringing you close to him so he was practically flushed against you, “Seems I’ve had a change of heart. Now, you’re coming with me.”

“Oh, no I’m not,” you scoffed, trying your best to dig your feet into the ground as he began to pull you alongside him. His men had picked up on the fact that he wanted to leave; they had all exited the room.

“Yes, you are,” he turned around, a sinister smile on his face. It made your blood run cold. How could someone be so terrifying, yet so stupidly attractive? It didn’t make sense.

As he began to drag you, the entire ship seemed to topple over as another engine seemed to fail. You lost your balance, Loki tightening his grip on you to help keep you up. You could hear Tony and Steve bantering through your earpiece as they tried to fix the engines.

You stabilized yourself and peered behind Loki, stopping dead in your tracks as you looked at the cell. There was another Loki in it, watching as the cell door slowly opened in front of him.

“What the hell—,”

Thor suddenly charged through the door of the room, trying to keep his brother trapped in, only to fall right through the illusion of him and have the cell shut and trap him in.

“Thor!” you pulled away from Loki, who was pressing the button, and rushed over to the cell, slamming your fist against the glass, “Loki, you slithering bastard, let him out.”

Thor looked up, his face falling as he spotted the real Loki.

“Are you ever not going to fall for that?” Loki smirked, placing his arms behind his back and walking over to you, grabbing your wrist once more.

“Let go of me!” you pulled against him to no avail. Your fighting only seemed to cause Loki’s smirk to grow.

Oh, how you couldn’t wait for the day you’d get to stab him in his perfect cheekbones.

You looked over to Thor, who’s eyes were wide and watching Loki drag you back to the control panel. You looked at Thor in panic, your breathing ragged.

Thor, running low on options, lifted his hammer, smashing it against the glass. It didn’t break, but the crack it left was enough to set the suspensions off.

“Don’t touch the glass!” you cried, “It’ll only drop you!”

Loki let go of you, his mouth curving up into a grin. The door behind you opened and one of his men walked back into the room, a large gun strapped to his chest.

Somehow, you feared him more than you feared Loki.

“The humans think us immortal,” Loki spoke to Thor, eyeing the control panel with delighted interest, “Shall we test that?”

Your heart felt as if it had stopped as Loki approached the button.

“No!”

“Oh—,”

Your eyes snapped to where Loki’s defense man fell to the ground, out cold. Phil Coulson stood above him, an even larger gun in his hand, rather proud of himself for taking the guy out.

“Oh, shit,” you scurried out of the way, trying your best to avoid being caught in the aim. You recognized the weapon as one of the ones Fury had designed — but you had no idea what it was capable of.

“Move away, please,” Phil’s voice was firm, steady, as he approached Loki, who was slowly stepping away from the control panel with his hands up.

The tension was high. You were pressed up against a wall, Thor was trapped in a cage, and Phil was slowly cornering Loki.

“You like this?” Phil asked, lifting the gun slightly, “We started working on the prototype after you sent the Destroyer. Even I don’t know what it does.”

Loki’s surrender seemed too easy — and you knew you were right as soon as another Loki appeared behind Phil, his sceptre inches away from stabbing him through the chest.

Without thinking, you rushed towards him, knocking Phil out of the way and bringing Loki down to the ground with a loud echoing thud.

Instinct wasn’t always the right choice, and you knew that was right when Loki spun you around, pushing you to the ground.

“How dare you—,”

“You were about to fucking kill him,” you shouted, lifting your knee and kicking him between the legs. Loki groaned, kneeling over.

“Phil, get out!” you shouted, waving your hand like a maniac as you noticed Phil was still standing there, his gun aimed at Loki.

Phil seemed to sense your tone, gripping the large weapon even tighter as he sighed and began to exit the room. You wished he had left the gun behind — it would have come in useful — but you were glad he was out of harm’s way for the moment.

Loki forced you to the ground once more and stepped over you, approaching the control panel and pressing the large button before anyone else could interrupt him.

“No!”

You watched in horror as the helicarrier opened up below, and Thor — stuck inside the cage — fell from the sky.

taglist

(message me or comment if you want to be added/removed. if you are in bold it is because i am unable to tag you.)

@dapperappleton @what-a-fantasy @the-girl-of-many-fandoms1414 @brighteyedmichelle @leasly @cassiopeia-barrow @jay-the-mothafuckin-gay @themusingsofmany @bambamwolf87 @thefandomzoneisdangerous @cyberskeletonhandsbat @ultracarpediemfan @vgirl-10123 @bangvateez @leximills666 @littleredstarfish @blue-spider-official @benji-booxx @georgeousgodzilla @hello-lemons @yandereforyou @godhateskyleigh @cutie1365 @mochminnie @sleighmylife @boom-bunny @crazymclazy @xvixie13x @kingtwhiddleston @keijibum

#loki #loki imagine #loki imagines #loki fanfic #loki fanfics #loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki one shot #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #loki series #manipulating a god

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ryttu3k · 4 years ago

Note

could you post the ending where you side with the SI and Julian gets pissed off by your decision? I also noticed that Julian never really introduces himself to anyone or says a simple goodbye to the courier, like, ever. I mean even after ten years or so he just resumes the conversation as if nothing happened. Not even the courier calls him out on this. I wonder why that is lol

Heh, regarding Julian’s conversational patterns, there’s a really interesting post here on friendship degradation mechanisms with ADHD! And Julian absolutely has ADHD.

And for the SI ending, ooh, I haven't got that one written down. I do want it handy for reference, so time for a speedrun with my SI-affiliated Toreador! Here's all the dialogue from the SI attack onwards.

Before you can speak, Lettow jumps up.

"What?" Julian says.

Your phone chimes. You run, throwing yourself out the door just as the missile hits.

Fragments of stone and metal fly over your head. You get clear, reaching your Escalade, and look back at the blown-apart warehouse.

Flames are everywhere. Your Beast screams in wild terror and only the greatest exercise of Willpower keeps you under control, but your body shakes uncontrollably. You have only one clear thought—run! Still, you grit your teeth and force yourself to look around.

Only the vampires survived the blast, and they look badly hurt. Prince Lettow took a direct hit; his clothes hang in tatters, like a shroud, and his skin is blackened. Julian and his helmeted assistant, Z, are burned and stunned. Julian's servants are gone.

Hunters are inbound. You see Bearcats and Humvees, police cruisers and Buick Avenirs. The floodlights turn on, illuminating the burning warehouse and hiding almost a hundred hunters in the glare as they advance.

A bullet zips past your head as a hunter in militia gear opens fire. An FBI agent waves for him to stop—it looks like there are orders for you not to be harmed—but that's hardly a perfect defense. You duck behind the Sprinter van. It might be time to get out of here.

There's just one problem: Julian is standing between you and your Escalade, a karambit in both hands. He spins the little blades.

"You did this," he says. "You betrayed us all."

[The sight of so much fire means that you are now in a fear frenzy and cannot think clearly unless you focus your Willpower or escape.]

> "I tried to warn you! I told you we were monsters, and I told you I would stop you."

Another explosion obliterates the computer shop. Bricks and pieces of rebar rain down.

Julian screams and rushes you, quick as the wind. Then he breaks away before he gets into karambit range. Even as he moves, his silhouette breaks up, becoming a pixelated gray blur as he fades from sight and circles you, looking for a chance to strike.

> I need to talk him down. "You can still escape, Julian. Don't let them kill you here." [CHA/MAN+Persuasion]

"How could you do this?" Julian cries.

"To save people!" you say. "And I'm trying to save you. Run, before it's too late!"

He looks at the raging inferno all around him, the ruins of his project, then back at you. Then he fades away.

That's the last time you see him.

More gunfire arcs around you and hammers the Sprinter van. You duck, then get into your Escalade and get away from the burning warehouse.

So I thought that was it, but hey! Apparently Lettow wanted his say, too!

You slide into heavy traffic, scanning the late-night vehicles for signs of pursuit. No hunters, no cops. Good. You have a moment to think as you scan the streets.

Front, back, left, right. Nothing. If you breathed, you'd be breathing a little easier. You're just turning your thoughts to the next step of this desperate plan when a shadow passes over you.

You look up. Riga.

Then you crane your head out of your window.

Something like Riga, but with a wingspan like a light aircraft.

Lettow is following you, and it looks like he cares more about revenge for your "betrayal" than about preserving the Masquerade.

And here come the hunters: Buick SUVs close in on your location. Others are on a nearby bridge. They're tracking Lettow, trying to get close enough to open fire with rifles or even heavier munitions. You're not sure Donati cares about collateral damage anymore. The SI will blow holes in Tucson to take down its Prince.

This is it, you realize. The Eagle Prince plans to destroy you here and now. But with so many hunters around him, he'll only have one shot at you. If you can buy yourself a few seconds and slip out of his sight, he won't be able to try again.

But how?

> My supernaturally keen eyes will let me spot alleys, vacant lots, and other places where I can hide my SUV from Lettow. [Auspex]

You drive slowly, looking for little-used routes that Lettow won't be able to track from above.

Tucson is a low, flat city, but finally you spot a messy construction site next to a parking garage.

You turn hard, cutting off oncoming traffic and racing into the construction site as Lettow dives for you.

But just as you planned, he has to back off. Tarps cover most of the site, and he'd get tangled if he dove. You keep moving, weaving through narrow alleys, then blowing through a Chevron station—the covering over the pumps prevents Lettow from reaching you easily.

Then you reverse right into an unfinished apartment complex that you saw last week, going straight through the building itself.

And he's lost you.

You roll out with your lights off and look up. Lettow is on a nearby building, scanning the darkness with his golden eyes.

That's when the SI lights him up. Heedless that they're operating in the middle of Tucson, dozens of agents and soldiers open fire with rifles and truck-mounted weapons.

Lettow lurches in midair. But he's still an elder vampire. The huge eagle dives, scythes through a truck full of agents, killing five in a single pass, and then rises into the air, higher, higher, until he and Riga disappear into the clouds.

The last you see of Prince Lettow, he's flying east, away from Tucson, out of his fallen domain.

You disappear into traffic, getting away from the SI as quickly as you can.

An inescapable element of existing as a vampire is ignorance. The Masquerade is a shadow that swallows clarity and understanding. People suspect and imply, but they rarely know for certain.

Your final nights in Tucson are frightening but uninteresting. You check the news, divest from your real estate holdings, and listen to word on the street.

Over the next few nights, during which time the news reports a few strange acts of violence, a terrorist attack, and a zoo escape, you learn that Prince Lettow was almost certainly destroyed. Dove perished in a midday raid on her haven, and nothing remains of the Viper but a gutted heap.

The city's Kindred are scattered and leaderless, easy pickings for hunters that are now free to operate during the day, dragging vampires out of their havens and destroying them.

Despite the chaos in the shadow-world you inhabit, Tucson looks the same. The city's downtown is not ablaze, the national guard hasn't been mobilized. It's just another shadow-war for vampires to fight.

And it's time to leave.

Your plans to escape Tucson run into surprisingly little red tape as you sell your bungalow and liquidate your other assets.

You got what you could out of your deal with the SI, but now it's time to go.

Go where? Tucson never felt like home, but it was, at least, a base of operations. You can't just stick to the road forever; the highways are too dangerous right now, with the SI active and your bridges with the Camarilla burned. You see a few possible futures.

From what you hear, Seattle is a key city for the Camarilla's blood trade. You could head up north and, if you have enough venture capital, try to strike it rich, really establish yourself.

But maybe money isn't everything. Could you work with hunters to stop more Cainite depredations? From what you hear, Dallas/Fort Worth is now completely out of control, with open fighting in the streets among different vampire factions. If the SI trusts you enough, you could return there and try to protect humanity from the predators in their midst.

But you still feel the alien vitae inside of you: the 2100 Formula. You've heard that a scholar of the Blood dwells in Denver, someone who could answer a lot of your questions. With the briefcase full of Julian's Program research, you should be able to make inroads there. The only difficulty will be finding this scholar, and avoiding the hunters who suspect what kind of power you carry in your Blood. If you head for Denver, you'll have to hope that you've left the Masquerade intact enough here that you can reach Colorado without an army of hunters following you.

Finally…maybe you could just try to live a life. You're dead, of course, but you could try existing as a person, if only for a few years. You've heard that San Francisco is a good place for that sort of thing ever since the old Prince left for LA. Maybe you could cultivate your Humanity and try to live, instead of simply exist.

> I drive east to Dallas/Fort Worth. I'll use my Inquisition contacts to fight the vampires there. [Second Inquisition Hostility]

One month later...

Dallas is burning.

Not literally, not really. From your vantage atop this parking garage, you can't see any fires. But you know that the Inquisition has torn through the city, scattered its warring factions, dragged predators screaming into sunlight every day for the past two weeks. You know all this because you've commanded them from the shadows.

You finish your work tonight.

"We're the masters of this city," one of D'Espine's beautiful ghouls says through bloody teeth. "Even if you kill me, we'll always be here. Feeding and taking and ruling from the shadows. We are immortal! We—"

The other hunters have heard enough. They toss him off the roof and head to their van.

You get back in your SUV because your final target is on the move. D'Espine—the last Cainite of any real power in Dallas—has left the Cinderblock.

This is how you've succeeded in Dallas: not just through your network of hunters, but because you know how to move through a city. As the Cainites have crawled into their holes, believing themselves safe, you've never stopped moving, never stopped striking. And now you're almost done.

You roll out of the parking garage and point your Escalade at the Cinderblock. By tomorrow night you'll be done here, and you'll hit the road.

RIP Lettow and Dove. Julian did get out, though!

#vampire the masquerade #vtm night road #vtmnr spoilers #baron of 2100

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