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hawks-soup · 4 years ago

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A Day with your Friends

A/N: Baby’s first smuttle (and fic) please be gentle. Also this is based off @libiraki boys! She is a writing inspiration to me.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Degradation, Humiliation, Misogyny, Dubcon/Noncon.

Pairings: Hawks / Shigaraki / Dabi x Reader

You should have known, really, you should have.. but it never failed to surprise you on how purely disgusting and sick-minded the people you hung around could be. Sure they were villains, murdered people, did petty small and large crimes, everything bad in the sense.. But you’d think being a part of their little gang would give you some relief from their behavior. Treat you with a bit of respect since you were team members ya know? “Pft Awee, c’mon doll we were just joking, don’t get your panties in a fucking twist!” Dabi rasped from across the room, snickers of delight joining his.

How wrong you were, but again, you knew and was used to it by now.

_______________

“It was just a little pinch doll.. Didn’t mean nothing by it, just having a bit of fun is all. Right Shiggy? Bird boy?” Dabi purred out to you, Hawks comments of agreement following suit and a grunt from the leader himself.

“Oh I’m sure she liked it.. Just too flustered to admit it. Wouldn’t wear such revealing clothes around us if she didn’t want us to touch her.” Came Shigaraki’s low tone, nursing the drink he was given by his two male partners, who’d already finished off theirs.

Now Dabi and Shigaraki were one thing to deal with together. If anything Shiggy dear would roll his eyes and just ignore his burnt partners jabs at teasing you, never caring to give him the satisfaction of knowing they were on good enough terms to help torment you.. But with Hawks joining the team and hanging around the two, it’s like Shiggy was opened to the idea that messing with you was actually pretty fucking fun with the two playing with you.

So now, he joined in the fun of making nasty remarks and grabbing at you like they did. Pulling at your shirt, tugging your skirt up, pinching any exposed skin.. Really, you wish he’d turn back into the hermit that stared at you every once in a while he once was and leave Dabi to being the only one that preyed on you, cause at least by himself he got bored. Now there were 3 of them on your heels. And whenever you’d complain to Kurogiri - hell even AFO whenever you got the chance - they gave the simple answer of ‘boys will be boys, little one.’ They are dealing with that time in their life ‘no they weren’t, they weren’t fucking teenagers popping boners whenever a girl breathed their way’, and they aren’t doing much harm are they? It’s typical for a guy to pick on the girl he’s attracted to, let them be and just try to deal with it.

“Come on baby bird.. We didn’t mean anything by it, come back to us.. I’ll let you sit on my lap and we can have an exclusive fan meet right here~.” The perverted bird brained male purred. You could hear a whistle after it, and assumed Dabi. Hawks.. Was interesting. Sometimes he came off as that billboard hero and would show some compassion, but flushed it right down the toilet when he got too comfortable. Who would have known he was a gross pervert along with the rest? Making sexual comments and too comfortably rubbing at an exposed skin you could offer. And with the way Dabi egged him on, he started to cross boundaries like smacking at your ass, and on the worst of days, using his feather to pull down your skirt whenever given the chance. You could have sworn you heard a camera shutter, but the bastard was quick enough to put away his phone before you could press him on it. But still, you couldn’t help but keep your rose-colored glasses on to the fact he was your favorite hero.. Or at least your hero crush. While you didn’t like heroes, you had to admit you were like any other girl who saw an attractive guy that could give an award winning smile. A little star-struck you could say.

“Yeah doll, come sit on his lap. Aren’t you a fan? This is a pretty big offer here. Hell, I’ll let you even sit on mine after.” “As if. And if you three are done, I’d like to leave now.” You made your way out the kitchen to ‘throw away some trash’, but was really an excuse just to get away from them for a moment without them stopping you. You didn’t dare go back over to them though, opting to stand against the doorway of the kitchen that peered into the living rooming where they all sat. They’d pressured you into joining them at Dabi’s place to ‘hang around’ and ‘get to know your favorite hero crush’, and in your naiveness of believing their words of letting you hang around and fan over Hawks - despite your working in partner of villain status - you fell prey to being trapped in the run down apartment with them making sure you didn’t escape.

“What?? Awe com’on we just got here! Don’t run away yet little girl.” Dabi gave a fake pout. “I promise we won’t touch you anymore, feather. Just come back okay?” That charming smile and soft pat to the empty space on the couch between the two of them after. Shigaraki has yet to speak, more so one to get handsy rather than talk the talk like the other two.

“I.. don’t know. Do you guys promise to behave?” “We promise dove, just come back.” “We’ll be good dollface, let’s get back to having fun.” Naive at best, you poor fool.

_______________

Hands all over you, you just knew it would happen but it was your fault really for going back. Your shirt lifted up to expose your chest and skirt way over on across the floor after being carelessly tossed away.

“You dress like this just to get us to notice you, don’t ya?” Too hot hands rubbing the pebbled nips as you were forced onto his lap, legs spread over his to leave you open for the rest.

“Fuck little bird, you always let them do this to you? And I thought I was special. Guess you are nothing but a common whore for us to play with like they say. You aren’t even in my lap, some fan you are.” Fake disappointment in his tone, but really he was enjoying rubbing at your clothed slit. Trying to wiggle his fingers into the sides of the fabric and get to your petaled flesh. Sitting right beside you both and pressed up as much as he could be. Shigaraki was near your legs - you could tell - breathing hard against your knee as his rough hand smoothed over your leg, the other rubbing your sock covered toes. “She’s nothing but a slut, bet she want’s to fuck her way to the top like the leech harlot she is. She’s always coming into my room, she wants me to do something to her.” He rasped, now licking at your knee with his wet tongue. He was drooling and it started to soak your socks.

“I’m just checking on you like Kurogiri as-a-AH! Stop!” Dabi’s fingers pinched harder, his other now yanking up at your panties to make them wedge into your pussy and between the lips. “Damn ain’t that cute. Bird brain, take a picture for me won’t you?” “Already on it my friend.. Fuck, you have a cute pussy. I can’t wait to use it. I bet you’re fucking tight, even with you being a little whore and all.” Shutters of the camera clicking every few seconds, telling he got a few and at different angles. His free hand spreading at your lips, tugging the tightened fabric over to the side, and even pressing his fingers to the entrance. Making sure to capture every move he made. “N-no guys seriously stop! I don’t wanna do this anymore! I wanna go home, please!” You cried, tears starting to leak down your cheeks the more violated and humiliated you felt. You didn’t like this feeling, your body may have been responding but god did this feel so wrong. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, aren’t you glad your favorite hero is giving you such special attention? You wear the cutest clothes around me, you wanted me to touch you.” “She wears these clothes everyday around us. She’s a little kitty in heat I bet. Besides, it’s your fault really. You should know better to hang around men all by yourself dressed like this.. Really, you want this I can tell.” Dabi purred into your ear, his grip and grabbing getting rougher now.

Your soft pleas of ‘no’s’ were ignored when you felt a finger dig it’s way deep into your slick heat. You cursed yourself for enjoying how the thick fingers explored and stretched you, deep humiliation bubbling in your tummy at their laughs and enjoyment from your embarrassment. You didn’t like this… You wanted them to stop and let you go. You needed a bath to wash away their touch.

“Your body knows what it wants. You’re such a dedicated fan aren’t you? You’re doing so good for me baby bird. Being our little slut, just for us only.” Hawks praise.. Felt so good. It ran shivers all up and down your body, causing you to mewl the more his big digits squished into your heat. Gods you couldn’t stop crying though, your brain knowing how fucked up this was. Even though your body felt pleasure, you still felt so dirty and wrong. The ‘stop’s’ and ‘no’s’ didn’t end though, your brain knew better than to give in to what your nerves felt.. This didn’t feel good, and you couldn’t help but turn away and shut your eyes, hoping for it to be over soon.

“Hey you fucking creep, be useful and hold the camera. Record her or something. Add some content to that spank bank you got on your computer, ya?” Dabi grunted behind you, bucking his hips up to steady you more firmly against his chest, causing that leathery bulge to buck against you. While one hand remained tormenting you poor tender tits, the other ran down to your cunny, rubbing at your little clit and adding more stimulation to the already thrusting fingers of Hawks.

“Fuck off asshat. Don’t got a spank bank..” Shigaraki mumbled from below, but snatched the camera from Hawks hand anyways and turned on the record function. Though even then he was still licking at your legs and rubbing his red-tipped member with his free hand, leaking pre-cum all over his hand and your foot. Was that camera truly angled? He didn’t know nor care, he just wanted to fucking cum. Assholes probably wouldn't send this to him anyways. “Better not be fucking shaky cause you can’t stop beating your meat, fucking virgin. Don’t wanna hear your desperate breathing either so keep it down.” Dabi teased, using his foot to kick at Shigaraki’s side with a laugh. And from the red tinting the pale cheeks, he knew he had gotten to him like always. “Fucking shut UP!” “What!? You’re the creep jacking it to her fucking feet when you got a perfectly wet cunt in your face! The hells wrong with you, ya’ nasty bastard?”

“Can you both shut up and focus on that task at hand, giving my fan the spotlight. Looks like she’s close to… That right birdy? Gonna come for me… for us? You been dressing up like this to get our attention right? And now look at you, you got it and so much more~.” My how his fingers felt good, and you hated it. They had been nothing but perverted freaks towards you. Having their dirty gazes upon you and their hands fleeting on your clothes and body whenever you got within arm's reach of them. Only for your body to betray you in this way, what the hell was wrong with you..? Even with the rising knot in your stomach, you still hated the feeling.

“Come on sweet thing, let go for us.. Give us a show.” Dabi whispered in your ear, that that’s all it took paired with their stimulating fingers to ruin you. The spasm in your hips interrupts caused you to buck a little and gasp but cutting yourself off with the bite of a lip. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of hearing you cum along with seeing it. “Nngh!” The feeling is unfair, unable to stop the jet of liquid that shoots out from in between your legs as you curl and uncurl your toes, trying hard to close your legs but your own body not allowing it.

After having a moment to let your body somewhat settle, your hazy eyes looked down at the mess you made. Due to Shigaraki being in the line of fire, your fluids had gotten all over his face. He looked stunned for a moment, his body freezing up like a deer caught in headlights. You were a little worried that maybe he was angry, but once you felt the warm seeping into your socks you could tell he stiffened up cause he came… from humping your fucking feet. And to add onto it, your cum directly targeting him pushed him over the edge in a sudden pace he didn’t set.

Your eyes then flicker up to the two degenerates holding you at hearing the sound of coos, “Oh my, would look at that, little one just squirted.” Hawks teased, thankfully moving his fingers out of your sopping cunt onto your tummy, giving it soft grazes of affection. Dabi on the other hand wasn’t feeling as loving, giving you abused pussy a wet slap which caused you to jump. “Cumming all over him, and we’re the ones doing all the work.” Dabi tsk’ed, giving Shigaraki a sneer before kicking him again. “Enjoying it asshole? I hope you savor that, it’s the only time you’ll have a bitch squirt on you.” Which in turn caused Shigaraki to hiss at him and swipe at his leg that narrowly pulled away. He didn’t bother to respond though, not trusting his voice to come out without a stammer. He had to admit, the warm liquid on his face felt fucking hot, and after a quick swipe of his tongue, it tasted good.

All it took was for you to try to squirm your way out of Dabi’s lap to snap them all back to focusing on you. Shigaraki now dropping the phone to place both hands on your knees, Dabi’s rough hands finding your hips and digging into them, and Hawks gently grabbing your chin and pulling it to his direction. Those golden orbs hyper focused on you, almost like he was looking at a piece of meat. “Oh no where do you think you’re going feather? It would be unfair to not help us get off when we helped you. Come on, be a good little fan for me? I’ll even buy you something pretty after, for being such a good girl.”

You didn’t have a choice, you knew that for sure. All you could do is give a small nod before feeling warm lips pressed to yours. “Atta girl.”

#hawks x reader #dabi x reader #shigaraki x reader #tw.noncon #tw. degradation #tw humiliation #bnha reader #oh wow im blushin a lil #these are gross mens but we love it

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vanderlindemorgans · 4 years ago

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Cross My Heart (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: one scene takes place in a hospital, some medical talk, more heavy drinking, talk of death and alcoholism (specifically related to drunk driving), mentions of drug addiction, Whiskey being a dick, lotta heavy topics in general.

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“Alright, so the X-Rays have come back and as you can probably already guess your left arm has been fractured”.

The news hadn’t been a shock to you at all - it was only logical that the result of being thrown off the back of a horse was your arm breaking from the impact of the fall, nevermind the sheer amount of pain that it had already caused you was even more indication that something was definitely wrong there. All things considered, it still wasn’t a pleasant piece of news to receive, causing you to let out a low groan as you settled back into the hospital gurney they had allocated to you after the ambulance had pulled you in. Dressed in only a hospital gown, you felt the chill from the room's air conditioning prick the edges of your skin, the coolness of temperature making the whole experience even more foreign to you. Of course, it wasn’t like you’d never been to a hospital before - an unlucky bout of croup had sent you to the emergency room as a little kid when you’d almost stopped breathing. At the resurgence of that particular memory you felt yourself shudder, recalling the hours spent passed out in a brightly lit room and being forced to drink gross tasting liquid that was meant to clear up your airways. At least you weren’t choking on your own breath this time round.

“Well that’s just fantastic. How long will it take to heal? I kinda got a ranch to run” you asked the doctor, who was standing off to the side consulting the clipboard nestled against his arm. Sighing, he looked up at you with a look of sympathy while he ran through the information he’d jotted down on his notes. “Usually it takes twelve weeks for fractures to heal - given the fact that a good part of your arm has been displaced you’ll need to be put into surgery to shift the bone back into place, which we’ll have scheduled for you in the next twenty-four hours. Afterwards, I’ll be putting you in a cast for a couple of weeks and you’ll have to come back in for checkups weekly. I’ll also give you a list of rehabilitation exercises you can do to ensure the recovery process goes as smoothly as possible” he explained. “After your surgery and subsequent discharge, I heavily recommend a few days bed rest due to the concussion you have sustained”.

“So I’m guessing most physical labour is out then” you muttered under your breath, sighing once you realized how heavily this would impact your ability to keep things running smoothly back at the ranch. Yes, you had employees but without you to oversee everything things would slow down and descend into madness real quickly. You wished you had allocated some sort of second in command for times like this, a manager of sorts to keep things in place while you recovered but you’d just never gotten around to it, brushing the thought aside every time it sprung up with a simple “Why would I need extra help anyway? Nothing ever happens around here”.

“You’d be correct on that. Now, I have some other patients to check on but I will be back in about 20 minutes or so to prep you for surgery, though I will send a nurse to give you some painkillers so you can stop feeling the worst of the pain for at least a little while” he replied. You went to thank him but before you could you felt a light touch graze along your right arm. Your eyes glanced over to where Jack’s hand was placed, his touch delicate and comforting, sparking that same feeling in your chest that you’d felt when he’d stroked your forehead back at the ranch. His eyes met your own for a moment, deep cedar brown looking at you with nothing more than concern and worry, somehow pulling at a single string of your heart even though you wanted to fight against it with all your might.

Snapping you focus back into place, you nodded back over to the doctor and thanked him for all he was doing, listening to his reassurances that he’d have you fixed up as soon as possible as he hurried on out of the room to his next patient in need. Once he was gone, you exhaled in annoyance and went back to staring aimlessly at the ceiling, mulling over the inconvenience of your predicament.

“Everything ok, sugar?” you heard Jack ask you, feeling his enchanting eyes study your expression, his anxiety over your wellbeing plain as day. Letting out a small laugh, you returned his question with a small smile of your own. “Does it look like I’m ok?” you joked, gesturing vaguely to your fractured arm.

He chuckled at your sarcasm, always enjoying that certain fire you had to your character that refused to silence itself. Unbeknownst to you, that was one of things that drew him towards you in the first place - his own air of cockiness and confidence was equally matched by your spitfire and sarcastic wit. Finding out the sweet disposition that lay behind that harshness the first time round had taken him by complete surprise, but only did more to endear himself to you. God, he was such a fool for losing that. He was certain that your sweetness was still there, closed behind even more layers of hurt and pain that he’d caused such a large hand in.

From the moment the ambulance had arrived, Jack had stayed beside you, refusing to leave for even a single moment. It was quite endearing, truth be told, a feeling that attempted to worm its way through your steadfast reasoning against him. He’s a liar. Don’t fall for his shit again, you repeated to yourself. Though it was becoming harder and harder to continue regarding him as your greatest mistake when he was behaving so kindly and gentlemanly towards you. Just a part of his deceptive charm, I guess, you thought bitterly.

“Y’know, you don’t have to worry about things gettin’ outta hand down at the ranch. I’m more than happy to step up and help” he spoke up, snapping your attention back to his words and out of your own contemplation. You thought about his proposal for a minute, the temptation to say yes seeming very appealing towards you, though somehow that felt like admitting to weakness. The ranch wasn’t his responsibility, it was yours, left to you by your dear parents. It was your obligation to run it in their stead - there’d been difficulties along the way, sure, including the occasional nasty cold every now and then but you had pulled through without any trouble. You didn’t need help or any sort of handout, and you were more than capable of taking care of business by yourself, even with a broken arm.

Then again, it is gonna be kinda hard to run a business while being confined to bed rest. Briefly you thought about just closing the ranch for a couple of days while you got back on track yet once you thought about the loss in profits you discarded that idea quickly. It wasn’t like you were struggling to make ends meet but a dip in profits could cause a bit of issue.

“Yeah but...It’s my responsibility. I can’t just ignore that because I got a stupid broken arm” you rebuffed, though you didn’t sound entirely convinced of what you were saying yourself. Sadly, stubbornness was your nature and even if you knew you were fighting a losing battle, sometimes it was more about the principle of having a position rather than whatever thing you were debating over. Some would say that was quite a counterproductive way to look at things, and you’d agree with them, yet you still remained stubborn in spite of them, feeding back into the cycle.

“Darlin’, with all due respect, I think what’s best for you is that you take a step back and let someone else take the reins. You need to allow yourself to rest a lil. Tell me, in all the years of runnin’ the ranch by yourself, have you ever once taken a day off?”.

“No, but-”.

“Exactly as I thought. You’ve been doing an amazing job at keeping things together for all these years, sweetheart, but you gotta relax a bit. Let me help you” he interrupted, gazing at you with those heart-meltingly sweet eyes of his, a look which made you seize up ever so slightly in minor fake annoyance. Little shit, he had to be doing that on purpose.

“Fine, only if it’ll get you to shut up” you relented, rolling your eyes in a dramatic fashion and hitting your head back down into the pillow below, eliciting a playful smirk from him in return. “That’s my girl, stubborn as always” he jested.

To that you cocked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Your girl? Careful there, Jack, for a minute I thought you were capable of genuine compassion and care. I may have once been your girl, cowboy, but not anymore. Or did you happen to forget?”.

His own expression softened slightly in regards to your snide remark, his mischievous grin faltering while he turned his gaze to the floor, looking somewhat sheepish towards what you had said, a far cry from his usual air of arrogance. “Yeah, I guess I deserve that” he murmured. “Tell me, sugar, do you ever think one day you’ll believe me when I say that I’m sorry?”.

“When pigs fly, dearest” you smiled with a shit-eating grin, though you couldn’t miss that momentary flash of hurt in his eyes that made you pull back, a sharp pang striking through your chest that hurt harder than the agonizing ache in your arm, which really, was saying something. Could that be...guilt, perhaps?, you thought, searching Jack’s face for any further sign of offense. If he was feeling hurt, he was doing a pretty stellar job at hiding it. Maybe it was nothing, and even if he was hurt, well, he said it himself, he deserved it. Without giving you another minute to ponder your own feelings, a welcome interruption in the arrival of a nurse found you, shifting your thoughts towards the relief of finally getting some painkillers into you.

___

The surgery had gone over well, and after a grueling day spent hanging out in that hospital room hopped up on painkillers you were finally discharged late afternoon the following day. The worst of your concussion had cleared itself up too yet you were still confined to your bed for those first few days - the doctor was insistent on that fact, saying you could never be too careful. You’d begrudgingly complied, not wanting to cause any further problems to your health, and even if you had tried to go against the doctor’s orders, you knew that Jack would be there to send you off back to bed if you dared lift a finger.

Jack had doted on you the entire time, making sure you were well hydrated and cool enough in the midst of the hot Texas summer, fetching you snacks and whatever else you needed from downstairs. In his own words, what kind of man would he be if he didn’t take care of an ailing woman. You’d rolled your eyes and insisted that he didn’t have to go all out with looking after you yet he’d insisted. It was somewhat heartwarming, and it felt nice to be taken care of again after those last few years alone. It reminded you of when you’d come down with the flu back in third grade, staying home in bed lazily watching television and barely being able to keep your eyes open while your mum made soup in the kitchen. You could feel your heart drop at the mere recollection of your parents, pain that stayed beneath the surface rising up in full force. Usually you pushed those feelings down, not wanting to become distracted from the business, but today, you allowed yourself the indulgence of missing them. What would they think if they could see you now? Would they be proud, or disappointed?

Feeling your stomach grumble, you shifted over in bed and reached your only good arm out to grab onto the half-eaten grilled cheese Jack had brought in for you five minutes before, letting out a low wince at the pain that writhed through your other arm, which had been placed into a cast and sling for the time being. Already you couldn’t wait for the day you could get the damned thing taken off - you hadn’t been able to shower and you felt grotty and gross. It wasn’t like you had to impress anyone, it was just you and Jack lying about the place. Still, you could only take so many days of waking up with unwashed greasy hair. And it was itchy too. Oh dear god, it was fucking itchy. You’d heard about how itchy the plaster could get second-hand but you never anticipated it to be that bad.

Directing your eyes to the clock on your bedside, you took notice of the time and let out a small relieved sigh. You could finally take another one of those painkillers, the fourth and dismally last one for you of the day.

Your relief quickly fizzled out into disappointment when you realised the packet of painkillers that had been sitting by your bedside was empty. “Seriously? It’s only been a few days, I couldn’t have gone through them already…” you muttered to yourself in annoyance. Nevermind, there was another packet downstairs. You may have been perfectly capable of getting out of bed and retrieving it yourself, though you found yourself not wanting to be bothered with such a task. “Hey Jack, you there? I ran out of painkillers, could ya run some up to me?” you called out.

“Sure thing, sweetheart” you heard him shout back, and no more than two minutes later he was striding through your bedroom door, carrying exactly what you had requested within his palms. “How are you feelin’?” he asked.

“No better than six minutes ago when you last asked me that. Thanks for bringing these up though, fuck that stupid horse for bucking me off” you grumbled, sniping the blessed white packet out of his hands and into your fingers. “Pain making you grumpy, sweet girl? You seem a bit more full of spitfire than usual today” he joked.

“Nah, you’re getting the discounted version today. If I wanted to vocalise exactly what I was feeling right now you’d be obliterated in a second” you laughed, chucking a tablet into your mouth and washing it down with a large gulp of water, anxious to feel some semblance of relief.

“You don’t say. How’s your head doing, though? No dizziness or anything like that?”.

“I’m fine, Jack, I promise. You don’t have to fawn all over me just because I broke my dumb arm” you assured, rolling your eyes at him.

“I wouldn’t call in fawning, I only want to make sure you're comfortable and all that. Not only because of your arm and all” he smiled gently, reaching out to brush a stray hair off your forehead. It could have been the heat of the room but you could have sworn your skin felt on fire the moment he touched you. You could feel him press the back of his fingers against your head, unconsciously allowing your breath to hitch at his touch. And just like that, the warmth of his hand was gone, leaving an invisible searing mark in its place and your own head full of frenzied and confused thoughts.

“Like I said earlier, just call out if you need anything else, alright darlin’?” he said as he was leaving, words that you didn’t care to take notice of as he left you to yourself again. Blinking slowly, you couldn’t even fully begin to describe what had just taken place, or why one little gesture was throwing your mind into somersaults. Why did his mere touch have to affect you like that? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Groaning loudly, you settled yourself underneath the sheet covering you and huffed at nobody in particular, cursing both yourself and him for even existing. For fucks sake...

___

Taking a sip of bourbon from your glass, you leaned against the side of the stairs of the veranda with your gaze fixated off into the distance, though you didn’t take any notice of what lay ahead, lost deep in your own thoughts that clouded your mind. It’d been a couple more days, and you’d finally been able to get out of bed and get back to helping out around the ranch - not that you were still of any use to anyone, given the state of your arm. It felt good to be back overseeing things, albeit a bit more behind the scenes than you had been in years. It’d be a good month or so before you were able to move your arm properly and have things back to normal. At first that fact did nothing short of irritating you, since you weren’t one to lie about helpless when work needed to be done. Over the last few days though, seeing the ranch go about with business as usual with Jack’s extra help had put you at ease a little. It still bothered you somewhat that you had to be asking any sort of help from Jack Daniels of all people, though really, he was the one offering it in the first place so you hadn’t so much as asked him to do anything, moreso conceding to his instistance at the behest of your stubbornness.

The pain was getting a little better too, though whether that had more to do with the painkillers or not remained to be seen. For example, you couldn’t feel anything now but you had just ingested two glasses of pure straight bourbon, so of course any type of pain would be numbed. Remember when it could numb more than just that? You let out a small snicker at the thought, sounding as hollow and empty as it felt. Once upon a time you might have been classed as relatively lightweight, a fact that changed after years of the trials and tribulations life had thrown your way. You still got drunk easy, but it took a good few glasses before you actually passed out.

“You know, you should let me sign that for ya”.

Hearing that familiar voice ring out from behind you, you swivel around so see its owner standing right in the opened doorway of your home, his hands casually resting in his pockets and his frame leant against the wall. “What are we, in middle school? I don’t want it getting dirty” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him for good measure.

He smirked right back at you, letting out a small snicker that mirrored your own. “Why not? It’s not like you're gonna have to be wearin’ it forever. A little scribble in permanent marker wouldn’t do ya any harm” Jack grinned, taking a large step forward to descend down to your level, seating himself right next to you on the veranda. You cocked an eyebrow at him, letting your fingertips trail over the edge of the glass in your hands while you stared at him with utter audacity. “And yet I know you’re only so persistent in signing it because you’ll write something crude or vaguely flirty” you snipped.

“How little you think of me, sugar. I’d never dream of doin’ such a thing. I am nothing if not a gentleman”.

“Oh, do cut the charm, Jack. What is it you want?”.

“Please, can’t a man share a glass of bourbon with a lady without being subjected to the Spanish Inquisition?” he asked, wearing his devilish and frustratingly charming grin as he spoke, the appearance of which you swore made your cheeks flush a little bit hotter. Probably because of the alcohol...and it is hot out here after all...

“Not this lady, cowboy” you stated, gulping down the last dredges of bourbon in your glass and placing it back down to the floor with a thud. You went to go grab the bottle from beside you but found Jack had already snatched it up, pouring you another glass. Mumbling out a small thank you, you considered asking him if he wants a glass of his own, however once you caught sight of his silver Statesman issued flask in his hands you dismissed the idea entirely. With nothing else left to say, you glanced back up to the sky above towards where the moon was hanging over you two, the delicate light illuminating the stretches of countryside around your property in a soft glow, one that was both enchanting and eerie at the same time. Every now and then you would be reminded of how beautiful the Texan countryside could look, whether it be bathed in the rays of that damned blistering sun or the enigmatic glimmer of moonlight. It could pull you back to moments lost in time, years ago sitting right where you were in that very same spot, seven years younger and with the exact same man sitting beside you, head rested on his shoulder and looking out into the vast expanse of midnight black. Funny how things change, don’t they?

Out the corner of your eye you saw Jack shake his head, his eyes quiet, the sparkle of stark confidence bordering on plain arrogance missing. It was a similar look to the one he’d given you at the hospital that night, before he’d tried to cover it up with a certain facade of indifference. “What will it take for you to believe I’m sorry? What happened between us, it was all-” he started before being unceremoniously cut off by your interjection.

“In the past? I’m well aware of that. Doesn’t change how I feel” you stopped him. You’d anticipated him throwing out that line from day one and you’d come prepared. Shut it down. Don’t let him try to swindle you for a fool.

His expression changed to one more serious, a hint of him being slightly miffed that you cut him off in the first place. “Let me finish, darlin’. I’m gonna level with you for a second - what I did to you was one of the worst mistakes of my life. Letting everything fall apart like it did, I never should have let it happen” he expressed, his tone straddling between being firm and also being gentle. Cocking an eyebrow at him, you turned back to your glass of liquor, swirling the liquid around idly in a way that reminded you of that persistent thought running round your head. Did he have a point? Were you being too harsh on him?

Don’t become soft on him. Don’t do it. You shifted back into focus, pushing those thoughts far to the back of your tipsy mind while you took a couple large sips of liquor as if it were a lifeline. “Worse than whatever mistake led you to showing up on my doorstep?” you asked, eager to direct the conversation right back out of that uncomfortable territory and into something a bit more easier to stomach. Maybe later on you could ponder the true depths of your perceptions of Jack. Right now, though, you wanted to get wasted and not have to think about anything anymore. And hey, it’s not like I wasn’t wondering about the events that led him here in the first place anyway.“You never did tell me what happened. I know you said it was none of my concern but...I want to know. Call it a spate of drunken curiosity, if ya want”.

The question alone was enough to draw Jack’s face from being merely serious to an expression more cold and distant. He looked away from you entirely and rested his gaze to the few steps below the two of you, his hand clenching in a subconscious act that alone was enough to tell you his own reservations regarding the topic. “Truth is, I’ve been fucking things up for a good couple of years. What happened to lead me here, well, it ain’t a pretty story”.

“I don’t care, Jack, I wanna know” you asserted, surging with a sense of fiery confidence. It might have been the alcohol giving you a bit more moxie to push the topic. One thing was for sure though: you wanted answers, and you didn’t wanna let this go. Stretching your legs out, you finished off the glass you had while you waited for him to reply, not wanting to cave to your request even if he was looking at you like you’d threatened to kill the President.

Finally, he let out a low groan of annoyance and leant against the side of the veranda, not affording you a single look as he launched into his tale. “Basically what happened is some agents from an English based secret service came over to the states as a last resort - their base got blown up by someone and the two guys that approached us were the only ones left alive. Well, them and this other guy we had at our headquarters, but that’s a whole other story. The people behind the attack were a group called the Golden Circle, and Statesman had already been investigating them for awhile. I was called in by Champ to partner up with the Kingsman fellas, do the regular secret agent spiel of espionage and savin’ the world and all that crap. But, me and these other agents, we had an...ideological disagreement. I was covertly tryin’ to hinder them until the older guy got wise to my shit and shot me in the head. Ginger managed to bring me in and revive me, I went over to Cambodia where the two agents were confronting the leader of the Golden Circle, and to make a long story short things got nasty pretty quickly. I barely escaped with my life” he explained.

You nodded along to his explanation, the load of information being a lot to take in the first time round. You were always somewhat aware of Jack’s position as a secret agent though you were never privy to the nitty and gritty details - in fact, the way you’d found out about it in the first place was by complete accident and Jack had to beg Agent Champ to allow you to become cleared on even knowing the basics of his true work behind the front of being a Statesman investor. “And these ideological disagreements were…?” you pushed.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know” he deflected.

“Try me”.

He didn’t reply to you straight away, instead staring at you with a stark look of confliction across his face, an inner turmoil brewing inside of him on whether or not he should tell you even more. Being cast out as a traitor, he didn’t have to worry about breaking any sort of rule of confidentiality, so if you had to wager a guess at what his dilemma was, then it must have been that he felt mildly ashamed, or even embarrassed about the whole situation. In your mind though, you’d let him keep his secrets for weeks now, but if he was going to stay in your house you wanted to at the bare minimum know what he did that was so bad that he simply couldn’t return back home anymore. “Well go on then, hit me with your best shot” you prodded further, hopefully enough to get his demeanour to crack and for him to spill what exactly the entire fuss had been about. And sure enough, crack he did.

Running a hand across his forehead, he let out a low exasperated sigh, one that would have been inaudible if you hadn’t been seated beside him, indicating the exact moment he finally decided to break his own silence and reveal everything to you. “The Golden Circle were primarily a drug cartel and terrorist organization based out in the hidden depths of the Cambodian jungle. Their leader had devised a plot that involved lacing their distribution of drugs with a new type of chemical she created that caused death. Since their supply was mass distributed over the globe, they were holding the entire populace of drug users and addicts hostage to their respective governments, demanding a payout for the antidote. They didn’t, however, anticipate the President and other world leaders not really giving a red hot shit about the lives of junkies. Being the noble men they are, the Kingsman agents as well as the rest of Statesman were striving to get ahold of the antidote to save all those people. And that, is where me and them disagreed” Jack elaborated, avoiding your gaze in what appeared to be a calculated move in order to refrain from seeing your reactions to his admittance. In the span of two minutes, your expression had shifted from intense curiosity to straight up bafflement at what he was saying. It didn’t make sense - why was he against distributing the antidote? He was a secret agent, wasn’t he meant to save the world and innocent lives and all that?

“Let me get this straight - you were assigned on a mission to try to save the lives of innocent people, and you chose...not to do that” you asked, your tone laced with judgment. Not that you had intended for what you said to have come across any different. If what he was implying was right, then that would mean...

“Well, when you put it like that, sure, it sounds awful. I will concede, it wasn’t my best move. But all the people who ingested those drugs did so willingly. They knew they were taking a gamble on their lives the moment they stuck a damn needle into their arms” Jack grumbled defensively, allowing you to gawk back at him in utter disbelief. “Jack, no, you can’t seriously believe that? So what you’re saying is that the kid that decided to get high with his mates one weekend at a party deserves to die? Is that right?”.

“No, no, I didn’t mean like that, I just…”.

“Really? ‘Cause it sounds a lot like you’re saying that innocent people should die for their poor choices” you cut in, shaking your head to further drive your point in. “Jesus, just when I thought you couldn’t be a bigger asshole you proved me wrong”.

“Sweetheart, please, I know. It was a mistake, you don’t have to keep rubbing it in”.

“You know it’s a mistake, but do you truly feel it? Do you really feel remorse? Because if you don’t then it’s just a bunch of empty words” you rebuffed, shooting him with a cold piercing glare that could make an entire continent freeze over. Around about this time, you really began to take notice of the dazed feeling clouding you, every glass of liquor draining straight into your brain and making you feel like your entire head was swimming. Maybe take it easy on the next glass, why don’t ya? With that thought, you shoved the glass off to the side with your free arm and bit your lip, debating whether or not you should even say what you wanted to next. That debate, however, did not last very long as you found yourself blurting out exactly what was on your mind within two seconds of your last thought. “Jack, look...maybe I’ll hate myself for saying this later, and maybe it’s just the liquor talking but I don’t think you’re an inherently bad person. I think you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who does cruel stupid things but probably has a decent enough heart. You just...you gotta stop with this shit. Stop with the betrayals, and the lies, and the false promises, all of it, and just be the real you. The Jack I knew may be a prick but he was never one to let an innocent die on his watch. What’s really behind all this?”.

He continued to glare from his position beside you, somewhat intent on making you recant and drop the whole subject entirely. You wouldn’t go down that easy though, and he knew it, for as stubborn as Jack was you were at least ten times moreso, so when he folded first and trained his eyes low to the ground, you knew that he’d finally conceded. You could feel a whole shift in his demeanour from where you sat, the mask of defensive anger slowly falling away to reveal what was truly underneath: hurt. Pure, raw, unbridled hurt. Anguish that felt especially familiar to you and spoke to a part of yourself that you’d been turning away from for years, and even before he said those words you knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Years ago, before I became an agent to Statesman, I was married to the young woman I’d fallen for in high school. I think I told you about her in passing maybe once, or twice, I don’t know…” Jack started, trailing off once he began to fully re-immerse himself in the past, heartache plainly sewn across his features. It was then that you felt an ache of your own in your chest, a heavy feeling of guilt descending upon you once you realised the gravity of what he was saying. “I remember. You said her name was Lily, wasn’t it?” you murmured, your voice small and unsure, with a hint of something else present too. Regret? Guilt? Whatever it was, you couldn’t quite put a name to it, but it was there, strong as anything and clearly wasn’t going away any time soon.

Jack let out a small hum in reply, everything about his composure presumably a million miles away from everything around the both of you.“So you do remember” he muttered, brushing his fingers over the edge of his silver flask that he had cradled in his handles, tracing the Statesman logo engraved on the side with the pad of his thumb. “I remember you askin’ me about her the first time you came back to my apartment in New York - you saw the photo of her I kept on my desk and asked who she was. I only told you briefly that she was long gone, but I never told you how. The both of us were only twenty-three, and she was pregnant with our first child, a baby boy. Last time I saw her she left the house to go to the convenience store a few streets over”. He stopped himself for a split second, the darkness of his eyes being the all-too recognisable sign of falling deep into his own recollection, feeling as if he was reliving every memory that he revisited in his mind. “Twenty minutes later I get a phone call from a cop, saying there’d been an incident. Meth addicts had robbed the store at gunpoint and she’d been caught in the crossfire. She died instantly, and I wasn’t there to say goodbye. I never got to meet our baby boy, I never got to hold her in my arms again and say how much I loved her, because she was taken from me by a couple of meth-addled scumbags”.

You were honestly at a loss for words, not knowing if saying something would be the appropriate option or not. He was right, you knew he was married before - the time with the picture that he mentioned was the most you had heard of her. He never brought Lily up again, and you never thought to ask, since in your mind it wasn’t any of your business who Jack loved before. Now, the pieces were falling into place, the interwoven connections of his past to his actions as an agent making all the more sense to you.

What you wanted to do most was lean forward and envelop him into your embrace, tell him that you understood more than anyone what exactly that felt like, and even permit yourself to pour out your own heart to him. Drunk as you were though, you couldn’t talk yourself into doing anything more than placing a reassuring hand on his knee, letting your touch be soft and hesitant in case he shrugged you off, since you did basically just goad him into revealing his own wounds in the name of having answers. “Jack, I...I had no idea, I-”.

“How could you have known? I never told you” he mumbled flatly. In the dim veranda light, all though it was faint, you could swear that there was a teardrop lingering in the corner of his cedar brown eyes, nudging the dagger of guilt further into your heart. Say something, you idiot.

Starting off softly, you let your hand rest firmer on his knee, trying to catch his eyes into your own. Tearing his glance away from the flask, he looked back at you with the same raw grief that you had seen on your own face so many times. “I know it must have hurt like hell losing her. And you have every right to feel angry, and hurt that she was taken, but that doesn’t give you the right to hate. Every addict in the world is not the same man who took her life. You can’t just-” you started, before the sound of Jack’s harshest tone cut through your words like a knife.

“How would you know? Do you have any idea what it feels like to hurt, to have lost everything because of someone else’s choices?” he spat, anger seething in his scowl that was directed solely at you. It had taken you by surprise at first - as a reflex you withdrew your hand quickly from him as if he were burnt, perplexed at his sudden outburst. That didn’t last long however, as soon enough confusion was replaced by your own flair of anger. Now it was your turn to get defensive.“I think I do know what it’s like to hurt and to lose. In case you’ve forgotten, dickhead, there’s two people who should be right inside this house that aren’t anymore and haven’t been for about six fucking years now!” you yelled back.

Shit. He’d forgotten about your parents. The anger that had been in him disappeared without a trace right then, being replaced by something close to resembling remorse over his behaviour. “I...I didn’t mean...fuck, sugar, I…I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say” he apologised. You didn’t say anything back to him. You didn’t want to dignify him with any sort of a response. First of all, how dare he? You were only trying to empathise with him, and here he was biting your head off for daring to suggest that he doesn't hate every drug user on the planet. Why do I even fucking bother?

The awkward silence between you hung for awhile, the two of you not wanting to break it for your own different reasons. You could feel Jack stealing glances at you, like he was trying to talk himself into saying something but never had the courage to follow through. Huffing to yourself, you took in your next glass fast enough to make your head spin. You’d have to turn in for the night eventually, and truth be told you were considering doing so right then when you heard Jack speak up.

“I never did ask...if you don’t mind me askin’ that is...what happened to your folks anyway?” he asked hesitantly, as if he knew the question was fat-witted to begin with. Not that you minded too much by then. Drunk you was a lot more forgiving than you were sober.

Taking in a heavy breath, you relayed your tale of woe to him, one hand placed steady to your side to keep you sitting upright. “It was late, and they were coming back from a friend’s 50th birthday party. Their friend lived in downtown Dallas, so they had a fair way to go to get from there to here. When they were almost on the highway, an out-of-control car barrelled towards them, smashing into the front of their windscreen and killing both of them instantly. The driver of the other car had been drinking - according to the local news he was a known alcoholic and had been out having a heated argument with his friend in the passenger seat. The only survivor of the entire collision had been his friend”.

You saw Jack blink at you in silent shock, the weight of your words falling heavily on him while he continued to process it all. “Shit, darling, I feel like an even bigger piece of shit than I already did. If you slapped me clean across the face and kicked me out on my ass after this I wouldn’t blame ya one bit” he replied to you solemnly in a way that didn’t leave you questioning the authenticity of his words - he was genuinely sorry this time round. Taking his apology in stride, you shrugged back at him and acted as nonchalant about the whole thing as possible, not wanting to ponder the topic further. As far as you were concerned, you’d felt enough things for one day and would very much like a break from it all.

“It’s fine. You had no way of knowing. But please, if you take anything from this, at least listen to my words: externalising hate towards random people only feeds your trauma. It doesn’t resolve anything, and the only person left suffering in the end is yourself”.

He furrowed his brow at you, most likely feeling a little defensive that the topic had circled back around to here, but considering his unruly display of anger earlier he wasn’t one to indulge in his own instinctual need to defend his position. “But...didn’t you want the man who took your parents away to suffer? Didn’t you look at every other drunk driving incident in the papers with a little more anger and rage than before?” he asked, earning a single eyebrow raise from you in return. “I mean...I guess what I’m trying to say is...it’s so easy to hate...why didn’t you fall into that trap?”.

“Well, I did, for a little. It was almost tempting to look at every person I saw struggling with alcoholism in red. Since the man who caused the collision was already dead as a result of his own mistakes, at times I’d externalise part of that pain I was feeling onto others, and sometimes that anger became so hot and so burning that it was almost impossible to ignore. I realised pretty quickly that hating alcoholics wasn’t going to bring my parents back and that I’d have to make peace with their passing at some point. Honestly, I still haven’t processed a lot of that shit myself yet I’m still out here living my life as best I can, and really, with my own drinking habits I’d be a goddamn hypocrite to even try to find any true hatred in my heart towards heavy drinkers” you explained. Taking one last sip of bourbon, you discarded your glass off to your side and chuckled lightheartedly. “God, If I drink another glass I’m gonna collapse on the fucking floor. Think it might be time for me to turn in for the night. At least it’s Sunday tomorrow so we can sleep in a lil”.

“Y-you’re goin’ to bed? You’re not telling me to get lost or anything?” Jack sputtered in disbelief, which in turn earned him a minorly strange look from you. “Why would I do that?” you asked.

“I quite literally just admitted to treason against my former organization to you”.

“So? You made a mistake. A pretty fucking big mistake, and a shitty one at that, but still, a mistake. You obviously have some of your own pain you need to work through, and I can get that. Doesn’t mean I agree with what you did, but I get it. I’m not gonna kick you to the curb just because you have issues”.Upon saying that, you hoisted yourself up by latching your free arm onto the veranda’s fenceline, stumbling a little as you fought to maintain your balance while being both drunk and unable to fully utilise one of your arms. Nevertheless, you’d managed to straighten yourself up, and once you’d determined that you were alright to take yourself upstairs you faced on towards the front door and grasped at the brass knob in your hands, taking a brief pause to turn back and nod softly towards the man behind you. “Night Jack, I’ll see ya tomorrow” you called out, leaving him to sit there and watch you disappear back into the house with a certain look of dumbfounded astonishment.

Tag list (lemme know if you wanna be added): @giselatropicana

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #Kingsman #kingsman fanfiction #cross my heart #Kingsman: the golden circle #Pedro Pascal

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memes-in-a-half-shell · 4 years ago

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Business AU - Working Late, Part 2

Part 1 can be found here. Idk man, I’m enjoying this. I’m not going too overboard with descriptions and stuff, unless really necessary. It’s just a “feels good” kinda thing, you know 😂 ANYWAY, let’s get on with 👏

She thought she’d feel pressure by working with one of her bosses, but to be frank Donatello had this way of easing her into the work - it felt like a walk in the park. Conversations with him were always light and amicable, all while remaining professional. His insights about various projects and knowledge of certain employees proved to be quite useful, and soon enough Vee’s end of the month was a thing of the past - at least, until another rush. Just in time for this Friday night.

“Here’s the last file that was up for review,” came up Donatello’s voice as he dropped a light document on Vee’s desk.

“Peter’s file, correct?” asked Vee, still typing on her keyboard, not even lifting her eyes.

“Yeah, there wasn’t much to review, hence why his is quite small-ish. He’s doing good so far.”

... No answer. Vee was still typing, now in silence. The turtle frowned lightly, hunching over a little in order to look at her screen, leaving a hand on the desk for support.

“What’s so important that requires your undivided attention?”

The woman did a small jump, mostly dued to the other’s proximity.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m being so rude right now,” she blabbered, a faint blush coming to her cheeks. “I was just so focused on answering this email.”

“No worries,” smiled the mutant. “It wasn’t such a bad sight to see you this focused, anyway.”

“Oh please, sometimes I look like a dead fish or a deer facing headlights when I’m deep in thoughts.”

That brought a soft laughter from Donatello, trying not to bring too much attention on them from the other employees - although it was already too late by his sole presence in the room. Vee couldn’t help liking to see this side of him, showing that he could not only be a boss - he could be a friend. A complete snack of a friend though... Today he was wearing a black shirt, the sleeves, as usual for him, rolled to his elbows. He was also adorning a grey tie that matched his grey pants, a simple yet elegant combination for him. Meanwhile Vee felt a bit too casual for the workplace, but she knew she was staying true to herself in a reasonable fashion. A black turtleneck shirt, high-waisted jeans and black shoes. There were days she would dress a bit more formal, but in the end she mostly valued her comfort over fashion.

“How about we celebrate tonight? Since we finally got through your work.” he asked.

“Oh? Something in particular?”

“You, me,” he started, pointing to her than himself. “A bottle of wine and my drafting board.”

Vee almost choked for a moment, her thoughts turning wild and impure all of a sudden, but she was quick to save the situation:

“You’re quite eager to get back to your project,” she said, alluring to the Lowline structure.

“We made a deal, remember?” he smirked. “I help you, then you help me. Unless you’re chickening out?”

The woman didn’t break eye contact as she opened one of her desk’s drawers, revealing pencils, various rulers of many shapes and forms, and a compass.

“Joke’s on you, I’m already prepared.”

Both chuckled, trying to keep it down. In this comfort, Vee left a light touch on Donatello’s skin, one of his hands still down on her desk.

“I’ll be there,” she added with delight. “Don’t you worry.”

The turtle’s hand moved, shifting the woman’s touch to his palm, holding her ever so gently.

“Excellent.” His thumb brushed the top of her hand, pensive. “... You may get back to your emails now, miss Vee.”

As he left, Vee was trying so hard not to grin like a fool. It took her a couple of seconds to realize that some coworkers close by were glancing at her, the woman’s focus quickly shifting back to her computer, hoping she wasn’t looking too much like a blushing mess...

***

The place was empty, but the echo of laughters could be heard coming from a small room. It was no lie that the bottle of wine had been opened first, anecdotes of the day and week bringing amusement to their conversation. Vee was seated by the drafting board, pencil in hand as she tried to review Donatello’s lines. ... She had to admit that it was hard to focus and be steady at times.

“You see,” she started, first applying a tracing sheet over the actual plan. “It’s all about the flick of the wrist.” She held her pencil, carefully tracing lines in fluid circular motions. “Organic shapes have to be felt, not calculated... well, to a certain extent.”

“I can’t just wing it though,” pointed the turtle, next taking a sip of his drink as he was sitting close by. “How else could I provide exact measurements if I simply go with my feelings?”

He held up a free pencil with his other hand, faking a serious look as he held it in a comical ceremonious manner.

“Oh pencil, let me pour my emotions through thee, for I want to draw half-circles.”

“I’m trying to help you!” she laughed while playfully slapping one of his shoulders.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he chuckled in return. “I’m a man of logic, I can’t help it. Your speech would probably resonate better with my brother Mikey.”

Before Vee could protest, the mutant was up, freeing his hands and next standing behind the woman. She felt his hands travel along her arms, until close to her hands. He was trying to mimic her posture, the side of his face close to the top of her head - a smile felt in the air.

“I need to be taught by example. That way I can probably feel what you’re talking about.”

Gosh ... Vee sure hoped he wasn’t noticing her blush. She couldn’t explain it, but his touch right now felt a bit more different than earlier today. Still delicate, but much more intimate.... She started to draw, her voice quiet as she explained:

“You see, mister Donatello-”

“Please, you can call me Donnie. It’s not forbidden.”

She gulped.

“Feel the movement in my wrist,” continued the woman as she drew a circular line. “It’s best to feel relaxed and not be afraid to move your body.”

“I move my body pretty often, so at least that.”

Vee did not hesitate this time to look at him, a slight surprise in her eyes. Donnie showed clear amusement as he added:

“Trainings.”

Oof, she could breathe again. She tsked, then returning to her task, executing some more shapes until she proposed the pencil to the turtle.

“Here, try it out.”

He took it, not even prompting for them to switch places next. He prefered to stay behind Vee, practically nuzzling the top of her head so he could have a view as if sitting at her place. All Vee could feel was this strong shiver going along her spine, Donnie’s presence overwhelming her senses. She then saw him execute some strokes on the paper, copying her movements. She could see a clear improvement, his pace then slightly decreasing, observing his work. Putting the pencil aside, he couldn’t help getting a hold back of Vee’s hand, his thumb slowly grazing her skin.

“Impressive what an artist’s hand can do and teach...,” he said calmly.

And those hands could do so much more.... Vee tried to hush her thoughts, peacefully removing her hand from his hold.

“I should get going, it’s getting late...”

The dream seemed to fall, the mutant moving away. ... The room seemed so cold all of a sudden, Vee missing his proximity and heat.... He was still showing that soft smile though, offering his hand for her to grab and help her up.

“Understandable. If you want I could drop you to your place, or anywhere you want.”

The offer was so tempting...

“No thank you,” she replied, next grabbing her belongings.

She did pause for a moment, their gazes meeting.

“... This was nice,” added the woman. “I look forward to working with you more, ... Donnie.”

“Me as well, Vee.”

((Part 3))

#it's-a-moi #business au #part 3 coming soon at some point x'DD maybe tomorrow #I just love this fgdsbfsdbhfjsd #it's a fun way to spend my evenings :)#again - sorry if there's errors

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years ago

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pls scream about Leo a lil bit cause my love for that man is neverending and i live for you guys' blog,,, and ur comte love fuels me??? head empty except for those two pureblood clowns

HNGNGNG I hope that both you and everyone that reads my shenanigans knows how utterly understood I feel when I see anyone stan Comte, if not both of those idiot purebloods bc good lord...I live for two tired fossil men that just want DOMESTIC BLISS. Literally they have no brain cells beyond respect women and we love that for us, it’s spectacular!!

Under a cut bc I went off and is long:

That being said I’d be happy to yell abt Leo!! Where do I even begin, this man was the reason I got into Ikevamp in the first place, and I’ve read just about every single one of his events at this point. He just makes me so TENDER!!!!!! For whatever reason the first thing that came to mind was this one time he lies about being jealous and MC is lolol u a fool if you think I can’t tell when you lie to me. And he’s so fuckiNG SHOOK?????? It’s even funnier because she’s internally like [I’m not 100% sure but for a second there he almost looked mad...time to test this theory even if it’s just A GAME T H E O R Y] And he’s so fucking pikachu meme that shit sends me. I can’t handle the fact that he’s so used to people just assuming he’s fine, that he can handle himself. That he’s lived for so long without really anyone noticing at all. (Comte absolutely notices and will lightly roast him, but doesn’t really push him about it or wants to overstep). And so when MC just actively pays attention and is so gentle with him he’s just floored???

God I’m crying now, but I will just never forget the funeral scene in his fucking rt. This asshole, this absolute moron, straight up tries to come at us with “yOu GeT uSeD tO iT aFtEr HaLf A mIlLeNiUm, i’M nOt SaD”. Like are you serious. Come here and let me hold you before I throttle you. Absolute clown. He’s just always trying so hard to get by on his own and it breaks my heart. How long...how long has he lived just getting by, nursing his own wounds and dragging himself up all by himself. HE LEFT HOME AT LIKE 14 (whatever the fuCK SOME TOO YOUNG AGE) AND RAN STRAIGHT INTO THE HANDS OF PEOPLE THAT HATED HIM FOR HIS TALENT. HE REMEMBERS HIS MENTORS DESTROYING HIS UTENSILS WHILE TRYING TO ESCAPE PARENTS THAT WHOLEHEARTEDLY REJECTED ANY EXPRESSION OF LOVE OR COMPASSION FOR HUMANITY THAT HE CHERISHED SO DEEPLY. I DON’T NEED SLEEP I NEED TO HUG HIM IMMEDIATELY FUCKING HELL.

Like.........there’s just........I don’t know how to explain it, but I once saw it explained so well in a post. It was basically talking about Castlevania, and how in that show Dracula sees humanity’s folly and develops so much hatred he just goes straight to murder rage. And while in some ways I understand that, I understand even more deeply Trevor’s response to humanity’s fear and violence. He says that he knows they’re short-sighted, that maybe we all just don’t deserve saving...but that he’s going to do it anyway. Leonardo just so much gives me that energy of knowing there’s so much pain in the world, but all we can do is keep walking--keep trying, even if we have to claw our way forward. Because if you only see the awfulness in front of you, you forget the way that strangers make silly faces at babies to make them laugh on the train, how a friend will put everything down to race over to someone and comfort them with some ice cream--do anything they can to distract them from the hurt. How the sight of a child crying will prompt careful cooing from a stranger as to their bravery, an offering of cool water, the gentle placement of a bandaid. How a pair of teenagers will spot a lost child in milliseconds and help them seek out their parents protectively. There is so much wretchedness, but also so much beauty in it all, and the older I get the more I see myself wanting to believe in the latter. I want to be hopeful, and easily impressed, and full of love. To be bitter and jaded accomplishes nothing, and only becomes a worsening self-fulfilling prophecy. The more you seek negativity, the more you will find it; and worse, create it.

I also scream a little bit bc like. I’ve gone on and on about how Comte is very obviously in love with MC all the time, and sure that may be true. But...I really don’t think Leo is exempt from that either if I’m honest lmfao. Only because what does Leonardo do when it isn’t his route? He almost never shows up. Once in a while he might appear for a split second in a scene, but he almost never converses with MC beyond those short moments. While Comte is the one to pine openly, I’d wager Leo is the opposite. He pines in absolute silence, because he knows that if he gets any closer--he’s going to fall. He’s going to enjoy it too much, going to keep seeking out more before he can stop himself. And losing another person he loves...he just can’t do it anymore. In his first meeting story he talks about seeing MC’s eyes and feeling like he’d known them all his life, and even in his MS he speaks to just being completely fascinated by and enamored of her. She doesn’t hesitate, always does her best, meets people head-on and without much hesitation. After a lifetime of people that are probably just immediately interested in him for his talents, or always seeking out his company for the novelty, this is someone that doesn’t give a single fuck if he’s Leonardo da Vinci. Sure she’s aware, and sure she’s impressed to some extent, but her respect--her attraction and admiration--is something that has to be earned.

There’s something so refreshing about how their love was written. Sure it’s the whole fake marriage to a real relationship, but it’s also a kind of subtle enemies to lovers pulled off masterfully. MC is 100% minding her own business, just wants to do what she must in order to get home, tries to focus on her work to keep from thinking about how much she misses her old life. She doesn’t rely on anyone, doesn’t talk about how hard it is or how scary it is or how confusing. And even Leonardo forgets in his curiosity, is just chillin and also just trying to do the bare minimum to keep from getting too attached--figures he can admire her from a distance. And then he sees her staring at the hourglass. And suddenly, he can’t just watch her do that herself. Just wait for the hard times to pass, just sit with her own loneliness--that hollowing silence. There’s something so moving about it because he reaches out precisely because he knows that feeling to his fucking marrow, and literally just cannot watch somebody else do that to themselves. Sure he’s been dealing with it for three hundred years, BUT THIS GOOD BABIE CHILD DOES NOT DESERVE THIS. SHE WORKS HARD AND DESERVES NICE THINGS!!!!!!!! And so he drives her crazy as he races ahead of her, intercepting any attempt for her to preserve that silence and hide. She doesn’t see any pattern to it, and that’s just how he likes it--he doesn’t want her to worry about the how or why.

Like I fully remembering playing in Japanese and being like oh my fucking god this is hilarious, this man is just a wild fucker and I love this. I was enjoying myself, mostly laughing and shaking my head. But then it just gets so, so serious. I was having so much fun that I, like a fool, forgot the anime effect. If you’re having fun, it’s going to come crashing down without mercy soon enough. And it does. He helps a little girl without any hope play her violin again, and maybe I’m just too English major but I was fucking FLOORED when I realized I didn’t see that that was straight foreshadowing. That little girl without hope? That was MC (and by extension depending on how you play, us). Though the metaphor isn’t quite so easily mapped without a physical space, the connection is clear when you think about it. With his careful social awareness, he makes a place for MC to exist in the mansion so naturally--as though she was meant to be there from the start, crafts a positive impression of her presence with each of the residents. And he does it with zero expectation of anything in return; he’s just happy to see her not stressing herself out anymore or trying to do everything alone. MC doesn’t fall in love with him despite their differences, she falls in love with him because they are the same in a singular and all-encompassing way that matters; they both care about other people so deeply, to the point where they will forego any personal needs in order to make that person’s life easier. Whether it be muting their own hardship, or working to involve another person in a new space (or opening up to the point of self-destruction to keep a person from feeling alone), they go above and beyond what anybody asks of them--perhaps strong to the point of their own detriment, in some cases.

It’s why I always laugh when he says to Sebastian “That cara mia, she has a good heart.” Of course she does, Leonardo; it certainly takes one to know one.

And because I literally have no brain cells beyond being in fucking love with Leonardo THE LAKE SCENE IS AN AFFRONT TO MY DIGNITY AND SELF-CONTROL. HOW DARE YOU, SIGNORE. HOW DARE YOU ASK ME TO SIT THERE AND WATCH YOU OPEN YOUR HEART TO ME AND NOT BAWL MY EYES OUT AND TRY TO KISS YOU ALL AT THE SAME TIME. SIGNORE “hAhA yOu’Re So SmAlL yOu LoOk LiKe YoU’rE DrOwNiNg In My CoAt.” I WOULD DROWN AND DIE HAPPY--BITCH I TELL YOU THAT.

Like. I can’t think of another route I’ve ever done where I spent a good amount of time like “lmfao this guy is so wild im gonna punch him” to just be in a whirlpool of my own tears, regretting my entire fucking LIFE days later. Like Leonardo’s cultural impact???? Fucking immeasurable, I wish every white man disaster I ever met had a hidden heart of gold in all of his boyish dumbassery, an ICONIC himbo of our time.

Also because I remembered it before posting and I am Dying^TM. The event where MC was a pureblood and he was human. That entire fucking event. I literally can’t think about it without screaming and crying. Her just so flustered at his reaction to her like “oh look, free real estate” as he plops her in his lap, absolutely no fear, treating her like a princess because of her noble title despite NO NECESSITY BEYOND PLAYFULNESS BUT ALSO STILL MEANING IT IN AN EARNEST WAY, being charming to no END just to see her laugh or look away shyly.

WHEN HE SAID. WHEN HE SAID “...Can’t leave you alone, or you might go off someplace I can’t follow.” I. CONGRATULATIONS, YOU STRIPPED DEVOTION DOWN TO ITS BARE ESSENTIALS!!!!!! GAH HOW MC HERSELF SAYS “I would tell him the truth but...he’s much too generous for a human. I know he would offer his life without a moment’s hesitation.” How Leo describes the aftermath of her biting him: “Lucky for you, I’m a true gentleman, Unlike my principessa, who took me like a storm” HELLO??????? H E L L O ???????????????????????? ARE WE JUST GOING TO SLEEP ON THE FACT THAT HE LOST HIS ENTIRE SOUL WHEN SHE BIT HIM???? I--

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

(Also as much as I love him the cigarillos have got to go at some point, boy do you have any idea the shit secondhand smoke does good lordt)

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp comte #can you feel me going through 800 different emotions in the course of writing this #fucking hell #he absolutely kills me i love him so much #would do ANYTHING for him #if you listen v closely you can hear the soft sound of me grabbing tissues #god i was just rewatching some of his events and i just #THE SHEER WARMTH OF HIS PRESENCE HOW IT WASHES OVER YOU WHILE READING #IM SHAKING AND CRYING I LOVE HIM SO MUCH #SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#like leo is just one of those routes where its like 'my life was before and after this moment'#otome is honestly destroying my standards OTL #he just makes me feel So Much my coherence disappears #brain cells???? don't know her only Leo tiddy #in conclusion: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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goneseriesanalysis · 4 years ago

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Caine Soren

Hiya guys, so here are my thoughts and opinions on Caine from my re-read of the first book. I was planning on writing this quicker but my ADHD told me no. I’m prolly gonna write up a bunch now though because I’m ✨in the zone✨ Also, apologies but this is another long one because I am physically incapable of being concise

Spoilers for Gone down below

Original Opinion: Most of my criticism on him as a character came as a result of later development so I’m not quite sure whether that will change as of yet. But as far as his role as a villain, I really enjoyed his character and what he brought to the story.

New Opinion: I still maintain that Caine is a good main villain for this book. I found him to be waaaaay different and way less competent than I remember, but boy is he interesting. I have so many thoughts on Caine and it was a real struggle getting them all down.

1.) CAINE’S APPEARANCE:

Ok so we are first introduced to Caine in chapter 14 through Sam’s POV. We see him standing apart from the other Coates kids “wearing a bright yellow V-necked sweater instead of a blazer.” This is obviously done to set him apart from the other Coates kids, and (forgive me for going all English teacher on you) the colour yellow has connotations of corruption and deceit, which fit in pretty nicely with Caine as a character. Sam then goes on to give us a more detailed description:

“He was handsome, even Sam noticed that. He had dark hair and dark eyes, not much different from Sam himself. But this boy’s face seemed to glow with an inner light. He radiated confidence, but without arrogance or condescension. In fact, he managed to seem genuinely humble even while standing alone, looking out over everyone else.”

This is one of my least favourite descriptions in the whole book because it simultaneously manages to tell us almost nothing about Caine’s appearance whilst making me cringe so hard that my muscles start to atrophy. Seen as we get very little description of Sam, telling us that Caine looks like Sam is pretty much useless – although it nicely sets up the brother twist – and dark hair and dark eyes could mean anything. Are his eyes blue, brown, black?? Is his hair black or brown?? Who knows?? Not me. And don’t even get me started on his face glowing with an inner light. Because no. I hate this line so much it actually hurts. I thought at first it may be in reference to his connection with the gaiaphage. But that makes no sense. It reminds me of the scene in The Great Gatsby where Nick describes Gatsby’s smile for about half a page and he just sounds ridiculous. I will admit the last two sentences give a good example of Caine’s ability to charm and manipulate those around him but the rest is just aaa

We also learn that he is handsome, which is then followed by what I consider to be a writer’s greatest sin. “He was handsome, even Sam noticed that” – Every. Single. Time a male character describes another male character who just so happens to be attractive in any given book from any author, we get this line. It is the writer’s equivalent of saying no homo and I’m going to make it my personal mission to call them all out on it.

Ok moving on – sorry about that. Rant over.

Sam then says that “His voice was clear and just a little higher, maybe, than Sam’s, but strong and determined. He had a way of looking at the crowed before him that made it seem he was meeting every person’s eye, seeing every person as an individual.” This is good at further establishing Caine as a leader, and shows his relationship with crowds, it gives the reader some indication of his ability to control. He is able to easily win over those of Perdido Beach with his charm.

Caine gets referred to as being attractive by a few other characters throughout the book, but the last main description we get of him is from Drake’s POV in chapter 20:

“Caine sat in his over-large leather chair, the one that had previously belonged to the mayor of Perdido Beach. It made him look small. It made him look very young. And to make matters worse, he was chewing on his thumbnail, which made it almost look like he was sucking his thumb.”

This description is kind of reminiscent of the scene with Sam and the shirt that I talked about in my Sam Temple post. He has taken over the mayor’s chair but he is not fit to take on the position of mayor. Whereas Sam’s weakness in leadership stems from his insecurities and doubts, it is Caine’s narcissism and over-confidence that make him unfit to lead. Michael gives Caine the compulsion of biting his thumbnail when he is nervous. This is a habit that people often pick up to deal with challenging emotions is a less destructive way (as opposed to having a meltdown or getting angry) and works nicely for Caine’s character. It shows that while he does have his moments where he loses control, he is capable of controlling himself to a certain degree, making it seem more likely that someone like Diana might align herself with him. This also helps to further the idea that despite his narcissism and delusions of grandeur, he is still just a kid. And of course sets up the idea that Drake is somewhat resentful towards Caine.

2.) CAINE’S PERSONALITY:

Caine’s personality is a difficult one to analyse as there are two main aspects to it – the personality he projects in order to manipulate people and his actual personality – and sometimes the line between these blurs to the point where it becomes unclear which one we are seeing. One thing that I did notice is that in this book we don’t actually get a Caine POV until the Thanksgiving battle, so we mostly see him through the eyes of Sam, Jack, Drake and Diana, who all have very different relationships with him.

As I mentioned before, we first see Caine through Sam’s POV, where we are introduced to what I’m gonna call his fake personality. Michael uses phrases such as “Caine appeared interested” alongside Astrid’s commentary, which lets the reader know that Caine is not what he appears to be, but of course the general population of Perdido Beach are not aware of this. One criticism I had towards the way that Caine’s character is portrayed is that it is initially hinted that the reason he is able to gain such control over people is because of his proficiency in manipulation and his superficial kindness (such as when he comforts the kid who asks for his mum). And yet he manages to fool almost no-one?? Astrid, Sam, Edilio, Albert, Mary and Howard all immediately see through his façade, which makes it hard to believe that this is how he gained such influence over people. (And of course all the kids at Coates who were cemented saw through it too). In fact I found myself to be kind of confused as to why anyone follows him at all?? Is it just a fear of his power?? That’s… a little disappointing. He doesn’t become mayor because he charms the population. He becomes mayor because no-one else wants to do it, and no-one can be bothered to oppose him. And even when people start to become more afraid, they aren’t afraid of Caine. It’s Drake. Although, you of course have to take into account the fact that these are just children who want someone they can look towards for help and guidance. Perhaps Caine’s persuasive abilities are less about using his charm to completely win people over and more about him being able to take advantage of situations that are presented to him. He has just enough superficial charm and makes just enough beneficial changes (such as laying down rules and protecting the food) that people are willing to overlook some of the more sinister things that he does.

That being said, I think my main issue with so many characters being able to see through Caine so quickly, is what it says about or “hero.” Sam doing nothing to stop Caine, despite him clearly knowing that Caine is bad news makes him seem a little selfish?? His insecurities stop him from doing what is right, and while it is good to have a flawed hero, his willingness to allow Caine to terrorise Perdido Beach up until he threatens Sam personally seems less like a small character flaw and more like a pretty big lapse in morality and compassion. Would Sam have ever taken control if Caine hadn’t kidnapped him?? If Sam had been fooled by Caine’s manipulation that would imo have made both of their characters better fit their respective roles of protagonist and antagonist.

That being said one of my absolute favourite lines regarding Caine is “Then let’s go in together,’ Caine said. He turned and marched purposefully up the church steps. The rest of the chosen fell in behind him.” in chapter 14. I think this perfectly captures the contrast between what Caine says and what he does, and I really love it. One of Michael’s strengths is adding little throw away lines that can perfectly sum up a character and their intentions. And this idea of Caine saying something but meaning something else is pretty central to his character – the biggest pay-off we get from this in book 1 is him promising to protect the little’s and then (horrifyingly) feeding them to the coyotes in the final battle. This was a scene that I did not previously remember and man did I feel some emotions when reading it. There wasn’t even a second thought, absolutely no indication of remorse. I know a few times it’s mentioned throughout the books that the difference between Caine and Drake is that Caine only does what is necessary – but the scene with the coyotes really contradicts that idea.

Caine’s ‘real personality’ imo is shown in little moments throughout the books. By Caine’s real personality, I’m referring to the part of him that we don’t really see at all in this book, the part of him that is only really hinted at by Diana, and occasionally Drake. Even when Caine is around Diana and Drake, he still tries to keep up a persona – this time that of a cold and detached boy with little to no emotions. But this isn’t really who he is. I think the ‘real’ Caine is an extremely emotional person (although I would like to clarify that by emotional I mainly mean angry and sometimes scared) and there are a couple of moments where this does shine through. There are a few times where Caine loses his temper with both Drake and Diana, using his powers to injure them and to reiterate the power he has over them. I think this shows how insecure Caine truly is, despite what he would have others believe. He only ever breaks character when his authority is mocked or threatened, even if the threat holds no real intention (such as Diana’s jibe after he kisses her). I do find it interesting that, at the core, Sam and Caine are quite similar. It is how these insecurities manifest and project themselves that really define them as different. Caine’s insecurities also shine through in these quotes from Diana:

“Yes. Sam is a four bar. And Caine would freak.” – Chapter 29

“Caine, despite his over-sized ego, his looks, his charm, was terribly awkward with girls.” – Chapter 39

Caine needs to be in control. He needs to be the most powerful person in the room at all times, and the only two people who can really be considered a threat to him in this way are Diana and Sam. Sam is his main threat and Diana, of course, holds a certain amount of power over him due to his feelings towards her. However, any time that Diana seems to be gaining or trying to gain more power (most notably when she makes fun of him for kissing her and when she tries to make him call off the coyotes) he reacts with violence. But I’ll go into that more when I make a post about their relationship.

Another thing that I noticed about Caine that I hadn’t previously remembered is that, he’s a bit of a coward. We first see this in chapter 34 when Little Pete frees the Coates kids “Caine was quick. He backed away, turned, and ran for the building.” The one thing that really got me about this is that he didn’t wait for Diana. He just turned and saved himself. Which kind of brings into question why Diana stays with him. Does he offer protection?? He certainly didn’t here. He literally abandoned her and ran for the hills. The other time we really see this side of him when he uses Astrid as a human shield in chapter 45. Diana even comments on this, telling him to “be a man for once.” I don’t have much else to say about this, but I think it’s an interesting aspect of his personality that certainly makes it easier to dislike him.

Now the last thing I want to talk about in regards to his personality is chapter 36 (the chapter where Drake gets his arm cut off). Caine gets in three good moments during this scene, the first one being:

“It’s not Diana or Chunk or even me,’ Caine said. ‘It’s none of us, Drake. It’s Sam. It’s Sam who did this to you, Drake. You want him to get away with it? Or do you want to live long enough to make him suffer?”

This is one of my favourite Caine moments in the book, and it’s really one of the only times that we see his manipulation actually work on someone. He knows exactly what to say to Drake in order to shift the blame in the direction he wants. Forget that I left you behind to deal with Sam and the escaped kids yourself. Forget that Diana is sawing your arm off. Just focus on Sam. And I think this line had such an effect on Drake’s psyche (which I will explore more in my Drake post) and really excellently shows off Caine’s ability to take advantage of a pre-existing situation in order to benefit himself.

The next two moments are where I really think the lines between Caine’s persona and the ‘real’ Caine blur to the point where it’s unclear which side of him we are seeing – and I think there is an argument for both although imo I feel like it’s his persona that we are seeing.

“It’s the only way to stop the pain,’ Caine said, almost showing some emotion, some pity. ‘The arm is done for Drake-man.”

“Don’t cut off my arm,’ Drake cried. ‘Let me die. Just let me die. Shoot me. ‘Sorry,’ Caine said. ‘But I still need you, Drake. Even one-handed.”

So, we first get the idea that Caine, at least somewhat, feels sorry for Drake. Drake’s injury is horrific and it’s clear that other characters, such as Jack and Diana, who are usually nothing but hostile to Drake (and rightfully so) feel some sympathy towards the situation. Now it’s also important to note that this scene is from Drake’s POV so we don’t actually know if the sympathy Caine is showing is real, is part of his attempt to manipulate Drake, or isn’t there at all and is just something that Drake wants. (I think the last option is entirely plausible as Drake often seeks praise from Caine, so in a situation like this it makes sense that he would seek some empathy). However, Caine then goes on to refuse Drake’s plea for death… because he needs him. Not because he’s a friend – or even just an ally. Not because he doesn’t want him to die. But because he needs him. That’s cold. And it’s really cold to tell him that – which leads me to believe that the almost sympathy Drake sees earlier on was never there, or at the very least was just a manipulation tactic. Caine cares so little for the people around him and I find it quite funny that it was his treatment of Drake (the person probably most deserving of it) in this scene that really showed me how much of a villain Caine can be.

3.) CAINE’S MOTIVATIONS:

Why does Caine do the things he does?? Why does he need to be in control?? And while we don’t really get much insight into Caine’s head in this book, there are a few good moments which allowed a reader to speculate as to what his motivations are. The first moment that really stood out to me was in chapter 39, where Caine tries to open up to Diana about his parents:

“I always had the feeling, you know? That my family wasn’t my real family. They never said I was adopted, but my mother – well, the woman I thought was my mother, I don’t know what to call her now. Anyway, her, she never talked about having me. You know, you hear moms talking about going into labour and all. She never talked about that.”

From this, we can see that Caine always felt like an outsider within his own family, he always felt like he didn’t belong. And this seems to be a pretty big motivator when it comes to Caine’s need to take over, to have power over everyone else. If he has control, then he will always have a place. He will always belong because the world will be his. Caine never fit in in the real world, his narcissism (and probably psychopathy) distanced him from other people right from the get go. But in this new world, in the FAYZ, Caine has a chance to be important, to be a ruler and he’s willing to do pretty much anything to get that. I think this idea, of his need for power and control stemming from the lack of acceptance and belonging he felt with his family, is emphasised in chapter 46, during the poof:

“Caine seemed spellbound, unable to tear his gaze away from the gentle, smiling face, the piercing blue eyes. ‘Why?’ Caine asked in a small child’s voice. […] ‘Why him and not me?’ Caine asked.”

This is the only time I felt the slightest bit of sympathy for Caine during my re-read of this book. He is 14. A kid. He spent his whole life feeling like and outsider and now he knows that a woman he knew, a woman that he saw almost every night is his actual mother. That she also knew this and yet never tried to talk to him, to explain, to do anything. And now he’s looking at ��her’ and all he wants to know is why. Why did she give him up?? He lacks empathy and many other emotions that allow healthy relationships with others, yet he still wants people to have that connection with him. He needs him and rely on him. So his solution is to gain enough power, enough authority and control so that people have to listen to him and have to rely on him. He doesn’t care how many people he hurts or pisses off, because in the end, if he gets what he wants, that won’t matter. He’ll be too powerful for it to matter because they’ll still need him anyway. And that’s why “All that matters is winning. So save it.” – Chapter 45

4.) CAINE’S INTENTIONS/ HIS ROLE AS A VILLAIN:

Caine’s intentions are pretty obvious from the very first time we meet him in chapter 14. And, of course, it is these intentions that really define his role as a villain. Now, in chapter 14, it never outright says that Caine’s intentions are to take complete control over Perdido Beach. In fact, Caine tries to make it seem like he wants to make a collaborative effort to help them all move forward. But once again, his actions contradict his words, most notably in these lines:

“Orc grunted, shifted the bat from right hand to left, and stuck out his thick paw. Caine grabbed it with both his hands and solemnly looked Orc in the eye as they shook hands.”

“But Caine grabbed his elbow and manoeuvred him into a handshake.” [Referring to Sam]

“Caine had moved confidently towards the altar.”

These lines subtly show that, whilst Caine talks about working together, he is really the one in charge. He is the one dictating what is happening and when it is happening, forcing Sam and Orc to shake his hand. Giving them jobs so that he can keep an eye on them (Orc) or keep them out of the way (Sam). And of course, he won’t stand with them in the church. They don’t sit around a table and talk as equals. Caine has to be up at the front. He also gets extremely angry when other people make demands, or give an idea that he can’t take credit for. The most obvious example of this being in response to Howard telling him that they wouldn’t be working for Drake. “Sam saw a coldly furious expression appear on Caine’s handsome face, then disappear as swiftly as it had come.” This is then followed up by Caine ripping a 12ft cross off of a wall and launching it at them, so it’s safe to say that he doesn’t appreciate his authority being challenged.

Later in the book we then get more obvious examples of his intentions, as his role as the villain is fully unveiled:

“Caine, to the surprise of no-one who knew him, had taken over the mayor’s office.” – Chapter 15

“Number one says Caine is the mayor of Perdido Beach and the whole area known as the FAYZ.” – Chapter 16

After Caine basically walks into Perdido Beach, tells everyone what to do, and gets away with it, he begins to be more outright with his intentions. He immediately takes over the mayor’s office, and makes his new title of mayor the very first rule to be enforced. He isn’t really all that secretive about his intentions, at least not after the initial meeting. I think this is a measure of his confidence – he doesn’t feel at all threatened by the people of Perdido Beach. I think one of the reasons that Caine is such a good villain, is that when he is in control, he isn’t that bad?? I mean sure, having Drake as sheriff is less than ideal, but Caine himself is not a bad leader. He comes up with rules that both make sense and do actively increase the quality of life of those in Perdido Beach (minus the no magic tricks rule). It’s only what Caine is willing to do in order to get that power that actually makes him the villain. Once he has it, he’s not really a threat?? And then of course, we get Caine’s fantastic little speech in chapter 42 that really just sums up all these ideas in much less words:

“What was I supposed to do? Coates? That’s it? How do you not see what an opportunity this is? We’re in a whole new world. I’m the most powerful person in that whole new world. No adults. No parents or teachers or cops. It’s perfect. Perfect for me. All I have to do is take care of Sam and a few others, and I’ll have complete control.”

Because if it wasn’t for his ego, if he hadn’t attacked Sam, if he hadn’t used Drake to cause fear and enmity, he would have had it. He would have gotten his complete control, because no-one else really wanted to be in charge. The fool is his own worst enemy.

5.) CAINE’S POWERS:

So, the last thing I wanted to discuss about Caine, is his powers. To me, it seemed whilst reading that his powers are almost an extension of his personality. Caine is naturally a very domineering person, and so it makes sense that his power is the ability to control things with his mind. The first time we see Caine’s powers (also the first time we see anyone purposefully use their powers) is in the church:

“Caine sighed, raised his hands, and used both palms to smooth back his hair. There came a rumble, up through the floor and pews. A small earthquake… […] But then came a rending sound, steel and wood twisting, and the crucifix separated from the wall. It ripped free of the bolts holding it in place, like an invisible giant had yanked it away. […] The crucifix toppled forwards. It fell like a chain sawed tree. As it fell, Caine dropped his hands to his sides. His face was grim, hard, and angry. The crucifix, at least a dozen feet tall, slammed with shocking force down onto the front-row pew. The impact was as loud and sudden as a car wreck.” – Chapter 14

I like how, similarly to the way he talks, the first time we see a display of his power, he is hiding it – his body language is suggesting one action whilst he is actually doing something else entirely. This again makes me feel like the powers are an extension of personalities (and I will give other examples of this is later posts). I also noticed that the use of his powers is almost always as a response to his anger, something that Sam also learns to do thanks to Astrid’s guidance. These two scenes are great examples of this:

“Caine’s smile was cold. He raised his hand, palm out. An invisible fist hit Sam in the face. He staggered back. He barely stopped himself from falling, but his head was reeling. Blood leaked from his nose.” – Chapter 21

“Caine reached back over his shoulder with one hand, not even looking back. He spread his fingers, bared his palms. The fallen portion of the wall came apart, brick by brick. One by one, as though each brick had sprouted wings, they lifted off and flew. The bricks hurtled past Caine’s head and through the open door as fast as machine-gun bullets.” – Chapter 31

Unlike Sam, who often uses his powers as a defence strategy, Caine always uses them as a method of attack. He attacks Orc’s gang, Drake, Sam and Andrew – not as a last resort, but as a warning. He likes to make a big display of his power in order to deter people from actually engaging in a fight. Although when it does come down to an actual fight, he tends to be a little less confrontational and a little bit more of a coward. I mean come one. Hiding behind Astrid was low. At least this is the case in book 1.

Next, is the development of his powers. Unlike Sam, we know that Caine did not discover his powers alone:

“Several of us developed strange powers, starting a few months ago,’ Caine said conversationally. ‘We were like a secret club. Frederico, Andrew, Dekka, Brianna, some others. We worked together to develop them. Encouraged each other. See, that’s the difference between Coates people and you townies. In boarding school it’s hard to keep secrets. But soon it became clear that my powers were of a whole different order. What I just did to you? No one else could do that.”

The Coates kids formed a sort of support group for each other, which is why they have such a good understanding of their powers, as opposed to Lana and the Perdido Beach kids, who either hid their powers or else didn’t discover them until the FAYZ began. One thing that I do find interesting about this, is that the Coates kids all seemed to develop their powers pretty late. Caine says that the powers started a few months ago, and yet Sam first used his 14 months before the FAYZ began. I think that goes to show how the Coates environment really gave Caine the ability to experiment with and foster his powers, which is why he has such control. He achieved in a few months what is took Sam over a year to do. (One thing that I think would have been nice to have is perhaps in a later book some flashbacks on the Coates kids working together to do this. But oh well)

Thank you so much again for reading, and please feel free to add your thoughts. Next up is Diana and I have a lot to say about her. :)

#the gone series #caine soren #Gone

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12timetraveler · 4 years ago

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Firsts

Chapter 51 of Campfire Stories is up.

Reader shelters with Flaco from a blizzard. The two begin talking about this and that. Flaco discovers that reader is a virgin.

Below is a little teaser. Read the full thing on AO3

“I can’t believe The Terror of The Grizzlies sent me to take care of a bear,” You chuckled to yourself as you tossed the pelt on the back of your horse. It had been a particularly angry grizzly, judging by the trail of carnage you’d followed to find it. But surely it wasn’t something a famous gunslinger couldn’t handle?

You giggled to yourself as you swung your leg over your horse, settling in the saddle. He’d looked so damn cute when he’d asked you to hunt the bear. Huffing and puffing as he fought to push down his pride, grumpily pointing his knife at you when you failed to keep a straight face. Though you weren’t really laughing at his troubles with the bear, rather at how adorable he’d looked, all flustered and pouting.

“Fucking bears.” you chuckled, recalling his final words as you’d left the cabin. You urged your horse into a canter, following the barely-visible road back to Cairn Lodge. The wind was beginning to pick up, and the snow was starting to fall once again. If you weren’t careful, you’d end up stranded in one of the abandoned cabins up here. Again.

Flaco was lucky you were sweet on him. Otherwise you wouldn’t make the journey up here nearly as often as you did. Most of your trips up here resulted in you stuck in a blizzard, either barely making it off the mountain, or finding refuge in an abandoned hut. Your horse huffed and whinnied angrily as you pushed it deeper into the mountains, no doubt wishing you’d picked an easier man to be the center of your affections.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint when exactly you’d developed your feelings. Somewhere between him calling you pretty while pointing a gun at your head, and gently telling you to stay warm as you went out on another job. You found yourself making the journey up into the snow more and more. You instructed Cripps to set up your camp near Cattail pond, so you were right near a road that led up to him. You spent weeks hunting down a pristine grizzly bear pelt so that you could have Gus make you a coat just like Flacos. Yes you were a lovestruck idiot. But you’d shoot anyone who said so to your face.

As you neared Colter, you turned up the hill, cutting across the snow to save you a few extra minutes. The snow was already falling harder, so you could only see a few feet in front of you. At this point you’d resigned yourself to a night at Colter. At least there was some firewood in the main cabin where you always took shelter.

You trotted down the hill, stopping just in front of the cabin. With a grunt, you swung the heavy pelt over your shoulder and gently kicked the door open with the toe of your boot. Flaco glanced up from the piece of wood he was sharpening. Was he actually carving something, or just idly whittling away? You’d always wondered but for the sake of his pride you never asked.

“There you are, chiquita. I was starting to worry the bear had gotten you.” He mused as you tossed the pelt down in the corner.

“What, me? Nah,” You grinned. “It’ll take more than a big ol’ teddy bear to bring me down,” You teased. Flaco huffed and gumbled, but didn’t say anything more. You rubbed your hands together for a moment, letting the fire warm them. You really did not want to go back out there in that storm, but you’d have to go soon if you were going to make it to Colter.

“I’d better get going,” you relented, more to yourself than to Flaco.

“In this?” He asked, pulling back the large hide over the window to peer outside. A white curtain of snow met his gaze. He couldn’t even see the outhouse a few feet away from the cabin. “You’ll die if you go out in this.” He scoffed.

“Eh. I’m only going to Colter. Ain’t that far. I’ll be fine. I’ll hunker down there for the night before I head back down to my own camp.” You shrugged.

“Stay for a bit, chiquita. Get some feeling back in your toes before you go back out there.” He said, gesturing toward the fire. “I know you’re eager to get back to your exciting life, and away from old Flaco, but wait until the snow dies down some.” He said You nodded gratefully, sitting on a mat near the fire.

“Thanks,” You said. “And I ain’t trying to get away from you.” You said, narrowing your eyes at him and daring him to argue. “I just figured you wouldn’t want me hanging around too long, in case anyone else came lookin’ for work. Wouldn’t want them thinkin’ you’d gone soft, spending your time with a lady.” You stage whispered. He roared out a laugh.

“Lobita you know it doesn’t matter to me if you’re in a dress or trousers,” He scoffed. “Some men out there, they think women can’t handle the life. We both know you’re one of my most trusted employees. I’ve met women who could kick my ass in a fight, and I’ll admit it gladly.” He said.

“Really? Like who?” you asked, settling back against the wall, ready to hear an exciting story of the old days.

“Ever hear of Black Belle?” He asked. You raised an eyebrow, nodding.

“Course I have.” you said. “I actually work some jobs for her on occasion too. I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“Yeah. We ran together for a little while. Worked some impressive jobs.” He chuckled nostalgically. “But we’re two stubborn mules. Especially back then. Eventually we went our separate ways. We work much better as amigos than as amantes.” He said.

“Amantes…” You paused, putting your limited knowledge of Spanish to work. “What, you two were lovers?” you asked.

“Briefly,” He said. “Like I said, we were both too strong willed. We ran together as partners in crime first. Then we tried the romantic bit. Didn’t last very long, and we left on good terms.” He chuckled. “It’s good to know the old cougar is still out running. Send her my regards when you see her next.”

“Oh I think when I get off this mountain I’ll be going straight to visit her,” You chuckled. “I’ve gotta hear this from her.”

“What, you don’t believe me?” He asked with fake hurt.

“No, I just have some… questions for her.” you giggled. Flaco wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Questions I couldn’t answer?” He asked.

“Mmmhmm.” You said. “Just woman’s talk,” You said innocently. In all honesty, you’d never be able to get up the courage to ask her the questions on your mind. How did Flaco’s lips feel? Was he romantic or distant? Was he good in bed? How big was his…

“Alright, chiquita be mysterious if you want.” He huffed, pulling you from your thoughts. “But I think you owe me something.”

“What for?” you scoffed.

“I told you about one of my deep, personal relationships,” He said dramatically. “I think it’s only fair you tell me about one of yours.” He said. You were quiet for a moment, panicking. “Do you have a fella? Some secret man hidden back at home, keeping your bed warm until you return? Or do you prefer the one-night stands with mysterious men you meet in saloons?” He asked.

What the hell were you going to say? How could you tell him you were a virgin? He’d never believe that you of all people were innocent. Not the way you acted and carried yourself. The way you were always lightly flirting with him.

Worse, what if he did believe you? What if he laughed at you, or looked down at you? Patronized you for being so naive about such things? What if he took advantage of you, forced himself on you… no Flaco wouldn’t do that. He may be an outlaw, but he had a moral compass of some kind. He wouldn’t force himself onto you.

“Chiquita” Flaco asked gently, pulling you out of your panicking. You met his gaze. His brows were furrowed in concern. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think… did you lose someone then?” He asked. You couldn’t help but smile. He was so damn sweet, behind the prickly exterior he’d created for himself.

“No,” you said finally. “I… uh… well I’ve never really been with someone.” You said.

“Oh. Never had a grand romance,” He said, nodding in understanding. “Maybe for the best. This lifestyle isn’t always kind to romance. Tell me about your favorite barfly then? Some poor fool you bewitched in your travels.” He said.

“No… I...erm…” you coughed and looked down. “I ain’t ever actually… been with anyone at all.” You said. You could feel your cheeks warm.

“What you’ve never…” Flaco paused. “You’re a virgin?”

#flaco hernandez/reader #flaco hernandez/f!reader #virgin!reader #flachoes #Campfire Stories

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sithsecrets · 5 years ago

Text

A Matter of Expediency - Part VIII

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

---

Part 8

4.2k words

Mentions: sex, swearing

---

Miriam dresses you in the morning, rousing you from a cold, empty bed so that you may be ready on time to link up with the Chancellor. You feel a pang in your chest when you realize that Kylo’s not there, though you don’t let it hurt your feelings too badly. He’s a very busy man, your husband, and you assume that he’s got much to do today running the galaxy and all.

The Chancellor greets you graciously in a main corridor, and you’re thankful to see a friendly face in a sea of stormtroopers, uniformed technicians, and other complete strangers. He begins leading you through the ship, the both of you flanked by members of the Imperial Guard. Once again, you find yourself impressed that he’s navigating the ship without a map or compass— you feel utterly lost already, and you’ve been walking about no more than five minutes.

“The Supreme Leader has told me that the people of your home planet adore you,” the Chancellor states, and though he’s being his serious self, you can tell he’s happy to be talking with you. You’re glad to be with a friend, glad to have an ally as you waltz into a new situation.

You flush under the praise, humbled— you had no idea that people spoke so highly of you at home. “I just try to be kind to everybody, no matter who they are.”

“Well it seems to work,” Hux says with a shrug. “I think you’ll be an excellent fit for this job, given your demeanor and manner of dealing with others. I will admit that myself and many other Order officials lack your gentle touch.”

“What about the Head of Charity?” you ask. You’re most nervous about meeting her, you think. She attended your wedding, but you never got the chance to speak past the casual hello. Still, the woman in question made quite the impression, dripping in gems as more than one handsome man nipped at her heels.

The Chancellor’s brows draw together, and he speaks as if he’s choosing his words carefully. “She’s… I think you’ll be able to handle her. Just don’t take anything that she says or does personally.”

You want to ask him what he means by that, but you don’t get the chance.

---

The Head of Charity is just as striking as you remember, all sharp features and intense gray eyes. She looks almost like a bird you think, but not the kind that sits on a branch and makes sweet music as the sun rises. No, this woman is a predator, a raptor bathed in gems and precious metals. Every bit of her glitters, light glinting off her throat, wrists, fingers, and ears as she glides across the floor to greet you. Upon closer inspection, you realize that the Head of Charity is a bit older than you realized, lines crinkling in the corners of her mouth and eyes. Still, it’s as if her age only serves to enhance her beauty, and you think that you may have been a bit taken aback by this woman if you weren’t so keenly aware of how she’s been judging you since you walked in the room.

“Empress,” the Head of Charity greets, curtsying deeply as she comes to stand before you. Something about her tone and the look in her eyes makes you think that she may not have done such a thing if others were not present, and you get the vaguest since that you’re being mocked in some way or another. Still, you are gracious and warm, smiling sweetly as you gaze out on the Chairwoman and the rest of the Board of Charitable Affairs.

“It is so lovely to meet you, Chairwoman, members of the Board,” you say, and already, you can pick out the little pets. There’s a handful of them around the table, and while they return your grin, the twist of their mouths is just the least bit suggestive of a sneer. Something’s already been said about you, that much is plain, but you let their ridiculing looks roll right off your back.

Thankfully, Chancellor Hux sticks around, seating himself next to you as the meeting begins. Introductions are made, and you try very hard to remember everyone’s names and faces, not wanting to give anybody the satisfaction of making you look like a fool later on. All eyes fall on you each time you ask a question, but Hux proves himself to be a great ally, always armed with an answer or an explanation. You already knew that the Order’s influence is vast and wide, but you come to understand that they truly do have their hand in every part of the known galaxy. Dozens of planets are discussed, and the charitable causes established on all of them tally into the hundreds. It’s a heavy workload to manage by anyone’s standards, and you understand at once why an entire team of people has been selected to oversee it all.

“I had no idea that the Order was so involved in charity,” you declare, awed by the sheer amount of money that the organization is shelling out for its colonies and possessions. You’re pleased to see such a difference being made, pleased to know that the First Order has no interest in simply conquering and pillaging anymore. You knew that Kylo changed much when he took the throne several years ago, but still, it’s flooring to hear what he’s done to help his people.

“Yes,” says the Head of Charity, “the Supreme Leader has always been quite insistent on spreading the Order’s wealth.” You don’t like the quirk of her mouth as she tells you this, don’t care for her tone. It’s almost as if she thinks your husband silly for spending all this money, for having all these schools and orphanages designed and built for the people under his rule. You cannot believe her attitude, yet, you don’t say anything, unwilling to kick up a fuss so early on.

“The Supreme Leader,” Chancellor Hux elaborates, speaking directly to you, “wanted to change the galaxy’s opinion of the Order after the end of Supreme Leader Snoke’s tyrannical rule. The first thing he did was end the kidnapping of children for the stormtrooper program, and then he established the Board of Charitable Affairs. Since then, he’s been insistent on improving the quality of life on every planet he makes an alliance with.”

The look in the Chancellor’s eyes would indicate that he doesn’t think much of the Head of Charity himself, though you must say that his subtlety is impressive. Something passes between yourself and Hux in that moment, an understanding of sorts, but you think it’s too quick for anyone else to catch.

The meeting only goes on for a bit longer, and you’re thrumming with excitement by the end of it. You still lack a bit of confidence in your ability to handle everything, but you can’t wait to start working on new efforts. The Order’s acquired several underprivileged planets in the last couple of weeks, and there’s much talk of benefits and fundraising events, of dedications and the completion of existing projects. Your head swims with ideas, though you don’t want to reveal any of them to the group just yet.

An official adjournment is called, and members of the board begin to file out of the room, leaving in groups of two and three. Chancellor Hux invites you to take lunch with himself and some other Order officials, and you accept the invitation happily.

As the two of you go to leave, the Head of Charity calls out to you. She practically floats instead of walking, coming to stand before you. Her smile is catlike, and you catch a subtle glint in her eye as she speaks. “I just wanted to say that I so look forward to working with you,” the woman gushes, her admiration entirely fake. Stars, she reminds you of your aunt, of Mila. They’re all the same kind of woman, power-hungry and cold to the core.

“My sentiments are the same, Chairwoman,” you reply, throwing her put-on sincerity back in her face. The Chairwoman knows what you’re doing, but her confidence doesn’t falter for long.

“Please, call me Evan,” she insists. This is a blatant ploy to draw you in closer, but you can’t decide if she’s being transparent on purpose or if she really is a terrible actor.

Your smile is sickeningly sweet. “Evan it is, then.”

But you do not give this woman permission to call you by your given name, and you would sooner die than do so… A fact that obviously gets under Evan’s skin. There is a pause, and then the Chairwoman reaches out to tuck a loose piece of hair back behind your ear. It’s a ballsy move, seeing that you’re flanked on all sides by Imperial Guards. “If I may be so bold, Empress— I must say that you are a very beautiful girl… by the standards of your little planet.”

It’s her most cutting remark yet, and the most overtly aggressive, but you’ve had worse said to you over a casual breakfast. Still, you cannot believe her brazenness.

“Thank you, Evan,” you reply, acting as if you’re genuinely touched. The Chairwoman gives you a long look before bidding yourself and Hux a good day, and then she’s gone, floating out of the room in a quiet huff.

You and the Chancellor watch Evan go, waiting for the coast to clear before you speak.

“What an awful woman,” you declare, laughing at the Chairwoman’s audacity. Never before have you seen someone so insanely brave!

“That was outstanding, Empress,” Chancellor Hux breathes, genuinely impressed as the two of you finally make your exit. “I’ve never seen anyone manage to ruffle her feathers like you just did.”

You roll your eyes, waving a hand flippantly through the air. “Oh please, I know all of her tricks the way I know the back of my hand. She’s just like my aunt was, always trying to cut someone else down for her own amusement.” Scoffing, you add, “If she wants to make me squirm, she’s going to have to do better than that.”

Chancellor Hux is amused by what you’ve said, and it’s nice to hear him laugh for once. Like Kylo, your new friend suffers from an eternally serious demeanor.

You turn to him in disbelief. “How did she even get this job? Don’t tell me she treats other diplomats and galaxy leaders that way.”

The Chancellor shakes his head, resigned. “She’s a shapeshifter,” he tells you simply. “She knows all the right people, and she has a way of bending them to her will. You would think she was a different person when she’s at galas and benefits, the very epitome of a selflessness.” He rolls his eyes as he says this, obviously thinking back on something specific.

“Surely Kylo doesn’t like her,” you declare, unable to fathom a man like your husband finding friendship with a woman like that.

“No, of course not,” Hux affirms. “But she brings in big donations from outside the Order, and she’s strengthened a couple of important alliances using her own… methods.”

The look of disgust on your friend’s face is evident, and you decide it best not to ask.

“A necessary evil,” you conclude, and the Chancellor confirms this with a nod.

“But,” he amends, “I think the Supreme Leader would be happy to push her out if someone better came along.” Hux looks at you directly now. “In a few months’ time, after you’ve sharpened your skills and gained a bit of knowledge, I think we can be rid of her.”

“Kylo told me that he wants me to replace you.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you realize how that sounds. “I mean, at least that’s what he told me. He says that he needs you for—"

Hux cuts you off with a wave of his hand, smiling slyly. “That’s what he said, yes, but—”

You catch on immediately, cutting him off now yourself. “But that’s not the real plan. The both of you want to be rid of Evan, but you told me differently so I wouldn’t blow your cover.”

Under different circumstances, such a deception may have hurt your feelings. However, you get it— your ignorance of the situation only helped you during the meeting, and you’re sure that Kylo and Hux wanted to feel out your real opinion of the Chairwoman before they let you in on their little secret. You tell the Chancellor as much, and his expression slowly shifts into a satisfied grin.

“We’ll make a politician out of you yet, Empress,” the Chancellor proclaims. The two of you share a sly look, and then Hux is guiding you into a grand dining room.

---

The officer’s luncheon is littered with friendly faces, but it makes you a bit sad to see that Kylo isn’t among the group of men and women that you’re to dine with this afternoon. You had hoped he might be there, but you guess he’s off doing something else at the moment.

Conversation flows easily at the table, and you’re content to listen more than talk as you eat your delicious meal. You’d been a bit worried at first about what eating on the ship would be like, but you’re delighted to see that it’s not all pre-packaged foods and tasteless protein portions. The gathering only lasts for about an hour, but you have a splendid time nonetheless. You leave happy, relieved at the thought that your peers in the Order seem to genuinely like you.

It would seem that your schedule is clear for the rest of the afternoon, all of your meetings and social engagements done for the day. You don’t know what else to do, so you ask your guards to show you around the ship a bit. They lead you through a virtual maze of corridors and passageways, escorting you to the medbay, the bridge, various landing decks, and even the medbay. It’s a comprehensive tour, and most of your afternoon has been eaten away by the time you’re satisfied with what you’ve seen. With nothing else to do, you simply have the guards take you back to your quarters. Before you dismiss them, though, you have one last question.

“If I wanted to speak to the Supreme Leader, how would I do so?”

One of your guards answers quickly, telling you that your comlink is all you need. You feel a bit silly as soon as he says it, having almost forgotten about the thing entirely. They aren’t standard on your home planet, and Miriam had only mentioned it in passing this morning as she tucked it place behind your ear. After a quick tutorial, the guards leave you alone, walking off down the hall to do stars know what.

You settle yourself in the living room, hesitant as you try to reach out to your husband. It feels strange, just talking out loud, but you do it anyway. Kylo’s voice is crystal clear in your ear, and you jump at the sound of it.

“I’m here,” he says. “What is it?”

As you go to reply, you almost feel silly for bothering him. “I was wanted to know what you’re doing.”

Your husband doesn’t seem annoyed though, telling you, “The Knights and I have been out on a scouting mission. We should be back in a couple of hours.” A pause, and then, “I apologize for not telling you my whereabouts.”

“No, no,” you say quickly, “it’s all right. I just wanted to know if you were going to be home this evening, that’s all.”

You don’t tell Kylo that you’re a bit eager to see him, or that you were afraid you might be sleeping alone tonight, and you pray that none of that comes out in your voice.

“I’ll be back soon,” your husband affirms, and then the com goes dead. It stings a bit, how quickly Kylo gets off the line, but you try not to take it personally. He’s doing something important, you’re sure.

Miriam appears just a few minutes after you send for her, and she’s happy to help you freshen up before the Supreme Leader returns. You sit in front of the vanity for a while, touching up your makeup as Miriam fusses with your hair. Though there’s no reason for it, you decide that you want to change dresses, indecisive as you pick through everything you brought from home. While no one commented on your appearance when you were out and about today, you felt out of place in your outfit. Everyone in the Order wears sleek, sharp, dark-colored garments— your floaty pastel dress is a far cry from any of that, even if it is pretty.

“I guess I need new clothes,” you sigh, running your fingers wistfully across the neat row of garments before you. You love them all, of course, but none of them look like something an empress would wear.

“Your dresses are beautiful,” Miriam reassures you, reaching out to admire one of your summer frocks. “But I can make arrangements with the tailor if you wish. He makes all of the Supreme Leader’s clothes, and rumor has it that he’s dying to meet you.”

You look at your attendant, perking up a bit. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” Miriam laughs. “Apparently, he’s been drawing up designs since your engagement was announced. I don’t think he gets to make many pretty things, working for your husband, the Chancellor, and just a few other important officials.”

You laugh at that, glancing over at Kylo’s rows and rows of black tunics, pants, and shirts. If you had to go out on a limb, you’d say that Hux’s closet is much of the same. “I’m sure he doesn’t, poor thing.”

Miriam helps you pick out a dress to wear, and though you still don’t think you fit in very well, you do feel pretty when she’s done working her magic. You dismiss Miriam after that, thanking her for helping you change. She only smiles and shrugs, saying that you should call for her if you need her.

---

Your husband does indeed return in time to take his evening meal with you, traipsing into your shared quarters in a swirl of black cape. He wears his mask, face a black, expressionless void. Still, you offer him a smile as he enters the room, hopeful that Kylo is happy to see you. Purposeful and quick, he strides right to one of his dresses, stripping off his helmet, cape, and gloves methodically.

“The Chancellor told me that you handled the Head of Charity with a firm hand. He said that you played her own games back at her, that you were catty and sarcastic,” Kylo declares, coming back into the sitting room to look at you now. The content of his speech and the firmness of his tone has your pulse pounding, and you only look in him in the eye because you feel like you must. Half startled and half afraid that you’ve disappointed your husband in some way, you sit up straight as a pin as he regards you with a curious gaze. But then his expression softens, a smirk tugging at the corners of mouth. “I must say that I am very impressed.”

Relief washes over you, punctuated by a burst of white-hot pride. You knew in your own heart that you’d done well today, but hearing this praise fall from your husband’s lips makes you feel lightheaded with elation. Still, you remain humble.

“She’s just Mila if Mila was thirty years older and knew how to accessorize,” you say, laughing at a little. “It’s almost like I’ve been dealing with the Chairwoman since I was a child.”

Kylo’s smirk becomes more a smile as you make this remark, the fondness in his eyes making your heart flutter. “Nonsense,” he says, taking a step towards you. “I’ve seen that woman make commissioned officers burst into tears at state dinners. The fact that you made her squirm is something to marvel at.”

You lower your eyes, smiling a little to yourself. “I guess,” you conceded, biting your lip as you look back up at your husband’s face. Kylo doesn’t say anything else, abandoning the subject in favor of ordering dinner for the both of you. Your state of euphoria lingers nonetheless, and you’re enthralled by the idea of having done something right.

A droid serves you and Kylo your meal at the small dining table, coming and leaving without a word. Like this afternoon’s lunch, your evening meal is rich and delicious. You chatter happily as you eat, making polite conversation about the ship and your luncheon. Kylo makes small remarks in return, though he doesn’t speak at length about anything in particular.

You realize that it’s getting late when the two of you are finished eating, late enough to where it wouldn’t be inappropriate for you to wind down for the evening and get ready for bed. Normally you would take a quick bed and change into your night things readily, but with Kylo here, you aren’t sure that it’s worth it yet. If you were bolder, you would ask Kylo flat out if he intends for the two of you to have sex tonight, but you aren’t, so you don’t. Instead, you dance around the subject, shy and hesitant.

“I think I’m going to get ready for bed,” you declare, getting up from the table slowly. Kylo tracks your movements, watching you carefully as you come to stand. His eyes graze up and down your body, one hand reaching out towards you.

“Come here,” your husband beckons, “I’ll loosen your dress for you.”

Kylo stands, gently turning you around so that he may work on the lacing at the back of your dress. He pulls and tugs for a moment, fingers fighting with the fastenings for a moment, and then your dress is slipping off your shoulders, leaving your shoulders bare. The press of Kylo’s lips against the skin there catches you off guard, makes you flinch involuntarily before you melt into the affection entirely.

“I apologize,” Kylo mumbles, kissing up the curve of your neck now, “I just couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s all right,” you sigh, not complaining one bit when Kylo wraps his arms around you middle, pulling you back against his body.

“It’s a bit early to sleep,” he murmurs. “I’m not tired yet.”

Your husband’s teeth nip at the shell of your ear, and you’re gone after that, putty in Kylo’s hands as he guides you into the bedroom.

The lovemaking is even better than it was last night, more comfortable and less nerve-wracking now that your first time is over and done with. You still fumble a bit, not entirely sure of yourself, but Kylo doesn’t seem to mind. He even teaches you new things, telling you how to arrange yourself on top of him, how to move your hips in a way that makes both of you mumble curses under your breath. But Kylo plays fair, showing just as much as he tells, and you come to find out that your husband is even better with his mouth than he is with his hands. You’d always thought that having someone go down on you would be strange or even unpleasant, but oh, how wrong you were. By the end of it all, the both of you are panting for breath, covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you kiss your way through your orgasms.

Kylo is the first to shower, promising to be quick as he leaves you on the bed with a kiss and a glass of water. You lie there in the tangled sheets, listening as Kylo washes the last hour off of his body. It doesn’t take him long, and then you’re the one in the shower scrubbing away everything that’s just happened. Your hips and thighs ache, chapped lips burning as the water streams over them. Drowsy and satiated, you try to bathe quickly, the energy necessary for you to linger in the ‘fresher sapped by Kylo’s cock, mouth, and hands. You reach a hand between your legs in the process, pulling back fingers covered in your husband’s cum. This makes you pause, staring at the milky sheen on your skin as you consider its purpose. Silently, you pray that Kylo’s seed catches swiftly, letting your hand fall under the water as you do so.

A cleaning droid must have come while you were gone, because every sheet and pillowcase is clean and pressed when you come back into the bedroom, unsoiled by you and Kylo’s lovemaking. Your husband is subdued as you crawl into bed next to him, but he doesn’t push you away when you curl into his chest— quite the opposite, actually. His arms are strong around you, just as they were last night, and you’re out like a light within minutes.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #my writing #ame

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therealmadblonde · 4 years ago

Text

October 31

And so the day arrived, cloudy, and with a small wind out of the north. I told myself that I was not nervous, that as an old hand at this there were no jitters of anticipation, rushes of anxiety, waves of pure fear. But I had gone down to the basement to begin my rounds when I realized that there were no rounds to make, and I found myself returning to check our assembly of ingredients and tools over and over again.

Finally, I went out and visited Larry’s place. He was gone from his grove and the house seemed empty.

I went looking for Graymalk, and when we met we took a walk together.

We hiked for a long time in silence before she said, “You and Jack will be the only closers there.”

“It looks that way,” I said.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

“Jill and I will be going to a meeting at the vicarage this afternoon. Morris and MacCab will be there, too.”

“Oh? Strategy session?”

“I guess so.”

We climbed to Dog’s Nest and looked around. An altarlike raised area of boulders had been built up before the big stone. Heavy boards lay across it. Some kindling for the banefire was already stacked, farther off.

“Right there,” she said.

“Yes.”

“We’re going to protest the sacrifice part.”

“Good.”

“You think Larry will be able to do what he plans?”

“I don’t know.”

We climbed down a different way than we’d gone up, discovering some fresh misshapen footprints. “I wonder what’ll become of the big fellow now,” she said. “I feel sorry for him. That night he picked me up he didn’t mean to hurt me, I could tell.”

“Another lost one,” I said.

“Yes, sad.”

We walked again in silence, then, “I want to stand near you in the arc,” she said. “I believe the vicar will be at the left end, with Morris and MacCab next to him, Tekela and Nightwind with them, then Jill. I will stand to her right. I will assume a position three paces forward. That would put you and Jack beside us.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I’ve been working for this arrangement. You must be to my right and slightly back— that is, to Jack’s left.”

“Why?”

“Because something bad may happen if you stand to his right.”

“How do you know this?”

“My small wisdom.”

I thought about it. The old cat in the Dreamworld was obviously on her side, and she was an opener. Therefore, he could be setting me up for something. However, his remarks concerning the Elders had almost seemed disparaging, and he had seemed kindly disposed toward me. Reason stopped here. I knew that I had to trust my feelings.

“I’ll do it.”

When we neared our area, I said, “I’m going to walk over again to see whether Larry’s back. Want to come with?”

“No. That meeting…”

“All right. Well — It’s — been good.”

“Yes. I never knew a dog this well before.”

“Same with cats and me. I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yes.”

She headed home.

I searched all around Larry’s place again, but there was no sign of his return. On my way home, I heard my name hissed from a clump of weeds.

“Snuff, old boy. Good to see you. I was on my way over. Saved me a trip…”

“Quicklime! What have you been up to?”

“Hanging out in that orchard, eating the hard stuff,” he said. “Just stopped by for a quick one, on the way over.”

“Why were you coming to see me?”

“Learned something. Wanted you to know.”

“What?” I asked.

“I picked up a bad habit from Rastov, I guess. Look at me. I feel like I’m shedding my skin.”

“You’re not.”

“I know. But I really liked him. When I left you, I headed for the orchard and just started eating the old, fermented ones. It was — snug — with him. I felt like somebody needed me. The fruit’s almost gone now. I’ll come around. I’ll be all right. But I’ll miss him. He was a good man. The vicar got him — that’s what Nightwind told me. Wanted to narrow the field. That’s why the Count disposed of Owen — to send the vicar a message. You’ll get the vicar, won’t you?”

“Quick, I think you’ve had too much. Owen was killed after the Count was staked.”

“Clever, isn’t he? That’s what I was coming to tell you about. He fooled us. He’s still around.”

“What? How?”

“When I reached the peak of my indulgence the other night,” he replied, “I suddenly felt terribly lonely. I didn’t want to be alone, so I went looking for someone, something— lights, movement, sounds. I went over to the Gipsy camp, which was perfect. I curled up beneath a wagon, planning to spend the night there and sleep it off. But I overheard parts of a conversation from the wagon which led me to make my way up between its floorboards. I had chosen the wagon, and a pair of guards were in it. Sometimes they’d speak in their own tongue, sometimes in English — the younger one wanted the practice. I spent the night in there instead of below. But I learned the story. I even found an opening that gave me a view of the casket.”

“He’s with the Gipsies?”

“Yes. They guard him by day as he sleeps, guard the casket at night when he’s away.”

“So he’d faked it,” I said. “Dressed the skeleton we’d found in his garments, put the stake into it himself.”

“Yes, the crumbly skeleton that was already there.”

“…And that’s why the ring wasn’t on it.”

“Yes, and he was safe in that, too. Anybody finding the remains would assume that the staker had taken it.”

I felt a chill.

“Quick, he did make this arrangement after the death of the moon, didn’t he?”

“Yes. Your calculations would be unaffected.”

“Good. But this I don’t understand — the Count killed Owen because the vicar killed Rastov. Owen was an opener. Does that reflect a particular sympathy on the part of the Count? Or was he simply out to check the vicar and keep the violence from spreading?”

“I don’t know. Nothing was said on the matter.” I growled softly.

“This is a complicated one,” I said.

“Agreed. Now you know everything I do.”

“Thanks. Want to come with me?”

“No. I’m really out of the Game. Good luck.”

“’Luck, Quick.”

I heard him slither off.

It rained a little that afternoon, and stopped shortly after sunset. I went outside to look for the moon, and Bubo came with me. The clouds still veiled her, however, and all we could see was the big area of brightness she shed in the east. The wind blew chill.

“So this is it,” Bubo said. “By morning it will all be decided.”

“Yes.”

“I wish I could have been playing all along.”

“A wish on the moon,” I said. “It may be true. You have been playing, in a way. You’ve traded information, you’ve watched things develop, same as the rest of us.”

“Yes, but I didn’t really do important things like the rest of you.”

“It’s mainly the little things — all added up — that give us the final picture, that make the difference.”

“I suppose so,” he said. “Yes, it was fun. Do you think — Could I possibly come with? I’d like to see it happen, however it goes.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “We couldn’t be responsible for a civilian, too. I think it’s going to be a rough one.”

“I understand,” he replied. “I’d guessed you’d say that, but I had to ask.”

I left him there after a time, watching the sky. The moon was still hidden. And so…

We left before midnight, of course, Jack and I, he in a warm coat and carrying a satchel containing the equipment. Under his other arm, he bore a few small logs for the fire. We left without bothering to lock the door.

The sky was beginning to clear overhead, though the moon was still masked. There was sufficient light just from its glow-through, however, to show our way clearly. There was a chill, damp breeze at our backs.

Soon, Dog’s Nest was before us, and Jack decided we should circle it and mount its eastern slope.

We did that, and as we came in sight of the top a small glow was already apparent off in the circle toward the stone with the inscription. Moving nearer, we saw that Vicar Roberts and Morris and MacCab were tending a small fire they had obviously just gotten going, nursing it to achieve greater compass. The vicar’s ear was unbandaged now, and light showed through two high perforations in it. The heap of kindling was much larger than when Graymalk and I had been by earlier.

The banefire is a necessary part of our business. It goes all the way back into the misty vastness of our practices. Both sides require it, so in this sense it is a neutral instrument. After midnight, it comes to burn in more than one world, and we may add to it those things which enhance our personal strengths and serve our ends. It attracts otherworldly beings sympathetic to both sides, as well as neutral spirits who may be swayed by the course of the action. Voices and sights may pass through it, and it serves as a secondary, supportive point of manifestation to whatever the opening or closing object may be.

Customarily, we all bring something to feed it, and it interacts with all of us throughout the ritual. I had urinated on one of our sticks, for example, several days earlier. There are times when players have been attacked by its flames; and I can recall an instance when one was defended by a sudden wall of fire it issued. It is also good for disposing of evidence. It comes in handy on particularly cold nights, too.

“Good evening,” Jack said as we approached, and he added his contribution to the woodpile.

“Good evening, Jack,” the vicar said, and Morris and MacCab nodded.

Lynette lay on her back upon the altar, head turned in our direction, eyes closed, breathing slow. Well drugged, of course. She had on a long white garment, and her dark hair hung loose. I looked away. Obviously, the protest had been overridden. I sniffed the air. No sign of Jill or Graymalk yet.

The fire bloomed more brightly. Jack set his bag down and moved to help with it. I decided on a quick patrol of the area, and I made a big circuit. There was nothing unusual to be found. I went and stared at the huge stone. Just then the edge of the moon appeared from behind the clouds. Its light fell upon it. The markings had become visible again — dark, upon the illuminated surface. I went and sat by Jack’s satchel. The vicar had on a dark cloak which made a swishing sound as he moved. It did not conceal the fact that he was a short, slightly fat man, and it neither added to nor detracted from his appearance of menace. That was all in his face, with its intense expression of controlled mania. The moon was doubled in his glasses.

Under their joint ministrations the banefire grew to a respectable size. The vicar was the first to toss something into it, a small parcel which crackled and flared bluely. I took a sniff. It involved herbs I’d encountered before. Morris added two parcels, which I could tell involved bones. Jack added a very small one which produced a green flash. I tossed in one of my own, along with the pissed-on stick. The moon slid completely free of the clouds.

The vicar went and stared at the inscription, not even glancing at his stepdaughter. Then he backed away, turned to his left, took several paces, halted, turned back toward the stone. He adjusted his position slightly, then scuffed at the ground with his bootheel.

“I will position myself here,” he stated, glancing at Jack.

“I have no objection,” Jack said. “Your associates will be to your right, I presume?”

“That was what I had in mind. Morris here, MacCab to his right, then Jill,” he said, gesturing.

Jack nodded, just as a dark shape swept past the face of the moon. Moments later, Nightwind dropped out of the sky, coming to rest atop the woodpile.

“Hello, Snuff,” he observed. “Care to switch?”

“No, thanks. Yourself?”

He did one of those unusual rotations of his head.

“I think not, especially when we outnumber you in all respects.”

Shortly, Tekela swept in with a caw, landing upon the vicar’s left shoulder.

“Greetings, Nightwind,” she said.

“A good Game to you, sister.”

She looked at me and looked away. She said nothing. Neither did I. Everyone added more kindling and more ingredients to the fire. Finally, a pair of fairly large logs were set upon it. Many-colored flames played about them, and soon the logs darkened and the fires danced upon their surfaces. A mixture of odors reached me as powders, bones, herbs, fleshy samples of anatomy — both human and other — were added. A few vials of liquid were also dumped upon it, to smolder and produce heavy, crawling ropes of smoke, to flare brightly, briefly. Within the crackling, I seemed to hear a subliminal whispering begin.

I heard Jill’s footsteps mounting the northern slope long before she appeared. When she did she was hard to distinguish against the night for several moments, as she had on a hooded black cloak over a long black dress. She looked taller, more slim; and she carried Graymalk, though she set her down immediately when she achieved the level area.

“Good evening,” she said, in general. All four men responded.

“Hi, Snuff,” Graymalk said, coming up beside me. “It’s a good fire already.”

“Yes.”

“As you can see…”

“You were overridden.”

“Did you find Larry?”

“No.”

“Oh my.”

“There is a backup plan,” I said, and Nightwind came by just then, to greet Graymalk.

I felt a strong desire to howl at the moon. It was such a howlable moon. But I restrained myself.

The smell of incense reached me. Jill had just begun casting parcels into the banefire. The moon moved nearer to midheaven.

“How will we know when it is time to begin?” Graymalk asked me.

“When we can talk with the people.”

“Of course.”

“How’s your back?”

“It’s all right now. You look fit.”

“I’m fine.”

We watched the fire for a time. Another log was added, and more packets. The smells became a sweetly seductive bouquet. The flames leaped higher now, changing colors regularly, flickering in the wind. Sharp, tinkling musical sounds came sporadically from their midst, and the sounds of voices rose into and out of audibility. Looking away from it, my gaze was attracted by a new light source. The inscription was beginning to glow. Overhead, the moon had reached midheaven.

“Jack, can you hear me?” I called.

“Loud and clear, Snuff. Well-met by moonlight. What’s on your mind?”

“Just checking the time,” I said.

Suddenly Nightwind was talking to Morris and MacCab, Tekela to the vicar.

“I guess it’s time,” Graymalk said, “to take our places.”

“It is,” I replied.

She went off to collect Jill, who was tossing a final packet into the fire. The air was distorted above its colored flames now, as if it were burning in more than one place simultaneously, and in the shimmering area just about it one could catch glimpses of some of those other places. From somewhere to the north, I heard the howl of a wolf.

The vicar went and stood at the spot he had indicated. Morris and MacCab moved to take up their positions to his right; Nightwind stood atop a rock between them. Then Jill moved to stand beside MacCab, Graymalk next to her but three cat-paces forward. I went and stood near her, Jack to my right. The line was bowed, out away from the big stone, with Jack and the vicar across from each other. Lynette dozed on the altar about ten feet in front of me.

From somewhere within his cloak, the vicar removed the pentacle bowl, which he placed on the ground before him. Then he withdrew the Alhazred Icon, which he propped against a rock to his left, facing the glowing stone. Nightwind moved to a new position, back behind the pentacle. The openers always begin things, as the closers’ work is purely reactive.

Jack’s satchel, to his right, was already open, from the removal of various ingredients for the banefire, but he leaned and spread its mouth fully, for easy access.

MacCab knelt and spread a piece of white cloth upon the ground before him. As it was windy, he weighted its corners with small stones. Then, from an ornate sheath which hung from his belt beneath his jacket, he drew a long, thin blade which looked to me like a sacrificial knife, and he placed this upon the cloth, point toward the altar.

Then the moon went out. We all looked upward as a dark shape covered it, descending, rushing toward us. Morris shrieked shrilly as it fell, changing shape as if dark veils swam about it. And then the moon shone again, and the piece of midnight sky which had fallen came to earth beside Jack, and I saw that vision-twisting transformation of which Graymalk had spoken — here, there, a twist, a swirl, a dark bending — and the Count stood at Jack’s side, smiling a totally evil smile. He laid his left hand — the dark ring visible upon it — upon Jack’s right shoulder.

“I stand with him,” he said, “to close you out.” Vicar Roberts stared at him and licked his lips.

“I would think one of your sort more inclined to our view in this matter,” the vicar stated.

“I like the world just the way it is,” said the Count. “Pray, let us begin.” The vicar nodded.

“We shall,” he said, “to its proper conclusion, with the Gate thrown wide.”

The Count tossed a twig and a small parcel into the flames. The fire moved in its colorful dance, crackling and chiming, burning a hole in the night, through which the voices — now chanting — emerged. Shadows constantly moved past us, over the altar, and across the face of the stone. I heard the howl again, much nearer.

I looked at the vicar and saw him flinch. But he straightened and performed an opening gesture. He spoke a word of power, deeply, slowly. It hung in the air and resonated afterwards.

The inscription on the stone began to glow a little more brightly, and now — very faintly — I could discern the formation of the door-like rectangle come to frame it, that configuration which earlier had sucked Graymalk and me through to our Dreamworld adventure.

The vicar repeated the word and the rectangle came clear.

Within the chanting, I could now hear faintly “Iä! Shub-Niggurath!” being repeated, as if in response. Ahead of me, Graymalk had risen to her feet and was standing very stiffly.

The vicar turned then, rather than proceeding to the next phase, and moved slowly to the cloth on which the sacrificial blade rested. To his rear, I noted that the Alhazred Icon had also begun to glow. He knelt and raised the blade with both hands, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. Then he rose and turned toward the altar, Tekela still upon his shoulder.

And there came a movement from my right, beyond Jack and the Count. Another dark shape was moving to join us.

The vicar had taken but a single step ahead when a great, gray wolf moved into the firelight and rushed past him toward the altar. Larry Talbot had arrived, apparently in reasonable control of his faculties.

He seized hold of the girl’s left shoulder with his teeth and dragged her down from the altar. With that rapid backing motion I had seen him employ before, he dragged her quickly before us toward the north, whence he had come, to my right.

The report of a gunshot filled the air and Larry staggered, a dark blot appearing and spreading high upon his left shoulder. The vicar held a smoking revolver, pointed in his direction. Larry continued moving almost immediately, however, and the vicar fired again.

This time there was blood on the top of Larry’s head, and he uttered a moaning sound as his jaws fell open and Lynette dropped to the ground. Larry slumped forward then, and the shiftings of firelight and shadow swam over him. The chanting continued — “Iä!

Shub-Niggurath!” — against the strange music. The vicar pulled the trigger again. There followed a clicking sound from the pistol, but no discharge. Immediately, he drew it near and worked the hammer. Suddenly, as he released it, there was a sharp report and the round kicked up dirt near the south end of the altar. The vicar hurled the weapon to the ground, perhaps having cast only three rounds. Homemade bullets…

“Get her back onto the altar!” the vicar ordered. Morris and MacCab immediately departed their positions and moved toward the supine girl. Larry’s sides were still heaving heavily, and his eyes were closed. There was a lot more blood, on his head, neck, shoulder, now.

“Stop!” the Count said. “Players are forbidden to move a sacrifice once the ceremony is in progress!”

The vicar stared at him. Morris and MacCab halted, looked back and forth from the vicar to the Count.

“I never heard of such a restriction,” the vicar said.

“It is a part of the tradition,” Jack stated. “There must always be a small — even if only symbolic — exit open to a sacrifice in this. They may go as far as they can. They may be stopped. The place where they fall becomes the new altar. Do otherwise and you destroy the pattern we have created. The results could be disastrous.”

The vicar pondered for a moment, then said, “I don’t believe you. You’re outnumbered. It’s a closer’s bluff, to make things more awkward for me. Morris! MacCab! Put her back!”

The Count stepped forward as they advanced.

“In a case such as this,” he said, “the opposing parties are permitted to resist the desecration.”

I heard heavy, clumping footsteps in the distance, but they seemed to be passing the hill rather than approaching it.

Morris and MacCab had hesitated but then they moved forward, reaching for Lynette.

The Count flowed forward. No single limb seemed to stir, but suddenly he was there beside them. Then he raised his arms, out to the sides, his cloak dependent therefrom; and he moved them forward, completely engulfing the men within its folds. He stood thus for only an instant, arms across his chest, before a succession of snapping sounds could be heard.

He opened his arms and they fell to the earth, to lie at odd angles, blood emerging from their ears, noses, and mouths. Their eyes were wide. They did not breathe.

“You dare?” the vicar cried. “You dare to touch my people?”

The Count turned his head slowly, raising his arms again.

“You presume,” he said, “to address me so.”

He flowed toward the vicar, but much more slowly. The music came clearer and clearer, the chanting louder, the inscription brighter. And as he moved, I beheld a silent form in the shadows to my right, whose presence had first reached me in the form of his scent, which I recognized from an encounter in a wood by moonlight. He approached soundlessly, the stranger wolf.

The vicar’s hand snaked out from beneath his cloak, casting something toward the Count. Immediately, the flowing ceased and the Count stiffened. In the meantime, shielded from the vicar’s view by the Count’s body, the stranger wolf entered the firelight, took hold of Lynette’s shoulder and continued what Larry had begun, dragging her back into the darkness.

The Count was suddenly less than graceful. He swayed. He took an awkward step toward the vicar, whose hand dipped beneath his own cloak to emerge and repeat whatever he had done.

“What — is it?” the Count asked, reeling toward the vicar, who retreated before him. Then the Count fell.

“Dirt from one of your own caskets,” the vicar replied, “mixed with pieces of my church’s altar stone relic, left over from more papish times. Fingerbone of St. Hilarian, according to the records. You require your consecrated soil, but overconsecration is like the difference between a therapeutic and a debilitating dose of strychnine. Do you not agree?”

The Count muttered a reply in a foreign language, as the wolf disappeared with Lynette; and I realized that, from all his talks with Larry, plus his knowledge of drugs, and the samples he had obtained, he had succeeded several days ago in developing his own ideal dosage, and I had just witnessed the Great Detective’s greatest disguise yet. I howled a “Well done!” into the night. Later, a “Good luck!” came back to me.

The inscription glowed brilliantly now. Whether the deaths of Morris and MacCab had contributed to this was hard to tell. The vicar looked up and saw that Lynette was gone. He glared at Jill.

“You should have told me,” he said.

“I didn’t notice till now,” she replied.

“Neither did I,” said Nightwind.

The vicar picked up the sacrificial knife which he had dropped, moved back to his position, and drove the blade into the ground at his feet.

He straightened then, repeated the word of power, and said another. Immediately, his face became the snouted, tusked visage of a boar with a shredded ear. This lasted for perhaps a minute before Larry’s eyes opened. He turned his head, saw that Lynette was gone, looked immediately to the altar, saw she was not there either. He tried to rise, failed. I wondered how serious his condition was. True, there was a lot of blood, but head wounds are often that way. Even a silver bullet still has to hit something major.

Larry tried to crawl forward, succeeded in moving perhaps half a foot, paused, and panted.

The vicar spoke another word. Graymalk was suddenly striped like a small tiger. This, too, passed quickly. Tekela was starting to look like a vulture. Suddenly, Jill was an ancient hag, bent far forward, hooked nose almost touching her jutting chin, strands of white hair hanging about her face. I glanced at Jack and saw that he suddenly wore the shaggy head of a great brown bear, yellow eyes staring forward, saliva running from the corners of his mouth. Looking downward, I saw that my fur was blood-red and moist; and I felt as if horns jutted from my brow. I had no idea what I might resemble, but Graymalk drew back in alarm. The boar spoke again, and the word rang like a bell in the chill air. The Count was suddenly a skeleton wrapped in black. Something unseen passed high overhead, laughing like a demented child. Pale mushrooms sprang up all about us, and a shifting of breezes brought me sulfurous scents from the fire. A green liquid flowed outward from that blaze, spreading in bubbling streams. The chanting now seemed to contain all of our names. MacCab had become a woman whose painted face began to peel off in long strips. Beside him, Morris was now an ape, his long hairy arms reaching to the ground, and he leaned to rest upon his knuckles. His mouth was opened wide, showing an enormous expanse of teeth and gums. Larry was now a bleeding man sprawled upon the ground. The air before us shimmered and became a mirror, giving this entire prospect back to us. Then our reflected heads detached themselves and drifted leftwards. It was a strange feeling, passing out of one and into another, for I seemed unmoved, though I felt the sudden weight of the bear-head, saw the hog’s drift by to settle upon Jack’s shoulders. Graymalk suddenly wore an overlarge one, horned, demonic; Jill, a small striped cat’s head — and so on along our crescent. Then the bodies shifted to the right, and I was a cat with a bear’s head, lying flat because of its weight, my heart thudding like a steam engine. Jack had become a boar-headed demon. Again, the laughter rang from overhead. If I were not my body or my head, what was I — sprawled there amid the mushrooms and the stench, another wave of chanting rolling in my ears? Illusion, it must all be illusion, mustn’t it? I never knew before and I still didn’t know. The mushrooms blackened, shriveled, and fell when the hot green flow reached them. Our images in the mirror wavered, became splashes of our dominant colors, flowed together. I looked downward again, but everything was hazy. Upward then, at some half-noted change. The moon had gone blood-red and was dripping upon us. A shooting star cut past it. Another. Another. Soon multitudes of them rained down the heavens. The mirror cracked, and Jack and I stood alone at our end, our forms returned to us, as a great gust of wind out of the north blew away the haze. The others came clear, also, restored, in their piece of reflection. The starfall lessened. The moon grew pink, then turned back to butter and ivory. I sighed and held my place, felt Graymalk’s gaze pass over me. The green tendrils from the fire began to congeal, lavalike. For a moment, I seemed to hear a collection of animal sounds from within the flames — baas, nickers, whinnies, whimpers, a sharp barking, several varieties of howling, the coughing of a giant cat, a croaking, a mewling cry. There followed a stillness, save for the fire’s own cracking and snapping.

I felt a familiar tingling in the air. The time had come for the opening. I glanced at Jack and could tell that he felt it, too.

Larry dragged himself another foot forward.

I was looking at the vicar as he spoke the final word. I saw the Count’s left hand twitch. But apparently the vicar did, too, and he stooped and raised the pentacle. Something dark fled forth from the Count’s ring, but the vicar caught it in the pentacle bowl and it was reflected off into the night. It was probably too late for killing the man, anyway, for the opening was definitely beginning. The vicar stooped again, raised the icon, and placed it upon the Count’s chest. The ring did not flare again. All in all, as I regarded both Larry and the Count, I was forced to a sort of grudging respect for the fellow. He was much better at his business than I’d have guessed.

“Jill,” he called out, “use the wand now.”

Jill reached inside her cloak, produced the wand, raised it. Oddly, the growing brightness of the stone halted for a moment. Jack had his wand out in an instant, raising it and training it upon the same target. I heard the heavy footsteps again, this time approaching us. The rectangle began to brighten once more, and a great depth occurred within it, swimming with colored lights. The cries from the banefire grew louder and louder: “Iä! Shub-Niggurath! Hail to the Black Goat!” The music also increased in intensity, and the moon blazed like a beacon overhead. Larry began dragging himself farther along. The experiment man came into view off to the right, heading toward us. I glanced at Jack. Beads of perspiration had formed upon his brow. I could tell that he was pouring his will and spirit into the wand, but the opening continued. The experiment man lumbered up to us.

“Pret-ty kit-ty,” he said, pausing in front of Jack, which might have killed anyone else, but he already smelled of death and seemed aware of nothing untoward.

Suddenly, the opening was arrested, the Gateway lost some of its depth. The experiment man stooped and quickly snatched up Graymalk.

“Pret-ty kit-ty,” he repeated. Then he turned and walked away in the direction whence he had come.

“Put me down!” she cried. “I can’t leave now!”

He sat down just beyond the firelight and commenced petting her.

Larry continued his crawl, steady now. Depth returned to the Gateway. I thought I saw a tentacle stir within it. Then something large and amorphous seemed to be drifting our way.

“This isn’t working well,” I heard a small voice say. I sought its source.

Bubo’s head had emerged from the left side pocket of Jack’s coat.

“Bubo, what are you doing here?” I asked.

“I had to see it,” he said, “to learn whether what I’d done was right. I’m not too sure now.”

Yes, it was a tentacle, extended from the dark, approaching mass, reaching for the Gateway…

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’m a pack rat,” he said. “I thought you were outnumbered and outgunned, and I wanted your side to win. So I did the only thing I know how — ”

“What?” I asked, already beginning to guess.

The dark mass was much nearer, and I smelled a deep reptilian musk. The experiment man had put down Graymalk and risen. He was approaching us again. Larry had moved much farther to my left. A tentacle emerged from the Gateway, groped about, located Morris’s right foot, wrapped about it, dragged him back inside. A moment later, it returned for MacCab. Slurping sounds followed.

“I fixed it so they’d defeat themselves after they’d disposed of you,” Bubo said.

“How?”

There were great masses of tentacles now, all of them writhing toward the Gateway.

“I sneaked about last night,” Bubo said, “and I switched the wands.”

I seemed to hear the odd sounds of a cat’s laughter. It’s so hard to tell when they’re smiling. The old cat hadn’t been telling me to fetch a stick…

Carpe baculum: Seize the wand.

I sprang into the air, catching it in my teeth, twisting it out of Jack’s grip. I could see the astonished expression on his face as I did so.

A terrible wind began to blow past us. I heard the vicar cry “No!” Tekela sprang up from his shoulders, wings beating.

Turning my head, I saw that the Gateway was closing.

There followed a roar Growler would have been proud of as Larry leaped at the vicar. They rolled upon the ground, passing right over the Count, knocking the icon from his breast. Then the mighty wind caught them and they were carried toward the closing Gateway and on through it. Jill looked puzzled as she continued to wield the closing wand, hair and cloak streaming forward. Jack had braced himself. Then his arm moved, hand dipping into the satchel and out, emerging quickly, casting the wine bottle of slitherers into the Gateway, to gunk it up. He grinned at me. “Any port in a storm,” he observed. I felt the wind pushing me forward. Nightwind was trying to get behind a rock.

Then the experiment man came up and halted before us and the pressure was suddenly eased.

“The — Count?” he asked. Had Graymalk sent him after our ally?

“The man on the ground!” I replied. “Take him away!”

He continued past us, swaying but holding his own against the wind. He stooped and caught hold of the supine figure, raised it in his arms. I glanced at the Gateway. It had already grown somewhat darker. The fire, scattered, flamed at a dozen small points, glowed from as many more. A few of these faded and winked out as I watched.

Jill stared at the wand that she held, and I could read the realization coming into her expression.

I heard Graymalk’s voice from the shadows:

“Come on!” she called. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”

Bubo had already ducked back out of sight into Jack’s pocket as we moved to take her advice.

A single note, as of a crushed crystal goblet, filled the air. The stone was blank again. Abruptly, the wind ceased. The voices had already died away.

We made our way northward toward the slope. Overhead, the moon seemed enormous.

“Let’s go!” Graymalk urged, as we came up beside her. And she was right. The hilltop would remain dangerous till dawn.

I turned and looked back in time to see the experiment man start down the southern slope, carrying the Count.

“Hi, cat,” I said. “I’ll buy you that drink yet.”

“Hi, dog,” she said. “I think I’ll let you.”

Jack and Jill went down the hill. Gray and I ran after.

#10-31-20 #a night in the lonesome october #roger zelazny #full moon halloween #and so the day arrived #Jack and Jill went down the hill. Gray and I ran after.#I can't believe I've got through the entire month of entries!#Happy Halloween Everybody!

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mymarvelbunch · 5 years ago

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Be Your Own Hero - Steve Rogers x Reader (part 7)

Masterlist

Summary: You’ve lost all your family and most friends in The Decimation. Refusing to believe their deaths are permanent, you dedicate years to find a way to reverse it. Upon finding something that might help, you search for the Avengers’ help. It’s Steve Rogers x Reader, but in reality it’s mostly Badass!Reader. Also, Non-American!Reader

Warnings: none!

Note: Y/Co = your country. Y/Ci = your city; Y/N/L = your native language.

This part is going to be told mostly from Steve’s POV, along with a few other characters. Reader will come back in part 8!

Previously: Reluctantly, she took it and gave her broken timer to you. “I’ll come back for you, Y/N. We don’t risk lives.” “Bring everyone back first”, you screamed, trying to be heard in the midst of the noise. Someone was entering the temple. “Only then you come back for me. Now go!” With no hesitation this time, Nebula left.

Edit: I fixed a small detail on parts 6 and 7. Originally I had the Mind Stone being collected in Titan, but it was the last Stone Thanos got, on Earth. I made minor corrections so it would fit movie canon in this aspect.

Part Seven

Battle of New York, 2012

“This looks even crazier in person”, Scott said as past Hulk was seen throwing some Chitauri to the sky.

“Banner would be so embarrassed if saw himself like this”, Natasha said. At her side, Clint nodded.

“Okay guys”, Steve stepped up. “If I remember correctly, Loki is about to be defeated. We have to get to the Tower and get the Tesseract and the Scepter. Try not to die. We’ve survived worse.”

“I can pull myself and tiny Scott up”, Clint offered. “Not sure how you and Nat will do it, though.”

“This is an alternate timeline, right?”, Natasha replied. “Our actions here won’t impact our future, only theirs. Honestly, I think we can just step in.”

Steve nodded. “You have a point, Nat. But maybe Clint and Scott should go through the window anyway. If something delays us two, at least they will be already in place and can try to retrieve the Stones without us.”

The other three nodded. Scott activated his suit and shrunk. Clint placed him inside a vest pocket and headed to the avenue. He and Natasha headed to the Tower’s main entrance. “So, you and Y/N?”, Natasha asked.

He did his best to keep a straight face, being caught off guard. “This is really not the time to set me up with her, Nat”, he replied. “Don’t think I didn’t realize what you’ve been doing these past weeks.”

“It’s worked, hasn’t it?”, she said, grinning, as he pressed the elevator button, so far going unnoticed amidst the chaos.

“Like I said, not the time”, he deadpanned and turned to the elevator. Thoughts about you tried to creep into his mind, but he quickly pushed them aside. He’d wonder about what you meant to him after the Stones were all collected.

The elevator ride was as fast as he remembered. There was a time when he had his own floor in that Tower, designed by Tony himself. Many thoughts of guilt and regret came over him, but again he pushed those aside. He and Tony have made peace with each other long ago; there was no point in dwelling on past mistakes.

When the doors opened, the scene that greeted them was kind of funny: 2012 Clint and 2021 Clint were pointing arrows at each other, and 2012 Tony was giggling non-stop while the Tesseract was slowly falling down from his hands - probably Scott’s doing. Everyone else just looked confused, including Loki.

2012 Steve stepped out as soon as he and Natasha got out of the elevator. “Stay where you are, whoever you are”, he said, in a commanding voice that did nothing but annoy him.

“That’s not happening anytime soon”, he replied, taking some steps closer. “We are from the future, and we have urgent business.”

“Yeah, that’s what this other guy said a minute ago”, 2012 Clint said, not taking his eyes away from his future version. “Not buying it, fake Cap.”

He sighed, noticing Natasha slip away. She’d probably have to deal with her own past self to retrieve the Scepter, so he concluded it would be better if he distracted the rest of them. “Bucky is alive”, he told his past version. “HYDRA is still active-”

“Oh, now you’re just making things up”, his past self interrupted.

“Really? Go tell ‘Hail Hydra’ to Pierce and Runlow. See if I’m telling you any bullshit.”

That called Tony’s attention. “You really want us to believe you’re a real Cap when you say ‘bullshit’?”

He rolled his eyes. “I fought in the war for years, I can actually do a lot worse than ‘bullshit’.” He turned to his past self. “You know that pretty well.”

“You call us out for cursing″, 2021 Clint replied, smirking.

“That was one time, in 2015. It’s been six years, get over already!”

“If I may speak”, Loki said, adjustig his position as best as he could, “I was raised by a witch mother and learned magic myself-”

“Yeah, we noticed”, past Clint murmured.

“-and those folks are telling the truth. All four of the are from eleven years in the future.”

Thor nodded, although he was frowning. “My brother is right this time - we were raised by the same woman, so I know a thing or two -, but I fail to notice four companions from the future. I can only see three.”

As if waiting for that exact curtain call, the Tesseract finally fell from Tony’s hands. Scott instantly turned back to his normal size, Tesseract in hand, and, at the same moment, Natasha grabbed the Scepter. “Let’s go!”, she exclaimed, suiting up along with Scott. Past Natasha tried to get her, but 2021 Clint was faster in hitting her with an arrow, activating his Quantum suit right after. Only he remained, but he gave no time for the others to get him.

Avengers Headquarters, 2021

The first thing Steve heard was Rhodes asking, “Have you gotten enough of those?”, to which Tony replied affirmatively. Before he could ask what they were talking about, though, he noticed someone was missing. Or rather, you were missing.

“Nebula”, he began, “where is Y/N?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, but, when she opened them again, it was with a look of determination. “We need to gather the Stones first. I’ll tell everything while we do it.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she was already on her way to the table where the new Gauntlet was at, along with Scott, Natasha and Rhodes. Banner had already begun to put the Stones in place, with Danvers’ help.

“My brain...”, Nebula began, “it’s connected to a sort of intranet. When we were about to leave, past me’s brain connected to mine... and our location was given away.”

“But you escaped”, he said. “What happened to Y/N?” He held his breath as he waited for her answer.

“My timer broke”, she said. “I should have been the one to stay behind, but Y/N... she took her own timer off and switched with mine. Said it would be safer if she was the one to be kidnapped, because that way they couldn’t try to send my past version to fool you.”

Steve stood up and started pacing around. Once again, you were the most sensible one in this team, but he couldn’t bring himself to calm down. The thought of you being at Thanos’ hands, all alone...

“Why are we not going back there yet?”, he asked, more venom in his voice than intended.

“She made me promise we’d make our wish first”, Nebula said.

“I know you’re worried, Steve”, Tony said behind him. “We all are. But thing is, if we bring everyone back first, we’ll have more people to aid us in that rescue. I assume Thanos is with his army, right?” Nebula nodded. “So, we need an army of our own.”

Tony was right. Nebula was right. You were right. But still, Steve’s heart was on his throat. All worst possible scenarios popped up in his head. Faintly, he felt two people gently push him back to the couch.

Flashes of the last weeks passed through his mind. You two had a mildly rough start, thanks to his (reasonable) initial distrust. But soon enough he warmed up to you, especially when he saw your brief interaction with Tony’s little girl.

He opened up to you while training and watching movies. More than he usually did, but there was something about you that made him want to tell everything. Maybe it was your compassion, which he saw first hand more than once. Maybe it was your contagious laugh, especially when you watched weird YouTube videos when things started to get too heavy, too dark. Maybe it was your smile, your eyes, your soothing voice...

At that moment, he realized he had fallen for you in the span of a month. And now you were in grave danger, and he had to wait for the rest of the team to be revived to go to your rescue.

Speaking of which, he was so lost in thought he missed the part where Bruce was chosen to wield the gauntlet and snap his fingers. He was brought back to reality by Tony. “Raise your shield, Cap”, he shouted. “And stay as far as possible.”

He did as told, standing up from the couch, and took a few steps until his back touched the glass walls. Bruce screamed in pain as he wore the gauntlet, but managed to snap his fingers all the same. Thor was instantly by his side, checking if he was okay. Meanwhile, Clint called his wife, and Scott went to the window. “Everything is coming back guys”, he shouted. “Even plants and animals!”

He sighed in relief. “Now”, he then said, “we need to gather ourselves to go get Y/N back.”

Nebula nodded, followed by everyone in the room. “How are we going to do it?”, Bruce asked, massaging his burned arm. “Most are in Wakanda, and some are out in space.”

“Technically, we have time”, Tony said. “We’ll go to the exact time Nebula left Y/N, regardless of how long we wait for them to come to us. What we do need, though, is to contact them. Does anyone have King T’Challa’s phone, or something? Or maybe-”

He was interrupted by a sling ring appearing in the middle of the room. A man in a cape stepped out, followed by Peter Parker and... aliens. “We have to hurry”, the man said. “Thanos is currently trying to figure out a way to use Y/N Y/L/N to come to 2021. If he succeeds, your efforts will be in vain, and the whole universe will be doomed. There is no time to waste.”

He faintly heard someone calling him Strange (so he must be the wizard he heard so much about), while the man himself opened more sling rings. Bucky and Sam stepped out of one, along with Groot, Wanda, T’Challa, Okoye and Shuri. Wong, Nicky Fury and Maria Hill from aanother ring. A female warrior, who Thor called Lady Sif, stepped out of a third. A woman Scott called Hope came from a fourth, and Pepper showed up in a fifth, suited up in blue and silver armor.

He sat back on the couch, mesmerized. People were hugging each other, glad to have them back. Bucky went to him and smiled, which prompted him to stand up and hug him, Before he could do the same to Sam, though, Strange called them out. “There will be time for reunions later”, he said. “Right now, we have to rescue Miss Y/L/N and stopping Thanos from coming back.” He turned to Tony. “Do we have resources to get everyone to travel there?”

Tony nodded. Rhodes briefly explained how 2017 Strange sensed they’d need more Pym Particles. Tony went to the 1975 to get some, while Rhodes broke into Hank Pym’s home in 2018 to get another amount. Tony had already made extra Quantum Suits, which was enough for nearly everyone.

“I think we can leave Bruce out”, Natasha said. “He needs to recover.”

Bruce thanked her for the consideration, and passed his suit to Drax, who was eager to fight Thanos. He and Nebula briefly explained the recent events while Tony gave the suits to everyone who was up to fight. Only Bruce, Wong and Groot didn’t get one - Wong because he’d rather stay behind to watch for threats (since he could alert Strange of them using magic), and Groot because Tony didn’t think of adapting the suit for a tree (Rocket’s design was already unique).

They all gathered around the platform once again. He was in no mood for another motivational speech, but apparently he had to. “I think we all know the importance of this mission”, he said. “Not only we have a teammate to rescue, we have an entire universe to save from destruction. Take care of one another. Try not to die. If injured or exhausted, return to our time immediately.” He took a deep breath. “On the count of five.”

Morag, 2014

Nebula managed to set their timer to the exact second after she left, but there still wasn’t enough time to get to you before Thanos did. From afar, he saw your unconscious body being carried away to the enormous spaceship. “Fuck”, he muttered. Then he shouted, “We have to try to get in the ship!” And started to run.

Thanos’ team was faster, though, and the ship took flight before any of them could get in. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

“My old ship is down there”, he heard a male voice say. “If we get inside it now, we can still reach them. You know where they’re going, Nebula?”

He turned to see Nebula nodding. “I have an idea.”

He followed the man named Quill to another spaceship, which was way smaller. “Okay, it won’t fit everyone”, he said, as if reading his thoughts.

“If any of you don’t manage to get in”, Steve said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “you are free to go back to 2021.”

He could tell there were people who didn’t really want to fight. The praying-mantis-like alien clearly stayed behind on purpose, and so did Rocket with his tree friend. Steve, however, was the second to get inside, followed by Nebula, Nat, Tony and Thor - and then he lost track of order.

In the end, Bucky also stayed behind, along with Okoye, Princess Shuri, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Strange, Parker, Wanda and Pepper. “Most of them would be useful”, he said.

“I think Strange knows another something we don’t, Steve”, Tony said. “He seemed to have stayed behind on purpose.”

“I hope he damn knows what he’s doing then”, he replied, closing his fists. Natasha sat beside him.

“Everything will work out fine, Steve”, she said with a calm voice. “Soon Y/N will be with us again, and you’ll tell her how you feel.”

He side-eyed her. “Didn’t I say it wasn’t the time for this?”

“Yeah, in 2012. Besides, I saw you realizing your feeling backs in the headquarters. It was so clear in your face, anyone who looked would know exactly what you were thinking.”

“I did!”, Danvers exclaimed. “It was really sweet.”

He rolled his eyes, but a half-smile escaped.

Nebula’s POV

Nebula managed to track Thanos’ ship signal, and Quill disabled his own, rendering them practically invisible. “It’s usually not worth it”, he explained when someone asked why ships didn’t do that all the time. “The ship’s shields weaken a bit, for starters, and being traceable is useful when you are in distress.”

“In Thanos’ case”, she added, “his ship has to leave the signal turned on for his allies to find him. Besides, he is sure no one would try to attack him. As you saw on Morag, his crew is large in numbers.”

“Is there a way to attach this ship to Thanos’?”, Danvers asked.

Quill nodded. “I’ve never tried it, though. If you have any experience, feel free to.” It surprised Rocket and Nebula to see Quill acting this humble, but then they remembered Gamora’s death was still fresh to him. He was probably still in grief mood. It occurred to her that she’d probably face the 2014 version of her sister (and herself). She wasn’t really ready to see her after so many years, especially since she didn’t have memories of their reconciliation.

Danvers took Quill’s seat and, with Nebula’s help, drove the ship until it was right under Thanos’. Then, the human took over and, with a few button-pushing, landed straight on the other ship. “Now”, she said loud enough for everyone to hear, “we have to blow these walls up!”

She could swear she heard Quill complain about the damage on his past self’s ship, but ignored it as Rocket managed to open a big hole on both ships, allowing their entrance on Thanos’ one. She was the last to jump in; everyone had already begun to split up, but she knew where to go.

Gamora was at the end of the corridor, seemingly waiting for her. “Looking for someone?”, she said, facial expression unreadable.

“I think you know who”, she replied cautiously.

Her sister approached her and offered her hand. “My version of you died aiding her escape”, she said as Nebula took it. Then she pulled her closer, whispering in her ear, “She’s on her way to Asgard, in an untraceable escape pod.”

Nebula nodded. She trusted Gamora, even this version, to tell the truth. By 2014, her sister was no longer on their father’s side, and on this day she was about to run away from his control. “We’ll have to take over the ship to get there, though”, she admitted. “The one we used to get here is damaged beyond repair.”

“With the amount of help you brought”, Gamora replied, “it may not be hard.”

She was about to say that many powerful allies didn’t make it to the ship when a sling ring opened in front of them. “Strange”, she mumbled, and turned to Gamora. “Are you coming?”

“Of damn course. I lost my Nebula, and I’ve heard you lost your Gamora. Let’s be together again.” At that, she smiled, and both stepped into the ring.

A huge castle appeared in front of them. Turning back, she saw the others coming through other rings. “Good thing I planted an earpiece on all of you”, she heard Rocket say, and turned back ahead. “As soon as I heard Gamora give Y/N’s location away, I told the wizard here.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”, she heard Captain Rogers say.

“Nothing”, she replied. “Let’s get inside.”

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

We’ll get back to reader’s POV in the next chapter, but there might be a scene told from Steve’s or Nebula’s eyes. I’m not sure yet.

Taglist (open!): @autobotgirl15-blog @starstrucknature @cheeseburgersstuff @aamzter2013

#steve rogers imagine #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #marvel #marvel imagine #captain america x reader #nebula #natasha romanoff #clint barton #scott lang #peter quill #Stephen Strange #tony stark #avengers: endgame

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incorrectcatfacestudios · 5 years ago

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MID Fusion Headcanons

Using steven universe fusion rules alongside some of my own.

There will likely be another post like this one, a part 2

So the rules

Emotions are shared.

Memories are not shared, if one component doesn’t want to share a memory with another then the memory will not be shared.

Abilities gained are formed from both of their personalities

All the colored parts of their clothes change to the components combined colorscheme

They form based off of the characters perceptions of eachother, Making each of Ava’s fusions an ACTUAL POWERFUL SORCERESS

Their powers are multiplied by how much love/compassion each component feels for the other. Thus Noi usually supplies the most power to his fusions. Often new powers are gained.

Starting with Leif and Noi

A risk taker,

DEFINITELY would be an entertainer, would want all attention to be on them at all times. A show off through and through

He would have very fluffy pastel pink hair.

ALWAYS SMILING unless Leif is experiencing fear. Sometimes when one is feeling a negative emotion the other is feeling a positive one, this shows in their facial expressions. So sometimes the smile feels strained, fake, or evil. IF ITS SUPER SERIOUS he will frown

gets SUPER JEALOUS REAL QUICK,and if they are not front and center or if someone else steals the spotlight from them expect Angry crying, and violence! :D

“HEY AVA! DID YOU SEE THAT?!? WASN’T I COOL!!! PLEASE TELL ME I WAS COOL! I mean I ALREADY KNOW I WAS COOL BUT-”

Requires constant validation to feed his EGO.

Flirtier than his components.

BOUNDLESS ENERGY LIKE! WAAAAYY TO MUCH ENERGY

Would dance around the battlefield with their newfound abilities like a performer.

AMAZING AT SWEET-TALKING, and charming others

Far more likely to use healing magic than Leif ever was.

He has a tendency to angry cry.

Would be much stronger at the beginning of the series than he would if they fused in episode 13

His weapons are duel cutlasses

Noi enjoys the confidence boost he gains in the fusion while Leif enjoys the amount of JOY he feels doing things that would normally bore him. He likes seeing things from Noi’s POV.

Can disappear in a cloud of puffy sparkly smoke,

Very flexible, gains dancing skills

Can generate electricity within his body and ZIP ZOOP AROUND

most of his magic is glittery and sparkly

Wears lime green or olive clothing. has green eyes. has lime green horns

So Leif views Noi as a kind hearted lovey dovey fool, while Noi views Leif as a bully and a psychopath, but also a powerful superhero who’s amazing. Hence why when fused they are a kinda mentally unstable performer.

Leif and Rhys

He would never form

BY FAR ONE OF THE WEAKEST OF THE FUSIONS

When first formed he has an impossible time deciding who he is or even staying together. he doesn’t have an identity or a voice.

He Gains one much later as the 2 begin to understand each other more.

Has a scientist surrounded by nature vibe to him. Like instead of metal machines he has ones made completely out of plants. Though he’d only gain this if Rhys and Leif were feeling particularly good about eachother that day. Or if they had a strong positive feeling keeping them together. Otherwise he’d be unable to create or even keep any of it.

So yeah he can make a rocket out of wood, vines, & various other flora and fauna.

He has a variety of high level technology yet all of it is made of wood, plants, or bone.

If exposed to alot of media, and pop culture by the time he forms he would be a MAD SCIENTIST/ MAD DOCTOR character.

Lots of maniacal laughter

If Rhys would permit it he can be quite cruel and preform some....interesting experiments on his enemies

Would be very interested in the world around and would LOVE TO DISSECT THINGS

his glasses turn into goggles

He’d probably have oversized scientist gloves

is likely to scream EURIKA!!!

very forgetful.

Wants to learn as much as he can no matter the situation

when fused Leif experiences the curiosity Rhys feels and Rhys feels Leif’s LUST FOR BLOOD.

Would often find interest in human artifacts and objects finding joy in dissecting them and finding out how they work

has the ability to create unholy amalgamations from destroyed objects or carcasses.

He’d also gain the ability to control the growth of plants around him & manipulate them using the water inside.

Lightbrown/Ginger hair

Wears alot of cyan

Their weapon would be a whip of some kind. or a spear

Studies alot on doctor stuff. wants to get a phd

Has cyan horns like Pierce, though they bend in a way that combines both horns. and are much larger than either components

Asch and Rhys

WOULD HAVE A FLUFFY POMPADOR

Looks like a fucking greaser but their not at all

Always frowning

VERY STRONG despite not seeming like it

Has Dark blue eyes, and periwinkle horns, that curve backwards than forwards

VERY POLITE & regal.

Doesn’t really show much emotion, good at decision making, and a pretty rounded leader. though...their missing something.

Knows when to take action and when to stand down.

Can create smokescreens. manipulate water, fire & Ice

pretty stronk

Asch’s leadership skills and Rhys’s good decision making mix together to create a perfect and rational decision maker.

Has a lighter skin tone than Rhys but a much darker one than Asch.

Probably gains a British accent for the poshness.

Will occasionally raise a hand to threaten you but then close it clenching his fist and continuing to talk

ASCH’S CAPE AND RHYS’S TRENCHCOAT COMBINE TO BECOME A BIG FLOWY CAPE COAT WITH A FLUFFY FUCKING HOOD BECAUSE THAT’S CUTE AF, their torso shirt is grey while they have Asch’s lil sash around their waist, ((it’d be purple)) and Rhys’s pants ((except a tad bit darker)) Rhys’s arm bands would cover Ashe’s bandages.

Wears a lot of PURPLE, like magenta purple.

checks himself out behind closed doors

Adores being together. They just feel right

Everyone goes to them for advice

Ava & Pierce

has a blue scrunchy

LONG FLOWING HAIR

NEVER TALKS EVER, keeps to themselves even more than both of their components.

Would HAVE ENORMOUS HAIR like......WAYYY TOO BIG! and scruffy. and they’d always be leaning on a big old cloud that they’d float on.

Cats. CATS CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Has 2 floating arms hovering around them for petting cats. LIKES FLUFFY

A very caring individual despite their cold standoffish nature

Constantly tired

Seems like they don’t care about anything despite the fact that they do...far more so than anyone else even

Has strong maternal instincts. VERY good with kids. & Loves children far more than either their components.

Will only wake up to pet cats or play with kids.

The child loving part comes from Pierce. Ava notices that Pierce feels this way and encourages it.

Only goes by They/ Them pronouns. Nonbinary

Drinks like 50 cups of coffee a day trying not to pass out.

Needs coffee 24/7 to stay awake cause otherwise they’d just get too comfortable with eachother and dose right off to sleep

Almost always cuddling something soft, weather it be a cloud they conjured up, Johnny, a plushy, Noi, whatever if its a soft and cuddly thing you can bet your ass that its in their arms.

Wears a mix of Ava’s pajama’s and Pierces Human Disguise. in Blue. That or a cat onesie

Their not that bright but not that dumb either

Ava enjoys this fusion because she gets to feel tall.

They care for themselves. and take care to make sure they don’t get hurt.

A very deep thinker, that likes to take their time in situations. VERY CREATIVE.

stoic af

Their also very blunt and if annoyed will tell you “Your annoying. Go away” in a very sleepy slow manner.

Tired af 24/7 doesn’t want to deal with anyones bullshit. EVER

VERY POWERFUL

When they sleep ((on a certain bed)) a giant forcefeild forms around them and a cloud gaurdian of sorts forms around it fighting for them as they dose off.

Their weapon is a bed.

The components feel this since of peace when together. While they do close off more they also just...enjoy eachothers company in silence. Expect long sessions of meditation from them . or just casual reading.

They feel....very at peace and relaxed when together and hate being interrupted

has purple eye’s. & Deep blue horns

Pierce & Rhys

If exposed to enough pop culture by the time they fuse I feel like they would have a cop aesthetic.

“You haven’t been causing any trouble now have you?”

Is always watching. Has new abilities to help him watch & keep the peace.

Alot quieter than Rhys, but also like....more talkative then Pierce

VERY STERN. and WILL stare you down

An intelligent man, of course even smarter than Rhys.

CAN MAKE HAILSTORMS

can produce snow out of nothing.

Wears Sky blue.

Will often study others with compassion.

VERY MUCH LIKE A DAD

May or may not make dad jokes

HAS VERY STRONG OPINIONS OF ASCH ((They really like him))

He has light mocha skin, Fluffy curly brown hair done in a ponytail, Dark Turquoise eyes , Dark Turquoise horns that curve backwards than away from eachother, and a fake mustache. No one knows where the mustache came from but its detachable!

DON’T SNATCH THE STACHE!!! They will lay down the law on you

The way they speak when they first fuse and when they later fuse are Pretty different

For the Original Incarnation“ You wouldn’t be planning on violating the RULES that our gracious prince has set for us RIGHT 𝙇𝙀𝙄𝙁”

And for the 2nd incarnation they’d talk more like a T.V. show cop in certain situations. Though they’d still somehow manage to maintain this level of elegance despite it. (Mostly shown through his movements and tone))

“ Roger that! Don’t worry Mrs. P I’ll take this troublemaker off your hands.” *Looks towards Leif “ HOW DARE YOU RAISE YOUR WEAPON TO A DEFENSELESS LADY !?! I wrecken your in for a day in the SLAMMER”

The slammer is just an ice prison Rhys makes while in this fusion.

Instead of a Cop at first the fusion would be a of a VERY POMPOUS knight. Like chivalry incarnate. Proper, Polite, Dashing, Kind, & Loyal these Traits would carry onto its cop incarnate

Their weapon is originally a sword with a magical crystal in the center but as they learn more about human culture it would change to a gun

doubles down on watching literally everyone and IS ALL UP IN YOUR BUSINESS.

This fusion basically says whatever it wants cause no one really knows whats going on in Pierces head and Rhys can just blame it on him without him actively caring about it, because he doesn’t.

Another ability other than creating snow and hail would be making floating ice crystals that can be used as a “camera” of sorts. He can use them to keep a watch on the others

Ava & Noi

One of the strongest of the fusions ((mostly due to Noi))

Nonbinary goes by She / her, they / them

because Noi views Ava as this powerful sorceress they BECOME a powerful magic user, and Ava Views noi as this mystical demon dude from dimension so as a result their fusion is this magical girl/boy/NB

Wears red and has red eyes, with orange horns.

Magical girl / Nonbinary aesthetic.

Noi’s earnsty affects Ava in a way that causes her to be more honest. thus making the fusion very earnest in affection.

They have a strong since of justice and a want to protect. out of love

Noi once again his honesty affects Ava in a way that makes her more transparent./loving

Enjoys life to the fullest and having fun, as long as its not something stupid.

Quite literally loves themselfs....onesidedly its complicated. But they do enjoy themselves and rarely ever put themselves down.

Their weapon is Noi’s daggers mixed with Ava’s phone or a toy she has laying around

Can shoots out sparkles, rainbows, & various other magical girl esque attacks and has to call out their attacks to use them.

All of their magic is magic Noi has never seen or heard of before. but they are ones Ava’s seen in anime or T.V shows. Magical girl shows.

They’d try to surround themselves with friends and people who like them and kind of be an attention whore.

Probably the most outwardly friendly of the fusions

Would love getting headpats

Would also definitely wear many different aesthetic cat ears and post them all over insta.

Tries to act cutsie wootsie for attention. sometimes feigns innocence to gain popularity

Noi & Asch

A COMPLETE BRAT, brings out all the negative traits from eachother.

EXTREMELY EMOTIONAL AND BAD AT HIDING IT

Tries to act cool and together but really just a mess.

They’d look like a really big imposing scary looking yet upset and almost crying clown?

Self loathing x 10

“I-I’m NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING!! MYEEEEEEEEEH”

Extremely passionate and LOVES hugging everything when happy and angrily screaming at everyone when mad. they are a literal ticking time bomb of emotions. Though just because he loves it doesn’t mean he WILL hug he just likes doing it even if he doesn’t like to admit it . and will if emotional/impulsive enough at that moment in time, after which he will play it off and try to make up an excuse.

Clumsy AF.

Tends to get super jealous and wants to be a part of EVERYTHING

Acts like a really proud child.

Throws temper tantrums when they don’t get their way

due to Noi’s more open attitude towards feelings and Asch’s intense emotions that he often keeps bottled up. They feel the full FORCE of both, All whilst trying to act like nothings wrong.

He kind of hates himself but at the same time kinda doesn’t ? its complicated.

EXTREMELY LOW SELF ESTEEM

Wears orange, has light brown spiky hair, and light yellowy orange hair. His eyes are brown

Their powers also go off like an explosion. Usually his attacks are far weaker than either Noi or Asches. and they have lower stamina as well. Their powers build up and up inside of them until it bursts out. When they burst they do massive damage to pretty much everyone around them. Friend or foe. Its like a combustion of magic. Firey sparks and explosions in all directions.

Their powers are linked to their emotions though the larger their emotional outbreak, and the more they let out the stronger the attack.

Their weapon is a bunch of explosive bowling pins. that they juggle around.

Leif & Asch

Extremely likely to stab someone

Wears ALOT of gold. his hair turns a dusty grey color and his eyes are a dark teal. His horns become a golden yellow, The only pops of color on him besides gold and black are red & Green but only in gemstones.

Values himself above all else

ALWAYS SCREAMING

Expect 10 times the villainous monologues

“YOU WILL BOW BENEATH ME “

Loves showing their power through extremely violent means.

Asch’s wrath and Leif’s crazy mix in a way that is just incredibly hostile to literally everyone.

PRONE TO VIOLENT OUTBURSTS

Hates being bothered

“LEAVE ME ALONE! “ “ KNEEL PEASENT” “ HAHAHAHAAHAHAA YOU REALLY THINK THAT YOU STAND A CHANCE AGAINST ME?!?! HAHAHAHAHA! Stand down human. It’ll be easier that way. “

has Asch’s condescending attitude.

Loves nothing more than bullying others and just making people feel bad.

Also loves taking selfies. Like...too much. Has a tendancy to stare in the mirror for elongated periods of time admiring his muscles.

Hates being ignored. Like many of the other fusions. this one gets the MOST pissy about it though

Feels like everything in the world belongs to him and that he deserves it, fuck anyone who disagree’s I’ll just blow their heads off with my fire magic.

Complimenting him and feeding his ego is the only way to stop his violence. Depending on how you do it that is. Like complimenting his strength could make things worse

has NO PATIENCE WHATSOEVER

LAVA. They can create LAVA together. They melt them bitches down to Asch.

Ava and Asch

RAMPID CURSER

Ava’s salt mixed with Asches wrath. THEY ARE VERY ANGRY AND PISSY 24/7

Kinda thotty. but also not? its complicated. Maybe forward would be the best way to put it

Lies constantly. Its never ending. Like they lie to everyone their friends, their enemies, their family, themselves.

Will eat food off the floor.

They are extremely rude and foul mouthed. They never seem to get along well with anyone and are prone to making death threats when annoyed. They never follow through with them of course but.

One of the few ava fusions to fuse both of their regular attires together. a Reddish pink shoulderless jacket with a cape at the back. They have a FLUFFY light pink hood, and their pants are poofy towards the end with black and pink stripes. They also have asch’s arm sleeve thingy.

grows impatient REAL quick and is prone to use deadly force...well pseudo deadly force when angered

Like stabbing

Literally pissed, annoyed, or tired 24/7

Loves being in control of everything

In battle they constantly taunt their opponents. Using a disturbing variety of swearwords & unique Self-esteem breaking insults.

Wears ALOT of pink. Has red eyes however. but their outfit is just a bunch of pinks and blacks.

Nonbinary goes by he/him they/them

The other 7 will be in part 2 I need time have to think of them. I’ll add more later!

#Aphmau #My Inner Demons #Ava #Asch #Rhys #Leif #Pierce #Noi #Fusions #Aphmau Fusions #Headcanons #MID #MID FUSION HEADCANONS #Fusion HCS

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snicketsleuth · 6 years ago

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Slackin’ with the Sleuth: reviewing Netflix’s “The End”

There were many goodbyes, and there were many beginnings.

“The End” is perhaps the strangest and most controversial episode to date. It’s difficult to assess the actual quality of the episode as we are constantly reminded of all the ones which preceded it.

At the risk of sounding like a fool rather than a prophet, it’s possible that Netflix’s version of “A Series of Unfortunate Events” will go down in the history of adaptations. We’ve never had quite a literary retranscription like this one: no one has dared to go as deep into the source material, its themes, its inspirations, since, perhaps, Peter Jackson’s recreation of “The Lord of the rings”. The amount of mindwork necessary to make the imagination of the original author fit the screen is absolutely comparable. Let’s wrap up the series after the cut.

Let’s get the elephant out of the room: why would you give the longest book in the series less screentime than the others? The only other example which comes to mind is David Yates’ attempt at adapting “The Order of the Phoenix”, an achievement in shoppy editing, lighting mistakes, script derailment and overall cinematographic incompetence. That is not a strong pitch. Worse of all is the fact that the idea apparently came from Daniel Handler himself! In his words, “The Penultimate Peril” is the real ending while “The End” serves as more of a coda. Even though the ending, by classical tradition, is only supposed to come after the denouement. It’s right in the name of the hotel, for crying out loud. As moving as the montage to “There’s no happy endings, not here, not now” is, its inclusion could have worked just as well in the final episode. In fact, it already worked as the conclusion of the first season!

The reasoning behind this choice is quite skewed, because "A Series of Unfortunate Events" already had a coda: it's called "Chapter Fourteenth". It's short, it's sweet, it's symbolic, it serves as a moral compass for the entire series. It's the only epilogue the series deserves. On the surface, of course, the decision to fusion "The End" with "Chapter Fourteenth" is perfectly reasonable; even the fans don't know whether to classify "Chapter Fourteenth" as a chapter of "The End" or as a fourteenth book which just happens to be published in the same volume as "The End". It's also doubtful that Netflix would allow the showrunners to release a 10-minutes episode as a conclusion. We get it. But somehow, the show writers have convinced themselves that fusioning the last act of the story and its coda turns the entire final act into a coda, and... that's simply not how narration works. There's simply too much going on in that book in terms of plot, character development and themes to adapt it in less than an hour without something missing.

There may be several reasons behind this change. One might be a personal dislike for that particular book, a reluctance to certain chapters of it, a desire to get it over with as soon as possible. But it's unlikely given that the screenwriters adapted the story rather faithfully (the deaths of Kit and Olaf, in particular, are pretty much verbatim) in spite of the time limits. We personnally believe that budget may have had something to do with it: "The End" was always supposed to be filmed last, at a time where budget may be scarce. Recreating the illusion of many exterior shots when the series is filmed mostly on soundstages can't have been cheap, and most of "The End" happens on the outside, in a tropical location. So condensing the book could work as an excuse to cut corners when it comes to money: less screentime, less sets to build. What makes it believable is the fact that "The Penultimate Peril" was officially the most expensive episode to film because of the large crowds and the many returning cast members. Prior to the season, screenwriters had sold this format to the fans as a "mega-episode", which would be longer than the others. But in reality Netflix"s version of "The End" lasts 52 minutes, while the first part of "The Penultimate Peril" stands at a whooping 55! Unless official sources deny it, there's a strong possibility that the showrunners had originally planned a hour-and-a-half episode and had no choice but to "trim the fat" as buget ran out. As we explained in our review of "The Slippery Slope", production of Season 3 was more troubled than we were led to believe, and the final episode could be its greatest casualty yet.

So what did we lose exactly? Well, namely plot elements which drive home the most important themes of the book. The island of "The End" presents the fantasy of an utopia: an opportunity to flee society and regular contact with other human beings, as well as all your problems. But as the history of the island unfolds, we see that this utopia is impossible, nefarious, even. Society inevitably recreates itself, and schisms occur. Beatrice and Bertrand tried to turn the island into a force for good in the world, but that scared the refugees who only wished to be left in peace, away from the rest of humanity. So the Baudelaire parents, who had worked so hard for the happiness of the islanders, had to be banished. And there lies the contraduction: in their effort to flee from oppression, the islanders had to resort to exclusion themselves. The Baudelaire parents tried to break the schism only to create another. And the worst part of all that is that it didn't even work. In their desperate efforts to disengage from the world, the islanders installed Ishamel as a tyrant... only for a second schism to occur when he killed them all as he started to lose power. And even before that, islanders had started another schism by aligning themselves with Olaf and freeing him from his cage. The island is not an utopia, it is just a microcosm of the world at large and a poetic recreation of VFD's tragic history. A failed experiment which only reinforces the issues it tried to solve. And that's the real reason the Baudelaire orphans decided to leave the island at the end of "Chapter Fourteenth": they know that safety and neutrality are an illusion. Had they stayed there, chaos, dissession and conflicts would have occured eventually. Accepting our inability to control things is all part of growing up.

Therefore, the question is: did Netflix's version of "The End" manage to convey that philosophical discussion? Not really. There's simply too much going on in these 52 minutes for anyone to stop and think for a moment about the moral consequences or thematical implications of staying on the island or leaving it. What we get on a screen is a mostly plot-focused adventure where characters do the things they do in the heat of the moment, because they're forced to react to other brisk events. It's not badly written, as their decisions make sense, but it's undeniably a lesser product than the original. A story of this quality needed some room to breathe and explore its symbolism.

Then again, there is another point of adaptation where Netflix's version is actually superior to the books. You see, alongside "The End", a supplementary material called "The Beatrice letters" was released, detailing the actual ending of the Baudelaires' story. It focuses on Lemony, years after the events of "The End" and now famous for writing the books, being chased by a mysterious "Beatrice". He eventually realizes that this Beatrice is actually his niece, who was raised by the Baudelaire orphans, and who is tracking them down once again. This fundamentally changes the ending of the series as 1) Beatrice's survival strongly implies that the Baudelaire orphans are alive too, 2) Lemony, after losing so much of his friends and family members, once again has someone to care for. This is in stark contrast with Lemony's depressing "rock fall, everyone dies" conclusion to "The End". Most readers will never read "The Beatrice letters" or even know it exists, which is infuriating as it contains the "real" ending of the books, one that the author very much intended. So one has to applaud the screenwriters' decision to end the series with the reunion of Beatrice and Lemony. They had obtained a deal to adapt "A Series of Unfortunate Events", not "The Beatrice Letters": they were under no contractual obligation to do so, but we're glad they did. It prevents the series from devolving into mere nihilism, and instead proposes something more interesting.

But more impressing is this episode showing how the TV series has truly come into its own in two aspects. The first one is the aesthetic, as the overly-saturated scenery engulfs the actor. The show has always dismissed realism as a passing craze, but this is the most extreme example of how cartoony the world of Lemony Snicket would look: it’s so fake, it’s real. As the island is a pretty good allegory of purgatory, it makes sense that the story would take place in a completely surreal atmosphere. The care taken to the production design remains, in our humble opinion and careful hypothesis, the real reason “The End” was cut so short, but that money is well-spent. As your eyes get used to the CGI, it becomes increasingly difficult to distinguish what’s real and what’s not. However even this exploit has its limits: the arboretum is a far cry from the biblical majesty of the scene as depicted in the books, but it will have to do.

The second aspect where marked improvements are to be mentioned is the acting, mostly that of Louis Hynes and Malina Weissman. We were lucky enough that they were decent at all in season 1 (casting child actors is a pretty hit-or-miss line of work), but as of season 3 they really stand head and shoulders with the rest of the cast. They deliver the right emotion in every single emotional scene, in spite of the challenge. Klaus and Violet have come alive. Their recollection of their own tragic existences in the trial scene of “The Penultimate Peril” is particularly impressive.

But the real standout of “The End”, of course, remains the death scene of Kit and Olaf. For a moment, everything goes quiet and we forget that we are watching an adaptation. It was perfect in the books and it’s perfect here, to the letter, although letting Olaf look intently into the Baudelaire orphans’ eyes as he mutters his last verse is a welcome and tasteful addition. We were all wary of the way the showrunners were going to adapt the end of “The End”: the Netflix series has taken a comedic approach and this is the least comedic scene imaginable. It should have been a monumental failure, but judging by everyone’s reaction, it seems to have worked. So bravo to the production team for having the nerve to take a risk and deliver the tragedy of it all in spite of tonal dissonances with the rest of the show. Hard work pays off.

So is this the adaptation of our hopes and dreams? Of course it’s not. But is it the best possible story we could have hoped for in the Hollywood system? No, it’s much better than that. There’s something particular about the age of streaming television which somehow allowed this adaptation to happen. We hope it’s no a fluke, and we hope the success of Netflix’s homage to “A Series of Unfortunate Events” will give inspiration to many other creators. It’s a teachable moment on how to nail down the emotion and message of an original work. And that’s perhaps why the end of the TV series is a tad more hopeful than its book version: because its showrunners were happy, so happy they could complete this project the way they had intended, in spite of impossible things. So of course they put a few less deaths into the conclusion of the overall story. Happy people write the most frightening horror stories, and, in spite of its reputation, horror loves a happy ending. After all, the publication of the books was an anomaly, a miracle in and of itself. Daniel Handler has confessed many times that he’s still dumbfounded at their success.

So for now on, and in spite of our many gripes and nitpicks, let’s be grateful. There are so many fans of other works out there who have it worse than us, guys! But not us. We had the books, we have the show, and we will have each other. At long last... we’re the fortunate ones.

#0551 #review #ASoUE #a series of unfortunate events #Lemony Snicket #asoue netflix #violet baudelaire #klaus baudelaire #Sunny Baudelaire #count olaf #neil patrick harris #patrick warburton #malina weissma #louis hynes #kit snicket

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toughguywithbossygirlfriend · 6 years ago

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WonderBat vs BatCat: BatCat romance is “Timeless”or “80 years old”. Is that really the Truth ? which one is older ?

Lately I had to read again some comments about BacCat being the better ship because of how “Old” a romance it was. But when did BatCat really start to take a real romantic turn compared to the first WonderBat references ? If we check out the old comics from “Batman #1″ back in 1940, is BatCat really the winner ? or is there another truth ?

I definitively cannot ignore the chemistry DC tries to put into BatCat till the 80′s even if I’d prefer WonderBat. But to make that romance acceptable they had to change Catwoman into a Hero first, or at least an Anti-Hero. Strong changes similar to that time where Catwoman had been Brainwashed to become a Hero by Zatanna and the JL.

(The following is from DC Comics “JLA (1997)” - Issue 119)

MM:“A friend ?” - BM:“An Ally of sorts ...I thought she’d changed. but ... maybe it wasn’t her choice.”

Batman had his suspicions so there was never a lot of room for Love but with Selina on the “Good” side it was at least a possibility. This follows all the WonderBat stuff of the JLA’s “obsidian age” and “#90″ of course, so Batman’s heart is rather set on Diana then Selina. As a matter of fact it turns out Bats was right about Zatanna’s mind manipulation.

(The following is from DC Comics “Catwoman (2002)” - Issue 50)

Selina’s evolution from “Evil” to “Good”, isn’t a first and has been rebooted several times. The fact that it wasn’t her choice isn’t a first either. But how do we end up with the “belief” that BatCat is an “Old” story ? maybe even “80 years old” ?... Superman and Lois ? Yes no doubt... but Batman and Catwoman ? ... Not really

The “New 52″ with the disastrous SuperWonder pairing surely contributed to the illusion of a longer BatCat history. It just send 70 real years of “Lois and Clark” into the trash-bin just as it did to the slowly (but steadily growing) “Wonder woman/Batman” background romance. This helped to erase in the younger generation’s minds what had been slowly build up other several decades.

After the “New 52″ it wasn’t really possible to return to pre-flashpoint status ... DC had first to try to repair the damage done to the trinity and to the duo of the World’s Finest... You don’t do

After the “New 52″, I guess DC surely considered that the best way to heal the Trinity’s awkwardness from the SuperWonder “Injustice smell” was to first avoid any relationship within the Trinity and later (as it didn’t work) to erase SuperWonder from continuity, so ... back to : Lois and Clark, Wonder Woman and Trevor, ... Batman and ? ... yeah who? ... Bats had a lot of love interests over the last 80 years ..

Selina was surely one of the numerous candidates and as long as they didn’t restart her “Evil” in DC Rebirth she could even become a good and “spicy” choice. So they didn’t ... this time she was “Good” from the start : In jail but actually taking responsibility for crimes she didn’t commit and facing lethal injection only to protect a friend. A real Hero, Selflessness and Compassion raised to Diana’s level. Better fighting abilities than Talia and the stubbornness needed to stand the ground in front of Batman. DC boosted Diana’s power level to match Superman’s (to fit the needs of “SuperWonder”) and changed her from a magically animated clay figure (”less than human” just like Deilan and thus dreaming to become human) into the daughter of Zeus (who doesn’t really have any reason to lower herself to human status). I think DC doesn’t really know how, or lacks the courage of, to power Diana down again into something more suitable for a human World (Batman’s World) without enraging a legion of hardcore Feminists who need her to be equal with “the most powerful male Hero”... Catwoman, on the other hand, has been given most of Diana’s qualities and switched from “Evil” to “Good”...

Tom King surely did a great job at helping to model Selina for that romance and showed a great skill at fooling the younger readers about BatCat’s real history by “hand picking” just the right pictures out of old comics ... an impressive Work.

For example in DC Rebirth’s Batman (2016) #44 you get the false impression Batman is taking care of Selina’s hurting ankle ...

While in the real comic, back in 1940, he was just removing the bandage to check out for a precious stolen necklace ... nothing romantic there.

But the next references were not more accurate either as you will see it ...

Every sentence is just copied ... but the real comic tried to picture Selina Kyle/Catwoman as having two very different personalities ... some kind of schizophrenic heavy mental illness revealed through a memory loss.

With this Issue we have already gone from 1940 to January 1951 and to consider any romance in these early comics you’d have to ignore all the sweet pet names used to describe Catwoman : the Arch-enemy, the Princess of Plunder, the Queen of Crime, Batman’s Feline Foe and so on ... Nonetheless this is the first “Evil” to “Good” switch I know of ... Batman’s romantic interest from that time was more Vicky Vale, than Selina.

In this other “Pick Up” from “Detective Comics #203″ (January 1954), Selina reverts from “Good” to “Evil” just after he warned her of the consequences of resuming her past criminal life

... and she didn’t need any “hit to the head” this time ... was she faking her “Goodness” ? or is she just ready for Arkam’s Asylum ? ...

The next one in Batman (2016) #44 ? ... same deception again ...

As we can see, in the original comic, Batman answers Selina’s question even under the Torture with a “No” to both “Bride” and “Burglar” ... Selina was really a self delusional crazy chick back then, more like a female version of the Joker rather than a real romantic interest and it didn’t get any better in the following years.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Selina’s dominant stance in Batman #44 was a parallel to Diana’s Epic stance in Hiketeia ... of course you never really “dominate” Batman, just like he is never your “captive”, unless he wants you to believe you won.

Wonder Woman was always the perfect complement to Batman. “Wonder Woman was made to Protect the Innocent, and Batman to Punish the Guilty”. Without either of them there is No Justice. That’s why they work so well together ... So you just copy from Diana to Selina the things you can and worked for WonderBat.

Anyway no consistent BatCat until “Batman (1940) Issue 308″ during February 1979 ... a new evolution from “Evil” to “Good” starts with that Issue and a kiss in November 1979 ... but this time things are different, very different, Selina really wants too turn her back on her crime life ... the road is still long and bumpy but it is a start for a real romance. It is interesting to note that the current Rebirth “Wedding” arc with the Dark Knight enabled the starting of a new “Catwoman (2018)” series,just like the 80′s romance enabled Catwoman her own start. For a time the 80′s “Catwoman” series shared the “Batman(1940)” comic series with Bats. Later she got her own solo comic..

Now if you consider Batman and Wonder Woman’s first kiss of love:

Considering Wonder Woman is a rather serious Girl and that she already “Heroed” for several years side by side with Batman. If you consider that the owner of the Lasso of truth won’t lie if she says that she really did fall in love with Batman. Plus, two years later (1970) “Diana Prince” encountered billionaire “Bruce Wayne” and agreed to a Date with him ignoring he was Batman. Later again in 1978, Diana and Bruce know each others double identities and agree on a “Late night diner” ... We may consider that this kiss was the starting point of a complicated (secret identities and all) slowly growing romantic relationship between the two.

So a WonderBat romance started at least over a decade before any real BatCat romance.

I bet you didn't expect that ! ... You don’t have to believe me. Just check out the old comics for real ... and make your own opinion once you’ve read them.

Keep in mind that this doesn't really deny anything to the current Batman/Catwoman romance because DC Rebirth’s Selina Kyle is very different from the crazy Psycho of the old comics. Nonetheless, I wouldn’t use its Age as an Argument. You can surely find a lot of other reasons to love them. And of course, Bruce and Diana had both earlier Love interests, but this wasn’t the point of this Post.

This Post only goes thru the Batman (1940) series meaning i didn’t check out every comic series. But I had once a heated exchange about the “80 years old” theory with a Hardcore BatCat shipper whom I told to check out for himself the old comics. I know he checked out all 400 first “Batman” and “Detective Comics” Issues but he never got back to me to prove me wrong ... so I guess that he didn’t find anything useful either.

Hereafter you have a partial list of the early “Batman” comics Issues up to the time of the WonderBat kiss in 1968, with the names of notable or recurring females found in them, often being Batman’s real love interests. I didn’t mention the Issues if they had no interesting females in it.

Issue#1: Catwoman tries to seduce and bribe him, doesn't work, she flees and he lets her ! ;

Issue#2: the crime Cat flees again;

Issue#3: Cat's usual M.O. kiss (first) to flee, she wishes she could hook up with Bats;

Issue#5:Quennie kisses Bats and dies

Issue#6:Linda Page

Issue#7:Linda Page

Issue#9:Linda Page

Issue#10:Cat roots for Bats, another kiss and flee ...

Issue#11:Canary kisses Bats and leaves

Issue#15:Bruce Wayne is in love with Linda Page but still "proposes" to the "Arch ennemy" Catwoman and gets "engaged" with her ... Now that's funny, so it would'nt be a first ? thinking about Batman(2016) #39-#40 ...this time its Jail for the Cat

Issue#22:Cat goes to Jail again after flirting with Alfred ...

Issue#26:Future Bruce Wayne and Lora Hall

Issue#35:Catwoman tries to gun down Bats

Issue#39:Cat fights Bats then saves him, tries to seduce and bribe him again but goes to jail again ... nothing new...

Issue#42:Cat goes to Jail again

Issue#45:Cat tries to kill Bats and goes to Jail

Issue#47: a disguised Cat gets to kiss Bats, then ... Jail

Issue#49:Vicky Vale

Issue#50:Vicky Vale

Issue#52:Vicky Vale

Issue#56: Vicky Vale

Issue#61: Vicky Vale

Issue#62: Cat becomes amnesic and fights on the good side.

Issue#64: Vicky Vale

Issue#65: Amnesic Selina remains good but no romance

Issue#69: Amnesic Selina has a Brother no romance

Issue#79: Vicky Vale and Batman fake an engagement/wedding

... No Cat ... But during "Detective Comics"#203" Cat turns evil again without any head injury ...

Issue#81: Vicky Vale

Issue#84: Cat goes to Jail again

Issue#85: Vicky Vale

Issue#87: Vicky Vale gets jealous over the kiss Batman shares with Magda Luvescu

Issue#92: Susie Smith

Issue#98: Vicky Vale

Issue#105: Kathy Kane as Batwoman will become a rather constant love interest in the following years (This one is neither lesbian nor Bruce Wayne's cousin and later her niece Betty is gonna be the first BatGirl and fall for Dick Grayson’ Robin)

Issue#110: Vicky Vale

Issue#111: Vicky Vale

Issue#115: Susie Smith ?

Issue#116: Kathy Kane

Issue#119: Kathy Kane and Vicky Vale

Issue#122: The Wedding of Kathy Kane and Bruce Wayne ... ;)

Issue#125: Kathy Kane

Issue#126: Kathy Kane

Issue#128: Kathy Kane

Issue#129: Kathy Kane

Issue#131: Kathy Kane and Bruce Wayne married again ... ;)

Issue#133: Kathy Kane

Issue#135: Kathy Kane and Bruce Wayne married again ... ;)

Issue#139: Kathy Kane with her niece Betty (as BatGirl)

Issue#140: Kathy Kane

Issue#141: Kathy Kane with her niece Betty (as BatGirl)

Issue#144: Betty (as BatGirl) and Robin ... with Bruce and Kathy.

Issue#145: Kathy Kane and Bruce Wayne married again ... ;)

Issue#147: Kathy Kane

Issue#150: Kathy Kane vs "Elise"

Issue#151: Kathy Kane

Issue#154: Kathy Kane with her niece Betty (as BatGirl)

Issue#157: Kathy Kane and Vicky Vale

Issue#159: Kathy Kane and Bruce Wayne married again ... ;)

Issue#162: Kathy Kane

Issue#163: Kathy Kane and Bruce Wayne married again ... ;)

Issue#165: Patricia Powell

Issue#166: Patricia Powell

Issue#168: Kaye Daye

Issue#176: Cat goes to Jail again

Issue#181 : Poison Ivy and Kaye Daye

Issue#183 : Poison Ivy

Issue#184 : Viola Lance but it was rather Robin’s Interest

Issue#185 : Vera Lovely but again Robin’ Love Interest

Issue#187 : Vicky Vale and “the Sparrow” as Joker’s ennemy ?

Issue#193 : Vicky Vale

Issue#194 : Kaye Daye

Issue#197 (Dec 1967) : Batgirl (Barbara Gordon) and Catwoman fight for Batman but Batgirl isn’t in love with Batman - Containing the “Bride or Burglar” reference used in Batman#44 - Selina thinks she is in love and that you can torture a man into loving her (like I said a crazy psycho)

Issue#198 (Jan-Feb 1968) : Catwoman (still a crazy psycho in love who thinks that hurting him and Robin is the best way to charm Batman ) and Batwoman (Kathy Kane)

1968 : Batman and Wonder Woman first kiss (that I know of) - During that Issue of “the Brave and the Bold”, both Wonder Woman and Batgirl fall in love with Batman. Diana kisses him but it won’t be really revealed, or denied, if Batman had feelings other than Friendship for either one of the Women. But Batman was always kind of good at hiding his feelings for Diana. Based on later evolutions of their relationship, we can only imagine this must have been the beginning of a longtime slow-burner between the two.

I leave it to you to discover the rest for yourself ...

#Wonder woman #Diana Prince #batman #bruce wayne #wonderbat

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mi6-cafe · 6 years ago

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The third week of writing for LDWS participants has come to a close. Now it’s time for the next bit of the competition: reading and voting!

prompt: resurrection Word count: 250 Challenge: Write a drabble with an acrostic format spelling out ‘resurrection.’ (First word of first paragraph must start with r, first word of second paragraph must start with e, and so on).

Voters–after you read, check out this form to vote for your top three drabbles! You can also leave anonymous feedback for the writers!

Who can vote? Anyone who’s read the drabbles! Yes, that includes YOU!

Writers–you may also vote, but we do ask that you vote for three drabbles other than your own.

The voting period ends at 11:59 PM EST on Sunday night. Results will be posted and anonymous feedback will be emailed on Monday.

Remember, readers–it’s up to YOU to decide who will wind up on top at the end of the competition!

Drabbles are under the read-more:

Title: Mourning Author: sunaddicted Rating: G Warnings: emotional h/c, mild angst Summary: the fact that it's not real doesn't make it hurt any less

"Roses, really?"

Exhaling a heavy sigh didn't alleviate his oncoming migraine "They were on sale" Q shrugged.

"Seriously?"

"Uh.. yes" had James really expected him to splurge on flowers for a fake grave? It wasn't like they wouldn't wilt anyway.

"Roses are romantic, Q - for dinners and dates, not for funerals"

"Resurrections are romantic though, aren't they?"

Except for the fact that James hadn't really died: it had all been part of a plan to make some people believe that they wouldn't have to worry anymore about him hunting them down - and Q had been crucial to the plan, there for every step of it. Still, he seemed... upset? "Are you okay?"

Candles peeked amidst the roses - the expensive and scented kind that Q lit up only to treat himself after long and hard missions; he focused on them, wondering about which of their colleagues had spent so much on a fake death "Sure"

That tone of voice screamed the contrary "Q..."

"I don't want to talk about it" Q sighed "You're fine. You're home"

"Of course I'm home" James drew Q against his chest, gently enveloped him in his arms "I'll always come back" faked or not, resurrection was his specialty afterall.

Nodding was the only answer Q could give at those reassuring words: one day that grave would be full; one day that nightmare would be too real; one day he wouldn't buy discounted roses to cry on as he mourned the man he loved. And it hurt.

Title: Reinvention Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: Introspection, Mildly fluffy Summary: Living long enough means changes

Rising through layers of sleep, Bond opened his eyes and blinked at the sunlight reaching warm fingers through the drapes.

Easing himself onto his back and finding his left arm trapped under a lithely muscled and sleep warm body was a familiar experience now.

Sleep was becoming easier, after years of subsisting on brief naps on missions and nightmares when not.

Until six weeks ago, he had never imagined he would be this contented. He hadn't been when an initially minor injury had proven more debillitating than it had seemed. The laceration across his palm had severed tendons and though surgery had repaired it, the tendons were shorter and stiffer and he couldn't use the hand to the degree field work required.

Retirement from 00 status was his only option. He had fought it but he was a realist and knew the department could not risk delicate missions on an agent who couldn't handle the physical tasks required.

Resurrection, he had once said, was his hobby. Reinvention might have been more accurate.

Eventually he had accepted the position as head of testing and training.

Considering his years of experience, it was an excellent fit.

This morning would be the first of his new career.

In two hours he would be Commander Bond, department head. It was time to begin the day. He nudged Q.

One green eye opened and a frown crossed Q's face. “Second thoughts?”

“None. Just starting the day properly.” They were fifteen minutes late with smug smiles.

Title: Resurrection Hopes Warnings: No warnings apply Tags: established relationship

Author: Susspencer

Returning to what was home to me, Mi6, my family, friends, the question was would they welcome me?

Everything was different. Everything was the same.

Stiff upper lip and I stood ready for the Inquisition before me. Where have you been? Why didn't you contact us, or at least me? Why did you wait to come back?

Unscathed by wounds. Unhurt by blame. Unmoved by their feigned sorrow. Unwilling to forgive, yet.

Ready to regain my title again, reclaim my license to kill. Would they relinquish their grip on it? And reinstate me.

Rumbling in my soul as I saw your face. Reasoning within myself, what do I tell you? Those eyes as they peered through your lenses.

Eyes full of compassion and love still there, hung with a hurt, so deep, that it peers into corners unseen in forever.

Cheer bubbles in my chest, in that empty place, that was barely holding on to the memory of your face.

Time keeps ticking as I wait to hear.

Is it reinstatement or thank you for your service? I need to be the hero that you need me to be.

Oh, my Q just come stand near, and chase away my fear. I am nothing without you. It’s only as we that we can save the world.

Nay or yeah, it doesn't matter, if I can just reach out and touch. The only thing I need to resurrect is us. To be with you, Q, my dear, you are my life.

Title: One hope... Author: ato Warnings: none Summary: I wait.

Regret is the worst emotion. Unprofessional, M would have said. Inevitable feels more on point.

Eleven o’clock in a sterile waiting room, unsure of basic questions of life and death, I think of words not spoken. Looks shared, but not acted on.

So clear in my mind... all my opportunities. Over comms. In the branch. Heading out at the end of the day in the same direction, only to turn away. Avoid temptation. Turn away from him and toward the cold safety of solitude.

Useless now to imagine "what if?" How I might have changed his sadness (and mine) by acknowledging what I knew was there, but feared reaching for.

Resurrection is my hobby.

Resurrection is my curse.

Even so, I wait in an antiseptic room, hoping against hope that Q will follow my example.

Come back from the dead. The presumed dead. Back from the missing, then found (injured... beaten). Back from the shadows and pain and who-gives-a-fuck-why-should-I?

To the work. To the family that isn't family. To the battles and camaraderie and late hours, exhausted and triumphant. To the old agent who wants another shot. A chance to say, "I just need one thing," and have him know it's him.

I sit — cold, bone-tired, frightened for perhaps the first time in years — indulging in a hope.

One hope.

No. One need. For a snarky, willful boffin to fight his way back from the deep, dark dreamlessness, rise up, open his bright, clever eyes… and say yes.

Title: Duck Psychotic

Author: Venstar

Warnings: None

Summary: Living is hard. Resurrection is even harder

Resurrection was a little known part of the Quartermaster’s job. It was a demanding procedure, tricky even. He’d had quite a few spectacular and dangerous results. Some agents weren’t meant to come back, some were never the same again and some...had to be destroyed.

Except for Bond. He took to resurrection like a psychotic duck to water. There wasn’t anything that he had been through that Q couldn’t drag him back from. “I’m tired Moneypenny. He’s literally taking years off my life.”

“Someone has to deal with him,” Moneypenny said. “And besides, you love seeing those blue eyes see YOU for the first time, every time you bring him back.”

Unfortunately, Moneypenny was correct. Q coughed. There was something terribly enchanting about an assassin with wonder in his eyes when he spotted Q.

“Remind me why you’re complaining?” Moneypenny asked.

“Remind me why I like you?” Q sighed out through his nose.

“Extraction team incoming,” Moneypenny said pressing her earpiece.

“Can’t wait.”

Terrible things happened every day. It was always a terrible day when 007’s body was brought into his Necro room, where the laborious process of resurrecting an agent took its toll on Q. One more year was taken from his life.

“I know you,” Bond’s voice rough when he finally woke. His face lax and sleepy, his eyes tracking Q’s every move.

“Of course you do, fool.”

Now came the time Q’s strength would leave him and Bond would stay, keeping him company, sharing tea from a Scrabble mug.

Title: Reboot

Author: kiddohno

Warnings: none

Summary: Everyone needs a hobby.

Rebooting… | | |

Entering non-interactive start-up... [OK]

Switching to guest configuration... [OK]

User: 007 Password: ************

Reading biometrics... [OK]

root@LAPTOP-Quartermaster$: cd ~/Programs gcc bond.c

ENTER

Connection failed. Unable to find node. Discarding circuit.

Try again? Y/N: y

Initializing. Resolving... Connection established. Downloading files...

On screen, hundreds of points appeared over a graphical world map. Some were tied together with pixelated lines of colour, highlighting connections between them, and each one linked to relevant documents in a massive repository of data and evidence. This was everything that Q had found chasing down what was left of SPECTRE, alone, after James had gone. He’d foolishly thought that taking out Blofeld would be the end of the whole organization. Instead, the power vacuum had only served to revive the criminal network with added fervor. Q had been methodologically tracking the formation of new splinter groups and taking down cells all around the world, and in doing so he had drawn too much attention to himself.

Now that he was missing and presumed dead, James knew that everything Q had done was to protect him. As long as any part of SPECTRE survived, there was the risk that it would target James Bond. Q had done this so that he could retire in peace. And when Q couldn’t continue his work, for whatever reason, he had made sure that his laptop and a short note found their way to James. ‘007,’ the note read, ‘You know the password-- we all need a hobby.’

Title: Azalea's First Bloom Warning: Major Character Death Summary: Resurrection is never guaranteed (but she will probably come back to haunt me).

Author: GwyllionDream

R’s instructions blared over his mobile, but Bond was much too panicked to comprehend them. His hands shook. His mind raced. Despite all of his years as an agent, this was the worst scenario he had ever encountered.

Every manual Bond had studied proved useless in this situation.

“Stop and listen to me,” R’s voice demanded. “Four compressions, followed by one breath.”

Unsure of himself, Bond resumed his efforts. His palms pushed on the small chest beneath him, but she was… gone.

“Repeat it with me,” R said, her voice cracking with despair. “One, two, three, four, breathe….”

“R! This isn’t working,” Bond shouted. “Q will be home any minute.”

Even from halfway across the city, R’s gasp of sympathy reached Bond.

Crimson petals covered the countertop. Bond had clipped the azaleas himself, hoping to bring some spring cheer into Q’s flat. Water dripped to the floor from the upended vase. Each falling drop reminded Bond of the pulsing heartbeat of life that now slipped away.

The old girl had really done it this time.

“I don’t want you to lose her,” R cried. “You need to keep going!”

“One, two, three, four,” Bond counted as he pushed on her fragile chest. He pressed his mouth to hers and breathed, but nothing worked. Bond sobbed so loudly that he didn’t hear Q enter the flat, or his footsteps as he crossed the kitchen floor.

“No!!!” Q let out a bloodcurdling scream when he saw Bond crouched over Pampuria’s lifeless body.

Title: Home Again Author: solarmorrigan Summary: Bond's priorities have shifted over time, just a little. Warnings: None.

Really, Bond had stopped enjoying the parties a long time ago.

Events like the ones he often infiltrated were filled people who wanted.

Someone was always wanting for his attention, always fawning and smarming and insinuating themselves into his space.

Unctuous in the extreme, they were unpleasant and false.

Repeatedly, though, Bond catered to them, listened to and flattered them. Whatever it took to gain their confidence, their secrets, their assistance – whatever they had to offer.

Realistically, it was the easiest way to get the job done.

Even so, the thrill of successful falsehoods had worn thin.

Could he do it another way? Were there options that didn’t involve the suppression of his every instinct and desire to the point where he felt more like a ghost watching his own animated body interact with others? Likely. And likely, they were higher risk.

The mission came first, though. Every time. And Bond would kill himself, body and soul, to complete the mission. Besides that, a lower risk meant a higher chance he could come home.

It wasn’t until Bond was on his way to that home that he began to feel himself again.

Only when he reached home did it really feel like he began to inhabit his own body again.

Not until he had Q in his arms, held against him, wrapped around him, grounding him and reminding him of who he was and who he was allowed to be, did Bond really feel like he’d come alive again.

Title: Lost and Found

Author: solitaryjane

Warnings: none

Summary: This time, it's Q who's been declared dead.

“Really, Bond?” Q sighed. “It hadn't even been a day.”

Each of the safehouse’s security measures had been breached, starting from the foyer all the way to the bedroom. Bond stood just inside the walk-in closet, where the entrance to the panic room was, and Q in front of it, looking cross.

Something could be said of the irony of being caught by someone prone to disappearing while trying to disappear. Q sighed again. So much for his foolproof plan. And it was foolproof, mind you, with a perfectly staged attack and a perfectly convincing corpse. He wasn't even going to be gone that long – maybe a few weeks – and then he’d be back. It would be no worse than what a certain double-oh liked to pull on a regular basis. Everything was going swimmingly according to plan.

Until now.

“R found some discrepancies,” Bond shrugged. “Thought I’d follow them.”

“Right, of course,” Q spat. He really should’ve specifically locked R out beforehand. It would've probably spared him the indignity of being found – alive – when barely 24 hours had passed.

Even with minimal lighting he could see the twinkle in Bond’s eyes, exuding mirth and arrogance. Q wanted to kill him.

“Care to explain?” Bond asked.

“To you? Not particularly.”

“I promise I can help.”

“Oh, suddenly an expert in international hacking ploys, are we?”

“No,” Bond smirked. “But luckily I know someone who is, and who, despite his efforts, won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”

10)

Title: Faith

Author: Iambid/Flantastic

Warnings: None

Summary: Q’s faith in him is everything

Returning from missions has never been easy for James. There is a soulless feeling that comes with killing. A deadening inside that is as difficult to overcome as it is insidious. For years it festered. Damaging James, slowly destroying him from the inside.

Even though Q has never realised it, from the moment they first fell into bed together, there is something he does that can bring James back to the land of the living in an instant.

Something so simple and he doesn’t even have a clue.

Understanding came slowly to James at first. The first time that Q did it he didn’t know what to think but now he craves it.

Relishes it.

Returning home, it is Q naked in their bed, that resurrects him.

Even just sleeping, Q curls into James’s arms like their bed is the safest place in the world. He allows James to hold him. Protect him.

Caress him.

The times that James has killed are eclipsed by the moments that Q trusts him at his most vulnerable. Nude. Sleeping.

It is heady. This trusting intimacy.

Only James will never tell him. It is the spontaneity of Q stripping off after a long day’s work, of him slipping into their bed, resting his head on James’s shoulder and holding onto him so tightly, that makes James’s heart beat again. If Q realised, if it was a deliberate act, it wouldn’t be the same.

Nothing brings James back to life in quite the same way.

11)

Title: Turnabout is Fair Play

Author: beaubete

Warnings: none

Summary: Patience is a virtue and Bond is a sinner.

Really, he should have expected it. It was inevitable, though tell that to Q's empty flat at three in the morning with birdsong out the window and a funeral in Bond's heart.

Even the cats join him for long, meandering rambles through the kitchen as though they don't quite know what to do with themselves. None of them do.

Surely Q will be back soon. Surely Sunday he'll be at the door with a takeaway. Surely Monday he'll be back for his yoga mat. Surely Tuesday.

Uncomfortable silence rules the flat; since that first confession, they've been quietly together, slipped into a relationship like falling into a warm bath.

Romance, unanticipated as it was, has become the new normal, and this is of course why Q'll be coming back. It wouldn't be fair to suddenly get everything he's ever wanted only to lose it now.

Righteous anger sweeps his shoulders. After everything, doesn't he deserve happiness? Doesn't he--

Except if anyone deserved to lose peace, it's him. Chills trip up the back of his neck.

Could this be his own fault?

The thought has haunted him since their first kisses, faces drowned and ghostly in the corners of his vision. It was always a possibility. A likelihood.

It isn't acceptable. His retirement was meant to make them safe; it never occurred that he'd find himself on the other side of the comms worrying. He ought to let Mallory handle it.

Ought to trust the system.

No. He fetches his pistol.

12)

Title: Something of a Surprise

Author: melynen

Warnings: none

Summary: Q’s in the field and things get a little out of hand.

Resurrection being a hobby of James, Q has long since stopped holding his breath every time his lover pulls off one of his disappearing acts. He still fears for his life, yes, but he also trusts James to return to him.

Especially now that he has practically moved in to Q’s flat.

So it’s something of a surprise that this time, it is not James who disappears but Q.

Usually Q wouldn’t be in the field, but sometimes, concessions must be made, and this is one of those times. A supposedly easy mission quickly turns into anything but, and Q has barely time to feel the gunshot that takes him down.

Recovery is not the easiest or the quickest, and he’s told that on the way back to London his heart really did stop beating; waking up at Medical, surrounded by his nearest and dearest, he can only be happy it didn’t stick.

”Rubbed off on you, have I?” James grins, relieved.

Eve, sitting next him, snorts inelegantly. Q can see that she wants to say something, but mercifully she keeps quiet.

”Could be,” Q allows. ”Though I’d really rather not do this again, if you won’t terribly mind.”

”Too right you won’t,” says Eve.

”I certainly won’t mind,” James says. ”For a while there…” he pauses, but Q can easily hear what was left unsaid.

Out loud, Q says nothing, but he does squeeze the hand holding his.

Neither of them speaks again, but their clasped hands say everything.

13)

Title: Blood and Fire

Author: azure7539arts

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Summary: Bond wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

“Run!”

Every time he tried to close his eyes, the image of Q’s blazing gaze kept flashing deep in the recesses of his mind.

Smoke had been billowing from the damaged sites, the sound of people trapped and screaming only second to the thick stench of fresh blood that had been permeating through the air. They had been under attack. Again.

Up until that moment, Bond had never allowed himself to even think about exactly just how important Q was in his life. And the second he had heard Q’s sharp, unwavering order for him to go after the assailants instead of staying back in the wreckage to help, Bond had realized that he was going to regret it.

Running had always been his forte, he had told himself.

Running should’ve been easy because he had been doing it his entire life.

Even so… in that singular moment with him staring wide-eyed at the half of Q’s face that had been drenched in free-flowing blood from a gash somewhere above his eyebrow, Bond had never been more reluctant to leave.

“Care for some tea?”

To be fair, Bond hadn’t needed to ask to know that Q would say yes before sitting up straight and murmuring “finally!” under his breath. “How is it?” He sat down, watching Q sip at his drink.

“It’s good,” Q mumbled, seemingly more relaxed. “Just how I take it.”

“Of course.” Bond quirked a small smirk.

No, he wasn’t going to make another mistake this time.

Thank you to our amazing drabble writers for bringing their drabbles to life this week, especially since this was the most difficult challenge yet.

To our amazing readers, you can help this competition by going here to vote on your top three drabbles. You may also leave anonymous feedback for one or more drabbles.

Let’s vote!

#00Q #00qldws #ldws

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