#then ill do the same thing all over again but in harks body. this is good work life balance right | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zafirosreverie · 4 years ago

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Can I request a Agatha x reader where they were both put up on the pole to for executed but reader didn’t have strong enough magic to fight off the other witches magic so Agatha had to save her but reader is injured so Agatha flys her to a cabin and takes care of her please.

Here it is love! I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: angsty?

Killy (Agatha x reader)

You couldn’t scream. You were so scared but you couldn’t scream. As two of your former sisters grabbed you by the arms and dragged you through the forest, the only thing you could hear was steps and Agatha’s pleas behind you as she was being dragged too.

You cursed yourself for not knowing this would happen. Well, you knew it, but you always thought you would be smart enough to avoid it, or at least fast enough to escape. Oh how wrong you were.

The witches tied you to the pole and you wanted to cry as Agatha was being tied beside you. You could feel her fear and that was so much worse than the trial itself. When Evanora stepped forward, you knew it was it. You were going to die.

“Agatha Harkness, are you a witch?” Evanora asked and Agatha nodded “And you, Y/N Y/L/N, are you a witch too?” she asked and you nodded too.

“And yet, you broke our laws” she growled and you gulped.

It was true, in your case at least. You were Agatha’s best friend and were always by her side. You loved her sarcastic comments and the way she flirted with everyone (although this made you jealous inside and broke your heart when she did it with you, because you knew she didn’t mean it). So, when your friend came to your room one night and asked you to help her break into the forbidden seccion of the library, you agreed without a second thought.

Agatha was brilliant with magic and the dark one seemed to like her. A lot. It was almost natural for her and you knew it was because the magic wanted her. Most witches didn’t know it, and always mocked you for saying it out loud, but you knew that magic was a living being, one that chose some people to bear it. And this dark magic had chosen Agatha.

Agatha. Not you.

It wasn’t a surprise, to be honest. Your magic seemed to be weaker for a witch your age, but you didn’t mind. You enjoyed the feeling of it in your veins and always had conversations with it. Of course it caused you to be called a freak by other witches, but Evanora allowed it because she thought you were just a silly girl. And Agatha was always there for you, so you really didn’t care about the others. You couldn’t tell the exact moment you fell in love with your friend, but it didn’t matter.

However, the dark magic seemed to notice you were too weak for it, so it ignored you. Agatha didn’t break any rule. Practicing magic was what your coven was for. But dark magic was another thing. It was out of the limits. It was dangerous. It was Powerful. It was everything Agatha was. It belongs to her, which made this trial a gigant injustice. She was just learning to control the gift that was given to her. That was all.

You were the only one that deserved this trial. You were the one that asked Agatha to teach you dark magic, even when you knew you couldn’t contain it. You were the one that made a dangerous mistake. You were the one that played with a gift that wasn’t your. You broke the rules. You and only you.

And you wanted to say it, you wanted Evanora to know it so she could free Agatha. But you couldn’t find your voice. Not that it mattered. Everyone knew deep inside that the youngest Harkness was becoming more and more powerful and that it scared the eldest. Evanora just wanted an excuse to get rid of her competition.

You were so lost on your thoughts that you actually missed most of the trial. When you blinked and focused again, you saw the witches getting ready to kill you. Great, you missed your own death sentence.

“Hold my hand” you heard Agatha whispering to you and you frowned.

She still had fear all over her beautiful face, but she was trying to be brave and you knew she had a plan. You were about to ask her how you were supposed to hold her hand while you had yours tied, when you felt her fingers. She was struggling to reach you, even when her hands were tied as well. It melted your heart.

Pulling your magic bonds as much as you could, you managed to intertwine at least two of your fingers with hers. That seemed to calm her. You closed your eyes when the witches lifted their hands.

Not even a second later, you felt their power. It was too much for you, and that was the point. To make your body explode with the magic they knew you couldn’t contain. A cruel and ironic death.

You felt Killy (short for Killutal), your own magic trying to protect you, but she (you always liked to think your magic was a she) was weak and small compared to this and you felt her fading away. She was fighting but losing. And your body was breaking for the battle inside it.

But it all stopped suddenly. You didn’t know what was happening but the last thing you felt before passing out was your hands being untied and Agatha’s arms around you.

_________

You groaned when you felt something cold and wet on your forehead. You wanted to go back to sleep, you felt so tired.

“Y/N?” a soft voice said and made you open your eyes.

Agatha looked at you, worried. She sighed in relief when you gave her a small and weak smile.

“What happened?” you asked as you tried to sit. Agatha helped you and caressed your cheek.

“It’s over” she simply said. “they can’t hurt you anymore, love” she promised and kissed your temple.

“What did you do?” you asked and the frown on her face told you everything you need.

“They’re gone. They can’t touch you ever again”

You smiled and nodded. You really didn’t need or want to hear the whole story. Agatha was there, alive and safe. That was all that mattered. The other witch kissed your temple again and left the room to get food and water for you.

“I’m here too” a little voice said in your mind and you smiled.

“Killy”

“I’m sorry” she said

“Me too” you whispered.

You two talked until Agatha came back. She was so tender with you, touching you carefully, like she was scared you would shatter any moment. To be fair, maybe you would.

“You’ll be fine in a few days, love” she said and took one of your hands in hers “I’ll make sure of that”.

And she did.

For days, she was always by your side, making sure you had everything you needed, feeding you, brushing your hair, helping you to shower yourself. Everything. You needed something? Just ask for it and Agatha would give it to you.

It was wonderful, to know how much you meant to her. But it made it all more painful, because you and Killy knew something she didn’t.

______________

Days turned into weeks, and you weren’t any better.

Agatha was getting out of spells to try and you couldn’t even walk for yourself. One day, she took you to the river, after you insisted so much. She had to carry you into the water and hold you against herself the whole time, scared that you would drown.

When the night came, you asked her to stay a little more, just to see the stars. Of course, she agreed and sat with you on the grass, hugging you when the air got colder.

It was the last time you left the cabin.

When you arrived home, you felt even more ill and Agatha cursed herself for taking you out too soon. You got a cold, and your fever hadn’t gone in two days.

Still, you always were smiling.

That night, you called Agatha and asked her to lie with you in the bed. She blinked but climbed next to you quickly, wrapping her arms around your waist to pull you closer to her, in hopes her body warmth could help you.

“Remember that time I asked you to close your eyes and gave you a flower?” you asked after a moment of silence.

“I do” she said, confused. Was the fever getting worse?

“It wasn’t the flower I wanted to give to you” you confessed and locked your e/c eyes with her blue ones.

“It wasn’t?”

“No”

“Then what was it?” she asked and brushed a strand off your face.

You smiled and shook your head. “It’s a secret” you giggled softly, almost a whisper.

“I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other” she whispered back.

“We don’t” you agreed “But this secret can’t be told. Just showed”

“Then show me”

You smiled and gathered all the strength you had left. You took her face and brought it close to yours, locking your lips to hers.

Agatha kissed you back and pulled you even closer to her. She had wanted to do it for a very long time, but she was scared you wouldn’t feel the same and then she would lose you.

“It’s the best secret we have shared” she whispered and you nodded “mind if i show you mine now’” she asked and you smiled as she kissed you again.

Your heart was a little less broken.

___________

“She’s Killy, the last part of myself that remains alive. Take good care of her, Aggie”.

Agatha woke up exalted, even when your voice in her head was so soft. She quickly turned to you and gently moved you.

“Y/N?” she whispered, kissing your temple.

But you didn’t move.

She gasped and quickly took you in her arms, hugging you close to her chest. She tried to wake up for a few more moments, trying to stay calm, but the fear invaded her heart. After a moment, she understood what was happening.

She kissed you one last time and felt the tears rolling down her cheeks when she realised you wouldn’t wake up. Never. You were gone.

Later that day, after she buried you near the river, the place you loved the most, she felt something inside her. Something that felt painfully familiar.

It was “Killy”, your magic. You had left it with her, as a promise to always be by her side.

____________

“Hi Agatha” a voice said behind her and she turned to see a light yellow ball glowing. She smiled

“Hi Killy” she said and extended her arm, allowing the ball to rest in her hand.

When Wanda flew away, Agnes walked to her house. But Agatha couldn't feel anything but hope.

Of all the magic she had, the only little pinch that remained was Killy. Not even her powerful dark magic could fight against the scarlet witch. But Killy did. She smiled as she thought of you and the promise you made when you gave her your magic.

“I couldn’t protect her” Killy said “But Y/N said it was because I wasn't meant to. I was meant to protect you”

The witch’s smile widened. Of course you would.

Killy was still weak and young, but that was her fault. After all these years, she never tried to reach for her, because your memory was too much for her to handle. But now, she knew Killy would be able to grow up and free her.

“Then let’s get started” she said “We have much work to do, Killy”

She could have swore she felt the ball smiling. But maybe it wasn’t that crazy of an idea. It was yours, after all. The last part of you that remained.

It’s been you all along.

a/n: I- I’m sorry, ok? But in my defense i was left unsupervised and anon never said it had to be a happy-ish ending. So yeah...Uppsies

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x reader #agnes imagine #agnes x reader #kathryn hahn #marvel #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x y/n #request

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gellavonhamster · 3 years ago

Text

cold weapons

Suicide Squad (2016) || Captain Boomerang/Katana || post-canon

ao3 link eng || this was first written and published on ao3 in Russian in 2017 but I didn't attempt to translate it into English back then.

“So, what do you think of them?” Colonel Flag asks.

Tatsu puts the folder containing the rap sheet of Waylon Jones, better known as Killer Croc, on top of three other folders.

“They’re complicated,” she replies after giving it some thought.

The materials in these folders could have formed her first impression about the members of Task Force X – or, as Lawton has aptly put it, the Suicide Squad. Could have, but did not, because they were given their first task earlier than expected. Which is why she doesn’t say “villains” or “scoundrels” or “worst team imaginable” – her first impression of them was formed in combat, and then in an empty bar in Midway City where they all drank together thinking it may be the last drink in their lives. She remembers all of this and says ‘complicated’.

“Very tactful of you,” the colonel chuckles. Then again, what kind of colonel is he now – an unwashed shirt, black circles under the eyes. Just another guy struggling with a deluge of work, a hard-hearted boss, and a troubled relationship with his girlfriend. “But yeah, they definitely aren’t simple,” continues Rick Flag, one of her few friends in the country that will never become her home, and Tatsu cannot suppress a tired smile.

“You like them.”

“They’re… tolerable,” Rick admits, and takes another sip of coffee. Lately he seems to be living only on coffee and whiskey and the verb “must” and (so Tatsu supposes, although they don’t talk about that) the hope that June Moone, who still hasn’t fully recovered from all the horrors she’s been through, will be all right – and will stop isolating herself and avoiding him. These means for not letting yourself just fall down and never get up are far from being reliable, but Tatsu herself lives mostly on revenge and duty and, for that matter, whiskey as well, to a certain degree, so it’s not for her to judge. “Most of them, at least. All of them minus the Australian.”

“At least he’s a good fighter,” Tatsu points out. This is the only good thing she can say about Captain Boomerang with full confidence.

“He’s not cut out for teamwork.”

“When we were fighting the Enchantress, it didn’t look to me like that.”

She does not put much meaning into these words. It’s just that at some point Captain Boomerang saved her, and she saved him – and good thing they’re even, because the last thing she needs is to owe a favour to someone so incompatible with the very concept of duty. She could have said much about the man who tried to escape at the very beginning of the mission and got a teammate killed (and for some reason stood up for El Diablo when Harley Quinn lashed out at him at the bar, and for some reason came back before the battle after trying to desert), but the only thing she’s sure of is that he’s a fine weapon; she can confirm that, being a weapon herself. At the end of the day, that is all that’s required from him.

At the end of the day, that is all that’s required from her, too.

***

It is possible that what she said about Digger Harkness sticks in Rick’s memory, because when the need to comb the area arises during the next mission, he sends the two of them to search through the same building.

“If he gets up to something, do whatever you want to him. No one’s gonna weep for him,” he flings off. This is in the heat of the moment, of course – Boomerang almost got into a fight with Killer Croc on the helicopter over some nonsense. Or rather, it was Croc that almost got into a fight with Boomerang after the latter provoked him. Complicated.

“You heard that, darl?” Boomerang addresses her with a smile so wide as if he hasn’t heard the last remark. “I’m all yours.”

Tatsu looks the other way and pointedly takes her sword out of its sheath – not completely, just a little. No further comments follow, and they part company – Deadshot with Croc, Flag with his team of spec ops, Tatsu with Boomerang – and go on a recce.

In the basement, they discover something that looks like a laboratory – if a place so far from being sanitary may even be called one. All their hopes to move without making a sound crumble as soon as they enter the room: the floor is covered with broken glass. Those who ran the place must have escaped in haste and couldn’t take the entire stock of the serum with them, so they opted to destroy most of it. Tatsu’s attention is immediately drawn to the object on the table in the middle of the room – a metal container with tubes going from it to several smaller vessels. She heads straight for the table, shards crunching underfoot. Boomerang follows her, apparently kicking the largest shards on purpose so that they fly in all directions.

“Looks like a hooch still,” he comments, having come closer, and gives a whistle. “Whoa, fuck, is that blood?”

Compared to the first task of their squad, this one looks almost effortless. Two gangs, the members of one of which possess the formula of the serum that grants superpowers to those who take it. A gun battle, collateral damage, the entire district on lockdown. If a few people weren’t noticed literally floating through the sky, the police would have been handling this. But this is an emergency, which is why they’re here, and the flying gangsters aren’t flying anymore, for Lawton is an exceptionally good shot.

As it turns out, the serum that sparked the conflict is based on metahuman blood – hardly donated voluntarily.

“I’ll contact Colonel Flag,” says Tatsu, eyes locked on the bloodied tubes, and then someone grabs her by the neck.

For the first time in her life, she really has to fight blindly – because her enemy is invisible.

Later, when the dead bodies gradually become visible on the floor like an eerie animated movie, it turns out there were four of them. Before that, Tatsu manages to lose her sword, recapture it, almost choke when an invisible hand squeezes her neck, slash one of the attackers in half, and plunge the blade into another’s stomach. Boomerang takes care of the other two, knocking over the container in the process.

Tatsu is listening to the silence that came after the fight, wondering if any other invisible foes are lurking around the corner, when she feels that something is wrong. Something is wrong with her – she just can't figure out what. Sometimes it happens that one feels unwell but cannot determine what exactly the problem is – she is experiencing something similar now. Until she realizes: the mask. Until she looks up and makes eye contact with Captain Boomerang, who is staring at her and grinning.

“You lost anything, doll?” Harkness inquires innocently, with an emphasis on the last word, and his smile grows even wider and cockier.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. The invisible man she fought hand to hand tore off her mask, and she didn’t even notice. But her partner, blast him, did – and picked it up.

“Give it back,” Tatsu demands, hand outstretched. She feels naked. In combat, during the mission, she is Katana, a single whole with her sword. A cold weapon. No one needs to see her face. Truly, if she was wearing only the mask and nothing else, she would have felt less exposed – all right, this is an overstatement, and she doesn’t even want to imagine such a situation. Meanwhile, Boomerang is in no hurry to return the mask.

“What did ya call me when that fucker was about to stab me?” he asks. Tatsu clenches the sword hilt. There is no telling how many enemies drunk on the magic serum are hiding in this house, and he’s dawdling. “You said…”

Damn it, what did she say? She saw one of the invisibles creeping up on him while he was fighting another – a bloodstain was floating through the air. She shouted…

“I said ‘George’”. Isn’t your name George Harkness?”

“You bet it is. It’s just weird. Most people don’t call me George, y’know.”

“How do they call you then?”

“Digger. Boomerang. Boomer. That Prick. All sorts of things, but never George. But you,” he winks, “can call me whatever ya want. I liked the way you say my name.”

“Give. Me. The mask.”

“And the magic word?”

“I will chop your hand off,” as a proof of her intentions, she puts the blade against his extended hand that is holding her mask. In fact, she would face no consequences for doing so. No one’s gonna weep for him.

Harkness makes a helpless gesture and hands her the mask.

“Can’t say no to you, luv.”

The mask helps her conceal her identity, but what is more important is that it helps her conceal needless emotions. Tatsu really hopes that her facial expression isn’t giving away that she’s ill at ease now. This is a weakness; weaknesses are not to be demonstrated. She feels deeply relieved when she puts the mask back on.

“Let’s get out of here,” she commands, turns around, and heads for the exit. Harkness trails behind.

“It ain’t fair, by the way. You know my real name, but I don’t know yours,” he muses. “Care to introduce yourself, eh?”

He asks the same question at least three times more before they return to Belle Reve, and each time she ignores him.

***

A week later, he still doesn’t know her name – but he learns something else.

They do away with the last members of the recent gang on the outskirts of the city. Both wretches have overused the unfortunate serum, in keeping with the best traditions of the clichéd movies about superheroes and supervillains that Hollywood keeps producing for some reason, even though it is more and more often possible to see nearly the same thing on the news. As a result, one of them got puffed up almost to the size of the creature that Superman died fighting, and the other couldn’t control the flames bursting from his mouth. He burned half of the shopping centre with customers, retail workers, and guards. With teenagers in the bowling alley on the second floor and children in the playroom on the first.

Santana… wouldn’t have approved.

Both problems eliminated, they leave: the firefighters and the cops will take it from here. Flag’s spec ops stay behind, because officially it is their victory; the general public shouldn’t know about the existence of Task Force X. Through backyards, they retreat in the direction of the abandoned construction site on the other side of the street; a car has been sent to pick them up there.

There is a workers’ trailer still standing by the construction pit. The door is not locked, and Rick, Deadshot, Croc, and Boomerang go inside. Jones’s arm is broken: his inhuman strength notwithstanding, he still was no match for his enemy – not the fire-breather, but the other one. Tatsu leaves them to figure out how to make a temporary sling, and wanders away. Not far from the trailer, a piece of tarpaulin stretched over the fence has come off, and she can see the building across the street. Tatsu sits down on the ground, puts her arms around her knees, and stares at the dandelions growing by the fence.

In her head, flames are raging.

She doesn’t look up, neither when she hears the footsteps approaching, nor when Harkness – and it is him, no one else in the Squad reeks of the mixture of booze and cologne like that – sits down next to her and cracks open a can of beer.

“You want some?” he nudges her. What extraordinary generosity. It is, however, perfectly possible that if she says yes, he’ll reply along the lines of “Well, then go and buy yourself some.”

“No,” Tatsu replies without looking and, after a short pause, adds, “Thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

With a sigh, she accepts the can from his hands, and takes a sip.

“This is disgusting,” she whispers, and takes another.

Harkness just snorts and opens another one. For a little while, they sit side by side in silence, drinking each from their own can, and study the wall opposite through the mesh of the fence – like out of a prison window. Old advertisements that are half torn off, graffiti, a writing proclaiming that life fucks us all – plenty of things to stare at to avoid looking the person next to you in the eye.

“So what the hell happened to ya?” Boomerang asks, and suddenly she could do with some serum for invisibility or, better yet, disappearing completely. Naturally, it is a fleeting impulse; she has no right to disappear. She has obligations – towards Flag, towards Waller. Towards herself.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? You zoned out, Flag shouted himself hoarse before you heard him. Like you were someplace else. Didn’t ya?”

Why do you need to know? Tatsu thinks. If she almost rushed headlong into the fire, it’s her own business. If it only seemed to her that someone was there, it’s her own business. If she’s going to see things that aren’t there for the rest of her life, it’s her own business. He shouldn't have spoken. There is something comforting about being silent together.

“Nah, you don’t have to say if you don’t wanna,” Boomerang assents, and takes another pull on his can. “I just thought that you, well. Might wanna talk to someone.”

And they fall silent again. Yet now Tatsu feels awkward, which makes her angry at herself. She’s not obliged to pour out her heart to anyone who shows something that looks like care.

This silence doesn’t make it any easier.

“I have… bad memories,” she finally says. Now it won’t be as awkward: she answered his question. It won’t be, right? “About a fire”.

Harkness nods, looking at her attentively.

“Someone you knew died, aye?”

“My children,” she hears herself say, and wishes to disappear again.

“Fuck,” Boomerang says, embarrassed, and – unbelievable – looks like he actually feels bad about starting this conversation. “I’m sorry, I… well, uh, I had no idea.”

“It’s okay,” Tatsu says mechanically. Nothing is okay: she can still see Yuki’s tear-stained face, still hear Reiko’s voice, she is still watching the flames run up the curtains that she and Maseo picked together, she is still breathing in the smoke and still cannot believe she deserves a gulp of fresh air. She should have saved them. All of them.

Boomerang looks at her incredulously but doesn’t say anything, and bit by bit, the silence that she doesn’t want to run from returns – the kind of silence in which one is not alone.

Then there are footsteps again, and Flag approaches them.

“There you are,” he says with relief as soon as he sees her. Rick does not let himself overstep the limits of formality – they’re on a mission, after all – but he has obviously been worried. At the sight of Harkness, he frowns warily. “You! Quit getting on her nerves.”

“Who’s gettin’ on her nerves, Colonel? I was just tryin’ to help,” Harkness protests. It appears Rick’s words have wounded him a little.

“He was,” Tatsu says. “It’s all under control, Colonel Flag.”

Flag shifts his gaze to her and then to Boomerang again, and nods.

“Okay. In any case… follow me. We’re leaving.”

Tatsu gives her unfinished beer to Boomerang.

“Don’t talk about this to anyone,” she tells him. This might be an order or a request; she doesn’t really know.

He nods, and she thinks absentmindedly: who would have thought this man knows how to make a solemn face.

“Thank you,” she says again, hoping that he understands that this is not just about the beer or his promise to keep his mouth shut.

***

After a few days, Tatsu comes to visit him. In prison.

Actually, she comes to visit all of them, of course. Not more than fifteen minutes alone with each of them – Waller wouldn’t allow more. This request seems to have surprised her, but Tatsu is certain that Waller is already picturing the new threads she can use to manipulate her special operations puppets. So it is possible that one day this decision will blow up in Tatsu’s face – or in the faces of all of them. But she cannot shake off the feeling that she must do this – so that someone except Rick, who is already dealing with a lot these days, would notice in time if the inmates are treated with undeserved cruelty. So that she knows what’s on their minds, because it is safer to fight side by side with the people whose line of thought she can understand at least roughly. So that there is some kind of variety in their lives between the missions.

This is why she visits all three of them. Killer Croc, who looks like he’s not surprised to see her in the slightest and doesn’t really seems to care that she came, but doesn’t have any issue with that either. Deadshot, who looks like he is surprised, but doesn’t seem to mind answering her questions when she notices a stack of letters in the corner and asks him how his daughter is doing. And Captain Boomerang, who, when she enters his cell, looks like he can’t figure out if he’s dreaming.

“Katana?” he frowns perplexedly. He’s stripped to his waist, so she can see a couple of fresh scars he brought back from the last mission, and he’s got a black eye – when Tatsu saw him last, he had not. Must have quarrelled with the guards again. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

For a moment he seems not to understand what she just said. Then he breaks into a smile – or rather a grin, wide and pleased. Very pleased.

“Aha! Knew it would end up like this,” he pronounces in triumph.

“Like this?”

“You,” he looks like he’s just proven a theorem of immense complexity, “missed me.”

“I haven’t missed you, Captain.”

A very, very pleased grin.

“And still you’re here.”

“I visited Deadshot and Killer Croc earlier,” Tatsu says, and sees his facial expression change instantly. Not for long: the grin is quick to return, and she wouldn’t be able to tell right away that he’s disappointed.

“Did ya now? And how are our fellas doing? Better than me, I reckon?”

“So it would seem. Did you fight the guards?”

“Why do you care, gorgeous?”

Indeed, why does she? Most likely, he picked a fight himself – and got his just deserts.

“Make up your mind,” Tatsu says, “if you think that I missed you or that I don’t care.”

Harkness chuckles and really seems to ponder over this for a while.

“Beats me,” he concludes at last. “Care to throw some light on it?”

No, Tatsu thinks, I don’t get it myself and I’m not sure I want to.

Instead of answering, she comes closer to him – so close that she can smell his sweat – and studies his face. She has to look up to be able to do that, which must look comical. Then again, he’s hardly stupid enough to laugh at her height or anything else about her, especially when she’s armed and he is not.

“You lost a tooth. What happened?”

“Didn’t get along with one of the Wall’s watchdogs.”

“You could have tried not to look for trouble for a change,” all of a sudden, Tatsu realizes that she’s mad. Really mad at him. They might get dragged to another mission this instant; whether they like it or not, they have to be in good enough shape to protect the society that the most of them have to atone before at least partially. They shouldn’t spend their energy and health on nonsense. Black eyes and knocked-out teeth are nothing, but it mustn’t come to any of them being out of action when all of them are needed. All their powers, all their skills. All the anger they should rather aim at something other than the people who can just press a certain button at any point – and dispose of the wilful weapon.

Boomerang bares his teeth – not like Croc, of course, but still threateningly. He looks dangerous now – big, sturdy, more than a head taller than her. But he still isn’t more dangerous than her – and both of them are aware of that.

“And they could have tried,” he speaks through his teeth, “not to talk shit about my mother for a change. They wanna talk shit about me, they can knock themselves out. I’ve heard enough ‘bout myself, I don’t give a flying fuck about what else they gonna say. But they’d better leave my mother out of it.”

So that’s what it is. They have found a quick and easy way to infuriate the man who has “MUM” tattooed on his chest. In uneven letters, like a child's handwriting. Tatsu noticed that tattoo as soon as she came in but didn’t look too closely at it. Now she feels like she has the right to look, to let her gaze slip lower, at the ridiculous writing that heaves with each furious breath of his, and then to avert her eyes at once.

“They have power, and you have nothing,” she says. “Do you enjoy being their plaything?”

“Oh, so I’m a plaything, darl? And do I have much choice who to be now? In these four walls, and,” Boomerang points at his neck, at the place where a bomb is implanted under his skin, “with this crap in my neck?”

Tatsu looks up again, right him in the eye.

“You already know who you are,” she tells him. “You’re a weapon. Broken weapons get discarded. And you’re letting them break you.”

He stays silent, just looks at her in an odd manner, as if she’s speaking another language but he has a vague understanding of what she’s saying and doesn’t like what he just heard – because it is the truth.

Tatsu still doesn’t understand why she cares, and with each passing minute she has less and less desire to learn why.

“Also,” she continues, “if you call me ‘darl’ or ‘gorgeous’ one more time, you’re going to regret opening your mouth.”

“Yeah? And how should I call ya?”

“Katana.”

“What, and that’s all? Nah, we might be weapons,” and she probably ought to remind him that there is no ‘we’, but in this particular case he’s right. Perhaps that is why Tatsu feels drawn to all of them: they’re cut from the same cloth, “but we’re alive as well. So far. Seriously, what’s yer real name? You know mine.”

“I should not disclose that.”

“Oh, come on. Listen,” he breaks into a pleased grin again. Another theorem proven. “How about a deal? You tell me yer name, and I will try to keep my temper if anyone else decides to stir me up. What do ya think?”

“As if you’re going to keep your word.”

Boomerang makes a show of putting his hand over his heart.

“For you, ma’am… anything.”

For you. All at once, she recalls Rick’s words: do whatever you want to him. How many minutes of the visit she has already spent on this predictably fruitless conversation?

“My name is Tatsu Yamashiro,” she says, tired, and then he smiles – not the way he did before, but in a calmer and more sincere manner. Gratefully.

“George Harkness,” he offers her his hand with an earnest air. “Nice to meet ya.”

Tatsu hesitantly offers him hers. Her hand looks very small and fragile against his huge paw, and he must be thinking the same because the handshake comes out very careful. He could easily break her wrist. She could easily kill him with one hand afterwards. But he holds her hand gently in his warm, pleasantly calloused palm, and Tatsu hastens to take her hand away, because this is a mistake of an even worse kind than the time he saw her without the mask.

“So you promise not to fights the guards.”

“I promise to try,” Harkness assures, but he’s keeping one hand behind his back.

“Don’t cross your fingers,” Tatsu says sternly. Real mature.

With a sigh, Boomerang repeats his promise, this time holding his hands within her view.

“But I ain’t promisin’ not to call you gorgeous,” he declares in the end.

“You know my name now.”

“But you’re still gorgeous.”

“Time’s up!” shouts the guard outside the door, and Tatsu cannot help feeling relieved that she has to go. She doesn’t regret visiting him, but all of this is too strange and awkward, and both of them might be weapons, but her position is different from his, and it is better not to forget that.

“Can I do anything for you?” she asks him on parting.

“Well,” Boomerang smirks. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“With something I would actually agree to do?”

“Come again. Will ya?” This time he isn’t flirting; this time she can feel his insecurity, even shyness. As if he doesn’t like to admit to himself that what she answers is really important to him.

“I’ll try,” she says cautiously. She’s not going to make any promises: she asked Waller about one time only. She doubts if she’ll be allowed to visit them again – to visit him again.

“Try,” Harkness repeats, as if weighing the word on his tongue. “This means no.”

“This means I’ll try,” Tatsu says firmly.

And she comes again in a week. And the week after next. And a week after that.

***

“Why didn’t you walk away in Midway City?” Tatsu asks him once. “When Rick broke the control panel. You left then; why did you return?”

A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since the time Captain Boomerang dared to smart off Amanda Waller. Several successful missions, slightly more respectful attitude on his part – and his cell already bears a passing resemblance to a place for living, even if for living quite miserably. Now there is even a table, and a chair that she gets to sit on as guest privilege. Harkness is sitting on the floor opposite her. The question seems to catch him unawares, but only for a moment.

“Huh? Why did I return? Gotta live up to my name, that’s why. Have you ever thrown a boomerang, luv?”

I’m going to throw you somewhere one day, Tatsu thinks, yet without much irritation.

“And jokes aside?”

Boomerang attempts to feign an offended sigh.

“How do ya think? Plenty of options, all right. You gonna try to guess which one?”

Tatsu frowns.

“Is this a psychoanalysis session? Were you bitten by Harley Quinn?”

“Nah, Blondie didn’t bite me, I would’ve remembered. So don’t be jealous,” his voice gets playful again, and Tatsu stifles the urge to roll her eyes. “Lookie here… suppose I suddenly realized that I can’t leave you guys! ‘Cause you’re my mates. One for all, and so on. Don’t believe me?”

“You said something about plenty of options. What are the rest of them?”

He scratches his chin thoughtfully.

“We-e-ell… the second, ‘course, is that I wanted to save the world. Not that the world smiles upon me every bloody day, but I still wanna live! And for everyone an’ their mother to know that the bastards like us can also be heroes. Don’t you like being one of the good guys, eh, Tatsu?”

“I’m not ‘one of the good guys’”, Tatsu protests. “And it’s not me that we’re talking about. Any other options?”

“There was no point in leaving. That was still gonna be the end of the world, aye? So I’d rather meet it in battle and in good company than on the run. All the same it’ll be the end. There you go.”

He stops talking, and in the silence that falls Tatsu can hear the footsteps of the guards in the corridor. Once again she wonders what the duty attendants that monitor everything through the surveillance cameras think of their conversations. They must make for the strangest and most pointless reality show ever.

“The third one,” she says.

Boomerang looks a bit disappointed.

“Why?”

“Not the first one, because none of us meant anything to you then. You had just met us. And it didn’t seem like you were upset about letting Slipknot down,” Tatsu explains. She doesn’t intend to offend him – she’s just saying the truth. Once, he claimed it himself that they understand each other – here’s some understanding, he’s welcome. “Not the second one either, because you’re not stupid – no, stop smiling. You never believed that if people like us stop the Enchantress, someone would learn about that. Only the third option remains.”

Harkness nods slowly.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and his eyes turn pensive, abstracted, as if he is there again, in the night city frozen in anticipation of the apocalypse. As if he sees himself – and makes a choice once again. “And that’s what happened in the end, didn’t it?”

“So the third option, then?”

“So it is.”

But something in his face makes Tatsu think that he was hoping for a different answer.

***

Time flies; weeks and months go by. Tatsu spends them fighting, spilling someone else’s blood, occasionally drinking with Flag at a bar or in his apartment – a bachelor’s home again; reading books – most of the plots seem too naïve and unimaginative compared to what goes on in her life, and that is even for the best, and visiting the members of the Suicide Squad in Belle Reve. Some people go clubbing Friday evenings, and she goes to prison Friday afternoons.

“Don’t get attached to them,” Rick scolds her.

“That is rich coming from you,” Tatsu replies, and he has enough self-awareness not to argue. Lest he gets offended, she chooses not to tell him that sometimes she and Lawton talk a little about him good-naturedly behind his back.

During one of her visits, Harkness raises a topic she has totally forgotten about.

“Hey, come to think of it, we never had that drink,” he points out. Tatsu doesn’t understand what he’s talking about, and it must be written all over her face, because he continues. “Remember I asked you out for a drink? In Midway City, before we fought the witch.”

Tatsu has to make an effort to remember: indeed, he said something of the sort, but it never occurred to her to take those words seriously.

“We had a drink,” she counters. “When… when you shared your beer with me.”

He shakes his head, dissatisfied.

“At the construction site? That’s bollocks. I’m talking a proper bar… nah, a restaurant! With crystal glasses an’ candles an’ shit… Like normal people.”

“Candles,” Tatsu mumbles. She tries to imagine the two of them at the table at a restaurant; the picture turns out pretty absurd. On the other hand, a lot of what has happened in her life during the past few years can be deemed absurd.

“Yeah. Candles,” echoes Harkness, and continues with a crooked smile, “well, that’s me jokin’ around. In the near future,” he gestures in the direction of the small barred window of his cell, “I won’t be able to take you even to a fucking McDonald’s.”

They don’t talk about the hypothetical dinners at a restaurant anymore, but the absurd picture stays with Tatsu, who still feels somehow indebted to Boomerang – for no reason, as she keeps telling herself – for that conversation at the construction site. She doesn’t like to feel the weight of unpaid debts on her shoulders – yes, that’s what it is about.

One day, she finds a way to pay that debt back.

***

She waits for him in the car outside the prison gate. She hears him first; she cannot make out what exactly he is yelling at the guards, but that surely isn’t ‘good evening’. Then the door of the jeep is open, and someone must have kicked him in the rear because he literally falls into the car. Tatsu shrinks back on instinct.

Then Harkness looks up – and notices her.

“Katana?.. Hey, what the hell’s going on? They didn’t let me take the boomerangs, didn’t let me take anything…”

“Close the door,” Tatsu tells him, and when he, still confused, obeys, tells the driver, “Let’s go.”

The car pulls away.

“I still don’t get what’s happening,” Harkness reminds her. “Sure, I’m happy to see ya, but… you weren’t ordered to take me to the woods and finish me off under the radar, huh?”

“If Waller wanted to get rid of you, she would have had you killed in your own cell, and that’s all.”

“Wow, thanks for honesty. So where are we going?”

“To a restaurant,” Tatsu says, and turns away. Yet again it crosses her mind that it is a terrible idea.

“A restaurant?” Harkness drawls quizzically.

“As far as I recall, you said that the beer at the construction site is ‘bollocks’.”

She should turn back to him, of course. The problem is that Tatsu is ninety-nine per cent sure that if she meets his eye now, she will blush. And she is by no means going to give him any sign that might be interpreted as taking an interest… of a certain kind. She has already blundered more than a few times.

Therefore she stubbornly keeps looking out of the window. Then again, she doesn’t even need to look to picture how his facial expression is changing now; she’s seen this rakish grin enough times.

“Holy cow. Tatsu, are you serious? We’re really just going to a restaurant? We’re getting outta this shithole where they only give us porridge with rat crap to gorge ourselves on lobsters and drink wine? Oh, fuck me sideways,” in the end, she turns to him and sees him throw back his head and burst into laughter, narrowing his eyes happily. “I’ll be damned! Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. Pinch me.”

“I can assure you you’re not,” Tatsu says, and realizes that she is also starting to smile despite herself. She has visited him and the others in Belle Reve often enough to know that porridge with rat crap, unfortunately, is far from being just a figure of speech. After such a diet, a meal at a restaurant must seem like the pinnacle of happiness.

Boomerang shakes his head, apparently still unable to believe her.

“Holy fucking shit. How did you do that? How do you even do all that? I’ve told ya you’re unreal, have I?”

“Yes, you have,” Tatsu confirms patiently. And more than once – too often for her to attach great importance to it, too fervently for it not to please her at all. “Let’s put it that way: this is Waller paying me for a… favour.”

“A favour, then. I take it a lot of some poor suckers died?”

“No,” she shakes her head. And it is true – but there still was a lot of blood. Both the man Waller indicated and his bodyguards turned out to be worthy adversaries. The whole thing went not as smoothly as she wanted it to – not that she wanted to; not that she would kill another person she knows nothing about if she could help it. Nothing to assure her: this one deserves it. Everything turned out rather… nasty. She had to burn the bodies. Then she got home in a haze, tended to a couple of fresh wounds – or rather, just scratches. And then she went to the bathroom and spent a long time soaping herself, as if the invisible filth that bothered her the most could be washed off with shower gel.

Afterwards, she rummaged through her modest wardrobe and dug out the only dress she has about in America. Nothing special: wine red, below the knee length, sleeveless but with a pretty high neckline – very demure. The first and so far the last dress she bought after… after. If she and Rick didn’t have to accompany Amanda Waller to some event once, she wouldn’t have bought this one either. She put it on, combed her hair, still wet after the shower, with her fingers, looked at herself in the mirror – and flew into a rage, pulled off the dress, and could barely stop herself from tearing it to shreds. Restaurant or not, what does it matter? The last thing she needs is for him to think she dressed up for him.

So the situation might be a little less absurd than it could have been. Both of them look like they’re going on another mission with the others, only she isn’t wearing her mask – he has already seen her face anyway – and he isn’t wearing his ever-present coat. It is no wonder he wasn’t allowed to take it – Waller wasn’t going to let him out of Belle Reve armed, and to let him wear his coat would probably be as unwise as to hand him all his boomerangs. Tatsu has no doubt that everyone and their dog have already searched through the personal belongings of the Squad, but she wouldn’t be surprised to learn that somewhere in his inside pockets Harkness has as many boomerangs as he is listed as having officially. She witnessed this man produce from his bosom at least four different lighters, a massive stack of dollars, a pocket knife, small binoculars, flat-nose pliers, and a toy unicorn. She has to admit: sometimes she doesn’t understand how he even does all that either.

It appears that the thoughts of Captain Boomerang also turn to the contents of his pockets.

“Hey, how the hell are we affording this, though? Make no mistake, I’d stand treat, but my stash is in the coat, and these assholes didn’t let me take it, y’know.”

“Don’t worry about that. Waller is paying for everything,” she explains, unable to suppress a grin, because this part, possibly the most unbelievable part of the entire affair, gives her a sort of silly, spiteful joy. Task Force X is a comparatively recent project, but they’ve already cleaned up so much mess for Amanda Waller that Heracles and his labours don’t even come close. A dinner at a restaurant is the least thing she could offer them. So when Boomerang explodes with laughter and gives her a conspiratorial wink, she looks him right in the eye and smiles. Another mistake. Then again, this is not the first time they share a secret.

He puts his hand on her knee, and she shakes it off immediately; this is way too far.

“I see you took your sword with ya,” Harkness observes, not giving any sign that something didn’t go the way he wanted.

“I am to keep an eye on you.”

“Yeah. How about…” he leans in closer, and the smell of cologne blasts up Tatsu’s nose. She can only hope it is due to external use only, “we chop off his head,” he nods at the driver, “and drive the fuck away from this? Huh?”

The driver, who can definitely hear everything, doesn’t turn, but Tatsu notices him tense up.

“You’re kidding,” she says dryly. He may be, or he may be not – with Digger Harkness, one cannot always tell.

“Why kidding, doll? Zip, and done. There’s no way you enjoy working for Waller.”

“I do not. But if you pull some stunt,” Tatsu feels for the sword hilt, and Boomerang sees that – very well, it is good for him to see that, “I will chop your head off. I really hope it won’t come to that.”

“And what’s it to you? Scared of me? But I’m unarmed,” he claps himself on the chest demonstratively, implying that he has no weapons on him. “Why do you care if it does?”

“I just wouldn’t like to do that,” she says firmly, and it’s true. It works well; he doesn’t even mention running away for the remainder of the day.

This might be the strangest evening in her life.

Waller’s man drives them to a French restaurant whose name she cannot read but is almost sure that the phrase was chosen solely because it sounds impressive. They are let in through the back door, so no one among the other guests, who are sporting evening dresses and suits, pays any attention to her crop top and sword or to his… appearance in general. Their table is one of those located in alcoves, away from prying eyes, but Tatsu feels they are being watched. Which means Waller doesn’t trust her too much – well, she can understand that. She is part of a special team composed of deranged madmen, and she must admit she likes these deranged madmen more than she likes certain normal people known to her. Of course, she is Flag’s right-hand woman, but it is most likely that Waller doesn’t trust Flag either. It is doubtful whether there are any people in this world that she trusts at all.

Waller is rich. Their little feast will not shatter her wealth, all the more so since the restaurant she sent them to is not the most luxurious. But they still have a field day ordering loads of food and a bottle of the most expensive wine on the menu.

“To honour among thieves?” she suggests, when they raise their glasses for the first time.

“Didn’t ya say yer not a thief?”

“That is true,” she admits, and adds inwardly, I’m a killer.

In the end, they drink to the Suicide Squad. Then to Lawton and Jones, currently languishing in their cells. Then to Zoe Lawton, who is acting in a school play next week. To a lot of things. He asks her about her life here, in America. At some point she finds herself trying to explain to him what taiyaki is, and him telling her about banana sandwiches, and she can’t remember why they started talking about this at all. The bottle becomes empty, and another appears as if by itself.

They don’t talk about the past. They don’t talk about the future, because there might be no future at all – they can’t know for sure, what with their way of life. That evening, Tatsu laughs and thinks: good thing I’m drunk – it almost gets easier for a while.

When it’s time to leave, Harkness gets pig-headed.

“Whoa, no, no, no. Already? It’s too early, are you kiddin’ me?” he booms out when they exit the restaurant. He protests, but she drags him by the hand and he stumbles along after all, treading heavily like a dancing bear. “Let’s go someplace else, luv. Look at the pretty stars.”

“We are already late. And you… you have to go back to jail,” Tatsu tells him. The stars are pretty indeed, but she regrets looking up at them, because her head begins to spin. Thankfully, she isn’t wearing high heels. Thankfully, she doesn’t have any high-heeled shoes at all, or she could have been possessed to wear them. “Sorry,” she adds when they get into the car and set off. “There is no other way.”

“Back to jail,” Boomerang repeats with disgust. Sprawling on the seat, he unzips his hoodie, and Tatsu is swept over by the smell of cologne again. Weirdly, it doesn’t annoy her as much as at the beginning of the evening. “I’m a fucking Cinderella. I’m not back by midnight, they turn me into a pumpkin.”

“Cinderella,” Tatsu echoes, and giggles: everything is way funnier now. The driver makes a sudden turn, and she is literally thrown at Boomerang. Her cheek presses to his chest – and stays there. Tatsu feels drunk and sated and drunk again, and sleepy too, and he makes for a decent pillow, and she can’t make herself move away.

“Oh, you think it’s funny,” Harkness mutters with mock offence in his voice. It seems he’s about to fall asleep too. “Well, go on, laugh.”

They drive back in silence, and through the drowse Tatsu feels the warm arm around her waist and thinks: good thing I’m drunk, I can pretend I’m asleep.

The road to Belle Reve is long, but it still feels like they reach it too quickly.

“Inmate,” calls one of the guards, “get out.”

Harkness, his eyes still closed, moans with discontent.

“Captain Boomerang,” Tatsu says softly, freeing herself from his embrace. “It’s time.”

There is nothing to be done. He’s already about to step out of the jeep, when he suddenly moves closer to her again.

“Hey, darlin’,” he says, looking her right in the eye. “Aren’t ya forgetting something?”

It takes her some time to realize what he means: he must be expecting her to kiss him. All at once she remembers everything that has happened this evening, and awful shame washes over her: it is no wonder he’s expecting that to happen.

“Inmate, get out!”

She shrinks back.

“Good night, Captain,” she tells him as dryly as she can. He looks wounded but says nothing, and almost obediently lets the guards escort him back to his cell. Tatsu closes her eyes and rubs her temples wearily. Tomorrow she is going to regret drinking so much. She already does – and that’s not the only thing she regrets.

She has to stop seeing him.

***

At first, she even succeeds. Next Friday Tatsu, as always, goes to Belle Reve to see the Squad – all of them save for Harkness. She feels sick at heart because if she did promise him anything, it was to visit him, and now she’s going back on her word because of her own stupid weakness. But there is no other way.

“He asked about you,” Waylon tells her a week later, when she brings him the latest issue of Playboy. Tatsu almost doesn’t feel weird anymore when buying it, and doesn’t try to imagine anymore what the news stand clerks think when she pays them for it. Such periodicals cause her a feeling of light disgust, but Croc, who gets let out of jail only to be thrown into another trouble spot, deserves at least some small joys.

“Who?”

Waylon, no doubt observant like all the quiet ones tend to be, bares his impressive teeth.

“You know who.”

It seems a logical solution to give up on these visits at all – but in that case she would betray all of them. Perhaps this little tradition is much more important to her than it is to the prisoners, but Tatsu is almost sure that it means something to them as well. She has no right to deprive the rest of them of this bit of understanding, companionship, normalcy because she wasn’t smart enough to stop the game she and Boomerang started before it became too late.

At home – not that the apartment she’s renting here deserves to be called ‘home’ – she, unable to fall asleep, unsheathes the sword and runs the tips of her fingers along the cool blade. A tender, habitual movement – like touching the cheek of a loved one.

“I’ve lost my way, Maseo,” whispers Tatsu. The place where the souls of the people struck down by this blade are trapped is still a mystery to her, but she knows that Maseo will come as soon as she calls him – as a voice from afar, as nebulous shapes in the swirls of smoke, as the peace and safety granted by the presence of someone dear. “I’m afraid of my own heart.”

I know your heart, Tatsu. You have nothing to be afraid of.

��It makes me act rashly. Makes me succumb to false feelings.”

I know your heart, Tatsu, and it incapable of falsehood.

Only the ones that are already far away can speak so vaguely and with such unrelenting honesty at the same time.

“I will always love you,” she whispers ardently. Not because she doesn’t want him to think it is not so; not because she herself feels like it is not so anymore either. She knows for sure that she is always going to love him, for she loved him as a lover, as a husband, as the father of her children, as the only thing she had left after all her life fell apart, burned in that damned fire. He will stay in her heart until her last breath – even if she has to close her heart to the rest of the world. Once she used to think that after all she’s been through, it isn’t going to be an issue.

And I will always love you, her husband replies, and Tatsu blinks back tears with a deep sigh.

“I just wish you were alive,” she tells him for what must be the hundredth, or maybe a thousandth time.

If he was with her – not as smoke or a voice, but as flesh and blood – he probably would have kissed her gently on the nape of her neck, as he often used to do.

I just wish, says her husband – no, the soul of her husband, which is already rushing away, deep into the world she shouldn’t hurry to go to if she doesn’t want this sword to fall into wrong hands, that you were happy.

***

Literally the next day there is a message from Metropolis that some giant snake-like beast is terrorizing the city and devouring people. The monster was last seen crawling into the building of the opera – which is where their squad heads to after reaching the city.

“Look at that freak,” Harkness comments in a low voice. The creature is curled up slumbering on stage, and they are watching it from the catwalks above. “Not a family of yours by any chance, eh, ‘gator?’

Waylon steps towards him, and the planks creak under his feet, threatening to break.

“Say that again,” he growls.

Tatsu bares her sword and wedges herself between them. Waylon backs off reluctantly.

“Knock it off,” she tells Boomerang. It feels like everything has come full circle – the day Harkness picked up her mask, he also had a run-in with Jones. The day they were sent to fight the Enchantress, she also put the blade of her sword under his chin. Why did she even think something would change?

“Oh, so you’re talking to me after all?”

“Enough,” Tatsu hisses. She really wants to try to explain everything to him. Maybe if she tries to put her feelings into words, many things will become clear to her, too. But if he thinks they are going to discuss this now, he is mistaken.

On the neighbouring catwalk, Rick is looking at them in a rage, gesturing both of them to shut up. Harkness steps closer; now the blade of the Soultaker is within a hair’s breadth away from his neck. A single careless movement, and blood will be spilled. A wild idea crosses her mind: it looks as if he’s into this. Tatsu licks her lips.

“Y’know,” Boomerang begins, lowering his head a little so that it is easier for him to look her in the eye, “I think you’re scared of me. Or of yourself, hell if I know. Am I right?”

A loud rustle comes from beneath, and the next instant the monster bites through the middle of the catwalk they’re standing on, and both of them are falling down. Tatsu manages to grab some rope, but when she tries to climb it, her hands slip, and she comes tumbling down.

The fall is far from being soft, even though she falls on the tatters of the curtain, which the snake must have torn earlier. She is lucky not to hurt her head, but her left leg and hip are aching. Only the awareness that there is no time to lie around makes her summon up all her strength and get up. Her sword is nowhere to be seen, and Tatsu is overwhelmed by fury: now she is useless.

The snake roars and shakes its head, trying to shake off Croc, who is trying to bite through its scales. Rick is shooting at the monster from above, and Deadshot, who is already on stage somehow, is doing the same from below, dodging the blows of its tail. Tatsu sweeps her eyes weakly over the stage and suddenly notices a hole broken in it. At the very edge of the hole, the hilt of her sword is sticking out of the floor. Moving as quickly as it is possible to do that with a limp, Tatsu hurries there.

The moment she pulls the sword out of the stage, Harkness’s head pokes out of the hole. Not waiting for him to ask for help, Tatsu helps him get out.

“Are you…” both of them begin in unison and drop it immediately, because the snake has managed to shake off the bothersome little crocodile – who is hopefully just somewhere on the floor and not in its belly – and is moving towards them, slower than before but still pretty speedily. They scatter, and Tatsu charges at the monster with her sword drawn. Harkness throws a boomerang at the creature, aiming at its eye, but it dodges at the last second.

Eventually, with joint forces they manage to kill the beast. To be on the safe side, Lawton fires a round into its open jaws. The long body shudders one last time and falls still. For some time, the five of them stand there looking at it.

“Where could this thing even come from?” Rick mutters.

“Remember what the Wicked Witch of the West said when she tried to get us to join her? The world is changing, the time of magic has come, blah, blah, blah,” Lawton reminds him. Rick nods absentmindedly; these are not happy memories.

Jones kicks the dead snake.

“Maybe it meant no harm,” he points out in his deep voice.

“Croc,” Rick says wearily, “it ate people.”

“So did I.”

“But at least you didn’t chew the curtain at the opera like a disgraced diva?” Lawton asks, struggling not to grin.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Well, then it’s okay.”

Rick titters nervously, and the next instant all of them are shaking with laughter.

Tatsu is drinking water straight from the tap in the restroom, when Harkness comes in.

“This is a ladies’ room,” she says reflexively.

“Hey, I just wanna wash my face, is all.”

Without waiting for her to answer, he comes closer and starts washing at the neighbouring sink. Tatsu casts a sidelong look at him and notices that the water is turning red.

“Show me your face,” she orders.

“It’s not a bad face, what’s yer problem?”

“I’m serious.”

He rolls his eyes, but stands still while she examines his face, only wincing when she dabs at the cut on his forehead with a paper towel.

“Just a scratch,” he assures at once.

“Just a scratch,” Tatsu agrees. She scrunches up the towel and throws it into the sink. She would like to keep her hand on his face, pretending that she’s still wiping off the blood, but she’s done pretending.

“How about you?” Boomerang asks quietly.

“Fine. A couple of bruises. You were lucky today,” she says just as quietly, and takes off her mask. Tomorrow they might not be as lucky. “I’m happy for you.”

“And I’m happy you got out alive… darl.”

For a moment she wants him to ruin everything. To reply with a jibe, to crack another dirty joke, to try to grab and kiss her only to get smacked. Not to stand motionless in front of her like he’s afraid to scare her off. It occurred to her once that from the outside their relationship might look like an attempt to tame a wild animal. Perhaps this is a mutual process.

Do whatever you want to him.

She stands up on tiptoes and kisses him.

For an instant, Harkness freezes – possibly trying to figure out again if he’s dreaming – and then pulls her closer and kisses back. Drinks her hungrily, like this is both the first time and the last. Bearing in mind what their lives are like, it really might be the last.

Tatsu doesn’t immediately realize why she suddenly doesn’t need to stand on tiptoes anymore.

“Put me down–” she starts, but gives up and wraps her legs around his waist. Boomerang grunts with satisfaction and switches from her lips to her neck. His beard, fortunately, is softer than could have been expected.

“Stop drinking so much,” Tatsu breathes out, now that no one is trying to shut her mouth. “You taste like…” all English words slip her mind, “like… a beer cask.”

It tickles her when he laughs into her neck.

Someone simply must enter now – Rick, Floyd, Amanda Waller, the president of the United States, but no, no one is trying to stop him from squeezing her hips, to stop her from running her fingers through his hair. Weapon to weapon, blade to blade. Red-hot metal to red-hot metal. Melting until something new is forged – without fear, without regret, without the past, without the future.

Clearly, Maseo wants too much: she remembers what happiness is, and she is sure she’ll never ever be happy again.

But she can take a shot at being alive.

#suicide squad #katana #captain boomerang #tatsu yamashiro #digger harkness #kaboom #captain boomerang x katana #boomerang x katana #dc #my fic #gella talks skwad #talk talk talk #my magnum opus lmao #amazed i managed to translate this. i am not a woman i'm a god indeed #once again i still know nothing about the geography of the dceu!united states #and whether a city like metropolis could have an opera house

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thetorchwoodarchive · 4 years ago

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Gwen Focused Stories as Submitted by the Mods and Users of the Torchwood Archive

Everyone! Thank you so much for your submissions! Recs are under the cut!

As always, please mind the warnings and ratings listed on each individual story.

Feel free to reblog with additions!

Something Beautiful by Cyus (Gen | complete | 4,500 | PG)

After Torchwood, after Jack, Gwen lives her life, even as Jack comes back.

Domestic Disharmony by thirteeninafez (JackIanto, GwenRhys, Gwen&Ianto, Gwen&Jack | complete | 3163 | G)

In which Jack and Gwen get stuck in the Archives and discuss green milk, thermostats and Ianto Jones.

Side Note by Aliciajazmin (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 1027 | T)

A few months after her best friend's funeral, Gwen runs into Rhiannon while grocery shopping. Ianto's sister has some questions and Gwen has some things she needs to say to her.

Inevitability (and other hard truths) by violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 1236 | T)

There's a clock ticking down at Torchwood, and Gwen realizes she's the only one who hears it.

All Around Me are Familiar Faces by gwendolyncooper (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 2602 | G)

Gwen Cooper wakes up in Jack Harkness' bed. Ianto Jones wakes up in Rhys Williams'. And they find themselves in each other's bodies. As close as they are, this might be a level too deep in their friendship.

Blueberry Knees by Violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 3878 | T)

If Ianto thought about it, the way Gwen’s illness progressed was rather like falling asleep. Slowly and surely, but then all at once.

He hadn’t noticed it at first - he still loathed himself for not recognizing that something might be wrong. But he hadn’t, no one had, so it slipped through, like little crumbs falling between the crack of their ancient sofa.

And there was nothing to be done about it.

Power Struggle by Prochytes (GwenTosh, Gen | complete | 1416 | T)

How Gwen ended up in charge by the start of Season Two, based on the premise that one should never assume Jack Harkness is joking.

Bad at Communication by engagemythrusters (JackIanto | complete | 1740 | G)

In which Gwen visits a hospital, where Jack and Ianto, respectively tired and high, are complete idiots.

The Hands on the Clock Keep on Ticking by Violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 10235 | M)

They all knew it could happen to anyone. They’d all seen the proof. Even if it happened to a miniscule amount of the population, it was still a possibility.

But they had grown complacent. They had forgotten that they too were also at the mercy of the Rift, that the Rift did not make an exception for those who knew its existence.

They had forgotten until they were faced with it themselves.

In which Gwen and Ianto get sent back to 1969 by the Rift.

Pastries, Avoidance Tactics, and a Bottle of Scotch by pocky_slash (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys, JackIanto | 6220 | G)

In which Gwen said something she regrets, Ianto makes a poor dinner choice, Rhys offers sound advice, and Jack has a key. A different sort of "Meat" post-ep.

Children, Daleks and Mopeds: How Gwen Cooper Got Her Groove Back by paycheckgurl (Gwen&Jack, GwenRhys | complete | 9603 | T)

Following a disastrous shopping trip that put her at the center of an explosion, Gwen finds a little alien boy.

Or: The series of events in which Gwen acquired another child, had a much needed conversation with Jack, bought a moped, defeated a Dalek with a boxing glove, and learned that loving yourself and saving the world don’t need to be mutually exclusive.

A coda to Revolution of the Daleks where I explain why Gwen has a son all of a sudden.

I Don’t Know What to Think by aliciajazmin (GwenTosh | complete | 2637 | T)

Gwen and Tosh travel with the Doctor through time and space, taking a break from Torchwood. Gwen decides to bring along her pet rat Owen (not to be confused with Human Owen). Also, Gwen and Tosh are desperately in love with each other.

Lost Inside by Xennon (Gen | complete | 36,642 | T)

The team go in search of some smugglers.

A Vision Too Removed to Mention by Pocky_Slash (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 13920 | T)

In which Ianto is stuck in a time loop that feels more like hell.

Club Wales by Pocky_Slash (Gwen&Ianto | Series | 69,530 | G-T)

In the wake of Jack's disappearance, Gwen finds comfort in a new friendship with Ianto. Gossip, bonding, and other hijinks of understanding ensue.

To the Waters and the Wilds by Violetmessages (GwenTosh, JackIanto | complete | 13190 | T)

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Tosh whirled around. She’d thought she was alone, she’d expected it.

Then she locked eyes with the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, a woman who seemed to radiate an ethereal glow, a woman that emanated an otherworldly light.

Cold Pizza by Eberesche (GwenRhys, Gwen&Ianto | complete | 4767 | T)

With Jack missing and the Rift running the team ragged, Gwen's plans for a single night in are foiled.

Safe by DinoDina (GwenToshRhys, GwenRhys | complete | 1191 | G)

After the cannibals, Gwen doesn't go home with Owen. She rides back to Cardiff — back to Rhys — in an ambulance with Tosh.

Dead on Arrival by violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 13582 | M)

Ianto Jones wakes up. The only problem is, he's certain he was dead.

You Won’t Be Seeing Us Today (You Won’t Be Seeing Us in Hell) by Beleriandings (GwenRhys, JackIanto, Gwen&Ianto | complete | 11141 | T)

One day, Syriath took Gwen's voice. She should have realised Gwen wouldn't stand for that.

Girly Night In by Mathemagician (GwenTosh | complete | 1088 | T)

The girls and Ianto have a night in. Gwen figures something out about herself.

For the Torchwood Femslash Fest prompt "Sexual Identity"

This Earth is Empty Without You (But the Grave is Not) by violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys, JackIanto | complete | 1036 | G)

Ianto Jones' funeral happens on a perfectly sunny day. Gwen hates every minute of it.

In a Polaroid Picture by innocent_until_proven_geeky (GwenTosh, GwenRhys, Gwen&Jack | complete | 2176 | G)

Gwen finds a photo of her and Tosh, and remembers.

Exit Protocol by Beleriandings (GwenTosh | complete | 6139 | G)

Not long after the deaths of Tosh and Owen, Gwen gets a message from an unnamed user on the Hub system. That really shouldn't happen. And yet, there it is.

To the Sticking Place by zephyras (JackIanto, GwenRhys, OwenTosh, MarthaMickey | complete | 96433 | M)

The end justifies the means. Failure is not an option. There is always a choice, except when there isn't. These are the phrases Ianto Jones lives by and he refuses to allow anyone, even Captain Jack Harkness, to change that. Jack/Ianto, AU, Torchwood One Agent!Ianto.

These Happy Days by Violetmessages (GwenRhys, JackIanto, Gwen&Ianto, GwenJackIantoRhys | series | 16,777 | G-T)

A series of non-chronological stories in which Ianto miraculously survives CoE in some fashion and Torchwood Three (plus Rhys and Anwen) settle down near the seaside.

Piece it Together by Beleriandings (JackIato, Gwen&Ianto | complete | 3442 | T)

Gwen realises that for all they talk, she's never asked Ianto about how he and Jack got together before. The answer is a lot more complicated than she was expecting.

Respite by Beleriandings (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 2590 | G)

Even by their usual standards, Gwen thought it was absolutely fair to say it had been a rough week.

Dancing in the Midnight Garden by Fionn_sgeul (Gen | complete | 17660 | G)

In which Gwyneth the Maid and Gwen Cooper are the same person, Jack meets someone else whose life was completely turned around by the Doctor, and Torchwood is invaded by garden gnomes

Don’t You Know For Years You’ve Haunted Me by Virtualsilver (GwenRhys, JackIanto | complete | 12083 | T)

Gwen has inherited a recessive trait that has lurked in her ancestors' blood for generations: she is prescient. She can see flashes of where the timeline is heading and can feel when something - or someone - changes it.

She tries to use her foreknowledge to change events for the better, but securing the outcome of her interventions proves to be a challenge.

He Really Loves That Coat by DracoPendragon (JackIanto | complete | 585 | G)

It was quiet when Gwen entered the Hub that Monday morning. And the sight that greeted her was not one she’d expected, but wasn't one she minded seeing.

Sink Your Feet into the Mud (and I’ll Return) by violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys, JackIanto | complete | 3404 | G)

What if she could bring Ianto back?

It’s a dangerous idea. It’s got the potential to be catastrophic. But Gwen is all out of options. She’s surrounded by the graves of the people she loves, abandoned, save for her husband, and she refuses to let her best friend go without a fight.

Painted in the Sand (To be Washed Away) by moonlightrhosyn (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys | complete | 1992 | T)

Gwen could still see their bodies every time she closed her eyes.

This is Me Trying by gwendolyncooper (GwenRhys, Gwen&Tosh, GwenOwen | WIP | 2524 | T)

“Sometimes you do stupid things to try and cope, to get a sense of normalcy, to make all this chaos and the Rift and space and aliens and the things we see make sense. Stupid, horrible things that should never have happened, and they come back ‘round to bite you again, and--” “What happened, Gwen?” Tosh’s prodding is soft and careful, but it speaks the glaring truth they both know - Gwen is stalling, talking around the issue at hand. Verdant eyes flash upwards with a startling intensity now, wide and filling with unshed tears again, the special agent’s plush lips pressed into a trembling line as she attempts to retain a semblance of control over her emotions. “I told Rhys about Owen.”

Fourty-Eight Hour Stand-Down by pocky_slash (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 2740 | G)

"You and Ianto had a domestic," Gwen guesses. Jack scowls at her. In which Jack is kicked out, Gwen just wants a night off, Rhys buys milk, and Ianto clears table space.

Ret-comp (Retroactive Compensation) by reiley (LisaIanto | complete | 499 | T)

The phone. The one that could call any place or any time in the whole universe. The one Jack had locked away and warned them all that it was never to be used.

Any Other Day by Amand_R (JackIanto, JackGwen, GwenRhys | complete | 84055 | complete| NR)

Hey, this one time? At Torchwood? Gwen and Jack switched bodies and everything went pear-shaped.

Space Tripping (in spaaaaace!) by Princessoftheworlds (JackIanto, IantoOther, GwenRhys, Gwen&Ianto | complete | 5115 |T)

Gwen and Ianto road trip across space - space trip, get high, shop, have a light existential crisis, face grief, and get massages - not all necessarily in that order.

Empty Chairs by princessoftheworlds (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 412 | G)

Gwen tends to Ianto's wound.

Forever, And What Comes After by Violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 10028 | T)

“Hm, imagine if they did,” Ianto said. “Torchwood would have to come out of retirement.”

In which Gwen and Ianto relax at a spa, Jack and Rhys attempt bad science, and Anwen is just along for the ride.

One In The Same by Violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys | Complete | 1638 | T)

Ianto, Gwen thinks. Her best friend would never turn her away, and maybe she can sleep on his couch for the night. Perhaps by the morning she’ll be okay again.

Wastin’ Away In Margaritaville by Paycheckgurl (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys, Gwen&Jack | Complete | 1419 | T)

Jack’s bad coping mechanism is agreeing to be a surrogate for an alien spawn baby. Gwen’s is at the bottom of a bottle.

Big Finish: Expectant from Gwen’s POV

#event:gwen party #character:gwen cooper #mod:nik #chartrope:bamf gwen

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shierajones · 4 years ago

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Agnes Analysis

As previously stated, on Valentine’s Day my husband and I did a rewatch of all the WandaVision episodes thus far so that I could take the time to do a deeper analysis on Agnes and explain why she is suspicious and good. I need to amend my thoughts and say that she is suspicious and not the villain.

I don’t think she’s good necessarily…but she’s not bad. She’s naughty as they keep telling us and naughty is playful. I do think she’s 100% Agatha Harkness, but Agatha isn’t a villain despite what you may hear in some circles.

Look at her name Agnes. Agatha Harkness. Maybe she’s named that as a misdirection, but I doubt it.

Moving on to the series and my nonsense analysis:

When we start the series, it seems clear that the “show” is already running and there are episodes that we, the audience, have not seen. However, we don’t get to view the situation until Agnes returns to town. Yes, the episode starts with Vision and Wanda in their home, but they are the main characters so of course it would. Still, our first episode is her first episode.

When Vision leaves for work, Agnes appears and says, “I’m Agnes, your neighbor to the right. My right, not yours. Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block. My mother-in-law was in town, so I wasn’t.”

Right off the bat, Agnes is suspicious. These lines are suspicious. Specifically, “My right, not yours.” I don’t think she’s referring to the actual location of her house (Herb lives to the left of them and he is not her husband). I think she’s referring to her place in this story. She’s been placed there by her right, not Wanda’s.

Important note: her anniversary is June 2nd…Salem Witch Trials. Agatha Harkness confirmation.

To the episode, Wanda turns to Agnes for assistance and she leads her down the wrong direction. Perhaps how Agatha leads Wanda down the wrong direction in seeking help prior to the start of the Hex…

She is also the one to make Wanda start questioning her marriage and her reality because of their lack of song, anniversary and rings.

We get the first “You’re so naughty!” in this sequence.

Another thing I noticed in the first episode is that every time Agnes appears to apparently help, things get more complicated and the “ingredients” meant to aid Wanda, bring her more chaos.

Moving on to episode two, Agnes is in their house in the intro while everyone else is outside. Because she is in the inner circle. Still, she is noticeably alone even though she is apparently married. Suspect husband.

In the episode, she says “Look, it’s the star of the show,” and pretends it’s about the rabbit but I think it’s a slight test of Wanda’s awareness of the Hex and this odd sitcom. Agnes is testing Wanda’s reaction.

We also get another nod to Agnes as Agatha with her rabbit’s name Senor Scratchy like Agatha’s son Nicholas Scratch.

Then we see that strange exchange with the mailman which makes him suspect as hell too! And once again, Agnes tries to help Wanda by warning her about Dottie, but instead makes her nervous about the situation that turns out poorly because of the pressure.

Important lines to note in this scene:

“The devil’s in the details Bev”

Agnes “That’s not the only place he is.” Interesting.

For the rest of episode two and most of episode three we see less of Agnes and I think that’s because of Geraldine (Monica)’s presence. For reasons Agnes doesn’t understand, Wanda quickly grows fond of “Geraldine” and she steps into the role Agnes is supposed to play in her life.

Agnes and Herb question her existence because she doesn’t belong, and she’s being invited into the inner circle. It seems that Agnes is worried that “Geraldine” will lead Wanda down the wrong path or at least the path to the truth she’s trying to hide.

Episode four doesn’t have much development in the WandaVision fake series but we do see that Agnes’ identity is not known. They have no real name for her and she doesn’t appear to be a New Jersey resident like almost every other relevant character.

In episode five we see that Monica’s exit leads to an increase in Agnes’ role again, “Auntie Agnes.” Also, with Monica gone, Agnes solidly knows that Wanda is aware of the illusion. She continues to play her part, but she addresses Wanda directly when things start to move off script. Despite being in front of Vision, she brings attention to Wanda’s control of the world. I think she’s moved on from Wanda and is now trying to wake up Vision.

Strange note: the babies stop crying when Agnes breaks character. Wanda’s magic doesn’t work on them but somehow their cries are tied to the sitcom narrative and Agnes’ actions.

“Kids, you can’t control them. No matter how hard you try.” Weird line. Is she referring to Wanda trying to control them or her?

Later when she claims to have seen the dog from her kitchen window I again have to question how. She is not next door! How can she see into their fenced in yard from the view of her house?

We finally see outside of her Bewitched styled home—Agatha Harkness nod—and I say again, she is not next door to them! Earlier in the scene in the kitchen she says, “Let’s just hope this dog stays the same size,” and then he dies eating bushes at her house thereby forever staying that size. Creepy and suspicious.

Her face, however, in this entire interaction that follows is why I don’t believe she’s bad. She has genuine concern on her face when the kids say that Wanda can bring back the dead and a wave of relief passes over her when Wanda says, “Some things are forever.” Watching Wanda and her children, Agnes looks like she’s relieved that Wanda is growing and willing to accept death and wants her children to do the same. It’s the first time she shows true vulnerability and I think (or maybe just hope) that’s because in her own strange way she doesn’t wish ill on Wanda.

Fast forward to episode six and once again we see less of Agnes because of the introduction of a new character. The fake Pietro.

When we finally see Agnes, dressed as a witch fully confirming her identity as a witch (given that all the other main characters are dressed in nods to their true identities Herb is dressed as Frankenstein’s monster and the concern that brings me is big) she is somewhat frozen but not fully. Just as she is somewhat under Wanda’s control but not fully. Her lines here are vital!

In this trance-like state she tells Vision that she “got lost, took a wrong turn.” Pointing to the narrative of this story. She and Wanda are lost, and things (like the apparent resurrection of Wanda’s dead brother) have taken a wrong turn. She’s lost. She doesn’t understand her purpose here anymore. She’s on Ellis Ave trying to escape but she doesn’t really know if that’s what she’s doing. When Vision “wakes” her, she immediately clutches at her neck/chest seemingly in search of her broach. The necklace she usually wears could have been the thing keeping her out of Wanda’s control but Pietro’s appearance (and the strange necklace he now wears) have taken that from her. She asks Vision if she’s dead. In the comics Wanda does kill Agatha, but we’re not there yet. Probably. But she asks because Vision is dead and then she screams dead over and over again as if he’s not the only dead thing around. Look back at my thoughts about Herb. He’s dressed as Frankenstein’s monster and if we can apply the same logic to his costume as the other relevant characters, that could be pointing to the fact that he is a reanimated body. SO CREEPY! SO SUSPICIOUS!

Agnes name drops Wanda where Norm didn’t when he was taken out of the trance. I don’t think this is just to place the blame on Wanda and take the focus away from her. Agnes is still trying to wake up Vision so she’s giving him answers where Norm had none, but I also think she is speaking to her position. Wanda’s magic is growing and she has finally taken control over Agnes where she was limited before.

There are holes in her story to Vision that Wanda is behind it all, but she’s still hiding a significant truth. She’s probably protecting her “husband” the real villain of this story.

#agnes wandavision #wandavision #agatha harkness #wandavision theories

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archies-litterbox · 4 years ago

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OK I spent alot of time wondering about Douxie's immortality/agelessness, and I kind of wondered if he even could die by mortal means (until ep. 10 showed us he can but can also just be told "no <3") and I just thought...

What if he we're immortal in the fact that he could die, but he'd just immediately wake back up?

(Kinda like Jack Harkness or smth from The Old Guard (unless I'm getting that wrong idk I haven't watched it))

I know it wouldn't be canon, but could you IMAGINE the angst/whump potential?

...This post is Not Nice to Douxie.

[TW: Death, Starvation/Dehydration, Illness, Suffocation/Drowning]

He gets sick in one of the many epidemics/pandemics he's been around for, and it's so horrible that it kills him, but he keeps waking up from it every time until his body fights it off.

Waking up from dehydration doesn't make him hydrated, so it just keeps happening/he just stays passed out until he finally gets water.

Also known as Why Douxie Doesn't Go To the Desert

Naturally, waking up after dying of starvation doesn't make him fed either, so it's essentially the same as what happens with dehydration.

When it's from a wound, however, it heals just fine.

Considering how many wars he's lived through (and maybe even fought in considering he's physically like 19 which means he's well in the age range for getting drafted) he's probably been wounded and killed in brutal/violent ways many times. He eventually just starts leaving places where war is afoot so it stops happening.

Sometimes it takes a bit to wake up (maybe being mistaken for dead when he's not dead yet) so he ends up buried alive and Archie digs him out.

...drowning.

Drowning.

......I’m not gonna lie I put a lot of thought into this one.

As part of a punishment for some crime someone thinks he did/part of some kind of witch trial, he's put in a metal coffin/chest/box of some sorts and dropped into a huge body of water.

Except it doesn't kill him.

Well, it does, but he just wakes up. And wakes up. And wakes up.

Over. And over. And over again.

It's hours until Archie finds wherever he was dropped. Despite how he hates water (he is a cat after all) he tries to claw the thing open/lift it out, but it’s in vain.

Archie eventually resolves to come back with Merlin (who’s not taking his Long Nap bc this is already kinda au so why not) so it takes even longer :(((

Don't imagine Douxie not understanding that Archie's gonna come back with Merlin & thinking he's just leaving him there bc I did and now its so much worse-

Merlin comes and uses magic to pull the thing out of the water and breaks out his son apprentice

When all the water’s out of his lungs, he just clings to his father master and just... cries. He sobs as much as his lungs, greedy for air, will allow.

Merlin lets him.

He doesn’t even need to use a spell to put Douxie to sleep - which he should, he thinks, for it would do well for him to forget this - because he’s already passed out the second Merlin scoops the shaking little wizard into his arms.

He ends up getting a cold, but physically recovers without a hitch.

But his mental recovery takes much longer.

After years, or even centuries, he's absolutely terrified of small spaces/big bodies of water.

...So, yeah, imagine that.

#douxie #hisirdoux casperan #wizards #tales of arcadia #merlin #archie #toa #toa wizards #mine #whump

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brooklynislandgirl · 3 years ago

Note

How would your muse react to being handed a baby? {Keni}

Soft, Silent, Sweet || Accepting

"Wait. W-w-what....what are you doing?"

The young Jedi stands surrounded by a group of village women. All of them seem to be petting and pawing at her. In the fading dusk the blood and filth of battle drying on her face looks like a primitive mask even as cooling breezes begin to tease her hair into ribbons the hue of dark wood flowing down her back after escaping their confining ties. For now her sabre is sheathed though for just a split second it looked like it was going to see further use with the way her fingers flex near its hilt on her belt. One of the bolder women offers her a gap-toothed smile, and murmurs in the local tongue, too softly to be heard. She takes hold of Melakeni's arms and pulls them away from her body. Into them is deposited an infant. It squirms and squawks. Gurgles spit bubbles on its lips. Keni’s stomach, no bigger than her fist, lurches at the sight. Tries to shrink into itself as much as the rest of her wants the very same. The Force becomes immediately awash with a deeply abiding sense of disgust, a shudder that could potentially if not so thoroughly repressed shake the ground and make the collection of huts around them collapse. This is one of those mammalian things that Keni has never quite gotten her head around. Certainly she has treated younglings by the score in the Temple, every kind of imaginable illness from the contagious poxes to scrapes and bruises and wobbly tummies. Almost to the last they have wanted for a small word of kindness, a kiss on the head. A promise that she can make them well again, but the younglings she treats are capable of speech, of independent thought. She has nothing to do with the creches where those too young to be sorted into clan are kept, tended like plants. Except most plants do not drool and do not defecate in their own clothes. They neither screech nor wail ~at least as far as most sentients are concerned~ with their little faces scrunched up and turning hues. They do not have that indescribable smell like old milk and crusty skin that particularly female humans seem so entranced with. She has often in the past teased Anakin that Zelosian nurseries are full of large jars full of nutrient rich soil and its own little watering apparatus, and sometimes, especially rare children of her species require an aquatic environment. None of that is true. As far as she knows, she doesn't remember that far back, after all, her people are born and raised in the same way. She just has no experience to mark the occasion and she is absolutely certain she'd never made a mess of herself or smelled like that. What's more is she doesn't understand the biological imperative of breeding. Her eyes turn toward Anakin. A human. And he is the depth and breadth of her soul. She has absolutely no doubt that the Force had made them for one another. And Melakeni has dreams. Some of them do involve him and the requisite acts that would be required to produce tiny offspring. All beautiful lines and commingled breath. The feel of his skin burning against her own. Tender kisses and every pleasure that is forbidden to them. Unbidden, others come along with those fever-dreams. She has at least once imagined what one would look like with his hair and long limbs, her eyes and teeth. But that was only once. The reality of it is, even if they were to ever desire such a thing, it would be impossible. They are genetically incompatible, mammalian and viridiphyta respectively. She could never imagine wanting a child of her own, she doesn’t even really want a padawan. And of those children she doesn’t fantasise about, the only possible source for one would be from Anakin. For all that some people might think otherwise, and to no shame, Anakin is not the kind of man who would make for a good father. He would want to be, he would love any child to the very depth of his soul, but therein lies madness. Anyone who has seen him with his droids and his Clones could predict a future where only tragedy could unfold. He would be unable to separate himself from his fears. They would become mania. She has seen what happens when Anakin loves too much. And she knows, much to her own regret, that sometimes, love is not enough. It would kill him as surely as poison. Children are not their future. They will both be content with that. The infant latches onto her hair and gives it a yank, a hideous little sound coming out of it that she soon enough realises is a laugh. Melakeni flashes Anakin a look that can be felt like direct shot from one of the blaster rifles carried by a nearby handful of Clones who immediately proceed to look away although one looks like he’s overcome with a fit of amusement that his brothers are now trying to save him from. As politely as possible Keni pries the little thing’s fingers apart and rescues herself from the situation. She turns to the translator who accompanied the women and murmurs platitudes. Yes, yes. Adorable child. Many blessings on the family, thank you. Excuse me please. She means none of these things but if she has one ability to surpass all others it is emotional mimicry. She hands the creature back to its parent. Hands come up in a peaceful gesture which she half nods-half bows over. Begins to extricate herself from the group. The translator asks if they need anything. Keni asks for a tub and as much hot water as the village can muster. They have already been offered food, and a few dozen spare huts at the far edges of the camp. It is all they have to give for their salvation. She tells them that everything is fine, and that they ~Anakin, herself, and their Troops~ will make as little trouble as possible. When they are finally alone, she allows herself to shudder all of her natural revulsion. “The Living Force spare me, it was so gross.” Her face screws up tightly, which pulls the corners of her mouth down, as if she’s having trouble trying not to retch on the spot. “And so...grabby. And squishy. Honestly, Anakin. I’d much prefer dealing with slugs.” There’s meaning in that declaration the likes of which only he can understand. After all, he’s been the one to rescue her from them for years now. She flings her tunic at him, and lets the rest of her uniform flutter and fall to the ground. She slips over the edge of the wooden tub and sinks into the water, disappearing beneath the surface for a few seconds before rising back up. She can still feel all the infant’s various fluids on her skin. “Next time, you hold the babies and get fondled by the civilians and I’ll stay with the boys.” Anakin laughs and agrees with her before he climbs into the bath opposite of her and she can almost hear his bones shriek in gratitude.

~*~

The twin suns of this dying world bake the sand beneath her boots. There is little shade to be found anywhere and the air feels as if it is scorching her lungs from the inside out. She could never have imagined a time in all of her life where she misses the cold dark of space, nor that she would be counting the seconds before she could return to her ship and erase the memory of sunlight on her skin. She’s done her best to blend in with the locals. To survey her target at every opportunity while remaining out of sight. Until now.

She beckons the boy with a delicate, airy hand. Curiosity draws him near, of course it does. And something she does not possess cracks in her chest leaving a space awash with grief and love and a thousand different yearnings still. Though he’s approaching his tenth Empire Day, he is small for his age. Wind-whipped, carved out by the vast nothingness of his little kingdom. The same suns that sear down have bleached his hair pale gold and in places there are certain cowlicks that will never be tamed, no matter how gentle but unforgiving the hand is that attempts it. His eyes are painfully blue. More so than the sky above them, more than shimmer of sea that does not exist here. The shy grin he offers her harks back to another era that seems like lifetimes ago. If she ever had a doubt, it evaporates here and now. And this is how perhaps the most feared and loved woman in the galaxy comes to kneel before a child. Fixes the boy with a softly-shaped smile, one that hides the fine points of her teeth but that gives warmth to emerald eyes. From some secret pocket, perhaps from the force itself, a gloved hand produces not one but two crystallised honey-sticks, tinted by berries and juices into a chaos of colour. He is cautious. Does not immediately reach for them as one might expect. This pleases her immensely, he has inherited his father’s great wisdom. She continues to hold them out, and inclines her head. Nods a little. He takes them. But then his aunt calls for him, and he looks back toward her over one scrawny shoulder before returning his gaze to his mysterious benefactor. She lifts a finger to her lips. A secret it is to be. She is gone before Beru comes looking for him.

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littleteatimestories · 6 years ago

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John Wick x Reader: Start of Something New (FINAL)

A/N: This is it, guyths! This is the final chapter for this John Wick reader-insert. 🥰 Thank you so much for the love and support for this one! I really hope that the 4th installment of the John Wick franchise would be much much better than the third (and more intriguing story, please). Anyway, a second series was already in the works for this reader-insert so expect for that to be published soon.

Enjoy the finale! 😊

(GIF by Tumblr user chadstahelski)

⇇ CHAPTER 1

⟸ CHAPTER 5

“Hey, you awake now?”

You opened your eyes. Helen was smiling at you, continuous beeping coming from the hospital monitors. You stirred your head from different directions as if you were searching for someone.

“He’s not here.”

You turned your attention back to her. She pressed on, “He’s at home right now. He said he’ll be back.”

You licked your lips and cleared your throat. “I’m not really looking for him...”

Helen laughed weakly and drawled out, “Right.”

You just gave a small beam. She spoke again, “I have a favor to ask.”

The upward curve of your lips faded slowly, feeling the sadness starting to envelop you. You didn’t want to utter out anything because you didn’t want for her to continue, but she did, anyway.

“Let’s face the fact that this illness of mine is eating me away already.”

“Stop...” your voice was beginning to quiver.

“(Y/n), there’s only one thing I want you to do for me.”

You pursed your lips to contain your weeping. You knew Helen’s life was inevitable. No matter how much you were in denial, she will eventually disappear forever. You can only honor her wishes, whatever it may be.

“Please love John.”

You gaped at her, tears streamed your cheeks to your jaw. “Helen, I can’t-“

“Please, (Y/n). He needs it. Once I’m gone, he’ll be all alone. I actually have a little companion for him, but I think your love will get him through and give him hope.”

You shook your head. “This is impossible. You know I don’t like him.”

“(Y/n), no matter who he is and what’s his past, give him your heart fully. If you get to know him better, you’ll see how lonely he was. He needs you. I want the two of you to be happy.”

Your eyes flickered to open. You heard the hotel telephone ringing loudly in the room. You rose half of your body groggily and examined the room. It was purely a mess. You remembered at once what had happened here.

The phone kept ringing and your head was starting to pound with the repetitive noise. You wobbly stood and marched to it.

“Hello?” your voice sounded sleepy.

“Miss (L/n), I am to inform you that your new room is ready. Do you need assistance in carrying your things?” the concierge informed.

You scanned the room with your eyes again. You were beyond prepared. You didn’t even know how you even slept so relaxingly. Maybe the tiredness beat you to it.

You told him, “I’ll let you know if I’m about to leave.”

“Noted, Miss (L/n).”

You put the phone down and huffed forcefully. You tried to remember what happened with John last night. You talked to him about something, but you couldn’t recall what it was. For some odd reasons, you just fell asleep.

You shook your head. The events after the assassination attempt thing became vague. You just fixed yourself up. Upon doing so, you noticed some purple marks on your neck. It didn’t hurt much, but it made you hiss in pain. You made sure to wear a scarf to cover it up.

When everything was set and packed, you phoned the concierge that you’ll be going down to retrieve the room key.

As you made your exit, you heard another set of glass shattering. It was coming from the room just across, situated at the end of the hallway. You dare didn’t move until the door was unlocked that you budge back quickly inside of your same room. You were hoping that you weren’t caught.

Perkins eyed the door to John Wick’s room. She knew that you’re still in there. She can use you as bait to lure him. She hid the silencer behind her and approached the door slowly. She held the knob and pressed her ear on the door. You, on the other hand, tried to calm yourself. You made sure not to position in front of the hinged entrance as you know it can never deflect bullets. You pressed yourself against the wall near it, trying not to panic or hyperventilate out of too much uneasiness.

The female assassin turned the knob, but wasn’t able to open it freely for another assassin came and interrupted.

“Perkins, what’re you doing?” Jacob inquired.

She faced the man at once. “Oh, Jacob, I should be asking that question,” she stated blandly.

He hummed suspiciously. “Right. Did you look yourself on the mirror? You’re bleeding all over your beautiful face. If you’re going to the doctor, their floor is somewhere else.”

She blinked. “Of course! You’re right! I am going to the doctor. Isn’t this the right floor?”

“Your head must have hit something hard. Come along then, I’ll take you to the concierge and accompany you to the right place.”

Perkins internally groaned. But, she gave a tight smile. “Thank you, Jacob. You’re always a gentleman.” She hid the gun behind her without arousing suspicion and followed him to the elevator, much to her dismay.

Once you felt that everything was clear, you slightly unbarred the door and peeked through. It seemed safe now, but you also have a feeling that not-so-good things happened in that room. So, with your little curious mind, you checked it out.

The entry was closed. You gently turned the handle and, surprisingly, it was unlocked. You entered with caution. The room had the same design as yours, but smaller in size. There was only one bed and you loudly gasped in horror upon witnessing what it was on it.

A fresh dead body...

As instinct, you ran out and into your room. You called the reception desk and reported the incident, stuttering while doing so. Afterwards, you sprinted towards the bathroom and puked.

‘There goes my last meal...’ you joked in your thoughts.

***

Men in black suits came. You even saw the concierge entering the room. You were standing at your doorway, wrapping your arms around your shaking body. It was not usual to see dead bodies so witnessing one made your stomach lurch into vomit mode.

An old middle aged man came closer to you.

“You must be (Y/n) (L/n),” he said. His voice was deep and formal as if he was addressing a royalty.

“Y-Yes,” you confirmed nervously.

“Jonathan told me things about you,” he continued.

“Like what?” You were now cautious.

“That you are his personal assistant.”

You ghosted an exhale of relief as your shoulders relaxed. “That I am.”

He nodded his head slowly. “I see. However, I didn’t believe him.”

You raised a brow. “Why’s that?”

He smiled amusingly. “Oh, my dear, I know Jonathan very well. He prefers to work alone. He may have taken a prodigy, but never an assistant. Did he ever tell you what even an ‘assistant’ means in this world?”

“I never consider to ask him. I just thought it had something to do with the typical secretarial work.”

He puffed a breath. “Oh, that Jonathan... It really is personal,” he murmured.

You narrowed your brows in confusion. He continued, “An ‘assistant’ in the criminal underworld means a cleaner. It means you dispose of bodies like as if no killings happened at all. You are called an ‘assistant’ because you work solely for your employer only. No one is allowed to use your services unless your employer permits you to.”

Your eyes widened and mouth agape.

Yeah, it would make sense why this old man didn’t believe John telling him that you were his ‘assistant’. You already looked fragile; someone who couldn’t get used to seeing dead bodies.

“Okay,” was all you could say.

The two of you stared at each other, neither really giving off any intimidation. The old man spoke first,

“Winston.” He held his aged hand out for a shake. “I am the manager of this hotel.”

You gently held your hand on his. “It’s nice meeting you.”

“I want to thank you for reporting the incident.” He released his hand. “Do you know who did this?”

“I think it’s that woman whom John was acquainted. She just barged in our room and tried to kill John and even me.” You removed your scarf to reveal the faint purple bruise on your neck. “She tried to strangle me.” You circled the scarf back.

Winston already had an idea who it was. But, he still asked, “Do you have a name of this woman?”

You thought for a moment until you harked back to it, “I heard a name. Perkins. I think that’s it.”

Winston crunched his brow up. “Are you sure about that? Didn’t Jonathan mention her name?”

You shook your head. “No. I didn’t even try asking him when we first met her while checking in the hotel.”

He nodded his head again then smiled at you again. “Thank you once again, (Y/n). You’re such a tender young lady. I’m quite downhearted that Jonathan didn’t give us the chance to meet.”

You gave a sheepish beam. “John wouldn’t let me out of the room. In truth, I would be rebellious about that, but for the time being, I follow what he says.”

“You’re understanding about that. Take care of him. He deserves someone good in his life.”

“I’m only his second.”

“I know.” He patted your shoulder. “Charon will lead you to your new room. We’ll take care of everything here.”

You did what he said. The concierge escorted you to your new room.

***

15 hours went by... John was standing on a railing of a bridge. This was the place where he and Helen had their first date. In one of his hands, he had that picture of you and Helen, all smiles for the camera. He looked at you two longingly. It was still difficult for him to accept that his first love and best friend was forever gone. But, he was perhaps given the chance to love again when you and him finally got the chance to know one another. It was early to say that he was in love all over again and if you actually had feelings for him. Yet, he found it endearing that you showed so much care despite his line of work. He found genuine kindness for a woman to be one of the qualities he adored. That’s why he loved Helen so much. He may as well trust his poor and fragile heart to you.

The pitbull pup whined. He sensed his new master’s sadness and wanted to comfort him. John stared at his new pet who also looked at him. This gray pup was in an animal shelter and was scheduled to be euthanized. Poor thing looked really downtrodden upon knowing he would be mercifully killed. So, John adopted him. He might even give comfort to you.

This was not to replace Daisy, but having another companion whenever he’s not around may save you from your loneliness. He already felt guilty of always leaving you in the hotel with only by yourself that it worried him all the time.

The pup barked. John assured him, “Don’t get too excited there, buddy. We’re going home.” He checked the time on his watch and felt dejected when his watch had a crack. The second hand was barely even moving. He exhaled sadly. He really loved this simple black leathered watch that he always wore. It was another memorable gift from his beloved.

He then looked at the distance. “Goodbye, my love. But know that this will never be a forever.” He glimpsed at the photo in his fingers and brushed his lips on it. He pocketed it in his coat compartment. “Time to go home, bud,” he told the dog to which he barked excitedly.

Finally, Iosef was dead, so was Viggo. He’ll finally get his retirement and start over again with his new dog (which he’ll have to think of a name; he’ll probably let you do the naming) and with you.

***

He came back to the hotel. Unfortunately, he incurred the same injuries and bruises. Upon reaching the reception counter, the concierge spoke, “She is at Room 780.” His eyes diverted to the pitbull who yawned. “Purchased a new pet after a hard day’s work, haven’t you, Mr Wick?”

“Saved this one is the right term. It’s a gift for her.”

The concierge curved his lips upwards. “She would definitely love this dog.”

“Thank you, Charon. Have a good evening.”

“You as well, Mr Wick.”

***

You heard that familiar knock. You rushed to the door and opened it at once. He was standing there. He didn’t even bother going to the doctor. He probably didn’t call for one, either. You noticed he was holding some sort of leash. Your eyes traveled to a medium-sized adorable gray pitbull puppy and you melted right away.

“John, where did you-“

“It’s for us.”

You glanced at him and focused on him. He added, “I know it’s not going to replace Daisy, but-“

“He’s perfect,” you cut in him. You then lovingly enveloped your arms around his neck. “Welcome home.”

He wrapped his arms tightly and softly around you. “We’re home.”

---

More stories right here 🙋🏻‍♀️

#john wick x reader #John Wick

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woolishlygrim · 5 years ago

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Winter Weebwatch #3

I feel a little bad for giving out so many two and three star scores, so I should probably clarify that three stars is meant to be ‘generally pretty good’ and two stars is meant to be ‘watchable but very flawed.’ We’re not working on IGN metrics here.

Also, this week is the week I finally drop a show! What could it be, what could it -- it’s Plunderer. Of course it’s Plunderer. I couldn’t get all the way through this week’s episode and life’s too short to bother watching any more of it.

Also also, while In/Spectre hasn’t been dropped, it gets subbed so late that I’m skipping it this week and rolling this week’s episode over to next week’s post.

ID: Invaded.

★★★★☆

God, why was this show relegated to the Death Season, Where Anime Goes To Die? For three weeks running now, ID: Invaded has stood head and shoulders over all of its competitors, and while there’s always the possibility it could collapse in under its own weight, it so far seems to be going pretty strong.

So episode four (again, see remarks about how one and two aired in the same week) sees Sakaido and the team in a race against the clock to catch the Gravedigger, a serial killer who traps people into enclosed spaces with just a few oxygen canisters and livestreams their struggles, showing the world their final moments and even continuing the livestreams to show their bodies decaying. The Gravedigger has kidnapped a new victim, and for the first time left enough cognition particles behind for Sakaido to dive into his mental world.

Whereas previous episodes have focused heavily on the mystery angle, this episode largely focuses on the stress the case puts on Sakaido and the team. The Gravedigger’s world is a uniquely dangerous mess of fire, explosions, and shifting architecture, and Sakaido dies again and again as he struggles to find any evidence of the Gravedigger’s identity.

Much like the last episode, this would sit at a solid three stars, being a fairly engaging and somewhat harrowing story of Sakaido and the team putting themselves under immense stress to save a victim. What boosts it up to four stars is the moment where the writers pull the rug out from under the characters and the audience: The Gravedigger they’re hunting is only a copycat of the real Gravedigger, and his victim has been dead for days, the ‘livestream’ actually a recording.

The episode also hints at a bigger role for the Perforator in future, as the team attempts to use him as a back-up detective, Akaido, only to find out he’s ill-suited for the role.

Pet.

★★★☆☆

Pet was so close to a four star rating this week. So close.

So, this week’s episode continues an unclear amount of time after the last week’s episode, with Hiroki and Tsubasa having bought a fish store (as in a pet store that sells live fish and naught else, not a fishmonger’s), which Hiroki believes means they can stop doing work for the shady Committee -- only for Tsubasa to inform him that the Committee paid for the store in the first place, but not to worry, he’ll do all their jobs, and Hiroki doesn’t have to do any of them.

So this episode is … moderately upsetting, actually. Intentionally so.

The bulk of the storyline, in which Tsubasa alters a bodyguard’s memory so that he’s compelled to murder one of his boss’ friends, isn’t what’s upsetting about it, although it does deal with some sensitive subjects, namely domestic abuse and the objectification of vulnerable people. No, what’s upsetting is that, like with last week’s story about Hiroki and Tsubasa altering the memories of a couple, this one also harks back to Hiroki and Tsubasa’s relationship -- specifically, that Tsubasa is emotionally abusing Hiroki.

We get hints of this early on, when Tsubasa is deliberately vague about whether he’ll psychically synchronise with Satoru, another character who, at least in Hiroki’s mind (although evidently not in Satoru’s), is something of a romantic rival. As the episode wears on, Tsubasa goes about his work, while Hiroki, left alone at the fish store, begins showing his immaturity by acting out with his powers before eventually becoming sullen and unresponsive. All of that wouldn’t be enough to indict Tsubasa as being abusive, except in the final scene, as Katsuragi snidely remarks that their new store will never be successful and Hiroki will have to return to a life of crime, Tsubasa mildly returns that he knows it won’t be successful, and he knows it will hurt Hiroki, but that’s just part of ‘taking care of a pet.’

Aaaand we get our title, with all of the unpleasant implications of how Tsubasa views the much more immature and emotionally vulnerable Hiroki.

This episode would have scraped a four star score, but the early parts of the story are a bit too fast paced and a bit incoherent. That really was the only thing holding this absolute gutpunch of an episode back.

Bonus points to the episode that the thing that prompts Hiroki to act out with his powers is seeing a woman’s domineering and callous boyfriend, implying that he is at least somewhat aware of what Tsubasa is like.

Honestly, when this show started I was not expecting a meditation on the subject of abusive relationships, but here we are, and I’m down for it.

Darwin’s Game.

★☆☆☆☆

Oh my god, I just watched it. I just watched it, guys, and I don’t remember even the tiniest bit of it. Am I crazy? Is this what crazy feels like? It’s like I’m blotting the show out of my memory.

I remember something to do with plants and that’s … that’s actually the only thing I remember about this episode.

I don’t even think Darwin’s Game is bad (although let’s be honest, how would I know), it’s just not really anything. It has somehow hit that sweet spot between good and bad where it just fails to make any kind of impact at all, and my brain just interprets it as background noise and proceeds to flush all data pertaining to it.

I might drop it just because this has got to be getting boring for anyone reading these reviews by now. Watching this show is like a sneak peek of suffering from dementia.

And yet, I still know for a fact it’s better than Plunderer, so it gets one star.

Plunderer.

☆☆☆☆☆ (DROPPED)

Aaand I’m out.

Look, after the shitshow that was the first episode, I should have dropped it straight away. I gave it a chance, and the second episode convinced me that, hey, maybe this wouldn’t be so terrible, maybe the first episode was just an outlier.

The first episode was not an outlier. Episode three isn’t entirely sexual assault and sexual harassment, but about twelve minutes in it does segue into an extended sequence of exactly those things, getting worse with each passing minute. I got up to fourteen minutes, the point at which a supporting character was cheering on the protagonist to sexually assault someone, before I just couldn’t stomach watching anymore.

This show could be the most interesting, engaging, thought-provoking thing on television, and the constant sexual assault would still make me drop it. Luckily, even if you take out all the sex crimes, all you’d get is a show that was basically okay at best.

So zero stars for Plunderer, and I’m dropping the show. To be perfectly honest, I should have dropped it after episode one.

Sorcerous Stabber Orphen.

★★★☆☆

Onto more pleasant news, man, I just don’t know what’s up with Sorcerous Stabber Orphen’s pacing. Having proceeded at a truly glacial pace for the first two episodes, this episode caps off the entire current story arc, bringing it to an abrupt close.

Now in the company of his old mentor Childman and a task force of sorcerers, Orphen tracks down the dragon-ified Azalie, attempting to reason with her, only for Childman to stab him and eviscerate Azalie. In the aftermath, however, Orphen realises that he’s been played: The dragon he thought was Azalie was actually Childman, and the person he’s been thinking of as Childman is actually Azalie.

So, that was a weird twist. It’s not, in fact, completely out of the left field. The episode sets up early on that Azalie was skilled not only in elemental Black Sorcery, but also in telepathic White Sorcery, and that she should have access to those spells even as a dragon, something which is cause for concern because nobody in the task force has White Sorcery, including Childman. Later on, the confrontation with Dragon-Azalie (Drazalie, if you will), has a character call attention to how she hasn’t used any White Sorcery since the battle started. So when it’s eventually revealed that Azalie did, in fact, use White Sorcery, secretly swapping her mind with Childman’s and letting him die in her place, it actually fits together in quite a neat fashion.

The episode ends without any real hint as to where the story is going to go next: Azalie escapes in Childman’s body, and Orphen is still an exile from the Tower of Fangs, and there aren’t any other pressing story threads, so I guess we’ll see.

Infinite Dendrogram.

★★☆☆☆

This is the second week in a row that I’m giving Infinite Dendrogram two stars, and it actually physically pains me to do so, because I really like this series. I think apart from ID: Invaded, it’s my favourite anime this season, by quite a significant margin.

But nothing at all happens in this episode.

Okay, that’s only half true. The episode opens with the Player-Killers roaming around Altar having all been killed, which journalist (that’s literally her character class, which I kind of love as a concept) Marie Adler says was the work of just the four ranked players. One by one, she shows the main cast a video of each one taking out a clan of Player-Killers in their own unique way: Arena gladiator Figaro takes his targets out one by one, sadistically toying with them before striking the killing blow; cult priestess Tsukuyo uses magic to immobilise her targets, before letting her cult skewer them one by one; martial artist Lei Lei takes them out in a surprisingly friendly and sporting fashion; and the King of Destruction, whose identity is unknown and definitely not Ray’s big brother, definitely, absolutely, just levels the entire forest his targets are hiding in.

I … do see the necessity of introducing them. The Superiors are basically this show’s Gotei 13, or Gold Saints, or Hashira, or <Insert Group Of Loosely Allied Big Tough People That Are In Every Post-Saint Seiya Shounen Anime> here. There are, however, more interesting ways this could have been done than having the characters watching four videos of fights they already know the outcome to.

For example, what if, instead, you had an episode setting up the characters all getting trapped in different areas, pursued by higher level Player Killers, only for them each to be saved by a Superior. That would actually have some tension and dramatic stakes, and it’d be a much more dynamic way of introducing them.

#plunderer #id invaded #infinite dendrogram #sorcerous stabber orphen #darwins game #winter weebwatch

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thirstyhscwriter · 7 years ago

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Come on Mess Me Up II Captain Boomerang Imagine II Part One

My first time writing Captain Boomerang, set when he was younger, although I may have plans to explore an older boomerang. Suggested Listening can be found here. As always I hope you guys enjoy!

You could still feel his eyes on you. Eyes filled with cruelty. Eyes that ignored the fact you had refused to acknowledge him once since you came in the room. You had been warned about him long before you entered. Two sentences had told you all you need to know.

“George ‘digger’ Harkness is James’s best mate. But of a dropkick really, never worked a day in his life, heartless bastard.” You had identified him as soon as he came in the room. A beard that looke das if it had never seen a razor, although she was sure he had trimmed it like that on purpose. Beer in his hand he appeared to be managing to sneer and laugh all at once. His eyes had found you the second you entered, shamelessly checking you out. You had not returned the favour.

You were so lost in thought, so consumed with the effort of not so much as looking in Harkness’s direction that you didn’t notice your friends hand on your arm, nor the excited whispering, her breath hot on your ear. “this is James. The one I’ve been telling you about. He’s the perfect rebound for you, he’s successful, Janet’s convinced he’s getting top bill at work.” Nothing you needed to listen to then. You had been given the same story when you’d been invited to the party. The priority of all your friends, now that you’d moved to town, it seemed was to find you a boyfriend. None of them seemed willing to listen to you as you assured them you didn’t want to.

James was standing in front of you, a self-assured, expecting smile on his face. Apparently, he was as assured of this working out as all of your friends. He had good reason to be, you supposed, he was an attractive guy, exactly the type of person you would have gone for only a few weeks ago. Now however, looking at him you felt nothing.

“Janet told me you’ve just been through a breakup.” He had to shout to be heard over the music. You didn’t miss the real question behind his word, how likely are you to get back with him? He was obviously looking for a long-time thing, something serious. Everything about James screemed serious. Dressed as he was now, as if he would be called into a meeting at any point. You wandered just how he and Harkness had become friends. They didn’t seem to have anything in common. James had nice guy written all over him, and Harkness, well the jackass had selfish bastard written all over him.

“Yea.” He held a drink out to you, obviously fetched on one of your friend’s recommendations. It was much too sweet for your tastes, much less strong than you had been drinking recently, but you threw it back all the same, finishing it in a matter of seconds. “I was moving out here anyway, he wanted to come with me but…” you broke off, just why you had dumped him you couldn’t explain, hadn’t explained, to anyone, all though many had asked. “I just wasn’t happy.” “In the relationship.” He had taken the empty cup, evidently unconcerned by the speed at which you were drinking. “Yea, sure.” What would he say, you wandered, if you said no. No not just in the relationship, in general, in everything. Everything had been flat, had been flat for a while. Your ex-boyfriend simply hadn’t been helping. Somehow, however, you suspected it wouldn’t matter what you said. James wasn’t really hearing a word that had come out of your mouth. He already had an idea of you, how you were going to act, what was going to happen, he’d simply hear around anything that didn’t fit that idea.

The music was too load, James too boring, you were too sober. Why you’d bothered coming in the first place you didn’t know. The whole thing was desperate, desperate, and seedy. You just felt numb. “Will you excuse me.” James just nodded, that stupid grin still on his face.

You grabbed a half-drunk bottle of vodka off the table tipping it back as you moved out of the crowded living room and into the hall. The bastard’s eyes were still on you as you left, glued to you. But still you ignored them. So, what if some loser wanted to stare at you? You had vodka now, and were away from bland James. It was quieter out in the hall, you stumbled down it, not quite sure where you were going, the bathroom perhaps, you could hide in there for a good ten minutes, before the next drunk person came knocking at the door, trying to force their way in to empty their stomachs. Still ten minutes alone was better than nothing.

Before you could get there, however, a strong hand caught you by the top of the arm, pulling you into the nearby room. You were up against the wall before you had time to process what had happened. The hand moving from your arm down to your wrist, freeing the vodka bottle from your fingers, whilst a large, solid body kept you pinned to the wall. The bottle was lifted to a pair of bearded lips, Adams apple bobbing as he drank, in long gulps. Up close you could see there was an attractive man hidden under all that hair, bright blue, clever eyes looked down at you, the same eyes that had been taking you in all night.

What he wanted became very clear, if it wasn’t already, as he lifted his hands, one brushed a lock of hair away from your face, forcing you to look up at him, at the sneer apparently permanent on his lips, the other pulling at the buttons on you dress, revealing you from neck to naval. His hand cupped our breast, fingers rough and hard against your nipple. You know you should push him away, push him away and get out of there as quickly as possible. But you didn’t. It was so much easier, felt so much better, to simply give into him, to press yourself closer to him.

This was apparently all the encouragement he needed, as his spare hand found its way up your skirt, quickly pushing you underwear down around your ankle. He lifted one of your legs up, allowing himself to press even harder against you. He was forced to relinquish your breast, in order to free himself.

You gasped as he pressed into you. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders, holding onto him for support. His strokes were hard and fast, hitting you right at your base. He was using you for his own pleasure. Just as you knew he would, had known from the moment you saw him. Usually you would have stayed away, would have laughed at his attempt to come on to you, what interest did you have in a selfish pig like him.

Now however he was giving you exactly what you wanted, and excuse not to think, and excuse to grasp onto him as he rutted into you. For that was the only word you could find for what he was doing, each stroke slamming you against the wall. His beard was scratching against your neck, the small deliciated pain forcing a moan from your lips.

You were raising your hips to meet him now, toes curling just a bit more, just a bit harder, you needed him to keep going and going and going. Just as you felt yourself teetering over the edge however he finished. Muffling the roar of his relief in your neck. He all but collapsed against you, breathing heavily as you held him, disappointment and guilt washing over you. What you’d been thinking you didn’t know.

Eventually he disentangled himself from you, reaching down to tuck himself away and do up his fly. Your own hands came up to your buttons, covering yourself. You refused to meet his eyes, the two of you returned the same stand of that had persisted before. He apparently was not content with this arrangement, catching your face between his hands once again “You know tots, you can play uptight all you want. Pretend like you’re going to give a twat like James what he wants. But I know better. There’s a hoplessness about you. It’s what I like. Your easy pickings.”

You just looked at him for a moment, realising these were the first words you’d heard him say. He was better spoken than you’d expected, you’d give him that. You looked him up and down once, face still sandwiched between his hands. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He laughed, dropping his hand to pat you ass. “Ill be seeing you tots.” He moved surprisingly gracefully out of the room, hands flattening his hair. Just before he left he stopped by the hallway table, swiping the wallet some unwitting drunkard had left out, before disappearing entirely. You watched him go, roles reversed, before slumping against the wall. Dress only half fastened.

You’d had enough. You’d come, you’d drank, you’d even engage with a guy, even if it wasn’t the guy your friends had wanted. No, not the guy you were meant to meet, his best friend, how they could be friends however you did not know. Surely, he had known that, known who you were, known who you were meant to spend that party with. You weren’t naive enough to think your friends had not been discussing it with everyone. They had all but arranged yours and James’s wedding. You belonged to him, in some sick way, and Harkness had taken you anyway.

From what you’d seen of Harkness he had no problem taking what wasn’t his. And you’d given it to him. “Hey” You turned to see James running after you, slowing down slightly you allowed him to catch up with you at the end of the driveway. “You’re not leaving are you.” You gave him a half smile, one that didn’t even come close to your eyes. “Tired. Sorry.” Why you were apologising you didn’t know. You could do whatever the fuck you wanted, it wasn’t any of his business. “Well am I going to see you again?” The idiot was standing in your way, stopping you from leaving before the two of you’d finished talking. Were you going to agree to go out with him with the feeling of his mate still inside of you? A decent person would tell him the truth, that you just weren’t that interested, or let him down easy, tell him you weren’t looking for anything serious right now. “Sure. Janet can give you my number.” You sidestepped him, continuing on your way, as far away from that black, and those evil blue eyes as you could.

You were still thinking about Harkness when arrived home that night, mind reeling as you sat on your friend’s spare bed, pulling off your shoes. He’d left you on the edge, your body screaming to feel him inside you again, selfish, and rough as he was. There was no doubt he’d done it on purpose, all though exactly what he hoped to achieve by it you did not know. Enraged you slammed your head back against your cushions, hand slipping below your dress before you’d realised what you were doing, you realised as you found your sensitive spot that you’d never retrieved your underwear, not that your mind could focus on that for long, you pressed yourself harder into your hand, mind on a pair of startlingly blue eyes.

@fuckthatfeeling

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