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mercy-burning · 3 years ago

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Love Thy Neighbor (Christmas Version)

Pairing: Caleb Sullivan x fem!Reader Summary: Y/N stops by to see her neighbor, hoping to spread some holiday cheer. Category: Smut (18+) Content: Religious themes and references/during smut, strong language, blowjob, facesitting, brief mention of death of a parent (in the first paragraph, nothing detailed!) Word Count: 3.2k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: So I found Trash Fire on DVD at a used movie store, then I got to talking with Pom about a Christmas fic because we were thinking about Caleb, and now this exists. Happy Christmas Eve Eve. Also, this is a continuation of the Halloween fic I did, but you don’t have to have read it to understand this one.

———

Considering her current plan, Y/N finds it ironic that her favorite Christmas song is O Holy Night. It doesn't matter which version, really, but ever since she watched Home Alone two Christmases after her mother died, the song has been a small beacon of light in an otherwise dull and dreary tunnel that only ends when the holiday season does.

Yeah. Christmas is most certainly her least favorite holiday.

It doesn't help that for the past three years her neighbor has been slipping pamphlets and flyers under the door, advertising Christmas church services. It's likely that he did it to everyone in the building, or at least the floor they were on... But she's always thought that it might be some target on her, given how she never gets along with him.

Well... Lately she supposes they get along just fine.

Which is just a nice way of saying he's promptly avoiding her, and has been since she made out with him and grinded in his lap until he came in his pants on Halloween (the least holy of holidays).

In fact, she hadn't even gotten a single piece of paper under her door this year, and Christmas was next week.

Which is why she stands outside his door right now, wrapped in a long coat, hoping he'll provide her a distraction.

Caleb opens the door and his face drops immediately. Usually annoyed at her presence, this time he seems only slightly panicked. But just for a second before he puts on a brave face and pretends to be irritated again.

"Oh. It's you."

"Merry Christmas to you, too."

"Did you need something?" He sounds bored, but she picks up on slight hint of hope, most likely that she'll give up, say, "No," and then leave him alone.

But he should know by now, she's more stubborn than that.

"Just felt like dropping by. You haven't left any Church propaganda under my door this year, I thought maybe you died or something."

"Ha," he deadpans. "I just figured it's no use. You wouldn't come anyway, and even if you did you'd probably catch fire the moment you walked in."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, I really did just want to stop over and say Merry Christmas... It's not particularly my favorite time of year, but I know you like it, so I just figured—"

This time his laugh is truly genuine. Caleb looks amused, and when she asks him what's funny, he only shakes his head.

"You're telling me you actually thought of saying something nice to me? Out of the goodness of your heart, even though you're The Grinch?"

"So what if I am?" Her voice is a bit stern now, her body temperature on the rise.

"You hate me!"

"Who says I hate you!"

"Oh, so you think that since you ambushed me in my home and made out with me and I didn't kick you out that everything's all okay? That I'm magically going to just like you? You're even more delusional than I thought."

"Wh—"

"You can't seduce me into liking you! Whatever mind-trick you're trying to play on me, I'm not falling for it."

"You ever think maybe I feel bad for doing that to you?" she asks, taking a step closer. "That I might spend every day thinking I've totally destroyed any chance I had at making you think I'm not really this horrible, shitty person?"

"Why should I believe you?"

"Oh, please! You're telling me you have faith in someone you've never actually seen, but you won't have faith in me?"

The way she says it, her voice nearly breaking and her eyes wide with desperation, makes him take a step back. He studies her for a moment, the air between them thick with this tension he's been trying to ignore since Halloween.

He'd be lying if he said he wished she wouldn't show up with more of her antics, giving him an excuse to stay and fight with her once again, and here he is, getting his wish. Though, he sees something in her that shows less of a game and more sincerity. It's a bit perplexing, but quite honestly a nice change of pace— one that may or may not have his insides growing regrettably warm.

But he doesn't want to do anything about it. Not right now, at least. If she's truly apologizing for what happened and trying to be nice, he should at the very least return the favor.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck. "It... was a nice gesture, you coming over like this. I shouldn't have assumed the worst right away."

The way her eyes light back up and a small smirk starts to grow on her lips has him adding on rather quickly, "But to be fair, you don't really give me many reasons not to."

She laughs then, playing with her thumbs. "Yeah, that's... That's fair..."

Maybe Caleb could have ignored the low simmer in his belly at the way her eyes peek out beneath long lashes at him, but she's right there, their friendship (if you can even really call it that) is in a fairly non-lethal place, and if there's any time to fall under her charms, now would certainly be the nicest one.

The smarter part of his brain is telling him to say, "Goodnight," and turn her away on good terms, but the bigger part that's been through three marriages and too many not-so-Christian thoughts about many women in-between (and even during, let's be honest) can't seem to let her go just yet.

So his voice comes out asking her warmly to come inside, and the way she looks at him is suspecting.

"Why, so you can ambush me?" her words are teasing, and so is her tone, but mostly it's teeming with the same warmth that his had held just seconds before.

"Maybe..." he says, and that's when he knows there's no turning back. The look in her eyes is too enticing, too eager for him that it's impossible to turn her away now.

He reaches for her hand and pulls her inside, where the smell of some type of mint attacks her nostrils. It's not peppermint or spearmint, but it's pleasant all the same. The gentle hum of Christmas music acts as a background to the main event, a joyful soundtrack to more sinful activities.

He's more forthcoming this time around, confidently pressing her back to the door as his lips lean into hers and kiss her with purpose. He's less hesitant—less guilty in the moment, she observes—and she likes it. It's in the way he glides his tongue over hers, how his hand expertly unties the front of her coat with no fumbles or frustrations.

She chuckles when the coat finally comes loose and slides down her body, onto the floor at their feet. Caleb pulls away and looks down between them to see what she'd hidden underneath. It calls out to him in the form of green and red lace, glitter, and two small bows that sit pretty on her chest, hardly concealing anything, but enough to quicken his pulse and desire to peel it away.

"Ohhh, you whore..." he grumbles, pressing his forehead to hers and cautiously gliding his hands over her arms.

She laughs, nudging his nose with her own before purring, "You're one to talk... Looks like you fell for it..."

There isn't anything else he can think to do but groan and kiss her out of frustration. It is too late to take it all back, after all, and by this point he'd never get rid of the heat he feels for her even if he did.

She returns his kisses, meeting his tongue with sweet avidity and matching the pressure just perfectly. It's strange, and a little concerning to Caleb, just how well they meld together, like it's what they've always been meant to do. The heat of the moment might just be filling his brain with these blasphemous thoughts, but it feels true as ever, especially as his hips involuntarily press against her own and he welcomes the reaction she has— A whimper and the squeezing of her hands as they sit over the curve of his ass.

They slide up a bit then as her lips break away and travel to the column of his throat. Pretty soon, at the mercy of manicured, nimble fingers, the buckle of his belt is coming undone, and the sound more than anything else is what breaks through his clouded thoughts.

"We... We still can't..."

She sighs over his skin before she kisses him again, her fingers slipping under the band of his pants while she whispers against his mouth, "Loophole."

Ah, yes. His favorite word as of late.

The two of them have only found themselves in a position like this once before, but it's pretty clear now that once is all it takes to catch on to the rules.

Her body shifts downwards, her touch following and leaving a thin blanket of shivers in their wake. As she starts tugging down his pants, he wishes she'd turned them around first, so that he might be able to use the door as an anchor when she inevitably starts to unravel him.

It seems she can guess what he's thinking (because of course she can), a smirk creeping up on her lips. Her face is dangerously close to the bulge in his underwear, her breath hot even through the material. "Stand still for me, okay? Or..." She presses her lips to the tip of his cock through navy fabric, feeling him twitch. "...are you gonna be a naughty boy this year...?"

He decides then that he's going to close his eyes very tightly and just stand there, not even looking down to see her. Otherwise, all it'll do is give her ammunition to tease him, and as fun as that can be, his ego doesn't want to lose. Not now, not again.

So even when she tugs down the final barrier between them and moans deliciously as she licks up the length of him, Caleb stands his ground and crosses his arms over his chest so tightly it feels hard to breathe. He focuses on the harmonies thrumming through the speakers behind him, hoping to find some sort of distraction while his neighbor swirls her tongue over the tip of his cock and holds onto his ankles for leverage.

It works for a little bit, but she must have realized at some point that all she's doing is tasting his dick and merely hoping to break him. He's not even looking down at her. Half the fun of doing this with him is seeing him lose every semblance of control and restraint in his being. Seeing him visibly guilty at the things he's willing to let her get away with.

So she gets messy, opening her mouth all the way and bobbing forward to get him to the back of her throat. Still, without using her hands, she rocks back and forth, bobbing along his length and gagging and moaning to her hearts content. Maybe it's overexaggerated, but that's what she wants. He did call her a whore, after all, so why not play into it?

She looks up at him while holding herself forward, slacking her jaw just as a groan leaves his chest. He's biting his lip so hard, she wonders if he'll draw blood. His skin is flushed, his body stiff and tense, and she knows he's getting closer to breaking.

Her disadvantage comes from lack of words, so she draws away from him and uses her hand to jerk him off while she near-whines, "You don't look like you're having fun..."

His throat moves, but he stands still all the same, refusing to budge.

"Don't you want to open your eyes? To see me sitting pretty while I play with your cock?"

It's not so much the words themselves, but the fact that she's talking at all, spewing filth like it’s second nature. He supposes that's been her plan the whole time, but at this point he's too wound up to care, too frustrated at the lack of attention she's giving the sensitive tip of him. The sooner he gets off, the sooner they can move on, and so he huffs, opens his eyes, and looks down at her.

The smile he expects to appear on her face never comes. Instead, she hums with approval and blinks up at him, removing her hand and taking him in her mouth again. Only this time, her lips carefully attach to just the tip of him. She bats her eyelashes and flicks her tongue along the slit, almost like she's egging him on, encouraging him to take control.

The word loophole replays in his mind, and in an instant, his arms go uncrossed and he falls forward, reaching out to rest his hands on the door. Subsequently, Y/N gets a throat-full of his cock, and she chokes, moving her head back only slightly to catch her breath. But she's obviously pleased with this move, because she continues blowing him with short, concise movements that have him hitting the back of her throat nearly every time.

By now Caleb's lost all control, grunting out as his stomach tenses and his knuckles go white. He comes sharply, and the woman on her knees takes it all down, moaning contentedly and trailing her fingers kindly along the inside of his thighs as if to say, "Atta boy..."

As soon as he's given it all he has, he pulls back and goes for his pants, quietly getting re-dressed and avoiding his neighbor's eyes.

She grins, though, getting up off her knees and sliding her panties down her legs in one swift motion.

"Tell me... What's your favorite prayer?"

Still high off the rush of endorphins to his brain, Caleb raises a lazy eyebrow. "What?"

She takes a few slow steps toward him, stepping out of the undergarment as she goes along. "Your favorite prayer... Would you mind reciting it for me?" Her hand snakes over his chest and lands on his shoulder, putting a little pressure on it as she tilts her head up to meet his gaze. "On your knees?"

His eyes widen at her request, knowing full well what she's about to do. It should disgust him, send him into a scolding as he kicks her out of his apartment and threatens to call the police if she bothers him again. It should anger him to the depths of his very being, and yet, all he can think to do is obey, dropping slowly to his knees and looking up at her with all the desire he's ever harbored in his whole God-given life.

Y/N's finger comes down and tilts his chin up, adjusting his face so she can get to him at a good angle, and he swallows.

"Pray for me, baby..."

She only lets him get out a couple words, a hushed and shaky, "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name..." before raking her fingers through his hair and sliding herself over his mouth.

His lips are moving just barely, like they're afraid to betray him and get distracted by the fruit at their surface. Luckily though, she's counted on this. So she keeps the grip in his hair steady as she rolls her hips and moves of her own accord. She's pleased him, and now she's going to please herself, getting off not only on the friction beneath her but on the notion that he's completely at her mercy, probably questioning just about everything there is to question.

Tiny groans and whimpers escape her the longer she moves, and as far as she can tell, his lips are still moving. Whether he's actually still praying or not is beyond her, but he hasn't pushed her off or tried to stop it from happening, so she couldn't really care either way. All she knows for sure is that his tongue will dart out from time to time, catching on her clit, and it brings her closer to the edge every time.

Her ministrations get more frantic the nearer orgasm approaches, and by now her curses and cries are drowning out anything he may be saying. She can't even hear the Christmas music anymore, only the sound of her own voice calling out to Caleb, praising him for being nothing but a vessel for her own pleasure.

A low groan sounds from beneath her as she comes, making her smile as she calls out his name in the most devilish way possible.

And then she's loosening the grip in his hair and he's retreating quickly, leaning his body and falling back on his hands.

She looks down at him with a satisfied grin, stepping back and taking in the image of his heaving chest, blown brown eyes, and a small dark patch on the front of his pants.

"Ahh," she drawls with a laugh. "So that's what that sound was... Did I make you come again?"

He'd find a way to tell her to stop asking questions she obviously already knows the answer to, to tell her he doesn't appreciate her making a fool of him, but for one thing, he's lost the fight in him, and for another, she already has.

The worst part is that he doesn't even feel anger. All he knows is the taste of her cunt on his tongue and the warmth of his lust blooming through his lower half. Maybe after the high has worn off he'll come to his senses, but this isn't even like the last time. Now he knows he's well and truly fucked. Would God even begin to know how to save him now?

Probably not. If He had, perhaps Caleb would have had the strength to resist her in the first place.

In another show of irritating kindness, she reaches her hand out to help him off the floor, and in turn he grabs her coat on the way up with the other. She grabs it with a smile, throwing it on and tying it tightly around her waist.

"I did mean it, you know," she says with a shrug. "This time of year always sucks for me, but... It was nice knowing someone still cared enough to leave me a pamphlet or two."

"Yeah, well... I only ever did it to annoy you..." he admits lightly.

Her laugh is bright and joyful, and he hates that he likes it. "Yeah, I know... But that's what I mean. I've grown to love that you care about me enough to wanna annoy me."

It could be the word "love," or perhaps even just the genuine smile on her face as she confesses this to him, but... God if it doesn't make his heart race.

What the fuck is this? he thinks as she turns to leave.

Before she does, though, she turns around, winking at him. "Don't ever stop."

The soft click of the door as she leaves him alone is what finally gets Caleb to take a proper breath, but the sight of her underwear still laying there—bright white in contrast with the dark wooden boards beneath it—nearly takes it away again.

He's going to have to throw them out.

Or burn them...

But for now, on the off-chance that his provocative across-the-hall neighbor might stop by and ask for them back, most likely resulting in another rendezvous, he decides to tuck them away in the top drawer of his dresser, right next to his Bible, where his favorite prayer is written on the front inside cover in red ink.

And coincidently, it isn't the one he tried (and failed) to recite earlier when she asked.

Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen.

———

TAGLIST: (tags not working are struck out)

@starrylang @xoxospencerreid @mrsobrien888 @awesomebooklover17 @yourmisosoup @gubswh0re @big-galaxy-chaos @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @umbreonwolfy @hotchandspenceraredilfs @spencerreidsmommy @abby2661 @youabitchhhh @reidsbabe @shemarmooresfedora @donald4spiderman @moonlight-2-6 @chaoticcatie @flipperpenguins @muffin-cup @centiaaa @foreveryoungxx3

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

#caleb sullivan #caleb sullivan x reader #caleb trash fire #mgg characters #mgg smut

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bluemoondust · 4 years ago

Note

Hi um if you’re not busy could you maybe do izuru, nagito, and kokichi doing “it” with the reader and then the reader moans out someone else’s name. Sorry if I’m bothering you

✧Calling Out Someone Else's Name — Kamakura, Komaeda, Ouma✧

Oh no, you're not bothering me at all anon! I am happy to do this request for you! Hope you enjoy! Also note, Izuru is a really complex character and just oof,,, well not complex, just very void so I hope I managed to do some justice for his character!

Warning(s): 18+ content under the cut! (MINORS DNI), Implied noncon/dubcon (mostly on Izuru's part), Hair Pulling, Possessive Behavior, Delusional Mindset

✧Kamakura Izuru✧

"Ah."

You swear that for a split second Izuru flinched ever so slightly from what he had heard. But... That quickly was pushed to the side as he comes to the conclusion that, of course, you only did that because of the feelings you hold for whoever that person is. Normally, this would cause anguish and anger if their partner were to do something like this, but this whole situation wasn't normal at all. In fact, Izuru could care less that you did this. He'll let it slide for now. If this person was someone who doesn't possess a talent... He will give his criticism as he decides to go a bit rougher.

To be honest, it would take a lot to even get Izuru to be in this sort of position; having sex with you, that is. Upon taking you, he had made it his own little goal to see what you'd do in different situations. All he wants is some form of unpredictability from you, that you had shown him before. Even if it's not something you're comfortable with. It did, in fact, catch him a bit off guard that you moaned out someone's name. However, it faded away after he looked at your face again.

"I wonder if you had done this to spite me or you genuinely have someone dear to you. If it's the latter, I suggest removing their name and existence from your memories. They'll never amount to anything to you."

✧Komaeda Nagito✧

"I,,, I must be mistaken,,, but, ah, you said my name, right?"

Completely and utterly deludes himself into believing you actually moaned out his name instead of whatever filthy speck of dirt's name you spoke of just now. Of course, he doesn't quite deem himself worthy of you, but Nagito just can't help himself to only want your eyes on him. So he goes out of his way to lie to himself that you love him to the point you'd moan his name. Oh, how wonderful that your relationship has come this far!

Nagito tries to coax you to doing so again (this time, his name though), a lovestruck smile on his face as he picks up his pace. God, he loved you so much it hurt. But what is love without a little pain? There's absolutely no way you'd say that person's name. They're nothing to you. They could never make you squirm and writhe in pleasure like he did. Although he does not see much in himself, he can proudly state that his devotion to you is much stronger than what life can throw at him.

"Mhm~ I love you so much my hope. I can't believe you'd ever speak my name out like this. A person like me... My name shouldn't taint your lips, but God... Does it feel so much like a blessing!"

✧Ouma Kokichi✧

"Care to repeat that?~"

That should have sounded more playful than it intended to be, but it came off as a threat instead as Kokichi grabbed at your hair. He gives a firm tug as the smile on his face doesn't budge, but there was malice under it. This was something he couldn't just leave alone. All he wants is for you to repeat what you said, that's all. Tell him the filthy piece of trash's name so he can remember it for later purposes. Kokichi is very much upset with this whole thing and it's evident when he edges you till you cry.

He's teasing you as he denies your orgasm, cooing how cute you are. It's all okay, just scream out Kokichi's name and he might be nicer. Thing is, he won't punish you too bad. Most of his anger is towards the person whose name you moaned out. Who the hell do they think they were, trying to worm their way into your head? You don't belong to them, you're his! Kokichi's darling! He'll just have to take care of this inconvenience.

"Say Y/N~ Who is it that you belong to? Come oooon, say it~ I better not hear that scumbag's name or else you won't get to cum. Nihihi~ We both know who you truly belong to. So don't forget it, okay?"

#yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere danganronpa #yandere danganronpa x reader #yandere izuru kamakura #yandere nagito komaeda #yandere kokichi ouma #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #☆bittersweet.sins☆

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

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Begone

Streamer Gang & Asexual Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Acephobia, Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently come out as asexual, Y/N faces some less than pleasant or appropriate responses in their chat during their stream with the gang. Luckily, they’re not alone in battling the haters this time.

Requested by the lovely Anon who told acephobes to begone, yeah you know who you are hehe. Thank you so much for the request darling! Let’s show these acehobes who they’re messing with! Love, Vy ❤

Boy is this nerve-wrecking or what? Sure, I maybe woke up with a ton of confidence, I listened to motivational and uplifting talks and listened to mood boosting music. I had a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee. Damn it, I went on a run, all in an attempt to convince myself that dealing with the online world again is but a piece of cake for a badass like me. Well, low and behold, that feeling didn’t last very long. Here I am, chewing my nails off at the though of hopping in the Discord call and Among Us lobby with my friends and starting my stream. It’s not like I’m not expecting my friends and fans to support me - of course I am! I know they’re gonna give me a ton of love and appreciation and support and uplift me no matter what. But then again, there’s still those people who believe me and other people like me to be invalid and broken and whatnot.

Those are the ones I wanna avoid.

It’s not like their words mean much to me but I simply don’t wanna see em, you know? It’s not only about me - it’s least about me actually - it’s more about all those wonderful people they are insulting when they say shit like that about asexuals and all the people on the ace spectrum. I can’t help but flare up and get angry on the behalf of all my ace friends and even people I’ve never met.

It’s also my first time being directly thrown into the fire instead of getting caught in the crossfire seeing as how I came out to my fandom via a tweet and an Instagram post a week ago, telling my identity’s truth: finally bringing my asexuality to the surface to shine its brightest so I can be be my best and reach for my full potential.

But damn am I afraid to see how everyone took it.

My friends were quick to jump in and take me offline before I start refreshing my own posts to see the comments under them. Lord knows that without them I would’ve driven myself insane, I’ll forever be grateful for what they did and the lengths they went to to keep me offline and whatnot. One word to give you an idea of how invested they were in this: origami. All of us might as well have been born with two left hands and yet we still tried doing origami. Freaking origami.

Damn do I love my friends.

But now I don’t have sheets of paper and my friends to distract me. I have a fanbase to entertain and another friend group I haven’t talked to in a while. I don’t wanna get any predictions in already so I don’t jinx myself, so I’m just gonna say it’s gonna be...interesting regardless of what happens.

Then again, when is it not interesting when the streamer gang’s involved.

Deep breaths, Y/N. You got this

Listening to that encouraging little voice inside my head, I finally equip my headphones and in one fluid motion turn my camera on, officially starting my stream and unmuting my mic as I hop in the call with everyone.

“Hi guys! Guess who’s returned!“ I exclaim cheerfully, desperate to hide the nervousness of my voice.

“You really missed your opportunity to say ‘guess who’s back...back again’ didn’t you?“ Charlie is the one who greets me first, sounding rather disappointed in me in his usual jokester manner. It’s nice to hear, it makes me feel like nothing’s changed in the week I’ve been gone. Like I’m still the same person to these people. I really am the same, I just now am a lot better version of myself. Almost as though I’ve reached my final form. It feels empowering really. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Charlie laughs again, “Congrats, by the way. You keep proving you can get cooler and cooler.“

“Careful there Charlie, I can only handle so large of an ego.“ I joke back, rolling my eyes playfully as a wide grin spreads across my face, “No, but seriously, thank you so much, man. It means the world to me that you support me.“

“Um, how could we NOT?“ That’s very clearly Rae, “Hun, you are so brave and amazing and wonderful, how could we ever NOT support you?“

“Yeah, we’ll always support you no matter what, Y/N. We’ll always be your friends, through thick, thin and beyond.“ Poki too interferes, her words only making my smile wider.

“Alright, alright, y’all are gonna make me cry and I haven’t even read my chat yet, hold on.“ I say, fanning my face to dry the tears I hope the webcam isn’t spotting, “Darn, you guys are the best. Sorry, give me a sec to gather my composure, I’ll be right back.“

I quickly mute my in-game mic as I turn to my chat where I see the same amount of love and support in the form of comments and emojis flooding in from my viewers. A warm feeling spreads throughout my chest, making me feel the most comfortable with myself I’ve ever felt. The most loved I’ve ever felt. The most seen and understood. To finally be you feels like you are finally really living in this world, not like you’ve been already living in it for God knows how long. It makes me so freaking happy and fulfilled to finally be living as me, as the real me.

Unfortunately, in life, nothing can be 100% pure and good. There’s always at least 1% there threatening to ruin all your happiness you worked so hard to build or obtain. It may be one in a hundred, but fuck it’s powerful and effective.

And in my case it comes in the form of two comments that stick out to my eyes. Acephobic comments saying my identity’s fake, claiming I’m faking it, saying us acephobes are immature creatures who refuse to grow up, or attention whores. Or just saying we’re delusional and in denial, confused about who we are.

I hadn’t even realized I was clenching my jaw and fists but when I do, I slowly relax my muscles and crack my knuckles before addressing the two people who spat out that nonsense.

“Ok, listen here, shooterpro69 and yourmom_lol. For starters, I want to apologize for your ignorance and lack of education on the matter of asexuality. In fact, for you especially, I plan on making an educational video, explaining asexuality to people who need or want to learn more. You, my friends, are in desperate need to be fed some knowledge cause damn, God knows how many people secretly think you’re hella stupid. Not that they’re wrong to think so but anyway. Unless you have anything nice or positive to say, begone from my chat. Actually, when I think about it, begone from every chat. No one needs you polluting their communities with acephobia and hate.“ I say, all spoken in a calm tone despite the boiling anger within me. People who know me well would probably be able to tell I’m fuming underneath the calm façade, but at least I got my message across loud and clear.

“WOO HOO, You tell em Y/N!“ Toast cheers, clapping his hands and whistling as more cheering arises from each my friends, leaving me in a state of mild shock and confusion.

Wait, what?!

“Um, wait, you guys heard that?“ I ask, my eyes darting to thein-game mic symbol that shows an not crossed-off mic, meaning it was enabled during the entirety of my speech.

“Hell yeah we did! You slayed them, Y/N! Damn goddamn!“ Rae whistles too, her enthusiasm wafting over me like a breath of fresh air.

“I second that!“ Corpse joins in, “And remember what we said - we’ll support you through anything. Need to bury an acephobe’s body, we’re the people you should call.” He says, confident as heck.

And I just can’t hold it in anymore - I burst out laughing, doubling over from the intensity.

If I thought I was happy and fulfilled before, this has to be the closest to paradise I’m gonna get on Earth. All thanks to these wonderful people. Friends are really something else aren’t they: they come into your life - often unexpectedly - and change it completely. Suddenly you’re not alone, you’re not forced to deal with everything and face everything on your own. Someone’s got your back and you’ve got theirs.

Through thick, thin and beyond.

And it’s so fucking amazing.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse @sunnyrae-cessh @ladykxxx08 @meowiemari

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dreamywriterinthedark · 4 years ago

Text

Losing you pt III: Picking up the pieces

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Category: angst, slight fluff.

Resume: Reader struggles to get over a traumatic experience and isolates themselves. They have an outburst, Spencer finds them in the middle of it and offers a helping hand.

Trigger warnings: death, blood, trauma, anger issues, alcohol (please let me know of something was forgotten)

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this series. Let me know if you like it or what you would like to see. This is what would’ve happened if Linda Barnes was leader of the team. I’m guessing this is a bit of homage to Elle who deserved better. I would love to hear your feedback and whether you want a fourth part. Thanks <3

You slipped off your blind fold, your calmness was interrupted by the broad figure in front of your eyes. The hooded man slowly made his way towards you.

“Please, don’t kill me!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. He looked at you with such viciousness as if he was planning all the horrendous things he was going to do to you in his head. You rose up panting from another hostile episode slapping the light switch of the lamp on your nightstand.

You were on your bed completely exhausted yet wide awake. You could not allow yourself to sleep because every time you did you woke up in sweats due hallucinations and nightmares. You could not differentiate what was real and what was an illusion anymore. You walked to your kitchen pouring yourself a glass of water, your hands were so shaky you dropped the glass and flenched at the sound. By trying to pick up the pieces you cut your hand, the sight of blood on your hands brought you back to that night when you almost died and your boss hardly bat an eye.

Your vision was getting blurred whether it was your brain making you depersonalise or your tears clouding your view you couldn’t tell. You were uncontrollably sobbing. That’s when it hit you, you needed help. You hated yourself for it, it flet like you were a burden. However, you felt guilt creep in furthermore when you saw your phone light up with all the texts, all the calls you ignored making the team even more worried. You swiped the notification from your 13 missed calls making your phone call Spencer. You felt a rush go through your vein, a rush to abort whatever mission you were on, the rush to flight. The kind of rush that could’ve saved your life.

After two rings you hung up feeling stupid, now wondering if you woke him up for nothing. You slammed your phone on your kitchen counter. The anger levels spiking, overtaking the small amount of rational thoughts in your head. You sighed running your hands through your hair. Completely numb, more and more glass shattered on the floor. Once the energy was in too limited quantity in your body. You grabbed a bottle of wine chugging from it in your bathtub like a child trying to avoid family gatherings. You cried until you were too dehydrated to keep the tears flowing, until your eyes were swollen.

The ring of your doorbell caught your attention. Or was it another cruel hallucination ? You were going to ignore it until you heard it be rung once more. You checked who it was through the lense.

“Shit,” you swore, it was Spencer.

“Open the door, Y/n. I know you’re here.” you rolled your eyes at Spencer’s request your back pressed against the cold steel.

“I’m a mess.” you responded trying to dissuade him to come in.

“Your mess is my mess. I’m your home, remember ?”

You smiled detaching yourself from the door unlocking it. He pressed the handle letting his weight make the door shift open. You were brushing with a broom the glass pieces to the side to allow him to circulate safely in your apartment. He saw the blood on your floor, the bandage on your hand; he solved the puzzle himself. You turned to him, no words were needed, he saw the look in your eyes. He cupped the back of your head with one of his hands and wrapped his arm around your torso carefully, gently as if you were as fragile as fine china. You wrapped your arms around his waist breathing in his scent. He pulled away, both hands at the side of your head.

“I want to be that person you can tell anything to. The good and the bad.”

You looked up at him. “Barnes is considering suspending me because I did not follow his orders. Spencer, I had no choice…” he could hear your heart break in your voice.

“She’s not allowed to do this.” He informed you.

“She’s not ?” He nodded in response.

“She violated protocole in the first place by using governmental fund for a case too personal to him. He got his proof only by putting you in a position of danger when she needed it to act. Like you said you had no other choice. I’ve done it before, I was never reprimanded me.”

“Yeah cause you’re a man. If a man kills a rapist, he’s a hero but if a woman does it, she’s a cold-blooded crazy murderer. Gosh, I miss Emily.”

“Talk about double standards.” Spencer said, “You know, she misses you too, we all do.”

“I doubt it, honestly. I was so determined to get her validation it almost cost me my life. Maybe I should just let her know how I feel.”

“Yeah, you definitely should.”

“But what am I even gonna say to her ? What if she’s right ? What if I’m actually delusional or dangerous ?”

“Hey, hey, Y/n. Slow down.”

“Please talk some sense to me. It’s like I’m going out of my mind!”

“It wasn’t your fault. It was legitimate defence. I saw it, the whole team saw it and has your back.” he reassured you, his face closer to yours.

“Should I write her a-“

“No, you’re not doing anything tonight.” He interrupted you. “Just go take a shower then we can talk about it. Sounds good ?” you nodded to respond to him which he, as usual didn’t mind even after going on an endless monologue.

While you were in the shower, he cleaned up the mess your anger made. Once you were done, you sat down on your matcha green sofa watching the sunrise. “It’s already 4am ?! I’m so sorry for keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a night owl anyways so it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Did you know that falling asleep late is linked with a high IQ ?” he said making his way to you with two cups of tea.

“Then I must be a genius.” you answered half jokingly. “Oh thank you.” you took hold of the warm but not steamy cup in your hands. You remembered Spencer once telling you that the reason why so many dislike tea is because they think it tastes like dirt, it’s not supposed taste like that, see, if the water is burning hot it’s going to burn the leaves and speed the infusion process making it too concentrated. You turned to look at him, he was already looking.

“Sometimes I wonder how you can put up with me.”

“Because I love you.” He never failed to remind you how much he loves you even especially on your worst days. You explained what had been going on, he debunked and dismantled every question pending in you head, every lie your brain told you. It felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. For the first time in a while, you felt safe in your own home. Instead of your alarm clock, the sound of the birds were ringing in you ears. You both agreed to go talk to Barnes to solve whatever the problem was that morning. “I’m not going down without a fight, especially not when it comes to that bitch!” Spencer boldly commented to your surprise. You weren’t healed just yet but at least you got out and socialised. At least you opened up to someone you could trust.

You stepped out of the elevator one hand holding coffee, the other holding your boyfriend’s hand. Everyone walked up to you giving you a hug and greeting you. Penelope was so enthusiastic it was overwhelming.

“Long time no see,” commented Luke. “You too,” you hugged him back.

“What happened to your hand ?” asked JJ.

“I dropped a glass.” you nervously responded, you were telling the truth…at least part of it.

“Welcome back!” said Tara squeezing an embrace as well.

“Oh I don’t know about that just yet.” you said to her.

“We need to talk to Barnes first.” added Spencer.

“Whatever happens, we’re with you, Y/n” said Garcia. The others agreed, it felt good to be supported, so much you regret isolating yourself for so long.

Silence made its way into a conversation that was once filled by joy. You threw your coffee in the trash can before turning your body towards his office. Spencer, resting his hand on your back, asked “Are you ready, darling ?” You took in a deep breath sharply, nodding your head yes without taking your gaze off the door.

#criminal minds #fluff #imagine #spencer #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fluff #angst #y/n #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer x y/n #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #cbs #fbi cbs #emotional

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darkstarnight02 · 3 years ago

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Why the Akuma Class Doesn’t Trusts Lila Rossi

Nino

This dude is a loyal friend

Like, he’s also a loyal boyfriend, so it’s hard when his girlfriend is siding with Lila

But he’s the one who’s like

“Dudes, we’ve known Mari for years there’s no way she would do the stuff this new girl we’ve known for five minutes says she did.”

He and Kim and Mari were besties since preschool, I think we all know that.

Adrien

I hate it when people say he tries to defend her with the high road crap

When he sees her hurting people, especially Marinette

Because lets be honest, he cares about her alot

He’s less forgiven

Like do y’all remember the “BeCaUsE We’Re FrIeNdS, aReN’t We?”

So he’s not going to try and make her life miserable

But he is going to try to get her to stop

Chloé

Let’s be honest, she never liked Lila in the first place.

So Imma give y’all bonus “how she figured out everyone’s identities”

So once she became friends with Marinette

Cause they formed a “we hate Lie-la” alliance

(tho since Mari’s still friends with the others its kinda awkward)

Chloe’s pretty smart.

Like, she totally could have figured it out before they became friends

But she would never have believed back then that Mari-trash was Ladybug, her idol (and lesbian awakening, lesbihonest)

But now that she’s friends with her, it’s way too obvious

And she definitely already knew about Adrien because these guys are besties

And, dudes, she never had a crush on him, she was just an overprotective best friend

And a very touchy one

To her, it’s all pretty obvious.

She thinks that its just whatever magic thats blinding everyone of the obvious, its immune to (like low-key Rachel Dare here)

But Sabine, Tom, and Jagged probably know to because they’re all Kings and Queens.

So Chloe figures everyone out pretty quickly.

Sabrina

She trust Chloe more than anyone.

But I’m not just gonna use that because its kinda boring.

Tho Chloe is her bi crush so that definitely helps secure loyalties

Its only when Marinette becomes MDC that she realizes

and yes, Sabrina probably knows because Chloe and she also recognizes the designs from some stuff she has in her own closet.

So anyway, she realizes Mari is MDC and she’s some famous designer and Lila is not

And Mari also knows Jagged and Clara and a whole bunch of other famous people

And she never brags about it but there’s proof that she knows them

while Lila always brags about it but she’s never been mentioned and no one knows her.

Alya

I hate it when people say she totally sides with Lila.

This girl knows that her bestie never lies(or at least thinks)

and some things with Lila don’t add up.

Like she doesn’t check directly if what Lila says is true

But she’ll be doing research for something else and see’s that it contradicts something that Lila said.

So she’ll do more research and try to figure more stuff out

And she’s like holy f*ck nothing Lila says is true.

Or, alternatively, for those of you who have watched season 4

She immediately realizes Lila’s a liar right after Marinette tells her she’s Ladybug.

Marinette

No explanation needed.

Mylène

Mylene notices when Lila insults one of her classmates one day.

Even if its subtle, or just piping on the edge of her blaming Marinette for something, she notices it.

And a good person wouldn’t say something like that,

Like Chloe, they all expect something like that from

No one every really liked Chloe in the first place

And Mari never says anything rude

Sure, she gets angry at Chloe and Lila sometimes, and she tries to prove what they say is wrong, but she never directly attacks someone.

I don’t know who Lila was being a bitch to this time, but it cost her a follower.

Alix

This girl is probably one of the most Gen Z kids in the Akuma Class, which is pretty sad because they’re all supposed to be Gen Z.

She can smell bullcrap from a mile away

Not to mention the little hints older Bunnyx drops whenever she visits.

With the mix of her being the future miraculous holder of time and being the daughter of a historian, she’s very aware of history and timelines and cause and effects and chain reactions

So when Marinette starts ‘acting up’ she tries to find when her personality switched over

And even if she seems more like a background character, this aro/ace queen always seems to know your secrets.

So even before she knew Lila was a phony, she knew that Mari was MDC and that Jagged Stone was Juleka and Luka’s dad

So she definitely figured some stuff out that way

Honestly, next to Chloe, Alix was probably one of the first people to figgure out Mari’s identity.

She’s a detective to rival batman

Ivan

I think Lila would make some sort of rift between him and Mylene.

He loves her so much and it would be so hard

And mari and her friends would help him out

and he would see the truth

They wouldn’t like break up or anything

But he can just tell immediately when someone’s being a bad person.

Kim

Probably something similar to Nino

But I think it’d be a bit more like he’s totally a die-hard fan of some of Marinette’s connections or some of Marinette’s work itself

And when he puts the pieces together its like everything makes sense in the world.

He really feels super stupid afterwards.

Ondine probably slaps him for not trusting his childhood best friend before some bitchy new girl.

Max

This is the smartest dude in class

He made a f*cking robot with emotions you can’t tell me he doesn’t figure Lila out.

A part of me believes that in the first episode with Lila when they were all waiting on her hand and foot they were probably aware that she was kind of delusional, but were giving into it the way you give into the tales of a six year old.

Like ‘yeah, okay sweetie. Sure’.

I mean, at least that’s why Max went along with the napkin thing, because there’s no other excuse for that whole incident.

Nathaniel

I don’t totally know how he figured her out, but I love the idea of her saying that she can introduce him to the creator of the Ladybug Comics.

They actually sit next to each other in class, so he definitely is more aware of her weird behavior than others.

And since he’s an artist he’s very observant, always noticing things like her facial expressions and what seems more exaggerated than real.

And we all know how kwami-damned done Nathaniel is with the class, so he probably knew all along.

Not to mention that since the rest of the school is less submissive to Lila’s lies, Marc probably pointed it out to him at some point.

There’s also the idea that since Nathaniel is pretty much never mentioned anymore, the class forgets about him and he ends up having to spend some time with Marinette and the other outcasts

In which he realizes that they are actually good people.

Honestly, Nathaniel probably knew all along but he’s just not a drama queen about it so Lila never bothered him.

Rose

Girls besties with Prince Ali, one of the key components of Lila’s lies

She definitely does not want to believe that someone is capable of so much evil, and she definitely gets Akumatized when she figures it out

She goes through a lot of denial but is eventually convinced.

Juleka

Her dad is Jagged Stone, also another key component of Lila’s lies.

After becoming Tigris Pourpre, the holder of the tiger miraculous (that’s canon in the future), she gets a little bit more invested in cat culture

And omfg I just realized that both of our models are kittens and I just wanna DIE because that’s so cute.

And honestly now that I’m thinking about it if she was a celebrity she would totally take after Jagged and have an emotional support tiger like Princess Jasmine.

ANYWAY, I’m kinda getting off topic here.

So she asks Jagged about his cat, and he’s like

“wtf I’ve never had a cat why would I have a cat I have FANG my CROCODILE”

And she’s like but your cat...

And he’s like “Jules, darling, I wrote a song about how I replaced my family with a guitar and I have three instagrams for Fang, why would I have a feline animal?”

And she’s just like

....

And honestly she probably already knew some sh*t was up before that

Because Luka obviously, despite only having met Lila, like, once, probably, dislikes Lila severely

And also Juleka is more of an observer than a do-er so she probably saw that some stuff was up.

#Lila Rossi #Lila Rosi's Lies #Akuma Class #couffaine twins #Kim and Mari and Nino are Childhood Besties #I hate bashing just shut up everyone except Lila and Hawkmoth is awesom

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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More Human Than Human | dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader (Blade Runner AU)

[for @nellblazer‘s eighties-themed challenge! thanks for hosting babe, sorry it’s slightly late!]

warnings: smut (noncon), choking, violence/guns/fighting, degradation, general nastiness. and less importantly, just a shitload of gifs to create ~atmosphere~

word count: 3.5k

Early in the 21st century, the Tyrell Corporation advanced robot evolution into the Nexus phase -- a being virtually identical to a human -- known as a REPLICANT.

The Nexus 6 Replicants were superior in strength and agility, and at least equal in intelligence, to the genetic engineers who created them.

Replicants were used Off-world as slave labor, in the hazardous exploration and colonization of other planets.

After a bloody mutiny by a Nexus 6 combat team in an Off-world colony, Replicants were declared illegal on earth -- under penalty of death.

Special police squads -- BLADE RUNNER Units -- had orders to shoot to kill, upon detection, any trespassing Replicant.

This was not called execution.

This was called retirement.

“Officer Barnes.”

Bucky looked up from his instant ramen, extremely disinterested in interacting with his supervisor but aware that he didn’t have much of a choice.

“New lead on a hideout somewhere beneath the city. One of the females from our favorite renegade crew of Off-world slaves.”

Bucky paused before responding.

“...somewhere?” he mumbled around a mouthful of noodles.

“I’ve already uploaded the coordinates to your vehicle.”

Bucky sighed quickly. “Can I finish this first?” he asked, pointing to the noodles with his chopsticks.

“Intel’s fresh. Let’s get there while it’s still accurate. You know how quick they move.”

“Can’t someone else do it?”

The supervisor cracked a crooked grin, toothy and dirty. Bucky grimaced.

“Come on,” the man suddenly became jovial, though his attempted manipulation was obvious, “you know you’re the best. This has been a tough nut to crack, they’ve killed a lot of people and the other Blade Runners… they don’t have what you have. They’re too green. I need my best guy for this; I need the Winter Soldier.”

“You know I hate that name,” Bucky shook his head, “and I don’t like retiring the newer models. They’re too… smooth. Too real.”

“They’re not real,” the man assured, all friendliness lost from his voice as his impatience took over. “And they’re dangerous. Now get in the damn car and retire the bitch.”

Bucky sighed, tossing his half-finished meal into the trash and clipping his blaster back onto his belt.

The bustling of the city was mostly muted inside the station, but once he stepped outside into the rain, he was bombarded with it all: the damp, wet air; the conversations of everyone passing by, mostly shouted into earpieces in languages he only roughly understood; the smell of exhaust, cigarette smoke, and stir fry cooking at a nearby food stall.

He brushed past the crowds to make his way to the car lot, taking a slightly longer but less crowded route. He was really good at ignoring things in times like this. He ignored the noise that most would’ve found overwhelmingly loud, as well as the misty rain and humid night breeze.

He ignored the shouts of someone in the distance as he got into the car, which turned its own engine as he scanned his badge. The intel blinked onto the screen, informing him of the rogue units and their apparent location. As he confirmed his route, he scrolled through the files. The information was limited, the result of a recent hack on the LAPD’s computer system attempting to prevent exactly what he was doing now: hunting you down.

You navigated through the busy streets as you made your way back home after dinner. You very rarely went out, fearful you would be spotted by someone important, but you had realized after months of hiding that if someone was going to find you, they would have by now.

Peddlers carried bags and baskets of ingredients-- all of them just repurposed and manufactured chemical byproducts-- past you along the sidewalk. The food was the thing you really loved about Earth. Off-world there was only basic, raw protein in bars. You had only recently become aware that there was more to food than sustenance and survival, and even now you couldn’t imagine eating the same thing for every meal despite having done it your entire life.

A lot of concepts were being introduced to you on Earth, in fact. Earth was dirtier than your off-world accommodations. More smoke, more dust. After all, earth was the word for the dirt the planet was covered in. There was no earth, no dirt, in space. That didn’t mean it was clean, of course, but it was cleaner than this. Now you were kicking litter to the side as you moved forward, ignoring strewn pieces of cardboard and scrap metal that gathered at the edges of buildings and roads.

Where space had been empty and cold, Earth was alive but overwhelming. The truth was, you realized now that beauty had come from your experiences off-world. Not that it justified your enslavement, but you had experienced things you figured you never would again: community, for one.

You could hear the dog barking as you opened your door, and he jumped up onto your legs in excitement. It was impossible not to smile with this animal greeting you so excitedly; you understood now why humans liked them enough to keep creating artificial ones, although since you had found this one abandoned in the street, clearly they were manufacturing too many.

Shutting the door behind you, you grabbed the leash you kept draped with your coats, collaring the dog to take him for his last walk of the night. As you left you glanced out your window, jumping up when you saw an LAPD car landing outside your building. He probably wasn’t here for you, right? You decided to take the back way out, but he was already ahead of you.

Down the hallway you saw the figure of a man approaching you. You could tell just by the way he walked that he was a Blade Runner, and your blood went cold. The good thing about your model was that you blended in with humans. You’d only gotten better at it in the past few months. You just hoped you were good enough.

Turning and beginning to walk away, he waved you down and you froze, realizing it was too late to run.

“Is it real?” he asked as he stepped up and you turned to face him; for a second, you didn’t know what he was referring to, but then he looked down to the dog.

You followed his gaze and laughed. “If it was real, don’t you think I’d be living somewhere nicer than this?”

He looked at the door behind you. “So you live here?”

You hesitated, and already he knew that you were going to tell him that you needed to be on your way.

He was a step ahead of you, flashing his badge quickly. “LAPD business.”

“What… is the LAPD’s business with me?” you asked slowly.

“Why don’t you let me in and we’ll talk about it?” he suggested.

“I was just about to walk him--”

“It can wait,” he interrupted sternly, his expression hardening a little. “Won’t take long, leave the dog outside.”

You nodded quickly, tying the leash to a handrail with your shaking hands; you slipped back into the apartment, shutting your door after he followed you in.

“So, officer…”

“Barnes.”

“Right. Officer Barnes. Would you like something to… drink?”

He shook his head, taking a seat at your dining table like he owned the place. He motioned for you to sit across from him as if he owned you, too. You did, because for all intents and purposes in this moment, he did.

The Blade Runner set his weapon on the table slowly.

You swallowed dryly, looking at it before turning your gaze to the window, and the blue-green reflections of the city outside. “It’s time for my retirement, huh?”

In the peripheral of your vision, he nodded.

“Did the others put up a fight?”

He paused before answering, like he was remembering. Remembering the deaths of your friends. “They tried,” he eventually said.

You looked down, taking a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, but I may not answer.”

“Why do you do this?”

“It’s my job.”

“Yes, but, you don’t have to do anything. I was a slave. I really did have to do everything. You have choice; you have an entire life to live. Why would you spend it doing this?”

He laughed a little-- not so much a laugh as a sharp exhale through his nose, like you were delusional, like your opinion was a complete waste of his time.

“Nevermind,” you scoffed, “I know why you do it. You hate us. You think we’re all evil.”

He shook his head. “Machines are like anything: good or bad. If they’re good, they’re not my problem.”

“You think I’m a machine?” you asked incredulously, nodding to his bionic arm. He winced, like he thought you hadn’t noticed, but even a leather jacket and biker gloves couldn’t hide his dirty little secret from you. You were a little too observant for that.

“Lost this arm to one of your kind,” he explained with a scowl.

“I lost everything to your kind,” you hissed.

He smiled a little. “You never had anything to lose. You never had anything.”

“And whose fault is that?”

He shrugged. “Not mine.”

You sighed with exhaustion; humans were all the same. They spent all their lives deflecting blame, shirking responsibility. “My name is--”

“I know your name,” he interrupted firmly. “N6FQB21416.”

You grimaced. “That’s not a name, that’s a serial number.”

“I don’t really give a shit about either. What worries me is the offenses listed in your file.” He cleared his throat as he recalled the list. “Launched a mutiny which killed 14 men. Stole a ship. Illegally trespassed into Earth’s atmosphere. Killed 8 more people in your journey from the port to Los Angeles. And, presumably, you killed whoever was living here and have been squatting in their apartment ever since.”

You’d found it abandoned, actually, but there really wasn’t much point in disputing his claims.

He sighed before he spoke again. “All this over a few more months?”

You looked away, trying not to think about how much time you’d wasted seeking liberation from the built-in expiration on a replicant’s lifespan. It was ingrained in your DNA, you couldn’t stop it. You had been living in denial of this for quite some time now and you preferred to keep it that way.

“You’re going to die either way,” he added coldly, “so why all this violence? All the fighting?”

“Because for now, I’m still alive. To live is to fight.”

“I guess I can agree with that,” he replied gruffly.

With that, you made a run for the living room-- there was a gun under the couch, if you could just reach it in time--

But he was already on you, laughing at your pitiful clawing on the floor.

“Officer Barnes, please--” you begged with the last of your thin breath.

“Call me Bucky,” he instructed as his hand wrapped around your neck.

Your mouth opened to speak, to gasp for air, but it was useless.

“You weren’t a laborer, were you?” he growled, pinning you down. “You were a pleasure unit.”

You ignored his realization, continuing to attempt to fight.

“You’re weak,” he hissed, “I’m amazed you’re even trying. Don’t they train the fight out of you?”

He was right. They had. You’d been trained back into that instinct by the Resistance, but you weren’t made to fight. You weren’t even made to work. Your greatest purpose had always been to simply be beautiful and stay still.

“There are probably thousands just like you, you know. Identical in every way,” he explained coldly. “And you think you’re more human than me? You’re a fucking skinjob.”

“Fuck you,” you strained as his weight knocked the air out of you, your hands clawing fruitlessly for something to grab onto.

“Give into your instincts,” he encouraged as you felt his hands grabbing at the top of your leggings.

What was actually disgusting was that you did, for a moment, relaxing into his grip before your fight renewed again.

“Get off me! I’ll fucking kill you, I swear!” you yelped.

You couldn’t see it, but you felt the business end of his blaster press against your head. You stilled.

“You did this for years,” he reminded you. “What’s one more time?”

“You’re gonna retire me either way,” you hissed.

“Maybe I’ll let you live,” he shrugged.

“You’re a Blade Runner,” you shook your head. “All you know is killing.”

“It’s not killing,” he insisted. “You’re a replicant. All you know is obedience. Stay fucking still.”

You felt his weapon slide against your head a bit as he adjusted to holding it with one hand, the other moving to his belt.

It was humiliatingly easy to slip back into the mindless slave you’d been before. So much work to make you a freedom fighter, and it only took less than a minute to renege on it all.

You felt what must’ve been his cock rubbing near your opening, spreading the wetness he found there. “Fuck, you’re soaking,” he laughed mockingly.

He began to push forward and you thought he might split you in half; you cried out as he groaned with pleasure.

You heard him sigh as he buried himself in you, not moving for a moment and just basking in the feeling. If nothing else, you were thankful for the moment’s reprieve, but you would need a lot longer than he was likely to give if you were going to adjust to his size.

You could stop yourself from whimpering a little when he pulled nearly all the way out, the sound morphing suddenly into a yelp as he thrust forward roughly. His fingers were digging into your shoulder hard enough to bruise-- everything he was doing, he was doing hard enough to bruise. Did it always hurt this much? You couldn’t remember now.

“You’re tight,” he informed you through his teeth, sounding strained. “Almost better than the real thing.”

Tears welled in your eyes, more from his words than the pain at this point; more from being pinned to the floor than why you were pinned to the floor. You didn’t understand the opinion of replicants as ‘fake’. When cut, you bled. When hurt, you cried. Your body was as much flesh and blood as his-- moreso, in fact. You were the real thing, at least to the touch. You knew better than anyone that there was no soul in this body… but the body was real. Just as weak to him as a human would be.

Each movement inside you rocked you forward; you were worried you’d get seasick as you tried to focus on the feeling of the hardwood beneath your fingers and nothing else.

You felt your body begin to truly relax and go limp, and his weight on you lessened when he realized you would submit. “That’s it, just let go,” he encouraged quietly, moving his hands to your hips instead, pulling them up a little to push deeper into you. “Maybe it’d feel good if you let yourself enjoy it.”

Your enjoyment had never really been much of a factor before. You knew how to put on a show for the ones who got off on porn star moans and screams, but it was just for appearances. Even better than that, you knew how to lay there and take it, and that seemed like plenty for today.

He leaned forward and wrapped his hand around your neck, not tightening his grip but rather simply feeling your pulse beneath his fingers. Paradoxically, you felt your inner walls get slicker as they fluttered with pleasure.

“See?” he grinned, moving down until his breath was hot on the back of your neck. “You can like it.”

He fucked you with more vigor then, and you moaned.

“Fuck, you like it rough, don’t you?” he asked as his tone shifted from mocking to deadly serious. “I understand. You’ve done it so many times that this is the only way you can feel anything.”

You snorted out a weak laugh. “I could say the same to you.”

The metal hand, protected by his glove, shoved your face into the ground roughly as he fucked you harder than you’d known was possible. That glove was made of leather, and that leather came from an artificial bull. You realized that he thought of you as no better than that. You wondered if he was right.

“Say that you love it,” he hissed into your ear, pulling your hair roughly.

“I love it,” you answered quickly.

“Say that you love me,” he added with a growl.

“I love you.”

He laughed coldly, grabbing a handful of your ass as he watched himself sink into you, your body accepting him so easily just as your mind had begun to. “How’s it feel to get fucked by a Blade Runner, huh?”

“F-feels good,” you sobbed. “Please, don’t stop…”

“You gonna come? Can you even do that, do they let you?”

You could, though you almost never had. Against everything, a pressure was building in your body that you didn’t know how to stop.

“Bucky,” you groaned, a plea for something that you couldn’t put words to.

“Go ahead, come on my cock,” he permitted flippantly. You didn’t want to do anything he told you to, but somehow he was hitting all the most delicate places inside you. He moved even faster, chasing his own high, just as you reached yours.

Your nails dug into the floor as you came with a strained sob, your body quivering with white-hot shocks until your vision started to get spotty.

“Fuck,” he groaned from behind you, “you’re squeezin’ me, ‘s so tight…”

His words were lost to you; your ears were ringing, and though the height of the feeling had passed, you still felt incredibly sensitive. He showed no signs of stopping. You weren’t sure how much more you could take.

“Please, s-slow down,” you begged, reaching back to try to push him back by his hips. He grabbed your wrist and forced your arm into an awkward position behind your back.

“Don’t get greedy, doll,” he purred, the sarcastic petname making you feel a little nauseous. “I haven’t even come yet; isn’t that what you’re for? To make me feel good?”

You couldn’t answer as he started to choke you again, your sobs cut into silence.

“Don’t worry, ‘m close,” he grunted. “Gonna fill up this wet little cunt. You want it, don’t you?”

You nodded, fighting the numbness creeping into your face.

“Yeah, I know you do. Tell me how bad you want it,” he demanded as he released his grip.

“I want it so bad, Bucky!” you yelped suddenly, voice hoarse and desperate. “Come inside me, please--”

“Fuck!” he groaned one last time. You could feel his cock flexing and throbbing inside you as his movements began to slow, though he didn’t come to a full stop for quite some time. You’d never before been so sure that a man had emptied his entire load into you, but the way Bucky moaned made it undeniable. Even when he slowly pulled out, you still felt so full. And sore.

He sighed with relieved exhaustion, standing up and looking down at you for a second before walking to the other side of the room, finding your record player-- the record was still spinning.

He dropped the needle and smiled a little as the song came on: Sinatra.

“Wow, oldies. Are these yours or did you just find them here?” he asked you, turning back to face you again.

You didn’t answer, scowling at him as you tried to catch your breath.

“You’re still worn out then. Figured you’d be tougher.”

You turned away, pushing yourself off the floor and adjusting your clothes until you were at least mostly put back together.

You glanced to the window but he’d already reattached his weapon to his belt, and you knew he could get it out faster than you could jump through the glass. Not to mention the eight-story drop. As much as you didn’t want to be a slave again, you weren’t ready to be ‘retired,’ whether it be by the Blade Runner’s blaster or your own outrageous escape plan.

When you looked at him again, he was staring at you.

“You’ll give into your obedient instincts quicker next time, I bet,” he announced suddenly. The scary thing was that you weren’t upset by his words, just relieved, because a next time meant however many days until then that you would be spared. “Aren’t you tired of living on the run?”

You were. It hadn’t been so bad when it was you and your team against the world, living together in abandoned buildings and in the outskirts of the country where everything was desert and dry grass. But then you’d split up and tried to lay low, and it was lonely. As twisted as it was, Bucky using you reminded you of a long-forgotten purpose, ingrained deep into your mind… so deep you could never really let it go.

“Are you?” you returned his question, after a long time spent in thought.

“Yes,” he answered after an even longer pause. “But I think you’ll help with that.”

With that, he scooped you up into his arms and began to carry you out the door. “Somebody to come home to will be nice,” he considered wistfully, “even if it’s just for a few more months.”

#dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky headcanons #dark!bucky smut #winter soldier smut #winter soldier non con #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier x y/n #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes smut

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angelasscribbles · 3 years ago

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WIP Wednesday 11.17.21

Ready for this? Or is everyone still sad about the finale? Rest assured, I will continue to churn out content for TRR gang for months, if not years, to come!

I am currently working on four chapters from four different series! See the spoilers below the cut.

Complicated Part 17: Bachelorette Party

“Oh, please. That’s what she gets for being friends with that sniveling, simpering piece of common American trash!” Madeleine snorted derisively.

Cassie barked out a short laugh at that, “You might want to be careful who you’re calling trash, Madi. That American is going to end up being your queen and you’ll wish you had treated her better.”

Now it was Madeleine who laughed, “In what universe? We are two weeks away from the wedding! In case you haven’t been paying attention, I’m going to be queen and my first act will be to ban that bitch from my court!”

“You mean Liam’s court.” Cassie’s voice had gone ice cold.

“Same difference.”

“You know, I never pegged you as delusional Madi.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means I can’t believe you still think that Liam’s going to actually marry you. He’s not. He doesn’t love you and he doesn’t need you anymore. He loves Riley and he would move heaven and earth to protect her!”

“I know!” Madeleine giggled, “That’s what I’m counting on.”

Cassie froze, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

My Best Friend’s Girl Part six (as yet untitled)

By that point, we were spending most of our time together anyway. Hell, I spent more time with her than Liam did. A lot more. Not that I was counting. Ok, maybe I was counting a little. It just didn’t make a lot of sense to me. They barely saw each other; how could they be so sure they were in love?

Hinge: Thanksgiving in Valtoria (this is a very small snippet because I’ve already posted two others, in last week’s WIP Wednesday and in the WIP Game ask.)

“I’m sooooo excited that you made it back in time for Thanksgiving dinner!” Riley gushed.

“Wouldn’t miss it, love.” Liam smiled indulgently as he dropped a kiss on her forehead. Three years together and she still made his heart skip a beat when she smiled at him. He would give her anything, making it home for Thanksgiving dinner was a small thing.

Heir Apparent Ch 3 (as yet untitled), here are two snippets from this upcoming chapter:

The Palace

He closed his eyes and envisioned her holding a newborn wrapped in a blanket made from the finest cashmere, embroidered with the royal crest, him by her side, smiling proudly as the cameras flashed, introducing Cordonia to its newest prince or princess.

It would solve all of his problems. Having broken his engagement to Madeleine, he was under enormous pressure to marry, for the purpose of producing an heir. The problem was, he didn’t want to marry. Or more to the point, the only woman he wanted to marry had married someone else. He couldn’t help it that he still loved her.

Valtoria

“Drake! Are you going to tell me what happened?” She had a sinking feeling she already knew.

She had to run to keep up with him, his strides were longer than hers and he was taking the steps two at a time. By the time she made it to their bedroom, he had already emptied his pockets and was headed for the bathroom.

“Drake! What happened?!” She demanded.

“What the hell do you think happened Campbell?” He snarled as he brushed past her and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door in her face and locking it.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him when he finally emerged from the shower. He walked out, one hand holding the towel around his waist closed, the other combing through his hair. Water droplets still clung to his rock-hard abs and the towel was draped low on his hips, a hint of public hair barely visible. In the moment before he looked up and saw her, his expression was one of distraction, her eyes traced the curve of his cheek, the hard angle of his jaw, the fullness of his lips and her breath caught in her throat.

Then he looked up and caught her eye. She could feel his walls go up as a guarded expression snapped into place and she felt an ache in her heart because she knew it was her fault.

#wip wednesday #my wips #drake x mc #drake walker #trr #liam rys #liam x mc #angelasscribbles #hinge #thanksgiving #my best friend's girl #heir apparent #choices #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance #choices stories you play #cordonia #riley campbell

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wh6res · 4 years ago

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Delusional, 1, 21, Chenle please. I’m not sure if I have to specify the reader’s gender but it’d be great if it was male or gender neutral, thanks! Also, if there was another delusional, 1, 21, Chenle that was me, I forgot to add in the details, sorry.

what friends are for | chenle

synopsis. chenle is done playing nice.

warning. yandere themes, swearing, character death, rip chensung

your family may not be in the same level of wealth from his—the zhongs are damn near considered royalty!—but money never hindered your friendship with the heir. never once paying heed to the nasty side glances thrown your way whenever you're invited to sit at their table during soireés or charity events.

“thank you, really, mr. zhong, but my family—”

“well, bring them over here too! the more the merrier!”

and if there was one thing chenle’s parents liked about you, it was how family-oriented you seem to be. wanting to stick by your older brothers and sisters side. it just so happens that the zhongs treasure that principle the most.

blood is thicker than water.

so it was within these reasons why chenle, for the fucking life of him, doesn’t understand why you let that other brat into your little duo—park jisung wasn’t even in the same social class as the two of you!

you met him during this dance class you attended in downtown seoul. you had begged your mother to attend, and after she obliged, begged chenle to come with you. but no, while you may possess a compassionate nature, not at all minding the status quo, your childhood best friend, however, does not.

“oh, come on, lele. it’ll be fun!”

“i mean—i just don’t see the point of having to drive downtown for dance classes when we can just attend here! the choreographers are more world-renowned than those no-names you’ll meet in downtown.”

oh, how badly he wished he had agreed to come instead. or else you wouldn’t’ve met that middle-class peasant, wouldn’t’ve forced chenle to play nice, to smile through his annoyance as he nodded and waved at the boy you introduced to him.

“hey, i’m park jisung! i’ve heard all about you and your family here in the upper east, by the way. never thought i’d be meeting you, but here we are! let’s be good friends!”

if it weren’t for your sparkling eyes, chenle would’ve spat at the hand the other kid was offering. but instead…

“thanks, i guess? i’m chenle! and sure, i’d love to be friends.”

the agreement was movies after class at chenle’s place—it was what you texted in your little group chat with him and jisung. but when you arrived at the zhong’s estate after finishing up your extracurriculars, their helpers had quickly stated that the young master has yet to come home.

you had turned around to observe the row of cars in the zhong’s front yard, quickly noticing his red tesla is nowhere to be seen.

after bidding a quick goodbye to the butler who had answered the door, you quickly spun in your heels. trekking your way back to your chauffeur pulled up on the circular driveway, annoyance radiating off you.

jisung isn’t even here yet! and it was already fifteen minutes past the scheduled time. he’s hardly ever late.

just as your driver opens his mouth to ask what happened, the obvious frown and distress on your features is enough explanation for him, so he remains quiet as he waits for your instructions.

you pull out your phone to check if you accidentally missed any messages from either of the two boys, quickly finding that no, there wasn’t. no text or calls about sudden changes of plans from either of them.

until your phone chimes. a new message.

jwi-sUng, 6:29PM — yo chenle said lets watch at my dorm instead — see yuh

stupid. it was so stupid of you not to realize the signs. jisung is never late in his entire life, that boy is as punctual as he can get. and he’ll never use words like “yo” or “yuh” because… because, those were chenle’s texting style. and when you came inside jisung’s house, it should’ve struck you why the house is so quiet, why the house didn’t smell like ms. park’s cooking, why it was chenle himself that answered the door.

“ji and i have been waiting for you!” he cheers, slinging an arm over your shoulder before practically dragging you into the house.

“i came to your place and you weren’t there! either of you could’ve sent me a text or some—”

you stop rambling when you see the state of their living room. the couch is torn, the tv’s screen is cracked, porcelain vases smashed into a million pieces, tables overturned. it looks like a storm surged through the whole place and you’re now witnessing the aftermath.

but a storm didn’t do this. not when your eyes have zeroed in on jisung and his mom tied up in the middle of the room, men in suits guarding every window and exit of the house. some of them you’ve seen trailing behind chenle and his parents. the zhong’s bodyguards. brutes with no heart whatsoever, doing whatever the powerful family asks them to do.

“chenle. what… what’s the meaning—”

“i’m done playing nice. all i want is you. all i’ve ever wanted was you.”

he spat like poison as you stand immobile before the scene in front of you. the heir never thought he’d get a kick from seeing your face contorted with fear and confusion. but it did. and he basked in it.

you waited patiently for the punchline. for one of them to say ‘gotcha!’ but when your eyes met jisung’s fearful ones, you knew this wasn’t any sick joke they came up with to prank you. nope. this is as real as the hand chenle uses to push your hair away from your face as he stands before you, breaking the eye contact you have with the dancer.

“oh, come on…” he pouts cutely, looking out of place in a trashed up apartment. “i’m the one that isn’t tied up and you still don’t pay attention to me?”

“chenle, what’s going on?”

he laughs boisterously and you can’t help but wonder how more witch-like it sounded rather than the usual, innocent dolphin’s.

“i have everything i want,” he boldly claims, pacing before you, the cheap fluorescent lights of jisung’s home accentuates the harsh angles of his face. “money’s a given. power, too. with just those two, i can have the whole world at the palm of my hand—”

“let them go.”

you flinch when two burly men in suits start closing in on you from both sides. hands darting forward to grab both of your arms, until chenle gave them a hard stare, to which both retreated immediately. you understood what that look meant. no, not yet.

“geez… at least humor me, why don’t you?”

you don’t answer him.

“right,” he starts again, freezing you in place when he makes a beeline towards the dancer. “i have everything i want. well, used to. until this peasant came and ruined what we already have.”

jisung squirms and when he feels a cold circular barrel nudging the top of his head and his mom looks like she is ready to pass out. cold sweat starts building up in your forehead. you don’t know how you can get the three of you out of the house alive but if playing dumb can prolong your thinking time, then so be it.

“i don’t get it—”

“of course, you don’t!” you flinch, eyes trained on your ex-best friend and the gun he’s holding. “you’ve always been so sheltered, so naive, always hiding behind your older brothers and sisters to even realize what’s happening.”

“lele, please. just drop the gun first, we can all just talk this out—”

“see what i mean? naive!”

your heart shatters at the tiny whimper jisung lets out when the gun digs a little too much against his head.

“ever since you met this brat, you keep dragging him to our hangouts, trying to make him a part of our little party,” the heir explains through gritted teeth as he glares at you. “and you know what makes it worse? park jisung can’t fucking offer you anything other than a mediocre life. is that what you want?”

“jisung’s my friend. he doesn’t have to fucking offer me anything.”

he giggles like a madman. “oh, baby, i don’t think jisung feels the same way you do, though. have you ever seen the way he looks at you?”

and when your eyes flicker down to meet the dancer’s, the truth has never been more obvious when he fails to meet your eyes.

chenle clicks his tongue patronizingly as he pats jisung’s shoulder to feign comfort, before tossing the gun to one of his bodyguards standing behind him. “well, getting friendzoned sucks.”

“this isn’t a fucking joke—”

you yelp in surprise when the heir delivers a swift punch to jisung’s stomach. the boy bending in pain through the makeshift gag tied over his mouth.

“you’re right. it isn’t.”

you force yourself not to cower as chenle menacingly starts to approach you. a stoic expression on his face and you wonder for a moment, when did all of this even started?

“it is no joke that i love you—the one thing that i can’t have, the one thing so close, just an arm’s length away but still feels so far. but not anymore.”

you don’t where you manage to get the confidence nor the courage to blurt out what you were about to say next, but you regretted it all the same.

“this isn’t love. obsession, possessiveness, or infatuation is fucking far from love.”

the two consecutive sounds of a gunshot was deafening to the ears, but the heir supposes nothing can beat your screams as you fought against the arms of his guards, trying to get to the two people lying immobile in their own home.

“doing everything for this one person, is that not one of the criteria to say you love someone?”

chenle ignores the nasty spit you threw that’s dribbling down his expensive shoes. you’ll pay for that, one way or another. but that day is not today.

“jisung was our friend, you psychopath! this is insanity! you’re fucking crazy!”

when you try biting the hand that comes up to caress your face, one of his guards knees you in the gut. chenle wishes you didn’t have to force his hand, didn’t have to do this the hard way, but you leave him with no choice.

“you’re wrong. i’m not crazy—i’m just… in love. i did this out of love, i’m doing this out of love.”

#yandere kpop #yandere nct #yandere chenle

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galadrieljones · 4 years ago

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The Walking Dead: Episode 4.12, “Still” Rewatch

So I rewatched “Still” in honor of the Stilliversary tonight. My thoughts are not related much to Team Delusional stuff, more so just thoughts and idle analysis, but I had fun and definitely did not cry.

Here we go!

Beth is already feeling it, right away, after the trunk scene, ie: what he must think of her. She’s just another “dead girl” who needs to be protected. It is both insulting and embarrassing at the same time.

Daryl misses that squirrel and breaks an arrow! Dammit, Daryl. This is just another trial, but it’s interesting in how we see Daryl in like rote provider mode, and yet he makes a mistake.

The suck-ass camp begins with some Garden of Eden imagery: While Daryl skins and cooks the snake, Beth is admiring the beauty of a ladybug crawling on a leaf. The music is actually full of wonder. Beth sees the beauty in the natural world while Daryl sees it only for what he can use. It is an essential masculine vs. feminine moment, in terms of their individual themes, and what propels them and their actions. Their masculine and feminine energies will be subverted later though, and well-complicated, because the writing is good.

Beth brings up Hershel’s death early: “He’s not exactly around anymore so...” She wants to have a drink, maybe to rebel against her father, maybe to honor his memory, maybe to seal her own fate. It is a complicated choice for Beth. It’s not just some “dumb college bitch” moment. She knows this, but how is she supposed to communicate it to Daryl?

Daryl is like an animal eating that snake while Beth tries to talk to him. Literally, out of body. I imagine being her and just like, Ugh. Gross, dude. Then, when she leaves, Beth totally expects him to come after her. When she doesn’t see him right away, she mutters, “Jerk.” She called him a jerk in season 3, too, after he takes off with Merle. I think Beth is used to being treated nicely by boys. Ofc, Daryl, while he may not be an overt gentleman in his scarfing of that disgusting snake, was there watching her the whole time.

“You wanna spend the rest of our lives staring into a fire and eating mud snakes? Screw that. We might as well do something.”

I sort of missed this before, the mention of “the rest of our lives.” It is a small acknowledgement that they are now “stuck together.” Ofc, Beth’s idea is to “make the most of it,” to go out into and DO something! Embrace the future! Daryl sees only the here, the now, and the past. He would prefer to stay still.

Unrelated but: God, Daryl is peak hot in this episode.

Anyway, so, the state of Pine Vista, and what happened there. Jfc. It’s very ugly and very sad. The Dogtrot seems a reference to a dogtrot house, which is an old Appalachian style home. Basically like two shacks connected via a breezeway. I see some sort of backcountry types having moved in here and tortured the rich folk. There is evidence that “fun” was had. “Rich bitch,” etc. Maybe it’s the same psychopaths who tormented the OG Terminus crew, ultimately turning them into crazy cannibals.

Beth finds the Washington D.C. spoon. Why?? It’s such an odd, pointed shot, with a slow zoom. Is that where we’ll find her? Does anybody else know anything about this?? Anyway maybe this is a TD post lol.

Beth finds that bottle of wine and it’s a shame she has to break it! I remember feeling so bad about that the first time I watched this episode. Like NO BETH YOUR BOOZE!! She uses it to stab the shit out of that walker though, and to defend herself. She’s kind of pissed at Daryl for not helping her, again used to only the kindest of attention from boys. But Daryl isn’t like other boys (lol). He was there the whole time, once again, but he let it play out, because he knew she could do it. I like that her first (almost) drink here sort of has to become a weapon instead. Nothing is ever easy! And sometimes, the environment IS best observed, not in terms of its beauty or promise, but in terms of how its use can best be served to survive.

Tempus Fugit - Time flies! Oh, yes. Yes it does lol.

Daryl and Beth both need to escape their old selves here. Beth with her pretty cloths and Daryl stealing the cash and the jewels. They need to shake that shit off. Burn it all down, if you will. I think this episode we mostly associate with Daryl changing and having his epiphany, but Beth changes, too. She is just quieter at it.

It is 3 o’clock! The grandfather clock is this interesting motif that puts pressure on the situation literally while also bringing the symbolic pressure of time passing, running out, etc. It makes us feel detached from reality, like this is a purgatory episode. I like when The Walking Dead does this, like when they take us to a new place in which we become critically aware that this thing we’re watching is fiction, and by the rules of fiction, anything (ANYTHING) can happen.

“I know you think this is stupid, and it probably is, but I don’t care.” She just is who she is. She doesn’t give a shit what he thinks. I think that attracts Daryl to her in this moment and emboldens him. I think Daryl actually really cares what other people think of him, that he is keenly self-aware in this way. We see this fear manifest as Merle in Chupacabra, ie: that the rest of the group thinks he’s a “freak,” a piece of “redneck trash,” and that they’re all “laughing behind [his] back.” Meanwhile, Beth is just like, “You probably think I’m just some dumb bitch. But guess what, Daryl? I DON’T CARE.”

Beth sitting at that bar trying to clean out glasses: “Who needs a glass?” She clutches the bottle longingly and then cries. I would argue she is thinking of Hershel and the line of questioning that arises in this moment. Should she do this? Is she betraying him? This moment also contradicts what she tells Daryl in 4.1. “I don’t cry anymore Daryl.” This is the moment that breaks him.

Beth keeps trying to make him feel normal, while they’re walking to the shine shack. She thinks he used to be a motorcycle mechanic. But Daryl’s normal is not hers, and he doesn’t really do small talk. In these little moments, we see him being who he is. Daryl is really good at being who he is when who he is revolves around passivity and silence.

They go from country club to moonshine shack. What we see is how a class divide might differ in longevity. A country club full of walkers, made out of humans who turned against each other, every bottle dry in the house vs. an empty shine shack, no death in sight, absolutely full of booze. When societal protections collapse around us, it is the ruthless and the bereft who will know how best to survive. It’s like Beth sad about Daryl, being “made for this world.”

They are trapped! Tropes. So many romantic tropes! Lol at people who would like to ignore that any of this happened or that Bethyl was never canon.

This:

Anyway, I think Daryl is actually pretty mean to Beth toward the end here, out on the porch, like the way he treats her, kind of tugs her around physically. He doesn’t hurt her, but he is not gentle. This puts things into harsh perspective for Beth, as I do think that, while he is not right in how he handles her here, he is right in some ways about who she is. She is not naive but she is used to protection and safety and relying on others, the same way he is used to the opposite of those things. Both of them need to learn how to exist from the other side.

Beth also sees what’s going on, however. I think she also might be used to this sort of quasi-violent, performative, drunken behavior. Her dad was a drunk. I think it’s interesting that so much of this episode hinges on alcohol in Hershel’s wake. I always thought this might be one reason Beth is drawn to and accepting of Daryl. We only really see Hershel while sober (I mean, mostly). We never saw him in his deep element of alcoholism, but Beth did. She is not innocent to vices or men spinning out of control. It’s why Beth responds to Daryl’s whole insane story about the tweaker and Merle with, “You miss him, don’t you?” She doesn’t care that Merle was a degenerate drug addict. He was Daryl’s brother who died. She has loved and lost an addict, too.

Before, Daryl was just “drifting.” In this episode, Beth gives him a quest. I think that’s very important. She also gives him something to look forward to:

“You got away from it.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Maybe you gotta keep on reminding me of it sometimes.”

The hint at their future: “You gotta keep on reminding me,” he says, counting on them staying together. Beth is so kind to him here, too, even doting as she talks about him being the “last man standing.” I can’t imagine a girl has ever treated Daryl like this. I think she scares the living shit out of him.

Daryl suggests they go back into the shine shack, but Beth says they should burn the place down instead. Again, stillness vs. action. See their complimentary traits: Daryl is passive. He needs someone to tell him this is okay. Beth is active. She does what she wants. It is uniquely antithetical to their gender roles and subverts the power dynamic we might otherwise expect from a relationship like this: Daryl is older and a man. Ofc he should be the more aggressive, assertive one. The actor. But he’s not. It’s Beth who makes their choices in this episode. Daryl follows her and protects her along the way.

The ending is so happy. Oh my god. Anyway.

Thank you for humoring me. Happy Stilliversary!! 😭🥺❤️

#the walking dead #bethyl #daryl dixon #beth greene #daryl x beth #4.12 #still #stilliversary #❤️❤️❤️

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elisaphoenix13 · 3 years ago

Text

Delusional (Ch.2)

He wished that he never went to Afghanistan. His brief trip turned into a three month nightmare, which he only escaped because of Scott. His kid was the sole reason he survived and he had been determined to get home. Thanks to Yinsen, he had been able to achieve his freedom, but it was at the cost of the other man's life. Even if he wanted to die to rejoin his family, it still weighed on Tony and gave his determination to get home to Scott a bigger boost.

By some miracle, Rhodey and a team were flying around looking for him in the middle of the desert and he was home within 24 hours. Of course he cleaned up a bit. He knew Scott would be waiting on the tarmac for him and didn't want his kid to see him beaten, bleeding, and bruised. The electromagnet in his chest would be bad enough.

"How is he?" Tony asks as the plane starts it's landing. "How's my kid?"

"Scott was…inconsolable for the first month." Rhodey answers. "Then suddenly, one day, he hunkered down in the lab and hacked everything he could think of to find you. I had to pull a lot of strings to keep him out of trouble...but he helped find you."

Tony nods. "Scotty's a force to be reckoned with. It's a good thing he doesn't like violence or the rest of the world would be in trouble."

"Speaking of, can you please tell him to stop changing the nuclear codes?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. He has the right idea. I should be taking a page out of his book for once."

Once the plane lands, Rhodey helps him to his feet as the ramp lowers, and then down to the tarmac where Happy, Pepper, and Scott are waiting. He saw Scott's disappointed look when Tony refused the gurney they had rolled over, but Tony didn't care. He walked straight over to the younger man and pulled him into a tight hug, sighing with relief. He never took Scott for granted, but he still missed the ridiculous cowlick in his hair and the way he smelled of oranges and...candy? Something told Tony that Scott's diet largely consisted of candy at least in the past few weeks.

"You smell like you could go for a cheeseburger too." Tony finally says and Scott looks at him incredulously.

"You've been missing for three months, assumed dead, and that's the first thing you say to me?" Scott frowns.

"What? You want me to drop to my knees and sob overdramatically about how much I missed you?" Tony asks and Scott makes a face. "Yeah. I didn't think so. So a cheeseburger and a press conference."

"A press conference?" Pepper asks, surprised as she gets in the car with the men. "You should go to the hospital-"

"Cheeseburger. And a press conference." Tony repeats firmly.

He left no room for argument and Pepper eventually relented and called whoever she needed to to get the press conference to happen. In the meantime, Tony wrapped an arm around Scott's shoulders and pulled him close, needing him to stay nearby. He needed the closeness, and for now he needed Scott to stay where he could see him. At least just for now. That was when Scott noticed the faint glow through his shirt and he sat up a little.

"Dad? What's that?" Scott reaches out and unbuttons the first few buttons before Tony can stop him and the younger male stares.

"I'll explain later alright? When we get home."

Fortunately, Scott nodded and let the subject drop and soon enough, Happy was passing a bag of Burger King back to them. Scott barely opened it and handed one to Tony before he was practically inhaling it, so his son decided to hand him his second one before getting his own. Tony was just opening his second one as the car pulled up to the building and Happy gets out and rounds the car to let them out. Everything up to the point of his announcement was a bit of a blur after that. He was tired, he hurt, and honestly he wanted to go home and fall into bed for a couple of days.

Seeing the look on Scott's face though? It made Tony absolutely sure of his decision to shut down the weapons department. They would find a new way for the company to thrive. And Tony was going to take a page from Scott's book like he should have the moment Stark Industries was his.

The Merchant of Death was no more.

======

One of the first things Tony did after he slept for 18 hours was go down to his lab and make an upgraded version of his mini arc reactor. Something more reliable that wasn't made from parts found in a cave and wouldn't remind him of the pain and torture he endured in those three months. It didn't take long for him to finish, but once he got himself hooked up to an EKG and sat himself in a chair, he realized his newest predicament.

His hands were too big.

"JARVIS? Where's Scott?" Tony asks. "Nevermind." He grabs his phone and video calls Scott. When the younger man answers, he sees him eating a sandwich. "Two things. Bring me a sandwich and come help me real quick."

"Sure."

The video call abruptly ends and in just a few minutes, Scott walks down to the lab with Tony's sandwich and walks over to him. He looks at all of the equipment around his father and then at the new arc reactor as he sets the plate down.

"You're not doing surgery on yourself are you?" Scott asks.

"Nope. You are." Tony says and Scott pales. "I'm kidding. Sort of. Let me see your hands."

Scott holds up his hands and Tony nods. They were definitely smaller than his. Small enough at least.

"Perfect. You're helping me replace this." Tony takes the old piece out of his chest and Scott watches in trepidation.

"What do you want me to do?" Scott asks.

"There's an exposed wire which is why I needed to replace it. Need you to pull it out without touching...just treat it like Operation. You liked that game."

"Yeah, when I was four and not pulling weird things out of my dad." Scott moves closer and reaches in anyway, making a face when his fingers squelch in the plasma. "Oh god. This is so gross and smells-"

"Yeah it does." Tony says with humor in his voice.

He tried warning Scott about the magnet at the end, but it was pulled out before he could finish his sentence and the machine beside him beeps in warning. Scott startles and looks at it, but Tony manages to get his attention again.

"Hey, don't worry about the machines. Put that down and take this." Tony says, giving Scott the new piece once his son puts the old one down. "Connect it to the plate-there you go." Tony praises and helps lock it into place. "All done. You did great. Thanks."

Scott grimaces and wipes his hands on a nearby rag. "Never ask me to do that again. Ask someone else to do it."

"I only have you kiddo." Tony says seriously and Scott looks at him before sighing and picking up the old arc reactor.

"What should I do with this?"

"Get rid of it. Destroy it... whatever." Tony shrugs and grabs his sandwich after pulling his shirt back on.

"You might need it for parts." Scott says and takes it over to an iron shelf to place with other discarded projects. "You'll thank me later."

"I doubt it."

Scott rolls his eyes and follows Tony over to his desk where he sits down and starts scrolling through some files until sending one over to the holotable. Blueprints of the iron suit he had made and escaped in. Ever since he got back, all he could think about was keeping Scott safe. And he figured he could do that with the suit. A properly upgraded one that wasn't clunky...but this would be for him. He was serious when he said he was shutting down the weapons department of the company, but he couldn't just sit back with this idea in his lap.

"What's that?" Scott asks.

"This," Tony starts, trashing parts of the blueprint in the Holo trash can. "Is how I escaped."

"Shall I upload this to the company server Sir?" JARVIS asks.

"No. Keep it in my private server. I don't know who I can trust right now."

"Not Obie." Scott grumbles and Tony looks over at him.

"What? Why?"

Scott shrugs. "I don't know. He was weirdly calm while you were missing...and he tried to give me a cheeseburger." When Tony gives him a confused look, he clarifies. "The bun had sesame seeds on it."

"He probably forgot or didn't realize." Tony says and looks back at the suit. "But noted."

He didn't want Scott to think he was brushing him off.

"Why are you making adjustments to that?" Scott asks, watching his father work.

"I'm making this for myself...and you in a way. It will give me peace of mind to know I have a way to protect you." Tony trashes another part and opens the arms of the suit.

"Dad-"

"Please." Tony says, stopping and looking at Scott again. "I'm not making weapons for the rest of the world anymore, but you can be damn well sure that I'm going to make armor to protect what's important to me."

Scott didn't argue further. Maybe because he realized how much Tony needed this. And even more surprising? He actually helped. Over the next week, he helped write the code JARVIS would need when they integrated him into the suit, and helped find screwdrivers that Tony misplaced. Tony liked having a project to do with Scott. It used to be cars since Scott refused to work with weapons, but now they had the suit.

And on some occasions Scott had to console DUM-E. Especially after Tony called him a tragedy. It wasn't his fault DUM-E couldn't follow simple directions.

Okay, maybe it was...a little.

"Okay. Got the camera rolling?" Tony asks Scott as he steps onto the testing area wearing the flight pieces of his suit.

"Yup...and DUM-E has the fire extinguisher as always." Scott answers and looks up from the camera.

"Alright." Tony readies his stance. "We'll start off with 10% thrust capacity and see if it gets us off the ground."

The whirring grows louder and then Tony starts his countdown from three. The moment he hits one, he presses the handheld switches, immediately getting thrown up and backwards. He hits the low ceiling before crumpling to the floor and DUM-E turns to him and sprays him with the fire extinguisher as Scott runs over to him. The second the younger realizes he's generally okay, he bites his lip and starts to turn red.

Probably from trying not to laugh.

"If I hear a snicker from you, I will ground you forever. No oranges or lollipops."

Scott bursts into laughter a moment later and Tony sighs and holds up his arm.

"Help me up you brat."

"I think it's safe to say that 10% gets you off the ground." Scott snickers once he gets himself under control, and reaches down to help him to his feet.

"Ahahaha, so funny." Tony takes off the suit pieces with Scott's help and walks over to the workbench.

"It was. And now we will forever have a record of it." Scott smiles and watches Tony start designing the arms of the suit.

"I'd delete it but I'm sure you'll find a way to restore it and squirrel it away somewhere."

Scott only confirms his theory with a laugh and they both look over to the door when it hisses open. Pepper walks in and approaches them after setting some paperwork down.

"Didn't you hear the intercom? I've been buzzing you. Obadiah's upstairs." She tells them and Scott scrunches his nose.

"What? Oh, right. I'll be right up." He pulls his arm and the bones of the suit's arm from the stand with it.

"I thought you were done making weapons."

"He is." Scott answers. "That's a flight stabilizer."

"Completely harmless." Tony adds.

He powers it up and activates it, sending things - and himself - flying. Unfortunately his landing pad had been Scott, who was standing behind him when he shot the stabilizer and Tony immediately rolled off of him. Scott groans and holds the back of his head as he sits up and Pepper looks down at both of them incredulously.

"Seriously, how is he still alive?" Pepper asks.

"In my defense, I didn't expect that." Tony says and gets up with Scott's help once the younger recovers.

"You say that more than you think." Pepper says. "Brought paperwork for you to look at and sign. Obie is upstairs. Scott? Are you okay sweetie?"

"Still better than an asthma attack." Scott answers.

"I swear one of these days I'm going to come down here and find you both dead." Pepper sighs.

"It's plausible." Tony says and starts for the stairs.

Pepper only scoffs.

#tony stark #scott lang #pepper potts #rhodey

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stages-of-mania · 4 years ago

Text

Lord Huron Timeline Masterpost

Disclaimer: A lot of this information is speculation and consists of a lot of theories. Feel free to take things with a grain of salt.

Lonesome Dreams:

Setting: 19th century Wild West (some theories suggested could be the Middle East in the mid-20th century)

Characters:

Huron (main character)

Blaquefut (Huron’s best friend)

Helena (Huron’s girlfriend)

nameless Helena’s Ex (we're gonna call him Sonny for convenience)

Story: (I’m sure that most of the songs are in chronological order from the album but a few of them I believe are flashbacks so I had to move them around.)

She lit a fire/one of the best love songs ever written: The story goes earlier in the timeline technically, as it’s flashing back to how Huron met Helena. This is how the pair met. She lit his fire to travel the world or something.

Ends of the earth: early on in Huron and Helena‘s relationship. He wants to travel the world but she doesn’t so they’re kinda like “let’s split up for a bit”

Setting sun/the most mindfucking song (yes this bonus track is played at the end of the song, but hear me out ): Sonny has noticed that Helena has found someone else. They both know that Huron is better for her, but Sonny’s still pissed so he goes full yandere and chases after Huron. This story was put at the end and made “unfinished” because Sonny will always have a vendetta while Huron’s alive.

Time to run: Huron and friends are being chased by Sonny’s goons. Blaqufut gets shot in the head while helping Huron escape.

lonesome dreams: now this is a bit of a stretch, but from this theory, LD is basically purgatory and Huron travels to it to rescue Blaqufut from death.

Ghost on the shore/best song: nothing too significant to the story, it’s just Huron talking about how he misses home/the Great Lakes

I will be back one day: again, nothing much, just Huron reminiscing over Helena in pursuit to find her.

Man who lives forever: again nothing too significant, just Huron not wanting to die.

Brother: this is possibly the aftermath of an altercation between Huron and Blaqufut that they resolve. It pretty much just reaffirms their friendship.

In the wind: this one actually occurs while Huron is still on the run but from Helena’s perspective. It’s basically her reminiscing over him. I think they put this one at the end because it’s spiritually the end of the album, as it discusses how long distances and death can stop love.

Lullaby: Huron finally makes it back to Helena. He’s a complete wreck but Helena’s just happy he’s back

Sidenotes: Lonesome dreams are a collection of stories from Jorge Ranger Johnson, a writer character that Ben made up. Because of this, some of lonesome dreams might not actually be real within the universe of Lord Huron. Or they might be real events and just happened to be written about by an author.

Alternate theories suggest that Setting sun was actually about Huron the entire time and it did take place at the end of the album, causing Helena to find someone else and Huron to becoming a murderer.

One last important thing, because these are stories and might not actually occur within the universe of Lord Huron, it is possible that there is no afterlife, as suggested in later albums.

Strange Trails:

Setting:

1950s, somewhere in America.

George’s: A bar that several characters tend to spend time at (probably in reference to George Ranger Johnson)

Characters:

Frankie Lou: washed up singer who presumably had a failed romance that fucked up bad. Probably an alcoholic. Sings at George’s

Cobb Avery: zombie brought back to life out of vengeance. His family was killed because his boss gave him a piece of land on a sinkhole. leader of the “World Enders” gang. Basically a bunch of terrorists. Kills everyone from the company that sold him the house. Hangs out at George’s

Jonnie: member of the world Enders. Kind of trigger-happy in a thrill seeker. Probably one of the less malicious members of the group. Probably 19.

Buck Vernon: I also think another washed-up singer. What’s important though is that he suffers from hallucinations and is desperately trying to find the girl of his dreams.

Lily: some girl that every guy in town has the hots for. Hangs out at George’s

Jim: Lily's boyfriend. Hangs out at George’s.

Danielle: Young girl. The only child character, I’d say 11-14. Best character. You’re never too young to have an existential crisis.

Justine: not really important, presumably a writer.

Louisa: some random girl (Assuming that this theory is true, she might also be a witch and might’ve started out as an asshole, might also hang out at George’s)

There’s also some other guy but he was part of one song and it wasn’t significant so disregard him.

Story:

Love like ghosts: this is Frankie reminiscing over her failed relationship

When the night ends: Jonnie talking about appreciating the finer things in life while everything’s going to shit

Dead man’s hand/also best song: buck finds Avery presumably dead while wandering the desert. He buries him only to find out that Avery is still alive. Avery says that there’s no afterlife for him and he doesn’t want to go back in the grave. The pair become friends and go their separate ways.

Hurricane: just Johnny talking about living life on the edge

La belle fleur sauvage/the beautiful wildflower: just the lead singer gushing over Lily. The guy singing this only shows up in this song, but it’s just meant to establish that everyone has the hots for Lilly. The song could also be talking about Buck in his pursuit.

Fool for love: Buck goes to George’s to win over Lily, but Jim is already with her. Being delusional, buck tries to take on Jim (in the music video he gets Avery to fight him), he trashed the place and because of this is kicked out. He’s pretty optimistic but after this, he feels kind of defeated. (*Post-Rejection Depression Time*)

World ender: focuses on Avery‘s story. Follows him as he seeks vengeance and kills the people from the company that sold him the shitty house.

Meet me in the Woods: more of Frankie reminiscing over her failed romance

Yawning grave: (OK so this is the first big roadblock in the story, so the character that this song is about is very much left up to interpretation) I assume Avery has kind of calmed down But still intends to pursue the people that have wronged him.

Frozen Pines: (disappointingly) The only song about Danielle. Her parents were abducted by aliens in front of her. She is sort of in denial and refuses to leave where she is in the middle of the forest out of the delusion that they’ll come back. The song ends with her realizing that she has to move on as she attempts to leave the forest. (also, frozen Pines is the name of the motel so it could also just be that maybe Danielle is stuck at a motel which would honestly be kind of funny.)

Cursed/best love song ever written: Buck has found himself a new girl. However, due to previous failed romantic endeavors and hallucinations, he thinks that she’s an asshole trying to put a curse on him. (The song is presumably about Louisa. It’s entirely possible that Louisa was being manipulative but they sort things out)

Way out there: (The most difficult song to figure out) presumably about Avery. I can only best describe it as him having an existential crisis and him missing his dead family.

Louisa: after Buck was tempted to kick bricks, Louisa helped him out and gave him a newfound appreciation for life. Now they’re happy =]

Night we met: last song of Frankie reminiscing over her ex. Also, the lyric video confirms that Buck & Louisa either broke up or she was just a figment of his imagination, so uh, ya. Hopefully you weren't as emotionally invested in these characters as much as I was because that tore me a new one.

Sidenotes: this album definitely had the most interpretations. The biggest issues are the stories of yawning grave and way out there, as I am unsure that it is even about Avery. The real issue tho is the lack of songs about Danielle. Ben Come On!

There are also a couple connections between this album and the next

Vide Noir:

Setting: 1960s. Detroit & Los Angeles.

Background info: A drug called vide noir has recently been legalized. It’s basically just a hallucinogenic that destroys the fabric of reality, good times.

Characters:

Buck Vernon: Christ Ben just can’t seem to give this guy a break.

Lee Green: Buck’s new girl. Probably wants to be an actress or something.

Lady moonbeam: A medium/psychic. I think she’s black but it’s hard to tell because of the lighting.

Cobb Avery: Best Boy Electrician on “Products of the Universe” TV show. (only mentioned in 1 song)

Marsha Tanley & Dale Frander: “Products of the Universe” host; guy selling vide & its derivatives. (not in the songs)

Story:

Lost in time and space: Buck is upset because Lee left. He decides to chase after her nonetheless.

Never ever: Buck's spirits are lifted as he heads out to find Lee.

Ancient names: Buck goes to Lady Moonbeam For advice but she sees into the future and sees that Buck will become a drug addict. He’s in denial but she knows otherwise.

Wait by the river: just Buck talking about how you would do anything for Lee. Also reveals the potential of an altercation between the two of them, presumably the two of them having a fight before she left.

Secret of life: (OK this one’s a little hard, the singer is clearly Buck, but it’s hard to tell if he’s confronting either Lee or lady moonbeam) either way, whoever he is confronting has allegedly made a pact with Avery that will cause something bad to happen to Buck. Because of this, he downs a bottle of fukitol/vide noir.

Back from the edge: the MF dies but comes back (where have we seen that before)

Balancer's eye: Buck runs into God and is denied access to heaven. Either because he wasn’t supposed to die or maybe people who take drugs aren’t allowed in. Or God has really high standards and no one‘s allowed in (again, weird knowing that Blaqufut experienced purgatory and Avery said there’s no heaven at all)

When the night is over: realizing the effect of VN, Buck is becoming worried for Lee that she might overdose if he doesn’t find her soon enough

Moonbeam: Like with Louisa, Buck ran into a girl that saved him from a bad place. Hard to tell if it’s Lee (it likely isn’t because of later in the story) or lady moonbeam.

Vide Noir: Buck talking about the effects of the drug.

Emerald star/The most depressing song ever written: after doing everything he can and fucking dying, Buck finally finds Lee but he is turned down as she would rather be a junkie. It’s also possible that she might die or be dying, judging by the fact that the second half of this song is just instrumental followed by a sudden halt at the end. {Yay, I get to experience “close to you” all over again}

Sidenotes: George ranger Johnson is a spiritual advisor for the show that Avery works on.

The events of the film are claimed to come at the end/after the album.

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

All information was aggregated from the albums, interviews with Ben, music videos, articles about the film, Products of the Universe, & whatever else I could scavenge from LH’s YouTube channel.

I’d also like to give a huge thanks to the fanbase for their theories and research. It really helped out a lot piecing this all together. I had a lot of fun discussing this with fellow Wanderers and Enders and really appreciate being a part of this fanbase.

If you have any alternative theories, timelines, etc, be sure to mention them. A huge chunk of this info will probably become obsolete when the film/next album comes along so enjoy this while we can still be optimistic.

Dear Balancer help us.

#lord huron #lonesome dreams #strange trails #vide noir #cobb avery #buck vernon #ben schneider

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toovirgins · 3 years ago

Text

Le Rêve - Part 4

Summary: George reflection chapter. What more is there to say?

Warning: R-rated

“Ringo, have you seen me favorite pair of socks? The black ones?”

George tore through his suitcase in agitation, carelessly tossing the clothing into a second-carpet on the hotel floor. He groaned in frustration when an uninterested “uh-uh” came from the other side of the room, where Ringo was changing into his pajamas.

“I can’t bloody find them anywhere.” George let out a defeated huff and sat back on his heels with a pout.

“Where’d you leave ‘em last?”

“If I knew that,” George tried, ever-so-patiently, “I wouldn’t be tearin’ the room apart, now, would I?”

“Did you leave ‘em in John and Paul’s this morning?” Ringo asked in a tone of voice that implied George absolutely did leave them in John and Paul’s that morning.

“I don’t know why you never get things for me when you find them,” George muttered, though the words were less pointed now. He threw his suitcase closed.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, Harrison. You’re a big lad now, you’ve got to be responsible for your own things.” Ringo shot him a grin. “Think of me as your personal… guide. I’ll give you hints and whatnot along the way, but I won’t do it for you.”

“Charming.” George rolled his eyes. He pushed himself to his feet, not bothering to gather up all of the other strewn-about items of clothing. “Well, I’m off to go get them. I can’t get sleep without them.”

Ringo cocked an amused eyebrow as he began to hang his suit. “You’re an odd fella, you know that, George?”

“Bah.” George swatted away the comment and pulled the door open. “Be back in a minute.”

John and Paul’s room was down the hall from theirs, though it was really only a few steps. The hotel was small, the rooms far from luxurious. The hall was a dull mess of gray and beige, the carpet a crisscross pattern and the wallpaper about a thousand years old. He scoffed in distaste of the place. They were the fucking Beatles now, for God’s sakes. You’d think they could afford some better living. George kicked at a spider on the water-stained trim as he approached his mates’ room.

He had just raised his arm to knock when a strange sound caused him to pause his movements. Intrigued, George inched forward and pressed an ear close to the frame. What was the harm in getting a little listen?

There was… moaning. And cursing. George nearly rolled his eyes. It sounded like Paul—richer than John’s voice, and clearer, too. He also ran with the hardly faint memory that Paul was quite vocal in bed. He should almost know the lad’s sounds by now. Part of him wondered where John had gotten side-tracked off to, because he could have sworn the three of them went up in the elevator together.

He half-laughed to himself. This guy was too good. George hadn’t even the slightest clue where Paul could’ve picked a bird up on his way from the lobby to the room. Gonna be sick, my arse, he thought to himself.

As George waited outside of the door, he pondered his options. He could wait until Paul’s little rendezvous was over (which, judging by the sounds, was not far off). He could knock and give them a second to dress or hide the bird. And finally: eh, what the hell. He’d seen worse before. If the door was unlocked, he could just slip in.

Besides, George really wanted those socks.

Ultimately, he decided that sneaking in was his best bet. He’d slip past the door and slither unnoticed to the bathroom, and go—yes! He remembered now!—behind the toilet. Pick up the socks and leave as quickly as he came. In and out in a jiffy.

George reached for the doorknob and gave it a slight twist when an expression from inside stopped him cold.

“Fucking hell, Paul.”

Paul was in there; he knew good and well. The question was what was… the other voice doing there? The boys’ closeness had never warranted anything more than an “Oh, shit, sorry,” when walking in on one another and leaving as swiftly as possible. Was the other voice… watching? Just hanging around in there?

George’s pulse quickened, his grip beginning to slip from the door as he desperately fought the pounding confusion in his head. He had to have misheard. It couldn’t have been that voice. He was delusional, imagining things, that’s all.

The voice called out again, breathless, grainy: “Christ.”

It was unmistakably John.

George remained frozen in front of the door, unable to tear himself away. Faintly, he registered Paul moaning John’s name. John was in there. And so was Paul. He had heard them call out to each other… for each other…

“John, I can’t—” Another pause, and bedsprings creaked incriminatingly. “John, stop, I-I’m gonna come—”

Before a second thought could cross his mind, George threw the door open and stood gaping at the scene in front of him.

The first thing he noticed was the sheer look of terror on Paul’s face. This was almost comical, considering the obvious next thing to notice was that Paul was stark naked, a furious burn in his cheeks as he scrambled to cover his intimacies. Intimacies that John was—was all over.

John had been touching him like a bird should. George’s eyes raked over John’s form. The man didn’t look nearly as terrified as Paul. In fact, he looked almost… smug. His cheeks were flushed pink, his eyes bright and teetering on wild. He laid propped up on one elbow, making the hard-on in his trousers conspicuously evident. Despite throwing himself off of his mate as fast as possible, he looked completely at ease, glaring at George almost daringly as a shadow of a smirk twitched at the corner of his lips.

George took this opportunity to switch stares back to Paul, sickened by whatever fucking game John thought he was playing. The ends of Paul’s hair were curled with the sweat that beaded on his neck and forehead. His hands trembled where they tugged at the bedsheet, which could have done more to hide him. There was something pleading in his eyes, something desperate. If only George knew what it was for.

There was nothing he could think of to say. Rather than waste time standing and waiting for someone to speak up, George turned on his heel and swiftly shut the door behind him.

—

George leaned with palms pressed against the door, chest heaving from exertion and overwhelming bewilderment. The scene had played over and over in his mind since the fervent escape. It was his fault, he knew—that was the worst part.

He had only been going to look for a pair of socks. And they were rather nice socks. His favorite, even. That’s all he had wanted. Socks.

George had heard about these kinds of people before. Seen some of them, even, in Hamburg. He was fairly certain that Brian was one. The ones in Germany always tried to make a move on him and the others, but he never saw why; he didn’t fancy any of them were that attractive, anyroad. George suddenly recalled a conversation, not so long ago, when John had gone on a slight rant about The Homosexuals in Hamburg, and Paul had nodded along disapprovingly. It was Ringo, eventually, who edged them out of the discussion: “Eh, come on lads. It’s none of our business what they do, anyway.”

What the hell just happened?

“Whasamatter, Georgie?” Ringo stepped out of the bathroom, words coming out garbled as a toothbrush dangled from his lips. He tossed it in the trash and turned to spit in the sink. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“J-John and Paul,” George stuttered, his mind working frantically to piece together what had just happened. It seemed to be the only coherent sentence he could form. “I saw—it was John… and Paul. With Paul.”

“No kidding,” Ringo gave him an understanding nod and a slight chuckle. “Intense fellas, they are. They give me a downright scare sometimes, too. Writing a song, then?”

“Ringo, you’re not hearing me,” George tried, his voice unsteady. “I saw them. Doing—together. It was both of them, with each other.”

Ringo’s brow knitted in confusion. George’s ramblings only seemed to perplex him more, draw him farther away from the conclusion. “I… Congratulations?”

George rubbed his forehead shakily. He wasn’t so much frustrated as just helplessly exasperated. There were no connections in his mind that made the situation make sense. He stifled a groan.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, mate.”

“They were shagging,” George blurted. On instinct, a hand flew to cover his mouth as soon as the words left his lips. The phrase sounded so bizarre, so wrong, and was yet the only thing he felt accurately characterized what he just saw. “Almost.”

Ringo blinked. “Shagging who?”

George began to pace back and forth across the small room. “John. Or-or Paul. Each other. They were almost-shagging one another.”

Ringo stared, looking just as baffled as George felt. “What do you mean?”

George continued slowly. “I went to go get my socks. I was gonna knock, but I heard something, and I didn’t know what it was. So I listened for a moment, and I just thought that Paul was in there with a bird. Y’know.”

Ringo nodded, no more convinced.

“But I heard another voice, and they were saying Paul’s name, and then Paul said it back, and it was John. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You went in?” Ringo didn’t sound surprised, just curious.

“I wasn’t thinking. I couldn’t believe it. I s’pose I thought I had to see for myself. And-and then I did.” His voice broke a bit. “I don’t know what to do, Ringo. What the fuck?”

“Where are they now?”

“I don’t know. I just left.”

Ringo rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We can’t tell anyone.”

“We can’t.”

“We have to talk to them.”

“About what? D’you want me to go in there again and say, ‘John, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal, what were ya doing in there, jerking Paul off? And Paul, ya bloody bastard, what were you doing enjoyin’ it?” George ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck. How are we supposed to talk about this? What about the band?”

“Hey.” Ringo’s voice was gentle as he took a step closer. “One thing at a time, mate. We’ll worry about the band when the band gives us something to worry about. Right now, we need to go promise them that we won’t tell a soul, and that we’re not judging them really, but that they need to be more careful, and—”

“Be more careful?” George was bewildered. “Ringo, they were in the privacy of their own room. How much more careful can you get?”

“Do you want to be the one to tell them to stop?” Ringo raised an eyebrow. “Because one, I don’t think we have the authority to do that. And two, if I know anything about John and Paul, it will only make them want to do it more.”

George pondered this for a second. “They’re going to kill me.”

“No, George, come on—”

“They are.” George began to panic. “I walked in on them. I never should have done it. I should have just left in the first place. I should’ve knocked before anything. Oh, Christ, Ringo. They’re gonna kill me!”

Ringo’s gaze was soft and sympathetic, but George could pick up on a hint of worry in the lines of his face. Not that he would blame him for it. It’d be one thing if George had walked in on Paul and the fantasy bird George had originally thought. It’d be one thing if George had walked in on Paul with a random guy, and it was decriminalized. It’d even be one thing if George had walked in on Paul with a random guy, period.

But none of that was the case.

“Look,” Ringo started, laying a hand on George’s shoulder to temporarily halt his pacing. “Let’s go back to the room. We’ll talk to them. I don’t know about what, yet, but they need to know that I know."

“Okay.” George sighed. “Yeah, okay.”

—

Paul was sitting up, staring off into the distance and frantically nibbling at his thumbnail. His expression was hard, the other hand drumming nervously on the bed beside him. He was almost dressed, but everything carried an air of distractedness: his fly was down, his shirt haphazardly buttoned, his tie draped across his shoulders. He barely acknowledged when George and Ringo entered, lazily casting his gaze in their direction.

“Paul,” George tried, attempting to take hold of the conversation early. Maybe, at least, if he was in control, it would be easier for both of them. No more surprises.

Paul blinked up at him, looking dazed. He didn’t speak.

“I’m not mad.” George spoke quickly: reparations for earlier. “I-I was just shocked. ‘M not angry at all. I didn’t know how to…” He cleared his throat. “Not make it… worse?”

“Hm,” Paul affirmed.

“Where’s John?” Ringo asked suddenly, tentatively, as if he were afraid to stir Paul.

“Fuck if I know,” Paul shot in response.

George and Ringo exchanged a look. This was certainly not the picture George had left only minutes earlier. The air itself was hostile, heaving with McCartney’s own breaths until the others swayed uneasily on their feet.

“We can talk about it,” George offered, despite every nerve screaming at him not to do so. It was the last thing in the world that he wanted to do, but he couldn’t conjure up any other consolation.

“What is there to talk about?” Paul’s voice was cold. He was refusing eye contact.

“Paul,” Ringo tried again, taking a step closer. “It’s all right. George and I, we don’t care if you guys…” He trailed off, looking at George pleadingly.

George filled in. “…Want to be together.” The end of his sentence unintentionally lilted up, posed as a question.

Paul had the audacity to look at them now as if they were mad. “What?”

George watched confusion wash over Ringo’s features, mirroring the perplexity he felt on his own face. He tore his gaze away and focused on Paul, who looked nothing short of furious. The two men stood awkwardly, neither making a move to speak, which George figured was a smart decision. Let McCartney talk his way out of this.

“What?” He said again. George shook his head.

Paul pushed himself to his feet, his eyes sparkling maliciously. “No, George, tell me. Just what do you think you’re implying?”

He began advancing towards them. Though part of him knew, deep down, that Paul would never actually get physical with him, George flinched back noticeably into Ringo, making the older lad stumble as well.

Something changed in Paul’s expression at the interaction. The fury melted into fear, and then, almost… despair. He reached out for George’s arm, then seemed to think better of the choice and pull his searching hand back.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked as he retreated. “I’m sorry.”

“Come now, Paul, it’s all right.” Ringo’s voice was unsteady, but his words were comforting and secure. He took a tentative step and placed his hand on their friend’s shoulder. “Just tell us what’s going on.”

“I don’t know, Ritchie,” He near-wailed. “That’s the problem. I don’t know what that was. What happened.” Paul raked a hand through his fringe. “I can’t tell you. And now John’s fucked off to God-knows-where, and he was already in a bad state. Oh, shit. This is bad.”

Again, George and Ringo exchanged a nervous glance. Paul could be moody, manic, bizarre. The lad could go seemingly weeks without expressing a single intimate thought or feeling. He could also have outbursts, usually at John, about the smallest of things. George had always believed it to be pent-up frustration and emotional suppression, but this? This was no typical McCartney venom. This seemed like something entirely different.

“I’m not queer,” Paul suddenly asserted, mostly to himself.

“I believe you,” Ringo lied through his teeth. When Paul’s gaze was cast downward again, Ringo gave George a helpless shrug. “But we can’t just sweep this under the rug if you want to move forward. We have to find John, too, and talk about it. A-and make sure it doesn’t get out, or that you’re caught again. Or—”

“I need a smoke,” Paul interrupted.

And with that, he pushed past the two and disappeared out of frame, leaving George and Ringo trembling in his wake.

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney #john lennon #george harrison #ringo starr #mclennon #part 4 #chapter fic #ao3 #slight smut

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birdwonder · 5 years ago

Note

just thought of the idea of Rohan using his stand on reader and seeing on their page they have a big crush on josuke so Rohan either teases them or helps them get together. i think the idea is cute

|| i am SO sorry this took a while longer than i usually take to write. my holiday has left me without a computer so writing long stories takes forever on a phone but i hope these 3,000 words make up for it :,) its 3am so i doubt i editted properly so ill go through it again tomorrow

Josuke Higashikata | Rohan’s Help / Confession

You and Rohan have been friends for a short time. Less than a year to be honest, and yet you two felt like you were as thick as thieves — an unstoppable duo when it came to your friendship. Both of you complimented each other so well, you being able to improve Rohan’s social skills and how he treated others, and Rohan had been making progress with you to be more confident. A kind yet self-loathing highschool student who is best friends with a prideful and stuck up manga artist, who would have thought?

In the small amount of time you two have known each other, you both have been able to pick on small quirks you had and tell-tale signs of your moods. For example, you were currently leaning on the side of Rohan’s desk as he scribbled away on a piece of paper, desperately trying to figure out a new and inventive pose for his next manga page. Your blank, dull eyes staring into the distance and lack of encouraging comments was all Rohan needed to know that something was up with you. Of course, he wasn’t the best at comfort, not when it’s so early into his progress of becoming a better person, so jumping straight to sympathy and questions was not his go-to plan.

“So, what do you think so far?” Rohan questioned with hope, holding up his sketch book with one hand and gesturing towards it with another, hoping that your thoughts on his work would be at least distracting enough from whatever was plaguing your mind. Unfortunately, you only glanced towards the sheet of stunning, detailed figures and hummed halfheartedly before returning to look at absolutely nothing with your chin pressed into the centre of your palm.

Groaning, the artist tore out the page dramatically to then scrunch it up into a tight paper ball, throwing it into the trash-can beside him in a small fit of annoyance. “Right then,” he burst out abruptly, two hands slamming on his desk and his chair scraping backwards as he got up to emphasis his change in mood, “you’re going to tell me what’s wrong right now because right now I can NOT figure out how to draw this next panel, and I can’t do it when you’re sitting here like a... a...”

“Like a what?” You piped up, one brow quirked up which gave you an atypically fed up expression, one so cold it almost sent shivers down Rohan’s spine.

“Like a killjoy!” He finally said, huffing and puffing his cheeks out. “You’re just sitting there, staring like a corpse and I’m actually trying to talk to you!”

Then, you faltered. Your tightly pressed lips tilted downwards and your brows lowered, returning your expression to it’s well known gentle and kind look, something Rohan had greatly missed the last hour or so. “Oh, I’m sorry Rohan, it’s just, oh never mind.” You mumble your last words, a strange pink tint along your cheeks that didn’t go unnoticed by the man who valued every single detail he saw.

Rohan then grabbed your shoulders firmly, forcing you to turn and look at him, his eyes narrowed with an intense stare boring into your own pupils. “[F/N], I refuse to take that as an answer, so let’s try again shall we? What. Is. The matter?”

You gulped a little, sucking in your breath while debating whether or not to tell your trusted companion about the problem that ridiculed you or not. You opted no. With a shake of your head, you gave an apologetic look and your frown only went deeper, “sorry Rohan, it’s really stupid and I just don’t want to say it. I mean, it can’t be solved anyways, so I’m sure I’ll get over it soon!” You placed a hand on his shoulder and forced yourself to smile a little, your heart swelling with some joy over the fact Rohan had clearly grown as a person - showing that he cared for the problems that bedevilled you was one large step from where he was when you first met. “Thank you though, really.”

Your gratitude and certainty may have been enough to rest anyone else’s soul, but not Rohan’s. He simply would not take ‘no’ for an answer. Sighing, he released his grip on you, giving you the message that he wasn’t going to pry anymore until he spoke, “I didn’t want to resort to this but you leave me no choice.”

Before you could question his words a familiar cry of “Heaven’s Door,” was yelled and you felt your body slowly feel lighter, almost weightless as you watched the skin on your face and arms unfold to reveal small prints of words, words you knew revealed everything there was to know about [F/N] [L/N].

Resistance was futile as you struggled to shift away from Rohan’s approaching form, the back of the chair and the wall behind you trapping you inbetween, prayers being your only tactic of getting out of the hectic situation. “Now let’s see,” Rohan hummed, taking a gentle hold of the pages attached to your face between his thumb and index finger, his eyes scanning each word carefully as though missing a single one would be detrimental.

“Rohan, please don’t,” you begged, fear arising in you from the idea that he would find out the cause of your sullen mood. Fear that was quickly picked up on.

“[F/N] [L/N], sixteen years old... Birthday is... Ah, here we are, something more modern. Cereal for breakfast, and currently stressing over the idea that Josuke Higashikata won’t like her...” Rohan’s out loud reading soon quietened and the look he gave you could only be summarised to ‘really?’

Once he pulled away from you, Heaven’s Door effects subsided and your skin was no longer detached from you. You sighed with relief that you were no longer in such a vulnerable state, calm until you began to lightly pound your fists against Rohan’s chest, unable to actually hurt him since you didn’t have to heart to. “Rohan, that was private information, how could you?!”

Rohan clicked his tongue, using only a finger to press against your forehead to push you away. The perks of you being so docile was getting you to stop any hint of aggression was easier than reciting the alphabet.

“I did it for you so I could help you with your problem!” He argued in attempt to defend himself and cringed slightly, speaking with venom in his voice. “How was I supposed to know that you were so worked up over that idiot and not something sensible?”

“He is not an idiot!” You retorted since you hated whenever either Rohan or Josuke insulted each other. Those two really had the potential to be friends with each other, they just never let it work. Regardless, your main concern was the fact your true feelings were revealed and in the worst possible way. You hadn’t meant for anyone to find out about how you feel, not when you were for sure that it wouldn’t matter in the end.

Josuke ... he was amazing. Friendly, strong, funny and whenever he looked with you with those kind eyes and a smile on his plush lips, your heart stopped only to restart beating 1000 beats per minute. You were certain that he was the most perfect person you had ever met, and every memory with him was greatly treasured.

Though you were almost certain he didn’t feel the same. You felt so small compared to him, figuratively that is, and everything he was good at, you seemed to fail at. Confidence, strength, styling the perfect pompadour; you couldn’t even compare to him, even if these all seemed like the most insignificant aspects ever. So, why would he want to be with someone who couldn’t reach his standards ? He wouldn’t.

Your internal self deprecation was silently evident to Rohan as you began to nibble on the bottom of your lip, dejectedly looking down like a lost puppy. No way was he going to let you keep that up, not when he had announced you as a friend to himself and actually cared about how you felt.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rohan groaned at what he was about to do although he knew it was going to be worth it if it meant you weren’t ruining your hang out times anymore. “Alright, we’re going to make you confess to Josuke.” He declared, catching you off guard, and you weren’t able to even question him as a single finger was suddenly pressed upon your lips, sealing your mouth shut with one simple movement.

“Listen and remember this well, [F/N], you are perfect the way you are and as much as I would hate to see Josuke gain anything he doesn’t deserve,” he paused to retract his hand from your face and instead ruffled your hair, treating you like a younger sibling for a second, “I know being with him would make you happy, so I’m going to help you confess your entirely questionable and possibly delusional love for that delinquent.”

You blinked up at Rohan a few times, mouth agape. There was no way that this was happening, just who was this guy and where was the real manga artist you knew?

“Rohan, I appreciate you wanting to help me, I really do, but there’s no need! It’s a lost cause, let’s just get back to what we were doing before - poses right?” Your attempt to change the subject was quickly brushed off like dust on Rohan’s shoulder when he pinched your nose, an audible ‘ow’ squeaking from you.

Your resistance to the situation was irking Rohan to no end, his drive only stepping on the gas each time you tried to refuse his assistance. There was no way he was going to let you suffer in silence. Besides, if he helped two young, dumb and lovesick teens get together then maybe he could have some insight on how to work around the more romantic scenes of his manga, if he was to ever implement them.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. This is going to happen and you’re going to thank me for it,” the green hair male stated, eyes heavily trained onto you. You gulped.

You really didn’t know where this was going to go.

——

A band of raging drums had surely replaced your heart.

The hammering sound of sticks against percussion instruments was practically akin to the violent, frantic rhythm that pounded against your chest with the diagnosis resulting to be nervousness.

You sucked in your breath and released the built up carbon dioxide by muttering words of encouragement that Rohan had taught you to rehearse to yourself in case of situations like this. Ironically, he was the one who had put you in this nervous wreck state. His vow to have you confess to Josuke had stuck through pretty solidly leaving you in a cute outfit you definitely could not have afford on your lonesome, [Thank you Rohan.] and standing in front of your crush’s door.

Gulping, you began to hype yourself up.

‘I can do this! I can totally do this. No problems here, none at all!’ The repeated phrases were practically a religious mantra at this point; if you were to even dare forget a single one you’re certain life would be a living Hell. Well your stresses shouldn’t matter anymore, you were here now. Just knock. Knock and say what’s on your mind!

The unremitting worries failed to cease however , eating at your brain like parasites that were only starting to leave once you gathered enough courage and balled your hand into a fist, rapped against the wooden door.

It took less than a minute for the door to be unlocked and opened, revealing the tall, well built figure of the one and only - Josuke. For some reason you felt as though none of this actually happening right there and then, like it was some dream or even a nightmare you were going to wake up from any second. You quickly rubbed your eyes to see if that was true. When you opened them, he was still there, his usual stylised school uniform replaced with a regular white t-shirt and dark blue jeans. It wasn’t an unwelcome look but certainly threw you off for a second seeing as it was rare to see him wear anything other than his uniform.

“[F/N], hey!” He greeted,his eyes seeming to light up at the sight of you while a hand gripped the door frame, “didn’t think it’d be you at the door. What’s up?”

The moment he smiled at you, you knew that you had to this. How he instantly had made you feel relaxed would have seemed impossible to you five minutes ago, now you felt as though things would go perfectly. If not for the persistent nagging voice in the back of your head.

“Hi Josuke! I was hoping that I could maybe uhm, talk to you! About something that is. Something really important.” Your wavering voice had caused some concern to flash in Josuke’s eyes; the way he looked down at you with such a caring expression made you want to hide your face into a pillow and squeal.

He responded easily with, “oh sure, is everything alright?” Really, you weren’t even sure if things were alright or if they were going to be at all.

You doubts rose up again and a jumbled ball of words was suddenly caught in your throat, countless words and ways to say your thoughts conjuring up but not a single thing is said. If only you had more confidence — Rohan had spent so long trying to get you to perfect your confession and despite all that effort, you were still struggling.

Glancing down, you noticed that your fingers were a plain sign of your awkwardness. They constantly switched from fiddling with the fabric of your outfit to thumbs twiddling with each other, neither things helping you in the end.

“[F/N]...? You don’t look like your usual self, where’s that cute smile of your’s, huh?”

Oh god, did he just call your smile ‘cute’? Did that just make talking even harder or ten times easier? This boy was going to be the death of you!

Teeth lightly nibbled on your low lip as you argued in your head what to do. You really don’t know if you could ever have the courage to even approach him like this, let alone think about asking him out. Besides, all of Rohan’s efforts would go to waste.

“Josuke!” The sudden change of your volume had clearly surprised the teenager, his brows raising. “I— I have something serious to tell you and I’m sorry for making it so weird so far, it’s just really hard to get through what I want to say.”

Facing him was just too much. You couldn’t handle the idea of looking up to see an uncomfortable, angered, disgusted or any expression that would send you hurdling down a pit of regret. Instead, you stared down at the ground although you paid no real attention to it, your hand clutching at the clothing over your heart, almost as though you were trying to steady the rapid beating drums within your ribcage.

Taking in a deep breath, you continue, “I’m not the best at being outgoing or confident, and as my friend I know you know that, and you’re the exact opposite! You’re bold and kind to everyone and everything about you is incredible. Saying this I think I fully realised why I lo—.”

Again, the words are caught in your throat and you’re visibly struggling, almost choking on what you want to say. None of it goes unnoticed by Josuke, who had been initially taken back by the praise and tone you were using. His smile quickly returned when things became obvious to him, much softer and sweeter than before, his plush lips turning upward all thanks to your adorable stuttering.

He reached out with a large and surprisingly softer than you would have guessed hand, his palm resting against your cheek as he guided you to look up at him with both your eyes staring into each other’s.

“Do you want to come inside?”

The question was short and simple though it still took some time to process. You made a small, questioning ‘eh’ sound to which Josuke laughed at.

“You don’t have to stress so much, whatever you’re going to say I’m sure I’m going to like hearing,” he told you, stepping to the side so that you now had room to enter his house, a hand gesturing for you to come inside. “Maybe things would be easier if we had something to drink? My mum’s not home so we can watch a movie too!”

You had no idea how things got to this but you didn’t want to ask. If what Josuke said was true and that he was really going to like whatever you said then, why rush? It was probably better to wait for when the atmosphere was much more relaxed anyways. Things just seemed more right that way. The relationship between you and Josuke were always so casual so it was best to confess just like that. He was a serious God send to be so nice and understanding.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ before walking through the door with small pep in your step and butterflies swarming in a welcomed fashion in your stomach. Josuke followed you, closing the door behind him as the two of you started to strike up a conversation about your week and what movie the two of you wanted to watch, every worry and care flying free and becoming lost in the sky.

From across the street stood a smiling manga artist, ready to walk home with nothing but pride in his heart for his shy and growing friend. All he really had left to worry about was whether or not Josuke would treat you right.

#josuke higashikata #josuke x reader #jjba x reader #platonic #rohan x reader #but its platonic #request

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the-al-chemist · 4 years ago

Text

Artemis Hexley and the Secret Staircase

Chapter 8: The Rematches

A/N: Artemis faces three old foes... Warnings: terrible trash talking.

It didn’t take long for Penny to be proved correct: Merula Snyde did want a rematch. The Slytherin girl confronted Artemis in Potions class the very next day. Artemis tried to reason with her.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Merula,” she sighed. “Aren’t you bored of being angry all the time?”

“If I didn’t know better, Hexley, I’d say you were scared.”

Artemis laughed.

“Merula, I have better things to do with my time than duel you,” she said.

“What, like chasing around after that Bill Weasley?”

“I’m not chasing him anywhere. Bill’s my -”

“You’re delusional, Hexley. Every girl in this school falls to pieces over that pretty-boy Weasley, why would he go for someone like you?”

“I was going to say friend, Merula,” Artemis said. She looked at Rowan and rolled her eyes, but Rowan had stopped concentrating as soon as Bill’s name had been mentioned. “Bill and I are friends.”

Merula made a scoffing noise.

“Yeah, right,” she said. “He probably just feels sorry for you, that’s all.”

Artemis glowered at Merula over the top of her cauldron, gripping the wooden spoon she was using to stir her potion in both hands, her knuckles white.

“I just hope that your precious brother wouldn’t mind the fact that you’ve replaced him so easily,” Merula continued. “Have you finally faced up to the fact that Jacob’s never, ever going to come back to you?”

“I thought I told you to stop talking about my family,” Artemis snapped.

“You did, but the thing is, Hexley, I don’t want to stop talking about you and your family of cursed lunatics,” sneered Merula. She sighed deeply. “Of course, you could always try and make me stop...”

“I’m not duelling you again, Merula, and that’s that.”

But Merula wouldn’t take no for an answer. On Wednesday evening, Merula cornered Artemis outside the Transfiguration classroom after her lesson with McGonagall.

“Honestly, Merula, I hate to sound like Penny, but if you’re really that bored can you not just join the Gobstones Club or the Frog Choir or something?”

“I’m not bored, Hexley, I’m seeking vengeance.”

“You what?”

“You heard me. I’m challenging you to a duel.”

“How many times do I need to tell you? I don’t want to duel you.”

“You spend too much time with that scaredy-cat Copper. You’re becoming as cowardly as he is,” said Merula. “Don’t duel me, then.”

“Fine, I won’t.”

“Fine,” Merula smirked. “But, you know, if you don’t duel me, I’ll have to find someone else to duel instead. Maybe Haywood, or Khanna.”

Artemis’ nostrils flared as she narrowed her eyes at Merula.

“Stay away from my friends,” she said, her voice a low growl.

“Duel me, and I will,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the clock tower courtyard on Saturday, when the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match is on. You’d better turn up, Hexley, if you don’t want your friends to get hurt.”

Merula strode away, leaving Artemis alone. Artemis shook her head as she watched Merula walk away. Penny had been right again: when it came to duelling Merula, she really did have no choice at all.

She met Merula in the clock tower courtyard on Saturday morning as planned, after the rest of her friends had left to watch the Quidditch match, much to their dismay.

“I can’t believe you’re missing Quidditch again,” Tonks had said, as she, Penny and Rowan started to walk in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. “Especially not to hang out with Merula, of all people.”

Artemis sighed. She had actually been looking forward to going to the match, having missed every single game of Quidditch that had been played since she first started school. In some ways, she wished that Merula had chosen another day for their rematch to take place, but she had to admit that it made sense. Even the teachers enjoyed watching Quidditch, and at least this way they were less likely to get caught and end up in detention.

Merula was already there when she arrived, waiting for her by the fountain.

“I thought you were going to chicken out, Hexley,” she said, loftily. “I’d already decided what spell I was going to use on Penny Haywood.”

“You aren’t going to use any spells on Penny, ever, or Rowan, or Tonks, or Ben, or anyone,” Artemis told her. “That’s the only reason I came here. Do you understand?”

“I’m not stupid, Hexley. Now, are we duelling or not?”

Artemis nodded, and took up a duelling stance opposite Merula, glaring at her opponent.

“Ugh, Hexley, Don’t stare at me like that. You know you’re meant to look at my wand, not my face, right? Some duellist you are.”

“Just get on with it, Merula,” said Artemis, not taking her eyes off Merula’s own. “I’d quite like to at least watch some of the Quidditch match you’re making me miss.”

Merula’s violet eyes narrowed, and she raised her wand, taking aim at Artemis.

“Relashio!”

Artemis jumped out of the way of the purple beam of light that emitted from Merula’s wand, and fired her wand back at Merula as the spell soared past her.

“Flipendo!”

Merula was knocked back off her feet, and she climbed back up from the ground with an angry expression on her face. Artemis deflected Merula’s next hex with a shield charm, dodged the jinx that followed after, and when Merula tried to hit her with the Leg-Locker jinx, she managed to cast the counter-curse before her opponent had even finished calling out the incantation.

The effort of duelling Artemis was clearly making Merula tired. Her posture was becoming less upright, and she kept placing her feet in ways that meant she was struggling to dodge quickly without losing her balance. Artemis knew she had won. She raised her wand one final time.

“Depulso!”

The Banishing Charm hit Merula square in the chest, throwing her upwards into the air and back across the entire length of the courtyard. She landed on her rump in the cloisters, and Artemis ran towards her.

“Are you okay, Merula?”

“I’m fine, Hexley,” Merula panted, dusting off her robes and emerging from the cloisters, defeated. She folded her arms across her chest as walked towards Artemis, and looked at the ground. “How did you manage to get so good?” she asked.

“Well,” said Artemis, and she sat down on the edge of the fountain. The top of the water was frozen solid from the cold late February weather. “I’ve been taking additional Transfiguration classes with Professor McGonagall since the start of the year, and my prefect Jane has been coaching me. And now Bill’s been teaching me some stuff and making me do a load of reading on curses and counter-curses, and doing a load of extra reading,” Artemis looked up at Merula and shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve been working really hard.”

“Such a Hufflepuff thing to say,” Merula rolled her eyes, but she sat down on the edge of the fountain next to Artemis. “Is this all so you can go and find the Cursed Vaults?”

Artemis hesitated before nodding her head.

“Yeah, it is,” she told Merula. “Well, sort of. I just want to find my brother, really. Looking for the Cursed Vaults seems like a good place to start.”

“Why was he so obsessed with the Vaults anyway?”

“I don’t know,” said Artemis. “He never talked to me about them. But knowing Jacob, it was probably just the challenge of it all. He always loved puzzles, and riddles, and strategy games. It’s probably why he was sorted into Ravenclaw.”

“Do you think he managed to find them?”

“Maybe. If anyone could do it, it’s Jacob.”

“He wasn’t as useless or inept as you, then?”

“Not at all. He always was the clever one.”

“What a surprise,” muttered Merula, and the two girls were silent for a few moments, before she spoke again. “Hexley, I want you to promise me that if you ever find a Cursed Vault, you’ll tell me about it.”

Artemis frowned, thinking about the secret staircase and the grey door she had found with Rowan. She shook her head.

“If I’m that useless and inept, that won’t ever be a problem, will it?” She said, and got up from the frozen fountain. “Come on. I can’t be bothered to duel you again. Let’s go and catch the end of the Quidditch match.”

“Fine,” said Merula, and she too stood up. “But, you know, I will beat you one day, Hexley.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Artemis, with a wry smile.

The two girls turned and walked down to Quidditch stands together, quietly bickering all the way.

The duel with Merula had given Artemis an idea. She approached Bill Weasley in the library, where he was studying, apparently oblivious to the half a dozen or so girls who had positioned themselves at tables nearby and were staring at him longingly over piles of books and scrolls.

“Bill,” she whispered, sitting on the top of the desk he was working at. “I’ve decided that we are going to go and break the curse a week on Saturday.”

“Have you now?” Bill said, putting down his quill and smiling at her sardonically. Artemis nodded.

“Ravenclaw will be playing Slytherin at Quidditch. The teachers will all be watching the game, so no one will notice where we are,” she told him. “Trust me, I’ve used Quidditch matches as distractions loads of times.”

“Have you ever considered taking up a hobby?”

“I have hobbies,” Artemis told him. “Curse-Breaking and duelling.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of piano, or maybe chess,” Bill sighed and nodded. “You know, it’s actually not a bad idea, using a Quidditch game as cover.”

“You don’t need to sound so surprised,” said Artemis, rolling her eyes. “I have a lot of good ideas, if you must know.”

“Of course you do. Have you been working on your conjuring like I suggested?”

“Yes.”

“Have you learnt how to cast the fire-making spell without incinerating everything in your immediate vicinity?”

“Sort of.”

“Excellent,” Bill laughed quietly. “Look, I’m in, but can you keep practising the fire spell? I don’t really want to get burnt to a crisp helping you break into this Cursed Vault.”

“Okay, I will,” Artemis said, jumping off the table. “And Bill?”

“Yes, Artemis?”

“Make sure you wear a jumper on Saturday. It’s really bloody cold up there.”

As Bill suggested, Artemis spent the next week and a half preparing herself, practising the fire-making and water-making spells by the fireplace in the Hufflepuff common room, until Jane Court the prefect made her stop.

“That’s the fourth scatter cushion you’ve cremated now, Artemis,” Jane berated her, “and don’t get me started on what you’ve done to Professor Sprout’s snake plant. If really have to be a pyromaniac, go and be one outside where you won’t risk burning down the whole castle.”

After that, Artemis started practising the spells in Hagrid’s garden. Hagrid didn’t seem to mind too much, and he even brought her out cups of tea to drink whilst she tried her hardest to avoid setting his pumpkins alight, with varying levels of success.

The night before the next Quidditch match, however, when Artemis arrived at Hagrid’s hut, he looked completely miserable.

“Hagrid, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Fang,” he said. “‘E got spooked by one of the Thestrals earlier an’ ran off into the castle. I ‘aven’t seen ‘im since.”

“Where have you looked?”

“All over,” Hagrid replied, shaking his great shaggy head sadly. “I reckon ‘e’s cowering in some dark corner somewhere.”

“I’ll go and have a look for you, Hagrid,” said Artemis. “My friend Ben knows all the best hiding spots around the castle.”

Artemis found Ben in the Charms classroom, practising some of the spells he’d missed during his time in the hospital wing.

“Ben, I need your help,” she said. “Hagrid’s dog has done a runner, and is hiding somewhere in the castle. Will you help me find him?”

“Okay, Artemis,” replied Ben. “I’ll help you, but you know I’m not keen on dogs.”

“Fang’s a big softie, Ben. He’s terrified of everything, that’s why he ran off in the first place. Now, where could he be hiding?”

Ben took Artemis to all of his secret hiding places, but Fang was nowhere to be found.

“Maybe he got hungry and went home,” Ben said, as his own belly rumbled. “It is dinner time, after all.”

“The Great Hall!” Artemis gasped. “He’s probably been under one of the tables the whole time!”

They raced back to the Great Hall, but there was no sign of Fang there either.

“Hexley, what in Merlin’s name are you doing creeping around down there, you nutter?” Jae Kim asked Artemis as she crawled past his feet to peer under the Gryffindor table.

Artemis backed out from under his seat and looked up. All four of Ben’s dormmates were watching her with amused expressions on their faces.

“I’m not a nutter. I’m looking for Hagrid’s dog.”

“Why would Hagrid’s dog be under the table?”

“Scrounging for food, of course,” said Artemis. “I don’t think he’s here, though.”

“Why don’t you check the kitchens?” Jae suggested. “There’s loads of food there.”

“That’s a great idea, Jae! How do I get to the kitchens?”

“In the dungeons, just past the Hufflepuff common room, where the food portraits are. Find the one of a fruitbowl and tickle the pear, and you’ll be in.”

Artemis thanked Jae, before she and Ben ran down to the dungeons to find the kitchens. As they made their way through the dungeons, they heard a peculiar high-pitched noise.

“What’s that?” Ben asked. “It sounds like someone’s crying.”

“That’s not someone crying, Ben! That’s a dog, whining!”

“It’s coming from that direction,” said Ben, pointing down a side corridor.

Artemis looked down the corridor, and her heart sank.

“That’s where the room with the Devil’s Snare is,” she whispered, horrified. She turned and sprinted down the corridor, Ben running after her. “Hang on, Fang! We’re coming to save you!”

When they reached the room, the whimpering noise was louder than ever.

“Bombarda!” Artemis shouted, pointing her wand at the door and blasting it to smithereens. The dim light from the corridor entered the room, and the Devil’s Snare writhed back from the doorway into the darker corners of the room, a large black dog still well within its grasp.

“It’s twice as big as it was last year,” Ben muttered, his eyes wide.

“Then we’ll need to fight it twice as hard, won’t we?” Artemis said. “Lumos!”

Ben lit his wand, too, and the two of them advanced towards the helpless Fang. But the light from their wands wasn’t enough. The tendrils of the Devil’s Snare continued to snake their way back towards Fang, gripping his black wrinkled body.

“It’s not working, Artemis!”

Artemis frowned. Ben was right. She changed tactic.

“Incendio!” She shouted, aiming her wand at the tendrils furthest away from both Fang and Ben.

The plant caught fire and started to wither, shrinking away from itself and blackening as the flames spread along the twisting vines. Just before the fire reached the dog, she called out the enchantment for the water-making spell to stop him from getting burned. She pulled the remainder of the vines away from him, just as Hagrid had done with Artemis herself the year before.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” she said to Ben, as the last few tendrils of the Devil’s Snare started to creep back towards them. Ben nodded, and they left the room, the plant lying prone in the shadows like a wild animal stalking its prey. Artemis looked back at the plant, and raised her wand once more. “Incendio!”

What was left of the Devil’s Snare set aflame, writhing and thrashing in the blaze and smoke that engulfed it. Once the plant had died, she again used the water-making to extinguish the final flames.

“I hope that Professor Sprout wasn’t hoping to use that Devil’s Snare in class,” she said to Ben, who was looking at her as if he wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed or alarmed. “Shall we go and get some dinner, then? I’m starving.”

The next day, Artemis met Bill, ready to explore the secret staircase and hidden corridor once more. Her friends were much more understanding about her missing Quidditch this time.

“You know, if it meant being able to spend time with Bill Weasley, I’d miss Quidditch, too,” sighed Penny. Rowan was smiling to herself and staring into space again, so Artemis met Tonks’ eye, and the two of them sniggered.

Bill was waiting for Artemis at the bottom of the grand staircase, wearing a dark red jumper with a large gold ‘W’ on the front.

“Nice jumper,” Artemis said to him, as they started to ascend the steps.

“Are you taking the mickey, Artemis Hexley?”

“No, I mean it,” she replied. “It looks very cosy.”

“Thank you,” said Bill. “My mum made it. She makes us all one every year.”

“You must look like a Quidditch team, all wearing the exact same thing.”

“Well, she changes the colours sometimes. And we obviously all have different letters on the front.”

“What do you mean? Don’t you all have the surname Weasley?”

“We do, but the ‘W’ isn’t for Weasley,” Bill said, looking at Artemis like she was making a joke, which she wasn’t. “It’s for William.”

“William?”

“Yes, William,” Bill started to laugh at Artemis’ confused expression. “What did you think Bill was short for?”

“I didn’t think -”

“Billicent?”

“- it was short for anything.”

“Bildred?”

Artemis pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at Bill as he continued to smirk at her.

“Bilip,” she said, after a moment’s thought, raising her eyebrows. Bill laughed harder than ever, and Artemis joined in.

Their laughter quickly faded away once they reached the fifth floor. The ice was visible from the stairs, covering the walls at the far end of the main hallway.

“Is that the ice?” Bill asked, shuddering from the cold.

“Yes,” said Artemis, “but before you couldn’t see it from here, only when you got to the corridor itself.”

“It really must be spreading.”

“Wait until you see the forbidden corridor. It’s covered in the stuff.”

When the pair of them turned the corner at the eastern end of the fifth floor, Bill’s mouth dropped open, and he stood motionless in the corridor, looking around himself, awestruck.

“Are you coming or not?” Artemis called back to him, already striding down the corridor. Bill shook his head and started to follow her. “Make sure you don’t touch any of the ice.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Bill muttered.

They soon reached the ice room where Artemis, Rowan and Merula had become trapped the year before. Artemis couldn’t help but tell Bill all about their adventure.

“See this hole in the wall? That’s from Ben Copper blasting it wide open. And there, the ice on the floor? There were these runes there that appeared,” she said, barely stopping for breath. “They said about the secret staircase, which is hidden behind that back wall, over there. See? It’s frosty, rather than icy, that’s what gave it away.”

Artemis looked up at Bill, who nodded slowly. She thought that he looked a little overwhelmed, so she placed a reassuring hand on his elbow.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Bill?” She asked him.

Bill looked down at her, and raised a single eyebrow.

“Come on, Artemis. I’ve wanted to be a Curse-Breaker for as long as I can remember and now I finally get to actually do it for real,” he paused, his face split into a grin, and he winked at Artemis. “Of course I’m not ready. But I’m as ready as I ever will be, so let’s do this.”

Artemis returned his smile, and pointed her wand at the frosty wall that hid the vanished staircase.

“Revelio!”

The wall shimmered and disappeared, revealing the staircase once more. Bill blinked twice, as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes, and together, they made their way up the vanishing staircase, shivering in spite of their woolly jumpers.

When they reached the top of the stairs, it was Artemis’ turn to be speechless. The secret corridor was completely blocked by a wall of ice.

“How did you and Rowan get past this last time?” Bill asked her.

“It wasn’t there last time,” she replied, biting her bottom lip.

Bill pulled out his wand, and pointed it at the wall of ice. Artemis followed suit.

“Incendio!” Bill shouted.

“Flipendo!” Artemis called out at the same time.

Artemis’ jinx hit the ice wall first, causing it to crack, with shards of ice flying from it. A fraction of a second later, the flames that emitted from Bill’s wand softened the edges of the hole left in the wall from Artemis’ knockback jinx, and the wall began to melt away.

“You know, little one,” he said, lowering his wand and turning his face to Artemis. “You and I make a pretty good team.”

He ruffled Artemis’ hair with his free hand, and stepped through the gap they’d created in the ice wall. Artemis lingered back, overpowered by a confusing mixture of feelings of warmth, and sadness, and pleasure, and guilt.

“What are you waiting around for?” Bill called back to her, realising that she wasn’t following him.

“Nothing,” Artemis said quickly, shaking her head as if to clear it, and she too stepped through the ice wall, a freezing cold spot of water falling onto her face as she did. She stood next to Bill, and pointed at the silvery grey door at the end of the corridor. “That’s it. That’s the entrance to the Cursed Vault.”

“Did you open it before?” Bill asked her.

“No. I tried vanishing it, but it shot out this light and it hit Rowan. That’s how she ended up in the hospital wing.”

“I’m sure it’s protected against most spells. If it’s cursed, it will likely need to be attacked with some kind of darker magic. We will probably have to jinx it somehow.”

“What jinx do we use?”

“Any and as many you can think of,” Bill gritted his teeth. “But be careful, the door will probably retaliate. Ready?”

Artemis raised her chin, and nodded defiantly, and she and Bill two hurled every conceivable jinx and hex they had in their repertoire at the door. But the door did not take this assault lightly.

“Look out!” Bill shouted, as a shot of silvery blue light shot from the door at Artemis. Artemis was quick, and dodged the door’s curse. She looked at the wall behind where she’d been standing just seconds before. It was coated in ice.

“It’s going to try and freeze us!” She shouted to Bill, whose expression grew harder.

They continued throwing their finest spells at the door, meanwhile dodging every blast of ice it collided back at them. Artemis was less skilled than Bill at magic, but it turned out she was a lot more agile.

“Bill!” She screamed, as one the door’s silver bolts struck him in the torso. She ran towards him, dodging a second blast. Bill was encased from his chest downwards in ice. She stood so that he was between her and the door, and aimed her wand at the ice that surrounded him.

“Flipendo!” She shouted. A shard splintered away, but Bill remained trapped. She tried again. “Flipendo!”

“It’s not working,” said Bill, his jaws chattering “Use the fire making spell!”

“No, I don’t want to burn you,” Artemis said, pointing her wand at the ice again. “Flipendo! Flipendo!”

“Artemis, I don’t care if I get burnt as long as I get out of this ice!”

Artemis looked at him. His face already looked pale, and his lips were starting to turn blue. She drew a shaky breath, and took aim at the ice again, picking a spot as far away from Bill’s skin as possible.

“Incendio,” she whispered, so softly that she could see her breath more easily than she could hear her own voice.

Her wand produced a small burst of flames, and the ice began to melt.

“Good work,” Bill said weakly, as he emerged unscathed from the ice.

“You’re okay!”

“I don’t feel it,” he said, with a thin smile. He looked pale, but unhurt. “I feel really... odd.”

“We should go back,” said Artemis. “Come on, before we get iced again.”

Bill nodded, and they walked back towards the hidden staircase. Before they started their descent, Artemis looked back at the door through the hole in the ice wall.

“We’ll be back,” she whispered, glaring at the door defiantly. “We will fight you again, and next time we will beat you.”

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm fic #artemis hexley #bill weasley #merula snyde #ben copper

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